A/N: I don't own any of the characters.

On the Monday after the Tunisians held free elections for the first time, Rachel Berry sat in the bleachers, watching Finn's football drills. She had enjoyed watching team practices her whole high school career, starting well before she even knew who Finn was. There was something satisfying about the way the players constantly honed their skills, practicing moves over and over, forcing their often exhausted and unwilling bodies to conform until, at the games, everything looked effortless and graceful. She could relate to that—most people had no idea how much work it took to prepare for a performance. Now that she had the role of Maria, Rachel's muscles ached from the extra dance practice she was putting in, and she was stretching her voice as far as she could without damaging it to make sure her performances would be perfect. Mercedes could say all she wanted about not having to practice, but unless she was some kind of ridiculously rare mutant like Mozart, she'd find out soon enough that without practice—constant, relentless practice-success would be beyond her grasp. This afternoon, though, Rachel wasn't thinking about that, or even Finn. She was thinking about politics.

It was obvious from the start: nobody was taking her candidacy for Class President seriously. Everyone saw it as just a shallow way to pad her curriculum vitae for NYADA. Even Finn assumed she would drop out of the race, now that she had the lead in the play. True, she had panicked when she thought Mercedes had won the audition, and joined the race out of desperation. But an intense, revelatory conversation that night with her dads changed everything.

"Maybe this was a mistake," Rachel lamented at the dinner table after telling them what she had done, feeling faintly ridiculous. She looked down. "Nobody even knows me". Her dads sat silently for a moment, processing what their daughter had just told them. They exchanged a glance, then turned to her. Her dad spoke first.

"So what if nobody knows you, " Leroy Berry snorted, "That's what a campaign is for!" Her daddy nodded in agreement. Rachel was shocked.

"So you think I should run? "

Hiram Berry removed and polished his glasses. "That depends, Rachel," he said, looking her straight in the eye, "on how serious you are. What do you stand for?"

"You mean, what issue do I plan to run on?"

"Do you plan running on just one issue?"

Rachel looked down. "I'm not sure," she said. "That's another reason why I think this may have been a mistake."

"Surely there are some things about McKinley you feel strongly about and want changed, baby," Leroy said. " Didn't you say you wished the Guidance staff had been more proactively helpful last year, so that you wouldn't have been blindsided by Juilliard and not even knowing about NYADA until now?"

Hiram cleared his throat. "Even though we could have done a lot better in our own research and preparation." Leroy gave him an annoyed look. "We've already beaten that horse to death."

"Just sayin'," Hiram shrugged, winking at her. God, she loved them.

Rachel shook her head slowly. "Sometimes I feel like this school is just processing us like meat. We've got some teachers that couldn't care less about us, an administration that looks the other way over bullying and harassment, graduating kids that can barely read or write. How are we supposed to function as adults if we aren't being prepared properly?"

She stopped her musings when she realized her dads were both gazing at her. "It sounds to us like you've got a whole platform of issues right there, Rachel, tied together by a single theme." Leroy said.

"Right," continued Hiram, "This just might be the kind of thing with which a dark-horse candidate could win."

She was still uncertain. "Even if I manage to come up with a solid platform, how can I convince the student body? I'm a nobody."

"Rachel, dear" said Hiram slyly, "Think. You're not called a triple threat just for singing and dancing…" He gave her a deadpan look.

"That's right, baby," said Leroy, grinning.

Suddenly it all seemed clear. Her dads were right. Art, like politics, is a form of persuasion. An artist has to persuade the audience to accept the reality of the work—whether it be a story, or song, or painting. A politician has to persuade the voters she is the right one for them. She had to treat this election just like a…performance. She could do this. She had done it hundreds of times before. The realization stunned her.

"I can do this," she whispered breathlessly, almost in disbelief. Her dads beamed. Hiram hugged Leroy, and looked at her affectionately.

"You know, your wanting to do this is a great relief to us. We know all the work you have put in to music has taken a toll; we know you have been lonely. And performing on a stage still keeps you at a distance from those to whom you give your art. Day-to-day politics is a whole different animal, it's all up close and personal. It will help you develop some important interpersonal skills as you go out into this world as an adult. And we couldn't be more proud of you." Leroy nodded.

Rachel smiled, but her mind had suddenly begun to whirl. Something she had heard on NPR triggered a connection…

"That being said, however," Hiram went on, "Before you go any further, we hope you make sure to examine the impact this decision may have on your personal life. Have you told Finn about it yet? Isn't his brother Kurt running as well? And what happens if you do get the part of Maria?"

.

Watching the players going through their drills, Rachel had to admit she hadn't handled the personal aspect well at all. Kurt felt betrayed and Finn felt himself squeezed in the middle. She cursed her habit of impetuous behavior when feeling insecure-it had only brought her trouble and heartbreak in the past. She wished she was more mature. But something nagged in the back of her mind. Hadn't she told Quinn that she was more than just her looks? Well, what if Rachel Berry was more than just her voice? Answering that question was important to her, and running for President could help do that. But first she had to start repairing at least some of the damage her damned insecurities—she sighed- had caused. And that would start now.

The players were finished with practice, and Rachel waved to Finn as he headed into the locker room with everyone else. He stopped to smile and wave back. She felt better—at least he wasn't furious with her. While he was inside she listened to an NPR podcast on her iPod about the Arab Spring, and jotted down some notes. Then she waited for Finn at the locker room door. Eventually, the players came filing out, and for the first time Rachel was fully aware that most, but not all, greeted her with a variation of "Hey Rach", or a nod, to which she responded with a shy smile and a wave. It was difficult getting used to being accepted by the players again. One, the tight end Derek Miller, actually wished her good luck in the play. "Thanks Derek!" she beamed. Mike and Puck came out together. "Hey Berry!" Puck drawled, "Finn will be a bit late—he got jawing with the center about a play. He should be out in a bit." Rachel nodded in thanks and watched them leave. She was alone again, but smiled to herself because she knew why Finn was last: he was singing in the shower, his voice floating out through the open transom. Listening to him sing when he thought he was alone-when he could be completely himself, making mistakes and starting over without embarrassment—was a guilty, secret pleasure of hers. It was amazing nobody caught on to why Finn was always the last to leave. She entertained the idea of joining him in there, giggling at her own daring.

Finn finally emerged and greeted her with a big smile and a hug, and she stood on her tiptoes for a kiss. Lord, how she had missed all this the time she was apart. "Hey sailor," she murmured in his ear, "Going my way?" Finn laughed. "Sure, baby," he said, as she took his arm to walk to the truck.

Once inside, though, she turned serious and took his hand. "Finn," she said carefully, "Before we leave, I have something to say about the election." Finn suddenly looked worried and started to speak, but she held her hand up. "No—please- let me get it out there." He assented.

"I-I know my candidacy has hurt your brother, and put you in an impossible position. But I'm not withdrawing- I think I can make a difference, regardless of its effect on my C.V." He just nodded. "Kurt asked who you were voting for, and I just wanted to say", she gave him a soft smile, "that I regret asking you what you told him. I'm not going to ask that question of you again. It's just not fair. "

Finn nodded again. "Thanks," he said.

"I'm not going to even ask you to help with my campaign." She clasped her hands in her lap and looked down. "I'm an only child. You were one for sixteen years, Finn, until you were suddenly blessed with a brother. I can't—I won't- force myself in between you and Kurt in any way." Fighting back tears, she looked over at him. "That's all."

He gazed at her thoughtfully. "I appreciate this," he said gently. Then she felt his hands cradling her face. "But I've already decided what to do".

"You have?"

"Sure." He wore a reassuring smile. "I'm taking myself out of the voting. Abstaining's the word, right?" She nodded, shocked. "And I even figured out what to do with the campaigns." He was chuckling now, reaching into the glove box, pulling out two buttons. One said "Kurt Hummel for President", the other "Rachel Berry for President". He pinned them on the chest of his letterman jacket, one on each side. "Yours goes over my heart," he said solemnly. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"I figure I can be like those guys who walk around wearing boards that advertise stuff. And I work cheap—bake me all the cookies I can eat and my space is yours. Kurt can buy me Chinese when I want. It's win-win-win, Rach."

Rachel burst out giggling in sheer relief. "There's no doubt about it", she announced, pulling him closer, "Best. Boyfriend. Ever."