So...yeah. Haven't written anything publishable in awhile. So here's a little one-shot. I apologize for the cliched title.

Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, Shelby would still be on, Finn would be forever!alone, and Faberry and Brittana would make out every other scene.

It's about six in the evening when I hear it. I'm in the kitchen, cleaning up some leftover Chinese. Dad and Daddy are in the living room watching the evening news. As I toss away the container of rice, I overhear reporter Debra Sage say, "There has been a rape in Lima. Devon Mathews was arrested on accounts of assault, battery, and rape. His victim, Shelby Corcoran, is in the hospital with minor injuries. At about three this afternoon, he pulled Ms. Corcoran into an alley and forced himself on her. He is currently being held without bail."

I'm standing, frozen. Shelby…I slowly walk into the living room and ease myself on the couch. I look over at Daddy. "Did…was that…?"

"Yeah…wow…" He leans back.

Dad chews at his lip. He always does that when he's puzzled. "Should we do something?"

"Of course!" I shout, bewildered at the fact he's questioning it. We're not close, but she still gave me life, for Streisand's sake! And she was raped. You're even nice to people you hate if they're raped. "We should pick her up some dinner for a few nights. Just until she gets everything sorted out."

Daddy leans forward. "Rachel, I don't think that's a good idea—"

I glare at him. "I know you don't like her after what you call 'the Gaga event', but I didn't realize it was this bad!"

Daddy places a hand on my knee. "Rachel," he says slowly. "Deep breath." I take one. He continues. "I don't think it's a good idea because she might not be too open to two men invading her home."

I nod. Okay. That makes sense.

He finishes with, "But if you want to go…that could be a better option. She might find a single person less intimidating than three."

Dad gives him that 'what-are-you-doing' look. "LeRoy, are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, we don't want for her to have to deal with their odd relationship at this troubling time…"

Dad really doesn't like Shelby.

"I'm going. That's final." I stand up. "I'll be back—"

Daddy pulls me back down. "Bunny, baby, maybe you should wait until tomorrow. Give her some time to be released from the hospital and gather a little bit of her wits."

Again, good idea.

The next day goes by agonizingly slow. It's Tuesday—Glee day—so I get out later than usual. Shelby's become the gossip of the club, with everyone coming to be with questions. Once I tell them of my plan, they nod and leave (though Santana is a persistent little thing; she wants to come with me. I just told her, "Let me have a night alone with her to assess the situation, then we'll talk.").

As soon as it hits five o'clock, I dash to my car, pick up some dinner, and drive to the address I got from Puck. She lives in a nice apartment complex in downtown. I take the plastic bags and knock on the door gently. I hear vibrations and a muffled shout. The vibrations stop and she opens the door, soaking wet, wrapped in a fuzzy white robe. "Rachel?"

I nod. "I brought food. I saw what happened on the news and…I figured it would help."

She stands, looking very deer-in-headlights. Then she snaps, backing up. "Come in…yeah…"

Her apartment is messy, with baby toys strewn everywhere. I set the containers on her small kitchen island. "It's Italian. Daddy said it's your favorite."

She smiles weakly, then frowns as she looks down at herself. "I…would you mind waiting a minute so I can change?"

"Sure…go ahead." As she leaves to go to what I assume is the bedroom, I begin to slightly snoop. Just the pictures. There's a whole slew of them on a mantle. One of what I guess is toddler Shelby and her father. Another is of her as a teenager and…holy crap, she has a twin. Okay, then, who's who in the picture? There are many of Beth (she growing up to be adorable), a few of Vocal Adrenaline's victories, even two of Jesse. What strikes me is the fact that there are six of me sprinkling the counter. I recognize them from the random appearances in local newspaper or from my public MySpace page. I grin. She cares.

She walks back in, wearing pajamas. They're blue with little gold stars all over the pants. When she catches me smirking, she asks, "What?"

"I like your pants. Gold stars."

Looking down, she mutters, "Yeah…Thanks for the dinner."

"No problem," I say, walking back into the kitchen and pulling out our food. "They have really good vegan pasta…You don't mind me eating with you, do you?"

"No, no…never…Here, you can bring it out to the living room…it's more comfortable."

We settle down with our plates and go at the Italian. I look at her carefully. Her skin is a bright red and blistered. She just got out of the shower…I know on Law And Order: Special Victims Unit, the girls will often feel dirty after the attack and scrub irrationally. I guess that's what happened to her.

I swallow my present bite and tell her, "I brought my copy of Funny Girl, if you want to watch it."

She smiles, a rather large one at that. "That'd be fantastic."

Ah. The powers of Barbra.

I skip over and pop in the DVD. We're both singing by the first song. Once we're in the middle of it, both of our meals long gone, I cuddle closer to her and ask, "Are you okay?"

She swallows hard, I can see it, and answers. Her voice is very soft. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, it happens. You just have to move on, forget about it."

I sigh. "Have you thought about therapy? Daddy probably knows someone at his practice if you need a referral."

She shrugs. "If I think I need it, I'll take you up on that."

Then, I suddenly realize something. "Where's Beth at? With your parents or something?"

Rolling her eyes, she says, "God, no. My babysitter offered to take her for the night. My parents…we don't really speak."

I stare at her. "Your parents don't speak to you?"

"Mom died when I was eleven. Dad remarried within the year. Step-mother was a bitch. Basically the beginning of a Grimm Fairy Tale, except I didn't get a badass godmother."

I wince. "Your life's pretty much sucked, hasn't it?"

"Everyone's life sucks in one area or another. You should've seen some of the crap I've seen with my Vocal Adrenaline kids. It was troubling, to say the least."

"Do you miss them? Vocal Adrenaline?" I ask, out of curiosity, not jealousy.

She puckers her lips. "Kind of, but not really. It was getting to be too much work, you know? But I do miss the Trouble Tones. They were a bunch of good girls."

"You should come back and co-direct the New Directions. You still teach at McKinley as a sub, you might as well go back to doing what you love."

She humorlessly chuckles. "Not with Quinn around. She scares me after what she tried to do with Beth."

I smile. "But she's gotten some mental health help. She's even planning on going to Yale. We're actually friends now."

She takes a breath. "I…I'll think about it."

We fall into a comfortable silence until the movie ends. When it does, she stretches and says, "It's getting late. Your dads probably want you home."

"Yeah…" I get up and gather my things. "Would you mind if we do this again? Tomorrow?"

She nods. "That'd be great. Tell ole' LeRoy I said, 'Hello'."

She walks me to the door. I look at her, then pull her into a hug. She's cold at first, but quickly melts into it. "I'll be here tomorrow after school. Just…hang in there, alright?"

She smiles. "Will do. Drive safely, buckle up, no texting…you probably know all of that, right?"

I roll my eyes playfully. "Oh, yeah. Every night…I…I'll see you."

"Bye, Rachel."

As I leave, I feel good about what just happened. This could be in the right direction for us.

When I'm in my car, I glance up at where her apartment is. I see her sitting in the window, making sure I get out safely.

She watches until I leave.