Rachel started the second week of school back in a relatively good mood. Once she entered the school, Rachel made a bee-line to Mercedes at her locker and began chatting. The conversation started out awkward, both unsure what to talk about, but they plowed through till their conversation grew a little more lively. Both girls were most animated when Rachel shared with Mercedes some of the jokes and observations that occurred in Rachel and Kurt's chats on Facebook over the weekend.

She was talking about a friend she had (virtually) had to herself over the weekend with another friend she had all to herself in the hallway of school! Rachel's life was looking almost perfect.

Almost.

And she had Kurt to thank for opening the floodgate with Mercedes, she was sure. Seeing the Kurt was fond of her made Mercedes re-think her opinion of Rachel.

As she headed to her first class, Rachel smiled, remembering the night she felt that she and Kurt were actually hitting it off. It was the 23rd of December, and she and Kurt had been texting back-and-forth. He had opened the conversation by proudly announcing that he had successfully wrapped all the presents he bought on his, Mercedes's, and Rachel's shopping trip a few days prior. Growing impatient with Kurt's jovial tone because she was feeling moody, she asked him if he had hated her now that he surely must know what she did to Finn.

Her phone had been silent for a while. She began to hate herself for doing that. Maybe he didn't know and was now finding out from Finn, who surely would phrase it in a way to make Kurt hate her, and then her friendship would die before it had even begun!

Then, it came. Her phone's outer screen had flashed Kurt's name and buzzed. She fumbled with the phone before flipping it open.

His text had said: "Look, I know Finn's my new brother, and it's really quite disgusting the bitter mood you've put him in. But he's okay with my being friends with you, and I don't see infidelity as a threat to our friendship in the future, do you?"

Rachel was so happy she hugged her phone. Then she jumped when her phone vibrated on her chest. It was another text from Kurt:

"What are you doing tonight? What do you say I come over and we watch Into the Woods and make some popcorn? It's worth being your friend to use you for that movie, at least. ;) I can't believe you have a DVD of the stage version with Bernadette Peters! I haven't been able to find it anywhere."

That had been the moment Rachel knew everything was going to be all right.

That Friday morning passed quickly, as school days normally do for Rachel. She was in a relatively good mood all morning. She wasn't even annoyed at Santana's smugness as English teacher Mrs. McCourt announced "Miss Lopez's profound essay" had won a state essay contest. It normally bothered Rachel because it was a waste, really, that someone so brilliant was so mean and calculating. She never had to study or really try, and she got A's and all the praise in class. But that day, however, she clapped for Miss Lopez with the rest of the class.

As Rachel headed to lunch, she passed Finn. She gave him her well-rehearsed nod with a pseudo-smile she had been giving him since school started again, and then she trotted onward.

To Rachel's surprise, Finn started walking alongside her. She looked up to him, wide-eyed. For a few steps, he looked ahead. Then he turned to her. His face was very serious.

"Sorry about the hard time Quinn gave you last week in Glee. That wasn't cool," Finn said in a gruff voice. He didn't look sorry; he looked like he had something else on his mind.

Then he stopped. They were in front of his class room (he had a later lunch hour). He paused.

"It's fine, Finn, but thank you," Rachel said, shocked at how calm she sounded.

What was on his mind? What did he want?

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, but when the school day finished, Rachel's mind went back to Finn and his dark brow, questioning gaze. To fight off the urge to go pull Finn out of football practice to demand he say or ask what he was going to that morning. Rachel decided to quiet her mind by practicing in the ballet studio.

After changing into her leotards, Rachel methodically put each of her bags in their places in her cubby then went to the center of the floor to stretch. As she stretched, she began to day dream.

Rachel daydreamed a lot lately. Her fantasies were what kept her company the last three weeks before school let out for winter break.

They were at their worse in English class when they watched two movies of literature they had recently finished. When the class watched Hamlet, she thought about the implications of death a lot. She fantasized about such a tragedy happening in Glee club. Someone dies, and Finn realizes that life is too short to go another minute without love. Or perhaps Finn realizes too late, as his sees his dead love below him. In her visions, he is throwing himself into her grave, like Hamlet in Ophelia's grave, crying to all the world that he loved her more than any other man.

These funeral fantasies flooded over to the class's viewing of The Scarlet Letter in which she saw Finn, like the Reverend Dimmsdale in The Scarlet Letter, rip his shirt off to reveal an R he had scratched on his chest every night in a covert expression of his passion for Rachel—all too late to express as he stood over Rachel's still body.

The current daydream she elicited as she stretched in the studio was her newest favorite, topping any funeral fantasy:

In her imaginings, they would run into one another in the dimly-lit auditorium, surrendering to their passions and making love right there on the stage. And post-coital Finn, his freckles in full, beautiful bloom, would say, "This is where we first kissed. Where I first realized I couldn't fight my feelings for you anymore—and that I'd never be able to." At this point, she would start humming "My Man," from Funny Girl. Then a solitary tear would cascade down Finn's cheek, having been moved by her musical undulations—at which point, she and Finn would make love at least two times more.

Fully engrossed in her sensual fantasy, now, she slowly lifted her leg and straightened it out until her pointed toe was as high in the air as she could hold it. She maintained her leg as steady as possible as her leg ponderously lowered to the highest support bar in the studio.

She almost crashed her crotch into the bar when she heard a booming voice:

"Excuse me, miss,"

Rachel gripped the bar and straightened herself. She looked to the doorway to see football coach Shannon Beiste standing, wide-eyed in the doorway of the ballet studio.

"Pardon me. I didn't mean to make you jump higher than a grasshopper in mating season, but I have something I'd like to talk to you about," Beiste said as she approached Rachel.

Rachel nodded slowly, extremely confused as to what the football coach had to say to her, the small Glee girl in the ballet slippers.

"Can you kick a football?" the coach asked.

"I don't know. I've never tried," she said, eyes fluttering

"I lost my kicker, see. We have a game coming up this Saturday—the big game—the regional championship—and I can't play without a kicker," Coach Beiste said in a quiet, urgent voice, using her arms for emphasis.

"Play in a football game? This Saturday? That's in four days! I can't!" Rachel's voice grew spastic and loud as she imagined herself at the bottom of a pile of a dozen football players more than twice her size. She'd be killed.

"You don't have to play the plays. I can work the boys through new plays that won't involve you doing more than kicking," Coach Beiste spoke in a soothing tone, and Rachel was comforted.

"Why me?" she asked.

"I saw what you were doing in the studio, here, and from the looks of it, your legs are mighty strong. And, on account of being a girl and a ballerina, you can lift those legs up further than any boy kicker I could find. So, what do you say? Practice is almost done. Can you come and show me what you've got?" Coach Beiste's electric blue eyes were full of excitement, Rachel couldn't help but get a little excited herself.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to make a few cracks in the glass ceiling," Rachel said, her signature grin blooming. This woman's enthusiasm was so contagious! Rachel decided she needed to learn Coach Beiste's secret.

"Your eyes are breathtakingly blue. L0vely," Rachel added and giggled as the saw the sweetest grin inch across the coach's face.

Finn's head wasn't in the game today. His thoughts continually drifted. He watched Sam a lot, watched the perpetual cross look on his face.

Sam had dumped Quinn over the weekend at a party. Finn hadn't been there, but he heard from Mike that it had been awful. Quinn cried, and Sam looked near to tears himself. She had done something at that party to push Sam too far. Mike had been there and told Finn about it. Mike was totally confused about it all, but Finn knew; he knew that, since school had started back up, Sam and Quinn's fights had gotten worse instead of better, and Sam looked damaged after every fight. It was only a matter of time before Sam couldn't take the hurt of not being enough for Quinn any longer.

On the plus side, some people absolutely loved the public humiliation brought about by Sam in dumping her in a party that involved half the school. He got a few high-fives by guys who thought it was "Awesome," and a few girls were delighted by the performance as well. Of course, Finn saw, Sam was too miserable to notice all the attention.

He and Sam hadn't had much of a chance to talk, but he told himself he'd make sure to at least call his buddy tonight. As quarterback, he often stayed behind after the rest of the players left. It was especially likely today because they had lost their kicker, Jim Kundert, to an injury and the regional championship game was coming this weekend.

He wondered where the hell Coach Beiste was. This was a crucial week; shouldn't she be here?

Then he saw the tall woman in the distance, being led by a figure that was completely drawfed by the football coach's large frame.

When they got closer, he could see, and Finn's helmet and jaw dropped to the ground. Rachel was with Beiste, and she was in her fluffy pink coat and had ballet slippers on her feet. She waved meekly as Coach Beiste yelled for everybody to clear the field so they could see her kick

"Oh, hell, no," Finn heard Azimio shout.

"A chick?" Karofsky protested, "You're gonna make a chick our new kicker?"

"Didn't say a thing about that, Karofsky. Just said we're gonna watch and see how she kicks," Beiste said firmly, not bothering to look at Karofsky as she guided Rachel to the center of the field.

"I, for one, Coach, have to say that I admire the innovation," Artie announced, then he muttered to Finn, "Plus, it might get the guys off my back for being the player that slows everyone down, right?"

"Care to brown-nose yourself off of my field?" Beiste asked Artie. Artie put his arms out in mock defeat, laughing lightly. Finn knew that Artie expected him to laugh with him, but all Finn could do was stare and slowly put one leg in front of the other to get off of the field with the rest of the team. Soon, Artie was going faster than his tall friend and left him behind.

Once Finn came to his senses, he dashed after the two women in the middle of the field.

"Coach! You can't do this! Even the lightest players would crush her!" Finn was pretty sure he felt like passing out, he was breathing so hard.

Had Beiste gone crazy, or was Rachel totally suicidal?

Beiste whipped her head around to face Finn: "That's why it'll be up to you to get the team to stay to our new plays which'll keep her out of the game 'cept for kicking. As quarterback, you gotta look out for everyone, got it?"

"You haven't even seen her kick yet!"

"Well, be a gent and get the ball for her, Hudson, and we'll see," Beiste commanded her quarterback.

Finn nodded dumbly. He couldn't say anything because he was clenching his jaw, furious with Rachel and Beiste for doing this to him.

When he ran back across the field, he saw that Rachel had stationed herself on the opposite side of the field at the lowest stand to stretch, her right leg propped onto the bar and back facing Finn. As she reached her arms to her toes, her coat rode up and revealed her butt, which was flexing with her stretch, every trembling crevice apparent because her whole leotard was a light skin color. Beiste headed to the center of the field, blowing her whistle.

Rachel finished stretching and slowly, gracefully, brought her leg down, allowing every flex of her thigh to succeed one another, one at a time. Then she turned to look at him. Finn snapped his mouth shut and practically threw himself into a run to the center of the field.

When Rachel caught up, Finn crouched down, held the ball up, and nodded to the coach. Then he heard Beiste say, "Go ahead, Berry."

Finn was shocked when, almost in the same instant Beiste gave the all-clear, Rachel's slipper-clad foot drove into the ball with a solid thump. He watched in amazement as the ball bounced against the top of the goal post then fell to the ground within the goal zone. A few of the guys on the team whooped encouragingly. A few groaned.

"Lookit that! And not even wearin' tennis shoes!" Beiste said in a quiet, but pleased, voice. "Welcome to the football team. Now, just for good measure, you and Hudson do that a few more times. I'll be in my office, if you need me."

Then she patted Rachel on the back, whirled around and announced to everyone else that practice would be cut short. Happy to be let out early, the guys eagerly headed to the showers, whooping along the way.

Finn took a few steps to follow the coach, wanting to protest some more, but then he stopped with a huff. He watched as Beiste left the two of them, heading to her office to form the new plays, no doubt. Without looking at Rachel or talking, he ran across the field, picked up a second football and set up the original ball for her.

"We're using two balls so you kick both at once. Then we're both gonna run out to get the ball and bring it back. Run the whole time; don't walk. We have to know if you can kick when you're weak from nerves or from running around," Finn instructed.

"Why do you have to run to get a ball?" Rachel asked.

"Because whoever will be holding the ball for you will probably be nervous or tired, too," Finn answered shrewdly. "And it just seems douchy if I had you run around while I watched."

"You don't need to do that," Rachel said, sounding a little irritated. "You shouldn't have to tire yourself at my expense—I mean, after …."

Finn snapped at her; "Did it ever occur to you that this isn't about you and me?" Or about how you're a hypocrite, he thought as his head drooped.

Or about how I 'accidentally' knocked Puck over during laps today…

He immediately felt guilty about his outburst when he looked up and saw Rachel flinch at his tone and amended, "Look. You heard Beiste. I take care of my teammates. I stick out my neck for all the players. That's what leaders do, remember?"

Rachel's face was touched by a smile.

"I remember," she said, nodding firmly.

The first time she kicked, she missed. She kicked it again, and she made the goal. They both ran out to each get a ball—Finn insisting on getting the ball that landed the farthest. Next time, she missed twice in a row. Then she kicked two more times, and both made it across the goal. For good measure, she kicked it two more times after that, and both were goals. Finn watched Rachel grinning widely as she ran back, hugging the ball

When she stopped in front of him, Finn saw that her eyes had a beautiful dewy glow, getting watery because of the strong wind that was evolving into merciless blasting. They were both panting. Rachel's mouth opened and closed as if she had something to say but couldn't find the courage.

"How did you do that?" he finally asked her, speaking for the first time since they started the exercise.

"Many years of an exercise regime comprised of focusing on my legs," Rachel answered.

He faced away from her to gesture toward the goal post. He shook his head.

"But your first time kicking, you got a goal!" he said incredulously.

Then he turned around. He saw that she was looking at him, her eyes intense. Her lips were open and quivering as she breathed heavily. He reached down to push away a sweaty hair that was plastered to her forehead. Then she licked her lips, and Finn's breath hitched.

Their eyes were locked, and their breath clouds from the cold were intermingled. He could feel her hot breath tickling his chin.

"I didn't think," Rachel breathed. "I just … feel it."

Then a voice came from across the field:

"Rachel! When you're done, don't change out of your tutu! We gotta meet up soon as possible 'cause I gotta be home for my mom's birthday dinner by seven!"

She blinked then looked past Finn and yelled, "That's fine, Noah! I can go now!"

She turned to Finn and quietly and gently said, "Good-bye, Finn."

Then she brushed past Finn, who stared at her throughout her whole exit across the long field. He still watched as they walked toward the parking lot. Rachel began to chat, and Puck slung his guitar over his shoulder. He heard her giggle. Then she was gone.

Finn felt his insides turn in on themselves. He tasted the blood in his mouth from furiously biting his lip. He wanted to lie down on the football field. He wanted to lie down, never move again, and just wait for the ground to open up and swallow him.

"Good-bye, Finn."

A/N: This is the last of the densely cerebral chapters. I just had to cover Rachel's thought process during "Special Education." And ever since Rachel's line about fantasizing about her own funeral, I have been in love with the idea that Rachel has this very active-and morbid-imagination, so I had to work some Rachel Berry Melodramas in. Next chapter will be a little more action and less thinking! So, stay tuned!

And a big thanks to Jilly (shipper-swabbie) for reading over this chapter for me!