Little Duckling

by inkstainedpinky

AU. Ugly duckling Lucy Fabray was picked on and bullied during her childhood years. Resurrected as gorgeous Hollywood swan and A-lister Quinn Lucas, she is content hiding behind a cold facade. However, Fate just might have other plans.

10. Chapter 9

So TPTB have stated that Hiram and Leroy Berry are Jeff Goldblum and Brian Stokes Mitchell. Sigh…I so wanted Barrowman to happen, but I'm pleasantly surprised! I apologize for the gaps in delays, but I'm a very anal and detail-oriented writer. I really like to make sure everything within this story is cohesive, accurate, and – very much importantly – plausible. That's why each chapter takes so long. Just a fair warning to everyone, I definitely am not one of those writers who can update twice a week or so. Unfortunately, that just isn't in my genetic makeup, lol. I hope you all stay patient with me!

In this chapter, we get another reappearance of a couple of Glee kids! One is just for a little bit – part of my canon tweaking – and the other is part of a bigger arc that brings us closer to our Faberry endgame. It's Lima, Ohio, everyone!

I don't claim to know much about Ohio, or Lima, Ohio, but I did spend five years in the Midwest after most of my life in California, so the comparison Quinn makes at the end of the chapter is kind of my personal experience comparing the differences between the two.

Also, a couple of lovely reviewers have asked when Quinn is going to tell Rachel that she's gay. Well, the answer to that question is not for a little bit, and the reason for that is discussed in this chapter. Don't worry, Faberry will get some legs to run on. Alright, enough of my rambling! Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 9

Even at nine years old, Rachel Berry took her dance classes very seriously. Every ball change, every riffle, every jeté, and yes, even every attempt at tutting was one step closer to the bright lights of Broadway. Her fathers were well aware of this fact as well. Therefore, for her Poppa to pull her out of dance class, she knew that the reason had to be of the utmost importance.

It was a sight quite familiar to Isaac Berry but new to Rachel. Her daddy sat on a bed in one of the rooms, the messy bun of Rachel's godmother, Dr. Helena Alexander, hunched over him, meticulously applying stitches to a laceration on his ribs. He had divested himself of his uniform top and had one arm raised as she closed the cut. Miles looked a little worse for wear; the cut Helena was stitching up only one of many cuts and bruises marring his torso and face.

Isaac came jogging in, Rachel at his hip, his bow tie slightly askew and glasses sliding off his nose. He noted his husband being tended to, a little beat up but more or less in one piece, and huffed out a beleaguered sigh. "Sweet Moses, Miles, what happened this time?"

"The usual, serving a warrant when the perps decided to run." Miles chuckled. "There was a bit of a scuffle, and one bast…" He trailed off, noticing the wide eyes of his daughter observing him from his husband's arms. "Uh…one guy put me through a table trying to get away."

"You should have seen it," Miles's partner, Dwight Evans remarked from where he was standing post at the door. He didn't look all too great as well, but the injuries on his person were nowhere near the extent of Miles's. "Miles just rolled over, tackled the guy, then put him in a chokehold until he tapped out."

Miles huffed out another chuckle. "Oh yeah. Didn't feel a thing." He winced as Helena closed the stitch and tied it off. "Then the adrenaline wore off…"

"I'm sure it doesn't help I've been sticking a needle into his skin for the better part of an hour," Helena remarked. She sighed, pulling the gloves of with a snap and throwing them in the waste receptacle. "He's pretty badly bruised, nothing some ice and rest won't cure. Make sure he puts ointment on the cuts."

Dwight nodded. "Chief has him out for a few days. Says not to have him come back until Monday."

Isaac returned the nod. "Thanks, Dwight. Say high to Mary and the kids for us?"

"Sure thing, Ike." Dwight ruffled Rachel's hair and leaned over clapping hands with Miles. "See you Monday."

Miles nodded. "Thanks, man."

"I've got a surgery in an hour." She shot a sharp look to Miles as the police officer drew on his uniform shirt and buttoned it up. "Take it easy, Miles." Helena kissed Isaac on the cheek and Rachel on the nose. "Bye, darling."

Little Rachel waved. "Bye, Aunt Helena."

Isaac put Rachel down, putting his hands on his hips as he looked over his husband. "Oh, Miles, what are we going to do with you?"

Miles chuckled, his deep voice betraying his exhaustion. "Whatever you do, make sure I'm buried in ice?"

"Buried in ice," Isaac grumbled, bustling around and gathering Miles's things. "He wants to be buried ice. Well, better than being buried six feet under."

Rachel scooted up to the side of the bed, clambering up beside her daddy and laying a hand on his knee.

"Did a bad man hurt you, Daddy?"

Miles grinned, his large palm cupping the back of his daughter's head. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Rachel's forehead.

"I'll be just fine, baby girl," he promised his daughter.

"Daddy, that's not the way it works," Rachel chastised. "I'm supposed to kiss it to make it better."

"Well whattya waiting for, Star?" Miles tapped his cheek. "Gimme some sugar."

For a long time, Rachel thought her father was Superman. He was indestructible, bullet's bounced off him; nothing could fell him, and he always caught the bad guys. But the first time seeing him so beaten and broken – albeit smiling and good humored – she learned the hard way: her Daddy was just as human as the rest of them were.

Rachel Berry was well aware of the dangers of her father's job. Lima, Ohio wasn't quite the mecca of crime as other metropolitan cities, but it still had its fair share. Still, it never failed to send a jolt of fear through her heart when she heard things like her father shot.

They had made a quick run down to the studio where they knew Chris was working overtime to talk to him. Quinn did most of the talking as Rachel was still trying to process the whole situation. She mentioned in no uncertain terms that she was accompanying Rachel to Ohio. Chris had readily agreed. The fleeting thought to protest flit through his mind, but his heart clenched when he saw how desperately Rachel was clutching onto Quinn's hand, and he acquiesced without further thought. They were ahead of schedule anyway and almost done shooting, so the scenes between Rachel and Quinn they had left could just be rescheduled to the end.

Which is how Rachel found herself in first class seating, clinging onto Quinn's hand like a lifeline as the plane made its way from California to Dayton. Her other hand held tight to the silver locket with a small diamond star in the middle. Inside were pictures of her fathers and her mother.

As the jet taxied down the runway, Quinn stifled a giggle at Santana's mumbled curse from right across the aisle. "Oh, hijo de puta, I forgot how much I hate flying."

Seven hours later, the plane touched down in Dayton's airport, and Santana piled them into the SUV for the hour drive to Lima.

"I never thought we'd be back here for a long time," Santana mumbled as they eclipsed the city limits.

Rachel sighed, leaning her head back against the seat. "Welcome to Lima," she mumbled, the first words she had spoken since they landed. It was meant to be slightly ironic.

As Santana pulled into the visitor's parking lot to Lima General, she seemed to be scouting out the place. So far, no one knew that Rachel Berry and Quinn Lucas were there, but it wouldn't be long until some loudmouth recognized them and blabbed to some media outlet. They wanted to keep this all under wraps and avoid the circus until they had a better idea of Miles Berry's condition. Quinn and Rachel slipped on a pair of mirrored sunglasses to preserve their anonymity as they made their way through Lima General to the waiting area of the operating room.

Two figures occupied the waiting room. One was a blonde man with rugged features, clad in a police uniform. He sat on the hard plastic chair, elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped against his mouth as his police-issued boots tapped against the linoleum. The other paced in the small space, running his hands through his light brown hair. He seemed to be mumbled under his breath, a cacophony of prayers and threats

Brittany and Santana ran to the brown-haired man, flinging their arms around him. He jolted back in surprise before registering the pair, breaking out in a small smile before hugging them back. As they released him, he craned his head to find Rachel.

"Poppa!"

Father and daughter hurried towards each other, colliding in a desperate embrace. Rachel's poppa had to stoop down quite far to wrap his arms around his tiny daughter. They exchanged whispered words, clinging to each other with their shared worry. Quinn stood back as father and daughter reunited, not wanting to intrude.

"Quinn, my poppa, Dr. Isaac Berry."

Quinn wasn't sure what to expect when she was faced with the prospect of meeting Rachel's fathers. She tried to picture them in her mind, but nothing seemed to materialize. She was certain, however, she wouldn't have visualized the man in front of her. Isaac Berry was a good-looking man, tall and broad-shouldered. A chiseled jaw line and a strong chin sporting a small dimple highlighted his handsome features. He was obviously troubled with the unknown state of his husband. His dark brown hair was tousled, and a few strands escaped from its neat arrangement to flop over his forehead. The light blue eyes behind the square spectacles were rimmed with red. There was an obviously academic appearance about him as Isaac was dressed in brown chinos, a navy blue argyle sweater vest, and a bow tie in the collar of a light blue button-up. He looked exhausted, having clearly run himself ragged with worry.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances."

Isaac shot out a tired but friendly smile, shaking Quinn's hand warmly. "The pleasure's all mine, Miss Lucas. I've heard wonderful things about you."

As Quinn and her father exchanged small talk, Rachel turned to her father's longtime partner. Dwight Evans had transferred to Lima from Dayton, and the two families had become close to one another. One of Rachel's good friends at McKinley had been Dwight's eldest son, Sam. Rachel gave the elder man a hug.

"Hey, Dwight."

"Rachel!" Dwight ruffled the small woman's hair, bestowing a warm kiss on her cheek. "I feel like I should be asking you for an autograph."

Rachel laughed, returning the hair ruffle, the feathery blonde strands Sam was known for handed down from father to son. "Not that famous, Dwight. At least not yet."

"Look at you, all modest," Dwight remarked playfully. "That's not the Rachel Berry I know."

Rachel merely grinned at his lighthearted teasing. "How's Sam?"

"He's having the time of his life up in Northern California. He just got an internship with Industrial Light and Magic." The policeman shook his head with a fond smile on his weathered, handsome features. "Who knew his fascination with sci-fi would turn into a career."

Rachel giggled, hugging her father's longtime partner. "Next thing you know he'll be creating his own language rather than just speaking Na'vi."

She sobered, her face falling as she remembered just why she was here. "What happened, Dwight?"

Dwight mellowed as well, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "You know your old man, kiddo. Always gotta be the first one in, last one out."

"And?"

"We got a domestic violence call fairly early in the morning. Got to the house, knocked on the door, said we were the police. Then, we heard a scream. Your dad charged the door, there was a guy holding a gun on a woman. Miles told him to drop the gun and put his hands on his head, but guy turned and popped a bunch of shots. Miles was wearing a vest, but two caught him under where the vest doesn't cover."

Rachel swallowed hard, the worst of images creeping into her mind. Dwight didn't sugarcoat it. He knew Rachel well enough not to try.

"Hey, kiddo, he'll be fine. Your old man's a tough guy. 'Tis a flesh wound."

Rachel smiled feebly. "You two and that movie…"

Dwight ran a hand through his hair. "It should have been me, Rachel," he mumbled. "I should have insisted to go first."

"Don't say that," Rachel sighed, hugging her father's longtime partner. "Then Mary, Sam, Stacy, and Stevie would be in this position. I don't think they'd fare as well as we do." She forced a reassuring smile on her face. "Don't worry, Dwight. Pop and I are used to it."

Dwight chuckled weakly. "You shouldn't be."

The smile transitioned to an equally weak smirk. "Yeah, well tell Daddy that."

With one final hug, Rachel turned back to her friends, sinking down into the hard plastic seats. Immediately, her hand found Quinn's clutching tightly. The blonde's thumb ran over the back of Rachel's hand, providing comfort as they waited on news.

The little diva was tense, practically shaking with anxiety. Quinn nudged Rachel and gestured over to Isaac, trying to take her mind off her daddy for a bit. "Your dad really does look like such a professor."

It worked as Rachel's face relaxed in a smile. "He loves his bow ties," she murmured, watching her father pace back and forth, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them up. "Every first class of the semester, he always wears a navy blue bow tie with a light blue and pink circle pattern and he tells the story. It was the first bow tie I gave him. I was seven and had saved my allowance." Rachel smiled in fond remembrance. "It's a rather ridiculous bow tie, truth be told, but he never fails to wear it."

"'Bow ties are cool,'" Quinn stated in a British accent. At Rachel's blank look, Quinn. "Dr. Who? The Eleventh Doctor played by Matt Smith?"

Rachel wrinkled her nose, frowning as she tried to decipher the analogy. "Is that the one with like the time machine?"

"TARDIS," Quinn supplied.

Rachel nodded her comprehension. "Poppa uses that show for a couple of his courses."

That sparked Quinn's curiosity, and she cocked her head. "What does he teach?"

"He's an English professor at Lima University," Rachel answered. "He uses a rather unorthodox teaching style, relying mostly on other methods than traditional books. His courses focus primarily on the use of television and movies as a contemporary medium for social commentary and revolution."

The name sounded familiar to Quinn; she swore she had heard "Dr. Isaac Berry" before. She could see the memory in her mind's eye, but the lines were blurry. Her mind, however, couldn't connect the pieces.

Rachel frowned. "Speaking of…I wonder where my mom is."

She didn't have to wonder long. They heard the woman before they saw her. The group glanced up as a strong, quite stringent voice preceded a dark-haired woman through the doors of the waiting room as she barked into a cell phone.

"I don't care if you have to pretend he killed the President of the United States! I want every resource available on this guy's ass to make sure he's in jail and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law – yeah, that's right, I just went Law and Order on your ass. Miles is one of the fathers to my child, and he is one of the best police officers you have. He got shot under your fucking nose, so get your small, bigoted, homophobic mind out of your tiny asshole and give him the treatment he deserves or so help me God, I will use the significant pull I have to make damn certain the closest you get to the mayor's office is on the janitorial staff."

The raven-haired woman raised the phone to her mouth with one final, scathing message. "GET IT DONE."

Rachel bolted up from her seat, rushing the new arrival. "Mom!"

The older woman embraced her daughter. "Hey, baby." She turned to Rachel's poppa, grasping his arm warmly. "Ike."

Isaac's face relaxed slightly into a smile that wavered from the effort. "Shelby."

The two adults embraced tightly. Shelby took in Isaac's red, tired eyes and unkempt appearance. "How is he?"

"No word yet," Isaac whispered. "Helena's working on him though."

Shelby hugged him again leaning in and pressing a kiss to Isaac's stubbly cheek. "He'll be alright."

Isaac ran a hand over his face. "He better be or I swear I'm gonna kill him, myself."

Shelby chuckled and turned to her daughter, finding herself caught around the waist. Shelby ran a tender hand over Rachel's hair. "Good to see you, baby."

Rachel snuggled into her mother's warmth, taking in Shelby's familiar scent. "Missed you, Mama."

Shelby sank down into a chair, gathering Rachel into her lap and rocking the young woman in her arms as though she was a baby again.

Ensconced in the embrace she was waiting for, Rachel gave into her tears. "I'm scared…"

"Don't worry, my star," Shelby murmured, tightening her grip on her daughter. "Your Daddy is a stubborn, bull-headed, stagnant man who owes me fifty dollars because he thought you wouldn't get that Tony until you were twenty-five, thereby solidifying my claim that no one has more faith in you than I do. He'll live to pay me. You know I don't mess with money."

Despite her tears, Rachel rolled her eyes. "Mom…"

"Sorry, hon," Shelby apologized with a smirk. "I should probably wait until he's better to broach that, huh?"

Quinn could not take her eyes off the woman. It was obvious where Rachel got most of her features. The same coloring, same prominent nose, the same full lips, same prominent jaw line.

Santana nudged her, gesturing subtly to Rachel and Shelby. "Dead ringer, right?"

Quinn nodded. "Totally. Right down to the nose."

"And the rambling," Brittany chimed in, flipping through a magazine.

"And the paragraphs…?"

Santana nodded. "Oh yeah. You heard her."

Quinn smiled fondly. Yeah, she had been the recipient of many a Rachel Berry Paragraph. "Does she have a storm-out?"

Brittany cocked her head, playing with Santana's fingers. "No, I actually think she got that from Poppa B."

"That…makes totally sense."

Santana cocked her head. "Oh, and there's…"

Both quieted as a soft, lilting voice floated through the waiting room. Shelby was singing softly to Rachel as the younger woman snuggled into her mother's arms. Shelby wasn't singing loud, but the strength in her voice was undeniable and seemed to provide endless comfort to her daughter as Rachel's tears slowly began to ebb.

The sun'll come out tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow
There'll be sun!

Just thinkin' about tomorrow
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow
'Til there's none!

When I'm stuck a day that's gray and lonely
I just stick out my chin and grin and say
Oh!

The sun'll come out tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on 'til tomorrow
Come what may

Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya, tomorrow!
You're always a day away!

Quinn exhaled softly. "The voice?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah, the voice." Santana smiled softly. "Nothing calms Rachel down like hearing her mother sing. She went through a bit of an identity crises in college, but all it took was two lines from Shelby and she was back to being her Gold Star self."

"Shelby?"

"Shelby Corcoran," Santana supplied. "She's Rachel's biological mother."

Oh for crying out loud…Quinn internally groaned. There was another blast from the past. Quinn had heard of the elusive Shelby Corcoran in her days at Carmel – the god-like director of Vocal Adrenaline – but had never seen the woman in person. Shelby taught choir and a couple of the drama classes, but Quinn had transferred before she had attempted the fine arts part of the criteria for her graduation. She had always wondered if the stories she heard around Carmel about Shelby's rather intense rehearsals for the champion show choir were true, but now knowing Rachel and seeing how the little diva operated, she wouldn't doubt if they were. She remembered Rachel mentioning a mother when they had first met, but had never put the pieces together.

"How did that work out?"

"Her fathers found Shelby to be a surrogate," Santana explained. "She left Ohio for New York for the Broadway thing. Appeared in a couple of musicals and actually did pretty well too; she earned a Tony nomination for some crazy sex musical."

"Sex musical?"

Santana waved away the question. "It's a long story. Anyway, she realized she really missed Rachel and came back to Ohio. She teaches over at Carmel High School in Akron. It's about two hours away, but Rachel still spent a lot of time with Shelby."

"And her fathers were cool about that?"

Santana shrugged. "Not at first, but then they realized that Rachel was a lot like Shelby and they bonded pretty quickly. Shelby would write to Rachel and call while she was in New York, and Rachel was about eight when Shelby moved back." Santana shrugged. "The Daddys Berry are awesome, but sometimes you just need a mother's touch. They're a pretty tight family now, if not a little unusual."

Quinn smiled, watching Rachel relax in the arms of her mother. It only made sense that Rachel Berry came from such an unorthodox, slightly eccentric family. The woman herself was one-of-a-kind.

"Nice to hear a family like that is able to exist here."

Santana nodded her agreement. "Lima's not the most open-minded town, but where it counts, the right people know how awesome the Berrys are. They have the Berrys' back. They have some friends in some pretty high places."

Quinn stood as Rachel made her way in her direction, leading Shelby by the hand.

"Hey, you okay, Songbird?"

Rachel smiled weakly. "I'll be alright, Quinn."

"Mom, this is Quinn. She's my costar and very good friend."

"Quinn." Shelby's eyes locked on hers, and Quinn saw them narrow slightly. She recognized that look. Rachel used that look often when the gears would turn in her head as she was processing something.

Quinn smiled what she hoped was a winning, charming smile. Shelby nodded as she took Quinn's offered hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well, Ms. Corcoran," Quinn replied.

Shelby nodded, that calculating look still on her face. She looked over to her daughter. "I'm going for some coffee. You want anything, baby?"

Rachel shook her head. "No thanks, Mom."

"Quinn?"

"Nothing, Ms. Corcoran," Quinn answered, immediately calmed as Rachel gravitated to her side.

Rachel ascended down into the chair beside Quinn. Almost unconsciously, she burrowed into Quinn, laying her head on the blonde's shoulder. Quinn kept her arm around the little brunette, her free hand finding one of Rachel's. She didn't say much, just offered her comfort to the brunette.

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was tense in the waiting room, a palpable feeling of the unknown hovering over its occupants as they waited. Quinn picked her head up from where it was leaning on top of Rachel's. She noticed one of their number missing.

"Where's Santana?"

Brittany looked up from the magazine, motioning with her head. "The hospital chapel."

Quinn took that in before kissing the top of Rachel's head. "I'll be back. You need anything?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Quinn made her way through the corridors, taking in the stark white walls, the overly cleanliness…She had never liked hospitals. In her experience, nothing good ever came out of a hospital visit. She finally found the hospital chapel and poked her head in, not wishing to disturb anyone in the off-chance Santana had already left.

She never knew Santana was religious, but there she was, on her knees in one of the chapel pews, hands clasped in prayer. She was muttering under her breath in Spanish, and Quinn could tell she was trying not to cry. Quinn merely genuflected, crossed herself, and slid into the pew beside the Latina. She sat quietly as Santana continued, her eyes tightly shut, and her lips moving in whatever prayers she was offering up. There was a moment of silence as she finished. Santana crossed herself, scooting back onto the pew.

Quinn twiddled her thumbs in her lap, looking up at the rather imposing crucifix looming over the altar. "Didn't know you were religious."

Santana chuckled. "I'm Latina. I knew how to say the Lord's Prayer in two languages before I really knew how to speak." She cast a glance to Quinn. "Didn't know you were."

"I used to be," Quinn answered. "Strict Christian family and all that."

"How'd they take your…you know." As Quinn shot her a sharp look, Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Don't be mad, Britts can't keep anything from me to save her life. I won't tell anyone."

Quinn was sure she wouldn't. She sighed, eyes drifting up to the front where a large cross hung on the wall. "My dad was the devout one, but he was the biggest sinner of us all. My mom divorced him my sophomore year of high school. She believes in God and everything, but my dad was the by-the-rules guy."

"That must have sucked," Santana offered.

"Yeah." Quinn shook her head. "Everything had to be done to make us look like good Christians." She snorted. "I failed at that pretty badly."

Santana nodded her agreement.

Quinn shrugged again. "We were all better after the divorce. My mom just wanted me to be happy. She was cool when I came out in college. My stepdad was too." Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "My sister thought it was the greatest thing in the world."

"Did your dad ever find out?"

"Yup." Quinn huffed humorlessly. "Caught me feeling up a girl at my sister's wedding. Called me some pretty awful names, basically everything a homophobe could throw. I knocked him out."

Santana offered out a fist that Quinn bumped with a grin. "Awesome."

"What about yours?"

Santana shrugged. "Pretty much the same. I was forced out, so I wasn't the one to tell them. My abuela was the worst. My mom and dad kicked me out. They were fine with homosexuality, but God forbid it was their own child." Santana crossed her legs, her expression taking a faraway look. "I went to live with the Berrys. My family all came around eventually, but I'll never forget that time."

"That's rough," Quinn sympathized.

"Hell yeah…" Santana lofted a gaze to the crucifix apologetically. "Sorry…" She sighed. "The Berrys really came through for me. Didn't ask questions, didn't second-guess. They just opened the door and showed me to a room. Daddy B sat me down one night when it was just him and me, and he told me that he had been forced out of the closet too. His family kicked him out for a bit too."

It was the most emotional Santana had ever looked. "I dunno, I guess I kind of had an identity crisis, you know? Like how this all was going to change me. I mean, I wanted to be out, but I wanted it on my terms, and I sure as hell didn't want it to define me."

Quinn snorted. "Isn't that the truth?"

"Right?" Santana nodded her agreement. "Anyway, Daddy B looked me in the eye and said. 'I've known Santana Lopez for five years. She's never let anyone dictate how to be her.' He looked me in the eye and asked me what I said to my cheer captain when she laid down the rules for the rules for freshmen."

"What did you say?"

Santana laughed at the memory. "I said, 'Bitch, who are you to tell me what to do? I don't need you to tell me how to do me. I'ma own this shit, so just sit back and watch out.'" Again, she apologized to the crucifix. "Sorry."

She smiled fondly. "He reminded me that being gay didn't change who I was, it just added another dimension. I was still me, and I was still a motherfuckin' badass…dammit!" She looked up again at the crucifix. "Sorry!"

Santana abruptly stood up from the pew. "C'mon, Frosty. We gotta go before I end up guilting myself into saying Hail Marys for the rest of my life…"

Quinn followed as they made their way out of the chapel. The pair found themselves in a hallway on hard plastic chairs. Santana looked up at the bleak walls.

"They're mi familia," Santana admitted. "All of them. Rachel's family, my family, Britt's family, Puck's…we've been through so much together that we're one huge group. Losing Daddy B…" Santana shook her head.

"He's like the glue who holds us together, you know? He's the dad to all of us; the one who wasn't afraid to give us all a kick in the ass to get us going. He helped Puck shape up and think about football seriously. He helped me through my coming out. Hell, he even helped Britt get into schools for dancing."

Quinn's eyebrow inched upward. "Dancing?"

Santana nodded proudly. "Yeah. For as long as I've known her, Britt has loved to dance. She's always had this gift of movement. It's like…" Santana struggled to find an appropriate analogy, "Body poetry."

Quinn nodded. "I've seen her move."

"She got into both Juilliard and NYU for it," Santana revealed.

Quinn couldn't fight the surprised expression. She knew Brittany was a genius, but she wasn't sure how that ingenuity translated to book smarts. She did know that both programs were exceptional for future performers. "If you don't mind me asking…?"

Santana chuckled at the unvoiced question. "It's her choice. Britt says she's not ready to leave us alone, yet," she answered. "She says she's afraid what might happen if Rachel and I were left to our own devices."

Quinn nodded. That made perfect sense.

Santana smiled with pride. "It's not for a lack of offers or anything, either. She's done some stuff here and there, and she knows that if she ever wants to go something big, Rachel would back her no questions." Santana shrugged. "But she likes what she does because it keeps us all together."

"She's never been afraid of being just Brittany," Quinn mused. "Just quirky Brittany." Quinn cocked her head. "You know, I think the best advice I ever came from my grandfather. He was a literature buff. One of his favorite books was The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay."

Santana nodded. "I think I had to read that freshman year of high school."

"There was this quote he liked to tell me from the book," Quinn said. "'Pride is holding your head up when others have theirs bowed. Courage is what makes you do it.' He told me to have pride in who I was, no matter if it wasn't what was expected, what was 'supposed to be.' He told me to have the courage to continue being me." Quinn smiled. "It took me awhile to be okay with that, but I got there eventually."

"If you're alright with being you," Santana ventured, "then why haven't you told Rachel you're gay?"

Quinn chuckled humorlessly. "Maybe I'm not sure how she's going to take it."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Frosty. That was weak, and you know it. Between me and Britt, Jesse St. James, and her fathers, she's like a walking rainbow billboard." Santana rotated in her seat, eyes locking onto Quinn's. "Real up, right now. What's the legit reason?"

Quinn swallowed hard, looking down at her boots. "It makes everything real. The possibility is out there." She chuckled wryly to herself, her head lolling back to stare at the ceiling. "If there was one thing I learned from my dad it was that emotions made you vulnerable. I may be okay with being gay, but I'm not the best when it comes to putting myself out there. Not when there's so much at stake."

Santana was silent for a lengthy while. She studied Quinn for a long time before nodding slowly. "I can understand that. More than you know." She glanced over to the other woman. "Let me lay it down for you. The slightly closed off, emotionally stunted to another?"

Quinn smirked, nodding with a small grin. "Sure."

"If there's one thing that Rachel is, it's that she's open-minded. With her, anything is a possibility. Even her sexuality."

Quinn absorbed that, looking Santana right in the eye. "You think I have a shot?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah. Question is, what are you gonna do about it now?"

Quinn chuckled. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Santana nodded again. She knew as well as anyone that putting your heart out there was the biggest leap of faith there was. She couldn't fault Quinn for her hesitancy. Santana let out a deep breath. "You think Daddy B's gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," Quinn answered. "Seems like he has a lot of great reasons to live."

xxx-xxx-xxx

As Santana and Quinn returned to the waiting room, Quinn went to Rachel's side and took a seat next to the little diva. Santana dropped down beside Brittany, taking the blonde's hand.

Quinn played with the ends of Rachel's hair as the little diva molded to her. "You alright?"

Rachel sighed, leaning against Quinn's shoulder, comforted by the sweet, flowery scent she had come to associate with her blonde costar.

"I will be once we figure out what's going on with Daddy."

Quinn nodded, running a comforting hand over Rachel's arm. Rachel sighed again, her hand finding Quinn's free hand.

"Have you ever experienced this?" she asked. "This utter hopelessness?"

"Yeah," Quinn replied. It was so soft, Rachel wasn't sure she heard Quinn correctly. "You find yourself in a whirlwind of emotions," she mumbled. "You can't sort out what's up from down long enough to figure out what you're feeling, let alone to actually feel it. The world is moving at ultra speed, and you're at a crawl, trying to catch up, trying to figure it all out."

"That sounds horrible." Rachel burrowed down even further into Quinn.

"Yeah. It is." Quinn didn't bother denying the contrary. "But it all works out in the end. And with the right people, no matter what the news, everything gets better."

Rachel nodded into her neck. "I've got the right people, don't I?"

Quinn chuckled. "If anything, you've got me, Songbird."

Just across the room, Shelby nudged Isaac, gesturing subtly to the pair. "What do we have here?"

Isaac cocked his head, surveying their daughter and her costar. "I believe we have a very gorgeous blonde holding our daughter."

Shelby grinned. "And what do you think?"

Isaac hummed. "I think that there is much more to those two than what she's told us." He saw the kiss pressed into his daughter's hair. "That body language is not the body language of just good friends. That's intimate."

Shelby quirked an eyebrow. "You think they're together?"

Isaac shrugged. "Perhaps subconsciously, yes. I don't think they've admitted their feelings to one another." He nudged his fellow parent. "What does mother's intuition say?"

Shelby tapped a finger against her chin. "Mother's intuition says that Quinn Lucas seems familiar."

Isaac's brow furrowed. "You've never met her before."

Shelby shrugged. "I can't shake the feeling."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Shelby, I know you're a fairly big deal on Broadway, but darling, you're deluding yourself if you've met Quinn Lucas before. You're not that famous, babycakes."

Shelby smirked, not offended in the slightest. She reached over and pinched Isaac's arm. "And you two say she gets the diva from me."

Isaac waved a hand. "Don't kid yourself, Shelby dear. She totally does." He surveyed the pair again as Rachel nearly nuzzled Quinn's neck. "They do make a cute couple."

A little to Shelby and Isaac's left, Santana and Brittany were observing the same thing.

"San, look." Brittany sighed happily, snuggling into her lover. "They're so adorable."

Santana rolled her eyes, her fingers running through Brittany's hair. "Friggin' charming. Can we just like lock them in a room and force them to have sex or something? The tension is killing me."

"No, San," Brittany scolded, poking the Latina on the stomach. "If we push them into something too early, they're gonna go boom. It's kinda like your old car Lola, the one with the three pedals?"

"The stick shift?"

"Yeah. If you try to shift gears too fast, the car stalls, right? Same with Ray and Q. If we try to push them into lady lovin' without lady kisses, they're gonna stall and break like your engine."

Santana looked at Brittany wide-eyed. Sometimes the things Brittany said bordered on absolute genius. "Seriously, baby, you should sell this shit. We'd make a ton of money."

Brittany giggled, pressing a loving kiss to her girlfriend's lips. "You're silly, San. I know it doesn't seem like it, but it's not easy being this awesome. If I had to do it full time, I don't think I'd have any time to think about anything else."

Santana reached up, twining a finger around a strand of Brittany's hair. "Well we can't have that."

"Duh," Brittany remarked. "You and Ray would totally be lost without me."

Santana chuckled, tightening her grip around her girl. "You got that right, babe."

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was like time was slowing for them. The rest of the world continued with their everyday lives, but the friends and family of Miles Berry stayed in their little bubble waiting for news on the officer's condition. It was like they were all dangling from a very thin string from a precipice that was crumbling from its foundation. The group was on high alert, waiting for any sign that information was coming. Rachel was the first to notice a figure making her way towards them.

"Dr. H!"

Helena Alexander, Rachel's godmother and one of her fathers' best friends emerged from the operating room and headed straight for the group waiting for news on Miles Berry. Isaac bolted from his seat, practically screeching to a halt in front of the surgeon, Rachel right at his heels.

"Helena?"

"He'll be fine, my lovelies," she promised with a tired smile. "It was touch and go for awhile, but he'll be fine." Her pale green eyes softened as she took in the group. She threw an arm around her goddaughter, kissing Rachel on the forehead.

"He's a stubborn mule, and he'll be kicking for a long time. A little rehab and a lot of rest and he'll be good as new."

Everyone swiveled as a looming shadow appeared in the waiting room. Lima's police chief Robert Stanton was a massive man, even bigger than Miles, and he had the type of presence that made people part the Red Sea in his wake. Hard-nosed, gruff, and no-nonsense, he was the fearless leader of Lima's police force…who had a serious soft spot for the Berry family and one Rachel Berry.

"Ike, Shelby."

Isaac grasped the offered paw. "Hey, Bob."

Bob gave a nod to the surgeon. "Helena."

"Robert," she returned.

Thick brows drew together as he tugged at the navy blue tie encircling his meaty neck. "How is he?"

Helena smiled. "As I was just telling the rest of the family, he'll be fine."

Bob nodded curtly. "Good. Miles is a tough sumbitch. It'll take more than a few little bullets to make him kick the bucket."

"Gotta get business outta the way first," Bob grunted as he turned to Isaac. "Miles will be getting a commendation for his actions today. He aced the sergeant's exam, and since we have the money and the space, the brass saw it fitting that we be able to promote him." Bob looked to Isaac. "You'll be happy to know it will pull him off the streets for a little bit."

"He'll like that," Isaac responded, "and I certainly will too."

Chief Stanton nodded. "Alright, now I can just be Bob." He turned to Rachel, eyes lighting up with delight. "Look at you, Little Star. Grown up and going all Hollywood on us."

Bob reached down and teasingly swooped Rachel up from under her arms. It was quite funny to see a grown woman being held like an insolent little kid, her legs dangling a good foot and a half from the ground.

"Chief!" Rachel whined, kicking her feet. "Aren't I a little old for this?"

"You'll be too old for this when I'm too old to heft you up, little lady," Bob answered. "Now give your Uncle Chief a hug."

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Can't do that if you've got me under my arms, Chief."

Bob merely smirked, tossing her up slightly, catching her at her thighs like she was a little kid. Rachel sighed.

"I suppose this will suffice." Rachel leaned in, tiny arms wrapping around a meaty neck. "Hiya, Uncle Chief." She kissed a grizzled cheek. Bob grinned, a grin that only widened when he spotted Quinn.

"Aw, you brought me a present?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, Chief. Mrs. Chief would have my behind."

Bob smirked. "Aw, she won't mind. She loves the show." He shifted Rachel to one arm and stuck out a hand. "Bob Stanton. Pleased to meet you."

Quinn smiled, feeling her much smaller hand engulfed in the huge paw. "Hello."

Helena's voice cut through the introductions. "Robert, if you're done treating our goddaughter like Raggedy Ann, I'm sure she'd like to see her father."

Bob scowled, setting Rachel down. "Always such a killjoy, Helena."

Helena rolled her eyes as she looked at the large bear of a man. She smiled at the group gathered for Miles. "Two at a time, please."

xxx-xxx-xxx

With the reassurances that Miles would be fine, Rachel could rest a bit easier. As per Helena's request, Rachel and Isaac were the first ones to go in to see him. They looked upon Miles's prone form in the hospital bed. He was pale, weak, and clearly in pain. But he was alive…if not still unconscious. His chest rose and fell steadily with his breaths, but they were there. The bandages were a stark contrast to his skin and a painful reminder at how close they were to losing him. But, again, he was still alive. Rachel leaned down, pecking her father on the forehead.

"Love you, Daddy."

Isaac laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I'll stay here, baby. Why don't you go show Quinn around Lima? I'll call you when he wakes up."

Rachel bit her lip. "Are you sure, Poppa? I'm sure Quinn wouldn't mind staying."

Isaac nodded. "It will be good to relax and get this out of your mind for a bit. Your father's okay."

Rachel smiled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Alright, Poppa. Call me when he wakes up?"

Isaac nodded, already sitting at his husband's side. "You got it, honey."

As Rachel exited the hospital, Quinn at her side, she looked toward her blonde costar. "So…we have some time to kill. What would you like to do?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. Show me this place where you grew up."

Rachel thought for a moment before an idea popped into her head. "Let's go to McKinley."

Quinn's brows drew together. "Your high school?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why not? I haven't been back since I left to New York. Might be fun."

Quinn chuckled. "Sure."

Brittany and Santana begged off, saying they had no desire to return to McKinley, instead choosing to visit the Pierce and Lopez families. Rachel dropped them off at the Lopez house before taking the familiar route to her old high school. As they eased into a parking space and exited the SUV, Rachel couldn't help the smile that bloomed on her face.

As she rotated around, taking in the sights, Rachel shook her head, taking in the grounds of William McKinley High School. Not much had changed in the eight years since she had graduated. The same statute greeted them as they walked onto the campus, the same red lockers lined the hallways.

"Well, this is McKinley."

Quinn smiled, her eyes raking along the grounds. "Doesn't look too much different from my high school."

Rachel practically skipped through the halls, pointing things out to Quinn. She stopped at a set of double doors, the extravagant construction a bit out of place amongst the drab uniformity of the rest of McKinley.

"Ooooh! I wonder…"

Quinn looked at the lavish doors, one eyebrow inching upward. "What is this? The teachers' lounge?"

Rachel snorted. "The faculty wishes they had these sorts of accommodations. This is the Cheerios' locker room."

"This is the cheerleaders' locker room?" Quinn took in the sight before her. "This looks like the entrance to a VIP lounge at a club."

Rachel laughed. "It kind of is." She surveyed the keypad securing the door. "You know, she might not have changed the passcode since I left…highly unlikely, but…"

Quinn wrinkled her nose. "You guys have a passcode?"

"And fingerprint recognition," Rachel affirmed as she punched in the code, placing her thumb at the scanner at the base. She clapped with delight as the light flashed green, granting her access. Grabbing the handle, she pulled at the doors, revealing a rather plush setting.

Quinn rotated in the middle of the room, taking in the leather couches, big-screen television and wall-to-wall vanity area – and that was just the front room. "Geeze, this was the cheerleaders' locker room? What did the football team's locker room look like?"

Rachel laughed. "Nothing like this, I can promise you. They don't give this kind of funding to a sucky football team. The Cheerios have been in the top five nationally for the past fifteen years."

Quinn shook her head as they toured the facilities. "This is unreal." As she exited the locker room with Rachel, she couldn't help but cock an eyebrow. "Where are we going now? Not some secret room beneath the school only for the cheerleading captain or something?"

Rachel grinned. "No, everyone knows the secret room is in Coach Sylvester's office, and she's the only one who has access to it."

"That's disturbing."

Rachel navigated through the halls until they stopped at another pair of double doors, this set rather plain in comparison. "This was my haven. This was where I felt most comfortable."

Quinn's eyebrows rose to the plaque over the door. "They named the choir room after you?"

"Of course," Rachel answered. "I am the biggest thing to have come out of Lima." She gazed fondly at her legacy.

The Rachel Berry Choir Room
"Shine big, shine bright, shine like a star"

Quinn smiled as she read the inscription on the plaque. "Even on a plaque you're a star."

"They are a metaphor after all, Quinn."

"Why does that quote not surprise me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Mr. Schuester told me they were considering putting up my quote stating nothing about show choir is ironic. I don't think they understood that I uttered that under extreme duress."

"But that's true…isn't it?"

"Yes, but I certainly don't want that excited utterance to be the one that immortalizes my presence in these halls." Rachel cocked her head thoughtfully at the room's entrance. "If I had my way, the door would be equipped with a motion sensor greeting anyone who enters the choir room with one of my melodic runs that showcases my impressive multi-octave range."

Quinn knew better than to doubt that was exactly what Rachel would do if given the chance. "And?"

Rachel's bottom lip poked out in the barest of pouts. "The school board deemed it too expensive to attempt and noted it would pose disturbance to students who may constantly enter and exit the classroom. The plaque was a consolation."

Quinn smirked, reaching out to flick Rachel's barely protruding lip. "Diva."

Rachel flipped her hair back, flouncing through the choir room's entrance. "I don't think it was an extraneous request at all."

Quinn shook her head. "No, you wouldn't."

Rachel grinned as she gravitated towards the middle of the room. "God, I have some great memories in here." She took a lap around the room before stopping in front of a trophy case, pointing at a framed picture by the biggest trophy. "Look, this was from our Nationals win senior year."

The boys were in all black: black shoes, black slacks, a black collared shirt beneath a pinstriped black vest, and a black tie striped with red and white dangling loosely from the opened collar. A glint of sliver peeked from beneath the vests, black studded belts securing the trousers. The girls were clothed red satin corseted dresses bordered in black lace with black pumps decorated with a small red bow. Both the guys and the girls wore heavy eye makeup, giving them a mysterious, menacing look. Rachel was in the middle on Puck's shoulders, holding up a large trophy.

"Wow, what did you perform to have you guys look like that?"

"A Green Day set," Rachel answered. "'Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),' followed by '21 Guns,' ending with 'Holiday.'"

Quinn nodded. "That explains a lot." She leaned in, laughing as she took a closer look at Puck. "Oh, wow, look at Puck's hair!"

"Told you it was even more ridiculous in high school."

"Do you keep in touch with any of them?"

"A few," Rachel replied. Our graduating class was one of the few that had people actually get out of Lima. I mean, you obviously know San, Britt, and I made it out. Most stayed, but a lot of us in New Directions actually did leave Lima."

"Like?"

"Let's see." Rachel pointed to an effeminate boy jumping up and down, his hands clasped together. "There's Kurt Hummel."

"That name sounds familiar," Quinn remarked.

"He's a fashion designer in LA," Rachel answered. "He's got a wonderfully successful men's line that's supposedly going to overtake Armani in a couple of years. He designed the dress I wore to the Tonys."

Quinn nodded, remembering the strapless red number Rachel had poured herself into. "That was a killer dress."

Rachel grinned with pride. "He's quite talented." She then moved over to a curly-haired boy beside Kurt, one fist pumped in victory. "Blaine Anderson. He is just breaking out on Broadway. They actually considered him to be my Jimmy Smith in Millie but it didn't work out."

Rachel continued on to a full-figured African-American girl. "Mercedes Jones. She works for Diddy at Bad Boy Records. She's trying to break into the business, but so far it's just background vocals, I think."

"Will she get there?"

Rachel smiled fondly. "Certainly. She'll find a way."

A floppy-haired blonde boy was next. He had his arms around Mercedes' waist, a wide smile adorning an equally wide mouth. "Sam Evans, he's Dwight's son. He's doing an internship with LucasArts."

Rachel moved to a boy in a wheelchair at the side. "Artie Abrams. You probably know him better as Arthur Abrams, III."

That name was also familiar to Quinn. "Oh yeah, he does a lot of documentaries. Most of the center on struggles of the handicapped."

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. He was a big AV geek and directed our spring musical senior year. He's very good." An Asian couple stood just behind Artie, their arms around each other. "That's Tina. She's down in LA with her boyfriend Mike. He's a hip hop dancer. He's done some great work with some pretty popular artists. I think she's a teacher at a performing arts school."

Quinn noticed that Rachel quite pointedly ignored a tall, brunette boy at the cusp of the group. She was about to ask Rachel about him when a deep voice sounded from the choir room doors.

"Rachel Berry, is that you?" A handsome, middle-aged man with curly brown hair and kind blue eyes hovered at the doorway, a stack of papers – sheet music from the looks of it – in his hands. He was dressed in dark brown corduroy pants, a light blue button-up shirt, and a navy tie beneath a tan tweed vest. "Wow! This is great."

Rachel smiled. "Mr. Schuester, good to see you."

Quinn noticed Rachel's greeting was warm and polite but detached. It didn't match the amount of enthusiasm the man showed.

"I heard about your dad, Rachel. How is he?"

"Dr. Alexander says he'll be just fine." Rachel rotated, gesturing to Quinn. "Mr. Schuester, my friend, Quinn Lucas."

Mr. Schuester's eyes grew wide as he took in the television star. "Wow, hi. My wife loves your show."

Quinn responded with a polite nod. "Thanks."

Mr. Schuester grinned, taking in his former student. "So are you just touring the school for old time's sake?"

Rachel nodded. "Yup. Showing Quinn the old haunts."

"That's great. Well, hey, if you're still around, we've got a glee meeting at the usual time after school. If you can make it, I'm sure the kids would love to see you."

Rachel smiled graciously. "That would be great, Mr. Schuester. We will see you then."

Mr. Schuester brightened. "Well, that's awesome." He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just dropping off some sheet music, I've got a class in a bit."

Rachel waved as the man disappeared out the choir room doors. Quinn watched him go, lips curled in an amused smirk.

"That was slightly awkward."

Rachel nodded, her own lips twisted in a dry smirk. "His sole mission in life was to ruin my budding career."

"In high school?" Quinn deadpanned.

"Okay, yes, that is a bit dramatic, but Mr. Schuester never held me at the same standard as everyone else. The others were freely given solos when I had to fight tooth or nail for them.

Quinn's expression was nonplussed. "Rach, honey, you are a bit of a diva."

"I can readily admit that at times, yes, I was being a bit of a diva, but he held quite a double standard. Not to mention he insisted on living vicariously through Finn…" she mumbled the last part beneath her breath, and Quinn wasn't quite sure of the significance of the statement.

"I guess my biggest thing was that I always thought he took me for granted," Rachel admitted. "All I wanted was a little bit of gratitude for the effort I put into this group. But when I would push for more rehearsals, more preparation time, even a different direction for our setlist or performance, I would be accused of being controlling or a diva. Yet when poorly-planned routines blew up in their faces or some adversarial circumstance arose, they expected me to be the one to miraculously pull the rabbit out of my hat and save the day."

"Did he ever acknowledge that?"

Rachel huffed out a chuckle. "No. Not really. Most of the time, he made it seem like Finn was our miraculous savior."

Quinn was about to ask who Finn was, having heard the name come up a couple of times in conversations in the past when Rachel seemed to straighten, her head tilting to the side as though she was listening for something.

"Coach, you're losing your touch. Perhaps a Bruce Lee viewing session is in order?"

Quinn frowned, unsure as to whom Rachel was addressing. She turned around to try and find the recipient of the peculiar declaration but jumped as she found a tall, blonde woman in a red tracksuit with intense ice blue eyes and an equally intense stare hovering right behind her.

"Bite your tongue, Ray. The touch of one Sue Sylvester is Midas gold."

Rachel smiled warmly at her former cheerleading coach. She didn't know how Sue did it, but she didn't look like she aged a day. "Hi, Coach."

The newly-identified Sue Sylvester offered out a curt nod. "Ray. I would say I'm surprised to see you if surprise was in my very limited repertoire of emotions. But as it is a weak emotion, I cannot for Sue Sylvester has excised all weakness, emotional, physical, or otherwise from her person."

"I would expect nothing less."

Sue took a step forward, her hands clasped behind her back as she surveyed her former flyer. "Miles?"

Rachel nodded with a relieved smile. "He'll recover."

"Good. If I was in the business of dealing out compliments like sweet mother's milk, I would admit that you got your formidable fortitude from your fathers. Nevertheless, tell him to expect a fruit basket anonymously at his bedside."

Rachel introduced Quinn hovering behind her. The television star observed the tall coach with a wary eye. "My costar, Quinn."

Sue offered another curt nod. Her ice blue eyes raked up and down the blonde's form, blatantly appraising Rachel's companion. "I'd say impressive if I could succumb to awe. But being Sue Sylvester, my standards for such only shall bow to the likes of Madonna and on occasion the reflection of one Sue Sylvester." Sue nodded thoughtfully. "I'll settle for adequate."

Quinn ran a hand over her hair, unsure at how to respond to the backhanded compliment. "Uh, thanks…I think."

Rachel laughed. It was amusing "You've done well since we left, Coach."

Sue inclined her head. "Naturally. This particular squad is soft." She walked across the choir room, barely containing her sneer at the piano and music stands littering the forward area. "I have to admit, I tire of winning effortlessly. I need to be challenged. I may find my talents needed in alternative arenas." She turned back to Rachel. "I hear that we might push the funding for a gymnastics team. Perhaps Sue Sylvester's indomitable greatness can exponentially expand by taking the team to Nationals."

That was a surprise to Rachel. "But why, Coach?"

Sue straightened, her body language and facial expression unreadable. "I find myself more and more unsatisfied with the quality that walk through my door. It's been this way since you, S, and B left. I can mold their bodies and destroy their minds to blindly follow my every desire to secure yet another championship trophy and further build upon my majestic legacy, but I can't manufacture the drive and determination you three had. Believe me, I tried it fifteen years ago but hit a snag in the patent office. Your thirst for greatness was infectious. That's why those years were the best."

She seemed to compose herself from her uncharacteristically emotional monologue. "S and B with you?"

Rachel was thrown a bit. She couldn't remember the last time Sue had so freely given a compliment. It took her a second to remember the actual question. "No," she responded. "They went to see their parents. Santana said they might stop by later in the week."

Sue nodded in satisfaction. "I'll know when they walk in. I have practice in two hours." Without anything further, she rotated and walked to the exit. Sue paused, turning slightly over her shoulder to look at her former flyer. "It's good to see you, Ray. Your very presence makes the stench of overwhelming failure and mediocrity more bearable."

Rachel smiled softly. "You too, Coach."

As Sue left, Quinn rotated and turned wide eyes to her costar. "Who…or what was that?"

"Sue Sylvester, our cheerleading coach," Rachel answered. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of the sights."

"That woman is deranged."

"Some would argue most geniuses are…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn walked along the grounds of the McKinley football field, relatively undisturbed – at least for now. Rachel skipped along the sides of the surrounding track. She threw herself into a roundoff to a back handspring, finishing off with a back tuck, remembering the many routines she had done in support of a mediocre at best football team. Quinn laughed at her antics but declined to follow.

"It all seems…smaller, doesn't it?" Rachel asked, the question clearly rhetorical. "This used to be our whole world. Now, it's just a small verse in the song."

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head as they continued the mini tour. She liked this little jaunt through Rachel's past. Every single person they met had some sort of impact on Rachel's life. She could see how dealing with a temperamental, obviously eccentric coach like Sue Sylvester prepared her for the equally temperamental and eccentric personalities that ran rampant in the entertainment business in all mediums. She could even see how Mr. Schuester influenced Rachel's perseverance. She was so fixated in Rachel's story about their first glee club Nationals trip her junior year that neither girl noticed when they passed a tall man with spiky brown hair on their way back into the school. He noticed, however, and stopped, doing a double take as they walked by.

"Rachel?"

A few steps away, Rachel froze, recognizing the voice instantly. She scowled, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "Oh Bernadette Peters, I was hoping we weren't going to run into him…"

Quinn's brows drew together. "Who?"

The man rotated sharply, rushing back towards them, waving a large hand, even though both of their backs were to him. "Rachel!"

"Finn Hudson," Rachel sighed laboriously. "He's my ex-boyfriend." She forced a friendly smile on her face and turned back to the rather persistent address.

Ah, so this was the "butthead" Brittany had mentioned. She looked to the man practically tripping over himself to get to them. He was tall, easily over six feet, and had a lumbering giant sort of thing going on. He was reasonably handsome, kind of a boyish, boy-next-door sort of appeal; Quinn could see how Rachel could fall for him. Quinn didn't like him on sight.

He grinned widely. It was that schoolboy grin that used to send flutters trembling up and down her body. Now, she only mustered up feelings of fond remembrance. Finn dove in for an awkward hug. "Wow, what are you doing here? Are you here to see Mr. Schue or something?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, Finn. My Daddy brought me back to Lima. He was injured in the line of duty, and I'm here to make sure he's okay."

"Oh." Finn looked her up and down. He frowned slightly. "You look different."

Rachel smirked wryly. "Eight years will do that, Finn."

"Right." The giant rubbed a hand behind his neck, throwing out a dopey, lopsided grin Quinn supposed was meant to be charming. She thought he looked constipated.

"So what are you doing around here?" Rachel asked.

He brightened at the question. "I teach PE here at McKinley, and I'm the assistant football coach."

Rachel seemed to nod sincerely. "That's great, Finn. I'm happy you found something for you."

"So what have you been up to? I mean, you like never come back here. Your dads are always traveling to see you for like holidays and stuff."

Rachel shrugged. "Poppa and Daddy like coming up to New York. It's a nice change from Lima." She gestured over her shoulder to the blonde behind her. "Quinn and I are shooting a movie in LA. Finn, this is my very good friend and costar Quinn Lucas."

Finn nodded to the other woman, but his face showed potent confusion. "Movie? I thought you did like the Broadway stuff. That's all you would ever talk about."

"I did, Finn," Rachel answered patiently. "I made my Broadway debut right before my Tisch graduation and have done another show since then."

"But you're like not there anymore?"

"No," Rachel replied. "I just finished a run with the musical Chicago when the director of my current project, Christian Keller, asked me to replace one of their actresses. I've been in LA shooting that movie."

"Oh."

Quinn observed the pair in front of her. They couldn't be more different. For one, Finn was an absolute giant. He made Rachel seem exponentially tinier than she already was. He also seemed to ooze the small town Lima mentality Rachel had described to her about the jocks and cheerleaders stuck in their high school days. Finn had never left high school – literally and figuratively – clinging to his glory days through football and glee club. She looked at his attire. He was dressed in a pair of khaki pants, Nike coaching shoes poking out from underneath. A red polo peeked out from under a red track jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, both garments boasting the McKinley logo. A whistle dangled from around his neck, and he held a clipboard under his armpit. He seemed…normal, ordinary. The type of person that just blended into the crowd.

In contrast, Rachel was obviously out of place, her look a glaring deviance to the conservative Midwest style of dress they had seen while walking through McKinley with her black leggings with knee-high boots, an oversized cream sweater over a white tank top. Quinn certainly felt out of place even with her Burberry wool jacket, black skinny jeans, and black calf-length boots. It wasn't just their choice of style that set them apart. Rachel had an aura about her, a bright, shining star amidst the black void. She was born to stand out.

Quinn couldn't help but chuckle to herself finding quite the parallel between their lives and the film they were currently shooting. Rachel Berry didn't have a place in Lima any more than Sloane Gerard had a place in Greensborough.

She returned her attention to the exchange before her as Finn spoke again. "I think I've heard of that movie," he was saying. "I saw that spy thriller movie that dude made."

"Gray Area," Rachel supplied, mentioning one of Chris's previous films.

"Yeah. That's the one." Finn scratched his head. "Wait, isn't his next movie like a military one? The one with the two lesbians?"

"That would be correct."

Finn's brow scrunched as he tried to work out the information he was given. "So who are you playing? Like someone's best friend or something?"

"No, I'm one of the leads," Rachel responded. "I'm the love interest to Quinn's Marine." She knew she had to clarify her statement. "I'm one of the lesbians, Finn."

Finn seemed to squirm slightly at the declaration. "Uh, are you okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Rachel posed. "I did sign on after all."

He shrugged, adjusting his clipboard under his arm, before jamming his hands into his pockets. "I don't know. Isn't it weird playing a gay person when you're, you know, not gay?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's acting, Finn. It's quite irrelevant if I'm gay or not."

"But you don't want to be like those actresses who get mistaken for being gay or something, do you?"

"Don't you think considering my fathers are gay, Santana and Brittany are gay, and Kurt, Blaine, and Jesse are gay that I would embrace the gay community?" Rachel ventured.

"Oh, er…right." Finn floundered. He seemed to fish for more topics to keep Rachel occupied. "Oh, hey, well, if you have time, you should check out the glee meeting. I think it would be fun. I help Mr. Schue out sometimes. I've got a quick meeting, but I'll be there."

"We'll see you there," Rachel answered. "I already promised Mr. Schuester we'd attend, Finn."

"Okay." He hitched a thumb back over his shoulder. "Look, I've got to get to practice, but I'll see you at glee?"

Rachel gave a conciliatory nod. "Sure, Finn."

The tiny brunette stood there for a long while, staring off where Finn disappeared around the corner. Quinn cocked her head, observing her costar. "Rachel?"

When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn reached a finger out, poking Rachel gently in the side. "Rachel?"

The other woman started with a small squeak. Quinn didn't bother to hide her smile. She placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder, craning her head down to meet the other woman's eyes. "You alright?"

"Sorry," Rachel replied sheepishly. "I just got major déjà vu. That took me back to high school. I except he was in a football uniform, and I was in a cheerleading one."

A corner of Quinn's mouth quirked up in amusement as Rachel led the way back to the auditorium where the glee club was meeting for the afternoon. "So that was the ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah." Rachel smiled fondly. "All in all, he was a very fitting first love."

"What happened?"

"He wasn't right for me," Rachel answered. "I had dreams that went beyond McKinley, beyond Lima, and beyond Ohio. He was so fixated on high school that his whole world revolved around his high school image."

Quinn could sympathize. She had heard of dozens of her former classmates at Theodore Roosevelt who suffered from the same delusions of high school grandeur that had kept their mindset stuck in those four years. "That must have been hard."

"Of course," Rachel answered. "I never cared about popularity. Where it counted, I never cared about what other people thought. That was all he cared about. Popularity was so important to him."

"He lost sight about what was really important," Rachel mused. "High school…it's only four years, it's such a blip in comparison to the greater scheme of life."

Quinn smiled, appreciating the notion. "What about you?"

Rachel gestured up to the plaque over the choir room as they passed it. "Well, not a lot of McKinley graduates can say they have a choir room named after them."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn made their entrance just before Mr. Schuester. As they walked down the aisle, Rachel couldn't stop the smile from blooming as she noticed the gathered kids already in the seats. Rachel beamed as she noticed the size of the glee club had increased since she had left. During her years, members were always difficult to come by. Between temper tantrums, ego trips – yes, some of them were actually hers – and the occasional move, New Directions often had trouble keeping the requisite twelve members. Now, it seemed as though the group had doubled in size with almost thirty kids waiting in the auditorium seats, their looks ranging from the jocks, to the Cheerios, to the misfits, to everyone in between.

Mr. Schuester made his way to the front of the seats, a wide smile on his face. "Alright, guys. Sorry I'm late." He gestured over to the two adults sitting just a bit away from the students. "Guys, we have some very special guests today. I'd like to welcome Quinn Lucas and our very own Rachel Berry."

Quinn and Rachel both waved as the excited whispers sounded throughout the group. They were interrupted for a split second as the doors to the auditorium swung open and Finn appeared.

"Hey, Mr. Schue, sorry I'm late. I had to talk with Coach." Finn clambered into the aisle, nearly tripping over Quinn as he fought against gravity to get to Rachel's other side. He settled down beside her, a beaming smile on his face.

"Hey, Rach."

Mr. Schuester clapped his hands, bringing attention back on himself. "Alright, let's get to work. So the assignment for this week was to express longing. Let's see what you guys came up with." He looked to the gathered group of students. "So who'd like to start us off?"

A petite brunette Cheerio lofted her hand. "I'll go, if you don't mind, Mr. Schue."

Mr. Schuester beamed. "Alright, Alyssa! Let's see what you've got."

The Cheerio ascended the steps, handing the sheet music to the pianist as she took center stage. The familiar piano introduction preceded her voice as she began a rendition of OneRepublic's "Apologize."

The girl's voice was nice, delicate and lovely with a hidden strength behind her slight hesitance. Quinn looked over to Rachel. The woman's eyes were closed, there was a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and her brow was furrowed. She was clearly enjoying the performance, but knowing Rachel, she was also picking it apart to help this young girl. She could practically hear Rachel compartmentalizing the performance in her head, pinpointing the girl's voice type, hearing how strong her head and chest voices are, noting where breath control can help. It was like watching a mechanic take apart a car. It was brilliant.

The cheerleader ended on a strong note, and her teammates showed their encouragement.

"That was great, Alyssa!" Mr. Schuester enthused. "I loved the tone of the song and what you did with it." He turned to Finn.

"What did you think?"

Finn nodded, running his palms over his thighs. "That was cool. I really like that song."

He didn't give any much further, but seeing the reactions of the rest of the New Directions, that seemed to be a common occurrence. Mr. Schuester nodded and turned Rachel to ask her opinion. "Rachel, what did you think?"

"That was very good, Alyssa," Rachel answered. "I was very impressed with your upper register and your ability to sustain it. You might need to work on your breath control. Just a little more attention on when you're taking your inhales, but actually not too bad. The one big criticism I do have is that it didn't make me feel."

The Cheerio cocked her head, a confused expression on her pretty features. "I'm sorry, Miss Berry, but I don't understand."

Rachel smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Alyssa, this was hard for me to get too." She turned to the rest of the group. "When you perform, it's more than just singing words."

"What do you mean by that?" came the question from a jock, a soccer player if the patch on his letterman was of any indication.

Rachel ascended the stage so she would be able to look at the entire glee club comfortably. "The greatest performers – performers, my dears, not singers – can reduce you to tears." She smiled, her expression taking a sort of faraway look. "The first time I heard my personal idol, Ms. Barbra Streisand, I was moved in the best way. Her voice took me by the ears, slapped me silly, and said 'Listen to me!' And the only way you are going to stand apart from your competition is by doing the same thing. Take those judges by the ears, slap them silly, and say 'Listen to me!'"

A sly glance was passed through the glee club members, and one spoke up. "Would you like to demonstrate?"

Rachel's eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed, and she took in the conniving expressions from her spot on the stage.

"Oh, you are a sneaky lot." She turned her nose up in the air, winking playfully. "Just for that, I'm going to make you all cry."

She turned to Brad, " 'Someone Else's Story,' dear Bradley."

The longtime glee pianist shook his head. "You are a mean one, Rachel."

Rachel winked and strode to the center of the stage as a lilting piano introduction began to play.

Long ago in someone else's lifetime
Someone with my name
Who looked a lot like me
Came to know a man and made a promise
He only had to say and that's where she would be

Lately, although the feelings run just as deep,
The promise she made has grown impossible to keep
And yet I wish it wasn't so
Will he miss me if I go?

Quinn thought she was prepared for the song, having heard Rachel's UPRIGHT Cabaret show, but as the diva began singing, Quinn realized that this song was different. This was a gamut of emotions she hadn't heard from Rachel's voice before. It was melancholic, sad, and wistful, a clear lament to a loss. This was Rachel at her most vulnerable. She leaned forward in her chair, her elbows propped on her knees and her hands clasped beneath her chin. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

In a way, it's someone else's story
I don't see myself as taking part at all
Yesterday, a girl that I was fond of
Finally could see the writing on the wall

Sadly, she realized she'd left him behind
And sadder than that, she knew he wouldn't even mind
And though there's nothing left to say
Would he listen if I stay?

Quinn looked to the New Directions to see if she was the only one affected by the song. Thankfully for her own ego, she wasn't. The group of teenagers all sat at the edge of their seats, completely entranced by the little diva. Rachel crossed to the other side of the auditorium, arms clasped around herself, her body language mirroring the language. She was trying to protect herself from the sad realization her character was going through, but there was very little to protect one from the truth.

It's all very well to say, 'You fool, it's now or never.'
I could be choosing no choices whatsoever
I could be in someone else's story
In someone else's life and he could be in mine

I don't see a reason to be lonely
I could take my chances further down the line
And if that girl I knew should ask my advice
Oh I wouldn't hesitate, she needn't ask me twice

'Go now!' I'd tell her that for free
Trouble is, the girl is me
The story is, the girl is me

Rachel ended the song on a wavering, lingering note, the musical equivalent of a whimper. Quinn let out her breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Damn that Rachel Berry.

There was a long period of stunned silence before a sniffle sounded. A Cheerio was wiping a tear from her cheek and many others looked quite misty-eyed as well. Mr. Schuester, for his part, leaned against the side of the stage, a small smile playing on his features. The teacher was clearly lost in the nostalgia. Rachel barely contained her smug smirk.

"Rachel, that was…incredible."

Rachel inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

She walked to the edge of the stage, gracefully descending down to sit, her legs dangling over the side. She clasped her hands in her lap and beamed down at the gathered group. Her eyes scanned over the teary-eyed teens. Even through watery gazes, they waited for her to speak again.

"It's not very easy to elicit emotions," she remarked. "But it can be done. The key is that you have to know what you're singing. You have to be conscious of the emotions in the words. Don't just sing the words, feel them; let your emotions fuel your voice. It's okay to delve into feelings of sadness and loss or anger and hate. Because if you understand those feelings, you can express them through song, and you can help others understand those feelings as well."

"The most moving performances are the ones that connect the audience to the performer. You understand what they feel, if only for that one song." She smiled at the current New Directions.

"You have a remarkable power," she imparted. "You can take your audience by the ear and make them listen to whatever you want them to hear, even if it's only for three minutes or so."

Mr. Schuester let that sink in for a moment before clapping his hands. "I think that's all the time we have for today," he announced. "Rachel, I don't know if you have a lot of time, but…"

Rachel smiled. "I have about an hour to kill," she revealed. "If some of the kids would like to stay, I'd be happy to hang around and answer some questions if they would like." She shot a look to her costar, knowing Quinn had a say in this as well. "Would you mind?"

"No worries," Quinn answered. "I'm up for anything." She grinned. "I know you're not as amped to see me as you are Rachel, but if you want to ask me anything as well, I'm game."

Rachel rose to move to the aisle right before the front row. Finn rose with her.

"Hey, Rach, can I talk to you for a second?"

Rachel paused, turning to her ex-boyfriend. "Sure, Finn." Quinn exited the row to give the pair some privacy, moving to grab some stools so they could sit comfortably in front of the New Directions.

Finn shoved his hands in his pockets, managing to shuffle his feet even in the confines of the row. "So, I was wondering if you were free to get together like for dinner or something?"

Rachel's eyebrow quirked up infinitesimally, but she kept her expression neutral. "You're asking me out," she deadpanned.

Finn lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Well, yeah. I mean, why not?"

Rachel's eyebrow inched up even further. "I'm sorry, Finn, but I'm a bit more concerned with making sure my father recovers well enough than social plans."

"I get that, but c'mon," Finn persisted. "It's just dinner. Just to catch up. You know, for old time's sake."

He shot her that puppy-dog look that used to never fail in making her cave, but Rachel was older, wiser, and she had been around dozens of men who had more potent looks on their bad days. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she decided to humor him. What could one dinner hurt?

"Sure, Finn."

He brightened. "Great! I'll pick you up at seven." He climbed over the seat to exit from the aisle and shot her a wide grin. "I promise you'll have fun."

"Great…" Rachel smiled tightly. She tried to muster up enthusiasm, praying that he wouldn't look too deeply into her acquiescence. "I'll see you then."

Rachel watched as he walked away, a bit of a bounce in his step. She remembered the times where he was her whole world, the times where she swore no other man would be more perfect. Now, after seeing the greater world beyond McKinley, beyond Ohio, Rachel had been privy to the true variety the world had to offer. She would always fondly remember Finn Hudson for the role he played in her life, but those feelings of intense longing and infatuation had long diminished. She smiled to herself as she joined Quinn in the first row.

Quinn looked up as Rachel ascended down to the first row. "What was that about?"

Rachel sighed. "I agreed to meet him for dinner to 'catch up.'"

Quinn's expression was entirely amused. "And you didn't see through that?"

"I did," Rachel exhaled. "But it's easier to humor Finn that have him dog me. He's irritatingly persistent. History shows that nipping it in the bud is the best solution for all parties."

"And that couldn't have been nipped by just saying 'I'm not interested?'"

Rachel snorted. "Yeah, if only it were that easy."

Quinn smirked. "If you say so, Songbird."

xxx-xxx-xxx

After an hour of fielding questions from the inquisitive members of New Directions, Rachel skipped back to the car, Quinn smiling amusedly at her side. She swung their joined hands between them as she practically frolicked across the parking lot. Rachel beamed bright and sunny as she threw out her arms and twirled in a languid circle.

Quinn just watched her with a smile. Rachel turned that beaming smile to her costar.

"Is it bad to say that I enjoyed that?" she asked sheepishly.

Quinn shook her head. "No. Why would you think that?"

Rachel shrugged, twirling again. "I don't know. Because that did nothing more than fuel my ego."

Quinn laughed. "I think you did more than that," she remarked. "You gave those kids a reason to dream."

Rachel paused, her arms falling to her side. Her nose scrunched up in slight perplexity. "Well, why shouldn't they? Anyone can get out of Lima, you just have to let go of the small town-Lima Loser mindset and dream big. Bigger than Lima, bigger than Ohio!"

Quinn could only smile as she took in Rachel and her infectious enthusiasm. It seemed fitting that the little diva would be so generous in giving back. Rachel caught Quinn's expression and cocked her head.

"What?"

"Nothing." There was that small half-smile again, the one that was so charming yet mysterious at the same time. "You're just amazing."

Rachel blushed, eyes falling to her shoes. "You keep telling me that, and I know it but…it feels different when you say it."

Her eyes lofted upward to meet a pair of hazel ones. Rachel's brows drew together as she studied the green, gold, and brown spheres. There it was. That emotion again. The unnamed one she could never decipher. Rachel held Quinn's gaze. She was about to ask what was going on in the blonde's head when her cell phone interrupted them.

"Hello, Poppa?" Her eyes brightened at Isaac's rambling and she responded in kind, ending the call and turning a wide smile to Quinn.

"Daddy's awake!"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Physically, Miles Berry was a very imposing man. He was tall at six feet, four inches with an athletic and muscular build. When she was a child, Miles was an immovable wall, the man who did not fall to mere physical force. She had seen him when fists had injured him - sometimes the occasional furniture piece - but she had never been in the position where he had been seriously injured. She steeled her spine, mustering up her courage to stay strong for her father.

"Hey, Daddy."

Miles smiled, but she could see how much effort he had to put into the simple gesture.

"My star," he hissed out. "My shining star." The grin that shone her way was only the fraction of his normal rakish smile. "C'mere and give Daddy some sugar so I can get better."

Rachel sniffled back tears as she obliged him.

"Don't worry, Star," he implored her. "I'll be fine. Good as new in a bit." He reached out for her hand. His big palm engulfed her much smaller one. "Go home, get some rest. I'm not going anywhere." Miles looked around at his surroundings ruefully.

"Literally."

"Rest, Daddy," Rachel entreated. "I'll be back tomorrow." She leaned down and pressed her lips to her father's forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too," Miles answered, closing his eyes to oblige her, his other hand tangled with his husband's. Rachel moved to Isaac, kissing him on the cheek.

"You want me to grab you some things from the house?"

Isaac shook his head. "No, honey, I've got some stuff. Go home. I'll be by for dinner."

Santana knocked on the doorframe and beckoned Rachel outside. "Rach, the paps have caught wind that you're here," she informed her. "They're camped outside the entrance. I called Jocelyn, and she said to make a quick statement."

Rachel wiped the last remnants of her tears and fixed her hair. She straightened, readying her show face. "Alright. Let's do this."

Santana led her and Quinn outside where a group of reporters mingled with paparrazi, eager to capture a picture or record a statement from the biggest thing to come out of Lima, Ohio.

Rachel looked poised in front of the camera as she mustered a small smile for the cameras. "Ladies and gentleman, I am here in Lima because this morning, my father, Officer Miles Berry of the Lima Police Department, was shot today in the line of duty while responding to a call. He has been operated on and is expected to make a full recovery." She looked to the flashing cameras and steeled her gaze. "I'd appreciate privacy during this time while my family and I help my father heal. Thank you."

Santana stepped in front of Rachel as the smaller brunette faded back, clutching Quinn's hand for support. "At this time, there will be no questions. Please respect Miss Berry's wishes during the family's tough time."

Santana led the way through the crowd, assisted by members of Lima's police department acting in deference to their wounded colleague. As Rachel slid into the SUV, protected by the people she cared for the most, she couldn't help but cast another glance back to the hospital. It only solidified the stark realization that no, Miles Berry wasn't Superman. Superman was bulletproof. Miles certainly was not.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Later in the evening, Isaac and Shelby joined Quinn and Rachel for dinner at the Berry house. Miles had gone to sleep fairly early, and it was obvious that the other man would be knocked out for some time. It was a comfortable affair. Clear worry for the policeman tensed the atmosphere slightly, but news of his eventual recovery was the glimmer of hope that they all clung to.

As dinner wound down, Quinn noticed the little brunette absent and searched the house for her. She found Rachel on the porch swing, bundled up in a blanket and staring up into the clear night sky. Quinn sank down on the bench, accepting half of the blanket Rachel offered. Rachel scooted over, laying her head on Quinn's shoulder as the blonde slung an arm around her. Quinn's longer legs braced themselves on the wood of the porch, pushing off gently and sending the swing into a gentle rock. They sat in silence for a minute.

"I forgot how quiet it can be," Quinn remarked softly as she gazed out into the tranquil evening sky. Lima at night was peaceful, serene, the only disruption the occasional car meandering down the streets. "LA is so bustling, so busy, even at night. Sometimes it's hard to have a moment of…stillness and peace."

"I agree," Rachel commented. "There's a reason why they call New York 'The City that Never Sleeps.'"

"Everything's calmer in the Midwest," Quinn continued, "slower, you know? People aren't as in so much of a hurry, aren't so concerned with getting from A to B."

"Do you miss it out here?" Rachel asked.

Quinn thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, kinda. Sometimes LA is overwhelming. I like the quiet times where there's stillness."

"Is that why you're so elusive?"

"A bit," Quinn admitted. "I think there's also a part of me that is still unsure of how I became Quinn Lucas."

"Emmy nominee and America's Sweetheart?"

"Yeah." She chuckled. "The last time I was in Ohio, Quinn Lucas was...a whole different person. She wasn't even close to on my radar."

Rachel craned her head up to meet Quinn's gaze. "So how did that Quinn Lucas become this Quinn Lucas?"

Rachel was surprised at the slightly melancholic look that suddenly appeared on Quinn's face. The blonde pursed her lips thoughtfully before replying, "That, my Little Songbird, is a story for another time."

"If it helps, I like Quinn Lucas," Rachel offered. "You might have to chip through the ice to get to the center, but what you do find is pretty awesome underneath."

Quinn's face softened, and she turned her gaze down to Rachel. Quinn looked at her with such…adoration. It stilled Rachel's breath . She ducked her head down, snuggling into Quinn's chest to avoid the emotions it stirred within her.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being here."

An impossibly gentle hand landed on her hair, stroking gently. Rachel felt Quinn fold forward to press a kiss to her hair.

"Sweetie, I'd walk the line for you."

And there you go! Next chapter, we delve a little deeper into how Miles's scare impacted Rachel as the family gathers to help pick up Daddy B's spirits. Rachel goes on a date with Finn but finds herself thinking more about a certain blonde. Faberry is coming, people! I must warn you that a good part of this story is the development of the relationships as well as the development of the characters so really them getting together is only part of the greater scheme of things. It will come, but I hope you will stick around for it!

Thanks to everyone who has alerted this story and left reviews. They make me so happy. Feel free to leave a comment here and on Twitter, I try my hardest to get to everyone!

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