Part Eleven – 18 – Rachel

Winter, Senior Year

For as long as she could remember, Rachel's world had been comprised of two kinds of people: those who were stars (or were destined to be,) and those who weren't.

She'd never been given a choice as to which category she fell into, but she couldn't honestly say she'd ever wanted one, either. She was a product of two very driven, talented men, and the biological daughter of one of Broadway's leading ladies. She was Rachel Berry, and someday that would be introduction enough.

Nothing mattered more in the Berry household than success.

Her fathers, LeRoy and Hiram, were very much in love, and were among the last of those who managed to marry before the fabrication laws made such a match impossible. They both joked quite frequently and freely about how much better off they'd be if they had gotten to custom design their own mates, as Rachel had. She knew they meant it.

Rachel was destined to be a star, and with that came a lot of luck.

She was lucky that her fathers had been able to save a substantial sum of money, travel to New York City and track down Idina Menzel herself. She was lucky that after attending a full week of successive shows—each night braving the long line to greet the Broadway star—Ms. Menzel had agreed not only to meet with them, but ultimately to provide them with the egg they sought free of charge, so impressed was she with their dedication.

After that, it was a simple matter to locate a willing surrogate. The money they had saved to pay Rachel's mother was instead put aside for her future Fab. A week before she started high school, it was used to purchase Jesse.

Jesse was state-of-the art perfection… at least in terms of performance aptitude. Careful selection and the handsome sum her dads had paid also assured he was suitably intelligent and attractive.

She had to hand it to them: they'd only forgotten compassion, empathy, and basic human decency.

Rachel was under no delusion that she possessed these traits in any notable quantity herself, but even she noticed after a time that something was seriously off about Jesse. He was the perfect duet partner, the perfect lead in a dance or a show, and she was even reasonably sure he'd be a great lover, should she ever show the slightest hint of interest in that area. But he wasn't a good mate. He wasn't even a good friend.

At sixteen years old, Rachel decided a friend was something she desperately wanted. Unfortunately, she soon learned that friends were something you had to make, and not merely a commodity you could easily acquire.

"Daddy," she said, approaching LeRoy one evening as he did the dishes. "How do you make a friend?"

"A friend?" Her father appeared taken aback. "What do you need a friend for, sweet pea? You've got Jesse. And I thought you were rather popular in Glee club."

"I am," Rachel assured him, standing straighter and sticking out her chin. "Of course I am; I'm the best they have… but I just thought it might be nice, you know, to have someone to talk to, maybe to watch musicals with and help me run lines and leave long, gushing comments on my YouTube videos…"

"Jesse does all that; doesn't he?"

"Yes, but…"

"No buts, sweetheart," LeRoy said, drying his hands and taking her by the shoulders, pressing an exaggerated kiss to her forehead. "Having too many friends just eats up your time. That's valuable time you need to invest in your future."

"Yes, Daddy. I understand."

"Good. Now go ask you father to set up the DVR, would you? I feel like it's time for a Tony marathon."

"Sure." Rachel hugged him, grimacing over his shoulder. She loved the Tony Awards, really she did. She looked forward to watching them air each year. But once you'd seen every showing from 1980 on at least ten times, they began to lose their luster.

Rachel spent a lot of time that night lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering which of her fellow Glee club members would make the best friend. Tina was too emotional, and would try to steal her spotlight. Santana was too mean, and would try to steal her spotlight. Mercedes had too much attitude, and would try to steal her spotlight. Kurt was a bit odd, and would surely try to steal her spotlight.

She sighed. Maybe her dads were right after all.

By the time Rachel reached seventeen, she had given up on finding a friend.

Finn wasn't a friend. He was an accident.

An unfortunate accident, one that brought her to life in a way that was often overwhelming. She wasn't accustomed to so much real emotion. She could take praise, and she could handle constructive criticism, if she must. But the way Finn looked at her like she was something shining and beautiful and special and precious just for being, and not even for trying—that was something entirely and wonderfully different.

He was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to her.

He was dangerous.

She tried to rationalize it. It was good to experience real love, would be useful on stage. She knew so much more now than she had before. Not only love, but fear. Passion.

She learned how to care—first for Finn, and later for Kurt. Kurt had been a surprise. They spent hours together, albeit under less-than-honest pretenses, and they had so much in common, and he didn't ask her once to give up one of her solos, or even for her top-secret take-out-the-competition tips.

When she lost Kurt, she was devastated, and also… guilty? The emotion surprised her, as did the humility that accompanied it. Kurt hated her now—she was sure of it—but still: he hadn't taken Finn away.

Then, even more miraculously, he forgave her. And she had Finn, and she had Kurt, and she maybe even had Blaine, and she still had Jesse, and her dads.

Rachel's life was rich and full in a way she never could have anticipated, and she was determined to do everything in her power to keep it that way.

Graduation loomed in the distance, taunting her, warning her. But she had time. She would find a way.

Rachel lounged on the Hudson-Hummel's couch, her head in Finn's lap and her feet in Kurt's. Blaine sat on the floor between Kurt's splayed legs, one hand wrapped around Kurt's ankle. Three of them were laughing as Singing in the Rain played on the TV. Finn merely looked confused.

"But I don't get it; can't they tell that she's like, really bad?"

Rachel tutted, and Kurt shot him a glare, and Blaine said kindly, "That's kind of the point, Finn."

"But I don't get what the…"

"You're sweet," Rachel cut him off, cupping a hand behind his head and yanking him down for a kiss. She'd figured out a long time ago that kissing was the most effective way to shut him up. (She suspected he sometimes employed similar techniques on her, but couldn't imagine why that would be necessary…)

They finished the movie, and Kurt glanced warily at the clock. "We should have another hour," he said. "We've got some leftover tuna salad if you're hungry,"—Blaine wrinkled his nose, and Kurt pretended not to notice—"or there may be a few of the brown—"

"Brownies?" Finn said, perking up like he hadn't since the opening credits of the movie began to roll. "There were brownies left?"

Kurt scowled at him. "I hid some after I baked them yesterday," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why would you hide the—"

"Brownies sound lovely," Rachel said, speaking over him and kissing his brow in apology. She wriggled her toes, then carefully swung her legs over Blaine's head, hopping to her feet. "Come on. I want to talk to all of you anyway. It's important."

"What's important?" Kurt asked as they headed into the kitchen. They watched as he opened the cupboard and retrieved a foil-wrapped plate from behind the oatmeal, Finn's eyes widening adorably as the treats were revealed. There were at least a dozen brownies on the plate, and Rachel and Blaine both hurriedly grabbed two before Finn got to them, Kurt carefully selecting a larger one for himself before nudging the plate across the counter in Finn's direction.

Rachel's eyes glittered as she swallowed. "College," she answered. "Of course."

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look she couldn't read, then Kurt's eyes dropped down to the floor. "I've applied to three schools in New York, two in Chicago, one in California, and one in Florida," he informed the group.

Blaine reached out and curled a hand around his elbow. "I've got applications in at Columbia, Brown, Carnegie Mellon, DePaul, and Ohio State—that's my back up."

"We haven't talked about it," Kurt whispered to him, and Blaine slid his fingers down Kurt's arm, squeezing his hand.

"Not yet."

"Well," Rachel said, clearing her throat. "I was thinking—we should all totally go to New York." She stole a worried glance at Finn, who was watching her with little interest, cheeks fat as he chewed half of his third brownie.

"Rachel," Kurt said, his eyes sweeping over the others before settling on hers. "That would be great, but there's no guarantee…"

"Think of how great it would be! We could share an apartment between the five of us—you'd be bringing Quinn of course, Blaine—and we could all split the cost. I bet my dads would be willing to pay for at least half!"

"Rachel," Blaine said more gently. "What about Jesse?"

Finn stopped chewing.

"Oh, Jesse," she said, laughing nervously. "I forgot about him. But I was thinking, you know, he could stay in the dorms."

"They don't let Fabs stay in the dorms on their own," Finn spoke up, swallowing thickly.

"Well, I…"

Finn shuffled closer to her, their bodies nearly touching.

"Maybe you and Jesse could get a separate apartment?" Kurt suggested reasonably, sounding unsure of himself. "He knows we're friends, right? I mean, he knows you're here with me right now. It could work the same way while we're there, except without the risk of parents…"

Rachel absently placed her remaining brownie on the table, staring as her fingers twined and untwined and twisted together. "Jesse has remedial voice lessons three days a week, for three hours after school. I insisted on it. I told my dads I didn't think he was on par with me yet."

"Well, surely—"

"They all think I stay after school to practice with the acoustics of the auditorium. My dads, umm… they don't really appreciate the whole friend thing. They think it gets in the way. Not that I'm not allowed to have friends, I mean, you know with the party… They want me to be popular, but they just—"

Finn's large body folded over hers, his hands smoothing soothingly through her hair. "It's okay, Rachel," he said. "We all get it." Kurt caught her eye and nodded, and Blaine offered up a sad smile.

"It would be nice," Kurt mused, side-eying Blaine and reaching for his hand. "All of us in New York. We can plan on that. We can find a way to make it work."

Blaine smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "We've got time, Rachel. But that's a wonderful idea." He turned to Kurt. "It's not too late yet; maybe I can send in a few more applications. There's a lot of great schools there."

Kurt nodded and tugged him close, and then…

They all heard the doorknob rattle and jiggle. Acting on instinct, they quickly sprang apart, just before Burt appeared in the doorway.

"Hey kids," he said, tossing his ball cap onto the counter and snatching a brownie, "Rachel, Blaine." He nodded at them both in turn. "Slow day at the shop. You two staying for dinner?"

Rachel reluctantly shook her head, knowing how difficult it would be to come up with another viable excuse to placate her dads. She saw that Blaine did the same.

"Some other time, then," Burt said easily. "Say Blaine—where's your girl?"

"With friends. But she'll probably be home soon, so maybe… maybe I should head out."

He stole a little glance at Kurt, and Rachel saw their fingers brush, once, twice. Discreet, something Burt would surely miss. She wished she was brave enough to try something like that with Finn when there were people, when it was daring, when it would mean telling the world something akin to I don't care.

Instead she threw her arms around Kurt, pecking his cheek. "I better take off too. Thanks for the brownies. Rogers and Hammerstein next week?"

Kurt smiled. "You got it."

"Count me in," Blaine said.

Burt frowned. "Shouldn't you boys be studying?"

"It's fine, Dad," Kurt rolled his eyes. "We've got the project under control."

"Well alright," Burt accepted.

"Thank you, Mr. Hummel," Rachel said politely on her way to the door, wishing such a simple encounter didn't feel so awkward and scary. "See you in school, Kurt, Blaine, Finn."

"Bye, Rachel," Kurt called after her.

She faintly heard Blaine echo the sentiment, but her heart was focused on the heavy feeling of Finn's eyes, following her out the door, a phantom presence all the way home.

"Don't freak out," were the first words Kurt said to Rachel the following Monday, pulling her into a dimly-lit corner by the janitor's closet. Despite their intent, they sent a sharp spike of fear firing up her spine, tingling through her limbs. "Dad knows."

"He… he what?"

"He knows. Carole too. For a long time now, I think. But Rachel: it's okay. They were supportive."

"He knows about me and Finn?" she asked in disbelief.

Kurt nodded. "And Blaine and I."

"And they don't care?" Her voice sounded small and lost to her own ears, almost unrecognizable in contrast to the confident presence she usually projected.

"No," Kurt said, smiling, shaking his head. "No, they don't care at all. They're happy for us. Just—just worried. They did warn us to be careful."

"That's… good," Rachel said, still processing. She forced a smile she didn't quite feel.

Kurt took both her hands in his. "Rachel," he said, "this is going to make things so much easier! Just think of it. And, um—I'm supposed to ask you over for dinner this Friday night, if you think you can manage it. Blaine's coming too, and I think he's bringing Quinn."

Rachel couldn't help but grimace a bit at Quinn's name: the beautiful Fab had never hidden her dislike for the brunette. Rachel didn't care, of course, but it still irked her that someone thought ill of her for seemingly no reason. "I'll do my best," she said, mind spinning with a million and one worries over how she'd pull it off. It was rare that she did anything without her parents, without Jesse. They tended to eat and sleep and sing and breathe as one entity. It had never felt stifling, not until now.

Kurt sighed, his eyes twinkling with happiness as they stared directly into hers. "Find a way, Rachel," he said softly. "Finn's really excited, just… I think deep down he was more worried than the rest of us about what we were doing."

She nodded, squeezing his hands and then dropping them. "I have calculus," she said awkwardly.

"Right," Kurt agreed, moving out into the fray of the crowd traversing the halls. "See you in Glee," he said, giving her one last pointed look over his shoulder.

She watched him disappear, waiting and hoping to feel the same lightness in her heart that she suspected was now in his.

"I need to ask you something," Rachel said with forced bravado that night at dinner, trademark cheer in her voice and a smile pasted on her face.

"Oh?" Hiram said, careful setting his fork down on his plate. "What is it, Rucheleh?"

"There's a community theater thing going on in Westerville Friday night, and my friend Kurt—he's in Glee with me—he has an extra ticket and wanted me to go with him."

"That's funny," LeRoy said. "I haven't heard about any productions in the area this week."

"What will you be seeing?" Hiram asked. "I'm sure it's not too late; I can try to get tickets for the four of us, and maybe your friend could tag along…"

"Oh. Oh, no, it's, umm… it's something new. He has a friend that's putting her own show together, and it's very rough right now, and he just asked if I could come along and give some feedback, you know, since I'm so talented and all."

Her father sat back in his seat, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkin that rested on his lap. He fixed her with a look that Rachel recognized all too well: subtle and placating disapproval. "Rachel, you know it's very kind of you to offer your services. But we talked about this. You're a very special girl, and there are people out there who would love to take advantage of that. Plus, sweetie, you know that's the night for our family sing-a-long—"

"Every night is a night for our family sing-a-long!" Rachel declared in frustration.

Hiram and LeRoy exchanged a look, Jesse's eyes following the happenings with poorly-veiled interest.

"Listen," LeRoy said at last, turning back to his daughter. "If it's really that important to you, sweetheart, then how about you take Jesse? I'm sure he'd be a valuable asset as well, and he'd have your back, of course."

Rachel groaned, struggling to keep calm. She had to salvage this situation, if only for Finn's sake. He had been so good and kind and patient and self-sacrificing with her, and now it was time to pay a little of that back. "Daddy," she said to LeRoy, then turned to Hiram, "Papa. I really just want to take this little trip with my friend. I never spend time with my friends! And I promise we can do the sing-a-long another time. Saturday morning! I'll make brunch."

"Well…" Hiram started, side-eying his husband. "Well, I suppose—"

"Just this once, Rachel. It can't become a regular thing."

Rachel nodded enthusiastically, hardly daring to believe what she was hearing. "Of course; I won't do this kind of thing too often," she offered absently. "My career comes first. I know." She ducked her head, taking a moment to collect herself, then looked back up at her dads and said with more sincerity, "Thank you."

The family went back to eating, and while Rachel finally allowed her excitement to bubble up inside, she couldn't help but feel Jesse's eyes on her, heavier and lingering far longer than usual.

Dinner with Finn's family was fantastic… and not because there was anything particularly special or out-of-the-ordinary about the food. It was the simple things that made the night extraordinary: being able to hold Finn's hand openly, to speak to adults who acknowledged that they were a couple.

Burt and Carole were nothing like her own parents. They listened as the boys prattled on about one thing then switched to something different, interested but never too interested, never showing preference for one topic over another. It ached, how free these boys were, free to be and do anything.

Rachel was destined to be a star. But it would be nice, she allowed herself to muse for a moment, if it was a destiny she had chosen.

Finn squeezed her hand, offered her a soft smile that jolted her from her thoughts.

He would be it, she decided. The thing, the person she chose, today and every day, if she could manage it. She was Rachel Berry. She would find a way.

The night ended too soon with a soft kiss at the doorway. Carole was watching them not-so-subtly from the kitchen, but when Rachel met her eyes she winked before slipping out of view. And things were good. They were great, actually.

Then she arrived home, and minute by minute, word by word, her world came slowly crashing down.

When Rachel got home, her fathers were at the piano as per usual, half-empty glasses of wine in hand as LeRoy played and Hiram danced around him, both of them singing. The sight made her smile. As much as she wished her parents could be different in certain ways, there were other things about her family she wouldn't trade for the world.

Hiram spotted her first and held up a finger: wait. He tapped LeRoy's shoulder as he shimmied by, drawing his attention to their daughter, and LeRoy flawlessly transitioned to the end of their number, cutting it short. She approached them, beaming, accepting both their hugs and pecking their cheeks in greeting.

"How was the performance, darling?" Hiram asked. "I hope it was worth it; you missed a jolly good time here!"

"To my sincerest regret," Rachel replied diplomatically, sweeping a hand to cover her heart for affect. "But it was very nice, Papa. Not at all as rough as Kurt implied, though of course I could do it better…"

"Naturally," LeRoy said with a smile. "Well, you're home now. Your father and I were thinking of hosting another Berry Family Music Night, and you're just what we need to rehearse this number—"

"Where's Jesse?" Rachel asked, only now noticing his absence. It was odd for the Fab to skip out on a performance, even if it was only in their living room. It was even more unusual that her dads hadn't insisted on his participation.

"He said he was sick," Hiram answered. "Just after you left, actually. I think he's been in his room all night."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "I thought we had him specially programmed with an advanced immune system? He's never been sick before."

Hiram shrugged. "I'm not a doctor, Rucheleh."

"You better go check on him, sweetheart," LeRoy suggested. "I guess we forgot."

"Of course," Rachel said, "and then I'm going to turn in. But sing-a-long in the morning, yes?"

LeRoy smiled. "I'm already looking forward to your Famous Berry French Toast." Internally, Rachel groaned. That dish was a beast to make, but it was definitely worth it for her night with Finn.

She kissed them both goodnight and climbed slowly up the stairs. Hopefully Jesse would be sleeping; she didn't really feel like talking to him right now.

Jesse wasn't in his room, oddly enough. Rachel pulled his door shut quietly, padding over to her own room with her heels in one hand, dread beginning to pool in her stomach. Sure enough, when she pushed open the door, there he was, lounging in her vanity chair.

"Jesse…?"

"Hello, Rachel. Did you enjoy your evening?"

She frowned. "The show was actually lovely," she said. "I thought you were sick?"

Jesse smiled that smile of his that had always made her vaguely uncomfortable, and shook his head. "I don't get sick, Rachel. You know that, and so should they." He paused, looking her straight in the eye. "I lied."

Rachel unconsciously clutched at her stomach, feeling more nauseous by the minute. "Why would you lie about…?"

"I'm a very good actor. You've all made sure of that; haven't you? But I wouldn't lie to your parents without a very good reason."

Rachel waited, wishing fervently for some escape from the apprehension hanging thick in the air.

"I had a trip to make; one I'm sure we don't want your fathers to know about. I thought I'd take a drive and find out where the Hudson-Hummels live. Imagine my surprise to see your car in their driveway—" He stopped abruptly, chuckled, an apologetic smile on his face. "That's another lie; I'm sorry. I wasn't surprised at all."

"We took Kurt's car—" Rachel started to explain, but Jesse cut her off.

"Kurt's Navigator was there too."

Rachel wrapped both arms around her middle, feeling as though she were about to cave in on herself. "You know," she whispered. "There's no need to be so dramatic, Jesse. Just… just tell me."

"No need to be dramatic?" Jesse exclaimed in mock-surprise. "Is this Rachel Berry speaking? Drama is more fun, Rachel. But you've changed so much now that perhaps you don't agree."

"What do you want?" Rachel managed.

"You can't guess?" Jesse said, finally dropping the façade. Rachel wasn't sure if that made the situation better or worse. "I want this to stop, Rachel. You're ruining yourself, and by extension ruining me. Finn is nothing, nobody. I'm pretty sure they got him from a factory. He's not worth whatever… whatever dalliance you're having with him."

"Finn's a lovely person! He's kind, and compassionate, and yes, maybe not the brightest Fab in the factory, but he has so much heart, and the way he loves me…" she trailed off, unable to look at Jesse. Tears pooled in her eyes. Of fear or loss or shame, she wasn't sure.

"That's all very sweet," Jesse said, "but I really don't care. You and me—we're going places, Rachel. We're going to be something. You have a better chance of getting there with me by your side, and I'm not ashamed to admit that my chances are better with a Nat like you, with your fathers supporting us and pushing us. Surely Finn isn't more important to you than your dreams?"

Rachel tried to think about that, to compare the two, but her dreams were part of who she was, ingrained since conception into her very being, and she couldn't imagine herself without…

But then Finn…

"Please don't do this," she begged.

"I'll give you time," Jesse said. "I'm designed to be driven, not a monster. You can have a few weeks. But then I'm going to your fathers, Rachel, and you know they'll take this straight to the government. They'd get you off, I'm sure, but Finn…"

"Don't you dare threaten him!" Rachel said, the demand pathetic even to her own ears.

Jesse just shook his head, calmly standing and walking to the door. Rachel leaned against the doorframe, crying, and she turned her head away when he moved to tenderly kiss her cheek. "I love you, Rachel. Take some time. You have a lot to think about."

"You love me because you have to," she ground out.

His only answer was a soft click as he closed the door behind him, and Rachel was finally, blessedly (painfully) alone.

On Monday she wore her favorite outfit and a confident smile, marching straight over to Kurt's locker. Finn wasn't there, though his locker and Kurt's were of course side by side. For once, she was grateful.

"Good morning, Kurt," she greeted.

"Rachel!" he said with a smile. "How was your weekend?"

She shrugged. "Well, I'd have to say Friday night was the highlight…"

"It was nice, wasn't it? I was surprised we didn't hear from you after. Finn and I did a double with Blaine and Quinn on Sunday…"

"That's great," Rachel said, and she meant it even though it hurt. "It's good that you can spend so much time together."

Kurt caught her eye and touched her arm, his face furrowed in sympathy. "It will get easier for you," he offered.

She swallowed thickly, forcing herself to nod. "So I was wondering," she said. "After Friday, I'd like to do something special for… for him," she finished carefully, side-eyeing the hordes of students around them. "Just the two of us?"

Kurt smiled softly. "That's sweet," he said. "He'll really appreciate that. When were you thinking?"

"Friday might be hard to arrange a second week in a row"—Kurt nodded—"so I was hoping… Saturday? At my place?" Her dads were going on a boat tour to celebrate their anniversary, and she was almost positive Jesse would be accommodating, given her decision.

"What about—?"

"It won't be a problem," Rachel assured him hurriedly.

"Okay then," Kurt said, shutting his locker and looping his arm through hers. "I'll make it work!"

Rachel bought a new dress for Saturday night, sparkling and stylish and Kurt-approved. She planned a menu and tried it out on her fathers on Wednesday. Jesse was especially pleased with the meal, complimenting her with sagacious eyes over his serving of steak.

Now the day was here, and Rachel wasn't sure how to feel. Dinner was coming along nicely, the cake was frosted and waiting on the counter, and she looked beautiful, if Jesse was to be believed. He'd tried to steal a kiss on his way out the door—mostly for show, Rachel was sure—but now she was alone, fiddling with this and that as she waited for the doorbell to ring.

And then it did, and she opened the door, and Finn was standing there. In a suit.

"Wow," he said softly, staring at her. "You look awesome."

"Thank you," she said, flushing. "You do too."

Finn smiled, dipping his chin in acknowledgement. "Kurt made it."

"He's got talent."

For a moment they lingered there, eyes on each other and then on the floor, unused to being alone like this, with so much time stretching out before them. Finally Rachel said, "You should come in," and Finn shuffled through the doorway into the foyer. "I made dinner," she added helpfully, "this way."

He followed Rachel down the hall and into the kitchen, ogling the house as he went. She fetched the single, medium-rare steak she'd prepared from the warming plate, took the casserole out of the oven, placed it in a holder, and then shoved it into his hands, leading him from the kitchen into the dining room.

The candlelight flickered as they ate, mostly silent, their fingertips brushing where they met across the table. "I'm really happy you're here," she told him sincerely, smiling and trying not to cry. Why hadn't they done this before, if it was so easy?

Finn was done eating before she was, and Rachel could tell he was antsy while he watched her finish, probably wanting cake. But she had plans first. She sashayed around the table with his eyes following her hips, took his hand and pulled him from his chair, into the living room. With a press of a button, the music started—Barbra's finest, but only the romantic songs, of course—and she made eyes at him, wrapped his hands around her waist. "Dance with me," she whispered, not caring when his movements were clumsy.

When My Man came on she sang along, feeling for the first time in her life like she was flawlessly filling the role she was born to play. There were no Broadway lights, but here with Finn, with his arms around her and his eyes on her and her cheek pressed against the steady thrum in his chest, she truly felt like a star.

The music finally stopped, and Finn kissed her, said "I love you" against her lips, and Rachel felt her heart begin to break, but she said it back anyway.

They were silent for a long time, and comfortably so, until finally Finn said, "cake?"

Rachel took a deep breath, took a step back, took his hands in hers and said, shakily, "I was thinking of something even better."

She stood on her tiptoes, brought their lips together, their bodies following soon after. It was trembling and awkward and far from a perfect performance, but Rachel was certain it was the best opening—and closing—night of her life.

Three weeks passed before Kurt managed to corner her, and then it was only because he had the audacity to follow her into the girls' restroom. Jesse, as it turned out, was a marvelous shield, but Rachel had known all along that his protection could only stretch so far. She sighed, watching Kurt through the mirror, and waited for him to start.

"Rachel," he said eventually, his glare shooting fire through her entire body, even when she closed her eyes. "Why?"

"I…"

"Do you even know what you've done to him? He came home after your special date so happy, so at peace—in a way I've never seen in him—and then day by day, you crush him. Without a word, without any sign. He doesn't understand. I've asked him a million times if something happened that night between you, and he—"

"What did he tell you?" Rachel said, cutting him off. She wasn't sure why, but it was important to her that Finn didn't share what had happened between them with Kurt.

"Nothing," Kurt spat out. "He insists that nothing out of the ordinary happened, that everything was fine between you. And then this. Why, Rachel? Why would you do that to him?"

She smiled, wistful, and finally turned to look at him. "It was always going to end, Kurt. Surely you knew that, even if he didn't."

"Of course I didn't!" Kurt said through clenched teeth. "Of course I—Rachel, you were just talking about college! About us all going together! Blaine put in four more applications just last week…"

"I was pretending," Rachel said, smile still pasted on her face. "It was a beautiful dream."

"Rachel," Kurt said, wrapping a hand firmly around her elbow and tugging, forcing her attention. "Rachel, look at me. What happened?"

She did it, looked right into his eyes, and something within her broke. The tears came, then: hot and silent, trailing down her cheeks. "It was Jesse. Jesse knows."

Kurt's expression shifted from angry to troubled in a flash, his fingers tensing painfully around her arm. "He…?"

"He followed me, that Friday we… He didn't believe my story. He saw my car at your house, and he… he knows."

"Oh, Rachel."

"He said he would tell my dads, that he'd get Finn arrested!"

"He's a Fab. Surely your dads would believe you over him?"

"Maybe," Rachel said vacantly, then shook her head. "Maybe, but… I don't know. And I can't lose them, Kurt. My dads, Jesse, my dreams… you have to understand that it's been all I've known. I don't know who I am without them."

"You're not afraid for Finn," Kurt snarled, suddenly looking vicious again. "You're just worried about yourself, aren't you? About your fame?"

"Kurt, no, I—"

"Don't lie to me, Rachel!" He squeezed her arm painfully then let it go, looking almost alarmed with himself. "If it's not that, then stand up to him! My parents will help you, Rachel; there's got to be a way!"

For one brief, precious moment she let herself consider it, had herself almost convinced. But Kurt was right. Ultimately, it came down to the fact that she was a coward. She was afraid for Finn, but she was more afraid for herself. She was afraid of the unknown, of losing everything, of losing herself.

"I'm sorry," she said, staring into a sink. "I just—I just can't."

"What will I tell him?" Kurt asked.

Rachel's heart broke as she pondered what answer to give him. Finn did deserve something, preferably something that would ease his pain rather than strengthen it.

She knew that with these words, she wasn't just losing Finn. She was losing a friend, many friends. The only friends she'd ever had.

There was no other way.

"Tell him," she said at last. "Tell him that I love him, but in this world it isn't enough."

Rachel Berry wasn't a liar. She was speaking the truth.