Title: The Shell Collector.

Pairing(s): Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez/Ms. J

Rating: NC17/M

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Ryan Murphy's characters, Disney (other than a few DVDs- full disclosure), The Academy Awards, the British monarchy, the Tony Awards, the Imaginary Muccino's Italian Cuccino (but I will be Trademarking), or New York, Julie Andrews, Patty LuPone, Skype, US News and World Report, the Nobel committee, or motherhood in general. I own very little, actually. I really don't own Justin Bieber or any part of the New York Times or the theater named in this review. This is strictly for fun, is non-profit, so no litigation required.

Summary: Hitting a brutal reality check while walking the red carpet on Oscar night, Rachel wonders how she found herself here, and how to find herself again. This is the story of how she does just that.

A/N: Crazy people reading this- thank you, a lot, for reading and suggesting and all that good stuff. Not to go all zen or morph into Yoda or anything, but what will be, will be...but that doesn't mean aspects don't need to be cleaned up, so please keep reviewing. Dizzle24 - thanks for the insight, I've been cleaning house a bit. AlyBerry, Cuccinio2002, laurenknight, and w1cked, everyone...thanks as always for your encouragement!

CHAPTER NEXT: LET'S PUT ON A SHOW!

They were winding down. The final dress rehearsal was within sight at the end of the week. Opening night was the following Tuesday. Rachel was now secretly relieved Quinn had hired the thick necks, as it was close to impossible to get to the stage door now through the crowds, without them. Today seemed to be particularly difficult, as she pushed her way through the throngs of people and photographers to get to work.

"Rachel! Rachel! How are you and Quinn doin'?"

Flash!

"Where's that royal piece of ass of yours?"

"Smile, Rachel!"

Flash!

"Back away from the ropes, Sir." David Karofisky pushed the eager Pap away from Rachel. "Ms. Berry, this way." He smiled, as he ushered the diminutive princess in.

"Thank you, David."

He winked.

What an odd universe, Rachel thought. I'm comforted by the presence of Dave Karofsky and I just had sex with Quinn Fabray one hour ago. Rachel walked into the theater, still five minutes early, but to Rachel Berry, that was late. She cocked her head to the side as she listed to a very passionate Beth on the phone. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but frankly, since Rachel was one of the few show business types that understood the adage, "Early to Bed, Early to Rise…." it meant that she and Beth had the place to themselves. So it was impossible not to overhear, as they were the first to arrive.

Beth was shushing the other end of the phone. "Shhh, Shhh. Stacy, Stacy…stop crying. Please. I can't understand you…What happened?"

Rachel watched the young woman's face suddenly contort with anger.

"What? A Slushee? Who? Who did it, Stacy?"Beth was livid. "I'll kill them! Damn it, Betsy was supposed to be keeping an eye on things this year! I'll kill her too!"

Rachel stepped over to the screen where Beth was talking.

"What?" She snapped at Rachel, in frustration.

Rachel put up her arms. "Woah, tiger! I overhead the conversation and I thought…." She scanned Beth's wounded eyes. "Well, if you've calmed your Italian down a bit," Rachel continued, "I know quite a bit about Slushee destruction, and I thought I could offer my help."

Tears were forming in Beth's eyes. Rachel squeezed her shoulder. Stepping up to the audio screen, Rachel said, "Hello, Stacy! Its Rachel Berry here, I thought I might offer you a few tips about Slushee clean up."

"Rachel Berry? Didn't you go here, like 100 years ago? Did they even have Slushees then?" Stacy said, skeptically, on the other end.

Beth laughed. Rachel gave her a quieting look.

"They most certainly did have 'em, honey. I must have been at the receiving end of at least 150 of them. First question – what flavor is it?"

Stacy tasted a chunk from her sweater. "Mmmm. Wild Cherry."

"Oh, rats! Honey, that is the worst one, it stains the most! You've got to get to a bathroom, immediately. There's one on the second floor, end of the hall, by the orange lockers. Go there now, I'll wait."

Rachel looked over at Beth, who was calming slightly, and gave her a wink.

"I'm here, Ancient Rachel Berry."

"Great. Okay, now you need to take your sweater off and run it under cold water – NOT HOT. Cold. Oh, lock the door, I forgot to tell you that."

Stacy got that going.

"Now, what color is your hair? Is it blonde like your mom's?"

"Yes."

"Damn. Okay, start rinsing under the sink, with cold water, now, just to get as much out as you can."

After a moment, the girl reported, "done. It looks pink."

"It will. Unless…Stacy, look at the end of the room. Is there a paper towel holder that doesn't have paper towels in it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, check to see if there is a key taped underneath it."

"There is."

"Unlock the paper towel holder."

"The empty one, Ancient Rachel Berry?"

"Yes, but very slowly. I think there's still some stuff in there, hopefully"

A clatter of noise as things fell and hit the ground was heard.

"Holy Crap! Are you trying to kill me, Ancient Rachel Berry?"

"No, dear. Okay, get the Borax – it's the blue container, and the toothbrush taped to it."

"This stuff looks old."

"It is, but what choice do you have?"

"Truth."

"Okay, now go over to the sink, turn off the water. Sprinkle the Borax everywhere you see a stain, and just leave it for a minute."

Stacy did as she was told. "Okay, done."

"Next, is there a spray bottle with some clear liquid in it?"

"Yes, it stinks."

"Yes, it's got ammonia in it, among other things. Okay, now this is important: spray it in your hair, but do NOT get it in your eyes, Stacy."

"Woah!" Beth interrupted. "Hey, um, you should probably close your eyes, Stac."

"How am I going to see where I'm spraying, Dork? Do you think I'm going to spray it in my eyes?"

"Well, er….yes?"Beth said.

"Hey – I may be retarded, but I'm not stupid."

"You go, girl." Rachel encouraged. "Tell me when you're done."

After a few nail biting minutes, Stacy reported, "I'm all done. My eyes are fine. But this plant next to the sink ain't lookin' too good."

"We'll deal with the plant later, hon. Okay, now put your head under the sink and rinse it all out with cold water again."

"I'm freezing my tits off, Ancient Rachel Berry!"

"That happens. Keep rinsing."

"Done. Hey- wait! Woah! My hair's normal again! That's a cool trick, Ancient Rachel Berry!" Stacy squealed.

Rachel beamed.

"Okay Stacy, in the third stall – the broken one- there should be a clean hand towel rolled up in the tampon dispenser. Get it, if it's still there, and towel dry your hair. Blot, don't scrub. Remember, BLOT."

The girl returned. "Got it did it, and there are seven condoms there, too."

"Hmm, that's a new addition. Put those back when you're done."

"Okay. Now what?"

"Take the toothbrush and gently scrub the stains with the toothbrush while you run cold water on it at the same time. "

"Woah, it's coming out! Cool!"After finishing, she said, "But my sweater... its sopping wet!"

"Wring out the excess water, and put it under the hand dryer until it's dry. And Stacy, bring an extra set of clothes tomorrow, just in case."

"Wow, thanks Ancient Rachel Berry!"

"Stacy, um, now that we've done Slushee's together, could we maybe say…Aunt Berry? Instead of Ancient Berry? That sounds so old!"

"That's because you are old, Ancient Berry!"

Beth laughed. She gave Rachel a heartfelt look of appreciation. "Stacy, did you tell your mom what happened? I want to know if I need to call the police to prevent a homicide."

"No, I didn't."

Beth looked startled. "Why not?"

"Why? Cause she's not here today, Dork! Duh!"

Rachel and Beth exchanged a look. "Why not? Where is she?"

"She's doing some more campaigning again today. She's in Dayton and Cincinnati today, then heads up to Cleveland tomorrow."

Now the two theaters bound women were perplexed.

"Campaigning for what, Stacy?" Rachel asked gently.

"Lieutenant Governor. She and some guy with bad breath are running for office together."

"What?" Rachel and Beth said, in unison.

"He's even older than you, Ancient Rachel Berry! Wow...Oh, awesome, my sweater is dry! Beth, I have to get to class, I'm really late. Ancient Rachel, thanks for the help, I'll put your ancient chemicals away before I go, and your ancient condoms, too."

"What? Lieutenant Governor? Did you say, Lieutenant Governor?" Rachel Echoed.

"See? Your hearing gets bad when you get old, Ancient Rachel! Oh, and Beth, don't be mad at your friend Betsy, she tried to stop him. Pete "The Meat" just threw it over her head. He's an ass."

"Who's staying with you, Stacy?"

"Someone from the agency."

"Oh." Under her breath, Beth muttered, "They're doing this because Sue and I are both gone, and they think they can get away with crap like this."

Rachel whispered back. "Beth, Stacy is a big girl, and she's tough. She can handle this."

"I heard you two whispering. P.S. - Beth, that means post script. Beth, Don't worry. Me and some of the other special ed kids are going to set Pete "The Meat's" custom built hockey stick on fire this afternoon, then throw it in the pool, screaming all crazy-like and pretend we didn't know what fire does because we're mentally retarded. Its gonna be awesome!"

"See?" Rachel said.

Beth let out a huge belly laugh. "Ohmigod, that's awesome! You're awesome, Stac. You kill me!"

"And you're a dork. Bye Beth. Love you."

"Love you, too."

After they hung up, the two women looked at each other. Beth was the first to break the uncomfortable silence.

"So we learned a few little interesting things, huh, Ancient Rachel Berry? That was a pretty awesome walk through, you did there, with Stacy. Does it, um, matter what the colors are?" Beth said, nervously.

"Absolutely. Blue, Green and Yellow need acidity to remove the stain, and baking power. Red's the worst, though."

Beth sighed. "Do I need to ask why you know so much about this?"

"No, I don't think so." Rachel said, allowing a brief dark look to color her expression.

"LQF…" Beth started, a sad expression on her face. "My mom. She did this to you, didn't she? My mom threw Slushees at you."

Rachel cut her off. "Beth, let's not talk about this. Your mom-LQF-whatever. Know this - Quinn was a different person then, but she always had good, inside her."

"What color did she use?"

"Oh, Quinn's calling card was red. All of the Cheerios threw…red. I grew to hate Wild Cherry."

Rachel looked at the younger woman, who had tears welling in her eyes. "Rach, that's awful. Just awful…and horrible…and, and-"

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "You mean to tell me, Beth Corcoran, 4 year Cheerio letter winner, that you never threw a Slushee? In your entire high school cheering career?"

"Not one."

"Wait- really?"

"Really. Believe it. It's just…mean."

Rachel was speechless.

Beth continued. "Yep. No Slushees. I believed, at first, its why I was passed over for Captain. You know, the title of the ol' HBIC that my mom.." Beth said, rather bitingly, "so easy won. Coach said, at the time, that I didn't have what it took- she said I wasn't mean enough, to be HBIC."

"You said, 'at the time'? What does that mean?"

Beth laughed. "At graduation, Coach took me out to dinner, just the two of us. We talked a lot that night. She said I would have been the absolute best captain she ever had- because she believed people would have followed me, "to their death" , you know Sue's dramatic style... because they respected me, and not out of fear. She said she wanted – badly – to give me the title my sophomore year, just like she had my mother, LQF."

"But she didn't."

"No, she didn't. She didn't, because she didn't want me to have to deal with the pressures of the comparison to the great Lucy Quinn Fabray. And titling me, she felt, would have invited that very comparison. So, instead, she gave it to a girl a year older, and she was fine. The squad did great that year."

"Was she right?"

"Sue generally is. You know, I'll never know. I do know that I had a lot of fun in Cheerios, and I made a lot of good friends –sort of. It was nice to know that Sue had a method to her madness, and it wasn't just cause I wasn't a bitch. I really did have fun cheering - I get the impression my experience was very different than my mothers'."

"It most certainly was. Oh my God, Beth, she hated being a Cheerio."

"Interesting." After a moment, Beth spoke again. "Okay, I can't hold it in anymore." Beth was shaking, now. "Rachel, how could you forgive her? How could you love such a horrible person, who Slusheed you, and humiliated you?"

"Stop right there, Beth Elizabeth Corcoran! You will never talk about Quinn that way to me again!"

"But-"

"But, nothing. You will not disrespect her, in my presence, again. Understood?"

"Why, Rachel? Yes, I won't, But-"

Rachel put up her hand. "But nothing! Beth, you grew up loved. You grew up wanted. If you succeed, if you fail – it's irrelevant. Shelby loves you irregardless. You can't possibly understand what it was like to grow up as Quinn Fabray."

"Yes, but you make your choices, you don't have to be cruel…."

"And Quinn did just that, when she grew up, and got help. She made her choices then, when it was safer for her and she wasn't a terrorized child any longer. It's pretty amazing when you think of the fact she even admitted she loved…another girl, at that age, considering she was raised to think it was an abomination of the Devil's."

"This isn't 1876, Rachel."

Rachel looked exasperated. "Are you dense? You can't possibly understand your mother's horrible life. Neither of us can, Beth! It looked so golden on the outside, since that's how the Fabray's operate, but make no mistake…it was tragic. Tragic, Beth." Rachel paused, taking a breath to steel her nerves. "I would see the welts she would try to hide when she came home with a B…Actually, it was a B+, as I recall..." Rachel shook her head, tears in her eyes. "That was one fucked up family, Beth. You do know they kicked her out of the house when she was pregnant with you, right?"

"Yes..." Beth said, uneasily.

"Well, did you know that Quinn has a cousin, who is dead in a cemetery in Lima, because her father beat her for telling a guidance counselor she was being touched?"

Beth was shaken. "Wait…is that Ruthie? I though she committed suicide, due to her mental illness…."

Rachel scoffed. "I guess that's what murder becomes when you have money and standing. If her father wasn't rich, and her mother wasn't a Fabray, I imagine the cause of death might have read a little differently on the death certificate. I also imagine this fabricated 'mental illness' would be recognized for what it was...post traumatic stress disorder induced from years of abuse, Beth."

Beth was shaking, now.

"So when you sit in judgment of Quinn, think to yourself, how hard must it have been for her. This….this hollow girl, she fell in love, despite herself. She fell in love with a loud, obnoxious, Jewish daughter of two proudly out gay men. A girl, Beth! She tried to not feel these feelings, but she couldn't help herself. Everything she did just made it worse…so she did the only safe thing she could think of…" Rachel looked at Beth, meaningfully. "She tried to make me hate her. She rationalized, maybe then, if I hated her, I'd go away…."

"But you didn't."

"Nope." Rachel said, lightly. "I'm just awesome, in that way." She hugged Beth, and started dragging her away. "Enough heavy talk. Let's go see what Mr. Muccino's got in store for us this morning!"

XOXOXOX

Artie would often recount, looking back, that something happened to Beth's acting skills with a mere seven days left to go on the clock. She went from an amateur thespian, delivering a merely adequate performance as Q , and blossomed overnight into an actress. Out of nowhere, Beth developed depth, and offered an incredibly layered performance.

Beth Corcoran, walking into the shoes of her birth mother, with seven days left before opening night, delivered an interpretation well beyond her experience or years, portraying Q as woman who was….well, who she was. Beth offered rendition of "Q" that was true to the flawed heroine that she was at that time. Young Q was simultaneously tragic and arrogant; loving and conflicted; but undoubtedly irresistible, and madly in love.

Beth quickly dismissed any speculation when asked. If she did comment, it was something along the lines of, "Someone made me aware of how truly complex the human condition actually is, at a critical junction. I got a new lease on Young Q at just the right time. Through this process, um, I learned a lot about my incredible birth mother. Without this opportunity, I wouldn't have had this chance, otherwise. She would have forever remained an enigma to me...a porcelain Goddess, just like everyone imagines her to be. You know, untouchable. But she's not. She's warm, and kind, and shy...and she loves Rachel, enough to be a better person. So I'm grateful, because, well…my birth mother is … well. She's awesome." Quinn never asked why, but Beth started coming around to see her on breaks, and hug her, and ask her a million questions; she even gave her a framed picture of them a day before opening night. Quinn felt a swell of happiness in that moment, and hugged Beth for all she was worth. Rachel never mentioned the conversation or took the credit for their newfound closeness - she didn't have to. She was Rachel Berry...and she self-proclaimed, she was just "awesome" in that way, after all...

Also, with seven days to go, the cast learned that McKinley's former Cheerios coach, Sue Sylvester, had filled in on the Republican ticket for Lieutenant Governor, running with Charles Grassroot, the two time incumbent who had taken a serious hit in the polls when news of his gambling issues came to light. On top of it, the sitting Lieutenant Governor had a sudden cardiac event, and was gone. "It's a lame duck appointment," he had reassured his old friend, Sue. Sue smiled, and shook his hand, thinking to herself, that's what you think, Chuck, you pompous asshole. Just you wait. You obviously don't know Sue Sylvester.

Back in New York, the cast was getting ready to do press starting on Wednesday, Dress on Friday and again on Monday; with opening night on Tuesday. Piece. Of. Cake. What could go wrong?

Quinn sighed. Everything could go wrong. She was the expert, after all. Quinn sat in the back row, quietly reflecting while watching rehearsals, she offered a silent prayer.

Lord, I know I've let you down in the past. I know this. But Lord, please look at the good people here that brought this to life…Rachel, Beth, Artie…these are really good, kind, and decent people. They don't deserve to fail. They don't deserve my curse. Please, Lord, be merciful; don't take my existence out on them. Please. They should have better. In the Lords' name, Amen.

Quinn gazed upwards towards the rafters, even though it was a theater and not a church, but more out of habit, really, in finishing her silent prayers. She took out a Kleenex from her clutch, hoping to wipe the tears that had seemingly gotten stuck in her eyes, before she saw her Rachel again.

Showtime! Six days, and a wake up, to go….

TBC.