AN: I was hoping to have the story done by the early thirties, but I guess that's not going to work. Thank you for all the reviews! It's mind boggling I'm over 400, even more so since this story was intended to be a one shot. All of your comments are sweet, and wonderful, and I love them all so SO much. If you're an anonymous user, I can't respond to your comments but if you want to leave me an e-mail, I'd be happy to e-mail back!

I will be going into a description of Jack in further chapters. For now, I just wanted to set things up.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rachel says, a steely edge tinting her words. She's going to have a stern discussion with her fathers later regarding therapy. Just because she's sad, and hurt, and sometimes a little tired of it all, is no reason to jump the shark and enroll in therapy. She's going to become a similar version of her old self. Eventually. When she's ready.

Jack plops his elbows on the table separating them, holding his chin in his palms. He stares at her, watching her brown eyes dart across the room, looking anywhere but back at him.

"Really?"

Rachel wonders why her father had to pick a therapist with green eyes, and she forces herself to sit up straight, and to stare back. She wonders if therapists can prey on weaknesses.

"Really."

"Normally, people that are satisfied with their lives have no need for therapy."

"I garner a great deal of satisfaction from my everyday routine. It's nice, and it's orderly; it makes me happy."

She doesn't discuss the last time she was happy, if only because she's unclear on the timing of when that was.

Jack leans back in his chair again, his hands folding together in front of her on the table.

"Describe it for me, then. Your everyday routine."

Narrowing her eyes, Rachel proceeds to go into the routine of her previous days; the routine she had prior to Puck's disappearance last year.

"I wake up at six am to go on the elliptical, and then I have my power shake."

He tilts his head, motioning for her to continue. He's a bit jealous to be honest; even he can't rise at six in the morning for an exercise routine.

"Finn picks me up promptly at 7:30 and then we drive to school to begin a new day."

"Does he kiss you good morning?"

"What?"

Rachel looks away, startled by the question. All these months of memories, and she can't remember if Finn kissed her good morning.

"Does he kiss you in the morning?" Jack repeats the question slowly, trying to keep the smirk off his face.

"Mind your own business." She snaps back, unable to keep the edge from creeping into her tone.

"I'm your therapist. I can't mind my own business."

"Fine. He kisses me good morning when I come into the car. Then, we drive to school and I'm there until three, and then I have Glee practice. Once Glee has finished, he drives me home and I do my homework, and I go to bed."

"Sounds exciting."

Jack doesn't say anything about the kiss. Judging from the expression circling underneath her eyes at the mention of Finn, and of the kiss, he would bet a sizable fortune they've recently broken up, and she's carrying on appearances.

"It is. It is very exciting, and you know what, I don't appreciate your tone."

"My tone?"

"Yes. Your tone is laced with judgment."

"I don't have tones. I'm very neutral. Much like Switzerland."

"You're judging. Isn't that against the rules of therapy?"

Jack shrugs. "There aren't any rules in therapy."

"Isn't there a set of guidelines? Everything has a set of guidelines."

"Nope. I'm here for you to discuss whatever you want."

"What if I wanted to discuss a variety of fine wines?"

"You're underage, and by default, not supposed to be drinking, but yes, if you want to discuss fine wines, we can discuss fine wines."

"Well, I don't want to discuss fine wines."

"So then why are you here?"

"The school guidance counselor called my father. She informed him my behavior is uncharacteristic of what it normally is, and here I am, sitting across a judgmental therapist."

"What's your normal behavior?"

She opens and closes her mouth just as quickly. Her normal behavior is spending the day alone, and falling asleep before she has a chance to finish her homework; not that she would tell Jack this. Nor does she have any intention of confiding in Jack about the messed up state of her love affairs.

"I just told you."

Jack arches an eyebrow.

"What's the cause for concern on her part, then? It sounds like a boringly average day."

Rachel shrugs, and continues to poke at the stitching on her jeans, tearing the seams apart slowly.

He continues to watch her, watching as her hands flutter across her lower body. He wonders if his eyes are imaging her shakes.

"You can only lie to yourself for so long, and sooner or later, you're going to wake up in the morning, and wonder why you began lying to begin with."

"I'm not lying."

Jack puts his hands around the back of his head, and gazes at her thoughtfully.

"If that was the case, then you wouldn't be here; if everything was as fine as you want to imply. I'll see you Thursday. Maybe you'll be more amiable to the truth then."

Rachel gives a quick wave of her hand, not bothering to comment on his words, and walks out his door. Once she's safely turned the corner, she sticks her hands in her pockets, and searches for the exit. She's got to get out of here. Standing outside, she stares at the sun, and wonders where she can go. Shrugging, she decides to visit the mall. The prospect of being surrounded by people does a little to stifle her loneliness.

On the other side of town, Puck continues to throw his basketball towards the ceiling, his thoughts concentrated on how hard he has to throw the ball against the ceiling for it to collapse. He throws and throws, but he never gets it high enough for it to hit, and with a disgusted look, he throws the ball across the room, nearly missing a lamp.

He stares upwards, wondering what to do with his time, what would make the vacation by quicker. Remembering his sister's birthday is around the corner, he grabs his keys, deciding to go to the mall for a birthday gift.