Rachel Berry prided herself on many things. She was talented (in more ways than one), she was honest, she was committed to her extracurricular activities, and amongst countless other fine attributes, she was strong.

She wasn't feeling strong today though.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, a wad of tissues clasped firmly in her shaking fingers, Rachel couldn't stop crying over Rosie, the girl who had drowned during their vacation. A few weeks had passed since the ordeal, and though it seemed that everyone else in glee club had moved on from the accident, Rachel found it physically impossible to forget every little detail of the tragic event. Of course, her daddy had tried to reassure her many times over that it wasn't her fault that the girl had died, and to an extent, Rachel believed him. However, it was on lonely nights, when the rain pelted fiercely against the roof, and the wind whistled against her window, that she felt completely and utterly alone, and she felt every stab of guilt like a shot to the heart.

Rachel sniffed and pressed a tissue to her eyes. Melodramatic; that should have been her middle name. She wasn't trying to be the hero, and she wasn't trying to gain sympathy after everything that had happened; all she wanted was forgiveness and closure, yet no one could forgive her when they refused to accept that she was to blame.

As she fluffed up her pillow and pressed her damp, stained cheek to the fabric, Rachel thought of Finn, like she did every night before bed. In some twisted, indescribable way, it felt like she was being unfaithful to him, and this only aided her nightly torment. Finn was her boyfriend, and as such, she was supposed to open up to him, wasn't she?

In her defence, she opened up to him a lot, though always omitted her feelings about the vacation. Though they'd had their ups and downs, Rachel knew that Finn saw the vacation as a positive, perfect thing, and whenever Finn called to wish her goodnight, she'd simply put on her brave voice, tell him that she loved him, then cried herself to sleep, waking up a few times with a recurring nightmare.

She was at her wits' end. Even though she had so many people to talk to, Rachel felt like she had no one to talk to, because no one could understand how she was feeling, not really. She'd half hoped that Tina would reach out over their shared experience, but it seemed that she'd adjusted to normality without any problems. Besides, Tina wasn't responsible for not helping the girl, so why would she be suffering like Rachel?

Her bedroom window shot open, and with a feeble scream, Rachel hid herself under her duvet, her whole body shaking with fright. She knew that hiding away was probably the wrong course of action if the intruder was some crazed serial killer out for her virgin blood, but all reason went out of the window (literally) as Rachel heard a familiar scowl.

"Oh please Berry, I've seen your childish pyjamas before so don't bother being embarrassed."

Rachel peered out of her bed and felt a surprised frown rest upon her eyebrows. "S-Santana?"

The girl in question shrugged nonchalantly. "You not allowed friends over?"

Both girls seemed to recoil at her choice of words; Santana and Rachel had never ever been friends.

"No, I suppose I am but..." Rachel sat up slightly and looked over at her bedside clock; it was nearly midnight. "Could you keep it down? My dads wouldn't really approve, and..." She looked back at Santana and frowned once more, wrinkling her nose slightly as she did so. "Why are you here? If this is some practical joke then please, just get it over with before I go to sleep because I need to maintain a regular schedule to keep my body functioning effectively." Rachel scrunched her eyes shut and dug her fingers into her blanket before taking a deep, anticipated breath. Instead of water balloons crashing against her face (frankly, water balloons would be a relief; she'd heard of the infamous 'pee balloons' that the football team specialised in, and that was something she definitely didn't want to experience firsthand), she instead felt the bed dip slightly. She opened one eye cautiously, and (mentally) furrowed her brow; Santana was sitting beside her, staring at her like she was important.

"Have you been crying?" the Latina asked matter-of-factly.

Rachel rubbed at her eyes and shook her head. "No, but I've been trying this new moisturising cream that has been wreaking havoc on my skin." She feigned a smile, but it was clear from Santana's expression that her lie was pretty poor.

"What's up Berry?" Santana pursed her lips as she looked Rachel up and down, noting the bright orange pyjamas and the sore, puffy skin around her eyes. "I'm going to give you five minutes to get whatever it is off your chest because I need to talk to you, and it's related to something that's on my chest," she paused and smirked humorously, "or something that isn't yet, but might be soon."

Glee!

It was the old cliché, but it didn't lessen the truth behind it. Little girls were supposed to dream of the 'biggest day of their lives', the day when it was acceptable to dress like a fairytale princess as you exchanged vows with your fairytale prince in church, God smiling down on the union.

Quinn had neglected church, and for that, she was slightly regretful. As she flicked through old wedding magazines, left behind after her sister had gotten married and had been whisked away into a life of complete ordinariness, she found herself smiling absentmindedly at the pretty gowns and the beautiful brides. It didn't matter if the women were professional models, paid to look like they were happy; in Quinn's mind, they were happy.

She was one of the girls who had been planning her wedding since she was six years old, actually. Quinn had fallen in love with the idea of love, and had fallen in love with the dresses, and had fallen in love with the concept of one day being so, so important. When she'd been six years old though, she hadn't envisioned herself to be the girl she was now, a girl who'd cheated on her boyfriend, a girl who'd gotten pregnant by his best friend, a girl who'd given birth and abandoned the baby. Now though, anything related to fairytales and happiness... well, they just seemed like impossibilities, for her at least.

She slumped against her bed, holding her little lamb in her hands while she softly stroked its worn, furry head; she couldn't believe it was so late, or that she was still awake. Quinn had had a rough day (sure, most days were rough but today had been just that much worse). She'd woken up, still half asleep, and with a yawn and a coo, she'd kissed the top of her lamb's head before whispering "Good morning Beth."

Five minutes later, as her lamb sat crumpled against her bedroom door, Quinn had decided to attend the Sunday service at her church, positive that her confusion was related to a lack of meaning and religious guidance in her life. Once she was washed, dressed, and slightly more stable (she'd only needed ten minutes to rid herself of all of her tears), Quinn had asked her mom to take her to church, and the two of them drove in near silence, now and again chatting over the unimpressive weather.

Quinn was thankful for small mercies, though it wasn't as if she had a lot to be thankful for anymore. One of these mercies? Thank goodness Puck was a Jew; at least there wasn't any chance that she'd bump into him during the hymn service.

"What made you want to attend this morning, honey?" asked her mom as they made their way into the church. Quinn looked around at the pews of the once familiar building, and with a small sigh, she gave a wordless shrug; she wasn't going into it now.

The service started, the priest began his sermon, and with a heavy heart, Quinn realised that she hadn't taken in a word that had been said. Instead, she studied the congregation intently, trying to remember names and faces from a time when the only person she'd loved was Jesus. She smiled at Mrs Miller, the nearly-deaf old woman from down her street, and managed a slight nod at Mr Williams (or was it Mr Weston? She couldn't remember at all), the man who used to look after the garden for the Fabrays.

Quinn's eyes focused on a boy who she'd never seen before. As everyone rose to join in with the hymns, she found herself staring at his bright blonde hair, and the way his mouth, overly large and charismatic, struggled to sing along with the rest of the church. Quinn bit her lip to hide a smile, and when she felt a gentle nudge from her mom, she returned to her hymn book, quietly singing about her love for a God she'd somehow misplaced.

"That's the son of the Evans family," her mom whispered once the sound of the organ had died out.

Quinn looked up at her with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. "The Evans family?"

Her mom nodded, glancing in the boy's direction. "They're new to the town. I only know of them because that Janice woman over at the store wouldn't stop gossiping about it all." Quinn's mouth twitched with the need to smile at the irony; all her mom did was gossip. "His name might be Sam, or something beginning with S. Maybe you should introduce yourself Quinny, he could probably use a friend."

The rest of the service was nothing special. After the usual prayer dedications, confirmations and general parish notices, the congregation began to disperse, and Quinn found herself hurrying towards Sam Evans (if that was really his name).

"Hi, excuse me?" As everyone began to leave, Quinn placed a hesitant hand on the new boy's arm, which made him jump out of shock (so endearing, and yet she couldn't really place why). "You're new around here, aren't you?"

The boy's mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed a friendly smile. "Uh, yeah, I'm Sam." He stuck his hand out, and with a small laugh, Quinn noticed that he was shaking. "Sam I am, and I don't like green eggs and ham."

Quinn shook her head with a grin before taking his hand. "I'm Quinn, Quinn Fabray."

Sam gave her a crooked smile, and as he stared unashamedly at her eyes, he nodded. "Want to go get some ice cream?"

Glee!

"So you're thinking about, um... getting a boob job?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "There's no need to sound so judgemental. So what? It's not a big deal anymore, and people have it done all the time." She tightened her pony tail as she stared at Rachel, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second.

"But you're so..."

Rachel trailed off, leaving room for Santana to fire up her frustration. "So what, Berry? I dare you to finish that sentence with an insult."

Rachel gulped as her eyes widened; she couldn't believe she was actually doing this. "You're so perfect, Santana, and I don't see why you'd want to surgically enhance your body when you're already the undisputed hottest girl in school." She covered her eyes with her hands, because no doubt the girl in front of her would take it as some twisted putdown.

A minute passed in silence, and cautiously, Rachel moved her hands and gasped, because Santana Lopez, queen bitch and one of the most popular people at McKinley, was crying. What had she said to offend her?

"Santana, I'm sorry if-"

"You think I'm perfect?" the Latina girl asked. Her voice was completely normal, if a little snappy, though it was easy to hear her honesty too.

Rachel nodded slowly, still frightened that Santana was going to rip her throat out. "I can't believe you'd even question that."

I wish Finn were here right now. He knows how to talk to cheerleaders, and-

She clenched her jaw; why was she even being nice to this girl? It was no secret that Santana Lopez had made it her mission to torture Rachel in and out of school, and not only that, she'd taken Finn's virginity, and though Rachel had been forced to accept that, it still made her incredibly jealous and frustrated.

"Actually, a breast enlargement sounds like a really good idea," Rachel said coolly, working her poker face as best she could.

Santana frowned and rubbed her eyes, removing any trace of emotion that had lingered there before. "What?"

"Sure, it may seem a little premature, considering our bodies are still growing, and..." Rachel hung her head in her hands with a stifled groan. "No, of course you shouldn't have this done!" She looked up guiltily at Santana, who wore an expression of confusion (and a little hostility). "Santana, you're beautiful, and I don't know why you'd even think about altering your body so drastically."

Santana shimmied her head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Then try me," whispered Rachel firmly. She couldn't pretend to like Santana, but she could definitely make the effort, especially since they were part of the same glee family. Besides, even if she wasn't the Cheerio's biggest fan, Rachel was strongly against plastic surgery, especially in girls so young (she was never going to conform to society, despite her overly large nose).

Santana rolled her eyes with a scowl. "Berry, you are such a pain in the ass."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Rachel with a shrug. "Why wouldn't I understand?"

"Because your boy isn't a complete dick!" Santana bounced off of Rachel's bed and threw her hands in the air as her cheeks flooded with an angry shade of red. "Because your boy loves you for you, and not just your body, which is a good thing, 'cause I had bigger boobs when I was seven."

Rachel winced as her lip wobbled defensively; this was the Santana that she was familiar with. Still, they were getting somewhere, and even if she had to be insulted to get to the truth, Rachel wanted the chance to help her fellow glee club member. "Who are you talking about?"

Santana laughed, but it was completely void of humour. "We are not having this discussion. In fact, I don't know why I came here in the first fucking place. Thanks for nothing Yentl." She made her way to the window, and was about to disappear the way she came when she felt Rachel's fingers clasp around her wrist. She turned and snarled in the girl's face, pulling the scariest face she could muster; Rachel didn't even flinch.

"I want to help, I really do." She loosened her grip and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear self consciously. "I've had so many issues with my body over the years that I can definitely sympathise."

Santana blanched with an onslaught of guilt; most of those issues were probably the Cheerio's fault. "Whatever," she spat defensively, "you think you can help me? I bet you haven't even reached second base, so what do you know about relationships?"

"Stop being such a... such a..." Rachel clenched her jaw and rolled her hands into fists. "Such a b-b-bitch!"

Santana's mouth fell open in surprise. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," Rachel said darkly. "I want to help, and yet you're determined to push me away. There must be a reason you came to my house instead of Brittany's, or Quinn's, or Noah's." Rachel didn't miss the way that Santana's eyes shimmered at the mention of Puck, and she knew there and then what the problem was. "It's Noah, isn't it?" she asked softly. Santana snorted, but didn't deny it, and Rachel pressed a careful hand against her arm. "Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?"

Santana gulped and shrugged. "Do you have any vodka?"

Glee!

Quinn still couldn't sleep. Her head was filled with thoughts of boys boys boys and boys, which wasn't really helping her drift into a peaceful slumber. With a sigh, she focused on the day's events, reliving her experience with the new kid.

Quinn poked at her strawberry ice cream with her spoon, which Sam had graciously paid for. Every now and again, she'd glance up at the new boy, and when she caught him staring, she'd give a tiny, bashful smile, and they'd fall into a simple silence once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm distracted today," she said apologetically.

"S'okay, really. This was really awesome of you to do this with me." He swallowed a large spoonful of chocolate ice cream, then winced and laughed as he pressed a hand to his head. "It's cold!"

Quinn rolled her eyes playfully. "That's kind of the point, and anyway, you're the one who paid, so it's really awesome of you to do this with me." She flicked her hair to the side as she finished her bowl, and cocked her head as she watched him. "So, Sam, tell me a bit about yourself. All I know is that you like chocolate ice cream, you're a Christian, and you have a really nice smile." She pursed her lips; and she'd said that why?

"Um, I'm not really religious," Sam admitted bashfully. "My mom's trying to fit in with the people around here, and she kind of made me tag along. But uh, let's see..." He blew his hair out of his face and then shrugged. "I like comic books, and I can play the guitar, and I... You know, you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."

Quinn sighed out loud, still stroking her lamb. The more she listened to what Sam had to say, the more she'd felt something, and that something was the possibility to be happy. She distinctly remembered admiring their reflection in the parlour window as they'd left, and she distinctly remembered being impressed by what she saw; they looked hot together. And, the more he told her about himself, the more she found herself warming to his dorkiness and his general... well, niceness. In a strange way, he reminded her of Finn, and yes, at one point in her life, she'd loved Finn, so that was definitely a bonus.

In a split second, Quinn was able to predict what would happen if she dated Sam; perfection. There would be duets and promise rings and happiness, and Quinn knew that she'd be content.

She'd wished Sam farewell, promised to meet up with him soon, and when he reached for her hand (probably to kiss it; he was sweet like that), she waved at him before disappearing quickly; she didn't want anything more than friendship because she didn't want anyone other than Puck.

Problem was, she wasn't really sure she wanted Puck...

...yet.

Glee!

Dear Journal,

I still can't get used to this, and I still can't read my own writing half the time, but I need to get something off of my chest. Rachel said that the whole point of writing in a journal (I refuse to call it a diary) is so I can 'catalogue my past experiences for future enjoyment when we're old and married', but right now that seems like the dumbest thing in the world. Rachel might get enjoyment from reading all about her high school experiences but once I've left this dump of a town, I don't wanna relive the shittiest part of my life.

No, the way I look at it, I can let off steam about things that are bothering me without being judged. My mom always says she's there for me, and I know that, but she's not exactly the first person that springs to mind when I'm having, you know, dude troubles. She says I can tell her anything, but how much experience does she have about dating girls? None, so that wouldn't work.

Puck's sometimes got my back now that we're on the road to finally becoming friends again, but I wouldn't feel comfortable telling him about how I cry sometimes when I go to sleep. It's stupid and everything, but some nights I feel like I miss my dad more than I should. Hell, I never even met the guy, but things just get to me, you know? Puck would probably just laugh at me for a while before telling everyone he knows, and I'm not cool with that.

Then there's Mr Schue. He's a really cool teacher, and more like a father figure than anyone I've ever known, but... It's weird, I told him about Quinn and the baby stuff straight away, but since then, I feel like we've grown apart. I know it sounds dumb when I say that I've grown away from my Spanish teacher, but recently I feel like he's drifted apart from all of us, not just me. He has his own crappy problems, and I don't wanna give him anything else to worry about.

I'm more at ease with Kurt now since we're living together and everything (it still sounds weird when I say that), but again, he's not the kind of guy I can open up to about stuff. He listened in our ballad assignment a few months ago, but man, I must have been a different person then, 'cause the current me feels like that's way out of the question. The same with the rest of the glee club. Matt and Mike are okay for a laugh, and Artie's cool and everything, but I don't know them well enough to share my deepest secrets... not that I have any or anything, but you get the picture.

And lastly, there's Rachel. I feel kinda guilty writing this, but even with her, I can't always be myself. Sure, I love her like crazy and I'd do anything for her, but there are just some things that I would be embarrassed about telling her. She's really cool with embarrassing stuff though, don't get me wrong. She's seen me cry a few times now, and she totally didn't freak out, but I don't wanna drive her away with the crazy things, you know? I'm frightened that one day she'll hear something that scares her, and she'll leave me, and there's no way I can deal with that.

Where the hell was I? I think I need to read this thing again... Oh wait, I remember now. This journal is the place where I don't have to hide and stuff, which is a really good thing. Maybe Rachel knew this, and just lied about having a keepsake 'cause she's smart like that.

It happened today, the thing that made me tear up like a baby. You see, I broke something that can never be fixed or replaced, and it kills me to just even think about it right now.

It was a gift I got from my Aunt Hazel. She was my dad's sister, and my Aunt was a big part of my life when I was younger. She was like a second mom to me sometimes, and God, I loved her. She was fun and sporty and even though she could be as scary as hell when I misbehaved, she had a heart of gold.

She died when I was eight. I used to go round to her house every Friday night. My mom would drop me off, I'd sleep over, and then Saturday afternoon my Aunt Hazel would bring me home. I remember it so fucking clearly. I had my bag packed with some new baseball cards I wanted to show her, and I remember putting it beside the front door like I always did, waiting for my mom to put it in the car like she always did. I ran to the bathroom to go pee before I left, and when I came down, my backpack was gone. I went to grab a few things from the living room, and there it was, placed on my dad's chair.

I thought nothing of it. I put it back beside the door, headed into the kitchen to get something to eat, and when I came back, my mom was carrying my bag upstairs. I couldn't see her face, but I could hear her crying, and I knew that Aunt Hazel had died.

It was a heart attack, or a stroke, or something just as meaningless and quick. That was the first funeral I ever went to.

God, I'm getting off track again and I really don't need to be getting upset. See, on one of many Saturdays with my Aunt, she gave me this lame ass present that I hated at the time. It was a white porcelain dog figure that came with a selection of brightly coloured paints.

"You paint it however you want," I can remember her saying. She always wore a crazy half smile when she gave me things like that. "You could paint it like a rainbow, or you could give it glasses and a moustache, or..." I don't remember the rest. I didn't pay as much attention as I should have, 'cause man, I really hated it. I don't know why to be honest. I have nothing against dogs, and actually, I've always wanted my own pet dog, so I don't know why I took offence to it. I promised to paint it when I got home, but secretly I wanted to throw it in the trash as soon as I could.

But I didn't. My mom was working, so I sat in my room alone, staring at this little dog that fit nicely in my hands. I'm not artistic in the slightest (I can barely draw a stick figure), but somehow, I managed to paint it. I didn't have a real idea in mind, so I just covered it in all kinds of colours, left it to dry, and then hid it away so my mom wouldn't see it.

I found it after the funeral. I was rooting around my room for my favourite socks when I found it hidden in an old cardboard box. The colours looked messy and it way too happy, so I grabbed a permanent black marker, and I went to town on that thing. I coloured in every single bit of that damn dog with tears in my eyes, because that's how I felt, like dark and miserable and stuff.

It somehow ended up living on my bedside table next to my clock and some other crap. It was just a black dog, and my Aunt had given me other awesome keepsakes over the years, but I dunno, I couldn't put it away. It had been there ever since that day, and when we moved in with the Hummels, it lived next to my new bed until...

I can't believe I did it. You know how people always wanna change the past? When people are like 'oh, I should have done that thing differently'? I know what they mean. Hell, I've had a lot of things go wrong in my life that I've wanted to change, but this one was so simple, so fucking simple.

My clock had been acting up. It was electric, so I didn't need to change the batteries or anything, but I thought that maybe it was a wiring problem (not that I know how to fix electronic stuff), so I picked it up to take a look, not realising that the cable ran underneath my dog. I picked the clock up and the dog went flying, straight into my wall and straight to the floor in pieces. I called out in shock, not really believing what had happened. I went looking for glue, but the only stuff we had was this really crappy cheap shit, and I kept pressing the pieces of the dog together, willing the damn thing to stick, and it wouldn't.

It's not about how many gifts I kept from my Aunt after she died. I could have easily put something else in the dog's place, from an old cologne bottle to a 'world's best nephew' trophy. But I can't, because my dog is supposed to stand there.

I can't tell Rachel, because she'll never understand, even though she'll say she does. She tries too hard to understand a lot of the time, but this is different. This is really personal for me, and I can't tell a fucking soul, because who gives a crap anyway? All I can do is apologise to my Aunt Hazel, and she's dead.

She's dead. My dog's dead.

Finn Hudson out.

Glee!

"Finn?"

"Hey Rach. Look, I'm sorry that it's like... God, I'm really sorry that it's late, and I'm sorry that I woke you up, but-"

"You didn't wake me up, and it's fine. What's wrong?"

"..."

"Finn, you're scaring me. Has something-"

"Can you come over? Shit, look, I just, I feel like I need-"

"Give me five minutes to get ready and I'll be over as soon as I can."

"Rachel, you don't need to, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called..."

"I'm still coming over."

"I love you."

"I love you too. You can tell me all about it when I get there."

"Drive careful, 'kay?"

"Of course. Bye Finn."

"Bye Rach."

Glee!

Finn waited anxiously by the front door of the house, constantly checking his cell for the inevitable 'Sorry Finn, it's actually too late' message from Rachel. He shouldn't have called her! God, seriously, he had to think things through more often 'cause it was nearly two in the fucking morning, and he knew for a fact that Rachel went to bed at eleven every night.

Car lights in the drive made him jump, and as he peered through the window, Finn felt a lump appear in his throat as his small, awesome girlfriend practically sprinted to the door. Before she had time to knock (he didn't want his mom to know that she was over so late), he let her in with a finger to his lips, to which she gave a quick nod before taking his hand and leading him up to his room; if he hadn't been so upset about the dog, he knew, without a doubt, that he'd be trying to hide the uncomfortable tent in his pyjama pants right now (come on, Rachel was pulling him into his room at two in the frickin' morning!).

When his bedroom door was closed, and when he was sure that no one else was up, Finn looked at Rachel regretfully, his eyes all wide and sad. "I shouldn't have called you Rach, and you shouldn't have come."

Rachel tutted under her breath. "In case you haven't noticed, I wear the metaphorical pants in this relationship, and I'll decide what I do thank you very much." She folded her arms with a huff and began to tap her foot impatiently on the floor. "So, why did you summon me at two in the morning?"

Finn shifted awkwardly where he stood, not quite meeting her gaze. "You're gonna think I'm being stupid..." Rachel prodded him sharply in the chest at this comment, and he winced in response. "Ouch, what was that for?"

"You're not stupid, and I'll never think you're stupid, so please refrain from saying that." Finn glared down at her, and her expression softened slightly. "You can call me at any time of the day, and I'll always come over, unless I'm in the middle of my ballet class, but you could always call my dance instructor." She pressed a finger to her mouth in thought. "Actually, maybe I should give you the contact details of all of the people I deal with in case you need to reach me in an emergency..."

"Yeah, okay, well let's sort that out another time," said Finn with a brief smirk. "I really appreciate this, by the way." He shrugged a little. "You just being here makes things feel better, you know?"

Rachel smoothed out his pyjama shirt before placing a tender kiss to his throat. "I'm glad I can help." She smiled up at him, and as one hand carefully stroked his cheek, she whispered, "If you don't want to tell me what's bothering you, you don't have to. I... I understand that there may be some things you don't want to include me in, and... And I'm okay with that," she nodded warily, "honestly."

Finn knew that it wasn't okay. Even though she was trying her best to be supportive, he knew that she didn't like that he had secrets he didn't share with her; that was an adorable yet slightly frustrating thing about Rachel Berry. Therefore, he had a decision to make; if he cut her out of his past, like the stuff about a younger Finn and an innocent Finn, then how could ever be truly happy with her, you know?

"You need to read my journal," Finn mumbled; it sounded even girlier out loud.

Rachel's eyes widened as a smile pulled at her lips. "You've been using it?"

"Yeah," Finn said with a frown. "That's what you wanted though, right? I thought that was the point of it?"

Rachel let out a tiny laugh. "Yes, that was the point of it, but I didn't expect you to embrace the idea; I'm glad you have." She bit her lip and pressed her cheek against Finn's chest, her hands resting on his stomach. "Are you sure? Journals are very personal."

"'Course," he said, and Finn shocked himself at how confident he was about this, "I want you to read it, but like, only the one that's relevant for today, if that's okay? It's late and I haven't written much..."

Rachel, feeling drowsy as the steady rhythm of Finn's heart pounded in her ears, hummed in acknowledgement.

Glee!

Dear Journal,

It's late and I'm not in the mood to write a load of pages right now, but I let Rachel read the story about the dog. When she'd finished, she didn't laugh, but she disappeared without a word, and I thought she was gonna leave. She came back five minutes later with a roll of tape, and with this adorable determined look on her face, she taped the dog back together again. It looked really bad, and more like a mummified dog than anything, but when she was finished, and when she presented it to me with this really bright smile on her face, it was like, I dunno, I was reminded of how much I love her, you know?

God, I wish she could have stayed the night, but I was kind of worried that Burt would get mad and kick me out or something, so she left (after a heavy make out session!) and then I just stared at this mummy dog, and I just smiled all night.

Well, not all night 'cause I fell asleep after that, but still, moral of the story and stuff; Rachel Berry is fucking amazing.

Finny D out.

A/N: Warning; long author's note to follow :P

Firstly, I'm sorry that I've been an absent author! I meant to update sooner, but yeah, things get in the way as always (I kind of got distracted writing Finchel one-shots...)

Secondly, I have a question for you guys; are you still reading this fic? This is pretty pointless if you're not since you won't see this note, but I'm very aware that I'm nearing 30 chapters, and I'm just curious as to how many people are still interested in this fic. Nearly two hundred people have Jigsaw on alert (I know, it's insane, I can hardly believe it), so yes, if you're still reading the new chapters, I'd appreciate it if you could leave a review to tell me! Do you still want me to continue with this fic? I have a lot planned out for the future, but if no one's interested anymore, then it's pretty pointless haha.

Thirdly yes, I know that the characters and storylines are all over the place in this fic at the minute, but I promise I know what I'm doing xD I have so many characters to write about that it may seem like I'm drowning, but like I said, I know what I'm doing, so please bear with me.

Fourthly, (though this is pretty irrelevant right now) I've been working on a Glee future fic that I'm hoping to publish soon. Think Finn the bar-owning celebrity and Rachel the wanna-be star, and that's basically it ;) Hopefully the first chapter will be up asap!

Fifthly, thank you. Nearly 600 reviews, and I'm grateful for every single one of them; you are all amazing, and I can never thank you all enough.

Again, please let me know if you still read Jigsaw, and if you want me to carry on writing; it would really help, and thanks again!