A/N: Okay, I'm officially exhausted. Writing two oneshots and a new chapter to this story in the space of two weeks just about did me in! For those who haven't yet done so, I hope you'll check out Regrets (my take on 'First Time') and Those Who Can (written for bandtogetherandfight's Change the World challenge).

Since this story has gone increasingly AU, I should clarify a couple of points raised in this chapter. First, Rachel has been to NYC before. (Since I pretty much ignored 'New York', I'm not sure if this jives with canon or not.) Second, thanks to 1booklover11's inspired suggestion regarding Rachel's audition song, I've adjusted the timing of its composition so that it would work here. For my purposes, it was written shortly after she sent Sunshine to the (inactive) crack house.

As always, hope you enjoy. Comments and feedback are truly appreciated. :)


Someone to Love You – Chapter 55

Rachel's knees were knocking together so badly that she was positive the tall, striking, dark-skinned woman who was currently leading her down the corridors of the unfamiliar school would spin around at any moment in an attempt to determine the source of the clatter. Her surroundings barely registered as she endeavoured to breathe deeply, hoping to hold her nerves at bay. No matter how much she tried to convince herself to relax, the fluttering in her stomach refused to settle. She honestly couldn't remember a time when she'd experienced a worse case of stage fright.

"Please wait here," the older woman advised.

Unprepared for her guide's abrupt halt, Rachel barely managed to keep from stumbling as she was ushered into a rather cramped anteroom. Chairs lined all four walls, although all but one were currently empty.

"We'll call for you in a few minutes."

Rachel's brow furrowed, unsure if the comment had been directed at her or not.

"Miss Flynn is scheduled for 2:30. You'll be up first, Miss Berry."

Nodding in acknowledgment, Rachel turned her attention to the room's sole other occupant, a tiny wisp of a girl who appeared perilously close to panic. Pushing aside her own anxiety, Rachel moved to sit beside her, catching her gaze and offering an encouraging smile as she held out her hand in greeting.

"I'm Rachel Berry."

"C… Colleen F… Flynn," the girl stammered by way of introduction.

"You have beautiful hair," Rachel declared, hoping the compliment would help ease Colleen's obvious tension.

The girl's wide green eyes sparkled with gratitude.

"Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely. It's the most gorgeous shade of red I've ever seen," Rachel assured her sincerely.

Colour dotted Colleen's cheeks, obscuring the multitude of freckles that had, until then, stood out in sharp contrast to her exceedingly pale skin.

"I'm the only ginger at my school," she confessed. "The other kids have always made fun of me because of it."

"I'll bet they're just jealous," Rachel winked, causing the younger girl to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Wow. How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Rachel wondered, genuinely puzzled.

"Get me out of my head so I'd stop freaking out. I've been on the verge of a full-blown panic attack since my mom dropped me off, but I'm okay now."

"You just needed a distraction. I gave you one."

"I don't understand why you're being this nice to me. It's so tough to get in here that I figured anyone auditioning would try to sabotage the competition, not help them."

"My ex once said that I never did anything unless there was something in it for me," Rachel admitted softly, "and, although I don't agree with him, I wasn't entirely selfless here."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that you weren't the only one that needed a distraction."

"Still, you could have undermined my confidence, but you didn't. You took the high road instead."

"According to my boyfriend, I can afford to be generous."

Undisguised envy flashed across Colleen's face before she could mask it. Rachel raised a brow in silent question.

"You're incredibly lucky to have someone in your life who believes in you that much."

"I can't argue with that," Rachel agreed.

The two girls continued to chat quietly, each grateful for the other's company. Rachel was in the midst of sharing a few pointers when the door to the inner room opened, and the same woman who'd met her at the school's entrance poked her head out.

"We're ready for you now, Miss Berry."

Before rising from her seat, Rachel leaned over and gave Colleen a brief hug.

"Remember, you can do this," the older girl whispered.

"Thanks. So can you. I hope we're both here next year," the younger one responded fervently.

"Me, too. Knock 'em dead."

With a final wave, Rachel marched boldly into the other room, closing the door firmly behind her.


The flight to New York had been uneventful – on time, turbulence-free, and with a seat-mate who immersed himself in the onboard entertainment the moment they'd left the gate at LAX, much to Jesse's relief. Although he normally didn't mind being social and engaging in chit-chat with a fellow traveller, his mind was so consumed with going over all the details of his plans for Rachel that he was in no mood to talk. As soon as he touched down at JFK and de-planed, he practically sprinted through the terminal in his haste to get into the city to set everything in motion.

Arriving at the upscale boutique hotel where he'd reserved a suite for the night, he strode through the lobby to the front desk and waited impatiently for the lone clerk on duty to take note of his arrival. The moment the man looked up from his computer, his eyes brightened in recognition.

"Mr. St. James! It's a pleasure to welcome you again."

"Thank you, Geoff. It's good to be back."

"How are your parents? We haven't seen them here in quite some time."

"They bought that house they'd been renting in Bali, and they're spending almost half the year there now," Jesse explained.

"Please give them my best the next time you speak to them."

"Sure," he shrugged, omitting the fact that he was rarely in touch with his parents, and vice versa.

As the older man retrieved the file related to Jesse's stay, the latter drummed his fingers on the marble desk, needing an outlet for the restless energy coursing through him. Although normally calmed by the lobby's muted beige and grey décor, he was currently too hyped up about the evening ahead to allow himself to relax. It was a relief when the sound of Geoff's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Everything is as you requested, sir. Your suite is ready." He frowned as, after pulling up a new screen with a few quick keystrokes, he processed the information it held.

"Is something wrong?" Jesse inquired.

"I'm not sure," the hotel employee replied. "The young lady you were expecting hasn't checked in yet."

Jesse did a double take, certain he must have misheard Geoff's statement.

"Rachel still hasn't arrived?"

"Apparently not. And…" He took a moment to re-read the profile he'd opened. "She hasn't contacted us to request a late check-in. Not that this in any way constitutes such an occurrence," he clarified.

"No. No. Of course not. I'm sure she just decided to explore the city a bit first."

"Right. Well, here are the key cards to your room. It's on the fifteenth floor," Geoff reminded him. "I'll contact you as soon as your guest appears."

"Thanks."

Snatching the cards, Jesse dashed towards the elevators, narrowly avoiding a collision with an elderly woman in his haste to reach his room.

"Sorry," he mumbled, as he darted into the mercifully empty compartment.

The instant the door to the suite swung shut behind him, he began to pace. In spite of his relatively calm façade downstairs, he was worried. It was unlike Rachel not to want to get settled before heading out to see the sights. She hated being weighed down by her luggage any longer than she had to be. Glancing at his watch, he dropped heavily into the desk chair and pulled out his phone, grateful that the hotel provided complimentary Wi-Fi. For the second time that day, he checked the airline's flight arrival data, which confirmed what he already knew – Rachel's plane had touched down as scheduled, over two hours ago. Unconsciously running a hand through his hair, he resumed his pacing, wracking his brain for a clue as to where his girlfriend could be. Finally, in an effort to stem his rising panic, he reached for his phone once more, exhaling gratefully when it didn't go to voicemail.

"St. James? You're pretty much the last person I expected to hear from this afternoon."

"She's not here, Steadman."

"Who are you talking about? Rachel?"

"Yeah. Her flight wasn't delayed, so she should have been at the hotel by now, but she hasn't shown up yet. I have no idea where she is, and it's totally freaking me out."

"Not to suggest the obvious, but have you tried calling her?"

"To say what? Where are you? As far as she knows, I'm supposed to be in LA with you, not wearing out a path on a very expensive carpet in New York."

"What about checking with her dads?"

"Are you nuts? That'd be even worse. They've trusted their daughter to me overnight, far from home. I can hardly phone them up and confess that she seems to be missing."

"Come on, man. Missing is kind of extreme. She's just late."

"That's the thing, though. Rachel wouldn't be late for something like this. She'd want to drop her bags off and head right out to walk past all the theatres in the neighbourhood, dreaming of the day her name will be on one of the marquees."

"Sounds like her – and you, for that matter," Nate chuckled softly, before returning his focus to the topic at hand. "Maybe she told Gracie or Ames what her plans were. Do you want me to get in touch with them?"

"It's worth a shot. Call me back even if it doesn't pan out, okay?"

"Will do. Meanwhile, why don't you distract yourself by getting stuff set up for tonight?"

After Jesse had reluctantly agreed to his friend's suggestion, he disconnected the call and, forcing himself to concentrate on everything that still needed doing in order for his surprise to go off without a hitch, he set to work putting it all into motion.


Nate's chat with Amy had been a failure on two fronts. Not only had it yielded no information of value, but now his cousin had joined the growing list of those who were worried about Rachel. Nate crossed his fingers that his call to Grace would result in a different outcome.

"Hi, Nate. Are you back in the Sunshine State yet?" Grace greeted him cheerfully.

"Uh, I'm in Ohio, Gracie. This is not Florida," he reminded her, a thread of sarcasm running through his words.

"I know that, but I figured being with Jules again would make you feel as if you were in a warm, bright place," she teased.

"Maybe after we've talked things through," he admitted, his tone suddenly far more serious. "Until then, I consider this to be the land of ice and snow."

"Oh, quit your grumbling. It's positively balmy for this late in December," she countered.

"My point exactly. The temp's barely reached fifty and the ground is still bare, and you consider those facts to be cause for celebration."

"That's because they are. You'll really need to learn to appreciate winter if you're planning on moving East next year. But I highly doubt you called to gripe about the weather," she surmised correctly.

"You're right. I need to know if you have any idea where Rachel is right now."

"I do," Grace responded straightforwardly. "Why are you asking?"

"You do? Thank God! St. James is going crazy."

"Wait. Is he with you? I thought he was in New York, getting everything ready for tonight."

"He's there, but as far as he can tell, Rachel isn't. She hasn't checked in to the hotel, and he expected her a couple of hours ago."

"That's easily explained. It's a secret, though, so you'll have to keep the details to yourself."

"She has a secret, too? This promises to be quite the weekend," he declared. "So, come on, spill."

"Rachel's auditioning for LaGuardia Arts as we speak."

"Whoa. That's huge! If she gets in, that means…" He paused as the full impact of Grace's news sunk in. "I'd better invest in a good pair of earplugs," he quipped.

Grace burst out laughing, and Nate quickly followed suit. Within moments, however, he began peppering his cousin with questions.

"Don't they only take freshmen? How did this happen? Is someone playing a really nasty practical joke on her? Why did she hide it from St. James?"

Patiently, Grace outlined the facts of the situation as Rachel had explained them, causing Nate to emit a low whistle at the news that the opportunity had come courtesy of Shelby Corcoran, and to muse aloud about exactly how good a friend Dustin Goolsby had to be to wrestle a favour of such magnitude from the high school's principal.

"I didn't want to go there. I don't think you should, either," Grace stated dryly.

"Probably not. Well, at least she's okay. That'll be a load off St. James' mind."

"Remember, she wants to tell him herself. She'll kill me if he finds out before she has a chance to."

"Don't sweat it. None of the details will cross my lips."

"I'll send my boyfriend the black belt after you if they do," Grace threatened playfully. "Now hang up and call Jesse, so that he can stop freaking and concentrate on making everything perfect for Rachel instead."

"Will do. Thanks, Gracie. See you tomorrow."


Rachel was no stranger to auditions, but the one aspect that always unsettled her was the lack of emotion on the faces of the adjudicators. She understood that the people watching and listening to her were there to evaluate her performance, and that they needed to maintain an air of impartiality in order not to tip their hand too soon, and to avoid the appearance of favouritism. Still, having three adults staring at her in such a dispassionate way wasn't helping at all in terms of easing her jitters. As if sensing Rachel's discomfort, the woman who was clearly in charge suddenly offered her a warm smile.

"Miss Berry, I'm Veronica Feralone, Head of the Music Department here at LaGuardia, and these are my colleagues, Katey DiComare and Sharon Jasen. Here's how we'll be proceeding. We'll start with your audition piece, discuss your background and your goals, go over the program requirements in detail, then give you the opportunity to ask us any questions you might have." Veronica glanced down at the sheet of paper on the table. "I must admit I'm unfamiliar with your selection. Have you brought along your own accompaniment and sheet music so that we can follow along?"

"Yes, Ms. Feralone."

Digging into her bag, Rachel retrieved the copies she'd printed, along with a CD, and handed them both over. Sharon popped the disc into the machine at her side and, on Rachel's cue, pressed Play. A soft, melancholy tune wafted from the speakers and, after two bars, the young girl before them took a deep breath and began to sing.

What have I done? I wish I could run
Away from this ship going under

The song was a lament – an admission of mistakes made, an expression of regret, and a plea for understanding. It was poignant and bittersweet, and clearly born of painful personal experience, and Rachel was wringing every bit of emotion from it, her voice alternately low and quiet, then intense and powerful. The teachers, who normally would have called a halt to the proceedings after the initial chorus, sat mesmerized, their pens lying unused on their yellow legal pads. Katey surreptitiously dabbed at her eyes. When the final note faded away, Veronica struggled to restrain the urge she felt to give the diminutive brunette a standing ovation. Assuming the cloak of her unbiased persona once more, the older woman broke the silence that had descended upon them.

"Thank you, Miss Berry. You may sit down."

Satisfied she'd given it her all, Rachel perched on the edge of her chair, eagerly awaiting comments or questions.

"I noticed that there's no composer listed on your sheet music. This is a lovely piece. Where did you find it?"

"I wrote it," Rachel admitted, more than a hint of pride in her voice.

It was more than apparent from the expressions on each of their faces that the LaGuardia faculty members had not anticipated that particular answer. Katey narrowed her eyes, staring even more intently at the girl in front of her.

"Are you unhappy at your current school?" the woman wondered.

Rachel shifted uncomfortably, unsure as to whether this particular query held some sort of trap that needed to be avoided. Unable to think of any way in which answering it might harm her chances, she opted to tell the truth.

"A lot of the time, yes."

"And you wrote this in response to those feelings?" Katey persisted.

"Yes. I'd done something that upset some people, and this was my way of dealing with the whole situation."

She kept her answer deliberately vague, hoping they wouldn't ask her to elaborate.

"Do you consider yourself a team player, Miss Berry?" This from Sharon, who was speaking for the first time.

"I do, although a lot of my teammates would disagree. They don't fully appreciate how hard I work to keep the club going."

"You must realize that, coming into our school as a senior, you'd be the newcomer in a group that's been together for three years. They might not readily accept you," Veronica cautioned.

"It can't be much worse than what I'm currently going through," Rachel murmured. "I've been a part of New Directions for a year and a half now, but that didn't stop them from holding a vote on whether to kick me out of the group," she confessed.

"Because you'd done something they disagreed with? Are they overflowing with talent to such a degree that they could get by without you?"

"We're actually always flirting with the possibility of disqualification due to insufficient numbers, but I recently got back together with my ex-boyfriend, and that was the last straw for most of them."

Sharon scoffed openly, not bothering to hide her incredulity.

"Let me guess. He's from a rival team."

"He was. He's in college now."

"And they're still not over it? I'll bet you competed, and his team won."

"Yes," Rachel nodded. "There were other things that happened, too, but the bottom line is that the majority of them still view him as the enemy."

"Which makes it uncomfortable for you to be around them, and which is why you're willing to transfer this late in your academic career," Sharon deduced, once again impressing Rachel with her spot-on assessment.

"That's exactly right."

The three women all took a moment to scribble some notes on the paper in front of them. When they were done, Veronica raised her gaze to meet Rachel's open, expectant one.

"We'd like to get a more thorough indication of the extent of your vocal range. Do you have anything else prepared?"

"I do. It's one of the pieces from your suggested list," Rachel added with a knowing smile, before launching into an a cappella version of I Could Have Danced All Night.

This time around, the adjudicators stopped her part way through, having needed only a short sampling to confirm their earlier judgment. Katey then gave voice to the interview's final question.

"Can you sum up for us why you're interested in attending this school?"

"I've always been more ambitious than my peers. I've known I wanted to perform since I was a toddler, and it's been my goal to attend either Tisch or Juilliard for almost as long. Transferring to LaGuardia would allow me to prepare for university in a way that simply wouldn't be possible if I stayed in Ohio. This school would be the first step on the path I've been determined to follow my whole life. This is my dream. Please, let me start living it."

Minutes later, Rachel found herself back in the anteroom, alongside a noticeably calmer Colleen.

"So? How did it go?"

"Well, I think. They said they'd be in touch soon. Would you like me to stick around until they're ready for you?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks."

Absorbed in giving Colleen a few final pieces of advice, Rachel was completely oblivious to the look of approval that flashed across Veronica's face as she observed the girls' exchange, before retreating into the inner room and noiselessly closing the door.


Jesse had just finished unpacking his clothes when his phone rang. Scooping it off the desk, he scanned the caller ID, brought the device to his ear and, without giving Nate the chance to utter so much as a hello, began to pepper his friend with questions.

"Did you reach your cousins? Did you find out anything? Do they know where she is? Is she okay?"

"Easy, St. James. All will be revealed in due time."

"Shit, man, I'm going out of my mind here. Don't keep me hanging."

"Okay, okay. Amy had no clue, but Grace was a font of information."

"Aaand?"

"Rachel's fine. She's in New York, and you'll see her later."

"That's it?" Jesse voice rose incredulously.

"Yep. She's got a surprise for you, too, and I promised Gracie I'd keep my mouth shut. So stop worrying."

"A surprise? Can't you even give…"

Nate cut Jesse off mid-sentence.

"This is me hanging up on you. Have fun tonight!"

Groaning in frustration as his curiosity went unsatisfied, Jesse tossed his cell back on the desk. At least he'd gotten confirmation that Rachel was safe, meaning he could finally devote all of his attention to readying their room for a night she would never forget.


"You should have seen her. She's not even a student here yet, and she's already mentoring that little eighth-grader who's waiting to audition."

Veronica was practically gushing at what she'd just witnessed in the anteroom, but she was preaching to the converted. In spite of the fact that they'd agreed to this special audition under duress, doing it only under obligation to their principal, they'd soon discovered that Rachel was a rare talent, and they were now unanimous in wanting to offer her a spot in the music program.

"Even though it was Patricia's idea, I suppose we need to run our decision by her," Katey reminded her colleagues.

"She'd want to have the final say. Okay, let me handle that bit of business while you two get started with poor Miss Flynn, who's been cooling her heels for over an hour."

As she headed off to update her boss, Veronica couldn't help but smile. Rachel Berry might not be entering LaGuardia in the conventional way, but the teacher had no doubt that the petite brunette with the megawatt smile and the amazing set of pipes would end up being one of the senior class leaders, and that she'd challenge the others to rise to her standards. She'd have to earn her place among the tight-knit group, but these students valued talent, and their new classmate had that in spades. Veronica was positive that Rachel would fit right in.


Dustin Goolsby was on his way to the gym when the strains of his favourite Broadway show tune announced an incoming call. He grinned broadly at the sight of the name that popped up on his screen.

"Patsi, darling! I assume you're calling to thank me."

"You assume wrong. What's your game, Dusty? My department head has just given me a full rundown on the audition I scheduled as a favour to you, and she and her colleagues seem to think your girl's one of the most talented singers they've heard in years, so why are you letting her go? Seems to me having her on your team would make Vocal Adrenaline an obvious shoo-in for another National title."

"Oh, did I fail to mention that little detail? She's not mine to loose. Trust me, if I'd had any idea how good she is, I'd never have arranged it so you could get your hands on her. This was a pay it forward kind of deal. I did a favour for a friend, and roped you into helping me out. Looks as if you're definitely getting the prize in this whole thing."

"We'll be offering her a spot here, so don't even think of trying to poach her."

"Even if I wanted to, she's not interested. She outgrew Ohio years ago. As soon as she was given an opportunity to escape, she jumped at it."

"Your loss, our gain."

"No need to rub it in."

"You're right. That was unnecessarily cruel of me. And I will thank you now."

"You're welcome. We still on for next weekend?"

"Absolutely, handsome."


Emerging from the subway, Rachel quickly oriented herself and stepped smartly down the crowded street towards her hotel. When her dads had given her its name and address, she'd looked it up online and been astonished at its apparent luxury. She'd never stayed anywhere so opulent before, and she'd wondered once again if they'd suddenly inherited a large sum of money, or somehow won a lottery despite her fathers never buying tickets. Either that, or they were putting themselves in serious debt in order to make up for their inability to travel with her. They'd made light of her qualms, insisting that it was her sixteenth birthday and she was worth every penny. Taking them at their word, she'd opted to stop questioning her good fortune, and simply enjoy it.

The understated elegance of the lobby gave her pause. She almost felt under-dressed, until she spotted a pair of guests at the front desk, outfitted in jeans and sneakers. Although the denim was no doubt of the designer variety, it was nevertheless casual, and she allowed herself to relax and be swept up in the utter sophistication of her surroundings.

Her room, on the tenth floor, was a study in blues, blacks and whites. It occurred to her that Kurt would appreciate the tastefully decorated suite, and she made a mental note to take a few pictures later. The large, king-sized bed beckoned, and before she could resist the impulse, she found herself standing on it and twirling around in sheer delight. She'd just collapsed in a heap when she detected the faint sound of her ringtone emanating from somewhere deep within her bag. Bouncing off the bed to retrieve it, she was only mildly surprised to note her caller's identity.

"Mr. Goolsby. I thought I might hear from you."

Dustin, never the most patient of men, wasted no time on idle chatter.

"Please tell me she was kidding, and that you didn't just audition for LaGuardia using an original song."

"I did sing a piece I'd composed myself." A note of worry crept into her voice. "Was that wrong? I assumed it would help my case, and prove that I'm multi-talented."

"Oh, it did that, alright. You realize that I'm kicking myself, big time, for ever agreeing to help Shelby out with this little project of hers."

"I'm sorry, I don't get it. Why do you regret arranging this opportunity for me?"

"I should have pushed harder to get you to come to Carmel. With you on my team, we'd be unstoppable."

Rachel's insides warmed at the rival coach's unexpected praise.

"I told you before, Mr. Goolsby, I have no interest whatsoever in transferring to Carmel."

"I could still make it worth your while. Name your price," he cajoled.

"Carmel has nothing I want," she demurred politely.

"Oh, well. Can't blame me for giving it one last try. Turns out my loss will be LaGuardia's gain."

Rachel gasped audibly at his words, and abruptly found herself incapable of speaking in complete sentences.

"Do you mean…? Did your friend already tell you…? Am I…?"

"Oops. I think I've said more than I should have. Good luck, Rachel Berry. I expect a mention in your thank you speech when you win your first major award," he suggested light-heartedly, before disconnecting the call.

She stared, nonplussed, at the tiny device in her palm, as if it might yet give her the answers she sought. Had Dustin Goolsby just inadvertently confirmed her acceptance to LaGuardia Arts? Dare she believe that the panel of teachers had made their decision so quickly? When would they officially let her know? Once they did, how was she going to break the news to her dads? She shook her head, unwilling to allow that potential snag to intrude on her growing excitement.

Padding across to the window, she gazed out at the city that had fit her like a glove ever since she'd initially set foot on its crowded sidewalks several years ago. This is where she was meant to be. She could feel it down to the very marrow of her bones. And, unless she'd completely misinterpreted his slip of the tongue, Vocal Adrenaline's current coach had all but assured her that she would soon count herself among those lucky enough to call New York home.

Her stomach's insistent gurgle pulled her back to the present, reminding her that it had literally been hours since she'd eaten. Without any further delay, she unpacked her suitcase, changed her clothes, and set out to sample some of the city's excellent culinary offerings.


Rachel was among the first to set foot inside the Gershwin Theater the moment the doors were opened. After checking her coat, she bypassed the souvenir kiosks and made her way to the upper level, preferring to spend her time until the show started perusing the names of the dozens upon dozens of inductees into the American Theater Hall of Fame. Contemplating the most recent additions, she briefly lost herself in the fantasy of someday seeing her name – and Jesse's – up alongside those of actors she'd admired all of her life.

That's an inevitability, too.

She grinned as the sound of her boyfriend's voice echoed in her head. Although she still wished that he'd been able to accompany her, she was determined to soak in every detail of the performance, so that they could analyse it the following day. As the lights in the lobby dimmed and she hurried to take her seat, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the person who'd be at her side all evening. Despite the fact that the show was about to start, he had yet to doff the backwards baseball cap that remained jammed tightly on his head. Muttering at the stranger's total boorishness as she squeezed her way past those already settled in her row, she readied herself to deliver a clearly necessary lecture on theatre etiquette when the wearer of the inappropriate head gear reached up to remove it, revealing a very familiar set of brown curls.

"Jesse…"