The glee club's Sectionals victory did nothing to bolster their popularity. Since no one keeps track of show choir stats, rankings, and scores, it meant that no one looked their way while their group swaggered in through the school's front doors, carrying their trophy. It wasn't even one of those heavy-duty trophies worth bragging about, but it was a trophy and it was theirs.

Finn oversaw the act of locking it up in the glass cabinet in the choir room. He reminded them that glee club was not meeting this week, what with Thanksgiving coming up. The break was well-deserved. As they dispersed, Finn walked with Quinn to her locker while she retrieved her textbooks.

"Remember – you still have to apologize to Mr. Schue."

"I know, I know. I'll do it during my free period – unless you want to be there to witness it?"

"Nah, I mean, I trust you. Do you need moral support?"

Quinn shoulder-checked him with a laugh. "No, I think I can handle myself. But thanks, Finn."

They parted ways and for the rest of the day, Quinn attended her classes. Joined the glee club for their lunch break since she didn't really have any other friends. She passed Rachel's message to Sam, who brightened and rather than have the message dissuade him, only made him more enthusiastic.

"Yeah but you said she said I'm cute though," he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. "That's not an automatic turn-down."

"She also said you're not her type," Quinn pointed out. "Plus you haven't said two words to her – how are you so sure you'd like her?"

"I just think she's hot, dude. No one said anything about liking her."

Quinn resisted rolling her eyes, resisted the urge to tell Sam that she's Rachel's type, and there was nothing he could do to get in the way of that. Instead, she pelted him with a chip of ice from her drink and let the matter rest – at least, until whenever Sam brought it up again.

Since her last period of the day was drama class – a class with no teacher, meaning no class to attend – Quinn usually left early by exiting through the side doors and keep going until she reached the bus stop. This time, as she left the school building through the side exit, she detoured under the bleachers. No one was there – none of the Skanks, save for Mack. She had a cigarette jutting between her lips and at the sight of Quinn, she squinted and blew out the smoke in a huff.

"It's you again," she cocked a brow and flicked her cigarette butt to the ground. She stabbed it with her heel and eyed Quinn who took out a cigarette of her own to smoke. She lit it and met Mack's stare. All she wanted was to relax the jitters coursing through her veins before she met with Mr. Schue, but with Mack around and with Ronnie and Sheila not present to act as the buffer between them, the tension was more apparent and stifling. Neither of them breathed. And it was not only because of the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over their heads, either. "You come here, you take our smokes, then you go back to your glee club. You sing and dance and win some shit trophy," Mack scoffed and shook her head. "Why don't you pick a group and stick with one?"

"Who said I can only have one group of friends? I hate to be tied down to one thing, you know that." Quinn squinted through the smoke, watched the way Mack's jaw twitched. Her fists clenched against her thighs. "Where are Sheila and Ronnie?"

"Thanks to your stupid suggestion with the starving African children, they're going to classes again to bully donations from people. This week, it's for homeless veterans," Mack shook her head in irritation. "It's so fucking annoying. They come around here long enough to tell me to be nicer to you when you're the one who was bitchy to me."

Quinn snorted and finished the rest of her cigarette. She smashed the butt against the brick wall dotted with ash and threw it into the garbage bin. "If I remember right, you like it when I'm a bitch to you."

"Yeah well, that was before you became a dork loser again," Mack said with a scoff. "Winning your shitty sectionals ain't shit, you know. It's just one measly victory. You guys probably only won because the other teams are hot garbage."

"At least I have a win under my belt," Quinn remarked, the vein on her temple pulsing. The cigarette had calmed her down some, but Mack's attitude had ways of shortening its effect on her. She got on her nerves – maybe that was why Quinn started smoking in the first place.

"You're a senior already, Quinn. Just accept the fact that this glee club thing won't get you anywhere."

"You would know about that, wouldn't you? Aren't you still technically a sophomore even though you're already what, nineteen? Shouldn't you have graduated by now?"

Growling, Mack grabbed the front of Quinn's jean jacket and slammed her against the rungs that held the bleachers upright. With a sharp, metallic clang, Quinn's back hit the rods with a grunt. Mack was a mere three inches from her face, her rage made her tremble. Her knuckles were pale with how tightly she had Quinn in her grip.

"Just because I wanted to be fuck you five months ago doesn't mean I'm going to hesitate to cut you now, Quinn."

"Oh yeah? You're hesitating now," Quinn said with a smirk. "How come you haven't cut me yet? Some tough girl you are."

With a frustrated hiss, Mack shoved Quinn and stepped back. "Fuck you – I left my shiv at home." She stormed off in the direction of the parking lot. Quinn brushed her jacket and winced at the pain that shot up her spine. The small of her back hit against a piece of the rod that jutted out – thank god it was blunt and did not stab through to her.

Quinn slipped back into the school building, an ache pulsing in the base of her spine, and walked the empty halls to find Mr. Schue's office.

Rachel inspected her reflection for the fifth time. She squinted at herself, then at her outfit. Was the blazer too much? She shrugged it off again and inspected her appearance. Her white silk dress shirt now looked lacking without the blazer so she made up her mind to put it on. She grabbed her purse, the folder with the printout of her resumé, and hurried downstairs to her dads.

"How do I look?"

"Great! Where are you going?" Her daddy asked. He peered at her over the rims of his tortoiseshell glasses. "That's the most professional I've ever seen you, isn't that right, 'ram?"

"I don't think I've seen you wear a blazer before, sweetheart."

"That is patently untrue," Rachel said, her cheeks flushing. "I wore a pantsuit and blazer combination to school once. And when I was in the debate team, I wore a blazer."

"Right, of course," Leroy shook his head, apologetic that he forgot. "But that didn't answer my first question. Where are you going, darling? Or is there a debate that we didn't know about?"

"Daddy," Rachel said with a frown, her hands on either side of her hips. "I have a job interview with the principal of McKinley High, remember? I told you and dad about it over dinner yesterday. Well," Rachel hesitated with a sly grin. "The principal doesn't know he has a job interview with me just yet. I'm trying to get hired as the drama teacher since they don't have one, and in that process, be the glee club's advisor!"

"But don't they already have one? It was – what's his name – William Schuester."

"Oh, he's alright, but I talked to him during the competition and he seems to be a bit worse for wear. Running ragged, some would even say."

Hiram narrowed his eyes. "Did you put something in his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Rachel?"

"What? I resent that implication!" Rachel exclaimed.

Leroy blinked, looking at his husband, and then at his daughter. "What is being implied here?"

"Dad is trying to suggest that I drugged Will's food in order to usurp his position as the club's advisor."

"Oh, well, that's fair."

"What is? The implication or drugging him?"

Leroy winced. "Both?"

"Daddy! I did nothing of the sort, okay? I simply… asked if he's tired of leading glee club and whether McKinley has a drama teacher. Turns out they do, but in name only. McKinley's drama teacher developed an online bingo and video game lootbox addiction and they haven't seen him in a couple of years."

"And he's still on payroll?" Hiram asked, aghast.

"I doubt it – but Will mentioned that they haven't replaced him – that there are still drama classes listed in the courses taught at McKinley. People sign up for them to get a free period out of it." Rachel shook her head. "Frankly, it's ridiculous. I wonder what it does to the students' GPA."

"Well, I hope you get the job," Leroy said as he planted a kiss on Rachel's head.

"Does that mean you won't be returning to New York anytime soon? If you're taking a teaching position."

Rachel hesitated in her response. Instead, she swallowed and smoothed out her white silk shirt beneath the blazer. "I'm taking some time to figure my career path. Teaching will give me something to keep me busy."

Her parents only nodded and she hoped it was because they trusted her to figure out her problems, rather than them finding her hopeless and irredeemable. "You know yourself best, Rachel. We'll be here for you if you need us."

After their discussion, Rachel gathered her things and drove to McKinley, a few hours before school let out. This meant that the parking lot was packed with cars – both of teachers and students. At least the visitor's parking lot was vacant, save for the taco truck that laid in wait for the onslaught of starving teenagers to make their business boom.

It was disconcerting, nostalgic, and haunting to be back in the same parking lot where Rachel had eggs smashed against her head once. The same parking lot where she watched burly jocks in their letterman jackets slam scrawny kids against dumpsters. There was a fight or flight response ticking inside her pulse, but still she forged on. Entered through the teal front doors, still with its rusty creak. McKinley high hardly changed, though the linoleum floors were more yellowed than she remembered. She entered through the glass doors of the administration office, relieved to find Will waiting for her on the red plush couches situated by the wall.

He rose to his feet, looking worse than Rachel saw him last. His shirt was wrinkled, his tie crooked. Bags under his eyes. "Figgins is in his office, waiting."

Will made the move to follow Rachel into the principal's office but Rachel held out her hand and nudged him to sit back down on the chair. "It's fine. I can handle it." She winked and entered the office with its pale yellow walls, adorned by photographs of the brown man sitting behind the oak desk. Rachel scanned the photographs for a quick second as he rose to his feet and offered her his hand.

They shook hands and Figgins directed Rachel to sit across from him. "So, Miss Berry. Will Schuester told me that you're looking to replace Mr. Ryan," he said with a brow raised, eyes narrowed. "How will I know you won't be anything like him? The dramatic theatre types, they all tend to be the same."

"First of all, I won't be anything like him," Rachel said with a bright smile. Her shoulders were relaxed, and she sat halfway on the seat, back erect but not leaning forward to appear too eager. Poised, she offered up the sheaf of papers that was her resumé. "From what I know of Mr. Ryan, it's that he has never made it to Broadway. I have."

"And that's enough to set you apart from him?"

Rachel swept back her long dark hair. "You're right in your assumption that we 'theatre types' as you call us tend to have obsessive personalities and it can sometimes work against our favour. But it also has the potential to work for the school."

Figgins eyed her and held up her resumé. "I don't know much about theatre but even I can see that your credits are impressive. But I'm still not sure…"

She sat back, crossed her legs, and laced her fingers atop her knee. "Mr. Figgins, are you familiar with Grace Powell?"

The principal straightened in his office chair. "Well, of course. She is the superintendent for our school's district. Why?"

"I heard she makes a point to go to New York every time the theatrical season starts," Rachel lowered her voice to sound conspiratorial that Figgins had to lean over his desk to hear every word she said. "She's a fan of Broadway, that much is clear…"

"...and if she learns that you, a Broadway actress, is teaching in McKinley, she'll want to up our school's budget!" Figgins smacked his fist against his upturned palm. "Genius! Miss Berry, you and I shall get along swimmingly. You're hired!"

"Also – I'm thinking of taking over glee club."

"Yes, yes, that's fine. With our new possible budget, you can do whatever you want!"

They shook hands and together they stepped out of the office. Figgins held her out like a trophy. "Everyone, meet McKinley's new drama teacher!" He threw his arm over Will's shoulders. "I have to say, Will – you brought me a real prize, here." He beamed. "Show Miss Berry around – show her where the auditorium is. I'll get the janitorial staff to get rid of Mr. Ryan's things. Miss Berry, will you be ready to start next week?"

"Of course. And please, call me Rachel."

Figgins shook her hand again and he left them while humming a tune, presumably to talk to the janitorial staff. Rachel turned to Will who was staring at her, mouth agape, stunned.

"That's the happiest I've ever seen him. And that has to be the world record for the fastest job interview in the world. What happened in there?"

Rachel laughed and together they stepped out of the glass-walled office to walk the empty halls. "I just knew the right thing to say to tip him in my favour, that's all. There's no need to show me the auditorium by the way – I remember where it is."

"Come with me to my office for a bit," Will said. "I want to discuss glee club. I can tell you every member's strengths and weaknesses to make your job easier next week."

Quinn yawned and closed her locker door shut. She waited in the other hallway so Mr. Schue would not have seen her waiting for him – of all things. Ten minutes have passed since. Surely he would be back in his office by now. So Quinn raised her bag's strap to her shoulder and rounded the corner.

She took a step back. Saw Rachel and Mr. Schue walking side by side. Both entered into the Spanish classroom where his office was attached. Quinn felt a tug in the pit of her stomach and recalled when she saw the two of them during sectionals, talking.

She shook her head in frustration. It doesn't have to mean anything – at least, anything that could cause such a knee-jerk reaction in her. She patted her stomach, willing it to calm down. Waited a few minutes before walking into the Spanish classroom. They left the office door ajar and they both looked up upon Quinn's entry.

For a brief second, Rachel smiled at Quinn and winked. It was all Quinn needed because relief flooded her like a stream.

"Hey, Mr. Schue," she said, voice raspy from smoking earlier.

"Hi, Quinn," he was more subdued, and Quinn felt the pang of guilt. The notion that she was the cause of the shift in the teacher finally caught up to her. "Nice timing. How would you like to meet McKinley's new drama teacher?"

Quinn's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Miss Berry here will also be the new glee club advisor," Mr. Schue said, his fingers clasped together with a sigh. "Because you were right. I wasn't giving glee club the attention it needs, so I'm stepping down as the main club advisor. I'll maybe assist now and then, chaperone on trips and such. She's also a New Directions alumnus, so she knows the ropes."

Quinn stared between him and Rachel. "I-I came here to apologize, actually. For being mean to you, not understanding that you're still a human being and should be given the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry I was dismissive of you as a teacher, Mr. Schue."

He smiled and nodded. "I accept and appreciate your apology, Quinn, but again, you were right. I need to take some time for myself to see where my priorities lie."

"Finn's going to kill me. He's going to think I made you quit."

Mr. Schue laughed and shook his head. "I'll explain so everyone will understand. It's not official until next week, so if you don't mind keeping the news to yourself for now…"

"Will do, Mr. Schue." Quinn then turned to Rachel and bit back a smirk and instead offered a small smile. "Hi, Miss Berry. It's nice to meet you."

"Hello, Quinn. I can't wait to work together with you in glee club!"

"I'm in the senior drama class too," she blurted. "It's supposed to be ongoing right now, but…"

Rachel laughed with something of a mischievous and knowing glint in her eyes. "So I've heard. Don't worry – I'll find a way to make up for all the classes we've missed."

Quinn swallowed hard, barely even heard the dismissal bell ring until Rachel rose to her feet.

"Let me show you out," Will said as he stood as well.

"Oh, no need. Quinn will show me out. Right, Quinn?"

"Yeah, of course."

Quinn was sure that Mr. Schue watched them leave his office classroom, but it was unimportant. Nothing demanded her attention more than Rachel walking a little bit ahead of her and she trailed after her, still in disbelief and stunned that Rachel was here, at school, and will be her teacher.

"Do you need anything from your locker? For any homework?" Rachel glanced back towards her. She nodded and Rachel chuckled. "Are you okay, Quinn?"

They left the school building as students started to trickle out of their classrooms to crowd the hallway. Quinn followed her to where she parked the car. Rachel cocked her head and she sat on the passenger's seat as she pulled out the school parking lot and left McKinley behind them.

Rachel drove in silence while show tunes played in the speakers aimed in the backseat. Quinn stared at the older woman's side profile, still confused over the sudden direction things began to take. Eventually, Rachel broke the silence.

"I know – I'm just as surprised as you. I never thought I'd teach. I used to have a disdain for drama teachers – I never took a drama class in high school myself. I was so sure that teachers are just washed-up individuals who aren't talented enough to do anything in their chosen field, but…" she sighed and glanced at Quinn. "I suppose there was no way I could have known I would end up here."

"What made you decide to do it? It seemed all of a sudden… I didn't expect you to have told me or anything, but I didn't get the hint that you were going to."

Rachel giggled. "It was a split-second decision. I saw your teacher – I guess I'll have to call him Will now – during sectionals, remembered how you don't think he's doing a good job…"

"So you're really here to be the glee club advisor?"

"More or less, but I can't just be a club advisor so I asked him about the drama classes, learned that it pretty much doesn't exist, and so here I am." Rachel looked at Quinn. "Will sleeping with your teacher be weird for you?"

"You know, when you put it that way… I felt like it should, but since we've been doing this even before you became my teacher, it should be fine, right?"

"I'm fine with it as long as you are," Rachel said.

"I can be discreet."

"I know. Come on, let's go. I'll treat you to some ice cream," Rachel beamed. She parked her car in front of an ice cream shop, empty save for an elderly woman dressed in a cyan collared shirt and pink visor. She welcomed Rachel and Quinn with a smile and waited at the ready, holding an ice cream scoop in her hand.

Rachel purchased two cones and they ate it on the park bench right outside the shop overlooking the street and the parking lot. Quinn nibbled her strawberry cheesecake ice cream as she eyed Rachel's pink tongue as she nursed her mint chocolate chip.

"You look cute, by the way," Quinn mumbled out a shy compliment. "With your blazer. You look really professional."

"Thanks, Quinn," Rachel giggled and leaned over to plant a sticky kiss to her cheek. "Next time, I'll ask you for validation for my teacher attire."

"Oh man," Quinn stared at the bright blue sky overhead, a smile on her lips. "It's really just sinking in that I'm fucking my new drama teacher."

"And is that a problem, Miss Fabray?" Rachel asked in her best intonation of a strict teacher, but all it did was endear her to Quinn. She wanted to kiss her so badly, but she didn't want to catch any unwanted attention. So she did the best she could muster in such a public space. She took Rachel's hand and kissed the back of it.

"It's not a problem at all, Miss Berry."

Rachel looked at Quinn, brow raised. "It better not be."

I know, it's short. A transition chapter, more than anything.

Thank you for your patience, if you're still reading. Editing is tough.