A/N: Apologies for the long period of waiting, readers. No excuses. Internet cookies?

For Rachel Berry, growing up in Lima had meant growing up with the least number of friends possible for any child of the only openly-gay couple within the town proper. Her dads had their friends, and some of those friends had their own children, but nobody really wanted to associate with the loud-mouthed know-it-all little girl who sang all the time.

That is, until Glee Club in high school.

Actually, she used to have friends in her classes outside of school, but they all started attending recitals and competitions and when she started winning and really honing her competitive streak, well, let's just say those friends quickly disappeared into the ether.

Anyway. Glee Club. She had thought she'd found her place, being a part of a group of outcasts, but it turned out that pretty much anyone who wanted to perform wanted to be in the spotlight, and Rachel required that the spotlight be on her at all times. She had learned to temper that need, learned that sometimes you had to concede the spotlight to let others shine, learned that sometimes being the best wasn't all that cracked up to be. At least, not yet.

She'd conceded solos and given her fellow glee clubbers their time to be a star, hoping that by letting them shine and letting herself be less of the star they would see past whatever grievances they had for her spotlight-having ways and realize she could be a good friend. She did that, and had waited three years, and in the end the only true friendships she had were Kurt and Quinn. But even Kurt could go and challenge her in a diva-off and it was always a tentative and sensitive interplay between her and Quinn.

Sure, she had tentative friendships with Tina and Santana, but she also had a broken engagement to Finn. Everyone else? Noah would send her a sporadic text message (that photo of someone throwing up on Barbra's star on the Walk of Fame was disgusting and she had responded that she hoped he had enlightened the man on his grievous error), Mercedes never called her but copied her in some brief messages to Kurt, and occasionally Brittany sent her an email that she suspected had been missent, since she's pretty sure Brittany had never called her "babe" in the entire time they've known each other.

Long story short, she'd pretty much grown up without any friends.

As much as she wanted to say she and Jesse were friends, she was honest enough with herself to know that their relationship meant too much for them to be just friends.

But now she had Claire Beaumont. Who, if she's honest, would probably scoff and roll her eyes at such a description. But what were friends, if not people who stood by you in your time of need? And, yes, maybe Claire would look incredulous and heap on a healthy dose of skepticism, but Rachel felt that Claire wouldn't deny her.

And she hadn't, when Rachel had asked her if they could hang out. Rachel was avoiding Kurt and Brody, and the only other person she really hung out with outside of classes and study groups was the dancer. Claire had merely shrugged, told her she had been ordered by Cassandra July to work with the lead dancer of the dance troupe that were staging a showcase in the coming weeks, and said that if Rachel was willing to risk facing the smug visage of one Ms. July, then she was welcome to join her.

Rachel really didn't want to, especially since her relationship with Brody - if it was an actual relationship - had just ended, and Ms. July would probably rub it in. But then, Claire was offering her a chance to learn alongside the lead, who was another one of the better dancers in school (which from Claire was high praise, even if it came with the dismissal that the girl wasn't really much of a competition). If Rachel intended to flake off on her singing lessons with Jesse, then at least she could improve her dancing.

Oh yes: after her breakdown with Jesse, they had agreed not to meet as she prepared for her midterms. (Correction: he had suggested, she hadn't bothered to argue, figuring time apart wouldn't be too horrible at the moment, given their last encounter.) They hadn't set a date on when they would resume their sessions, and she was a little worried about that.

She would say this: at least Claire didn't care. When they met that day, Rachel was sure the older girl had seen her pale pallor, the puffy eyes and the general sullen expression that told of some quality sobbing, but after a single question ("Can you dance?") she had gone about as if it was normal.

At the moment, however, she was being introduced by Claire to a girl named Amelia Jones (the lead) and Janet Turner (the understudy) as Claire's friend.

Amelia ("Amy", the girl had corrected) was a third year dance major who seemed to not mind sharing a dance studio with Claire. Janet was also a junior, whom Rachel recognized as one of Brody's classmates.

It could have been awkward, but the choreographer, a post-graduate named Marco, was a bright and cheerful guy who seemed to adore both Claire and Amy.

Rachel had to admit, being able to lose herself in the movement and rhythm of dancing was enough of a distraction from her life, because when she danced, nobody could point out that her song choices were flawed, criticise that she cared more about her ambition than her relationship, or make any comment that her skill set was more important than her social skills.

Of the four undergraduates in the studio, Rachel was the only theater major, but she had been in dance lessons from an early age, which allowed her to evaluate and appreciate the talent she was observing through the whole session.

Side by side, she could recognize how Claire was a cut above the rest, even above these two other girls who were a year ahead. They were all graceful and moved fluidly, but Claire was flawless and instinctive, as if the natural state of her body was when it was in movement. When she had already figured out the routine, she helped Rachel.

Maybe she was biased, Rachel mused as she sat on a bench and watched Claire and Amy, but she had a feeling she wasn't alone in the assessment that an audience would be more inclined to gaze upon Claire than they would Amy.

"You're Kurt Hummel's friend."

Rachel turned to face Janet, who had spoken. She smiled. "You know Kurt?"

"We both know Adam." Janet explained, naming Adam Crawford, the lead of NYADA's show choir Adam's Apples. She hastened to expound, "I used to be in Adam's Apples, but dance had to take priority."

Rachel nodded. She didn't like NYADA's show choir very much - she'd described membership in the group as social suicide to Kurt - but since Kurt had friends in it, she usually opted not to say anything. She knew they were talented - they had to be, they were students in NYADA - but she'd seen one of their performances and they were a far cry (a very far cry) from the talents of Vocal Adrenaline.

"Kurt said the two of you were in your high school show choir?" Janet queried.

Rachel nodded. "We were national champions last year."

Janet nodded. "My high school didn't have a show choir. I was glad when I got into NYADA and they recruited me."

Rachel frowned, confused. "Aren't you a dance major?"

Janet nodded. "Yeah, but not everyone's like Amy who'll probably star in everything."

Rachel glanced at her, trying to get a gauge on Janet's sincerity, and realized the other girl really thought Amy was the best thing in dance. She knew she was very likely to cause a confrontation if she went with what she wanted to do and point out that Claire was the superior dancer, but decided to talk about a more neutral topic. "Are there collegiate show choir competitions?"

Janet nodded. "Yeah, but it's the acapella groups that get more attention. UCLA's got a pretty great show choir program, a lot of the contests are on the west coast." She paused, and glanced at Rachel. "I told Kurt he could have gotten a scholarship for show choir, easy, being in a winning group in high school."

Rachel smiled wryly. She often wondered how many people had dedicated their whole lives to getting to New York, the way she and Kurt had, and figured Janet was not one of those people. She figured Janet was probably from the Midwest, and had just wanted to get out of her midwestern town. "It was New York or bust, really."

"If you were in show choir with Kurt, you could join Adam's Apples and give them some street cred." Janet pointed out, as if suddenly inspired.

Rachel shook her head quickly. "Oh, no."

Janet frowned, and gave her a look. "What, are you one of those singing snobs that think show choir's beneath you?"

"I got here because of show choir." Rachel said, matter-of-fact. "But I already won Nationals in show choir, and that's a great achievement right there. Been there, done that. I don't see the need to go back to something I've already peaked at."

Even as she spoke, Rachel realized she was getting an understanding on why Jesse refused to discuss high school show choir anymore: that was a time in their lives that was in the past - it was an important part, true, but it was the past - and being in New York meant the next step, and, yes, high school show choir had no place in it.

"Huh." Rachel whispered as an aside, tuning Janet out and turned back to watching Claire and Amy work with Marco. She gazed at Claire, who was very focused on what the choreographer was saying, despite the fact that she had nothing to do with the production they were rehearsing for.

She voiced her intrigue to the dancer during the next break.

Claire gave her one long measured gaze and shrugged. "Ringer."

Rachel blinked.

She knew about ringers because she'd gone to a lot of dance lessons and had prepared for her fair share of recitals. Ringers were dancers that were brought in to be stars, to guarantee the flawlessness of the lead part when none of the girls in the class had that special "something". Rachel had grown up resenting ringers, because it meant none of the girls in the class could measure up to the expectations of their instructor.

Everybody hated ringers. They were walking reminders that you weren't good enough.

And Claire was one.

Rachel glanced over her shoulder to glance at Amy and Janet, who were talking between themselves. She turned back to Claire. "Are you-?"

Claire shook her head. "Hardly. This show isn't to my liking at all. Marco just has an interesting take on choreography and I wanted to learn from him. I just meant this show's going to be the talk of the dance program, and I like knowing I could do it, if I wanted to."

"To prove that you're better?" Rachel surmised.

Claire laughed. "To prove that I could. I mean, everybody already knows I got into ABT's dance program, so they know I can do classical ballet. But this kind of jazz ballet? This is new stuff, and I need to constantly be improving and challenging myself."

"Again, to prove that you're better." Rachel argued.

"No," Claire corrected. "To be the best."

Rachel gave her a look, as if to reiterate her point.

Claire shook her head. "There's a difference, Rachel Berry, and you know it. Really, you're gonna have to stop thinking of it as a competition. There comes a point that it has to stop being a contest."

Rachel tilted her head to the side, considering that point. "Everyone makes it a contest."

"Think of it this way," Claire elaborated. "Who's your idea of the standard of Broadway, or whatever it is you're trying to achieve?"

"Barbra." Rachel answered.

"Right. Barbra." Claire nodded, before she stopped and frowned at Rachel. "Really? Streisand?"

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "Have you ever seen Funny Girl? That's the ultimate-"

Claire raised her hand to stop the flow of words. "Right. So, Barbra. For me it's Alicia Markova. Sure, there are more awarded dancers, and those under Kirov have been through a more demanding program. But choreographers put together programs for her. Anyway, I trained myself to think only that there's a standard, the Alicia Markova standard, and I need to get to that point. My classmates, all the other girls who never got to be lead, they're not relevant to my development as a dancer. Even Phyllis Spira, who was brilliant and wonderful, had to be compared to Markova. That's my goal. Do I feel bad that my quest to be the best, to reach Markova standards, gets in the way of other girls' goals? Sure. But that's not my problem. Like everything else, to the people who matter, they don't mind. And if they do, well, I have to decide if they matter enough for me to change, and nobody I really care for or love have really minded that I'm a cutthroat bitch. C'est la vie, as they say."

Rachel, who had been beaten down emotionally and psychologically in high school for thinking along the same lines, frowned. "But how do you put up with it? Every ringer I've ever encountered, I've hated. You're always the most hated girl in the room."

Claire smiled faintly, and shrugged again. "You don't write the recommendation letters. The instructors do, and they're the ones I've always wanted to impress. I mean, you don't get into Royal Academy programs on what other girls have to say."

"Easy for you to say."

Claire smiled, and motioned behind her to where Amy and Janet were. "They're older, and the stars of this showcase, but they're not my concern. If anyone sees them, and asks me if I can do the same choreography, it would mean a lot to be able to say that I can. It shows versatility, it shows a willingness to learn. It's not a matter of comparing myself to them, it's a matter of proving that I can dance anything the proverbial they would want me to."

"It doesn't hurt that people already think you're pretty great." Rachel pointed out.

Claire grinned. "Look at who's learning. You're quite the quick study, Rachel Berry."

Rachel beamed.

Claire knew that the day was going to come when she would sit and wonder just when she decided to make friends, but instead she asked: "But really, Streisand?"

"Until you've seen Funny Girl, you can't say anything against Barbra." Rachel said firmly.

Claire inclined her head in acknowledgement of Rachel's assertion.

Rachel leaned back, and gazed around the studio before she turned back to Claire and spoke earnestly. "I really appreciate you letting me hang out with you."

Claire simply nodded.

"I don't know if I've told you, but you're really good." Rachel noted.

Claire chuckled. "You're talking as if I don't know this."

Rachel smiled. "I know you do. I'm just saying, watching you side-by-side with Amy, and it's obvious who's better. It really makes me wonder why you're not in any of the bigger dance programs."

Claire's low chuckle grew to genuine laughter. "That's subtle, Rachel Berry. Now try for something softer than blunt force trauma."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"You can't just ask that, Streisand. You need to build a foundation, some small talk. I have a boyfriend, ask about him. Where did I meet him? You build up to the bigger questions. You don't just go for the jugular." Claire told her. "For example, instead of asking you why you're avoiding your pale-faced countertenor buddy, I'll casually note that I didn't see Brody with you at any time today. And you'll say..."

"We broke up." Rachel admitted, taking Claire's cue.

"Not a shame." Claire stated. "Not because of what I said, I hope."

Rachel began to shake her head, paused, and reconsidered. "Yes... but no. Not entirely. It was a factor, because it got me thinking. There are other reasons." Rachel winced. "Reasons that include why I'm avoiding Kurt."

Claire grinned. "Very good, you're getting the point of building up to things."

Rachel rolled her eyes and shook her head, deciding she was rather amused at how Claire was approaching this. It was weird, she'd never thought of Claire as being particularly playful. Maybe being able to openly compare herself to her idol helped lower the dancer's defensive walls.

Rachel knew it certainly helped when people compared her favorably to Barbra.

Which reminded her, Jesse hadn't mentioned the contract she'd drawn up in the first place.

"Well, I can't say I'm disappointed." Claire finally said.

"Want to try for something less brutally honest?" Rachel quipped, borrowing from Claire's earlier joke.

Claire laughed. "I don't like him. You and I spend time together. You not dating him means I don't have to see him, and you're free from his kind of... I'll be mean and say 'baggage'. Win-win."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I have too much baggage, I think."

"Then you get rid of them."

Rachel gave her a weak smile. "But I like them."

Claire shrugged. "Then find a way to make them lighter."

It wasn't the best advice, but it was the first piece of advice she'd gotten. Then again, Rachel wasn't looking to get relationship advice from Claire, which was why she didn't mention her relationship issues with the older girl for their following sessions.

In fact, Rachel didn't talk about her love life to anyone at all. The people she could tell about it weren't people she trusted to be objective (Kurt) or even sympathetic (Santana), and she wasn't about to explain the whole situation with her dads. She wasn't about to talk to Finn about Jesse, now that she had started answering his calls again, although their conversations tended to be vague and insubstantial. Jesse was on radio silence while she had her midterms. And she most certainly wasn't about to tell the people in her study groups about her love life: it was bad enough everyone in NYADA knew about her and Brody, she really didn't want to be known as the girl with all the relationship problems.

But it weighed on her, everything both Brody and Jesse had said, and the fact that despite her best efforts, she knew she wasn't fooling Kurt or Santana with her false cheer and deliberate effort to be in dance rehearsals as late as she could manage. Not to mention she was certainly not the most hyper and engaging, when she was nowhere near the dancer Claire or Amy were and her body protested the work she was putting it through.

So it was with surprise, disbelief, and overwhelming relief when she woke up Friday morning to an exasperated sigh of her name.

"Berry."

Rachel shook off her sleepiness to focus on the blonde who had spoken, sitting by her bedside.

Quinn gave her a weary look. "I thought I told you to keep yourself together until I got here."