If your childhood is intact, you might want to skip the second paragraph. Because of spoilers.

She'd never really "lost" anyone before. Her Dad's parents had disowned him when he had come out as being gay, and Daddy's mom was still alive and kicking and sent her animal sweaters that she knit herself. There had been their former housekeeper and her personal costume designer, a loss she still hurt to think about, but Yvette had only moved away to retire in Florida and be with her family, and had not actually died.

So her concept of grief and loss were definitely skewed, and acquired mainly through books and media. She could cry on cue, and had shed tears for emotionally-wrought stories she'd read and watched, but she was still so very innocent, when it comes to some things. Sure, she'd cried when Bambi's mother died, traumatized by Mufasa, and don't even get her started on Nemo's mother. But she didn't understand Melchior's sense of loss when Moritz had died and he'd come across Wendla's grave, or how Collins must have felt when Angel had died. Death, as a part of life, was all still abstract to her.

She understood it intellectually, and could empathize with the emotion and impact of it.

Rachel was worried that she would come off as callous, or shallow, if and when she faced Carole, who had just lost a son. A son she had pretty much raised alone. It was bad enough that she couldn't truly sympathize, having never lost anyone before, but the woman had lost a husband, and now a son, and Rachel was merely losing an ex-boyfriend, someone she hadn't been involved with for almost a year.

For months she had been getting over the breakup, going through the stages of grief for the demise of her relationship with Finn, and she had so very recently come to the acceptance that they were well and truly over, and had been moving on, not just moving forward, in her life, a life without Finn. He had been such a big part of her life for so long that when she had said goodbye to him, if even just figuratively, she had closed that chapter in her life. She had accepted his place as her first great love, her first boyfriend, but life had to go on.

She had been living a life without Finn already. Finn's death put a period to that concept, put in in bold letters and underlined it.

She had mourned the loss of Finn already, and it made her miserable because Finn was now well and truly gone, and a part of her felt the fresh new pain so thoroughly, but she had already gone through this once.

It tore at her, because she knew she was the only one. She was the only one who had felt the need to cut off that part of her, to cauterize the wound, to wait for the scars to heal. She was the only one who had needed to do that, and had done it already.

Everyone else who had known Finn hadn't had to move on so thoroughly, so deliberately, and this was a new measure of loss for them. He had been their friend, a surrogate son for Mr. Schuester and a stepson to Mr. Hummel, a stepbrother to Kurt, a mentor to the new New Directions. This was a new loss to them.

And she knew they would all be looking at her.

Rachel knew they would all look to her for cues on how to react, since she was the one closest to him who hadn't been family, because they couldn't compare their grief to Carole Hudson's. And all she knew was that she had already mourned the loss of Finn, and this... this, for her, should be about saying goodbye.

She glanced at Shelby, who sat in the driver's seat of the rental car, the two of them situated outside the memorial home, as Shelby had told Rachel to take her time before they went inside. "Have you ever lost anyone before?"

Rachel didn't miss the way the older woman's gaze flickered to her, before she turned back to stare out of the windshield. "Yes."

"What was it like?"

"Like a limb that was missing." Shelby answered, succinct.

"I need a little more than that." The desperate plea in Rachel's voice didn't go unnoticed, or unheeded.

Shelby exhaled, and sank back into her seat. "I was very young when my grandfathers died. I lost my grandmothers when I was ten and thirteen, and I mourned them as a kid would, you know, like not really understanding the depth of it." She glanced back at Rachel. "I didn't know what loss really felt like until I had to live years of my life knowing there was a child in the world I would never get to touch until she was eighteen."

Rachel looked away, chastened at the realization that she had been willing to dig up her mother's painful memories just to make herself feel better. "Sorry."

"What's the matter, Rachel?" Shelby prodded softly, watching the girl, who was frowning at the sunny day outside the car.

Rachel sighed, and slumped back in her seat. "I expected rain."

If Shelby was surprised at the non-sequitur, she went along with it anyway. "That's reasonable, being spring."

"No," Rachel shook her head, and glanced at Shelby. "I mean, that's how it usually is, in the movies. When someone dies, it rains."

Shelby quirked an eyebrow.

"That's how I understand death." Rachel explained. "Books. Movies. I can cry for Éponine dying at the barricades, but what does that even mean, really? Because I cried each time Finn broke up with me; for days, weeks, even, when he wouldn't take a single phone call when I first got to New York. I've been mourning losing him for months, and now he's dead, and I feel like it should hurt more, I should feel it more, and I don't. I've been mourning him for such a long time this just feels like... I feel like I should be sadder than I am, but he'd been gone long before this. It just means a phone call I'll never get again, a face that won't be there at reunions. When we broke up the last time, I said goodbye, Shelby."

She'd felt the sting of tears, but she hadn't realized, with every word that escaped her lips, with every feeling she told Shelby, that the tears had started to fall, increasing in volume as the feelings intensified.

"Why can't I feel this more, Shelby? Why doesn't this hurt more? I loved him, I was going to marry him, and there should be a giant, gaping void in my heart where he'd once been, but that part's healed already, I had that void for a long time, and it's healed, and now I have to face everyone - oh God, his mom - and I'm... I'm falling apart, but it's not just because he's gone. I'm falling apart because I can't be the girl they want me to be, the girl who loved Finn so thoroughly she couldn't imagine a life without him. But I have been, my whole life now doesn't include him." Rachel shook her head. "He's gone, he's really gone, and how am I supposed to tell anyone that I've been trying to move past this even before he died? And all they're going to do in there, all people are going to judge me for, is that I'm not falling on the floor in a weeping mess and being OK."

Shelby hesitated, not knowing what to do or say, before she leaned across the console to pull Rachel to her, wrapping the younger girl into her arms. "Sshh, baby, it's OK."

Rachel sobbed into Shelby's (expensive) blouse, clutching onto her mother for dear life.

Shelby cooed soft comforting sounds into Rachel's hair, trying to soothe her, a part of her sad for her daughter, but another part grateful that Rachel trusted her enough to be this vulnerable with her, trusted Shelby enough to be honest, trusted Shelby to make her, if even the slightest bit, feel better.

"There's no right or wrong way to grieve, Rachel." Shelby said gently, pulling back when Rachel's tears had subsided, and gazing solemnly at the girl. "Some people put it in tiny boxes of their mind, others tell the world about it, and some others put a timeline to their own grief. But you know what everyone who's ever lost anyone have in common?"

Rachel shook her head, taking the tissue Shelby offered her and wiping her eyes. Thank God she had skipped the mascara today.

"They all still live their lives. Day by day, moment by moment. Maybe you're right, maybe you have done your mourning. Maybe you'll get in there and it'll hit you. Maybe you'll be fine for days, weeks, months: and it can be any random moment on any random day and the grief will hit you. Maybe you'll think you've gotten past it until you attend a random Sectionals competition and it hits you all over again." Shelby imparted. "Whatever it is, it's still OK. But whatever you do, remember you're not alone in this. You're not the only one who lost someone and everyone in there just lost Finn, too."

Rachel sighed. "I just feel like they'll expect more than what I can give them."

Shelby frowned, realizing that Rachel's worry about what the people who would be inside the memorial home would think and say about her was a repeated concern. She suddenly recalled Jesse's words of warning, about Rachel and the people she knew in Lima, and worried that there was so much Jesse and Rachel weren't telling her. "If it gets uncomfortable, in any way, you tell me, OK?" Off Rachel's troubled look, Shelby elaborated. "If I'm not on your side, you find me, and you come to see me. I'll make up an excuse for us to leave." She paused. "Maybe we should have a cue. A safe word."

"Ballgown."

Pause.

Shelby looked disconcertedly at the younger girl. "That came rather quickly to you."

Rachel was a bright shade of red at the implications of her quick response.

"Should I be concerned..."

"Don't ask."

"Don't tell." Shelby returned, and the two of them shared a quick smile. "Ballgown it is." She took another tissue, and after silently asking Rachel's permission, gently helped wiped at her face, doing what she could to remove the tracks of her tears. When she was done, she smiled softly at the girl. "Are you ready?"

"As I can be."

She wasn't. Because the moment they stepped inside the room, everyone turned to see the newcomers, and Shelby felt more than saw Rachel actually recoil from the attention.

Shelby stepped a little closer. "I'm right here."

Rachel showed no indication of having heard, except her posture straightened and her chin lifted. "We should find his mom."

Shelby acquiesced, a little amused to think that if Rachel could go from utter defeat to taking the reins with utmost composure in a matter of seconds, then there was nothing that could truly bring the girl down.

It was strange, Shelby had to admit, technically being Rachel's plus one, since she didn't really now anyone there, but what was most disconcerting was that Rachel seemed to act completely distant from the people who were supposed to have been closest to her.

Sure, Rachel and the other glee kids traded polite overtures and condolences, but Rachel didn't really stay and chat with any of them.

It could also be that nobody really wanted to talk to someone who had an adult sticking right by their side, especially one whose mere presence was as imposing as Shelby's. Shelby wondered if it was because nobody wanted to talk to Rachel about Finn and discuss subjects that were sensitive, considering Shelby was technically a parental figure to Rachel.

Noah Puckerman, she noted, couldn't get away fast enough when Rachel (and Shelby) had come across him when he had been sitting with an athletically-built blond boy (whom Shelby vaguely recognized but couldn't accurately place) and Michael Chang (who was the only boy she recalled not only actually paying attention, but also politely not drooling in the few classes she'd taught in).

There had even been an awkwardness to Rachel's interaction with Kurt Hummel, even though she had seen the relief on his face when he'd seen Rachel and had tried to engage her to keep her at his side, near his father and stepmother. Rachel had hemmed and hawed her decline of his invitation, finally using the flimsy excuse of Shelby to get away. She supposed it had something to do with the reason why Rachel was living with her and hadn't even gone to the loft in Bushwick during the previous weekend.

Shelby wondered if her presence was a positive or negative thing. And she wasn't above asking.

"I met Parker Simmons last week." was the unexpected reply.

"Parker's in New York?" Shelby, who had learned to take Rachel's replies with stride, was nonetheless surprised. Parker had been one of Vocal Adrenaline's best dancers, but couldn't - wouldn't - get along with the male lead. "How is she?"

"She's spectacular. She's studying business and she'll probably become my manager one day." Rachel admitted. "She and Jesse live together."

Shelby blinked.

"I've seen her be rude to him, and make fun of him, and she is openly demonstrative of her loathing for him." Rachel continued. "But she doesn't hate him, even though he's apparently given her reason to. She offered him a place to stay, if and when he moved to New York, and she helps him study, because she knows he hates doing his homework."

"I don't understand." Shelby confessed.

Rachel looked at her. "They were friends, even when they couldn't get along during their time in Vocal Adrenaline. She felt bad when other members gave him grief about transferring to McKinley for me, and he feels guilty that his actions had her relegated to the chorus when she most needed to shine to be noticed by scouts. They were friends. And they're rediscovering their friendship now." She paused. "I look around this room, and I don't know how many of them would offer me a place to stay to lick my wounds if I had just flunked out of college and got my heart broken; how many of them would revel in my defeat instead of giving me options to move forward."

Oh. There was a lot Jesse and Rachel weren't telling her.

Before Shelby could say anything, they were interrupted by William Schuester, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere and approached them. "Shelby! This is a surprise! What are you doing here?"

Beside her, Rachel scoffed, drawing Will's attention to her. "Oh. Hi, Rachel. I'm sorry about Finn."

Rachel merely nodded. She really didn't know what to say when people said that to her, since she and Finn had been broken up for some time, and she was dating someone else now. And she truly believed that the only one who really should be extended condolences was Carole, as well as Burt and Kurt, since they, at least, were family.

Will turned back to Shelby. "You didn't have to come, really."

Shelby shrugged. "I'm here to offer support."

"That's nice, but," Will's voice dropped to a whisper, "Emma's here."

Now both Rachel and Shelby scoffed.

Shelby, who had nursed a crush for the man for some time, was suddenly repulsed by his audacity and wanted to bring him down a peg or two. Or several. "I'm not here for you, I'm here for Rachel."

"Rachel?" Will echoed, glancing at the girl beside them. He glanced back at Shelby with worry and concern. "Shelby, her dads..."

"Aren't here." Shelby cut him off. "I am."

"You shouldn't use the situation to take advantage-"

"Oh my God!" Rachel couldn't help but express her incredulity, if only in a harsh whisper. She stepped closer and inserted herself into their conversation. "So much, none of your business."

"Rachel, I'm only looking out for you."

"The same way you kept looking out for me when everyone in the choir room would abuse me verbally and you sat back and occasionally included your own snide insult?" Rachel snapped. "The same way you looked out for Finn?"

Will looked around, alarmed that someone might overhear, and frowned at Rachel. "Rachel, this isn't the place."

"He looked up to you, and you couldn't even set a good enough example to show him that just because he was staying in Lima doesn't mean high school was going to be the best years of his life." Rachel accused.

"Okay. Ballgown." Shelby stepped in between Will and Rachel, facing Rachel. At Rachel's still-fiery expression, Shelby arched an eyebrow. "Rachel."

Rachel raised her hands in surrender, and stepped back, retreating behind Shelby.

Watching Rachel for a beat longer until she was sure the girl wouldn't explode, Shelby turned to William. "That was rude, but not necessarily uncalled for. Let's call it a wash. Do you need anything else, Will?"

Will glanced at Rachel, who had turned her attention to her phone. "Yeah, uh, we're putting together a small program for the memorial, and the kids voted that Rachel should do it."

Shelby didn't miss the scoff of derision that came from behind her. "I'll ask her."

"They already voted."

"And she can choose to say no." Shelby replied firmly. She stepped aside slightly to address Rachel. "Rachel?"

"We were thinking you can sing Faithfully," Will told her.

Rachel's eyes snapped up to him, and even Shelby was momentarily afraid of a Rachel who could look at someone with so much fire and brimstone. "You sing Faithfully at the wake."

"Everybody will sing Don't Stop Believing."

"At a funeral?" Shelby couldn't help but voice her skepticism at the song choice.

"That or Don't Dream It's Over," Will admitted. He missed the way both Rachel and Shelby cringed at the selections.

Rachel exhaled. "I'll sing something." She turned to Shelby. "Ballgown. I'm going to go find Quinn."

Shelby nodded, and watched her walk away.

Will followed her gaze, before he turned back to Shelby. "You've been spending time together?"

Shelby gave him a sidelong glance. "We're getting to know each other."

He considered that, and when he next spoke, his voice was tinged with accusation. "She's different. I've never seen her like that."

Shelby hummed, shrugging. She knew what he was implying, but she refused to take the bait. "I'm sure she'll make a good song choice for the wake."

"That's not what I..." Will frowned at her. "Rachel's not like that, Shelby."

Shelby turned to him, and her glare almost matched the one Rachel had set upon him earlier. Almost. "Speak to her the way you just did again, and I will personally see to it that your life will resemble a living hell. Do you understand?"

Will gaped, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words to say. "But... I-"

"Do you understand, William?" Shelby reiterated.

"I'll go talk to her..." Will offered feebly.

"No. Don't. You apologize and learn to speak to her civilly, or you don't speak to her at all." Shelby said curtly. She glanced around the room until she sighted a familiar face. "I'm going to go talk to Shannon."