A/N: This is the real first chapter. I hope this isn't too confusing, I have literally spent years on this story, trying to make sure I get the timeline correct and more importantly keep the math straight! You have no idea how hard it is to keep it all accurate. Anyway I hope you all enjoy the story and let me know what you think of this first chapter.

Summary: "Mama, have you ever wondered what it would be like to go back to my age with all the knowledge you know now in your life?" A question asked by her daughter, on her sixteenth birthday, seems to have triggered it to actually happen. Or has it? Quinn hasn't the faintest idea. All Quinn knew was that she was no longer in her own bed in New York, where she had gone to bed the night before, and now she is suddenly up chucking for no reason at all! Quinn hasn't the time to figure out if the situation she finds herself in is real or not, let alone how or why it is happening, she is just too busy trying to stay one step ahead so she isn't overwhelmed by her past that is now her future!

Warnings: Please be aware there are going to be quite a bit of reference to child abuse as well as domestic abuse: emotional, physical and mental. Suicide and self harm will be apart of this story as well. There will also be references to miscarriages and violence induced miscarriages. There will be homophobia and sexual harassment as well as various kinds of bullying. While I don't really think there is an abundant amount in this story, profanity and vulgar language is certainly going to be found here as well.

Please be aware that I do not pay attention to where these potential triggering points might be in the story, so I will rarely post another warning about them in the future, so please take this warning seriously if you have any triggers of the above, please read through this story with care or this might be a story to skip. Your mental health is important so please take care of yourself first.

Background: Please note that I am playing with time in this story, so inherently things will be different. On top of that MY season three and four is not canon and should be disregarded as a whole. As anyone that has read my work would know, I only write AUs, so please do not expect anything close to pure canon.

Disclaimer: Glee and any and all products, businesses or brands used or spoken about in this story are not mine. I own not even one piece of them in stocks, and I am not profiting from this story in any way shape or form. This is written purely for my own entertainment, and decided to let you all join in on the fun.

So please enjoy the story! ~


"With Wisdom and Knowledge…"

Chapter 1

"Yeah, I will say the thought has crossed my mind from time to time…"

by: Jaely

beep–beep–beep

"Wha- fuck..." I roll over a little and cover my eyes with my hand. "Ahavah, alarm..." I grumble out, hoping Rachel will turn the offending thing off. Why it's even on, I have no earthly idea. It's Sunday, there's no reason for us to get up early on a Sunday. After a moment, I frown a bit when I don't feel any movement on Rachel's side of the bed, until finally I uncover my eyes to look to my left, where Rachel should still be laying. We hardly ever get up without the other anymore, so I frown even more and start to sit up, when I see the other side of the bed is empty. Something didn't sit right in my gut, causing my brows to furrow with confusion, wondering what would have gotten my wife out of bed, without waking me. "Rachel?" I call out into the room, confusion lacing my voice, still not fully awake quite yet.

KNOCK–BEEP–KNOCK–BEEP–KNOCK–BEEP–THUD!

I groan painfully from the floor – where I had just landed – having just realized I had to have been closer to the edge of the bed than normal, when I jumped and rolled over on the bed, in surprise at the sudden banging on my door. I groan as the damn beeping of the alarm continues going off, adding to an already 'wonderful' morning wake up call. I finally just end up shouting in irritation, when the knocking on our door starts again. "My G-D WHAT?!" I love my kids, with everything that I am, but fuck they can have the worst timing ever! The knocking stops just as suddenly as it begins and I reach back to the bedside table to grab my glasses. To my confusion I find the alarm clock, inadvertently silencing the thing by accidentally slapping down on the snooze button of said alarm clock, instead of my glasses. Our alarm is on Rachel's side of the bed, not mine. Is the only thought going through my head for half a second, as I turn my body half around, to stupidly stare at my blurry bedside table.

My head snaps to the direction of the door when I hear the sound of it opening and my thoughts about the alarm are ripped from my head, as I see the very blurry figure of... no it couldn't be. I can feel my eyes widen in disbelief and horror at the thought of seeing her right in front of me, after all these years. I may not have my glasses on, but I've seen her blurry image enough times in my life without them to have remembered what she looks like. Most importantly I can't believe that Rachel would have ever let her into our house. At least not without talking with me about it and seeing what I would like to do about her coming here first.

I start to blindly grope for my glasses, not even taking my eyes off the woman in front of me, in the interim, nearly knocking them from the table with my quick highly uncoordinated jerky gropes, when I hear her voice. "Quinnie? What are you doing on the floor?" I gasp at the sound of her voice. It's what confirms for me that the figure standing at my bedroom door was indeed, Judy Fabray. Which I'm able to visually confirm when I am finally able to jam my glasses on my face, allowing everything around me to come into sharp focus and confirm what my ears are clearly telling me.

I think my eyes go impossibly wider, now that I can see clearly. Not only is my 'mother' standing in my doorway – right now – after having no contact with her for nearly twenty some odd years, but she looks 'younger' than the last time I had actually seen her. As disconcertingly fucked up as that is. What is really starting to freak me out is the room I'm in, I can now make out all the details of it and it looks like 'my' room! Not the room Rachel and I have shared for the last sixteen years, but the room I had when I was fifteen years old. There was even the Cheer metal from my Freshman National win on the wall framed with my uniform and poms in that fucking shadow box!

This doesn't make any sense! How can I be in my old room, from when I was a teenager, in my parent's house? I have questions upon questions about the situation I find myself in but I'm not given any more time to think about them as my train of thought is completely derailed. "Quinn, you need to get up... now. Your father isn't going to be... pleased... if he has to wait on you to finish getting ready before we can have breakfast."

Judy Fabray's softly hissing 'reminder' rips me from my semi-freakout, to stare back at her in disbelief. I feel like I just woke up in the Twilight Zone! Nothing makes sense, and really? Did she just say that to me? I don't make my living off of acting, like my wife does, but I'm fucking amazing at it when I really need to be. I milk that ability for all that I'm worth right now, because I have no idea what the fuck is going on and I really need this woman to go away. As I need some time to myself, in order to get my head on straight and figure this all out. So I nod my head as I rise up from the floor, confirming I had in fact heard what my 'mother' had said, but I don't actually say anything aloud. I just couldn't get my voice working and I wasn't going to bother trying.

Which, just like it would have when I was a teenager, satisfies her and she goes back to her 'award winning' role of the doting mother of the year persona. Seeing her fake 'kind and loving' smile makes me sick to my stomach to witness again. "Now hurry up Quinnie, you don't want to be late for school. I know you got to sleep in today, because you didn't have Cheerios practice, but that is no reason to be lazy either."

By that point she wasn't even looking at me, she was just hurrying her way back out of the room and shutting the door, with a final 'you need to hurry' thrown back at me before the door clicks shut. Once the door shuts I sag back down onto the bed, my eyes taking in the room I have found myself in and shudder as I notice the huge fucking picture of Jesus hanging just opposite of where the bed is. The room really does look like it did when I had just started high school and it makes me shudder. I look at the sights of my teenage self's room and I pinch my arm hard, only to end up hissing in pain. I look down at my arm, in disbelief that I didn't wake up from my nightmare, only to receive another shock.

I quickly bring my arms up and look at them in the weak light coming from the window behind me. They are smooth and completely bare of any form of ink. I run my hand slowly from my wrist up to the crook of the inside of my left elbow, expecting to feel the familiar rises and dips of the massive amount of scarring that had covered it since I was eighteen years old. When all I could feel was the smooth skin that my eyes were showing me I had to repeat the same process over my right. My left arm had always had nearly uniform scarring on it.

I'd often find myself running my hand over the inked scars just to help settle me when things became chaotic in my life. I'd started cutting my left arm after I left for Yale and things in my life just seemed to get worse from there. I tear up as I trace my fingers over the location of the words I had inked into my skin first. They were in Rachel's neat handwriting. She had gone to the tattoo parlor with me and written each word out for the artist to embellish and stylized, without losing Rachel's unique handwriting.

Each word was over the six deepest scars, three on each arm: happiness, laughter, friendship, life, love, and myself. Each word was a personal reminder from Rachel, even when we were away from each other and I was struggling, that I had a reason to hold on and stay strong. Which I had later had inked on as well. As those four words got me through so much in my life, first when I had been pregnant with Beth and then when I had crashed and was burning mid way through my first year of college. Most importantly it was Rachel that had gotten me through both periods in my life and I really wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for Rachel.

A door slamming somewhere down the hall makes me jump and look back at the door then back around the room again. I need to figure out what has happened. Just as I stand up – from where I had sat back down on my bed – I feel an overwhelming need to throw up and I sprint to the bathroom, just making it to the toilet in time, before whatever I had last night comes back up. Hovering over the toilet, my brain starts working at putting together the pieces of what is going on. I am actually quite familiar with what I'm feeling right now. The explanation that is coming to me seems to be the only one that fits even though – it is so out of this world – it kind of makes me question my own sanity.

Now that I'm paying much closer attention to how my body is feeling, I know for sure that it has to be true. If it wasn't for the thoughts – already running through my head – about what was happening this morning, I would be freaking out all over again, because I feel pregnant. It's not hard for me to come to the conclusion that I'm pregnant. I've been pregnant five times in my life, so it's kind of easy for me to know what I feel like when I'm pregnant, even early on. Which brings me back to my theory on what is going on.

I'm in the past. How or even why I'm in the past, I have no clue, but it's the only 'logical' explanation. I snort and cough as the word logical flits through my head, because really? How is any of this logical? I finally finish vomiting and quickly flush the toilet, so the smell doesn't make me want to throw up all over again. I need crackers soon to sooth my stomach. I get up off the floor and move to the sink to get rid of the taste in my mouth.

Once done I head back out into my room, though even the thought of 'my' room sends a shudder of melancholy through me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to redo my teenage years. The only thing that was keeping me somewhat sane with all this is the fact that I have all my memories from the life I've led, which lets me know life does get better for me. Although it's a double edge sword. I remember everything I've been through that has made me into a much happier person, with a loving family and a great life, but knowing all that also makes this that much harder too.

I open the laptop sitting on my desk to look at the date. I'm not all that surprised to see September 21, 2009 shining back at me. I knew it had to have been around that time, if this was really happening to me. This was the first Monday after I had confirmation from the free clinic in Dayton that I was indeed pregnant. This was the day I had originally told Finn that I was pregnant and that the baby was his. Well not this time around. I had told my daughter, just last night, that if I was able to go back; I would do things differently in how I dealt with my pregnancy with Beth, not to mention how I acted towards Rachel. I guess I get to prove I would do what I said I would.

I have a lot to do. I can't dwell on how this all happened now, I have to deal with the fact that it has first. The biggest thing that needs to happen is that I need to get out of this house. There is no way I can or will deal with my father again, if I can at all help it. Unfortunately, that starts with getting through this morning. I move back into the bathroom and quickly shower. As I get out, I debate whether or not I should put on my uniform.

I came to terms with all the horrible stuff I had done as a Cheerio a long time ago, even though I didn't like the person I was during that time in my life, it was a fundamental part of my life as a teenager. I decided I would need to talk with Sue first and that would dictate my course of action on that front this time around. Sue actually became like a mom to me, after my suicide attempt. She along with Will, Rachel, and Rachel's dads, helped me to come to terms with who I am as a person, not to mention my faith. Speaking of faith, I reach up to my neck and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I easily find the cross hanging there like a weight of a time I wish I could forget.

I quickly unhook the necklace and drop it onto the first drawer in the sink counter. I will not go back to being that scared little girl who didn't understand who and what she was again. I don't hate my parents faith, but I have found peace with my wife's faith nearly twenty-five years ago. I converted to Judaism early in my sophomore year of college and I've never been happier with that change. Rachel, her dads, and their Rabbi were the ones to introduce me to the faith; while I was recovering in the hospital from my suicide attempt.

I had refused to let the hospital's chaplain come to see me and had believed that G-d had abandoned me. Rachel and both of her dads came to see me and with them they brought their Rabbi. I was angry at first, but they were patient with me. Rabbi Caleb Markowitz spoke with me often over the three weeks before I left for New York and we debated G-d and faith and eventually we got around to my own self worth. He then held me as I cried for hours after I broke down. In that time together he helped me to believe again, not in Judaism per se, but to begin the journey in having faith in G-d and in myself.

Most importantly, he helped me learn to pray again and find my own personal relationship with G-d. Not in order to make the sin of being gay go away, but to accept how G-d had made me and to accept the love he has for me. That had started my conversion, though that wasn't what he or any of the Berrys had intended at the time. It took months of going to Shul with Rachel, once we went back to New York, for me to finally decide that this was who I wanted to be. Rachel had always known I had a strong belief in G-d and refused to let me believe he abandoned me or for me to abandon him. Which I will always be grateful to my wife for.

Thankfully, I never had to really explain my conversion to Judaism to my parents or even tell them that I am gay back then, or well...ever really. I hadn't wanted them to visit me while I was in the hospital, after my suicide attempt. So Rachel, Santana, and Puck made arrangements with the hospital's Security guards as well as made sure they did their jobs and kept them away from me. There ended up being one scene, due to their precautions, where I did hear my father as he shouted at Puck and the security guards – when he was being forced away from coming into my room – that if I continued to keep them away that I was never to go home again. It was the last time I heard either of my parents' voices, as I could barely make out my mother trying to calm my father down and get him to leave.

It had hurt to once more be kicked out of my family, but it was freeing as well. I didn't have to explain that I was going to move to New York with Rachel, that I was gay, or anything else from then on out. I was free to be me for the first time in my life. Of course they had to have found out about my relationship with Rachel when she had started to become famous. As I was in the media nearly as much as she was at the beginning, but by that time I really didn't care in the least. I hadn't spoken to either of them in a number of years, and they didn't seem inclined to get in contact with me anyway, so it didn't matter.

I hate the very idea of having to even think about appeasing my father again now, but I don't have time to waste fending off one of his 'tantrums' if he were to feel that I didn't give him enough respect. Not to mention, I really don't want to risk a miscarriage if he gets physical and managed to get in a lucky shot. I look at the clock and sigh as I walk into my closet to find a clean Cheerios' uniform. It doesn't take me long to finish dressing. Just when I sit down on the bed to put my white sneakers on I hear my mother call me to come down for breakfast.

I sigh again while I finish tying my shoes and look up into the mirror that predominates the wall above my long dresser. Seeing it again reminds me of the fact that I will never get to pass the furniture onto one of my daughters or their children, when I pass on. My grandmother gifted the whole bedroom set of furniture to me, when she passed away four years ago, as it was passed down to her when her grandmother died when she was a little girl. This is were the line ends I guess. I can't think of a way to get it out of the house without being accused of stealing it. Even if I was to find the paperwork for my inheritance.

I doubt I would be able to get it out of the house without taking legal action and frankly I don't want to go that route if I can help it. Well, at least while I am still technically a minor. When I'm legally an adult again, I will reassess the situation then. For now though, I want to get everything in place, then tell them that I'm pregnant. This will ensure they will disown me and want me out of the house, which is exactly what I want and planned on doing anyway. Hopefully I will be able to find a way to either get myself emancipated or put under the Berrys' guardianship if the need arises.

It will depend on how quickly I can get a job and how much is in the account I can access now. After that I want nothing from my so called parents, at least while they could use the legal system to their advantage to keep me from being legally awarded to the Berrys, legally emancipated, or worse find a way to take my daughter from me. The parts of my inheritance that is too big to move out of the house will just have to wait. Hopefully I will be able to find the rest.

My reverie ends quickly when I hear my mother knock on my door, as she passes by, I guess as a reminder that breakfast is on the table. I look into the mirror again and notice I still haven't finished with my makeup and hair, but I figured I am presentable enough to be seen at the breakfast table. If not, tough shit, I really don't give a damn. I just need to get through breakfast and if I'm unlucky a half hour or so longer before my father finally leaves and then I can take care of what I need to get done and I will never have to set foot in this house again. I softly sigh as I slip out of the bedroom door, then make my way down for another silent and fake family breakfast, not that I am all that hungry; but I have little choice at the moment.

It takes me just a moment to make my way down the stairs and into the dining room, and I have to force myself to not grimace at how grand and ostentatious it is. Rachel and I make way more than my father ever will in his life and we don't live like this. Don't get me wrong we have an apartment in Manhattan that is quite lovely, really nice cars, and our kids get the things they want for the most part – within reason – but overall our apartment fits our needs. It's not a mansion with way more rooms than we have people living in it. It's cluttered and lived in, unlike this place. Which looks like any room here could be photographed and put in a magazine, about home styles, tomorrow.

I'm happy to note that my father looks to be lost in the paper this morning, which means – as long as I don't draw any attention to myself – I won't have to deal with him. I walk past my mother and take my seat, only saying "Good morning," as my greeting. The only reason I graced them with that much is purely self-preservation, because if I don't greet them at all, they would consider it 'being rude'; therefore draw Russell's wrath, something I am currently trying to avoid.

As I settle down in my chair I can clearly see Judy's confusion on her face, as she watches me. I can't say for sure, but I think it's safe to assume it's because I'm normally a bit more 'picture-perfect-happy-daughter' when I use to greet them when my father is around. Right now though, I could really care less and I sure as hell will not be kissing either of them on the cheek. If I could have avoided seeing them at all, then I would have. Once I'm fully seated I literally have to catch myself as I go to take a slice of toast, which is the only thing I will be able to stomach right now besides crackers.

I consciously set my hands back in my lap and wait, because in this house, no one can start eating until Russell says we can. Which means whenever he is damn well good and ready. I use the time to start thinking about the things I need to get done today. I need to pack what I can before I have to leave for school. My camera, laptop, and clothes are a must. Last time I didn't have any of my electronics and only two small bags full of random clothes I could grab within the allotted thirty minute time frame, and then again only the clothes on my back after my suicide attempt.

My camera and laptop will allow me to get a working portfolio together within a month or so and that will allow me to start working soon after, I'm hoping at least. The only bad thing is that I'm going to be stuck in Lima. I had built my career on photographing celebrities before. Now I will have to try and make money by selling my 'hobby' shots. The kind of photography that was to be displayed in my gallery opening that will not be happening now, I guess. I also could find a job as a portrait photographer somewhere in town as well too. There are a few options I would assume, I just don't know what they are, as I never looked into it when I was this age originally.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by the sharp snap of my name. When I turn my head to the sound, I see Russell glaring at me, holding his hand out for me to take. I look down at my empty plate to keep him from seeing the hate and loathing I know is swimming in my eyes now, as I place my hand in his and reach over to let my mother take my other hand. As my father says grace, I make my own prayer silently. I'm grateful when he is done and I can finally get some food without having to interact with them anymore. Which is exactly what I do. I make sure to avoid everything, but the toast and the apple juice. Anything else and I would end up throwing it all up again, and I really don't have the time for that this morning.

It seems my father is in a hurry today as he is finished in record time, meaning I will be able to leave the table sooner than I would have been able to do if he was in no rush. In my parents' house, no one could leave the table until Russell was finished with his meal and ready to get up. Everyone else had to wait. Once he walks out of the dining room, I'm up and taking my glass and still mostly clean plate to the kitchen to rinse and put in the dishwasher. Normally Judy would do it, but it's a habit for me now. I don't even think about it, until I come back through the dining room to see Judy once again looking at me strangely.

I don't pay her any more attention, ignoring her in favor of sprinting my way back up to 'my' room. I look at the clock to see I have a little over an hour and a half, before I must leave to get to school in time to catch Rachel before school starts. The thought of not bothering to go to school at all, crossed my mind, but it flew out of my head just as fast as I had thought about it in the first place. I need to keep up my grades so that meant I needed to go to school in the first place. Yes I will be able to do something to earn money with my photography, but more than likely nowhere near enough to pay for Columbia, which is where I ended up getting a full ride after I had decided to leave Yale to live with Rachel in New York.

I move back to the closet and start to work my way through my clothes. I make sure to grab enough of everything to last me at least a full month. I can mix and match most of what I'm packing and later it won't matter, because I will have to get maternity clothes anyway. Once I have everything I think I will need in the way of clothing, I move to my personal care items. This is pretty easy as most of my makeup and beauty supplies are already in some kind of bag or basket. I decided to forgo my bath stuff and just buy them anew. If my mom was to see them gone she would freak and that would make me have to confront them sooner than I will be ready. I need at least a week to get everything in order, I think. I'm pretty sure I can get Rachel to accept my apology and ask her dads to let me stay with them by Friday, if not sooner.

In my original timeline Rachel – not long after we had started dating – had told me that her fathers had originally extended an invitation to come stay with them, once they heard I had been kicked out of my home, when I was pregnant. Rachel decided not to offer it back then, because she was more than sure that I would turn her down and then be angry at her for even making the offer. Which unfortunately, is exactly what would have happened had she offered then. Now though, it will not be that way. I know I will be safe in the Berry household, and that is all that matters right now. I have years to work on wooing Rachel, right now I just want to have the one person in the world that makes me feel safe nearby again, even if that means I am only her friend or kind of friend.

Thankfully, I'm no longer that scared fifteen/sixteen year old pregnant teenager that doesn't have a clue what to do, that I was the first time around. My biggest problem right now though, is keeping my pregnancy from my parents until I am ready for them to find out. Though I don't want to have to come back after I leave this morning, I want the option open to me, just in case there is something I still need to get later, that I don't have time to pack this morning. Plus I want to try and find all the information on my accounts and if possible find everything my father might have about my inheritance. That way I would have the legal documents to prove my claim in the future. There were a lot of things to be organized before my parents found out, otherwise I risked losing out on my means of supporting myself and my daughter, and I'm not sure if I can pack all the stuff I want to take and find all the paperwork my father has before I need to leave today.

For now I start by gathering my various photography equipment together. I don't have very much right now, but I do have some lenses and filters, as well as some extra batteries and a few tripods for my camera. Then, I work on gathering my laptop and my most beloved books. I had really regretted not being able to get them – or well anything – when I moved to New York with Rachel. I mean I got new ones, but it would have been nice to have been able to pass the ones I had growing up to my girls, than the ones that didn't have the history that these particular books did.

Finally, I grab my pictures and anything else I can think of that I will definitely need, or really don't want to leave behind this time around. I'm hoping my mother will be leaving soon, so I can actually get down into the study to grab some of those documents I need. Also, there's the title to my car. I smile as I remember my father's little slip up, in putting the car in only my name. Not to mention fully paying for the car upfront in cash when he bought the thing. I have to admit though having my car, even though I will have to find a way to pay for insurance myself, will make my life easier this time around.

I pack everything, I've gathered on the bed, in the bags and boxes I'm able to find in my closet. I'm lucky that I happen to have a garment bag in there too, so I'm able to keep my uniforms and dresses from getting too creased during this move. Once I'm done I check through my bookbag to see if I can discern anything about my classes. I can't really remember much about which classes I took when, let alone what my homework was thirty years ago.

I do remember that I had the same schedule as Rachel, so that will at least help me get around until I manage to relearn my schedule. From my little hunt through my bag, I do at least find out that I'm taking World History, Physics, Biology, and English Lit. I have no idea if these classes are today's classes or not, but at least according to my planner I finished my assigned homework.

I really wish I had thought to write my schedule fully out in my planner, not just the homework. I finish flipping through my planner noting various dates of events that I need to be aware of. I use it as a way to jog my memory about as many things that happened in my sophomore year that I can. It's not an easy task seeing as all this happened thirty years ago for me.

I figure I'm going to have to make a calendar of my own just for the things I remember to try and keep track, not only of things that happen, but of the things that will inevitably change. For now though I place my school planner as well as all of my textbooks back in my bookbag and look around my room for any other school supplies that I might have stuck elsewhere. Which I'm glad I do, because I stumbled on the rough draft to an essay I had seemingly been writing for my English class, and then much to my surprise my journal.

I had always been an avid Journaler from the age of about nine and still kept up the practice even as an adult. I had only had a year or so break in which I didn't write that started the summer after graduating High School, until Rachel brought me a new journal while I was in the hospital recovering from my suicide attempt. Finding my younger self's current journal reminds me to collect all my other journals that I had stored away in a box on the top shelf of my closet. Which in turn leads me to finding the stuffed animal collection I had when I was younger.

I also found the Cheerios' Captain's Binder. I had used it to keep tabs on everyone in the squad, along with the routines, stunts, and workout schedules we were to be working on any given day of the week throughout the year. Most likely won't need it past today, but I might if I can think of a way to get Sue to keep me on the squad. If I'm able to make it work, remaining the Cheerios' Captain will give me a way of protecting myself and Rachel better, well faster and easier, not really better. Because it doesn't matter if I'm off the Cheerios or not in the end, I will just rip Mckinley's social order to shreds before I will let anyone bully my wife again. It will just be easier and faster to get my point across if I'm still Captain of the Cheerios though.

"Quinnie! Finn's here!" I hear as I zip my bookbag back up from placing my essay and Binder in it. I look at the clock to find that it's already six forty in the morning. Fuck. I might not have time to look for the bank and car information before I head to school. There's a knock on my door and I freeze, my brain thinking about what my mother had just said. Finn is here. Double Fuck! I really don't want to deal with him right now.

Finn and I do not get along, at all, by the time Rachel and I started our sophomore year of college. According to Finn, I stole Rachel from him, while I just see him as a fucking dick that only wants what he can't have. We are civil with each other when we see one another at Glee reunions and some of the get-togethers we are able to make it to, for the most part, but we will never get along. Another knock on my door breaks me from my thoughts once again and I move quickly to the door to open it, hoping it's Finn on the other side, because I can't hide my bags away if it's my mother and she wants to be let in.

If it's Finn I don't have to let him in, not to mention I can feed him some bullshit and he will believe me. I jerk the door open just enough to allow my head through the door and sigh a bit as I see Finn's tall form standing on the other side. I look up at him and have to work to keep the scowl off my face. Though I'm relieved it's him and not Judy, I'm still not all that happy to see him. I put my hand up when I see him leaning in, to more than likely kiss me, making him stop mid motion. I nearly want to smack him for trying such a thing, not to mention it makes me have to fight the urge to vomit all over again.

When he pulls back and away with a frown I sigh and retract my hand and give him a questioning look. He's an idiot, but I have to remind myself that he's not a bad guy towards me right now. I really need to try and remember that he doesn't become a real dick until much later in high school and then even more so after. Right now, I can only hope that this time around, he won't become what he ended up being in my timeline. I watch as he smiles his dopey smile down at me and hooks his thumb over his shoulder. "Your mom told me to let you know she's leaving." He says as though he's proud of himself. I just want to just roll my eyes at him, but I hold it in.

"Did she leave already?" I ask as I look up at him keeping my body wedged closely with the slightly open door so he can't see all the bags and boxes I have on the bed. I try to keep my voice neutral so I don't spike his curiosity in where he might start asking me any real questions about what I'm doing.

"Yeah, she like walked out, as she let me in." He tells me with a pleased smile. My mind just sighs with relief. I can get my shit to my car without having to dodge my mother. Now I just have to get rid of Hudson.

"Alright, thanks Finn for letting me know, I'm going to drive myself to school so I don't need a ride." I tell him quietly. I'm hoping that if I don't sound angry with him then, he won't make a big deal about it. I'm running out of time to get to school so I can catch Rachel before classes start. When he gets his constipated confused look going on, I know he's about to ask why I don't want to ride with him to school.

I decide to cut him off so I can get on with things. "Listen Finn, I can't talk about it right now, but you need to just head on to school. I'm not going in with you today. So just go, alright?" I say as gently as I can to him, which I will confess was way more harshly than I should have. At least I didn't shout at him though, so he's getting off easy. Luckily it works and he slinks off, throwing confused looks back at me. I wait at the door of 'my' room for the front door to open and then close behind Finn. Once he's gone I move into action, though I have to pause and wait to see if I'm going to have to throw up again for a minute. When my stomach settles I grab four of my bags and trek them down to the front door.

I then go back and get my garment bag and my laptop bag. With the next trip I grab my book bag and my camera bag and the lightest box. I take another three trips to get my stuffed animal collection, journal collection and part of my book collection down to the front door. My last trip up the stairs I hefted my last box of books, but before I headed back down, I took a moment to look around the room for anything I might have missed; that is when I noted my great-grandmother's jewelry box sitting on my dresser. It's not large, but it's beautifully hand carved maple wood and stained a lovely mahogany color. Franie had inherited the larger jewelry box, but I didn't mind, as I had always loved the beautiful design on the smaller box and that it was also a music box as well. I put the box of books back down on my bed and went over to my dresser. I looked through it to find an old t-shirt that didn't fit her anymore and carefully took the time to wrap the box up before taking it back over to the box of books and setting it inside, on top of the books, before closing the lid again and picking the box back up.

I took one more look around and when I didn't see anything else I made my way down stairs and to the front door. I set the box down and picked up my iPod and tucked it and it's charger into my book bag, and then placed the wrapped up jewelry box in with my collection of stuffed animals. It seemed like the least likely place someone would go looking for valuables and it was also well cushioned. Once that was taken care of I opened the door and picked up the same box of books again and headed outside. It takes about the same number of trips to get everything out and loaded into the trunk of the car, but surprisingly it doesn't take as long as I thought it would.

Afterwards, I decided to use the next five minutes to see if I could find at least my bank account information. All I needed was the account number and I would be able to transfer my money into another account. I move quickly to my father's office and over to his desk. I shiver a bit as I look around the room. The last time I had been in this room was on the evening of my suicide attempt. Russell had beaten me for 'unbecoming behavior, befitting a daughter of his.' That encounter had ended with a larger number of bruises along with a few broken ribs and the desire to never have to face him or my 'sinful feelings' again.

"Not this time, you bastard." I hiss out venomously, and go back to searching through his filing cabinet. Luckily, even though he's a bastard of a man, he's also extremely organized and I'm able to find my last statement on the account I need quickly. I also find a few large hanging folders that are labeled 'L.Q. Fabray Inheritance'. I flipped one of them open to see that it contains a rather large stock portfolio, but there was far too much to go through right now, so I just decided to keep the whole folder. I then looked in the other folder to see that it listed various physical assets, well beyond just the bedroom set and if I'm reading this right there was property within the listings as well.

I will have to take the time to go through the paperwork more in depth to see where the property is and if it truly was left to me or not. The last one is a trust fund and not the funds that are in my savings account either. These funds seem to be in a special account only accessible by me, through my grandmother's lawyers. Then of course there is the account that I know about, which is apparently called the 'Education and Extracurricular Activities Funds' Account. Supposedly to pay for my educational and extracurricular activity needs as I made my way through school. There was even a letter in here from my grandmother to me. Needless to say I'm a bit surprised.

I never knew any of these things existed, other than I had gotten some money, that my father wouldn't let me touch until I was eighteen. "Fucking, thieving bastard." I mumble out loud, as I take all of the files out and set them on the desk. I wanted to read my grandmother's letter, but as I take a quick look at the clock on the desk I notice I only have two minutes before I have to leave, so I know I will have to leave it for later. It doesn't leave me much time to search for more, but with things organized the way they are, hopefully I will have some luck and easily find the rest too.

So I move on to the next logical drawer that I believe would hold the title for my car. I would hate to have to get another drawn up, but unlike some of the other documentations, it is something I can do if I need to. I growl softly when I slam that drawer shut and open another, after I glance at the time again. It's no use though I can't seem to find where he has all the insurance or car information at all, but I do manage to find my original and a copy of my birth certificate, as well as my social security card; that was something at least.

Glancing at the clock again I sigh in frustration and close the final drawer, I was pawing through and grab all the files on my inheritance, birth certificates, social security card, and the statement for my account, then head back out making sure everything else in my father's office was exactly as my he had left it. I stopped by the foyer closet and pulled out three of my sister's old Cheerios' duffle bags – that were stuffed within each other, up on the top shelf of the coat closet – and pulled out the smallest and put all the files in that bag. I then went about taking out all of my jackets and hoodies that I wanted to keep, though making sure I did leave one or two in plain sight, and put the lighter jackets and raincoats inside the largest duffle bag. Then quickly stuffed the next duffel bag with all my hoodies, the thick winter jackets wouldn't fit in any of the bags so I just had to drape them over the bags so I'd be able to carry all of them out to my car. I finally made sure all the empty hangers were at the back of the closet. I did not want to alert my parents that I had left just because I made such a simple mistake. Then, back to my car, so I could go to school… again.


I hope everyone enjoyed this update. I want to apologize that this took longer than expected. I got distracted with a new game and with The Game of Thrones Books: A Song of Ice and Fire. Both kind of took over my life for a time but hopefully I am back on the ball now!

I want to thank Everyone for Following and reviewing this story, even though it was only a rather short and potentially confusing prologue. Please be patient with me and the story, answers to your questions will come as the story progresses.

As always I look forward to hearing from you, so please leave a review and let me know what you think. Take care and Be safe ~Jaely