A/N: Oh gosh, angst ahead. I've been trying to be better and keep the story moving. Giving you all a little bit more insight (hopefully) plus a little bit of set up for what's to come. I'm honestly curious to know what you all think of Rachel, because I'm trying really hard to keep her canon. She's really not a villain - just self-absorbed - but she has her good points, too. Let me know if you can understand Rachel's side of things or if maybe I need to do a better job with her.

Oh, and any thoughts on what might be upcoming would be appreciated. ;) I'm curious to see if my foreshadowing's paying off!

D/C: Nothing belongs to me except the plot.

The weekend seemed to pass far too quickly for Hiram Berry's liking. So far, he considered it a victory whenever he got Blaine to say anything more than a single syllable in response to any question. So far he'd learned very little about his teenaged son (son – God that was weird to think about), but was trying not to push it. He knew that getting adjusted was going to take some time for everyone, but he'd hoped he might have at least had something resembling a conversation with the boy after two whole days. Hiram watched Blaine with a small frown as the boy poked listlessly at the food on his plate, his eyes downcast. Hiram had gone to the trouble of making both meat and vegetarian options, but neither seemed to inspire the young man's appetite. For the first time ever, Hiram only listened halfway to his daughter's soliloquy about the various songs she might want to solo at the upcoming sectional's competition.

LeRoy seemed to be giving Rachel his undivided attention, but that didn't stop him from stealing concerned glances at the boy across the table, too. Rachel, however, seemed intent on ignoring that Blaine actually existed, and at least from Blaine's perspective, that was perfectly fine with him. "I spoke to your social worker today," Hiram said softly to Blaine. Though Rachel seemed to slow the pace of her story and glance at her father curiously, she quickly continued her story, though she focused all of her energy only on LeRoy, who was now struggling to keep eye contact with his daughter as his attention shifted between Rachel and the boy across the table. Rachel, though, was making it impossible for him to hear since it was clear she wasn't meant to be included in that conversation. Neither Blaine nor Hiram noticed LeRoy's struggle, though. Blaine said nothing, giving no indication he'd even heard, so Hiram continued, simply assuming he had. "The funeral's been arranged for Wednesday. LeRoy and I will both be taking the day to drive you to Columbus."

Blaine froze. His fork still in hand, the prongs still pressed to his plate. The sound of his own heartbeat flooded his ears. "Tomorrow you and I can go out to buy you a suit while Rachel's at school," Hiram continued. Blaine barely heard him, and barely realized that Rachel had stopped talking, her eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"Wait, wait, the funeral's Wednesday? But what about me? I can't miss school on Wednesday, I have rehearsal! Sectionals is only a month away!"

"Rachel," Hiram interrupted, voice raised. It was the third time he'd said her name but the first time she actually heard it. Her mouth snapped shut. LeRoy placed his hand on her arm and just shook his head gently. With a hand on his hip and his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, Hiram exhaled a sigh. He lowered his hand from his face. "Rachel," he said, his voice far more quiet and controlled. "You aren't going to the funeral. Your father and I are going with Blaine. You'll be staying here."

With the root of her drama torn from under her, Rachel's brow furrowed and she breathed a silent huff. She felt embarrassed, she felt annoyed that there was even the possibility of such a disruption to her life, and more than that, she felt annoyed she couldn't exercise her frustration. She didn't know why she felt that way, but ever since Sunshine waltzed into her life – and into that crack house – and then to Carmel High…. Nothing felt as it should be and Rachel hated it, she hated everything. And right now the person she hated most was Blaine, oh so special Blaine, oh so moody Blaine. She glared at the grilled tofu on her plate and stabbed it angrily with her fork. She didn't want him here. She just wanted one thing in her life to stay the same. Was that really so much to ask?

Hiram, though, as he seemed to be doing more and more since Blaine's arrival, ignored his daughter and turned back to look at Blaine who, he suddenly realized, had raised his head to look at him, his eyes distrustful and questioning. However, the moment their eyes met, Blaine averted his again. Hiram turned to exchange a glance with LeRoy, who he saw had observed the whole exchange with a grim expression. Suddenly Hiram felt tired – very tired, and as the silence bore down on them he found himself at a loss over what to say.

"May I be excused?"

Hiram's eyes snapped back to the boy beside him. Blaine's tone, as always, carried an edge, but the fact that he had spoken up at all was a positive sign. Hiram felt hope creep back into his chest. "Of course, son," he said without thinking, and realized his mistake when Blaine's features twisted, his eyes narrowing angrily almost immediately.

"Don't call me 'son,'" he spat and stood, but didn't waste a single moment before taking advantage of his permission and leaving the kitchen. All three Berrys sat, stunned. Hiram felt as if he'd been physically slapped. He turned pleading eyes at LeRoy, who met them with a sympathetic glance of his own.

LeRoy slipped his hand into Hiram's and squeezed it tightly. "I know, Hiram. He'll come around." Hiram squeezed back and smiled weakly at his husband. Rachel just watched the exchange, her heart hammering in her chest, not knowing what to think.

Blaine stared at the ceiling in the rapidly darkening bedroom. "Son." The word hung heavily over his head, mocking him. He was still avoiding the myriad of awards that were decorating the walls, now more than ever that he'd met the Berrys' perfect little princess. "It's just temporary," they'd said. "We'll take this all down," they'd said. The idea twisted painfully in his gut. It sounded like every other promise ever made to him – promises for a brighter future, for happiness, for real family. Promises, he remembered, that his mother repeated every time they moved, or another boyfriend left, or another came into the picture. They were promises she'd never kept, and now she never would.

Blaine's vision blurred and he rolled onto his side, facing the wall and wrought iron bars of the day bed he was laying on. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. A sob escaped and he bit his fist to muffle the sound as his knees began to curl towards his chest. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want these people – these strangers – with all their talk of "family" and "son." He had no family he was no one's "son." His mother was his only family and now she was gone, the talk of the funeral a harsh reminder of that. He'd known it would happen sooner or later. The funeral, that is. He'd known it would have to happen, but he'd preferred to ignore that reality. He preferred to pretend that it wasn't just the décor that was temporary. He'd rather pretend the entire situation was only "until we get back on our feet." And then he'd be back – back to Columbus, back to his home and his mother, but not the mother he'd seen in the hospital bed or that morning the last time he saw her conscious. He wanted the mother that used to wake him up on Saturday mornings to help her make pancakes, who'd get into a batter fight with him and who'd laugh with him until both were holding their sides because it hurt.

But even that was a fantasy. Because that was always interrupted by someone screaming – a boyfriend, or worse, his grandfather. Their fun always gave way to fear when whatever man was protecting his mother came in to see the "mess" that she and her bastard son had made. All he wanted was his mother and no one else. And he hated himself for making that impossible. Hated himself for not being strong enough to protect her himself, to keep her safe, to be the "man" of the house. Or strong enough to be a man at all.

He bit down hard on the flesh of his hand as his grandfather's sneering face entered his mind's eye, and along with it the disappointment he'd seen in his mother's eyes ever since he told her the truth about himself. And now here he was, as weak as ever, curled up and crying like a little faggot. The thought drew a thick sob from his chest and he twisted into his damp pillow. If he'd been stronger – if he hadn't been so damn weak – it could have been him that looked out for his mother. He might have been enough. Except that he wasn't enough. And now the only family he'd ever had was gone, torn away from him because he hadn't been strong enough to protect it.

It hurt. His insides twisted angrily and he physically hurt because he knew no matter what, there was nothing he could have done to save his mother.

"And then he just snapped, Finn. He yelled at my dad, told them not to call him 'son'," Rachel ranted into her phone receiver, her voice hushed and rapid. She flopped back onto her pink comforter. "I don't know what to do. He's just awful, Finn. He's so mean and nasty all the time and I see the way he looks at me."

"What? Looks at you how?"

"Just – just like he hates me. Hates all of us. Honestly, I don't know why he even bothered coming to Lima unless he just likes making people miserable. I just – I don't know, Finn. He's clearly got issues." She whispered the last word. "My dads won't tell me anything about the situation but there's a social worker involved and –"

"Wait, like, foster care?"

Rachel shrugged, though she knew Finn couldn't see her. "Yeah, I guess."

"Aren't foster kids supposed to be like, bad news?"

Rachel turned over onto her stomach and propped her elbows on her pillow. "Well, this guy is totally bad news. He's rude and disrespectful and it seems like my dads don't even notice. I mean, I don't know anything about him, and I don't know that my dads really do either. For all we know he could be a drug dealer or a criminal or something."

"And your dads are just letting him stay with you?"

"Yeah I know. I don't see how they can just trust him like that. They don't even know for sure if he's their son and still…" Rachel sighed. "I just – I just want things to go back to normal. I don't want to have to be scared in my own house, looking over my shoulder in case my new imposter-brother decides to go all crazy and snap. Those sorts of things happen, you know."

Ok, so maybe that was a bit dramatic, but still. The line was silent for a moment and Rachel fiddled with the bow at the neck of her nightgown.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?" Rachel frowned at his tone. He sounded tense.

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Rachel."

She smiled at that. "I should probably go. It's getting late."

"Yeah, me, too. Hey, Rachel?"

"Yeah, Finn?"

"Keep your door locked, ok? And call me if – if that Blake kid goes all psycho or tries to hurt you or steal from you or something. I just – be safe ok? And if you need me to teach him a lesson – I don't care if he's in a gang. I'll beat the crap out of him if he touches one hair on your head."

Rachel felt her heart swell. She knew the boy's name was 'Blaine' but didn't feel the need to correct Finn on the fact. Finn had never been so protective of her before – probably because he'd never really had a reason to – but it felt good knowing her boyfriend was ready to beat the crap out of her "imposter brother" the minute he stepped one toe out of like. Smile wide from ear to ear, Rachel bit her bottom lip. "Okay," she agreed, and her smile was clear in her tone as she said goodnight to her perfect, perfect boyfriend.