Surprisingly, unlike the day before, Rachel isn't eager to return home. However, she's glad she is home. Things went swimmingly after her audition; Mr. Schuester told her all about Sectionals and Regionals and Nationals and what it would take for them to get there. She thinks she'll like glee; who knows, maybe it will be good for her.

"Dad and Daddy are looking for you," her ten year old sister, Denise, says the second she enters the kitchen. Denise is sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs while eating a bagel. Rachel hops up onto the counter beside her - it's their thing, really.

"What do they want?" she asks, grabbing the bagel from Denise's hand before the blonde can take another bite.

"Hey!" Denise cries, smacking Rachel's hand and grabbing the bagel back, but only after Rachel has taken a bite and smiled triumphantly at her. "I will so get you back for that."

"Mmhmm, sure you will," Rachel teases, grinning. "You never answered my question, you know."

Denise scoffs. "I don't know what they want, okay? Go to the living room and find out yourself."

"Fine, fine," Rachel relents, jumping down from the counter and making her way into the living room, where she spots her fathers seated side by side on the couch.

"Dad, Daddy," she starts wearily - she doesn't like the looks of this, "what's wrong?"

Her fathers look up simultaneously.

"Oh, it's nothing bad, sweetie," Daddy (Timothy) says. "We have a surprise for you. You're going to love it. Isn't she, hon?"

Dad (David) nods at Daddy before turning his attention to Rachel. "Guess how you're spending your winter break?"

She thinks for a second, clueless as to what on earth they could be talking about, but then it hits her. Her eyes widen and a huge grin breaks out on her face. "No way!" she exclaims, because no way did they do this for her. "You got the tickets for Chicago? We're going to New York this winter?"

Their only response is to nod.

She squeals. It's not something she does often, but she can't help it this time. She hugs both of her fathers and kisses their cheeks, as grateful for them now as she has been for the past three years. She'll never forget the first day she met them, the day that she's convinced they saved her.

Three Years Earlier

"Rachel, dear, could you come here for a moment."

Rachel started at the voice - she hated when Mrs. Granger barged in like this. It was her right, as the foster mother, but it still irked Rachel. She was always expecting someone else on the other side of the door, someone she never wanted to see again. Two someones she never wanted to see again.

"Rachel, dear, are you okay?"

Rachel shoved her thoughts aside. Mrs. Granger had asked her a question; she had forgotten what it was.

"Yes, I'm fine," she lied; she was an expert at that now. "I forgot, what did you ask me?"

Mrs. Granger didn't seem to buy that she was fine, but she didn't question it; knowing Rachel's past, she never did.

"I asked if you could come here for a moment, dear," Mrs. Granger answered. "There's a couple that wants to meet you."

She raised an eyebrow at this. A couple wanted to meet her? Her, the eldest in this home?

"Uhm, sure," she replied unsurely, feeling confused, but in no place to turn down a couple that may be interested in her.

Once she was out in the hall, she was greeted by the faces of two men; one black, one white. Well, that was unexpected; not their colors, of course, but the fact that the couple Mrs. Granger had been referring to was a gay couple. That didn't happen often here.

"You must be Rachel," the black man said. "I'm Timothy Berry." He held out his hand for her to shake. She was hesitant to take it, but after a moment, she shook his hand.

"And I'm David Berry, his husband," the white one introduced, also offering Rachel his hand. Again, she hesitated, but after a moment she shook his hand as well.

"I'm Rachel," she introduced herself, though they already knew her name. She didn't give them a last name; as far as she was concerned, she didn't have one, and besides, she figured they already knew what it was, too.

"You have a spectacular singing voice, Rachel. Beautiful," Timothy said.

She was surprised - no one knew she could sing. Although, she gathered that maybe wasn't as true as she thought. She tended to sing louder than was necessary whenever she was in her room; it would come of no surprise to her if people actually heard her.

"Thank you," she said, ducking her head to hide her blush. She wasn't used to compliments; it'd been quite a while since she'd received one. "Is that all you wanted?" she asked after she was sure her blush had faded.

She wasn't trying to be rude, but she wasn't much of a conversationalist these days.

"Actually, my husband and I were thinking that our daughter, Denise, could use an older sister," David Berry started, "and we'd love it if you could be that for her."

She didn't understand, not at first, but after his words fully processed in her mind, she said, "You want to adopt me?"

"Yes, that's what we want," Timothy answered. "You'd come to live at our home for a six month trial, of course, but if all goes well, after the trial is over, we'd adopt you."

"And my husband and I see no reason why all wouldn't go well," David added with a reassuring smile.

She wanted to say yes, she did, but how could she trust that? Trust was a very fragile thing and hers had been broken. More than that, it had been shattered, but one look into the eyes of these two men was enough for her. She'd seen evil, she'd been at the hands of it, and these men, they weren't it. They weren't lying; their eyes were kind and honest.

"You don't have to make a rash decision, Rachel, dear," Mrs. Granger assured her. "You can take a couple of days to think about this. I'm sure the Berry's won't mind."

"Of course we won't," the Berry's said in unison.

She shook her head. "I don't need time," she insisted. "I would love for the two of you to adopt me."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she says as she pulls away from them, allowing the memory to fall back into the furthest recesses of her mind. It's a good memory, a wonderful one, but the memories that lead up to that day are awful, too awful to think about ever again.

"I need to go tell Sam!" she exclaims happily. "I'll be back by dinner, promise."

"You better be," her Dad warns her jokingly.

"I love you," she says to the both of them before leaving the room. She hears them shout 'Love you, too,' just before she exits the house. It doesn't take her long to make it to Sam's house, considering he lives right next door.

She doesn't bother knocking, just walks in. The Evans' house is practically a second home to her.

Mr. Evans isn't home; he probably won't be home for another couple of hours. Mrs. Evans is home, but it's Tuesday, which means she's upstairs doing laundry. She finds Sam where she expects to find him: in the basement, lounging on his leather couch and stuffing his face with Cheetos.

She doesn't say hi, just plops down beside him and grabs a Cheeto from the bowl before popping it into her mouth.

"Hello to you, too," Sam says, leaning over and placing the bowl at his feet. He looks at Rachel after sitting back up. "You have no manners, y'know."

"Whatever you say," she replies, grinning. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"

"Maybe, maybe not." She sends him a glare; he rolls his eyes. "Fine, I'll ask, your majesty. Why are you here? Not that it's anything new because you're always here, but..."

"I have tickets to Chicago," she interrupts him before he can finish.

He smiles at this piece of information. "They actually bought those for you? Sheesh."

She studies him closely, and realizes that he doesn't seem all that surprised. "You knew, didn't you?" Her tone is accusing.

"No, of course not," he says, but he doesn't look her in the eyes.

"Samuel James Evans, you know I detest liars," she mock-scolds him. "You knew. Admit it."

"Okay, okay, I knew," he admits with a sigh. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but David scares the hell out of me and he glared at me, so I knew better than to spill the beans."

Rachel laughs, clearly amused. "I don't know why Dad frightens so many people. He's a softy."

"Right..." She flashes him a warning look, causing him to change the subject. "So... glee, huh? Why didn't you tell me you could sing, Rach? You're amazing."

She doesn't bother hiding her blush. "I don't like to brag," is her only answer. "What about you? Why didn't you tell me you were in glee? I mean, we've talked all summer and not once has that come up."

She's unsure why, but her words cause Sam to blush. It's cute, she thinks.

"I, uh, I kind of liked you at the beginning of summer and uh, that's not really something I tell girls I like."

He clears his throat awkwardly after speaking and somehow manages to avoid her gaze.

"You liked me?" She feels bad when he nods, confirming that she hasn't heard him wrong. She feels bad because she thinks maybe she could have liked him back, if there weren't something terribly wrong with her. Something that doesn't allow her to feel that way towards men, and it's not because she's a lesbian because she has liked boys before, in the past, but... She can't like boys anymore.

She doesn't think much more on that, however. She can't go down that road again, can't take that trip down memory lane. Horrible thoughts consume her when she does think of her past, and those thoughts make her feel so terribly guilty.

"I did," Sam says, finally looking directly at her. "I don't anymore. No worries."

"Gee, thanks," she mumbles jokingly.

"You're great, Rach," he defends himself, "and it has nothing to do with you..." He pauses, studies her face for a moment, and then laughs. "You're not really offended, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No, I take no offense to you not liking me like that anymore. You can relax; we're cool."

Sam opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by his mother's voice yelling, "Samuel, you have a visitor!"

His face lights up. "I wonder who that could be," he says, but Rachel's not stupid; he already knows who it is.

"What are you up to, Sam?" she asks, eying him suspiciously.

"Nothing," he replies innocently before yelling, "Tell her to come on down to the basement, mom!"

"Her?" Rachel inquires just before a vaguely familiar voice says, "Already a step ahead of you, Evans. As always."

"Quinn," Rachel greets her, turning her head to see said blonde leaning against the inside of the basement door.

"Hi, Rachel." The Cheerio beams at her.

She tries not to giggle when the word 'Cheerio' crosses her mind; she finds it highly amusing that the cheerleaders at WMHS are referred to as 'Cheerios.'

"Should I leave you two ladies alone?" Sam asks teasingly when neither one of them pays him any mind.

Rachel chuckles, tearing her gaze from Quinn and focusing it on Sam. "There's no need to be a drama queen, Samuel."

He glares; she knows he hates when she calls him by his full first name. Almost as much as he hates it when his mom does the same thing.

"Samuel? I can't even get away with calling him that. He throws a fit," Quinn says as she seats herself beside Rachel; the brunette can't help but notice that the girl doesn't bother putting a comfortable distance between them. Not that sitting this close to Quinn is uncomfortable, but...

"I refer to everyone by their full first name," Rachel informs her. "It's the respectful thing to do, regardless of whether they like it or not. Samuel here is no exception."

"You're serious?" Quinn asks.

"I'm not," Rachel admits, laughing softly. "I just like torturing him, is all. It was the best part of my summer."

"I'm still in the room, you know," Sam chimes in; he doesn't really sound all that upset.

"Sorry," the girls apologize in unison. Halfheartedly, of course.

"Right." He obviously doesn't buy their apologies. "I'll be upstairs, picking out a movie and making us something to snack on." Quinn and Rachel both eye him wearily when he says this. He rolls his eyes. "Relax, ladies. I won't be cooking," he assures them before standing up and making his way out of the basement.

Quinn fights to hide her satisfied grin when Sam leaves the room, but it's damn near impossible and one breaks out on her face despite her efforts. The only reason she'd dropped by Sam's is because he told her earlier on in the day that Rachel usually spends the evening at his house.

"You and Sam seem close," she points out for lack of anything better to say. She hopes Rachel and Sam aren't too close; she can't be sure that Rachel is gay or even bi-sexual, but the way she reacts to boys, it's certainly not the way straight girls react. Then again, she could be wrong, because she's not exactly straight, so she has no clue how girls react to boys.

Whatever. She'll find out, one way or another.

"I guess you could say that," Rachel replies. "He's a good guy. Naive, but good."

"Are you two...?" She lets the question trail off; she knows Sam and Rachel aren't dating because if Sam has a girlfriend, everyone knows, but she's asking just to be sure.

"Me and Sam?" Rachel sounds almost amused; she really tries not to smile at that, but once again, her efforts are futile. "We're merely friends. I guess he liked me in that way when he first met me, but I never reciprocated those feelings. I, uh... I'm not really interested in boys."

Thankfully, she manages to not smile at that, though she's jumping with joy inside.

"So, you're a lesbian?" she asks because it's never been like her to beat around the bush.

Rachel blushes and Quinn finds it really, really adorable. "Not exactly..." Her sentence trails off, and once again, Quinn hears that crack in her voice, the same one she heard in glee. Her heart aches, just like before. What causes that crack in Rachel's voice? She's curious, but she doesn't ask. It's not her place.

"I'm attracted to boys, but I prefer girls," Rachel says after clearing her throat. "Not a lot of people know; not because I'm uncomfortable with homosexuality... I do have two dads after all, but because I don't socialize very often so it never comes up."

She wants to ask why Rachel doesn't socialize, but something in the girl's voice tells her that now isn't the time.

"I have nothing against homosexuality, either," Quinn assures her. "That'd be kind of hypocritical of me since I'm as gay as they come."

"Oh." Rachel looks as though she doesn't know what to say in response to that. "I have to be honest, I wasn't expecting that."

Quinn's not surprised by that admission. "No one ever is, so your reaction is nothing new."

"Does everyone know?" She looks almost embarrassed after asking. So adorable. "You don't have to answer that, obviously. I don't mean to pry, it's just that..."

"It's fine," Quinn cuts in, "and yes, everyone knows. I came out before Regionals last year. It was the only way to get the glee kids to shut up about my so-called 'sudden' break-up with Finn."

"The freakishly tall one?" Quinn chuckles before nodding. "You dated him?"

"Fake dated," Quinn corrects her. She'd fake dated Finn for nearly three years before deciding that she'd had enough. It hadn't been fair to Finn, first of all, that she had asked him to be her 'gay beard.' There were plenty of girls he'd been interested in at William McKinley High School, but he'd been forced to date girls from separate school districts because, obviously, it'd look suspicious if Finn had been seen out with any girl besides Quinn. And second, she'd just gotten so fed up with pretending to be someone she isn't. She isn't a straight female; she can't stand the thought of letting any guy's thing anywhere near her vagina and honestly, pretending grows tiring after a while. So, she 'broke up' with Finn and when the glee kids started asking questions, she blurted out that she's a lesbian.

It hadn't surprised her that the following day at school, everyone had been whispering about her. She'd put a stop to that, of course; she is a bitch, after all, and most of the people at WMHS are afraid of her.

Her sexuality, thankfully, is old news now.

"And he was okay with that?" Rachel asks skeptically.

"I didn't force him or anything," Quinn says, laughing softly. "He agreed to it. Besides, it's not like I didn't let him date. He just couldn't date girls from school, that's all. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted to so long as it was with a girl that had nothing to do with WMHS."

"And your parents?" Rachel asks hesitantly. The girl's no longer looking at her; her gaze is on Quinn's necklace. The question makes sense now and it doesn't seem anywhere near as random as she originally thinks it is.

She hesitates for only a moment. "I live with Santana and her family," is her only response. It's not that she doesn't want to say more, it's just that talking about her parents is hard. The emotional wounds are still fresh.

You're a disgrace to this family and an abomination. God does not love gays.

Her father's harsh words play through her mind and she quickly pushes them away. The words still sting, just as much today as they did the day they were spoken. The day that her father decided she was no longer his daughter and that she needed to leave.

I will not have a disgrace living in this house.

She pushes that thought away as well and squeezes her eyes shut tightly, fighting back the tears she feels stinging at her eyes. She can't cry; she barely even knows Rachel. It would be ridiculous to cry in front of her.

"Quinn." The girl's tone is soft. Her touch is even softer, Quinn notes when Rachel places her hand atop hers. "God loves you, don't doubt that. He loves everyone."

The girl's soothing voice gets Quinn to open her eyes. A soft smile graces her lips. "I know," she says in an almost whisper. Rachel's hand is still touching hers; she doesn't make a move to remove it. Neither does Rachel. "I'm fine, though, really. It's hard, but I'm okay."

And she is. She's okay. She misses her parents, but the resentment she feels towards them is so strong that it rules out the fact that she misses them. They're her parents and she'll always love them, but she doesn't think she'll ever find it in her heart to ever fully forgive them.

"Eyawr," Rachel says as she removes her hand from atop Quinn's. The blonde tries desperately not to frown at this; she nearly sighs with relief when she succeeds.

"Did you just speak Na'vi?" Quinn asks when the girl's response fully registers in her mind. Her tone is full of disbelief.

"I did," Rachel admits, albeit hesitantly. "Right, is what I said. I meant to say something more intellectual, but nothing came to my mind."

Quinn giggles. "Evans turned you into a total geek this summer, didn't he?"

"Srane," a male voice says before Rachel can reply, startling both the girls.

"I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself, Samuel," Rachel says, mock-glaring at him as he squeezes in between Quinn and Rachel. Quinn wants to strangle him for putting so much distance between her and the brunette. They were actually getting somewhere with their conversation and then Sam, a stupid boy, decides to show his face and interrupt.

Story of my life, she thinks. First with Puck getting in between her and Santana, which turned out to be for the best, but still, and now Sam, interrupting her alone time with her current object of affection. Not that she thinks of Rachel as an object, because she doesn't, but...

Anyway, it's not like this is the same thing.

Besides, Rachel prefers girl. She thinks she stands a chance; of course, she has to get to know Rachel first.

And now, thanks to Evans, she has the perfect excuse to always be around.

author's note: y'all are curious about rachel's past, so i went ahead and put one flashback in this chapter. it's nothing big, but whatevs. you'll learn more about her past later on in the story, should i decide to continue. this really is any iffy thing, but so far, so good.

why the rachel and sam friendship, you ask? well, i blame it on tumblr and all the pretty graphics that have been edited of sam and rachel. not to mention, all the fanfictions that are actually very funny and very sweet and very interesting. so, yes, i ship rachel and sam, just a little, and as much as i love finchel (yes, i ship finchel - i don't even ship faberry, but this story came into my head and i couldn't not write it; i happen to hate quinn), i wouldn't be mad if rachel and sam dated for a little.

Srane is 'yes' in Na'Vi. I'm using a translator; I don't know how accurate it is, but it's no biggie.

Thank you for all your kind reviews. I truly appreciate it.

- Kara.