AN- Thank you for reading and reviewing. It means so much to me.

I don't know what to sing. Singing always made me feel better, but there was no song for this.

I sat at the piano and started playing and singing: "Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around. Demons are prowling everywhere nowadays. I'll send them howling, I don't care. I've got ways. No one's gonna hurt you; no one's gonna dare. Others can desert you…" My fingers stilled on the keys, and I began searching for something else, some other song.

My fingers began to stroke the keys again. At first, I didn't realize what song I was playing. The words hit me, mid-verse, so I began to sing: "…and you should know it's love that brought you here. And in one perfect night, when the stars burned like new, I knew what I must do! I'll give you a million things I'll never own. I'll give you a world to conquer when you're grown. You will be who you want to be. You…can choose whatever heaven grants. As long as you can have your chance, I swear I'll give my life for you."

I stopped again with a bitter laugh. The tone was right for how I felt, but the story was all wrong. In "Miss Saigon," Kim was willing to die to save her child. All I did was walk away. Surely that's not the same. But in a way it felt the same—like I lost a part of me when I left her. I've been to support groups for surrogates and women who gave up babies for adoption, and some of them seem so happy about it, so content, and I envied them. Sometimes I felt that way—most times, perhaps. But there were nights when I'd dream Rachel was crying, or that she was sick, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Ever since I'd told Jesse to gather information on Rachel and New Directions, my dreams of her had become more frequent. In my dreams, I kept hurting her, just by being near. In the most recent dreams, to protect her I stayed away. She would call to me through the windows and beckon through the open door. Still, I stayed back.

And now, today, she had called me for real, pretending to be Will's assistant. She had spoken confidently in quick, clipped tones. I had wondered, who is this woman? Part of me had been annoyed by her persistence, but part of me wanted to meet her, and perhaps become friends. There aren't a lot of women I click with in small-town Ohio.

In New York, we'd been a-dime-a-dozen: brash, confident girls who wanted to make it big. Two-thirds of the waitresses and bartenders in New York aren't "really" actresses and bartenders. They're actors waiting for their big break, going to casting calls, and putting on showcases off-off-Broadway. Half the time, the only people we had in the audience were each other. Success in show business is preparation plus talent plus luck, and I only had two of the three. Or maybe the third ingredient isn't luck: maybe it's unwavering belief that you're going to make it big.

I wavered.

With every audition, I loved it a little less. I began to feel desperate, and when that happens? Baby, you're done. The only people who like desperate women less than straight men are casting directors.

So I went home to Ohio and got a teaching degree. I decided to make my students stars, and in doing so became famous myself…in some circles. I had tried to focus on Vocal Adrenaline, tried to use it to maintain the distance between Rachel and me. I should have known it could only draw her closer.

Since I'd moved back to Carmel, music had drawn Rachel into my orbit time and again. Little did she know I'd seen her perform in pageants when I'd been hired to coach her competitors. I'd judged her in talent shows— completely impartially, of course, because throwing the competition would only hurt Rachel's development as a performer. When she had been less than the best, she had lost, and when she had been the top act, I had scored her accordingly.

This year, I realized that she wasn't just talented: she had it. Something had changed in her: in her face and in her voice. On Jesse's recommendation, I'd watched YouTube videos of New Directions at Sectionals, and I knew: Rachel Berry was our competition. This is no different from the pageants, I'd thought. Just do your job. Anything less is a disservice to Rachel. If she's going to be a star, she has to experience the realities of competition. So I asked him to get information on her and New Directions, the same way I would have with the lead of any other choir.

But today, when I saw her in that choir room, everything had changed. It was the first time since she was an infant that I saw her offstage: no costume, no character to play, and no Show Smile. She was so much tinier than she looked when she sang.

"I missed having a mom," she'd said. "I wondered why you didn't want to be in my life. Where were you when I needed you?"

First, I was in New York trying to be a star. Then I was in Carmel, making terrible decisions. I was making out with gay glee club directors, teaching high school students to sing while walking on their hands, hiring despotic dwarf choreographers and ordering the brightest spotlight in the state. I was singing the National Anthem at football games and giving vocal lessons and coaching pageant contestants. I was awakening in the night from dreams of a crying brunette, and forcing myself not to drive to Lima.

Finally, the right song came to mind. The piano chords were rich and full, strong enough to support me as I sang:

"Goodnight, my angel. Now it's time to sleep, and still so many things I want to say. Remember all the songs you sang for me, when we went sailing on an emerald bay? And like a boat out on the ocean, I'm rocking you to sleep. The water's dark and deep inside this ancient heart. You'll always be a part of me."

The bridge was dark and mournful, and I vocalized along until the brighter music of the verses returned: "Goodnight, my angel. Now it's time to dream, and dream how wonderful your life will be. Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby, then in your heart, there will always be a part of me."

I picked up my phone and called 411. The operator put my call through to the Berrys' landline. "Hello, Alex? Ben? It's Shelby Corcoran. I don't know if Rachel told you, but we met today. I didn't seek her out; it just happened. I think she wants me to be a part of her life. I've given her my phone number, but I didn't want to do anything else until we all got a chance to think it through and discuss. Call me, okay?"

My fingers returned to the ivories for the closing coda: "Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabies go on and on. They never die. That's how you and I will be."

AN: The songs are "Not While I'm Around" from Sweeney Todd, "I'd Give My Life for You" from Miss Saigon and "Lullaby" by Billy Joel.