Disclaimer: I only own Ava…yadda yadda yadda…

Author's Note: So, here's an update! Give me any ideas you have, because I'm honestly making up the story as I go along. ~Jackie

I opened up my umbrella and Santana leaned in closer to me, so we could both be shielded from the rain. Since it was her first day in New York and Brittany had a meeting with one of her professors at the dance academy, she'd offered to walk down to the theater with me; neither of us knew it was going to start pouring.

"Please tell me it doesn't rain like this all the time," Santana said, doing the buttons on her poncho.

"It doesn't," I assured her, ducking under the scaffold over the sidewalk. People brushed past us, some with only newspapers above their heads to keep them dry, and taxis drove by, their headlights flashing red. "But I think New York is pretty in the rain,"

Santana snorted. "Maybe in photos, but not when you're actually getting wet."

"You want a coffee?" I asked, pointing to a Starbucks on the next corner. "I've got time,"

"Sure," She replied, before asking: "Is there one of these on every street here?"

I laughed. "Kind of," And honestly, there were more Starbucks' in New York City than I'd ever seen in my entire life. I closed our umbrella and opened the door. "After you," Santana stepped in and I followed, closing the door behind me. I placed the umbrella in the rack and then followed Santana to the counter.

"What's good?" She asked, surveying the menu.

"Well, if you want something that tastes like what you get at the Lima Bean then just get their strongest brew…" I answered, continuing to explain everything from the distinction between a cappuccino and a latte to the sizes of a tall, a grande and a venti. And honestly, after all of that, I don't even remember what we got to drink. Something caramel for Santana and something extra strong for me, I think.

"So, what are your plans?" I asked Santana as we continued to walk to the theater.

Santana looked up from her drink, whipped cream smudged on her upper lip. "For what?" She questioned.

"Uh, you have a little something," I mumbled, gesturing to the spot on my mouth where the whipped cream was.

She reached up and wiped the cream off, then licked her fingers. "Thanks,"

I shrugged. "I mean like, for your future. Brittany's going to be a dancer, what about you?"

Santana sighed. "Berry, you're killing me here…" She paused to take another sip of her…whatever it was. "I've been thinking of applying to Tisch School of the Arts." She said finally. "But I don't know if I'd get in..."

"Really?" I said. "Santana, that's awesome. Of course you'll get in! Drama department, right?"

"Yeah," She nodded. "But I always thought you'd be the one to get into…" She trailed off and took a big sip of her drink. "Uh, sorry, I know you're on Broadway with St. James now and everything…"

"…I do kind of want to go to school," I confessed. "I've been considering looking into something online."

"I think you should," Santana told me as she stopped outside the theater. I stepped out from under the umbrella and ducked under the doorframe. "I believe in you, Berry. We all do,"

"Thanks, Santana," I said, and then I went inside.

"Hey Jesse," I said casually as I set my bag down on one of the theater seats.

"You're late," He replied, unamused.

I looked at the clock. "It's only nine right now," I informed him. "I'm right on time."

"I told you to come ten minutes early!" Jesse sighed as if this was common knowledge and I was an idiot for not knowing. "We need to make sure you have perfect pitch in 'Elaborate Lives' so you don't make a fool of yourself."

"My pitch is fine!" I retorted, crossing my arms. "No one has a problem with it besides you,"

"Well, I want you to be your best at all times," Jesse said, trying to lean in to kiss me. I took a step back, indignant. He huffed. "You're being unreasonable; I'm doing this because I care about you,"

"You're putting too much pressure on me!" I cried. Then, I added: "I want to go to college."Jesse raised an eyebrow then started to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"You can't be on Broadway and go to college!" Jesse chortled. "Oh, Rachel, that was a good one but let's be serious and get to work-"

"I am being serious," I cut him off. "And your attitude is not appreciated!" Then, I turned on my heel and stomped out of the theater.

"Where are you going?" Jesse called after me.

"Home, you asshole!"

"I hope Jesse isn't my dad," Ava said as I flipped pancakes. We were at Quinn's apartment and I was making breakfast while we helped them pack for Lima. "He's really not very nice,"

I opened my mouth to agree, when the front door opened. "Almost done," Puck said, coming in to steal some of the chocolate chips.

"Hey!" I cried, playfully hitting him on the arm with a dish towel. "Do you want pancakes or not, mister?"

He held up in his hands in surrender. "It was just a couple!" He said in his defense, but his mouth was full, proving him wrong.

"Yeah, right!" I laughed. "And you're all sweaty, Noah, it's gross."

Puck stuck his tongue out at me like a bratty child, then wiped some of his perspiration onto my arm before running out of the room. I cringed, while Ava burst out laughing.

Then the door opened and in walked Quinn, dressed in a tiny tank top and tight sweatpants, and…Sam?

"Thanks for coming," Quinn was saying to him. "It's really helpful to have an extra hand,"

"It was no problem," Sam responded. "Plus, I heard there was going to be food." They both laughed.

"Yeah, that's right," I said, exiting the kitchen. They both stopped to look up at me. I turned to Sam. "I'm making chocolate chip pancakes; if you want some feel free to help yourself."

He nodded. "Thanks, Rachel."

I turned to Quinn. "Quinn, can I speak to you for a second? I just need a…uh, a spatula."

"What about the one in your hand?" Quinn asked, pointing down to the pancake batter coated spatula I had been unknowingly holding onto.

I put my hands behind my back. "Uh, what spatula?" Quinn gave me a 'what is wrong with you look' and Sam was clearly holding back laughter. I grabbed my best friend's arm and dragged her into the kitchen. "Why did you invite him?" I asked.

"I needed help and he offered!" Quinn whispered in response. "Quiet down, he'll hear you!"

"I don't care if he hears me!" I repeated, but I lowered my voice anyway. "So you're dating one of my exes and becoming best buddies with my other? What are you going to start a book club with Jesse next?"

"Never!" Quinn gasped. "Rachel, I wouldn't do that to you!"

"But you'd bring Sam over when you knew I was here?" I said. "You know I can't stand him, Quinn. Not since…"

"I know!" She cut me off. "I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but you need to get over it!"

"I can't get over it!" I cried. "That's not something you get over!"

"I said I was sorry, okay?" Quinn repeated. "Don't be mad at me,"

"I'm not mad at you Quinn," I assured her. "Now, can you please tell Ava to-" I looked over to the kitchen table. Ava wasn't sitting there anymore. "Oh crap," I stormed into the family room, Quinn at my heels. Sam was lying on the couch, Ava sitting near him.

"My mom is telling me about my dad," Ava said.

Sam looked surprised by this. "Does this mean Rachel is telling you about what happened in the emergency room?"

"Sam!" I gasped and they both looked at me.

Ava's face fell. "Mommy…" She said, her lower lip trembling. "My dad's not dead, is he?"

Quinn and Sam exchanged a shocked look and I really didn't know what to say. "No, sweetie," I assured her. "Your father is not dead…"

"Then what happened in the emergency room?" She asked, tears in her eyes. "Mommy, what happened?"

I didn't know what to say. "Sweetie, it's complicated-"

Ava shook her head. "I knew it, I knew it!" And then she ran out of the room sobbing.

For a moment, it was silent. I felt frozen in place. Finally, Sam said, "Wow."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I have to go,"

"Then go,"

With that, I ran after her.

Like it? Then review!