Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

I am determined to finish this story before I leave for university. I must do it! It's about time, right? I want to apologize for basically having this story on hiatus since April (sweet baby Jesus-so long ago!) but you'll be glad to hear that the wait isn't going to be much longer. I'm almost finished with the final two chapters to this story and I'm almost done editing the other chapters. There are about three chapters left to this story. So...I hope you guys review and tell me to hurry my ass up! Enjoy!:)

"Okay guys," Mr. Schuester said, rubbing his hands together. There were echoes of heavy breathing and hints of sweat as he motioned for Brad to stop the piano music. They'd been practicing their choreography for Nationals for three hours and to be frank, it seemed like New Directions was not cut out to be a dancing group. "We're a few weeks out from Nationals and while I saw that your singing is incredible, your dancing…not so much."

"Can we please go home?" Mercedes grumbled.

Mr. Schuester shook his head. "No, it's Booty Camp time, remember?"

"Beth is probably super fussy by now, can't Booty Camp wait 'til tomorrow?" Puck asked, placing his hands on his waist.

"Um, no," Mr. Schue said. "Five, six, seven, eight!"

There was a chorus of grumbles as they got in place again, their feet tapping in sync to the slow piano beat.

They did a turn around when there was a loud sound and suddenly, everyone stopped and turned to look at Finn as he apologized incessantly.

"I am so sorry, Rachel!" Finn exclaimed again. He bent down to her level as Rachel kept her head down, her hands to her nose.

"Rachel? How bad does it hurt?" Anne asked worriedly as Mr. Schuester bent down to look as well.

"I'm bleeding," Rachel stated in fear. This can't be happening, she thought in a panic as she felt the liquid drip down from her nose. Her stomach churned as the inside of her hand could feel the sticky liquid. "Out of all the things to happen to me," she grumbled ignoring Finn's incessant influx of apologies.

"Let's get you to a doctor," Mr. Schuester said. He helped Rachel up and looked around at all the curious faces of the glee club. He sighed. "Okay, I guess everyone can go home for today. Finn, mind giving me a hand?"

There were a few murmurs of gratitude as Mr. Schuester led out Rachel.

Anne sighed, walking tiredly back to her stuff. She retrieved her water bottle and took a seat on the stage floor. Next to her, Sam plopped down.

"You okay?" he asked.

Anne shrugged. "I should probably text Jesse so he knows Rachel's at the hospital with a broken nose."

"How could you tell it was broken?" he asked curiously.

She gave him a strange look, her lips twitching. "Trust me, that nose is broken."

They sat there for a few minutes, not saying anything. Sam fiddled with the strings on his hoodie as Anne stared at all of the empty auditorium seats.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked again softly.

Anne licked her lips, her body turning to him. "Yeah," she said unconvincingly.

"You know you can tell me, right?" he said. His eyes were full of worry and it made her uneasy to be the cause of that worry. She wanted to tell him, she did—she just didn't trust herself to tell him the whole truth. What if he laughed in her face? What if he just didn't understand? Or worse, what if he just ended things after he realizes that she's just a crazy, neurotic, insecure girl?

"It was really nice what Rachel did for Mercedes last week," she whispered, deflecting the previous topic. Sam didn't look pleased but he let it slide, not wanting to start some kind of argument.

"Yeah, it was," he said. He let out a giant breath, using his arms to propel himself up. He offered a hand to her and she gladly took it, swiping her bag with her other hand.

"Do you need me to walk you home?" he asked.

"That'd be nice, thank you," she said, smiling as he pecked her lips. There was sick feeling of guilt in her gut. She wasn't sure how much longer she could lie to him.

"A nose job?" Jesse repeated, holding Rachel's hand. His eyes were concerned as the doctor kept going on and on about the procedure. "Okay, hold on."

Rachel blinked, looking at him. "He did say that it could allow me to take in more air and it doesn't affect my singing, just appearance."

He shook his head. "Rachel, you're beautiful. Why would you want to change yourself because of the masses? You said yourself that you're different."

"Yes but this is the perfect opportunity to further…enhance my chance at stardom."

"Exactly," the doctor said. Jesse glared at him, wanting nothing more than to deck him. "You don't see stars with big noses-"

"Barbra Streisand?" Jesse offered.

The doctor shrugged. "She's one in a million. Anyway, I have an opening next week. Think about it, Rachel."

"Jesse," she started before being shushed by Jesse. His face was a mixture of disappointment and anger—this being the last thing she wanted to see during his brief stay in Ohio. Classes had been canceled thus giving Jesse a five-day weekend.

"Rachel, you can't be serious!" he said, letting go of her hand and waving both of his in the air. "A nose job?!"

"I think this could be a good thing for me," she said. "For us."

"What are you talking about? We're fine. We don't need a nose job to fix something that isn't broken," Jesse countered.

Rachel bit her lip, her eyes concentrating on her twiddling thumbs. "You don't get it," she said.

He became much more somber then. "Get what?"

"How people look at us," she elaborated. "When people see us together, they give us a weird look. I mean how could they not? You're you and I'm me—the girl with a beak for a nose out with the handsome guy. My nose, while I've come to somewhat accept it, still hinders a lot of opportunities for me."

"I'm confused," he said, shaking his head. "Is this about us or about your career?"

Rachel groaned in frustration, pushing herself off of the patient bed. She smoothed out her skirt. "You don't get it. It's both!"

"Well then help me understand, Rachel. You can't just expect me to know off the top of my head."

"You of all people should understand!" she raised her voice and grabbed her bag. After a few seconds of locked eye contact, she sighed, giving in. "It's a matter of insecurity for both my self-esteem and my future, okay? As much as I want to believe that my singing will give me shoe-ins for roles, I can't. Typecasting is real and so is the need to have a poster child who draws in audiences. To be successful in show business, you have to look like… Like Quinn or Santana."

She shrugged her shoulders, her brown eyes sad.

"We can't all be one in a million."

"You want me to what?" Quinn asked for what seemed like the billionth time since Rachel had started speaking to her.

"I want your nose," Rachel said more slowly. She clutched her binders tight against her chest.

"My nose. You want my nose," Quinn reiterated. She couldn't exactly fathom why Rachel even wanted to copy her nose—it wasn't exactly anything special. There'd been a nip and tuck around the two nostrils before she'd moved to Lima, but that was it. Other than the very minor surgery, she retained her normal nose.

But that wasn't something she wanted to share.

"Well, yeah," Rachel said. "You have a nice sized nose and I was hoping you could come with me to the doctor's office after school today so he could kind of give me an idea of what I might look like."

"When you get the nose job?"

"If I get the nose job," Rachel cleared up.

Quinn sighed. "I suppose it's okay. But afterwards I need to pick up Beth from daycare, okay?"

Rachel nodded. "That's fine."

That's how Quinn found herself with Rachel in the waiting room at the clinic. They were waiting for the doctor to come and take pictures of Quinn's nose.

"I can't thank you enough for doing this, Quinn," Rachel said.

Quinn flipped through a magazine, her eyes glancing over pictures of the beach. "It's not a problem."

After a few minutes, Quinn squinted her eyes, putting her magazine down.

"I just don't get it," Quinn said, looking at Rachel.

Rachel frowned. "Get what?"

"Why would you want to look like me?" Quinn said softly. "You're fine just the way you are."

"This coming from a pretty popular girl who never had a problem in school or a care in the world."

Quinn grimaced. "You're forgetting that you're talking to a teenage mother, Berry."

"Yet you're still popular and pretty. People fall at your feet," Rachel explained. Her brown eyes were stern. "I've never had that."

"Popularity isn't everything," Quinn said. "It's kind of lonely, actually."

"I don't follow."

The blonde sighed. "When you're popular you have followers, not friends. It gets kind of lonely when you can't talk about your feelings. Not really."

"You'd rather be a loser like me?" Rachel said.

"You're missing what I'm saying, Rachel. The way you look…it can only get you so far. And you're not ugly. You're beautiful the way you are. You are beautiful," Quinn reassured. She swallowed thickly. "I-"

"Ready to take the plunge?" the doctor interrupted.

Both girls stood up and Rachel held up a hand. "Not quite. This is my friend Quinn—she has the kind of nose that I want," Rachel said awkwardly. "Is there a way to see how I might look like after the procedure? I'd like to get an idea in my head before I dive in."

"Sure, sure. We can snap some pictures and bring up a composite image. Follow me."

Quinn looked at Rachel, the brunette flashing an uneasy smile as they followed him.

"Stand here," he instructed Quinn. Quinn did as she was told, her gaze still on Rachel before another lady positioned her face in another direction.

I wish I could tie you up in my shoes

Make you feel unpretty too

I was told I was beautiful

But what does that mean to you?

Quinn should've been honest with Rachel in the waiting room. She should have told her about how yes, she did know what it felt like to be the outcast. Quinn hadn't always been thin, pretty, and popular. Once upon a time she'd been the sad little girl who got laughed at because of the weird shape of her nose, how she dressed, how she looked.

Look into the mirror who's inside there

The one with the long hair

Same old me again today

To see Rachel longing to look like her was hurtful because no, Quinn hadn't always looked exactly like this. She thought back to the strawberry blonde, chubby little girl she used to be. She remembered how her nose kind of stuck out a little too far out on both sides and how kids used to try to stick things in it during naptime in Kindergarten.

My outsides are cool

My insides are blue

Every time I think I'm through

It's because of you

I've tried different ways

But it's all the same

At the end of the day

I have myself to blame

I'm just trippin'

Rachel shut her eyes, the coolness of the outlining pen feeling strange. Half of her kept repeating what a mistake this was—that she was perfect just the way she was. Her other half, the more ambitious side, craved for change. She didn't want to be known as Big Nose Berry. She didn't want to be a Broadway wannabe because she wasn't one in a million. She was another aspiring singer like so many others. The difference being that the others didn't have a mountain on their face holding them back from success.

I feel pretty

Oh so pretty

I feel pretty and witty and bright

And I pity

Any girl who isn't me tonight

Both girls stared at the composite pictures, two different opinions lingering on their tongues.

"It looks great," Rachel stuttered, holding one of the photos. She stared at it for a moment before passing it off to Quinn.

It doesn't even look like Rachel anymore, Quinn thought slowly. She didn't want to put her down though, so she smiled forcefully. "Yeah. Looks great."

But if you can't look inside you

Find out who am I to

Be in a position to make me feel so damn unpretty

"I don't think you should go through with it," Quinn said suddenly on their way to the daycare. Rachel clutched the packet of composites closer to her, her thumbs twiddling.

"Wh-What?"

Quinn shook her head, making a left turn. "The nose job. I think it's a huge mistake."

"I don't think so," Rachel argued back, although she didn't exactly seem a hundred percent certain. "I think that this will open new doors."

"Rachel," Quinn sighed in frustration. "What if it changes how you sing? What then?"

"Then I'd have to adapt, change repertoire…" Rachel listed, shaking her own head. "I don't understand. If you're so against it then why did you agree to help me?"

"Because maybe I thought it was a good thing at first but now I'm not so sure it is," she countered.

"You don't know what this is like for me, Quinn."

Quinn gritted her teeth together. The car fell silent and as she contemplated the many scenarios that would follow if she told the truth. Finally, gathering her wits, she opened her mouth and spoke. "I know exactly what it's like."

"How could you possibly?" Rachel asked, disbelief in her voice.

Quinn stopped the car in the daycare parking lot. She looked at the few moms that would go in and out of the center, their children laughing and smiling.

I feel pretty

But unpretty

"Because I got a nose job before moving the Lima," she stated sternly. "Because I used to have different hair, and skin, and body figure." She looked at Rachel, her own eyes stinging a little from raw emotions—ones she hadn't opened up in years. "I used to be that fat little girl with wide nostrils and bad acne, Rachel. So yes, I know what it feels like."

Rachel opened her mouth, speechless.

"Don't say anything about it—I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's your choice and I've already voiced my opinion on the topic and that's that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up my daughter."

"That doesn't even look like you, Rachel," Mr. Schuester stated in shock as Rachel presented her composites to the club.

There were looks of disapproval from all except Santana and Brittany.

"At my temple I've seen so many girls come in after their 16th birthday looking completely different," Puck said. "And while I agree that smaller noses make it easier to make out with, this is ridiculous! You should be proud of the beautiful Jewish nose!"

Quinn held his hand and sighed, shaking her head. "She's not changing her mind, Puck."

"She shouldn't be ashamed of being a Jew," he grumbled.

"I'm not ashamed of my religion, Noah," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes. "I just want to be different cosmetically."

She took in a breath. "It's been settled. Rachel Berry is getting a nose job."

"In all honesty Rachel," Anne started. "While I respect that you're taking charge and all, I think that the way you look is fine. You staying true to who you are is what inspires people. Do you really want to be that star who tells little girls that she had to change how she looked to achieve her dream?"

"That doesn't seem very inspiring," Mercedes chimed in. "And that's not the Rachel Berry I know."

"Guys, this is my body and my decision. I just wish you would all accept it," Rachel finalized, stuffing the photos into her binder and walking out of the choir room as the bell rang.

"This is such a huge mistake," Tina said.

"I just wish she would see what an inspiration she could be if she stayed true to herself," Anne said, leaning into Sam. They had a free period next, so they were in no rush to go anywhere.

Sam nodded, placing a chaste kiss on her head. She'd been acting weird the past few weeks but every time he'd ask she'd deflect and change the conversation topic. He figured that at the moment it wasn't worth getting into a big argument with her.

"Jesse will convince her not to, though. Him and Kurt."

"How can you be so sure?"

Anne looked up at him, her eyes tired. "Because I just am."

"I still have no idea what we're doing at the mall," Rachel whined. She was supposed to be getting extra hours of sleep before her appointment tomorrow—not shopping with her boyfriend.

"You're going to love this, Rach," Jesse said. He'd spent the better half of the day trying to convince her to just meet him at the mall, and he definitely didn't want to spoil the surprise.

When Jesse had told Kurt about Rachel's dilemma with a nose job, the boy had been quick to suggest a few retail therapy ideas. The most important and prominent one that Jesse had also suggested involved Barbra Streisand (not in person, to both of their dismay) but in spirit.

"Okay," he said, placing his hands over her eyes. Rachel yelped.

"Hey!"

"I won't let you fall, I promise," he laughed. When he caught sight of Kurt's bright red fedora, he smiled and increased his walking pace.

"Jesse-!" Rachel said, almost tripping over a chair.

He smiled, removing his hands.

Rachel blinked. "Kurt! What are you doing here?" she looked at Jesse. "What is this, you guys?"

"Rachel, I did not transfer back to McKinley just to see you get a nose job," Kurt started.

Rachel let out another yelp in excitement, her arms wrapping around Kurt. "You're coming back to New Directions?"

"Yes, I am," Kurt said, hugging back and then stepping back. "But what's this I hear about a nose job? Have we really lost touch?"

Rachel frowned. "I didn't want to say anything—apparently a lot of people are against it."

"Rachel," Kurt sighed. "Barbra Streisand."

"I know, I know. One in a million," Rachel said, rolling her eyes a bit. She was tired of all the lectures.

"No—I mean, not only that—she was a fighter. She fought tooth and nail to get where she is now and she didn't change a thing about her. Why? Because she knows she's beautiful and she believes in her talent. If I'm not mistaken, that sounds a lot like you."

Rachel pursed her lips. "What are you saying?"

Kurt smiled wider. "I'm saying…"

"Barbra Streisand!" a chorus of voices overlapping the beat of music over the intercom filled Rachel's ears, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.

She looked all around as the people in the mall started to dance to the beat of the music and she couldn't help but let out a child-like laughter of pure glee. Jesse grabbed her hands and led her onto the escalator so she could get a better view of all of the people dancing to Ducksauce's Barbra Streisand song.

It was a Barbravention.

In fact, it was more than that as her friends pulled her across the space, dancing and singing. In this moment in time, she felt like she was finally accepted and cared for and she didn't need to look different for people to smile at her and actually want to be around her.

I mean, whoa, she thought to herself as she laughed, watching Mike and Brittany dance their butts off to the song. Jesse twirled her. They care. They actually care…

Another part of her brain wanted to smack her if it were possible. Did you ever doubt they didn't? These misfits are your family, too.

Duh. You don't need to change who you are to be loved.

After that thought, she completely let go, the appointment left somewhere far from her mind. Hell, I was born this way.

Is anybody still reading this fic, anyway? Or should I just go home?

Lol.

-Fanatic4Fiction