Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Spring Awakening, or any of its characters nor any of these songs. I do, however, own the wonderful Maria Arioso.

A/N: Long time, no write. Sorry guys, I just made a big move and took a big step up in my life, so updates are hard to make.

Big thanks to aquarius127, Jaelle90, shakespearewrote, Katy, DitaRollSebert, Jellyblubber, lemon-rind, Gardenia2, writing is love, SoFlaComet, EagleRay, Guest, Girlchef09, Cha'kwaina, Avarenda, Shade of Man, Abnab, Gleelover47, Zoelol, LoveSKINS94, a-real-boy, JPElles, Nightlancer600, flyingpinguin1, Meirouki, blahys, redashford, deliriousnightingale, Miss I DON'T know it all, BiggestGleekForeva-Puck's Girl, Ariyan, imaferrari, Love-Knows-No-Boundaries-101, StayWithMeForTheKids, Guest, freakyicefairy, Alex, gleefulness, xxDark Angel Babyxx, Mena, ch3lsk0, helloyouthere, Jayke, Siori Kaiou, Jan P, HolyLemonz, Radi80, BlueRagingRaven, fussyviolet, mythic-lionheart, FeelingGrey, Guest, Guest, Athyna DaughterofPosiedon, FBluecat, Alerted, holdmetonight, Baconlover46, feintidea, fleek30, Emeloo2, d80p, Tasteless Rain, brennan, and gleefanfic fan for their reviews.

I need to address something quickly here. People are asking me to accelerate Rachel's discovery time, but I'm not going to do so. The fact is, Rachel is damaged from her past. The mind is a powerful thing, and it erases those things that harm us even memories. Because Quinn, unfortunately, came at a time in Rachel's life that Rachel considered unhappy her memory was erased along with her Fathers' fighting. And Rachel, at the time, you must remember, did not love Lucy. The kiss was out of kindness, not love. Rachel WILL love Quinn, but she will do so at a normal pace, and therefore, discover Quinn's identity at a normal rate. I'm not drawing things out to tease you, there's a purpose to it. I like to be realistic. Please be patient.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and once again thank you for the support. You can send me prompts during 'prompt-me' days on my Tumblr, link on my profile by the way. And don't forget to follow Maria on tumblr, link on my profile :)

Hope you enjoy the chapter please read and review, I love your comments.

Chapter 16: Sectionals

'My choreography is fucking perfect,' Maria mused as she threw herself onto the large, brown stained leather couch in the Berry's living room, staring up at the neat lines on the page with a smug smirk on her face.

And it was. At least, for New Directions.

When she'd first started to work with the Glee Club, Maria had been skeptical that they could handle anything she could throw at them.

The Journey Medley's choreography had been simple, dry-cut, and rather boring. Maria was surprised that half the goddamned crowd hadn't fallen asleep in their chairs with such a sad performance.

She didn't even know how the group managed to crawl their way through Sectionals with their cute, last minute little rendition of You Can't Always Get What You Want and other songs so clichéd it made Maria want to barf. And really, she hadn't been surprised they'd been axed for the Journey Medley at Regionals, because though vocally the Glee Club had been a little above the competition, their dancing left something major to be desired.

New Directions had truly been lucky that the clubs that were at sectionals last year weren't as cutthroat as the others they might have gone up against.

Especially with the distinct threat of facing Vocal Adrenaline this early in the competition.

Vocal Adrenaline was stunning, precise, and perfect. Shelby Corcoran, Maria imagined, had a boot on the back of their necks until everything was perfect. She'd heard in fact, last year that several members of Vocal Adrenaline were hospitalized for severe dehydration and exhaustion during practice.

Those members were up within the next several days and ready to perform again. And perform they did, and whipped New Directions out of the way at Regionals with a stunning rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Vocal Adrenaline was flawless.

Everything that New Directions wasn't.

In fact, Maria had never seen a group as clumsy, problem plagued, and drama ridden as the New Directions were. They fought with each other on a weekly basis and seemed more willing to throw each other under the bus for solos, duets, and all the like than they were to work together and build something amazing.

Had Rachel not been in New Directions, Maria would have simply turned her back on them and let them sink or swim of their own volition.

But they did have Rachel.

And Rachel was so ready to believe that New Directions had something special. The potential to power through the competition and capture the elusive Nationals title.

So Maria threw her lot in with the group. She crushed at the uneven edges of their performances, fixed her charts over and over again because something couldn't be achieved within the paltry two week time limit. She collaborated (for the first time in her life) with Brittany over choreography (and she had to admit that this fucking Pierce&Arioso partnership had done wonders for the set). She fought tooth and nail with Mercedes, Kurt, and Santana over retaining solos as Artie and Rachel intended them.

She did everything she could to ensure that they would have the best chance at winning because Maria believed in Rachel.

Because Rachel was something special.

And now, here they were, only days before Sectionals, with the set finally coming close to what they intended it to be.

Sure she'd had to push. To kick, shove, and beat some people to get there (she'd probably still have to kick Finn's ass a little more to get his goddamned self to stay on the fucking chair), but the end result, she knew, would be well worth the pain.

They'd win.

She grinned as she looked at the final choreography.

Maria knew they would.

Maria started as the front door slammed open, nearly dropping the charts in her hand. She quickly sat up, watching as Rachel strode into the room, face hidden by a wisp of brown fringe across her all-telling eyes. Small hands remained shoved into the pockets of her jacket, fisted between her fingers.

"Hey, smurf, how did practice with blondie go?" Maria softened the teasing edge of her voice.

"Fine." The solitary word floated through the air as Rachel disappeared into the parlor.

"Like Hell she's fine," Maria murmured, throwing the charts carelessly on the table. She pulled herself from the couch, striding after her best friend.

"Rachel!" she all but sprinted up the stairs, grabbing Rachel's tense shoulder. "Rachel, what the fuck is going on? What happened?"

"Nothing, Maria," the girl's voice was tight as she shrugged Maria's hand off her shoulder. "I'm fine, just a little sore from practice today. I'll be fine once I take a hot bath."

"That's bullshit," Maria said, pulling her around again. "We both know there's something going on here. What happened?"

"I told you," Rachel turned, continuing up the steps toward her room, "nothing." She slammed the door.

"What a stubborn fucker," Maria moaned, kicking the door as she fought to cool her head. She couldn't just go in there, guns blazing when Rachel was like this.

Maria knew how to handle situations like this one. She learned after years of rushing in wearing her frustration on her sleeve. After several days of fighting nonstop with her

Rachel never responded well to anger. It made her skittish and drew a hot knife across the scars on her heart and reopened them, making them bleed and ooze just as freshly as ever.

Yelling, screaming…

They all made Rachel think of her Fathers and their fighting.

And Maria could never do that to Rachel, make her relive all those moments.

She wouldn't.

So Maria breathed in deeply, nodded confidently to herself, closed her eyes briefly and focused. She stood outside the door for several moments, thinking through the path she'd take.

Fingers played against the knob before curling about it and pulling the door open, steely blues strengthening in determination.

She found Rachel throwing her jacket on the chair and unwinding the scarf from about her neck, shoulders slumped in submission. The stance oozed of defeat and melancholy, just as Rachel's eyes had read several months ago before she came to Lima.

Rachel had aged far more in those few moments than most would in their entire lives.

The guitar's shoulders drew up again, however, as she registered the click of the door in the background, sealing the two girls together.

"What do you-."

"You and I both know what I want, Rachel," Maria's voice was hard. "Something happened with Quinn to make you like this. I'm going to sit here and wait for you to tell me what it is."

"Nothing-."

"Don't you fucking dare tell me nothing's wrong," Maria's voice grew stronger. She swore as Rachel's shoulders stiffened further. Running a hand through her hair, she shook her head before continuing more softly. "I've been your best friend for five years, Rach.

"I've spent five years watching you struggle with everything on your plate. I've watched you crash and burn, fight, and get right back up again," Maria's voice lowered. "We always tell each other everything, and I know you well enough to know when something's wrong. You can put on a little mask and pretend for other people, but you can't do that for me. I love you, Rachel…" Maria's heart ached. 'More than I should…' a small voice echoed softly in the corner of her brain. Still she chugged onward, stepping toward her friend.

"Please, Rachel," Maria put a hand on Rachel's shoulder, squeezing it softly. "Please tell me what's going on."

She could see the confliction in Rachel's eyes, the way the mask firmly affixed against Rachel's features covered the uncertainty. The way it slowly cracked about the center, ready to burst.

She held Rachel's gaze steadily, running her hand down Rachel's arm and locking fingers with string-callused digits.

Rachel's strength slowly fell, her neutral features crumpling slightly to a sad frown as the guitarist slid onto the bed, dropping her hold on Maria's supportive hold as she cradled her face in her hands. "I-I…" The next words were lost in a low whisper.

"Rach, you need to speak up," Maria said gently, settling down beside her friend, gentling fastening an arm over her shoulders.

"I don't know what's wrong, Maria," Rachel's voice sounded child-like in its desperation. "There's… there's… no way… I don't…" The singer stumbled over her words, her shoulders shaking.

"Calm down, Rachel," Maria pulled her closer, the smell of her sandal oil perfume tickling Rachel's nose. "Calm down and speak slowly. I'm the only one here… it's fine."

"I-I…" Rachel's voice trembled. "Maria, I… I don't really know what happened."

"Then what did you feel?"

"It's just…" Rachel drew in a slow, trembling breath. "Practice went well with Quinn. Seriously, we got so much work done, we were getting to know each other… But-."

"But?"

"But then…" Rachel closed her eyes. "But then something happened. Quinn and I we were just… sitting here, and then she got close and… and my mind…"

"Your mind?" Maria prodded. This was going somewhere. She just needed a little more…

"…It was like the dreams," Rachel whispered. "I could see something. Little, broken fragments of something… of someone. I heard hear it, see it… I could almost taste it."

"Was it a memory?" Maria asked.

"I-I don't know," Rachel shook her head. "I've never remembered something like that before. Usually, it's about my Dads. About screaming and fighting… About the blood." Rachel's eyes went dull in recollection.

God, the blood.

How it spread across the tile in pattern-like splatters, glinting in the dim fluorescents… How it smelled like copper and iron. The coolness of it between her toes…

"Rachel," the voice woke her from her nightmarish imaginings.

"S-Sorry," Rachel stuttered before looking down. "But… it… it was like the dreams I had, but this memory… There was such…"

"Such what?"

"Such warmth," she finished. Because there had been something warm about it. In the tears and the bitterness against her tongue. In those wire-rimmed frames and strange, sparkling, hazel eyes.

"What do you think it means?" Maria leaned forward. "Are you sure it never happened?"

"I've never remembered anything about this," Rachel buried her fingers into the pockets of her jeans. "I mean, I don't remember much from five years ago… But I usually know enough fragments to piece it together. I'm really not sure if it happened or not, whatever that was.

"And as for what it means," Rachel shook her head, closing her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know who that is. I don't know when it happened… For all I know, it could've just been something my mind fabricated. All I know is that being near Quinn seems to make me feel… different."

"Different?"

"Like…" Rachel struggled a moment. "Like being near her feels nice, because she seems to understand me. But there's just… Something doesn't feel right… I feel… sad."

"Quinn hasn't done anything to make you feel that way, has she?" Maria asked. "Because if she has-."

"No, no, Quinn's never done anything like that," Rachel stated quickly. "She's been nothing but kind to me. I don't know why I feel sad. But somehow, I just do."

They sat in silence for a moment before Maria gave Rachel a light squeeze.

"I don't know what your mind's trying to tell you," Maria drew the girl closer to her, looking at her seriously. "But you remember what I told you before you left, right?"

"'Shut up, Smurf, and get me my fucking coffee?'" Rachel smirked.

"No," Maria scowled, hitting Rachel across the shoulder. "You fucking smart aleck, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you and you joke."

"Serious conversation aren't really your forte," Rachel chuckled.

"Shut up and listen," Maria frowned before continuing. "You can't start something new if you don't finish what was there before.

"There's obviously something…" Maria searched for the right word. "Incomplete.

"This new memory? It's just another one of those things you left incomplete before you came to San Diego," Maria smiled faintly. "And it's another one of those things that's not going to go away until you get to the bottom of it."

"So I should…" Rachel trailed off

"So," Maria put a hand on Rachel's thigh, squeezing it, "you should follow the clues wherever they take you and try to put an end to this thing.

"Just…" Maria swallowed. "Just don't forget you've got a freaking crazy ass best friend willing to help you carry a little bit of the weight, yeah?

"I… I don't want you to worry, Maria," Rachel whispered.

"I'm supposed to worry about you, Rachel," Maria laughed softly. "I'm your best friend. That's in the job description. And I'll worry more if you don't tell me what's going on. So please tell me when you're hurting."

"A…alright," Rachel said.

"Now," Maria scooted over a bit, holding out her arms. "Are we going to fucking hug over this? Because we both know that a discussion isn't over without a hug to put an end to all the shit."

"Yeah," Rachel laughed, grabbing Maria up and squeezing her tightly. "I really don't know what I'd do without you, M."

"Die," Maria said bluntly as she pulled away slowly. She smiled faintly for a moment before frowning. "Rach?"

"Yeah?"

"And what happened with Quinn?" Maria inquired.

"She… she wanted to tell me something," Rachel's brow furrowed. "But Dad called and she said it could wait."

"She wanted to tell you something?" Maria's voice turned a bit confused.

"Yes," Rachel blinked. "Why?"

"Wait a minute, let me get this straight…" Maria scratched her forehead, "she wanted to tell you something, and you just up and fucking left?"

"She said it could wait," Rachel echoed, now uncertain.

"Oh smurf," Maria smacked her head on her friend shoulder. "You should've stayed."

"But Dad-."

"Who cares about fucking Leroy when you had Quinn wanting to tell you something," Maria groaned. "You seriously can't tell me you don't know what she wanted to say."

"She said-."

"Rachel, was she or was she not close to you?" Maria asked.

"What does-."

"Answer the fucking question."

"…Yes?"

"Was she holding your hand or some other shit?"

"…My shoulder and my hand bu-."

"Ohmigod," Maria groaned. "You freaked out and you left poor Quinn out to hang. Rachel, how could you?"

"What did I do?" Rachel asked lightly, voice tight.

"You know exactly what you did," Maria said. "You know what she wanted to say. Even you're not that stupid Rachel."

"I have no-."

"Quinn has the fucking hots for you," Maria prodded Rachel between the ribs. "She had something to tell you and you ran."

"We're not going back to that again, are we?" Rachel groaned.

"Rachel, I'm being perfectly serious about this right now," the Italian faced her friend, putting her hands on her shoulders. "Quinn. Likes. You."

"You can't be serious."

"I'm being perfectly serious," Maria laughed, frustrated. "Don't you see the way she looks at you? And you can't say that she's straight, because you heard her at lunch that one day."

Rachel's eyes grew conflicted. "Maria… I can't…" Tanned lids closed over chocolate orbs as Rachel breathed in heavily. "I'm not going to discredit you now. I don't think I can… But I just can't deal with this right now. Please."

At Rachel's pleading tone, Maria's shoulders slumped, defeated. "I know… you have a lot on your plate, Rach. But you can't just ignore her forever. You'll have to deal with it sometime."

"I…" Rachel breathed in. "I know, Maria. But I'll deal with it in my own time and in my own way. But right now I just… I just can't…"

She shook her head slowly, brown eyes pained. "I just can't right now."

It had all come down to this moment.

The last few weeks of dance practice, of choreography scribbling, of vocal critique…

It'd all come down to the next eighteen minutes and the strength of their unity.

Rachel clutched at the counter in the women's dressing room, staring at her reflection in the mirror, brown eyes hard and determined.

This is everything they'd worked for. Everything they'd shed blood (only in Finn's case, really, since he'd face planted far more times than Rachel could count on her fingers), sweat, and tears for.

This was their best effort on the table.

Rachel's fingers played against the Star of David's cool metal against her chest, holding it fisted in her palm.

"I am always right next to your heart, kochav."

She pressed the star to her lips, kissing it softly as she murmured a blessing in Hebrew. Rachel let it fall against her breastbone and smiled softly at it in the mirror. "You're right there, Papa… right there."

Rachel straightened as she reached for a bobby pin, arm shaking nervously as she drew a deep breath in.

It all came down to this.

New Directions arrived early at Dalton to scope out the competition, already dressed in their costumes, sans hair and makeup ("All of you will smudge it if it goes on too early!" Kurt chided, slapping at hands poised on eyeliner pencils with a scowl on his face). The girls dressed in old fashioned European clothing of the period and the boys dapper in their school uniforms, blazers and khakis neatly pressed.

The competition hadn't seemed outright challenging yet. The Hipsters' vocals had been spot on, though their choreography left much to be desired (but Rachel supposed that they were dismissed in that area because they were, well… old people). Aural Intensity was… interesting.

"Are they really fucking singing Jesus Is My Friend?" Maria asked, wide eyed as the choir lifted their 'divinely ascended' member into the air during a hearty proclamation of 'Hallelujah!'

"Uhmmm…" Rachel blinked. "I think so."

"This is just fucking offensive," Maria muttered, gritting her teeth. "I hope Jesus gives them a royal, divine, heavenly ass kicking for this shit."

"I agree," Quinn intoned from beside Rachel, hazel eyes wide.

Dalton, however, posed a real threat.

The smiling, handsome lead ('Blaine Anderson,' Kurt murmured from beside Rachel, 'he sang to my Dad when he as in the hospital… He's a serious threat') had a rich, deep voice. The set, though full of the top 40's, was different just because Dalton sung a capella.

The set of Teenage Dream (which Rachel would admit was utterly swoon worthy), Bills, and Raise Your Glass weren't Rachel's favorite songs, but Dalton made them entertaining and new.

And as the crowd cheered wildly at the end of the set, a hint of fear set in Rachel's veins. This group posed a threat… would this be enough? Would their efforts be enough?

And Quinn, from beside her, looked over at Rachel, clasped her hand, and squeezed it firmly. She smiled softly, before leaning over to whisper in her ear.

"We're going to win. You'll be great."

So she would go out there and she would do the best she could, Rachel resolved as she struggled to pull her bangs back.

She nearly jumped as a delicate, pale hand settled atop her own, gently taking the pin from her hand and brushing back chocolate brown bangs.

Through the mirror's reflective surface, she caught hazel eyes and a soft smile as Quinn gently twisted half her hair back, fastening the pin in.

Gold hair was pulled into two curled pigtails, the redness of Quinn's lips accentuated by the red of the modest dress that molded against her slight frame. Pale hands gently pulled another pin from before Rachel, breasts pushing into her back and rendering her breathless.

'What's going on?' Rachel thought to herself weakly as she felt Quinn pin the last bit of hair in, her hands falling to Rachel's shoulders, eyes meeting in the mirror.

"You're going to be brilliant, Rachel," Quinn said softly, resting gently against Rachel's frozen frame. "You don't need to worry about a single thing, you know that, right?"

"U-uh huh," Rachel stuttered, nervous.

Hazel turned soft green as a small smile revealed pearl white teeth. "We're all here to back you up… there's nothing to worry about…"

Rachel gasped softly as red lips landed against her cheek, caressing her cheek bone softly as emerald eyes slipped closed.

Color flooded to Rachel's cheeks as Quinn drew back, that same, light smile on her lips as she locked eyes with the singer through the mirror.

"Good luck, Rach," she murmured warmly. "Good luck, you look beautiful and… break a leg."

Without another word, Quinn disappeared from the room, leaving a confused Rachel touching a hand to her blush stained cheek.

'Quinn. Likes. You!' Maria's voice echoed through Rachel's mind.

"Fuck," Rachel moaned.

That assertion seemed truer by the moment, and her denial wouldn't keep it from her anymore.

Looks like she owed Maria the whole goddamned coffee.

The girls stood, heads down in the mist of the stage, Rachel poised in the center, staring nervously at the ground, hands sweating copiously.

It had all come down to this.

"Please welcome to the stage from Lima, Ohio…"

'Breathe. Be the music. Feel it. Put everything else out of mind.'

"McKinley High School's New Directions!"

The curtain rose, the stage dark.

From the fog, the haunting melody of the guitar played out from behind them, falling against Rachel's ears sweetly.

The light strengthened into a single beam and fell on Rachel's slight figure. She lifted her head, jaw strong and eyes fixed forward as she opened her mouth to sing.

"Mama who bore me. Mama who gave me… no way to handle things. Who made me so bad," the words fell from Rachel's mouth, smooth and melancholy as she lifted her hands, running them across her body in slow patterns. "Mama the weeping, mama the angels… no sleep in heaven… or Bethlehem."

The beat climbed, a drum added as the rest of the girls' heads snapped up and they started to sing with Rachel.

Rachel smiled as the girls stepped forward to join her, the harmonies and melody perfect as they matched up. The adrenaline began to pump through her veins as she heard the click of the boys' boots as they came in for the next song.

The song slowly transitioned as the boys paired up behind the girls, Mike strong against Rachel's body as she started into the next song.

"In the midst of this nothing, in this mess of life. Still there's one thing just to see you go by…"

She heard Tina's voice ring out from across the stage as Mike grabbed her hand, pulling her tight against him. "It's almost like lovin', sad as that is… It may not be cool, but that's so where I live."

"It's like I'm your lover, or more like your ghost. I spend the day wonderin' what you do, where you go," Quinn joined, pitch perfect.

"I try and just kick it, but then what can I do?" Tina continued.

"We've all got our junk, and my junk is you." The girls pushed the boys, stumbling, away from them as the song grew in intensity.

The song continued on, girls trading lines as the boys supported them. As it died and the girls were left to dance in the front, Rachel grinned as she heard the scrape of the boys getting into place for the next piece.

The Bitch of Livin' went off without a hitch, Puck's cool swagger paying off as he sang Mortiz's lines with a cool, smoky edge to his voice. Finn managed not to fall from his chair, or kill Rachel as he lifted her onto it in the midst of Totally Fucked.

As the last notes sounded off into the auditorium, Rachel's shoulders heaved, her muscles ached, and sweat poured down her cheeks. Still, she smiled as the crowd got to its feet and cheered wildly.

The group traded enthusiastic high-fives as they walked back to the dressing rooms.

"We knocked the ball out of the park!" Puck cheered, grabbing Rachel up and hoisting her onto his shoulder as she pounded against his chest in protest. "And it's all thanks to my sweet, Jewish Princess and her hot ass friend!"

"We're going to win this thing!" Sam shouted.

"Alright, alright, calm down everyone," Maria yelled as she strode into the room beside Mr. Schue, arms crossed against her chest. "Just because we put on a decent show, that doesn't mean we're out of the woods yet. Still have to see of the judges like us or the Jonas Brothers over there."

"You saw how great we did!" Santana said, stepping forward. "We have this shit in the hole, Lucky. We'z gonna be takin' home a big fat ass trophy today."

"Don't be such a downer, Arioso," Finn echoed.

"I'm just being smart, Taco Shop and Extra," Maria said, waving her hand. "I have no fucking doubt we'll probably be taking this home. But you've gotta be prepared for the worst still."

"Contestants, please report to the stage."

"I guess we'll find out in a few minutes, huh, Irish?" Santana smirked as she strode past a scowling Maria.

"Who the fuck does she think she is?" Maria muttered, striding out the same way.

Rachel, still slung over Puck's shoulder, was ushered out of the room with the rest of the club, pounding furiously at Noah's shoulder.

"Let me down, Noah," she hissed as they stood on stage. "We're in public."

"But babe," he smirked. "We need to show your hot ass off to the world. The only way for them to see you from here is if you're on my-."

"Let her down, Puck," Quinn said firmly, looking straight forward, hazel eyes lost in a sea of dark amber.

"Fine, baby momma," Puck scowled. "You're no fun. Always got that stick shoved up your-."

"Noah," Rachel chided warningly.

"Fine," he grunted, slowly lowering Rachel to her feet next to Quinn.

"Alright everyone, here to announce results for this year, we have Mr. Johnson, President of Dalton Academy."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. This was it. This would determine everything.

Whether or not they would go on.

Whether or not they'd saved the Glee Club.

A familiar hand laced their fingers together, clasping it in a soft grasp. From beside her, Quinn's soft, emerald gaze bore into her own. She gave Rachel a small smile.

'We'll do it," she mouthed softly, squeezing Rachel's hand.

A man with graying brown hair strode forward in a pressed, pinstripe suit with a sleazy smile on his lips. He took the microphone from the announcer. "I'd like to thank the National Showchoir Association for hosting this event here at Dalton, we are pleased to have you all here today."

He thrust his hand into his breast pocket, pulling out a pure, white envelope. "Now let's get down to business…" He pulled out a small sheet of paper partway, smiling. "Fourth place, Aural Intensity!"

"Third place, The Hipsters!"

"And sec-," the man froze, reading the paper closely, his smarmy smile dissipating. "…Second place, the Dalton Academy Warblers!"

Rachel could barely hear the announcement as the President's lips formed the name of New Directions as first. Everything became numb and silent, shock coloring her world.

She felt Puck grab her in a hug, the sound of cheering, then the pass of each Glee club member as they pressed her to their chests gratefully.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maria smiling brightly, clapping her hands as the group fell on the trophy, holding it up.

Tears fell down Rachel's cheeks as happiness, then finally relief flooded her system. She'd bought them some time. Helped them last just a little longer. They were in the homestretch. They had a chance.

They could save the Glee Club yet.

Brown eyes met hazel from across the stage as Quinn smiled at Rachel. She stepped closer to the guitarist, gently lifting a hand to wipe away the salty tracks on the girl's cheeks. Without hesitation, she seized Rachel in a tight hug, smiling against Rachel's neck.

"I told you we'd win," Quinn's voice was smooth and husky against Rachel's ear.

Rachel smiled and chuckled, though she merely tightened her hold on Quinn.

Because God, this was the happiest she'd felt in a long time.

Somewhere in the audience, Shelby Corcoran stood in the shadows, arms crossed against her chest, tears falling from familiar brown eyes.

Beside her, dressed in a starch gray collared shirt, jeans, boots, a vest, and a dark maroon tie, a teenaged boy leaned against the wall, blue eyes glinting with interest. "Rachel Berry, hmm? She's quite good."

"Of course she's good," Shelby breathed, watching Rachel draw back from the blonde girl with a smile on her lips. "She's my daughter."

The boy cast a sideways glance at his coach, steely eyes softening. "Miss Corcoran…"

Shelby's spine straightened as she wiped her tears away, hardening. "Come on, Jesse… you and I have something to discuss."

From the stage, Maria watched them exit, a distrusting frown on her lips. Her fingers tightened against the torn blue denim of her jeans.

She didn't trust Shelby Corcoran and she certainly didn't trust the boy next to her.

They were up to something, and Maria knew she wouldn't like it.

She couldn't believe that they would do this to her.

Deny her the right to see her child, even just for one minute.

The baby was hers, had been hers the moment she reached out her tiny little hand toward Shelby as she wailed with her strong little lungs whilst the doctors took her away.

She was hers when she screamed for them to bring her baby back to her before they drugged her with some nameless sleeping medication.

But she'd signed a contract. She signed a contract wavering any of her parental rights to the Berrys. She'd sold her daughter for a ticket to New York.

And somehow, holding the plane ticket in her hand made her want to crinkle it… it rip it into a million little pieces, run to the Berrys' doorstep, and beg to see her little girl.

After six months, she received a crisp envelope without a return address, the handwriting on the front the smooth, practiced hand of Leroy Berry.

She knew it because he'd been the one to write out the check, and draw up the contract signing her baby away.

She opened the enveloped with shaky hands, only to gasp at the picture of her baby girl laying in her car seat, rich brown eyes (Hiram's, she thought to herself, as she ran a finger over the curve of the baby's cheek) open and a gumless smile on her little lips.

She was perfect.

Everything that she never knew she wanted until she'd lost it.

She turned the photograph over to find a single word written down.

It became the most cherished thing she would ever know:

'Rachel.'

Every year until Rachel's sixth birthday, an envelope came in the mail, bearing a new picture. The notes became longer and longer. Leroy's writing became familiar, almost precious.

That year, it became too much. She had to go home.

She stood on the porch, that night. She stood and begged Hiram Berry for a glimpse, for a moment with Rachel. Just to see her, hear her, touch her.

Anything.

But they'd made a deal, and seeing Rachel before her eighteenth birthday hadn't been part of it.

Hiram slammed the door in her face, left her standing there, slamming her fists against the cruel mahogany as tears streamed down her cheeks.

So desperate, did Shelby Corcoran grow, that she did the one thing she could do.

She wrote. She wrote passionately and desperately to the only source of familiarity she had in her pathetic life.

Shelby Corcoran wrote to Leroy Berry, begging for understanding.

And Leroy Berry…?

Leroy Berry understood perfectly.

A/N: See the box below? It's lonely… it needs reviews to eat to live. So why don't you put a review in there to send to a desperate author whilst saving the box ;)