It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an individual woman in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of shoes. Unfortunately, that was doubly true for Rachel. Her large lung capacity and superior range had to be balanced out somewhere. That place just happened to be Rachel's feet. They were incredibly small. So small, in fact, it made it nearly impossible for her to find shoes that not only fit well, but reflected her age as well. She didn't want Monster High shoes, or shoes with Lego figures and while she liked light up sneakers as much as any reasonable person did, Cars was not the masterpiece people made it out to be. She did not want to "git r done." These difficulties were also the number one reason Rachel's footwear consisted primarily of Mary Jane's. Mary Jane's never aged.

Much to her fathers' chagrin, Rachel had to special order shoes for almost every Glee number last season. Another reason she endeavored to convince her Glee mates to actually plan their numbers well in advance. She never had the time she needed to order them. The overnight shipping fees last year had been monstrous. Therefore, she was very lucky to have found Mr. Wheelock.

Mr. Wheelock came from a family of cobblers. Ten generations to be exact. His pants were always creased to perfection and he always wore a black vest over a white button up. The sleeves were always pushed up to his elbows and they never fell. A pair of small glasses were perched on the end of his nose. These, too, never seemed to slip. It made him look entirely serious, as if he might lash anyone who wasn't acting just so with the tape measure draped over his shoulders.

"Mr. Berry the First!" A jovial voice called out, "Little Rachel! Are you sure you've been feeding her well? Remember, potatoes are vegan and they build the middle. I'd say she hasn't grown even a millimeter."

"We try," Elias shrugged good naturedly.

"Good morning, Mr. Wheelock. I assure you, while I may not have grown vertically, I've progressed in many other areas. I have slightly increased my muscle mass, as well as my lung and heart health. I've widened my musical repertoire as well as my friend circle, my form has matured slightly, and I've learned an entirely new sport."

"So you've done a lot of growing, but are still a little bugger," Mr. Wheelock teased. "Have a seat, let's have a look at those doll feet of yours."

Rachel sniffed and did so. "I'm still not sure if that is an insult or a compliment, sir."

Elias saw no reason to hide his amusement. "Can't it be both?"

"Well, Dad does say you're the master of unintentional backhanded compliments."

"Who says it's unintentional?" Elias grinned.

Rachel gasped, scandalized.

"You mean…"

Elias winked at her.

Mr. Wheelock cleared his throat. "I hate to put a pause on my entertainment for the morning, but, I'm sorry Rachel. Not even a hair bigger."

Rachel pursed her lips and glared down at the mutinous traitors she called her feet.

Elias and Mr. Wheelock exchanged knowing glances.

Finally Rachel sighed. "I'm ready to proceed."

Mr. Wheelock got up and grabbed a form. "Are you getting your Mary Jane's from the outlet?"

Rachel nodded, "Eight pairs."

"Eight? Isn't six your typical order?" Mr. Wheelock asked in concern.

"Yes," Rachel frowned mulishly, "All six were ruined by spring break last year and I expect a brief, if not permanent, uptick in confrontations next year."

He looked up in concern at Elias. Elias had a grim, resigned look on his face.

"I know not all of our schools here in Ohio are all inclusive or liberal, but that place sounds like a hell hole. Do you have any weird birthmarks Miss Rachel? Have your senses suddenly sharpened? Have you taken to carrying a stake in your pocket?" the cobbler asked.

"Oh, Buffy! But no. I'm afraid not. The extra reflexes could come in handy…"

"And you can't do anything?" He asked Elias.

"Aside from forcing her to change schools or homeschool her, we've tried all options except the media," Elias replied.

"I politely decline," Rachel piped up, "But if I weren't headed for Broadway, you can be absolutely certain I would pursue a political career in order to rid our local government and school board of all the hem-hawing, bloated leeches that infest it. Wait, do you think Aunt Sue would run for Mayor?"

"Of course she would, the question is whether or not she should. Frankly, I'm not sure the world is quite ready for politician Sue Sylvester, let alone Lima," Elias muses, "But maybe soon."

"I hope so," Rachel sighs longingly.

"Cheer up, Miss Rachel. Think of the shoes. The good shoes, my shoes. Do you have any idea what you want?"

"Boots!" Rachel immediately perked up, "Leather, brown or black, mid shin."

"Well, that was immediate, what else?"

Elias settled into a chair and waited.

Two hours and six pairs of shoes ordered later, they were on their way to Easton.

Shopping was usually a very easy process for Rachel. She was picky only about clothes she intended to stay unstained, which were rather few. Normally it was mix and match argyle sweaters and button ups, as well as tights and socks. Her underthings were also quite utilitarian, only because if she bought a sixty dollar brassier and someone ruined it with a slushy, Rachel would absolutely be expelled for "throwing hands" in the hallway. Though why the ones doing the throwing never seemed to get in trouble… well, good old Midwestern sports culture. Alas, she doubted she'd benefit from it as she'd be seen as an anomaly or an interloper. Hence the eight pairs of shoes waiting for them at the counter.

However, it seemed as if argyle was somehow decreasing in popularity, either that or a school tightened up the dress code because the choices as well as the normal quantity were severely lacking. Unless she wanted something indecently short or with Minnie Mouse on it. She did not.

"I'm sorry, Daddy, it looks like we'll have to make a trip mid semester or hope the Fed Ex manager has forgiven Dad for calling him a crotchety, dried up, self-important piece of fecal matter."

"He did deserve it," Elias said, amused. "He was opening our packages 'on accident' to see if they contained the devil's pornography."

"He should have been fired."

"He was, remember? His 'twin brother' took the job."

Everyone in Lima knew his twin brother had died five years ago and he was merely keeping up appearances for the extra social security check.

Rachel sighed, "So, mid semester if I'm unlucky. Our Christmas trip, otherwise."

Elias hummed contemplatively, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. Her Dad was the best story teller, but her Daddy was the better hugger.

"Rachel? What about getting other clothes? Beyond your typical purchase of athletic wear and one pair of jeans?"

Rachel stiffened. "Daddy, you know they'll be ruined after one, perhaps two, uses. Argyle usually hides the stains and can be reused several times before complete destruction. I find it completely unethical and unsustainable to–"

"Rachel, honey, breathe. I only asked because you have been trying new things lately. And I thought you might want to expand your wardrobe a little for going out with Quinn and Noah."

Rachel shook her head almost violently, "No. That school has ruined every new thing I've ever had. Anything I've ever been proud of or excited about. Anything that I had just for me, just because I liked it." Unexpectedly, her eyes began to burn. "Everything."

"Oh Rachel, this isn't about, only about, the clothes, is it?" Her daddy asked softly.

Rachel just buried her face in his side and sniffled.

With practiced ease, Elias rubbed her back. "There, there, sweetheart. It's going to be okay. Is this about Quinn and Noah?"

Rachel shook her head again, then paused and gave a tiny nod.

"Do you not trust them?" he asked softly.

"I do! I do trust them! But that doesn't mean they can't be taken away. That things can't be ruined. They experienced a brief taste of what I've been through last year and couldn't stand it. What if it happens again? What if they have to step away for their own mental health?"

"Rachel…"

"I can't have nice things at school, Daddy. They always get destroyed or taken away or used against me. The thought of bringing something I care about there terrifies me."

Elias looked heartbroken for her. "Your feelings are absolutely valid. It's, unfortunately, what life has taught you, no, that school," he nearly growled the word, "has taught you. It's okay to be scared, but don't let that stop you. Noah messed up once, I don't think he's going to do it again. Your Dad and I forgot how much you two made each other come alive. We talked about inviting him and his mother over for Rosh Hashanah this year."

Rachel sighs into his shirt. "Dad loves Rosh Hashanah."

"He does," Elias agrees. "Have you shared your fears with Noah?"

"A little? We talked about it once. I truly did think it was settled and now I'm crying in the young misses section of a poorly stocked department store."

"Maybe you should talk again. He might have his own fears. Maybe you can come up with a system to reassure each other, or signal when your fears are spiraling."

Rachel looked up at him. "You're very wise, Daddy."

"You forget that I actually lived through your worst nightmares." Rachel opened her mouth to speak and he clarified, "And not the ones about singing with Roseanne's voice on the opening night of Funny Girl."

Rachel shuddered. "It truly is terrifying."

Elias chuckled before growing serious again. "As for Quinn…" Rachel hid her face again. "...I don't know her well enough, but she did sit through my lecture. She did apologize and mean it. She's a very strong girl, let me correct that. She's a very strong young woman who obviously holds you in very high regard. I wish I could say I'm certain you'll last a lifetime, but I'm too honest for that. What I can say is that I truly believe that whatever happens, you'll both be changed in positive ways for caring for each other the way you do. So give her and yourself that opportunity. Talk to her, too. Find a way to comfort each other and make it through your tough times."

"I feel as though I need to get you a crown of some sorts and a lotion made with myrrh. Or frankincense," Rachel sighed.

Elias laughed, "Were they really wise if they gave a bunch of treasure to a couple of destitute people in a barn? As a cop, that's a surefire way to get the couple detained for suspected burglary or to get the couple robbed blind. There's no way they could fit that all on a donkey."

Rachel gasped in mock outrage, but she finally pulled away from him, smiling. "Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome. So, the clothes?"

"In another store, please," Rachel requested.

"We can do that," Elias agreed.

Three stores later, they finally acquired all the clothing Rachel was comfortable with getting. They were on their way to the nerdy store, which even her daddy was excited about, when her phone made three Yoshi blep noises in rapid succession. It was her and Noah's emergency code. She immediately pulled out her phone.

The first two texts were simple key mashes. The third was much more.

Puckasaurus: holy shit, superstar! finn is at my house. someone told him about football maybe? dunno. kinda hard to tell. told him to get lost. didn't even punch him. should have. closed the door. locked. Mom had work. dead man knocked her over tryin to get in house. she is spooked now. afraid of losin job. Wanna go kick ass but mom is holding on tight. SHE'S CRYING IM GOING TO KILL HIM

Superstar: Wait! My Daddy will handle it. Breathe. Think of your mother. Think of Beth. Don't let Finn force you into doing something that will ruin what you're building.

"Rachel?" Her daddy prompted when she stopped walking.

"That…that… repugnant man infant! He pushed Mrs. Puckerman! That absolute loathsome infected piece of goat smegma! That philistine! That–"

"Rachel, information, now." Elias demanded calmly. "And perhaps lay off the veterinarian shows."

Rachel made an inarticulate sound and held up her phone. He took it and read, his face growing dark. "I will handle it." He gave her phone back and pulled out his phone.

"Hey Brett. Yeah, yeah, she hasn't spent all my money yet. No, Hiram didn't get out of the surgery, but I am going to call him next. I have a favor to ask. Yes, I'll get Hiram to make his grandmother's pierogis. Well, you remember the Puckermans? Yes, he has been good this summer. He's been teaching Rachel to play football. She made the team, actually. Running back. Yes. Yes. Well, one of his classmates isn't happy about it. He showed up at the Puckerman household to fight with him and pushed Rebecca down trying to get into the house. You know Rebecca, she prefers no police, if you could unofficially officially go over there and get him to leave? Maybe have a talk with Carole? Thank you. Yes, I'll tell Hiram to leave you some pieces to deal with. He may still be in surgery though. Thanks again. Will do."

Rachel gave Noah a quick update that someone was unofficially on their way.

"Hiram! You're out? I expected your voicemail. Oh. I'm so sorry, hun. You did what you could. That's a good idea, go visit the preemies. Can't I just call my husband? No, Rachel's fine! Hiram, Rachel is fine. Rachel–"

"I'm fine, Dad!" Rachel interjected.

Elias sent her a grateful look. "Hiram, yes, but not with Rachel. It's Noah and Rebecca. Finn showed up at their house and he pushed her. As far as I know he's still outside. Brett is checking it out. Yes, yes, but… listen…but… Don't do anything to get arrested!"

He stared at his phone for a moment, sighed, and put it away. "Well, backup is on its way."

Superstar: Dad's on his way!

Puckasaurus: RIP Finn lol

"It's okay, Daddy. We can take some money out of my rainy day sock to bail him out."

Elias chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "No, we'll let him stay in the slammer all night. He's always said he wanted some street cred."

"He has as much street cred as I do. Quinn told me I was as punk as a dolphin."

Elias laughed this time as he guided her to the store. "I get the picture, but nobody remembers how mean dolphins are. I'd rather meet a shiver of sharks in the ocean than a pod of dolphins. The sharks will either leave me alone or eat me. The dolphins will pretend to be my friend before they torture, assault, and drown me, then mutilate my dead corpse."

"Ooo, so I am punk!"

"Absolutely not. You're as punk as a gummy bear. Sour patch kids are more punk than you."

Rachel opened her mouth to protest, then pouted. "They are, aren't they? Is it the packaging?"

"Absolutely."

The game store was a respite for both of them. The newest Capcom versus game was out, as was the newest Mortal Kombat. Rachel grabbed both of them and a silly wii cooking game for good measure. After a pause of contemplation, she grabbed an extra set of controllers for the wii, just in case. Her daddy was standing in front of the merchandise section.

"What's your opinion, Rachel? Can I get away with a Green Lantern pin on my uniform?"

"Doesn't Mr. Pete have two donut pins on his?"

"Rachel, donuts are a sacred symbol to police officers everywhere."

"Daddy," she groaned, "That's a terrible joke. Get your pin."

"Who's the parent here?"

"Me, because obviously you are in need of mature guidance."

Elias laughed so loud a few of the other customers looked askance at them. Rachel waited it out, perusing the shelves in front of her as she did so. There were some very tempting wallets, but the truth of the matter was that Rachel tended to only carry her ID with her to most things, and that was in a completely sealed case. In her freshman year alone, she'd lost 3 identification cards, 2 bank cards, an emergency credit card, her social security card, 5 pictures, over $200, and 6 gift cards. It had been a very expensive learning process. Slushy destroyed far more than one could ever expect, and if slushy didn't, cruel hands, toilets, or a dumpster full of Tuesday Surprise and maggots did.

A gleam of something caught Rachel's eye and began to dig through the clearance shelf to reach it. Her daddy wasn't laughing anymore, but she could still feel his amusement. She fought the urge to pout at him. It would only amuse him more. Finally, she found it, pulling out two pins- a fire flower and a baby bowser pin. Immediately, she thought of Quinn and Noah. Quinn for the single bloom on their first date and Noah because who else could rock a mohawk so well and resemble a dinosaur?

"Are we getting those?" Elias asked lightly.

"Yes," Rachel closed her hand around them, "Are we ready to go?"

"Yes. Let's pay and go find some grub," Elias teased.

Rachel wrinkled her nose, "Why do you insist on referring to delicious food as beetle larvae?"

Elias just smiled and paid for their purchases.

The food court was so varied that Rachel was able to enjoy an absolutely divine coconut and chickpea curry while her daddy was eating straight from a small bucket of fried chicken supplemented with an almond pretzel and a heaping stir fry.

"Once a year, Rachel, once a year," was all he would say when Rachel gave him that look.

Which was true. The more Rachel thought about it, the sadder it became. Clementine's Fine Fried Chicken was a rather popular place in Columbus, as was the smaller restaurant in the food court. Both were owned by her daddy's biological sister, and she used his great grandmother's secret recipe. It was the only way he could taste it, this once a year outing when he knew the chances of her being at the mall shop were next to none.

"Daddy, do you regret it?" she asked, frowning at her curry.

"Not today, tomorrow I'll be a little bloated, but what's a little indigestion when good food is involved?"

"No, Daddy, I mean… leaving it all behind, I guess. I'm not asking if you regret me or Dad or anything of the sort, just… does it still hurt? The missing, I mean?"

He grew very serious and contemplative. "I'll answer, but what's brought this up?"

"I suppose all sorts of emotions are being brought up today. What ifs, possible regrets, consequences."

"There is a tiny piece of me that's alway missing them and longing for the way things could've been. Not if I hadn't been gay or hadn't come out, but if they'd been the fully loving and accepting people I thought they were. Rachel, the hardest part of your parents turning on you is realizing their love is conditional. Your world view shifts after that. You can never truly go back. If you're lucky and they come to their senses, you can rebuild something different with them, but never the same thing." He studied her. "Quinn is going to make it through whatever nightmare scenarios your head is creating. Don't take her choice away from her. Let her grow in her own way. You just need to be there."

Rachel nodded, "I don't know why everything seems to be coming up on our trip, Daddy. I'm sorry."

Elias smiled gently, "Don't be. I'm honored. It means you know I'm a safe person to feel all these things with so you can process them."

Rachel sent him a small smile. "Someday, Noah and I will steal the recipe for you."

"I thought you were trying to keep him out of trouble?"

"He would be offended if I chose anyone else as a getaway driver and I wouldn't dream of ruining Quinn's spotless record."

Elias pointed a chicken leg at her, "Remember, a Lima cop doesn't have as much clout in Columbus, and I might not be able to keep you from spending the night with Big Bertha."

Rachel grinned mischievously, "Well, I do have need of a contralto for a few songs I want to practice."

With perfect aplomb, Elias blew his straw wrapper at her.

The drive to the Ohio Theater had Rachel buzzing with anticipation. It was such a beautiful place, restored to its original 1920's grandeur with large arching ceilings and decadent medallions and molding. The history of it made it even better. It had been saved and restored by the community from the ultimate demise of being flattened and turned into an office building. Every time Rachel stepped in, it reminded her of why she loved musical theater so much. It wasn't just the fame or doing what she loved, it was the camaraderie and sense of community that could come from it. How many lives had changed from a single magical moment in a play? How much understanding, or the feeling of not being alone, of seeing emotions on the stage that there was no name for? It was true magic to Rachel. A power and a duty that she took quite seriously.

The musical turned out to be a local production. Mostly college students from OSU, some high schoolers, a surprising number of middle agers, and even a few seniors. But it was wonderful, nonetheless. One didn't need to be a professional to give it her all and lay everything on the stage. One didn't need an official fabricator when two generations - one who'd grown up making something beautiful out of nothing, and another who had been fabricating cosplays with unexpected material. Who needed an entire symphony when a small troupe playing their fingers numb was just as beautiful?

As she always did after a good production, she dragged her father to get as many autographs on her program as she could from Lead Female to Extra #3 to Piano player to the person controlling the lights. A local production like this survived only because of the work every one put in and she intended to let them know she appreciated it. She gave a sincere compliment to everyone who gave her the time, and had learned not to give a critique unless specifically asked. All in all, it took an extra hour after the production ended.

She and her father turned their phones back on to several updates about the Finn Saga. Brett hadn't arrested anybody or made use of his handcuffs, but he did get to drive Finn home in the back of the cop car because, in his rush to yell at Puck, Finn had forgotten his wallet and his driver's license. Her dad had not killed Finn and he didn't have to bunk with Eddy the Stank from the crackhouse on Bible Avenue. He did, however, check Rebecca over and personally call into her work to make sure her absence was excused. He'd also made Finn cry, apparently, and he'd gone to Finn's house and had a talk with his mother. She said she'd deal with it, but Hiram wasn't sure how strict she would be. She thought the action was terrible, but seemed to think it was from the emotional upheaval of the baby drama from last year.

Puck sent Rachel a play by play in emoticons and gifs. It wasn't entirely informational, but it was hilarious.

"Well," Elias said, "You father still remains conviction free."

"You sound almost disappointed," Rachel remarked.

"Oh no, I'm pleased, but I will admit to looking forward to all the ribbing I could do if he had been."

"You're incorrigible!"

"You're right, I do have a lot of courage," Elias rejoined slyly.

Rachel gasped in horror, "That's… Daddy it isn't even the same word! How dare you inflict such… such… blatant butchering on the English language!"

"Rachel," Elias deadpanned, " The current English language is the bastard lovechild of a ridiculous amount of languages that somehow managed, through imperialism and colonization, to become more spoken than any other language in the world. It has so many contradictory rules it breaks itself on a daily basis."

She huffed. "Why must you know these facts?"

"Jeopardy and the boss's wife gives him three new fact or word of the day calendars every year," he shrugged.

"I'm going to write her a letter and suggest she send facts about cryptozoology or the history of mapmaking instead," Rachel harrumphed.

Elias looked at her with wide eyes. "Rachel, does that mean you don't know that we're a servitor race created by aliens to mine gold for them?"

"Daddy!"

Elias burst into laughter, "Oh, Rachel, your face!"

"You're a horrible father! Horrible! I'm going to bribe Aunt Sue into helping me create a terrible word of the day calendar just for you and I'll cry if you don't read everyone!"

If anything his laughter got even worse. He was still laughing when he took a right instead of a left to take them to the car.

"Daddy? You're giggling so much you missed the car."

Elias cleared his throat and wiped his face. "Nope. We're going to see Ira, remember? I told you he moved downtown."

"But you didn't say he was within walking distance of the theater."

"I didn't know that was required."

"Oh, I hope he was able to upgrade his chair like he wanted."

"We'll see."

Despite popular belief, Rachel's hair was not straight. At all. She could now claim with complete certainty that her egg donor's hair was wavy bordering on loosely curly. And whichever father made her, both had curly hair. Her dad had dark brown curly hair of the 3C variety and her daddy was definitely a 4B, though he'd never let it grow out very long. How on earth anyone could think her hair was straight naturally was beyond her.

Her hair, when in its natural state, was a strange hybrid monster that liked to strangle and attack anything with grabbing distance. Including other parts of her hair. It was thick and there was a lot of it. It varied in the 3's and tended to be a touch dry. Looking at it wrong could cause a marvelous frizz and even the smallest breeze tangle it instantly. Her fathers took to straightening as gently and naturally as possible by the time she was three after a stern lecture from Vera. Apparently, the woman had been nearly in tears over the amount of time she'd had to shave baby Rachel near bald because of how many times things were irrevocably stuck or her hair had knotted so badly a chunk had to be cut out. Once, in an instance she only faintly remembers, a baby button quail got stuck in her curls and her fathers hadn't known until it started stinking. They had to take her to Vera and that's when she put her foot down. Rachel's hair wasn't murder, it was a murderer.

Over the years, her fathers had asked if she wanted to stop or try something new, but, frankly, the thought terrified Rachel. She had a routine and a set of products that worked for her. Her hair was healthy and manageable. The idea of going through a sea of products to find the right combination, and all that testing, bad hair days, possible split ends or damaged hair; it was exhausting. Even if a tiny part of her was curious, the thought of getting slushy in it, of the damage it could do, made her sick to think about.

Rachel frowned, suddenly aware of how many choices she made simply to make living through high school less painful than it was.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"Do I really have a personality and habits or I have allowed myself to become a creature made entirely out of coping mechanisms?"

"Oh Rachel, that's all any of us are. The trick is to make sure the coping mechanisms are ones you choose with full awareness of choosing them. That those choices are for your enjoyment of life alone and not anything else."

"I'm too young to have a mid-life crisis."

"Actually, a mid-life crisis is like being a teenager again. Rebelling against the things we feel forced into, some cultural norms, responsibility, all the while feeling a desperate need to find ourselves again and figure out who we really are."

"So I'm having a perfectly normal and socially acceptable form of crisis?"

"Isn't being a teenager fun?"

"No, I refuse," Rachel pouted.

"So what brought this on? Do you need to start seeing Mrs. Andrianakis more often for a few months?" He asked gently.

Rachel shook, "I don't think so. I may change my mind but our monthly check-ins have been more than enough."

"So?" Elias prompts.

"Just thinking about my hair and if I wanted to change anything or simply do a trim."

"I see. That is a very difficult decision. It was when you were little for us. We didn't want you to grow up feeling like your natural hair was dirty and gross or wrong in any way. We simply couldn't figure out how to keep it healthy and keep you from being traumatized. The only ones I knew to ask still aren't speaking to me. My mom, she knew everything there was about any type of curl. It is a regret I have, that I didn't pay more attention besides braids, silk pillows, and sleeping caps. Things have changed, too, we have much more access to a wider selection of hair products. Don't feel bad for sticking to what's worked. Besides, I think, if you ever decide to go for it, Ira is going to be ten times better at helping you than Vera would have been."

Rachel pondered for a few quiet moments before gasping, "Does this mean I have a deep dark secret I've been keeping for Quinn?"

"Absolutely. How dare you. You are obviously the most devious, untrustworthy girlfriend. She's going to break up with you immediately."

Rachel frowned and sniffed, nose in the air, but then she smiled. "Thank you, Daddy. I feel better now that I'm blurting out my random fears to you."

"That's what I'm here for. I've listened to you since you first started making sounds. I'm not going to stop."

When they reached the new shop Ira worked at, Elias let out a long whistle. It was fancy and in close proximity to several spas which increased the foot traffic greatly. Rachel was very impressed by the owner's good sense. There was a gentle, unobtrusive chime as they opened the door.

"My favorite cousins!" Ira greeted them with a huge smile, "How do you like the new place?"

The inside was as fancy as the outside. There were several spacious stations for the hair dressers, another station for pedicures and manicures, and another place partitioned off for hair washing and drying. It was both spacious and gave the sense of the camaraderie of a small town salon while still maintaining a sense of privacy.

"You're moving up in the world, that's for sure," Elias congratulates.

"It's splendiferous," Rachel declared.

"And that's why you're my favorite cousin," Ira chuckled.

Ira was not, in fact, related to them at all. He was the cousin of the cousin of some cousin's step-brother's step-sister's great aunt twice removed. So a cousin of sorts if you squinted on a Tuesday but one you could marry. He was also fairly pale with auburn hair. It was always amusing when they got together and people overheard them, because they all clearly wanted to ask how they could possibly be related. Ira had her in the chair with a cape on before she had time to blink.

"Well, it looks like there's been some improvement after a summer of no slushies and good hair care. Hmm. Have you been wearing it up more often?"

"Yes, did I damage it?"

"Not quite. Remember to give it some extra moisture on those days."

Rachel frowned, "Would it be better if I braid it first?"

"It might be. We want to ensure that your hair doesn't get tangled and that it stays moisturized," Ira explains. "So, annual trim along with a good watery head massage?"

Rachel hesitated, looking at herself in the mirror. "Can I… can I see what it would look like without anything in it?"

Ira paused, "By nothing, do you mean au natural?"

"Yes? I mean, yes, please," She said with a little more confidence.

Ira smiled supportively. "So an extra long watery head massage and then we'll see where it goes?"

"Yes," Rachel agreed with a small smile of her own.

Hair washes at the salon were absolutely at the top of the list of Rachel's inexpensive ways to relax. The head massages were absolutely divine. If it weren't for the slight anxiety she felt about drying her hair without any product in it, she would be a completely well done noodle. As it was, she was only slightly al dente as Ira led her back to his chair. She wasn't aware of anything or anyone as focused, or unfocused, as she was.

Ira immediately traded out the standard towel for one made of different material and began to explain the best ways he'd learned in school to take care of Rachel's hair type. She was so involved in listening to him and maintaining eye contact, that she didn't even think to look in the mirror until Ira nodded to it. "There, have a look."

She took a few deep breaths, squaring her shoulders and mentally preparing herself, before locking eyes with herself in the mirror. It felt as she imagined meeting one's alternate timeline self. The Rachel in the mirror had thick, bouncy, almost corkscrew curls and it looked several inches shorter than main timeline Rachel's. Mirror Rachel was more Baby than Fanny Brice, but she certainly didn't look timid. Mirror Rachel seemed to have an air of confidence, the kind Rachel imagined she would have if Puck had never ruined their friendship.

Rachel reached out to touch the mirror only to pause. Slowly, she redirected her hand into her hair. It felt dangerous. Rachel couldn't remember the last time she touched her hair, dry, with absolutely no product in it. It felt a touch dry, which was absolutely expected, but otherwise, it felt… nice. A little ticklish. It was nice. She had a feeling she could still lose tiny fowl in it, but if Medusa could have her snakes, why couldn't she have her murder curls?

"Is… Do you have any products that I could perhaps use to keep it like this, if I wish, or straighten it if I wish," Rachel asks tentatively.

"There's products for everything. However, I wouldn't recommend it. To fluctuate so much could severely damage it. Now, you could relax it and go wavy without damaging it the same way," Ira explains.

Rachel stared at herself in the mirror for a few minutes longer before turning towards her father.

"Daddy? I know it's more than we usually spend, but can I perhaps buy both my normal products and some extra so I have the option?"

Elias nodded with a smile, "Of course. Remember? Prime time to figure yourself out."

"Right," she nods, determined. "Ira, I would like both sets of products, please."

"Okay. Did you decide on a trim? Or how you're wearing your hair out today?"

"I was considering bangs? Do you think I could pull them off?"

"Curly or straight, I think they'd look very cute on you. You definitely have the bone structure for it."

"I'd like to try them then, and my normal healthy trim, please. And I think I'd like to wear it out like this today."

"Excellent! I can show you how to use some of that new product!"

Rachel felt strangely vulnerable as she stepped out of the salon. Even the air felt different going through her hair now.

"I'm proud of you, Rachel, for trying because you wanted to, even if you decide you don't like it," Elias told her.

"Thanks. Dad isn't going to try to put obnoxious bows in it, is he?"

"I'll run a distraction if he does," Elias replied with amusement. His stomach growled.

"Rude," Rachel teased. "The restaurant isn't that far from here, is it?"

He shakes his head, "We can make it in half an hour if we walk."

"It's a nice evening for a walk, don't you think?"

"I do."

It was a nice evening for a walk, just the right temperature, and it was bright enough there was no true fear of being mugged. Especially with the surrounding neighborhood. Several more spas and quite a few clothing boutiques dotted the area. A few cafes with outdoor seating provided light beyond the fading summer sun.

"Daddy, did you and Aunt Sue ever watch any sports together?"

"The Olympics. As many of the sports as we could on our little black and white box tv with probably 3 rolls of aluminum foil wrapped around the rabbit ears. Ice skating, ice hockey, and horses were favorites. Oh, and ski jumping."

"What about live?"

"Roller Derby."

"Did Aunt Sue play?" Rachel asked, excited by the prospect.

"No. It was before we could afford any help with Jean. So every once in a while, we'd grab her favorite pair of earmuffs and her favorite blanket, and head to the rink, and she'd sit between us and cheer every time they made it around the track. Of course, Sue provided a blistering commentary to everyone within earshot. Good memories," Elias sighs fondly. "You know, if you were wearing a sweat band and knee socks, you would fit right in. Elbow everyone in the knees. They would nickname you Black 'n Blue Berry."

"Daddy," Rachel tried to sound affronted, but she couldn't help the giggles that escaped.

A rush of cold air licked their backs as the door to the shop they just passed opened.

"Officer Berry, is that you?" A woman's voice called out.

Elias turned in surprise and Rachel followed him.

"Ms. Fabray, it's a surprise to see you here," he exclaimed.

"Just as surprising to me. I had to make sure I wasn't addled from the sauna," she replied with a small smile. "Is Dr. Berry not with you this evening?"

"He had emergency surgery, I'm afraid. Rachel mentioned you were sharing a spa day with Quinn today, but I don't think she mentioned it would be here in Columbus."

"It wasn't supposed to be. We were going to go to Ft. Wayne, but the spa called and had to cancel. Their neighbors had a gas leak."

"Oof, that's going to cause problems. I don't envy the police there today."

Rachel listened to them chit chat, her mind whirring. If Judy was here, that meant Quinn was here. Quinn was here! She would get to see Quinn, for a split second but still, a second was a second, and a second with Quinn Fabray was better than a second without her. Where was she? Wait, her hair. Was she ready for this? Bangs and curls? Perhaps she still had time to hide. Could she hide convincingly?

"Rachel," Judy greeted, snapping Rachel out of her thoughts, "I almost didn't recognize you. I don't know why, those eyes are always recognizable. Your hair looks lovely."

"Oh, thank you," Rachel said sincerely, almost bashful. "Where is Quinn, if I may ask."

"Terrifying the cashier," Judy smiled fondly, "I'm sure she'll be out with the skirt she picked out without the snag in it and a discount any moment now."

"Quiet and polite but viciously cutting and the devil in her eyes?" Elias asked.

Judy startled and laughed. Her eyes flicked to Rachel, "Out talks them and uses large words to trip them up until they're so confused they give her whatever she wants?"

Elias taps the side of his nose. "Got it in one."

Rachel wasn't sure if she should be grievously offended or not. Before she could decide, a familiar blonde stepped out of the boutique.

"Twenty-percent off our entire purchase," Quinn stated, digging in her purse. She held out a card and receipt to her mother. "I can't believe they were only going to offer ten percent on the skirt and–"

"Hello Quinn," Elias said, highly amused.

Quinn's head snapped up so fast, Rachel thought she might have brain trauma. Despite the shock quickly flashing across her face, Rachel hadn't seen Quinn look this relaxed ever. Her skin was glowing, the remnants of the darkness under her eyes she'd gained during pregnancy was finally gone and not just hidden with makeup. She even held her body differently, not as tense and ramrod straight as being in Cheerios taught her to be. She was absolutely breathtaking and Rachel sincerely hoped that Judy didn't notice her appreciative and love sick perusal of her daughter.

"Mr. Berry! Hello," Quinn recovered quickly, "I thought you and Rachel were shopping today?"

"We finished shopping around noon. We've enjoyed the theater and the salon, and now we're enjoying a lazy walk to the restaurant we've chosen for dinner."

Quinn's eyes finally left her father's face and found Rachel.

Panicking and unsure of how to behave in front of Quinn's mother, Rachel simply smiled and gave her a dorky little wave. Oh no, it had been completely dorky, hadn't it? Quinn blinked her eyes quickly perusing Rachel though it lingered on her hair.

"You got bangs," she said in surprise.

"Oh, yes," Rachel brushed her bangs slightly, still getting used to the feeling of them. "I decided to make a change. It seemed reasonable and I was assured I had the facial structure to make them aesthetically pleasing.

"Did you get a perm, too, or decide to go mad with the curling iron for your night out?" Quinn questioned with a teasing smirk. Not her mean one. The friendly one Rachel was becoming accustomed to.

"No, this is." Rachel found herself nearly stuttering and Quinn suddenly looked concerned. Rachel channeled her alternate timeline self. "This is actually how my hair looks without straightening it."

"Rachel Barbra Berry, are you telling me you've been hiding those curls for years? Brittany is going to be so disappointed in you."

"What?" Rachel asked, completely bewildered. "Did you just full name me?"

Elias laughed, "Well, Judy, it seems they have much to discuss. Do you and Quinn have plans for dinner? We were headed toward Woodhaven. Rachel can eat to her picky and ethically tortured content and I get to drool over the best portabella burger to ever exist."

"Do they have a good bacon substitute?" Judy asked, glancing at Quinn.

"Carrot bacon," Rachel piped in. "It hits the crunchy, salty, savory so well that Dad feels guilty for eating it."

"I'll be the judge of that," Quinn scoffed.

Judy sent Elias an amused glance, "I believe we will be taking you up on your offer."

Dinner wasn't nearly as fraught with tension as Rachel feared. Judy and her father seemed to have a lot to talk about and Judy seemed genuinely interested in learning more about their Glee experiences. Quinn seemed slightly embarrassed and resigned during that portion of the event. Quinn also refused to admit how good the carrot bacon was but she ate every single piece and ordered a second serving. Rachel felt triumphant. Quinn hadn't commented anymore on Rachel's hair either, but Rachel caught her looking rather intently several times. Rachel wasn't going to push it, especially since she was basking in the lovely date not-date they were having.

"A baseball game," Judy exclaimed, "I didn't know Columbus had a minor league team."

"The Columbus Clippers. They're playing the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp."

"The minor league teams always have much better names. I imagine the minor league feels much more like the original baseball leagues," she mused.

Elias nodded in agreement.

Quinn stopped studying Rachel to turn and stare at her mother. "Mom? Baseball?"

Her mother flushed lightly and dabbed her lips with her napkin. "I was quite the fan when I was younger."

"How? Why?" Quinn asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"My grandmother actually played in the women's baseball league."

"What?" Quinn repeated, obviously fascinated. "She did?"

"The Ft. Wayne Daisies," Judy nodded, relaxing into the story. "I was never able to see her play. The League disbanded before I was born, of course. The stories she told made it sound like such an adventure. Traveling with the girls, playing unofficial games against the men, sneaking chewing tobacco and throwing up the next day… It sounded very grand to a five year old. When I was able to visit her, we would look up the scores in the paper and listen to the games on the radio. She had an old notebook that she used to keep track of every single game. She loved the Cincinnati Reds and hated the Chicago White Sox with a passion. Once a cheat, always a cheat, she'd say."

"Why did you stop?" Quinn asks.

Judy smiled almost sadly, "Because she died. My father thought baseball was a poor man's game, emphasis on poor and man. He preferred golf, it was the intellectual man's sport. And my mother wanted me to marry a good, established man, and I needed to leave childish things like baseball behind."

"Does Francine know anything about this?"

Judy simply arched one eyebrow. Oh, Rachel thought, so that was where Quinn got that from.

Elias cleared his throat and held up his glass of iced tea. "To defeating controlling fathers and relearning ourselves, no matter how long it takes."

Judy raised her own glass of tea and clinked it against his. "I can drink to that."

After a lovely round of desserts and some cajoling, her father had Judy (and thus Quinn) agreeing to go to the baseball game with them. Rachel didn't even feel cheated having this bonding moment with her daddy interrupted. Because Quinn was watching her mother softly and Judy looked freer than Rachel had ever seen. Usually there was something tired and strained about her, but it was gone completely as they changed their tickets for four next to each other and headed to the team store. Judy insisted on buying them each something. Rachel and Elias chose hats. Judy picked out a shirt with a clipper ship on it and Quinn chose a simple pennant.

Gathering snacks was pure chaos in the pre game rush. There may or may not have been elbowing involved at some point. In the end, they made it to their seats with bags of peanuts, large sodas, far too many hot dogs (though one was already too many in Rachel's opinion), nachos slathered in obviously fake cheese, and pretzels which Rachel was uncertain of because she couldn't tell if there was an egg wash on them or not.

Rachel sat between Quinn and her father and Judy sat on the other side of Quinn. It left Rachel in this strange limbo during the first two innings. She was in the middle of a brand new experience and Quinn was right there, but so was her mother. Who did not know they were dating. She was lost in this strange haze of learning about new Baseball Things that she might not remember, extreme awareness of Quinn at her side, and learning when it was appropriate to cheer.

The Clippers hitter smacked a line drive and the home crowd went wild. Judy Fabray actually whooped in delight and her daddy put his fingers in his mouth and whistled so loudly Rachel thought she might need to visit the audiologist. Rachel looked from her father to Judy in surprise and caught Quinn's eye as she did the same. For a moment, they stared at each other and then they broke into giggles. With a wink, Quinn mimicked Elias' whistle, and Rachel managed a rather melodious whoop.

In that moment, Rachel realized all her worrying was quite silly. They weren't Quinn and Rachel secretly dating lesbians (though perhaps Quinn was bisexual?). They were Rachel and Quinn, two people who cared about each other, and loved their parents even more. They were sharing this strange wonderful experience with their parents, who needed this moment of making a new memory to replace an old one tinged with bittersweetness. They were just lucky enough to share it with each other, too. They didn't need holding hands or sweet nothings. They had spilled nachos and an overflowing bag of peanuts so they could use one bag for their shells. They had her daddy elbowing her in excitement and knocking her into Quinn who bumped into Judy. They had Judy excitedly sharing old taunts her grandmother taught her. Rachel's favorite two involved belly itching and porch swings. The point was, they didn't need to be holding hands to share this. Being Quinn and Rachel didn't have to mean worrying about matching sweaters. It was nearly dying with laughter when the away team's fluffy pink monstrosity of a mascot showed its face. Dating was such a small piece of who they were, who they could be, together.

During the seventh inning stretch, Elias and Judy went to find the bathrooms. Rachel refused. She hadn't prepared herself properly for large scale, very public, restrooms. Quinn stayed with her. They sat in comfortable silence. Rachel was buzzing with the sense of camaraderie this type of environment espoused. Suddenly, Quinn shifted and stole Rachel's hat as smooth as you please.

"Hey!" Rachel protested, turning toward her with a frown. "You could have chosen your own headwear."

Quinn smirked at her, adjusting the hat on her own head, "I just did."

"I never realized thievery was in your arsenal of skills," Rachel harrumphed.

"You think I made Head Cheerio without it being in my arsenal?" Quinn countered.

"...Good point."

Quinn smirked again. Her eyes flickered slightly upward. "Oh, Rachel, you have something…"

She sank her fingers into Rachel's hair. Rachel forgot to breathe

"I remembered seeing a few pictures in that album of you with curly hair. I just assumed you grew out of them," Quinn murmured, tentatively moving her fingers.

"No. Busy fathers lacking in long hair education and a very old hairdresser who refused to cut any more dead birds out of my hair."

Quinn startled, "What?"

Rachel nodded stoically. "Poor Mimsy the button quail never stood a chance."

Quinn blinked several times before she burst into laughter. "Oh my God, I can imagine the look on that poor woman's face! No, I can imagine the look on Hiram's face!"

Rachel cracked a bright smile, "I was far too young to remember it, but I imagine it was a look of pure horror. Daddy was probably on the lookout in case he fainted."

Quinn removed her fingers gently from Rachel's hair, brushed a few strands around to make it seem as if Rachel had actually had something in it, before removing her hand entirely.

"I do like it, Rachel. You hair. It looked good straight and it looks good like this. Were you really afraid about what I'd think about it?" she asked quietly.

"Terrified," Rachel confirmed, "School starting so soon has brought up so many worries. It has nothing to do with my faith in you, and everything to do with that place. Today, I've realized exactly how many parts of myself I've censored or forgotten because of it. Sometimes it's okay. People grow up and change, they discard pieces of themselves they no longer like or that no longer fit who they want to be. That wasn't the case for me. Quinn, I haven't had my hair like this since I was three years old. I haven't seen it, I haven't felt it, even when it's wet, the product I use keeps the curl and wave to a minimum. I feel exposed and vulnerable. As if I'm waiting for an execution when the doors of the school open."

Quinn knocked their elbows together gently. "Just do it the Rachel Berry way. Head up, self-confidence brimming over, at least ten overly long words picked out to induce headaches, and a ridiculous number of songs on stand by. And, this time, you won't be doing it alone. Puck and I will be there. You know Brittany's going to want to pet your head, so even Santana will begrudgingly be there. So be your fabulous self, Rachel Berry, and the rest of us will try to keep up."

Rachel blinked back the sudden warmth in her eyes. "Quinn? The self you're slowly finding? She's pretty fabulous too. I'm grateful to be a part of her journey, even if only as a bit player."

"Well, everyone has to start somewhere," Quinn said archly, settling back into her seat.

"Are you going to return my hat?"

"Not a chance."

If, during the rest of the game, they reached for the peanuts at the same time more frequently than they had the earlier innings, no one said anything about it.