Glee 1. Prologue:  PT I

Wow, I was definitely suprised by the feedback that I got from the last story (Hell Hath No Fury), thanks again to those who reviewed and emailed me btw, that I decided to post something else today. Two in one day, for a slacker like me, that's monumental lol :)

Also I'm noticing a bit of a pattern with my writing. Most of my work will probably be A/U and it will feature Shelby bc I feel she (Shelby/Idina) was totally gypped of what could've been a pretty good storyline. But they crashed and burned with it, so consider my musings her saving grace if you will lol (If you wish to vent or discuss the issue further, my inbox is always open :D ) Ok, so this one came to me on a whim while I was on the bus this afternoon, and it's probably going to seem a little OOC, but I had fun with it and I think that's what's most important.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well except for the pen I wrote it with and this time even the paper was mine. The title I got from my bestie, also thanks ever so much for editing it too Kam ;)**

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"_Practice was satisfactory at best. While the dedication of my fellow teammates has greatly improved and their efforts are certainly commendable, we still have a lot of work ahead of us if we wish to win Nationals."_

If there is one thing my darling daughter isn't lacking, it's optimism. We have yet to even compete in Regionals and here she is determinedly focused on Nationals. Rather than stick my foot in my mouth and deter her by commenting on it, I proceed in another, more assuring direction. "Do you want my opinion, Rach?"

"_Absolutely_!" I chuckle at her childlike exuberance. Even though we've only just established our relationship, she places a high value on my input whenever it's offered.

"Give them time. Pretty soon they're going to realize that they're going to have to put in some real work if they want to win," I explain, knowing from experience. " As for you, I think you'll be sensational as always. You have what it takes, Hon. The passion, the talent, the drive…"

"_All thanks to you I'm sure. Genetics truly are remarkable_," she adds, our laughter echoing through our respective cell phones. "_Anyway, Mom, I was thinking. Perhaps the weekend after Regionals, we could hangout. Maybe do lunch or something. I know this new bistro that just opened up on Main Street and Daddy said it's gotten some outstanding reviews_."

I feel the smile I'm sure I've been wearing since we started this conversation wane at the mention of the proposed weekend outing and I hate myself for what I'm about to do, having done it countless times already. "I can't. I have an inservice day at Carmel that weekend. The entire faculty is required to attend. Something about a budget review for the next school year, I think. I'm really sorry, Honey."

"_Oh…well, that's okay. Maybe next time_." Like the true actress she is, my daughter bounces back brightly, probably even putting on a show face despite the fact I can't see it through the phone. But I know better. After years of vocal training, I can hear the pain and disappointment Rachel thinks she's successfully hidden from me and that alone causes an added weight to my already guilt-ridden conscience. "_Well, I promised Finn I'd meet up with him to go to the mall. Can I call you later?_"

"Of course. I love you Rachel." Praying that she'll respond in kind, I clutch the phone a little tighter and a little closer to my ear. I hate the desperation in my voice, but I want—no—need my daughter to know that I do care about her—us—despite the fact my past actions dictate otherwise. I admit I wasn't prepared for our initial meeting ( I could've done without the audience, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers) and after my little chat with her own Glee coach, I realized that if I wanted to get to know my baby, I'd have to put forth some true effort and dispose of my own selfishness and insecurities. After all I wasn't the only person confused and hurting over this reunion. There was essentially a teenage version of myself whose emotions were also at stake.

"_Yeah, me too. Bye Shelby_."

I involuntarily wince at the way she says my name. Thanks in part to Will Schuester, I've only recently come to realize just how fragile Rachel truly is. In spite of her attempts to prove otherwise. For instance, when all is well in our budding relationship, she has taken to calling me _Mom_. And while I would never admit it in any public forum, I find my heart doing backflips as well as an unexplainable emission of a salty substance leaking out of my tearducts. This is all an unconscious reaction, of course. After all, I have no control over it. Whatsoever. _Seriously_!

Oh, who am I kidding? My baby calling me _Mom_ has me carrying on like an overemotional fool.

But that's beside the point!

Conversely, just as she has taken to calling me _Mom_, on occasion, occasions that have unfortunately been occuring more regularly as of late, my little girl has reverted to calling me Shelby. Or worse, Ms. Corcoran. And as heartbreaking as it is to hear the slight edge in her voice in times such as these, I can't blame her because I know I'm the sole reason behind her own heartache.

As it stands, for the past few weeks I have successfully managed to blow off every single attempt Rachel has made for us to meet up. Now while all of my reasons have been legitimate excuses ranging from work to VA responsibilities, they're still, nonetheless, excuses and I can't help but feel like my priorities are severly skewed if my own daughter falls at the bottom of the list time and time again. Initially I had thought she would understand due to her own extracurricular commitments and glee club. But lately, I've come to believe my daughter thinks of my "obligations" as reasons to continue a physical avoidance and continue with our impersonal relationship of text messages, phonecalls and the occasional email. If she only knew how far that was from the truth. As much as I wish I could just drop everything just to spend an afternoon lounging and talking with her, I am genuinely busy. And frankly, it sucks.

At the sound of my team re-entering the Carmel High auditorium, I replace my phone in my purse and shake my head in hopes of pushing aside thoughts of Rachel, if only for the remaining hour or so of practice. Because as much as I may love her, I do have a job to do and it consists of making sure Vocal Adrenaline attains their fourth consecutive win at Regionals. "Ok guys, from the top. And I swear to God if I hear any of you complain about the routine again, landing multiple backflips while singing will be the least of your worries. Are we clear, Mr. Richardson?"

**-PA-**

One week after Regionals, that Thursday to be precise, I enter the seemingly deserted halls of McKinley High. This time not as a rival glee coach. No, today I am simply a concerned parent because if there's any merit to the expressive breakdown Rachel had on my couch a few nights ago, her glee club is over. Which, to my baby girl, is equivalent to her life being over. And I won't stand for it. This is why I've scheduled a meeting to speak with the principal to discuss a possible reconsideration of his decision. Normally, I find I'm rather steadfast if not impervious to certain people, but even I can admit that Figgins makes me a little uneasy. I shudder as I think about our last encounter. Ah, the sacrifices one must make for one's child_._

As my heels tap nervously against the linoleum flooring, I can't help but realize that I may be overstepping my boundaries as Rachel's "newest" parent. Yet I can't help but feel it's the least I can do for her. I waited only a moment before my name was called by his secretary. However as I stood to make my way into the office of Principal Figgins, I am unceremoniously "bumped" out of the way by a woman clad in a navy Adidas tracksuit who then proceeded to enter the office before me.

While I may not have been privy to the exact words of their impromptu meeting, considering the room is suprisingly and remarkably soundproof, with the way they're gesticulating I can't help but wonder if my trip here may have been in vain. It took me a moment to recognize the woman as Sue Sylvester, who happened to be one of the guest judges at the recent competition and who according to Rachel is also hell-bent on eradicating McKinley of the glee club. I witness Figgins and Sue get into each other's faces and into what I can only speculate is a very heated yelling match. Then just as quickly as it began, it was over. Sue stepped back and was out the door, leaving a very bewildered Principal Figgins in her wake.

"He's all yours Broadway," she calls over her shoulder before rounding the corner, probably to terrorize a student or another member of the faculty. Undeterred from my initial mission, I take a deep breath and enter the office closing the door behind me.

Twenty minutes later, I was sitting behind the wheel of my Range Rover puzzled, utterly baffled and in desperate need of a scalding, hot shower.

**-PA-**

The weekend after my meeting with Figgins, I'm at home simultaneously outlining VA's setlist for Nationals, writing up my final lesson plans of the year and grading my juniors' sorry excuses for final papers when the doorbell rings. Thankful for any kind of interruption, I drop Susan Nichols' comparitive essay that has pitted High School Musical against Les Miserables and head for the front door. I'm further surprised to find my daughter on the other side with her appearance being a far cry from the mopey teenager that graced my couch a few days ago.

"Hey Swee—" My greeting is interrupted as I find my daughter has effectively launched herself at me and is squeezing me like there is no tomorrow. One would never expect it from Rachel's petite form, but my girl's got quite a grip. And while I can appreciate that the fathers Berry have indeed taken care of my daughter, I do need to breathe. "Umm, Rach? Honey? Air." I gasp desperately.

Rachel promptly releases her death grip on my torso and looks so apologetic that I actually begin to feel bad about my lungs' incessant need for oxygen. "Sorry Mom," she murmurs with a bashful look. "I guess I was just a little excited."

"Really? What about?" I inquire, while absently rubbing my sides as I lead her into the living room and settle onto the couch for what I'm sure will turn into a very extensive monologue.

"Glee club got reinstated!" she announces as she plops down beside me, careful to avoid the pile of papers and folders around her.

"That's great Rach," I add sincerely, as I begin to gather the few errant sheets of paper that are scattered on the coffee table before us, as well as those on the floor.

Honestly, since the meeting with Figgins I had been hesitant to approach Rachel on the topic of glee club. In fact, I hadn't even told her that I had gone down to school in her defense, for fear that there would be no reinstatement and I would have gotten her hopes up for nothing. "So, what changed Principal Figgins' mind?"

Rachel scoffs. "As if you don't already know," she tells me. My actions officially cease as I quirk an eyebrow and return my gaze to my daughter. Apparently she's noticed my quizzical and perplexed expression because next thing I know she's explaining to me how a member of her club, Puck I believe was his name, saw me leaving Figgins' office on Thursday. And what with my own dedication to Carmel's own performing arts program and our shared love of all things show choir, my daughter has deduced that it's beyond obvious that I had gone to McKinley to talk some sense into her inconsiderate principal. And thanks to me, New Directions was saved. Making me not only her glee club's unofficial hero, but my daughter's absolute favorite person ever! Once again I found myself on the receiving end of one of Rachel's bone crushing hugs. When she pulls back, I see that she too is afflicted with the same ocular infection as I, as I notice a few droplets of _something_ escape her big, brown eyes. "So, I guess I'm here to say 'thank you' Mom," she tells me, with a watery smile. "You didn't have to do it, but I'm really glad you did."

Blinking back a few wayward droplets of my own, I tuck a strand of hair that has come loose from her ponytail behind her ear. While I'm sure it wasn't my doing that got the glee club restored, I'm rather enjoying this moment I'm having with my daughter and am quite content with her thinking it was all my doing. So, like any person caught in my predicament...I went with it. "Anytime, babygirl," I tell her before pulling her to my side and settling into the couch. We remain like this for quite a while, lounging and simply enjoying the sounds that the mid-morning Saturday has to offer, before Rachel suddenly sits up with a start.

"Oh, my gosh! Mom, I'm so sorry!"

I lean forward and try to recapture Rachel's gaze. This is the third time this week I've found myself completely confused, and I have to say, I don't like it. If this is how normal parents go about their daily lives, I'm not too sure I want any part of it. "Rachel, what are you sorry for?" I grab her hands, my thumbs rubbing calming circles over her knuckles in hopes she'll stop her rambling and talk to me. She looks at me with the cutest puppy pout and I feel a sudden urge to take her back into my arms and hold her again. It's strong, but I fight it. "Talk to me, Honey."

"Your meeting! In my excitement to tell you about Principal Figgins' decision, I came by without calling or any regard as to you having to prepare and get ready…"

As I listen to Rachel go on about how she was raised better than this, I can't help but notice that I too had forgotten about the meeting. Admittedly, before Rachel's arrival I was about to go and get ready, but as soon as she appeared on my doorstep she took precedence over everything else. Work and VA included. I can't help but smile as I realize that maybe I'm getting the hang of this parenting thing after all. "Rachel?"

"…I really should've called first, I mean…"

"Rachel?"

"…this is so unlike me! I'm so, so sorry Mom. I can assure you that it won't—"

"Rachel!" I really don't like yelling, especially at my own child, but knowing Rachel, she would probably go on for days if I didn't interject. I cup her cheek gently, and smile down at her, hopefully getting through that I didn't mean to startle her. "How about we hit up that bistro you were talking about last week?"

I watch as she furrows her brow and blinks a few times in confusion. "But what about your meeting? You said it was mandatory. Won't they, like, fire you if you don't attend?"

I shrug it off and smirk at her. "Fire me?" I can't help chuckling at the thought. I'm Shelby Corcoran dammit. Director and Coach of Vocal Adrenaline. Four time winner of the Ohio State Regional Show Choir competition. Fire _me?_ Ha! "I'd like to see them try. So what do you say? Lunch and a movie?"

"And shopping?" my daughter's request hangs in the air and is followed up with a hopeful smile. She knows she's pushing it and I'm about to decline on that part of the deal when that confounded puppy pout reappears.

I roll my eyes and fall back into the couch. "And shopping," I relent with a sigh. I wonder if there's an immunization shot for that thing. Because I certainly cannot keep conceding to her every whim every time it shows up. I watch as Rachel does a little victory dance and laugh when she breaks out the cabbage patch. I leave her to inspect my playbill collection as I go up to change out of my morning sweats. When I return, this time in a Tshirt and jeans that suprisingly match Rachel's current attire, I gather my purse and keys and lead the way out to my car. On the way to the bistro, Rachel regales me with tales from her youth as well as moments with her glee club. As I listen to her animated chatter, I can't help but feel that if this is what it's going to be like having a teenage daughter, I could definitely get used to it.

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Yea, so how many people noticed "the look" that Shelby passed to Will and Sue in 1x21 after Figgins said "Ms Corcoran. You are as wise and magnanimous, as you are beautiful." lol I just had to reference it. :D Anyways...

_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh? Review and let me know :)_

_Till next time..._


	2. Prologue:  PT II

_Thanks for the reviews, kind words and emails everybody. You've made this lowly writer very happy :) Truthfully, I was almost afraid to post this chapter, bc I noticed I got the honor of being put on a few people's alert list, and I hope I don't disappoint them..._

_Okay, initially, this was going to just be a one-shot, but it seems people actually liked the format (some even like how I "work" with Shelby lol thanks you guys) and wished for me to continue. So I suppose what I will try to do is follow the actual canon, but insert Shelby where I can. Also for this storyline to work, I have placed Beth in the custody of her biological mother, so Shelby didn't adopt her. She's a cute kid don't get me wrong, but I don't want to include her and essentially mess up what "my" Shelby and Rachel have going on :)_

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**Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, Rachel would have the mom she always wanted and Shelby Corcoran/Idina Menzel would appear in just about every episode of the second season.**

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"Mooom? Have you seen my blue sweater?" my daughter shouts from the depths of my basement, where she has diligently been searching the laundry room for the better part of an hour. With school starting back up in a few weeks, Rachel has been adamant about reorganizing her wardrobe. And having spent most of her summer with me, she has been traveling back and forth between her two homes rather frequently for the past week or so trying to take inventory of which clothes are at either house. "It's my favorite one. You know, the one with the puppies on it?"

"Have you checked your closet?" I call back just as loudly. I listen closely from my first floor study as Rachel scampers up from the basement and then up the main staircase to one of the guest bedrooms she has long since commandeered as her own, in search of said missing sweater. I stop typing the email I've been working on for the past few minutes before stepping out of my home office and looking around surreptitiously. Assured that the coast is in fact clear, I slip out to the main hall closet. Pushing aside various coats and jackets, that I now realize I never wear, I retrieve the "missing" sweater from its hiding place and retreat back to my study with it in tow. My eyes dart around, quickly surveying the room for yet another inconspicuous hiding spot for the offending garment. Deeming one of my file cabinets as worthy of such a task, I quickly stuff it behind some old folders that contain a few of Vocal Adrenaline's old setlists and then lock the drawer. My mission complete, I return to the email I was writing before Rachel can catch me in the act.

I know, I know. What kind of mother purposely hides her daughter's clothes? And I admit, my actions are somewhat juvenile. However. I truly believe that they are sincerely justified and I'm pretty sure I could make a very decent case about it if such a thing were ever to be brought to the attention of a judge and jury.

Furthermore, I hate to generalize and take stereotypes at face value, especially since I have made it a rule to avoid doing so in my everyday life, but I am constantly finding myself questioning Rachel's fathers. Because for a pair of respectable, affluent, homosexual men, the sense of fashion that Leroy and Hiram Berry have instilled into my sweet baby girl is nothing short of pitiful.

Don't get me wrong, I love Rachel. Skirts, jumpers, knee socks, puppies and all.

And while her sense of style is certainly, um, "endearing", I oft find myself baffled as to how she has managed to survive so long without not just me in her life, but something as simple as a female influence.

I quickly finish up the email before I join my daughter in her room. I look around upon entering and smile that Rachel truly feels so comfortable in my home. Having constructively utilized the first two months of her summer vacation to revamp the once bare space, without my say so I might add, my daughter has managed to decorate the room and make it her own domain. She has painted the walls a light green, to rival the bright pink I know is in her room at the Berry house, and we've decorated it with some custom handmade wooden furniture. The walls are adorned with various play and movie posters, which I assume she couldn't fit on the walls of her other room, as well a few photos that we've only recently taken and had framed. A desk, a vanity, a dresser, a queen sized bed and two side tables complete the ensemble and I'm honestly proud of the work she's put into it. She's happy with it, and therefore so am I.

Now, normally her room is flawlessly kept, with not even a speck of dust to be found on the furniture. But as I peer in from my position in the doorway, I'm surprised to see various articles of clothing hanging from the bed, scattered on the floor and even more clothes flying through the air as my daughter searches her rather large closet, in vain, for her favorite sweater.

"Any luck?" I ask when she finally emerges, her hair askew from her search. I watch as she plops down onto her bed with a defeated sigh and I almost feel bad for what I've done. _Almost_.

"No," she says sadly, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. The scene is nothing short of adorable and I move to sit by her side to offer whatever comfort I can. She leans over, placing her head onto my shoulder and begins to pout. "I don't get it. This is at least the seventh sweater that's gone missing."

Have I mentioned that I've been at this for a while?

Ok, I admit it. From the moment Rachel began staying over my house I may have pilfered?—seized?—_confiscated_!—a few of her clothes. For the better good, of course!

But understand where I am coming from. On my part, I have always considered myself to be relatively chic in the fashion department, even going so far as to saying that my dress, besides my vocal talent obviously, has always been my strongest suit. Additionally, seeing as I work at a high school, I'm also pretty much familiar with all the up-to-date trends and latest styles that are associated with today's youth. All things considered, I feel I'm more than qualified to assess that which is fashionable and what is not. And as I spend more time with Rachel, I've taken notice that while my beautiful, little girl is certainly quite gifted. Fashionable, she is not.

In fact, and using the terminology of her own peers, my daughter dresses like an overgrown toddler.

As a result, I have made it my own personal, one-woman mission to introduce Rachel to the latest fashions. So, for the past month, I have been trying to wean her off of this "sweaters and jumper" kick, but to no avail. As I watch her mourn her beloved sweater, I begin to think that it's time I stepped it up a notch.

"Aww, Honey, I'm sure it'll turn up sooner or later," I tell her as smooth out the tangles in her brunette tresses. I bite my cheek, because I know that I'm probably going to hell for the several dozen lies I've been feeding her in the past few weeks, this one included. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and give her a reassuring squeeze. Dropping a small kiss in her hair, I survey the mess before us and quickly come up with a solution to not only Rachel's problem, but mine as well. "I have a proposition." At this point in our relationship, I don't need to hear a response or even see her facial expression to know I've garnered her attention. "How about we take a little trip out to the mall and we shop till we drop?" I watch my daughter pull back with a bright smile, nodding emphatically.

"Sure! And maybe we'll find some sweaters to replace the ones I've lost!"

_Not if I can help it._ I think to myself. I don't tell her that, obviously. Instead, I offer an encouraging smile before we begin the chore of gathering the scattered clothing in order to replace them in their rightful homes.

**-PA-**

We pull up to the mall nearly an hour and a half later, our arrival delayed because Rachel needed to find something more suitable to wear other than the flannel shirt and jeans she previously had on. Apparently, while such an outfit is suitable to be worn around the house, it was simply not acceptable enough to wear in public. I merely chuckle at her mini rant, seeing as I had thrown on an example of that very outfit for our excursion. She eventually emerged from her bedroom in what can only be described as a fluorescent, pink tank top and pair of yellow day-glo capris. She then proceeded to run ahead of me with my car keys in hand, claiming she would drive us there. Unfortunately, rather than follow her lead in order to refute her statement to and to reclaim my keys, I found myself rooted in place by the front door, shocked and blinded by the flurry of bright colors my daughter's outfit provided.

So help me god, I would buy out everything that Aeropostale, Abercrombie and any other one of those stores had in stock today, if it meant never seeing that outfit again.

Having made several trips to this particular mall beforehand, I've already mentally mapped the best route for us to take. The path I have planned would essentially avoid all of Rachel's signature stores and only take us along those that I associate with Rachel's peers. It doesn't take much for Rachel to follow my lead up the escalator, seeing as I'm the one carrying the cash and the credit cards.

Our first stop is at Abercrombie. As we enter, I recognize a few of my own students either working at the register or also shopping. I witness a few of them chuckle at Rachel's outfit and shoot a glare in their direction that shuts them up immediately. Rachel, who was busy rummaging through a pile of skirts, was none the wiser and remained oblivious of the entire encounter. And for that, I am grateful. I take a quick moment to take in my surroundings, observing the mannequins and displays in order to gain an idea of the different apparel they offer. A moment later, a young man appears by my side and is inquiring on whether or not I need any help. "Actually, yes. I'm here with my daughter and—"

"Your daughter? No way! You're too young to have a kid that shops in here."

I can't help but laugh at his surprise, unsure if it is indeed genuine or a ploy to play nice and have me spend more money. I call Rachel over to my side and he seems to do a double take on the pair of us. It finally registers that I do in fact have a daughter that is old enough. "Yes…well, my daughter is looking to replace a few things in her wardrobe. What can you do for us…" I take a second to look at his name tag, "Scott?"

"Scott" then takes us all throughout the store, grabbing several dozen pairs of jeans, T-shirts, leggings, polos, skirts and unfortunately even a few sweaters. The three of us, each with an armful of clothing, then make our way to the fitting rooms. I take a seat outside of Rachel's cubicle and then proceed to grade the outfits one by one as she tries them on.

Initially, Rachel seemed hesitant to trying anything on. Before she even set foot into the cubicle, she began stalling. "Mom have you seen these prices," she exclaimed in a whisper. "No. I can't make you buy these things. It's not fair to you and—"

"Rach? Sweetie, I _want_ to buy them. Remember what I've said about Carmel's booster club. I'm covered till retirement and beyond. Trust me. Besides, how many opportunities am I going to get to take my_ only_daughter back-to-school shopping? Now, get in there." I give her behind a firm swat and chuckle as she jumps into the fitting room.

Thankfully by the third outfit, I caught her smiling a little as she stepped out awaiting my judgment. We soon developed a foolproof system: thumbs up meant we were getting it, thumbs down was a definite no, and a head tilt meant maybe.

An hour later, we left the store with a handful of bags between the two of us. Not only was Rachel wearing her signature smile, but she has also changed into one of the outfits we had just purchased. As for me, I was named Abercrombie's customer of the day after having dropped over $300 in one trip. To be honest though, the bill barely registered in my mind because if that's what it took to see my daughter happy, I would willingly do it every day.

And so we continued our impromptu shopping spree. This time with Rachel taking the lead and dragging me into the neighboring Express outlet.

**-PA-**

As we wandered around, after depositing our horde of bags in the car, I notice that my daughter has gotten strangely quiet. "Something on your mind, Rach?" I link our arms as we continue our aimless walk. When I receive no answer, I'm instantly worried and pull her to sit down at the first bench I see. Rather than push and prod her to talk, I simply sit by her side and wait. If she wants me to know the problem, I am more than confident she'll tell me in her own time.

"Mom? Do you think I'm…pretty?" she asks and I feel my heart break ever so slightly at such a ridiculous question.

"Of course you are, Baby," I assure her quietly, hugging her to my side. "You're the spitting image of me at your age, so how could you be anything short of beautiful?" When I get no response, I turn my head and absently look around the mall as if searching for the best way to further respond to my daughter's question. It suddenly dawns on me as I spot my answer a few feet away. I quickly tap her knee, garnering her attention. "Come with me."

My daughter does as I say, and follows me sullenly into a nearby salon. Being somewhat of a local celebrity, I manage to get her an appointment within moments of entering the establishment. As Rachel is directed to a chair, I grab the available stylist and tell her what I want for my daughter. She smiles at the idea and suggests a few of her own, all of which I agree to. As I wait for Rachel, I accept a complimentary manicure.

Half an hour later, the stylist calls me over to her chair and I'm sure the grin I'm wearing could split my face in two. Having told the stylist to face Rachel away from the mirror the entire time, I know Rachel has no idea why I'm grinning like a fool. Taking hold of her chair, I slowly spin Rachel around to allow her a look at her new haircut and then bend down till we are on the same level. "The way I see it, Rach, now that you no longer have your hair in your eyes, you can see exactly what I and everyone else sees. A beautiful, determined and talented young woman who is destined to take not only the stage, but also the world, by storm."

I watch our reflections in the mirror with bated breath, mostly hoping my daughter will not stage a revolt of some kind considering I agreed without her say so for someone to cut off some of her luxurious locks. I look on as she examines her new 'do and again I am blessed with another smile. I happily accept a kiss on the cheek and the compliment of being the world's greatest mom as I pay for the stylist's services.

Once again, all is right in my world as Rachel returns to her previously upbeat and perky mood.

**-PA-**

We arrive back at my house after what can only be described as a shopping marathon, feeling thoroughly beat and quite ravenous. Fortunately, Rachel had the foresight to order takeout as we were leaving the shopping mall, so we merely picked up our dinner on the way home. A few trips back and forth between the house and my car and we've successfully managed to grab all of the bags and move them into the living room, where we promptly collapse on the couch. Allowing ourselves a moment of peace and quiet relaxation, we both release simultaneous sighs. "Well, that went well." I comment idly.

"I disagree." Is Rachel's simple response.

Eyeing the multitude of packages around us, I give my daughter quite the incredulous stare. "Oh you do, do you?"

"Entirely…because _well_ doesn't even begin to fully encompass what transpired today," she responds giddily. "Seriously, Mom. Today was nothing short of amazing! I mean I've been shopping with Daddy, of course, but it was never an all day thing. Usually he would just pick a few things and we'd be done in about twenty minutes," Rachel explains with a knitted brow, confirming my previous suspicions about the fathers Berry. "But today…today, I actually had a lot of fun."

I turn my head and place a kiss to my daughter's temple. "I'm glad, Sweetie." Having rested for a moment, I now feel prepared to trudge up the stairs with a few of the bags. When I'm halfway up the staircase, I hear Rachel ask "So when can we do it again?" to my retreating figure. I don't even attempt to suppress a groan at my daughter's question, which I later realize was a joke after hearing her laughter come up behind me.

We spend the next few minutes unpacking her purchases and organizing them in her closet and dresser. In one afternoon, we had effectively managed to fill up the remaining half of her closet as well as the last three empty drawers of her dresser. Even for me, that's a major accomplishment. We agree to take quick showers before meeting back downstairs to enjoy our Thai takeout and a movie.

**-PA-**

Halfway through RENT, I observe Rachel drifting in and out of consciousness. It's times like these I wish she were younger because I would have gladly carried her up to her room. Alas, Rachel is not a toddler, but a growing teenager, who is more than capable of walking to her bedroom, if only with slight assistance. After I tuck her in, I simply gaze upon my daughter. For a moment, a sense of regret washes over me as I realize just how much I have truly missed in Rachel's life. I've been absent for most, if not all, of her major milestones and there are dozens of memories that we can never share. I choke back a sob as I return downstairs to clean up the mess we've created and to put away our leftovers.

I pass my office on my way back up, pausing for a moment before stepping inside and grabbing something. I emerge with the item in hand and turn off all the downstairs lights before returning upstairs. Stopping by Rachel's room once more, I take the recently retrieved "missing" sweater and place it over my daughter's desk chair. I kiss her forehead and move to lean in the doorway. As I watch my daughter, I recall the day we've just shared together and smile fondly as she turns in her sleep clinging to a stuffed animal I had purchased for her on a whim last week. Yawning deeply, I realize that it's time I too got some sleep.

In the five minutes it usually takes me to fall asleep, I lay in my bed in quiet contemplation and begin reassessing my actions concerning my daughter's attire. And as I drift off into unconsciousness, I'm surprised to see recollections of my daughter's now age appropriate wardrobe be overcome with dreams of the little girl in the animal print sweaters and pleated skirts that I never got to know.

* * *

Whew! After that, I think I need a nap

**Oh btw, I will totally dedicate the next chapter to the first person who spots the Idina reference* in this chapter. All may enter, only one will win. (That's not entirely true. I will gladly dedicate it to any and all who spot the reference)*****It was brought to my attention after my initial posting that there is at least 4 references. Apparently in my subconscious I'm an even bigger fan that I realize lol :D**

_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh? Review and let me know :)  
_(Seriously guys, seeing as this is my first story per say, whether I continue or give-up while I'm ahead, is up to you.)

_Till next time..._


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently I've had nothing BUT free-time lately lol so here we go! (Is it just me, or are these getting longer and longer...*shrug* oh well)

First things first. Last chapter I issued a slight challenge to you guys as to who could spot the Idina references. In total there were four. Initially I had only planned for one (#2), but I unconsciously added three more (#1, #3 & #4). So here they are, in the order in which they appear:

**#1**: Most people caught: _"...my daughter has managed to decorate the room and make it her own domain. She has painted the walls a light green, to rival the bright pink I know is in her room at the Berry house..." _Wicked Reference. Pink & Green to follow the line made by Glinda "Pink goes good with green."  
**#2**: Will come back to this one.  
**#3**: Again a few of you caught this one: _"A moment later, a young man appears by my side and is inquiring on whether or not I need any help..."Yes…well, my daughter is looking to replace a few things in her wardrobe. What can you do for us…" I take a second to look at his name tag, "Scott?"_" "Scott" is Taye Diggs', Idina's drop dead gorgeous husband's, real name.  
**#4**: Was probably the most obvious reference: "_Halfway through RENT, I observe Rachel drifting in and out of consciousness_." Idina originated the role of Maureen Johnson in both the stage and screen version of RENT.

Ok so about **#2**. Like **#1**, you had to have really been paying attention to detail to even notice it, as well as be relatively familiar to Broadway trivia. One person actually noticed it and I was so excited when they caught it :)  
**#2**: _On my part, I have always considered myself to be relatively chic in the fashion department, even going so far as to saying that my dress...has always been my strongest suit_. Reference? Aida! From Sept 2001-Jan 2002, Idina was a replacement for the role of Amneris, who's signature song is **Strongest Suit**. I managed to actually write it so it fit the song lyrics nearly verbatim. I was quite proud of myself bc it took me a while to rework it so the sentence would even make sense. If you've never heard the song before, check it out. It's honestly one of my favorites.

So thanks to: _smile-with-me, Drama Queen Sunniebunn, coolbird, MarlisaKristine, DreamsUnderstood, banjojd and Smartypink291. _Well done and for your efforts, this chapter is for you.

**A/N: **_Unfortunately, Rachel will not be making an appearance in this chapter. It appears she'd already made other plans and was thus unable to participate. She does send her love however :)_

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Only borrowing them for some mindless fluff and entertainment :D

* * *

As I grip the handle of the door before me, I can't help releasing some of the pent up frustration I have been harboring all day by wrenching it open, causing it to hit the adjacent wall with a satisfying thud. _Why?_ You may ask. Well, if you'd had a day like mine you would probably do the same. See, my day has just gotten increasingly worse as time wore on and it all began this morning when my damn alarm clock failed to go off…

******-PA-**

Now normally I'm woken up at 5:45 by the persistent beeping of my alarm clock. But for reasons unknown, today it chose to not beep at all, causing me to sleep until almost 7. When I did finally rouse from my slumber, feeling thoroughly yet unusually refreshed, I screamed as I caught sight of my watch. As I rushed to get up and out of bed, I got tangled up in my bed linens, fell over the bed, bumped my head against my night table and landed quite painfully on my ass. Thankfully, nothing was seriously injured but I'm sure I'll be sore for the next few days. With only forty minutes to get to work on time, I hobbled into the bathroom for a quick shower and was caught off guard when I turned on the taps and was hit with a blast of cold water. I'm pretty sure my neighbors three houses down heard me yelp in shock. Even as I turned on the hot water tap, the cold water kept coming. With a groan I realized the problem had to be my water heater.

With a determined breath, I straighten my shoulders and step back into the freezing cold spray to continue with my shower. Ten minutes later, my teeth chattering to the point it sounds like I have a constant drumroll in my head, I'm tearing through my closet looking for something to wear. While my daughter has insisted that I add a little color to my wardrobe, I rather like my dark and neutral tones as they embody the strong, independent woman that I am and reflect my resilient personality.

So, a simple, yet elegant dark blouse and a pair of black slacks it is. With my signature heels to add some much needed height, my outfit is complete. I apply a small amount of makeup as best I can as I run down the stairs into my kitchen for some much needed caffeine.

Having had the forethought to program my coffeemaker to coincide with my alarm several years prior, I plan to just grab a travel mug and pour out some of the heavenly brew to drink on my way to Carmel. Unfortunately as I enter the kitchen, I'm surprised not only to find that I don't smell the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans but also that most of my appliances are blinking 12:00. I realize now that the reason my alarm clock failed me was probably due to a freak power surge in the middle of the night. However, none of that matters to me right now because due to the damn power surge I have no coffee! No coffee means no energy. And that is just unacceptable considering I will not submit to the petty energy boost that instant coffee offers. I take a deep breath before looking around frantically for something, _anything_, to substitute my accustomed liquid breakfast.

As I rummage through the pantry, I pull out a box of chocolate breakfast bars that look promising. I grab one and rip the plastic packaging off before cramming it into my mouth, forgoing all practiced etiquette and ladylike behavior my mother ever instilled in me throughout my childhood. I chew it quickly and am just about to swallow when my tastebuds actually _register_ what's in my mouth. And just as quickly as I stuffed the bar into my mouth, I'm spitting it out into the nearby trashcan. Usually not one to turn away from anything chocolate, even I have to admit that that was just disgusting. I grab the box once more and inspect it. It doesn't take me long to realize why the hell I was so disappointed. In my haste to find a breakfast replacement, I had apparently crossed over into Rachel's side of the pantry that houses all of her vegan snacks. I release another sigh and replace the box in its rightful place before catching sight of my watch again. Dejectedly, I recognize I'm going to have to skip breakfast seeing as I now only have twenty-five minutes to get to Carmel on time. A feat that will be nearly impossible with the morning rush.

Grabbing my briefcase, my purse and my car keys, I head straight for the garage that houses my car. Tossing everything into the passenger seat, I open the garage door and peel out of my driveway as fast as I can. As I expected, the morning traffic was in full effect. And even more so because there is a pile up that has closed off one of the three available lanes. So as I sit in bumper to bumper traffic, I look over at other drivers and can't help but observe with a hint of jealousy that they all seem to be taunting me with their own cups of coffee.

With a new sense of determination, I cross lanes and exit to find the nearest Dunkin Donuts.

I really no longer care if I'm going to be late to work. Having had perfect attendance for the past five years and having coached Vocal Adrenaline to national titles, I think I'm allowed a pass every once in a while. I pull up to the drive thru and order the largest cup of coffee they offer. I pay for my purchase and take the offered cup from the attendant. Wrapping my fingers around the large, piping hot styrofoam cup, I inhale deeply and allow the steam to permeate through my car and waft into my nostrils. I take a quick sip and it's nothing short of heaven. I'd be more than content to just sit here and finish it, but the drivers behind me are getting agitated and are beeping at me to move on so they too may get their caffeine fix. I place my beverage in the convenient cup holder at my side and proceed to drive off and continue my journey to work. This time avoiding all major streets and taking only side roads.

**********-PA-**

Exactly fifteen minutes later as I'm pulling into a parking spot at Carmel High, I am convinced that my attendance record will actually remain intact.

And then the unthinkable happened.

As I was reaching over to grab my bags, my hand brushed against my coffee cup. And I watched, seemingly in slow motion, as my nearly full cup of coffee fell over and landed on my bags. It takes me a moment to process what has just occurred before I quickly pick up the cup before it can cause any more damage. Unfortunately I have no towels of any kind to clean up the mess and will have to wait till this afternoon to wipe down my now coffee stained leather seats. As I step out of my Range Rover, my coffee drenched belongings and half full coffee cup balanced rather precariously in my arms, I think with a hint of optmism that my day couldn't possibly get any worse.

Oh, how wrong I was.

I had barely completed the thought when the heavens opened up and in true clichéd fashion, it began to rain. I purse my lips ruefully as I'm pelted with heavy droplets of water and surprisingly even a little hail. Muttering several words under my breath that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush, I take off running for the front entrance of the school. Just as I am about to step under the awning over the front doors, I am alerted by a resounding _crack!_ that I have successfully broken one of the heels of my most favorite pair of shoes.

I enter the building and pause to gather my wits because I am _this_ close to just dropping everything and screaming out my frustrations in the middle of the hallway. With the little dignity and patience I have left, I clench my free hand into a tight fist and limp to my office amidst the puzzled stares of my fellow faculty members.

**********-PA-**

I enter my office and slam the door behind me, before resting against it in hopes of regaining some sort of hold on my fraying nerves. Sure I've had my bad days, but today must be some kind of record. It's almost like I've been fed some kind of bad karma cocktail because there is no way that everything that has occurred today is pure coincidence.

I drop my bags in one of the chairs positioned in front of my desk and first tend to my broken heel. Taking a seat, I inspect the damage and with an angry huff realize I have indeed damaged the shoe beyond repair. I take them off and replace them with the emergency pair of boots that I have always kept in my office in case an instance such as this ever occurred.

The next matter at hand it to take care of my bags and to assess the damage. Emptying the contents onto my desk, I sift through the soggy mess and retrieve all of the salvagable papers and toss out the sheets that are too warped and thus undecipherable. I am grateful that my phone, Ipod and laptop sustained little to no damage from the accident and begin to prepare myself for the day. I boot up my computer and print out the lessons plans that I will need for my first period class.

As I'm reading over a few emails, there is a knock at the door. I am in no mood to entertain, much less face, anyone until I absolutely have to. Regrettably whoever it is, is knocking rather urgently so I have no choice but to invite them in. I'm not at all surprised when Janie Roberts, a fellow English teacher but for the sophomore class, enters and promptly shuts the door behind her.

Of the entire Carmel faculty, Janie is probably the only one I willingly associate with. While we are not exactly bosom buddies, we have gone out to lunch a few times and frequently enjoy comparing notes on our classes during our shared lunch break. Additionally, Janie is also my window into all the gossip that runs rampant throughout the fine halls of Carmel High. So as she crosses the threshold into my office on this "wonderful" morning, there's no doubt in my mind it is because she wishes to share the latest tawdry detail that has befallen our fine institution. "Morning Janie," I say absentmindedly, as I continue to peruse my email.

"Shelby, you are not going to believe what I just heard!"

All of our conversations typically start the same, so without removing my eyes from my inbox I continue with our usual script. "You're right Janie, I probably won't. So fill me in." is my monotonous response. I then half-listen in as Janie relays to me about the apparent affair that has been occuring between Derek Jefferson, the gym teacher and Jackie Browne, one of the two home economics teachers who happens to be "happily married" with two children, if I remember correctly. She rambles on about something else she heard while in the break room this morning and I find myself zoning out rather easily as she happily repeats each conversation verbatim.

"…Any way Shelbs, just thought I'd fill you in," she tells me as she gets up and makes her way to the door. Before she leaves however, she turns back with a smile. "Oh and congratulations on your new coaching assistant. I heard he's quite the looker."

"Thanks Janie," I reply absently.

_Wait…what? _I finally look away from the computer monitor but discover Janie has already disappeared out of sight. Coaching assistant? What coaching assistant? I am about ready to hunt down my boss and investigate further into the matter, when the warning bell rings and signals that it's time to start my day.

I angrily snatch my lesson plans from my desk and walk off to my first period class. As I enter the classroom, my students are all chattering and talking so loudly that I have to close my eyes for a moment and just breathe out my annoyance at their immature antics. Initially I had planned to give them a break today considering I had just administered the very first exam of the semester only yesterday. But with my currently dismal mood and my temper approaching boiling point, I no longer care. So, it's with a smile that I call their attention to the front of the room. "Okay everyone, books away. Take out a sheet of paper and a writing utensil. Time for the year's first timed writing."

As wicked as it sounds, the mumbled groans and complaints of my juniors is music to my ears.

**********-PA-**

Several hours later, I have been granted a reprieve in the form of my lunch break. I drop by the cafeteria and grab a salad and bottled water before returning to the faculty lounge. In the corner of the room, I notice Janie seated at our usual table. And she's not alone. No, in fact sitting beside her is a young man who could probably pass for one of the students I have just left in the lunch room. And by the looks of it, the two of them only have eyes for each other. They're sitting so close to each other, I'm half expecting Janie to move into his lap any moment now.

Seeing as I'm not in the mood to be a third wheel in that love connection, I begin to survey the room for another place to eat my lunch. I spot a table with one lone chair and am prepared to walk over to it when Janie spots me.

"Oh! Shelby? Over here!" she calls out, garnering my attention.

I wince but cover it up with a quick smile when I turn to face her. As I approach the table, I look down at the pair of them and notice that what I had mistaken for flirting was actually the two of them going over a pile of papers. The man then flashes me a smile and extends his hand for me to shake.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Shelby, is it? You don't mind if I call you Shelby, right? Seeing as we're going to be working rather closely together from now on. Name's Dustin. Dustin Goolsby."

My gaze is nothing short of suspicious as it jumps from his hand to his overconfident smirk. As I peer more closely at the errant sheets on the table before us, I recognize lines, measures and music notes. And then it suddenly clicks. This…this…this _boy_ is my new coaching assistant!

Everything in me is screaming to wipe that smile off of his face, but instead I extend my hand to shake his own, tossing in an unexpected squeeze just for the hell of it. "Actually, you may call me Ms. Corcoran. And pleasure's all mine, Justin."

"Actually, it's uh, it's...it's Dustin."

"Whatever," is my indifferent response as I take a seat. A part of me is slightly puzzled as to where this sudden ferocity is coming from. I'm normally tolerable or even apathetic towards my competition, but there's _something_ about "Dustin" that irks me. And whatever that something is, it has created this almost _unadulterated loathing_ within me. I barely know the man but I already have absolutely no desire to become friendly with this "new coach" because as far as I'm concerned, Vocal Adrenaline is _my_ territory.

_I'm_ the one who neglected my own wants and needs to attend countless practices and rehearsals.

_I'm_ the one who sacrificed four years of my life to ensure that the wealthy boosters were kept happy and satisfied.

And _I'm_ the one who spent endless amounts of my time and energy whipping those kids into the award winning team they currently are! So _how __dare__ he come in here and try to take that away from me_, I seethe.

Instead of beating my new "co-coach" senseless, however, I take my anger out on my salad, violently stabbing at an otherwise helpless piece of lettuce before shoving it in my mouth. I ignore all of "Dustin's" attempts to speak to me, either constantly putting a piece of food into my mouth or striking up a conversation with Janie. I'm well aware I'm acting like a petulant and defiant adolescent but once again, I lack the energy to care.

**********-PA-**

After lunch, there is only two more hours left in the school day. Of those two hours, the first will be spent overseeing my AP English Literature class as they complete our planned exam on the sonnets of William Shakespeare. In the silence, I am lulled into a sort of daze by the scratching of my students' pens and pencils against their test booklets. I release a low breath and allow myself to relax for what is probably the first time today. As my students complete the exam, I pull out the set-list that VA will be practicing today and go over it, making necessary changes and notes as needed.

When the bell rings, I gather the completed exams and wish my students a good weekend before disappearing into my office for the remainder of the day. I'm thankful I don't have a last period class because it allows me to prepare the auditorium beforehand for the routine glee practice after school, so I'm not wasting valuable time checking lights and doing sound checks when we could very well be practicing.

A quick check of the auditorium turns up that everything is up and running to my satisfaction, so I return to my office to grade the pile of papers that are currently sitting on my desk. I am halfway through the stack, when my office phone rings. Forgoing picking up the handset, I simply put the call on speakerphone. "Shelby Corcoran."

"_Hey Shelby, its Dustin…_" Oh, joy.

"What can I do for you Justin?" I ask, my attention remaining on the more important task at hand: grading my students' papers.

"_It's Dustin…Anyway, I was wondering if you'd be okay if I was a little late to practice today. Something…uh, just came up and I have to pop out for a bit. But rest assured, I will be back in time to help out and watch you in your element,_" he tells me brightly. I feel the bile rise in my throat and my flesh crawl at his cheerfulness.

"Sure. Take your time. I'm sure I can handle it without you," I assure him. _After all, I have been doing it for years now_.

"_Great, see you in an hour or so. Can't wait to start working together. It's gonna be great!_"

"Looking forward to it," I say with very little enthusiasm. I end the call and try my best to return my full attention to the pile before me. But, once again, I'm interrupted by the ringing of a phone. This time however, it's my cell. Again, I activate the speakerphone. "Shelby Corcoran."

"_Hey Shelby. Will Schuester here."_

"Well if it isn't my favorite rival," I tell him jokingly. "How are you, Will?"

When I had given my card to Schuester all those months ago, I had no idea that he would be calling me as often as he has. Granted, our conversations have nothing to do with his confusing personal life, but rather my daughter. I find it humorous that Will always seems to pick up the phone to update me of my daughter's activities every chance he gets. And it seems that he has turned to me more often than Rachel's fathers. Ideally, I had assumed it was because he thought I would understand Rachel better through our shared love of music and thus be able to get through to her. But my common sense tells me that I'm simply the easiest parent to get a hold of during the school day seeing as he and I both work the same hours.

"_I'm good Shelby, thanks for asking. I was wondering if you had a minute. It's…kind of important._"

I can already see where this conversation is going. So I sit back in my chair and heave a sigh before asking the million dollar question. "What has she done _now_?"

"_Uh, actually, I'd rather not discuss this over the phone. Any chance you can stop by McKinley some time today?" _

Okay, my attention is officially piqued because whatever it is must be serious if it warrants a parent-teacher conference of sorts. Disregarding my own responsibilities to Vocal Adrenaline after school, I begin to pack up my office and haphazardly stuff my things into my purse and briefcase. "I can be there in twenty minutes. Is that okay?"

"_Don't you have glee practice today?"_

I roll my eyes. Will Schuester, ladies and gentlemen, the ever concerned teacher and father figure. "Yes _Dad_," I drawl sarcastically, "but I'm sure they can make do without me for a bit. So see you in twenty minutes."

I practically hear his eyes rolling on the other end before he chuckles. "_See you then, Shelby."_

I end the call and virtually sprint down the hall towards the parking lot, stopping for a moment when I see a few of my students standing by their lockers. I quickly inform them that I have slightly delayed practice from its usual 2:30 to 3 and to kindly pass it on to the rest of their teammates. Having attended to the needs of my Carmel kids, I head across town to attend to my own wayward daughter.

**********-PA-**

…And that is how found myself entering the halls of McKinley High.

I quickly check in at the front desk and ask to be directed to Will's office. With the exact route in mind, I rounded the corner and make my way down the hall. I rap once or twice on the door and am greeted by Will as he steps aside to let me in. "Glad you could make it, Shelby."

"Cut the small talk, Schuester. What's going on?" I then listen in as Will informs me of Rachel's latest offense, my eyes widening greatly with each detail at what I'm being told. "She…did…_what_!" My voice reverberates around Will's office causing a few passerbyers to stop and look in at us strangely.

By now, I know I'm staring back at Will Schuester as if he's grown another head or just told me he used to be a woman. In short, my face is the epitome of absolute shock and disbelief.

My eyes drop and I stare into my lap as I struggle to process everything Will has just told me. Apparently, during the past week, Schuester and his merry band of misfits have been trying to recruit new members. Their attempts had initially been unsuccessful since glee club is still at the bottom of the social hierarchy here at McKinley.

Or at least that's what they had thought until a foreign exchange student expressed her possible interest in trying out. Everything had been fine…up until my dear daughter heard the young woman sing.

And it all went downhill from there.

It would seem that my sweet, lovable and innocent little girl, out of fear of being dethroned as the uncontested star of her glee club, sent the poor girl to a crackhouse. _A crackhouse_! Will has been adamant to keep reminding me that it was not an active crackhouse. But a _crackhouse_ is still a _crackhouse_!

_How the hell does Rachel even know _what _a crackhouse _is_, much less _where_ to _find_ one? _

Thoughts of my daughter wandering through the seedier parts of town bombard my mind and I immediately begin contemplating if Hiram and Leroy would consider home-schooling as an alternative to Rachel's public school education. I would gladly quit my job and become her personal tutor if it meant she would never have to leave the house again.

"Um, Shelby?"

Will's voice eventually filters through my haze and I look up to catch the worry in his eyes. "I-I'll talk to her. Thanks for calling me, Will." I offer what I hope is a smile, but am sure came out more as a painful grimace, and move to leave.

"Hey, Shelby?" I turn back to Will and see that he is wearing a slight smile. "I am sorry, but, I'm glad I was wrong." At my furrowed brow, he continues. "About you and Rachel. Clearly you're more committed to her than I intially thought."

I accept his apology and this time I return the smile he's giving me before I exit the office. Truthfully after the implied confrontation with Will, I had been more than determined not just to prove him wrong, but to prove to myself that I was really ready for the drama, the headache and the confusion raising a teenager encompassed.

And as I stood in the vacant hallway, I realized, I would gladly take the chaos and the confusion if it simply meant having Rachel in my life.

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_**Poor Shelby! Geez, I promise to try and keep her out of harm's way from now on. Scout's honor!**_

_**FYI**_-Shelby's morning is not fictional! It actually happened to me last week. Except for the head injury part, I did sustain a mild concussion, after falling out of my bed. Not fun, but definitely funny in the long run lol

Anyway as you can see, I've taken some big liberties here. And I'm really, really hoping I haven't written myself in a corner because of it. So depending on how the next few episodes go, we'll see where I go from here. That means you guys won't be getting an update till Wednesday...the earliest *ducks to avoid any thrown fruit*

Once again, I'm issuing the challenge bc I got a few emails saying that people thought it was fun to look out for stuff. This time around I am absolutely postive that there is only one reference in this chapter. I've referred to it at least 3 times, but all the clues lead back to the same reference. Good luck :)

You know the drill...  
_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh? Review and let me know :)_

_Till next time..._


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! I'm back with an update. Let's hope I don't disappoint...

But before I get to that...last chapter's reference. It was from Wicked, the song _What is This Feeling_? [keywords/hints: wicked & unadulterated loathing]  
So congrats to: _Soul Rider, MarlisaKristine*, Drama Queen Sunniebunn*, smile-with-me, musicluver4ever11, and banjojd. _Nice job guys. (*Side note: you two pointed out a reference I truly didn't even consider because I wasn't sure how well known that interview was :D, so well done)

**A/N: From here on out, I will be deviating a bit more than I already have. Also, the previous chapter, this chapter and more than likely the one following this one will all be directly interconnected. Meaning they follow a day by day pattern as opposed to the month by month pattern that is evident in the previous chapters. Any questions, feel free to message me, email me or ask in a review. I'll get back to you as soon as I can **:)

_(Oh, and yes Rachel will be making an appearance this chapter and if you haven't already, definitely check out Changed for the Better by Gleeks09. Awesome story! If you think my Shelby is cool, you'll definitely like Gleeks' :D )_

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_**From Chapter 3:**_

_"Um, Shelby?"_

_Will's voice eventually filters through my haze and I look up to catch the worry in his eyes. "I-I'll talk to her. Thanks for calling me, Will." I offer what I hope is a smile, but am sure came out more as a painful grimace, and move to leave._

_"Hey, Shelby?" I turn back to Will and see that he is wearing a slight smile. "I am sorry, but, I'm glad I was wrong." At my furrowed brow, he continues. "About you and Rachel. Clearly you're more committed to her than I intially thought."_

_I accept his apology and this time I return the smile he's giving me before I exit the office. Truthfully after the implied confrontation with Will, I had been more than determined not just to prove him wrong, but to prove to myself that I was really ready for the drama, the headache and the confusion raising a teenager encompassed._

_And as I stood in the vacant hallway, I realized, I would gladly take the chaos and the confusion if it simply meant having Rachel in my life..._

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Prior to my meeting with Will, I had every intention of returning to Carmel after talking to him in order to commence practice with Vocal Adrenaline. But after our little chat, I'm more than willing to let my students wait just a little longer so I may confront my daughter on her latest transgression. Pulling out my phone I'm about to text Rachel to find out whether or not she's free after school, and if not tonite, when something else catches my eye. Or rather, _someone_.

Up the hall and fast approaching is none other than my new assistant. Jus—um—Dustin. My initial thought is to step right up to him and ask him what business he could possibly have here at McKinley. Unfortunately such a question leaves room for a follow up question as to my own business here. And while I am in no shape or form ashamed of my daughter, I _am_ more than content to keep my private life just that. Private. My coworkers have never been privy to my life outside of school and VA and I see no reason why that should change just because Rachel is now a part of it. Therefore I am left with only one option. And it goes against everything I am and everything I believe in.

I am going to hide.

A quick glance around my surroundings and I formulate a quick escape route by ducking around the nearest corner. Bracing myself against the wall, I discreetly peek around the corner, with some assistance from my makeup compact, praying to any deity that will listen, that under no circumstances will Dustin see me. Apparently my prayers are heard because not only does he stop coming my way, but he has also paused about halfway down the hall. I watch on as he knocks, on a door I'd imagine, before slipping out of sight.

Now while I'm well aware I can now escape from McKinley through the front door if I so choose, I must admit that my curiosity has officially gotten the best of me. And logic be damned, I want to know what the hell Dustin is doing here. I emerge from my less than stellar hiding place and make my way down the hall. When I finally arrive at the halfway point, I encounter two doors and behind one of them lies my new assistant. I look between the two, one to my left and the other to my right and choose the one to my right because I'm more than positive that while Mr. Goolsby may not seem like the brightest crayon in the box in my book, he certainly wouldn't drive halfway across town to sit in a janitor's closet. Thus leaving me to gawk at the office door of one Sue Sylvester. I grip the handle of the door and am quite tempted to burst in and inquire as to what exactly is going on between these two. Because whatever it is cannot be good. For New Directions or Vocal Adrenaline.

_But what good would that do?_

For all I know I could truly be interrupting a simple social call. Although I doubt that's what this meeting is about. _Or_ I could be interrupting some diabolical scheme that these two are plotting to put into motion. Either way, if I am to burst in guns ablazing I run the risk of making a complete fool of myself. And that is not exactly a risk I'm willing to take. Especially considering how well my luck has been going today, I'm going to have to decline on confronting these two. I quickly balance my options and settle for listening in on this conversation. This way I can find out what's going on, take the necessary actions if needs be and leave these two unaware of my possible counterattack. I press my ear against the door and attempt to listen in to the muffled voices within. Alas, I've made up my mind too late as it seems most of the important details have already been shared and I only catch the tail end of the conversation.

"Schuester won't even know what hit him."

"That's the plan. Thanks again, Sue."

_This cannot be good_. I don't bother sticking around for the final formalities. The meeting is about to end and I am still standing directly outside of Sue's office. There are no available walls to hide around and the damn janitor's closet is locked. So before Dustin can conclude his "business meeting" I head for the nearest exit and straight to my car. If I'm lucky I'll make it back to Carmel and—

My ringing cell phone cuts through the air as I'm pulling out of McKinley's vistors lot. Blindly rifling through the contents of my purse, I dig out my phone and check the caller ID screen only to see that it's Rachel calling me. "Hey Hon. What's up?"

"Mom? Are you or were you at my school by any chance? Because I'm pretty sure I saw you run passed my classroom like five minutes ago..."

_I wasn't running, was I? _I chuckle nervously before responding. "Umm, no. I'm…still at work," I fib with little to no remorse. "Actually Rach, I'm glad you called. Are you free tonite?"

**-PA-**

I continue my conversation with my daughter, finalizing our plans for tomorrow. Her dads are going to drop her off at ballet in the morning. Afterwards, I'm going to pick her up and we'll go from there.

The remainder of my return trip to Carmel is spent listening to Rachel as she tells me about her day, including the results of a test she recently aced thanks to our late night study sessions and an English paper that she's probably going to need my help with. After instructing her to bring the assignment sheet with her tomorrow, I say goodbye just as I'm pulling into the Carmel parking lot.

Like this morning, I managed to get to Carmel in record timing, breaking several traffic laws on the way. But I really don't care. As long as I beat Dustin here. I quicken my pace after glancing at my watch. I have exactly five minutes to get to the auditorium to start Vocal Adrenaline's scheduled practice on time. I enter the school and the staccato beat of my heels hitting the tiles echoes around me, increasing in tempo as I run to the other side of the school.

I finally arrive at my destination, struggling to breathe but with two minutes to spare, and enter the massive auditorium. It's dark and cool just the way I like it. This room has acted as my own private sanctuary on several separate occasions since I became the coach of Vocal Adrenaline. Throughout the ups and downs of my career and my life, I've been able to come here and sort everything out. It also holds quite a bit of sentimental value for me. It was here I had been offered the position of coach of the glee club after I had successfully directed and produced the winter musical my first year here at Carmel. But most recently, and certainly most importantly, it was here that Rachel and I were reunited. And while several events may attempt to come close to that encounter, nothing will ever compare to how I felt the day I got to hold my daughter again.

I take a seat at my desk and am organizing my notes and sheet music when my team enters through the heavy steel doors behind me. They create a formal, organized line as they walk down the aisle and onto the stage. Just like I've taught them. After four years of working with me, my kids know I don't tolerate nonsense and they have all adjusted their attitudes and arrogant behaviors accordingly. After quickly taking attendance, I order them to take their places on the stage. With Jesse and Andrea having graduated this past June, I have had to promote two of my most capable sophmores to take on the two leads. While Jessica Banks and Leo Thoms can never replace my two former students, with the proper teaching and guidance they could come quite close. I'm also pretty sure that they could even carry this year's team to Sectionals and beyond. And that's all that matters to the wealthy board that represents Carmel's booster club.

I allow them some time for a few vocal warm ups as the band gets situated before we get into the finer details of our usually arduous practice sessions.

**-PA-**

We are halfway through practicing our first number, when I hear the double doors open again. I don't need to turn around to know that it's my assistant. Seeing as everyone else at Carmel knows better than to enter the auditorium during VA's practices unless it is of the utmost importance. "Ah, Mr. Goolsby, so glad you could join us," I comment sardonically, without taking my eyes of the routine. "I hope your business was profitable."

"You could say that."

Something in his tone catches my attention. It is almost as if it has become even more confident and self-assured since we'd last spoken. And I don't like it. I send my kids on a quick break to grab a Redbull before I turn around to call him on it and hopefully deflate his ego, but I'm shocked to find he is not alone. Rather he has a young woman of Asian descent standing beside him. I stand to look him in the eye and offer a smile in the direction of the young woman. "And who might this be?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"I'd like you to meet our newest member and our new star," he announces, throwing his arm across my shoulders. "Shelby Corcoran, meet Sunshine Corazon. Sunshine, this is Ms. Corcoran, my co-coach."

I physically bite my tongue and clench my fingers into fists in order to stop myself from inflicting harm on Dustin for his senseless actions. I shrug off his arm and extend my hand to Sunshine with a bright smile. "It's nice to meet you, Sunshine." I watch her hesitantly take my hand, all the while eyeing me suspiciously. I usually don't let such things bother me, but I admit it is a little unsettling considering I've just met the girl. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, um, it's nothing Ms. Corcoran. It's just that you look kind of familiar. Like someone from my old school."

"Oh?" I ask, genuinely surprised that I may have a doppleganger walking around Lima. "And which school would that be?"

"McKinley High."

_Oh. My. God. This _cannot_ be the girl Rachel was so afraid of._ _Can it?_ I plaster on my best showface to hide my apparent shock at Sunshine's recent divulgence "Well…I suppose…I just have…one of those faces," I stammer out. "Sunshine, could you excuse me for a minute, I need a moment with my _assistant_." Before she can even answer the question, I've already grabbed Dustin by his sleeve and dragged him a few rows back. "What the hell are you playing at, Goolsby? You went behind my back and recruited a student from a rival team!"

"Sorry, but an opportunity presented itself and I had to act fast. Trust me on this one, Shelbs. The girl's good. Real good." He then turns his back on me, not a very smart move by the way, to talk to Sunshine. "Hey, Sunshine, why don't you get up on the stage and show Ms. Corcoran what you can do."

I watch the girl make her way down the aisle and join the band on the stage. After she's outfitted with a mic, she informs her provisional audience that she will be singing Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You. I sigh and hope to god that my assistant is not wasting my time.

Admittedly, I do want to hear just what Rachel was so afraid of. Because if there's one thing my little girl has inherited from me, it's my flexible vocal talents. So to have learned earlier from Will that Rachel felt threatened by a fellow student has left me feeling a bit disconcerted over my daughter's confidence in her own abilities. _Then again. _My eyes flit over to the young woman currently standing on my stage and I cross my arms as my eyes remain fixed on her with a contemplative gaze. Could she really be that _good_? My question is then answered when Sunshine begins to sing. My jaw immediately drops and out of the corner of my eye I can see Dustin's smile widening.

As I continue to listen to Sunshine belt out the classic, I begin to realize I'm silently fighting an internal battle. As a mother and as a coach. As a mother, I find myself scoffing and siding with my daughter's far superior talents. But as an educator and coach, I have to admit that Sunshine is good. _Very good_. And her talents would be a fantastic addition to my team.

Except…

I do not like how her talents have been acquired in the first place. I lower my gaze from the stage to Dustin, who is still wearing that smug grin of his.

"Didn't I tell you? Is she something or what?"

"How did you hear about her?" I ask, completely disregarding his own comment.

"Friend of a friend." He shrugs.

I step forward until we are nearly toe to toe and I'm thankful for the height provided by my boots because I can at least look into his eyes as he attempts to lie to me. "I'm not going to ask you again Dustin." I watch with mild satisfaction as his eyes dart to the side and I then wait patiently for him to answer my question.

"Look…I got a heads up from a friend," he finally answers. "Apparently one of Schuester's kids, the bratty, bossy resident diva by what I'm told, couldn't handle a little competition. So I figured I'd be a team player and offer Sunshine a spot on a team that would really appreciate her. I already got it signed off on by Principal Richards and the head of the booster club. They're all for it. Even agreed to sponser her mom and work towards getting temporary residency."

By now, I'm well aware I'm blatantly and unashamedly glaring at the man before me. And there are currently several reasons bouncing around my head as to why he deserves the left hook I am just itching to deliver to his cheekbone. One being he has just insulted my child. Granted Rachel can be a bit of a diva, but I don't appreciate it when other people, especially people I'm not too fond of, point that out to me. And two, it's only his first day on the job and he has already shown that he has absolutely no respect for me, considering he went behind my back and approached the principal _and_ the board about this decision without even consulting me first.

Lastly, he has absolutely no qualms about playing dirty.

I do realize I should be the last person to judge anyone on using underhanded tactics to get what they want, mainly after what I went through last year with Jesse just to _meet_ my daughter, but even I can admit when some things go too far. And this situation definitely fits the bill. "Listen and listen good Goolsby. No more tricks, secret meetings or stealing rivals' prospective members. As my _assistant_, anything and everything must go through me first and foremost before it goes anywhere else," I tell him in a harsh whisper, so as not to attract the attention of the students who are lounging about a few rows down. "I run a respectable and honest team and I would like to keep it that way. Are we clear?" We continue to stare each other down for what seems like hours, but are only mere minutes before Dustin offers another one of his crooked smiles. He steps closer to me, invading what is left of my personal space, causing me to take a reluctant step back.

"Look _Shelby_," he says, adding unnecessary emphasis to my name. "The board brought me on because they thought I could be a great asset to you. If you don't agree, feel free to take that issue up with them. But as long as we do have to work together, I think it would be best if you showed me a little respect, if you ever expect to get any in return. Are _we_ clear?" He doesn't wait for my response, instead preferring to sidestep around me and begin his walk down the aisle to the flock of students who are now greeting their newest member. "Oh and _Ms. Corcoran_," he turns and calls out, "I came here to win. So, if that's not on your agenda then I don't see us working very well together. If at all."

I silently begin to seethe, my breathing becoming rapid and the muscles in my jaw spasming to the point that it's almost painful, as I watch him interact with my team. It's then that I realize that for the first time since we'd met, I actually agreed with something Dustin said. We weren't going to work together very well at all.

**-PA-**

"Rachel, for the last time I don't care if it was active or not!" I rub my temples as I peruse the shelves for the item I am currently looking for.

It's Saturday. The day after my little run in with Dustin and I admit I'm still reeling from it. I mean the man actually had the gall to try and intimidate me. _Me_? Shelby Corcoran! And using my own methods at that!

I try to shake my head free of anything VA and Goolsby related. Attempting to return my focus on the task at hand. Last night as I was going over a few set-lists, I realized that I was out of blank sheet music paper. So, after picking up Rachel from her ballet class, I decided to stop by the local music store to pick up some more. During the ride, I tackled the latest issue with Rachel. And it's all we've talked about since we arrived here half an hour ago.

"But Mom you didn't _hear_ her! There was no way my teammates were going to even _consider_ keeping me around if she tried out," Rachel argues desperately.

"Rachel…" I begin, but the statement dies on my lips. I turn away from the shelf and look down into my daughter's dark brown eyes. And I sadly realize she truly believes that. For what is probably the hundreth time since we've met, I'm reminded of just how delicate and vulnerable my little girl truly is. She hasn't as yet attained that firm, unwavering confidence in her abilities as I have in mine. The confidence that comes after years of having to prove yourself to others. Of having to fight for what you want because fact is, for most of her life, Rachel has never had a true rival in the talent department. For years she has always been the top contender. But now for the first time, she found her title threatened and rather than use her gifts to battle it out, she took the low road.

I cock my head to the side as I absently study her. Her breathing has become somewhat erratic since we began the conversation. Additionally, she's been wringing her hands in front of her since we got out of the car. But what truly worries me is that she's not even smiling. Actually, she doesn't even look all that happy. Period. And that's just odd considering we're standing in the middle of a music store. I mean if Rachel had to depict her own personal heaven, this would probably be it! Yet she doesn't even seem to recognize where we are. I reach down and tilt her chin up so she looks at me. "Rach, Honey, I'm not saying this as your mom, but as one talented person to another," I tell her with a wink, "you are without a doubt one of the most talented people I have ever met. And if you don't think so, then we've got a serious problem...

"Now, if you truly plan on going off to make it big in the world, Broadway or otherwise, you are going to encounter people who are on par with your talents and some who could very well be better. But you shouldn't think that just because they may not be on your level that you're automatically inferior. Instead, try to take notes or congratulate them for thriving in an area where you couldn't. And hey, you never know, maybe you could even pick up a few tips that could help you perfect your own skills. OK?" I expect her to respond in kind, but I am puzzled when she doesn't. I furrow my brow as I really and truly look at my daughter. While it appears she's been looking at me for the past few minutes, she seems to have this far off look in her eyes. "Rachel? Rachel!"

"Huh? What?" my daughter replies, completely befuddled.

"Did you even _hear_ a _word_ I just said?"

"Mom…that guy's been watching you for like the past ten minutes. And he's kinda cute."

I roll my eyes. Great she wasn't even listening, and I had just delivered one of the most inspirational speeches I have ever given during my recent tenure as an active parent and mom. "Rachel," I sigh and return to searching for the damn packets of sheet music. I honestly don't care if any guy is staring at me. With my new role as parent, plus my work schedule I barely have time to _admire _a member of the opposite sex much less _date _one. _So what do I care?_

"_Mooom_!" Rachel begins tugging on my jacket urgently. Almost like an insistent toddler, who isn't getting her way.

While I'm sure it would be endearing under any other circumstances, I don't have the patience right now. "_Rachel_," I hiss, slapping her hands away. "I don't care. Let him stare. If I'm lucky, maybe _he_ can help me find the sheet music, since you are of no use at the moment."

"But _Mom_!" Rachel cries.

I take a deep breath before standing up to my full height. "Rachel. Don't make me—" My sentence is cut short as I find that my daughter has effectively spun me around in the opposite direction and I am now facing my apparent 'stalker', who is standing a few feet away in the next aisle over.

And for what I'm sure is the first time in all my life, I'm rendered completely speechless…

* * *

Hmmm...who could this "stalker" be? lol. Guess we'll just have to wait and see. I admit I have a few ideas, but it's always a possiblity I may change my mind if suggested to think otherwise. Don't think there are any references, unless you guys know something I don't lol

Anyway you guys know the drill...  
_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh? Review and let me know :)_

_Till next time..._


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys. Sorry for the delay. School, work and just life in general all got in the way (unfortunately). Anyway, as always, thanks for the reviews, alerts and messages. They are much appreciated!

But yea, look what I've got...an update!

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* * *

From Chapter 4:

_"Mom…that guy's been watching you for like the past ten minutes. And he's kinda cute."_

_I roll my eyes. Great she wasn't even listening, and I had just delivered one of the most inspirational speeches I have ever given during my recent tenure as an active parent and mom. "Rachel," I sigh and return to searching for the damn packets of sheet music. I honestly don't care if any guy is staring at me. With my new role as parent, plus my work schedule I barely have time to admire a member of the opposite sex much less date one. So what do I care?_

_"Mooom!" Rachel begins tugging on my jacket urgently. Almost like an insistent toddler, who isn't getting her way._

_While I'm sure it would be endearing under any other circumstances, I don't have the patience right now. "Rachel," I hiss, slapping her hands away. "I don't care. Let him stare. If I'm lucky, maybe he can help me find the sheet music, since you are of no use at the moment."_

_"But Mom!" Rachel cries._

_I take a deep breath before standing up to my full height. "Rachel. Don't make me—" My sentence is cut short as I find that my daughter has effectively spun me around in the opposite direction and I am now facing my apparent 'stalker', who is standing a few feet away in the next aisle over._

_And for what I'm sure is the first time in all my life, I'm rendered completely speechless…_

And the drama continues...

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Oh, _shit_," is my intelligent response when I'm eventually shaken out of my stupor by Rachel incessantly tugging on my sleeve, again.

I shake my head and blink several times, just to be sure I'm seeing straight. I have to say, _he_ was certainly the last person I thought we could possibly come across on our little outing. Truthfully, he wasn't even _on_ the list of people I had expected to run into. And that's saying a lot considering it was an exceptionally lengthy list.

A few more minutes pass and I realize I'm staring, but I can't seem to tear my eyes away. I suppose it's because I'm still hoping there's a possibility it's not who I think it is. My hopes are quickly slashed when he finally looks up at me.

I immediately consider ignoring the paper I initially came here for, grabbing Rachel and making a run for the door, back to my car. But that idea is quickly nullified as my supposed stalker flashes me a smile and a friendly wave, which I halfheartedly return, before he walks over and joins Rachel and me.

"_Mom_, huh? Wow…I have to say Shelby, I never took you for the maternal type."

I find his toothy grin a little unnerving and unconsciously move Rachel behind me, where she can remain somewhat out of sight. "Yes, well, proves how well you know me, doesn't it?" I reply, eyeing my 'new acquaintance' carefully.

As I look him over, I must admit he hasn't changed much in the nearly twenty years since I've seen him. He still has the "athletic-nerd" thing going for him. Underneath the navy sweatshirt and baggy jeans he's wearing, I'm almost positive there is still evidence of the strict diet and workout regimen he'd kept up during high school and well into our college years. He still has the same wide grin. Almost wolf-like as I admire it now, but still as bright as I remember. Same strong chin, and near perfect bone structure, which is only enhanced by his flawless dark complexion. And just like old times, I make the fatal mistake of looking into his eyes. In my youth I had always fallen prey to guys with dark brown eyes and his had been no exception. Even behind his ever present dark-rimmed glasses, they always seemed to have this mischievous glint in them, more so when he'd looked at me right before—

_Woah!_ I bring my thoughts to a screeching halt, mentally slapping myself for where I nearly went. _Definitely _not _going there…_

"Well, it was great seeing you," I announce amidst the awkward silence that has befallen our little group, "but we've got an appointment to get to, and we're already running late. So…bye!" I grab hold of my daughter's hand, which is still latched onto my sleeve, and move to drag her along with me. However I get no further than my initial step as Rachel has stubbornly decided to dig in her heels and then absolutely refuse to budge.

"No we don't," Rachel pipes in, her perky rebuttal causing me to wince and my back to tense in annoyance. "You said in the car we were stopping for the sheet paper and then going home so we could get started on my English assignment."

I roll my eyes with added exaggeration before I elbow Rachel subtly in her side. I plaster on a fake smile and turn to face her. "No, _Sweetie_. Remember? My appointment at twelve?" I tell her through clenched teeth. Unfortunately my meaning flies right over Rachel's head and falls flat as she blinks in confusion before announcing it is well after one. I restrain myself from hitting my head repeatedly against a nearby column over my daughter's naïveté. Clearly I have more to work on with Rachel other than her self-confidence issues.

Heaving a sigh, I turn around and return to where I previously stood in order to face _him_. It seems he has found some amusement in our conversation as he is obviously fighting back a few chuckles at my current predicament. Unable to hold them in much longer, however, he releases a few deep belly laughs, doubling over and clutching his stomach, attracting the attention of a few other patrons that are also in our near vicinity.

Pursing my lips and quirking an eyebrow, I give him a minute to catch his breath, though I still fail to see the humor in the situation. Glancing at my watch and crossing my arms over my chest, I sigh. "Are you done?"

He finally stands upright and inhales deeply in an attempt to regulate his breathing. When he finally composes himself, he looks between Rachel and I, and this time offers us a genuine smile. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean anything. I was just in the old neighborhood and thought I'd check out a few of the old spots. I never thought I'd actually run into anybody. Not even you. But…I can see you're pretty busy, so how about we table this reunion for a later date," he suggests amicably. He pulls out a business card and holds it out for me to take. When I make no move to do so, he offers it to Rachel, who willing reaches around me and grabs a hold of it. "My cell number is on there. If, I mean, _when_ you feel ready to catch up, give me a call. I look forward to hearing from you." He offers a mock salute and walks off down the aisle.

"What makes you so sure I'll call?" I yell out, before he disappears around the corner.

He turns his head and tosses a smirk over his shoulder. "Cause I _know_ you, Shel. You'll call." And with that he's gone, leaving me shocked and angry at his arrogant display of boldness.

Meanwhile, Rachel has moved from behind me to stand before me, her eyes glued to the card she received only moments ago. "Dr. Nathanial Walker, pediatrician," she reads. She flips it over a few times, admiring it from all possible angles before looking up to me. "He an old friend or something, Mom?"

I look down to my daughter, with a grim smile. "Or something." Is all I manage to say before finally spotting the packs of paper that I have been valiantly searching for, for the past hour, sitting on the bottom most shelf. Grabbing two, I hastily make my way to the register and then to my car, intent on getting home as quickly as possible.

Because while I normally enjoy surprises, I can't help feeling I've more than filled my quota for the day.

**-PA-**

By the time we arrive back home, my head is once again reeling. And I'm sure Rachel is worried that her dear mother may be losing her mind by the way she keeps glancing at me out of the corner of her eye every five mintues. I pull into the garage and put the car into park but make no moves to exit the vehicle. Preferring instead to lean forward and rest my head on the steering wheel, in hopes of slowing everything down in a world that is quickly spinning out of control.

Like most people, I'd imagine, I've never liked _not_ being in control. Actually, if there's one thing I've always prided myself on, it's the fact that no matter how bad things got I have always managed to remain level-headed so as to be coherent enough to handle whatever life managed to throw at me. Whether in my personal life or at work, there have been only a handful of times that I may have lost my cool, but for the most part I've been able to keep my life relatively sound. But now, under current circumstances I can feel my world slowly unraveling and my sanity along with it.

"Mom?"

I turn my head to the side and catch the worry that is easily evident in my daughter's dark eyes. She doesn't continue, and she doesn't have to. Because I can hear the unasked question loud and clear. '_Are you okay_?' And fact of the matter is, I honestly don't know. Between helping Rachel through her multiple adolescent crises, glee club practices, work, dealing with Dustin and now Nathanial's return, I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be able to maintain what little sanity I have left. "I'm fine, Baby." I offer Rachel a smile, not one of my brightest but enough to get my point across.

We pile out of the car and enter the house. Rachel heads straight to her room to get started on her homework. I follow behind with intentions of taking a look at her English assignment, but I am quickly shooed out of the room by my daughter who instructs me to go to my own bedroom and lie down. Because apparently, 'I don't look too good'. When I refuse to do as I'm told, Rachel gets up from her desk chair with her arms folded and fixes me with a surprisingly startling glare.

Let me just say that I think my daughter has clearly been spending _way_ too much time with me, if she's already picked up on, and completely mastered, my mannerisms.

"Mom, I'm serious. You need to lie down," Rachel tells me. "While you refuse to give me any details about your _friend,_ Dr. Walker, I would imagine that there is some history between you two based on how you reacted when you saw him and the conversation that ensued. And seeing him today probably brought a lot of memories back to the surface…"

She has no idea.

"…in addition, you have also been exceptionally busy with work lately. You said yourself that you had administered several exams and dozens of take-home essays this past week and I'll bet you neglected several nights' sleep so as to grade them and get them all back to your students on time…

Right again.

"…and if that isn't enough, there are still Vocal Adrenaline practices and your new assistant to contend with. Personally I think you _should_ just let him have 'it' like you keep saying you will because he obviously needs to have some sense knocked into him and I think you'd be the best person to do so. Nonetheless, you need to get some _rest_. You can help me with my assignment later and if not, there's always tomorrow, seeing as I'm not leaving till later in the evening anyway. So we have plenty of time. Now, go…to…sleep!"

This time I truly smile down at my little girl. "Okay, okay. I'm going." Placing a kiss in her hair, I head for the door. "Wake me if you need anything."

"Mooom, I'm not ten," Rachel whines as I enter my bedroom. "If I need anything, I'm more than capable of getting it myself."

"Humor me, Honey,"I call back jokingly. I hear her sigh dramatically before saying 'okay' and getting back to work on her various assignments. Rachel had been right on all counts, leaving me to wonder if there is really any truth to her claim to being somewhat psychic. I chuckle and shake my head at the thought. If anything my daughter is just really perceptive, I reason as I change into my most comfortable pair of sweats and one of my old college sweatshirts, before settling into bed.

Unfortunately, I don't fall asleep right away. Instead I find myself getting lost and caught up in old memories and feelings that I haven't felt since I was practically Rachel's age. Things had seemed so simple back then. They were so much easier. Nowadays my biggest worry is the current economy or taking care of my mortgage. But back then it was what I would be wearing on my date Friday night. Or if I planned on going to the senior prom and who with. The idea of prom stirs something within me, and I turn onto my side, clutching one of my pillows tightly as I fight the long buried and forgotten memories. Squeezing my eyes shut, I force them back down into the deep, dark depths of my mind and instead think of the past summer that I've spent with my daughter.

Reminiscing on a few of our more memorable jaunts, I quickly manage to fall asleep. And with a smile on my face at that.

**-PA-**

It would seem I was even more tired than I cared to let on, considering I managed to sleep well into the late afternoon, awaking only due to Rachel rousing me from my slumber to eat a late lunch, early dinner.

After my meal, I join Rachel in her room to check her homework. As tedious as the task may seem to some, I have actually come to enjoy it. I realize my daughter may be well over the age for her parents to be checking her homework, but this time allows me a small glimpse into what I missed in her childhood. And since Rachel doesn't seem to complain, quite the opposite she actually likes when I do it, I've come to appreciate our time together while I can. So as she takes a seat at her desk, I stand behind her and take a quick glance of her assignments over her shoulder. I point out a few corrections on her math homework and while she's fixing them I take the opportunity to examine the English assignment that has her so confused.

As I'm reading the task sheet, I realize why Rachel was so lost. Excessive wordiness and redundancy run rampant when a simple "explain this" would've sufficed. I can only shake my head at what our school system has come to. Once my daughter's done with her corrections, I explain in the simplest terms just what her teacher was trying to get across and am glad when I see the haze of confusion in her eyes clear up. I then watch Rachel boot up her laptop and with a renewed vigor get started on drafting her essay.

"Thanks Mom." She tells me, her eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"Anytime." I smile and ruffle her hair before leaving her to complete the assignment. I give her thirty minutes before she summons me again to look it over. That's one thing about my daughter that I'm truly proud of and most certain she got from me. Once she begins something, she sticks with it and sees it through completion. I leave her room and head downstairs to waste some time before I'm needed again. I enter the kitchen to take care of the few dishes that have piled up in the sink. I'm about to tackle them when something else garners my attention. Sitting dead center on my fridge is the business card Rachel received earlier today from one Dr. Nathanial Walker.

Nathanial Walker. Now there's a name I never thought I'd hear again.

I close my eyes for a moment and I'm quickly transported to my college days at Ohio State. Nathanial and I had been best friends from childhood and well into high school. But once we'd gotten to college, things changed. For the better or for the worse I wasn't sure. And even today, I still can't say. All I knew was that I was happy for a while, until the summer after sophmore year and everything fell apart and before I knew it we had both transferred out of OSU and to two different schools on opposite coasts. He went to UCLA and I ended up completing my degree at NYU. We had kept in touch during junior year, but various commitments and our differing course loads cut down whatever little communication we had. By senior year, we had lost touch completely. And I suppose a part of me, had been glad for it. Without the letters and phone-calls from him, I wasn't reminded of—

"Mom, I'm done."

I open my eyes to find Rachel standing before me with her completed essay in hand. A quick glance at my watch and I realize I have been standing there reminiscing for nearly fifteen minutes. I normally don't let time escape me like that, so I admit I'm glad that Rachel has interrupted my thoughts. As I check over my daughter's assignment, I realize that I don't have time to dwell on my past.

The only thing that should matter to me right now is the present and the future. And for now, both of them include my daughter, which is just fine with me.

**-PA-**

Before I can process it, a whole week has passed me by again. And I'm actually thankful.

When Rachel left Sunday evening, she made me promise her that I would take it easy for the rest of the week. She had been insistent that I not stress myself out because it wasn't healthy and it could produce premature wrinkles or something to that effect. I'd laughed, but promised my daughter that I would do my best. So I agreed to remain stress free, if only for Rachel's sake.

I lasted one whole day before I broke my daughter's promise.

The minute I had stepped into the auditorium for glee practice on Monday and heard Dustin announce that there would be a complete overhaul of the very routine that had been set aside for Sectionals, my peaceful state of mind went out the door and I was on the verge of possibly committing a homicide. My students quickly noticed where I was headed and made themselves scarce, allowing me a minute or two with my bumbling assistant. Five minutes later, when the team returned Dustin and I had arrived at a very fair compromise. In my opinion, anyway.

We would use the routine that the head coach had arranged. And seeing as I was the head coach, we were going to stick to my initial plans.

There were times I had actually found enjoyment during Vocal Adrenaline's arduous rehearsals. Teaching a new routine to my students and watching them work at it until they perfected it left me feeling with a sense of accomplishment. But now with my new assistant in the picture, the little joy I used to feel has been replaced by absolute frustration. Seeing as I have had a system in place long before Dustin had arrived, I find that his presence has completely disrupted everything I have worked so hard for. Routines and set-lists that I have long prepared are being torn to pieces and critiqued by my man-child of an assistant.

I'm really beginning to believe that Mr. Goolsby is causing more trouble than he is truly worth. Because if this keeps up, I'm going to be forced to play my hand and offer an ultimatum that neither "Principal" Bill Richards nor the booster club is going to like.

I mean I've been deliberating over my decision for a while now, believing my actions to be somewhat hasty, mostly in part to my intense dislike for Dustin. But now I genuinely believe that this arrangement is neither beneficial nor healthy. For Vocal Adrenaline. Or even me. The additional stress from "talking" to Mr. Goolsby for extended periods of time is causing me to lose much sleep and giving me some of the most agonizing headaches imaginable. Actually, I've been considering scheduling an appointment with my doctor.

_Speaking of doctors…_

My eyes jump from the newspaper I'm currently reading to the door of my refrigerator, where Nathanial's card has sat untouched for the past week.

"_I know you Shel. You'll call." _His words echo in my ears. Teasingly. Almost tauntingly.

I scoff and lift back up today's paper to the Theatre Arts section I was previously reading. Despite the interesting article on a ballet playing at a theatre in Columbus, my mind remains distracted.

_I know you Shel. You'll call._

_I know you Shel._

_I know you... _

I slam the paper down on the table angrily.

How could he claim to know me? How could _Dr._ Nathanial Walker _possibly _know me!

He hasn't seen or heard from me in nearly two decades. People can change drastically in that amount of time. I know. I have. I'm not the same person I was back then. I've changed. A lot. I've matured. I'm a grown, independent woman. Who has managed to cultivate quite a reputation and made a name for herself in the national show choir circuit. I'm a Coach and a Director. I'm a teacher. I'm a parent, for godsakes, to a teenage daughter!

So how _dare_ he say he knows me. He doesn't know the first thing about me!

I stand up from the bar stool I've occupied for the past half hour or so and walk over to the fridge, snatching the card off of it. Flipping it between my fingers, and muttering obscenities under my breath, I retrieve my cell phone out of my pocket and begin furiously dialing the number written on the back. I'm just about to put the call through when my common sense eventually kicks in.

I'm about to _call_ him. Just like he said I would.

With my phone in one hand and the card in the other, I slump back onto my recently vacated seat. _Maybe he does know me as well as he thinks he does._ I mean I was just about to play right into his hands. And what does that say about me? I'm weak? Predictable? Gullible? That as much as I'd like to think I've changed in the past twenty years, maybe I'm still the same person? Just older and with a few more stuff in my name. I'm still the same Shelby. The same girl with the big dreams that she couldn't live out. For whatever reason or another.

I lean forward, placing my elbows on the counter before me and drop my phone and the business card in front of me in order to rub my temples.

This _isn't_ me. I don't question myself. I'm steadfast, firm, committed. I've never once second guessed myself or my decisions. Well except for giving up Rachel. But that's different. _Isn't it_? I mean I was young and hell bent on making sure my dreams came true. And when I realized they weren't going to I returned home and made a name for myself where I could. And when the time was right, I found my daughter.

And now…I'm just making excuses for myself. Truth be told, if I'd wanted Rachel so badly, I would've fought for her. No matter how old I was. If I loved my daughter as much as I claimed to have, I would've done everything in my power to get her back or at least fight for the right to see her.

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. _This_ is why I didn't want to deal with him. This is why I kept my distance from him. No matter how old I seem to get, Nathanial Walker will always have the same effect on me. One word or smile or smirk from him and I'm the flighty insecure teenager that he knew back then.

_But not anymore._

I open my eyes and grab my phone and the card. My palms feel sweaty and my throat has become rather dry. Not to mention my breathing is slightly off. I drop the phone again. _I can't do this._

I can't do this.

No. Yes I can. I can do this.

I repeat the process again. And again. And again.

Twenty minutes later, I'm pacing along my kitchen with my cellphone in hand and I've been through the process so many times I've officially lost count. I stop midstep and with a resolute nod, decide to end this. I'm Shelby Corcoran. I'm not afraid of anything or anyone. Especially a _pediatrician_. I dial the number that I now know by heart and put the call through.

And then immediately hang up.

I'm not ready for this, I reason. Maybe another week. Or two weeks. Maybe a mon—

I'm startled by the sudden ringing of my phone and nearly drop it in the process. Gathering my wits, my first thought is that I didn't hang up soon enough and he is calling back to gloat. I hesitantly turn my phone over to look at the caller ID and laugh at the display. I don't think I've ever been so happy or relieved to be receiving a call from one Will Schuester. "Hey, Will. What's going on?"

"_Hey Shelby. You know the dentist's office on Madison?_"

"Yeeah? Why?"

"_Any chance you could come by? It's Rachel._"

"Is she okay?" My heart rate speeds up as it seems to always do whenever Will calls me to talk about my daughter. "Will? Will!"

"_She's fine, Shelby. She had a simple procedure done and is still under the influence of the laughing gas. She's a little out of it, but none worse for wear. I tried calling her dads but couldn't reach them. Just thought maybe you could come and get her._"

"I'm on my way. Thanks for staying with her, Will."

"_Don't mention it."_

I hang up and reach for my keys that are hanging on the wall a few feet away from me. I turn back for my purse and spot the card that has caused me my recent identity crisis, and replace it on the fridge before making my way out the door. One of these days, maybe I'll give him a call.

Or maybe I won't.

Either way, I've got more important things to worry about. And it just so happens one of them is sitting in a dentist's office waiting for me.

**-PA-**

I enter the office and see my daughter sitting in a corner of the room, reading what appears to be Britney Spears' autobiography. Considering her usual reading material, I must admit I'm a little surprised. But whatever. Teenagers' interests are always changing. Or so I read in one of those books I've picked up recently on how to communicate with your kids.

I thank Will once again as he passes me to leave the office. I then clear my throat and smile when my daughter looks away from her book and around the room before her gaze settles on me. "Mommy!"

Umm, _Mommy_?

"Hey, Hon?" I then watch in absolute confusion as my daughter jumps out of her seat, runs across the room and launches herself at me. She wraps her arms around my neck and is practically hanging off of me like a small child. Thankful that I've always taken extra care to work on my upper body strength, I'm able to lift her and manage the weight with little to no problem. But that doesn't make it any less strange. Because I am still lifting my fifteen year old daughter in the middle of a waiting room. _A little out of it_, huh? Understatement of the year, Will.

I soon set Rachel back on her feet, so as to speak with the receptionist to be sure she is cleared to go. I'm told I have to sign a form or two and I am then offered a card for any follow up appointments that we may need to make later. I turn to find my daughter practically bouncing in place exactly where I had initially put her. "Ready to go?" She nods up at me eagerly before following my lead out the door. We make our way to the crosswalk in order to get to my car that is parked across the street. I step out but quickly realize that Rachel has not. I look back and see her still standing on the curb. "Rach?" I look back to see her holding out her hand for me to take.

I smile fondly at my little girl before clasping my hand around her own and leading her across the road. We get to my car and I help her into the seat, adjusting her seatbelt as needed. Before going around to the driver's side though, I quickly call up her fathers and leave a message explaining what has occurred and that Rachel will be with me until either one of them comes to get her later. Ending the message, I pocket my phone and climb into my car. Just as I pull off, Rachel turns on the CD player and begins singing along with the Wicked soundtrack that she had left in there a few days ago.

I watch, and listen, in amusement as she sings along with every song for about thirty seconds and then changes the track. It is only once she arrives at 'Defying Gravity' that she seems content to let the song play in full. And then it is only at her insistence that I begin to sing along as well, holding nothing back I might add, earning us a few stares from other drivers at various stop lights, and even a few pedestrians, on the way home.

We are about halfway through the song when my phone begins to ring. I pull it out, without skipping a beat with Rachel and glance down at the screen.

It's Nathanial.

Without even thinking about it, I replace my phone in my pocket and return my attention to the music. After all, my line is coming up soon and I don't want to miss my cue.

* * *

After Rachel's appt, did anyone else wonder just how the hell she got home? lol I seriously spent half the episode, and well into the next day, wondering that very thing.

I admit, not much seemed to happen in this chapter, so 'my bad'. But, I needed to insert the good doctor somewhere so he wouldnt be overshadowed by anything else. Speaking of which, assuming I did the character description justice, can anybody (except for you Gleeks, haha) tell me just who I have depicted to play Shelby's old "friend" Dr. Nathanial Walker? :D (If you are still unsure, feel free to message me...otherwise I will just tell everyone flat out in the next chapter.)

Anyway you guys know the drill...  
_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh? Review and let me know :)_

_Till next time..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Look what I've got! As always thanks so much for all the review, emails, comments and alerts!_

_Okay from last chapter, for those who couldn't put a name to the face, Dr. Nathanial Walker is indeed Taye Diggs (or his fictional twin lol). As for his name, yes it is a reference to Idina & Taye's son Walker Nathaniel. (Although the fact he is a doctor, however, is a total coincidence seeing as I've never even once watched an episode of Private Practice.) And, yes there was a Wicked reference. It is when Rachel tells her mom to go lie down because she 'doesn't look too good'. That comment stems from an actual comment from an EMT who was tending to Idina after her accident while on stage. For more info on that one check out youtube and search for Idina explaining her injury. While the injury itself certainly wasn't funny, listening to her tell the story is absolutely hysterical. And it will also answer another question that I've been getting: why 'Shelby' has a bit of a 'potty-mouth'.  
_  


* * *

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Only borrowing them for mindless fluff and entertainment :D**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

After such an interesting and eventful weekend, my only hope is that the upcoming week will go by as quickly as the last.

Unfortunately, it does not.

Although, on the plus side, at least I haven't suffered any of my now customary unbearable headaches. Nor have I been throw in jail for attempted murder. All things considered, I must admit, it has not been such a bad week so far. Then again, that could all change seeing as it is _only_ Tuesday.

**-PA-**

When I enter Carmel High, my first stop is the main office. I realized on my way into work this morning that I haven't checked my mailbox since last Thursday. So I put the task on the top of my to-do list and plan to check it once I've arrived. I enter the office and head straight to the boxes, greeting various administrators and faculty along the way. As I'm examining the few announcement flyers that I have received, I notice that most, if not all, of the early morning gossip and activity that is normally present amongst the faculty, and had been occurring around me when I first entered, has now ceased.

In fact, the room is so ridiculously quiet, I can actually hear the buzzing coming from the overhead fluorescent lights. I turn my head a bit and look around at the other occupants. At my slight movements, they all scramble to return to their previous business or some other mundane activity. _Strange_. I shrug it off and continue to inspect the various letters in my hand.

As I'm leaving, Roberta Phillips, one of the older secretaries who has been employed by the district for several decades, stops me. "Ignore them, dear. They're just jealous."

_Jealous? _I furrow my brow in confusion. "Of what?"

She pats my hand, leading me out of the office and away from anymore curious stares. "Why your new boyfriend, I'd imagine. The flowers he sent are just lovely."

_What flowers? And what boyfriend? _Apparently I've said that last part aloud because now Roberta is looking at me surprised, but the flash of shock is quickly replaced with a smile as she nods in what I assume is understanding. To what, I still don't know.

"Oh? Well then, your _girlfriend_ has wonderful taste. And don't worry, dear, your secret's safe with me." She winks and then follows up her promise by imitating locking her mouth and throwing away the key, before heading back to the main office. Leaving me to stare at her retreating figure, my mouth agape, whilst I remain standing in the middle of the empty hallway.

**-PA-**

I soon snap myself out of my daze and make my way to my own office, all the while shaking my head. Upon entering, I realize why I have become the main topic of discussion amid my peers. Sitting dead center atop my desk is quite a lovely arrangement of at least two dozen white and yellow roses.

Now, most women would probably smile and fawn at such a romantic display. However, I'm not most women.

I eye the flowers warily, almost as if they might bite or attack at the slightest of movements on my part. I realize I should be flattered by such a grand gesture. But I'm more suspicious than anything. After all, just who would be sending me flowers?

My list of friends is much shorter than I would like it to be. As is my list of admirers. But such is the life I've chosen to lead. Due to my various commitments, my social life has been placed on the backburner indefinitely.

I wrack my brain for several minutes, but I can think of no one. Nathanial pops into my thoughts for a moment, but he has no idea where I work so I quickly dismiss the thought. Will and I are just friends. And that's as far as my relationships with men go because I'm almost positive neither of Rachel's fathers would be sending me floral bouquets.

I place my belongings on one of the chairs before my desk and lift the flowers to inspect them, causing a small card to flutter to the floor in the process. Setting the flowers aside, I retrieve the card hoping to shed some light on my current state of confusion.

_Can we start over? _I read. And if that isn't cryptic enough, it's signed _A Friend._

_A friend?_ I continue to examine the card in vain, hoping for a hint as to who my "Friend" could possibly be. I eventually set the card, and the flowers to the side, so as to prepare myself for the day. I pull out the work I'd taken home the afternoon before and am going through my email when my cell phone begins to ring. I recover it from the depths of my purse and look at the caller ID display. It's Nathanial. Again.

For the past few days, I have successfully managed to dodge all of his calls. But I don't think he's as yet gotten the hint, seeing as the running total of calls thus far is ten. With this one being number eleven. While I would rather enjoy an afternoon catching up with an old friend, I have no desire to revert to my old insecure ways. And bearing in mind the minor breakdown I had from just looking at his business card this past weekend, I'm not too sure I'm ready to talk to him just yet. So I set my phone aside, too, preferring to reorganize my desk before my day officially starts.

A few more minutes go by and my phone goes off again, this time alerting me that I've got a new voicemail. _Well, that's new._ I'm almost tempted to check it and even reach out to do just that when there is a knock at my door.

I quickly snatch my hand back and appear to look hard at work on my computer before calling the person in. "Come in." I find myself shocked, confused and slightly dismayed all at the same time when my assistant's head pops into view. _Well, there goes my morning, and probably even my week as well._ "Good morning, Mr. Goolsby. And just what can I do for you?"

"Morning Ms. Corcoran. Actually I was hoping we could talk. Well, I'll talk, you'll mostly listen." Before I can even respond, he has entered my office and is standing before my desk, his eyes fastened on me. "Look, before I accepted this position, I'd heard a lot about you. People said you were strong willed, determined and you didn't take crap from anyone. Some people were even saying you were a real ball buster for it. That didn't matter though because I admired your attitude since it got things done. But from the moment I got here we haven't really seen eye to eye, for lack of a better term. You've been here longer. You've got seniority. And believe me, I get it. Vocal Adrenaline is your territory. You trained those kids and got them where they are today. And I respect that. Because fact is all of your hard work has paid off and now they're nationally ranked, which is a huge accomplishment for a group of kids from a small town in Ohio…"

I nod in the affirmative at his words because it's about damn time he realized all of the effort I had put in before he had even step foot into Carmel.

"…I suppose, I'm just tired of arguing with you. It's become taxing and it's completely unnecessary because I've come to realize that while we may have differing views, we still have a common goal. We both want Vocal Adrenaline to succeed. So…I'd like to propose a truce."

_Well I did not see that one coming. _I eye him skeptically. "A truce?"

Dustin nods and offers a smile. "A truce," he repeats. "No more arguing. Instead we're going to talk and discuss matters like real adults. And maybe we can even start over. As friends, or at the very least as equals."

"Equals?"

Once again Dustin nods. "Equals. So what do you say, Shelby?"

I watch as he extends his hand over my desk and my gaze darts between it and his eyes. My instincts are telling me something is up, but his speech sounded so genuine that I begin to question myself. And then what he said. About starting over. As equals and friends. My eyes flit over to the card that I'd set aside earlier.

_Could Dustin have sent the flowers? As a peace offering of sorts? _

As farfetched as it may seem, it's the only thing that makes sense at the moment. He used the same words and he seems truly apologetic about how we've been working together for the past few weeks. I lift my gaze, matching his smile with a small one of my own before grasping his hand. "Truce, Mr. Go—Dustin."

"Great," he announces once we've shaken on the deal. "So, I'll see you in practice this afternoon?"

"That you will."

One last smile and he's out the door. And I'm left to reconsider my initial thoughts on my assistant. Maybe I had been a bit rash to judge Mr. Goolsby. He is right, after all. When all is said and done, we do have one common objective. We both want Vocal Adrenaline to win another national title. It's just that we have different methods of attaining that goal.

As the warning bell rings and I make my way to my first period class, I must admit that I'm somewhat looking forward to practice this afternoon. I have a feeling things are about to change between me and Dustin, and I look forward to seeing just where this new step in our partnership will take us.

**-PA-**

"Friends and equals, my ass!" With an angry huff, I storm out of Carmel High's front doors. Muttering all types of damnation onto my assistant.

Or should I be saying, my _co-coach_.

I frown in disdain at his new title. He's been here for a month. _One month!_ And he's already been promoted. I, on the other hand, had to balance teaching a full course load, producing the winter play and overseeing afterschool detention for nearly a _year_ before I was even _considered_ for the position of coach. And it took nearly twice as long to gain support from the school board and the booster club.

I quicken my pace to my car and climb in to the front seat. Completely fed up, I begin to scream out my frustrations in the confined space. It would appear that sometime between his "heartfelt" apology yesterday morning and today's practice after school, that my dear "friend" has been promoted. Now we are truly equals in every sense of the word. Because apparently Bill Richards, acting on the behalf of the wealthy boosters, believed that since Dustin and I work so _well_ together that we could become quite a formidable force. Thus I am no longer the sole director of Carmel's glee club. _Instead_ I am only half of the unstoppable team that is Corcoran and Goolsby!

If that wasn't bad enough, Director Goolsby's first order of business was to scrap the routine we'd been practicing for Sectionals. Rather than use the two leads that I have been training for so long, he has decided that we are going to utilize our secret weapon. Sunshine Corazon. So instead of spreading the solos and parts amongst the other talented students, we will be placing all of the spotlight on our newest member.

And to add insult to injury, my students were all for it. I think that is what disappointed me the most. Their willingness to concede. They all agreed that Sunshine would be their best bet if they wanted to win at Sectionals. And eventually Regionals and then Nationals. I could only shake my head as I listened to them argue in favor of Dustin's new ideas. All the while, I thought I had been teaching them that winning wasn't everything. That it is the effort, dedication and time you put into perfecting your skills that makes everything worthwhile.

_Apparently not._

So, as of right now, I'm not even sure which is worse. The fact that all the wisdom and advice that I had been imparting onto my students for so long has fallen on deaf ears _or_ that the only piece of happiness that has sustained me for the past few years has just been ripped away from me. I am on the verge of pulling out my hair when my phone rings.

I pull it out angrily and put it to my ear. "What!" I immediately feel bad when I hear the gentle voice of Hiram Berry greet me on the other line. "I'm sorry, Hiram. It's just been one of those days."

"_Well Leroy and I are here if you ever need someone to talk to, Shelby. You know that, right?_"

I smile at his offer. Since I'd reconnected with Rachel, I've also forged somewhat of a friendship with the fathers Berry. While our little family is nothing short of unconventional, our little trio has come together to do our best to get along for our collective offspring's sake. And it's been relatively simple so far. We all get along rather well, and we even have a family dinner once every few weeks so everyone remains abreast of whatever may be going on in another's life.

"Thanks, Hiram. I really appreciate it," I tell him genuinely. I take a breath to calm myself down. "So, what can I do for you today? I'm assuming it's about Rachel…"

"_Yes. Actually I was hoping if you could do me a favor._"

"Sure, just name it."

"_Well it would seem that our little girl is overdue for a checkup. Her pediatrician contacted Leroy last week and made an appointment for her after school today. But as luck would have it neither of us will be getting out of work anytime soon…"_

I quickly catch on to where he is going. "I can take her, Hiram, don't worry about it. Just tell me the time and place."

"_Are you sure? I remember you saying that you have your glee practices after school and I didn't want you to have to skip just for this."_

"I do, but it's okay. My assistant has been promoted to co-coach so he can handle the kids, while I tend to Rachel."

"_They promoted him? But he just got there!"_ I chuckle as I listen to the usually calm and temperate Hiram Berry toss out insults at my new partner. "_He doesn't deserve the position, Shelby. You're the best thing going for that team right now."_

"Thanks, Hiram." I hang up only after I've gathered the information I need from him and then begin my trip to McKinley High.

Despite Hiram's attempts to cheer me up only moments ago, I find my mood is still dismal. I turn on the radio and search for something to calm my nerves. I eventually settle on one of the generational stations and hum along to _You Can't Always Get What You Want_ as I pull onto the highway.

**-PA-**

When I pulled up to McKinley High nearly half an hour later, I found Rachel already standing outside waiting for me. She hopped into the car and we exchanged the usual 'hug and kiss' greeting before pulling off. Our conversation was relatively light, seeing as she was doing all the talking and I only nodded my head every now and then to suggest that I was even half listening. I do admit, I didn't pay her very much attention and that may have been wrong of me. But I suppose that I am still coming to terms with the new changes at work. Because while my body may have been sitting in the driver seat of my car, my mind was obviously elsewhere.

So having previously had my focus on the road before me and the new trials ahead of me, it was with complete surprise that I finally take note of my daughter's attire when we later arrived at her doctor's office. As I turned to remove my seatbelt, I then did a double take, finding myself completely dumbfounded at what I am currently seeing.

It would seem that my babygirl has taken her usual attire to a whole other level. One that is less _after school special_ and more _after hours_. She is currently wearing a blouse that exposes too much skin for my liking and a skirt that would leave very little to the imagination of a hormonal teenage boy. Pigtails and knee high socks complete her new look and I realize I am blatantly staring at her as she exits the vehicle. Tugging off my own seatbelt, I rapidly exit the car. I call out my daughter's name, effectively stopping Rachel before she can get any further than the few feet she has already gotten. I then shrug off the jacket that completes my own suit and order that she put it on. _Immediately_.

"But, Mooom!" she whines, her childish actions a big contrast from her grown up outfit. "This is—"

I shoot her a look that effectively silences her from even trying to explain her way out of this one. "I don't want to hear it, Rachel. Put. It. On." I hold the jacket out, shaking it for emphasis until she does as she's told. "What were you thinking putting that on this morning? Or did you have another project in glee?" I inquire, remembering at the last minute the Lady Gaga assignment that had initially brought us together in the first place.

I watch my daughter shake her head as she angrily forces her arms through the sleeves of my jacket. "No, it's not for glee," she mutters crossly," I felt like expressing myself, so I thought I'd try something new for a change."

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose, before walking off. "Well…the next time you feel like _expressing yourself_ please do so _with_ clothes on."

"I am wearing clothes!" Rachel argues, as she runs to catch up to me.

"Fine then, _more_ clothes." I amend, as we enter the office. I then direct Rachel to take a seat while I sign her in. Once all paperwork is filled out I take the seat next to her. I can only smile on at my daughter as I watch her pout and cross her arms in a jacket that is at least two sizes too big. I shake my head and grab a nearby magazine to read until my daughter is summoned.

A few minutes later, Rachel's name is called. I rise and follow her, but at the last minute she turns and informs me that unless she's getting a shot, my presence is completely unnecessary. I look to the nurse who assures me that there are no needles on today's agenda, so I shrug and return to my seat. This time I pull out my phone opting to check any messages I may have missed.

As I'm examining a few missed calls, I notice the icon in the right-hand corner indicating that I have a voicemail. It's from Nathanial. That I already know. But what does it say? I stare down at my phone, silently weighing my options. At some point I know I'm going to have to listen to it. _But when_? As I sit there staring at my phone, it begins to vibrate and I realize that I've got an incoming call.

Number twelve.

Once again I watch the screen blankly and let it ring on through to voicemail. _How much longer am I going to have to keep this up?_ As I wait in vain for my phone to answer my question, I get a text message that instructs me to 'turn around'. With a furrowed brow I do as I'm told and roll my eyes when I see Nathanial walking towards me. "What are you doing here?" I ask once he is a mere few feet away.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls?"

"I asked you first."

Regardless of my childish comeback, he flashes me a smirk before moving to sit beside me. "Well as of a few minutes ago, I officially work here." He turns and apparently catches my surprise at his response, so he continues. "I heard about an opening a few months back, and decided it was time to come home."

I nod at his answer, keeping my gaze averted but out of the corner of my eye I watch as his smile grows and it takes me a moment to realize why. It's now my turn to answer his question. "I've been busy." It isn't a complete bold faced lie. I did have other important things to do for the past few days. Like…umm…and...Okay, so maybe it was a lie. And I can only hope he won't see through it. I'm relieved when he nods, seemingly accepting my excuse.

We are then swept up into a very awkward silence as neither of us seems to know just what to say to the other. In the course of our currently uncomfortable predicament, I've come to realize that he isn't going to just up and disappear no matter how much I may wish he would. And with Rachel having just gotten called in for her appointment, I know I'm going to be here a while, also. Moreover I can't very well ignore him the entire time. So in hopes of attempting to cut through the tension, I'm about to make a general comment on the weather, when Nathanial beats me to the punch.

"Is it really that bad seeing me again after all these years, Shel?"

Remembering my little _problem_ with eye-contact, I settle my gaze in the distance before responding. "No."

"You sure?" I pick up a tinge of frustration and even a bit of anger laced in his tone, causing me to turn and face him. My _problem_ momentarily forgotten. "Because that attitude you gave me on Saturday wasn't all that friendly. And you've blatantly disregarded all of my phone calls and hell, you barely even look at me. So again I ask you, is it really that bad seeing me again?"

_Well when you put it that way…_

He does make a valid point. I mean once upon a time we were best friends and now I can barely even look his way. His confusion and anger is certainly justifiable. And he really doesn't deserve this because he's probably just as lost as I am. I look into his eyes and the hurt that I see in them causes my gaze to fall to my lap.

"It's not that I'm not happy to see you Nate," I murmur quietly. "I think I'm still in shock from Saturday. I mean I haven't seen or heard from you in over twenty years and then I just so happen to run into you while I'm out shopping? It's a bit much for one afternoon, don't you think. And it's not like we can just pick up where we left off. Times have changed. We've changed. We grew up and inadvertently we grew apart. But…that doesn't excuse my behavior. You didn't deserve the hostile attitude I gave you. So for that I apologize." I wait a beat to allow my apology a minute to sink in before I look up again, only to see him smiling at me.

"Apology accepted. But you realize you're going to have to make it up to me, right?"

I roll my eyes and can only chuckle at his antics. Same old Nate. Only he would follow up a guilt-trip with a joke. "And just _how_ would I do that?"

"You. Me. Coffee. Saturday," he informs me. "What do you say? For old times' sake."

I'm actually about to turn him down seeing as I have glee practice to attend for most of that day. But I'm reminded of what transpired less than an hour ago at Carmel and then I'm almost tempted to skip out just for the hell of it. I mean Dustin clearly wants my job, so I may as well let him have it. _Right_?

_No. _I understand that it's only my anger and frustrations talking, seeing as I would never willingly part with my position as coach. Especially after everything I've been through to get it. But my common sense does have me arguing a different point. Because now that there are two coaches, is there really any need for the _both_ of us to be there at the same time, all the time?

I mean if I _do_ attend practice, I will be forced to sit at my desk silently fuming as Dustin revamps every single one of my original routines. And in between, I'll most likely be provoked into not just one, but several arguments with him and then I run the risk of leaving with yet another migraine.

But if I _don't_ attend, I can get a free cup of coffee and catch up on some conversation with an old friend. I bite my cheek as I consider my options and smile once I've made up my mind. "Sounds like a plan."

His smile widens and he gets up to leave. "Alright. So I'll call you with details…"

"And I promise to answer this time," I add lightheartedly. As we share a laugh over my response, I notice Rachel approaching in the distance and consider introducing the two of them formally. Because while they may have met a few days ago, it wasn't under such ideal circumstances. "Honey, this is—"

"How's it going, Rach?"

"Hey, Nate!"

I eye the pair of them suspiciously because _clearly_ I am missing something. As my gaze settles over my daughter, her eyes drop and she begins to fidget. Both tell-tale signs that she is obviously hiding something. "Rachel?" She looks up at me with her big brown eyes and her signature puppy pout and I look away to see Nate wearing a rather guilty expression as well. _What is going on? _Nate and Rachel seem to be avoiding the other's eyes and I'm shifting my gaze between the two of them trying to figure out just what _is_ going on. I'm about to inquire just so when Nate announces that he's got some errands to run and makes a dash for the door, saying a quick goodbye over his shoulder.

"That was…odd."

"It was probably some really important errands," Rachel says with a shrug, before making her way to the door as well.

I'm doubtful that's the reason, but I opt to let the incident go and proceed to follow her lead out to the car. We get in and begin the ride back to my house. During our trip, Rachel recounts the parts of her day that she didn't get to finish on the ride here. And this time I do listen. Most of it doesn't make much sense though, but that's probably because I missed the first half.

The minute we arrive home she asks me what I meant when I told Nate that 'it sounds like a plan'. As I'm entering the house, I relay my plans with Nate for the upcoming weekend, causing Rachel to gasp.

"You have a date?"

I quickly shake my head. I keep forgetting how easily excitable my daughter can be. "No," I correct, "it's not a date. Nate is a friend. I'm simply going out with a friend. For coffee."

"Like a date?"

"It's not a date. It's coffee." And before she can prolong the conversation any further I am guiding her to the stairs. I give her behind a playful swat as she begins climbing the steps and then instruct her to get started on her homework. As she is about to disappear into her room, she calls out 'if it looks like a date and sounds like a date, it's definitely a date'. I can't help chuckling at my daughter's logic as I settle down in my office to go over the mail. Sitting back in my chair, I peruse the few bills I've received, absently considering her words.

I've been on dozens of dates, I rationalize idly. So I'm well aware of what qualifies as a date. And I can say with the utmost certainty that this is definitely not a date.

Or at least I don't think it is…

I slump down in my chair and release a low groan. My insecurities have just reemerged. Only this time around, I have my daughter to thank for it.

**-PA-**

The next few days go by in a blur. And it's not because they went by quickly. No, rather it's because I wandered through Thursday and Friday focusing more on my plans with Nate for the weekend and less on work and Dustin. Or even glee club for that matter. In fact for the past few days I have left Carmel after my last period class, feigning tiredness and a headache both days, and have spent my time at McKinley High watching my daughter practice with her own club.

It was only meant to be a one day thing, because Rachel had mentioned that her group would be having some kind of performance on Thursday and she wished for me to be there. With no interest in sitting through my own glee practice, I showed up a little early and got to see New Directions in action.

On my second day playing audience to my daughter's team, I've come to realize that while the kids of New Directions may not be privy to the same advantages, such as funding and support, as do Vocal Adrenaline, they certainly have the heart and talent. As I watch them go through a few warm ups before their various performances I have to admit that I can see quite a bit of untapped potential in each and every one of Will's kids.

Even Rachel. Under the proper tutelage, I'm more than certain that my own daughter could exceed the few limitations she has placed on herself.

And no offense to Will. While he may have the heart to match those of his kids, he doesn't have the experience. I observe from my seat in the center of the auditorium as he directs them through a routine. His attitude, while even-tempered and fair, is not the attitude one needs to lead. There have to be times when you are forceful if you wish to get true results. Especially when working with kids.

At least that's the route I've always gone with my own kids. Prior to Dustin's arrival of course. And having attained four consecutive wins at Regionals, I think it's fair to say that my methods are pretty effective. I shake my head as Will starts in on one of his inspirational speeches that Rachel's always telling me about. The man clearly needs professional help. And if I weren't so busy with my own issues, I would probably offer my services.

Once their practice is over, I am about to step forward and speak to Will on a few things he should probably work on when something catches my eye on the stage. Standing off to the side in each other's arms is my daughter and one of the delinquents that was caught vandalizing my team's cars a few months back. Finn, something or other.

I simply stop to admire the picture the two of them create. Anyone can see that the handsome quarterback and my spunky daughter make quite the attractive pair. A smile graces my features as I hear my daughter's laugh echo around the room at something her boyfriend whispers into her ear. I admit I'm truly happy that Rachel has found someone who accepts her and obviously cares very deeply about her. I also think nothing of their innocent embrace because I can't very well stop them from _hugging_, now can I?

Everything is fine. Until I witness the unspeakable.

I proceed to watch in total alarm as my daughter and her freakishly tall boyfriend then get into quite the heated make out session, causing my smile to fade and my jaw to drop.

Admittedly, I may be exaggerating what were only really a few chaste kisses, _but I don't care_! Because all I see is a teenage boy _groping_ my innocent, and hopefully still _virginal,_ babygirl.

My conversation with Will completely forgotten, I quickly summon Rachel to my side and grab her bag pack, as well as my own belongings. Turning away, I resolve that I'm going to be having 'the talk' with my daughter about the dangers of sex. And while I'm at it, I will probably even have a little chat with her boyfriend as well, one of these days.

And someday soon at that.

**-PA-**

When Saturday finally rolls around, I find that my former insecurities and nervousness regarding my "thing" with Nate have vanished.

Or perhaps they've only been transferred elsewhere. Because as I sit in bed reading a book to pass the time, my daughter is currently pacing around my room, prattling on about what I should wear, my possible perfume choices and any jewelry I can use to accent my outfit.

"Ok, I've got it," she finally announces triumphantly, snapping her fingers at whatever vision she has just had. I sigh and set my book aside when Rachel jumps onto the bed and takes a seat next to me. "OK. Black skirt. Those boots you bought last weekend. And how about your green silk top to bring out your eyes more. Oh, and a jacket because the temperature is supposed to drop this afternoon."

I cock my head to the side to look into my daughter's wide eyes and can only chuckle at her enthusiasm. She is so proud of herself for having finally settled on an outfit. And that's mainly why I feel so bad to turn her suggestion down. After I tell her no, I watch as her smile falls. Before she can start pouting, however, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hug her briefly to my side. "We've already been over this, Rach. It's nothing spectacular. So a sweater and a pair of jeans it is. End of discussion. "

"I know," she mumbles softly, resting her head on my shoulder. "I just don't get it. Normally you're all about fashion. I mean your closet it just full of designer things. So why are you just throwing on a pair of jeans and some random sweater? Why not one of those outfits that 'Shelby Corcoran' is so famous for?" I grin at the way she says my name and even adds air quotes for emphasis.

I run my hand through her hair, smoothing out a few tangles. "Because it's just an outing with a friend. Do you pull out your best clothes if you're meeting up with Tina or Mercedes?" I watch her shake her head once I've made my point. "Well then why should I."

She finally submits to my reasoning and slips out of the bed, announcing that she will be downstairs watching television. Apparently there's a documentary coming on that will feature a biographical look at the life of Eva Peron, and she's been dying to see it. Thus leaving me with the privacy to now get ready for my da—outing with Nate. After a quick shower, I am pulling out the planned outfit from my closet. And in no time at all, I am dressed and applying my makeup before heading downstairs.

I stop by the living room and watch as my daughter is avidly watching the television, while taking some rather detailed notes. I smile as I notice the similarities between Rachel and I when I was her age. She really is determined to make it to the stage, and there is no doubt in my mind that she will succeed whereas I failed.

I walk up behind the couch and drop a kiss in her hair. "Be good. Finish your homework. And try not to break anything. But in the event that you do, please have it replaced by the time I get back."

"Don't I always."

I smirk at her obvious distraction and then make my way to the door. Remembering Rachel's advice pertaining to the forecast for later, I retrieve my peacoat from the closet. Grabbing my keys and my purse, I head out to the garage and make my way to the coffee shop.

**-PA-**

I arrive an hour later, having driven well below the speed limit and taken the scenic route. I'd debated coming early, but thought against it because it would make me seem too eager. And coming late would have been rude. So I settled for right on time. After I park my car at the end of the block, I head into the old coffeehouse.

While Starbuck's it is not, The Old Coffee Shoppe is still one of the best coffeehouses in town. And with it having been in business since I was kid, I think it's fair to say that it will remain that way considering its fair prices and wide assortment of beverages and snacks.

I enter the establishment and am glad to see that not much has changed. The basic setup is still the same and the lighting is just as dim as when I used to come by after school let out or on the weekends with Nate and the rest of our friends.

I smile at a waitress who crosses my path and brings me out of my reverie. I look around and take a seat at a booth off to the side, preferring the privacy it would provide as well the unobstructed view of the front door, so I may see Nate when he eventually gets here.

He finally arrives a few minutes after I do and quickly spots me despite the growing afternoon crowd. I stand to greet him and we share an awkward hug.

"Sorry I'm late."

I wave off his apology. "It's fine. Glad to see some things never change." I tell him with a smile.

He chuckles ruefully at me. "Never going to let that go are you, Shel?" he asks me playfully. "Because in my defense I _was_ only twelve. So, it wasn't like I could just drive over to your house—"

"I was just stating a fact," I interject with a laugh before he can go any further. As we laugh over the shared memory from our childhood, a waitress appears at our table asking if we are ready to order. I watch in surprise as Nate orders not only for himself, but for me as well. Despite the passing of time, he remembered exactly what I'd always ordered back in high school. And exactly what I had planned to order today. When the waitress leaves after promising to return shortly, I turn back to Nate with a quirked eyebrow.

"What?"

"You ordered for me." I state, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He winces and is about to start on yet another apology when I stop him. "No, it's okay. Guess I didn't think you'd remember after all this time."

He grins. "Well it's not like I could forget. You've gotten the same chocolate chip muffin and pumpkin spiced latte since we were fourteen. While some things may change, I'm fairly certain that _that_ isn't one of them."

I nod. And once again one of those awkward silences that seems to appear in all of our recent conversations engulfs us. I look around the room and take in the atmosphere. As I'm reliving a few memories brought on by the familiar sounds and scents, my thoughts are interrupted when I hear Nate say something. But due to my reminiscing I've completely missed it. "Sorry, what was that?"

He smirks. "I said 'so what's new with you.' I mean I know you're a parent because I've seen Rachel. And if I had to guess, I'd say she's at least sixteen, maybe seventeen, and I don't recall hearing about you being in anything serious when we last spoke."

_Why couldn't we start with the easy questions first. Like how are the parents? Or have I kept in touch with any of the old gang? _

I breathe a heavy sigh. "Actually she's fifteen." I begin faintly, my eyes fixed firmly on my hands, as I toy with a paper napkin. I furrow my brow in concentration trying to organize my thoughts, before venturing into my past.

"After our little…umm…after…after sophomore year I considered transferring over to NYU. As you already know, I'd always dreamed of going to their Tisch campus, so I applied. I got accepted on a scholarship and moved to New York that June. I spent the summer looking for a part-time job and getting settled in to my new home. I registered for all of the necessary classes. Joined a few clubs. Even got cast in a few of the school performances my junior year and by my senior year they'd actually named me a stage manager. Two years later, I received my degree in English Literature and Theatre Arts. "

I took a much needed breather when the waitress stopped by with our order. Taking a quick sip of my latte to help with my suddenly dry throat, I continued with my story.

"After graduation, a few friends and I decided to stick around for a bit, hoping to get a shot at our dreams. We went to audition after audition after audition. But the callbacks never came and I was starting to run low on funds, so I came home. I refused to live off of my parents while I was out in New York, so I thought I'd pick up a job around town and try to save up before returning.

One day as I was looking over the classifieds for any openings and I came across an ad looking for a healthy, able bodied young woman, early to mid twenties, and educated. I fit the bill, so I decided to check it out. Turns out it was an older gay couple seeking out a surrogate. In exchange for giving them a child, they would pay me enough money so that I'd be able to return to New York and get by for a few years. I signed on, and went through all the tests and procedures. So as not to alert my parents, I told them I was going to do some traveling with a few friends. When in reality I was only two towns over living in an apartment that the couple had set me up in for the duration of my pregnancy. Then nine months later I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy babygirl.

After I spent some time recovering at a nearby hotel, since I couldn't very well go home and tell my parents what I'd done, I returned to New York and tried my hand at the theatre circuit again. I landed a few roles in various ensembles, but nothing substantial. Everyone told me I wasn't what they were looking for. Too tall. Too short. They wanted a blonde, not a brunette. Or I've got talent, but I was missing _something_. Even though no one explicitly said it, I knew what that something was.

My passion. I'd lost my passion for acting, for music. For life really. Back then I didn't know it, but when I came back I realized that after I'd given up my baby nothing else really seemed to matter anymore. I was no longer really living. Just kind of existing, I suppose.

Anyway, after a year and a half, I grew tired of being dismissed for lacking the talent everyone was looking for. And at my parents' insistence, I came home to reassess my life. I knew I needed a new plan and my sister mentioned teaching. So…I took a few more classes at OSU and got my degree in education. I applied and got a job teaching at a local high school. While I was helping out with one of the productions the kids were putting on, my boss soon noticed my interest in theatre and music and after researching my background, he assigned me the task of coaching the glee club. He hoped someone with my knowledge could help revive what was once an award winning team. I agreed to it and have since coached them to several national titles.

Then last year at one of our competitions, I was watching a performance from a rival high school and I heard a young woman sing a rendition of _Don't Rain on My Parade_. And I just _knew_ it was my daughter. It was my Rachel. I mean she looked just like me. And when I heard her, it stirred something in me. Because I just _knew_. She was so bright. So talented. So extraordinary. She was me twenty years ago.

So, after much deliberation, I resolved that I had to seek her out. Following some extensive planning and a few underhanded stunts on my part I finally got to meet my baby. We talked, caught up and we've been close ever since." I conclude the abridged version of my life after college, releasing a shaky breath through my pursed lips.

That was the first time I'd ever told anyone else the full story. Yes, I may have filled Jesse in last year, but this, this was different. I'd just given Nate the unedited version that included all my doubts and reservations. And that's just unusual for me. Considering I'm usually more guarded with my personal life. Then again, I could never hide anything from Nate. He could always read me like a book or get me to talk no matter how much I didn't want to. Even now. We haven't seen each other in years and I couldn't help spilling my deepest, darkest secrets simply because he asked.

I continue to avert my eyes in order to avoid his gaze and realize that I've torn the napkin to shreds. I hear Nate clear his throat, in order to get my attention. But I don't dare lift my eyes back up. Because now, now I'm afraid to do so. Afraid to face him. Afraid of what I know I'll see in his eyes.

Disgust. Shock. Disappointment.

I know this already because it's the same feelings I felt when I realized just what I had signed up for and done nearly sixteen years ago. I essentially sold my daughter for a chance to live out my dreams. My decision wasn't just immature, it was wrong, immoral and whole bunch of other things that I have battled with since I've returned home. I have spent most of my adult life regretting my decision and coming to terms with what I now acknowledge as my greatest regret.

Clamping my eyes shut, I bite my lip and find I am fighting back tears as I think about it. I absently continue to rip the shredded napkin further into even smaller pieces until I feel a hand halt my actions. I open my eyes to see one of Nate's hands tightly gripping both of mine. When I look up, I see neither shock or disappointment. Rather I see compassion and even some understanding. He offers me a smile before giving my hands another reassuring squeeze.

"You shouldn't beat yourself up, Shel," he says gently. "You were only doing what you thought was best. I know you. You would never willingly just give up your kid. You gave her to a family that loved her and obviously took good care of her. I mean look how well she turned out. Besides, do you really think you could've afforded Rachel the same opportunities had you kept her?"

I consider his words. Admittedly, I had always thought along the same lines whenever I had tried to rationalize my actions. But I had always dismissed them as my own personal excuses. Though, hearing them from another person has me reconsidering and affirming the one thing I had always thought in the back of my mind. Maybe I'm not as bad a person as I've always thought. I grab another napkin and wipe away the few tears that do escape my eyes. "I guess," I reply sadly.

"I'm serious. The fact that you sought Rachel out proves that you do care about her. Someone who could've cared less would've seen her sing and forgotten about it. But _you_? You went looking for her. And now you get to be her mom. And if you ask me, Rachel's one lucky kid to have you in her life." He states matter-of-factly. "No matter how dramatic and crazy I think you might be."

I slap his hand and smile at his feeble attempt at a joke. "Thanks a lot," I say with a watery smile. I dry my cheeks and take a few breaths. "Well, enough about me, and my 'crazy, drama' filled life. What about you, _Dr_. Walker? What have you been up to over on the west coast. Because last I heard you wanted to be a plastic surgeon…"

As Nate delves into his own life, I sit back in the booth to listen. While I take a few sips of my beverage, I find myself swatting away at his hand as he attempts to steal pieces of my muffin. Laughing aloud at all of his failed attempts. He finally rounds off his story by telling me that he moved back because he was getting tired of the fast paced life of LA. Apparently the sun and glamour is not all it's cracked up to be.

**-PA-**

"Whatever happened to the flaky, leggy blonde you were dating your junior year?" I inquire as I break off a piece of the muffin that I am now willingly sharing with him. "The one who according to you couldn't take a hint that you weren't that interested. What was her name again? Kathy? Kelly?" I then watch in confusion as Nate snorts into his hot chocolate. I raise an eyebrow at his actions.

"Kayla. Her name was Kayla," he answers, wiping at his mouth. "And uh, actually…I married her."

This time I snort and nearly choke on a chocolate chip in the process. "Y-you're married?" I sputter, around my coughing fit.

He shakes his head. "Was married," he clarifies. "Divorced two, nearly three, years ago. Apparently I didn't make enough money to satisfy her lifestyle, so she left me for her personal trainer."

"So you're single." I comment idly. Closing my eyes and cursing myself once the words have left my mouth.

"Yes I am Ms. Corcoran. Why were you planning on asking me out?" Nate teases, waggling his eyebrows. "Because I'll have you know I'm quite the catch. I mean, I _am_ a doctor."

I roll my eyes. "That's not what I meant! Jerk." Once again, we're laughing, before I happen to look down and catch sight of my watch. At which point, my eyes widen at the time. We've been talking for over five hours! And it only barely felt like one. Nate notices my reaction and inquires as to whether everything is alright. "Yeah, everything's fine. Guess I just lost track of time."

He, too, looks at his watch. "Guess time really does fly when you're having fun, huh." He waves the waitress over and requests the bill. Paying for our order and leaving a sizeable tip, we stand and he helps me with my coat. Placing a hand on my lower back, he escorts me outside and to my car. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime."

I lean back against the driver's side door and look back at him with a smile. "Yeah, we definitely should. And maybe next time _you_ can order a muffin and _I_ can eat it."

He sticks his tongue at me as a retort and follows it up with a deep laugh. "How about this. I pick you up and take you to dinner this Wednesday and I promise not to touch your dessert?"

Once again I'm on the verge of declining because my week tends to be busy enough without having to add a night out to the mix. But I then reconsider when he tosses in his own version of the puppy pout. I really do need to get a handle on that thing. Because between Rachel and now Nate, I'm doing a lot of things I wouldn't normally do. And I blame that damn pout entirely.

"You have a deal, Dr. Walker," I affirm with a nod before turning to get into my car. With Nate's assistance I climb in. "I'll send you my address later."

"No need, I've already got it." And with a wave and one of his dazzling smiles, he promptly shuts my door and crosses the street to his own vehicle.

Leaving me to wonder just how the hell he got my address. A moment later my phone starts buzzing from within my purse. I pull it out and see that I've gotten a text from Nate.

_- Hope you liked the flowers. Tell Rach I said thanks :) -_

I purse my lips as everything clicks into place.

The flowers.

Rachel and Nate's reactions at the doctor's office earlier this week.

Nate knowing my address.

They all add up to one thing. I quickly dial a familiar number and put the phone to my ear.

_'Hey Mom! How'd it—'_

"Rachel! You've been talking to Nate, haven't you?"

* * *

So was it a date? or wasn't it? Show of hands: Who thinks Shelby should get some loving or should I just leave them as friends? I'll leave that decision up to you guys :D  
Oh, yea and _bad _Rachel! lol

BTW, who noticed that this chapter was longer than usual? There's a reason. I'm going to be pretty busy for the next few (probably the next two) weeks and as a result won't be able to post next week. So in return I decided to combine this chapter and the next one, hence the reason it's twice as long. I'm really sorry guys, but when life calls I have no choice but to answer :(

_Anyway you guys know the drill..._

_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh?  
Review and let me know (seriously...they push me to write faster idk why)_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey guys! Thanks for the alerts, messages and reviews! They've meant alot!  
_

_Now technically I should really be grading my students' quizzes and studying for my various finals, but I felt bad that you guys have been left waiting for an update for so long. As always, let's hope I don't disappoint..._

__

*Special thanks goes out to Gleeks09 for helping me organize my thoughts. I couldn't have gotten through this chapter without you!*

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Only borrowing them for mindless fluff and entertainment :D**

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_From Chapter 6:_

_I purse my lips as everything clicks into place._

_The flowers._

_Rachel and Nate's reactions at the doctor's office earlier this week._

_Nate knowing my address._

_They all add up to one thing. I quickly dial a familiar number and put the phone to my ear._

_'Hey Mom! How'd it—'_

_"Rachel! You've been talking to Nate, haven't you?"_

* * *

**Chapter 7**

When I pull into the garage, I have just barely shut the car off, before my foot is out the door. Forgoing depositing my bag and keys in the kitchen, or even removing my coat for that matter, I head straight to the living room in search of my meddling progeny.

"Rachel Barb—" I stop short once I notice that the room is in fact vacant. Releasing a frustrated huff as my rant has already been interrupted, I quickly head upstairs after I notice that both the kitchen and basement are both indeed empty as well. I arrive at my daughter's door and am about to barge right in, until I hear multiple voices coming from within.

While I may be upset, and it was Rachel's actions that provided the grounds for my annoyance, I have no intention of embarrassing my daughter in front of her friends. Nor do I wish to scare my child more than absolutely necessary. So, I take a calming breath, or two, and knock on the door a few times. "Rachel?" I listen faintly as she abruptly ends the conversation. A moment later I am granted entry into Rachel's domain, when she calls me in. I step in to find my daughter seated on the edge of her bed. I then peek around the empty room curiously because I am more than positive that Rachel was not talking to herself.

"I was on a conference call with Quinn and Mercedes," Rachel tells me noting my confusion, her gaze remaining to the floor. "I had it on speakerphone."

I nod at her explanation before approaching her desk. Placing my bag on top of it, I shrug of my coat and place it on the desk as well, hoping to free myself of any physical constraints before we can commence our little chat. I then pull out the chair and position it in front of the bed. Taking a seat, I look to the carpeted floor and try to contemplate just how I plan to go about talking with Rachel. When I finally feel ready to begin, I lift my eyes from the ground and look to my daughter. She's already pouting and looks beyond penitent. And I haven't even begun to admonish her yet.

I have to say I'm a little surprised at her current demeanor. Especially considering that my tone wasn't necessarily harsh when I'd called her not too long ago and I haven't even said anything since I've entered her room. I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees to try and capture her gaze. "Rachel? Honey? Look at me." She shakes her head and instead turns it to the side. I repeat my request and she remains adamant at keeping her eyes averted. After realizing that she won't look at me willingly, I reach my hand out to tilt her chin up. And when I do, I notice that there are already tears forming in my daughter's wide brown eyes. Now, not only am I surprised but I'm also worried. I quickly move to Rachel's side and wrap my arms around her, my previous anger quickly dissipating at this new turn of events. I mean, sure I am—_was_—a little angry, but I never intended to make my daughter upset. Much less make her cry. "Baby, what's wrong? "

"I'm really sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to interfere. Well I _did_. But not in a _bad_ way. I just thought that it would be good for you to catch up with an old friend. I mean you've been so stressed lately because of work and glee and Dustin, I just thought maybe you needed a break. So last week I called Dr. Walker while you were sleeping and we started talking. And he seemed so _nice_. And he said you two had been best friends in high school and that he had just moved back and wanted to catch up. So we just kept talking and I may have let a few things slip…"

I blink a couple times in complete awe of my daughter's ability to have said so much in just one breath. I also take a moment's pause to allow my brain a minute or two to process Rachel's hurried ramblings, as well as to calm her down. "A few things like _what_, exactly?" I inquire, with a quirked eyebrow, once my brain has finally been brought up to speed and most of my child's tears have subsided. When she doesn't answer immediately, I angle my head to try looking into her eyes and realize she has once again turned her gaze to the floor. "Rachel." I say it in such a tone to let her know I don't intend on repeating myself.

"Things like…your address, where you work, your availability during the week…"

"And?" I ask, already dreading the conclusion of this particular statement.

"…and I may, or may not, have mentioned the fact that you're single…"

"Rachel!"

"I said I was _sorry_," she murmurs, as she wipes away her remaining tears. My daughter then rests her head on my shoulder and begins pouting in the most endearing, adorable way that I'm almost positive only she can successfully pull off. "Are you mad?"

I lift my head and turn my gaze to the ceiling. While I am disappointed in Rachel for her actions, I have to admit that her intentions were indeed pure. Ridiculously skewed, but still genuine and sincere nonetheless. Pursing my lips, I close my eyes, and then rest my head atop her own before releasing a deep sigh. "No, I'm not mad," I tell her, even giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze just in case she doesn't believe me. "But we're going to have to make some changes. So…new rule."

"What were the old—" I simply give her a side glance and shoot her a look that she knows oh so well by now. "Right. New rule."

"No more interfering or meddling—"

"I wasn't meddling!" Rachel interjects hastily, lifting her head from its current position on my shoulder. "Only…_intervening_."

I roll my eyes at her slight revision. "Okay. Fine, then. No more interfering or _intervening_," I tell her flat out. "I'm a grown woman and it's my life, so I will do with it what I please. You cannot just make plans or decisions for me without my knowledge. Well intended or not. So, with that said, no more talking to Nate, or anyone else for that matter, for _or_ about me. Understood?"

"What if Grandma or Grandpa calls and—"

"Rachel."

"Understood," she mumbles morosely.

I watch as my daughter nods her head. And then by the way she proceeds to chew on her lower lip and furrow her brow, I can tell that something else is on her mind. "Something you'd like to add, Rach?"

At my prodding, she releases a breath. "Can I assume that that rule works both ways? Because I'll have you know that I am rather mature for my age and should therefore be afforded the same…" Her voice slowly tapers off as she notices me smiling and shaking my head. "But how's that fair!"

"Rachel, Honey, you're fifteen. And I'm thir— well I'm much older than fifteen," I explain, as I stand to retrieve my things from her desk. "Besides, when I 'intervene' in your life it's not called interfering." Ruffling her hair, I offer her a smile and a wink before heading out the door.

I've reached my own bedroom door by the time I hear Rachel emerge from her room and run into the hallway. "If it's _not_ interfering, then what would you _call_ it?" she shouts out to my back.

I stop in my doorway and turn back to face my daughter. "Parenting."

And with that, I chuckle and shut my bedroom door behind me, no doubt leaving my daughter scowling in the middle of the hallway as she contemplates my words.

**-PA-**

By the following week, I have fallen back into my usual routine. Wakeup, work, practice, home, sleep, repeat. Well…_almost_ my usual routine. There are admittedly a few significant changes.

The biggest being I've got my own personal doctor to talk to now.

After my da—out—_thing!_ last Saturday with Nate, I am now willingly responding to all of his phone calls. So we talk just about every night. And during the day we keep in contact through constant text messaging. Now while the task of texting back and forth occurring between two adults does seem a little juvenile and more like something my daughter and her peers would participate in, I have to admit it is actually kind of fun.

I mean it's been a while since I've really had someone to talk to on a regular basis. Other than Rachel, of course. And while I do love my daughter and the company she provides, her presence and companionship cannot replace the stimulation that I would attain from a true adult conversation. Furthermore considering the last time I had felt anything akin to that had been a romantic relationship nearly two years ago, I have no problems admitting that I'm definitely elated over the idea of having my best friend back in my life.

In my most recent relationships, romantic or otherwise, conversations have always been predictable, boring exchanges. But with Nate, it's all jokes, reminders of old memories and even the occasional text containing a picture of him doing something completely inane that eventually leaves me with stitches in my side as I sit in my office, when I should probably be going over set lists or even some class work.

Also during the last period of my day, assuming he's had no patients waiting for him and I haven't been too busy grading papers, we've talked for a good twenty minutes before I have to start getting ready for glee practice. And I think I can say with the utmost certainty that those conversations have truly been my saving grace for the past two days. I'm more than positive that if it weren't for Nate's jokes and calming demeanor, I'm not too sure I'd be able to get through glee practice with Dustin. On Sunday, I had informed Nate of my latest trial at work and he told me that unless truly goaded I should just steer clear of Dustin and do my best to keep calm. Because the stress that I bring about myself is definitely not healthy.

It would seem that my daughter was on to something last week, after all. _Who knew?_

So _now_ I am under strict doctor's orders to remain stress free. However Nate's advice is easier said, than done. But at least I'm _trying_.

Presently I must say that I'm doing pretty well though. After all, it's already Wednesday and my co-coach has yet to provoke me enough into participating in any of our usual arguments. Although it isn't for lack of trying on Dustin's part. Because as of late, my new co-coach has taken his underhanded tactics to new, _incredible_ heights. With Sectionals just around the corner and fast approaching, he has begun scoping out the competition.

The act of doing so is certainly nothing out of the ordinary, seeing as everyone does it at some point. But it's Dustin's methods of going about doing so that leaves me completely disgusted and appalled. Because they leave me questioning whether Mr. Goolsby has any type of value system or moral code. Or maybe even something as simple as a conscience for that matter.

Case in point. At Monday's scheduled practice, I could only turn away and pretend not to listen as he instructed a trio of my female seniors to go check out a rival school this coming Thursday and just yesterday he proceeded to inform a pair of my sophomore boys that they were to "infiltrate" some all boys' school nearby.

Personally, I see no reason why we should be even remotely worried about a group that calls themselves _The Warblers_. But that's a different matter entirely.

And his little spies are not going in empty handed. _Oh no_. Mr. Goolsby was sure to outfit each little surveillance team with a small video camera as well as several high tech recorders with which to capture any and all information possible so as not to be surprised when Sectionals does finally arrive.

And have I mentioned that neither Principal Richards nor the boosters seemed to care about Dustin's latest strategy?

Initially when I'd first heard of Dustin's plans, I was sure that once word got out he would be sent packing for his actions and my proper title would be restored immediately. Unfortunately it was not so. In fact, Dustin's efforts have been applauded! When I'd heard the booster club had actually put up the money to pay for the cameras and audio equipment, I was left gaping and even slightly outraged. I had even begun to think of the mountain load of paperwork I had previously gone through _just_ for the spotlight and then compared it to the little, if any, paperwork Dustin filled out for Sunshine's transfer and then the 'spy equipment'.

I'm pretty sure there was no work on Dustin's part to get what he wanted done. And once again I am angered by the double standard that can still be found in the workplace in this day and age.

I shake my head and take a deep breath, hoping to clear my mind before returning to work on grading my juniors' most recent exam papers. Just as I am reading through one of my students' poor excuses for a thesis statement, my office phone rings and I learn that I am being summoned to the front office for a delivery that I must apparently sign for. After hanging up with one of the many nameless secretaries that work for the head administrators, I exit my office. I slightly recall ordering the copy written catalog of sheet music online nearly two months ago, considering it to be a rather good investment on my part. However given my current situation, I'm left to re-evaluate my initial thoughts.

Oddly enough, I'm not as upset as I could be. I mean yes it had been my money that paid for the purchase, but I had been reimbursed immediately afterwards by the booster club. So at the moment I could really care less. In fact, out of spite, I just might give the music to Rachel for her to share with her own glee club. Since Dustin's presence has rendered it simply useless and obsolete here at Carmel, maybe they could find some use for the catalog over at McKinley.

As I'm about to round the corner for the most direct route to the main offices, I hear and then observe a group of my juniors, who also happen to be members of Vocal Adrenaline, standing by a row of lockers down the hall, talking to Dustin. At first glance this entire encounter seems innocent enough. I mean they _are_ students and he _is_ a member of the faculty, thus they are allowed to communicate outside of glee practices. As I prepare to continue my trek to the front offices, however, I watch as Dustin seems to covertly look up and down the hall before handing something over to the students. And then when one of the boys proceeds to accidently drop whatever mysterious package Dustin has passed off to them, I realize that there is absolutely nothing innocent at all about this entire meeting whatsoever.

Because before David Bilson can pickup and quickly pocket the item, I recognize the familiar small pink slips of paper that all Carmel faculty, and _only_ Carmel faculty, have access to.

It's the color of the hall passes we hand out for whatever reason when the kids need to get out of class. And from the looks of it, Dustin has lifted nearly a dozen packs, already signed them and is handing them out to students freely. Clenching my fists at my side, I continue to watch on in a complete fury as Dustin high fives each student before sending them on their merry way.

So now, not only has he moved in on Vocal Adrenaline which prior to his arrival had clearly been my territory, but now he is bribing my students into liking him even further.

Remembering Nate's advice from earlier, I physically restrain myself from approaching Dustin by taking an alternate route to the front office. All the while thinking that one of these days that my co-coach will be in for one hell of a rude awakening.

And I pray, for his sake, that it isn't from me.

**-PA-**

I release a sigh of relief as I arrive at my front door. Wednesday evening has _finally_ arrived.

As luck would have it, I've managed to escape Carmel much earlier than expected. After Dustin and I became engaged in a rather heated 'discussion' as to the chosen set-list for Sectionals, I realized that my prolonged presence would only cause me further headache. The issue had risen about halfway into our scheduled practice time. Upon hearing the songs that Dustin had chosen, I was severely disappointed with the lack of variety he had arranged for the performance. All of the songs he had chosen simply utilized Sunshine's talents, and left the remaining members of Vocal Adrenaline to fulfill the roles of backup singers and background dancers. Or simply put, over glorified props. And yet, the kids seemed to have no problems with the arrangement.

So just short of arguing till my voice grew hoarse, what could I do? After all, it had been weeks since my opinions held any merit or weight with my own team. So, I let them be, gathered my things and made my leave.

After my departure, as frustrated as I was, I'd actually been somewhat reluctant to go. If it isn't obvious enough, I don't trust Dustin as far as I can throw him, so to leave my kids in his custody and under his direction was probably not my best idea. I mean no matter how things are going between me and my students, they're still my team. So I do owe them some form of loyalty and devotion, right? I actually remained in the parking lot contemplating that very question. But in the moments I sat there, memories of the past few weeks gave me the incentive I needed to start my car and leave.

At least now I would be allotted more time to get ready for my thing tonight with Nate. Despite my tiresome day, that thought alone causes me to smile because it's been a while since I've had anything other than long phone conversations or shopping binges with my daughter to occupy my time.

Alas once I arrived home and started to prepare myself for tonight, I received a call from Nate asking if we could reschedule our plans. It would appear while my schedule is now open and I'm free, Nate's own schedule has just been filled. Apparently one of his co-workers was scheduled to give a seminar at Ohio State to a class of undergrads who also plan to specialize in the same field of pediatrics. Unfortunately due to one of his children recently coming down with the flu, Nate was called in to fill in for him.

So for the next day or so, Dr. Walker will be preoccupied with lecturing at OSU. While explaining the situation, he apologized profusely promising that the minute he got back he'd make it up to me, despite my claims that he didn't have to. He eventually ended the call, once again begging forgiveness and promising to keep in touch over the next few days.

Truthfully while I had been looking forward to dinner, I have to admit in the back of my mind I'm slightly relieved. Yes I'm glad to have my best friend back, but I am a little wary of just what is going on between us. Granted we have fun together, but given our shared past I must say I don't know what exactly to think of this relationship. Are we going to pick up exactly where we left off? And if so, will it be as friends or otherwise? I mean considering just what happened back in college, I'm a little curious as to just how long we plan to overlook the oversized gorilla that has long since set up shop in the corner of the room.

After thinking on it for a moment, I decide it best not to worry about anything just yet and to ignore the situation entirely so I may enjoy what could still turn out to be a decent evening. Considering I have no work to do and I currently have an empty house all to myself, I'm sure I can still salvage what's left of my day and turn it into a rather tranquil one. As I relax into the couch with the television remote, I settle on a random movie that's just starting and seems rather promising thus far.

I've just found a comfortable position on the couch, only to be brought out of my peaceful state by the ringing of the house phone. I reach forward and retrieve the cordless handset from its place on the coffee table a few feet in front of me. Without even checking the caller ID screen, I accept the call and put it to my ear. "Shelby Corcoran."

"_Mom? What are you doing at home so early?" _

"Well 'good evening' to you, too, Rachel. I'm fine. Thanks so much for asking," I deadpan, unable to contain the smile that soon appears on my face.

I don't need to be standing next to my daughter to know that she's probably blushing a bright crimson right about now and wearing a rather bashful look for her lack of her usual phone etiquette. _"I'm sorry, Mom. I was just going to leave you a message because I thought you'd still be out. Speaking of which, shouldn't you still be at glee practice?"_

"I could say the same about you. I have my reasons for being home early, but what about you? Did something happen at school today?"

"_You could say that." _I then listen to my daughter sigh deeply on the other end of the call, followed up with what sounds quite similar to a sniffle. As much as it pains me to witness my daughter crying in person, it hurts even more to hear it over the phone. I clutch the phone tighter to my ear just to be sure I'm hearing correctly and when I hear the sound again, I feel a sense of unease flow through my veins and then eventually course throughout my entire body. "Sweetie, are you okay?" I offer her a minute to respond and when she doesn't, I press on. "Rachel, if you need to talk…about anything, anything at all, I'm here. You know that, right?"

I hear my daughter sigh once more into the phone. _"I know, Mom. And I'm fine. Or at least I will be, I think,"_ she finally answers me obscurely, doing nothing to help my current anxieties. _"Actually…that's kind of the reason why I'm calling. Are you free tonight? There's something I wish to speak to you—well you, Dad and Daddy—about. So I was hoping we could move the family dinner from Saturday night to tonight. If that's okay with you, of course. I mean if you can't make it, we could always wait until Saturday…b-but it would mean a lot to me if you could make it tonight."_

Seeing as my previous plans are no longer existent, I see no reason why I can't attend. Besides, from the sound of it, it must be pretty important based on my daughter's insistent and pleading tone alone. But the fact that she wishes all three of her parents to be in attendance seems to increase the magnitude of this meeting. "If you need me today, Rach, then I'll be there today," I tell her while simultaneously shutting of the television and checking the time. "I'll see you in…about an hour. How's that sound?"

"_Perfect! Thanks, Mom. Love you."_

"Love you, too, babygirl."

And with that we both hang up our respective phones. I remain seated for a minute longer, blankly staring at the handset, contemplating what on earth could have happened at Rachel's glee practice that would evoke such emotions in my child. I consider calling Will and am halfway through dialing his number before I hang up, thinking that maybe I should just wait.

Fact is, whatever it is that's bothering Rachel, I should hear from her own mouth. And not that of her glee coach. Checking my watch once more, I allot myself thirty minutes to get ready and then on the road if I wish to get to the Berry house within the hour as I have just told Rachel. I'd rather not tarnish my otherwise perfect record with my daughter by breaking such a small promise to her.

Well _that_ and I would hate to keep my little diva waiting.

**-PA-**

Nearly two hours following my phone call with Rachel, finds me sitting in the dining room of the Berry home, rigid and practically frozen in my seat, my eyes wide and my mouth agape. And upon glancing around the table, I realize that of the other three people seated with me, two are in the same state of shock as I. At either head of the table I notice that Leroy is staring blankly into space and Hiram actually looks like he just might faint.

And it's all because of the words that left Rachel's mouth only moments ago.

_Dad, Daddy, if you die, what's going to happen to me?_

When Rachel had said she wished to speak with all three of us, I had half expected it to be pertaining to something not quite imperative and with a hint of triviality to it. Yes, that may seem inconsiderate of me, but this is a fifteen year old that I am dealing with. In addition, it's my daughter. Everyone knows Rachel can be a bit of a drama queen and as a result, she has no problems with blowing things somewhat out of proportion. A perfect example being her overreaction to not getting a solo in glee a few weeks ago. Her outburst was followed up with a tantrum of epic proportions once she arrived at my house. It had taken me nearly three hours to calm her down from that one. At one point I'd even considered calling Will and _begging_ him to reconsider his musical selections, if only to pacify my daughter.

However, I must say she certainly surprised me this time around.

It just so happens that Rachel actually had a tangible reason for her dispirited attitude. Apparently one of the kids in her glee club, Kurt Hummel I believe his name was, has recently suffered a family emergency. It would seem that his father collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital. From Rachel's understanding, Mr. Hummel suffered a severe heart attack. Leaving him in a coma, and with the doctors unsure of his condition, as well as all of the glee kids questioning their mortality and beliefs. All the while, still trying to be supportive of their fellow teammate.

Sometime between hearing of this during school and when she should've been in glee practice, Rachel had been wondering of her own current family situation. Granted she wishes no ill will on her fathers, she only wanted to know if the situation were ever to arise what would become of her well being. Now, while I may have thought of that very idea once or twice in the past few months since our reconnection, I have yet to gather the courage to ever pose such a question for fear of angering Rachel's fathers. But now that the question has been presented, I have to admit I'm curious as to how this matter will be dealt with. I look across the table to my daughter who is looking between the three of us, eagerly awaiting an answer to her question.

"Daddy?...Dad?...Mom?"

When neither of her fathers responds, I decide to take the lead on this one as best as I can. "Well, Rach…Honey. I think your dads might need a minute to—"

"No," Leroy firmly interjects, causing Rachel's and my gaze to jump up the table to him.

"No?" Rachel and I parrot dumbly.

"No," he repeats. I watch as Leroy shares a knowing look with Hiram, who nods in agreement. "Princess, I, well _we_, understand your curiosity in the matter. And your father and I realize that you have every right to ask such a question because you're concerned about what would happen to you. And while we can only hope and pray that nothing will happen to us, we do have reality to contend with." At that he looks away from Rachel and locks gazes with me. "Which is why we've been talking with our lawyers for the past few weeks."

"Y-you have?" I inquire, so as not to continue to appear completely thunderstruck.

"We have," Hiram answers with a smile, picking up where his partner left off. "Shelby. While the terms of your reconnection with Rachel are undoubtedly questionable, we realized that once you two met and started getting along so well and then proceeded to get to know each other better that we couldn't very well keep you two apart."

"Rachel wouldn't have allowed it," Leroy quips with a smile, causing Rachel to duck her head slightly in embarrassment.

"And in these past few months we've taken notice of the effort you have placed forward in order to get to know Rachel. We've see the sacrifices and adjustments that you've made in your own life and the care you've taken so as not to try and supplant us as her legal guardians. And we truly appreciate the time you've taken to work with us in raising Rachel," Hiram continues. "So…we were hoping that should the situation arise, and ill health or otherwise should befall Leroy and I, we would like for Rachel to be placed into your custody."

"My custody?"

Hiram chuckles at my feeble response. "We can think of no one we trust more."

"And we don't want you to feel like we're pressuring you, of course," Leroy quickly adds. "If you feel that you aren't capable, you can always decline. We will not hold your decision against you."

"Of course," says Hiram. "So, what do you say Shelby?"

"I-I…"

I settle my gaze in my lap as I struggle to comprehend the Berry's offer. On one hand the question seems absolutely ridiculous and even a little unnecessary. Of course I'd take Rachel in, should anything happen to them. She's my _daughter_ for god sakes! But on the other hand, I truly begin to think over _exactly_ what they're asking.

Sleepovers and shopping sprees are one thing. But complete responsibility over her life is a whole other matter entirely.

All things considered, do I honestly and truly deserve such trust and faith from these two men? I mean they've only gotten to know me for what, five, six months? And they already feel that I'm worthy of such a task as raising their child should some tragedy arise?

After all, it was only recently that I've taken a more active role in my daughter's life as a parent. It was barely two months ago that I deferred any and all disciplinary action back to them. And now that I have the opportunity to hand out punishment, I can barely even admonish Rachel. The moment she starts crying or pouting I'm at a loss as to just what to do! And if I can barely handle such a small crisis as a daily tantrum, how am I to tackle her first heartbreak, problems at school or even something as serious as her getting arrested!

Sure I may deal with kids on a regular basis due to my profession as a teacher. But at the end of the day, all my students return home to their own, respective parents. Essentially I'm just babysitting them for a few hours out of the day. I don't know the first thing about dealing with their everyday lives.

Therefore, given my lack of knowledge on raising children, how could Leroy and Hiram even consider me a candidate? Much less a top contender for such a notable role. Certainly they know more capable people to take Rachel in. Family members. Friends. People who have true experience with raising children.

When I finally lift my eyes back up, I look between Leroy and Hiram and find they are both giving me warm, affectionate smiles. Oddly enough that does nothing to appease my racing heart. In fact it just makes me feel even worse.

_There's no way I can do this!_

I then settle my gaze on my daughter who is seated across from me. Rachel is wearing one of her most expectant smiles and I can tell that my answer would certainly make or break her at this point. And as I truly look at my daughter, her dark brown eyes sparkling and practically urging me to respond, and to respond quickly, I realize that there's only one way for me to answer this question. So with tears in my eyes, I turn back to Leroy.

"Y-yes," is my simple reply, a slight quiver in my voice. I wipe away a few tears and witness a few fall from my daughter's eyes as well. "Of course I'd take Rachel in."

At my answer, Rachel squeals…_loudly_. She then proceeds to jump out of her seat and runs around the table to my side. She hugs me so tightly that I can barely breathe, but I really don't care. We share several tears and watery smiles as we both come to terms with the commitment I have just made to her. After a few minutes, Leroy clears his throat breaking through our misty haze, causing Rachel to calm down a bit before eventually taking a seat on my lap as we listen to whatever he has to say.

"Well that answers that," Leroy affirms with a nod. "I'll have our lawyers draw up the paperwork and we can make it official. I'll get everything to you as soon as possible, so you can have your own lawyers look at it if you wish."

"That won't be necessary," I tell him with a smile, giving Rachel's waist a squeeze as she drapes an arm across my shoulders. "I trust you guys will have everything laid out exactly as you wish. Just let me know where to sign once it's done."

Once again, Leroy nods. "Alright then. Now that that's settled, who's ready for dessert?"

**-PA-**

After consuming what can only be described as the greatest cheesecake known to man, vegan friendly of course, Rachel and I are ushered out of the kitchen so that Leroy and Hiram can get to work on the dinner dishes. Insisting that they don't need any assistance from "the womenfolk", Rachel and I are left to our own devices. We eventually end up in Rachel's room, perusing through her CD and playbill collections, as we idly discuss the synopses of various Broadway plays.

We have just finished a discussion on _Summer of '42_, when Rachel suddenly speaks up. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" I look up from my place by her desk to where she is seated cross-legged in the middle of her bed.

"Can we talk?"

"I thought we already were," I tease, as I stand and make my way to her side. Taking a seat on her bed, I nudge her shoulder playfully with my own. "What's on your mind, Hon?"

With the proverbial spotlight fully on her now, I watch as Rachel's gaze falls to her lap where she begins to toy with the ears of 'Bass', a small grey, teddy bear I'd given her during the summer and the single item Rachel has become insistent that she must sleep with every night. "It's about me and Finn."

I feel my stomach drop as my mind quickly supplies me with an image of my daughter and her boyfriend as well as a memory pertaining to a certain chat I have been meaning to have with her. "You know, I've actually been meaning to talk to you about you two."

"Oh? What about?"

"Well…"

I pause for a moment, hoping that any minute now I will be struck with some type of inspiration as to just how to go about "the talk". It's been years since I heard it from my own parents and the last thing I want is for it to come out riddled with clichés and idioms that would be more embarrassing and comical than helpful.

_But_…

In the event that I'm not inspired, I will have no shame in sinking to the level of bribing my child. Because if a new iPod, a trip to New York, a car, or even a pony will put off Rachel losing her virginity until she is _at least_ thirty, I will certainly find a way to supply her with all four.

Settling my gaze on one of the various posters that adorns my daughter's bedroom wall, I take a deep breath before taking the plunge. "Sweetie, I understand that you've gotten to a certain age and I know that there are social pressures you face just about every day. I also know that there is other pressure to partake in certain, shall we say, _activities,_ when kids your age are dating. And what with puberty and hormones wreaking havoc on your bodies, you kids are going to have your…_urges_. And even though sometimes it may be difficult to contain those _urges_, you have to realize that just because everyone else is doing…_stuff_ that you don't have to. Because you are your own person. And if at any time you ever feel pressured, you know you can always talk to your dads. Or…if you feel more comfortable, you can always talk to me. Okay?"

At the end of my speech, I glance out of the corner of my eye to see Rachel looking up at me and giving me quite the quizzical look. She stares at me for a few more minutes before her features become relaxed and she is smiling up at me. "I give it a B+."

Now it's my turn to look at her quizzically. "I beg your pardon," I respond. I watch my daughter tilt her head and continue to stare up at me, her eyes dancing in amusement. It eventually clicks a minute later. My fifteen year old has just _graded_ me for my attempted sex talk. "A B+, huh. Not even an A- for my effort?"

Rachel smiles at my comment. "You had an A until you suggested I talk to my dads," she tells me with a laugh. "When they first tried to talk to me, daddy kept blushing and using code words. And dad even said he'd buy me a car if I promised to abstain until I was married. Can you imagine, Mom? They actually attempted to bribe me into not having intercourse." I watch my daughter shake her head while muttering about the absurdity of the thought.

I purse my lips ruefully, thankful I hadn't added the purchase of a pony to the end of _my_ speech. "Yes, well…I trust you to make the _right_ decision."

The _right_ decision being no sex till she was thirty, of course.

Again I'm blessed with a smile from my daughter. "You don't have to worry about that," she informs me candidly. "Actually I've already discussed this with Finn. I don't plan on having intercourse until I'm at least twenty-five. At that point, I'm sure I will have won a substantial number of Tonys and be more than ready to have children…"

Despite my daughter's responsible and seemingly well thought out life plan, I find I am still blanching at the thought of my supposed grandchildren, not _grandchild_, _grandchildren _as in _plural_, making their grand entrance into the world roughly ten years from now. I'm just barely coming to terms with being a _mother_ and now I have the idea of being a _grandmother_ to contend with.

"…so like I said before, you have absolutely nothing to worry about," she concludes, patting my hand reassuringly. "I mean after I almost slept with Jesse earlier this year, I've learned that I should save myself for when I feel I'm truly ready. Whenever that is will be up to me and I'm not going to let anyone else make that decision for me."

_She almost did what! _

My prospective grandchildren forgotten, I turn to look at Rachel who is still wearing a bright smile. Without a word, I slip out of the bed and head for the door.

"Mom? W-where are you going?"

I turn and flash Rachel a quick smile, before heading out the door. "I'll be right back, Hon. I just remembered I have an important phone call to make."

I watch out of the corner of my eye as she nods before informing me to hurry back so we can discuss her initial question. With promises to make the call a quick one, I pull the door shut behind me. I have my cell phone out and the number dialed by the time I step down onto the final landing. And it's ringing the moment I reach the front porch.

"_Hey Shel—"_

"Exactly which _part_ of '_befriend_ _Rachel' _was so hard for you to understand, Mr. St. James?"

* * *

Well that was quite the roller coaster chapter, in my opinion anyway. I hope I didn't disappoint too many people with the sex talk. I tried to keep it light, serious, but funny. I wanted it to be awkward for Shelby and flat out funny for Rachel. Hope that's how it came across to you guys...

OK, now I will try my hardest to get the next chapter out by next week, but with it being finals week, I'm not too sure how that's going to go :(  
_  
Anyway you guys know the drill..._

_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh?_

Review and let me know.  
Seriously I love hearing from you guys :)


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys! Yes, I know I'm late. My life is honestly just a whirlwind of nonstop activity, one thing after another, so I do apologize. Now, I do admit that I've been sitting on this chapter for a while. It's been complete, but I was hesitant to post for reasons that will make themselves known. With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

_As always, thank you everyone for the reviews, messages and kind words, they're very much appreciated. Another thanks to romcat and a huge thanks to my new buddy Gleeks09 (who has agreed to hide me should any of you come looking for me lol). Without all of you guys, this chapter simply wouldn't be possible! So again THANKS!_

Enough of my rambling, on with the show...

* * *

**A/N: If you would all be so kind as to NOT show up on my doorstep with pitchforks upon reading the ending, I would much appreciate it. Actually, if you could all swear right now that you won't, that would be even better :D (_runs and hides_)**

* * *

**From Chapter 7:**

_"…so like I said before, you have absolutely nothing to worry about," she concludes, patting my hand reassuringly. "I mean after I almost slept with Jesse earlier this year, I've learned that I should save myself for when I feel I'm truly ready. Whenever that is will be up to me and I'm not going to let anyone else make that decision for me."_

_She almost did what!_

_My prospective grandchildren forgotten, I turn to look at Rachel who is still wearing a bright smile. Without a word, I slip out of the bed and head for the door._

_"Mom? W-where are you going?"_

_I turn and flash Rachel a quick smile, before heading out the door. "I'll be right back, Hon. I just remembered I have an important phone call to make."_

_I watch out of the corner of my eye as she nods before informing me to hurry back so we can discuss her initial question. With promises to make the call a quick one, I pull the door shut behind me. I have my cell phone out and the number dialed by the time I step down onto the final landing. And it's ringing the moment I reach the front porch._

_"Hey Shel—"_

_"Exactly which part of 'befriend Rachel' was so hard for you to understand, Mr. St. James?"_

* * *

**Chapter 8**

On the other end of the line, I hear a few choice words being muttered under Jesse's breath. Then after several minutes of silence, most of which I spend fuming as I await some kind of response, he finally takes a deep breath and begins to speak.

_Well, it's just like I told you last time Ms. Corcoran. I thought sedu—_befriending—_Rachel would be a good acting exercise and—_

"An acting exercise?" I interject, my voice saturated in utter disbelief. This boy is so damn lucky he is currently situated on the opposite coast. And yet I still find myself considering the idea of hopping on a plane to stage a visit with my former pupil. "So. Attempting to sleep with my daughter was what, exactly? A study in improv!"

_No, that just happened. Wait! That's not—I-I-I m-mean didn't happen—b-b-because nothing happe—_

My mind doesn't even register Jesse's attempt to backpedal. All I manage to hear is his smug, casual response of "that just happened" and I'm completely enraged. I don't even allow him the opportunity to continue his apologetic babble.

"Listen to me you egotistical, little drama queen. For your information the word _befriend_, means no more than to become friends with. So when I told you to befriend, _not seduce_, my daughter I simply wanted you to become _friends_ with Rachel. Not attempt to hijack her virginity!"

I hear a stuttered 'Yes Ma'am' and take a breath before forging on.

"And the very idea that _nothing_ happened doesn't change the fact that _something_ could've happened. Don't think I hadn't heard the rumors around Carmel, St. James. I knew full well about the reputation you had with the female underclassmen during your tenure. But I had no idea that you were _brazen_ enough to attempt to charm _my daughter_ in the same fashion. But make no mistake, that _won't_ be happening again anytime soon. And so help me god, Jesse, if or when you return home for the holidays, you had better not step _one foot_ out of line and attempt to contact, see or even _think_ of Rachel. Because I will find you. And you can be damn certain of one thing Mr. St. James."

_W-w-what's that?"_

I smile. "You're a tenor, isn't that right?"

_Indeed, Ms. Corcoran. And the best one out here if I may say so. My vocal coach…_

Just as I expected, Jesse has jumped into the false security net I have set out and as a result he feels comfortable and secure. Unfortunately, he won't be that way for long.

"How would like to be a soprano?" Again, there is more silence on the line. But this time I find myself smiling, and it's growing wider as I leave Jesse to fully process my promise. I say a _promise_ because I don't believe in idle threats; promises I can collect on. And I certainly plan on collecting on this one should he enter within a fifty foot radius of my child. As I'm thinking of ways to further punish my former protégé, and how I can legally get away with it, he sighs deeply pulling me from my thoughts.

_Look, Ms. Corcoran, initially I _was_ just carrying out your orders. But somewhere along the line…I guess I kinda fell for her. And then we sorta, kinda dated…_

"_Sorta, kinda_? Define 'sorta, kinda'."

_Well, she was my girlfriend. For real._

_He left Carmel for a little over two weeks! How the hell is that enough time to date someone _and_ to fall for them? _"So. You dated my daughter, 'for real', during your brief sojourn at McKinley, and then you decided to break up with her, 'for real', when I recalled you to Carmel?"

_Not exactly. See... it all began to fall apart with the Run, Joey, Run debacle…_

_And the plot thickens_, I think sardonically. "Run, Joey, Run?"

_Yea, and then we had a fight. Then, there was the egging—_

"Egging? What egging!"

_I'm guessing, Rachel didn't tell you about that, huh?_

"No, she didn't. But I'm sure you're about to, aren't you, Mr. St. James?"

_Yes, Ma'am. I think I should probably start from the beginning._

"Good idea. And if you value your vocal talents _and_ possibly even your life, I suggest you leave nothing out."

_Yes Ms. Corcoran. See it all began…_

**-PA-**

Having heard the entire story of all the drama that unfolded inadvertently due to my actions earlier this year and then having told off Mr. St. James even further to the point where my voice has become dry and raspy, I finally re-enter the Berry home nearly half an hour after Rachel delivered the "good" news.

Admittedly, even after unleashing most of my fury and frustrations onto the unsuspecting young man, I feel no better about my current situation. If anything, I feel worse. See, during my call with Jesse, my former student enlightened me on several essential details to the exhaustive story that is apparently my daughter's social life.

_And what a story it is. _

The first detail being it had not been his idea for him and Rachel to… _get together_. It had been Rachel's. While a part of me, a _very_ big part I might add, still wishes to place all of the blame on Jesse, I'm still battling with another side that is just as upset with Rachel's decision. After all she was, and still is, only fifteen! What was she thinking making such a big commitment to someone she'd only just met? I quickly calm myself down because as Rachel had said, and Jesse confirmed, nothing had happened.

_Thank god!_

Luckily my daughter has seen the error of her ways and has amended her stance on premarital sex. And considering we literally just spoke on this, I feel there is no need to rehash the past. Especially when I have no desire to do so. Once was _more_ than enough, thank you very much!

Although I wouldn't mind seeing this Run, Joey, Run video that Jesse mentioned.

Secondly I am now aware of the juvenile prank that several members of my team played on my daughter. A prank for which the remaining members who were involved will certainly be punished for come tomorrow. Because there is absolutely no statute of limitations on bullying my kid.

And lastly, I now know of the various relationships that my darling daughter had been a part of last year. I must admit I was somewhat surprised to learn that my initial thoughts that Jesse had been Rachel's first boyfriend, and for all intents and purposes her first love, had been proven incorrect.

I was even more shocked to learn he wasn't even _second_ in line. In fact, before Jesse there had been Finn, which I am relatively alright with. But, even before Finn, there had been Puck.

Now _him_ I am most certainly _not_ okay with.

And just what kind of a name is _Puck, _anyway!

I close my eyes as I am taken back to a few months prior when I had called a meeting in Figgins' office to address the vandalism done to my team's cars. If my memory serves me correctly, which it usually does, _Puck_ had been the ringleader in the tire slashing incident. And unlike his co-conspirator, Mr. Hudson, _Puck_ had no remorse. _Whatsoever_! Actually he seemed quite proud of his delinquent antics.

His reaction didn't resonate very well with me _then_.

And knowing he dated my daughter, no matter how briefly their relationship may have lasted, doesn't sit very well with me _now_.

The very idea that my babygirl would stoop so low as to purposely associate herself with such a self proclaimed badass leaves me speechless and confused and…and…I can't even describe to the full extent my feelings towards the teenaged felon. And his name alone leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Releasing a groan, I pocket my phone before rubbing my temples in hopes of forestalling the headache I know is coming. All the while wondering if Hiram and Leroy are even aware of the revolving door that is Rachel's love life.

_And apparently also her bedroom._

With no sense of urgency in my steps, I make my way up the stairs and back to my daughter's room so we may continue with our planned conversation. Opening the door, I return to her side, half heartedly mirroring the bright smile she offers me before she delves into her question.

However, for the life of me, I just can't concentrate. No matter how hard I try, or how much I want to with every fiber of my being, I am unable to really and truly listen to my daughter. Even despite having already berated Jesse for his actions, the context of my previous discussion with Rachel, and even the one with Jesse, is still fresh and sitting in the forefront of my mind, leaving me unable to place my focus on whatever it is that Rachel is talking about now.

So for the next few minutes I simply sit there nodding my head, giving the impression that I am listening intently, when in fact my attention is still on figuring out a way for my daughter to remain as innocent and naïve as the day when I had first delivered her into this world. Because while she may feel ready to take certain steps towards adulthood, I'm definitely not ready for her to do so.

**-PA-**

Halfway, or what I assume is halfway, into our discussion, Rachel's phone begins to ring. She blindly reaches over and grabs it before looking at the screen. She doesn't answer it immediately, but by the giddy way she's smiling, I already know it's her boyfriend.

Thankful for the interruption, I opt to offer her a little bit of privacy by choosing to exit her room, telling her I'll just be downstairs if she needs me for anything. She nods eagerly before returning her attention to the call.

"Hey, Finn," I hear my daughter say dreamily into her phone.

At the mention of her boyfriend's name, I'm reminded once again of my previous conversation with Jesse. And despite the fact that it's Finn she's talking to, my mind conjures a false memory of Puck being the one to elicit such grins and giggles from my daughter. I grimace at the thought before placing a kiss in my daughter's hair, grabbing my shoes from their place by her desk and making my leave.

Pulling the door closed behind me, I take a deep breath, holding it for as long as I possibly can and then releasing it, with hopes of putting thoughts of my daughter, my grandchildren and my daughter's covertly active social life behind me, if only for a moment before making my way downstairs and into the kitchen in search of my fellow co-parents and, my friends. I eventually find Hiram seated in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee, with Leroy nowhere to be found. I grab a cup for myself before pulling out a chair and joining him in the breakfast nook. "Where's Leroy?" I eventually ask absently, mostly in part to fill in the silence that surrounds us.

"One of the partners at the firm needed his confirmation on a case, so he took the call in his office."

I nod at his explanation as I take a sip of the piping, hot liquid. I sigh expressively as I replace the cup onto the table, gripping it tightly as I stare down at its dark, murky contents.

"Something you want to talk about? Did something happen with Rachel?"

I shake my head. "Yes. I mean, no. I mean, we're fine…we were talking and I—well she and…" I pause when I realize I've not only confused myself but Hiram as well. So taking a deep breath, I try to organize my nervous ramblings in hopes of finding the right words. "Does it ever get easier? Parenting, I mean. It's just…there are times I think I know exactly what I'm doing. And then, other times…"

"You begin questioning your sanity," Hiram says dryly.

I chuckle at his comment. "Yeah, something like that." I look up from my cup of coffee and into his eyes. Like our little princess, Hiram's eyes are a deep, chocolate brown. They easily reflect his well-meaning and gentle nature. And just like Rachel's, they are his most expressive feature. They have a sparkle to them when he smiles and in the few instances I've seen him upset, a small fire can be spotted behind his glasses. I watch as he takes a sip from his mug, using the moment to gather his thoughts at my question if I had to guess.

He eventually sets the mug on the table and interlaces his fingers before he begins. "I wish I knew," he says jokingly, garnering a laugh from the both of us. When our joint laughter eventually tapers off, his expression sobers. "I'm going to be honest with you, Shelby. When Leroy and I first decided that we wanted children, I think we were simply in love with the notion of being parents. Even after we found you, it was just the _idea_ of having an adorable little boy or girl running around that entranced us. But as your due date grew closer, so did the realization of just what we had signed up for. What we had _all_ signed up for," he tells me. He gives me a pointed look over his glasses and I suddenly feel rather exposed. "I can imagine that while the decision seemed simple enough for you at the time, you held a few reservations in the following years over what you did. Otherwise you wouldn't have sought Rachel out. Am I right?"

Unable to maintain his gaze, I drop my eyes back to my mug and nod slightly.

"Well, like you, we realized everything _after_ the fact. And by then it was much too late to turn back. We later learned that once you have a child, you don't automatically have the answers. It's a learning process for both sides. You soon realize that parenting is all about sacrifices and compromises. Quite similar to any other relationship really, but slightly more important if that makes any sense. Because in a relationship, both parties are relatively independent. But with a child, they turn to you for everything. They're completely dependent on you. And when you become a parent, you learn that it's no longer about you, but that little person you brought into this world. And just as they're growing and learning, so are we as parents and as adults. We learn to leave behind our selfish attitudes because we have another person to think of. We set aside our own feelings, just so that they never have to feel an ounce of sadness or even shed a tear. We sacrifice our wants, our needs and our time, so that they can get a chance to live out their own dreams. And in the end, when you see that little person you raised from infancy develop into a successful determined young adult, all of the dirty diapers, three AM feedings, rehearsals, tantrums, and piano lessons seem rather insignificant because when that child smiles at you, you realize that all your hard work and sacrifice was well worth it."

At the conclusion of his speech, I sit back, evidently stunned into silence. It's no wonder he's such as successful psychiatrist. He's good! I mean, I'd never before mentioned my misgivings about giving up Rachel to either of the Berry men, but Hiram was able to read me so clearly it's almost scary. And it leaves me wondering if I'm really that transparent. I disregard the thought in favor of analyzing what he has just shared with me.

Taking a moment to consider his words, I find he was right. About everything. Parenting may not be easy, but the rewards are certainly great. While I might not have been present for the duration of Rachel's infancy or even preadolescence, I can appreciate Hiram's words because there have been times in my relationship with Rachel when just a smile, a hug, or even a simple _Love you Mom_ from my daughter always seemed to brighten even my most stressful of days. The most recent instance being when I'd helped her study for a Spanish test and she'd later returned home with an A. I had sacrificed hours of sleep and free time to help her go over most, if not all, of her Spanish assignments. But none of that mattered when my little girl burst through the door and announced she'd passed her test with flying colors. It felt like not only Rachel had passed, but so had I. I then look up to find Hiram smiling at me and I proceed to return it with a bright one of my own. "Thank you, Dr. Berry. And just how much do I owe you for the session?"

"Consider this one on the house, Ms. Corcoran," he answers with a chuckle.

Once more, we share a laugh and are then content to settle down and enjoy the comfortable silence that soon engulfs us. But our moment of peace is soon interrupted when we hear what sounds like yelling coming from the living room. I look to Hiram with a furrowed brow, only to witness him calmly sipping at his coffee. "Don't you think we should go out there?" I ask, gesturing towards the door.

"There's no need. It's nine-thirty," he tells me, as if that answers everything. As I continue to stare at him in confusion, Hiram eventually expounds on his response. "Every so often, Rachel will ask to stay up past her bedtime. Generally when we have company. But, the answer is usually no. And as I'm sure you already know, our darling little princess, refuses to let it end there. She usually uses this time to showcase her impressive talents of crying on cue, pouting and sulking to the point where we have no choice _but_ to cave in."

I stare back at Hiram in awe of how well he has just outlined every tantrum or outburst I have ever experienced with my daughter. "And you're immune to all that? The tears. The eyes. The _pouting_." I inquire in partial amazement.

Hiram scoffs. "O dear god, no. That's why I let Leroy handle it. He can put his foot down where our little diva is concerned. Me? I'm just one big softie."

I smile because I can truly imagine that.

Moments later, the kitchen door swings open and I somewhat expect it to be Leroy coming to join us after having caved in to Rachel's wishes. However I'm rather surprised to witness my daughter enter the kitchen wearing a pair of sweats and a novelty _I Love NY_ t-shirt that I'm almost positive she swiped from me during one of her weekend stays, as well as a slight frown as she covertly looks over her shoulder.

"Mom? Daddy?" she whispers furtively. "You don't suppose you could try and talk to Dad and—"

"Rachel! I said to say goodnight. Not to try and bargain with your mother and father!" I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from chuckling as I watch Rachel's shoulders fall at the reprimand from Leroy, who although remains in the living room, is still quite a formidable force regardless of the distance.

"Tough break, kiddo, but you know the rules." She nods at Hiram's words before she gives him a quick goodnight kiss on the cheek and then makes her way over to me for a hug. Wrapping her arms around me from behind, she settles her chin on my shoulder sullenly.

I turn my head, placing a small kiss to her temple, and give her arms a reassuring squeeze as they hang loosely around my shoulders. "Goodnight, babygirl."

"G'nite, Mom," she murmurs into my shoulder. She steps back and heads for the door, muttering something along the lines of despite America being a democracy she's living in a monarchist home, causing a chuckle to escape from Hiram's lips. As she is approaching the door, she turns back to face us. "Mom, are we still on for this weekend?"

"Aren't we always?" Even though I essentially answered her question with one of my own, my daughter leaves the room with a slightly brighter outlook evident in her features and I smile because I'm the one that put it there. I turn back in my seat and look across the table to see Hiram offering me a smile that seems to say "I told you so".

We then pick up our conversation, this time discussing the local news. Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, although a part of me is somewhat relieved that I am not the only one of Rachel's parents who is susceptible to her infamous puppy pout, another part of me is curious as to whether or not Leroy would be willing to offer any pointers.

So, as Hiram commences his weekly review of the latest Sue's Corner, I make a mental note to ask him just that.

**-PA-**

True to their word, Hiram and Leroy get the necessary paperwork to me within the next two days. Employing Rachel as their own personal courier, my daughter has been charged with the duty of delivering the heavy manila envelope into my custody. So after I've picked her up from school and we've made our way back to my house, Rachel promptly sits me down in the kitchen.

Pulling out a pen, seemingly out of mid-air, my daughter keeps a watchful eye over me as I sign every line, making sure I cross every 't' and dot every 'i' so to speak.

Like Rachel, I certainly don't want any ill will to befall her dads, but as I advance through the dozens of pages of legal jargon, I can't help smiling at the prospect of having Rachel stay with me full time should the need ever arise.

Once I complete the task of essentially signing my life away, I find myself caught up in one of Rachel's bone-crushing hugs. Unlike her tears and pouts, however, I've become quite used to these as they no longer steal my breath away like they used to. After having secured the folder back in her bag pack, my daughter and I are now free to carry on with our regularly scheduled weekend plans. This weekend they consist of simply hanging out. We've got a movie day planned for most of Saturday, followed by dinner at the local bistro that has long since become a personal favorite of ours after Rachel and I ate there this past summer. Our Sunday plans are still up in the air, but I'm not worried. I'm sure we'll think of something.

Granted, we don't plan on commencing any of these activities until _after_ we've completed our respective homework, of course. Rachel's being a few pages from her pre-calculus textbook and mine being the task of outlining my lesson plans.

Now, while I'm usually prepared and overly so at that, I thought it best to go the extra mile what with the errant flu bug that's been going around. One never knows when they might be out for one reason or the other. So deciding to err on the side of caution, I've chosen to get a head start on my plans for at least the next month or so. And even if I am jumping the gun, the best case scenario is that I'm effectively lightening my workload for the next few weeks.

I'm sitting in my home office, reading through my AP English class's anthology searching for an appropriate reading assignment when my daughter calls out to me from her place in the living room. Given that she has been hard at work for the past few hours since we'd arrived home, I can only assume that Rachel has completed her homework and is inquiring as to whether or not I have done the same. Unfortunately, I haven't. "What's up, Rach?"

I hear a commotion and am about prepared to get up in order to investigate the small disturbance. But, my confusion clears up however once my daughter appears in the doorway of my office, and I realize the sounds I heard were only from Rachel making her way out of the living room. "I need your help with something."

Her request slightly puzzles me because before she got started on her homework assignment, she'd been adamant in telling me it was only review and that she would have no problems with it. "I thought you said you understood the math."

I watch as Rachel shakes her head. "No, it's not homework help," my daughter tells me. "I need a good duet selection."

I nod. "Glee assignment," I say, more than ask, as my daughter also nods her head in confirmation.

"Precisely. Mr. Schue wants us to pair off and perform duets. He made it into a competition and the winner gets dinner on him. At Breadstix! With that said, I'm sure you can understand why I _need_ to win this," Rachel explains enthusiastically. "So…any ideas?"

Well. It would appear that not only did Rachel acquire my vocal talents, but it would seem my little girl has apparently also inherited my fiercely competitive nature.

I set my pen and notes aside, as well as the anthology that had otherwise held my attention. I swivel my chair around to fully look at my daughter who is now leaning in my doorway and staring back at me expectantly. "Before I offer any ideas, one question. Couldn't my assisting you be considered cheating?" I inquire, leaning back into my seat and crossing my arms. I'm well aware that I may be setting myself up for one of Rachel's extended monologues, but I'm rather interested to see just how she plans to reason her way through this one.

"Not at all. I'm only utilizing all of my available resources. Some kids have their parents' old records, and others will be using the internet or the library to do their research. It just so happens that I've got an award winning coach at my disposal," Rachel states with a casual shrug. "All things considered, Mom, with all the time I spend with you, it would be unfair to both of us if I didn't take advantage of your immense knowledge and various talents that are otherwise wasted on your own team. It's a win-win situation. _I_ get to better myself as a budding thespian and _you_ get to make use of your otherwise ignored skills."

Shaking my head and smirking at my daughter's assessment, I gesture for her to fully enter the room. Honestly, if Rachel's dreams to the stage do not follow through I can see my daughter becoming a very successful lawyer or maybe even a politician.

Standing up, I make my way to a nearby filing cabinet and pull out the bottom most drawer. I rifle through it for a minute or two before finally surfacing with what I had been looking for. Retrieving the heavy binder, I hand it off to Rachel who has since moved behind me and is now staring up at me with a rather confused look.

"What's this?"

"A binder," I answer in all seriousness. I then laugh at the annoyed look Rachel shoots my way. "That, my darling daughter, is a catalog organized by yours truly, and it is comprised of just about every duet created within the past sixty years or so. Broadway, contemporary, classic rock. You name it, it's more than likely in there."

The smile that spreads across my daughter's features causes me to chuckle. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Rachel had just discovered the Holy Grail. Thinking on it, she probably thinks she has. "And you're letting _me_ borrow it?" my daughter asks me, her eyes sparkling in delight when she finally tears them away from the binder.

I shrug. "Given my current situation, I think you'll find better use for it, don't you?"

Rachel nods. "I suppose," she says in agreement. A giant smile then appears on my daughter's face and she sets the binder aside for a minute to wrap her arms loosely around me for a quick hug. "Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome, Honey," I say gently, fully returning the hug. Once she releases me, I reclaim my seat intent on getting back to work. I turn my eyes back to my notes, but out of the corner of my eye, I watch my daughter exit my office but not before she seems to reverently open the binder and begin to carefully peruse the pages. Before she is too far out of earshot and too lost in her own musical world, I call out to garner her attention. "Might I suggest page fifty-two. It's an Elton John classic and I'm more than positive that the arrangement is in your vocal range. _And_, it would be perfect for you and Finn."

Seconds later, my daughter's head pops back into the doorway and once again she's sporting a confused look. "How'd you know I was singing with Finn?"

_Is she serious? _

I roll my eyes. "Lucky guess," I say, offering her a wry smile before getting back to work.

**-PA-**

The following day finds Rachel and me simply lounging on the living room couch watching a mini marathon of sorts. It's still pretty early in the afternoon but we've already gone through at least three films, alternating between the typical "chick flick" and various musicals of my daughter's choosing. We are about half an hour into our current movie when I realize that Rachel seems to be showing little to no interest in the film. In fact for the past hour or so, my daughter has been rather attentive to her cell phone and has repeatedly reached over and grabbed my wrist to gain a better view of my watch. Unable to contain my curiosity, or my growing annoyance, I pause the DVD.

"Alright," I announce, somewhat exasperated. "What's going on?"

"What makes you think anything is going on?" Rachel asks innocently.

I continue to stare her down and when my daughter shows no signs of yielding to my warning glare, I sigh. "Rach, it was your idea to have this marathon and you're not even paying attention—"

"That's not true! I love Legally Blonde!"

"We're watching Enchanted," I deadpan and then witness with mild satisfaction as her face instantly becomes flushed. "Look, Hon. Half the time you're either examining your phone or checking my watch. Which leads me to believe that you've either got something planned that you've neglected to tell me about or you're awaiting a very important phone call. So which is it?" I watch as my daughter begins chewing on her lower lip, and fiddling with one of the several throw pillows scattered around us, for a moment, as if trying to determine just what she plans to tell me. "Well…?"

"Umm, neither?" And with that my daughter grabs the remote and resumes the movie. "Hey Mom? Y'know, you kinda look like the actress playing Robert's girlfriend. It's a shame they never gave her any singing roles, I bet she would've been fantastic. Then again, it probably allowed her an opportunity to demonstrate her acting…"

I continue to stare at her, completely disregarding the observation as well as the scene that is currently playing on the large screen before us. In retaliation to my daughter's nonchalant attitude, I reach over and retrieve the remote, pausing the movie yet again. I am just about to respond to Rachel when three, separate events occur in rapid succession.

Rachel's phone rings, causing her to quickly bolt off the couch, the very minute the doorbell chooses to ring.

"Are you expect—"

"Can you get that, Mom?" Rachel yells as she makes a beeline for the stairs and most likely her bedroom. "Finn's calling about our duet. Besides that's probably just the mailman or something anyway."

With a furrowed brow, I stand and rub out the whiplash my neck suffered at watching my daughter's hasty exit, all the while confused as to her strange behavior. _She definitely gets that from her fathers,_ I think idly as I make my way to the door. As I'm about to open it however, I consider my daughter's words.

_The mailman? Why would the mailman ring the doorbell? _

I'm not expecting any large deliveries and I'm pretty sure Rachel isn't either because she would have told me about it prior to today. I retract my hand from reaching out for the handle, as I've grown even more suspicious of Rachel. Quietly and carefully, I approach the door and peek through the window, rolling my eyes as I spot my visitor.

It's Nate.

"Rachel." I growl out my daughter's name in pure frustration because I am more than positive that she had a hand in this "unexpected" drop in. However as I sit here silently cursing my child, Nate has turned and is now staring through the window and back at me with a wide smirk.

"You gonna let me in?"

"I'm still thinking about it," I reply with my own satisfied smile. I roll my eyes when he fixes me with a mock glare. Relenting, I release the few locks on the door and open it, stepping aside to allow Nate entrance into my home. Redoing the locks, I then lead him further into the entryway and turn to my dear friend, looking to him with a raised eyebrow. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, Nathaniel, but what exactly are you doing here?" I ask once he has completed his mini inspection of the foyer.

"Just thought I'd drop in," he answers with a shrug. He then releases a low whistle. "Nice place, Shel."

"Thanks," I say quickly brushing aside the compliment. "How did you even know I was going to be home?"

"I have my sources," he says just as easily. "Anyway, I was hoping I could redeem that rain check for last Wednesday and possibly take you out for lunch or something. Unless you've got other plans."

"As if your _sources_ haven't told you yet," I mutter sarcastically, causing Nate's initial grin to grow into a full blown smile. One of these days, I am going to find a way for Rachel to actually _listen_ when I speak. "Actually I've got Rachel for the week—"

Before I can complete my statement though, my daughter has made her way back downstairs and between Nate and I. When I've finally come to terms with her immediate arrival, I notice that she is no longer dressed in our typical weekend attire of a T-shirt and sweats. Rather she has traded it in for a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that is several sizes too big, and I quickly deduce that it must belong to her boyfriend. She's also carrying her bag pack and the catalog I'd lent to her only yesterday.

"_HeyNatebyeNatebyeMom_!" she hastily yells over her shoulder, before running for the front door.

"Hold it." At the sound of my voice, my daughter comes to a screeching halt and instantly freezes. I step up behind her and cross my arms. "And just _where_ do you think _you're_ going?"

"Umm, the library," she answers weakly once she has turned to face me.

"The library?"

"Yep, the library," Rachel answers, this time with more conviction in her tone and even in her posture, I notice, as she straightens her back and shoulders. She then flashes me one of her dazzlingly, bright smiles as well as an almost believable showface. The keyword being _almost_. "See, Mom. While I was on the phone with Finn discussing our musical selection, he reminded me of the English essay that Ms. Rivers assigned. We have to examine and explain a sonnet by William Shakespeare. I suppose I was so excited about my glee assignment and the competition that it must have just slipped my mind. So, I thought I'd just run over to the library and join Finn for a few hours to work on the project. So, can I?"

I purse my lips at my daughter's obvious lie. Her story has so many holes, it's absolutely ridiculous.

For one, Rachel knows that I'm an English teacher. So her trip to the library is almost pointless considering the small, yet extensive library that is currently located in my office. A library that she has direct access to. Without my permission. Additionally, I'd read through her homework organizer yesterday and the only assignment that she'd written down was the Math homework, which she'd already finished and I'd subsequently checked over. Lastly, and possibly the most obvious, since when has Finn ever been the one to remind Rachel of anything?

So as I look down at my daughter, ready to call her out on her fib, I notice something in her eyes. An almost pleading look.

I _know_ that look.

"Be home by six," I tell her with a sigh. _Dear god, I'm growing soft. _ I smile when Rachel squeals and hugs me before opening the door. I follow behind her with intent to shut the door behind her, but at the very last minute, I watch Rachel turn back to face Nate and I. And I must say, I don't like the smile that's currently displayed on her face. It's a strange blend between a mischievous smirk and a sly grin that is just so…_un-Rachel_. Leaving me almost anxious of whatever may come out of my daughter's mouth next.

"Since I won't be home, _Mom_, there's no reason why you can't partake in certain _activi—_"

"Goodbye, _Rachel_!" I quickly interject, instantly reminded of the talk I'd given my daughter only a few days ago. So before she can conclude her statement, I shut the door. I then move to lean back against it and as a result am now facing Nate who is wearing a very confused look.

"What's with you?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," I tell him, no doubt with a sudden tint of crimson to my cheeks. "So, you mentioned something about lunch…"

Luckily, Nate hadn't heard my daughter's comment and starts talking about possible places to go. When he mentions the very bistro Rachel and I had planned to go to today, I agree and tell him to make himself comfortable whilst I quickly change for our outing. Forty minutes later, I am sitting in the passenger seat of his expensive luxury sedan when my phone goes off signifying I've just received a text message.

-_Remember Mom, you are your own person…-_

I don't bother reading the rest of the message because I can feel the blush creeping back into my cheeks and I turn away when Nate catches my eye.

"Are you sure you're okay, Shelbs?"

"I'm fine, Nate," I tell him. "Just fine." I offer him a smile before turning to look out the window and releasing a shaky breath.

While I had contemplated it prior to today, I am now becoming convinced that I am an unwilling participant in an odd game of catch-up with Rachel.

Seeing as there is _no_ _way_ that everything my darling daughter has put me through in the past few months is really nothing more than her way of affording me the opportunity to experience all of the headache, stress and embarrassment that I've otherwise missed out on in the past fifteen years of her life.

**-PA-**

A few days later, I find that my previous theory regarding Rachel and I has been tested and then confirmed. Having decided to utilize my lunch break to be present for my daughter's performance, I was thoroughly surprised and temporarily struck dumb upon watching her and Finn present their duet.

And it was _quite_ the performance to say the least.

The first thing that threw me off when I first entered the choir room had been Rachel and Finn's outfit choices.

Now, considering my daughter still isn't allowed to sing at her own house, due to the court order put in place by her neighbors a few months back, Rachel requested the use of my basement studio for her and Finn to practice. I had no problems and thus allowed them the use of the space. Admittedly I had ulterior motives for my actions, seeing as it gave me a chance to hear how well their duet was coming along. And I must say, given the way their voices blended so well together they were definitely a shoe-in for first place. Additionally seeing as it was a dress rehearsal, I managed to get a glimpse of the outfits that Rachel and Finn had planned. Essentially they'd decided to remain true to their own styles, but opted to simply go for matching colors: Finn had a red polo and jeans to go with my daughter's red and blue sundress.

However as they took to the stage, so to speak, I observe they've traded their regular school wear for something a bit more, umm… _distinctive_?

Finn's wearing a black shirt and white clerical collar. The entire ensemble looks drastically out of place on his tall and bumbling figure. While my daughter looks like something straight out of The Sound of Music!

Like their peers, and even Will, I stared at them curiously for their choice of costume. However I decide to give them the benefit of the doubt because I'm sure Rachel has a very good reason and an inventive way in which to tie in their costume decision with their song choice.

Or at least I hope so.

_Oh boy do I hope so!_

Alas, my daughter does not disappoint me.

In fact, she shocks the hell out of me! As Rachel nods cueing the band to start up, I listen in for the familiar melodies and harmonies that accompany the intro of Elton John's Don't Go Breaking My Heart and I'm thoroughly surprised when I hear a smoother and mellower tune, rather than the upbeat pop ballad. I then furrow my brow as my daughter begins to sing, her voice well complemented by Finn's, through a rather strange rendition of With You I'm Born Again. While it is a relatively old song, stemming from the late seventies, looking around the room and despite the generational gap, it's quite obvious that the unmistakable message was captured by everyone.

_Even Brittany. And that's saying something._

At the conclusion of their performance, I, along with the rest of the glee kids, remained frozen in our seats. I swear I heard some applause that was quickly silenced, but I'm not sure because I'm still thunderstruck by my daughter's actions. And then when the other kids begin to speak up on it, I find myself puzzled by Rachel's comeback. It doesn't take a genius to know that my daughter didn't only put on just one performance today.

And like the first act, the second was even more mind-boggling.

After the final performance by Quinn and the newest member, whose name I still haven't managed to learn, the kids clear out, leaving Will to speak to Rachel and Finn alone. Despite the fact that my lunch break is nearly over and I should probably be making my way back to Carmel if I wish to get to my next class on time, I remain seated in the front row staring off into space.

The sound of someone taking a seat next to me just barely breaks through my fog, but it's when I feel a weight on my shoulder that I'm truly brought out of my reverie. I glance around the room to find that everyone, including the band members, has left. I then turn my head and see my daughter resting her head on my shoulder, staring up at me expectantly. And as I gaze back down at her, I deliberate just how I plan to pose the obvious question: _what the hell were you thinking?_

Taking a moment, I close my eyes and rub the bridge of my nose as I continue to replay what I just saw in my head. "Rachel? Honey…what…"

"Are you mad?" she asks me quietly.

I sigh wearily, before resting my cheek on the crown of her head and shifting my gaze to the distant wall. "What happened to wanting to win the dinner to Breadstix? To blowing everyone away? And _where_ did you manage to find that _song_?"

"Finn and I wanted to win, Mom. More than anything. But then when Sam joined—"

"Who?"

"The new kid," Rachel informs me. I nod at the explanation and signal for her to continue. "As I was saying when Sam joined, I realized that it would be in the best interest of the team if Finn and I lost the competition so that Quinn and Sam would win. I deduced after my discussion with Finn this past weekend at the library as well as a later talk we'd ended up having while rehearsing yesterday that if we wished for Sam to remain with the team, he had to feel like he belonged and the team had to believe in him as well. And that is why we threw the competition."

Having heard all of the details, I sit there quietly analyzing what my daughter has just told me. "So you did this for your team?"

"Yes."

I pull back and tilt my head to look into my daughter's face and as always, while her mouth has said one thing, her eyes are telling a whole other story. "Are you sure, Hon? Because the way I see it, by Sam sticking around you fulfill the required number of members needed to compete in Sectionals, Regionals, and eventually Nationals. So again I ask you, did you do this for the team?" As I watch my daughter's chin fall to her chest, I know I've just unveiled her true intent. While I applaud her dedication, there is still much that my daughter needs to learn. "Winning isn't everything, Rach."

"That's easy for you to say. You won Regionals last year," she mutters curtly. I then watch as her eyes immediately widen as if she just realized the words that have left her mouth and to whom she is speaking to. "T-that's not what I meant, Mom, I am so sor—"

I shake my head at her attempted apology. "No. You're right. It _is_ easy for me to say, but it wasn't always. You and I are more alike than you think, Rachel," I interject, tilting her chin up to look at me. "And it's only through my age and experience that I can tell you that while it's a difficult lesson to learn, it's best that you learn it as early as possible. Because it makes it that much easier to cope when you're older. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbles apologetically.

I smirk as I watch her sulk in her seat, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, before catching sight of my watch. It would seem that time has escaped me even quicker than anticipated, seeing as I've got a little under a thirty minutes to get back to Carmel in time. So quickly grabbing my purse, I stand with intent to head toward the door.

"Mom?" I turn back to face my daughter who is now standing before her seat. "You never really answered my question."

"And which question would that be, Rach?"

"Are you mad…at me?"

Cocking my head to the side, I offer my daughter a smile before pulling her into my arms. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to get angry with you, Sweetie," I tell her quietly, garnering a smile from my daughter's downturned lips. "_But…_that doesn't mean you should try. Because I'm not too sure I could handle a repeat performance of today."

"Noted." After a shared laugh, I then release her after promising to call her later and once again make my way for the door. However I'm again stopped when my daughter calls out to me. "Is there any chance I could borrow your catalog again? I have another duet in mind that I'd like to try."

At my daughter's request, my first instinct is to flat out decline. I mean after today's stunt, I'm not too sure I could trust her with the catalog alone ever again. But my soft side kicks in and I quickly acquiesce, mostly in part to the small window of time I have to return to work.

"Sure Sweetie, I'll drop by with it tomorrow evening," I tell her before finally exiting the choir room.

But as I'm climbing into my car, I realize that before I do indeed return the catalog to my daughter that I will most definitely be going through the binder and removing any more songs that my dear child could alter to fit her innovative, yet cunning imagination.

After all, it's like they say: better safe than sorry, _right_?

**-PA-**

The following Thursday, I'm sitting in my office, talking on my cell while simultaneously playing a game of solitaire on my computer.

School has only recently let out for the day and I'm honestly just wasting some time before I have to show up for VA's impromptu practice session. Normally the team has Thursdays off, but Director Goolsby made some changes to the routine that he wishes to work on and thus made a few amendments in the regular practice schedule. Frankly, I'm in no rush to see these supposed changes, so I've decided to prolong my usual conversation with Nate so as to be fashionably late for practice. I am just about to fill him in on Rachel's performance from two days ago, when I hear yelling coming from outside my door.

It's two voices. That much I can discern from inside the confines of my office. One is obviously Dustin's, but the other one, the much softer one that is more than likely that of a female, I'm unable to make out.

As it stands, I really could care less about the drama that is probably unfolding right outside my door. Mainly because I find it somewhat reassuring to know that I'm not the only member of the Carmel faculty that has issues with Mr. Dustin Goolsby. Turning my chair away from the door, so I am now facing my office window which overlooks the football field, I lean back into the comfortable leather and return my attention to my phone call.

"So…I heard that the fall carnival was in town. Maybe we could make an afternoon out of it. You, me and Rachel. Maybe lunch. Or a movie…"

As I'm considering Nate's offer, my attention is once again pulled back to the conversation taking place outside. Once more the two voices are passionately going at it, with Dustin's voice easily overpowering the other. And then, for a moment, it all stops. Now I must admit, my curiosity has gotten the best of me, leading me to listen in a little more closely. As a result, that is when I hear the second voice.

And I can't help feeling that I've heard it somewhere else before.

Slightly forgetting about my own conversation, I make my way to the door and step out to investigate the disturbance. To my left, I see Dustin's back is facing me as he continues to "question" his poor victim. Feeling slightly sorry for the poor soul, I have a snide comment ready and waiting to be delivered to Dustin's ears, suggesting that he take his little meeting to his non-existent office. It's sitting on the tip of my tongue and I actually have a smirk on my face as I await a break in the conversation to deliver my witty remark.

And I think I've found it, until I finally recognize just who Dustin is talking—correction, _yelling_ at.

It's Rachel! _My_ Rachel!

My phone call and comment for Dustin completely forgotten now, I cross my arms and loudly clear my throat, easily garnering the attention of the two people before me who have finally managed to take a break from their "discussion". "Is there a problem, Mr. Goolsby?"

I watch Dustin turn his head to the side and look at me, his mouth contorted into an angry frown. "I'll say there is, Ms. Corcoran. It would appear that Will Schuester is sending out spies to scope out the competition and—"

"_And_ that's different from what you've been doing these past few weeks, _how_, exactly?" I challenge with a quirked eyebrow. I notice behind Dustin that Rachel is wildly shaking her head and even looks ready to retaliate, so I slightly shake my own head and shoot her a look that tells that I will handle the situation. "And how can you be so sure that this young woman isn't just a student? Carmel is a very large school, with an ever-growing student population. Parents are forever paying the extra fee to send their kids here, despite not living in this district. Now, with that information in mind, how can you know for sure that she isn't a recent transfer student?"

I watch Dustin, hoping he will accept that rather truthful excuse. But as he turns to fully face me and his frown transforms into that overconfident smirk of his, I know my attempt was unsuccessful. "Because, Shelby," he says, drawing out my name unnecessarily, "I found her skulking—"

"I wasn't skulking!" Rachel interjects angrily. "I was looking for—"

"Whatever. She was in _my_ auditorium, standing in the shadows," Dustin says over Rachel, effectively cutting off her explanation. "Well, actually, Sunshine noticed her while we were going through our routine for Sectionals. A routine that thanks to _her_," he practically yells, while gesturing to my daughter, "we will most likely have to change."

"You should consider changing it anyway. It wasn't even _remotely_ interesting from where _I_ was standing," Rachel comments, causing me to release a chuckle that I quickly disguise as a cough.

When I finally regain some composure, I look away from Rachel and turn my head to Dustin, who appears absolutely livid. "So let me get this straight, Dustin. You're basing your accusations of this young woman on the word of another student. Is that correct?"

Dustin also turns away from Rachel and stares back at me incredulously. "This isn't just _any_ student Shelby. _This_ kid was the one who sent poor Sunshine to the crackhouse. _This_ is the kid I told you about. And considering her previous transgressions, I must admit I'm slightly concerned about her presence and you should be, too. Taking into account what she has already done, you have to admit it makes you wonder just what she's further capable of." I watch him turn back slightly to face Rachel and witness a glint in his eyes that not only causes me unease but also my blood to boil over in my veins. "Your parents must be so _proud_."

My back tenses and my arms fall to my sides as I clench my fingers into tight fists. My anger slightly abates, however, when Rachel takes a determined step forward and returns his predatory gaze with a defiant one of her own. "Actually, they _are_."

_That's my girl!_

I soon find I'm fighting a smile from spreading on my lips. Despite my unadulterated pride in my daughter at this very moment, this situation is still a rather precarious one. Given that very few people here at Carmel, know of my relationship with Rachel, much less her existence, the fallout, should this altercation continue in the wrong direction, could be disastrous. And not only for my reputation and my job, which I honestly don't really care about at the moment. But most importantly, for Rachel. The last thing I want to happen is for someone to say or do something that could possibly hurt or anger my child in any way.

"Look, Dustin," I say slowly. "She's just a kid. Whether she's a student here at Carmel or indeed a 'spy' from McKinley, I think she's learned her lesson and we can be certain that she won't be trespassing through _your_ precious auditorium any time soon. Isn't that right?" I look to Rachel with a pointed look.

"Yes Mo—ma'am."

I nod. "Good. Now that that's settled, I suggest that _you_ return to practice, Dustin. Because that routine of yours certainly isn't going to teach itself," I tell him lightly as I step forward and approach Rachel, "and _I_ will escort this young woman to the door and off—"

"Hang on."

At Dustin's words, both Rachel and I freeze. My daughter is honestly just an arm's length away from me at this point. And I want, with everything in me, to simply escape this situation before it can go any further. As I'm about to take yet another step towards Rachel, Dustin steps between us and glares at me.

I inhale a deep breath in annoyance and release it sharply through my nose. "What's the problem _now_, Dustin?"

"You," he spits back.

"Me?" I ask in utter disbelief.

"Yes, Shelby. You." I can clearly see the fire in his eyes and while this situation is still in an explosive state, I have to say I much prefer that he have his attention on me rather than Rachel. That way I can have a better handle on Dustin and thus get Rachel out of here as quickly and safely as possible. "Correct me if I'm wrong Shelby. But aren't we on the same team?"

"We are," I say, slightly confused as to just where he is going with this line of questioning.

"Then why are you protecting the enemy? Why are you being so complacent? Schuester is sending people over here to infiltrate _my_ team and all you want to do is escort this, this, this _kid_ off of school grounds! Where's your backbone? Where's your passion? The _Shelby Corcoran_ that I'd always heard about wouldn't have stood for this. The _Shelby Corcoran_ that I'd heard about would probably have called the police and asked for charges to be brought up against this kid for trespassing! So just what the hell has changed, Shelby? Since when have you become so self-righteous that you have no reason to worry about the competition?"

I wordlessly take the thrashing that he is giving my ego and the blatant attacks towards my personality. Actually, there's some truth to Dustin's claims. I _have_ changed. And I _know_ it. While he may not see it, though, I've actually maintained the same attentive and dedicated nature that I've always had. It's just that I have only found a more suitable outlet on which to focus on.

My daughter.

But Dustin doesn't know that. And he doesn't need to.

So, for Rachel's sake, as well as my own, I opt to remain quiet and steadfast as Dustin continues his verbal attack of my character.

When he finally concludes his speech, Dustin and I continue our stare down in absolute silence. He has long since stepped closer to me and it's only thanks to my choice of footwear today that I can look into his eyes as we silently battle it out. My breathing is still level, but it's becoming a struggle to maintain it as such. The nails of my left hand are currently digging into my palm and I'm sure if I keep this up I might very well break through the skin and draw blood. While my right hand is still tightly clutching my phone. The conversation with Nate long forgotten.

Several minutes go by without a single word from neither Dustin nor I.

Not even Rachel utters so much as a peep.

But as the time passes us by, I find myself giving in to my anger. My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling and I'm more than certain that my face has become rather flushed. I continue to stare Dustin down and for a moment think that maybe, just maybe, this situation has fizzled itself out when I watch him sneer and take a step back.

"You know what? I'll leave you to think that over," he says in a harsh whisper. "In the meantime, I'll take care of the _brat." _I then watch on in total revulsion and growing infuriation as Mr. Goolsby takes a few steps backwards and grabs hold of my daughter's upper arm. "See you at practice."

I watch on, as if in slow motion, as he moves to drag my child with him and despite Rachel's attempts to stand firm he only grips her tighter and tries to pull her along. I see red when I hear a small yelp of either protest or pain, which it is I really can't tell, escape from Rachel's lips and then I notice a single tear track down my daughter's cheek as a result.

Silent seething, be damned. Someone is _hurting_ my _baby_, right in front me no less, and I _refuse_ to stand for it.

"DUSTIN! Let her go!" The small control on my anger and temper that I'd managed to hold onto has officially broken. When he doesn't stop or even respond, I angrily slam my phone to the ground and repeat his name, but this time with a bit more warning laced in my tone. "I _said_, let…her…_go._"

Taking the few steps forward to catch up to Rachel and Dustin, I carefully pry his hand off of my daughter and look into his eyes, making sure he can catch every bit of contempt and hatred that I am currently pointing his way.

"It would be in your best interest, to keep your goddamn hands _off_ my _kid_, you arrogant bastard," I tell him, my voice barely above a whisper, but with the way the blood is rushing through my ears I could very well have yelled it and it would've sounded no different.

"Y-y-your what?" Dustin replies, completely flabbergasted.

I roll my eyes and don't even dignify his question with a response, simply in part that I'm too angry to do so and in my current state I feel no need to repeat myself. If he missed the announcement the first time around, then truthfully, it's his loss. Instead, I continue to stare him down.

Meanwhile my breathing has become so labored and heavy that it almost feels like a chore to continue doing so. Nonetheless, I maintain a firm grip on the wrist I have just extracted from Rachel's bicep and I reach out my other hand for Rachel to grab a hold of. When she does, I gently guide her beside me, where she can remain somewhat out of the line of fire. I hear her sniffling slightly and it's honestly only due to my daughter's presence and my own fear of frightening her even further, that I haven't ripped the man before me to shreds.

So giving over to my sensibilities, which I'd previously shoved aside, I soften my features and turn to look at my daughter. The frightened look in her eyes incenses me further, however, and I unconsciously tighten my grip on Dustin's wrist causing him to squeal, but I don't let up.

Because from the way I see it, payback's a bitch.

And her name's Shelby Corcoran.

"Rachel? Honey. Go and grab my bags from my office," I order her gently. "Can you do that for me, please?" I watch her nod fervently in response, clearly not as yet trusting her voice to speak, before disappearing into my office. A moment later, she returns to my side with my purse and briefcase. And even my phone, which is surprisingly still intact.

"M-m-mom?"

I barely hear my daughter as I am now intently focused on the worthless piece of scum I'm currently holding prisoner. Actually I hardly even acknowledge her return. Eventually it takes Rachel reaching out for my free hand and squeezing it lightly to bring me back from the proverbial edge. Shaking my head slightly, I clear my head of the haze that had otherwise overcome my current state of mind and I look to my daughter.

"C-can we go now? Please?" I can see the unshed tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and with a resolute nod amend my mission to get her out of here. I don't know why, but something about the faintness of her tone, coupled with the way she's holding my hand makes Rachel seem so much younger than her fifteen years in my eyes.

It's only due to the pleading look she's giving me that I release my firm, death grip on Dustin's hand. But not before digging my nails in. A hint of pleasure coursing through me when I notice the angry red marks I've left behind.

"Sure, Baby." I turn away from Dustin and wrap an arm around Rachel, pulling her into my side as we start the walk down the hall and to the parking lot. We've reached the front door and I'm just about to push down on the lever to release the locking mechanism, when Dustin calls out my name. I turn back, and fix him with my most cold and unwavering glare.

"This isn't over, Shelby."

I release a low, dark laugh at his supposed threat. "Far from it, Goolsby," I mutter, before leading my daughter out of Carmel. As we settle into my car and I start up the engine, I find myself considering Dustin's words as I absently clasp my daughter's hand offering whatever comfort I can.

_This isn't over, Shelby._

Clenching my jaw, I tightly grip the steering wheel as I pull out of the parking lot, while considering his rather bold statement. _Damn right it isn't over, _I silently concur.

Because _no one_ lays a hand on my kid and gets away with it.

* * *

**Chapter 9 is on it's way! Just keep the pitchforks and bonfires to a minimum! **(Oh and by the way, yes there are quite a few references...)

_Anyway you guys know the drill..._

_Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh?_

_Review and let me know.  
I love hearing from you guys :)_


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys! Figured it was about time I came out of hiding and posted the latest chapter. Hope you like it...

___References from last chapter: Enchanted & Wicked (What Is this Feeling). To those who caught them, well done :)_

As always, thanks so much for the reviews, alerts, messages and emails. They've meant a lot.

* * *

___A/N: A lot of people seemed worried that Shelby was going to walk out on Rachel last chapter. And that really bothered me for some reason. So I'm going to say it now for everyone to see: At no point in time will Shelby be abandoning Rachel. She's in it for the long haul, guys :)_

* * *

**__****From Chapter 8:**

___"M-m-mom?"_

___I barely hear my daughter as I am now intently focused on the worthless piece of scum I'm currently holding prisoner. Actually I hardly even acknowledge her return. Eventually it takes Rachel reaching out for my free hand and squeezing it lightly to bring me back from the proverbial edge. Shaking my head slightly, I clear my head of the haze that had otherwise overcome my current state of mind and I look to my daughter._

___"C-can we go now? Please?" I can see the unshed tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and with a resolute nod amend my mission to get her out of here. I don't know why, but something about the faintness of her tone, coupled with the way she's holding my hand makes Rachel seem so much younger than her fifteen years in my eyes._

___It's only due to the pleading look she's giving me that I release my firm, death grip on Dustin's hand. But not before digging my nails in. A hint of pleasure coursing through me when I notice the angry red marks I've left behind._

___"Sure, Baby." I turn away from Dustin and wrap an arm around Rachel, pulling her into my side as we start the walk down the hall and to the parking lot. We've reached the front door and I'm just about to push down on the lever to release the locking mechanism, when Dustin calls out my name. I turn back, and fix him with my most cold and unwavering glare._

___"This isn't over, Shelby."_

___I release a low, dark laugh at his supposed threat. "Far from it, Goolsby," I mutter, before leading my daughter out of Carmel. As we settle into my car and I start up the engine, I find myself considering Dustin's words as I absently clasp my daughter's hand offering whatever comfort I can._

___This isn't over, Shelby._

___Clenching my jaw, I tightly grip the steering wheel as I pull out of the parking lot, while considering his rather bold statement. Damn right it isn't over, I silently concur._

___Because no one lays a hand on my kid and gets away with it._

* * *

_"Every single day, I walk down the street, I hear people say…"_

The sudden, increasing melody startles me out of my slumber and causes me to lurch forward and look around the room wildly.

_What the hell?_

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I soon recognize the familiar green walls, the various photographs scattered throughout and the gold star curtains hanging above the windows. Having finally come to my senses, I realize that I am indeed in my daughter's bedroom and the racket I'd previously heard was only the latest ringtone Rachel had downloaded onto my cell phone. And from the sound of it, it's still buried in my purse which is sitting on Rachel's vanity table.

With a sigh, I move to slip out of the bed so I may retrieve my phone, but find myself unable to do so due to some dead weight that is currently pinning down my legs. A quick glance and a small smile slowly finds its way across my lips.

After having settled down in Rachel's bedroom upon our arrival, it came as no surprise that we soon fell asleep. Initially we had both been on opposite sides of the bed, with Rachel lying curled up on her side and me resting my back against the headboard as I watched her sleep. But sometime in between then, my daughter, being the restless sleeper she is, moved. She is now currently lying curled up next to me, with most of her upper body resting in my lap. And despite being fast asleep, the arm she has thrown across my legs has a very tight grip on my sweatpants.

_So this is what Bass feels like,_ I think jokingly as I recall my daughter's favorite teddy bear.

I hear my phone going off once again and reason that I should probably extract it from my purse and see who's calling me. There's just one little problem. In order to do so, I'm going to have to get out of bed. And I'm not too sure I'm skilled, or even agile, enough to do that.

But that doesn't mean I can't try. So, with a determined breath, I can do nothing but hope that I am successful in my attempts to escape from the bed without waking my sleeping child.

_Slow and steady. Slow and steady_.

I mentally repeat the mantra as I carefully lift Rachel's arm in order to slip from underneath her. However it would seem that in spite of her unconscious state, my daughter still gets what she wants because as I move, so does Rachel, as she clings even tighter to me, halting my movements.

I soon release an annoyed breath after having tried again several times over, only to have Rachel thwart my every attempt.

"Rachel," I groan, with a hint of frustration. "C'mon, Honey. Let go."

"No," she argues sleepily, yet defiantly. "My Tony."

I chuckle and shake my head. Even in her sleep my daughter never fails to surprise me. Resting my back against the headboard once again, I look around for some sort of clue as to how I could possibly get out of my child's death grip. My eyes eventually fall on a nearby pillow. Grabbing hold of it, I deftly wedge it between Rachel and myself, with hopes that she'll cling to my substitute and thus give me the exit I need. Fortunately, she does and I'm finally allowed to slip out of bed. I slowly tiptoe across the room to the vanity and withdraw my phone from the bottom of my purse before heading out the door. One last look back, I see that Rachel is still asleep, so I pull the door shut behind me.

As I creep down the stairs, I disregard the notifications of several missed calls with the thought that I'll just check the list later. Instead, I examine my phone for the time. It's a quarter to seven. Meaning I've been asleep for a good two hours and Rachel for nearly three. I realize that such a long nap may interfere with her usual sleeping schedule, but I'm willing to overlook that minor detail if it will offer me extra time to get over what the hell happened today.

While the incident at Carmel occurred well over four hours ago, the entire encounter remains fresh in my mind. The words that were said, the things that were done and most importantly the emotions I felt. And if I'm not mistaken, there is still some residual anger lingering within me as I attempt to stretch out several tense muscles in my neck and back.

Suddenly feeling thirsty, I make a quick stop in the kitchen before wandering into the living room. Settling back into the couch, I tilt my newly acquired water bottle to my mouth and take a generous sip. Thinking back, I'm not too sure just where the sudden fierceness, strength and overwhelming need to defend Rachel came from. I mean, I'd always _heard_ of a mother's innate need to protect her young. In people and wildlife alike. But, I'd certainly never _experienced_ it.

_At least not until today._

With a deep sigh, I rest my head against the back of the couch and set my eyes to the ceiling so I may at least attempt to understand just what came over me today. Everything had been going fine. I was _alright_ with _listening_ to Dustin rant and whine about me. I was even content to _sit_ there and let him _insult_ me. But the moment he _touched_ Rachel, I just…I don't know. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped within me and I couldn't control myself.

I mean, there had actually been a moment, as I'd watched Dustin take hold of Rachel, that I was pretty sure I was going to kill him. For no other reason than that he made my daughter cry. Everything in me was screaming to hurt him, the same way he was hurting Rachel. After that, I was running on nothing but pure adrenaline and untainted rage.

And that's unusual. Especially for me.

Because rarely do I let my emotions get the best of me.

As I close my eyes, I'm once again reminded of the look I'd witnessed in my daughter's own eyes. Before, during and after the incident. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget the absolute look of panic and distress in Rachel's eyes. No matter how hard I try. Though, I can certainly do my damnedest to be sure I never have to see it again.

But prior to Dustin's blatant mistake, a mistake that I am more than willing to blame on a lapse of sanity on his part, I had seen the fire in Rachel's eyes. She was angry for being wrongly accused and I can understand why. She hadn't come to Carmel looking for trouble. She had come looking for _me_.

_But why? _

Soon enough my question brings about two more and those questions raise even more. Within minutes, I find myself with nearly two dozen questions that I have absolutely no answers to. But rather than bring about an unnecessary migraine, I opt to push the questions aside because there's clearly nothing I can do about them until Rachel wakes up. And seeing as I have no intention of waking her prematurely, I will simply have to wait.

As I'm going over everything yet again, I'm brought out of my thoughts by the ringing of the house phone. Another deep breath and I reach forward, grabbing the cordless handset from its place on the coffee table, before I lift it to my eyes so I may see who is calling.

It's the Berrys' house line.

"Dammit." After I'd brought Rachel here, I hadn't thought to call her dads. Truthfully, notifying them of anything had not even made it onto my to-do list. My primary concern had been to calm Rachel, as well as myself, down.

But now, _now_, I'm almost afraid to answer the call. Mainly because I've developed such a warm relationship with Hiram and Leroy. And should they hear about what happened today, that very relationship may become tarnished. After all, who knows how they will react. What they might do.

Taking a quick, calming breath, I accept the call and put it to my ear. "Hello?"

_Oh thank god! Shelby. You haven't seen Rachel, have you?_ I hear both Hiram and Leroy say eagerly.

"Actually—"

_She was supposed to call us the minute she got home after glee today, but we assumed that she just forgot. But then when Hiram got home, he said it looked like she hadn't as yet arrived. So we've been calling her cell phone to no avail and—_

_This really isn't like her," _Hiram says, interrupting his partner's own harried ramblings. "_We've called her dance studio, the music store, and the school. We were just about to call the police when Leroy suggested we should call you. But we were worried we may have been interrupting your practice since you weren't answering our previous calls. Then I remembered that you don't practice today, so we thought we'd try the house line. We were just so worried and…_

A feel a sudden weight bear down on my shoulders as I listen to both men reason as to why they haven't heard from Rachel and the guilt seems to get even heavier as I hear Hiram's tone become even more anxious. So it's with a heavy heart and a guilt-ridden conscience that I quietly interject. "Guys, Rachel's fine."

_How do you know that? I mean, how can you be sure?_

_Has she been in contact with you?_

I expel a deep breath and continue. "I know because…well, because she's with me."

_She is?_ Is the collective response that echoes through the handset. _Why? Did something happen at school?_

I would really rather not discuss this over the phone and I tell the both of them such. If I'm going to explain just what happened today, I'd prefer it to be a bit more personal than through a telephone call.

Although, I have a very strong feeling I may very well regret my decision when they eventually get here. But it's too late now, as both men have already agreed to be here within the hour. I end the call, setting the phone on the coffee table before me, and then sit back to figure out just how I plan to go about telling Hiram and Leroy the story of how I managed to get their daughter hustled by a member of the Carmel faculty.

And just like the sex talk I've recently had with my daughter, this is one conversation I'm certainly _not_ looking forward to.

As I'm reaching for my bottled water again, the doorbell rings. I sit up slowly and check the time. I literally _just_ got off the phone with Leroy and Hiram, so how could they _possibly_ have gotten here so quickly? It's at least a thirty minute drive from their house to mine. And that's _without_ traffic.

Puzzled beyond measure, I stand to quickly answer the door, if only to stop the incessant ringing that would no doubt wake Rachel. I forgo looking to see who it is, in favor of quickly undoing the locks and opening the door. "Nate?

"Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

It's only then that I look down to examine my cell phone and see that besides the two missed calls from Rachel's dads that there are also at least a dozen missed calls from Nate. "I-I've been asleep. What are you—"

"I came over as soon as I could." Without any invitation, I then watch as he breezes past me and into my home. "Where's Rachel?"

I shut the door and resume staring at him curiously. "Am I missing something?" I'm then surprised when I see him frown and practically glare at me.

"Don't play dumb, Shelby. It's not your style and you were never any good at it." I continue to stare at him because now I'm beyond confused. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry before. Well, maybe once, but that was for a completely different matter. I'm about to ask him about it when he apparently notices my confusion and I watch his features soften. "You really need to learn to hang up your phone if you're done talking."

My eyes widen as I realize what Nate's getting at. "You heard?"

He nods. "Yeah, I heard," he confirms, taking a step towards me. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I say with a shrug.

"And Rachel?"

At the mention of my daughter, I look towards the stairs, hoping beyond hope that she is still fast asleep. I then proceed to glance over at her bedroom door, at which point I notice that it's slightly ajar. _That's odd, _I surmise because I'm pretty sure I'd pulled it closed when I'd decided to come downstairs earlier. Somewhat leery that Rachel may awaken, I turn back to Nate and indicate for him to follow me into the kitchen so as to continue our conversation.

"She was pretty shaken up, but…I got her to calm down," I answer quietly, wrapping my arms about myself.

Feeling somewhat restless, I begin to pace as I fill him in on the details he may have missed out on and then proceed to answer the few questions he has. Afterwards, at Nate's insistence, I cease my pacing and join him by the kitchen island. Taking up a position opposite his own, I mirror his stance by crossing my arms and resting my hip against the nearby counter, but I continue to keep my eyes somewhat averted. "She's just a kid, Nate. She didn't deserve this."

"Yeah, well, neither did you," he adds, offering me a comforting smile that actually succeeds in making me feel slightly better. "Is it safe to assume you took care of Dustin?"

I smile then and fully raise my eyes from the tiled floor. "What do you think?"

Nate chuckles. "Hey, just making sure," he says with a smile. "Thought maybe you might've gone soft since high school." I shoot him an incredulous look that causes him to laugh a little harder. He soon calms down and looks back to me. "So, what did Rachel's dads say?"

My smile falls away at his inquiry. Then in further response, my gaze shifts to the floor as I absently begin picking at the nonexistent pieces of lint on the sleeves of my shirt.

"Shel? What did they say?"

"Nothing." Once I've finally answered, I sneak a glance at Nate and see that he's shooting me a look that is somewhat akin to the one I give to Rachel when I know she's hiding something. And like my daughter, I quickly succumb to it and resettle my gaze onto the floor. "Well, I, uh, haven't exactly told them yet, actually," I mumble uncomfortably. "They're on their way over here now so I can—"

"Wait...you mean you didn't call them right _after_ the fact?"

I fix him with a glare. After the hell I've been through today, the last thing I need is for someone to actually admonish me for what happened. With the mountain load of blame I've already placed on myself, there's certainly no reason for anyone to assist me by adding to my guilt. "I had other things on my mind, _Nathaniel_," I retort bitterly, bristling at his tone. I watch Nate raise his hands in surrender and I instantly feel bad for taking my frustrations out on him. "Sorry."

He nods, seemingly accepting my apology.

The next few minutes we simply spend in silence. As the time goes by, I've returned my gaze to the ground but I can feel Nate's eyes wandering over me. I even hear him make several attempts to speak up, but all that becomes of them are deep sighs. Leaving me to think again on how I plan on telling Rachel's fathers what happened.

Like the situation back at Carmel, this one can also have a rather explosive outcome. Considering what Rachel has been put through already, in addition to what I have to tell her dads, Hiram and Leroy may become hesitant about Rachel and my relationship. Because _clearly_ any association with me is not all it's cracked up to be. Especially for such a fragile teenager, like Rachel. I mean last year she was bullied by a group of my students. And today, she was manhandled by my co-coach!

Honestly…if I were Rachel's legal guardian, _I_ wouldn't want her anywhere _near_ someone like me!

Feeling a familiar burning sensation behind my eyes, I blink rapidly in hopes of keeping the tears that will most likely fall at some point tonight, at bay. What if Hiram and Leroy limit my visits with Rachel because of this? Or what if they request that we place some distance between us?

_Or worse..._

What if they prevent me from seeing her _at all_ after today?

"Shel?"

I ignore Nate's attempts to get my attention, as my mind has become more focused on my daughter. My babygirl. My Rachel. I can't lose her now. Especially since we've just gotten to know each other so well. We're in such a good place right now and to have that taken away from me on top of everything I've already lost in these past few weeks seems almost cruel.

But I don't really have much of choice, do I? The contract I'd signed prior to Rachel's birth basically dictates that.

_Why did I ever sign that damn contract? Why did I just walk away all those years ago? Why—_

"Shelby."

At the mention of my name, I break my train of thought and notice that Nate has moved to my side. He then attempts to angle his head to try looking into my eyes. A task that I make even more difficult as I repeatedly move my head so he can't witness the tears that are forming.

"Clearly you're not as 'fine' as you claim to be," he suggests carefully, as he rests a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine, just tired." I blink away the tears before looking up at Nate and the disbelief in his eyes causes me to look away again. "I'm _fine_, Nate." Before I can assure him any further, however, Nate has enveloped me in a hug. Moments later, the tears begin to gather again. And no sooner after he has wrapped his arms a little tighter around my waist, I find that those very tears are rolling down my cheeks and I'm fighting some moderately heavy sobs. I then bite my lip because the last thing I need to do is lose my composure.

Unfortunately, Nate doesn't think so as he then tells me to "let it all out."

As he hugs me even closer, I can do nothing but. Unable to contain everything that I have been harboring since earlier this afternoon any longer, I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my face into his shoulder and allow the riptide of emotions to tear through me, thankful that Nate's got a steady grip around me because I'm sure I probably would've collapsed had he not.

Thoughts of Rachel, Hiram and Leroy and even Dustin rush through my mind and I soon hear a few sobs escape past my lips. Luckily they're muffled against Nate's jacket as I'm not sure how I'd explain to Rachel my predicament if she were ever to awaken and find me in my current state.

Through my tears and muffled sobs, I hear Nate whispering that everything's going to be alright. And while a part of me is hoping he is indeed right, another part of me becomes angry with his nonchalant attitude. How could he possibly know that? He wasn't there. He didn't see what I saw. He doesn't know what I know. Furthermore, he's never even so much as met Rachel's dads. So how could he know that everything is going to be 'alright'? When I finally catch my breath, I ask him just such.

"Because I know you, Shelby." _Again with that_. I pull back slightly and look up to see him smiling down at me warmly, his brown eyes sparkling. No glint, no hint of mischief, just a warm, gentle gaze that somehow manages to soothe my sobs down into intermittent sniffles. "You did what you could today. Just short of killing him, what else could you have done differently?"

"She shouldn't have been there today, Nate. She came looking for me and—"

"Did you know she was going to come looking for you?" he interjects softly.

"No, but—"

"Then stop beating yourself up. You had no idea Rachel was coming, so how are you to blame? If you want someone to blame, blame Dustin. He acted immaturely by instigating this entire altercation. Although he may not have known that Rachel was your daughter, he should've known better than to grab a student. You were only doing what you thought was best. Okay?"

"But what about—"

"You _did_ what you _could_. There was nothing more you could've done. _Okay_?"

"Okay," I answer quietly, feeling better about this whole situation yet thoroughly reprimanded all at the same time. I settle back into Nate's shoulder and begin to silently process Nate's reasoning. He does make a point. I had no control of the situation from the beginning. I didn't know Rachel was coming to see me. And I didn't know she would run into Dustin. And I certainly didn't know he was going to grab her. Had I known all of this would've happened, it never would have gotten this far.

But what's done is done. I did what I thought was best. So now, there is nothing left for me to do but to tell Rachel's dads everything that happened.

Something that is easier said than done.

**-PA-**

It takes me a while to regain my composure. Longer than I'd care to admit, but I do. And Nate stays with me through it all. Holding me close and repeatedly reassuring me that today wasn't my fault, that Dustin is in fact the guilty party. That despite my fears, I'm not going to lose my daughter.

Simply restoring my confidence in myself as a capable parent and all around setting my mind at ease about my upcoming meeting with the fathers Berry.

About ten minutes after my breakdown, I hear an odd creaking sound that draws my attention away from Nate's words, and even the intimate embrace he currently has me in, to the doorway of the kitchen. But, there's no one there.

_Strange._

As I'm about to close my eyes once again and replace my head on Nate's shoulder, I catch sight of the clock and I'm instantly reminded that Rachel's dads should be arriving shortly. I pull back and take a slight step back out of Nate's arms, causing him to look at me strangely.

"Something wrong?"

"No," I reply, suddenly feeling self conscious. "It's just that Rachel's dads will be here any minute and…"

"And you'd rather not have us meet just yet," he concludes knowingly, as I nod in agreement. "You aren't embarrassed by me, are you Ms. Corcoran?"

"N-no, it's just that…" As I struggle to come up with a reasonable excuse, I look up to find him smiling at me. I roll my eyes and give him a playful slap. "Really funny, Dr. Walker."

"I do try," he says with a chuckle as he makes his way out the kitchen.

I follow his lead, sneaking a peek up at Rachel's door once again. This time it's closed and I begin to consider if I was simply not seeing straight the last time I looked. I shake it off and meet Nate by the front door. When we both arrive, he takes hold of the handle and I feel a sudden urge to say or do something. _Anything_. I just don't know what. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough. And we just spent a good five minutes hugging. And a kiss would just be—

"You gonna be okay?"

Nate's question disrupts my thinking and thankfully brings my attention back to the present. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looks at me skeptically causing me to laugh. "I'm serious, Nate! I'll be okay." He continues to stare at me for a bit longer, before decisively shrugging as if finally taking me at my word. I shake my head at his actions as he opens the door. Before he can leave though, I stop him. "Thanks, Nate. For everything."

He waves off my words and throws in a smirk before taking my hand in one of his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Don't mention it. Just call me later and tell me how everything goes. No matter how late it is. And tell Rachel to give me a call as well."

"I will." He releases my hand then, giving me yet another one of his bright smiles before stepping out the door. I step out as well, hugging myself against the chilly night air. I watch him approach his car and give him one last wave before he opens the door.

"See you Saturday?"

"Saturday," I affirm with a nod. He smiles at me once again before slipping into his car and pulling out of the driveway. I continue to watch his car until I see the taillights disappear down the road and out of sight before turning back to reenter my home. As I'm locking the door, I once again hear the creaking noise that I'd heard previously while Nate and I had been in the kitchen.

I _know_ that sound.

Instead of dwelling on it, though, I make my way to the living room to grab my water. Half empty bottle in hand, I then return to the kitchen and walk over to the refrigerator. Retrieving yet another bottle, I shut the door and lean against it, my eyes trained on the doorway. "You can come in now." I then witness with a small smile as my daughter steps out of the shadows and into the kitchen.

"How'd you know I was there?" she asks me as she approaches the island and climbs onto one of the bar stools.

I shrug and make my way to the island. Moving to stand across from her, I set the bottle down before her. "It's a gift. After a woman gives birth she gains a few abilities. Eyes in the back of the head, internal lie detector, and I can always tell when you're close by," I tell her with a wink, garnering a smile from her lips. I observe Rachel toy with the bottle for a bit before her gaze falls to the counter. "How'd you sleep?"

"Okay, I guess."

While her tears may have subsided, I can still hear the distress in my daughter's voice. I lean forward and try to capture Rachel's gaze. But like I was with Nate earlier, Rachel is reluctant to meet my eyes. "Honey, what's wrong?" When she doesn't respond, I make my way around to her and take a seat on the nearest stool. "Rachel, look at me. I can't fix it, if you don't tell me what's wrong."

At my urging, Rachel looks up at me with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I should've called and told you that I was coming. Or I should've waited until after you were home. I shouldn't have just showed up. If I had—"

Before my daughter can continue to blame herself and before she can witness the tears that are forming in my own eyes, I stand and pull her to me, holding her tight as she's overcome by her own emotions. "This wasn't your fault, Rach."

"Yes it was," she cries into my shoulder. "If I had just waited—"

I take a step back and hold my daughter at arm's length. "Rachel Barbra Berry. This _was not y_our fault," I tell her in a direct, clear-cut tone that I usually reserve for my students. "And I don't want to hear you apologize for something that you had absolutely no control over. Do you understand me?"

"B-but—"

"_Do you understand me_?" I watch her rub at her eyes with the back of her hand, much like a younger child would and then mutter a quiet 'yes, ma'am' before I gently pull her back to me, and place her head on my shoulder. And despite Rachel's attempts to contain her emotions, her tears soon resume and I find myself holding her even tighter as her small frame is wracked by several fierce sobs. It takes everything in me not to cry as well, so I focus all of my attention on comforting my daughter. Soothing her cries, rocking her back and forth and running my hand through her hair. Eventually she calms down and I take a step back to look into her eyes. "Better?"

'Ye—" I smile when I hear a violent hiccup tear through her words. Grabbing the water from behind her, I remove the cap and offer it to her. Watching as she takes a few sips, I resume my seat and continue to keep an eye on her. When she's finally recovered, from tears and hiccups alike, I pose my question again. This time she answers clearly. "Mom?"

I look over at my child and while I'm thankful that I no longer see the pain and panic in her eyes, there is still something there that bothers me. There is still this sadness evident in them and a sense of worry etched in her brow. "What's up, Hon?"

"They can't stop me from seeing you, y'know," she tells me quietly.

At such a random statement, I furrow my brow and look to my daughter. "Who can't stop you, Rachel?"

"My dads," she answers, this time looking directly at me. "They can't stop me. I won't let them."

While I'm touched by my daughter's sentiment, I'm also bothered by it. "Where's this coming from, Rach?" When she shrugs in response, I begin to consider her words. _They can't stop me._ For a minute, I'm surprised by the fact that Rachel mentioned the very thing I was most afraid of. Actually I'm downright stunned. I mean, _why_ would my fifteen year old daughter be concerned that her fathers would _forbid_ her from seeing me?

_Unless…_

Unless she'd been down here earlier when I was talking with Nate.

"Rachel." Turning in my seat, I carefully study my daughter as she lifts her eyes to my own. "What did you hear?" Either Rachel knows exactly what I'm talking about or I'm jumping the gun. But as I see her gaze fall to the floor once again, I know she knows. So when she doesn't answer my question, I try a different tactic. "Okay, then, _how much_ did you hear?"

"Enough," she answers inaudibly, as she begins to fiddle with the hem of her T-shirt.

"And what's 'enough'?"

"I heard you talking to Nate…about me. And how you were worried about what my dads might do," she answers hesitantly. "I also heard you crying." When Rachel looks up at me, I gaze into my daughter's wide brown eyes and I can see the overt concern and anxiety in them. She's just as scared to lose me as I am her. "I won't let them do it, Mom. They can't just _stop me_ from seeing you. I'll talk to them and then—"

"Rachel." I say her name firmly, so as to stop her nervous rambling. "While I would appreciate you talking to your dads, it isn't necessary. I'm going to tell them exactly what happened. Whatever happens after that is up to them. They're your legal guardians. So they get the final say, whether I like it or not."

"Well it isn't fair," she says petulantly, looking away and crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

I smile at her attitude. For all her bravado and claims of maturity, my daughter really is just a kid.

Taking hold of her arms, I pull her towards me, so her gaze is level with my own. "No, it's not fair, but it's what's going to happen. And whether we like it or not, we have to listen to them. You already know that I can't legally demand to see you because I relinquished my parental rights. But know this," I tell her as I gently tilt her chin up. "No matter what the outcome, or your fathers' decision, I will _always_ be just one call away. If you ever need me for anything. Anything at all. If you want to talk about glee, school, whatever. Even if you just want to talk about the weather. I'll be right here. Always."

I see Rachel perk up at that. "You promise?"

"I promise," I tell her genuinely. I give her a minute to process my words. It doesn't take long though because I soon witness her arms fall to her sides and a full-fledged grin grace my daughter's features before she falls into me, causing me to instinctively wrap my arms tightly around her.

"Love you, Mom."

"I love you too, Rach."

**-PA-**

Mere minutes after my promise to Rachel, our embrace is interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. After instructing my daughter to remain silent and to allow me to do all of the talking, unless asked or told otherwise, I stand up to answer the door, with Rachel trailing closely behind. We find her fathers on the other side of the door and after exchanging simple greetings, I then lead the way into the living room, where they both promptly sit down. Hiram and Leroy on the couch and Rachel in an armchair off to the side.

I, on the other hand, opt to remain standing once my previous feelings of restlessness and apprehension return. I then move to stand in the center of the room, where all eyes will undoubtedly be focused on me.

Before I even begin with an explanation, I ask for Hiram and Leroy to save all questions and comments until the very end after I have gotten everything out. Taking a deep breath, I am just about to begin, when I am beaten to the punch.

"Wait!"

Now prior to today Rachel has been successful in completely disregarding all of my instructions. But I suppose I had thought that with everything she'd been through she'd comply and actually _listen_ to me this time around.

Clearly that was just a pipedream on my part, I think sardonically, as I watch my daughter jump up and move to my side so now she, too, is facing her fathers.

"Before you say anything, Mom, I need to get this out," Rachel explains. "Dad, Daddy. I know you told me to wait until this weekend to talk to Mom. But I couldn't because today was the last day to get the permission slip in…"

_Permission slip?_

"..and I told Mr. Schue that I'd gotten the signatures, but I'd just neglected to bring it to school with me. So he gave me until tomorrow to get it in. I knew then that I definitely had to get it done today or else I'd forfeit my role in the musical…"

_Musical?_

"…so after school, I caught a ride with Artie and his dad and they were kind enough to drop me off at Carmel. I thought that I'd simply catch Mom in practice because I remembered her mentioning, during our usual nightly phone call, that she would have glee rehearsal today. So I snuck into the auditorium, just like the last time, and thought I'd find her. But instead I ran into Dustin and he said he was going to call my parents to come and get me because he thought I was spying for Mr. Schue. But I kept trying to tell him that I wasn't. And then Mom showed up and she took care of everything. So please don't forbid me from seeing her because this wasn't her fault. It was all mine! Honest! Mom had _no_ idea I was going to be there. So if you're going to blame someone, blame _me_. But I _won't_ let you take Mom away from me." And as if to emphasize her point, my daughter steps even closer to me and wraps her arms tightly around my waist, burying her head into my chest.

With the conclusion of Rachel's statement, I find myself stunned into silence. Having not had the forethought to actually ask _why_ she had been at Carmel in the first place, I remain quiet for quite some time to allow everything to fall into place. My daughter has effectively answered several of my previous questions with her sudden outburst.

She came to find me over a permission slip. Which she apparently needs for some musical and because Will's name was mentioned I think it's fair to assume that it ties in to glee club.

Draping an arm over Rachel's shoulders, I hug her closer to me as I feel her begin to shake, her nerves apparently getting the best of her. I also whisper a reminder in her ear telling her to steady her breathing because the last thing I need is for her to start hyperventilating. Once satisfied that oxygen is properly and gradually flowing through my child's body, I turn to Leroy and Hiram who are both staring back at us, their faces blank thus making it that much more difficult to even attempt reading them.

An awkward silence, peppered only with Rachel's sporadic sniffles, soon befalls our small group. Several minutes go by and I soon grow uneasy. So unable to take the noiselessness any longer, I clear my throat. "Any questions?"

"Just one," Leroy finally answers quietly. "But it's for Rachel." I watch as he looks to Hiram and then returns his gaze to Rachel. I look down to my daughter to see her eyes darting between the three of us, before finally settling on her father. "Why'd you think we'd keep you away from your mother, Princess?"

"I-I—"

"I think _I_ can answer that." I offer Rachel a grim smile before looking up to face her dads. "I may have mentioned something along those lines while I was speaking with a friend about today. I suppose as I was preparing for this, uh, meeting, I began to consider the possible outcomes."

"And you thought we'd take Rachel away from you?" Hiram asks, crossing his arms and settling his eyes on me as well. As always, I look to his eyes and I notice the calmness and gentleness that is so clear in them, as well as in his tone. And it puzzles me because I certainly hadn't expected to see it nor hear it.

"Well…yes," I answer solemnly, wrapping my arms tighter around Rachel once I feel a growing wet spot on my shoulder, indicating that she has begun crying yet again.

"I see," he murmurs. He then turns towards his partner and they commence a silent conversation with their eyes. And while I can only speculate as to what is going on, I must say it doesn't look good. Moments later they both turn back to Rachel and me. "Rachel? Princess…can you please give your father and I a moment with your mom?"

At Hiram's request, I feel Rachel cling even tighter to me and vigorously shake her head. "No!" she answers vehemently. "Daddy, it's not fair! You can't! I nee—"

"Rachel."

"But Daddy," Rachel pleads desperately. She's about to continue, but her words are silenced when she catches sight of both her fathers giving her rather self-explanatory looks. Despite the shared glances, though, Rachel remains adamant at staying at my side. "I'm not leaving."

While I find it somewhat comical that my daughter is currently exhibiting the unyielding and stubborn attitude that she no doubt got from me, now is not the time to display it. "Rachel? Baby, listen to your dads," I tell her quietly.

She pulls her head back and looks at me, her eyes wide and a genuine pout firmly in place. "I'm not leaving you."

"I'll be fine, Rach," I assure her, even offering a smile. "As a matter of fact, why don't you go upstairs and give Nate a call. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear from you." I soon feel her grip around me loosening and I realize that I've made progress. She eventually releases me completely and moves in the direction of the stairs. I turn away from her dads, my eyes remaining on her slow retreating figure even as she stops in the doorway and turns giving me yet another somber look. "Go on, Sweetie. I'll be up in a minute, okay?"

At that she nods, before disappearing out of sight. I sigh deeply then, bracing myself for what I'm sure will turn into a very grueling conversation with Rachel's dads. A conversation that I am _nowhere_ near prepared for, but have no choice to face.

"Shelby?"

Upon hearing Leroy's voice, I turn back to face him and Hiram. I then proceed to tell them the story as I know it, preferring to stare at the floor instead of their faces. I'm not too sure I'm ready to face the infuriated and outraged glares that will most likely be directed my way once I've reached the ending.

I finally conclude my detailed account and only then do I look up because when I apologize I need them to see that I completely grasp the magnitude of what happened today. "Look. Hiram, Leroy. I am truly sorry. This never should have happened, and it shouldn't have gotten this far. And I am more than willing to accept full—"

"Shelby, stop." I then watch Leroy get up from the couch and make his way around the coffee table to stand before me. "I think I can speak for myself and Hiram when I say we don't hold you accountable for anything that happened today. And now that we know the whole story, it's a relief to know that you were even present. God knows what would've happened had you not stepped in when you did."

"Yes, but—"

"No Shelby, there's no _but_," Leroy calmly interjects. "You did what you could and because of it Rachel is none the worse for wear. A little shaken up, but still the same vivacious, spirited teenager she was this morning. And for that we are thankful."

"And as for who's to blame, I'd say Dustin fits that bill rather nicely, wouldn't you?" Hiram says with a small smile from his place on the couch. "I do admit that there is one thing that bothers me, though."

_I knew it was too good to be true._

"And what's that?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Your continued doubt in yourself and your capabilities," Hiram tells me softly. "I realize that you're still trying to find yourself and that you're still coming to terms with your new role as a parent, but never doubt that you are a good mother to Rachel. So if you ever need a reminder that you are, please feel free to come to us and we'll set you straight. Or just look to Rachel. She absolutely adores you. She loves you immensely, Shelby. And if you don't believe that, look how she was willing to defy us in order stay by your side tonight. As for our faith in you, it was only last week we had you sign the amendment to our will, naming you Rachel's sole guardian should anything happen. We _trust_ you Shelby. And most importantly, so does our daughter. So _please_ stop questioning yourself because the minute that you do, you'll relieve yourself of a lot of unnecessary stress."

I bite down on my bottom lip to stop it from trembling as I nod in response. I soon find myself caught up in a quick hug from Leroy and then Hiram, who has made his way over to us as well. When we separate, I find both men looking at me, their eyes full of compassion. "Thank you."

Leroy offers me a smile. "No, Shelby. Thank _you_."

After settling down, we take up seats on the couch and armchair, respectively, and spend the next few minutes discussing the plans for the next scheduled family dinner, eventually selecting the Thursday of the following week. The Berry men then express that it's getting late and they should probably be getting home. I nod and am about to call out to Rachel to grab her things, when Hiram assures me that it's okay that she spend the night and one of them can pick her up in the morning for school.

"That won't be necessary," I inform Hiram. "I can take her."

"Don't you have work?" Leroy asks curiously.

"I've been thinking of calling out." And I have been. I'm in no mood to see Dustin any time soon and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Friday as well as the weekend to completely come to terms with everything.

"That's probably for the best," Hiram says with a nod, before following Leroy out the door. "I don't think Dustin knows just what he's gotten himself into." We share a laugh at the statement, but we both know that there is certainly some truth to it. "And if you need either of us to come down to the school, just give us a call."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle it, but I'll keep that in mind." One last wave and like I did with Nate, I watch as Leroy's car pulls out of the driveway and turns the corner. I step back into the house and shut the door behind me, leaning back on it after putting the locks in place. Breathing a sigh of relief, I push myself off the door. At the sound of yet another creak, my eyes dart upstairs just in time to see my daughter's head duck out of sight.

Rolling my eyes and chuckling at Rachel's lack of subtlety and dexterousness, I make my way up the stairs and to her bedroom door. I knock once before entering to find her lying on her back in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just going to assume you heard everything, so there's no sense in repeating it. Am I right?" I watch her nod guiltily before I take up the space next to her. Lying down, I close my eyes and release a deep sigh.

"That was close," Rachel comments absently.

"Yes. Yes, it was," I say, opening one eye to peek over at her.

"I wasn't worried though," Rachel states matter-of-factly. "Not even for a second."

"Really? Well, you sure had an odd way of showing it." I chuckle when she begins to smile bashfully. Having had my fun, I then roll over to lean on my arm, propping my head up on my fist. "So…what did Nate say?"

My daughter sits up and mirrors my posture, a bright smile on her face. "He told me to remind you to call him tonight, so don't forget."

"I won't," I tell her with a smile. "What else?"

"He also said he can't wait for Saturday. Why didn't you tell me we were going to the carnival?"

I shrug. "I wanted to surprise you with something fun this weekend," I answer simply. "We don't have to go if you don't want to. If you think you're too old—"

"Are you kidding? I love the fall carnival! Daddy and I try to go every year, assuming he's free," Rachel tells me excitedly. "I was actually going to ask if we could go together. But now that we're going with Nate, this is going to be _so_ much better! We can go on the bumper cars, and see the stunt show. Oh and then there's the games…"

I smirk as Rachel continues with her animated outline of Saturday's activities. When she pauses to take a breath, I decide to redirect the conversation if only for a moment. "Rachel?" My daughter looks up, focusing more intently on me, her eyes sparkling. "Why didn't you tell me about the musical?" I then witness the brightness in her eyes fade away and her smile along with it. She then moves to lie on her back again, but this time covering her face with a stuffed animal. "Rachel." She soon responds, but due to her mouth being covered her words are muffled. I reach over and remove the mid-sized teddy bear that is covering my child's face. "What was that?"

"I said, 'because I knew you'd say no,'" she tells me quietly.

I furrow my brow at her assumption. "And how do you know that? I probably would have said yes if you'd been upfront with me." Rachel quirks an eyebrow at me and fixes me with a skeptical look. "What? I might've."

Rachel scoffs as she sits up to face me. "No offense, Mom, but I think you've made your stance on certain things pretty clear. And I'm pretty sure had I brought up Rocky Horror to you earlier, you would've said no. To be honest, when Mr. Schue initially told me that I needed to get you to sign the permission slip, in addition to my dads, I actually considered forging your signature."

"Really?" I ask, with a hint of surprise. "How'd that go?"

"I couldn't do it…" I smile then, thankful that my little girl remained truthful, "…mainly because you do this thing with your C's that is nearly impossible to replicate. I practiced for at least an hour…"

My smile falls then at Rachel's confession, but soon returns, albeit wryly, as she goes on to inform me that my signature is much more difficult than her fathers'. Both of which she's managed to master.

"Okay. How about this," I begin, pushing myself up and off of the bed. "It's eight o'clock now. If _you_ promise to focus on your homework and not attempt to _recreate_ my signature ever again, _I_ promise to consider signing the permission slip. Deal?"

"Deal," she affirms before sliding off of the bed to grab her bag pack. Rifling through the front pocket, she quickly retrieves the sheet of paper that caused today's fiasco and hands it off to me. She then walks over to her desk and pulls out all of her necessary books.

I move to the doorway of her room, slip in hand, and continue to watch my daughter for a few more minutes as she delves into her various assignments.

_Never doubt that you're a good mother._

Hiram's words reverberate through my mind as I continue to look in on my child. She flashes me another smile, one I fully return, before returning her attention to her history textbook. With one last look and a firm nod, I vow to do as Hiram said and try my best to keep my doubts to a minimum.

Pulling the door behind me, I make my way to my own bedroom and fall back onto my bed. Retrieving my cell phone from my pocket, I quickly scroll through my address book. After calling the school's hotline, I dial another familiar number before hitting the 'talk' button. The phone barely rings twice before the person on the other end picks up.

"Hey. How'd it go?"

"Fine, Nate. Just fine."

**-PA-**

"Mooom! You said you'd sign it if I did my homework," Rachel whines, as we pull up in front of McKinley High.

"No, actually I didn't. I said I'd _consider_ signing it. There's a difference," I clarify. "I'm sorry, Sweetie, but you guys are still young and I feel that Rocky Horror is a little too inappropriate for your age group. The lyrics are too suggestive and don't even get me started on some of the costumes—"

"But, _Mom_!"

"Look Rach, I told you I'd think about it. And I did. I'm not too sure I feel comfortable with you doing this musical." I look across to the passenger side of my car to see Rachel frowning and sulking in her seat. I know how much she was probably looking forward to this and I hate to put a damper on her dreams, but I can't have my fifteen your old daughter participating in something that still tends to cause controversy in today's day and age.

But as I continue to watch her, and spot what looks like tears forming in her eyes, I feel my resolve breaking ever so slightly.

_Oh for heaven's sake!_

"_But_…I suppose if I were to talk to Mr. Schuester about editing some of the more risqué scenes—"

"Oh thank you, Mom. Thankyouthankyouthankyou, _thank you_!" Rachel quickly exclaims, lunging over the center console and enveloping me in a fierce hug.

I laugh at her enthusiasm. "You're welcome, babygirl." She soon releases me once I remind her that she does indeed need to get to class. I watch her jump out of my car and grab her bag pack from the backseat. She then shuts the door, but before she can run off I call her attention back to the passenger window. "Please, tell Mr. Schuester to call me when he gets a chance."

"Will do. Bye, Mom," she yells over her shoulder.

"Bye." I shake my head and smile as I observe her join the horde of students all rushing to make their way into the school. Once I see her bright pink sweater disappear into the building, I pull out of the parking lot and head back home.

Entering the kitchen, I drop my keys and my purse before grabbing a cup of coffee. After my quick liquid breakfast and with nothing specifically planned for today, I go about the mundane task of cleaning the entire house. From top to bottom. A job that I usually reserve for Sunday, when I'm granted the most free time.

After changing into an old T-shirt and sweats, I start in my bedroom, dusting, vacuuming and gathering any errant clothes that need to be added to the growing laundry pile. Once satisfied that my room is complete I make my way to Rachel's room down the hall.

Affording it the same attention as I did my own room, I'm running the vacuum around the floor when something protruding from underneath my daughter's bed catches my eye. Shutting off the vacuum, I walk closer and examine what I soon realize is a box. I look around, almost surreptitiously, before chuckling at myself. No one's here but me. Rachel's at school.

I then proceed to pull it out, and I soon learn it is only one of many. Six in fact.

When I've got all the boxes removed from under Rachel's bed, I recognize about half of them as some of my own. They're mostly full of old albums from my childhood, ranging from my toddler years to my years in middle and high school. One of them may even contain a few albums from college.

I disregard the three unfamiliar ones, mainly for fear of intruding on my daughter's privacy and instead look to the three boxes I can claim as my own. Choosing a box at random, I grab, then open, the topmost album and recognize it instantly, recalling these particular memories with fondness. It was from a trip to the beach with my parents and my two older siblings.

I flip through it and I can't contain the growing smile that soon appears on my face. There's a picture with me, when I was about three, sitting on my dad's shoulders as we played in the waves. My dad. The honorable judge David Eli Corcoran. The most feared but well-respected lawyer turned judge in the state of Ohio. Yet, despite his imposing figure, to me he was always just 'Dad'. And I was his little girl.

I admire a few more photographs before flipping to the next page and I'm unable to hold in the laughter that soon escapes past my lips. The next photo is of me and my older brother, David, and we're both standing in the middle of the old kitchen completely covered in mud.

I couldn't have been any older than six or seven, making David at least sixteen, maybe even seventeen. We'd just finished washing our dog, Toby, in the backyard.

As David went to shut off the hose and I'd gone about gathering the towels we'd used, Toby had wandered into our mother's vegetable garden, where he promptly began digging through the freshly placed soil. I was the first to notice and had tried to pull Toby from the one place he was forbidden to go. But in cases with a big dog and little girl, rarely does the little girl luck out. So I'd quickly called David over to help me. It took us a few minutes but we soon managed to pull Toby away from our mother's precious tomato patches. But not before he pounced on the both of us, covering us in the very soil he had just finished playing in. By the time we wrestled him off, we were both wholly coated in dirt. We could do nothing but laugh about it as we both attempted to sneak into the house. It was useless though. Our mother, Sarah Eleanor Corcoran, the accomplished lawyer and dedicated parent, had been in the kitchen baking for some function and had spotted us immediately.

Mom had been absolutely horrified at the very thought of us trekking mud on the floor she had _just_ finished cleaning thoroughly. And as I replace the album in its particular box, I can still hear my dad's laughter bellowing throughout the house as he took the snapshot. I smile at the memories each familiar box contains, but I'm still slightly confused.

_Why does Rachel have these?_

I mean I've long since given my daughter complete access to my home. She's got a key to the house and she's more than free to wander through it as she pleases. She also has complete access to the videos, music and pictures alike, so why does she feel the need to hide these?

Resolving to talk to Rachel about it later, I replace the boxes underneath her bed and return to my previous task of tidying up. Making quick work of my daughter's room, I soon get to the other two guest rooms thus completing upstairs.

As I'm heading downstairs to the first floor, I hear my cell phone go off from its place in my back pocket. Pulling it out I take a seat in the middle of the staircase and examine the caller ID screen before accepting the call. "Good morning, Will."

_Hey Shelby. Rachel said you wished to speak to me._

"Yes I did. It's about your latest venture in glee club. Rocky Horror, Will? _Really_?" I ask doubtfully. "Are you sure that you want to even go there? I mean, you're already on rocky ground after what happened at Regionals a few months ago. And let's not forget the latest pep rally you performed. Are you sure this is the best thing for you to be doing right now?"

_Why not? Shelby, you know as well as I do that the point of the arts is to push boundaries. Doing things people say you can't do for the sake of self…_

I quirk an eyebrow as I continue to listen to Will drone on. "Yes, well. I'm all for it, Will. _If_ your intent is simply to offer the kids a form of self-expression," I tell him. "I'm just curious as to why you chose Rocky Horror. As opposed to say, RENT, Spring Awakening, Cabaret or even Victor/Victoria? What makes Rocky Horror so special?" I hear absolute silence on the other line and I find myself questioning Will's objective. _Am I missing something?_ I'm suddenly struck by some inspiration as the silence continues. "Will, what aren't you telling me?"

_Umm, nothing._

_Yeah, that was certainly believable._ "Look, I will agree to my child participating in this production, if and only if, the real reason behind putting on this show is to let the kids have some fun and be themselves. _But,_ if I find out otherwise, you can expect a phone call from at least one angry parent and possibly one from Figgins as well. _Got it_?" I allow my threat to hang in the air and I'm pretty sure I hear Will audibly gulp on the line.

_Well, when you put it that way…I do have a confession to make._

_I knew it._ "And I can't wait to hear it," I say with a satisfied smirk. Over the next few minutes, Will tells me about the latest episode in his soap opera-esque personal life. It would appear that the guidance counselor he was seeing a few months ago broke up with him and is now seeing a dentist. The very same dentist that my daughter visited a few weeks ago, as luck would have it. He then explains that while they were eating lunch a few days ago the topic of Rocky Horror came up as well as their "shared love" for the groundbreaking musical. And then sometime during that meeting, he "may or may not" have just blurted out that the glee club would be staging the show.

_I'm not really sure what came over me, to be honest._

"The word _desperation_ comes to mind," I comment dryly. While I'm glad that he's now being truthful, I'm still considering the musical. I'm sure the glee kids are all looking forward to it. And I'd hate for them to be disappointed if the production gets cancelled. Especially if they're even _half_ as excited as Rachel was earlier.

_Are you going to tell Figgins?_

I sigh deeply as I consider Will's question, in addition to my own thoughts. "No, I won't tell Figgins," I answer, "but if you are going to continue with this insane attempt to win over Emma's affections, you can fully expect to see me at every rehearsal just to be sure you're not taking advantage of these kids, mine in particular, just to get in good standings with the girl. Do we understand each other, Mr. Schuester?"

_Yes we do Ms. Corcoran. So…I'll see you at three o'clock?_

"Looking forward to it."

**-PA-**

Having sat through my daughter's rehearsals at McKinley until well after nine last night, and not arriving back home until nearly eleven, I thought it practically a give-in that I would definitely be sleeping in the following morning. In fact, I had even shut off my usual alarm in order to do so.

And with Nate not arriving at my house until well after one to pick Rachel and I up, I had assumed that all of my bases were indeed covered because even if I were to awake well after ten, I'd still have more than enough to time to get ready.

Regrettably, there was one thing I didn't take into account. And it was that single variable that would be my downfall.

My daughter.

At six o'clock this morning, I, like most people I'd imagine, was still fast asleep and quite content to remain that way, enjoying the warmth my bed and blankets provided. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and unbeknownst to me, my darling daughter was just waking up. Within the next few minutes, she would jump out of her bed and make her way down the hall to my bedroom door. At which point, she proceeded to barge into my room and _pounce_ on me, immediately startling the hell of out of me.

"What the —" I stop myself short, _thankfully_, because the word that almost escapes is not one meant for any child, my own included, to hear. Barely conscious, I shoot up from my bed, frantically searching around for my attacker, as well as clutching my rapidly beating heart. After a few deep breaths, I soon calm myself down only to find my daughter calmly seated next to me, a bright smile on her face. "Jesus! Rachel? Honey, what's wrong?" I inquire, as I tiredly rub at my eyes.

"It's Saturday."

"Okay," I drawl, over a yawn that escapes past my lips. Despite my daughter's answer, I'm still puzzled as to the reason behind my early morning wake up call. "But why are you up so early?"

"We're going to the carnival today!" Rachel squeals, clapping gleefully.

I release a deep groan. "Rachel, Sweetie. Nate's not going to be here for another," I pause to glance at my alarm clock and am downright stunned at what I'm seeing. "Rachel it's barely after six, Nate won't be here until one, the earliest."

"But we have to—"

"You'll have more than enough time to have breakfast, Rach." I say knowingly.

"Yes, but we still have to—"

"And we'll have plenty of time to get ready, too," I interject, before falling back into my pillows. "So, go back to sleep." Out of habit, I refluff my pillow and close my eyes. I've just barely settled into blissful unconsciousness when I'm brought back out of it by my daughter softly calling out to me. I don't bother turning to face her, or even opening my eyes for that matter. "What is it, Rachel?"

"I can't."

Rolling onto my back, I look up at my daughter through hazy, half-lidded eyes. "You can't _what_?"

"Go back to sleep," she mumbles. "I guess I'm too excited about this afternoon."

I chuckle tiredly at her admission. "I understand that, Hon. I do. But how much fun do you expect to have if you're too tired to do anything?"

Rachel then nods, as she considers my words. She then goes on to slip out of the bed.

I then witness as she looks to the door and back to me for several minutes, almost as if she's fighting an internal battle of just what to do. It takes me a minute to realize what's going on, and that's only because of the early hour. But when I do I quickly act. Because while the idea of her going back to her room is promising, the very idea that'd she'd probably end up sitting there just staring into space for the next few hours is not.

So throwing the blankets back on the other side of the bed, I instruct my daughter to get in, which she promptly does with a wide grin. "You can stay, but just promise me one thing."

"What's that?" she asks, as she gets comfortable.

"That you'll be quiet."

"I promise."

Surprisingly, my daughter is able to keep her promise. And when I awake nearly three hours later, I realize why. She's fast asleep. And if I had to guess, she was out only moments after I was.

I look down at my child with a smirk and find that once again she has utilized me as her substitute teddy bear. This time around though, I'm able to quickly extract myself with little to no problem by offering her my pillow to cuddle with instead. I tuck the blankets around my baby girl and make my way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I opt for a cup of coffee and the opportunity to get a head start on breakfast.

As it approaches ten o'clock, I'm slightly puzzled as to why I haven't as yet seen my daughter. With my third cup of coffee in hand as well as a bowl of fruit salad for Rachel, I make my way back up to my bedroom and what I see brings a bright smile to my face.

Earlier I had left Rachel curled up with a pillow on the right side of my bed. But _now_ my daughter is splayed out in the center of it and I can just barely make out her head underneath the blankets. And that is only because her hand is exposed and hanging off of the edge of the mattress. Setting my mug and Rachel's breakfast to one side on my vanity, I make my way to the bedside.

Now while the prospect of gently rousing my daughter from sleep is probably the _right_ thing to do, I'm thoroughly tempted to seek retribution for this morning's assault.

So it's with a mischievous smirk on my lips that I plop down onto the bed and lean down by my daughter's ear. "Rachel?" I hear her mumble a response hazily. "Honey, it's almost one and Nate's gonna be here any minute." And with that I quickly move off of the bed and to the nearby wall to watch the upcoming show.

Within seconds, as expected, Rachel's head shoots up, still covered by the blanket, and she wildly begins looking around the room. "Oh no!" She then proceeds to scramble out of the bed and out the door. "Moom! Why'd you let me sleep so late!"

With a laugh, I grab my mug and the bowl I'd previously set aside before following Rachel to her own bedroom. I move to lean in her doorway and watch as she runs about her room, violently tearing through her dresser and then her closet for something to wear. She finally grabs one of her many pleated skirts and a top. After throwing the outfit onto her bed, she then moves to head to her en-suite bathroom. Before she can enter though, I stop her. "You might want to rethink that outfit, Rach."

"W-what? Why?"

"Because you don't wear a skirt and a blouse to a carnival," I answer her plainly, stepping into the room.

"But I spent all night choosing that outfit. I don't have time to pick out a new one because Nate's going to be arriving any minute now!" she cries.

"Then might I suggest just picking out a polo or a sweatshirt," I recommend as I offer her the bowl of fruit. "Both of which tend to go relatively well with this modern invention I like to call jeans. Maybe you've seen them. They're made of denim and they look an awful lot like pants."

Shooting me an annoyed look, Rachel accepts her breakfast and takes two spoonfuls of fruit before returning to her closet to rethink her outfit selection. I continue to look on as she grabs a few tops and places them on her bed. "Which one should I wear?"

I examine the tops for a minute and eventually settle on the green polo I recognize as one that I bought for her on one of our recent shopping trips. She then returns to my side with a pair of jeans and a hoodie. "Now then, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"No," she mumbles as she looks over the outfit. On her way back into her bathroom, she turns to me with a quizzical expression. "Hey Mom, why aren't you dressed?"

Focusing on the contents of my mug, I decide it's probably time to let the cat out of the bag, so I move to make my exit. "Oh, I've got plenty of _time_." Taking a sip of my coffee, I also employ the mug to hide my growing smile as my daughter turns to look at her clock. The look she then gives me causes me to laugh aloud.

"Y'know…parents, especially moms, are supposed to be nice to their daughters," she comments as she leans in the doorway. She's pouting but clearly fighting back her own smile.

"Well…y'know children, especially daughters, should know better than to wake their mothers at six o'clock in the morning," I counter. "I suppose we both learned something today, huh?"

"I suppose," she states entering her bathroom. However right before she closes the door she flashes me a smile. And like last weekend, it's the same _un-Rachel_ like smirk that leaves me wondering just what I've gotten myself into.

**-PA-**

As it turns out, my daughter may have been on to something because Nate arrived a little earlier than expected. A good thirty minutes earlier. Not that it mattered, though, seeing as both Rachel and I had been ready nearly an hour prior.

So after a quick lunch at a local deli, we then proceeded to cross the street to the nearest movie theatre. Having not really given it much thought prior to our arrival, I offered, and Nate wholly agreed, to let Rachel choose the movie.

_First mistake._

After Nate gave her the money, Rachel quickly ran off to the box office to purchase the tickets. When she returned she excitedly announced that we would be seeing the latest Harry Potter installment. We then stopped at the concession stand at Nate's insistence, because 'what fun is a movie without popcorn', before following Rachel's lead into our assigned theatre.

As we walked down the crowded aisle, I began searching out a row that would accommodate the three of us.

But it would seem that my daughter had _other_ plans.

Before we could go any further, Rachel stopped and informed us that she had found adequate seating. When I asked where, she pointed it out to me and I was confused when I saw only one available seat. "Rach, how—"

"You guys can sit up here," she'd said indicating the two available seats just to Nate's left, "and I'll sit back there. See you after the movie!" With a wink in my direction, my daughter proceeded to run off before I could stop her. And I would have followed after her, had Nate not promptly grabbed my elbow and gently guided me into the row.

"Let it go, Shel," he'd told me with a smile.

"But—"

"Let it _go_."

Pursing my lips in frustration, I'd settled down into my seat with an angry huff, much to Nate's amusement. Crossing my arms like a petulant child, I sat back and turned my eyes to the screen. Once the previews for other upcoming films ended, but before the theatre could go completely dark, I turned back and caught sight of my daughter smiling down at me from her seat several rows back. She offered a wave. Yet rather than return it, I sent her a knowing glare. I then watched on with slight satisfaction as she sank down in her seat and hid behind her bag of popcorn, before I returned my attention to the screen.

I finally allowed myself to relax as the movie began. Admittedly I had no idea what the premise of the film was, besides what was offered in the television previews. So for the first half hour or so, I simply sat there staring at the screen but not really taking anything in. I turned to Nate to see how he was faring and was surprised to see him rather engrossed in the scene that was playing out. I continued to stare until he turned away to look at me.

_Second mistake._

"You're not getting any of this are you?" he whispered with a grin.

"What was your first clue?" I murmured back.

He chuckled at my response, but what he did next is what really got me.

Raising the cup holder that rested between us, he then slid closer to me, which caused just about every muscle in my body to immediately tense up. Luckily, Nate didn't seem to notice as he continued his actions. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he then leaned in and began to summarize the plot of the last few films.

"Okay, so now in _this_ one…"

As I listened to Nate attempt to explain the plot of the current film, I found myself slowly relaxing into his touch. Soon enough, I actually zoned out as I had become somewhat entranced myself.

But not by the movie.

No. There was something about Nate's voice and cologne that was lulling me into some kind of haze. After a while it didn't even matter what he was saying, just as long as he kept talking and kept his arm in its current position.

Nearing the end of the film, Nate's commentary had long since ended, but I still found myself nestled into his body and his arm wrapped firmly around me. And as the credits rolled neither of us made any moves to change it. We remained that way until the rest of the theatre cleared out, at which point we finally caught each other's eye and shared shy smiles.

"Ready?"

"Whenever you are," I answer. I then stood up and we made our way up to Rachel, who was already standing by the exit waiting for us. Catching her eye, I resumed glaring at her. "When we get home young lady, you and I—"

"Hey, Rach, what'd you think of the movie?" Nate cut in as he led the way out of the building and back to his car.

"I loved it. And it was even better the third time around."

_The third time around?_

I then stared at my daughter curiously, as she moved to open the door to the backseat. At the very last minute, I noticed a familiar smirk spreading on her lips. And for the second time today, I found myself questioning just what my daughter was truly capable of.

**-/-**

"That was amazing! Can we go again?"

"Rachel. Honey. We've been on it three times already. Why don't we try something else," I suggest lightly.

I eye my daughter carefully, as she runs circles around me. _Maybe that second cotton candy wasn't such a good idea_, I reason, as I attempt to calm my child down. When I finally succeed in doing so, we continue our exploration of the fairgrounds.

We've been at the carnival for a little over an hour now. And if the grin on my daughter's face is anything to go by, she's having a great time. Walking slightly ahead of Nate and me, her eyes are wide and bright as she stops and points at just about everything from clowns to various games and potential rides that we're adding to the ever growing list of 'must rides'.

Oddly enough, Rachel isn't alone in her eagerness. Nate is just as excited.

Initially I'd thought that he was just playing along with Rachel, but after we rode the mini rollercoaster several times over, I'm convinced that he is genuinely happy to be here. The thought causes a smile to spread across my cheeks. My smile soon falters, however, as I watch my daughter run off towards yet another cotton candy stand. "Rachel," I groan desperately. "Get back here!"

Nate laughs, draping an arm loosely around my shoulders. "Shelby. The carnival's only in town twice a year. So stop being such a 'mom' and let Rachel have some fun."

Releasing a deep sigh, I nod at his suggestion, but in the back of my mind I begin to consider investing in one of those child leashes. Because if my daughter continues with her disappearing acts, I will have no problem attaching her to a retractable harness if it will allow me to know where she is at all times when we go out.

Despite my seriousness on the matter, however, my mind soon constructs an image of my fifteen year old in such a ridiculous getup and I release an unconscious laugh, causing Nate to look down at me. "You finally decide to loosen up, huh?"

I look at him incredulously as he walks off. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm loose."

"Yeah, okay," he says sarcastically over his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go find Rachel."

I furrow my brow but follow Nate's lead nonetheless. We eventually catch up to my daughter somewhere between the food stands and the Tilt-A-Whirl, another ride she wishes to try out. She's eating yet _another_ cotton candy as she observes a few people playing "Hit or Miss", one of the many variations of a basketball game found at most carnivals and fairs. As the sound of bells and whistles explodes through the air announcing that a winner has been declared, I notice my daughter's knitted brow.

"What's wrong, Rach?" I ask, my concern more than evident.

My daughter shakes her head. "It's nothing, Mom. It's just that ever since I was younger I'd always wanted one of those unicorns. But Daddy's hand-eye coordination is even worse than mine," she explains with a wry smile, as she watches the booth worker hand off the plush toy to a young man. "Guess it was always just a dream of mine to get it one day. Crazy, huh?"

"No, Baby. Not crazy at all," I tell her softly. I'd offer to get it for her, if only to make at least _one_ of her dreams come true. Unfortunately my hand-eye coordination is probably just as poor as hers. I hug her to my side and offer her a small smile. I'm about to recommend finding one of the rides she wished to get on as our next stop, when I see Nate step up to the booth. "Umm, Nate? What are you doing?"

"Making a dream come true." He smiles back at the pair of us, as he gives the worker a few bills and accepts the four basketballs. I continue to watch as he dribbles it a few times and analyzes the shot before throwing it towards the basket. I half expect it to be off, but am thoroughly surprised when it sails into the hoop with a perfect _swish_. I'm even further impressed when he pulls off the same shot once more. By the time he's grabbing the third ball, I'm smiling just as brightly as Rachel. And we're cheering excitedly when he sinks the last shot. A moment later he turns back to us, a large pink unicorn in hand, with a bright smile. "For the young lady."

Rachel happily accepts the stuffed animal. "Thanks, Nate!" she says with a dazzlingly smile as she examines her new toy.

"Anytime, Rachel."

I observe the scene before me, and I have to admit it's a little heartwarming. I continue to look on as Rachel proceeds to give Nate one of her crushing hugs and he takes it in stride. Before they can separate though I take a few steps back and pull out my camera, something I've begun carrying around a lot lately, and snap a picture. After I take it, I view the image and find my smile growing even further.

_Definitely framing this one._

When I return my gaze upwards, I notice that Nate has stepped back up to the booth. Taking the few steps to return to my daughter's side, I then inquire as to what is going on.

"I asked Nate for another one," she answers casually. I stare down at my daughter as I watch her struggle to carry the one toy she's already received. I then think of the amount of stuffed animals that she's already got on either one of the beds at both of her homes. At the rate my daughter seems to collect these things, she will soon be sleeping on the floor. I then share my observation, causing her to laugh aloud. "It's not for _me_, Mom. I asked Nate to get it for _you_."

By the time I turn back to stop him, Nate has already collected on his prize for yet another amazing display of his athletic talent.

"For you," he says presenting me with a stuffed panda.

"You didn't have to, you know," I tell him quietly, as I accept the bear, "but thank you."

He shrugs. "Rachel thought it wouldn't be fair if I got her something but didn't do the same for you," he tells me. "Guess I couldn't have that on my conscience."

"I'll bet." I roll my eyes at his explanation, but smile anyway. "Alright, so what's next?" I quickly say to Rachel, in hopes of diverting her attention from the cart of candied apples that has just passed her way.

"Umm, how about the funhouse?"

**-/-**

Following the funhouse, the stunt show, the carousel, another go on the mini rollercoaster, the Tilt-A-Whirl and the Twisted Hall of Mirrors, we ventured to the bumper cars.

And after two rounds of bumper cars, I'm once again reminded of why Hiram and Leroy are so hesitant in offering Rachel driving lessons. If her maneuvering and driving skills are even remotely similar to what she did in the bumper car rink, I'd be wary, too.

And after witnessing with my own eyes just what I'd be dealing with, I can only pray that my sweet babygirl doesn't ask _me_ for lessons any time soon.

As we're looking around for yet another ride to go on, Rachel's phone begins to ring. After reading over the messages she's received, she announces that her boyfriend and a few of the glee kids have just arrived at the carnival and were wondering if she wished to join them.

I give her a simple nod of consent and then take on the burden of carrying not only the unicorn she'd gotten from Nate, but also a plush basketball, a monkey and a hippo he'd subsequently won her sometime between the rollercoaster and the Tilt-A-Whirl. She's about to run off when she turns back to me with a pleading look on her face. "Is there a problem?"

"Could I possibly get some money? You know, just in case?"

I stare at my daughter skeptically. "What happened to the twenty dollars I gave you earlier?" I inquire. My daughter then offers me a coy smile and I'm reminded of the four, no, _five_ cotton candies she's consumed so far.

Seeing as I'd rather she _not_ eat anymore of the sugary substance, I'm about ready to decline until I notice a familiar glint in my daughter's eyes. And before my mind can even process what is going on, my hand is retrieving yet another twenty dollars from my pocket and handing it off to her. "You have an hour. It's getting late. And no more cotton candy."

"Just an hour?" Rachel protests with a pout.

"Fine. Two," I concede, with a sigh. "And text me every now and then so I know you're okay."

"I will. See you guys later," she yells over her shoulder before running off into the crowd.

I turn back to Nate and see him biting his lip, clearly holding back a laugh. "What's so funny?"

"I'll tell you later," he replies with a chuckle. "For now, though, I suggest we stop at the car. Because I don't think we're going to get too far carrying all of that stuff around."

I fully agree and so after quickly stopping by his car to deposit the armload of animals that we've acquired during our visit, we then make our way back into the carnival. Another stop at the closest food stand and we grab two cups of hot cider, in hopes of warding off the slight chill that has come in with nightfall.

Cider in hand, we continue our quiet adventure through the carnival.

The conversation is light, focusing more on idle observations around the fairgrounds as well as the varying background music that can be heard over the dozens of loudspeakers strategically placed around the area. At some point during our aimless wandering, I'm not even sure when, our arms become linked. Nate doesn't comment on it, so neither do I.

"Hey, how about we get on the Ferris wheel?"

I quirk an eyebrow and turn to stare at Nate when we stop in front of the popular attraction. "You _hate_ heights."

"Yeah, but you don't," he tells me as he leads the way to the entrance of the queue. Due to the relatively short line, we're quickly ushered onto the ride. Soon enough we have reached the highest peak and are granted a view of the entire fairgrounds. And with the clear night sky, it's a pretty amazing sight.

Once I finish people watching, I settle back into the cart and turn to Nate. When I catch a glimpse of him, I'm thankful that he's doing okay. Prior to getting on, I'd recalled a memory from our youth when he'd gotten stuck in a tree after I'd dared him to climb it. I guess I should probably give him credit for getting over this particular phobia. And I'm about to when I spot him chewing on his lower lip. "Something on your mind?" I ask when I notice his pensive expression.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"Rachel," he answers. When I furrow my brow he continues. "Guess I'm surprised at just how much you two really are alike. While the resemblance between you and her is extremely uncanny, it goes beyond your looks, vocal talent and your common interests."

I cock my head to the side and continue to stare at him. "How so?"

"Well." He chuckles. "You remember that time we got caught skipping class in ninth grade?"

I laugh at the memory. "You mean the time when you assured me we _wouldn't_ get caught?" I reply with a grin. "Yeah, I remember. I thought our parents were going to kill us."

"Yeah, we did. But they didn't, did they," he comments just as the Ferris wheel resumes moving. "And do you remember why?" When I shake my head in confusion, he laughs. "You broke them down with your 'secret weapon'. No one could stay angry at you for long and you always got just about everything you wanted because of it. And it would seem that you've passed on that same attribute to Rachel as well."

_Secret weapon?_ _What secret weapon?_

I think on it for a minute, blocking out the surrounding sounds. Summoning up the memory from the depths of my mind, I replay it in my head. My parents, as well as Nate's, had entered the office and found the two of us sitting before the principal's desk. After they'd been told of our wrong-doings, all four of them had been beyond irate. But I'd somehow managed to calm them, and even the principal, down. _But how?_

I continue to go over it in my head, eventually turning to Nate when I find myself at a loss. When I meet his eyes, I get a sudden flash.

_I'd pouted!_

I then begin to recall every moment in my youth when I hadn't gotten my way. Whether it was with my parents or my brother, I'd always turned on the charm and a smile. And if that didn't work, I always flashed them a good pout and before I knew it I'd gotten the puppy I'd wanted or the cookie that I was forbidden to have until after dinner.

"I don't believe it," I murmur as I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Next to me, Nate begins chuckling just as I start to recall every time Rachel has ever used "the pout" on me and I'm shocked by the number of times I come up with.

And just by today alone!

Time after time after _time,_ my daughter has utilized her big brown eyes and her pout to her benefit and has gotten me to yield to her will.

"H-how—" I can barely formulate a thought as I'm still completely dumbfounded that for the past few months my daughter has successfully managed to manipulate me.

And without me even realizing it!

_Oh, we will definitely be having a nice, long discussion about this…_

"Like mother, like daughter, if you ask me," he says with a smirk.

Nate's comment causes me to raise my eyes and I fix him with a mock glare. "Oh shut up," I tell him, a smile just barely evident on my lips. As we exit the Ferris wheel though, I'm unable to contain my smile for much longer and we soon dissolve into a fit of laughs. Doubled over and out of breath, I eventually stand upright when the need for oxygen becomes necessary. I take several breaths, but a few laughs still escape as I think about it. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it, Shel," Nate tells me with a grin, draping an arm across my shoulders. "In essence, Rachel is you. Well _almost_. She tends to be a bit nicer to people. Maybe even a little quiet—hey!"

I smile and drop my arm after having elbowed him gently in the side at his playful insult. "I _am_ nice to people! And I was only loud when it was _necessary_."

"Which was all the time," he says with a laugh, backing away slightly when I move to nudge him again. "Kidding. Just kidding."

We resume walking through the carnival. No particular direction in mind. Just walking. We soon come across a sideshow that features a group of juggling clowns and stop for a bit to join the growing crowd. In the distance I spot my daughter walking by with her boyfriend as well as a few of the glee kids. And while I'm glad she listened to me and is not eating another cotton candy, the candied apple that she appears to be sharing with her boyfriend causes me to groan.

_Why didn't Hiram and Leroy even offer me a hint as to my daughter's sweet tooth?_

"Hey, Shel?" I shake my head clear of my musings of the several dentist appointments that lay ahead in my daughter's future and look up to Nate. He's pointing to something behind us and when I turn to see what it is I spot a photo booth. "What do you think?"

I shrug and we make our way over to the booth. While it's certainly a little more modern than the ones that used to be at the carnival when I was younger, it's the same basic principle. Inserting a few bills, we step in and take a seat in the booth. Nate fiddles with the controls for a bit, choosing how many pictures we want and what not.

"You ready?"

I nod and he pushes the button to begin the countdown. When he settles back, I turn to see his face and witness as he contorts his features into the most absurd expression. He's sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes and I'm unable to stop the laugh that escapes my lips. Before I can straighten up, I see the blinding flash go off. I lift my head and look at the screen display for a preview of the picture.

"C'mon Shel. Have fun with it," he exclaims, when he realizes that he was alone in his antics. "We've only got three more, so let's make them count. No more letting me do all the work."

"Okay, okay." I attempt my best silly expression, pulling out my ears and crossing my eyes. "How's this?"

Nate chuckles. "Perfect. Alright you ready?"

Again he presses the button. And this time I'm looking at the camera. When the preview comes up, I'm shocked to see that I'm the only one making a fool of myself as Nate has resorted to simply smiling and raising bunny ears at the back of my head. I turn to him with a quirked eyebrow. "What happened to have fun with it?"

"It _was_ fun," he tells me with a laugh. As I continue to glare at him, he raises his in surrender. "Okay, fine. No more silly ones. Last two will be serious."

"No more bunny ears?"

"You have my word," Nate insists, even raising his hand as if giving an oath.

We manage to get through the third photo without anymore high jinks from Nate. And after the stars clear from my vision, compliments of the blinding flash, I admire the latest picture that we've taken. I'd rested my head on Nate's shoulder and we were both looking straight ahead with bright smiles on our faces. As I continue to survey the screen, I'm reminded of the dozens of pictures that we'd taken as kids. Our bright smiles often belying our mischievous behaviors. As Nate sets up the camera for our fourth and final photo I'm also reminded of a picture that we'd taken back in high school.

We'd been sitting outside in the school courtyard and Tiffany Evans, a mutual friend of ours, needed a few more shots of the student body for the yearbook. Nate and I had agreed all for the sake of school spirit to have our pictures taken. Tiffany had positioned us so we were simply leaning into each other, with our arms wrapped around the other's shoulders. And we had remained that way as Tiffany readied her camera. But at the very last minute before the flash went off, Nate had turned his head and kissed my cheek. The resulting photo had always been a favorite for the both of us.

And given the rejuvenation of our friendship, I can't help feeling that a new picture to commemorate it would be more than appropriate. So as Nate settles back and the countdown begins, I wait for the very last minute to return the favor from so many years ago.

Unfortunately, it is only as the flash goes off, that I realize that Nate had the same idea. And despite the picture having been taken and the preview clearly being displayed before us, the kiss continues to go on. What's more, while my mind is urging me to pull back immediately, another part of me delays my reaction, preferring to prolong the intimate contact between Nate and I for just a bit longer.

So I, or should I say _we_, do. For at least two minutes.

Two _long_ minutes.

Once my mind regains total control however, I hastily pull away, an act which results in me hitting my head against the wall of the booth.

"Ouch, dammit," I murmur. Slightly dazed from my recent minor injury, as well as the kiss, my gaze jumps between Nate's eyes and his lips, which up until a few seconds ago were tenderly pressed against my own.

"You okay?" Nate asks, reaching forward to inspect my head.

"Fine," I answer dismissively, moving just out of his reach, before slipping out of the booth. Rubbing the small bump that is still forming on my crown, I pace outside to attempt organizing my now rampant thoughts.

_Why did I have to get all sentimental? Why did I ever go into that photo booth in the first place? And why did I kiss him? Better yet, why did he kiss me? _

"Shelby?" Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Nate approaching me, pictures in hand. "I think we should probably ta—"

Fortunately before Nate can begin what I'm sure would become a very awkward conversation for the both of us, my ringing cell phone interrupts him. I quickly fish it out of my pocket and step away in order to take the call. "Hello?"

_Hey, Mom. You guys ready?_

"Umm, ready?"

_To leave. You did say two hours, right?_

"Yea. Yea, I did. Okay. We'll meet you by the car in a few minutes then."

_Alright. See you in a few._

I end the call with my daughter and turn back to Nate. "It was Rachel," I tell him unnecessarily. "She's, uh, she's ready to go. She said she'll meet us by the car."

He nods and then despite all of the activity occurring around us, we are engulfed in an eerie silence. After several minutes of avoiding each other's gaze and observing the ground, Nate finally speaks up. "So…are we gonna talk about what happened in there?"

I sigh deeply before looking up at him. "Not now," I reply, looking away and maintaining my gaze in the distance, before turning away to start heading towards the parking lot. Before I can take a step though, Nate gently takes hold of my arm and stops me.

"Then when, Shelby?"

I look up into Nate's eyes and when the intensity becomes too much to handle, I look away. "I-I don't know," I mumble, before shaking free and walking off.

**-/-**

During the ride home, I keep my eyes trained outside the passenger window. Finding the white lines on the road and the passing buildings and trees more interesting than what is inside the vehicle.

Fortunately, the awkward silence that had ensued in the carnival doesn't follow us into Nate's car. And I suppose I have Rachel, and her sugar induced high, to thank for that.

Between giving a detailed account of everything that we'd done today, as well as telling how much she loved every minute of it, to the gossip and conversation that transpired between her classmates when she ran off, there hasn't been a silent moment. Consequently I can only hope that for the remaining ten minutes that it should take for us to get to my house that Rachel doesn't run out of things to say.

"…and then Kurt said something about rehearsals and how he doubts that we're going to get to put on our production. But then Tina told him to be quiet before he jinxed it. Then Finn and I got our palms read, which was fun I guess. I mean the fortune teller told me I was bound for fame and greatness, which I already knew. And it was good to hear my aspirations reaffirmed. But when I heard her say the same thing to Brittany, she kind of had me questioning her abilities as a psychic. Anyway, Quinn…"

As I continue to listen to my daughter forge on with her narrative, I look out of the corner of my eye to see Nate intently focused on the road. His brow is furrowed and his jaw is repeatedly clenching and relaxing. All tell-tale signs that he is probably just as confused and puzzled by what happened not too long ago. With another sigh, I settle my gaze back outside.

"…it was so much fun," Rachel finally concludes, leaning forward in between the two front seats and looking at the two of us. "So, what did you guys do?"

At my daughter's inquiry, my eyes widen and dart over to Nate, who is staring back at me, his eyebrows raised, as if he too is awaiting an answer. "Well, umm, we…"

"Not much. Rode the Ferris wheel, caught another show, grabbed some cider," Nate jumps in, once we stop at a red light. "Tried to get your mom to take a picture with me in one of those booths they had around, but she turned me down. Isn't that right, Shelby?"

I furrow my brow and stare back at Nate and then down into my daughter's expectant eyes. "Yeah, that's right. I thought we'd gotten enough pictures, so there was no need to have to pay for any."

Rachel nods. "Makes sense," she agrees, resting back in her seat, "_although_ it would've been pretty cute if you'd gotten at least one done. Oh well, maybe next time."

"Yeah, next time," Nate affirms, still maintaining his pointed gaze on me.

I'm eventually saved from his continued stare down when the light changes color and Nate is forced to return his gaze to the road. However, seeing as Rachel has seemingly run out of things to talk about, I still have the deafening silence to contend with.

So in order to counter it, and not be left to sort out my thoughts, I opt to turning on the radio.

_I can't fight this feeling any longer_

_And yet I'm still afraid to let it show_

_What started out as friendship has grown stronger_

_I only wish I had the strength to let it show_

Before the song can continue, I hastily hit the 'next' button and continue channel surfing until choosing yet another station at random.

_I look at you, you look at me_

_You can't tell me you ain't feeling butterflies_

_It's obvious there's some chemistry_

_I think I know why it feels so right_

This time, Nate saves me the trouble and changes the song himself via the controls on the steering wheel.

_In the midst of this nothing_

_This miss of life_

_Still there's this wanting_

_Just to see you go by_

Forgoing searching for a new station, I opt to turning off the radio, much to my daughter's chagrin. Apparently, she really likes the song I've just cut off. And after refusing to return to the previous station, or even turning the radio back on, Rachel settles down in the back seat with an angry huff. Truth be told, I'd hate to have my daughter be upset with me over something so trivial.

However I'm more than willing to overlook such a frivolous disagreement, mainly because I really don't think I can handle the overload of love songs that is battering the airwaves and my uneasy conscience.

And while I have never believed in coincidences, at the moment, I find that I may soon change my stance. What with the events that have transpired in the past few weeks between Nate and me. The phone calls, the lunch 'outings'. All this time I'd thought of it as just a restoration of our past friendship. But that kiss has me thinking otherwise.

Because friends _don't_ kiss.

I continue to go over everything in my head, breaking down every outing that we've been on and every conversation that we've had. My thoughts are soon disrupted when I begin to hear music. I look around curiously for a bit, even checking the radio to be sure I'd turned it off. It doesn't take me long to realize that what I'm hearing is simply Rachel's way of compensating with the absence of the radio. For the next few minutes, I listen as my daughter entertains herself by humming various songs from her favorite musicals as well as TV shows.

I roll my eyes at her actions but let it slide. Since I've gotten to know Rachel, I've learned that she can be a bit dramatic when she isn't getting her way. Furthermore after my conversation with Nate earlier, I'm no longer surprised because it is like he said: like mother, like daughter. And seeing as my child is basically emulating my own past behavior, I can't really admonish her for something she could very well have inherited from me.

_Although, that doesn't mean I have to like it,_ I reason as she begins to hum through a rendition of _It's A Hard-Knock Life_.

As we pull into my neighborhood, however, Rachel begins humming a different tune. One that sounds vaguely familiar, but despite my best attempts, I'm unable to place it.

My daughter continues to hum the unknown melody even as we approach the house and Nate pulls into the driveway. As we're getting out of the car, I furrow my brow because I'm still unable to place the song. And I'm even about to ask my daughter what it is she's humming, when I hear her begin to sing under her breath.

_There you see her, sitting there across the way_

_She don't got a lot to say but there's something about her_

_And you don't know why, but you're dying to try_

_You wanna kiss the girl_

Pursing my lips, I shake my head and roll my eyes before turning to look at my child. "Rach—"

"Well…thanks for a great afternoon, Nate," she announces, effectively cutting through my statement. She then moves to grab all of the stuffed animals, mine included, from the trunk and races to the front door, struggling the entire way. "And thanks so much for all my prizes. I love all of them."

I watch as Nate, who has made his way around from his side of the car to my side, offers my daughter a smile and a wave. "Well, I'm glad you had fun, Rachel," he replies. "You need any help wi—"

"No, I'm fine, I can handle these," she assures him. "I'm just going to get inside and leave you two to, umm, _talk_. I've gotta go call my dads anyway. So…bye!"

"Rach—" Again my reprimand is interrupted as my daughter has entered the house and slammed the door behind her. Expelling a sharp breath through my nose, I bite my bottom lip. This was not how I planned on ending my evening. At all. And considering how well the day had started, I'm surprised that this is how it has managed to come to a close.

Another breath and I begin to formulate my escape route. Looking to the front door, I nod. I suppose I'd feel better talking to Nate on my territory. At the same time, I really have no desire to talk to Nate _whatsoever_ and if I am to follow my daughter's lead I could effectively avoid the conversation altogether. Seeing as he can't really attempt to talk to me if I disappear into my house.

My escape route in mind, I say a quick "goodbye and goodnight" over my shoulder to Nate, who I know is now standing directly behind me and aim to make a beeline for the porch steps.

Alas, my evasion is thwarted as Nate once again grabs a hold of me. This time, though, he takes a hold of my hand. Squeezing it gently, he pulls me back and spins me around so that I am now facing him. "We need to talk."

"Really? What about?" I ask hesitantly. Frankly, I don't think we have anything to talk about. Because as far as I'm now concerned, what happened was a fluke.

An accident. A mishap. An unfortunate event that occurred and will most certainly _not_ be happening again.

When I look up, Nate cocks his head and blatantly stares back at me, causing my hopes of avoiding this conversation to cease. "Look, Nate, what happened was just an accident. It wasn't supposed to happen, obviously. So let's just chalk it up to a lapse of judgment on both sides along with a resurgence of residual feelings that found their way to the surface. We can just forget about it, okay?" I watch Nate as he considers my proposition, clearly not liking a word of it. But he nods nonetheless. "Good."

Then, like Rachel, I too express my thanks for a great afternoon and again proceed to head for the porch. As I'm approaching the front door, I'm stopped by Nate. This time he just calls out my name. I turn in time to see him join me on the porch.

"You forgot these," he tells me pulling something out of his pocket. When his hand finally emerges, I notice a strip of paper and when he passes it over I realize that it's the pictures that we'd taken earlier. I force myself to not look at the last photo, but it's the first one my eyes dart to. And I have to admit, it's not _that_ bad.

"We look good."

"Yeah, we do," I say absentmindedly. Upon realizing what I just agreed with, I tear my eyes away from the photo. "Nate—" My eyes then widen considerably as I watch him take a step closer to me and we are only a mere few inches apart. "Didn't I just say—"

"We have an audience," he says quietly, tilting his head to the side, indicating the front windows.

Out of the corner of my eye, I witness the curtains fall back into place, causing me to release a low chuckle and shake my head. To my surprise, however, Nate continues to step even closer to me. I take a slight step back and stare at him curiously. "W-what are you doing?"

"Having a lapse in judgment," he says softly before closing the distance between us and placing his lips against my own.

Unlike the kiss back at the carnival, this one is more chaste and less awkward and rushed. It's gentle and warm. Unfortunately, it's also shorter. I conceal a low groan of disappointment when he eventually backs away, a bright smile on his face. I blink rapidly, hoping to clear my mind of the haze that has settled, before looking back up at him.

"How about this," he murmurs, resting his forehead on my own. "_I_ promise to _forget_ about the kiss in the photo booth, if _you_ promise to _think_ about this one." Gulping nervously, I nod, not as yet trusting myself to verbalize a response. "Good. I'll talk to you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," I say softly.

I then watch as he steps off the porch and walks back to his car. Offering me one last wave before getting in, he pulls out of the driveway and disappears around the corner. Leaving me on my porch, stunned and baffled and yet oddly quite warm, despite the growing chill in the air. When the haze finally clears I enter my home and head straight for my bedroom, deciding to check on Rachel after I've had a shower and chance to gather my wits.

Emerging from my bedroom nearly twenty minutes later, I approach my daughter's room and gently knock on her door.

"Come in," I hear her call out faintly. When I enter, I find her sitting by her desk in her pajamas, setting her cell phone to charge. "Dad and Daddy say hi. They're glad that we had such a great time. They also said that you should bring Nate to dinner one of these days. They would really like to meet him."

I nod and then smile when I witness my daughter yawn deeply. I was beginning to wonder when she'd crash from all of that sugar.

"Bedtime, babygirl," I tell her, holding out my hand for her to take.

"But it's _only_ nine-thirty," she complains. Despite her protest, she doesn't hesitate in taking my hand and allowing me to lead her to her bed. She doesn't even put up much of a fight when I guide her to lie down. "And we have so much to talk about. _And_ I'm not even tired!"

I quirk an eyebrow when yet another yawn makes its way past her lips. "It's been a long day, Hon. Besides…we can always talk tomorrow," I tell her quietly, as I pull the blankets up and tuck them in snugly around her.

"You promise?" she asks me drowsily.

"I promise."

"Okay," she mutters tiredly, before her eyes flutter closed. "G'nite, Mom."

"Goodnight, Baby." Dropping a kiss in her hair, I move to the door and flip the light switch. I'm just about to pull the door closed when Rachel calls out to me. "What's up, Rach?"

"Nate's a really nice guy, Mom. I like him."

I watch my daughter fondly for a moment as she cuddles with the hippo that Nate gave her this afternoon before slowly pulling the door closed.

_Me too, Rach. Me too._

**-PA-**

When Monday morning rolls around, I find that I'm still in somewhat of a daze. Considering I had utilized my "day off" on Friday to clean the house, I was ultimately left with nothing to do on Sunday but to check my daughter's homework, the very little she had, as well as to think over what Nate and I had previously, uh, _discussed_.

And think it over I did. Overly so at that.

Truthfully, I think I spent most of the morning pacing in my room and staring down at the stuffed panda that my daughter had strategically placed in the center of my bed the night before. And after several hours of mulling it over, I actually began to consider any and all possible outcomes of Nate and me taking our friendship to another level.

And I had to admit, that it wouldn't be all that bad.

So when Nate called me last night, I told him just such. However, before he could say anything further, I requested some more time to think on it. Fortunately he understood the few reasons behind my reluctance about the whole thing and said that we could talk further whenever I felt ready.

So as I enter Carmel High, I find I'm still wondering as to just when that might be.

Pushing the thought aside, I head straight for the main office. However just as I am about to enter, Janie seemingly appears out of nowhere and drags me down the hall and into my own office.

"Well 'good morning' to you too," I mutter sarcastically when she finally releases my arm, placing me in front of my desk before running back to the door and locking it. I continue to watch her curiously as she peeks cautiously through the window blinds.

Knowing Janie, this impromptu meeting is probably just to catch me up on any juicy gossip I may have missed out on last week. And normally I have no problems with these chats. But since I _genuinely_ have things to do, I see no reason to dawdle with idle conversation. "Something going on, Janie?" I inquire indifferently, as I place my belongings onto my desk and remove my coat.

Once sure that there's no one creeping outside my door, she eventually turns away and stares at me disbelievingly. "Actually, Shel, I was hoping _you_ could tell _me_."

_Huh? _

I quirk an eyebrow at her statement and move to grab a few necessary items from a nearby filing cabinet. "If this is about me calling out on Friday, I guess I just needed a day to myself. It was nothing serious. You take personal days all the time."

"Is that _all_ it was Shelby?"

At her tone, I cease searching for the desired folders and turn back to face her. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Is there _anything_ you want to talk about?" Janie persists, disregarding my own question. "Anything at all."

Shutting the drawer of the filing cabinet, I cross my arms and lean against it as I continue to stare at Janie. I really don't think I've ever seen her like this. She looks worried and agitated. Anxious, really. And I can think of no piece of information that would evoke such emotions in my colleague, and dare I say it, friend. "Janie, what's going on?"

"I heard some stuff in the break room this morning," she says carefully. My eyes follow her as she commences pacing along the length of my office and wringing her hands. "Shelby I-I heard…_things_. About you…"

_Well that's nothing new. _

Every year there's at least two rumors floating around about me. Amongst students and faculty alike. My second year here I was deemed a closeted lesbian because I flat out refused to accept any propositions made by the male faculty, despite their persistence.

_And they were persistent._

To be honest though, it had nothing to do with their looks or personalities, because I probably would have had a wonderful time with one or two of them. However, partaking in any romantic relationships with fellow faculty tends to get troublesome and as much fun as I might have had, it wouldn't have been worth possibly losing my job over. So I'd let each of them down. Gently, of course.

_For the most part, anyway._

But as I look more intently on Janie, I realize that there's more to this conversation that either I'm not catching on to or that she has yet to share. "Janie? What is it?" I step closer to her and cock my head so as to look into her downturned eyes. "What did you hear?"

Janie nervously begins chewing on her lip as she does her best to avoid my gaze. Eventually though, she does look up at me. "Shelby, I consider you a friend, I do. So please just remember that I am only the messenger here and I'm only relaying what I heard…"

I roll my eyes. "Janie, just spit it out."

"Okay, okay," she mumbles. "Umm…is it true that you—that you…"

"That I _what_?"

"IsittruethatyouhitDustin," she rambles. "_There_…I said it."

"What?" I ask, completely baffled.

"I said—"

I wave her off. "No, I heard what you said," I say, quickly interjecting. I once again raise my hand when I notice Janie about to say something else and effectively silence her.

_I hit Dustin?_

I'd barely laid a hand on him! And when I did, it was purely to protect Rachel.

_But how did Janie find out?_

Well that's easy. Clearly, Dustin had to have said something about our little _encounter_, seeing as I literally just got here and I highly doubt Rachel took the time out of her schedule on Friday to show up at Carmel simply to make such an announcement to the entire Carmel faculty.

Returning my attention to Janie I instruct her to tell me everything. And she does. Maintaining a safe distance between us the entire time, as if afraid that I may take out whatever anger that may result on her, the innocent bystander. When she finally concludes her story, I move behind my desk and take a seat.

Biting my lower lip, I realize that the one outcome I'd feared has apparently come to fruition. Which leaves me to simply do a little damage control and straighten everything out. A job that while certainly tedious, may not be as difficult as I'd previously perceived. I mean if everyone _thinks_ I just hit Dustin, maybe I could dispel it by saying we only had a minor argument during glee club. And the only attacks that were exchanged had been purely verbal.

_Then again_.

With no mention of Rachel or the exact details of the entire conversation, my personal life as well as the secret of my daughter's identity, remains intact. And if a rumor saying that I hit Dustin will keep such a secret, then I will have no problems letting it continue to circulate.

However if word does get to my boss, I may have to explain how such a rumor got started in the first place.

_Even so_.

Maybe such a rumor is just what is needed to get his attention. After all, he hasn't as yet caught on to the fact that Dustin and I are most certainly not the so-called 'dream team' that he'd anticipated. But when he does finally see that, then maybe he'll finally return what is rightfully mine. Full directorial control of Vocal Adrenaline.

So as I silently begin to weigh my options, I soon realize that either way could work in my favor. It's a win-win situation, really. And those are certainly odds I don't mind. Not one bit.

I say goodbye to Janie as she leaves my office, her confused expression no doubt brought on by the small smile that is gracing my lips. After a quick look at my watch, I gather my notes and head out to get started on my day. I disregard the blatant stares directed at me as I journey to my classroom, preferring to bask in the realization that maybe things are going to start going my way.

**-/-**

Nearing the end of the day, I'm sitting in my office going over my students' in-class essays when the phone begins to ring. Grabbing hold of it, I cradle it between my ear and shoulder as I continue to read through Jeff Townson's thesis statement. "Shelby Corcoran."

_Hey there Shelby. Do you have a minute? I was hoping I could speak with you._

Dropping my pen, I focus my attention wholly on the lengthy conversation I'm sure I'm about to have with my boss. "Hey, Bill. What did you wish to speak about?"

_Actually I was hoping if you could join me in my office in say…twenty minutes?_

"Sure. See you then," I reply. I don't bother checking my watch. Seeing as it is the last period of the day, and my only free one, I'm pretty sure I can find time in my 'busy' schedule to speak to Bill. I mean it's not like I haven't been anticipating a conversation or meeting of sorts. Truth be told, it was never a matter of _if_ it was going to happen, just more of _when_. After confirming the time with Bill once more, I hang up the phone.

I then gather up the essays and decide I'll resume looking them over at home. Placing them into my briefcase, I then retrieve my cell phone from my purse and send out a quick text to Rachel asking her to tell Will that I may be a little late to Rocky Horror rehearsal this afternoon. She soon responds with a simple '_OK_' followed by '_This had better not become a habit_', causing me to chuckle.

Initially I had thought that my insisting to be present for my daughter's musical rehearsals may cause her a bit of embarrassment. After all, she would be the _only_ member whose parent would be present for most, if not all, of the practices. And I wasn't sure if she'd approve of me constantly being in attendance.

But having spoken to Rachel about this yesterday, I was proven wrong. Rachel was excited to have me there. She reasoned that my wanting to be there only proved to further establish my dedication to being present in her life and it would offer her yet another opportunity to flaunt her "innate talents".

Additionally, she couldn't think of a better person to critique her abilities.

Actually her exact words were: '_If I can't take constructive criticism from my own mom, how am I ever going to be able to take the critical reviews that will no doubt be written about my early performances in the duration of Broadway career." _And who was I to argue with that.

So, replacing my phone in my purse, I spend the next few minutes organizing my desk. As the time for my meeting draws closer, I make my way out of my office and into the hall. It doesn't take me long to arrive at the main office and when I do, I inform Bill's secretary that I have an appointment with him.

"He's been expecting you, Ms. Corcoran," she tells me. "Go right on in."

I offer her a smile in thanks and then walk around her desk to approach Bill's door. Taking hold of the handle, I take a deep breath and brace myself for what lies on the other side. Assuming that the rumor made its way to Bill's ears by now, which I'm almost positive it has, I can fully expect to have some explaining to do. And I'm fully prepared to present my side of the story and I've got a rather believable explanation ready as well. But it's not _speaking_ to _Bill_ that suddenly has me tense. Rather it's the other occupant who will most likely be inside as well.

Because if Bill summoned Dustin to this meeting, it will be the first time I'm seeing my co-coach since Thursday's incident. And despite the passing of time, I am just realizing that I still have some lingering resentment bottled up within me. So expelling another deep breath, I do my best to push aside the image of Rachel being gripped by Dustin before I open the door.

When I step inside, though, I'm slightly relieved to find only Bill. "Ah, Shelby. Right on time," he comments.

I don't bother responding, preferring to keep my expression impassive. Taking a seat before his desk, I settle back in the chair, crossing my legs and intertwining my fingers before resting them in my lap. My eyes remaining trained on Bill.

When a few moments of absolute silence goes by, however, I feel a sense of consternation. But it has nothing to do with the meeting that has yet to take place. Instead it has more to do with the fact that we've been sitting here for several minutes and neither of us has said a word. And having never been a fan of awkward silences, I decide to take it upon myself to say something. "Bill—"

"Just a minute," he tells me calmly.

_-Mr. Richards. Your two o'clock appointment is here.-_

"Thank you, Kathleen. Send her in."

_Her?_

Completely perplexed now as to just what is going on, I try my best to contain my growing curiosity and maintain my gaze forward. And as I hear the door open and I watch Bill stand to greet the newest occupant, it becomes an uphill battle because it literally takes everything in me to _not_ turn around. Just when I feel my resolve about to break down, I'm saved the trouble when Bill makes his way around his desk to greet his visitor.

"Vivienne," he says brightly. "As always it's a pleasure."

_Vivienne? As in Vivienne Montgomery? The richest and most active donor to Carmel's booster club?_

I eventually turn my head and catch sight of her. Despite being in her early sixties, she looks closer to mid-forties, considering she lacks the wrinkles that usually distinguish sexagenarians. Her dark, almost onyx-colored hair is neatly pulled back into a tight bun, with not a grey hair in sight, and her makeup is so light I think it's fair to assume that it was professionally done. And she's elegantly dressed in a tailored navy Armani suit.

As always, she's the absolute epitome of a businesswoman and considering her immense wealth, I expect nothing less.

"Shelby, I'm sure you remember, _Ms. Montgomery_?" I hear Bill say, with a sense of warning.

"Yes." Plastering on a smile, I stand and turn to face them. "It's good to see you, _Vivienne_."

"_Shelby_," she says curtly before handing off her coat to Bill and taking a seat in the other available chair. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead clench my jaw as I attempt to contain my disdain for this woman. Meanwhile, I'm mentally counting down from twenty to one.

See, Vivienne and I haven't always seen eye to eye.

Actually that's not _entirely_ true. We've _never_ seen eye to eye.

In fact, I'm pretty sure I can say with the utmost certainty that she doesn't like me very much. And that is all to do with the fact that I'm probably the only member of the Carmel faculty that doesn't bow down and acquiesce to her every whim and demand. I mean I certainly show her respect, seeing as my parents were adamant in instilling in my brother and me a strict sense of etiquette, conduct and manners, but that's about it. Unlike my peers, I refuse to disregard my own morals and ideas simply because Vivienne says so.

The greatest example of Vivienne imposing her will on Carmel would be best explained through the construction of a new wing two years ago.

Now, considering it had been her money that paid for the much needed addition, I fully understood the school board expressing its gratitude by accepting her request to name it after her. That seemed reasonable enough.

What I _didn't_ understand, however, was her demand that the library also be renamed in her honor.

I, along with majority of the Carmel faculty, was slightly thrown when the announcement had been made nearing the end of the school year. After all, she had only paid for the addition. Not the library. So for her to even think that the school board would accept her terms seemed rather brazen.

Needless to say any complaints or reservations anyone had were immediately dismissed after Vivienne made yet another sizeable donation to the district. As a result, I now pass not only the Vivienne L. Montgomery Library every day on my way to my office but glee rehearsals are conducted in the Montgomery Pavilion.

But while I certainly have no control nor influence over what happens with Carmel on a whole, up until a few weeks ago I did have complete control over the glee club. And five years ago, Vivienne had the gall to approach me with a few of her _suggestions_.

The first had been to hire a composer because she didn't feel that I was qualified enough to arrange Vocal Adrenaline's music. As it was only my second year teaching, and my first as VA's coach, I accepted any and all criticisms without complaint or retort.

Just as I was ordered to do by my boss.

However as practices went on, I soon realized that while I was the coach, it was in name only. Because everything else went through Vivienne. I put up with it for nearly two months before approaching Bill. The next day I politely approached _Ms. Montgomery_ and told her that her composer's services were no longer needed. She was bothered by it, but accepted my wishes. Afterwards, things between us remained amicable.

They didn't remain that way, however. Because last year Vivienne intervened again. But that time without my knowing.

Again she doubted my abilities. But as a choreographer. As a result, she hired Dakota Stanley and had him work with my kids. And this time, not only did I not approve, but neither did my students.

Nor their parents for that matter.

The kids' voices and bodies were being severely overworked as well as my nerves and patience during my brief working relationship with the diminutive dancer. This time it only took a week before I interceded on the team's behalf.

Only this time I wasn't so polite. I'd eventually told Vivienne, in not so many words, that she should probably keep her suggestions and recommendations to herself and that I would run the team as I saw fit.

Unsurprisingly, she hadn't been too pleased about that. But I frankly could have cared less. I didn't need her help nor had I requested it.

Inhaling a sharp breath and releasing it slowly, I turn back and return to my recently vacated seat. Keeping my previous poker face, I wait for Bill to begin the meeting so I can get a clue as to what the hell it could possibly be about.

"Shelby?" At the mention of my name, I raise my gaze to Bill's eyes. "I'm sure you've heard some of the things that have been said around school today pertaining to a certain…_altercation_. And while I certainly want to know your side of the story, that is not the main purpose of this meeting. Just a part of it. I suppose, if you wanted, you could call this an intervention of sorts."

"An intervention?"

"Yes, Shelby," Vivienne states, causing me to turn to face her. "An intervention."

"And just what is it that you're intervening in or with?" I inquire, my gaze steadily jumping between the both of them before settling on Bill.

"Vocal Adrenaline." At Bill's response, I settle back into my seat with a slight smile. _Well it's about time. _"Shelby. We, that is, the boosters and I, have been hearing, as well as noticing, things…"

_Took you long enough._

"…see when we offered Dustin the position of co-coach, we had no idea that so many problems would arise as a result of it. Fraternizing with rival schools. Provoking arguments. Neglecting students. All of these measures are immature. Irresponsible, even. And certainly not behavior befitting of a head coach…"

_I couldn't agree more._

"So it's with all that in mind Shelby that we thought we'd attack the problem head on and speak with you directly about the issue."

I continue nodding in agreement. "I'd be willing to answer any questions you may have regarding the matter."

"That's good to hear, Shelby. Because we're worried…about you."

I slowly cease my nodding and furrow my brow in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've heard various reports, from a reliable source, of you skipping out on glee practice, talking with the glee coach over at McKinley, instigating arguments. And all around neglecting your Vocal Adrenaline duties on a whole."

_What the hell! _My jaw drops and I'm gaping, as I am completely shocked and appalled at just what I'm hearing. "Where—what—" I stop and take a moment to reel in my thoughts. "Who is this 'reliable source', exactly?"

"I'm not at liberty to—"

"My son," Vivienne interjects firmly.

"Your son?" I repeat dumbly. I quickly go through the Vocal Adrenaline roster in my head. None of my students has Montgomery as a surname. Nor have any of them ever expressed any relationship to the family. Which causes me to question how legitimate this _source_ really is. "And just _who_ is that, Vivienne?"

"Dustin."

In a matter of moments, the entire world comes to a screeching halt, leaving me dazed and utterly confused. Actually, it feels like I've just been told the punch line to a joke that everyone but _me_ finds funny.

I sit back into my seat stunned into silence and allow myself a chance to process everything I've learned in the past few minutes alone.

Dustin is Vivienne's son. Meaning his employment was no accident. It wasn't even a coincidence. In fact, his very presence here at Carmel is probably some elaborate scheme, purported by Vivienne no less, to once again get her way.

As I continue to analyze everything, I soon find that I'm growing angry. Not only at Dustin for his blatant lies, but also at Bill and _even_ Vivienne for believing them. After all, _she_ of all people should know that my dedication to Vocal Adrenaline is unquestionable. She'd been my main opponent and biggest obstacle for the past five years, for chrissake!

"Shelby?" Pulling myself from thoughts, I look up to Bill and notice for the first time that he's frowning. "We've also heard that you have a daughter."

Doing my best to keep my temper in check, I stare back at Bill through enraged, half-lidded eyes. "That's _none_ of your business," I say, my calm tone belying the anger and contempt I currently feel.

"Your personal life is affecting your work ethic, which _makes_ it our business," Vivienne counters, causing me to turn to her slowly. "And if this illegitimate child of yours that has just resurfaced—"

"How dare—"

"Now Shelby," Bill hastily intercedes, making his way around his desk to stand between Vivienne and me.

Bill attempts to calm me down, as I had also jumped up, and even knocked over the chair in my haste to _correct _Vivienne on her terminology regarding my daughter. He picks up the seat and sets it right before guiding me back into it. I refuse however because I don't see myself sitting in on this _meeting_ much longer. I have no desire to remain seated or to even listen to another word of supposed information that Dustin has been feeding them.

Additionally I really don't want to do, or say, something that I may very well regret.

So, I shift my gaze to the ceiling and expel a deep breath, in hopes of calming myself down. When I finally regain control of my emotions, I find a focal point behind Bill on the far wall. "So what are you going to do?"

The answer either of them gives me is inconsequential. As I already know exactly how I plan to rectify this situation.

"The board hasn't decided as yet," Vivienne replies primly. "I plan to call an emergency meeting with them this Wednesday in order to discuss the issue."

I nod. "Well then, allow me to save you the trouble," I begin, looking to the both of them levelly, so they can understand the importance of what I'm about to tell them. "As of today, I am no longer the coach and director of Vocal Adrenaline. Consider this my two week's notice, if you will. The board can expect to receive a formal letter of resignation in the morning."

With intentions of going home and getting started on said letter, I then turn on my heel and ready myself to make my leave.

"Let's not be _too_ hasty," Bill exclaims, moving to stand directly before me and thus prevent me from leaving. "Shelby. Don't you think you're being a bit _irrational_?"

I continue to stare Bill down, this time however I do not hold back the resentment in my eyes. "Irrational. You think _I'm_ being _irrational_?" I release a low, self deprecating laugh. "You blindsided me with a new, unwanted assistant. And a few weeks into the job, you promoted him to coach. But _I'm_ being irrational." I scoff and turn to Vivienne. "And _you_? _You_, and your precious board, let him recruit a member from a rival school and _I'm_ being irrational."

I then take a step forward until I am towering over Vivienne, staring down at her so she can experience all of my fury through my gaze alone. "Your _son_ manhandles my _teenage_ _daughter_ and when _I_ step in to keep her out of harm's way like a _responsible_ parent _should_, _I'm_ being _irrational_!"

"Shel—"

"Shut up, Bill." I lean down slightly and focus my gaze intently on Vivienne. "I'm _done_ with you. All of these years, you've wanted control of the glee club. Well guess what? You can have it. I no longer want, nor do I _need_, the responsibility _or_ the added stress."

Returning to my full height, I turn back to the door and run into Bill who is still blocking my path. "Move, Bill."

"Shel—"

"I said _move_."

"Shelby, I think we should all ta—"

"Bill. As far as I'm concerned there's nothing to talk about. You both wanted Dustin to take Vocal Adrenaline to Regionals, right? So let him take them to Regionals. And then Nationals. As a matter of fact, he can take them to hell for all I care. And you lot can all go with him. You, Vivienne _and_ your damn booster club. Because I quit."

And with that I make my exit.

Stopping by my office, I quickly grab all of my belongings, haphazardly packing various papers and such into my briefcase. Pulling on my coat, I storm out and slam the door behind me. I'm halfway to the front entrance of the school, when Dustin steps out from a nearby classroom and blocks my path.

"Shelby, Shelby, Shelby," he murmurs, shaking his head, his confident smirk firmly in place.

Honestly, I have nothing more to say to him and if he thinks he can bait me into one last argument, he's got another thing coming.

So, I completely disregard his comment and move to sidestep around him, intent on getting the hell out of the building. He doesn't let me however because as I move to go around him, he takes a single step to block my path again.

Releasing a deep sigh in annoyance, I look to the ceiling before settling my gaze over Dustin's shoulder and to the front entrance of the building which is really no more than ten feet away from me. "Move, Dus—"

"I _just_ heard the news," he interjects, his tone reminiscent not only of last week Thursday, but also of our very first disagreement.

Arrogant. With a touch of over confidence.

"It'll be a shame to see you go." I don't bother responding and instead move to go around him. Once again, though, he steps into my path. "Before you go, can you do me a favor?"

I roll my eyes. After everything he's put me through, he wants a _favor_! "What is it, Dustin?"

"Could you tell Rachel I said '_hi_'?"

My previous feelings of absolute rage and fury from not only the meeting I left only minutes ago, but also from the previous week quickly surface. Dropping my briefcase at my side, I take two menacing steps towards him until I am no more than a few inches away.

"Shelby, didn't I tell you this wasn't over?" he says snidely, as he stares at me.

He is still wearing that egotistical smirk of his. And as I stand there glaring back at him, I feel the sudden urge to wipe the damn thing off of his face.

So I do.

With a small smile, I look to the ground where Dustin is currently sprawled out. Pursing my lips, I bend down to retrieve my briefcase. Right before standing up, though, I angle my head to look into his eyes. He's currently struggling to sit up, apparently still quite dazed from the impact of my fist against his jaw.

"It's _over_, Dustin, when _I_ say it's over," I say coolly, before standing up and stepping over him.

I calmly make my way to the door and push down on the handle. I don't exit right away though. Instead, I turn back and as I'd hoped Dustin's eyes are still focused on me. Shooting him an unwavering glare, I offer him my own version of that over confident smirk of his.

"And trust me. It's over."

* * *

___Whew...alright then. I sure hope I didn't disappoint you guys too much. Several of you wanted Dustin dead, lol. But I couldn't kill him because he does play an integral part in the story. So I had to settle for the next best thing. Sorry guys :(_

___Just outta curiosity is there anyone who actually feels bad for Dustin?_

___(Once again there are a few references, not limited to Idina this time around btw. So good luck!)_

___Anyway you guys know the drill...  
Good? Bad? Rotten Tomatoes? or just ehh?_

___Review and let me know.  
I love hearing from you guys :)_


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Glee, Family, Humor