A/N: I am really, really sorry that it took so long. I wasn't neglecting this last chapter or you at all; not a day went by that I didn't think about it. But in contrast to when I wrote most of this story, when I was stuck home with highly contagious pinkeye, I've been enormously and exhaustingly busy in the last couple of weeks. I spent some the time helping Cissy Black Malfoy with her Shell fic You and I, and I'm glad I did because she's an excellent writer and it's a great story. You should all go check it out! To make up for the time it took to post, I'm pleased to announce that this chapter is about twice as long as any of the others. But, uh, don't be mad at me if it doesn't go the way you want. Though this is the last chapter of this story, keep in mind that Shelby knows better than to believe that there are "happy endings" because life goes on, even after the best – and yes, sometimes the worst – occurs. So this really isn't the end, is it?

When Shelby awoke the next morning, there was no hesitancy or grogginess. Her eyes sprang open and she stared ahead at her wall, unusually coherent and completely unemotional. Part of her wondered if she had even fallen asleep in the first place though she knew better. She had been up late working on her present for Rachel, and after that she simply couldn't relax; she had finally passed out around two in the morning. Turning in bed, her unfocused eyes gazed upward at her dimly-lit ceiling and she wondered if she could possibly force herself to rest more. It wasn't going to happen. Her mind was already set in motion and shifting gears, working its way up to overdrive, and before long she wouldn't be able to hold still let alone sleep. She gave up on the notion. With a sigh, she realized it was only 4:38 a.m. and reached forward to turn off the alarm that was going to go off in nearly an hour.

It was still dark outside and everything seemed quieter than it ever had before. There were no cars on the street, no sounds of televisions or stereos from the neighbors, no birds singing, nothing. It was if she was the only one awake. Maybe it was true. The silence was entirely deafening and in her distress she pulled her arms closer to her chest in an attempt to find comfort in solitude. It was then she realized she had her blanket clutched in a twisted, wrinkled knot in her hands and she consciously forced herself to let go of the bundle of fabric and take a deep breath.

She rolled off of the mattress and muttered vulgarly when her foot remained tangled in the sheets, causing her to nearly fall forward out of her bed. Remaining calm was going to be a chore for her that day, Shelby figured, kicking away the maddening linens as she straightened up. She really needed some coffee.

She shuffled through her house, ignoring the many reminders of Rachel along the way: the small stuffed animal, which was illuminated by her digital alarm clock; her cell phone, which held her text-message conversation from the previous night; the vanity, which had the heart-shaped necklace that Rachel held in her hand only a couple of days before; the empty guest bedroom, which would only seem emptier after her meeting with Rachel that morning; the loose CDs in the living room that Shelby hadn't put away since Rachel looked at them; and lastly, the mug that Rachel had used for her hot tea, still upside-down in the drying rack next to Shelby's sink. Needless to say, when she sipped the coffee out of her own mug, she wished it was spiked with something else besides sugar.

She got herself a bowl of granola cereal and took it and her coffee out onto her back porch, sliding on a pair of slippers near the back door as she did so. The sun was nearly ready to break over the horizon so hazy light illuminated the sky and her backyard. It was embarrassingly neglected. The grass was at least a couple of inches longer than the HOA would appreciate, and the spot where she always thought she'd want a small flower or vegetable garden was filled with dry dirt and weeds. She had never made time for it and as she reflected on the recent past, Shelby was at a loss why. In her mind's eye, the last few years were a blur of insignificance; why is it that she couldn't have found an occasion here and there to take time for herself? How could she have wasted so long?

It was a brisk morning. Shelby nearly squeaked when she dropped down on the freezing wood bench outside of her sliding-glass door, but she clutched her steaming coffee close between bites of chewy oats. It was worth it when the sun finally rose, when rainbows of color saturated the starry sky. It had been years since she watched the day begin and once again, she wasn't sure why that was.

Her eyes focused on the disappearing stars and she took a long breath of the cold, crisp air through her nose. She never took the time to stargaze either anymore either, though she always felt a connection with the glittering lights. Les Brown's worn-out cliché filled her mind: "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you will be among the stars." If only that were true. She aimed high but was never a star, but she knew someone who was destined to shine. It was Nietzsche who uttered, "You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star," and despite its negative suggestion towards her internal condition, it was in that quote she found more consolation. This was the second time in her existence her heart felt like it was rupturing in her chest because she knew she had to give up her daughter, but from that agony and despair came the greatest hope for Rachel's life. Her chaos was necessary for that dancing, singing star to appear.

She went inside, dumping her empty bowl and mug in the sink. Everything was still so quiet, but this was a more normal quiet as the world had begun to awaken around her. It didn't change the pangs of loneliness she felt as she walked through her dark, still house, her awareness of it heightened and her attitude about it worsened. What did it matter that she had nice things if she would always be alone with them? What had she been thinking when she purchased that 50-inch plasma four years ago? Did she know then that she would be the only one who would sit in front of it? And why did she bother angling her grand piano so those on the sofas in the den could watch her like they were at a concert? It hadn't done her any good, not in the last seven years anyway.

Last autumn, before she had seen Rachel at her Sectionals performance, she would not have thought like this. She had accepted life as it was and persevered. But she was tired of living in denial. She wanted more, and in a beautiful vision she imagined Rachel in her home with her, talking and twirling and performing for her, and in this dream there were no loving fathers waiting for her to come home. It was a selfish and terrible thing to imagine but Shelby could not censor the thoughts. She was tired of being alone; she wanted a family of her own.

Her nuclear family, her fiancé— they had all been disappointed in her. It killed her that she had only one person left in the world she truly cared about and because of a crummy situation, that person – her own daughter – would be disappointed too. Maybe one day Rachel would forgive her. Hopefully she would.

It was more than an hour and a half later when she was sitting in her parked car, staring at McKinley's auditorium. She had arrived a little after 6:30 although she wasn't supposed to meet Rachel until 7; even after taking a really long, hot shower and pulling her appearance together so she looked well-rested (despite the fact that she wasn't), she still had plenty of leftover time with nothing to do but brood with some alternative rock playing in the background (a less emotionally depressing substitute to some of the classic-rock balladeers she had been listening to the last couple of weeks).

Shelby couldn't decide if she was surprised to see Rachel show up 15 minutes early. There were a few other cars around, no doubt for those students and teachers who had some sort of A-hour or 0-hour or whatever McKinley called their early-morning classes, which was probably why Rachel hadn't noticed Shelby's SUV when one of her dads – she couldn't see which one from where she was twisted around in her car, watching them – pulled through the parking lot in front of the auditorium entrance and let Rachel off. She smiled and waved adoringly before the dad drove away, and Shelby didn't sense any of that "drop me off down the road because I'm embarrassed to be seen with you" nonsense that infiltrated teen movies and television shows. At seeing the frustratingly cute scene, Shelby's face steeled and her hands gripped her steering wheel so tightly that it hurt her fingers.

Her attentive eyes followed the teenager all the way to the auditorium doors and she was so in awe at her little girl's beauty that her breathing drastically slowed. Considering she was about to break up with her daughter, was it wrong that she loved how tiny Rachel was, or that she found her proud stride to be hilarious and endearing? Was it narcissistic to think that Rachel's most stunning features were the ones that had been inherited from her? She knew that these sorts of thoughts would inevitably lead to the covetous ones that she had been battling for so many years and she shook her steering wheel angrily.

She had no idea how she would be able to walk into that auditorium, look Rachel in the eye and remain in control of herself. She wasn't sure if there was a right thing to say or a right way to say it; her plan was just to be hard, a quality she had been tactlessly reminded about the day before. If she talked straight and kept things curt then it would be like ripping off a bandage. Or waxing, she thought with a violent twitch of her eye. Rachel would not have to know how torn up her mother was if all she saw was resolve, and hopefully she would believe it would was futile to fight her. If Rachel did fight or beg or cry, Shelby didn't think she would be able to handle it; it had been too long since she had felt this fragile and didn't think she could hold it together forever.

Her self-loathing was hitting new heights. If she were someone else, she'd have already pulled herself out of the SUV by her jacket collar and yelled at herself until her precious voice was hoarse. She would have shouted about the situation she had chosen to put herself and Rachel in, about the insensitive and unpolished ending she was about to give their short-lived relationship, about her pathetic fears and about her wasted life.

In some ways, it was going to be easy to leave Rachel because she was doing the girl a favor; Rachel would no longer need to feel required to get to know her mother by virtue of their biological relationship alone. There would be no need to act as though she accepted or liked the dark or damaged parts of Shelby, which the older woman knew were plentiful and burdensome. Rachel would be better off.

She kept that thought in mind and used it to motivate her out of her seat. It was still eight minutes until the hour but since Rachel was already there Shelby didn't see the point in waiting around any longer. She slammed her car door shut behind her and with her eyes focused on the door, she willed herself to the building and inside. Shelby knew exactly where she would find Rachel; it was exactly where she would have been. Her heart was beating like crazy as she made her way to the stage but outwardly she knew she appeared calm. It was going to be her only defense, Shelby knew, and when she finally stepped onto the stage and saw Rachel standing ahead of her, she took a deep breath and put on a confident demeanor.

Shelby's clacking heels caught the keen hearing of her daughter, who turned her head to watch the woman's approach. Rachel was impassive, but Shelby could easily imagine the look of pain on the girl's expressive face if she knew how her own mother planned to hurt her feelings in only a minute's time. It was a reminder that she still had a moment of pretense in which she was optimistic and they shared a future. She did not want to let it go to waste.

"How'd your dads come up with the name Rachel?" she asked as she moved around the piano. It was not an empty conversation-starter for Shelby; for years she had wondered if her baby was simply given a good Jewish name or if the moniker held some special meaning for the men. How could someone choose that one perfect name for their child out of all the names in the world? How could they have known that Rachel would fit their daughter so well?

"They were, um, big Friends fans," Rachel told her, and as a small smile graced her face Shelby's fell. She should have laughed but it was harder than expected to hear that the Berrys had picked a name from something that had defined them. It was their first step to setting apart the child that would only ever be theirs.

Rachel was looking to her to speak but nothing was coming out. She had spent a great amount of time since she had texted Rachel the night before trying to figure out what she was going to say but as those big brown eyes watched her, none of her prepared speeches that favored directness and logic over sensitivity seemed right. Most of the people she had loved in her life had walked away from her so she had little practice at doing the same to others. How could she possibly justify her decision? Just as she had done the first day they met, Shelby was once again relying on their inherent connection to help her because she was at a loss on her own. It seemed that it whatever faith she put in their bond paid off this time because Rachel finally said with a small shrug, "I know why you're here. To say goodbye."

Rachel wasn't even asking, Shelby realized with self-reproach. How could she have so stupid to believe that the girl was at all disillusioned and ignorant? The entire time she sat alone in her home thinking about everything that was wrong with her relationship with her daughter and everything that was wrong with herself, Rachel also had the chance to reflect on their short time together and on the cold, bitter woman who had given birth to her. When did Rachel first realize that Shelby had given up hope? From the start Shelby had hardly shown any enthusiasm but that wasn't indicative of how she had felt. She didn't want Rachel to believe that she had never wanted her because that was the opposite of true.

"I really wanted this to work," she said with earnestness. She nonverbally pleaded with Rachel to understand how true that was, and as the girl nodded slightly Shelby leaned forward onto the piano and attempted to explain herself. "Do you know what really turned me? That story that you told me about your dads and how they bring you water when you were sad. We're never going to have anything like that. It's too late for us. I just think that anything we share right now is going to be confusing for you."

"I just don't understand," Rachel said, and the emotion that Shelby had been anticipating from her began to break through, though not quite how she had expected it. She was not hysterical or desperate, just incredibly sad. "You're my mom; I feel awful right now and I should just want to fall into your arms and let you rock me and tell me everything is going to be fine, but I just don't feel it."

Shelby should want to pull the girl to her and whisper reassurances in her ear, but she didn't feel it either. Unlike Rachel, however, she knew why.

"It's because I'm your mother, but I'm not your mom."

Rachel nodded slightly and Shelby was under the impression that she finally grasped as she did why their relationship wasn't working. The comprehension came in one harsh reminder for her, just like it did for Shelby when Rachel had first told her about the glass of water. They were once again virtual strangers, bonded only by the fact that Shelby had grown her. All that she and Rachel Berry had between them was their genetics and their coincidental similarities and that wasn't enough to make Shelby Mom. It was unfortunate for Shelby that Rachel would be her daughter no matter what and it was absolutely killing her to stand there and witness her child be so miserable because of her.

"So, what, do we just pretend that we don't know each other now?"

It was a ridiculous idea, but it was one that Shelby had already thought of so she couldn't judge the girl for it. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't go back to pretending that she didn't have a daughter. As she got older and more introverted her thespian abilities waned, and to act as though she didn't have a younger version of herself running around and to pretend that she wasn't in love with her were things she was not capable of doing. Nevertheless, they couldn't go on in this unhealthful way. There was no correct way for Shelby to act around Rachel because whatever she did would be intrusive and/or problematical for her. Shelby had already realized that the best solution for them was to live their lives separately as they had before.

But this wasn't really goodbye. This wasn't forever. It couldn't be; if it were, Shelby would die inside.

"That seems silly," Shelby told her. "Let's just be grateful for one another. From afar. For a while."

While Shelby had lost faith for the present, she still held some for the future. One day when they were both more grown-up and capable of having whatever kind of relationship a surrogate mother and biological daughter could have, maybe then they could be happy. For all she knew that could be just months or it could be several years from now, though she hoped it wasn't the latter. In the mean time, they would see each other in the Glee circuit and Shelby planned to thrill her daughter by sharing one of the few things she never screwed up. "Don't think for a second I'm going to go soft on you during Regionals."

When Rachel sniffled, Shelby momentarily wasn't sure if she should have made such a joke, but then the girl said confidently, "Bring it," and laughed quietly. It was delightful and it broke Shelby's heart.

All of the years following Rachel's birth that had been filled with longing and misery, awaiting the day she could finally have her daughter, had now officially been wasted. She would wonder later if she had made some terrible mistake in letting Rachel go without giving it her damndest while she had the chance. She would think that she should have forced herself in on the Berrys' lives and accepted that while the situation wasn't ideal, she could still be a mother to Rachel. Rachel's dads had had plenty of time with their daughter – sixteen years of the most enjoyable years of her life – and it could have been Shelby's turn whether they liked it or not. But Shelby would always know that she couldn't have done that. She wasn't that selfish.

This whole week was a time of regrets which was something Shelby wasn't used to. But there would be one regret that would outshine the others if she allowed it to happen.

"Can I have a hug goodbye?"

As Rachel continued to twist her hands together, Shelby thought about how unfair her request was after all of the unhappiness she had put upon her teenage daughter, but the girl nodded anyway and said in a faint voice, "Sure."

They met halfway around the piano. Despite everything Shelby had done, Rachel still managed a pretty smile and a small laugh when her eyes met her mother's dark ones. Shelby had thought about this moment Rachel's entire life so when it came she didn't waste any more time fretting about the future. She just wanted to hold her daughter.

They had first touched when Rachel took her office keys from her days before, and then later that evening Shelby had accidentally tickled Rachel's side when she was measuring her for the Gaga costume. But this time, the contact was purposeful and significant. She had wrapped her arms around her daughter's petite form, Rachel had done the same to her, and when they pulled one another together Shelby could feel the girl's head melt against the crook of her neck. This was the moment that truly mattered in their reunion.

It was a terrible travesty that the first time that this mother would ever embrace her baby was when the girl was practically an adult, but it was worse that it was a gesture of farewell. If someone could cut Shelby's torso open they would probably discover that all of insides were torn apart, barely functioning. Still, one of those small pieces was content because Rachel felt so good against her.

Shelby thought about the few hugs she had experienced over the last few years. Most of them came from students: excited ones when they won competitions, grateful ones when they graduated and consoling ones when they cried. The last time she saw her sister she had happily squeezed Julie and her two little boys several times throughout the visit. She even thought about how she often wrapped her own arms around her body to generate a feeling of security for herself. This hug was unlike any of those: it was profound. It was as if the moment she enfolded Rachel in her arms the hole inside of her filled a little. The world could have begun to collapse and burn around them and she wouldn't have cared. That heartrending moment in the hospital 16 years before in which she watched the nurses walk out of her room with the newborn she had ever even gotten to touch suddenly didn't matter as much. She was finally holding her daughter.

For a moment when Shelby moved her hand against Rachel's back, she felt the girl's rapid heartbeat under her sensitive fingertips and she was taken back to a time long ago. In the last couple of months of her pregnancy, Shelby developed the habit of resting her hands against her inflated abdomen; so often her fingertips could feel the baby move within her, and a couple of times she had even felt the fluttering feeling of the baby's pulse through her skin. This person she held, whose arms were wrapped around her shoulders and whose unfamiliar shampoo smelled faintly of fruit, was her baby— the same being she had felt within her womb so many years ago. How could this grown, mature young lady be that little thing that had squirmed inside of her every time it heard Shelby's voice?

It was hard to let go but she did it anyway, knowing it was necessary. As Rachel looked down, apparently collecting her thoughts, Shelby instinctually reached out to stroke her hair. It was the fitting motion of a mom; that was why she hesitated and let her hand fall away. When Rachel turned her gaze back upon her mother, the light of the stage illuminated her eyes and Shelby marveled at the detail and depth she had never seen in them before. She hurriedly attempted to memorize them before it would be too late, ignoring the painful clenching of her gut as she did so.

"Could you do me one more favor?" Shelby asked, watching closely as Rachel nodded shyly. She smiled a little bit, glad that Rachel was indulging her, and reached for her case that lay next to Rachel's star-speckled book bag on the piano. "Sometime when you're thirsty…" Her smile widened as she pulled out the box from her leather bag and began opening it to show Rachel her gift. "Can you get yourself some water from this cup?"

She held out the goblet. After much searching, she finally found the glassware in her garage that this cup had been part of. After she and Scott had gotten engaged, her mother – the classic housewife – had given her this and an extra set of fancy silverware (that was also still boxed) in hopes that one day Shelby would follow in her footsteps and hold lavish house parties or invite people over for Hanukkah every year. Shelby was glad that after all this time some use finally came out of the crystal set. She had decorated the cup herself and any imperfections in the adhered ornamentations could have been blamed on her trembling fingers. Fatigue and emotional turmoil made the project a chore but despite that, Shelby was glad to finally share something special with her daughter. Something of hers. "Gold stars are kind of my thing."

She seemed to react to that, immediately springing her gaze up to the taller woman with wide eyes, and Shelby wished she could know what Rachel was thinking. Rachel took the goblet into her own hands and looked upon it with a gentle, emotional smile. "Of course." She stepped away, clutching the glass close to her chest. Her expression was still beautiful.

Shelby was grateful for her daughter's kindness. It would have been all too simple for Rachel to have denied the gift and been cruel in return to the mother who by all appearances didn't want her. She would have accepted and deserved that reaction; she had even expected it. But Rachel was a good person and that was going to make it all the more difficult for Shelby to walk away from her. It was with strain that she began to close her leather case, aware that there was nothing left to be said.

"Shelby?"

Hazel eyes flashed up at this. It was hard to hear Rachel call her Mom but hearing her first name from her daughter's mouth wasn't much better. It knotted her stomach up with pain and regret, and the derisive part of her thought that she didn't deserve to be addressed by Rachel at all. She resumed her place across the piano from her, needing the space and protection the large wooden instrument provided.

"Before you go, will…will you sing with me?" Rachel asked with a nervous voice, as though she was worried that the other woman would shoot down the unusual request, but seemed to be forgetting that she was talking to a woman who would have made it on Broadway if only she had more heart. (As one director told her pitilessly, "You oughta lighten up a bit—you're quite frightening, you know. You'd make a good villain if you didn't have the voice of a protagonist. Sorry babe.") She was still a Broadway enthusiast however, so the idea of singing her feelings wasn't a crazy one. Once again, it seemed that Rachel took after her mother. "Just one time. It's sort of a fantasy of mine and it would really mean a lot to me."

There were many things Shelby couldn't do for Rachel to make her happy: She couldn't be a mom. She couldn't be a friend. She couldn't be kinder or more accessible. She couldn't even be someone for Rachel to look up to and respect because she was no more than a washed-up teacher in Bumfuck, Ohio. But she could sing with her, and in doing so, she could share something with her daughter that couldn't be duplicated by her dads or taken away by time or shame. "I would be honored," she told her truthfully, and smiled in a way she had not done in a very long time.

"Brad!" Rachel called aloud, and Shelby looked over her shoulder, surprised that anyone else was in the auditorium this early in the morning. "He's always just around," Rachel explained as a middle-aged man appeared from backstage as though he had indeed been there all along. It was nice for Shelby to know that there were good people like this man around who were always willing to help Rachel out and Shelby gladly greeted him as he took a wordless seat at the piano. Rachel apparently had copies of whatever she was planning to rehearse that morning – it was hard to fathom how they had come so close to losing Sectionals when their few numbers were stolen though easy to realize how they had pulled off the win upon consideration of Rachel's determined preparedness – and she handed a copy to Brad before giving one to Shelby.

"Poker Face," Shelby read silently, amused that New Directions was still continuing their Lady Gaga approach, and as her experienced eyes traveled the sheet music she noticed this was unlike the original. Rachel had found Lady Gaga's acoustic version of Poker Face and printed it out, and Shelby wished she had thought of it two weeks ago when she was coming up with new possibilities for Vocal Adrenaline's set list because it was a terrific song. While it was written to be sexual, it didn't have to be; still, as Brad began playing the piano, she didn't care about the meaning of the song, she just wanted to hear Rachel sing it.

For the first few seconds, the Glee coach in Shelby was scrutinizing how Rachel kept some of Gaga's jazziness to the piece yet brought it up for her soprano voice, but when she began making silly faces, the real Shelby – a woman who had once aspired to be famous, who had once chosen to be a surrogate mother to a couple who couldn't have kids of their own but secretly loved the child she gave up, and who was a great musician but an even better teacher – took over, raising her eyebrows in return. She had gotten a glimpse of this playfulness when Rachel had been at her house the other night after her fourth or fifth cup of caffeinated tea, but this time, since Rachel was as sober as the underlying mood, Shelby was drawn to her like a moth to a detrimental, dazzling flame. Rachel was sweet and irresistible, like strawberry ice cream on a hot day, and it was obvious she knew it. She was wilily catching her mother in a net made of charm and Shelby was letting it happen, intermittently smiling like an idiot as they moved around the piano.

Shelby was ready to go when Rachel pointed out her cue and, despite the fact that she hadn't sung for days, powerfully performed the chorus while watching Rachel's smile spread. It should have been strange how good she felt in view of the circumstances, but it was as if the moment she filled her lungs with breath to sing something therapeutic laced the oxygen. Playing instruments helped her find composure but there was something about singing that made her feel alive and real. And if producing music with nothing but her body was natural stimulation, she decided, then hearing Rachel's voice merge harmoniously with hers was like drugs in her system.

As she sang, she couldn't stop certain emotions – the ones she usually kept at bay – from filling her, like pride and gratification in her daughter. Sometimes it didn't seem that long ago that she had rested her hands on a rounded stomach and imagined the potential that grew within it, and in that short amount of time Rachel had become absolutely perfect. The only way Rachel could have seemed better to Shelby was if she could have felt more responsible for how the young woman had turned out. Still, for a moment she could overlook that because, really, she did have a part in making Rachel who she was.

Rachel's expression was one of wonder as Shelby's voice built up height and strength, and Shelby was intrigued that she wasn't the only one who watched with awe for once. To be someone that her daughter could admire and be proud of was more enlivening to her than any follow-spot and audience ever could be. She would think about this later, about how for years she had learned how to play countless instruments, slept with many men, and searched for that ideal role to play on stage that would make her finally feel complete and satisfied, yet one moment with her daughter – one look of admiration from her pretty face – did more than all of these put together. This realization would impact her greatly down the road.

There was a moment that things changed emotionally at the end of the third refrain. Maybe it was because the song had passed the half-way point and Shelby knew her time with her daughter was almost over. Maybe it was because Rachel's expression momentarily slipped from its silly one, exposing Shelby to the anxiety that they were both obviously working hard to ignore. There was only about a minute left of the song, however, so she trapped it inside and kept the mood light between them; Rachel seemed to be doing the same. It was easy to let it go and resume the happiness because Rachel was so outright talented. Shelby couldn't help but be impressed by the young girl's ability to harmonize so well and it really was enjoyable for her to hear that fantastic voice blend and contrast with hers. In fact, she hadn't had so much fun in a long time.

She really needed to stop liking her daughter. But damn, it was hard.

She wasn't sure if Rachel mimicked her expression or if it was the other way around, but as they began the final repeat of the chorus both of their faces fell once more. This time however, there was nothing Shelby could do to cease the distress that rushed through every part of her like a flood in a valley. This was the end. After the final note there would be no more singing, no more help with costumes or homemade gifts, and no more time together. Shelby would leave Rachel just like she was left 16 years before, except once again, Rachel wasn't responsible. She had apologized the first day the met in Carmel's auditorium because she had felt guilty about the awful situation she had put Rachel in, but that one apology would never make up for everything that she had done to her. Shelby would have gotten down on her knees and begged for forgiveness if she thought it would have made a difference at all. But it wouldn't.

"She's got to love nobody," they finished together, falling into horrible silence. Rachel had that look on her face – the one that Shelby really hated – that made it seem as though there was no greater sadness that she could feel, and just like she had done in Carmel's auditorium the first time they met, she was begging, without words, for Shelby to not go. Shelby's gaze fell from the heart-wrenching sight and she self-consciously glanced at the pianist. He was wordless and expressionless, but Shelby felt so bad about herself that she could see past that and sense his disapproval for causing Rachel to look so wholly miserable. She tried to smile pleasantly at him to express her appreciation for his contribution to their song, but in her mind's eye he was glaring at her to take her leave. She took the imaginary hint and stepped away, her features dropping in distress as she grabbed her bag and pushed some of her hair out of her face.

She stopped only a couple of feet from Rachel. She was back to appearing inexpressive once again and if Shelby were stronger, she would have too. But she had to say goodbye. She just couldn't do it.

"You are really, really good," she said instead, with complete sincerity. She was glad she did because Rachel smiled, and even that slight expression made a lasting impact on Shelby. She stepped forward and placed her hand gently against her daughter's beautiful face. Her heart thudded painfully in her ears as she touched the soft skin, and, unwilling for that brief contact to be the last she would feel, she let her fingers rest against Rachel's bare shoulder as she turned away. Even though Rachel had been smiling this time, Shelby felt worse than she had the last time she had walked away from her little girl. She didn't look back, knowing that if she did she was going to see that tragic expression once again as Rachel watched her go.

Shelby felt out of her body in a way as she distanced herself further from the piano and the amazing person who stood next to it, like she had left part of herself back there while the rest of her was being carried out against its will. She felt limp and useless, as if something were to happen to her – like if one of the heavy curtains lining the sides of the stage fell and crushed her beneath it or if some rogue animal that hid amongst the drama props ran out and attacked her – she couldn't have done anything about it except watch it happen.

She wasn't sure why, but a moment of her childhood arose in her memory. Her grandmother had taken her to New York City for her eighth birthday and she was introduced to musical theatre for the first time. The play was magical, the actors and actresses seemed so stunning, and the music was the best she had ever heard, but when the ensemble took their final bows and the lights lowered into blackness, Shelby remembered being shocked to be in her seat. She had clutched her Playbill to her chest as she and her grandma were pushed and knocked around amidst the loud, blathering audience members as everyone filed out. The young girl and the old woman then joined the late-night world of New York City as they walked blocks from that place of wonderment to the place her grandma had parked. She had clutched the wrinkled hand as tightly as she did the Playbill as they passed by dark streets and smelly alleyways, frightened of the world that contrasted so greatly to the enchanting one of the stage.

It had been thirty years since that night but as Shelby abandoned her daughter after their short-lived time together, she felt just like she had when the curtains closed at her first Broadway show. She had been so emotionally connected to the dreamlike experience that reality seemed to slam down painfully hard upon her. The walk away from Rachel, however, was far more psychologically disturbing than the murkiest corners of New York City and the prospect of life after this moment was immeasurably worse than that of a stiff, moth-eaten metropolitan hotel room.

For years the idea of a mother leaving her child seemed disgusting and unnatural to Shelby, and she had always assumed that had she understood that before she put the ballpoint to the Berry's contract, she wouldn't have signed her child's life away. Yet, despite all of that, when given the choice she opted to do the very thing she thought was so appalling for the sake of her child. Was it love or fear that fed her decision? Her mind was so poor at this point that she couldn't remember how she had come to such an awful conclusion. As she thought of Rachel, her features and her stomach contorted in sadness and she was confounded how it was possible to love someone and then leave them. But she did love her baby girl so much, yet somehow she had left her behind. It was possible, whether she understood it or not.

She had no idea how long it took her to get to her car, but at long last she opened it and climbed in. Her hands were shaking bad enough that she couldn't get the key into the ignition. After trying to get the point into the hole nearly a dozen times it finally slid into place; she was finally able to force her vehicle to start and yank it into gear, carrying her farther away from the girl she was forsaking. When she arrived at Carmel, she couldn't remember anything about the drive over. What roads did she take? Had she stopped at all of the lights? She couldn't recall the face or car of a single other driver she had passed on the way over, yet she was too unfocused to care.

Synthesized beats suddenly broke through the fog in her mind as she put the car into park. For the first time since she climbed in, she was aware of the music that played from the speakers at a very audible volume. She was frozen in place as the lyrics filled her car.

"Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead. Yesterday is a promise that you've broken. Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes. This is your life and today is all you've got now, and today is all you'll ever have. Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes… This is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?"

Shelby jerked the engine off, unable to listen anymore. But the damage was done. Jon Foreman's haunting questions repeated in her mind while her heart beat far too fast to match the song's tempo.

This is your life. Her life. Her wretched life. When she and the world were younger, she imagined greatness for herself. She expected, as anyone would, that she would be loved. She never expected that she would be so alone. She was nearing 40 years of age and the only substantial thing that she had accomplished in all of that time never belonged to her. Rachel Berry, the only child she would ever really have, was entirely unknowledgeable of who Shelby really was deep inside and how strongly she felt, and in a way, Rachel was also the only family she felt she truly had. She had no close friends. Her house was an empty, unsettling place, devoid of life.

Those national championships seemed like a stupid thing to live for, she thought bitterly, pulling herself from her reverie. She placed a hand on the passenger seat and tried to connect with the last person who sat in it. But it was too late. The seat was empty and because of her, it always would be.

"I dreamed a dream in time gone by…" she sang softly, her weak voice fading into the silence. She ignored the singer's advice and shut her eyes, feeling the moisture collect there and trying as she always did to prevent them from falling. The anguish that had been running rampant inside of her for days on end was boiling over and in spite of her efforts to stop it, her body began shaking with convulsive, silent sobs. Defeated, she yielded to surge of untended emotions and fell forward against her steering wheel, burying her head in her arms and crying into them.

She hated her life. She hated Glee, she hated Carmel, she hated Broadway's rejection and she hated the Berry's contract. She hated all of these things that defined her as a washed-up, washed-out washout and left her with useless trophies to fill her empty existence. She thought about how naively alive she felt under the bright lights of Carmel's stage a few days ago. In the shadows of her parked car, she felt dead.

Don't close your eyes…don't close your eyes…

She looked up, wiping her tear-stained face with her trembling hands. This was her life; it was all she was ever going to have. She had spent so long letting it waste away, wallowing with self-centered grief about it or ignoring it altogether. She knew she now had to deal with what she inadvertently created for herself or risk letting the rest of her life ebb away until she was nothing but a corpse in a box. Focusing on regrets could not mend her broken parts, but if she could tell her students on a daily basis to learn from their mistakes then she could find it in herself to do the same.

There would be a lot she would have to think about. For the first time in 17 years, she was somewhat free of the weight of the incomprehensible connection with the daughter she never knew. At last, she and Rachel were acquainted with each other, and while it wasn't perfect, it was a start. And in meeting Rachel, all of the parts of her life – including her many flaws and her deep desires – which she had been neglecting were becoming clearer to her. Eventually she would come to decisions regarding them, but not while Rachel was still fresh in her mind. Until then, she would leave her alone and do her best to not breakdown in public whenever she thought of her daughter. She would be responsible and honor her commitment to Glee. She would welcome Jesse back and pretend with everyone else that he had not left Carmel for a very special girl.

She opened her car door, stepped down out of her refuge and onto the asphalt of the Carmel parking lot that was represented the bleak, hard world she had to now face. It was fortunate for her that she too was hard, for she was able to enter the school and her classroom with her head held high and a glare at anyone who stared too long at her scruffy appearance.

Hours after she had left Rachel alone by a piano on a stage, Shelby Corcoran stood on the same stage that her and Rachel's short while together began, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her eyes blazing at 26 head-strong teenagers who were moaning from annoyance and weariness after an entire afternoon of singing and dancing.

"Quit complaining. You want me to feel bad for you? Express it through song!"

As the kids groaned, their coach thought that in the end, she could at least show Geoffrey Lancaster that she hadn't let her personal life affect her job. At least one person would be happy.

"Again, from the top! Five, six, seven, eight!"