A/N: As disappointed as I was in what Rachel did, one thing I can give her credit for is that underneath her annoyingness, she's really compassionate and always apologizes when she messes up. So I decided to write that scene. I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know what you think of it.

Disclaimer: Unless Ryan Murphy decides to sign the rights to me, I don't own or profit from Glee.

Enjoy!

She never means to let her selfish tendencies take control. They just do. She's only recently learned what it's like to have genuine friends. And a real, fantastically wonderful boyfriend. One who's willing to step up and tell her when she's wrong. She supposes she needs it, though a part of her wants someday to be able to stop making the same mistakes over and over again. Not that she had ever sent anyone else to a crack house. But she can't even count how many times she'd been a slave to her own conceit and love of the spotlight.

Rehearsing in the auditorium had helped summon the courage she'll need to face them all again. She knows she's lucky Finn had been able to talk them out of giving her a "code red." (It makes her shiver when she thinks about what that could entail). But now she's standing just outside the door to the choir room, telling herself to take a deep breath and get it over with. Either they'll forgive her or they won't; regardless of their reactions, it's the right thing to do, so she'll do it. Sighing heavily, Rachel opens the door slowly.

And instantly, eleven pairs of eyes are on her, menacing and expectant. Suddenly, she's not sure if she can do this; if she can look at them all, knowing they're all (minus Finn, she hoped) silently wishing a seagull would drop its fecal matter on her head. He gives her a reassuring smile and she feels her insides squeeze almost painfully, grateful that he still believes in and loves her. "I was going to prepare a speech," she begins, projecting her voice. She sees Kurt roll his eyes, but continues anyway.

"But that's too thought out. And the last time I thought anything out, a girl ended up at a crack house." Mr. Schue raises his eyebrows, but she doesn't know what that means in this context, so she ignores it. "I could say how sorry I am, how much I regret what I did. But you guys won't believe me. I know it's not the first time I've messed up when it comes to my need to be the center of attention, to be the star. And unfortunately, I can't promise that it will be the last."

She looks to Finn again, and he has this kind of wistful and dreamy look on his face, except that his eyes are boring right into hers. It's like he's pushing her to keep going, keep explaining. They'll understand his eyes are saying. His eyes, all gold and amber and warm. She remembers their respective promises to never break up with each other and his confident "they'll come around." And she almost believes that they will. That is, if she can drum up the effort, the morale, to finish the task at hand. Apologizing.

"But either way," she goes on, wringing her hands. "I am sorry. For what it's worth," she adds, softly, almost bitterly. "I know I told you I did it for the team, but that's barely a half-truth. For the longest time, performing was the only thing I had, my only source of joy. I value you, all of you; even though I know sometimes I don't exactly show it appropriately. But sometimes I can't help but revert back to the same qualities in myself that make you all loathe me so much. I was threatened and I'll admit, I didn't handle it well."

She looks around again; some faces still remain closed off, hard. But some of them seem like they understand, or are at least trying to. She doesn't know where to go from here. Maybe she should have prepared, but she'd thought it would be more real, more heartfelt if she just apologized with the words that came to her. And she mostly still agrees with that, but now she doesn't know if they think she's just trying to get sympathy. She isn't. She'd gone almost sixteen years without receiving sympathy; she certainly has no use for it now. She just wants them to put themselves in her shoes. What if they all were as finely adept at singing as she was? What if they perceived a threat to their standing in the club from another person?

She's aware that her actions can't be justified, really, but they can be empathized with and that's all she's asking for. Her talent is the only reason most of them like or tolerate her anyway. If she's not able to use and utilize it, would they even still care about her? Could she live with losing all of them, along with losing her time in the spotlight? Not likely. But how can she possibly convey that?

She turns around briefly, bringing a hand to her eyes to stifle the flow of tears she knows is on its way. Facing her club members again, she does her best to barrel through this. "Sunshine has a remarkable voice and I know you're all more than a little angry I jeopardized our chance to use her to beat Vocal Adrenaline. But if she were here and received all the solos, what would I do? What would my role be?" She holds up her hands to signal the people around her to refrain from interrupting. "What I mean to you guys, I mean because of my abilities and capacity for holding the team together. I know most of you want more solos, but your vocal talents and performances don't validate who you are and what you mean to other people. So yes, I do love being in the limelight too much to let it go so easily—I'll admit that. But since last year, a large part of why I love it so much is also because it's given me you guys."

Rachel looks down, almost ashamed of her admission, fearing the judgment she'll receive. But when she turns her face up again, she sees mostly shock and even some sorrow, guilt. From Finn, she sees confusion, maybe hurt, and she realizes what she's said. Now she has to fix this too, although she gives him her bravest, most radiant smile, hoping he understands she didn't mean him. His lips curve in return and she feels her heart settle back into her chest.

Finding her voice again, she tries to wrap up her spiel. If they don't understand her motivations by now, then they never will. And then she would deal with that accordingly. "I hope this doesn't completely dissolve your trust in me. I love glee club and what it's become—I'm proud to be a part of this with you. I know you guys aren't required to forgive me, but I can't deny that I really hope you will. Mercedes was right before when she said we're a family. I hope you still think of me as part of that family."

She takes a deep breath, awaiting the verdict, desperately wishing they'll tell her it's okay. To her surprise, it's Kurt who speaks up. "You really think that?" he asks, the disquiet evident in his voice. She looks at him questioningly; he gives her a bland look. "It's a well known fact that you're self-centered and annoying." Her face falls and she sees Finn's jaw tighten. "But a family is always a family. Despite those qualities, none of us would be here without you. You're one of us—that isn't going to change. But you need to accept that others will have a place here too, especially if they can be a secret weapon against Vocal Adrenaline. We're not stupid; we know you're our leader, or one of them. Sometimes that requires sacrifice. It doesn't mean we're dead set on replacing you." Kurt almost looks like he can't believe what he's said, but then so does everyone else. Rachel thinks her jaw might have dropped a little.

Tina nods her head affirmatively and Artie sends her a look that she thinks is supposed to mean he forgives her too. Mike smiles a little and Quinn shrugs; her version of acceptance of Rachel. Santana and Brittany link their pinkies together and hold their hands up. She's not really sure what that's indicative of, but maybe it means they think of her as part of their little family, too. She's not surprised they don't voice it though; they have reputations to maintain. She can't help it; her face bursts into a bright smile.

"Rachel." She turns toward Mr. Schue. "We've already established that what you did was wrong. And though you tried to make it right and it didn't turn out in our favor in the end, it was a big step to come here and apologize. But I'm proud of you for taking that step and trying to be the bigger person. Now." He places his hands on the piano and addresses the group as a whole. "Who wants to hear the no doubt plethora of ideas Rachel has for new numbers?"

She looks at the advisor in surprise, still barely able to take in that the group is rallying around her. They all think he's joking, and perhaps he is, but they play along and she's never been gladder for this group of people in her life.

"Wait, Mr. Schue!" Finn says before Rachel can contribute any of the seventy-two proposals she'd come up with over the summer. Both she and the Spanish teacher turn to face him. Finn walks to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

But before he can say anything else, she tells him, "You know I didn't mean you when I said all those things about validation, right?"

"Uh, well I don't know what that means, but yeah. I know." She sighs in relief and he half-laughs at her. "I just wanted to tell you…you did really good, Rach. Like really." She clutches at his sweater.

"Thanks," she whispers. He leans in to give her a soft kiss, but it lasts longer than he intends it to because she just can't bring herself to pull away. It isn't until she hears her fellow glee clubbers snort in disgust and tell them to get a room that she tears her face away. Mr. Schue clears his throat. Finn grins at her and takes her hand to lead her back to her seat. "If I find out anyone's bullshitting you here, I'll take care of it," he says near her ear, with a slight chuckle. She laughs and tells him, no, no he won't! But she's in a better, a good mood now. He'd been right after all; they had come around. And it had taken considerably less time than she ever would have thought.

And above all, now she knows for certain that she has a spot here, a family. The thought warms her blood before she remembers where she is. As glad as she is to have earned the forgiveness of her friends (oh, how she could get use to saying that!), they're at glee rehearsal and there's always work to be done. And she already knows how hard they'll have to work to beat Vocal Adrenaline this year. They need to start now.

"Now," she starts. "About my ideas…" But she laughs when they groan in mock-annoyance. Because, after all, they're a family. And who better to share her surfeit of (brilliant) musical number proposals with than her family?

She's throwing that crack house address into the trash when she gets home, she decides. It's not like she's going to need it ever again.

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Ciao.