A/N - I didn't really think this would take quite so long to get done, but the good news is that it's a long chapter, so please enjoy. Thanks as always to igotoextremes for being a great editor (and awesome new Mom - congrats btw) and reviewing this for me. Also, thank you to everyone who has read, subscribed and especially reviewed this story. Hope this chapter is enjoyed by all. Thank you.

Disclaimer - See Chapter 1, if necessary.

"They're so lucky!"

Rachel stared enviously at the pictures in the magazines and tabloids in front of her. Her father, Leroy, had gone over to the pharmacy counter to pick up a prescription, leaving her and her other father, Hiram, to peruse the magazine rack of their nearest drug store. She squealed as she flipped through a few publications and noticed a movie magazine with a picture of well-known star on the cover. "Daddy! Come here, quick! Look! Barbara Streisand is in another movie. Finally!"

Hiram raised an eyebrow and moved behind her. After seeing the magazine in her hands, his face lit up with a smile. "Well, I'll be. I didn't think she'd do anymore films." He frowned as he read it. "Meet the Fockers. Well, we'll have to go see it, I guess, won't we?"

Rachel worried her lip with her teeth as she flipped through it to look at the article. "Are you sure? I mean, it's a sequel to a Ben Stiller movie. You know Dad doesn't like Ben Stiller."

"We can always make it a Daddy-Daughter date and save your father the torture. But with Robert De Niro, Dustin Hoffman andBarbara Streisand, I think he'll come. I doubt they'd get a star-studded cast like that unless the show was good." He took the magazine from her hand gently. "Shall we get this?"

Rachel nodded eagerly and followed him to the cashier, dutifully standing beside him in line to make their purchase. "I wish I had that kind of power," she admitted wistfully. "I'd love to have a name that demands that kind of attention, people flocking to buy my albums, movies, books and magazines just because I have a name synonymous with talent."

"You will," her father said with a smile, as though her fate was inevitable. "You just have to work hard and devote yourself to it. If you keep going, eventually everyone will know who Rachel Barbara Berry is."

"I wish it could happen now." Rachel pouted a bit. "No one here appreciates my talent. Even Mr. Johnson told me to stop singing so loud, and I was rehearsing for our talent show!"

"Gym class isn't the time to rehearse for a talent show, sweetheart." Hiram reminded her as they proceeded in line.

"I hate gym! What's the point even of dodge-ball? It's not fun." Rachel blew out a breath of derision. "I bet Barbara never had to play dodge-ball."

Hiram shrugged. "All future stars have trials and tribulations they must overcome, sweetie. See it as another step on the long road to stardom. Someday maybe you'll be the one on the cover of a movie magazine."

"Not just movie magazines," Rachel said, her eyes lighting up with her imagination. "Allmagazines! And newspapers. TV appearances, ET interviews - so famous people can never get enough. Think I could do it, Daddy?"

"Anything is possible," Hiram told her with a smile as they again proceeded in the line. He fished out his phone and tapped a button on his Sony Ericsson phone before holding it up. "Why don't we practice now? Strike a pose! Right here in the store. After all, a future Broadway star has to learn how to look her best at all times, right?"

Rachel grinned and twirled before turning her left shoulder towards the camera and looking over it coyly. "It has to be my left side. I should always-"

"-be photographed from the left. I know." Hiram grinned as he snapped the picture and then showed it to her. "See? Perfect as always, even on a camera phone. We should print and frame this. I'll get you to sign it, and then once you're famous we could sell it for a fortune."

She rolled her eyes dramatically and giggled. "It's a picture of me in a grocery store, Daddy! No one's going to pay money for that, even if I do sign it."

"I think you might be surprised what people are willing to spend on collectables, sweetie. You never know, maybe someday they'll even chase you in there just to see what fruit you buy."

Rachel pushed him on his hip with her elbow. "You're so silly. No one's going to want a picture of me in a supermarket. It's the most boring thing ever."

-X-

Really? Even here? God, can't I do anything without them around?

Rachel sighed and accepted the inevitable, grabbing a stray cart in the parking lot and heading towards the doors as cameras clicked and flashed in her wake. Despite her aversion to this intrusion of privacy (or what she felt was an intrusion since this wasn't a red-carpet affair) she still strode past them with a polite smile. Her sunglasses were secure around her eyes, her earphones still filled her ears with possible songs for glee club, and her stride didn't falter. Once inside the grocery store, most of the crew seemed content to wait outside for her return trip to her car, but a few of the others switched to smaller cameras and continued in with her, though at a less invasive distance.

It had been this way for weeks. Ever since she'd been nominated for a Golden Globe the paparazzi had followed her around like a pack of wolves, eager to catch a shot of her doing anything out of the ordinary. She idly wondered for which kind of photo they were hoping today; the humiliating one where she'd trip on her own feet and hit the ground nose first, the scandalous one of her smoking or drinking or partying, or the shocking one where she was seen with 'unacceptable' people – unacceptable meaning anyone not named Finn Hudson. Rachel wondered when being someone's girlfriend meant you had to be with them every waking hour of the day. She was pretty sure even her fathers didn't fawn over each other constantly, but it seemed if she so much as hugged another man, every reporting questioned her commitment to Finn.

Today, however, the photographers' intentions seemed more subdued. Maybe they just wanted to catch a shot of her doing common chores, the same as performed by every other American citizen. The paparazzi often did this to celebrities, portraying them as normal and relatable to the public. Rachel just wished it wasn't at the cost of her privacy.

I can see the article now, she thought sourly. Yes, Rachel Berry really does do her own grocery shopping, See, she likes grapes and almond milk. Her favourite cereal seems to be Raisin Bran, though she also picked up oatmeal. Wait, why is she in the deli? Isn't she vegan? Maybe she's picking up something for the man in her life. Hasn't it been confirmed he's a red-blooded carnivore? How do they manage such disparity in their diets?

This was not the kind of attention she had imagined when she was a child. She wanted the red carpet, critics praising her performances, and other stars begging for her autograph. Sure, she had all of that to an extent, but if she'd known it would include photos of her doing the most menial tasks, she'd have thought twice about starring in films at all.

I wonder if anyone wants to take a picture of me using the washroom, she thought. No, scratch that – I'm positive someone would want to take pictures of me using the washroom. Hopefully that person is far, far away from here.

Rachel continued her shopping, placing items in the cart, crossing items off her list and avoiding the paparazzi cameras when possible. As she approached the checkout, routing through her purse for her credit card, she felt her phone vibrate against her hip. Sighing and pulling it out from her jacket pocket, she glanced at the screen to identify the inopportune caller.

Will Schuester.

Why would he be calling her? She'd just left New Directions' rehearsal. Had something happened to one of the students? Had something happened to Mr. Schue himself? The rehearsal had gone well, so she couldn't understand why she needed to be contacted.

Frowning, she made sure both headphones were securely in her ears before she answered; the last thing she needed was for the media vultures to hear the other side of her conversation. "Hi, Mr. Schue. What's up?"

He sighed on the other end. "I really wish you'd just call me Will. You're the one up for a Golden Globe, you know."

"You're the one who's been teaching since I was knee-high to a grasshopper."

"Aren't you still?" Mr. Schuester teased gently. "Some things never change."

Rachel brushed the dig aside. "Exactly! And that's why I don't call you Will. Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Schuester?"

"Have you heard the latest on the news?" he asked, his voice becoming serious.

She frowned even as she began putting items on the conveyor belt, ensuring a divider separated her items from those of the gentleman in front of her. Thankfully he didn't seem to recognize her, though he did seem puzzled as to why three men were still taking photos nearby. "No, I haven't been keeping up with news, not since New Year's, anyway."

"Long story short, there's a growing dispute between the Lima Board of Education and the teacher's union over wage increases. We've been lax on demanding that for years, but of course the school board doesn't want to ante up now that we are asking for one. Outside of the money issues, the two sides aren't far apart really, but it's going to require a meeting and vote for all teachers and union members. You'll have to run the rehearsal yourself on Thursday, I'm afraid."

Rachel chuckled. "Oh, woe is me. However will I survive?" she deadpanned. "It's fine, Mr. Schue. I'm pretty sure I can handle one rehearsal by my lonesome. I did direct Finn's play, after all." She frowned as another thought occurred to her. "Is this the same union as Finn?"

"It is, but since he's on medical leave he'll be unaffected until February. He's not one for union meetings, but this one is pretty important and...well..."

"Let me guess – it looks good for Finn to be there because he's become a second-hand celebrity by dating me?"

Will sighed but didn't contradict her. "The news would be a lot more interested in the union's position if he was front and centre. Just showing up and voting would probably be enough, I'm sure. I realize it's indirectly and blatantly using your celebrity status to further our cause, but-"

"Yeah, no one's ever done that before," Rachel snorted as she presented her card to a smiling store clerk for her groceries. "Besides, it's not often I get to pawn my celebrity status off on another person; doing it to Finn will be liberating."

"Thanks Rachel," Will said, obviously relieved. "I really appreciate it. I'm pretty sure he'd ignore me if I asked, or threaten to have V.A. toilet paper McKinley's choir room. "

Rachel giggled a bit before smiling mischievously. "I'll make sure he gets there, Mr. Schue. I do have a few more weapons of persuasion in my arsenal than you, after all. Should I go with Victoria's Secret, or just a drenched, plain white t-shirt?"

She was rather surprised how quickly Mr. Schuester hung up after she said that. Shrugging, she threw her phone back in her purse before looking up to see not only the cashier, but also the store's manager standing at the till station. "Will that be all, Ms. Berry?" The manager, a short, bald man dressed well in a shirt and tie, asked politely.

Rachel pursed her lips and surveyed her groceries. Convincing Finn to do something could be a Herculean task, especially something he didn't enjoy, but she was up for the challenge. Deciding she needed some extra ammunition to 'seal the deal' she looked back at the manager. "Can you please get me a couple of thick steaks, a case of your best beer, and some whipped cream in a can? I think that should take care of everything."

XXXXX

Quinn smirked as she put down a cup of coffee in front of Beth. "Cinnamon Dolce Latte, as requested." The blonde actress sat across from her biological daughter and smiled genuinely. "A fine choice of beverage, I must say, and only 330 calories for a small. Be sure you don't indulge too often."

"It's been a while since I've been to Starbucks," Beth admitted, sipping her drink and humming in contentment. She gulped back a large sip and let the hot liquid linger on her tongue. After savouring the taste, she swallowed and sighed. "Since before Christmas, actually. Thanks, Auntie Quinn."

"Of course! It's not often I get to chat and catch up, and it'll be nice to see you almost every day for a month, even if it does mean I'll drive my mother crazy."

"You two don't get along?" Beth raised an eyebrow.

Quinn shrugged as she sipped her own beverage. "Most of the time we're fine. She just doesn't approve of my choices or lifestyle."

Beth's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But...you're a well-respected actress. You've done guest roles on all kinds of TV shows and movies, your co-stars include Jack Black and Elijah Wood. I mean, what does she want?"

"What she wanted was a good little Christian girl who'd do right by mother, go to college, marry rich, pop out a few grandkids and domesticate herself into a life of happily ever after." Quinn scoffed, shook her head and spoke sarcastically, "a fate that worked so well for my mother, of course."

"If you guys don't get along, why not stay in a hotel?" Beth asked. "Or with us, even? I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind. We have a guest bedroom and a pull out couch in the basement."

"But how can I possibly deny my own flesh and blood the pleasure of my company," Quinn said sardonically, one hand lightly resting over her heart in mock sincerity. "What proper Christian girl would I be if I didn't spend any time with my mother?"

Beth raised an eyebrow. "So you guys don't get along?"

Quinn sighed and crossed her arms. "It's a long story, Beth, one that started well before you were born and won't end until she kicks the bucket. Thankfully my sister has given her the grandkids. I'm not sure I see children in my future."

"I don't count?" Beth almost pouted, even if the question had been honestly asked.

Smiling, Quinn reached over to hold her hand. "Of course you count, Beth, but let's be honest; there's a reason you call me Auntie Quinn. Shelby raised you, not me. And frankly, she did a better job than I could have at that young age. I was a complete mess in high school." She smiled and squeezed Beth's hand. "But enough about the past, Beth. I want to know what you're up to. Anything new or exciting this school year?"

Beth shrugged and looked down at the table in front of them. "Not much. Still in V.A. – still going to school. Some things never change."

Her auntie leaned back and cast a disbelieving look, one sculpted eyebrow raised in askance. "Really? So everything is the same? Nothing has happened since the summer?"

Her lips drew a tight line, refusing to meet her aunt's eyes. "Um...no?"

"Wow." Quinn nodded and considered Beth's response. "So, you didn't win the lead role in a play written by Finn? You weren't directed by the Rachel Berry?" Quinn's voice drew low and conspiratorial. "You didn't have a boyfriend you were totally crazy about?"

The young blond swallowed and forced down the heavy feelings settling into her heart at the mention of 'boyfriend'. Ending things with Caleb had been hard and she'd be lying if she didn't acknowledge her regret in doing so. She still longed to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, and his hands touching her in ways she'd never tell her mother. But that longing was also accompanied by resentment at knowing he confided to everyone around him the secret of Uncle Finn's cancer without including her. How could she continue in such a relationship if he didn't trust her enough to share such important information, especially about those she considered family?

"I...I did do all those things," Beth admitted finally, throwing herself backwards in her chair and crossing her arms. She knew it looked like sulking, knew it was childish, but she didn't care. "The play was cool, and yeah, I learned a lot under Rachel. But Caleb..." she shrugged and had another sip of her drink.

Quinn chuckled lightly. "Let me guess; you waffle between wanting to tear his clothes off or tear him a new one."

Beth looked up with wide eyes. "That's the best way to describe it I've ever heard. How'd you know?"

"Your Uncle Finn and Uncle Puck both did that to me in high school. It's a miracle either of them survived me. I had visions of strangling them both to death, often at the same time. They live now only because I had nowhere to hide the bodies." Quinn giggled at her own comment. "Ah, good times. Trust me; you get use to balancing the two extremes in a relationship."

Beth sighed and shook her head. "I don't think I balanced them all that well, Auntie Quinn." After a moment's hesitation, and an inquisitive eyebrow raised by her aunt, Beth shrugged. "I kinda...broke up with Caleb."

Without saying a word, Quinn reached across the table and held her hand, her eyes warm and offering condolences. Swallowing back a sob, Beth reached up and wiped away an errant tear.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey. Break-ups are really hard. I know - I've been there." Quinn squeezed Beth's hand again and offered her a napkin as a tissue. After she wiped her eyes, Beth folded it up but held onto it for future use. Quinn spoke soft and low. "So, what happened? Did he meet someone else? Sleep around on you?" She rolled her eyes a bit but asked the question anyway. "He didn't get a girl pregnant, did he?"

Beth snorted once while wiping her other eyes free of moisture, but then sighed. "No, nothing like that. He lied to me...or rather, didn't tell me the truth when he should have." Again, with just a look, Quinn asked for more details, so Beth elaborated. "He found out about Uncle Finn's cancer and went out of his way to tell Rachel and all his friends in New Directions. But me, who's known Uncle Finn most of my life?" Beth shook her head to emphasize the point.

Quinn considered Beth's words before nodding once and leaning back in her own chair. She took a deep breath and levelled her biological daughter with a serious gaze. "You're not sure you made the right choice, are you?"

"I...really don't know." Beth hugged herself, her arms crossing over each other and rubbing the opposite shoulder. Even with a thick sweater overtop her turtleneck Beth could feel shivers run up and down her spine. "Is there some way to tell? Some measurement you can use to know if breaking up was the right thing to do?"

Her aunt set down her coffee and considered the question for a moment. Finally, she shrugged. "Gut reaction, maybe? That's about all I've been able to go by. Sometimes the choice is easy and obvious. When I was a senior I dated a sophomore, Joe, for a brief time, but we were just too different, despite both being committed to Christianity. Sometimes the choice is very difficult, even when there's nothing ridiculous about it. My last summer in Lima before going to Yale, your Uncle Puck and I were very close and getting closer, but with me leaving for school in New Haven and him looking towards L.A., being together didn't make sense. It was the hardest break-up I've ever had."

"Didn't seem to get you far away from him in the end," Beth commented. Quinn's direct stare made her blush and spill her secret quickly. "Uncle Puck might have let it slip at Sectionals you and he were...you know...kind of an item again. Just...I think he said 'not exactly official'."

Quinn rolled her eyes and shook her head, sipping her coffee after a loud "Humph." Beth wondered at first if she'd upset her aunt, but after a few moment without receiving the famous 'Fabray Eye-Twitch' - one she'd inherited, according to Shelby – Beth knew it was safe to continue her line of query. "Are you two together again?"

"Who the hell knows," Quinn laughed lightly, even as she spoke sarcastically. She pulled back another long sip of coffee before continuing in a subdued, resigned voice. "He's barely made time to see me since New Year's. I mean, sure, we had a great time together, but when I tried to talk about the future, he clammed up and changed the subject." She scoffed. "He's such an egghead."

"Then why do you bother?" Beth asked, genuine curiosity fuelling her question. "I mean, if he's not going to even call you his girlfriend, or talk about your future, what's the point in trying?"

Her aunt sighed, even as her eyes stared at the table in front of her. Her hand played absently with the lid of her coffee cup as her silence stretched on for several seconds. Finally, she looked up to Beth and gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I really, really like him. But it is complicated, Beth. Not the least of the reasons is...well...you, frankly."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You were born, Beth. You're a reminder of the mistakes we made in the past."

Beth's eyes narrowed at the woman across from her. "Thanks. I always love being called a mistake."

"You know what I mean," Quinn said calmly, not phased in the slightest by Beth's offence at the term. "You've grown into a wonderful young woman, and I think I can speak for Puck when I say we're both very proud of you. I know Shelby adores you and she's done a wonderful job raising you, but it doesn't change the fact you weren't planned, or that you were born to two teen parents who weren't ready for you."

Beth sipped her drink and smirked. "Can I be still be happy you guys decided not to use protection?"

Quinn giggled and raised her cup to Beth in a toast. "Of course. And I must say Puck and I make very good-looking kids. He's grown up a lot since I left Lima. I still remember the teenage boy who strutted around like he was seven feet tall, throwing freshmen in the dumpsters and trying to bed anyone with boobs. Now he has a college education, two thriving businesses and - incredibly enough - a decent haircut."

"Since when is shaving your head a decent haircut?"

"Since it eliminated the furry animal on his head called a mohawk." Quinn chuckled and sighed. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at his current behaviour. It's typical Puck."

Beth smiled at her and shrugged. "You know, maybe if you're just patient, Uncle Puck will come around. I mean, you guys are always going for lunch and dinner when you're here. He's told me so, even. Just give him time and-"

Quinn shook her head. "I've already given it plenty of time, Beth. I mean, I'll give it until your Uncle Finn is back and ready to take over Vocal Adrenaline again, but after that, I'm not waiting for Puck any longer. If he can't have a serious conversation with me about our future, or commit outright to us being together, I'll have to move on."

Beth bit her lip at seeing her Auntie Quinn wipe another errant tear away from the corner of her eye. Although she had suspected it for a while, she'd never come out and asked the question directly. She decided now was as good a time as any. "Do you love him, Auntie Quinn? Like, actually love him?"

She sighed and stared back down at the floor. Her right leg, which crossed over-top of her left, dangled and swung a bit as Beth watched Quinn consider her answer. After a long moment of silence, Quinn smiled slightly and shrugged. "I don't really know. I'm not...I can't really say yet one way or another."

"Okay, wait," Beth put down her coffee and held up her hand. "You want to know what he thinks of a future with you but you can't say if you love him or not after all this time? You realize that sounds incredibly...not good, right?"

"I've long ago learned I'm rather hypocritical, yes," Quinn said, nodding. "But it's...let's just say I've had a fair share of experience with guys and the few who said they loved me were less than honest."

"Hmmm...I can totally relate to less than honest boyfriends." Beth grimaced and crossed her arms in front of her.

"All men lie at some point, Beth, though some are worse than others. Even your Uncle Finn has lied to me, and he's one of the most honest people I know."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? I didn't think Uncle Finn was capable of lying. I mean, this is the guy who still calls me Drizzle."

"I'm sure it's not something he's proud of," Quinn reassured her, "but yes. Most of it centered around a certain Rachel Berry, too. I should have known from all the puppy-dog eyes they gave each other I'd never reclaim his heart, but it's just as well – he and I never worked as more than friends." Quinn looked at her curiously. "Has Finn ever told you why he calls you Drizzle?"

"He said I liked drizzling chocolate sauce on my ice cream when I was a kid. Didn't matter what flavour I was having."

Quinn smiled. "He lied."

Beth's jaw dropped open a little. "Really? That's not why?"

"No," Quinn shook her head and another drink before setting her coffee down again and leaning forward. "When I was pregnant and had Finn convinced it was his - mostly because I didn't trust Puck to even try and support me - Finn decided to come up with names for you. I didn't want to - I was scared it would make me too attached and then I wouldn't be able to go through with the adoption.

"As you probably already know, Finn's tastes are rather...unusual. A few celebrities at the time had given their kids strange names and it inspired him to give you one too. He came up with 'Drizzle' because he loves being outside before a rainstorm hits, right when it's drizzling but you don't yet need a jacket, and he wanted to name you after something he loves. When Shelby moved back to Lima with you, I think he saw it as a chance to call you by that original name. To him, you've always been 'Drizzle'."

Beth scrunched her face up in confusion, processing everything she'd just heard. After a moment, she looked back up to Quinn. "I think I like the chocolate sauce version better."

"It is less convoluted," Quinn agreed. "Finn probably wanted to spare you the personal drama of it all. My point, however, is that although men may lie to us, they sometimes do so with honourable intentions." She paused and cocked her head to the side as she regarded Beth. "Is it possible, maybe, that Caleb's motives were pure when he didn't tell you?"

Beth sipped more of her coffee, employing Quinn's tactic of staring at the table in front of her before answering. "He claims it was. Said he'd promised Uncle Finn to keep it quiet, but then of course he turned around and told his entire show choir. They even changed a song at their Sectionals show to clue in Rachel. But me...nooooo, no mention to me at all. Never mind I was his girlfriend, or that I wouldn't have ever told Uncle Finn I knew."

Quinn leaned forward and held Beth's hand. "You know sweetie, maybe it was more that Caleb didn't want you to worry so much. Maybe he knew how close you were to Finn and didn't want to stress you out. It's a weird way of protecting someone, but I've seen it before." She brought her voice low and whispered, "Even Finn did that a couple of times."

Beth rolled her eyes. "So, what, it's an affliction? Nice guys try to be nicer by protecting us from the truth?"

Quinn held her gaze. "If they think it's going to hurt you, yes."

Beth swallowed and crossed her arms again, leaning back in her chair while thinking about what her aunt had told her. Was that really all Caleb was trying to do? Protect her from being hurt? If so, it was a bass-ackwards way of doing it. Instead of being hurt that her uncle hadn't told her himself, she was hurt that Caleb chose to conceal such important information.

"Oh, my gosh! Is that the time?" Quinn's eyes widened as they stared at modern looking analog clock on the wall. She quickly gathered her coffee and purse. "Sorry, Beth, I have to run. My mom asked me home early tonight to help her with the pot-luck she's hosting. It's tradition when I come home that her friends gather around and extol to me the virtues of settling down with children. I haven't convinced them yet I'm not interested in children and the settling down part, well..."

"They'd be scandalized to know a good Christian girl is working on that with a Jewish guy?"

Quinn smirked. "At my age I'm sure the Jewish thing isn't the issue, more like who the Jewish person is. Noah Puckerman would definitely not be on the shortlist." She sighed and wiggled her fingers to Beth. "See you in rehearsal tomorrow."

"'Kay, see you Auntie Quinn." Beth watched her leave and hop into her rental car.

It struck her as funny that after all this time – almost sixteen years later – her Aunt Quinn and Uncle Puck were still dancing around each other without actually being together. She knew her Uncle Finn and Rachel were similar in that regard, but the difference was that their separation had been without contact for nine years, during which both had serious relationships with others; Rachel had married and Uncle Finn was engaged. Aunt Quinn and Uncle Puck, by contrast, had been off and on again for the entire time. Sure, they'd had other flings, but nothing serious ever seemed to happen for either. Was that because they were always in the back of each other's mind?

Just like Caleb is always in the back of yours?

Beth sighed and pushed that thought away, even though she instinctively brought her phone up to look at the wallpaper screen. It was still a goofy photo she'd snapped of him at the bowling alley during their first date, one of him pretending to filch a bottle of beer from an adult customer who was looking the other way. She smiled at the memory. It would be so easy to call him and ask to go bowling again. But soon after the pain and disappointment of their break-up flooded back, twisting her insides and causing a lump in her throat. Even if they went bowling, it didn't change the fact he'd hidden the truth from her. It didn't change the fact he was completely unapologetic about it.

Should she forgive him anyway and try to reconnect?

Beth dropped the phone back in her purse and stared at the window in front of her, wondering if the cool winter wind or snow sparkling from the street lights could provide any answers.

XXXXX

"Wake up!"

Caleb's head jerked up from his pillow in a start as his eyelids flew open, responding automatically to the sharp voice. Unfortunately, he regretted his action as the searing brightness of the sun through the open window in his room stabbed him viciously through the cornea. With a groan he winced and turned away from the blinding view, his hand covering his face to keep out the offending glare.

Turning away from it, however, had its own consequences. His stomach rolled in protest and it took some effort to keep its contents contained. He remained still for a moment to let his stomach settle down, and then cautiously looked around his room, wondering who had just spoken to him. It couldn't be his dad since he left for a conference in Toronto. Besides, the voice had a higher, warmer pitch and wasn't anywhere near the deep, gravelly tone his father had.

Across his room he saw a woman with brown hair, brown eyes and a scowl on her face. At first he had thought Ms. Berry had somehow managed to let herself into his home, but when he focused his vision, it became apparent the woman was of medium height and build, nowhere near the elvish size of his New Directions coach. Only one person could be mistaken for Rachel and not look like a pixie princess. "Sh-Shelby?"

She glanced at him before continuing to fold the clothes strewn on his desk and chair. "Oh, you finally decided to join the land of the living, have you? About time; I tried calling twice on the way over but never got an answer."

"My phone was off," Caleb explained groggily, collapsing back on his pillow. A sudden thought occurred to him and he rolled his head to the side slowly to face her. "What are you even doing here?"

"Doing your father a favour," Shelby said curtly, piling his shirts and pants neatly on his desk. After folding another shirt, she glanced back down at the massive pile of clothes and grimaced at the unclean pair of underwear on top. She began rooting through his desk drawer as she continued speaking. "He received a call from McKinley this morning wondering why you'd been absent yesterday. And the day before."

Caleb rolled his eyes and turned away from her to face the wall his bed was against. "I was sick."

"That tends to happen when you self-medicate with alcohol. The number of empty bottles in the living room is alarming. Do you mean perhaps that you're hung over, not sick?"

He shrugged one shoulder in response. "Same shit, different pile."

Shelby grabbed a ruler and used it to remove the underwear sitting on top. With a turn and forceful flick, she deposited it on top of his head. Caleb assumed it was to disgust him and have him scrambling the get it off, but since it was his underwear, he didn't see the big deal with its cranial proximity. Besides, it was keeping the sun out of his eyes.

"Please tell me all that alcohol wasn't drunk solely by yourself," Shelby said, unaffected by Caleb's lack of reaction. "Because if it was, we're getting your ass to a hospital to check for alcohol poisoning."

"Tyler was here too. He had his fair share."

"And what prompted you to indulge so heavily in such substances?"

Caleb removed the underwear from over his face to drop it back on the floor before throwing his arm up over his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Either you and I talk or your father gets a phone call."

"You're going to call him anyway, aren't you?"

"That doesn't mean I'll tell him why you missed school; I might just say you've had the flu. It largely depends on the next words coming out of your mouth. Why are you drinking?

Why am I drinking? Caleb thought to himself against the massive clench around his heart. I'm drinking because the girl I was falling for since I met her back in September just broke up with me. She was my first serious relationship and best friend all rolled into one and she jettisoned me out the airlock because I tried to keep a promise to her uncle, but screwed it all up with her along the way. And I can't decide if I want to fucking puke my guts out, scream at the top of my lungs, curl up into a ball and cry or find a side of beef to tenderize with my fists.

Shelby sighed and sat down in his desk chair, throwing his jeans on the floor in the process. "I thought this might have something to do with Beth. I can't say I'm surprised."

Shit, did I say any of that out loud? Caleb raised his arm just high enough over his left eye to glare at Shelby.

For her part, Shelby smiled sadly. "It's what you didn't say that told me everything, Caleb."

"Really?" he asked dryly, his arm falling to cover both eyes again. "I guess I don't need to tell you then why your daughter dumped me, or how I feel about her right now."

"I can guess," Shelby responded, crossing her legs. Her eyes stared out his bedroom window at nothing particular. "I never said I agreed with my daughter, though."

At this, Caleb actually lifted his head off the pillow, his eyes transfixed on her disbelievingly. "You mean you disagree with Beth's decision?"

"I never said that either," Shelby countered, looking back towards him. "Honestly I think the two of you could solve a lot of your issues if you just sat down over coffee and spoke like adults. I know it's a lot to expect from teenagers, but you two might be mature enough to handle it."

"Not interested." Caleb collapsed back on his bed, swallowing down the urge to ask Shelby to arrange some such meeting with Beth. Okay, fine, he could admit to himself he desperately wanted to see her, hold her and be with her, but he wasn't going to let Beth's mom know that. Word would get back to her and that adorable, infuriating self-satisfied smirk would be plastered on Beth's face for the next two weeks. Even if he didn't have to see it, he wasn't going to give his ex-girlfriend the satisfaction. He shook his head. "Beth had her chance, Ms. Corcoran. She doesn't get another."

Shelby frowned slightly before shrugging. "Hmm, well, guess I'm mistaken. Beth isn't the reason for your alcohol fuelled indulgences - it's just a matter of boredom."

Caleb scoffed. Bored? Sure, why not? Let Shelby think what she wanted. It was better than admitting heartbreak. Boredom he didn't mind getting back to his dad and it wasn't far from the truth. At least, not since he'd stopped spending so much time with Beth. Sure, he had other friends, but none of them were nearly as interesting, nor could he indulge in certain...other activities with them. Still, he decided to keep up the façade. "You'd be bored too if most of your classes were taught by these teachers. They have all the charisma of a wet mop."

"So, if your classes aren't suffering and you're so bored as to constantly come home at night and drink yourself into oblivion, there's only one solution." She smiled at him. "It's called employment."

His head shot off the pillow and he propped himself up slightly on one elbow, staring at her in utter shock. "Whoa...wait...what?"

"That's right, Caleb. You'll have to go get a job." She pushed herself off the chair and then began scooping clothes off the floor and throwing them into the chair where she'd been sitting. "I think the first job should be cleaning this room; it's a disaster zone. After that you can start pounding the pavement to look for something that's willing to actually pay you to work."

His eyes narrowed a bit at her. "I had something that paid me. Ms. Berry-"

"-wouldn't let you write other people's homework for money? Aw, poor baby for being denied an illegal occupation."

"Since when is ghost writing an illegal occupation? You know how many celebrity memoirs are written that way?"

"This isn't an argument or discussion, Caleb. You're getting a job, or at least spending every evening after homework looking for one. If you have so much time on your hands you can have parties on weeknights and sleep away days from school without your marks suffering, you can afford to earn some money and contribute financially to your family."

"And since when the hell are you family?"

Shelby stopped cold and stared at him, looking as if she'd just been slapped in the face. Caleb's face darkened as he swung his legs over the bed and sat up to his full height. His voice was sharp and his eyes bored through hers. "She may be dead, Shelby, but I already have a mother. I don't need you prancing in here to pick up where she left off. You want to mother someone, run back home to Beth and take care of your precious little angel. You're not my mom."

Shelby looked away from Caleb briefly and drew in a deep breath, nodding in acceptance and dropping his clothes on the floor. "You're right, I'm not your mother, and I shouldn't try to act like one." She gestured around the room as she continued speaking. "You want your room to look like ground zero of a nuclear bomb, that's your choice. But you will be seeking employment, Caleb. It's not too late to email the five pictures I've taken of all the empties downstairs to Collin. Should I include McKinley's attendance records as well? I'm sure Rachel would have access to them. Think you can pull rank on your father?"

He stared at her helplessly, resentment building as her orders echoed back and forth through his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't see a way out of this. Either his dad would find out about his drinking and missed classes, no doubt resulting in both a tongue-lashing and severe grounding, or he surrendered to Shelby's demands. Although there was no actual proof – unless he saw them – that Shelby had taken photos of the mess downstairs, he wouldn't put it past her to have already obtained evidence.

Once again, his hands were tied. He'd just have to do as he was told.

"Fine," he ground out between clenched teeth, looking away from Shelby.

She nodded and walked back towards his door. Without another word, she exited the room, but before she proceeded downstairs, she turned back to look at him through the door frame. "You're going to send out at least three resumes every business day, and email me the list of places you've applied to. I want proof you're doing what you say. I was a vocal coach myself for a long time so trust me, I can spot the difference between truth and lip service a mile apart." With that, she spun on her feet and walked away. Before long, Caleb could hear the steady rhythm of footsteps descending the stairs and the creak of the front door being opened before clicking closed of its own accord.

He fell back on the bed and stared at ceiling. What the hell had just happened to cause his ex-girlfriend's mother to have such control over him?

Oh yeah...his own stupidity.

He groaned and pulled out his cell phone to start looking at the local classifieds online.

XXXXX

Finn leaned back, his stomach full of the wonderful meal Rachel had prepared. To say he was stunned when he walked in the door to see her seasoning a steak on a broiling pan was an understatement. It wasn't Rachel over at his apartment making dinner that shocked him, though, just the fact she was busily preparing two of the largest steaks he'd ever seen in his life. Usually her recipes were vegan or at least vegetarian in nature, and he'd decided to be adventurous and try most of her meals. He figured he could always eat meat during meals when she wasn't there to join him, like breakfast, lunch, and the obligatory wing nights with Puck. Leaving meat out for most of his 'at home' dinners wasn't that much of a hardship. The side benefits were not only a very thankful girlfriend who showered him with affection, but also the loss of a few extra pounds he really didn't need.

Healthier and happier – it all seemed to make sense to him. It also made meals like this, where there was an abundance of excellently prepared meat, much more special. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Rachel, you outdid yourself."

She looked up from her salad with a smile. "I was following a recipe online for how to broil steaks. Was it good?"

"Are you kidding?" He grinned as he picked up his beverage. "It was...udderly fantastic."

"Oh, Finn!" Rachel made a disgusted face, even though she couldn't contain a giggle. "That was a horrible pun. Is that what you pass off as humour nowadays?"

"What's wrong, Rach?" Finn asked between sips of his beer. "Does my joke not meat with your approval?"

Rachel rolled her eyes briefly as she sipped her own beer. She'd insisted they both drink from a glass, of course, claiming that sipping from the bottle was 'terribly unsanitary and barbaric', but Finn didn't mind. He had bought a couple of pint glasses from Puck's nightclub, so this was an excuse to finally use them. And it did lend a touch more class to the meal, along with the candles and tablecloth and cloth napkins and...yeah, Finn saw right through her. He smiled. "The meal was excellent, Rach. Truly fantastic. So... what do you want?"

She shot him a quizzical look. "Want? What makes you think I want anything other than to pamper my wonderful boyfriend with a nice meal while he's recovering from a thyroidectomy? Can't a woman just do something nice for her man without expecting something in return?"

He stared at her, his expression not changing one iota. She looked away haughtily, but her cheeks grew crimson in colour and she avoided looking at him. It was quiet for a long time during which he noticed her have another bite of her salad, another sip of beer, and wipe her mouth again with her napkin. After about a half-minute of silence under his penetrating gaze, she gave up and sighed, her knife and fork clicking on the plate as her arms and shoulders dropped in defeat. "Okay, okay. You got me. I want to ask you something."

"Really?" he replied in mock surprise, even as his lopsided grin spread across his right cheek. "Never would have guessed."

"It's not really for me, though. It's for Mr. Schue."

Finn pulled back another swig of beer. "Mr. Schue is getting you to ask instead of just phoning me? I already have a bad feeling about this."

Rachel bit her lip, judging, Finn figured, the best way to pose her question. After inhaling deeply, her words came out in a rush. "He wants you to be present at the vote on Thursday and give a face and voice to the cause of your union in the contract dispute and-"

"Aw, Rach!" Finn put down his glass of beer and buried his face in his hands. He should have known something like this was coming, but totally didn't expect it from his girlfriend. Mr. Schuester, sure, since he had always kept abreast of union issues, and Carmel's union rep had been more in his face since his relationship with the Rachel Berry had become public knowledge, but Finn genuinely wasn't interested in getting involved. It was too much like high school student council; you voted for whoever was most popular, argued mostly about issues that affected you minimally, and generally failed to do anything significant due to budget constraints and an apathetic audience. He rubbed his temples. "How about you just stick me in the shower and tazer me in the nads – it'd be less painful."

"It's just a union meeting and vote. No need to be over-dramatic."

"You did not just call me over-dramatic."

"Finn, I'm the queen of drama. I'm perfectly qualified to tell when someone else is being over-dramatic, and you definitely are."

He sighed and threw himself into the back of his chair. "Why me? I'm just one teacher in a union of hundreds, maybe thousands. Why would anyone care if I'm there?"

"I seem to remember you using a similar argument about the radio interview." Rachel gave him a pointed look. "Do we really need to revisit this conversation?"

Oh, he remembered that incident well enough, too, and was never given a satisfactory answer as to why his presence was needed, either. As best as he could, he pieced together the arguments and reasons from that situation and applied them to the current scenario. "Okay, let me get this straight; you're saying I need to go to this vote so the news media will be interested in the union's position versus the school board because...why? Just because I'm dating you and you're in the news a lot, I need to go in person?"

"Well I'm not the one who's a union member, am I?" Rachel scoffed before sipping her drink again. "And of course you need to go in person. How else would you vote?"

"Online," Finn said, gesturing towards his laptop. "It's a union vote, so we can all punch in our ID number and password and BOOM, instant voting." He paused and frowned. "Doesn't Actor's Equity do that?"

"I wouldn't know," Rachel said, stacking the dirty plates together to clear off the table. "I'm rather beyond the basics of the Actor's Equity salary and benefits. I still pay my dues, but haven't had to worry about union stuff since I landed Wicked."

"So, you're extolling the virtues of me being the face of my union when you barely pay attention to your own?"

"There's a little more at stake with your union, Finn," Rachel replied evenly, smoothly carrying on the conversation as she placed the cutlery on the dishes. "Teachers are responsible for shaping the minds of future generations. They lead and encourage students to think for themselves, pursue their dreams, continue to question and explore. The future of this country depends on how teachers perform during their careers – how they enhance the education of those who go on to lead this nation. What do actors and actresses do?"

"Uh," Finn glanced away and up towards the ceiling, thinking seriously. This sounded an awful lot like one of Rachel's trick questions, and he only had about a 50/50 chance of getting the answer right. "They play make-believe in front of people and...hope to be paid well for it?"

"I'm disappointed you'd define my entire career in such basic terms, especially since you once considered acting for your own profession." Rachel raised an eyebrow at him, but her façade cracked soon after. "You are, however, essentially correct."

Finn mentally pumped his fist at getting the answer right on the first try, while his outward appearance had him simply sipping his beer again. And damn good beer it was, too. He'd have to look at the label on the bottle so he knew what exactly he was drinking.

"My point, Finn, is that your job is much more important in the long run than mine ever will be. You have a chance to help make a difference in how teachers are treated and viewed in the public. You should take advantage of your new celebrity status, such as it is, to help your union achieve its aims. If it wasn't for your union, you wouldn't even have medical leave right now, would you?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not that easy, Rach. I mean, I'm supposed to fly to New York that night to meet with your agent the next morning."

Rachel stopped midstride towards the kitchen and turned towards him, the dirty plates and cutlery still in her hand. A slow beam spread across her face. "Really, you're meeting with Grace?"

"Don't act so surprised," Finn smirked in return. "She already told me you had a hand in it. You mind telling me what this is all about, because all Grace mentioned is she wanted me to meet with a couple of theatre dudes who have weird names."

His girlfriend cocked her head to the side, a sure sign she was processing new information and considering it carefully before responding. Finn watched the wheels of her mind as they turned, her eyes staring off into space in that cute, endearing way they always did when she was lost in thought. After a moment, she shrugged and put the dishes down on the counter. "I can honestly say I don't know what Grace has in mind, but she's never steered me wrong, either. Chances are good whatever she has in store for you will be interesting."

"Unlike the union voting," Finn quipped, sipping his beer again.

"Why not just call Grace and reschedule your meeting? If you catch an early morning flight out the next morning, you'll be in New York by lunch time. Have the meeting, catch a show or something, and then you can crash at my condo to get some rest. Fly back on Saturday."

Finn perked up at the idea of staying an extra night to rest, especially in Rachel's apartment. Truthfully, he hadn't even considered the fact she owned a condo there and he could stay for free. Good thing she suggested it too, because Grace never mentioned covering hotel expenses, just the flight.

The reasons for avoiding this union vote and meeting were dwindling fast, though. He scrunched up his face at the mere thought of it. "Don't I get enough press just being your guy? I have to get it at a dumb union thing, too?"

"Tell you what," Rachel said from the kitchen where he suddenly couldn't see her. He figured she must bent over behind the counter, obscured from view and checking on something in the oven. "I'll trade your attendance at the union vote with the most delicious dessert you can imagine. Sound fair?"

He sighed and shrugged. One way or another, he figured at this point he was just delaying his inevitable acquiescence. Since when could he ever say no to Rachel Berry? And dessert sounded like a pretty decent trade since he knew first hand her baking was fabulous. He downed the last of his beer before answering. "Okay, fine. What is for dessert, anyway?"

Rachel suddenly popped up from behind the counter in nothing but a thin, black lace bra that left very little to the imagination. Her long brown hair was tied up off her back with just a couple of wisps cascading appealingly over her shoulders. She stared at him, eyes dark with filled with lust.

Finn's mouth dropped open and his own eyes went wide in awe. When she stepped around the counter in killer high heels, see-through lace stockings and very thin lacy panties that had snaps at the crotch, his pants instantly became a size too small.

"I thought," Rachel began as she walked towards him slowly, her arms behind her back and her heady stare boring right through him, "that perhaps we might have some whipped cream and berries."

To his astonishment, she pulled a spray can of whipped cream from behind her and decorated herself along her breasts, right where the lace bra met her smooth, tanned skin. Frozen in amazement, Finn sat glued to his chair, his eyes locked on her swaying hips as each step brought her closer. Little flowers of whipped cream appeared as she dabbed along her collarbone before she sat primly in his lap. "Did I say whipped cream and berries? Perhaps I should have said whipped cream and...Berry."

Finn swallowed as his hand steadied her, resting at the small of her back. Her one arm came around to play with the hair at the back of his neck, and try as he might he found it impossible to not stare at the line of whipped cream outlining the top of her lacy bra. He closed his eyes momentarily just so he could concentrate enough to formulate his words. "Uh...Rach...didn't...didn't we agree to courtship before...well...you know...doing this?"

"We did," Rachel agreed, the hand holding the whipped cream drifting lower towards her thighs. Finn watched, salivating, as she put little dabs on the skin between her panties and stockings. "But we've had four or five dates now, and frankly it's been far too long." She looked up to him with a serious expression. "Seriously, it's been a very long time, and I don't feel like waiting anymore."

"So...you're basically saying you're...too horny to wait?"

"That's one reason," Rachel admitted, dabbing her finger with whipped cream and then licking it off, her tongue slowly circling her finger before she put the whole digit in her mouth and drew it out slowly. Finn thought his crotch was about to explode. "The other reason, you see, is that we had a bit of a scare with your thyroid cancer. It made me realize that life is short and that our time in this world is limited." She playfully sprayed dabs of whipped cream on the inside of her thigh, and Finn suppressed a groan of appreciation, barely holding himself in check from devouring her that instant.

Her finger crooked under his chin and she pulled his gaze up to meet hers. If anything, the lust in her eyes had intensified. "Let's be clear in case there's any confusion here, Finn; you're mine, I'm yours, and it's playtime."

She sprayed a large dollop of whipped cream on her tongue, dropped the can behind her on the floor, and slowly brought her tongue back inside her mouth, causing some of it to smear on her lips. Slowly, seductively, she licked off the rest from her lips as her hand purposely reached between his legs to fondle him through his pants. Her lips brushed along his jaw until they were a hair's breadth away from his ear. "Take me, Finn."

With a guttural, carnal growl, Finn scooped Rachel up and slammed her into the couch, She squealed with laughter as his lips and tongue began to greedily attack her skin everywhere she'd sprayed the whipped cream. Soon his clothes and her lingerie were cast aside and forgotten on the floor.

It was one of the best desserts Finn had ever had. He may not enjoy union meetings, but he had a feeling he'd have a huge smile on his face going into this one.

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