A/N: What I wish happened after Rachel asks Shelby to write her letter of recommendation to NYADA. Thanks a ton for reading!

Application Status: Incomplete

Frustration settled heavily across Rachel's sharp features while she clicked on the icon to refresh it one last time, just to double-check.

Application Status: Incomplete

With a dejected sigh, she closed down the web page and logged out of the computer. She glanced at the clock, gathered her belongings and made her way out of the computer lab. If she hurried, she could catch her right after Treble Tones rehearsals ended.

There was no sound of music, no visible dancing or anyone left on the stage.

It was the first thing she noticed when she walked into the auditorium from the back entrance.

Still rooted to her spot in the back row, she spotted the vocal coach standing at the director's table speaking in quiet whispers to Santana. She felt strangely surprised by the unexpected pang she felt in her chest at the sight but forced herself to stamp down the unbidden emotions she felt brewing. This was a business call. She just needed to remind her one more time and then she could move on. She wouldn't have to interact with her any longer. She didn't have to ask her for anything else.

It'd be over. They'd be done.

But did she want it to be? Did she want them to be?

"Come to spy on the competition?"

Rachel frowned. "I'd have to consider the Treble Tones as actual competition, in order for that to be true, Santana."

The cheerleader raised her eyebrow in amused indignation. "Whatever you say, Berry. In case you're forgetting, we have Shelby Corcoran."

Rachel hesitated a beat as her breath caught in her throat. Even just hearing her name still affected her.

She hated it.

"Okay, well, I don't have time for this, so see you never," Santana remarked, bored, as she stepped around the brunette.

Rachel faltered for an instant when Shelby's head turned towards her and met her gaze. She unglued her feet and slammed on her show face, refusing to let anything crawl behind it. She could do this. She just had to stay focused.

After drawing in a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she strolled down the aisle with a fake confidence to meet the teacher waiting for her at the director's table. Rachel swallowed at the entirely confused look being cast her way as she approached.

"Hey Rachel, how's it going?"

Rachel paused. Even with the house lights dimmed, it was the first time she could clearly see it. She folded her arms across her chest as she stared at what could very possibly be an older version of herself. It was all there, the big, bright eyes, the full mouth, and the long dark hair. Rachel could see every line of her mother's elegant form perfectly.

"Rachel?"

She forced herself to drop her arms to her hips, the last thing she wanted to do was give away her anxiety. If there was a word for her to describe her elusive birth mother, it'd be strength. She refused to appear weak to the woman.

"Hi, sorry. I'm just…"

Rachel swallowed again hard at the glimmer of concern she saw flash in those eyes so much like her own. What was that?

"Rach? Are you okay, hon?"

Rachel snapped out of her trance to face the woman. Only her birth mother had this effect on her.

"I'm fine," she eked out, grateful to have found her voice "Everything's fine. I just… I know it's not due until this Sunday, but I was going to ask if you're almost done with your letter of recommendation for my NYADA application? Do you need any more information from me? Or do you want another copy of my CV? I can resend it if you've lost it."

Shelby blinked as she struggled to keep up, taken aback by the rapid-fire string of inquiries. "Oh," she caught on, finally realizing what the teenager was referring to. "Yes. Sorry. I actually just finished writing it. It's done. I know it's been a little while, I was, well… I wanted it to be just right. I just have to type it up and need to look it over one more time and then I'll submit it. In fact, I'll do that now when I get back to the teacher's lounge. Left my laptop there. I apologize. Am I keeping you from submitting your application?"

"It's okay," Rachel shrugged, slightly calmed by the fact that the older woman was acting as rattled as she felt, which was a first for her. At least she wasn't the only one unable to string together a coherent sentence. "I just wanted to remind you before the weekend. Thanks again… for agreeing to write it. I, uh, appreciate it."

"Of course, Rachel. Anytime," Shelby nodded, her voice denoting a tone that if the girl asked her for anything else, she'd comply in a heartbeat. "Although I found it kind of difficult to put you down into words. You're quite… you are very special."

Rachel couldn't help the shock from filtering onto her face, also unable to stop the small smile from forming on her lips while the warmth of the flattery washed over her. "Thanks… again. Yeah. Thank you."

"Sure," Shelby returned the grin, in fact, emboldened by it. "Hey, what are you doing tonight? Would you maybe want to—"

"I better go," Rachel blurted out, feeling immensely awkward, uncomfortable all of a sudden. She couldn't let Shelby finish the rest of that question. She simply wasn't ready. "Just wanted to remind you again. Thanks, Shelby."

"Oh," the older woman's entire demeanor visibly deflated at the not-so-subtle rejection. She could take a hint. And she didn't have a right to push. Not really, anyway.

"Alright," she replied in a tone that demonstrated that she had her estranged daughter loud and clear. "Thanks again for that reminder. I'll go get that done right now."

Shelby stood up from her seat and began collecting her belongings and throwing everything that was laid out on the table into a large leather tote in a frantic haste that made Rachel's stomach drop and clench. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but closed it back again once she saw a sudden flash of pain in those emerald green eyes.

"I'll see you around, Rachel," Shelby said a moment later, a weak smile crossing her face while she hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. "I'll make sure to get that letter done tonight. I hope you have a good weekend."

Struggling, Rachel only offered a reluctant nod and stepped aside to allow the woman to exit down the aisle. At the sound of the auditorium door closing a few seconds later, she felt an instant bout of tears begin to swell underneath her eyes. Why was this all so difficult?

She blinked several times while she tried to catch her breath, but couldn't seem to remember how to. Defeated, she lowered herself down at the seat just previously occupied by Shelby with a careless grace and dropped her head into her hands.

Shelby was her mother, not her mom. She just needed to remember that. Mother. Not mom.

When she finally lifted her head, she caught a glimpse of an abandoned legal notepad at the far end of the table through her periphery. Curious, she sat up and reached over to pick it up, reading the first few lines written across the top of the yellow legal pad in black, gel ink pen.

To whom it may concern,

It is my pleasure to recommend Rachel Berry for admission to your undergraduate musical theater program at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. As her

Rachel's eyebrows scrunched together in perplexity while she scanned the rest of the paper, flipping it back and forth to check for more when the sentence ended abruptly.

She skimmed through the other pages, slowly realizing there were dozens and dozens of pages filled. Of Shelby's writing. It was her notebook.

To whom it may concern,

I enthusiastically recommend Rachel Berry for your musical theater program at the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. I've taught drama, directed plays and coached a show choir team for more than a dozen years and I can count the students of her caliber with one hand.

While comfortable in the spotlight, Rachel does not seek it to the exclusion of other academic and professional growth.

To whom it may concern,

I am excited to provide this letter of recommendation for Rachel Berry. Rachel has established herself as a bit of a theater and show choir star in these parts, where she's made William McKinley High School's fall drama and show choir team come to life with her moving and memorable starring roles.

To whom it may concern,

It is with great pleasure that I write this letter of recommendation for the truly exceptional Rachel Berry. It is rare to meet a student with as much passion and self-awareness as Rachel. Her resilience, positivity and determination are especially astounding given the challenges she has overcome in her life.

To whom it

Rachel,

I've written dozens of these letters but I seem to be struggling, more than I anticipated, to write yours. I'm not sure why but nothing I write seems to sound right. Or good enough to do you justice. Maybe it's just difficult to put you into words. I mean really, how can I even begin to describe all that you are. Anyway, if I'm being totally honest, I was surprised that you asked me to write this for you. You've been avoiding me, and, I don't blame you, but I wish you wouldn't, Rach.

I wish that we could talk.

Sincerely,
Shelby

Rachel flipped over the most recent letter she just read and paused, not unaware of how her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. She rifled through the forgotten notebook again and found that the rest of the "letters" were addressed to her. It was her mother, Shelby, writing to her. Talking to her.

They were all drafts of what was supposed to be her letter of recommendation for NYADA. Some were incomplete. Others crossed out and erased. Some longer than two pages. And there were dozens. But why?

Confused. A large part of her wanted to stop. It felt like it was an invasion of her privacy. It felt wrong. Still, it was addressed to her, and an even bigger part of her wanted to keep going. Shelby's certainly never spoken to her like this in person. She'd never been this honest with before. At all. She needed to read more.

Dear Rachel,

It's been a couple days since I started writing your letter. I asked Will for some help. To gain some more insight about you. He sang you praises, obviously. I think he really does care about you. And he seems to know you pretty well. At least, more than I do. I'm glad for that. Having a teacher who supports you and looks out for you is important. That was always important to me. He recommended that in order to write a genuine letter about you to the admission's committee that I start with a list of everything that I know about you. I think it might be a good idea. I know we haven't really spent a lot of time together, so I'm not sure how well this will go. But, I figured that there's nothing wrong with trying, so here it goes. I know that...

- Your grades are perfect.

- You're going to graduate with honors.

- You were the lead in the school musical.

- You plan on winning the election for student class president.

- You are the co-captain of the New Directions.

- You teach tap classes at the JCCC.

- You are a dog walker with the Humane Society.

- You worked as a camp counselor with adopted teens.

- You're a mezzo-soprano.

- Your vocal style is classical/musical theater.

- You speak some German, French, Italian, and Latin.

- You have one of the most extraordinary voices that I've heard in years.

- You're extremely talented.

- You're a natural-born leader.

- You work hard.

- You are dedicated.

- You are determined.

- You're strong.

- You're resilient.

- You're passionate.

- And thoughtful, kind.

- Special.

Sincerely,
Shelby

Dear Rachel,

I showed Will my list. And he said he thought it was a good start, which is what I usually say to students when I think that something could be improved. He was kind about it, though, in the most Will kind of way. You probably have an idea of what I'm talking about. I think he was trying to say that while everything I wrote in my last letter was true, that it seemed rather impersonal. Looking back on it, I have to agree. I think I could do better.

I understand that there's more to you than that, because I also know that…

- You have an opinion, very strong ones, on just about almost everything.

- You can be an overwhelming ball of pure energy.

- You march to the quirky beat of your own rhythm.

- You're an ambitious dreamer, and you won't let anyone or anything stop you.

- You have an ownership over your future and your destiny that's beyond your age.

- You have this pride in your unconventional beauty that's envious.

- Your consistent, dedicated work ethic has seen some pitfalls, but still continues to propel you.

- You work tirelessly for what you want.

- Your confidence and belief in yourself is steadfast and contagious.

- You are doing exactly what you're meant to.

- You're incredibly loyal to your team and your friends. You have a love for them that's almost as big as your love for Barbra.

- You're compassionate and you stand up for those around you.

- You love your fathers, you light up every time you talk about them.

- You have this admirable ability to see the best in everybody, to uplift their potential.

- You feel everything and you don't shy away from expressing your emotions.

- You get criticized, made fun of, sometimes you're misunderstood, but you never let that stop you.

- You're not perfect.

- You make mistakes, plenty of them.

- Sometimes, you act impulsive. Sometimes, your intentions are misguided.

- But I do think that you're willing to learn. I see that you want to try — to do and be better, to correct your mistakes.

- You struggle. Behind that near-perfect show mask of yours, you can be insecure.

- You work twice as hard as everyone else around you to refuse to let that define you.

- You keep your head up. You rise.

- Even after everything I've put you through, you overcome.

Sincerely,
Shelby

This time around, Rachel wasn't surprised by the tears she felt streaming down her cheeks. She always thought, maybe even believed that she was nothing to her mother.

Certainly not all of that.

Shelby had made it clear. She was her mother, not her mom. They would be grateful for each other from afar. Whatever that meant. It was her suggestion. It didn't involve any of this. Nobody's ever seen her in this way.

Not Finn. Not Kurt. Maybe her dads, but not in this paralyzing clarity.

Did she mean it?

To whom it may concern,

Rachel Berry is a truly

Dear Rachel,

Hi. I'm sorry. I'm still struggling. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I know I sound like a broken record. I think that list was better. I feel like I know a lot about you. But, is it odd, that at the same time, I really don't? I don't know what your favorite color is, what's your go-to midnight snack, who your first crush was, what your biggest fear is, what's the one thing that never fails to make you laugh, or if you've broken any bones?

I don't know these things about you that a mom should. And that's my fault. Isn't it?

But I guess I also know a few more things about you.

I know that you're angry. I know that I've hurt you. I know you're disappointed with me.

And for that, I know, I'm to blame.

I don't know if I have the courage to ever say this to your face, but I am sorry, Rachel.

I'm truly sorry for everything.

Maybe I can explain it all to you one day. I hope I can.

Sincerely,

Shelby

Dear Rachel,

It's me again, which sounds kind of stupid, I know, since I'm essentially writing this to myself. But I can't sleep. It's been one of those days. Actually, I feel like I've been having a lot of those days.

Coming back has been hard. A lot more difficult than I had anticipated, and I'm wondering if I made the right choice. To be honest, I didn't really think it through. When I got the job offer to come teach at McKinley, it was a quick decision for me. And regardless of what you may think, it wasn't about the money. I know it sounds naive, but I wanted to return to Lima because I had this grand idea that I would get to come back and fix all my mistakes or that I would come back for second chances.

But, as you can probably see, that's a lot easier said than done. I don't think anyone here is really all that interested in me correcting my mistakes or making amends. Quinn certainly doesn't. I know you don't think I notice but I know you're purposefully ignoring me, avoiding me.

Though, Noah's trying. He's good with Beth. I think he really wants to be a good father to her, so at least there's something to be gained from all of this.

But more than anything, I wish you and I could try again.

Maybe I shouldn't have come back. Maybe I don't deserve a second chance. I'm not sure, but I really wanted to try.

Sincerely,

Shelby

Dear Rachel,

I've been seeing your flyers around for the student body president election, and I just want you to know that I really did mean it. I am proud of you.

I've spent a lot of time, maybe far too much of it, wondering what you would be like. Truthfully, I often wondered if you'd be anything like me, if you'd love music as much as I do, if you liked to sing or dance too, or if you found musicals interesting or boring.

But want to know what I've come to realize? I think you're better than what I ever came up with in my head. Really. I don't know that I could've thought of anyone as unique as you are.

I always think about the first time that I saw you at Sectionals a couple years ago. You were incredible. You had every card stacked against you, and you still shined. You, quite literally, came from out of nowhere and you went up on that stage and you absolutely took my breath away.

Sometimes when I see you in the hallway or catch a glimpse of you at rehearsals, I'm transported to that performance. Other times, I see you, and you look a little bit duller, and I'm honestly afraid that I had something to do with that. If that's the case, I am sorry. Again.

But anyway, your flyer really does look great. I hope you win. I don't know if there's any other senior that'd be as fit for the job as you are.

I'm rooting for you.

Sincerely,

Shelby

Dear Rachel,

I know I need to write your letter of recommendation, the deadline is coming up. But, before I do, I think there's just one more thing that I need to, that I wish I could say to you and it's this:

My parents came to visit me and Beth today. It wasn't the worst, but it wasn't the best. It was okay. I'm not that particularly close with them. And my childhood wasn't great.

Don't get me wrong, they tried to give me everything. They supported me as much as they were able to. But looking back at it now, I realize that they just didn't have the emotional capacity to be parents. I was an only child and growing up it really felt like I shouldn't have even been there. I think they love me. In their own way. I even believe that they do, though I've never really felt it, but the one thing that I knew was that I wanted to be different from them. I wanted to break the cycle.

I wanted to be a mother so badly, Rachel. I wanted to be your mom. I wanted us to have a relationship, so much so that I messed it all up. If I'm being honest, which is easier for me to put down on paper than to say aloud, I think I crumbled. I put too much pressure on myself, on you, on us. And I couldn't rise, so I walked away. It was all too much for me. There were too many expectations. There was too much at stake.

I was selfish.

When I sought you out two years ago, I was only thinking about myself and what I wanted. I'll be the first to admit that it was wrong. It was short-sighted and self-indulgent. I realize that now. After this past year with Beth and after coming back here, I understand now that it was all wrong.

I should not have ignored the contract or undermined your fathers to do what I wanted. It was meant to protect you and I was truly careless for disregarding that. It was not okay for me to have disrupted your life. It was not fair for me to have left and not given you a choice. It should have been about you, and I didn't put you first. You deserved better and I failed.

Unfortunately, it's taken me a long time to realize this. But you have to believe, Rachel that I sincerely never meant to hurt you. I handled it all wrong, yes. I ran away. I made narrow-minded decisions, but the last thing that I wanted was to cause you any pain. It's the worst thing that I've ever done, and I don't expect you to forgive me because I don't know if I could ever forgive myself.

If there's one thing that I wish I could tell you it's that I wish that I could fix it. I wish you knew just how badly I want to take it all back.

I wish you knew how sorry I am.

I love you,

Your mom

To whom it may concern,

The first time I saw Rachel Berry perform on stage, she changed my life.

I vividly remember the empty stage, a single spotlight trained front and center. The buzz. The anticipation. And from her very first sung note, I was hooked. Rachel's voice, for lack of a better word, was huge. It was too big for that little auditorium in Akron. It was too big for that high school competition.

It was gigantic, marvelous, and terrifying in the way that it filled and overfilled that auditorium without any amplification. She had no mic. But she didn't need one.

I've been to a number of competitions, concerts and the like in my long career as a show choir director but there's only been a few worth remembering. Rachel's performance of Don't Rain on My Parade isn't even on my list of the most memorable. It exceeds it. It's incomparable. And it was utterly galling. Not only did she have the nauseating guts to perform such a difficult and iconic song, she had the sheer talent to back it up. Dare I even say, she was almost too much for it?

Too much for Barbra. Think about that for a second.

And since then, Rachel's only gotten better. Her voice has only grown… bigger. Her talent has only expounded. Her drive has only amplified.

Her star is only just beginning.

Rachel Berry is the height of the type of student that belongs in your musical theater program at NYADA. You could do no better than to accept the exceptionally unique, intelligent, hardworking and dedicated student, singer, actor and leader that Rachel is and more. She has the singular commitment, drive and passion to develop her talents to its utmost.

She deserves a spot in your program, and I feel entirely confident in saying that if you equip her with a NYADA education, she'll use it and her remarkable gift to change more lives than just my own.

Rachel has my foremost and enthusiastic recommendation, and I can't wait to see what dynamic and challenging roles lie in her undoubtedly bright future.

Sincerely,

Shelby Corcoran

If Rachel had tears before, she was positively crying now.

It was dull throughout the entire time she was reading. But now everything hurt.

She dropped the notepad down on the table and pushed it away, almost as if she was afraid to read more. It was all too much. Overwhelming.

Confusion came first, then frustration. Why couldn't Shelby have said any of that to her before? Why didn't she try? She wasn't not open to working things out. She wasn't opposed to the idea of fixing things. Next was the flash of anger. She was selfish. She did hurt her. She walked away. Abandoned. Replaced. Left.

Shelby left.

Suddenly, Rachel just felt particularly sad. Not just in her heart but throughout her entire body.

Her mother, her mom, left. But she still needed her. She still wanted her.

For a moment, Rachel couldn't recall what she just read. There was just too much all at once that she felt winded. They had to talk about this. Right? She couldn't just let this go. She shouldn't just let it be over, let them be done.

Making a split-second decision, she leaned over to pull the notepad back. She just had to do one thing first.

Rachel halted outside of the teacher's lounge, mustering the courage to knock. Despite the fact that it was after school on a Friday and there was hardly anyone left in the building, if at all, she still knocked on the door timidly.

Crossing the threshold, Rachel watched as Shelby's eyes darted up from her laptop upon hearing somebody else enter the room.

The older woman looked completely surprised to see her standing in the doorway. She drew in a sharp breath and forced herself to stand her ground.

"Hi…" She shuffled awkwardly on her feet.

Shelby backtracked, throwing a polite smile onto her face. She closed down her laptop to give the girl her undivided attention.

"Hi Rachel."

"Hi."

"I thought you were heading home?"

"I was," Rachel swallowed. "But I found something of yours and wanted to drop it off. And I also… wanted to talk to you… if that's okay."

"Oh?" Shelby inquired, unsure as to where this was leading and gestured towards the empty seat across from her. "Sure, what is it?"

Thinking, Rachel rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment. She could do this. She needed to. She shrugged her backpack off her shoulder and unzipped it to pull the notepad out. Without meeting Shelby's gaze, she crossed the room quickly and settled down across from her.

"I think this is yours," she said, handing it over reluctantly. "You left it in the auditorium. I... I read it. I'm sorry. I saw my name and I couldn't stop."

Silence.

"Rachel—"

"Sorry, don't be mad. I just… I didn't know any of that. You've never told me. You didn't say anything. I always thought that you didn't care. I don't… I'm sorry, Shelby."

Flummoxed, Shelby only shook her head in response.

"But, I, uh, wrote you something. I don't know, I also have something for you too," Rachel stammered, her mouth moving quicker than her mind. She pointed to the notebook. "It's the last page after your final letter of recommendation."

Still speechless, Shelby assessed her missing notepad before tentatively picking it up, flipping to the designated page.

Dear Shelby,

- Pink

- Cereal

- Rick Nielson

- Failure. Rejection.

- My dads.

- Sprained ankle during ballet competition when I was nine. I still won.

I love you too,

Your daughter

Rachel held her breath while she watched Shelby's hand fly up to her eyes a few seconds later, swiping away the errant tears.

"They're answers to your questions," Rachel said, barely above a whisper, still refusing to meet her mother's eyes even after the woman reached across the table and grabbed onto her hand, squeezing lightly. "I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you. I'm sorry I've been so angry."

"Baby, I'm sorry," Shelby said so intensely and so firmly that Rachel was practically forced to believe her. "I'm so sorry for everything that I've put you through. You have nothing to apologize for. You are absolutely allowed to feel however you feel. You can be angry. You can ignore me. I hurt you. I'm the one who's made the wrong choices here. I'm the one who… I am so sorry, Rachel. And I'm even sorrier that it's taken me this long to say this. I should've said something sooner. You deserved my honesty and I—"

"It's okay, I read the letters," Rachel reminded herself to breathe. "And I didn't necessarily give you a chance to… but… I'm, I'm not sure. I don't really know how to fix everything between us but I was hoping that we can… try? I'd like to try."

Shelby looked up, sincerely astonished by the offer. "Oh, Rachel, are you… are you sure?"

Rachel nodded. It was decided. She didn't want it to be over. She didn't want them to be done.

"I just called my dads before I came to see you and they were, uh, we were wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner on Sunday night? You and Beth."

"Really?" Shelby checked with trepidation, unsure if she was hearing correctly.

"Really," Rachel nodded again through a quivery smile. "Only if you want to. They're okay with it. I'm okay with it. And I would like for us to, maybe, well, get to know each other better outside of school. We can—"

This time, it was Shelby's turn to interrupt. And she did so happily.

"Yes, I'll be there," she agreed, clearing her throat. "Of course. I would love to. That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Rachel beamed at the thought of a future now where Shelby could also be her mom, not just her mother.

"Okay great, I'll let them know you're in," she paused, eyeing the notepad. "And thank you, Shelby, for the letter of recommendation. It was… well, let's just say that I don't think Mr. Schue could have written me that."

Shelby exhaled her breath through a laugh. "Of course, Rachel. Anytime," she promised, reiterating her offer from earlier. Especially because if it brought them to this moment every single time, she'd write her daughter a thousand letters if she asked for it.

The End.