A/N: So this is my new story. Pretty straightforward, based on the movie Return To Me with Minnie Driver and David Duchovny. One of my sappy favorites. This first chapter is kind of the prologue, kinda sets up the whole story. Anyway, if you've seen it, it's basically the same storyline. If you haven't, you can either watch it/read the synopsis, or enjoy the ride!

Rachel Berry was five years old when she first slipped on ballet flats. Her fathers were fearful of their tiny daughter starting to dance, but it was what she wanted, and whatever she wanted she made sure she got. Her ambition and headstrong attitude had been made known to the world from the very day that she made her presence – a beautiful, five-pound bundle of joy. And boy did that little girl scream. The Berry men were actually quite concerned for some time that Rachel had some case of colic or just wasn't happy. But they soon found that Rachel just liked to make herself known, and that she would use her voice to do it.

As she got older, voice and dance lessons took up most of her time, as well as her need for perfection in every aspect of school. The Berry men owned a restaurant on the Upper West Side of New York City – Patty's Italian Bistro. It was an Irish themed Italian restaurant, an idea crafted by the unique mind of one Hiram Berry. Turns out, it was a hit in the city, and even more as a simple neighborhood restaurant. When Rachel became old enough, she started picking up shifts at Patty's, to help her dads out. All through high school her schedule was very much the same: school, Glee Club, vocal lessons, dance class, and then working at the restaurant. To an outsider her days may seem a bit hectic, but to Rachel they were days spent doing what she loved.

When she graduated high school, there was no question of where she'd attend college. She got accepted to Julliard with a generous scholarship, and after she read the acceptance letter to her fathers, she made the promise that she'd be on Broadway within four years. The first day of classes she met the girl who would become her best friend – Brittany S. Pierce. In high school, Rachel was never the most popular girl. She was the lowest of the low, a certified gleek. Even her glee club friends refused to give her the time of day unless she was winning them a competition. So when Brittany not only sat next to her in her dance seminar, but also engaged her in excited chatter, she was won over by the bubbly blonde.

Before the two girls had known it, and entire year had gone by. And then two, and three, and finally four. It was actually in their last month of school when it happened. Rachel was doing her usual vocal warm-ups before a rehearsal when she felt a twinge in her chest. Nothing major, just a small stab of pain that made her pause before she could hit her high note. She brushed it off and continued, but then three days later it became a full-fledged burst of pain that blossomed from the center of her chest to her fingertips. Her professor caught her has she sunk to her knees, grasping at the thing white shirt that separated her hand from the delicate skin of her chest.

For a week they ran tests. She was seen by countless doctors, as the pain steadily progressed. Her fathers were going crazy, coming in and out of the hospital room with flowers and gifts and wishes of wellness from friends and family. Every time she saw them, she knew they were more worried than they seemed. Behind their smiles and words of reassurance was a look in their eyes that screamed concern and helplessness. So when a doctor in a neatly pressed lab coat waltzed into her room and gave her diagnosis, she swore she could've had a heart attack then and there.

Heart failure. That was it, that was all it took for her entire world - her hopes and dreams, to shatter to millions of tiny pieces. Her fathers gathered her in their usual Berry hug, but it wasn't the same, because now one of them was dying.

She had said it would take her four years to make it to the stage. She wishes she could go back in time and slap herself for making such a statement. For giving herself so much hope and confidence, and then to have to watch it all dwindle away. Her own heart, the thing that made her who she was, that allowed her to live, was giving up on her. No more dancing, no more singing, nothing that exceeded the confines of a slow walk. Months turned into a year, and her hospital bed had become a prison. Treatments had failed her, the doctors were slowly losing faith along with her fathers (though they'd never admit it), and her only hope was a new heart, for someone else's heart to make the blood pump through her body and veins and to just let her live.

"I'm not ready to die yet," she told Brittany that night, the night. Brittany looked at her so sympathetically, and in that moment Rachel hated her for looking at her like that – like a pathetic and injured dog that needed to be put out of its misery.

"Rach," she whispered sadly. "You're not going anywhere."

"I was supposed to be there by now, Brit. I was supposed to be up on that stage, and singing, and dancing," the pale brunette told her earnestly, grasping her hand from under the thick blanket. She could feel the heart in her chest, slow and steady, and with every shallow breath she could see another light go out on her dreamt-up marquee.

"You're not going anywhere," the blonde assured, this time louder and more assertive.

Rachel gave a wistful smile, holding back a bitter laugh. "If only my heart thought the same."

Quinn Fabray loved animals.

Her parents knew it, her friends knew it, and her family knew it. Everyone knew it. She spent most of her early years begging her parents for any kind of furry companion, with no such luck. It wasn't until her tenth birthday that she received a puppy, a Jack Russell named Sam. Before then, she'd beg her mom to take her to the zoo, just so she could be around the animals. She's wonder from exhibit to exhibit, sticking her face close to the glass, and staring longingly at the array of species before her. One of her favorite exhibits was the Monkey House. There was an amazing gorilla that lived there, and her name was Molly. Molly was different than the other animals Quinn came into contact with. She was special. The first time Quinn met Molly, they were both five years old. Quinn was scared the first time she encountered the huge animal, but then Molly did something extraordinary – she went right up to where Quinn was standing and placed her large hand against the glass, the other drumming an erratic rhythm on her chest.

From then on, little Quinn decided she'd do everything in her power to help animals. So she worked hard in school, even participating on her high school's cheerleading team. After practice, she'd walk a couple blocks from her high school down to the Central Park Zoo to volunteer. Eventually the zoo decided she should get paid for all the help she provided, and gave her the job of feeding the animals. It was honestly the one thing she looked forward to all day. Throwing fish to a bunch of penguins may seem tedious to some, but for Quinn, standing in her rain boots with the smell of raw fish surrounding her, she couldn't be happier.

In Quinn's senior year, she met Elizabeth. She was a beautiful breath of fresh air. Elizabeth was two years her senior, and studying communication with animals at a local school in the city. She actually first saw her idling around Molly's enclosure. She was trying to teach Molly certain hand signs, and Quinn watched in amazement as Molly picked them up. Elizabeth, and her older colleague Heather, worked around the clock with Molly. One day, Elizabeth noticed her hanging around and asked who she was. Quinn proudly introduced herself as Molly's closest friend, and Elizabeth, or Liz as she would later be known, was somewhat taken aback at her straightforwardness and protectiveness. The two eventually learned to work together, and one day as Liz was putting things away, Quinn kissed her. Liz was put off at first, and thought it was inappropriate, but eventually the two started a tender and close relationship.

When Quinn graduated high school, she wasn't quite sure what path to take. Her family and Liz encouraged her to go into a veterinary program, but Quinn knew this was a grueling and expensive field to go into. So instead she went to NYU, starting out as an undecided student. She would remain one for two years, as her family, along with her best friend since the age of twelve, Santana Lopez, encouraged her to pick something to actually do. Liz witnessed the stress that Quinn would put herself under, searching through different courses and classes. She would sit on her bed and silently rub her back, just letting her decide what she wanted. At the end of the day, after her classes, she would catch the subway just to see her animals, and see if they had any advice for her. She went to Molly, her confidant, and quietly asked her what she should do with her life. Molly simply looked at her dead in the eyes and put her dark hands briefly over her heart, and she kept doing it until it became a slow and steady rhythm. Quinn stared in amazement at Molly's message.

Follow your heart.

So Quinn decided to pursue her other love – writing. She majored in English and took journalism classes, all in the hopes of some day writing a book, an article, a paper – anything. She graduated from college top of her class, with many honors falling behind her. She was quickly hired at a small newspaper centered in downtown Manhattan about two months after graduation, and kept her job at the zoo as well. By now, Liz was hired as a specialist at the zoo, and the two had bought an apartment together near both of their jobs. They were in love with each other, and with their animals. Liz was the only other person that Quinn felt comfortable sharing Molly with, the only other person who understood her primate friend. By the time Quinn graduated college, Molly knew over fifty words in sign language and could communicate with her handlers, and with Quinn as well.

Quinn asked Liz to marry her the night before the big benefit to raise money for Molly's new enclosure. Liz, always with Quinn, was taken by surprise but answered with a happily resounding, "Yes!"

The benefit itself was amazing, as hundreds of people around the city seemed to be as invested with Molly's learning capabilities and need for space as Quinn and Liz. The couple danced the night way, secretly celebrating their engagement and kissing under the hot lights of the ballroom.

Quinn looks back on this moment, a mere four hour later, as she runs alongside a stretcher holding her fiancée. At a certain point, a nurse tells her she can't go any further, and that they were going to do their best to help Liz. It's then that she takes a look at herself – her white dress is stained a deep red, and Quinn finds herself hardly able to breathe. Santana shows up forty minutes later, just as a doctor in a crisp white lab coat waltzes in and delivers the blow.

"We did all we could…"

They make her sign things, and inform her that her fiancée was in fact an organ donor, and that although her life was lost that night, she had the ability to save another. Quinn rolls her eyes at the kind nurse, wishing that Liz was the one they'd been able to save. Santana silently wrapped her arms around the quivering blonde and let her cry on her shoulder. When they opened the door to the apartment, Quinn and Liz's three-year-old yellow lab, Oliver, happily greeted them, jumping up and down in anticipation of seeing Liz, one of his favorite people. Quinn didn't have the heart to deal with it…how do you tell a dog that its owner is dead?

Santana leaves her with a hug and promises of returning early the next morning, and Quinn waves her away with a heavy heart. She closes the door behind the Latina and sinks to the floor, resting her head against her knees. Oliver lays at her feet, ever the loyal companion. She sighs and reaches to scratch him softly behind the ears, as tears collect in the corner of her eyes.

So much for following her heart.