Choices. When faced with a difficult decision, there are always choices to make, options from which to select, alternatives to ponder…each of which has its unique set of ramifications. Rachel Berry is about to discover what her choices are and where they may lead…from a most unlikely source.

Thanks once again to Ryan Murphy (and Company) for the "Glee" universe and the characters that inhabit it. Although they all belong to him, the story is my spin on a specific situation that occurred back in Season 3. Happy belated Halloween!

Rachel Berry hurried home after school, keeping to herself and ignoring the activity in the hallways. She had a very unsettling day and needed time to process without the distractions that come along with one's high school experience. You see, today her on-again, off-again, and (currently, with an "expiration date") on-again boyfriend Finn Hudson had proposed marriage.

Although Rachel was flattered, she realized that marrying so young would most likely put a damper on, if not completely derail, her dreams. She believed it was her destiny to obtain a performing arts degree in New York and pursue a career in musical theater, hopefully on the fast track to Broadway stardom, with Tony Awards and accolades surely to follow. She knew deep down that Finn really wanted a conventional life in Lima, Ohio, and would most likely not be happy living the (hopefully) extraordinary one she had planned out.

But…what if she failed? What if she was a big fish in a little pond here, and she would only be shark bait in New York? What if college was harder than she anticipated? Could this be a good back-up plan? Would Finn accompany her to New York? Would it be fair to ask him? If he did, would he regret his choice…after all, who would ever regret trading up Lima for New York…come to think of it, probably Finn.

How could a little nobody like herself, the main bullying target of the popular crowd, have possibly ended up with the quarterback on the football team? Should she consider herself lucky and jump at the chance? What happens after graduation and there's no more football team to champion and no more glee club to lead; what then? Was this her "happily ever after"…or would it be her "Hell on earth"?

Rachel, who liked to chart and graph every step of her life, was handed a situation she never expected, and was completely at a loss. Her head was spinning, and she decided to lie down, hopefully to sort things out. She let herself into her still-empty house (fathers still at their respective offices), dropped off her books, hung up her coat, ran upstairs to her room, toed off her shoes, and clothes still on, got onto her bed, resting her head on the pillow. Even as wound up as she was, she fell asleep in moments.

Rachel had no idea how long she'd been sleeping when she felt a jostling of her bed, and then the sense of someone sitting down. She roused, opening her eyes to find a woman she had never seen before, but, somehow looked very familiar. The lady was wearing a shirtwaist dress and sensible shoes that were in style 50 years ago. She wasn't young but didn't look elderly, either. She had a serene countenance about her, with salt-and-peppery hair and a light olive complexion.

"Who are you?" Rachel asked defensively. "How did you get in here?"

The lady smiled gently, responding, "Why, I'm your Bubbe Rosie, dear. I was your Daddy's Bubbe; your Bubbe's mother."

Rachel was dumbfounded, interjecting, "But you passed away before I was born…how…" and she was suddenly at a loss for words.

The woman explained, "When your fathers told your Bubbe that your mother was going to have a little girl, she asked them if they would name her…you, that is…after me. Your Bubbe visited me at the cemetery later that week and asked me to look out for you. She said they were going to name you for me; 'Rochel' is my Hebrew name, and that's the name you were given, too."

"But…how…why…" Rachel desperately attempted to grasp the situation that was unfolding, still unable to find the words.

"You seemed distressed, so I came to see if I could help you sort things out," she patiently explained.

A thought occurred to Rachel, and she asked "Does that make you my 'Guardian Angel'?"

"Not really, dear," Rosie patiently replied, smiling kindly, "Jewish people don't believe in 'Guardian Angels', per se. Let's just say that family looking out for each other extends beyond what we experience in our daily lives, and leave it at that."

"What do I call you?" Rachel inquired.

"You may call me what your Daddy did; 'Bubbe Rosie' will do fine." She put her hand out and touched Rachel gently on the forearm, continuing, "Tell me, Rachel, what's upsetting you?"

Rachel sighed heavily; she was having enough trouble dealing with the events of the day, and adding this to the mix was a bit much. However, she decided to "go with the flow"; after all, not everybody can get advice from their great-grandmother, especially when she's been dead more than 30 years.

"Bubbe Rosie, my boyfriend, Finn Hudson, proposed to me today in school, and I don't know what to do," Rachel desperately replied.

"Do you love him?" she patiently asked.

"Yes…that is, I think so," Rachel cautiously admitted.

"Have you ever had any other boyfriends, Rachel?" her great-grandmother inquired.

"Yes, two other boys; Jesse St. James and Noah Puckerman. Why do you ask?" Rachel responded.

"Well, it sounds like you don't have much of a basis for comparison…not that it's a bad thing, mind you," the woman quickly clarified her statement. "Did you ever wonder what marrying one of them some day would be like?" she continued.

"Yes…maybe a little," Rachel sheepishly admitted.

"That's perfectly natural, dear, especially at your age. Don't be embarrassed," Bubbe Rosie comforted her. "What drew you to them?"

Rachel smiled, explaining, "Jesse and I have the same goals and ambitions; we both want to be stars on Broadway, and he is the most talented singer I ever met…outside of myself, of course. Noah is a 'bad boy' with a good heart that he seldom shows; he's extremely talented, too. He could be a great man someday, if he would stop putting himself down and selling himself short…and he's an amazing kisser," she divulged.

Her Bubbe grinned, prodding her, "And this boy, Finn…"

"Finn is the quarterback on our high school football team and my co-captain in the glee club. Our voices blend perfectly, and I'm lucky that he picked me over all the prettier girls in school and asked me to be his girlfriend," she explained.

The older woman found Rachel's answers interesting, especially since she had little to say about the boy she was considering marrying beyond that she was lucky that he asked her out. She looked at Rachel for a moment, taking in her great-granddaughter, and a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Rachel, would you like to know what your life would be like if you were married to each of them?" she impishly inquired.

Rachel sat up, her face considerably brightened, asking, "Can you do that, Bubbe Rosie?"

"Yes, I most certainly can," she confidently replied. "They won't be able to see or hear us, and I have no idea what we'll find, but we can certainly peek in on those scenarios. Of course, that's not saying that you won't end up with somebody else," she cautioned Rachel, "this will be based on how your life would be if you would marry one of them."

Rachel's eyes sparkled; this was way better than a fortune teller or "Ouija board" at a slumber party. "OK, Bubbe Rosie, what do we have to do?"

"Just take my hand and we'll see where we end up," the woman said with a grin, standing up and reaching her hand out to Rachel. Rachel also stood up and grabbed onto her hand, and suddenly everything was hazy, like they were in the midst of a fog.

When the fog cleared, they found themselves in a sun-filled room with expensive, modern looking furniture. It was more like a showroom than a home, as if nobody lived there. There was a glass display case with a Chanukah menorah on the top shelf, some miscellaneous modern "bric-a-brac" on the bottom, and some certificates and a Tony Award somewhere in-between; not prominently displayed, but not hidden, either.

"Oh my gosh, is that mine?" Rachel excitedly asked, pointing to the object.

"Yes it is, dear," Bubbe Rosie confirmed.

"Where are we?" Rachel queried.

"This is your home with Jesse," the woman explained.

Rachel grinned; she knew Jesse would help her become a star. She looked around and noticed water and a beach outside the vast picture window. "We're not in New York, are we, Bubbe Rosie?" Rachel realized.

"No, you live in Malibu," Rosie explained. "Jesse thought it was time to break into the movies, and you moved out here."

Before Rachel could ask a question, someone entered the room, and she was momentarily silent as she watched with fascination, which quickly turned to horror when she realized the woman in the room was herself; she was reed thin, with a bosom much too large for her frame, her hair was blonde, her skin was unnaturally tan, her face looked pulled, and her lips were unusually full. "Bubbe, is that me?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Yes, it is, dear," she answered. "It seems that you were more successful in the theater than Jesse, and his ego couldn't handle being overshadowed. He had an opportunity to appear in a movie, so you pulled up stakes and moved here." Rachel couldn't believe it; Jesse would take her away from her success to find a better one for himself?

"Why do I look like…like that?" Rachel asked, her voice a combination of concern and disgust.

Her great-grandmother answered, "Jesse thought a few 'enhancements' would make you more marketable, when, what they really did was take away what made you unique. He monitors your diet like a hawk because he insists 'the cameras add ten pounds'; he has an image to maintain, part of which is how you look on his arm." Rachel was taken aback; Jesse had never complained about her appearance…but he never really complimented her, either.

At that moment, Jesse entered the room, and all conversation ceased. He was still so nice looking, tall and lean; his hair was shorter, but the natural curl could never be denied, and Rachel smiled at the sight of him. Her smile quickly diminished as he spoke, however. "Rachel, have you made that appointment, yet?" he coldly queried.

"Jesse, I have no intention of getting my nose done; you can forget about it," (future) Rachel equally distantly responded.

"Noah always said my nose was part of our proud heritage," (present) Rachel confided to her great-grandmother. Bubbe Rosie smiled in return, nodding her head back toward the couple, who were in the midst of discussion.

"I don't understand why I can't have a baby, Jesse," (future) Rachel complained. "It's not like I'm working right now."

Jesse frowned, replying condescendingly, "Rachel, you know that the camera adds ten pounds, and you need to look your best if you want to be an actress."

(Present) Rachel looked extremely dejected, and her great-grandmother sighed, explaining, "Jesse really doesn't want children because he doesn't want to have sex with you; Jesse's gay, Rachel, and you're his 'beard' so he can be considered for romantic, leading roles." Rachel gasped; she was trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage to a man she apparently never really knew.

"Why don't I just leave him?" she blurted out.

"You've considered it, actually," the older woman replied, "but Jesse burned too many bridges and you'd have to start again from the bottom. You still have your voice, of course, but now you look like a dozen other 30-something, middle-of-the road actresses. At this point, you've basically made your peace with it…you have a certain lifestyle that you're used to, even if it's emotionally bankrupt, it's all you know, now."

Rachel felt felt proud that she'd managed to win a Tony, disappointed that she let herself become victimized, and relieved to know that Jesse was definitely not her "leading man", after all. "I've seen enough, Bubbe," Rachel stated. "Where to next?"

Fog overtook them once again, and when the mist evaporated, Rachel found herself in significantly less elegant quarters. The room was lovingly decorated if a bit worn, and it definitely looked lived-in. There were magazines scattered on the coffee table and a couple of sweaters tossed carelessly about, and a La-Z-Boy recliner off to the side that definitely had a "man of the house" air about it. There was a glass curio cabinet here, too, but there were trophies for bowling, softball, hockey, and soccer; no Tony Awards, and definitely no Judaica in sight.

"Where are we now, Bubbe?" Rachel asked, inquisitively.

Rosie replied, "This is your home with Finn, dear…in Lima, Ohio."

Rachel's face was crestfallen; somehow, she knew that Finn's dreams would take precedence over her own, no matter how much he protested to the contrary. Here she was, yet again, playing the victim to another man. Rachel rolled her eyes in frustration, and was about to fold her arms defensively when movement across the room caught her eye, and what she saw caused her to cry out "Oh my G-d" in disbelief: there was (future) Rachel in a pair of "mom jeans" and a flowing, un-tucked shirt, unsuccessfully camouflaging the at least 50 additional pounds that engulfed her tiny frame.

"Bubbe Rosie, what happened to me?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Well, some women, when they're unhappy in their marriage turn to shopping, or substances, or younger men. You found two new best friends in 'Ben and Jerry'," the older woman patiently explained.

"I'm unhappy? How could I be unhappy with Finn?" Rachel posed.

"Let's see if I can give you a quick run down," Rosie began. "You and Finn got married right out of high school. You were all set to go to school in New York, and Finn was going to apply to a community college there, but you got pregnant on your honeymoon. Nine months later, Finn, Jr. was born."

"Finn Jr.?" Rachel quizzically repeated.

"Yes, dear, I know it's not very Jewish, but it's what he wanted, and you acquiesced," she explained. "Both of your parents helped, and you and he went to OSU Lima and got teaching degrees. You weren't happy, but Finn was, so you played along, hoping his dreams would eventually become yours." She paused, looking at an increasingly disappointed Rachel, and then returned to the story. "After you started working, at McKinley High School, I might add, you had Christopher…yes, not a Jewish name, either, but in memory of his father…"

Rosie took a deep breath, smiled gently, and continued, "You were a virgin before Finn, and he was only with one other girl, so neither of you had a chance to learn much about sex. Finn never satisfied you, Rachel; you didn't know how to verbalize it, and he was too clueless and self-involved to notice. You became increasingly disillusioned with your job, your life, and your husband, and you just gave up. You never lost the 'baby weight' from the second pregnancy, and the heavier you got, the less he desired you; it became a vicious circle."

Rachel was about to question her great-grandmother further when Finn walked into the room. (Present) Rachel gasped; Finn was not the "golden boy" she remembered, but slightly round shouldered, carrying a small beer belly that protruded out over his khaki pants. "You know, Finn," (future) Rachel began, "Junior is 12; we should start him on his Bar Mitzvah lessons and book the Temple…"

"Rach," Finn emotionlessly interjected, "we discussed this before we got married, and we agreed. I'm not having any of that in this house. We celebrate Christmas and Easter and that's it. Period. No Bar Mitzvahs, no way, no how. My family would never understand," he concluded, sitting down in his recliner, releasing the footrest, and turning on the TV with his remote, indicating the conversation was over. (Future) Rachel stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a cookie from the cookie jar, and took a huge bite, quickly devouring it and helping herself to a second.

"Bubbe Rosie, I can't imagine it would ever be this bad," Rachel argued, in denial over what had played out in front of her.

"I'm sorry, dear, but, apparently, that's what the future will hold for you and this young man," she consoled her great-granddaughter.

Rachel sighed deeply, requesting, "OK, Bubbe, I've seen enough. Please, let's get out of here."

Engulfed in the time-traveling vapor for a third time, when it cleared, they were in what appeared to be nicer (than the prior encounter) surroundings, but nowhere near as sterile as the first. The room was beautifully decorated yet homey and welcoming. There were books lining the shelves and a piano in one corner of the large, sunny room with handwritten sheet music propped up on the stand. Children's toys were concentrated in one area: several dolls, a fire truck, some Legos, and a stuffed bear. Here, the glass curio held Judaica as well as a prominently displayed Tony Award, a Drama Desk Award, a Grammy, two Gold Albums, and a Platinum Album. There was a mezuzah on the doorpost into the room, and, from what Rachel could see, at the entries to the other rooms, as well.

Rachel glanced out the window and noticed the bustle of the city, smiling to herself that, at least in this version of her life, she was living in New York. She proudly assumed the Tony was hers and wondered whether the recording awards were hers or (she assumed) Noah's.

"This is your life with Noah, Rachel," Bubbe Rosie explained. "Your faith in him enabled him to believe in himself, and he joined you for college in New York after he attended community college in Lima and pulled up his grades. He became the man you always knew he could be."

"Is that my Tony, Bubbe?" Rachel curiously inquired.

"Yes, and the Drama Desk Award, too. The music awards are his, though," she clarified. "He became a successful music producer and songwriter. In fact, you two will be working on an album together, soon," she confided. Rachel was going to ask for more information when Noah entered the room.

Rachel sighed softly at his appearance; if it was possible to improve with age, Noah had certainly done just that. The tuxedo he wore complimented his toned physique, and Rachel was certain that his arms were as "lovely" as ever.

"Baby, have you seen my cufflinks?" he called out, presumably to (future) Rachel, who quickly answered, "They're in here, Honey; I'll bring them out when I'm done."

"He's quite handsome, Rachel," Rosie commented, "much more so than the other two."

"He is, at that, Bubbe Rosie," Rachel admitted, smiling, as the scene continued to unfold in front of them.

"Don't be too long, Babe," Noah gently admonished her, "Kurt and Blaine will be here with the limo in about 20 minutes."

"We're almost through in here, Noah; I'll be out in a minute," (future) Rachel called out.

"Rach, remind me, what number are you performing from the show?" he inquired.

(Present) Rachel could hear herself (that is, future Rachel) laughing gently from…wherever she was. "For sentimental reasons, I really wanted to sing 'Don't Rain on My Parade'," she confided, "but the director preferred 'His Love Makes Me Beautiful'. It's a bigger production, for one thing…and let's face it," she paused, entering the room in a beautiful ruby-colored gown, "given the circumstances, it's probably the most appropriate," she admitted, grinning and patting her "baby bump".

Rachel was happy to see that although she (future Rachel) was pregnant, she was still relatively slim. She was glowing and looking adoringly at Noah, who responded in kind, kissing her on the forehead to keep from smudging her carefully-applied makeup or mussing with her hair. (Present) Rachel felt so excited, crying out "Bubbe, I'm up for a Tony Award for 'Funny Girl'! That's one of my dream roles!" She watched in fascination as (future) Rachel handed Noah the cufflinks, and, as he began fastening them, he called out, "Kids, come say goodbye to Mommy and wish her luck tonight."

Three young children came running out, enthusiasm momentarily tempered by their father. "Clean hands and faces?" he teasingly queried.

"Yes, Daddy," the eldest, a girl, answered.

(Future) Rachel squatted down as (apparently) her children, two girls and a boy, hugged her, their sweet, childish voices echoing "Good luck, Mommy!"

(Present) Rachel, pleasantly surprised, turned to her great-grandmother, asking, "Are those all mine?"

A smiling Rosie nodded, explaining, "Anna, the eldest, is six…her middle name is 'Rose', by the way, so thank you. David is four, and Sarah is two. You planned your pregnancies between shows. And, by the way, the baby is a boy; you've picked the name 'Joshua'." Rachel's face wore a self-satisfied smile; she and Noah had made beautiful children together, and she was able to keep her career going while raising a family.

Her musing was interrupted by her great-grandmother, who elucidated, "The album you'll be recording is all original lullabies and children's songs that you and Noah collaborated on for your own family." (Present) Rachel was about to comment when (future) Rachel, now standing, instructed, "You may stay up to watch Mommy's category, but after that, it's off to bed. Beth, you'll make sure they do that?"

A teenage girl, around 15 or 16 entered the room; she was tall and slim, with medium brown hair and hazel eyes. "Sure, Rachel, I'll take care of it," she confirmed.

"Is that Beth?" (present) Rachel asked Rosie.

"Yes, both Noah and the girl's mother see her; your mother has mellowed with the years, and the two of you are cordial to each other, now. Beth finds it highly amusing that her sister's children are her half-siblings."

"Beth's mother, Quinn; what happened to her?" Rachel inquired.

"She's married and has three beautiful little girls. You two became close friends over the years, and they live nearby."

Rachel pondered a moment, asking, "Do I know her husband?"

Rosie smiled, answering, "I believe you do, dear. When Noah moved to New York, he came with his friend Samuel Evans. Apparently, they reconnected at some point…"

Rachel was pleased to know that things had worked out well for more than herself and Noah. All at once, she was overtaken with a feeling of exhaustion. "Bubbe, this has been most enlightening, but suddenly, I feel very tired," Rachel admitted with a yawn.

"That's all right, dear; rest, now," Rosie soothed her, as, suddenly, they were back in Rachel's bedroom, and she was reclining on her own bed once again.

"It was very nice to meet you, Bubbe Rosie; I love you," Rachel said as she closed her eyes.

"I love you too, dear," the older woman admitted, kissing Rachel on the cheek and watching her drift off to a peaceful slumber…

"Rachel, Pumpkin, wake up. It's supper time," her Daddy called to her, gently touching her on the shoulder.

Rachel opened her eyes, yawned, and stretched. She definitely felt more contented than when she had drifted off. She seemed to have had the most bizarre dream, but it was all very ambiguous, now, all fuzzy images and disjointed ideas, and she couldn't really remember anything significant. However, she had reached a decision.

"Why did you go to bed so early, Rachel?" Hiram inquired. "I haven't seen you take a nap since you were a little girl."

Rachel smiled at her father, yawning again as she readjusted to her surroundings. "I had a lot on my mind, Daddy, but I think I figured it out," she vaguely admitted.

"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about, but, whatever it is, I'm glad you resolved it." He looked around, his face taking on a slightly confused expression as he sniffed the air, and he asked, "Rachel when did you start wearing 'Chanel No. 5'?"

"I haven't, Daddy; I've never even tried it," she confirmed.

"That's odd," he replied, "my Bubbe used to wear that all the time. I'd swear that I could smell it, and I haven't noticed that scent since she passed away."

The next day at school, Rachel sought out Finn before classes started and pulled him aside into the empty choir room. Finn looked at her hopefully, asking, "So, Rach, do you have an answer for me?"

Rachel smiled genuinely at Finn, answering, "Yes, Finn, I do. I'm honored and flattered that you asked me to marry you, but I respectfully have to decline your proposal."

"But, why, Rach?" a perplexed Finn pleaded, "Don't you love me?"

Rachel smiled gently and took Finn's hands in her own, replying, "I do, Finn, but not enough to marry you. I'm too young to consider it; I want to go to New York and conquer Broadway, and I would never ask you to give up everything that's important to you just so I could live my dreams. I think, under the circumstances, it's probably best if we break up now, rather than postponing it until graduation." She looked up at him, saddened by his emotionally deflated expression. "Please don't feel badly, Finn. You need to find a girl who'll be happy living in Lima, and some day, I'll meet a man who shares my dreams, too." Rachel kissed Finn on the cheek, reminding him as she stood up, "I'll see you in Glee." She exited the room, leaving him confused and alone.

Rachel walked through the corridor toward her first period class, feeling lighter than air. She was momentarily distracted by her thoughts and literally bumped into Noah Puckerman, colliding face-first into his muscular chest. "Well, Berry, if ya' wanna piece of this, all ya' hafta do is ask," he teased, smirking at her.

"Good morning, Noah," she greeted him, dusting herself off to straighten her clothes and beaming at him, rendering him powerless to do anything but genuinely smile in return.

"Come on, Noah," she guided, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his, "we'll be late for class."

Although his original idea was to cut class and take a nap in the Nurse's office, he found himself being drawn in the direction of their mutual classroom.

"You know, Noah," Rachel offered, "I'd be happy to help you with your homework. You'd be surprised; once you bring up your grades, there's no telling what you could do with your life…"

Author's Notes: Although Rachel's great-grandmother would have passed away in the 1980s, she would have been an elderly woman. Most of the pictures Rachel would have seen of her would likely have been in her "younger" days when her father was a boy, back in the early 1960s; hence the attire from that era.

A mezuzah is a parchment that contains a specific (hand written) prayer. It is contained within a decorative casing and is placed at the doorpost to the entryway of all Jewish homes, as well as to every room within the home, with the exception of the bathroom. More information is available at the internet; I didn't want to leave anybody in the dark, though.