Title: The Shell Collector.

Pairing(s): Quinn Fabray/Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez/Ms. J

Rating: No holds barred. M/NC-17 ratings.

Extended Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Ryan Murphy's characters, Disney (other than a few DVDs- full disclosure), The Academy Awards, the British monarchy, the Tony Awards, the Imaginary Muccino's Italian Cuccino (but I will be Trademarking), or New York, Julie Andrews, Patty LuPone, Skype, NYU, Tiffany's, or motherhood in general. I don't own any of the real actors of Glee either (that would be kind of creepy if I did). I own very little, actually. This is strictly for fun, is non-profit, so no litigation required. P.S. More shit I don't own: Lea Michele. Demi Lovato. That hot chick from Rent. The hot mess that is Myley Cyrus. The Hippocratic oath. Yellow Jell-O.

Summary: Hitting a brutal reality check while walking the red carpet on Oscar night, Rachel wonders how she found herself here, and how to find herse, lf again. This is the story of how she does just that.

A/N: Wow, I've been blown away the response- thank you.*blushing* Folks - I like to write smut with a bit of plot sprinkled in here and there, not the other way around. If you want K+, go read K+. Just sayin'. However, I really appreciate the extremely constructive criticism and copious complements, you guys were a lot of fun to write for when I took my jaw off the floor in realization other people were reading this besides me and my imaginary friend Eliose. (That last part is a joke. sort of.). You may see a spin off or two, specifically: authority figure Santana gets me unreasonably worked up, and her arrest (which I'm sure was so procedurally incorrect its not funny) has possibilities, and 2. Beth/Lea- its a lot of fun writing a pretend character and a real character...enter Dianna, perhaps? 3. I gave my pseudo-word to Dizzle24 that I would show the real story in order someday. Might even Beta it first. Who knows-miracles have been known to happen. I did kinda leave some chunks from the origional manuscript out. Finally, LaurenKnight, w1cked, laylaurei, cuccino24, AlyBerry, and SnugBr534- you have been the best homies, evah! Thanks for your insane support, I appreciate it.

Epilogue: The Welcome Address

"Hello, prospective students, prospective parents, fellow academics; I thank you for considering New York's preeminent charter school, Direction Academy, for your secondary education. I'm Rachel Berry, Dean of Operations and Communications."

An impromptu round of applause broke out. From the back, someone yelled, "Sing, Rachel!"

She laughed. "That is traditionally saved for commencement, and primarily for my other job. Moving along...Although we have a very short history here at Direction, I'm pleased to say, we have developed in five short years, a venerable and storied tradition of sorts."

She then took the microphone off the podium, and began walking up and down the rows to connect one on one with the audience.

"Imagine if you will... assembly of some of the greatest educators and non-traditional educators of our generation... People successful in very different fields, all brought together, in one institution, for one common goal: to establish and cultivate the next generation of individuals that will literally change the way the world works."

The superintendent of schools leaned over to her principal. "Hey, they really drink up her Kool-Aid, don't they?"

"Don't we all?" He replied.

"Unbelievably...yeah, we do." She added after a moment. "I never thought I'd be excited to look at the fossilized brains of parents and their imbicile children again...and yet, the midget drew it out in me...pretty crafty."

"I think I would label it...gifted."

"Whatever, female Donny Osmond. Drink your Kool-Aid."

"Don't you mean, male Marie Osmand?" He asked, confused.

"Stop being such a communist. The lady's talking." She said, pointing at Rachel.

Rachel gave her traditional speech, detailing how the school was the singular inspiration of its current Chair of the Board of Trustees; and how the assembly and selection of a staff by the Chair quickly gave shape to the infantile Directions Academy, ultimately blossoming into he premiere high school of New York, ranking #1 in this years' US News and World Report ranking list; giving an abridged version of the trials and tribulations of starting a new school in the climate of New York City's public education system (intentionally leaving out the details of how the then District Attorney Santana Lopez strong armed a few colleagues). She described the vision of a strict bully free environment; how children could be free to learn and grow in an environment of "can-do.". She detailed the meteoric rise towards becoming an academic and an athletic powerhouse, and of course, the feeding ground of any child aspiring to any type of performing arts.

"So, allow me to introduce the person who's vision began all of this...its my honor to introduce, Ms. Quinn Fabray, the Chair of the Board of Trustees."

A standing ovation met the bashful woman, as she headed towards the podium.

"I'd like to thank the Dean of Operations, for that lovely introduction; or as I like to say, 'Thanks, wife!'"

After the obligatory chuckles died down, Quinn gazed across the audience, and began.

"I wish I could say I had some master plan, or really, had the ability to take credit for any of this. As it turns out, I really was just a piece of the puzzle. I had some resources to start this school, to help get it off the ground; but the vision, implementation, and direction falls to others, who deserve mention." She looked reverently around the room.

"First of all, I would like to introduce our Superintendent of Schools, Dr. Susan Sylvester; her academic reputation really needs no introduction. I thank you, Sue, for finding a way year in and year out, a way to allow our teachers to actually teach."

After the applause, Quinn continued. "Next, our excellent Principal of Schools, Dr. Blaine Anderson; whose experience and vision has made this institution what it is. Next, our Dean of Admissions, which we all recognize may be the hardest job here, I'd like to introduce Ms. Emma Shuester. Her job is to make this institution what it will be. Myself, and Ms. Berry, are grateful for the dead on insight she applies every year to get that job done. Finally, you'll meet the incredible teaching staff today, but before we adjourn, I would like to mention our indomitable Board of Trustees. This is a group, I'm proud to say, boasts a Nobel laureate; multiple Tony, Oscar, and Grammy award winners; a Pulitzer Prize awardee; a James Beard finalist; a Newbury award winner; The President of the American Bar Association; A Superbowl champion participant; a former Governor; and,oh- I almost forgot...and of course, The Queen of England."

Laughter erupted amongst the crowd.

"What the school brochures don't tell you, however, is this: on the same board, we also have people who have been convicted of crimes; suffered teen pregnancies; been broke and on welfare; have been thrown out of their homes and disowned; have been bullied; have acted as the bullies..." Quinn took a breath. "On this same board, are people who suffered from mental illness and survived, people who have disabilities, mental and physical; people who were told they would never go to college. Oh, and I don't think I need to mention... we also own the most famous losing streak, in history, for the Tony awards."

Nervous chuckles broke out.

"The moral is, here at Direction Academy, is this: these are the same people, in group A as in group B. We could be defined by our successes, or our failures. The difference between the two groups is merely perspective, and opportunity, and someone who came along, who made a difference in our education. We know at this institution, the simple truth is that sometimes, it is not pure success that defines us. Sometimes, it is more important to be taught how to succeed, than the actual act of succeeding."

XOXOXOX

The election returns were coming in painfully slowly. At Lopez headquarters, Santana had worn down the carpet to a nub.

"Hey! Tits! Take a load off, you're making ME nervous." Sue said, matter of factly.

Rachel gently pulled Santana down to the couch. "Santana, why don't you have one of Bea's meatballs? You haven't eaten anything all day!"

Her eyes were glued to the television. Smiling wanly at Rachel, she said to the innocent staffer by the television, "Kid! Turn it up, I want to hear the talking heads."

Q shook her head, grimly. "You sure about that, San?"

"I wouldn't have asked, otherwise."

"Fine. Can I ask why you're so much more insane about this campaign than you were about your own gubernatorial race last year?"

Biting her nails, she absently replied, "'Cause I'd knew I'd win. Duh. Now shhh, I want to hear this."

"Why do you want to hear FOX news?" Rachel rolled her eye.

"Because you keep your friends close...but your enemies closer, Rachel. Now Shhh."

The longtime friends huddled around the broadcast. Despite her grimace, Rachel did actually keep quiet.

"Dari, I can tell you, this is going to be a nail biter the whole way."

"Absolute, Ernie. New York's Thirteenth Congressional District, long held by Congressman Charles Rangel, has always been the bellweather of New York Politics. Upon his sudden death last year, its no secrecy the liberals hated the interim appointee,John Dockter, and that's why so much money has been thrown into this campaign!"

"Yes, this has been an astronomical campaign in terms of spending for a Congressional race. Despite his obvious lack of experience, the challenger definitely had some well connected folks in high places."

"Such as our own governor." Snorted Dani. "Talk about someone calling in favors! She has every special interest group lobbying for her - the gays, the Hispanics, and the Italians mobilized for her in record numbers for the inexperienced challenger."

"It's 'Latinos' you racist! God, I never liked that stupid Bitch." Muttered Santana. Shouting at the TV, she said, "At least my brains are in my head, and not between my legs!"

Brittany rubbed her back, consolingly, as Santana swore in Spanish.

"Well, all all that money doesn't seem to matter now. is The once invulnerable 'golden boy' of politics, who seemed immune to losing, definitely faltered along the way at the end, some pundits are saying a race that was his to lose might just be that. Certainly, the fact he had sex with an underage minor, and wasn't prosecuted, is a big factor."

A third voice interrupted. The figurehead liberal spoke up, "Yes, but they later married, and that claim was never proven to be factual. And Bea Lopez, his wife, his off the scale in terms of likability. Plus the fact he's married to a Hispanic/Italian woman plays well in this city, and in this district."

Santana stood up, shaking her fists. "Why the fuck doesn't anyone listen? I am not Italian. Bea is not Italian! What the fuck do I have to do to get this across to people?"

Q laughed. "San, relax. So what if she's Italian?"

"But she's NOT! She's Puerto Rican and Chinese!" Her eyes went wide as she realized her inadvertent confession.

Seven sets of eyes focused on her, saying in unison "What?"

"Forget I said that. Go back to watching the drones on FOX."

"Chinese? Oh no, girlfriend, you don't drop a bomb like that and walk away!" Mercedes said, laughing.

Slow realization dawned on the group, and every pair of eyes, once on Santana, swiveled to Tina Cohen-Chang, whom they now called Chang-Chang, after her marriage to Mike.

"Is that why you didn't want your son, Bai, to date Bea in middle school?" Lauren asked, making the connection, and laughing.

Tina went red, and began to stutter, looking at Santana helplessly.

"Okay, you fucking voyeur perverts, leave Chang-Chang alone. Yes, Mike is the donor, a'ight? Bea made me promise not to tell, so she could keep some ridiculous illusion of Italian-ness, so you losers need to keep a lid on it!"

The only one who wasn't freaked out was Sue Sylvester.

"Ahhh. I commend you, Santana Lopez. Your inflatable flotation devices didn't screw up your brain, totally. You went for the Asian fast track, didn't you?"

The Governor was blushing. "I don't know what you mean."

"You picked the smartest genetic donor you knew. Brilliant. Strong work, that explains a lot about her. Well, I thought you stole her from some nursery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, but I'm glad to know there's an explanation for her brilliance." Sue nodded her head. "Good job, Lopez."

"Well," deflected Santana, "He did graduate second in our class. And as far as I know, Quinn doesn't produce sperm, so, that left me with Number #2."

"Actually, I do produce sperm. Rachel just made me get a vasectomy."

"Okay, ew. Programs' on." Brittany announced.

"Unbelievably, the challenger still appears to have held on to his slim lead of 58% to 40%, with 2% undecided. The polls have closed in New York, with 80% of the precincts reporting."

"Fuck my eyeballs. Only FOX would call a 12% victory margin "slim." What fuckers! What fucking fuckheads, damn!"

Q held out the swear jar and Santana put a $50 bill in it.

"Well, kids, it appears there is a first time for everything." Santana said, smugly.

"What's that, San?"

"It appears... New York has sent an honest man to Washington." She smiled, stretching, and said to no-one in particular, "Hey, losers? Do we have any of Bea's breadsticks left?"

THE END.