A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. Okay, okay, I know. It's like I'm throwing random ideas against a wall and gathering up the words left over. But if you must know, I was driving home from school when the first line to this fic slammed into my head like a wrecking ball. And for this little beginning, I could not convince myself that I didn't want to write more to it. No matter how... Nonsensical this is. It seems fun and I like writing fun things (even if I'm writing a lot of angst on the side).


In the middle of glee club, Rachel's arm fell off.

Staring down at it, she smoothly knelt to pick it up, turned away from everyone else, and jimmied it back into place. Then, flexing her hand and rolling her shoulder, she sighed, smiled, and turned back around. "I'm sorry, Mr. Schuester. May we start from the beginning?"

Everyone leaped away from her, diving behind the piano and knocking down chairs. "What the hell?" Puck barked, the only one seemingly able to say anything.

"I'm sorry," Rachel smiled hesitantly, eyes flitting around the room, "I've just entered into my second phase, so I still don't have perfect control over everything."

"Don't have… Don't have perfect control? Second phase?" Quinn spluttered, "What the hell are you?"

Rachel drew herself up straight. "How rude."

"Are… Are you a zombie?" Mike squinted, still not relaxing from where he had placed himself in front of Tina.

Rachel huffed. "Don't be silly, Michael. There're no such things as zombies."

Brittany chewed on her lip, staring intensely at Rachel, then stepped forward. Avoiding Santana and Quinn's frantic grabs, she walked straight up to the small girl. "Are you a starfish?" she asked.

Smiling, Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm not a starfish, Brittany. Nor what is more proper: a sea star."

"Oh." The blonde nodded. "I just wondered because you regrew your arm. Can I see?" And, without waiting for an answer, Brittany had shoved the sleeve of Rachel's shirt up. "Lord Tubbington grew a new tail once, you know."

"Technically, I reattached it." Rachel tilted her head. "Does Lord Tubbington love pickles?"

Brittany paused. "Pickles are his favorite food…" Her eyebrows raised, and she leaned in close towards Rachel's face, "How d'you know that?"

"God, get away before freaky jaws erupt from Rachel's face and she swallows you whole!" Santana snapped as she yanked Brittany back, pushing her at Quinn to hold her back.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel crossed her arms. "Unfortunately, Santana," her voice dripped scorn, "That's not until my twelfth phase. Darn. No tasty blonde snacks for me." She shook her head. Walking towards the piano, she paused when members of the jazz band sprinted towards the safety of the rest of the club near the risers as she approached. Frowning, she took a seat on the piano bench, rotating to face everyone. She crossed her ankles, dropping her hands into her lap, "Fine. Ask away."

Finn looked like he wasn't sure if he should be throwing up or lapsing into shock. "Rachel? What…? I didn't imagine that, did I?"

Not saying a word, Rachel shook her head.

"Wait, wait, wait." Mr. Schuester put a hand up, then ran it through his hair. "As the adult here, I think I'm qualified to ask you directly: What?"

Rachel pursed her lips, then blew air out of her mouth. She looked away, towards the wall at a Cheerios poster, and raked her hair back from her face. "Yes, Dad warned me this might happen, but no. I care too much about my future, apparently. After all, 'a singer's duty is never done, and I cannot live in fear of discovery because it will hold me back'. Ugh!" She buried her head into her hands. "Why now? Wasn't it the third phase I had to worry about?"

"I'm still thinking you're one second away from snapping and eating us, or are you goin' all leper? So get to 'splainin', Yentl from the Black Lagoon," Santana called out.

"I'm not Jewish."

"What?"

"I'm not Jewish," Rachel muttered again, then let out another annoyed huff and looked up from her hands. She glared sullenly at Santana, then looked to Puck. "I mean, I am. Religiously. But not… Ethnically. And you could say… Terrestrially." Her eyes skittered away, and she shuffled her shoulders before firming them and raising her chin. When she smiled, her eyes filled with solid, burnished silver, and her appearance rippled for a second into an… otherworldly pale, exotic visage before blinking herself back to normal. "I'm an alien."