A/N: Reviving this super old account to (attempt to) fill a prompt at the rq_meme on livejournal. It's been a really, really long time, so I hope this doesn't suck.

Also, there wasn't a single way of writing Myspace that didn't piss me off when I was reading this back, so I've just written it how they do on the website, hopefully it isn't jarring or anything.

This is awesome! :) You're a really good singer.

Rachel stared uncomprehendingly at the screen, blinked and rubbed her eyes.

This is awesome! :) You're a really good singer.

The comment on her MySpace video was still the same - but this didn't make any sense. Sure, she knew she was a really good singer (actually, she thought she was rather more than just "really good" but that was a point for another time), and she quite suspected that her performance in said video was awesome (although that probably wasn't the word she'd have chosen), but for someone else to think it? Well that wasn't entirely new either, but someone commenting on her MySpace account saying as such was unprecedented.

What made matters infinitely worse was that the comment had been posted anonymously. How was she supposed to thank the commenter properly (and show her appreciation by dedicating a video to them) if she didn't know who had posted it?

Her mind went first to Jacob Ben Israel, but she was pretty sure he'd been permanently banned from MySpace after he sent her that picture she'd managed to hypnotise herself into forgetting. Besides, anonymity wasn't really his style - he was less a "watch you from afar" type of stalker, and more a "prostrate himself at your feet and give detailed accounts of his sexual fantasies involving you" type.

So who was it then, that wanted her to know she was awesome? It could always be Finn; although they had broken up the month before, after the less than shocking revelation that they really worked better as friends than boyfriend and girlfriend, it was entirely possible he'd forgotten, or simply been disappointed by the noted absence of girls who were willing to date him and decided to attempt to woo her again. That didn't explain why he'd chosen to remain anonymous, but then, he once spent a week praying to a grilled cheese sandwich, so who knew what went on in his head.

She closed her laptop decisively - she would have to investigate the matter further at school.

As she went about her evening routine she entertained vague fantasies of Jesse St James getting down on his knees and begging for her forgiveness, his anonymous comments his own way of showing his regret (this was a variation on a frequent fantasy, which always ended with him being haunted forever by the souls of baby chickens who would torment him to his grave). Another fantasy involved Puck shirtless, and telling her she was a really good... singer (the pause was for lots of suggestive looks and eyebrow raising, which would actually be sort of creepy, and besides, he was with Quinn now).

When she was almost asleep, and her imagination was no longer making sense, she had vague images of a pretty blonde girl telling her she was awesome, and a really good singer. If she didn't know any better, and if she was more conscious, she might have said it looked like Britney Spears. Or Brittany Piers. Or Quinn Fabray (but then, she was with Puck now).


As always, she awoke the next morning with renewed determination. Top of the "Rachel Berry: Official Goals and Targets List (2010-2011)" was to discover the identity of the anonymous commenter. Sure, it was just one comment, which in the grand scheme of things may have meant very little to the poster, but Rachel Berry was not about to let the author of her very first (positive) MySpace comment go without a performance dedicated to them, and possibly a signed photo.

She cornered Finn by his locker just before first period, "Did you leave an anonymous comment on my most recent MySpace video telling me that I'm awesome and a really good singer?" she said, before he'd had time to notice her, let alone say hello.

"What?" he blinked, distracted from trying to remember if the Shakespeare book he'd just found in his locker was for English or his American history class.

"Did you leave an anonymous comment on my most recent MySpace video telling me that I'm awesome and a really good singer?" she repeated at approximately twice the speed (she dated him all summer? Really?).

"You have a MySpace account?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Yes, Finn, and so do you, because I created one for you while we were dating so you could give me your thoughts on my videos. So, was it you who left a comment on my most recent - "

"Woah." he held up his hands in surrender, "It wasn't me, Rach. I'm still trying to figure out how to stop my Facebook page saying I'm interested in men. I don't know how Puck keeps guessing my password..."

"He keeps guessing it because your password is always some variation on "Finn likes football". Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find out who did leave the comment."

Finn watched as Rachel strode purposefully off - he'd dated that bucket of crazy all summer? Really?


There were many things Rachel Berry prided herself on, and one of them was her ability to read people. As such, she was certain that if she were to confront suspects with evidence of the comment, she'd surely see some kind of recognition in their eyes - and then she'd have found the culprit! The fan, she corrected herself. She'd have found the fan.

So at lunchtime she made her way to the school library, intent on taking a screenshot of the comment and enlarging it, so it would be easy for people to see - particularly if she presented it to, for example, the entire Glee club. Logging into her MySpace account however, she was surprised to be told "You have 1 new comment". Typically, this meant the Cheerios had been bored and had decided to give her creative new ways she might consider killing herself, but today was not one of those days.

This is SO good! You should do another song from The Lion King :)

The comment was on one of her older videos, a particularly heartfelt rendition of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". The comment was, again, anonymous, but Rachel was nothing if not gracious to her fans, and so she replied:

May I ask who is commenting? Also, I have done another song from 'The Lion King', which is linked below, but feel free to make any suggestions!

She took a screenshot of the new comment as well as the old, and printed them both, pleased by this extra ammunition with which she had to discover the identity of her new found fan.


She entered Glee club with an air of determination, but that was nothing new, so no one paid her much attention. Mercedes and Kurt were discussing the pros and cons of imitating a Lady Gaga dress, Santana was explaining to Brittany why Artie couldn't "just stand up", Puck was complaining to Mike and Finn about some "lame Disney movie" Quinn wanted to watch, and Mr Schue was trying, and failing, to get their attention.

"Mr Schuester, fellow Glee club members, may I have your attention please?" With some muttering and eye rolls, the room fell silent.

Will smiled and clapped his hands, Rachel was definitely useful for uniting the rest of the club in shared irritation, not to mention they'd do almost anything to shut her up. "Thanks, Rachel. Now today I want us to - "

"Actually I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to, Mr Schuester."

Will looked put out, but Rachel continued unabashedly before he could say anything. "Now, as you can see from these pictures - " she held up her two printed copies of the mysterious comments, "Someone has left two anonymous comments on my MySpace videos, and as I'm assuming the person behind them is a Glee club member, I'd like them to step forward now so I can thank them properly."

A wall of blank faces stared back at her.

"You really care that much about two stupid comments?" Puck asked.

"No offence Rachel," Kurt said, inspecting his nails, "But someone is probably just setting you up to make fun of you. A bored Cheerio who hates you, perhaps."

Santana rolled her eyes indignantly as everyone turned to look at her, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. What would I do after that? Reveal I secretly hated her videos? Yeah - that would be shocking. I actually think we should just all be thankful that computer access for the disabled has advanced as far as it has, because whoever likes Berry's videos is obviously blind and deaf."

Rachel stared at the Glee club glumly - no one was going to admit to it, and while conducting individual interrogations of each member was an option, her spare time was scant as it was. No, the most practical option was clearly to wait for the anonymous MySpace commenter to post more, gather information on their writing style and contrast that to a sample of each of the Glee members. Until then, she would observe quietly to see if anyone was acting suspiciously.


After Rachel had corrected a few of Mr Schue's flawed ideas, performed a solo, and given an inspiring speech on the importance of keeping up to date on current events (so the emotion you feel for victims of war and poverty might be conveyed in your performances), the "quiet observation" plan was all but forgotten. She didn't have long to regret her own inability to simply watch anything however, because by the time she got home, engaged in small talk with her fathers, ate a light snack and googled her own name, a new comment had been posted.

Not my favourite song from the movie, but you did this really well. You should do one of the songs from Hunchback of Notre Dame.

The comment was on the Lion King song Rachel had given a link to earlier in the day, although they hadn't bothered to reply to her own comment.

She replied quickly, I never have before, but as you asked, I could postpone the third rendition of "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" I had planned for tonight, and choose something from that instead.

As it turned out "God Help the Outcasts" had very relatable lyrics, and Rachel considered suggesting it to Mr Schuester as a potential candidate for sectionals, but he was notoriously unreceptive to anything which didn't include awkward rapping.

The next comment was posted only a few minutes after she uploaded the video, and Rachel allowed herself time to read and reply, even if it would make her nearly six minutes late for bed.

This is great, you're so talented!

May I ask again who you are? she replied, Also, the songs below better show off my vocal range, if you'd like to see.

She gave a few links, and went to bed with a smile on her face.


The next day was Saturday, which meant Rachel's schedule was as full as it could get while still allowing time for bathroom breaks (she'd only made that mistake once). She had to go grocery shopping with her fathers, then to the hospital to read to sick children (she used to read to the elderly, but there were too many complaints), followed by extracurricular reading and research, catching up on the letters of complaint she needed to write, singing lessons (to keep her vocal chords in good working order, she reminded her teacher regularly, not because she needed to learn to sing), tap dancing class, volunteer work at the animal hospice, and finally home to watch cartoons.

Unlike a normal Saturday however, she managed to find time to check MySpace in between, and occasionally (to the annoyance of her tap dance teacher) in the middle of, activities. The anonymous fan left her several comments throughout the day, all of which Rachel replied to, giving links or recommendations. The commenter never replied to her directly, but there was always a new post on the video she had suggested, or another similar to it. Nor did they answer any of Rachel's questions - which ranged from the subtle ("Would you say this is your favourite type of music?") to the desperate ("I must know who you are, please reveal yourself instantly.") and it almost felt as though she were chasing her elusive fan through her own back catalogue.

The next day proved much of the same, although the commenter replied much less - leading Rachel into wild speculation about what could be keeping them occupied on a Sunday (Church? Or was some kind of sport played today that she wasn't aware of?). However, it seemed the more they posted, the less Rachel wanted to know their identity. After all, it was entirely possible that Kurt was right, that someone was just setting her up to make fun of her...and if that was true, well, she didn't really want to find out. She'd spent years putting all that work into the videos, and no one had ever recognised it, the only people who even acknowledged them only mocked her mercilessly - and now someone was finally, finally interested. They thought she was talented, they wanted to see other performances, they wanted her opinion. And if that was a lie...well, Rachel didn't want to know.

So the weekend came and went, and as the days wore on, Rachel continued to answer the commenter with enthusiasm, giving suggestions and links to the best of her ability (as if Rachel Berry would do less), but she asked fewer and fewer questions of her own. She was used to spending her lunchtimes in the choir room, practising for Glee or just playing for fun, but she found herself cutting that time short to go to the library and check her profile, avoiding the disapproving glares of the librarian, who wouldn't condone the use of school computers for such irresponsible activities. The commenter typically replied over the lunch period as well, and she found herself staring around the library at the other students, her heart sinking if she spotted any Cheerios or football players.


It was Wednesday night, and if she was honest Rachel hadn't been entirely happy with her newest video - it was a little rushed, she'd felt, and she'd been tired. Although she was reluctant to post a sub-par performance, it was getting late, and she still had to renew her domain name before bed. So, when she checked MySpace for the last time before going to sleep, she wouldn't have been surprised if the commenter had foregone her newest video for an older one. But nevertheless, the reply was there, and the only one since the first with no questions or suggestions.

I wish I could tell you to your face, you're really beautiful.

And then there was no doubt, Rachel had to know who it was.