Chapter 1: Chapter 1

A/N: I just watched the Cory Monteith tribute episode (I get it a day later than it airs in the U.S.) and I basically cried from start to finish and then some. There was no way I could write anything that didn't have something to do with Finn, and even now I don't know what I'm doing. I decided to do Carole, Burt, Kurt, Rachel, Santana, Blaine and Puck's P.O.V., but I haven't written half of them before so I may not get their characters completely. So... I guess you'll just have to read.

P.S. I don't explain how he dies because I don't know, and I don't want to make something up. I also changed Burt and Carole's last names to 'Hudson-Hummel'.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or anything you may recognise, and find it really annoying that I have to write this even now when I really just want to get on with this.

(Carole's P.O.V)

'Hello, Carole Hudson-Hummel speaking, how may I help you?'

Carole and Burt had been in the middle of dinner, talking about their days and how Carole had had a patient who kept complaining about a pain in their leg when there was nothing wrong with it, and who kept insisting that they needed medicine for it, and how Burt had a new apprentice who held so much potential, and could one day become an incredible mechanic, if they stopped dropping all the tools, when her mobile started ringing. Normally, they didn't keep mobiles at the dinner table, but today Carole had forgotten. Just as she was about to decline the call she was overcome with a strange feeling – a need to answer the phone – and as she believed in things such as mothers instinct she decided that she shouldn't ignore it, and answered the phone.

'Mrs. Hudson-Hummel? We have some bad news.' Her heart stopped, willing it to just be one of her patients, but she knew the odds were against her.

'Yes?'

'Your son, Finn Hudson, passed away a few minutes ago. He...' She didn't hear anything after that. The phone dropped to the floor as the blood drained out of her face, and she could vaguely hear Burt calling her name, but she didn't pay any attention because Finn was dead. Her beloved son, her little boy, was gone forever, and she couldn't get him back.

(Burt's P.O.V)

Carole answered the phone, and suddenly her face went white.

'Carole? Carole, honey, are you ok?' Burt saw the phone fall from her hands, and instantly knew something was wrong.

'Carole? Carole, what's wrong?' Pushing his chair out, Burt raced around the table and grabbed her hand, willing her to answer him. He noticed that whoever had called hadn't hung up yet, and he picked up the phone.

'Who is this?'

'Mr. Hudson-Hummel? I am Dr. Ian Jones from Lima Memorial Hospital.'

'What do you want? More importantly, what did you say to my wife?'

'Your son, Finn. He passed away a few minutes ago. We did everything we could to save him. I'm sorry.'

Burt's hand holding the phone shook, and the hand holding Carole's gripped tighter.

'Are you sure? I mean, are you sure it's our Finn?'

'Yes. I am truly sorry. If you would come down to the hospital so we can fill you in on everything, we would appreciate it.'

'Thank you. We w – will.' Burt's voice cracked, and he hung up the phone and let it drop to the floor once more. All he could think about was the fact that Finn was gone, and then all the things that he would never get to do. He would never get married to Rachel, he would never have kids, never become a teacher. And Burt would never get to see him again. Never get to give him a hug, or say 'Good job, kid'. Never get to teach him how to change diapers. Never get to teach him to be a good father. Never get to do any of the things that he had been planning on doing with him.

Wrapping his arms around Carole, and letting her sob into his shoulder, Burt thought about Kurt. How he would react, how he would deny it at first, then burst into tears and sob about his brother. And Rachel. The poor girl, who was to be Finn's future wife. Who would have her world come crashing down around her with those three words. Finn is dead.

(Kurt's P.O.V)

You are the sunshine of my life

That's why I'll always be around

You are the apple of my eye

Forever you'll stay in my heart

'Dad?' Kurt groggily said into the phone, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

'Kurt.' His father's voice sounded rough and scratchy, as if he had recently been crying.

'Dad? What's wrong? Are you ok? Is Carole alright? What's happened?' Kurt sat upright, all remnants of sleep having disappeared the moment he had heard his fathers voice.

'You always know when something is wrong with me, don't 'cha?' Burt let out a humourless laugh, which rang throughout Kurt's ears and instantly alerted him to the fact that something was terribly wrong, if his father couldn't even make a joke and laugh about it. 'Well, it's times like this I really wish you had never left Lima. I really don't want to pass this information along to you over the phone, but I have no other choice.'

'Dad, what's wrong? Tell me.' Kurt realised that he was biting his fingernails, a habit of his which occurred when he was worried or nervous about something, and which he had tried to get rid of to no avail.

Clearing his throat, Burt began. 'It seems as if... something has happened... we just got a call, Carole and I, and, well, the hospital called to say that Finn had been entered into the hospital half an hour ago with serious injuries and he –' At this point his father's voice broke off into a choked sob, before he regained his composure and continued. 'He passed away. They – they d – did ever – everything they could –'

Kurt's hand came up to cover his mouth, and his whole body started trembling. Shaking his head, Kurt started talking for the first time in a few minutes. 'No. No, no, no, no, no. There has to be a mistake! It can't be Finn, some other Finn Hudson. They've got it wrong, just call them and tell them that they're wrong and that they have to call a different family –'

'Kurt.'

'I mean, he has so much to live for! He and Rachel will get married someday, and he'll become a teacher and take over Glee from Mr Schue and maybe even take over football from Coach Beiste and he'll live a long and happy life and have kids –'

'Kurt.'

'And he has so much potential to do so much and help so many kids and maybe even –'

'Kurt!'

Cut off from his ramble, Kurt drew a deep breath and released, still holding onto the hope that Finn was still alive, even though he knew, deep down, that he was kidding himself.

'Kurt. He's gone.' His father started sobbing, repeating those words. He's gone. But, for some reason, Kurt couldn't cry. It was like it was impossible for him to cry, because he hadn't processed it yet. His heart was aching, his head spinning, he had tears in his eyes, and his body felt like it was going to explode if he didn't let out his sadness in one way or another, but he couldn't bring himself to let the tears fall. Suddenly, a thought hit him.

'Dad. Have you told Rachel?' Kurt was overcome with worry, because he just – he didn't know how Rachel would react to this, and he wanted to be the one to tell her. He didn't want her to find out that her love had died over the phone.

'No. I didn't – didn't wa – want her to – to find ou – out from me. You should – you should –' His father broke out in sobs again, and after saying his goodbyes, Kurt hung up the phone. His dad had Carole, and Carole – oh, the poor woman – had his dad, they didn't need him right now. Rachel did.

(Rachel's P.O.V)

'Rachel? Can I come in?' She heard Kurt's voice from the other side of the curtain, which acted as a door to her room. She was in the middle of practising her lines for Funny Girl, and though she didn't want to be interrupted, she consented to his entering with a 'Come in, if you must.'

'Hey Rach. I have to – to tell you something.' Rachel noted Kurt's tone of voice, and turned to look at him. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, and he kept fiddling with the hem of his shirt, head turned to look at her bed instead of her, all tell-tale signs that he was upset.

'What's wrong Kurt? Did – oh god, you and Blaine didn't break it off, did you? If you did, I'm going to –'

'No. No, it's – it's worse.' Sitting down on the bed, Kurt patted the spot beside him. 'Sit.'

Rachel complied, wondering what in the world was going on.

'I just got a call from my father and – and he said –' All of a sudden, the tears which had been refusing to fall started streaming down Kurt's face, and Rachel instinctively embraced him, hugging him to her chest. Resting her head on his shoulder, she encouraged him to continue.

'He – he said – that – that F – Finn w – ha – was – d – dead.' Her heart stopped.

'What?'

'He's dead. He – he's gone. Oh god, he's dead!' Removing her arms from around Kurt, Rachel curled up into a tiny ball and hid her head in her arms. He's gone. Finn's gone. The tears started streaming down her face, and she felt Kurt's arms pull her down, so they were both lying on the bed, curled up together. They lay there for a while, just in each others embrace, and after a while, Rachel just became – numb. There was no other way to describe it. Numb. She didn't feel Kurt slip out from underneath her, she didn't feel him kiss her on the forehead, or hear him tell her to get some rest. She didn't feel the covers being placed over her body, nor see the light being turned out. She was numb to the world, numb to her feelings and senses, because the most important thing in the world to her was gone. Finn.

(Santana's P.O.V)

She arrived at the apartment after her shift at the Spotlight Diner, and was met by silence. Looking over to the couch, she saw Kurt just sitting there, staring into space. The TV was on mute, and she could tell something was wrong because Project Runway was on.

'Lady Lips? Your gay out-of-fashion fashion show is on.' Kurt didn't move. Normally he would retort, saying something along the lines of 'Project Runway is the most fashionable fashion show there is', but this time he didn't even glance at her.

'Has all that hairspray finally gone to your brain, and made you incapable of anything except not moving?' Still no response.

'Kurt?' That got him moving, as she barely ever called him by his first name. Turning his head to look at her, he opened his mouth, then shut it again, before turning back to the TV.

Just as Santana was about to walk away, figuring he was just having an off-day, he said something in such an emotionless tone which made her blood run cold.

'My dad called. Finn's dead.' She couldn't move. Santana felt as if her legs were glued to the ground, and all she could do was stare. Then, she could move. She ran back out the door she hadn't closed, out of the building, and onto the street. Desperately waving for a taxi, she asked for the nearest bar.

Climbing out of the taxi, she entered the bar with the intention of just drinking. Drinking till she couldn't feel. Until she could forget everything. Until she could forget him. Although she and Finn were never really friends, per say, he was always so nice to her. Always tried to understand her, and for a while he was the only person whom she felt actually cared for her. She knew that if she asked, he would have done anything for her. And he knew that she wouldn't have done the same. That was just how she was, and just how he was, and now – now she just wished she could go back and erase everything. Every insult she said, behind his back or in front of him. Every time she had put him down, every time she had been a cold hard bitch to him. All she wanted to do was go back, and say even one nice thing to him. Because now – now she would never get the chance to tell him how she really felt. How she admired him for his openness, his kindness, his – his everything. How she felt so lucky to be his friend, and that how every time she had insulted him she had felt a pang of guilt or pain, or maybe both. She would never get to tell him how she valued his friendship over all her others. She would never get to tell him that, no matter how much information said otherwise, that she actually likedhim. But now he was gone, and she would never get that chance. But, little did she know, he already knew.

(Blaine's P.O.V)

Dancing to Katy Perry in his room when he should be doing his homework, still on the same high he had been on for the past few weeks because Kurtsaidyesohmygodthisisthebestthingthathaseverhap penedtomeohmygodwehavetostartplanningohmygodohmygo d, Blaine was thinking about Kurt, and wondering what he was doing. Probably work, he though. He does so much of it.

All you need is love,

All you need is love,

All you need is love, love,

Love is all you need

'Speak of the devil.' Blaine muttered as he fumbled for his phone, almost dropping it in his excitement to talk to his fiancé.

'Hey honey! How are you? I missed you, even though we talked like three times today, and I was thinking that maybe you could come here for the weekend, or I could go there if you're busy, because it's been a few weeks since we saw each other and –'

'Blaine, please. I need to – to talk to you.' Kurt sounded as if he had been crying, and Blaine was instantly overcome with concern.

'Hey, baby, what is it?'

'My dad called me. He said – he said that Finn was dead.' Blaine's eyes widened, and he sat down on his bed abruptly. What? Finn couldn't be dead. He was Blaine's friend, his future brother-in-law, Rachel's future husband. Kurt's brother. He realised that Kurt was still talking.

'– and I am going to come back to Lima for the funeral, because we can't have it here – Blaine?'

'Uh, yeah?' Blaine sniffled, suddenly realising that Finn was dead. He felt the back of his eyes start stinging, and before he could stop himself he was crying. Kurt whispered comforting words into his ear, crying himself, and after a while Blaine managed to compose himself and do the same for Kurt, whom, he figured, needed it more than he did. They started talking, and it was decided that Blaine would talk to Mr Schue, if he hadn't already been informed of the event, and then Mr Schue would break it to the New Directions, while Kurt would talk to all the former New Directions. For a while after Kurt hung up with an 'I love you', Blaine just sat on his bed, thinking. Thinking about Finn's life, about his own, about Rachel, and Kurt and Santana, and – Puck.

Although he and Kurt had decided that Kurt would tell all the others who weren't in Lima, Blaine thought that he probably had a stronger friendship and understood Puck better than Kurt did. Pulling out his phone, he dialled Puck's number.

(Puck's P.O.V)

'Yo, Puckerman speaking.'

'Hey, Puck. You might want to sit down.'

Puck frowned. Something was wrong. Blaine was normally very happy, and would respond with something along the lines of 'Puck, dude, wanna play Halo?', but right now he sounded grave. Plopping down on the grass, Puck spread his legs out and settled into a comfortable position.

'Ok dude. Did what you said.'

'Ok, well, I just was speaking to Kurt. I don't know how, or when, but – Finn is dead.' As soon as Puck heard those words, he tried to hang up the phone, but Blaine stopped him. 'Don't hang up. Listen, Puck, you need to come to Lima. No matter how much you deny it, you need your friends, and you need comfort. You need someone to hold you, and let you cry. So please, promise me I'll see you in a few days.' Puck nodded, before remembering that Blaine couldn't see him.

'Yeah, sure dude.' Hanging up, he stood and threw his phone. He watched it sail through the air, and smash against a building not far from him. Puck then stormed off the his dorm room, where he proceeded to smash anything and everything he could find. He was angry – angry with himself, angry with Blaine, angry with Kurt, angry with Finn – but most of all, angry with the world. Why did they have to take Finn away from him? Finn was what kept him in line. Finn had seen something in him that he couldn't see in himself, and had helped him to move in the right direction and realise it for himself. But the problem, Puck thought, was that he was still realising this, and without Finn, he was lost. He was drifting, unsure of what to do, of what to feel. He couldn't cry, because if he did he wouldn't stop. He was just so confused, and all he wanted to do was have Finn there with him, grabbing him by the shoulders and telling him what to do, what to feel. Without Finn, Puck felt as if he was nothing. Nothing. At. All. Finn was gone, and Puck would never get to see his best friend ever again, and it just hurt so much, and he was so angry, and so confused.

'Why?' Puck said to himself. 'Why him? Why not me? I deserve it, but him – he never did anything to deserve it. So why him?'

Thank you for reading this. I just had to write this to let out all my feelings.