Rachel wasn't surprised when she looked up and saw herself singing on stage with Finn. Of course it was Finn. She'd thought Brody was going to help her move away from this. Away from Finn, away from Lima. Away from everything. But it seemed that she was trapped here. However hard she tried to get away, she always ended up back here.
She couldn't help smiling at the familiarity of it all though. She loved doing this, and she loved these people. Finn was her home, surely? He was all that she knew. She felt safe with him, like there was never any need for change. She'd had a similar feeling with Jesse, though things were a little more unsure with him. There's only been one person who made her feel daring. But she tries not to think of that.
She had to agree, the routine was impeccable. She and Finn fit together in a familiar fashion, as she watched him playing off of her throughout. They move together and she watches herself beam at him. She doesn't feel like beaming from her place in the audience.
But as the song reaches its climax, something shifts. Suddenly Rachel finds herself watching through the eyes of herself on stage. Her body moves naturally, as if this is where she has always belonged. All of a sudden things feel right. She performs the final spin of the routine, to be caught in Finn's arms. The hands grip her waist.
She looks up. It's not Finn.
Brown eyes meet hazel, and Rachel's heart collides into its unintentional owner with the impact of her entire life. Her breath catches as she takes in the devastating image of the girl before her. The blonde lifts a delicate hand and places it tenderly on the other girl's cheek. Her expression was neither ecstatic nor despondent, simply wistful. With another soft brush of her fingertips, she tucks a lone strand of hair behind Rachel's ear before withdrawing and taking a step back. A step that seems to separate them with oceans. That all too familiar half smile graces the girl's lips and Rachel knows she will mourn it once it's gone.
You're the one that I want.
And then it was over. Rachel was back in her seat, choking back a sob as the audience explodes in applause around her. She doesn't hesitate before jumping out of her seat and escaping the confines of the auditorium; of her existence.
She comes to a halt next to the old trophy cabinet. She falls against it ungracefully, breathing in desperate lungfuls of air. Once she feels she's able to stand reasonably, she straightens, only to realise she's stood directly in front of a photograph of Quinn Fabray. She's flanked by the rest of the Cheerio's, National's trophy clutched tightly in her grasp.
Before she can register what she's doing, her phone is in her hand and she's staring at the number she hasn't called in weeks. She hits call and realises she's holding her breath. Her entire life, she hasn't been breathing.
The phone rings.
Then it stops.
'Rachel?'
She breathes.
She's home.