A/N: I own neither Glee nor its characters. Lyrics are from "My Lover's Gone", by Dido

She stood in the hills overlooking the empty sea, at sunset. The day had been warm, but with the silent passing of the sun came a cool breeze, caressing her face, brushing the purple-blue anemones she had picked earlier and woven into the dark ringlets of her hair, and ruffling her long, simple white dress with the blue border, about her legs. There was the scent of pine, and, other than the wind, no sound but the murmur of the surf below.

The red sky in the West darkened the water, and the world seemed to heave a sigh as the dazzling brightness of day gave way to the soft, subdued twilight. She heaved her own sigh, wanting to say something, but there was no one there to hear her; he wasn't there to hear her, so the words remained unsaid, stillborn, much like the goodbye she imagined he wanted to say, but could not, as he slipped out the door before light.

My lover's gone
His boots no longer by my door
He left at dawn
And as I slept I felt him go

They had fought the night before. He told her of his disgrace at washing out of the army, the accidental shooting, while she berated him for not telling her. Now he was gone, convinced he was unworthy of her, ending what they once had, for good this time. And what chilled her to the core was the fact she entertained, for just a moment, the possibility he was right, that everything they had worked for and dreamed in Lima was for naught, because he was incapable of seeing himself as being worthy of her love. She wanted to curse him for managing, for the very first time since they met, to make her doubt her love for him.

My lover's gone
I know that kiss will be my last
No more his song
The tune upon his lips has passed
I sing alone
While I watch the ocean
My lover's gone

There were mischievous spirits that haunted these islands, sylphs determined to weaken her resolve and get her to accept the premise that they had truly grown apart, never to be together again. She could hear their thin, vaporous laughter persistently hovering at the edges of her consciousness, like the whispers and murmuring of friends and family who somehow knew their love would never last. Like the hopes of those who wanted her to love them as she loved him.

Head bowed, she wept to think of him so lost that he couldn't bear to be near her. It hurt to envision him out there on the darkened sea, his ship at the mercy of the wind and tides, when he should be here, where he truly belonged. Yet this place—with her-was literally beyond his imagination right now.

She shivered in the cooling breeze, as the last light dimmed on the horizon, bringing the sea below to a dark blur, and transforming the sky above into a sea of stars. And in the face of the sylphic laughter, in defiance of it, another spirit—her own—asserted itself. She knew he was on his ship, out there, somewhere, and prayed he would find what he was looking for. She knew what it was, of course, and had known it since the day they met. And she had to accept that it was right and fitting he discover it on his own, just as he had said at the train station. And when he found it, she would be here, watching the ship with the blue sail and the golden star beating round the headland, bringing him back to her.

Until then, she told herself, she would ignore the concerned counsel of her friends and would-be suitors, and watch the horizon, as so many women had done before her. But she was human, mortal and frail, despite her indomitable will. She hoped-for both their sakes—that the wait would not be too long.

XXXxxxx

Rachel opened her eyes. She was alone in her bed. Her pillow was wet from tears she didn't quite remember shedding. Must have been that strange dream, she thought, touching her hair for flowers that weren't there.

She forced herself to get up and slip on a robe, even though it was still very dark out. From previous experience, Rachel knew the best thing for her to deal with a breakup was to get lost in some routine tasks, as disheartening as it was to realize how well she had learned that particular lesson.

Making coffee was something mindless she could do. It was Sunday, so she chose the nice Kenyan beans she had bought from Marge at The Arabica diner. Kurt wasn't up yet. But he really liked this coffee, so she filled the entire pot with water, ladling six scoops of beans into the electric grinder, and muffling its high-pitched whine with her robe. When it was done, she poured a cup, sat down, and simply sighed. Relationships shouldn't be this hard, she thought. But then, as if hearing something whispered in her ear, she sat up straight. No, most shouldn't be this hard, but maybe the great love affairs are. The epic ones. She smiled to herself, fondly remembering Jesse's comment. At the time she had simply been charmed by him saying that, attributing it to him just being gallant. But now, with all that had happened, Rachel wondered if maybe Jesse had actually been partially right. It wasn't that she deserved epic romance, necessarily; it was that she had been chosen somehow to be part of an epic love affair, one that required she and Finn acquire and develop sufficient self-knowledge to enable its fruition. There was this strange feeling that something very important, something beyond just the two of them, lay behind this.

It was her first inkling that being together with Finn meant more than just the rejoining of soul mates; their love was going to prove far greater than the sum of its parts. She just didn't know how. To find out would take patience.

And faith. And hope.