Familiar Strangers, a glee fanfic

Micah squeezes her hand tighter as the two of them stand shivering on the crowded platform. She looks down at her five-year-old son, squeezing his hand back as if to reassure him that mommy still feels, the blistering effects of the cold have numbed her in many places over the years, but never to him.

Trains are always late. Why is she always on time for things that are late? That's sort of the theme of her life these days. Her timing's all off. She's all out of synch.

Micah's new favorite question is "Why?" Her default answer is usually, "Because I said so."

Why?

It's her favorite question too. Only when she asks, no one answers back. Not even herself.

They're shivering again, waiting on their late train to midtown. He's always there on Tuesdays, leaning against a post wearing a green army coat with his headphones on.

"Momma, why is that man so tall?" Micah asks.

"I don't know," she answers. "Sometimes people just grow up that way."

"So he can reach the top of the 'fridgerator?"

She chuckles softly. "Yes, sweetheart. That's probably why."

"You can't reach the top, Momma. You too small."

She nods, her face unchanging. This whole city makes her feel small.

"Was my daddy as tall as that tall man, Momma?"

She squeezes his hand as she hears the train finally barrelling down the track. "No," she says, expelling a tired breath that lingers in the cold air.

He's there next Tuesday, headphones on, leaning against a post, reading the sports page.

Sometimes she makes it a point to stand on the same side of the post that he's on. She figures maybe he knows which side of which post is the right side to be on. At least that's the game she decides to play with herself in order to pass the time.

Call it a Tuesday thing.

He's there on Fridays too. That particular Friday, anyway. He's not early like on Tuesdays; instead he arrives when the train does.

He's late but he's right on time.

They're on their way to midtown when she looks up and sees him towering over her, one hand gripping the overhead railing to steady his large frame. When their eyes meet he smiles crookedly. She smiles politely, laboriously, the only way she knows how.

"Hi," Micah says, as if he's saying it for her.

His kind eyes shift over and down to where her son is nestled in the seat beside her. Tugging his headphones off his ears, he extends his large hand out to shake the boy's small one. "Hi," he greets, "My name's Finn."

"Why?" Micah asks.

Finn shrugs, "Dunno. What's your name?"

"Micah," the boy answers.

"Why?"

"Cause it's the same as my grampa's and mommy's Jewish."

"Oh," he nods. "Those are good reasons."

"Can you reach the top of the 'fridgerator?"

Rachel chuckles apologetically, patting Micah's knee as she tells him to let the nice man get back to his music. However, the nice man - the nice Finn with the crooked smile - appears unbothered.

"I could probably reach the top of yours," he says, answering Micah's previous question as though it's perfectly valid.

"Oh," Micah says, then adds, "Mommy can't."

She chuckles nervously once again, this time holding his gaze for longer than she'd normally hold onto anything. He holds on tight to her with his eyes, not letting her slip away uncaringly the way most other things do. Micah's done asking questions and the train is nearing midtown. She and the tall Finn share soft, secretive smiles, a crooked one on his part, until they reach their stop.

Call it a Friday thing.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asks suspiciously while stirring a pot of spaghetti.

"Making your online dating profile."

"Kitty, no!" she shrieks, snatching her phone away from the blonde.

"Oh come on, Rach! With an ass like yours you could have a date lined up for every night of the week if you wanted to."

All she can do is roll her eyes at her best friend and roommate's typical badgering. "I appreciate your constant meddling in my love life, Kitty, however I have no intention of becoming the next Bachelorette."

"Alright, fine," Kitty utters dismissively. "Go ahead and waste the best years of your life holed up in this dingy apartment. See if I care."

"You live here too, ya know," she defends. "Besides, you might recall I have a five-year-old who needs my attention more than the eligible bachelors of New York. I happen to think that's a highly commendable reason for staying holded up in our apartment on Friday nights."

"Hey, I've offered to babysit," Kitty argues.

"Yes, well, that would only happen on the off-chance of you not having a date that same night. Which we both know is highly unlikely."

"True," Kitty smirks. "However, if and when an anomaly occurs and you actually decide to join the land of the living, I promise to make myself available to watch Micah."

"Well, thank you," Rachel says, more than ready to drop the subject. It's not as if she doesn't know the state of her love life better than anyone. She's certainly not claiming to have inspired any Nicholas Sparks novels as of late.

She tried love. Love tried her, courtesy of Jesse St. James. With a name like that you'd think he might've been a bit more...holy? Or at least decent enough to want to visit his son every now and again.

The day he told her he was leaving he wasn't even there. She was seven months pregnant when she came home to their studio apartment, only to find a note saying he was done, he didn't want her or the baby, that it probably wasn't even his anyway, since she was such a rotten whore.

That was it. They weren't married so there was no divorce. He had no money and she wouldn't have wanted it anyway, not when he didn't even want their child. Her child, as it became.

Five years later she still finds herself wincing as it all comes rushing to the forefront of her mind. "Ow!" she cries, jumping back when her finger absent-mindedly makes contact with the hot burner.

She can blame it on the stove, but knows it's the memories of her past heartache that burn her. They get her every time.

"Here, let me help," Kitty offers, quickly rushing to Rachel's aid, wrapping a wet towel around her wounded pointer finger.

Rachel doesn't have to say it; Kitty knows her friend still burns her fingers on bad memories from time to time.

"It hurts," Rachel utters, tears stinging her eyes.

Kitty nods in understanding. "I know, baby girl. I know."

Apparently Friday things can be Tuesday things as well. Who knew? When she arrives on the platform with Micah he's already there, green army coat and all. They right away share that same secret smile from the train.

They're like familiar strangers or something. He doesn't even know her name.

"Look Momma, it's Tall Finn," Micah says, pointing.

"Yes, I see that, sweetheart. But he'll probably like it better if we just call him Finn."

"Tall Finn works just fine," he says, tugging his headphones off his ears. She wonders if he knows he messes up his hair in all the right places when he does that. Or maybe he thinks he's smoothing it all back into place.

Just like last time, Micah talks more than she does. "Know what my mommy's name is?" he asks, looking up at Tall Finn.

"Is it...Gertrude?" he guesses.

"No," Micah giggles.

"Murgatroyd?"

"Noooo!" Micah howls, practically falling down laughing. "It's Wachel."

"Aaaah, okay," Finn says, looking at her. "That would've been my next guess. Nice to meet you, Wachel."

She can't find her voice. All she wants to know is how many freckles are on his nose and who put them there.

"Are you gonna ride in the train with us, Tall Finn?" Micah asks.

"Don't I always?"

"Only when you're here," Micah answers.

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I? I guess you know what that means."

"Yayy!" Micah cheers, jumping up and down by Rachel's side. "Are you going to see the man in the hat?"

"The what?" Finn asks.

"Manhattan," Rachel clarifies, finally locating her voice. "He wants to know if you're going to Manhattan..."

"Oh," Finn nods, his eyes on hers. They share another secret smile before he crouches down to Micah's level and tells him he's going to see the man in the hat, just like they are.

On Tuesdays and Fridays they ride the train together. Sometimes they stand on either side of little Micah so he can hold both their hands. Sometimes Finn hoists him up on his shoulders while they wait on the platform. As usual Micah's the only one asking questions, and Rachel thinks that's probably a good thing.

One time they're sitting in a two-person seat towards the back of the train, Rachel holding Micah in her lap as her leg rests comfortably against Finn's. Like clockwork they both slowly reach their hands out, lacing their fingers together when they join in the middle. They hold hands on their way to see "the man in the hat," as Micah would say.

However, when they get there, they always go their separate ways. It's like Finn goes left and they go right, but not before sharing that same secret smile that seems to grow more and more familiar every time.

Rachel figures the tall Finn probably has his own tall life, full of secret smiles he shares with all sorts of other familiar strangers on trains. That's all they are, really. Familiar strangers.

She drops Micah off at a daycare run by her mother. Her mother is not her mom. Had she known as a young girl that there was a very clear distinction between the two she might never have longed for either.

She enters the Spotlight Diner, apologizing to Santana for her tardiness. She quickly sheds her thick overcoat, revealing a red uniform that Finn has never seen. Truth be told, she'd prefer it if it stayed that way. She's not dressed in the uniform of a person she wants to be. Instead she likes to pretend she's an actress starring in a role, the role of "burnt-out waitress." When she talks to customers she's simply reading lines off a script, the dish rags and dirty silverware she carries around are just her props. It's just one of the games she plays with herself in order to survive the days.

She has no need for games on the days she holds hands with Finn, however. The lingering memory of their contact is enough to get her through.

"Mommy knows a man who can reach the top of the fridgerator," Micah says, swinging Rachel's hand as they stroll about the local park.

"Oh really?" Kitty says, quirking an eyebrow at her friend.

Rachel shrugs, "Big deal. There's plenty of tall men in this city."

"But tall Finn is really tall," Micah persists. "He could reach the top of the pie state building."

"Well my goodness," Kitty says, now more intrigued than ever. "Who knew there were men in New York tall enough to reach the top of the Empire State Building."

Rachel just shakes her head, refusing to crack under the weight of her friend's interrogative stare. After a moment she mutters under her breath, "He's not that tall."

Something changes on a day that at first feels like it's the same. It's a Friday thing. Rachel and Finn hold hands on the train, Micah falls asleep in her lap and he's tired and cranky when they reach their stop at midtown. They're departing as usual, but instead of Finn going left while they go right he goes with them, whispering in her ear to meet him back here on the platform around noon if she can get away. He doesn't even know what he's getting her away from, and what's better is, he doesn't ask.

She doesn't tell him yes or no, they both just smile their secrets before going their separate ways for now, Micah shouting "bye bye Tall Finn!"

Her mind can't make sense of this thing between her and Finn and so she lets her heart take her where it knows she needs to be. After dropping off Micah and hurrying to the diner, she spends the bulk of her morning contemplating how she's going to get to him by noontime. Realizing all she needs to do is choose the best lie, she fakes a phone call from the daycare, telling Santana that Micah's sick and she has to leave for the day.

They arrive on the platform almost simultaneously. Unlike the train, they're right on time for each other. Their eyes share identical gleams of mischief, and she guesses he told a lie to get to her, just as she told one to get to him.

Neither say a word and Micah isn't there to ask the Why questions and so the first thing they do is kiss. His lips are chapped but tender as they dance against hers, that one point of contact warming her from head to foot. They're both smiling when he pulls away. It's not even possible to smile and kiss at the same time, but somehow they manage. Soon he's kissing her all over her face; her nose, her cheeks, anywhere his lips can reach. As soon as he pulls away they're both drawn back in like kiss dolls for one more peck.

When they join hands it feels even warmer than it does on the train, despite them being outside in the cold. "Where's Micah?" he asks.

"At daycare."

"Oh. Let's go get him," he smiles. They walk hand in hand, Rachel leading the way, both of them stopping periodically to steal soft kisses as if it's their new favorite thing.

They pick up Micah, much to his surprise and delight. Finn carries the little boy on his shoulders while holding hands with Rachel as the three of them head to the park nearby.

"His father left when I was pregnant," she says, answering a question he didn't ask as the two of them sit together on a bench watching Micah play. She can feel his eyes set on her profile but she doesn't turn her head to meet them.

"Momma, Tall Finn, come play pirates with me!" Micah shouts.

Finn stands and holds his hand out to her. She takes it and the two of them head over to Micah who meets them halfway, running and jumping on Finn. He plays along, pretending to be tackled to the ground by the small boy while Rachel looks on and laughs. They spend the next hour playing pirates until Micah decides he's tired and wants hot chocolate and Finn agrees.

They ride the same train home. Micah falls asleep in her lap, Rachel lays her head on Finn's shoulder as he kisses the top of her head. They arrive at their stop, and Rachel tells him she won't be able to get away tomorrow and he understands. They know it's a Tuesday thing for now. When Micah isn't looking they steal a soft kiss, smiling secretly before he goes off in the opposite direction.

"Bye bye Tall Finn!" Micah shouts. He and Finn keep shouting "bye" to one another as they go their separate ways, Rachel grinning wider every time she hears his faraway voice echoing on the platform until they're both out of earshot.

She wishes some Friday things could be every day things as well.

It's lunch hour at the Spotlight Diner. Coffee, silverware, tuna melts, substituting coleslaw for onion rings, not to mention "sorry we don't have Coke, is Pepsi okay?" At least she gets to perform once, for a customer who says it's his birthday. She sings in the most monotone voice imaginable, because, well, it's happy birthday sung to a person she doesn't even care to know.

Call it the world's most uninspiring Thursday thing.

It's nearing the end of the lunch hour rush when she turns and sees him seated at the counter next to a mohawk-headed young man. They're both staring at menus, having clearly just arrived. After smoothing over her uniform she approaches them with butterflies in her stomach.

"Good afternoon, gentleman," she greets them.

Finn looks up from his menu, surprised delight setting into his features when he sees her standing before him. Now he knows what's underneath that thick wool overcoat she always wears when they're together. The way he's looking at her, she swears she's never felt more attractive dressed in the coffee-stained uniform she normally thinks of as a clown suit.

"Can I start you off with some drinks?" she asks, her eyes locked on Finn's.

"I'll take a chocolate milk if you have it," he says.

She nods, "We do."

"Hey, isn't this the place with the singing waitresses?" his friend asks.

Tearing her eyes from Finn's, she shifts her gaze over to the man sitting next to him. "I don't sing," she tells him politely. "But some of the other waitresses do."

He just shrugs. "Whatever."

She takes both their orders, feeling Finn's eyes on her the whole time. She walks away after promising their food will be up shortly. Feeling the weight of his lingering gaze, she glances back over her shoulder, hoping to steal a quick look. The guy with the mohawk sits there looking bored while Finn dons that familiar smile, which she promptly returns. It's the secret the two of them share amid the chaos of the crowded diner. However, it's a secret she can't let on to Santana or any of her co-workers. That would ruin her plan.

She goes about her business, waiting until both men have finished their meals before discreetly jotting down her number on Finn's copy of the receipt. "Call me if you can get away" she writes underneath her digits. She hands it to him, smiling politely as she tells him and his friend to have a nice day, her eyes on Finn's suggesting something more.

They're not gone more than two minutes before her phone buzzes in her pocket, the rest of her body buzzing along with it. Glancing at the message, she sees an unknown number (that she knows is Finn's) telling her to meet him at an address nearby. After scrambling to take care of her remaining customers, she asks, more like begs Tina to cover for her while she takes a long break, not even bothering to make up any phony excuses this time.

The address he gives her turns out to be a tire shop on 10th Avenue. She goes around to the back, per his instructions, only to find him leaning against the brick wall dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit, the words "Hummel Tire and Lube" stitched across the breast pocket. It's the uniform he wears underneath his green army coat.

Both smile, greeting each other with a soft kiss before he leads her upstairs to what appears to be a studio apartment concealed above the tire shop. They're not alone in the small space for more than a second before her lips are on his, her legs wrapping around his waist like a reflex as he lifts her up. Their motions are hungrier, more fervent than usual as Finn stumbles across the room with her in his arms. She feels her back meet the surface of a mattress, Finn hovering over her while grinding his arousal against hers, the friction making her ache with desire and need. Their clothes come off quickly, neither wasting any time. Their moans drown out the city noise as he moves inside her, but when he makes her come her mouth falls open as if to scream but no sound escapes her as she erupts from within. He groans through his own release, seizing her bottom lip between his teeth and continuing to drive inside of her until they're both over the edge and spent.

Their chests heaving, he slowly rolls off her, pulling her into his side. They lay in comfortable silence, the tiny room enveloping them as their breathing slows to normal rhythms. After a while she feels his fingers stroking delicate lines up and down her bare back.

"Where are we?" she asks softly.

"My step-dad's tire shop."

"Oh...why don't I see you on the train every morning?"

"Some days I come in early. Or I sleep here overnight if it gets late. I live in Brooklyn."

"Oh," she repeats, lapsing into silence once again. "I didn't come to the city to be a waitress, you know…"

Another pause, and she feels him bring a hand up to stroke her hair. "You don't have to explain everything, Rach."

She lifts her head, smiling up at him. They share a soft kiss.

Maybe this can be their new Thursday thing.

Never in her life can she recall longing for weekdays more than weekends. On Tuesdays they hold hands on the train, Micah sitting in her lap sometimes, other times in his. On Thursdays she takes a long break from the diner to go and meet Finn. They make love in the studio above the shop as many times as they can before both are due back at work. On Fridays she switches shifts with Tina so can leave early, then she and Finn go pick up Micah from his daycare and the three of them spend the afternoon getting lost around the city before taking the train back home to Brooklyn. Rachel secretly feels like she's leaving home every time she says goodbye to Finn. They tend to communicate through feeling more than words and a part of her thinks he not only knows but feels the exact same way.

One Thursday afternoon they're in bed listening to the other's heartbeats in time with the city traffic down below. Neither have spoken since she arrived, both preferring to just get lost in each other's bodies and then bask quietly in the afterglow.

"You don't have to explain everything," she begins with some hesitation. "But will you?"

"What do you want to know?" he asks, kissing the top of her head.

"Who are you?" she asks. Even in posing the question she feels she knows him better than most. They've always been more familiar as strangers than many are as acquaintances and friends.

"I'm Finn Hudson," he offers playfully, tickling her side with his fingers, making her giggle.

"Okay, Finn Hudson," she says, moving up to straddle his waist, her breasts grazing his chest when she leans in for a soft kiss. "What are you doing all alone in this big city?"

"I'm not alone," he answers, stroking her messy hair away from her face. "I have my family. They moved here when my step-dad decided to run for office. He lost, so he quit politics and opened up this tire shop. I started working for him after I…"

He trails off, the subject matter drawing some of the light out of his kind eyes.

"After what?" she asks gently.

"After I got discharged from the army," he admits after a beat, the shame evident in his face.

She stares up into his eyes, seeing his pain. Not wanting to press for more information than he's willing to give, she leans down to rest her head in the crook of his neck, bringing one hand up to stroke his face. Truthfully she aches to know what's gnawing at him on the inside, not liking the thought of him hurting in any way. "Tell me what happened," she whispers delicately.

He wraps his arms around her, sighing heavily. They lay in quiet for several beats before he begins, "My step-brother is gay."

Her brow furrows in confusion as she urges him to elaborate.

"It was before 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' was repealed," he continues. "I couldn't believe the U.S. Army was actually discriminating against people wanting to serve their country just like the rest of us. I made friends with this guy Blaine, who's gay but couldn't tell anyone as long as he was wearing an army uniform. Rumors spread and Blaine started getting bullied, especially by this one guy, Dave Karovsky. One day I overheard Dave and a few other guys plotting an attack on Blaine - they were going to corner him in the showers and do something to him that I won't even mention. I tried confronting them but they wouldn't back down, so I told them I was gay, hoping it would take some of the heat off Blaine and they'd start messing with me instead. Well, instead of messing with me they went immediately to the Staff Sergeant and told him there was an openly gay man in our infantry. I was discharged that same day."

Tears cloud her vision as she looks up at him in awe of what he's just told her. "Finn…" she breathes, stroking his face tenderly. Sensing there's something more, she remains silent, inviting him to continue.

"My main reason for joining the army in the first place was to try and redeem my father. He fought in The Gulf War and died when I was just an infant. The only thing I ever wanted to do was make him proud…"

"You did, Finn," she assures him, smiling through her tears. "What you just told me is one of the bravest and most honorable things I've ever heard. You had the courage to stand up for what you knew was right. I know your father would be so proud."

A crooked smile tugs at his lips as he looks down at her, tears now collecting in his eyes as well. He pulls her in for a deep kiss, slowly slipping his tongue inside her mouth to caress hers tenderly. When they finally break he gazes at her thoughtfully, a lingering question on his mid. "You're a singer, aren't you?" he asks.

She stares at him in shock for a moment, her jaw falling open slightly. "How did you…"

"That day at the diner when you told my friend Puck you weren't a singer...something in the way you said it made me think you actually were."

She sighs and looks down, averting his eyes that always seem to pull her out from the insides. "I'm a singer, but I don't sing."

"Laryngitis?" he asks, grinning playfully.

She looks up at him, her eyes tinged with sadness. "Not exactly...but in a way I guess you could say I lost my voice."

His grin fades, his eyes retaining their warmth. "You'll find it, baby," he assures her, planting a soft kiss against her forehead.

The affectionate term falls gracefully from his lips, making her heart swell with something true and real for him. She doesn't want to talk or sing about it, but the wordless intimacy shared in the silent gaps is like their secret. Unlike with other people, their silence speaks, revealing everything.

It all pours out and onto each other as they indulge in sex another time, both knowing the passionate act is making them ridiculously late for work.

Remember that thing she once said about being late but right on time? That's what this feels like.

"So, when is your tall friend coming over to dust the top of the refrigerator?" Kitty asks later that night.

"Dunno," Rachel shrugs dismissively, stirring her mug of herbal tea. As much as she's eager to indulge her friend's lingering curiosity about Finn, she's afraid of revealing too much. Like forcing a secret out of a closet before it's ready it might expose her in a bad light, making her wish she'd kept it all inside under a veil of sacred obscurity.

"It's getting pretty cobwebby up there, you know," Kitty says, still pressing for details.

"I have no trouble reaching the top of our refrigerator, thank you," Rachel defends stubbornly.

"Yes, but you're a short one, little momma. You shouldn't have to stand on a step stool just to reach a box of cereal when you want it."

"What on earth kind of metaphor is that?" Rachel asks, chuckling in spite of herself.

"A good one!" Kitty argues. "And don't act like you don't know exactly what I mean."

"And what makes you think I even want cereal to begin with?" Rachel asks innocently.

Kitty quirks an eyebrow at her friend, "Okay now who's getting crazy with the metaphors?"

Rachel shrugs. "Yeah, well...metaphors are important," she mutters under her breath.

"I know," Kitty emphasizes. The two girls lapse into silence, Rachel allowing the subject to drop itself. "Micah says you're happier," she remarks after a long beat.

Rachel fidgets uncomfortably before taking a sip from her tea, using the large mug to conceal some of the blush tinting her cheeks. Now with more than half her face obstructed she peers out over the steaming brim, seeing nothing but warm sincerity in her friend's eyes across the table.

"It's okay to be happy, little momma," she assures gently. "I promise I won't tell anybody."

The next day (Tuesday) she decides to show him a secret part of herself; it isn't a part he can see, rather it's one that must be heard. She debates letting him hear it at all, her heart hammering as they sit together on the train. Throwing caution to the wind, she instructs him to plug his headphones into her own ipod, her fingers shaking as she queues up an mp3 of her singing "On My Own" back in high school. He eyes her curiously as he places his headphones over his ears and she presses "play" on the track.

She sits in nervous silence while he listens, feeling like her ipod is her heart, his headphones are plugged into it like a stethoscope through which he's hearing all her secret beats, the ones buried deep inside. It's not long before she feels him squeeze her hand in his. Feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever, she looks up and sees him smiling down at her with tears brimming in his eyes. She can't help but feel her own eyes welling up too.

They're too emotional for a train ride. The other commuting passengers don't get it, and don't care enough to even try. But Finn and Rachel's Tuesday thing is different; this thing especially as both try to hide their overwhelming emotions from little Micah, who doesn't like seeing tall Finn and momma cry. He thinks only sad people cry since momma never taught him about the happy tears. Maybe she will now that she knows.

They're on the platform saying their usual goodbyes. Finn ruffles Micah's hair, who's wrapped around his leg, while leaning in and whispering in her ear that she's an angel. She feels like one, literally floating weightlessly as she goes about her day. While everyone else is down on a dreary Tuesday she's somehow lifted up.

When she arrives for their usual meeting that Thursday she finds him seated on the sofa bed, a hardened look on his face. "Finn, what's wrong?" she asks immediately.

"Why don't you sing anymore?" he demands in a tone that's almost accusatory.

Her brow furrows as she looks at him, thrown off by his uncharacteristic demeanor. "Finn, what's-"

"Do you even know how fucking talented you are?" he interrupts her. "What a gift it is being able to touch people in that way, using only your voice? And yet you just toss it aside like it's nothing!"

He's on his feet now, taking slow strides toward her that would almost appear menacing if it were anyone else but him. Still, she feels herself recoiling, shrinking away as he advances on her, her guard drawing up. "I don't have to explain myself to you," she responds defensively, folding her arms like bars across her heart.

"Yes you do," he insists in a low voice, his eyes narrowed in on her. "You owe me as well as the rest of the world an explanation for why you're letting it all go to waste. That's a choice you're making, Rachel. And it's selfish."

She barely feels it, the harsh words cutting through her like a knife, before she's out the door she walked in only moments ago expecting her sweet Finn. Instead the hostile man she's met with sends her running, tears streaking her face by the time her feet hit the pavement down below.

That night she sleeps with Micah in his bed, hugging the small boy against her as she turns Finn's words over in her mind. The more she contemplates, the more she realizes he's not wrong. Her voice is a gift, she's always know it. And while it's a gift she once honored and cherished all the time, it now lies dormant within her, collecting dust like some neglected treasure.

Still, when she'd exposed that part of herself to him she hadn't known he'd throw it back in her face in such a contemptuous way.

"That's a choice you're making, Rachel. And it's selfish."

It might be true she's made her choice, but the selfish part she'll deny every time. She'd give her voice away as a charity if she could; if it didn't all feel strangled inside of her, waiting to be harnessed and restored to it's original state of glory.

The flash of her phone lighting up on the nightstand stirs her from her troubled thoughts. She reaches over her sleeping son, careful not to wake him as she squints to read the message on the screen. Her insides flutter in spite of herself when she sees it's from Finn.

Can I please come over if you're still up?

She just lays there in the dark for a moment, stroking Micah's hair as she contemplates her response.

Stay there. I'll come to you.

She knows it's late but she can't risk Micah seeing them together in that way. Almost immediately he texts back with his address, followed by a message questioning her safety. She assures him she's not far from where he is and that she'll call for a cab.

Thankfully Micah isn't stirred from slumber as she pries herself away from him, after planting a soft kiss on his forehead. She stops off at Kitty's room, letting her roommate know she's going to visit a friend and she'll be back before Micah wakes up. Surely she'll have some explaining to do in the morning but for now the blonde just mumbles unintelligible musings in her half-asleep state. She doesn't bother dressing, just throws her coat on over her pajamas before exiting the quiet apartment.

Ten minutes later she's knocking on the giant door of what looks more like a warehouse than a place of residence. Almost immediately a disheveled and bleary-eyed Finn slides it open. His secret smile is disheartened and weak, but at least it's still there. It's a smile she doesn't return; not just yet anyway.

He invites her inside the wide open space. Scanning the parameters she finds it ruggedly industrial yet oddly meticulous in its decor. A stack of vinyl records catches her eye, mainly because of the Streisand one resting on top. "Are these...yours?" she asks incredulously.

"No," he chuckles lightly. "They're my step-brother Kurt's. Remember my friend Blaine I told you about? When he got out of the army I introduced the two of them and they really hit it off. They're visiting wine country this week but they're who I share this place with."

"Barbra," she whispers as though in a spellbound state, her entranced eyes raking over the collection of records that could literally be her own. Barbra, Judy, Liza, Cabaret...she'll have to meet this Kurt fellow who appears to own the soundtrack to her soul (and on vinyl, no less).

She hears him moving behind her but keeps her back turned rather purposefully, avoiding him. Soon she feels his hands on her shoulders, his low voice in her ear whispering he's sorry, that he'll never hurt her again, and she can't help but lean into him, sighing when his arms wrap around her from behind, slowly undoing the buttons on her coat.

It's not long before they're lying in a pile of discarded clothes, making up for what was lost that afternoon. Their silence sighs in ecstasy when they're together like this. Their moans as they move in tandem are like the most intimate conversation between the two of them. But when she comes she sings, not just through her mouth but out of every pore, and he knows she's serenading him with his own song.

Afterwards they lay there basking in blissful fatigue, the sweat from their exertion now turning cold, making her shiver beside him. Seeing this, he moves to grab a blanket off the couch, wrapping her up inside it before carrying her in his arms to his bedroom. Now, bathed in moonlight streaming through the small window, he rests his head against the pillows as he holds her tightly against him.

She feels herself drifting off to sleep when he says, "I got a rejection letter from NYU today."

The words hover in darkness for a moment before she brings a hand up to rest against his cheek. He turns his face into her open palm, kissing it softly. He sighs deeply, the raggedness of breath revealing the unshed tears he's holding back.

"I'm sorry, Finn," she whispers. "Have you applied anywhere else?"

"Everywhere else," he admits wearily. "NYU was sort of my last best effort...I was stupid for even thinking they'd accept someone like me."

The despondency in his voice makes her heart clench. She lifts her head up, and never has she seen a man so big appear so small before her eyes, the vulnerability etched in sadness all over his face. "Oh Finn," she sighs. "They're the stupid ones for rejecting you. If only they knew what they were missing. Please believe in yourself, sweetheart...you're everything."

Despite her reassurance he expels another ragged sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose while he shakes his head insistently. "You don't understand, Rachel. My grades were never very good. I was an athlete but not a good enough one to get a scholarship. That's part of what made me join the army - at least they accept just about everyone...but in the end even that just led to more failure, more rejection."

"But Finn, you told me why you were discharged," she argues. "You were standing up for your friend and what you knew in your heart to be the right thing. If they were smart they would've kept you on board, but it was you fighting their ignorance and inadequacy."

Her soft words reassure him in slow phases, smoothing over the hard lines and twisted anguish on his face. "Thank you, baby," he whispers appreciatively. "But what about you? I'm so sorry for confronting you today, I'll never do that again, but please, tell me why you think your voice is gone and you won't sing?"

She sighs heavily, Finn gazing at her curiously, searchingly, imploring her to reveal every part of herself to him. "I came to city to be a star. A Broadway star, that is. I had a full ride to NYADA and even got the lead in an off-Broadway show when I was only a sophomore. It seemed like I was on the fast track to fulfilling my dreams before the age of twenty...then I got pregnant unexpectedly. The father was my boyfriend Jesse, one of my co-stars in the play. He was supportive at first, then gradually we started drifting apart. I think he was worried having to deal with a baby would stall his career. I had those same fears too of course but I wasn't going to give up my child. Anyway, one day when I was seven months along I came home to find a note from Jesse saying he was leaving. He even suggested the baby wasn't his, just to shift some of the blame onto me...six weeks later Micah was born. I was alone, my dads not supporting me and most of my friends from school and the theatre having abandoned me by then. So it was just Micah and I for the first two years, before I met my friend Kitty, who's now my roommate."

She trails off, Finn stroking her hair while holding her close. He knows there's more layers to the story without even needing to ask. "Getting rejected on such a personal level just...alters you. It shuts you down. Makes you second guess everything you once thought was steadfast and true about yourself."

"Rejected? You mean by Micah's father?" he asks in disbelief. "Rachel you can't let an asshole who didn't even want his own son ruin your career. Don't give him that kind of power over you."

"It's not just that," she continues. "A few years ago I tried connecting with my mother. I think subconsciously I'd always been chasing her, perhaps even more than my big Broadway dreams. You've seen her before-she runs the daycare that Micah attends while I'm at work. Anyway, I thought my having a child of my own might bring us together...it did, sort of, but at the same time it tore us apart." She trails off, tears gathering in her throat once again at the painful admission. "She doesn't want me, Finn…I doubt she even wants Micah either. She lets him attend her daycare for free out of guilt, probably, but doesn't ever want him knowing he's actually her grandson. As for me, well...it's a strange thing having to call your mother by her first name. It's such a formal and impersonal title, but yet I know it's the one she prefers. Some days I can tell that even my uncanny resemblance to her makes her cringe, and for a minute I feel as though I should apologize for being born."

"Baby I am so sorry," he tells her softly. "I guess in a way I got off easy with my father dying, huh?" he adds a bit morbidly. "At least he never had a chance to reject me."

"No, please don't say that, Finn," she pleads. "I may have grown up without a mom but at least I had two dads where you had none. The rejection stings, especially when piled on top of what happened with Jesse, but the things you said today made me realize I've been a martyr for too long...maybe you have too without even knowing it, but sweetheart, there's no need to feel that way anymore, and do you know why?"

"Why?" he whispers.

"Because Micah and I love you," she smiles, admitting what she's known to be true for the longest time.

"Oh Rach," he breathes, blinking back tears. "I love both of you so much."

A choked sob escapes her as he pulls her in for the deepest kiss. They gasp and sigh against the other's lips, tasting their tears, breathing new life, both spilling over with emotions not meant to be contained inside one body. At last they pull away, their eyes glazed with happy tears, the kind they'll have to teach Micah about so at least one little boy in the world knows it isn't only the sad ones crying.

"I love you so much, Finn," she says raggedly. The smile beautifying her love's face is like a new day dawning on what had long felt like an endless night.

"I love you, Rachel. From the moment I saw you."

"I know," she nods. "I did too."

"Maybe you should pull Micah out of that daycare, baby. It just doesn't seem right."

She sighs. She knows what he's getting at but it isn't so simple. "Shelby lets him attend there for free, Finn. And right now 'free' is about all I can afford. Besides, he'll be starting school soon and then it won't be an issue."

"I understand," he says genuinely. "But just remember-there's no need for either of you to go where you believe you aren't wanted."

"Please remember that for yourself too, my love" she urges while placing one hand over his heart; she feels it beating steadily against his chest. His heart is his whole person. No matter where she lays her hand, from the tips of his toes traveling all the way up the towering length of his body-his heart's in everything he is and everything he touches. "You're so much more than you realize, Finn...not only that, you're everything."

He lays his own hand over hers and strokes it gently. "We're everything," he affirms.

Appropriately the dawn's beading over the horizon, tinting the room a brighter shade, waking them up to a brand new morning despite neither having slept a wink. Micah will be up soon and Rachel knows she should be going. When she tries to leave he just follows her as though it's the most natural thing. They walk hand in hand back to her apartment together, arriving through the door just in time to greet a bathrobe-clad Kitty pouring her morning coffee.

With one look at Rachel beaming with love next to her Tall Finn, the blonde immediately drops all scandalized interrogations along with her previous concern, her eyes winking with satisfaction and approval as she vacates to her bedroom, leaving the two of them alone in the kitchen.

They look at each other and share a soft chuckle. Rachel's about to ask him what he likes to eat for breakfast when the other man in her life, a much shorter one wearing Spiderman pajamas, comes darting out of his bedroom.

"Tall Finn!" Micah exclaims, and before Rachel's small bundle of love has a chance to ask any of the why? questions, Finn scoops him up in his arms, making the beautiful boy giggle with delight. "Morning momma," he waves down at her.

"Goodmorning sweetheart," she laughs, puckering her lips as she pushes up on her tip toes for a kiss. "Is is okay if Tall Finn eats cereal with us today?"

"Yayy!" he claps excitedly. "And then we ride the train?"

"You bet," Finn nods. "You, me, and momma. Just like we always do."

Micah cheers once again and before long the two men in Rachel's life are engaged in a tickle-slash-tackle war on the kitchen floor while she stands by and watches, a pressing question on her mind.

"Excuse me?...Finn?" she asks, clearing her throat.

Finn looks up at her from the floor, having to release himself from the headlock Micah has him in before he can see her clearly. "Yes baby?"

"There's something I've meaning to ask you," she begins. "Do you prefer Cap'n Crunch or Cocoa Puffs?"

Finn's jaw falls open, his whole face scrunching in agonized confusion as though it's Sophie's Choice. Meanwhile Micah seizes upon a moment of weakness from his opponent, tackling Finn so he's flat on his back, groaning in defeat. Rachel can't help but laugh hysterically even though the look in Finn's eyes lets her know she'll pay for it later (in the best possible way).

Needless to say, Rachel has a little help reaching the top of the "fridgerator" that morning, as well as many mornings after.

Oh yeah, and they still ride the train together on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Finn and Rachel were emotionally intimate from moment they locked eyes, their silence speaking, sometimes screaming at its loudest points. Then, as time goes on it begins singing...at least on her part. Perhaps it had always been that way and it just took her a while to really hear it.

Before long the music's pouring out of her, despite her efforts in the past to keep it inside. She sings her heart out wherever she can - a lullaby for Micah, a love song for Finn. Her co-workers hate her now. Not just because she oversings the crap out of "happy birthday" to random customers, but because she's damn good at doing it. It's not long before she starts to consider finding new co-workers altogether, maybe ones that sing like it's their soul coming out to grace the world, and not like it's a spiritless burden.

So she does. Much to her surprise, the theatre world welcomes her back with open arms; it's as though she never left. Evidently the sayings aren't true and you can, in fact, go home again.

As for Finn, well, it's funny how it can take a five-year-old boy telling you you're his hero before you realize you've been one all along. After many late night discussions and with Rachel and Micah encouraging him every step of the way, he enrolls in firefighting academy. She debuts as Fanny Brice in a revival of Funny Girl shortly after he passes his exam. When the show's over, the audience applauding wildly on their feet, she picks him out of the crowd, holding Micah in arms, his eyes glossy with the same proud tears she simultaneously sheds for him.

He doesn't know that she knows (or better yet he probably does) about his plan for tonight. He doesn't even have to get down on one knee and ask because they both know the answer's yes. A year later she doesn't have to tell him Micah's going to have a new little brother or sister; he only takes one look at her and in that loud, speaking, sighing, screaming, singing silence, he knows what their love created. That same love creates two more siblings for Micah, who's now more than big enough to reach the top of the "fridgerator" for his momma when Tall Finn's not around.

Now and then when she's in a playful mood she'll catch his eye from across a crowded room; he'll always smile in secret as they pretend they're familiar strangers, still knowing each other better than most.

The end...Thanks for reading!