A/N: As "I Came Upon A Child of God" winds down, I introduce this, my personal take on how the Finchel story ends. I refuse to accept that it ends with one character passing away, leaving the other alone and heartbroken forever. That would make a mockery of what they meant to each other. Those of us left behind in this world do heal, and can love again as fully and intensely as they once did, because I believe the human capacity for love knows no limits.
It's a Finchel story because Finn's gentle spirit permeates it.
I hope it gives you peace.
I neither own Glee nor its characters. I do own the characters I have created, however.
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She was dancing around the kitchen, making Saturday morning coffee, to the Grateful Dead's live version of the blues standard "Walking Blues", hips swinging to the irresistible groove, singing happily along in the lovely morning sunshine that streamed through the window:
Woke up this morning, felt around for my shoes
Thats when I knew I had them old walking blues
I woke up this morning, felt around, felt around for my shoes
Thats when I knew I had them old, mean old walking blues
It was impossible to stay still, even when she had to stand at the counter to hold the skim milk pitcher under the steamer.
"I have to admit, you sound much better than Jerry Garcia," Kurt said, from behind her. "Honestly, though, I never expected Rachel Berry to turn into a Deadhead."
She turned her head and smiled. "That's Bob Weir singing, not Jerry Garcia. C'mon, Kurt, it's a great song. And I'm not a Deadhead, at least, not like Finn was."
"Yeah, I know", Kurt said softly. He watched her begin brewing the espresso portion. The machine, an expensive Italian one Rachel had bought for them, wheezed noisily.
"How does it feel to be getting up early again?"
She looked pensive. "It feels…good. Even if I am unemployed!" The twinkle in her eyes and impish grin eased any concern. "I think being a student full time will be good for me. I can tap into my old college fund again, and keep the money I made performing for when I start auditioning later on."
She had saved most of her considerable salary from Funny Girl's two-year run. That, and the Tony nomination (but not a win) would probably guarantee her success on Broadway when she returned. But for now, Rachel Berry was going back to school.
"Do you think kids will give me a hard time?" she asked.
"You mean, like they used to?"
"No. Do you think they'll resent me? I mean, should I tell Carmen not to consider me for showcases, since I have all this experience now?"
"You know, the Rachel Berry before Funny Girl would never even have considered that."
That brought a thoughtful look to her face. A softness.
"I'm not that girl anymore, Kurt."
Along with the softness he saw hard-won happiness, too.
"I know."
He and Santana were glad Rachel was off the Broadway schedule. When she was performing eight shows a week, they only saw her on Monday evenings, her one night off. She made sure to cook them dinner that night, in gratitude for the dinners they left warming for her the rest of the week. Weekdays she would sleep until ten, waking up long after he and Santana had left for work and school. And they always made sure Rachel slept till at least eleven, and sometimes noon, on Saturday and Sunday, as the weariness of the week built up, and she needed extra energy for the two shows on Sunday.
Now that her schedule was better, they could finish working on her weight.
"I'm making lunch today, Rachel. Exotic, gooey, grilled cheese sandwiches, and I want you to eat every bite. I even—" Kurt winced, "—bought you some beer."
He hadn't been sure if buying her the beer was a good idea. Neither he nor Santana drank the stuff, and, as a result, Rachel normally didn't either. It was something that she had only done with Finn, and for the longest time Kurt thought she did it only to please him. But one day she had confided that she liked decent, hoppy beer like Pilsner Urquell, especially after a grueling performance. "It has electrolytes!" Apparently, some of the cast drank it after the show. She didn't buy it for herself, however, and Kurt wasn't sure if that was because of the association with his brother; still, he told himself, she had been steadily emerging from her grief, so he decided to try it. Something had to be done to get her little tummy back. She had been too thin for too long.
"Oh really? Yum!"
Her eyes held a genuine twinkle. There was light in them again. And life.
XXXxxx
Walking to class was a different experience after having been on Broadway. For one thing, she felt like Kurt's little sister as he escorted her to her first class. He seemed to know everybody, and, she noticed warmly, they seemed to like him. He dropped her off and kissed the top of her head, making her giggle.
"Now run along and learn something," he said, "And if anyone's mean to you, let me know."
"I love you, Kurt," she whispered.
Rachel went into each class assuming she didn't know anything—that way she wouldn't appear to be a know-it-all. It didn't change the fact that, after roll was called almost everyone knew who she was. Soon she knew which kids were waiting for her to make a mistake, and those who looked to her expertise in some kind of awe. One instructor apparently didn't get Carmen's memo, and kept asking Rachel her opinion. For the most part, however, it was enjoyable.
A few days into the week, she was walking to the student lounge after her next-to-last class, when a fellow student caught up with her in the hall. His name was Ron, and wanted to be an actor. He pulled alongside her.
"Hey, Rachel! Heading for the lounge before class?"
She nodded, smiling. Ron was tall, with dark, curly hair. The two of them sat together in class, and had done one improv together.
"Mind if I join you? I kinda need to unwind after Cassie's dance class."
Rachel laughed. "Sure! I know exactly how you feel." They chose two armchairs which were tilted towards each other.
"I thought I would take dancing to round me out better as an actor," Ron said, "but the class is full of musical theatre majors who can already dance rings around me, and Cassie is brutal."
"What name did she give you?"
He laughed. "It's really weird. I had to look it up. She called me 'Stanley Goodspeed'".
"Wow, that is weird. Who's Stanley Goodspeed?"
"It's a character Nicolas Cage played in the movie 'The Rock'".
She looked at Ron carefully. His dark eyes and matching eyebrows had a hang-dog, sleepy quality to them, like Cage's. Made sense. "Yeah…I can see the rationale behind it. At least it's not too insulting."
"Why, did she give you a name, if you don't mind my asking?"
Rachel could laugh at it now. "Within minutes of my first day at NYADA she called me 'David Schwimmer'." At Ron's blank look she touched her nose.
"Ah, the schnoz, I see." Ron laughed with her.
"She rode me like you wouldn't believe. Everybody thought she wanted to get me drummed out of NYADA. "
"You're kidding, right?"
"Well, it turned out she actually saw potential in me, and decided tough love would help me become a success."
"I guess it worked," Ron grinned.
Rachel shook her head. "She had no idea what she was talking about, and had no idea how to motivate people. Still doesn't."
"What motivated you, then?"
She could tell he was sincerely interested. And she liked him. He didn't look at her in that awful, predatory way some of the men she knew from the show did. And she felt like spending some pleasant time in the company of a man. So she just asked him:
"Look, why don't we talk more over coffee? Are you free after the next class?"
"Yes, I am. Sounds good." He looked pleased. She smiled.
"Excellent."
It might be fun. Maybe some decent conversation.
"Let's go over last night's assignment," he suggested.
She liked that.
XXXXxxxxxx
He held the door of the diner open for her. The Arabica diner wasn't full, like the Starbucks where all the NYADA students hung out, even though it was only two blocks further south. Ron offered, but did not insist, to "buy the first round", including the banana bread she ordered for both of them as well, which gave him points in her book. She accepted graciously, and they sat at the last two counter seats on the left.
"This coffee is great!" Ron enthused, and Rachel explained it was Kenyan AA, the diner's specialty, although it also offered Ethiopian Sidamo and Tanzanian Peaberry as well. "All East African, interesting," he noted, impressing her.
He was from Santa Fe, New Mexico, the only son of two well-known (and fairly well-off) local artists. She liked his tall good looks, and understated way of dressing: black shirt and dark trousers.
"You said Cassie didn't really motivate you. Didn't you just itch to prove her wrong? "
"That was her rationale, and I understand why she tried to find every button of mine to push, just to get me to react the wrong way in class rather than in the real world. And yes, I did want to prove her wrong, but anybody who has struggled and succeeded in getting into NYADA has the grit and determination to want to do that. It's no great teaching revelation." She snorted. "I expected more originality."
"So how did you find the motivation to win the Winter Showcase as a freshman, and then win a lead role in a major Broadway show soon after that?"
A reasonable question.
"I've always been ambitious," she said, then paused to chew some banana bread. "So good". He smiled.
"I also had friends who believed in me, who didn't let me give in to doubt." She remembered them helping her at that first Funny Girl audition. "And I had a fiancée who knew me better than any other human being on the planet, who inspired me to reach for the stars without losing my humanity." There. She said it without crying.
"Fiancée?" Ron looked surprised, and she caught him involuntarily glancing at her left hand (surely he noticed a missing ring before?).
"He died," she said. "Soon after I got the part of Fanny Brice."
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. That's awful."
She looked down for just a moment, replying, "Thanks."
"I can't imagine how you could ever get over something like that."
How many times had she heard people say that?
"I don't think you ever get over it," she said. "It's something you just learn to live with."
His eyes flicked away from her for an instant.
"Yeah… I guess so."
The conversation stalled, just for a beat. She felt something had changed.
"So…What motivated you to want to get into NYADA, to be an actor?"
He was chewing on some banana bread, pondering his answer, when she noticed that his eyes made less contact than before; he seemed more easily distracted.
"It's just something I've always wanted to do, for as long as I can remember."
She could relate to that.
"Do you have any role models? Nick Cage, for instance?"
He did notice her impish grin, and laughed.
"Olivier."
"Wow, and I was thinking I was the ambitious one."
He shrugged.
"Streisand, Olivier. "Aim high, sez me."
"I like a man with ambition." She had decided to give him an opportunity, then sipped her coffee to gauge his response.
They had finished the banana bread, and the waitress approached them, asking if they wanted more coffee. Rachel could tell he was not going to ask for more.
"I'm good," he said, standing up, with an apologetic look. "Rachel, I've got an ungodly amount of work yet to do, and should get back, I'm sorry."
"I'd like some more coffee," Rachel informed the waitress, and to Ron said, with a smile, "I'm going to meet my roommate Kurt here later."
Ron looked relieved, she imagined because he may have worried about her needing an escort to the nearby Canal Street Station (he lived in the dorms). She didn't want him to feel obligated.
"Thanks for the coffee and company, Ron. See you in class?"
"Sure." He smiled and left. She was finishing her coffee when Kurt texted, asking when she thought she'd be done. She texted back, saying she was alone now, and he texted that he'd be right there.
"That was fast," Kurt said, walking with her to the station. "Not your type?"
"Oh no," Rachel laughed, "He's good-looking, talented and ambitious. What's not to like?"
Kurt gazed at her intently. "Are you saying he ended it early?"
She shrugged and waited until they had negotiated themselves around a particularly knotted, slower group of people on the sidewalk.
"He lost interest the second I mentioned Finn." Rachel saw Kurt getting angry, and she patted his arm. "No, it's okay. He's a young college student, and I think he just decided he didn't want to get involved with a complicated girl." She gave him a resolute look. "I'm not going to act as if Finn never existed—ever."
"Good for you, Rachel." He kissed her forehead.
She held his arm tighter, and leaned her head on his shoulder.
A/N2: Lyrics are from "Walkin Blues", by Robert Johnson