Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Lifehouse, or the song "You and Me." I am, however, borrowing them for my purposes.

Just so you're all aware, I dislike Finn a lot. I'm also not a big fan of Rachel, but Season 2 Episode 10 was just too perfect to pass up on some angst for them, my way, so this is my version of what happened. Vaguely canon, mostly AU and pretty much switching from each point of view in a stream of consciousness style.

She's never understood her love for him; it's not like he is brilliant, like Jesse, or dangerous like Puck. He is normal, and attainable because he is normal, and nice-looking, though he has nothing on Neil Patrick Harris or Hugh Jackman, two of her favorite male Broadway stars. He can sing, sure, but it seems like football is more interesting, even over spending time with her, and yes, she is high maintenance, but that's just who she is, and spending time with your girlfriend is an essential part of dating, hello.

Sure, she'd made a mistake, and Puck was a huge mistake. Like Phantom of the Opera World Tour sized. Massive and terrifying and completely out of control. But Finn had lied to her. Again. First about Quinn, then hooking up with Santana, and now he couldn't forgive her? She'd been magnanimous; she'd eventually forgiven him for the lies, and the Britney Spears "I don't feel comfortable with you dressing like that but I don't care that you don't want me on the football team" incident, and really, she was very nice about that.

So here they are, driving back from the tree lot, and she still smells like those stupid air fresheners she'd shoved in her pockets because he liked the scent, but only of real trees, and she'd given him everything, again, and he let it drop, dropped her, again, and she was so tired of it all.

When he pulls up to her driveway, she sits there for a minute, quietly, and she's almost never quiet. Maybe he'd hurt her more than he thought at the lot, but seriously, she can't expect him to forgive her. Both girlfriends that he loved had made out with Puck, and Quinn had even taken that farther. And Rachel knows how much he was twisted up about that. She knows he hates being lied to, and yeah, he'd done some lying of his own, but not on that scale, not in a way that was like stabbing a damn knife in his chest and twisting it back and forth. What the hell did Puck have that made Finn's girlfriends go after him?

She's getting out now, and he's secretly relieved, because there's so much tension in the car, and he really wants to kiss her, but he also wants to shake her and demand, over and over, why she had kissed Puck and was she thinking? But now she's saying something, and just hearing her voice makes him want to scream, but she has this look, and her words make his heart stop.

"I asked Santa for you last Christmas. This Christmas I asked that I could keep you. It didn't work. And I know you said I could ask him for you again next year, but...I'm Jewish, and we don't celebrate Christmas, so it was stupid of me to ask and actually expect anything. So I won't ask again. And I won't ask you for anything either, Finn. I'll talk to Mr. Schue tomorrow, and we'll be assigned other partners. Maybe you can sing with Santana from now on." She steps back and closes the door, leaving his face, the nice, normal face that has pain and shock written all over it framed in the window. She cocks her head, gives him a small, twitching smile-God, I have to work on that, the show must go on, always, and even if I'm heartbroken, I can't let that affect me-and a weird little nod before she turns and walks up the driveway and through the door. She doesn't run until the door is closed and locked behind her, but then she dashes for the stairs and her pink room with the innocent white furniture and the posters and the plushies. She flings the hat away into the corner. It was the cute beret he'd commented on and adjusted for her when she'd tried it on at the store. It's just another reminder that she always wanted what she can't have, another reminder of him, and she has to let go of him. She slumps against the door, and lets the tears roll down her cheeks, again. She's just so sick of it all. Why can't he forgive her? They are both to blame, after all, so what the hell is he so mad about?

The thought sets her back on her feet, and she tears around the room, ripping everything that reminds her of him off the walls and the mirrors and the photos and the calendars and the cute, quirky little gifts all end up on the floor in a pile and she considers taking a match to them. But that would make a mess, and as much as she would love the catharsis of burning the bridge and the bonds the stuff represented, she liked her room clean and her house whole, so instead she finds a box and pushes it all to the bottom and tapes it up with the duct tape her dads kept in the hall closet for emergencies. She thought this counted as an emergency, so the tapes the whole box, one big silver cube that she would never open again. She stares at it for a moment, thinking that as a bandage for her heart, it was oddly lacking. She shoves the heavy cube to the back of the closet, hidden behind the old ballet costumes and the sweaters she never wears anymore. Maybe she could forget it was back there, but she doubts it, because she's going to see Finn every day for Glee practice and in the hallways. But she can hope.

He sits, shocked and hurting even more now, as she walks away and into her house. She didn't even look back, and she'd dropped a bomb on him. What did that mean? She'd never ask him for anything? Was she...he can't think, but it's getting late and his mom wants the car back so she and Burt can go out for a movie, so he drives back to the house, and gives his mom the keys and goes down to the room he and Kurt share when Kurt is home from Dalton Academy. He sits there, in the room Kurt decorated and wishes he can find more of himself in the room, because that is part of the problem, isn't it? He isn't sure who he is; he had been the only guy in both football and Glee Club, but now Puck, Mike, Sam and even Artie were in the same position. Hell, even Kurt had been on the team for a while as the kicker, and he'd gotten the offensive line to dance-dance! To Single Ladies!-on field. He had been dating Quinn, hottest girl in school, but so had Puck and now Sam was exclusive with the blond. Santana was a one night thing, but she'd done that with too many guys-and girls, too- to be a major part of his identity. Other than the one night and the insane pressure she is putting on him about hooking up again, she isn't that important, and he was liable to actually catch something from her if he did date her. He is a leader rapidly losing any team to lead. Any day now Sam will take back the quaterback position, and Rachel is going to have his position as leader of New Directions snatched away because of this stupid fight. So who is he?

The day after the tree lot debacle is worse. They have no tree, no presents for the homeless kids, and the tension is thicker than Jacob Ben Israel's afro. She'd spent all night sitting on her floor, staring at the closet and fiddling with a pair of scissors, debating whether she should reopen the box, until dawn came and she had to get up and get ready for another day in hell. Only this time hell is ten times worse, because she has no bastion to hold on to for support. Sure, she is getting along well enough with the other people in Glee, but Kurt, the only one she considered a semi-close friend and rival, is still at Dalton, and Mercedes is more Kurt's friend than Rachel's, so she was isolated again. She keeps her back to Finn, because it still hurts too much to look at him, especially with Santana sitting there, smirking at her victory. She explains the tree issue with the simple truth: "Finn bailed." So now it's quiet and Mr. Schue comes in to interrupt their "Gift of the Magi" moment and lecture. And then the heartfelt moment is over and she's escaping to the only place she feels at home: her stage. And her winter wonderland is still there, and still Finnless, which today is perfect, because she doesn't want to see him anymore today. And in her empty wonderland, she does what she does best. She sings.

"All of the things that I want to say

Just aren't coming out right

I'm tripping in words

You got my head spinning

I don't know where to go from here

Cause it's you and me and all of the people

With nothing to do

Nothing to prove

And it's you and me and all of the people

And I don't know why

I can't keep my eyes off of you."

He doesn't know why he followed her, but he does know where she's going, where she always goes when something upsets her (it's usually him, after all, and if he can't find his own girlfriend to apologize, that's just lame). So he knows to sit in the back of the auditorium, where you can't see anyone because the lights are on the balcony. So he's not surprised to find her wandering in the artificial forest she had created for him, to give him a song, nor is he surprised to hear her sing. She does that, too, no matter what mood she's in, but the song shocks him. He sang it to her one day after they had gotten together, when they were choosing a song for an assignment, but this time, it's not a slow, vaguely happy song about a couple. Now it's a slow, sad song from a spectator to the boy she loves and can't touch, and for some reason, it makes that metaphorical knife in his chest twist again. Maybe it's because he can tell just how much she's hurting.

But she stops after those verses, and he sits in silence, the rest of the song running through his head, and he wants to finish the song for her, sing it to her, but his throat is blocked and his mouth won't cooperate and he is frozen as she bows her head and walks off stage. She's gone, and he can't reach her when his throat finally clears and he sings the next words.

"There's something about you now

I can't quite figure out

Everything she does is beautiful

Everything she does is right."

Because she had been right, somewhat, but still so wrong. She shouldn't have cheated, but he shouldn't have lied, and he should have told her instead of letting Santana spill the beans and hurt Rachel even more. But he didn't, and now he sits in a darkened theater, watching the girl who still holds his heart walk away and not look back. And he imagines that he can see both of their hearts, broken and patched and broken again, laying shattered again in the fake snow on that stage.