A/N: This story has honestly been on my mind for months now, and although this isn't necessarily the way I planned to narrate it, I feel like no other ideas will move forward if I don't let it out.

He's late.

He should have known better than to agree to a bowling tournament on a school night. But it was bowling, and he hasn't done that in almost six months. It showed too, if those two spares were anything to go by. Of course bowling led to a late nightcap and Nate may possibly be the best friend he's got around here, but carrying his drunk body five miles back to his apartment was not his idea of a fun night. He guesses he'll have to settle for the satisfaction of the thought that Lydia will probably be giving the guy an earful this morning and that a classroom full of seven year olds with percussions is waiting for him.

It doesn't change the fact that he's still late. He groans at the thought of losing the bet he's got going on with the kids. Damn Nate for messing with his winning streak. He throws his tie clumsily into his briefcase, noting to put it on later and chugs down the day old coffee, grimacing at the grimy taste. Damn Nate for wasting his time last night and making him forget to clean out the coffee maker. His eye catches the clock on the wall and he makes a beeline for the front door, juggling his briefcase, his mug of cold coffee and his keys at the same time. He locks the door and turns.

He runs straight into a warm body and watches in dismay as the mug falls from his hand.

"Shit! I'm so sorry. I didn't see you. Are you okay?"

He's too busy looking at the stain that's spreading it's way on the white fabric to notice the way the person freezes almost completely.

"I'm just- I'm really late, so I'll just give you my number and I'll totally pay for the dry cleaning or whatever-"

"Finn."

He freezes, the familiar sound of her voice and the way his name lilts of her tongue catching him off guard.

"Finn," she says again, and it pulls him out of the sudden vacuum he was in as he slowly moves his gaze upward.

"Rachel."

Xxx

He's beyond super late when he gets to class, and he barely bats an eyelash when the kids hound him for 45 minutes of freestyling. He doesn't really have the mental capacity for teaching this morning anyway.

Toby Maguire is doing a move that could potentially break his neck while his bestfriend Michael beats away on the drums and all he can think about is of the woman sitting in his apartment at this very moment, potentially standing stock still in the middle of his tiny living room, because once it was established that she's here to stay, he's been moving on autopilot, telling her where the set of spare keys are and saying that he needed to leave, and proceeding to do just that so very quickly.

He's not particularly sure what he's supposed to do with the knowledge that Rachel Berry is now more than 2000 miles away from New York City where she's supposed to be, and is instead holed up in his tiny apartment all the way in San Diego. The first question that he should probably ask is what the hell is she doing here? Although, he gets the feeling that the question would only lead to answers he's still not quite prepared to know. The second is how the hell did she get here? He won't bother with the logistics of how she knew where to find him because Kurt is his brother and Kurt can mind his own business about as well as Finn can dance.

In fact, really, Kurt's inability to mind his own damn business was what got them into this whole... whatever it's supposed to be in the first place.

He doesn't really like to think about it, because really, avoidance is what Finn Hudson does best. He just never figured that Rachel Berry would be just as good at it when she wants to be.

Until today anyway.

Xxx

Kurt calls him at seven in the morning. On a freaking Saturday. He does not appreciate this.

"What?" he snaps, still bleary-eyed from being so rudely awakened. There's a reason why he usually keeps his phone on silent mode.

"The bad news," Kurt tells him, "Is that Rachel was hospitalized."

"Wait. What? Is she-"

"The good news, is that all she got out of that really bad fall was a broken ankle."

"What fall?"

"The great news," his brother finishes, with a little too much enthusiasm, "Is that she'll be going back to Lima for the rest of her recovery!"

"Dude. Repeat. What fall?"

Kurt sighs on the other line, and he can practically see his brother rolling his eyes, but whatever. You just don't call someone up at seven in the morning and expect his brain to be fully functioning.

"As you know, she's been preparing for her Broadway debut for months now."

"Has she?"

"Don't pretend like you don't know exactly what's going on with her life," Kurt answers in a bored voice. He says nothing to that, gritting his teeth in response.

"Whatever. So?"

"It was the last rehearsal, and she, according to her words, was about to make her biggest twirl yet, because even though she has all of ten lines and one verse of a chorus, she was determined to make her role a memorable one, when she miscalculated and fell off the stage."

"She fell off the stage?"

"That's what I said. And unfortunately for her, her ankle was what broke the fall. And because she has been so miserable here, I figured that a little fresh air from good ole' Lima could do her some good."

He knows Kurt's tone when he's actually happy, and he knows Kurt's tone when he's pretending to be cheerful to get something out of it. This tone does not indicate actual happiness.

"Let me guess," Finn says dryly. "This great news is only great for you."

There's a beat of silence before Kurt speaks again.

"She's driving me crazy," he whispers dramatically. Finn rolls his eyes. "I'm serious Finn. She's alternating between crying her eyes out at her lost chance, and being the stubborn diva that she is, and demanding that I let her walk around the streets of New York on that bad ankle. And it's not like I won't appreciate the momentary reprieve that would entail, but we both know that it's only going to prolong her recovery, and believe you me, noone wants that."

"So you're shipping her back here so you won't have to deal with all that crazy?"

"Must you make me sound so mean? But... yes."

"And you're telling me this why?"

"While I may not want to handle her current state, I still feel for the poor girl. I mean, she needs all the help she can get."

"I don't think she'd want my help," Finn answers dryly, sitting up from his bed to lean against the wall.

"Of course she does."

"Maybe you didn't get the memo, but the last time I saw her, she basically told me she didn't want to have anything to do with me."

"Well can you blame her? You were kind of acting like an ass, insulting her then boyfriend and essentially telling her that she needs to fix her taste in men."

"No," he answers, getting riled up all over again. "An ass is a dude who tells a guy he's just met for all of ten minutes what a great lay his girlfriend is since she's 'gotten her badass tattoo'. Seriously Kurt, what the hell was she thinking even going on one date with that idiot? I mean, really?"

"Well you didn't exactly help matters, did you? You know Rachel. When you tell her she can't have something, it only makes her want it more. She was about to dump Ryan on his cute but vacant behind if you hadn't provoked her and made that train wreck last for another month."

"How the hell is that my fault?" he demands, annoyed.

"Look," Kurt starts in a placating manner. "I'm just saying that maybe your unresolved feelings for Rachel-"

"I don't have any unresolved feelings for Rachel. We've covered that years ago."

"Mmhmm. Fine, maybe your 'approach' then, wasn't the best one."

"So you're telling me that I shouldn't have called her out for dating a grade A douchebag?"

"Maybe not the way you did it. I mean c'mon Finn. We were at a club. And he was right there."

"Don't remind me," he mutters, remembering that dickhead's face going back and forth between Finn and Rachel as their 'conversation' grew more and more heated until she had stormed out and dragged his stupid ass along.

"Look. This conversation is getting us nowhere," Kurt answers impatiently. "The point is, Rachel's leaving for Lima this weekend and I'm not sure how long she'll be staying, but I figured it'd help if she had some support, you know? Other than her parents, because God, they've been blowing up our land line and honestly, they are not helping her tone down her theatrics."

Finn sighs, leaning his head back too far and accidentally banging it against the wall.

"I don't know Kurt. I mean, we haven't spoken in like, months-"

"Six, to be exact."

"How did-"

"How do I know? Only because Rachel has been on a PMS streak for the last six months. And I am telling you right now Finn Hudson, you add a broken ankle in the picture, and you are getting the most insufferable, stiflingly neurotic-"

"The point is, I don't know if seeing each other would the best thing right now."

Kurt sighs, and he knows it's the one that means he's getting tired of whoever's speaking, which happens to be Finn.

"Finn, I swear to God, I will literally lose my mind. I love the girl. I love her to death, but I cannot live with her when she's like this. You know how impatient I am. We are both just too self absorbed for our egos to fit in the same apartment-"

He lets his mind wander, ignoring Kurt's bitch out in the background as he tries to analyze his feelings. He's pretty sure he's still pissed at her because really, how is it his fault that he cares for her (as a friend) enough to not want her to settle for such a fucking tool? And like, she dumped the dude anyway, and seriously, she actually held it out for another month just to spite him.

She's crazy stubborn, she's a total drama queen and he just knows that she's going to drive him completely off the fucking wall in like, ten minutes tops.

Okay fine, he might have been worried when Kurt sprung the news on him, but a broken ankle really isn't even that bad, and yeah, he can probably guess how much this is killing her 'Broadway soul', but he's still holding out for an apology here. So he's been holding out for six months, he's pretty sure he's being reasonable about this. Who cares if she thinks he's the one who needs to apologize? She's obviously wrong-

"Finn! Are you even listening to me at all?"

"No."

"Typical."

"Did she even tell you that she wants to see me?"

"Yes."

"Kurt."

"Fine, she hasn't. But I know she does."

"That's not the same thing."

"Finn!" Kurt whines, annoyed. "You know you're going to do it anyway. It's like an affliction with both of you."

Huh. Affliction. That sounds about right.

"Has it really been six months?" he asks, resigning to the fact that he's just stalling by now.

"And seven days."

"Why am I doing this?"

"Because it's Rachel. Because she's our girl."

"She's not my girl anymore, remember?"

"Please," Kurt snorts. "She's always your girl."

Xxx

The bell rings and he realizes that the noise in his class has pretty much reached detention levels by now. Putting two fingers up to his mouth, he whistles loud enough to quiet them down. Finn raises an eyebrow, pointing to the clock on the wall and smiles ruefully as they leave the room at lightning speed for lunch.

He realizes that there's nothing at home save for half a bag of ground coffee and a carton of milk. Real milk. He wonders if she knows that there's a vegan deli a few blocks away from his house. He ignores his knee jerk reaction to call her and heads out to the cafeteria instead.

Really, it's ridiculously ironic to realize that this year's (has it been a year?) worth of separation stemmed from a reconciliation.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.