It was on his last day stationed in Iraq before he was scheduled to return home when Finn Hudson died.
Four months and twenty-seven days before, Richie bounded down the stairs of their two-story house, jumping over every other step on the way. They had been playing an innocent game of Hungry Hungry Hippos when Finn discovered that his son had somehow managed to create a secret compartment within the blue hippo- the one he insisted on using- to store a few extra marbles within. Though the handiwork was impressive for a little, five-year-old boy, he was a sore loser; had always been, and would always be. All of this resulted in father chasing son out of the game room upstairs, down to the bottom floor, only to be halted by Santana with her arms crossed and an agitated expression on her face.
"Ay dios mío! What have I told you two about running down the stairs?!" she exclaimed, clearly worried beneath the angry exterior. This was the third time she had caught them roughhousing on the staircase and she wouldn't stand for that. Her little boy could easily lose his balance while they were innocently having fun and she felt a mild anger at her childish husband for putting their son at risk like that.
Both stood there like a deer caught in the headlights and Santana sighed, rolling her eyes at the both of them, but she was unable to stay mad though she needed to reassert her ground rules. "Come here, Rich," she cooed softly, squatting down and settling her hands beneath his armpits, lifting him up so he settled on her hip. She gave him a serious look while combing her fingers through his hair. "I've told you three times now that it isn't safe to run down the stairs like that. Now, I'd like you to completely clean your room for me- think you can do that?"
Richie huffed, crossing his arms defiantly and giving her his best glare- which wasn't that great. "But Daddy was chasing me!" he argued, whining slightly, throwing his arms out and beginning to squirm like he wanted to be let down. Santana complied, instead squatting down in front of him and placing her hands firmly on his upper arms.
"I know he was, and I'm going to talk to Daddy about that." She heard a soft groan to which she waved Finn off while she dealt with their son; he had never been good with discipline, often needing some himself. He wasn't a bad dad- far from it- he just needed some guidance with the harsher side to parenting, like she needed some help with the lighter side. "I'll give you two options: clean your room, or sit in the time-out corner for seven minutes."
Raising an eyebrow, she smiled as he finally agreed to the former. "Good boy- I love you." She kissed his cheek and ruffled his short, dark brown hair. "Love you too, Mom." Richie tilted his head to the side, a little smile on his face, even though he had been punished, and returned upstairs.
Standing up, Santana watched her son close his bedroom door behind him before turning on her heel and stepping into the kitchen, where she had waved her husband off to. One hand at her hip, she moved over to the counter where he was making a sandwich and leaned into it, giving him a serious look. "You know that's dangerous, sweetheart," she chastised after a few, long moments of silence between the two.
"We were playing around, Santana. He's a little boy, they do that kind of stuff." Rolling her lips into a thin line, she eyed Finn and waited for him to realize what he had done wrong. Sighing softly, he glanced over at her with a look of defeat. "Yeah, yeah- I know. We won't do it again. Playing around will be kept to level ground at all times, I swear."
Tilting her head to the side and smiling, much like her son had done, she reached up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "That's all I want. And I have to study- go check on Richie, please?" With that, Santana turned and left for her personal study, hips swaying in a way she knew drove her husband crazy. "We'll watch a movie as soon as I'm done so you two can pick something out," she threw over her shoulder before rounding the corner.
Finn smiled as he watched his wife go, knowing without a doubt that he loved her beyond what words could possibly describe. She was a rose incarnate, beautiful and powerful. Where people saw flowers as frail and brittle, he thought they were strong and capable and gorgeous- exactly like his wife was. She didn't need a man in her life to depend on- she didn't need him- but she loved him and wanted him in her life, and he would forever be grateful. She did have many days where he was certain that she was constantly suffering from her time of the month. Some days they argued over the silliest things and she always had to have the upper hand. They often butted heads on how exactly they would raise Richie. Finn was always terrified that his wife's mother and brother would castrate him in his sleep. But he would forever be reminded that she was the reason her persevered through every day life with a smile on his face, even when things got rough, in their relationship and on the battlefield.
Though he hadn't seen any real war, he had done his fair share of training to kill, and he would be prepared to do it for his country if the need came; she reminded him constantly that he was fighting for their safety and that it was moral and he was sure he would have dropped out of the military within the first two weeks had it not been for her. She continually reminded him that this was his dream, to do it for his dad, to make him proud and give a title to the Hudson name.
Grabbing his plate with a finished sandwich on it, he reached into the fridge for a juice box and grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. Upstairs, he handed the snack to his son and sat on the bed, keeping him company while he cleaned up. "We'll watch a movie once Mom's done studying, kiddo. Anything you want to see?" he questioned, speaking around a mouthful of food, which drove Santana mad. Finn's eyes followed Richie as he tossed his legos into the box they came in.
"Umm," he hummed thoughtfully, his crunching on the chips in his mouth slowing, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Richie paused for a moment and stuck a finger against his cheek, thinking hard. Finn smiled at the display, amused by his display of great thought for something so simple as a family movie night. He didn't blame him, though, because they would be sitting down for close to two hours and he wouldn't want to waste it on some boring, spur of the moment movie choice. "Shrek!" he finally exclaimed, looking up at his dad with a large smile, searching for approval.
The dad nodded and held out his hand for a high-five. "Always a good choice!" With that, he released a deep belch, throwing his son into a fit of giggles. "Better out than in I always say." He laughed along with the young boy, unable to help it. His laugh was adorable and infectious and he always did everything he could to find the exact things that plucked at his humor, which turned out to be funny movie quotes. Richie adored movies and was very good at memorizing lines that he enjoyed; it made his Uncle Sam very proud and unable to wait for the days when Santana would deem him an appropriate age to watch Avatar.
Once the boy was finished cleaning his room, as spotless and neat as a five-year-old boy could possibly make it, they went back downstairs and into the living room. Richie grabbed the DVD and set it up, creating a cushioned seating area on the floor where his dad had pushed away the couch. It was a tradition that they would watch a movie every Friday, of alternating choice, while sitting on the floor and eating popcorn, which Finn was popping at the moment. He knew he and his son would have a Pepsi, the only night he was allowed soda after five because his bedtime would be moved from seven thirty to somewhere around eight fifteen, while his wife had a cherry coke.
Santana finished reading "Concept Misinformation in Comparative Politics" just in time to smell the warming fragrance of popcorn floating from the kitchen. Smiling and shutting down her laptop, she walked from her study space and into the kitchen, moving to stand in front of Finn and wrap her arms around his neck. Adoration made her heart speed up slightly and her brain fuzz over. "Hey there, handsome." She pushed up onto her toes and he met her halfway, the height difference staggering but both loved it, kissing sweetly.
The man she had married some four years ago was everything she had ever needed though nothing she ever wanted. He was tall and a jock, both things she had expected out of a high school boyfriend. Finn also had his moments where Santana couldn't be sure if he legitimately didn't know or was just being ignorant, was gone more often than not with the great possibility of never coming back, rarely took responsibility, and was less than awesome in bed- though they were working on that. But he loved with his entire heart, and he could be so sweet when he didn't put forth so much effort. When he left little notes in the morning on his pillow, accustomed to waking up early and always up before her, telling her that she looked gorgeous or how she was cute while sleeping. Those evenings when they bathed together and he did everything for her, including a massage; randomly cooking dinner or dropping off Richie at kindergarten or running errands. He was perfectly imperfect and she wouldn't have her husband any other way.
Watching his wife walk into the room, he felt warmth flood through him, arms quickly wrapping around her slim waist and holding her close to his body. "Gorgeous," he whispered agains their lips, about to kiss her again when a tiny noise of playful disgust could be heard from the doorway of the kitchen. Both adults turned just to see a flash of green rounding the corner, giggles racing down the hall.
Four months and twenty-seven days later, Finn was smiling down at a framed photograph of Santana Hudson, smiling so wide that she glowed, and their son Richie held at her hip. It was taken a year ago, after Mama Lopez had demanded pictures of her daughter's family. The couple wasn't exactly big on photography, so pictures were scarce around their home, but he always brought this one along with him wherever he went. It was a constant reminder that he had a reason to fight his hardest and return home safely. But, at that moment, bombs began to drop from the Iraqi airplanes flying overhead.
Orders were shouted and a chaos of voices and movements sprung up, not having been expecting an attack in broad daylight. Few people moved fast enough to get outside and see the first bomb dropping before it actually landed. Their own air force was working hard at mounting their airplanes in time but the bombs were blowing them up one by one. Men flew everywhere with the intense impact and too many lives were lost. The attack was completely out of the blue and there hadn't been enough time to prepare.
Two weeks later, Santana Hudson walked out of her house, hand in hand with her son who was just about to turn six. She led him to the bus stop and waved him off, smiling brightly, then turned to the mailbox beside her. Taking out the mail, she flipped through it while walking back to the house, wondering idly if Finn had mailed her something yet. She knew the post system for the military wasn't always the most efficient, so she had to be patient, but she wanted to hear that he was doing okay and if he was coming home soon. The majority of it was junk, but then her eyes finally fell on one envelope in particular. A smile immediately brightened on her face, seeing that it was from her husband, hurrying inside and carefully tearing it open on her way inside.
Dear Santana,
I know that the mail system is crap for the military, but I wanted to write you something telling you that I'll be coming home in a week, just in case it decides to work. If not, then you'll get a nice little letter in the mail once I'm home. I wanted to say that I love you so much and I miss you more than words could possibly say. I'm so happy to come home, earlier than expected at that. Hopefully it'll be for longer this time around. Richie had better not messed with anymore board games while I was gone, and I mean it! And you had better not gotten any more gorgeous- I remember you doing that last time I was away and you just about blinded me when I walked through the door.
I love you, baby, and tell Richie I love him too. I'll be home soon.
Sincerely, Finn
The smile on her face nearly split it in half, but it quickly fell when she read the date. A week meant that Finn should have been home nine days ago. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and she began to feel nauseous. There was always the possibility that he had unexpectedly been asked to stay longer, and that she would receive another letter apologizing for that in another week. It had happened before, so she tried not to let it bother her, but she had that off feeling for the past three weeks- the same feeling she got when Richie had fallen off the jungle gym at pre-k and broke his foot, except worse.
Gripping onto the edge of the counter on her kitchen, trying to calm her breathing, a knock came at the door. For a moment, she considered ignoring it, but then decided it might be important. Santana slipped on a jacket over her tank top and put on an easy, albeit fake, smile as she unlocked the deadbolt. "Yes?" she prompted before having the door open completely, only to be stunned into stillness by the official, military uniform. "Can I help you?" Her voice had gone soft and shaky, apprehension and dread settling in her stomach, weighing it down.
One stepped a little closer, a passive expression on his face. "Mrs. Hudson?" Her nod confirmed the name. "The Secretary of the Army has asked me to express his deep regret that your husband, Finn Hudson, was killed in action in Iraq on September eighth, two-thousand fifteen. There was a surprise bombing on his military base. The Secretary extends his deepest sympathy to you and your family in your tragic loss."