Home Is Where The Heart Is

Disclaimer: I do not own the show, the characters, or any of the song lyrics used in this work of fiction. It is simply for my own personal enjoyment and the enjoyment of other Glee fans.

Author's Note: I hope everyone enjoys this story! I know it says this is my first story as an author on this site, but this is actually just a separate account. I'll mostly be posting one, two, and three shots on this account. Just to get away from the stress of constant multi-chap updates. I'm so glad that you have taken the time to click onto my story, and reviews are always appreciated :) I actually wrote a story like this a jillion years ago in a much different way, but I think this is much more improved ;) Enjoy!

Sunlight streamed through the white cotton curtains of the windows of the building, gently awakening the occupants of the Lima Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. The clock in the main dining room struck 7:00 on the dot when Rachel Barbara Richardson opened her eyes.

Was it a Wednesday, or was it a Sunday? Rachel wasn't sure. The days were all mixed together now, blending into a swirl of boring that she had grown accustomed to over the past three years. Of course, her life had been a bit dull in the decade or so preceding her big "move-in" when she had first arrived at the nursing home, but at least back in New York she could see shows or something to pass the time. But she didn't regret her decision to move back to her hometown of Lima, Ohio in the least - while her children (still in New York, of course) had insisted she stay with one of them, she knew that she couldn't impose on them, and with her husband long since gone, she had no one else to stay with. If any of her old friends from high school or college were still alive, she didn't know where any of them were. She was alone in a great big world that knew only the echo of her name.

Oh, she had been a household name at one point, though! In the days of her youth, her first five or ten years on Broadway or so, she had been absolutely incredible. She'd fulfilled all three of her dream roles and then some! She'd been Eva, Velma and Roxie, Dorothy, Elphaba, Eponine, and Maria (in both West Side Story and The Sound of Music). Her final role on the stage had occurred twenty-some years before, when she'd played the part of Mme. Thenadier in Les Mis. She'd only been in the role for a few months, but it was a nice way for her to end her long-time career. During all of this, she'd somehow managed to find an amazing husband and have the three most beautiful children in the world. She would be lying if she said she hadn't had her share of utter bliss and happiness in her life.

But she was paying for it now. Compared to the razzle-dazzle roller coaster that used to be her life, her world now was completely and utterly lacking sparkle. She woke up in a bland room, ate three bland meals a day, watched bland soap operas, and conversed with other bland elderly men and women. She had occasional phone conversations with her sister-in-law and her children and grandchildren, but nothing terribly interesting. The only true joy she got out of her day was when she would go into the sitting room towards the end of evening and play on the gorgeous mahogany piano that sat there. No one else in the entire nursing home knew how to play - but she did. And she graced the other residents with lovely tunes and harmonies.

The morning our story begins had begun as any other; Rachel woke up, stretched, and changed into her daytime clothes. Older though she may have been, her tendencies had absolutely not dissipated, and she greeted the morning with her normal ritual. When 8:00 rolled around, Rachel went down to the dining hall and ate her breakfast, a simple serving of toast with apple butter and oatmeal without milk. She cheerfully said, "Hello" to her neighbors, chatting for a bit longer with a woman who Rachel had been able to come to call a friend. Jessica Scmidt was two years younger than Rachel, and had also been very involved in the theatrical world - only she'd made a name for herself in Hollywood rather than New York. She'd starred in a few low-budget films that had never really gone anywhere, but had been a lot of fun to make. Rachel felt that she could relate to her a little bit, and she enjoyed the talks they had.

After breakfast, Rachel went to the Rehabilitation Center and walked on the eliptical for half an hour. Please! Like she was about to succumb to arthritis! She may have been seventy-two, but she didn't need to feel her age.

At 1:00, Rachel sat down on her couch to watch a program she'd been trying to follow, and when it was over, she spent fourty-five minutes finishing the novel she'd begun the previous week. At 2:50, one of Rachel's nurses brought her a tray, which contained her lunch. She thanked the woman, whose name she thought was Martha, and ate peacefully. While she ate, she had her Wicked CD playing in her old fashioned player, and she sang along to the words of No One Mourns The Wicked, reliving - in part - her glory days.

At 4:00, the time when Rachel usually got her daily newspaper, a very predictable knock came at the door. Rachel put on a show face, and got up from her couch to open it. A smiling nurse greeted her, and handed her the paper.

"Thank you," Rachel told her happily. The woman continued to smile, in a kind - yet somehow creepy - way.

"No problem at all, Mrs. Richardson," the woman replied. "And if it's not too much trouble, could I bother you with a question?"

"It's no trouble at all." Rachel assured her. Looking more closely, Rachel realized that this woman was no more grown up than her eighteen year old granddaughter, Angelica, was. She must have been new.

"My name is Helen," she said. Rachel shook her hand as she continued. "I'm new," As I suspected, Rachel thought, "And Mr. Grey asked me to watch the front desk. It's been pretty quiet today, just a few letters that came in for a few people downstairs. Anyway, things were pretty easy, but a man came in just now when I was about to deliver Ms. Schmidt her paper, and he was looking for someone. I looked on the list for the lady he wanted to see, but she wasn't there. But he insisted I check again. He was fairly sure that she lived here. So I asked Jessica - I mean, Ms. Schmidt what to do, and she told me that you had been here longer than she and that you would probably know everyone who lived here and might be able to help him."

A small bubble of laughter escaped Rachel's lips - this girl reminded her very much of her granddaughter. She spoke very quickly in an excited way, and her eyes were as wide as an owl's. Rachel nodded at Helen, assuring her that she did know everyone here and that she would be able to help the man. Helen breathed a sigh of relief, thanked Rachel profusely, and led her to the elevator, which would take the both of them down to the first level, where the man awaited an answer.

They got off at the main floor, and turned down a hallway to the front desk. The man awaited them there.

He was as kind an old man as Rachel had ever met. He smiled when she approached him, and shook her hand. She saw that he carried with him a bouquet of red roses, and her heart melted a little bit - it was like an old romantic movie. He wanted to find his long lost love.

"Hello," Rachel told him. "I'm Mrs. Richardson - I live upstairs. Helen told me that you needed some help finding someone?"

"Yes," the man smiled politely. "That would be wonderful. I've been looking for her for...a very long time."

"Are those roses for her?" asked Rachel knowingly, a twinkle in her eye. Her thirst for drama and romance never could be quenched.

"Yes." the man laughed, running a calloused hand through his hair. It was receding, but still present. "She loves red roses - she always used to tell me so."

"They're the most romantic of all flowers," Rachel mused. "They mean true love - I always used to badger my boyfriends to get them for me. Getting them used to make me feel so special." Rachel tuned out for a moment, eyes lost in the memory of what her life had been like when she was younger. "Anyway," she said, getting back on track. "I'm sorry - you make it very easy to get distracted."

The man shrugged. "I've been told I have that effect on people."

"Cocky all of a sudden," Rachel noted, chuckling. "I like it. Well, if you'll just give me the name of this lucky lady, I'd be happy to point you in her direction."

"See, that's kind of the problem." he laughed. "I don't really know her name anymore."

A quizzical look appeared on Rachel's face, and she calmly suggested that they take their conversation to one of the couches, that sat around the piano. The man agreed, and they walked together to the middle of the room and sat down.

"Alright," Rachel said. "So explain - give me the story. I love a good story."

"Very well," the man said, smiling. "She was...extraordinary. Real star quality, y'know? She was easily the most talented person I had ever had the pleasure of meeting in my entire life, even though I never really admitted that to her. We were together in high school."

"High school sweethearts..." cooed Rachel, a bright smiling lighting up her face.

"Hardly." the man snorted. "It didn't last. Three times I went after her - three times she got away. But no one had ever affected me like she did. She changed my life and my heart. And after all of these years...I love her still. In the beginning, I stalked her on Facebook. Some part of me hoped that, even in her new, exciting life, she still needed me. Months passed, and when I saw that she was engaged, I didn't even look for the name of the man. I just...deleted my own page and sulked. For...a while."

"How sad," said Rachel, jutting out her lower lip.

"Yeah," he said, laughing without humor. "But you can see my problem now, can't you? No one uses Facebook anymore, as you know, I'm sure, and I can't find her anywhere. I don't know the name of the guy she married, I don't know her last name, or even if she goes by a different first name - you know how stars sometimes do that. I didn't think she would ever be in Lima, but this is the only place I haven't looked. If she's not here, then...she's gone. She could be gone now, and would I ever even know? No."

Rachel gently placed her strong and steady hand on the man's shaking shoulder. "Hey," she said softly. "Don't talk like that - don't give up hope! I'll help you in any way I can, I promise. Can you tell me what her name used to be?"

"How could I forget?" the man chuckled, running a hand through his hair again. His dark green eyes filled with warmth as he spoke. "Hers is the name you always remember, even if you only met her once - that's the way she was. Rachel Berry changed my life."

There was a beat of silence. Rachel and the man stayed completely and utterly still. Not a breath or word was exchanged between them. Rachel's heart, she swore, stopped, and her chocolate brown eyes filled with tears.

How blind she had been.

When you get nervous, you get mean. And you get really pale. And you start running your hands through your hair like Danny Zuko.

All the signs had been there - the moment of cockiness, running his hands through his hair, the eyes...

Rachel hadn't seen Jesse St. James in fifty-some years. They had completely broken off all contact after her last year at Nationals. She didn't know how she was supposed to feel - her heart was too full to know what exactly she needed to. All she knew was that she needed to know Jesse's intentions. So she quickly recovered a show face and tried like hell to dry her eyes.

"Berry," she mused, pretending to think. "The name doesn't ring an immediate bell, but that doesn't mean anything. We'll find her."

"God I hope so," Jesse said breathlessly, his own eyes looking somewhat glassy. "I don't know what I'll do if she's gone."

"Why do you want to see her so bad?" Rachel asked, what she hoped was nonchalantly.

Jesse chuckled sadly. "To kiss her. To hug her. To hold her. To love her. To give her these flowers and take her away from this place. We never got a real chance to let what we had grow into something beautiful. But it's not too late for us - I would spend my last day with her and it would be enough. I just want her."

She couldn't do it anymore. The dam broke, and tears poured from Rachel's eyes. "You once promised me epic romance," she blubbered, really beginning to heave and sob. "I think this fits the bill."

The shock was evident on Jesse's face for only a fraction of a moment, because after that small fraction, his face was no longer visible; it was buried in Rachel's shoulder as he embraced her and cried right along with her. They were quite a sight - two grown people, hugging and crying like infants, swearing their eternal love.

For fifty years, Jesse and Rachel had not spoken. They had not kept up. But somehow, they were able to reconnect like it had really only been a week, or a month.

"You're crazy," Jesse told Rachel hoarsley, without letting her go. "You're crazy and beautiful and completely and utterly Rachel. I don't know how I couldn't tell it was you when you introduced yourself."

"Jesse," cried Rachel. Words failing her, Rachel looked crazily around the room...until her eyes landed on the piano.

Without a word, she took Jesse by the hand and led him to the bench. She laid her head on his shoulder, and gestured to the keys. "I don't know what else to say," she admitted. "Except that I still love you, too."

The opening notes of Lionel Ritchie's Hello drifted through the room. Though hardended with age, Jesse's voice was still just as beautiful as Rachel had remembered it. Her own voice flowed with his perfectly, and together, they created something magical. Their time left together was short - they wouldn't get to have children or be parents together or experience all that they should have. But at least they didn't leave the earth without knowing the truth - the truth that their love was everlasting.

Five years. That's all they got. And then...as quickly as Rachel came back into his life...she was gone again. Jesse had to watch her wither away, becoming thinner and sicker as she succumbed to death. But she never lost her spirit. She never lost her will to live. And...miraculously...she never lost her love for him. At night sometimes, Jesse stayed awake just to hear her breathe...or feel her heart beat...or hold her tightly and relish in the fact that she was his. He won. He got his beautiful, shining star. He found her...he found her just to lose her again.

But Rachel's life...the rest of it...had meaning. She had a purpose again. And she never woke up just to have a bland breakfast, at a bland nursing home, with bland people. She had her Jesse, and she couldn't have asked for anything better. She loved him with her whole heart - she was his. Completely and utterly his. Forever more.

"Oh my man I love him so. He'll never know. All my life is just despair, but I don't care. When he takes me in his arms, the world is bright. Alright."

Oh my God. You're Jesse St. James. You're in Vocal Adrenaline.

And you're Rachel Berry. I saw you perform at Sectionals. Your rendition of "Don't Rain On My Parade" was flawed. You totally lacked Barbara's emotional depth. But you're talented.

And I wonder where you are...

And I wonder what you do...

Are you somewhere feeling lonely?

Or is someone loving you?

Tell me how to win your heart.

For I haven't got a clue.

But let me start by saying...

I love you.

This was the start of something magical.

*Read this before you review!

Okay...so I guess there wasn't really a point or plot to this story...I just wanted Rachel and Jesse to find each other again! And I don't know why, but I've been in the mood to write something sad for them. I'll try to update again tomorrow night, and it'll be with something happy, I swear! Another one-shot is just what I've been in the mood to write :D I hope you guys liked it! Thanks for reading :)

xoxo