Title:Recovery
Summary:With Rachel in New York, Finn is barely getting by. He has a girlfriend he doesn't love, and a life he's unhappy with. When Kurt tells Finn to take the initiative and recover his dreams – and his true love – what will Finn do?
Rating: T
I watch her move from cabinet to cabinet. She must be paying close attention in those dance classes, I note. She's always been lithe, but this is different. This is grace, this is elegance, this is…
This is Rachel, I realize. This is the new her. The one that doesn't make mistakes. And to her, that's what I am, aren't I? A mistake. A shudder ripples through my shoulders, but she's been facing the opposite direction. I feel like that a lot, lately. Like these emotions keep tearing at me but everyone is so busy paying attention to something else that they can't see them. I'm not invisible; I'm just not worth detecting. I'm not going to draw attention to myself, because I'm not completely sure I want people to see this in me. They will think me weak; they will think me frail and pathetic.
The part that hurts the most is that we were almost there. We were almost to the rest of our lives. I still have so much I want her to know, and so much I should have told her, but it's too late. Since we broke up, I'll never know. I'll never know how it could have been. The future had seemed so bright when I was younger, but I know it's suffocating me under its weight. I had been so sure that even when I hit the bottom, she would help raise me to the top, but I don't have that anymore. Everywhere I go, I see her. Kurt yelled at me for an hour once on the way home from the mall because I kept getting distracted. One minute, I'd be listening to the latest 'fashion'; the next minute, I saw it: The flash of brown hair, the soft brown eyes, the short little stature. From that point on I'd be completely taken from this planet and thrown onto another. I'd watch the girl walk by away until I was sure it wasn't her. After I'd determine it wasn't, I'd kick myself for it. How could I think she'd come back for me? But before I could get any further, I'd be gone again.
She turns to me now, her hair swiping across her shoulder in a fluid motion. I ache to tell her how beautiful she is. I want to wrap my arms around her and tuck her head under my chin. I want to feel her heart race against my own. I push the thoughts aside but they refuse to disappear completely.
"So…" She starts. "What do you want to talk about?"
I'm not thinking when I speak. Every piece of her swirls in my head, leaving it a thick fog. Every time I ever touched her, every time we kissed race through my mind. I dream of all those times I said something stupid just to make her smile and each time I had seen her walking down the hallway. She'd been the first girl who could make everything else blur. Everything about her would sharpen, every bit of her face in high definition, while all the others would fade into a soft glow that formed around her. I remember seeing her down the hallway and being struck, thinking I wanted to kiss her. I didn't want to take it any further than that, but I knew with every cell in my body that I wanted to kiss her. I recall the way I couldn't seem to look away when she is walking towards me, or the way I had memorize the way her shampoo smelled. "Come home." I say quietly, my voice drowning in longing.
Her eyes widen. I consider taking it back but I haven't quite returned to Earth.
"Finn," She sighs, but doesn't continue, "This is my home now. I can't go back to Lima."
"Lima isn't your home." I plead, "But neither is New York. Your home is with me, just like my home is with you."
She clenches her jaw but I can see my words have reached her. She doesn't want to say it, but she knows I am right. She knows that we are the couple in all the love songs- the one worth fighting for. "I'm with Brody now." She says firmly, as if trying to tell herself as well as me.
I feel her words sting against my skin as if she'd hit me. Why? I wonder. I knew it would happen eventually. I knew he liked her and I'd predicted that when she could be with anyone, she'd go first to him, so why did it hurt so much? Because I never wanted to really accept she would get over me. Because I thought that no matter what, she would always come back to me. Because I thought that our love story is one that would never end. I was wrong.
My phone begins to buzz wildly in my pocket, but I let it ring.
I wake up to a dull buzz in my arm and realize it had fallen asleep while I'd been out cold on Rachel's couch. I bite my lip as irritation surges though my body. I curse the cloudy burn that runs though my arm as I walk over to the kitchen of her apartment. I open the cupboards and begin a search for food that could, potentially, make me less hungry. I respect Rachel's choice of being a vegan, but the food she eats does absolutely nothing for me. I'm always left with room in my stomach. I gather that nothing appetizing is in the cabinet I'm looking into, and close it. I run my hand along the counter as I make my way to another when it skims across a piece of paper.
She didn't have to sign her name; I know her handwriting. At school. Be home around 4. The cursive swirls on the page. My eyes drift over the signature and a familiar ache forms in my abdomen. It is the one that remembers she's changed. Where a gold star had always been place, securely next to her name, is a blank spot of white. I don't know why it hurts so badly to not see the gold shimmering. I suppose it's because I thought I'd never have to deal with it not being there.
You're thinking too deeply about this. I tell myself and I back away. A sticker is nothing to stress about- or at least that's what I tell myself.
Coming to the assumption that I'll find nothing even remotely appealing to me, I choose to go out for breakfast. I dress quickly and leave the apartment, and make my way out the door, down the stairs, and through the exit of the building. Once the air hits me I look up to scan the sky's blue. For a minute I see it: Why she loves it here. Something about New York is just so…extraordinary. There is no little particular thing but just the overall atmosphere. Artists sing and drum on the streets, trying to make a name for themselves. A man in a suit races through the intersection, with a wide-eye child behind him. A young woman and man walk slowly through the streets, her body slightly turning into him. He speaks to her, his face soft, and she smiles at the ground as they hold hands. A group of friends laugh loudly from the street corner, each one of their eyes lit with excitement. Car pass and birds fly carelessly though the air.
I make my way to a small restaurant, where I proceed to have my meal. It tastes amazing, and I wonder if Kurt has ever been here. He'd like it. I promise myself I'll bring him sometime, then pay for my food and leave. I consider going home, but something draws me forward into the city. I want to see it. I want to experience this part of the world Lima could never offer me.
[Insert here more about Finn in City later on but right now I have more important things to do]
I begin my walk up the steps when I first hear the screaming. Rachel's voice breaks through the space in the air. I break into a sprint as my muscles sting, but the adrenaline forces itself though my veins and acts like anesthesia, making it impossible for me to really feel any of it. With every few steps I take, another scream sounds through the building, awful and horrifying. My pulse plays a rhythm close to my ears and I push my way though doors. The further up I get, the more I realize the screams weren't formless, like I'd thought. They're a word. It is Finn. She is yelling Finn. She is yelling for me.
When I finally reach the door to her apartment, I shove it open. The lights are dim and glass is in a layer on the floor. It's a wonder that I notice any of it though, because my eyes instantly find her. She trembles heavily and blood flows on her hand from a straight cut on her palm. Brody's arms are wrapped around her, tightly, and I can hear him trying to speak to her.
"Calm down, baby. Calm down." I hear him say repeatedly, rocking her back and forth. His voice is smooth and secure but his eyes have no mask to shield the fear threatening to burst forth.
"What happened?" My voice roughly comes out, the syllables strained.
Rachel continues to shake like she hasn't heard me at all. She is lost in her own little world and can't come out of the trance. Brody's eyes fixate on me, and, for once, are not full of hate or superiority. They're pleading.
"Someone broke in through the window." He speaks quickly, my eyes flickering over the broken window then to the shattered glass on the floor before returning to him, "They didn'y get anything but they scared the shit out of her." He battles with the next words, seeming to debate on whether to say them or not. Quietly, he whispers, "She won't stop calling for you."
As if on cue, Rachel lets out another blood-curdling cry. Her eyes squeeze tightly together and her legs wrap harshly to her chest. Every inch of her body is locked into position, and tremors rock through her. Rivulets of tears decorate her face, and hair is matted to her cheeks.
Something about the appearance brings me a memory. When I was a child, I had read a book about a princess. She is a beautiful princess, so wonderful and sweet. Something, though, made the princess turn cold. Where she had been nice before, she was now cruel. How her hands had once been gentle, they turned to stone. The eyes that once danced with joy now froze the seas. Everyone wonderd, but nobody ever dared ask what had happened to the princess. The princess stayed on the Earth, for as long as she could manage, her resentment ruling the world as her generosity once had. One day, the princess was found dead. Some said it was a suicide, and others said it was a murder, because her heart had gotten so rotten. Either way, the Princess was set six feet in the ground, and no one, not a single person, every thought of her again.
"Rachel." I say stiffly into the space between us. Cold air drifts into the room though the broken pane but I don't let my voice quiver.
Her eyes glare at me for a second. Pure hatred pours from them as quickly as possible. Her loathing of me makes no sense. Am I not the person she'd just been begging to see?
Don't let this turn you cold, I urge inside my head.
"Rachel." I whisper more softly, more soothingly.
The revulsion evaporates. For a minute, I am grateful, thinking she's regained sanity. But before I can release my breath she screams again. My name tears through the apartment, and her body shakes once again. Her trance returns, and I see Brody's face twist with agony.
"Baby. Baby. Baby, calm down." He starts again.
I walk over numbly, having no idea of what I'm going to do. But once I reach her, it comes so naturally. I lift Brody's hand from hers and he meets my eyes. He nods once when he realizes that he can't help her. There is absolutely nothing he can do to bring her back.
My hand replaces his before I slide one up to her cheek. Shudders ripple through her and the clatter of her teeth against one another send a cold shiver though my spine. I guide her head to lean onto my shoulder and I let her body hold ridged against my own, larger frame. I focus on my breathing, hoping it is slow enough to count as reassuring. Rachel's mouth opens and I think she is going to speak to me, but a shout slashes though silence. I grab her chin and force her to look at me. I set my face inches from hers and try to ignore the fog that begins obscuring my mind. I shouldn't be thinking about how beautiful she is. I shouldn't be thinking about how I want to kiss her. I shouldn't be thinking that I still love her.
"Rachel, " I breathe, "Listen to me, okay? Focus on my voice. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
A sob sounds though her and her frame falls against mine in a limp, sloppy manner. Her fingers cling to the material of my shirt and she buries her face against my chest. I feel tears soak though the material of my shirt and I allow my arms to wrap around her tightly. I close my eyes and lean in to kiss the top of her head.
"D-Don't leave me." She begs, "Don't leave me."
My fingers twirl into her hair and I hold her on my lap, "I'm not going to leave you. I'm going to be right here, okay?"
Her eyes gaze up to me, rimmed in bright red. "Promise me, Finn. Promise me you won't leave me again."
Again? I wonder, then remember.
The train station.
I bury my face into her hair and speak as firmly as I can, "I'm not leaving you, Rachel. I'm never going to leave you."
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A quick shoutout to Gleeful Canuck - without you, this chapter wouldn't be here.