A/N - Again, this took a bit longer than I'd hoped, but hope it's worth the wait. JannP continues to astound me with her beta prowess on these fics, and they wouldn't be nearly as good without her input and suggestions. Thanks to all he read, alert, favourtie and review this story of mine. It's greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer - See Chapter 1 if necessary.


His foot was kicked. Finn awoke with a start and looked down to where his feet were sticking slightly overtop his assigned bunk bed. He saw the serious face of a tall, African-American man known as Sergeant Banks standing there, dressed in p.t. gear and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Sarge?" Finn muttered sleepily, but quietly.

This wasn't the manner in which he was normally brought to consciousness; usually that involved an alarm bell twice as loud as the one at school and had Omeasoo, Graham, Marquez, and him leaping up from their beds to get everything done in the thirty minutes before morning inspection.

"Rise and shine, Hudson," Banks growled in a subdued voice. "You and I have a date. Get dressed up in your gear and be out front of the building in ten." Banks turned and exited the room, barely making another sound.

Finn frowned and looked at his watch (he learned the hard way to keep that on him at all times), groaning a bit to see it read 4:45am.

Fuck—it's Sunday, too, his tired mind reminded him sharply. Why the hell is Sarge demanding I wake up and be out of bed this early on a Sunday while everyone else is still sleeping?

Griping a bit under his breath, Finn nonetheless did as he was told and pulled himself out of his bunk. After rubbing his eyes free of sleep, he opened his locker quietly and quickly put on his p.t. gear, then turned to the in-room sink and splashed some water on his face. The cold liquid helped to wake him up a bit and made him feel marginally refreshed. He turned and straightened his bunk sheets, trying to make the bed quickly (another thing he had quickly learned at Camp Grayling was to always keep his bunk area tidy, even on Sundays). Once finished, he exited the room quietly.

As he slowly descended the steps from the barracks' building main entrance, he noticed Sergeant Banks standing on the grassy area beside the road, doing some lunges to warm up his muscles. Uncharacteristically, he nodded to Finn with a slight grin and pointed at his watch.

"Do a quick warm up, Hudson. We start running in five."

Finn made sure he focused on his legs and lower back muscles, and after the allotted time, Banks motioned with his head and started running at a pace that caught Finn off guard. Normally morning workouts with the troop were somewhat pale in comparison to his football camp drills, but this pace wasn't nearly as slow as he'd expected. He picked up his natural running pace to pull even with his sergeant and then settled in a bit before being pushed a bit faster by the other man. Being almost as tall, Banks used his long legs to carry him a bit ahead of Finn, but Finn pumped his legs just a bit faster to match his superior. The two smiled a bit at each other and continued to run together.

They ran side by side for what seemed like forever; with it being across the barracks, down the road, and then onto a path around the lake, Finn didn't mind a bit. The calm, soothing sounds of early morning inactivity helped him clear his mind and calmed his soul in a way he couldn't describe. He hadn't felt that much at peace in months; not since before all the turmoil and crap he had gone through after Sectionals. There was a soft rippling of water from the brook by which they ran, a few birds chirped in the early morning sunrise, and a few leaves rustled from the trees as the wind blew. Through it all was the steady, underlying cadence of two men jogging side by side at a pace few could keep.

Eventually they came into a clearing, and Sergeant Banks held him up by lightly tapping him on the shoulder. "Five minute rest."

They both stopped and breathed in deeply, Finn hunched over slightly and resting on his knees while Banks unscrewed his water bottle and pulled back a small sip. He wiped his brow before tossing another bottle over to Finn. After securing the bottle cap on his own drink he turned back to his recruit.

"I'm impressed, Hudson. I usually have to slow my pace down for green recruits. Not many can keep up."

Finn grinned at his sergeant before standing and taking a few deep breaths to regulate his airflow. "I play a lot of sports in school. Football, basketball, baseball, and a bit of track, so..." Finn shrugged before swallowing some of his own water and continued to try and get his breathing even.

Banks nodded in approval before looking out towards the lake, where the orange colours of the rising sun were just coming up over the horizon. "So, what made you decide to join the Guard, Hudson? Hmm? Why did you decide to fucking waste your last summer before high school's over?"

He considered the question a bit before answering. "Two reasons, I guess." He sighed. "The first is my Dad. He was a Marine killed while on assignment in Iraq; his patrol was ambushed. I never knew him aside from what my Mom always told me. I...I guess I thought this might be a way to kind of understand what he went through. Why he chose this as a career."

Banks nodded. "My grandfather was killed in the Korean War. I always wondered why he chose this life, too. It's why I joined initially. Just didn't think it would take over my life, but..." He shrugged himself before turning back to Finn. "What's the other reason?"

Taking a breath, Finn glanced at his sergeant. He wondered how much his sergeant would really want to hear about Rachel and what details he should reveal. But unlike during normal training hours, Banks didn't seem to have a scowl plastered on his face or anything. Instead, he seemed honestly curious. So Finn began with a nonchalant shrug.

"A girl broke my heart. All that sorta shit."

Banks smiled knowingly as he stretched his legs a bit. "What was her name?"

"Rachel. We'd dated for about six months last year, but well…it ended badly. I thought maybe we might be able to try again this summer, but she turned me down. I...I didn't figure I had anything to gain by sticking around Lima and running into her every three or four days. All of our friends are mutual, so I just…." Finn took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep his emotions, even in front of his superior. "This just seemed like a good way to try to restart and refocus." He rolled his eyes at himself. "This is probably a story you've heard a hundred times from other recruits, isn't it?"

"A few times," Banks admitted, shifting his stretching over to his other leg as he did so. "Nothing I'm not willing to hear again. Each story is different. Some guys come here trying to forget 'the bitch'; some come here with the hope of moving on and never going back." He cast a serious gaze at Finn. "Which is it with you?"

"I don't hate her," Finn responded, wiping more sweat off his brow and rotating his shoulders to loosen up his back muscles. "I'll probably always love her. I just...I broke up with her because she hurt me, but she tried to say sorry about twenty different ways and I just wouldn't accept it. Then I did a lot of stuff to hurt her back. When we both finally stopped being idiots with her chasing me and me pushing her away, I did ask her to come back, like, for real; but it was too late. She...she didn't want me anymore." His voice was thick with feelings (again), so he stopped and instead began mimicking the stretches he saw his sergeant doing, focusing on his body's movements instead of replaying deep emotions through his mind yet again. Haven't I done enough of that?

Banks smiled thinly at him. "So, you're the third type. Hoping for it to work out in the future, right?"

Finn shifted on his feet to stretch the other leg. "Well, yeah…absolutely. I mean, I wouldn't be against it working out if we can get back to what we used to have. But I...I need to have some kind of focus for myself too, whether that happens or not.

"She knows what she wants and I always loved that about her. She can sing and act and dance and she wants to be on Broadway with her names in lights on the signs and just...all that stuff. But me? No idea and no clue. I mean, I'd like a football scholarship and to play in the NFL, but they don't choose or accept a lot of people. So then what? I need to know I have more going on in life than just my girlfriend and football. I need to know what Plan B is, and I'm not sure I even have one."

Banks motioned with his head for the two of them to restart their run, so they continued down the trail around the lake. "I think," Banks said as he maintained his even pace, "you have an awful lot going for you, Hudson. I've watched you around the troops. You're a natural leader, whether you think so or not. I've read your file. Aren't you Captain of the football team, basketball team, and the Glee club at your school? You don't get saddled with responsibilities like that unless people have faith in you." They rounded the corner and back onto the path to start taking them back to their barracks. "You should have more faith in your ability to figure things out. What other things do you like besides football and this girl? There's gotta be something that gives you wood, right?"

The taller boy shrugged a bit. "Singing. Performing. Playing drums. I wrote a song for the first time at our last Show Choir competition. I'm not super fantastic at any of it though, and the chances of making a career out of it are pretty slim."

"Not necessarily," Banks said, slowing his pace down slightly as they came to a hill which they'd have to jog down. "Think outside the box, Hudson. Sure, maybe being the next Ray Charles or Paul McCartney might be a stretch, but for every one of those guys, how many were working behind the scenes? Producers, technicians, advertisers, lawyers, record executives, agents...the show business industry is larger than you think. Even if you're not the star on stage, doesn't mean you can't make a living in it. It might just be in a less obvious way." He paused and sucked in a few breaths before speaking again. "Same with sports; there's a lot of background people supporting what's going on around the main event. Would you be happy doing something like that if you aren't the star?"

Finn mulled over what his Sergeant had said, surprised to be getting such advice about his future from a man who had, to this point, only been interested in how well he could shoot and how clean his bunk area was. Everything Sergeant Banks had said seemed to make sense, and truthfully Finn figured he would be happy to be around an environment of sports or entertainment, even if he wasn't the star. He'd never really tried to be the star like Rachel had, he'd just filled the role because that's what was needed of him. He was sure, however, that he'd be equally happy if he was the guy helping other stars get to where they wanted or needed to be. All he wondered now was how to go about doing that.

They veered across the grass and took another path that lead over to the main road they'd need to follow back to their barracks. Finn smiled a bit and turned to regard his Sergeant. "That...that's a pretty awesome idea, Sarge. I never even thought about looking at what I could do behind the scenes. That could be a lot of fun, now that I think about it."

Banks nodded. "Sure it could. If you can't do exactly what you want, sometimes even just working in the right field can go miles towards helping you be happy and fulfilled in life." He motioned for them to set a walking pace and uncapped his water bottle, pulling back another sip. "Take it from one who knows."

Finn regarded him curiously, drawing a small drink from his own water bottle. "You work behind the scenes?"

Banks nodded. "Mostly. I'm a paramedic in my full time job. I didn't have the money needed to become a doctor, but being a paramedic still allows me to work in the field of medicine and do a lot of things that make a real difference in people's lives. The Guard wanted me to transfer to one of the medical units originally but I refused. I get enough of it in civilian life. And I enjoy the training of new recruits, which I can't do if I'm always in a military ambulance."

Before Finn knew it, they were suddenly back at their barracks, and Banks looked at his watch. "Alright, Hudson, you've got twenty minutes to shower and change and meet me back here. The two of us have KP for the breakfast crowd, so step on it."

The tall quarterback turned to regard his superior with a questioning gaze. "Yes, Sergeant; but…uh…why KP? Isn't it Sunday?"

Banks nodded. "Yes it is. Unfortunately, some green recruit of mine had the fucking brilliant idea to mail back a piece of mouldy cheese to the Mess Chief. I was told in no uncertain terms by said Chief both that Recruit and I had better get our asses in gear and be at the mess hall at oh seven-thirty to assist in the making of breakfast." He smiled a bit viciously at Finn. "Apparently I need to get better control of my recruits, and my punishment is to stand side by side with the recruit so we can both experience how much work goes into the food preparation on a base of this size. Personally, I think the mess Chief deserved it and I applaud your boldness. But as your Sergeant, I have to whip you into shape for your insubordination. So get a fucking move on, Hudson, before I really do feel the need to rip you a new one."

Finn swallowed a bit but followed his sergeant's orders and dashed inside. He burst through the door to his shared quarters and grimaced a bit to find his bunkmates all still sleeping. After grabbing his toiletries and towel, he ran to the showers, rushed through washing himself over, dried off as quickly as possible and then ran back to the room to get into his uniform.

"Fuck, Huddie," Marquez griped as Finn pulled on his boots and loudly stomped his feet into them before tying them up. Marquez reached down to grab Finn's pillow on his bunk and then tossed it into the face of the quarterback. "It's fucking Sunday and our only chance this week to sleep in. Keep the noise down, you 'tard!"

"Fuck off!" Finn caught the pillow after it hit him and threw it back onto his bunk. "I have to do KP for breakfast because of your dumbass idea to mail the cheese back. Thanks a ton, you douche."

"What?" Marquez sleepily laughed a bit even as he shifted on the top bunk to look at him. "You're blaming me for that shit? I just gave you the idea, man. You're the asshole who decided to actually do it."

Finn sighed because he knew his friend was right, and that old saying of his Mom's popped into his head at the same time. And if your friend jumps off a bridge, does that mean you will, too?

"Whatever." Finn tossed over his shoulder as he grabbed his military issue ball cap. "I have to go. Enjoy your bed time, and keep your jizz off my sheets and mattress."

Marquez smiled at him. "Shit, Huddie, you know that stuff has a mind of its own."

Finn shook his head and waved him off as he exited the barracks again to meet up with Banks. How the big, black man had managed to already be down there and waiting for him in his own uniform, Finn had no idea, but he wasn't going to enquire about it. He was told to do something by his Sergeant, so he did it, no questions asked. Banks nodded to him and then the two proceeded over to the mess hall.

Once inside, Banks lead him through the kitchen area and into the back office where the mess Chief was sitting a work desk, immersed in paperwork and hidden behind a large, leather chair. Finn walked in behind his Sergeant and followed suit, standing at attention and removing his head gear.

"Sergeant Banks and Recruit Hudson reporting for KP as ordered, Chief," Banks declared firmly but quietly.

The person turned in the chair, and Finn was somewhat surprised to see the mess Chief was an African-American woman of medium build, shoulder length curly hair, and wearing a pair of wire-rim reading glasses perched on her nose. Her eyes seemed to dance with mirth as she dropped her pen in front of her and leaned back in her seat. The name tag on her uniform apron read 'River'.

"Well, well, Sergeant Banks. It's been a long time since you've been assigned to do kitchen patrol, hasn't it? Of course, you also usually have a better handle on your recruits by this time, too."

"Yes, Chief River." Sergeant Banks nodded curtly, still standing at attention. "I promise it won't happen again." He cast an annoyed glance at Finn before returning his eyes forward.

The Chief turned her stare towards Finn, and her brown eyes narrowed as she sat up a bit straighter. She had a sip of her coffee and then tapped her pen in her hands, regarding him in silence and seemingly oblivious to any sort of discomfort he might be feeling from it. After a moment's more thought, she finally spoke. "Have you ever made a mistake, Recruit Hudson?"

Immediately getting a sinking feeling in his stomach he knew which direction this conversation was about to go, Finn nonetheless nodded while still standing at attention. "Yes, Ma'am."

"And do you appreciate it when someone not only tells you how you made a mistake, but goes out of their way to publicly present evidence in regards to it so everyone can see?" She asked slowly, another sip of coffee being sipped. Her gaze never left his face.

Finn immediately had a flashback to McKinley High's football field where he convinced Sam to run a play opposite to what Coach Bieste had ordered. The result was Sam getting nailed by a kid almost twice as heavy and being unable to play for the next six weeks due to a shoulder injury. Bieste had unceremoniously tossed him the ball and told him, loudly, everything was now in his hands…in front of all onlookers. Although he had wished for the quarterback position again, the manner in which his wish was granted was less than ideal.

He answered her slowly. "No, Chief. I prefer to be told privately."

"Good. You understand then why I'm pretty fucking pissed about what you did. Now, what do you normally do with garbage, Recruit?"

Finn sighed quietly before answering. "Thr...throw it in the trash, Ma'am."

The Mess Chief smiled a bit. "Excellent. So we've established you're housetrained and also you prefer your mistakes not be broadcast to the general public. Now that that's settled," she reached over several items on her desk and pulled out a greasy looking envelope that was limp and soggy, "would you care to explain the logic in mailing back food that failed to meet your standards? Did it say somewhere on the comment card this was the correct procedure?"

His eyes closed and he looked down towards the floor a bit. "No, Ma'am," he mumbled quietly.

"Speak up, Recruit!" Her voice was suddenly sharp and commanding.

Finn cleared his throat. "No, Ma'am," he repeated more clearly.

With a flick of her wrist, the Chief tossed the envelope towards Finn, and he barely caught it in his hands before the greasy mess stuck to his otherwise clean uniform. She eyed him with an almost maternal look. "Where. Does. That. Go?" She asked menacingly.

"I…in…in the garbage, Chief," he stammered. She motioned with her head to the large garbage bin in the kitchen, and Finn nodded quickly, running over and throwing it out before returning to her office and continuing to stand at attention.

"I trust you understand the implied message?" Chief River looked at him in an unimpressed manner over her wire-rim glasses.

Finn nodded. "Don't embarrass people on purpose. Yes Ma'am."

Chief River nodded approvingly. "You're learning, Recruit Hudson. But more importantly, don't embarrass your superiors in public, ever! This is the military, Soldier; not high school. Adjust your thinking accordingly."

She turned briefly from the two soldiers standing there to look at some more paperwork, and the way she settled herself into her chair seemed to indicate he and Sergeant Banks were going to be standing there for a more than reasonable amount of time awaiting their assignment and dismissal. He took the opportunity to regard his surroundings like he'd been taught in his second week of training. There was a fire exit door at the back of her office; it led straight outside. There was a lap-top computer on the far end of the desk, currently displaying some kind of military-based menu or something. Beside the computer seemed to be the Chief's wedding day picture of her and her husband.

The husband looked familiar to him. Very familiar.

It was...holy shit! Finn thought to himself. Really? They're…

The large, smiling groom in the picture beside her had the exact same features as the tall, black man standing beside him right now. He couldn't believe it.

Chief River and Sergeant Banks were actually husband and wife!

That must create an interesting dynamic on the home-front, Finn thought to himself.

Wait. What did my mind just think? Did I just use the word 'dynamic' like it was second nature? When the hell did that start?

"So, onto your duties this morning," Chief River's sudden movement and words pulled him out of his errant thoughts and forced him to focus on the task at hand. "Sergeant Banks, you'll be working on the egg mixtures. We'll be serving scrambled eggs this morning, so you make damn sure we don't run out of mixture for the cooks to use. Understand?"

"Yes, Chief!" Sergeant Banks replied.

"Recruit Hudson." The Chief turned to him. "Since you're such an expert on all things cheese, you'll be working with several different kinds this morning. I have blocks of cheddar, mozzarella and edam needing to be sliced, cubed, and set out for general consumption. When we've got enough for breakfast, you'll need to shred the rest on the grater so I can use it for the lasagna dinners tonight. Do I make myself clear? "

"Crystal clear, Ma'am," Finn responded.

Chief River nodded and then, after another moment of silent regard, continued. "This had better not happen again, gentlemen. Dismissed."

Both Finn and Sergeant Banks nodded and turned into the kitchen, both proceeding to the large stainless steel sink to wash their hands. Finn waited patiently as his sergeant began lathering the soap between his fingers.

"I…I didn't know you were married, Sergeant," Finn said, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the silence.

Banks turned and gave him a hard look before frowning and turning back to rinse off his hands. "No harm done, Soldier. I didn't tell you."

Finn washed his own hands quickly before pulling out some paper towel from the dispenser above the sink. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant?" Banks nodded to him. "Does Chief River have anything to do with you enjoying your work with recruits at the base?"

Sergeant Banks smirked a bit before his face again became a stoic mask. "Just like you, Hudson, I have more than one reason for my actions." He pointed over to a massive pile of cheese blocks on one of the large counters while handing Finn a sizable kitchen knife. "I believe your duties have been assigned, correct?"

Sighing a bit at the sheer amount of cheese in front of him, Finn squared his shoulders and took the proffered utensil. "Yes, Sergeant."

XXXXX

He collapsed into the large sofa-like chair in the canteen, a soft drink in one hand and a bag of chips and a chocolate bar in the other. His duties in the kitchen had lasted pretty much until 13:00, meaning only half his day off was left, but he didn't mind so much. Neither Sergeant Banks nor Chief River had any complaints about his work in the kitchen, and cutting and grating cheese was definitely a better task than peeling potatoes for hours on end. He'd even managed to sneak in breakfast for himself in that time.

As he sipped his drink and munched on his snacks, he suddenly heard some guitar strings being plucked on the other side of the canteen. He raised his eyebrow in curiosity as he turned his head in the direction of the music and was surprised to see Omeasoo sitting at one of the collapsible tables, guitar in hand and paper in front of him, alternatively plucking strings melodically and then jotting some notes down on paper. Happy to see his friend and bunk-mate was also in the canteen, Finn leaped out of his seat and headed over towards the large Native-American recruit. He walked up and clapped his friend on the shoulder, only to be given a nod of acknowledgement before Omeasoo returned back to strumming the guitar and then writing a few more notes on a page.

"So," Finn said after washing down a few potato chips with his drink. "I didn't know you could play guitar." He wondered where exactly Omeasoo had acquired it since none of the recruits were allowed to bring anything but their duffle bags, but figured it didn't really matter in the long run.

Omeasoo shrugged and smiled a bit. "You never asked." His fingers danced over the strings and then a few more notes were written on the page. Then he sat up straighter and looked at Finn. "Want to hear?"

Finn nodded and pushed his food out of the way so there'd be no distractions while he listened. He wiped his hands on his jeans and then motioned towards his friend. "Please. From the top."

Omeasoo smiled again as he started the music from the beginning, and Finn found himself smiling a bit and tapping his foot along to the tempo as set by the guitar. It was an interesting guitar arrangement, alternating between plucking lone notes in an accented manner and then weaving in chords around the rest of the melody. If he had to pick a genre, he would categorize it as country or folk or both. Yeah, country-folk seemed to be the way to go. And did his mind seriously just use the word 'categorize'? Like, what the fuck? First 'dynamic', and now 'categorize'? What the hell other words is my head gonna just start randomly using out of thin air? He turned his attention back to Omeasoo, who was just finishing up with the melody.

"After that, it repeats," the Native recruit said with a small shrug. "Don't have a bridge yet."

Finn nodded and then pulled the papers Omeasoo was writing on across the table to look at them, expecting to see words on the page. He frowned when all he saw was a lined chart with different circles and notes across it. "No lyrics?" He asked.

Omeasoo shrugged a bit. "Not good with words." He smiled a toothy grin and motioned with his head towards the tall quarterback. "Just like you."

Finn scowled at him and then reached over and grabbed the pencil. "I may not be good at speaking, but I can write lyrics just fine. I told you I wrote a song for Rachel for our show choir competition, right? I also helped write the group songs."

"And you placed twelfth?" Omeasoo gave him a smirk and applauded mockingly. "Outstanding!"

"Hey! Twelfth out of fifty isn't bad. It's like in the top…whatever percent, okay? I don't have a calculator right now, but I know it's not bad. And how many songs have you written?"

Omeasoo pursed his lips and sighed a bit. "One," he admitted, and motioned towards the guitar. "This one."

"Okay so…no worries. We'll figure out the words. What do you want to write about?"

"Love." Omeasoo returned his attention to the frets of the guitar and strummed a bit more. "For my girlfriend, Katy." He pulled a picture out of his pocket and handed it to Finn. The Glee captain accepted the picture and turned it to see an attractive Native girl with long, raven-black hair and seemingly black eyes. Her face was very round and her cheeks seemed high set, but her smile was warm and genuine. Just as he was about to hand the Native boy back the photo, he saw Omeasoo holding a ring in his hand, still attached to a chain around his neck.

"I want to give her this with the song."

Finn whistled low. It was a jade engagement ring, not too large, but it was polished to a brilliant shine. Omeasoo was holding it proudly, almost as though it was a personal trophy, before taking back the picture from Finn and regarding it fondly.

"You sure about this?" Finn asked as he leaned back in his chair. "I mean, you're only a year older than I am. You really want to be engaged already?"

Omeasoo shrugged. "When you know, you know. You know?"

Oh yeah, do I ever know, Finn thought bitterly as he glanced out the window, biting his cheek and remembering the words of rejection which echoed over and over in his mind every time he thought about her. He wasn't sure he would have been ready to ask her to marry him, but he knew she was the right person for him. She understood him like no one ever had. In fact, the little speech she'd given him in January of their sophomore year still haunted his memories and reminded him of just how well she knew and understood him. And she was right on so many levels; for so long, he'd just been a scared little boy. About everything.

But I wasn't scared to ask her to try again. Maybe it's time I apply that courage to everythingin life. I'll be damned if I'm going to keep acting like a scared little boy. My Dad wasn't scared when he joined the Marines. He knew the dangers involved and it didn't keep him from doing it anyway. So shouldn't I follow his example?

Time to man up and be a man on all levels.

Finn nodded to himself and grabbed the pencil. Sure, love songs were a bit of a sore subject for him right now, but after a moment's thought he came to realize maybe he could approach this as an exercise. First, he could confront his own turmoil about it and remember that just because he was heartbroken didn't mean everyone was. Second, he'd never tried to write a song from another person's point of view, but if he wanted to pursue something in a field he liked (such as music) then it would be worthwhile if he could write songs not only for himself but also for other musicians.

He squared his shoulders and smiled a bit. "Okay, let's go over how you guys met and stuff. Maybe we can work it out from there?" Finn raised his fist out for his friend.

Omeasoo returned Finn's smile and the two boys bumped fists before beginning their song writing in earnest.


Reviews aren't just appreciated, they're encouraged! :)