Rachel was shocked into silence. Why did all of the police in the room react to Finn's name? Was he a criminal now? The town drunk? A string of scenarios ran through her mind. But if he was a criminal, why was the female constable smiling? And how did she know her name? What the hell was going on?
"I—I'm sorry," she finally uttered, "Yes, I'm Rachel Berry. Do you know Finn?"
The desk constable—her nameplate read "Feeney"—suddenly looked concerned.
"Forgive me, Ms. Berry, it was rude of me to shock you like that. Please accept my apologies—it's just I was surprised to hear his name." She placed a hand on hers. "We all know Finn—and in a good way," she added hastily, realizing what Rachel must have thought. "He's a wonderful man."
Rachel's eyes narrowed. This Feeney was talking about Finn—and her- in an uncomfortably familiar fashion. She felt a cold rush of fear: had Finn truly moved on, away from her-with this woman? Her heart sank as she realized how pretty the constable was: tall, beautifully fair skin, and those eyes—gray, like the sea during a storm. Nothing like me, she thought, despairing. Her old high school insecurities over her appearance emerged from hibernation. She suddenly pushed them down—hard. She hadn't come all this way to concede anything, by God.
"Yes, Constable Feeney," she replied, icily, pulling her hand away, "He is a wonderful man."
Nobody in the room spoke as the temperature dropped. Feeney looked distressed, but in a compassionate way. Finally, she spoke.
"Would you like to go someplace where we could talk? Have coffee perhaps? I promise to tell you anything you want to know. Anything." She sounded sincere.
"I appreciate that, Constable, thanks," Rachel said, despite feeling like she was walking to the gallows.
"Please call me Jane." Jane spoke to one of the others, saying she'd be gone for a while, grabbed her cap, and beckoned Rachel out the door.
"I don't feel very professional right now," Jane confessed, as they walked down the block. Rachel was grateful that she didn't have to hurry along; the much taller Jane deliberately slowed her gait. Still, she felt ridiculously small and insignificant.
"It's all right," Rachel said. "I did catch you off-guard." She stopped for a second and stared at her. "Look, before we go any further, just answer one question. Are you and Finn together?" She held her breath.
Jane had a quiet, faraway look, then smiled as she answered.
"No. Not anymore."
While relieved, Rachel still felt her heart sink a little. Her rational side kept telling her she had no reason to expect Finn to have remained alone all of this time, especially considering her own relationship with Tom. But she had held out a sliver of hope that at least one of them would manage to maintain the innocence, that purity, which had once so defined their love affair. Now they were both just…adults, somehow sullied by life and time. She felt suddenly weary. But maybe, just maybe—she had to think this, just had to-it was the end of any unrealistic expectations, and, perhaps, the beginning of something better. Something less brittle, more durable. She had to hope that was true. The tether had to bring about more than just the end of innocence, and the acceptance of the yoke of adulthood.
"Okay," Rachel said, and they resumed walking, finally arriving at a coffee bar.
They sat at a tiny table in the back, both having ordered simple black coffee. It was incredibly awkward; both sat for a moment before Rachel finally spoke. Her hands were tightly clasped in front of her.
"How is he?"
Jane nodded, liking the simple question.
"He's good, Rachel, as of six weeks ago, when I saw him last."
Rachel pursed her lips in a tight, relieved smile.
"Do you know where he is now?"
"Yes. He's near Jackson Hole, Wyoming."
Jane saw more of Rachel's anxiety and tension ease. She was surprised, however, when Rachel took her hands.
"Thank you," she said, "You have no idea what that means to me. That's all I needed to know."
Jane raised her eyebrows.
"What about what you want to know? "
Rachel thought a moment. She really wanted to know a lot.
"How much time do you have?"
Jane laughed.
"Actually, I should be getting back. But listen—come to my place tonight. I'll cook dinner—you're vegan, right?" Jane stopped. "I know it's a bit awkward, but I did say I would answer any question you have. I even have a guest room, if you're tired of hotels."
Rachel felt tears brimming. Something about Jane, maybe her openness, touched her.
"That would be lovely," she said, "But you don't have to worry about my diet restrictions. I've been eating crappy salads on the road for days. Something solid, even meat, would be fine. I'm not as picky as I once was."
Jane wrote down the directions.
"See you at six?"
"Sure. But may I ask one more question? "
"Of course."
"How long were you together?"
She could see Jane get visibly uncomfortable, then resolute.
"We were together two years."
Even though it felt as if the air had been knocked out of her, Rachel managed a weak smile.
"Okay, thanks. See you at six."
XXXxxxxxxx
Rachel wondered if going to Jane's was a good idea. If just learning how long she had been with Finn caused her this much pain, what would more intimate information inflict? Reason eventually won over fear. The more she knew about Finn and his state of mind could only help when she met him again. And just the thought of meeting him being a real possibility did wonders for her mood.
"Hi Rachel, come on in," Jane said, answering the door. She was dressed casually, much like Rachel—red plaid shirt and jeans. Delicious smells filled the house. "I'm making spaghetti with a meatless sauce. Unfortunately, I only have parmesan cheese, non-vegan, sorry."
Rachel smiled.
"This will be fine—it smells wonderful—is that garlic bread, too?"
"Yep. And salad."
They passed through the living room to get to the kitchen. Rachel noticed the stone fireplace. She wondered if they had ever made love in front of it.
"Would you like something to drink?" Jane asked. "Wine, beer perhaps?"
Even though wine would have been more traditional, a cold beer sounded good to her.
"Beer, please," she said, and Jane smiled.
" I have a decent Alberta IPA here," Jane said, "It's called Wild Rose." She poured Rachel a glass and one for herself, then sat at the table.
It was deliciously hoppy and refreshing.
Rachel helped with the dinner, and as they sat down to eat, the conversation started more with her telling Jane what her life had been like. Jane loved Rachel's Tony speech surprise
"I'm sorry, but I don't follow the Tonys," Jane said, "but I can't believe I'm sitting in my kitchen with an actual Tony winner! Makes me feel all fangirly."
Rachel laughed.
"Well, I can't believe I'm sitting across a table from a real-life Mountie!"
Eventually, the discussion moved on to Finn; the pleasant conversation beforehand made talking about him easier. Dinner ended, and the two women cleared the dishes, then moved into the living room with fresh beers.
"How did you meet?" Rachel asked. She figured this would be a fairly innocuous start. Jane smiled at the recollection.
"Finn was filling up his truck when I drove by and noticed he was wearing a pakul, a traditional cap worn by men in Afghanistan. I had served there myself, and was just curious." She gave Rachel a shy look. "And, I have to admit, he looked pretty good."
Rachel sighed in agreement. But something Jane said previously prompted another question.
"You served in Afghanistan?"
"Yep. I was in the Military Police before joining the RCMP."
It always startled Rachel when her insecurities emerged. How would Finn be able to relate to her now?
"Did you see combat?"
Jane's face darkened.
"Not much. But it was enough."
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to pry." Rachel felt she may have crossed a line.
"Oh no, no…" Jane was conciliatory. "Don't worry." She sighed. "There was a riot at the prison I was assigned to… one of the Afghan officers at the prison was a Taliban plant, and secretly supplied the inmates with weapons. They jumped us one morning before inspection. I was dragging a wounded friend of mine away from the fighting when one of the prisoners shot me. In the back."
Rachel's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! What about your friend?"
She saw Jane's eyes grow moist. "He didn't make it."
"I'm sorry. Are you ok..now?"
Jane smiled.
"Yes, my husband at the time helped me through it. We were MP's and joined the Mounties together." Jane stopped, realizing Rachel didn't know. "We were divorced before I met Finn."
Rachel nodded. It was strange, talking to Finn's former lover like this, but not as bad as she had imagined. She did wonder what Finn would think, talking to Tom. Maybe it wouldn't be terrible. After all, this Jane seemed nice enough.
"Jane, did you help Finn through his transition?"
"We helped each other. His nightmares were fairly regular at first, while mine were just occasional."
Jane could see tears in Rachel's eyes, as she thought about him having nightmares.
"Listen, Rachel, I can tell you how to handle them, if he has one. They were fairly infrequent when he left. The technique is very intimate, but effective."
Jane went on to explain her technique, and was gratified to see Rachel, at one point, grin and actually laugh. When she was done she got up and fetched fresh beers.
When she got back, Rachel was biting her lip.
"Can you tell me what happened to him in Afghanistan, Jane? I understand if you can't, but I feel like I have to have some idea, to try and relate to him in some way."
Jane shook her head slowly. "I can't recreate it for you—only Finn can. But I can give you a general picture."
"Anytthing would help. Thank you." Rachel took a sip, steeling herself for this.
"Bad intelligence sent Finn's unit into a mountain village without support. They were ambushed by a larger number of Taliban, and forced to split up, retreating into two houses. Finn was with his sergeant and another private. For about an hour, the Taliban tried to assault Finn's house, and they managed to beat off the attacks. But the other two were badly wounded, leaving Finn alone, almost without ammunition, to try and hold the enemy off. For some reason, air support wasn't available, and the group in the other house was pinned down. It seemed hopeless. "
Rachel looked horrified, her hand to her mouth. Jane patted her arm.
"Do you want me to continue?" Rachel nodded silently.
"What Finn's unit and the Taliban didn't know was, NATO special forces were operating in the area. Before the enemy could overwhelm Finn's position, three British soldiers—SAS, Special Air Service—entered the house from the back. They had observed the fighting, and already had wiped out an isolated Taliban group before joining Finn. They only gave him their first names: Eddie, a sergeant, and privates Trevor and Bill. All carried huge backpacks with plenty of ammunition. Trevor even had a light machine gun. Eddie told Finn they would cover him so he could carry the wounded back to the other group.
The plan was to draw out as many Taliban in the assault as possible. They didn't know the SAS was there, they thought it was just Finn, almost out of ammo. Eddie planned on catching them in the open and taking advantage of his firepower to take a lot of them out while Finn took one wounded man back. Then they'd hold off the rest until Finn came back for his sergeant.
When the attack started, the SAS troopers opened up, and Finn slung his groaning buddy on his back, and carried him out of the house and down the street about 50 meters to the other house. The two of them still were under sporadic fire all the way there, but made it safely. Finn then went back with another volunteer to get the sergeant. The volunteer was wounded on the way, but was able to make it back on his own.
By the time Finn arrived for his sergeant, Bill was dead and Trevor was seriously wounded. Eddie ordered him to get his sergeant back, and said he'd bring Trevor. Finn was carrying the unconscious sergeant, under worse fire this time, and looked back. Eddie was behind him, Trevor slung over his shoulder, when the firing got worse. Eddie stopped, motioning him to continue, and, still carrying his buddy, laid covering fire with his weapon so that Finn could make it. Finn saw him and Trevor get cut down just as he and his sergeant reached safety."
Jane stopped. Rachel was too stunned to speak.
Jane placed her hand on Rachel's arm again.
"I know it sounds awful, and is far worse than what I described. I just want you to know that Finn's reactions have been perfectly normal. He doesn't suffer from PTSD. It just takes a while to adjust. And he has made a lot of progress. However, he still feels survivor's guilt over Eddie, Trevor and Bill."
She was surprised when Rachel leaned and hugged her.
"Thank you for taking care of him," she said, "I don't know what I could have done for something like this."
"It was my honor," Jane replied, with a tinge of sadness.
"Did you love him?"
Jane sipped. To her credit, in Rachel's eyes, she didn't hesitate.
"Yes. I still do. But not in the way I still love my husband, or the way you love him."
"You still love your husband?" Rachel asked, surprised. Jane nodded.
"The divorce was a mistake, just as Finn now feels breaking up with you was a mistake." Jane then went on to make one thing perfectly clear: "But my two years with Finn was no mistake."
"I know," Rachel said, softly, then got up to get another beer. "Want one?" she asked with a smile. She was starting to get a little tipsy.
"Sure," Jane replied.
"So…are you going to get back together with your husband.? " Jane blushed.
"We've been talking again, " she said, "And we're planning a camping vacation together in Wood Buffalo National Park, in Northern Alberta and the Northwest Territories. We're Mounties, after all. And Brian says he might be ready to try the big city, as he calls this, again." Rachel giggled.
"I wonder what he'd think of New York." Jane rolled her eyes.
"Maybe I can talk him into coming to one of your shows."
"That would be wonderful. You have a standing invitation."
They talked about Finn's songwriting, which delighted Rachel no end. "They're all about you, in one way or another," Jane said.
"There's something else," she added. "I turned him on to Bob Dylan, and he became a hardcore fan. There was a playlist on his iPod that I think would be very interesting for you to hear. "I'll go burn a CD for you."
Rachel sat back, feeling much better, but still anxious about meeting Finn again. She felt out of her depth in dealing with his experiences. But she had come this far. They would find a way to make it. There really was no choice.
Jane came back and handed her the CD, neatly labeled "Finn's Dylan." Then she put her hands on her hips.
"Ms Berry, I'm afraid I can't let you drive back to the motel, in your inebriated state. As an officer of the law, I have to insist you stay the night."
"Yes, Constable, whatever you say," Rachel giggled.
Jane showed her the guest room, handed her some fresh towels, and then produced a Rush t-shirt.
"He left this behind, Rachel," she said. "I thought you might want to sleep in it."
Her kindness was overwhelming. Rachel choked out thanks.
Later, curled up in bed, wrapped in Finn's shirt, she almost felt at peace. The shirt didn't smell like him, just freshly laundered, but it was enough to be enveloped in something that was his again.
She couldn't wait for morning.
A/N: Manythanks to henriettaline for our discussions about decent beer and things Canadian.One would do well to read her fics.
