The idea for a road trip to New York for the Tony Awards was Gina's idea.

"C'mon, Finn," she told him on the phone, soon after school let out, "You get to escort Rachel to the awards ceremony. Why can't Vera and I come to New York with you, see the show before the ceremony, then try and see shots of the two of you on TV! It'll be great! And we can meet your brother and Santana! And road trips are the best!"

He had to admit the idea was appealing. When he brought up the fact it would be uncomfortable stuck in his truck with three people for ten plus hours, Vera, who was sitting next to Gina at the Lima Bean during the conversation, offered the use of her Jeep Grand Cherokee.

"It's at least clean," she quipped.

So he mentioned it to Rachel, and she was delighted. Of course, she had been in heaven since getting the nomination for Best Actress in a Musical. And the fact he could escort her made it perfect—the producers were even going to spring for his tux and stuff, which was very cool.

The plan was to arrive two days before the award, and spend three days afterwards. Duncan, unfortunately, couldn't get off work from his summer job, but that worked out perfectly for sleeping arrangements at the loft, because Santana graciously offered her bed to Gina and Vera, since she could sleep at her girlfriend Minnie's place.

The night before they left, after talking with Rachel about that night's show, Finn quickly took inventory: clothes (including a suit to wear at Sardi's), check. Money (including coinage for tolls), check. Tunage, check. Toiletries (though he knew Rachel would compulsively make sure she bought everything he liked as well, and he let her because she loved doing that), check. Red licorice, gorp and Dr Pepper, check. Gina said she'd make a picnic lunch, sweet. And Vera would have coffee ready for them when she swung by. Awesome.

He called Rachel again.

"My, Mr. Hudson, to what do I owe the honor of two calls so close together?"

"I just wanted to say how excited I am for you," he said. There was kitchen rattling on the other end; Rachel was getting ready for her dinner, Kurt had made a mushroom risotto. "I hope you're relaxing with some wine."

"I am baby," she purred. "I can't wait to see you and your friends."

They didn't want to end the conversation, as always. But eventually they said good night and he went to bed, eager to start.

XXXxxx

Vera picked him up last, at 6 AM. Finn opened up the back and stowed his gear, carefully hanging his suit's garment bag with the girls' on a hook above the driver's side rear door. His tux was waiting in New York; he had a tailor in Lima send his measurements to the tux place Rachels' producers were using. He sat shotgun, saying he'd take over driving next, and Gina commanded the back comfortably.

Vera headed north to US 30 and headed east to catch I-76 towards Pennsylvania, and Gina cried "Tunage!", sharing some date nut bread she had baked the night before. It complemented the coffee perfectly. Finn was in charge of the iPod, and began a playlist the three of them had put together the weekend before. Over the two years they had been friends, the three music education majors came to know each other's musical tastes intimately; the playlist was their communal musical statement, a set of music all three could enjoy.

Finn glanced over at Vera as the music began. She had the visor blocking the bright morning sun on her left, her blonde hair pulled back, wearing very dark aviator sunglasses, a white t-shirt and faded blue cutoffs. She looked fresh, pretty and relaxed.

"Man, I needed this," she said. "There's nothing like the road, good tunes, and good friends."

She was right, he thought. Their little group had become close-knit and supportive, even more so after Vera's Greg died. Finn hadn't told anyone the real story behind his death—that was her story to tell, after all—but she eventually told the others. The reaction had been wonderful: everyone pitched in for support, and it seemed like Vera had weathered the worst of it. "I have my sad days," she said recently, "That's when I play Schubert for him, and that immediately makes me feel better. God, he loved Schubert. Maybe even more than me." She didn't seem depressed, and the last week or two began telling some wickedly funny jokes, just like she had when they all first met.

The first song was Finn's choice. "It's perfect for the beginning of a road trip," he had announced in the planning session. It was a live version of The Byrds' "The Ballad of Easy Rider", with beautiful, gentle, complex picking by Clarence White, and Roger McGuinn's soothing voice:

The river flows
It flows to the sea
Wherever that river goes
That's where I want to be
Flow river flow
Let your waters wash down
Take me from this road
To some other town

All he wanted
Was to be free
And that's the way
It turned out to be
Flow river flow
Let your waters wash down
Take me from this road
To some other town

Flow river flow
Past the shaded tree
Go river, go
Go to the sea
Flow to the sea

They let the soft little song ease them into the trip, passing through the world in which they were born and raised: fields of new corn, barely knee high, and the smell of rich wet earth from the recent summer rains.

Finn treasured the ways college had expanded his musical tastes. On his own, he had discovered the simple joys of the Grateful Dead on Friday nights. Talking with the two student DJ's for the show led him into more unfamiliar territory: the stoned country rock of The New Riders of the Purple Sage and The Flying Burrito Brothers, the San Francisco sound of The Jefferson Airplane and Quicksilver Messenger Service, and, most surprisingly to him, a deep, rewarding exploration of the acid-drenched, electric blues of Jimi Hendrix. He felt like his mind had been ignited, expanding, like the shock wave from an exploding star. Being exposed to Gina's and Vera's collections fueled it even more.

Rachel, only half-jokingly, told him he was becoming more and more like her, a person whose life had been taken over by the love of music to the point where it was difficult to think of little else.

The next song was Vera's pick, a stunning contemporary singer named simply Antony , performing an obscure Bob Dylan song, "I Was Young When I left Home":

I was young when I left home

But I been out a-ramblin' 'round

And I never wrote a letter to my home

To my home, Lord, to my home

And I never wrote a letter to my home

It was just the other day

I was bringing home my pay

When I met an old friend I used to know

Said your mother's dead and gone

Baby sister's all gone wrong

And your daddy needs you home right away

Not a shirt on my back

Not a penny on my name

Well I can't go home thisaway

Thisaway, Lord, Lord, Lord

And I can't go home thisaway

All three of them listened in silence: Antony's plaintive, sweet voice ached with loneliness:

If you miss the train I'm on

Count the days I'm gone

You will hear that whistle blow a hundred miles

A hundred miles, honey baby. Lord Lord Lord

And you'll hear that whistle blow a hundred miles

Wow. Finn glanced over at Vera. Tears were running down her face. But she was smiling.

I'm playing on a track

Ma would come and whoop me back

On them trestles down by old Jim McKay's

When I pay the debt I owe

To the commissary store

I will pawn my watch and chain and go home

Go home, Lord Lord Lord

I will pawn my watch and chain and go home

"Oh my God, Vera. Jesus," Gina was crying now, as all three of them felt transported to a sepia-colored world of desperation, dust, train whistles and cruel railroad bulls; of parables and longing for a bed; of sleeping under cold, strange stars. Finn did smile to himself, though: that's what Dylan at his best did to you, when he donned Woody Guthrie's mantle and gave simple dignity to the downtrodden and the lost.

Used to tell Ma sometimes

When I see them riding blinds

Gonna make me a home out in the wind

In the wind, Lord in the wind

Make me a home out in the wind

I don't like it in the wind

Wanna go back home again

But I can't go home thisaway

Thisaway, Lord Lord Lord

And I can't go home thisaway

I was young when I left home

And I been out rambling 'round

And I never wrote a letter to my home

To my home, Lord Lord Lord

And I never wrote a letter to my home

Finn handed Vera a tissue, Gina too. He even took one for himself.

It was the consensus of the group that Vera had impeccable musical taste. She loved the keyboard music of Bach and Mozart, and was a fine, instinctual pianist. Choral music was also a favorite of hers, especially that of William Byrd and Benjamin Britten. Soon after Greg's death, Vera had Finn sit with her, listening to Britten's heartbreaking "War Requiem" from beginning to end, musing on how its emotional significance for her was forcing a reassessment. "I almost can't bear to listen to it now," she said, "It's just too real." She was very fond of artists with unique sounds and perspectives, like Antony, Lou Reed, Joanna Newsom and Nick Drake, yet, as Rachel found out, Vera also knew and liked classic Broadway, Sondheim in particular. Finn particularly liked one of her recommendations, the Dark Wave band Dead Can Dance, whose Medieval-Renaissance-Middle-Eastern percussive stew he found particularly delicious.

The next song was Gina's contribution, Ben Harper's "Better Way". It opened with the dreamy, incense-soaked drone of a tambura, peppered with rich beats of tablas and other drums, a sound Finn was becoming to love. All three of them wore equally dreamy smiles as they involuntarily sang along to this infectious anthem to standing up for one's beliefs:

I'm a living sunset
Lightning in my bones
Push me to the edge
But my will is stone

'Cause I believe in a better way

Fools will be fools
And wise will be wise
But I will look this world
Straight in the eyes

I believe in a better way

I believe in a better way

Gina was drumming with her hands on Finn's headrest.

What good is a man
Who won't take a stand
What good is a cynic
With no better plan

I believe in a better way

I believe in a better way

In perfect sync, Finn Gina and Vera dropped their voices and whispered the mysterious bridge:

(hope these words feel pleasant
as they rest upon your ears)

Finn took the next verse alone, changing his voice to a strangled cry as Harper did:

Reality is sharp
It cuts at me like a knife
Everyone I know
Is in the fight of their life

I believe there's a better way

Finn had a flash of Rachel as Fanny Brice before his eyes, before it faded and was replaced by…he wasn't sure. Never mind. The three of them sang the end at the tops of their lungs, because they were young, and pure, and had dreams:

Take your face out of your hands
And clear your eyes
You have a right to your dreams
And don't be denied

I believe in a better way

I believe in a better way

I believe in a better way

Finn and Gina exploded in drumming along with the end, and Vera laughed.

"Man, that was awesome!" Gina exclaimed, settling back in her seat. She was dressed much like Vera, but with round sunglasses, her very fair skin setting off impossibly red lips. She had a strong soprano voice, as opposed to Vera's lighter, more delicate one, and loved to sing. Like Finn, she was only an adequate pianist, but just rocked a guitar: she and Puck loved to jam. Gina switched to bass when the four of them played occasional frat parties, and also handled lead vocals. Puck came up with their band name: Frankenteen. He never revealed his inspiration, and Finn wasn't about to, either.

Gina's musical tastes tended towards more socially aware pop music, hence the Ben Harper selection, as well as her favorite, Midnight Oil. This led her towards folk, where she found peace listening to Dylan and Baez.

"So, what does Rachel think of your listening to all of this hippie music now?" Vera asked, as the iPod began playing the Dead's "China Cat Sunflower".

"She surprised me by quoting from the movie "The Pink Panther," he laughed. "She said it was all part of 'life's rich pageant.'"

"Isn't that an REM album?" Gina asked from the back.

Vera chuckled.

"What did you expect from her, a Barbra Streisand anecdote?"

"She doesn't care what kind of music it is," he said. "With us, it's all about the art."

Vera nodded approvingly, and Gina clapped.

They had lunch at a rest stop just outside of Youngstown, and gassed up soon after crossing the Ohio/Pennsylvania border, merging onto I-80. They had lunch at noon, and Finn took over driving, to the dreamy groove of Jimi playing "Hey Baby (New Rising Sun)" at Berkeley.

"So what's Rachel going to do when Funny Girl ends?" Gina wanted to know. She and Finn were sharing the red licorice, while Vera focused on picking all of the M&M's out of her share of gorp, dropping them in one cupholder for Finn and Gina to finish off ("How you can spoil good old raisins and peanuts with this crap, I'll never know").

"She used to say she'd just finish up at NYADA," Finn replied. "At least, that's what we talked about before the Tony nomination. That may change things. Even if Rachel doesn't get the award, just being nominated means people in the industry think she's got the chops. There are producers aware of her abilities now, and if I were them, I'd be climbing over the other's backs to offer her roles in my play."

Vera looked back, giving Gina a knowing glance.

"You wouldn't expect her to sleep with you for the role? What kind of producer are you?" Gina winked, and Finn erupted in laughter.

"I know, I know, I'm biased," Finn said, but grew somber. "I think about how her talent is being recognized now, and I get so proud I could burst, especially when I think about how people treated her worse than dogshit when we met."

He talked about her loneliness and isolation, the cruel comments on her videos, her clothing, and her family. And he spoke about her struggle to balance her drive to succeed and her wanting to be human.

"She sets incredibly high standards for herself. And she really had a hard time understanding that others didn't take well to being held to those standards too"

He told the story about the rift between Rachel and Mercedes over the role of Maria.

"I wouldn't discount your influence," Vera said, and Gina nodded in agreement. "That girl loves yer ass." He blushed. "And don't be so modest," Vera continued, "Rachel draws inspiration from you. And I bet you thought you only drew inspiration from her."

"C'mon, Finn," Gina said, as another of Vera's songs came on, Amos Lee's gorgeous "Black River." "You loved her when nobody even gave her a second glance. She told us how you defended her even when you were broken up." She ruffled his hair gently. "You're one of the good guys, man."

He couldn't say anything. All he could see was the image of Rachel in her wedding dress, and all he could think of was how much he loved her, unconditionally, and how he wanted to deserve her love.

"And don't give us that crap about deserving her love," Vera said, as if she could read his mind. "We know how cool you are. And how cool she is. You deserve each other. Now tell us about what you're going to do on the red carpet when E! Online interviews you…"

They were right, he thought. He and Rachel did deserve each other's love now. And he had the love of his friends, too.

Finn Hudson was well and truly blessed.

A/N: Lyrics are by:

"Ballad of Easy Rider" by Roger McGuinn (with uncredited input from Bob Dylan)

"I was Young When I Left Home", as performed by Antony Hegarty & Bryce Dessner, written by Bob Dylan

"Better Way", by Ben Harper