A/N- Overwhelmed by the amazing responses to the last chapter- will definitely consider some of those suggestions for the last one. Hope you enjoy.


"You will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It's like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp."

–Anne Lamott


Rachel takes her ring off a year later, the Christmas decorations are half off and the supermarket is riddled with holiday leftovers. Rachel loads her goods onto the conveyor belt in the checkout line, she's in line in front of a woman around her age who has a small boy in the seat of her cart.
He looks at Rachel with curious eyes, and she makes a funny face at him, causing him to burst out into giggles. His mother smiles at the interaction, "Do you have any kids of your own?"

"Two, I miss this cute age, mine are both older."

"Every parent I meet tells me to enjoy it while it lasts, but I can't wait till he's out of diapers." The woman jokes.

Rachel laughs, "Yeah I don't miss that."

"My husband, bless his heart, is completely useless in that department too, so it's all me."

Rachel nods sympathetically, "I understand."

"Is yours bad with diapers too?"

"Hmm?" Rachel asks.

"Your husband," The woman clarifies, gesturing to the wedding band on Rachel's left hand, "was he no help with the diapers?"

"Oh, wife." Rachel corrects automatically.

The mother blushes, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, it's alright." The singer waves the apology away.

For a moment it hurts, because she feels the weight of the ring on her finger and she feels the familiar pang of remembering. But she's come so far from those early days where her biggest accomplishment was getting the kids to school on time and she couldn't say Quinn's name without breaking down.

Now she can remember without it hurting too much. She can remember their early days with kids where she would watch Quinn wrestling with diapers. The blonde had managed to get the hang of it eventually, but the process getting to that point was laughable.

"It took a while, but she was able to get the hang of the diapers eventually." Rachel says, and even musters up a smile.

When she gets home, she takes off her ring for the first time in nearly twenty years. She considers putting it on a chain and wearing it as a necklace, but she knows that the constant reminder around her neck isn't what she needs.

She puts it carefully in her jewlery box on top of her dresser.

The widowed lesbians club meets twice a week. Once on Tuesday at the PTA meetings, and once on the weekend for Sunday coffee. Sunday coffee is held at Rachel's because of the need for a babysitter for Nora, and usually turns into Regina giving Rachel rudimentary baking lessons for as great as Rachel is in the kitchen, she cannot bake anything beyond basic cookies.

Nora is absolutely smitten with Regina. The brunette is the first person that Rachel has let into her life since Quinn died, and it feels good, this opening up. She learns about Regina's late wife. Her name was Emma and she was a state trooper, their family lived in a small town in Maine where Regina had worked in local politics. One evening on a routine traffic stop, Emma was struck by a drunk driver, she died instantly and left Regina with a nine year old Henry.

She moved with her son to New York shortly thereafter, not able to escape the ghosts of their small town.

Rachel asks Regina about her ring the Sunday after she takes off her own. They are making apple turnovers, and Rachel is watching the older woman's skilled hands as she kneads the dough. Her left hand is devoid of a telltale wedding band.

"When did you take off your ring?" She asks out of the blue.

Regina doesn't need clarification, "About three months after." She says, her hands not pausing in her preparations, "It felt like a betrayal to Emma at first, like I was moving on without her. And in the beginning I couldn't even fathom having to do everything without her, but it just hurt too much to keep wearing it."

Quinn was thirty two the first time she met her daughter. Nora was born two months into her eight month deployment, she missed the birth of her daughter, Rachel's birthday, Chrismukkah, their anniversary, and her own birthday.

Her platoon had a layover in Charlotte on the way from the Middle East to New York, and the three hours she spent on American soil but still away from her family were the longest of her life. Some of the soldiers who had family in the area chose to stay rather than fly all the way back to the base they were all stationed at.

She and Puck took a short walk around the airport, needing to stretch their legs after the long flight. Because they were still in uniform they got a mixture of odd looks from civilians and the customary 'thank you for your service'. They got coffee and the man behind them in line had understanding in his eyes when he asked, "Coming or going?"

"Coming." Quinn replied, the man was well dressed and was clearly some sort of business man, but the perfect gig line and tucked in laces let Quinn know he was ex-military.

"Welcome home." He said.

"Thanks, we're still a few states away."

He nodded, when they got to the front of the line, he paid for their coffee.

The moment the wheels touched down in New York, Quinn was out of her seat like a shot, "Ready to be a mom?" Puck had teased her with a goodnatured smile.

She rolled her eyes, "I'm already one." She reminded him.

He shrugged and shouldered his rucksack. When they exited the terminal, they were overwhelmed with family, home made signs, and those small American flags on popsicle sticks. Alec wormed his way through the crowd to her, and she picked him up, marveling in how much he had sprouted up in the months she had been gone. Rachel reached her slower, and Quinn felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she saw her daughter for the first time.

The next day she put on a pair of jeans and a Columbia sweater. She considered putting on her sharp formal uniform, but somehow she knew that wasn't what the occasion called for. She drove for nearly two hours to the boondocks of New Jersey until she found the address she was looking for. It was a small house with an extensive collection of lawn ornaments.

The walk up the drive way was long and hard and she squared her shoulders before ringing the bell. The door was answered by a short woman in her early fifties wearing an apron, her hair lightly dusted with flower.

"Mrs. Evans?"

She took one look at Quinn and stepped aside to let her in. The blonde looked around the house, taking in the photos smiling at her from every available surface, the two teenagers lounging on the couch watching television, the flag on the mantle.

The woman led Quinn through the house to the kitchen, "Coffee?"

"Yes, please." Quinn tried to contain her fidgeting, but failed spectacularly.

When the woman had poured them both a cup and sat across from Quinn at the small table she finally said more, "We had the service six months ago." Quinn nodded, "I know his unit was scheduled to get back yesterday."

"Yes ma'am."

"So you've just gotten back from eight months at war and instead of spending time with your family, you're here."

Quinn took a sip of her coffee, "I had to come and talk with you. Sam was a good soldier, he was such a good man, I just wanted to let you know that we know. We know how special he was."

"Do you have children?"

"Yes, two. I actually missed the birth of my daughter on this deployment."
There was a second while Mrs. Evans tries to puzzle out what Quinn had said, but when her eyes widened in realization there was no malice, "Parents aren't supposed to outlive their kids." Mrs. Evans said in a broken voice.

Quinn reached across the table to grasp her hand, "No, they're not."

Quinn stayed for a while longer. When she left she clapped the teenage boy solidly on the back, he was the little brother Sam always talked about, and now he was the man of the house. Quinn gave him her number with the promise of if he ever needs anything.

From there she went to the cemetery when she approached the area where Mrs. Evans had told her that Sam was buried, she saw another figure. Even from yards away there was no mistaking the lanky stance of Rick Malcom.

"I should have known you would be here." She greeted.

He smiled softly at her, it was a far cry from the uneven quirk he had shot her for the last eight months when they were at war, "Don't you have a daughter to be catching up with?"

She shrugged, "I had to say goodbye."

"Is that what this is?" He said cryptically, "I just mean goodbye is supposed to be something final, but I know this isn't the last time I'll be here, it isn't going to be the last time I think about Sam or talk to him like he's still here."

Quinn nodded, "So what is this?"

Rick was quiet for a while, his lip caught between his teeth. He pulled a quarter from his pocket and flipped it in his hand, "Checking in." He decided, placing the quarter carefully on the headstone. It joined a whole collection of coins, mainly pennies and nickles, a couple of dimes. His was the only quarter.

Rick turned to walk from the cemetery, when he was halfway out, he paused and turned, "How's the daughter?" He called from across the row of headstones.

Quinn laughed, this felt good. Talking about the newly living here amongst the dead, the soon and long departed, "Beautiful. But she has lungs like her mother."

Rick chuckled, leaving the cemetery fully as Quinn added a dime to the coins on top of Sam's headstone.


A/N- the coins are a military thing you can google if you would like. I'm a little disappointed (but not surprised) by the lack of knock knock jokes. Drop a review before the final chapter.