They had to walk up a steep, grassy rise to get to the spot. A beautiful, mature oak at the summit guided them, the weather humid but fine, not a cloud in the sky. She gripped his hand, feeling that old tightness in her chest when she used to visit by herself.

"I came whenever I could," she said, tears coming freely now. "I cleaned your headstone and brought you flowers, and prayed for your soul, even as my own felt itself slowly dying."

He remained silent, but squeezed her hand back. At the summit they looked down at the road where their car was parked, and waved to their son and his future wife, who elected to let them have this moment to themselves. Then they turned west to take in the view of Lima's cornfields, green and tassled, under the mid- summer sun. But soon she pulled at his hand, leading him to face his grave for the first time.

For twenty years, Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson lay together at the top of that grassy rise, under the fine shade of the oak, in the town where they had been born, and met, and fallen in love. And, for over twenty years, the world thought this was where they had been, tethered in death, just as they had been in life.

She could see him struggling with his emotions. He had often told her how bad he felt at first, when he wasn't allowed to tell anyone what had happened, and how he had, in desperation, turned to Ian Billingsley for help.

"We've had a good life, right?" he asked, finally.

She smiled.

"Living in paradise? With you? And with Alex? Yeah, I'd say we have lived a very good life."

But she knew he needed reassurance that the nightmarish aspects were over. "And it's only going to get better, Finn."

"It's hard to believe it's over, that we're finally free," he said, then gently pulled her to him by her shoulders. "Thanks to you." And he kissed her deeply as her hair was ruffled by a stray, soft, puff of wind.

She was ambivalent about her own grave, perhaps because her parents and very close loved ones knew the truth from the beginning. It broke her heart thinking how she, Burt, Carole, and Kurt had suffered in the years visiting Finn when they thought they had to face the rest of their lives without him. She had grieved, along with Finn, for the friends who couldn't be told the truth. But that was all over now.

She looked at her headstone, then smiled.

"Let's go, baby. We have people to see. I just wanted us to actually visit our graves. To let it all go, you know?"

Finn looked pensive. "I'm glad you talked me into this. It…" He strove to find a word, but failed. Then he smiled.

"Let's go," he said, and they walked down the slope, hand in hand, and hugged Alex and Pilar at the bottom. Then it was on to Burt and Carole's house.

For the party.

The trees in the neighborhood had matured since they were last here; what had been an open suburban street was now a sedate, shaded lane. The house was now yellow, with green trim.

"So you grew up here, Dad?" Alex asked from the back seat.

"No," Finn said. "Grandma Carole and I lived alone in a different neighborhood before she remarried when I was in high school. We'll drive by my old house after the party, okay?"

Rachel had been anxious about them revealing Alex's true family history to him, but he had taken it in stride. As usual, he surprised them by admitting he had come to doubt the cover story.

"It was too…seamless," he said. "But I knew there had to be a good reason for it, and I trusted you to tell me if and when you could."

Pilar had nodded. "It's true," she said. "Alex told me his suspicions, but he always said you'd tell him when you were ready."

Rachel looked at the two of them. Alex was dressed in a clean reverse-print blue-and-white Hawaiian shirt with white slacks, and Pilar wore a pale lavender cotton summer dress. Both outfits set off their tanned, olive skin. They looked happy and healthy. She felt blessed.

They walked slowly up the walkway, Finn pointing out things to the kids, while Rachel just felt the weight of memory. They hadn't made it quite to the door when it was flung open, and Carole emerged, arms outstretched. Alex was closest, and was the first to be embraced.

"Oh my God," Carole cried into his shoulder, "You're a man now! I haven't seen you since you were a baby!"

Alex hugged her back, fiercely. "Hi Grandma," he said. "I've wanted to meet you for so long." He paused and reached out to pull Pilar into the group. "This is my Pilar." Before Pilar could say anything, Carole nearly crushed her, too.

"Welcome, welcome," Carole said, tears flowing. And Burt appeared, laconic as ever, but hugged them all, too.

He must have felt Rachel's anxiety. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"You ready, kid?" he asked. She nodded fiercely, and, holding her husband's hand, followed Burt and Carole into the house.

There was new furniture. And carpet. But Finn's graduation portrait still hung in the entrance hall, and the air smelled of cinnamon. Alex stopped and stared at his father's portrait, with Pilar at his side. Rachel loved the proud smile on her son's face.

And then they were in the living room. And everyone was there.

Oh, Lord, her dads. They rushed up. Their hair was silver, but otherwise they looked the same.

"Welcome back, baby," Hiram said, in his typical bear hug, which left her breathless. "You have no idea how it feels to know you're finally free." He gave way to LeRoy, who pulled her in and let her cry on his shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay," he murmured.

They hugged Finn, and Alex, then Pilar as if she was their long-lost granddaughter.

Finn took Rachel's hand as they faced the group she had dreaded meeting—Quinn , Puck, Mercedes, Artie, Santana, Brittany, Sam and the Schuesters. All of the people who couldn't be told. She and her husband stood, tentatively, wondering what to say.

Kurt and Blaine stepped in to help.

"Group hug!" they screamed, and their friends, tears streaming down their faces, embraced them back into the world of the living.

Rachel felt dazed, as if experiencing a series of short films running before her eyes:

Mercedes squealing with delight as she bear-hugged Alex, telling him she had told his mother that one of the things she most wanted was to eventually meet Rachel Berry's children. She was widowed, and her son Damien was living in France.

Emma and Will crying, then joking about how they'd have to rename the high school auditorium—again.

Santana and Brittany living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where Brittany was a mathematics professor at Harvard . Santana was an indie film actress. They had two adopted children, a son and daughter.

Artie and his wife Mary, both independent film makers (who had cast Santana in several films) , ecstatic. Artie wondered if Rachel and Finn would be interested in being involved in a documentary about their story. "Maybe even a major studio effort?" Artie said. Alex and Pilar looked impressed.

And, of course, Sam, who was divorced, but happy, with a son who lived with him. He had also become an actor, and played in a band on weekends.

They all wanted to hear the complete story—especially the way Rachel had convinced the Ferrantes to cancel the contract. So she told them about the performance. And then the three days they waited arund for an answer. Finn even had time to fly up himself, and the two of them holed up in a loft similar to the one where their reunion occurred, only in a completely different building.

"We felt like prisoners," Finn said. He didn't tell them about the frenzied lovemaking that went on, Rachel thought, with an inner chuckle. No need to gross out the kids.

"It wasn't so bad," she said, and saw him give her their secret wink.

On the evening of the third day, Andrew called and said he had news. He arrived with a small, padded bag.

Please-sit down," he said. His face was unreadable.

"Well?" Rachel demanded.

"As you know," Andrew began, "They loved your performance, but I warned you about the strong possibility they would not cancel the contract, despite my warnings."

"Yes, yes!" Rachel said impatiently.

"Well, they sent an emissary—one of their lawyers over a couple of hours ago. He told me their had been disagreement at the family headquarters, with their consiglieri insisting that Frank not to terminate the contract. "

Rachel's heart sank. Finn squeezed her hand, as if to say they hadn't lost anything-they still had their good life in Costa Rica. But she had finally allowed herself to hope that it could all be over, and had put her heart and soul into that performance. She wished she had followed her instincts and put a bullet in each of their heads.

"He almost convinced Frank," Andrew said, but couldn't keep his poker face. He smiled broadly "But Donatella put her foot down. 'Do the honorable thing, Frank', she told him. And that is what he did. As of the time you stopped singing, the contract has been terminated."

"So that was it?" Mercedes asked. "Didn't they have to give you a statement or something?"

"No, no," Finn said, "They could never allow such an incriminating document to fall outside of the family hands."

"We're sorry we didn't tell you,", Rachel said, and the tears came then. "We couldn't risk your lives as well as our own."

She thought about her friends and loved ones, and how there wre stil things they couldn't tell their friends, such as the name of the mob Family, just in case they were angered enough to kill her and Finn anyway. And she knew they would turn down any book deals or film offers about it. But it was enough to be alive and unafraid now. With the family she once thought was an impossibility. And wait, here was Judah and Anne, late to the party!

She and Finn exchanged smiles. So this is what peace is like, she thought. I can live with that.

A/N There will be a small epilogue to this, when I have the time.