A/N: The lyrics are from "The End", by John Lennon and Paul McCartney
Rachel and Elena walked over and dragged Marge over to the rest of them. She had been standing, smiling, and watching the happiness from afar.
"We'd like to thank you and Santana," Rachel said, "For helping us survive this first major separation."
"Speech! Speech!"
Santana bowed, choosing not to speak. Marge, embarrassed, stood, hands clasped in front of her. At first it seemed that she, too, had chosen not to speak. She closed her eyes and tilted her head upward for a few moments, then smiled and opened her eyes. There were tears.
"For a long time," she said, "I've been alone. And I first came to work here because my grief wouldn't let me sleep." Marge pulled an old picture from her apron pocket and held it, moving her fingers across it like a rosary. "But after meeting Rachel and Geoff, and seeing how their connections to their loved ones had turned them into sleepless nighthawks like me, I wanted to help them. You see," she glanced down at the picture for a moment, "I can't get my Nigel back, and if keeping him in my heart means losing some sleep, it's a price I'm willing to pay. But I couldn't stand by and watch the four of you suffer like this, when all that was needed was a friendly ear, good coffee, and a willingness to help."
"It's not all selfless, though," she said, and everyone saw her seem to transform herself back into that happy young woman in the picture. "Nigel's favorite band was the Beatles, and he loved that line from Abbey Road:
And in the end, the love you take
Is equal to the love you make.
He wanted us to make as much love as we could, because he wanted me to have it."
Then she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut.
"When he became ill, he was determined for us to make as much love as we could, because he wanted me to have it after he was gone. Nigel got it in his head that he could build up enough to get me through the rest of my life, too. We did it all of the time, everywhere we could." Marge opened her eyes, blissful at the memory, but it was soon lost in shadow.
"Even when he had no strength left, he still tried… I didn't have the heart to tell him to stop, that it was killing me to see him like that. You see, it meant that much to him—I meant that much to him."
Her shoulders sagged.
"He died happy, in his sleep; that's all that mattered to me. But it didn't work the way he wanted: soon afterwards the insomnia started. I guess I spent it all. " She paused, to gather herself together.
"I think helping you is my way of making love again." She smiled. "I think its working; I've had a few eight-hour bouts of sleep since you have come into my life."
It was quiet. Marge walked up to Finn and Rachel.
"I have one more thing." She rummaged in her apron pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.
"Finn," she said, "I sent that video of your Nationals performance to one of Nigel's old colleagues at Tisch. Rachel, of course, blew him away, but she wasn't the only performer that impressed him. He would like to see you Monday at 1:15. Your flight leaves at 4PM, so it shouldn't be a problem. I told him about what you were doing for your dad, and he said that was ok, he'd like to talk anyway." She handed the paper to a dumbfounded Finn, and an ecstatic Rachel.
"Marge, you are a miracle worker!" Rachel said, jumping over the counter and hugging her.
"No, hun," Marge said, "Just an old theatre rat who can smell talent as well as you can." She held Rachel close. "That's the core of your tether, you know: a mutual love of music and performing. You recognized it in yourself at an early age, and had parents who helped you develop it. You saw it in Finn the moment you met. He's just a little behind. Training will let it blossom."
"I love you, Marge," Rachel whispered fiercely.
Marge heard that Beatles song in her head.
"I love you too, hun."
Santana broke the festivities up—again. "Ok, Rachel and Spicoli have class today, so its time to get them into bed." She winked at Elena. "Since he has his own room, I'll drop you at the dorm. Frankenteen, hail a cab and take Rachel to the hotel you spent your honeymoon money on and see she gets her diva-sleep before class." Then she hugged Marge.
"It's been a pleasure sneaking around with you."
After all the tears and rounds of hugs, Marge watched them leave. Before polishing the cutlery, though, she ate a slice of banana bread, then kissed the picture. She still missed him; she always would. She hoped he would be at the Ibsen play she was beginning rehearsals for next week.