CHAPTER 34

Finn awoke in a white room. Well, it was actually just big, concrete bricks painted white. He felt strange; sluggish and slow and dizzy and everything else. He blinked a couple of times to try and clear some of the haze out of his eyes, then slowly turned his head to the side to see where exactly he was. For some reason, his brain wasn't acting as quickly as it normally did. Was anyone else here with him?

"Am I dead? Is this heaven?" He mumbled without preamble. If he was, he was definitely going to suggest a much more pleasant welcome into the afterlife; a bed in a white concrete room wasn't cutting it for him, and he was usually pretty relaxed about that kind of stuff.

"FINN!" He heard someone exclaim. He looked up and groaned in pain. It hurt to even move his head. George and Santana were sitting in the corner of the room, and jumped up when they heard his voice.

"Oh god. I'm in hell?" He grumbled, jokingly. George snickered, but Santana's face dropped. She clearly thought he was still angry at her, and she was close to tears. Finn read her facial expression.

"Santana, I'm kidding." He laughed. Santana's face went from sadness, to relief, to annoyance.

"Screw you, Finn." She cried, throwing her arms around him. He groaned in pain as she made contact with his injury, and she jumped back.

"I'm so sorry. It's my fault you're here." She murmured. Finn shrugged.

"It's fine. Wounds heal." He said, simply. She shook her head.

"I'm not just talking about the injury. I'm talking about before as well. It was really selfish of me. I didn't realise how much you were going through."

Finn smiled and nodded at her.

"It's fine." He said, again. "I'm here now. And I'm alive. That's all that matters."

"Dude, you scared the crap out of us. We thought you were gonna die." George said. Finn shook his head.

"I was never gonna die. There are more people for me to piss off."

The two other teenagers laughed, and suddenly, someone else walked into the room.

"Ah, I see someone is awake finally." A pleasant female voice came from the doorway. He lifted his head up slightly and saw an elderly lady furiously writing something on a clipboard chart.

"Um… where am I?" He asked.

The elderly lady laughed a bit, which highlighted the laugh lines along her face, and then shook her head. "You're in the St. Margaret's Hospital Surgical Recovery Room. And you came pretty close to dying on us. The bullet hit your side, narrowly missing any major organs which was god. But you lost a lot of blood when you made it to the hospital . You didn't have an exit wound so we had to extract the bullet, and then patch you up. I'm not gonna lie, it was very close. If you had arrived at the hospital three minutes later, you wouldn't be sitting here right now."

Finn groaned and let his head fall back into the pillow behind him, a touch of nausea coming to him as his side flared in pain when he shifted himself. "Fuck, this hurts."

The nurse shook her head and retrieved a needle from the table beside him. "Language, my young friend. Never a need for that word."

"Bet you've never been shot, have you?" Finn grumbled. George snickered, but Santana and the nurse glared at him. The nurse had complete control over his well-being though, so he kept his other thoughts to himself.

He watched as she approached with the needle, but then (much to his relief) she suddenly turned towards his I.V. and used that line for the injection. "I thought, given your size, we'd need a stronger dosage than normal. Let's see if Demerol can take care of your discomfort, shall we?"

Finn nodded a bit, then settled back down and anxiously waited for the painkiller to work. He had been given Demerol once before - when his father threw him through the glass table - and it had worked wonders for him. Finn turned to Santana and George, who were still sitting in the two seats at the side of the room. Both of them clearly hadn't slept, eaten or showered in ages. George's shirt was untucked and creased, his eyes were sunken, and he had more bags under his eyelids than in every supermarket in the States. Santana looked even worse than George. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had run due to her tears, and she looked even more tired than George did. Seeing them in this state made Finn feel really bad for them. He knew from experience that seeing a loved one injured or dead hurt just as much, if not more.

"You guys should go home and get some rest." Finn told them. Santana shook her head.

"Hell, no. There's no way we're leaving." Santana snapped. Finn sighed.

"Come on, guys. No offense, I love you both, but you kinda look like crap." He said. George chuckled.

"Gee thanks. You're not really at your hottest either, are you buddy?" George replied. Finn laughed and a piercing pain ripped through his side. The drugs didn't do much to help. Santana immediately went into overprotective mode.

"George, you gotta either shut up or leave. You're hurting Finn." Santana growled at George. George rolled his eyes.

"OK, Sorry MOM." He remarked. Santana and George locked eyes in a fierce stare-off. Eventually, Santana gave in and George stayed.

The next 3 days were the longest of Finn's life. He was forced to stay in the hospital by the nurses, as they needed to keep watch for wound infections. George and Santana both had to go to school during the day, so Finn had literally nothing to do during that time. Apparently, Finn was also mildly concussed from when he hit his head after tackling Santana, so he wasn't able to sing or listen to loud noises for the next week. All Finn could do was sit like a potato in his hospital room. He couldn't even play on his phone as the bright screen would be bad for his concussion. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was really just 72 hours, Finn was discharged from the hospital. It was one of the happiest moments of his life. He had just walked away from a shooting unscathed. George drove him home that afternoon, and Finn collapsed on his bed almost immediately. Despite the face that he had done practically nothing but sleep during the past 3 days, he was suddenly very tired.

The next morning, Finn woke up bright and early, and he and George drove to school for morning Glee rehearsal. Finn would be able to sing and play guitar, but he would have to give it another week before he'd go back to football, as although he was healed, his wound was still pretty tender and he didn't want the stitches to open. They would fall out on their own in the next week, and at that point, he would be able to play contact sports again. When Finn walked into Glee that day, he was given an amazing welcome. Mike and Puck were holding a large 'Welcome Back!" banner, Kurt was holding a sparkler, and everyone cheered as he walked into the room.

"Hey guys! Wow, I… uh… I don't know what to say. Thank you, all of you. And thanks for all of your get well soon cards and chocolates. I probably gained like 20 pounds!"

While Finn was in the hospital, everyone in the Glee club, as well as a couple of the guys from the football team gave him 'Get Well Soon' cards, and they gave him numerous boxes of chocolates too.

"Well, Finn, we're all really glad you're here. When you left the choir room that day, we genuinely thought that we wouldn't see you again."

Finn laughed.

"Wow. You clearly had a lot of faith in me." He commented. Mr. Schue shrugged and smiled and shrugged.

"I'll be honest… I didn't."

Finn put on a face of mock-hurt.

"You know, I was shot, I bled out, I coughed up blood. I almost died. But that really hurt, Mr. Schue." He joked and Mr. Schue rolled his eyes.

"Well, what do you expect? You were going up against someone with a gun!"

"Not my first time." He mumbled, quietly. Those nights with his drunk father were only too memorable. Mr. Schue raised his eyebrow.

"Um… okay? Well, sit down. We have work to do. Sectionals are coming up and we need to work hard."

And just like that, Finn was back in the New Directions, and when they started working, it was like nothing had ever happened. But then, as Rachel was babbling incoherently, something about 'Sectionals' and 'solos', Santana smiled at him. At that moment, Finn knew that he didn't regret what happened at all. He had finally made up with Santana, and their friendship was stronger than ever. He was in a great place now. His life was happier than it had been since… well ever. Although he still sometimes cried at night thinking about Carole, Finn knew that he was surrounded by people that loved him.

Rest in Peace Naya Rivera. And of course, Cory Monteith

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