Author's Notes: This is the last chapter! There's one more epilogue to wrap up any loose ends, and we can call it a day on this cheerful little fic of mine. As always, thanks go to Mike Ownby for Americanization, fic improvements, Yumi fail checks, Broadway d'ohs, and et cetera.

Rachel had reached a decision by the time the new year came and went: it was time to let go.

There was a part of her that still wasn't ready; it lived deep inside her, someplace she couldn't touch. But it was gradually fading away; Rachel was beginning to forget the small real things, like how Quinn's skin felt under her fingertips, and how warm her embrace was on cold winter mornings.

All she would have are memories, and memories of feelings. Rachel had resigned herself to that.

But for now, there was everyday life post-Quinn. A Beginning to Endings had been successful enough to extend its run, and Rachel was only too happy to continue playing Elise. Elly was properly enrolled in Shelby's friend's preschool program, and had already made a few friends. Life went on in soft sepia hues.

"I'm ready," she said, heart in her throat.

Brittany blinked.

Rachel repeated herself.

"I heard you the first time," said Brittany, tone gentle. "I just wanted to make sure you really are ready, and you're not talking about the bill or something."

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. "Okay. That's fair."

Brittany's expression grew serious. "Today? I can drive you there, and wait outside. There are some things I'll need to do afterwards. Don't worry, I won't be telling anyone about – her. I just need to dismantle everything," Brittany clarified on seeing Rachel's expression.

"Today is good," said Rachel. Her mouth felt dry. Her hands were cold. It felt very much like she was taking Quinn off a life support machine. Killing her all over again. "It feels right, somehow. Spring is for new beginnings. Growth."

"Sounds like one of the songs we used to do in Glee."

"It does, doesn't it?" commented Rachel.

Rachel struggled with her decision when she was alone. Particularly, when she was in their room, and she was curled up on Quinn's side of the bed.

"I'm doing this," she said aloud. "I'm moving on, like you wanted me to. Like I want to."

The bed made no reply. Rachel wished she could believe in ghosts.

"Is there something important you need to talk to me about?" asked Santana irritably. "'Cause you do not know what kind of shitty day I am having right now, and I will go Lima Heights on your Jewish ass if you had a costume mishap or something."

"I'm destroying the machine." It wasn't exactly what Brittany had explained they would be doing, but Rachel thought it sounded more dramatic that way.

Santana shut up immediately. "Oh." She sank into the chair, pulling out her phone. "Lisa? Cancel my two o'clock. Yes, I know – yes, you heard me the first time. Yes, I know that, but I have other important shit to do." She stuffed her phone back into her purse. "Fuck me. You're really doing it."

"I'm doing it."

"I gotta say, I didn't think you would. No offense, but – well – that was some shit you went through."

"None taken, Santana," said Rachel.

"Well, Berry; all these years, and you still know how to surprise me." Santana reached out and squeezed Rachel's elbow. "I'm proud of you."

"I want you there with me," she blurted out.

"What?"

"It feels like I'm killing her. I know it's not, but – I want you there. You've been there for me and her for decades, San; I need you."

"Fuck, Rach."

"I'm sorry." Rachel gently shook free of Santana's hand. "I should have considered how weird this is for you."

"No, I'll go. I was just thinking… you are the weirdest person I have ever known. Being your friend has been a rollercoaster ride of bullshit. Same goes for Q. But… I wouldn't have it any other way." Santana let out a short laugh. "You're tough, Midge. If it was me in your shoes, I'd be a blubbering wreck."

"Midge?"

"It's been years. I figured you deserved a new nickname."

Rachel arched an eyebrow, Quinn-style. "Let me guess – short for Midget?"

"Yep, plus a midge is a small, annoying fly. It's perfect, isn't it?"

"Your unwavering support is a gift that keeps on giving, Santana," said Rachel sardonically.

She figured that even if the Abomination wasn't human, it deserved to know.

Hi.

Hello, Rachel.

Rachel hesitated too long.

There's something I need to tell you.

What is it?

I want you to end my program.

Rachel's mouth went dry.

What?

I am not Quinn. I will never be Quinn. But everything that I have learned from you, everything I have been programmed with… it tells me that any semblance of Quinn would not want to exist like this.

The part of me that was created to help you does not know what life is. But everything you've taught me that makes me human doesn't want to live like this anymore.

Do you even know what you're asking me to do?

I do.

My creator programmed me with the ability to learn and think. She also gave me a moral code, ethics, common sense… in short, everything to pass for one specific human. But she didn't make me a person, not even that person. I developed that with your help.

I exist because of you, Rachel. I exist because my purpose was to help you. But the more I learn, the more convinced I am of my conclusion that my continued existence is not helpful to you.

Rachel started typing, then stopped. She read what she had written, deleted it, and started again.

You know, I came here to tell you the same thing. That I needed to let you go because I can't do this anymore. You beat me to it.

Are we in agreement, then?

She froze. The cursor blinked at her. Rachel ignored it.

I've always known my existence is temporary, and that I'm a tool to help you through a period of transition. Don't feel bad. I'm not alive. I've never been alive. You're not killing me.

It's as good as that.

I'm sorry you're hurting. But I'm also glad that you care enough to feel bad on my behalf.

It seemed like the responses were even slower than normal.

I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to exist, but here you are, and I have no right to take that away from you, but I can't

I understand, Rachel.

She stared in surprise. The Abomination had never interrupted her before. It made it seem much more like a real person. Not her person, of course – but another human being.

A friend.

Rachel?

Sorry. It's a lot to take in.

Of course. I'm sorry for rushing you. It's not every day a machine tells you to switch it off, right?

Do you count those laptops that remind you when they've been idle for too long?

Hmm, you have a point.

Rachel laughed softly. Her phone chimed; it was Brittany, reminding her that she and Santana were on their way.

Are you sure?

Very sure. Are you?

Rachel watched the blinking cursor. The part deep inside cried out.

I am.

Santana snorted at her. "Of course, Rachel Berry would ask the machine nicely if it was okay to destroy it."

Brittany lightly smacked her arm. "San, be nice."

"I am being nice. You should have seen me earlier."

Her wife ignored her and turned to Rachel. "You can still change your mind. No one will judge you, Rach."

"No, I want to do this. It's just a ghost I have to exorcise if I want to truly move on. Its existence is more of an emotional crutch to fall back on rather than to move forward." Rachel neglected to mention what the Abomination had said; she doubted that Brittany and Santana would be comfortable with hearing that the Abomination itself wanted to be deactivated.

Brittany nodded. "Okay," she said, gathering Rachel into a hug. "Over here."

She pushed aside wires to reveal an old-fashioned flick switch painted neon yellow. "Here."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much, yeah. That kills power to the entire machine but the data and memory will remain intact. I'll need to dismantle the machine's components and remove the main data chip."

Rachel appreciated Brittany's detail. It reminded her that they were talking about an inanimate object, a computer program. "And then what happens to the chip?"

Brittany hesitated. "I'll run it through a mercury lamp. That'll completely erase all the data stored on it. And since there's no backup copies of the program…"

"... it'll be lost forever," finished Rachel. "I'm sorry, Brit."

"What are you sorry for? I never should have made it in the first place."

"It was a truly remarkable creation." Rachel smiled. "You don't know how much it's helped me." She turned her attention back to the yellow switch. "So… this is it."

She appreciated the physicality of the action. It represented a clean break with this part of her life; all the grief, the anger that she harbored would be gone with the Abomination. Her therapist had been very fond of the psychology linking action to thought.

With Brittany and Santana watching, Rachel took a deep breath, reached out…

… and flicked the switch.

"Congratulations on your show, Schwimmer; after watching you stumble around in my studio a couple months back, I was half-convinced it wouldn't make it."

"Your professional opinion means a lot to me, Cassie," said Rachel without a trace of sarcasm.

"I'm sure it does, since you were the one who invited me out for lunch." Cassie picked at her salad. "Which I appreciate."

"And you accepted my invitation. Which I appreciate."

Cassie laughed. "No one passes up a free lunch in New York."

Mateo refilled their waters. Rachel smiled at him.

"I can't believe I didn't discover this spot earlier. I guess Carmen Miranda Jr's taste has improved tremendously over the years."

Rachel decided not to relay the information to Santana. "I'm glad you like it. Lunch really is the least I can do, given how much you've helped me get back on track."

"Tch. We talked about this. Your fawning gratitude isn't needed or wanted, Berry. Unlike me, you're good at knowing when to get help."

"Was that more praise, Miss Cassandra July?" asked Rachel, beaming widely.

"Not from me it isn't. But you know what? You've earned this, so enjoy it." Cassie signalled for Mateo; he appeared, holding a Virgin Mary.

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "That's your fifth drink so far," she remarked.

"You're paying. I'm enjoying. Like that Prue character in your show. Now she knows how to live her life."

"You've watched my show?"

"You sent me two tickets for every showing. Emphasis on the two, because that was just cruel, Berry."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Maybe work on that cheery disposition a little, and you could find someone to bring that isn't your TA or someone else obligated to do your bidding."

Cassie arched an eyebrow. "A backbone. That's a good look on you. Are you usually this mean at home, Mommy?"

"My daughter's two. Sarcasm would be wasted on her – as I'm sure you'd know, having raised three kids yourself," replied Rachel.

Cassie laughed. She toasted Rachel with her drink. "By the way," she said, "do you remember Zach?"

"Zach Bennett? Doesn't he teach voice at NYADA?"

"Taught," said Cassie. "He's retiring at the end of the year."

"That's a shame."

"Tibideaux's looking for someone to take his place."

Rachel was silent. "Cassie, what are you saying?"

"I'm not saying you should replace him," replied Cassie. "It's just a tidbit that I thought you'd be interested in. Didn't you coach your old high school Glee club to Nationals once or something?"

"How did you know about that?"

Cassie shrugged. "I listen to you sometimes. Whatever you don't bore me to death with, I read in the gossip rags."

"Oh, right." As a token of gratitude, Rachel chose not to comment on Cassie actively reading up on her in tabloid magazines. "I guess you've earned your sixth Virgin Mary, Cass."

"... Don't ever call me that again."