Remember You Young Chapter 7, a glee fanfic

Finn

"Please, would you do me the honor in welcoming my father, Finn Hudson, to the stage"

I don't know what I was expecting when I woke up this morning. Maybe I was thinking that I would go into this celebration of life with a clear head and leave all of my baggage with one of the valet attendants. Maybe I was expecting there to not be so many people in attendance — I had counted 57 at one point — to honor the woman that my Rachel was... is... and always will be. Maybe I was expecting to not really say much at all. And maybe, I was not expecting things to go as beautifully as they had.

And now... now, it was my turn to go on stage and fuck everything up.

I am so caught up in what has just happened that I almost need my daughter to repeat what she just said. She is still riding on a high from singing with Kurt. Watching her up there, with him, reminded me just how talented she was. Though she might look like me, and especially tonight with her short, brunette hair and her hazel eyes highlighting her soft face, she was her mother through and through. What she had done tonight for her mother was truly special, and I was blessed that I was her father — that she had my blood running though her veins.

"I didn't think you were coming up here," she smiles, as she wraps her arm around me in an awkward side-hug. "It's not so bad. And I'll be right out there if you need support. I love you, dad." I had decided to come on stage on a whim; something that my younger self would have been proud of. My older self — the self that I don't even recognize anymore — is screaming on the inside, telling me to just walk Annalise back to her seat. It's telling me that I don't belong up here and that I don't need to do this.

But I wanted to do this. Not only for Rachel and our daughter, but for myself as well. I didn't speak at her services.

And now was my chance to.

"I love you too," I say, as I kiss her hair gently. Kurt embraces me in his arms, his emotions non-existent at this time. I knew that it was killing him not to show everyone how upset he was with losing his best friend: but he was trying to be strong for all of us in here tonight. I know that he's afraid to say anything to me for fear of collapsing. I can tell by his eyes that he's worn and tired. He's tired of holding in his feelings about everything. I see them, watch them with wandering eyes, as they take their seats in the house, settling in next to Blaine and my step-father. Their time up here was done. And now, they can look on and watch me crumble before their very eyes, like I had done to each person that graced the stage this evening.

Annalise had said something in her blur of a speech that resonated with me. She had said that she envisioned her mom up in the balcony, looking over all of us this evening. My vision is a little different: I envision her right behind me, her soft hands wrapped around my burly arm protectively. As I stand here on the steps, not really knowing if I can actually make it on stage, it's almost as if I can hear her voice whispering in my ear.

"Go up there and speak what's on your mind. Give them hell. That's the Finn Hudson that I know. That's the Finn Hudson that I fell in love with."

"You okay?" I hear Mr. Schuester ask me, as he notices my knees begin to tremble.

"I'm fine," I tell him, shaking my head. But I wasn't fine. I knew by me going up there, it meant that I was finally saying goodbye to her and beginning, truly, the grieving process. I wasn't ready to really say goodbye to her yet. "I just need a minute."

"Everyone's waiting on you, baby. You got this. I believe in you."

Hearing her voice again is the encouragement that I need to send me on my way. I get so caught up in making it up there that I trip over my shoes. Mr. Schuester and Gina notice immediately; the widow painstaken with grief, trying his best to do this to show everyone how strong he really is. How strong he was pretending to be, at least. As I make my way on stage, I opt to stand behind the microphone that my brother was once at. I adjust it to my height — I forget sometimes how much taller I am than everyone — and take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. It's been quite some time since I've stood on a big stage in front of everyone; quite some time as in Nationals senior year of high school. The spotlight begins to radiate down on my trembling body, causing me to sweat profusely. I have had a spotlight on me many of times before in my life, but this one seems much brighter. I take a few more deep breaths and allow a small chuckle to escape my lips. I pull the folded napkin quickly from the back pocket of my dress pants, only to notice that the sweat has caused some of the ink to smudge. I stare at the words in front of me once more, and say a prayer silently that something or someone up there can help to guide me through this big mistake that I was making.

I envision once more about Rachel, however this time she is backstage. It's almost as if I can see her tucked behind the curtain, smiling at me and giving me some sort of hand gesture, telling me that everything is going to be just fine... just remember to breathe. I had this. Everything was going to be okay.

"Thank you all for coming this evening," I begin, barely recognizing the voice coming out of my own mouth. As I look out into the sea of familiar faces, I can't help but smile widely. It's been a long time since all of us were together — doing something that involved being on stage and performing. To know that they were here offering their support meant everything to me. My family sits in the front row just as they have all night, sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting to see just what I was going to do — anticipating what I was going to say. This wasn't going to be perfect or wonderful by any means. I had written it in a hurry, on the drive up to Cleveland from Lima. I should have spent more time on it. Rachel deserved much more than a crumpled up McDonalds napkin from the glove box, filled with illegible words from a pen whose ink was almost gone. I clear my throat before beginning again. "As many of you know, my name is Finn Hudson... and Rachel was my better half." I hear most people in the audience chuckle softly. "Rachel was... she was my world. She was my everything," I smile. "Rachel and I had an unconventional love story. It was one for the ages. We met in the auditorium at McKinley and uh, she actually kind of freaked me out at first," I reveal. "It was kind of scary how good she was at singing and I was only there on a punishment. We had to sing that song from Grease that plays at the end and I knew then that I wanted to date her. Or, at least, find out why she was looking at me the way that she was. Rachel and I didn't have a fairytale love. We wanted it, sure, but I was the quarterback of my high school football team and she was just this girl that wore reindeer sweaters and liked to sing. I always admired that about her — that she knew what she wanted to do for the rest of her life," I say. "We did things kind of backwards. We got engaged, graduated high school, she went to New York, we broke up, I went off to war after 9/11, we had our daughter —," okay, that was actually kind of out of order. But I never wanted Annalise to know what really happened. She was too young back then and asked a lot of questions once she got older, but I don't think she remembers any of the turmoil between her mother and I. I didn't want her to hate Rachel or have any sort of resentment towards her for keeping us apart for several years. I think that's why she and I were never close; she thinks that I abandoned her and her mom.

But the truth was, I didn't know that Annalise existed until she was a few years old.

"And then we got married. We were just kids. We didn't really know what to do, but we knew that we really, really, loved each other — like a lot. We were married for a long time. Back then, I always thought she would be burying me first. So to be standing here, a widow, is still something that I just can't grasp fully. And I don't know if I ever will," I say, shrugging my shoulders a bit. I bite the inside of my cheek lightly, as my eyes divert to the napkin resting in my hands. I look back up as my eyes lock instantly with my daughter. She is leaning forward in her seat, the palm of her right hand resting on her chin; her elbow resting on her thigh. "I don't need to stand here and tell any of you what Rachel meant to me. All of you were a part of our lives some way or another, and you got to witness the magic that was Rachel Berry. Rachel is and always will be my soulmate and I knew that from the first moment that she freaked me out during our second glee club rehearsal. I am one of the lucky ones that found his other-half early on in life. I am having a really hard time letting her go. I just miss her so much," I say, as I notice most people's expressions have changed from relaxed to worried. Am I going to cry? Is someone going to have to come up here and rescue me, take the napkin from my hand, and finish this boring speech or something?

I look over my left shoulder upon noticing a rustle of the curtain. I see Rachel standing there: her raven black hair straightened and falling to the top of her chest, her bangs bumped a bit to show off her deep, chocolate bar colored eyes. She is wearing this beautiful, gold skirt with glitter on it. The skirt is kind of poofy and reminds me of a Disney princess. A soft, black, tank top hugs her small frame and shows off a bit of her sun-kissed stomach. A pair of black heels are strapped to her feet. She wears the gold necklace with my name on it proudly around her neck, and I can see the shimmer of her wedding band set from here. She looks like she's 21 again. "Did I really freak you out?"

"Yeah, you did," I mumble softly, hoping that the microphone doesn't pick that up.

"I'm sorry," I hear her laugh quietly. "I miss you more."

"Our time together may have gotten cut short," I say, beginning again, "but the memories that she and I made together will last a lifetime. I may not have gotten her for the rest of my life, but I got her for the rest of hers. And I think that's pretty special."

"You could just sing, you know," I hear her tell me, as she begins to walk around the house band. "I haven't heard you sing in so long. Not even in the shower. I miss your voice. You don't have to say anything else, babe. I know how much you loved me. The whole world knows. Just do what you do best." She smiles, and grabs onto the maroon curtain behind stage-left. She peers her head through just a bit, making sure that I can still see her. "Just no Journey," she winks. "I don't want to mess up my makeup."

I stare aimlessly out at the crowd this point, scrambling. I had more written in front of me — more of this speech written that no one would remember in a few day's time anyway. It didn't seem right, just standing up here and speaking about her. I couldn't do that. I couldn't honor her like that. "I... uh... I would continue on, but, Rachel wasn't a big fan of words unless they were put to a song. And words and music... they kind of go together." Seeing my hesitation on stage, she just smiles at me. She and I both notice the same thing: Sam is emerging from his seat next to Blaine. He mouthes something to my daughter, and begins to navigate past several audience members before he makes his way up the stairs. Sam picks up the guitar placed by the house band, where it has resided since his last stint up here.

"Hi Sam," I hear Rachel say softly behind he and I. "I will never forgive you for singing a George Strait song to me," she chuckles.

"I have a song that I would like to share with all of you this evening. It's a little... unconventional, but it means the world to me. It sums up everything that I want to say to her right now."

"You better pick something good, Hudson," she says.

"What song are you thinking?" Sam asks, adjusting the guitar strap around his frame and tuning it a bit.

"One More Day..."

"By Diamond Rio?"

"Yes," I tell him, a prominent crack soon appearing in my voice. Even saying the name of the song sends chills down my spine. I haven't heard it in ages, and I had only hoped I would remember all of the words.

"No, Hudson," Rachel says, stomping her foot a little. "Please, any other song than this one. You promised you wouldn't make me cry. I haven't heard this song since..."

"This was one of her favorites," I say, focusing my attention on Annalise. "Even if she really didn't like country music all that much."

"I didn't like it at all," she stammers. I don't want to turn around because I know she's going to be rolling her eyes. "I know one person that does though. Look at her out there, babe. Look at that beautiful masterpiece we created together."

Hearing the first chords that Sam begins to strum on the guitar takes me back to a simpler time. This song had come out in early 2001: right before shit hit the fan in our lives. Those days were the ones where we would lie awake in our bed in the loft in Bushwick, listening to the rain hit the window, wrapped in each other's arms. It was other times that we would slow dance in the kitchen, no matter the time of day, leaning into each other's arms and professing our love to one-another. There would be cold cups of coffee on the table and half-eaten breakfast plates scattered about. In those moments, we didn't care much about anything other than each other. We were together again, and nothing would tear us apart. Those were the days when it was just us: no Annalise, no rings, no wedding pictures, no 9/11, no Iraq and no cancer. This song, amongst many, carried us through our lives without one another. Sam had heard it first — it was used for Dale Earnhardt Sr.'s memorial service that he insisted we all watched on TV together — and he told us to pay attention to the lyrics, not thinking that there would ever be a time in our life when the words rang true.

If I could just go back to that loft in Bushwick and be too young and too in love again, I would do it in a heartbeat. Even if it was only for five minutes, I think I would be happy for the rest of my life. We take so many things for granted when we are that young: so much so that we would do whatever it takes to go back. Sadly, time machines don't exist. But memories do. And songs do, too. And this...

This was really all I had right now.

Last night I had a crazy dream

A wish was granted just for me, it could be for anything

I didn't ask for money

Or a mansion in Malibu

I simply wished, for one more day with you

One more day

One more time

One more sunset baby, I'd be satisfied

But then again, I know what it would do

Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you

One more day

First thing I'd do is pray for time to crawl

I'd unplug the telephone

And keep the TV off

I'd hold you every second

Say a million "I love you's"

That's what I'd do, with one more day with you

One more day

One more time

One more sunset baby, I'd be satisfied

But then again, I know what it would do

Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you

One more day

One more time

One more sunset baby, I'd be satisfied

But then again, I know what it would do

Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you

Leave me wishing still, for one more day

With you

"Thank you, everyone." I exit the stage quickly in a trance, the roar of applause beginning to echo around me.

"I'm going up to the balcony if you want to join me," I hear her whisper sweetly in my ear, sending chills down my spine. "I have a bottle of champagne. It might help to take the edge off, after what you just did up there."

Most people standing had tears streaming down their faces. It was hard for me to hide mine; Annalise had noticed them right away, and stood from her seat to embrace me with open arms upon returning to the house. "Dad, that was amazing!" she gushes, kissing me lightly on the cheek.

"You were wonderful, Finn," my mom states. "It was absolutely perfect."

"Thanks," I tell them, as I take a seat next to my daughter for a brief moment. It takes only a few seconds to gather my thoughts before new ones begin running wild... kind of like the Energizer Bunny but after like, five Monster Energy drinks.

"Are you okay?" I hear Kurt whisper to me, as he notices my demeanor change instantly. My eyes are focused now on the empty balcony above — but I see her. She's standing up there, blowing me a kiss, waiting for me to make the next move.

"Yeah," I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head. "I just, I uh..." I swallow hard and clear my throat, as my palms begin to feel clammy. "I just need some air, that's all." I steal a glance over at the members of my family, as Blaine readies himself to go on stage.

"Are you sure, honey?" I hear my mom ask. "Do you want one of us to go with you?"

"No, it's okay," I say, exhaling deeply. "That was just a lot."

"Blaine's getting ready to go up on stage though," Sam reminds me. "You should stick around and hear it."

"He doesn't have to," Blaine replies. "If he needs some air he should be allowed to go get some."

"I appreciate everyone's concern, but I'm not leaving the theatre. I'm just..." my voice trails off as I look up to the balcony again and see Rachel once more. "I'm just going to a different part of it." Annalise looks at me, bewilderment spread across her face. "I'll be back, I promise. I won't miss a moment of Blaine's performance. I know how much she meant to him... how much he meant to her."

"The Maria to my Tony," Blaine chuckles softly. "You do whatever you need to do, Finn. Whatever makes your heart feel okay... okay?"

"Thanks, man," I tell him, as I shake his hand. "I'll be back, I promise."

"I know," Annalise says, as I kiss her softly on her forehead. I take a deep breath, straighten my stance, and begin to make my way up to the balcony. I forgot what a look walk it was up from the house to the secluded area. There aren't any ushers around — and that's okay — I still remember how to get up there by heart. Once I've reached my destination, I can see her so clearly; almost like she is still here on Earth with us.

"I thought you'd never show," she smiles, setting her champagne flute down on the small wooden table in front of her. "I've been waiting up here what felt like forever," she states. "I poured you a glass of champagne. I know you're trying to cut down on your drinking, but, it's my celebration after all." She hands me the full glass of bubbly, as I take a seat across from her on one of the box-cushion armchairs. I clink my glass against her's in a celebratory fashion, wanting to say something but then not finding the right words to do so.

"Wh... thanks, babe," is all that I can manage to allow escape my lips. I take a sip of the drink and it goes down smoothly. "This stuff is really good. Where did you get it?"

"It's the champagne from our wedding," she smiles. "I managed to sneak it out of my dads' house. I thought tonight deserved something this special."

"I can't believe they kept that bottle all of these years," I say, as I look over at the aluminum bucket full of half-melted ice, placed in the middle of the table. I recognize the gold label right away — Rachel's dads sprang for only the best. As I remove the bottle from the bucket, I'm taken aback a bit. I remember when Rachel, Kurt, and Santana spent hours tying on the little rose gold ribbon and placing the sticker with our wedding date on it over the manufacturer's label. "I've never had champagne like the one we had at our wedding. It was so good."

"Yeah, we all got pretty tipsy on it," she chuckles. "Especially Sam. He could barely make it through the best man speech without laughing."

"That was probably the worst speech I've ever heard," I remind her. "I don't know how someone can manage to laugh, cry, and then sing off-key in the span of 30 minutes. I'm pretty sure my mom hid under the table for most of it."

Rachel shakes her head. "Yeah, well he did a pretty good job tonight. I think that makes up for it."

"How did I do?" I ask, smiling widely.

"You..." she says, as she does a once-over look at me, her bedroom eyes burning through my skin. "You did a beautiful job. I have some notes, but they're small."

"Really?" I ask, raising my brow.

She laughs loudly, "I'm teasing." She takes another sip of her champagne and crosses her left leg over her right. "They're mostly about your outfit, anyway. You look... very handsome."

"Thank you," I smile. I'll have to admit, I was a little hesitant at first about Kurt having his way with my appearance this evening. I had wanted to wear my Army Dress Service Uniform, but, he had laid a Marc Jacobs suit out on the guest room bed; black dress pants, a black button up shirt, a matte black tie, and a black sports coat. I had also brought the same suit that I wore to Rachel's service with me, but Kurt insisted that it wasn't good enough, especially since the brown dress shoes I brought wouldn't match properly. He had stuffed my feet into a pair of black matte ones and they were extremely comfortable, but I was anxious to get them off and change into something more — me. I had a Cleveland Cavaliers hoodie and a pair of sweat pants back at their house calling my name. Rachel had gifted me a gold Michael Kors watch one Christmas that is securely placed around my wrist; my wedding band is still stuck on my left ring finger, it's place for almost 15 years. That Maurice dude had cut my hair and spiked it a bit on the top, tweezed my eyebrows, and ridded my face of the beard that I'd been not trying to grow for the past seven weeks. It felt good to feel like myself again, even if only for a little while. "Kurt told me I couldn't wear the same thing I wore to your service since there were going to be cameras..."

Rachel smiles a bit, taking another sip of her champagne. "Well, you look very handsome, Mr. Hudson."

This was weird. Weird but in kind of a cool way.

I really missed her.

"Rachel... why are you hear?" I ask, confusion coating every word of that question. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be here tonight to see all of you... and to hear all of you... being up there alone is no fun," she pouts.

I shake my head. "Being up where?"

"Shhhh," she tells me, leaning forward to press her finger to my lips. I shudder — they feel like icicles. "You talk too much, Hudson. You ask too many questions."

"I have a lot of questions," I mumble to myself. I wanted so badly to wrap her in my arms in this moment, and never let her go again. As the thought crosses my mind, I hear Mr. Schuester announce Blaine's arrival on stage. I watch him, as he takes a seat behind the Baldwin piano that has been rolled out from the house band, causing the dude that's been sitting there all night to get up. He retreats to the corner of the stage, and crosses his arms over his chest. "This is the best seat in the house," I tell her, taking a hearty swig of my champagne.

"I know," she replies, smiling at me as she does so. "Remember when you would sneak into rehearsal and sit up here and watch me? It's funny to think about now — I didn't catch you until a few days before opening of Rock of Ages. You had been doing it for months."

"Ah, well," I reply. "The every other weekend bullshit with Annalise wasn't enough. I made the two hour drive every single afternoon to come and watch you. It was my favorite part of the day, actually. I liked seeing you in your element. You were so good up there, baby."

"Thank you," she blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I always found it sort of... cute. It wasn't creepy or stalker-ish at all. You were just... admiring me from afar."

"Like I've always done," I tell her.

"Good evening everyone, and thank you all for being here this evening," Blaine says solemnly, as he leans over to speak into the microphone that one of the ushers has placed beside the piano. He takes the sheet music from his lapel and places it in front of him, cracking his knuckles a bit to prepare. "My name, as most of you may know, is Blaine Anderson, and I am the last to join you from the Hudson-Berry-Evans-Hummel-Anderson clan. It's been this way — all of us — for many years. We formed in high school, when life was full, and the promise of a lot of years together were in front of us. Rachel was my sister-in-law, and before that, she was my friend. I am grieving with all of you this evening, as we say goodbye to her. The thought of her not being here makes my heart ache..."

"I'm right here, Blaine," she smiles, the tone in her voice becoming almost whisper-like.

"Rachel was my family. Seeing her was the best part of my day. I will continue to miss her, until she and I see each other again. Rachel had this... amazing gift. And I'm not talking about singing. Everyone knew that she had talent. Rachel made the people in her life feel good about themselves and their own dreams and ambitions. She wasn't afraid to go after anything she wanted in life — and that ranges from Finn Hudson, to their home in New Jersey, to my beautiful niece Annalise, to being on Broadway. Rachel was in control of her life. She taught having that sense of desire and ambition to all of us in her short time here on Earth. I wish that we would have gotten more time together, to see what else she would have gone after. But I am blessed and I am thankful for the time that we did with each other. Hans Christian Anderson has this quote that reads, 'when words fail, music speaks', and I think in honor of the true diva herself, this sums up exactly what I want to say to her."

"I knew he was going to sing this song," Rachel says, as she gets up from the chair and makes her way over to the balcony over-looking the audience and the stage. She watches, as Blaine's fingers begin to dance along the ivory keys.

"Rach, babe. You should sit down."

"Why, Hudson?" she laughs. "Because people are going to see me? Relax. Come dance with me," she says, extending her hand out for me to take. I sigh heavily, as our fingers intertwine, while I stand up and begin to make my way over to where she stands. I wrap my arms around her small frame and she fits back into them perfectly — like a glove. I hold her a little tighter, as Blaine continues to play, shaking his head to signal that he missed his cue. I close my eyes and squeeze them as tight as I can. I finally open them when I begin to hear the words pouring out of Blaine's mouth. They were so poetic and right for this moment. Right for her. He was singing the song that she would always turn up a little louder and dance a little slower to when the four of us would get drunk on Friday nights back in New York. Having a sense of her here with me made me just miss her — more than I had been all night. And it was all because I was back in our loft in Bushwick, with empty wine and beer bottles scattered along the kitchen counter, holding her as we danced.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Now that she's back in the atmosphere

With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey

She acts like summer and walks like rain

Reminds me that there's a time to change, hey, hey

Since the return of her stay on the moon

She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey

Hey, hey

Tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded?

And that Heaven is overrated?

Tell me, did you fall from a shooting star?

One without a permanent scar?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

Now that she's back from that soul vacation

Tracing her way through the constellations, hey, hey, mmm

She checks out Mozart while she does Tae-Bo

Reminds me that there's room to grow, hey, hey, yeah

Now that she's back in the atmosphere, I'm afraid that she might think of me as

Plain 'ol Jane

Told a story about a man who was too afraid to fly, so he never did land

Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

And head back to the Milky Way?

And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?

Was it everything you wanted to find?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken?

Your best friend always sticking up for you?

Even when I know you're wrong

Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance, five hour phone conversation?

The best soy latte that you ever had and me

Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?

Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

And head back towards the Milky Way?

And tell me, did you sail across the sun?

Did you make it to the Milk Way to see the lights all faded?

And that Heaven is overrated?

And tell me, did you fall from a shooting star?

One without a permanent scar?

And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself...?

Na-na, na-na, na-na

And did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

Na-na, na-na, na-na

And did you fall from a shooting star?

Fall from a shooting star?

Na-na, na-na, na-na

And are you lonely looking for yourself out there?

Blaine couldn't even muster the strength to bow once the song concludes. He continues to hang his head, tears streaming down his face, as Mr. Schuester walks over to comfortingly wrap him in his arms. He allows Blaine a few moments to sob on his shoulder, bringing the theatre that was once roaring with applause to a quiet standstill yet again. Kurt witnesses what is unfolding and removes himself from his seat immediately, meeting his husband half-way up the stairs to escort him back down to their seats in the front row. Blaine continues to weep for a few moments in Kurt's chest, no doubt soiling whatever expensive fabric my brother was wearing this evening.

"Wow... that was," I say, as Rachel tilts her head up to mine, tears streaming down her face as well. "Baby, please don't cry."

"I watched everyone get up on stage that evening... I don't know why Blaine's song made me cry the most."

"There are way more memories in that song than any of the others," I tell her, kissing her softly on top of her hair. "I felt something with that song, too."

"I just..." she says, puffing out her chest and taking a deep breath, "I just miss it all so much."

"We miss you too," I say softly, downing the last bit of champagne in my flute resting beside me on the balcony railing. I remove Rachel from my arms as we walk back over to the arm chairs that we were sitting in prior to Blaine's performance. I help myself to another glass of champagne, downing it quickly, and then pouring both Rachel and I another one. "We shouldn't be doing this... tonight, I mean. We should have fought harder... done more trials... and..."

"Finn," Rachel smiles at me, as my name escapes her lips. It's the first time that she hasn't called me Hudson all night. She reaches her hands over to place them in mine, as I let a tear that I had been holding in fall freely from my left eye. "Finn, baby, look at me," she reaches over to cup my face in her hands. "I am perfectly fine where I am. And I was tired. I was so tired towards the end. I didn't want to fight anymore. It took everything in me to make it for as long as I did. I'm so happy now," she smiles, looking away to let a tear fall as well. "I don't have to fight anymore."

"But you were supposed to win," I say, sounding defeated.

"I did win," she smiles.

Rachel and I sit silent for the next few performances. I had really thought that after Blaine's, no one else would be able to say anything. I watch, with my hand placed in Rachel's, as Brittany and Joe perform Vince Gill's "Go Rest High On That Mountain." Rory was the next to approach the stage, and delivered a beautiful rendition of Flogging Molly's "If I Ever Leave This World Alive." He had made the trip all the way from Ballycroy, Ireland, to pay his respects. I thought no doubt that that was beyond honorable, and make a note in my head to thank him and catch up with him at Mr. Schuester's later. Nearing what I was almost certain was the end of this whole thing, the hand that had been resting on Annalise's shoulder all night disappears. Gina makes his way back to the stage — Mr. Schuester has gone down to sit next to my mom for the time being — and steps behind the podium. He clears his throat loudly and says, "Rachel's father-in-law, Burt Hummel, would like to say a few words to close things out this evening."

"Did you know about this?" Rachel asks, as she squeezes my hand tighter than she had been a few seconds ago. I set my empty champagne flute down on the table, my head feeling light and my face feeling warm, as she sits down on my lap. I wrap my arms around her body, my hands resting in her waist, as she places her head on my shoulder.

"I did not know about this," I tell her, biting the inside of my cheek, a little shocked as I answer her question.

"Thanks, Gina. And thank you, for letting us be here this evening. I just... I wanted to come up tonight and say something on behalf of my wife and I, if that's okay with you all," Burt begins, as he stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his dress pants. "I'm not going to get up here and sing — I can't carry a tune. Kurt certainly didn't get the singing gene from me," he says, letting the audience laugh a little bit before continuing. "I had a lot of things that I wanted to say when I first came up here, but as I look out at all of you this evening I'm at a loss for words, just like you guys have been all night. Every single one of you that have gotten up here this evening have touched mine and my wife's heart more than you'll ever know. And I think I not only speak for Carole and I, but I speak for Hiram, LeRoy and Shelby as well. And Beth. We're kind of the un-sung family members of the bunch," he smiles. "It's not that we didn't want to get up here and say something or that Shelby or Hiram or LeRoy didn't want to sing for all of you, it's just we really don't know what to say. When you become a parent, you never in your wildest dreams think that your child is going to go before you. But, that's the reality that we are all facing and it's the unfortunate part that you sign up for when you become a parent. When I... when I first met Rachel," Burt says, as he smiles a bit, "it was when they were sophomores. Kurt had a few of them over for a sleepover the night before they went to their first competition, and I had just never met someone like her before. She was this wide-eyed, ambitious girl that was so sure of who she was in the world. And then, a few months later, Finn brought her home and introduced her not only as Rachel, but as his girlfriend."

"Well, this is kind of embarrassing," I tell her.

"Shush," Rachel replies. "It is not embarrassing. I think it's sweet. Your dad and I were always close."

"She had fallen madly in love with him at fifteen years old. I thought they were crazy. But, that's what first loves do to you. They steal your heart at an age as young as that, and once it's stolen, it can never be found again. They told us at 18 that they wanted to get married and we thought we were going to kill them. Looking back now, I wish we would have let them because of how in love the two of them were," he laughs. "Eventually, Rachel and Finn did end up getting married and they blessed us with our beautiful granddaughter, who is every bit of both of her parents. She's very much of a wonder like her mother and a leader like her father. You all already know about them, though. I'm told that a lot of you lived vicariously through Finchel — that's what my granddaughter calls them now. The nickname kind of stuck in our household and that's what she would refer to them as whenever they made her mad," he bellows. "There are many sides of Rachel that not all of you got to witness if you weren't involved in her life like my wife and I were. These were things that were instilled in her as our daughter. Rachel would walk into a room and light the whole place up with her smile. It didn't matter what room she walked into — it could have been the supermarket — but one smile from her and she would light the whole damn place up. She would sing — and I mean, really sing — and your heart would melt right along with hers. I walked in on her singing a handful of lullabies to Annalise and she would be so content, not even on a stage, but just humming and singing away to our sweet angel. She cried during every sad song she sang, and not because she had to, but because that's how she felt. She turned my step-son into a better man and thus, he turned her into a better woman. She had her sights set on a bright future, as bright as a golden star; as bright as her smile, and she was able to reach all of her dreams. When she and Finn told us that she, uh... that she had been diagnosed with cancer, God it killed Carole and I because there was nothing that we could do to help her. We would always say that Rachel was so strong... she was much stronger than me. The Lord though — that Man upstairs...," Burt says, as he points to the ceiling and looks out at the audience, "he works in mysterious ways. We are led to believe that in life, everything happens for a reason. I don't yet know what his reason is behind this one. I don't know why he had to take her away from the people that loved her the most. But maybe... maybe it was because he didn't have anyone up there like her. Maybe he needed someone to make everyone up there happy and to belt out every Barbra Streisand song known to man. Maybe her work down here was done and there was nothing more that he needed her to accomplish on this Earth," Burt continues, as he wipes the corner of his eye with the gold tie that Kurt had given to him. I see Annalise point to herself, then to him, as he smiles back at her. "Whatever that reason is though, it is not selfish. I would like to close this evening with a reading, if you don't mind. Psalm, chapter 34, verse 18 reads, 'the Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.' Thank you," Burt concludes, as he bows his head, the audience looking on. He makes his way back down to the front row of the house, as my mom kisses him sweetly on the cheek.

Mr. Schue has made his way back on stage at this point. The curtain has closed behind him, and he sits on one of the stools that has been used many times this evening. Next to him is the microphone stand, and around his frame is the same acoustic guitar that has been passed from the house band. "As we conclude this evening's assignment, I want to commend you... all of you... for what you did to bring comfort to Finn and Annalise. To bring comfort to all of us, really. I felt all of your emotions in those songs that you shared with us this evening. I wanted to do one to honor Rachel as well. This is to remind you that, in life, how much time we have to spend together is never promised. Life is too short; don't sweat the small stuff. Always remember to hold tightly to those you love. God will work this out. I believe that Rachel is in Heaven, and when we walk away from this place tonight, let's celebrate. Let's celebrate the woman that all of you have spent tonight honoring. Rachel is where we all need to be. We didn't lose her. When you lose something, you can't find it. And all of us know exactly where Rachel is." He places the microphone that he has been clutching back in it's holder on the stand, and begins to tune the guitar. He adjusts the strap to fit more snug around him, and grabs a pick from his front pocket. As he looks out into the sea of people, who were no doubt getting restless at this point, he begins to sing:

Sunny days seem to hurt the most

I wear the pain like a heavy coat

I feel you everywhere I go

I see your smile, I see your face

I hear you laughing in the rain

I still can't believe you're gone

It ain't fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun

But death, tore the pages all away

God knows how I miss you

All the hell that I've been through just knowing, no one could take your place

Sometimes, I wonder...

Who you'd be today

Would you see the world?

Would you chase your dreams?

Settle down with a family?

I wonder, what would you name your babies?

Some days the sky's so blue;

I feel like I can talk to you

Well I know it must sound crazy

It ain't fair you died to too young, like a story that had just begun

But death, tore the pages all away

God knows how I miss you

All the hell that I've been through just knowing, no one could take your place

Sometimes, I wonder...

Who you'd be today

Today, today, today

Sunny days seem to hurt the most

I wear the pain like a heavy coat

The only thing that gives me hope

Is I know, I'll see you again someday

Someday, someday

Watching as Mr. Schuester exits the stage is truly heartbreaking. He had been a true father figure for both Rachel and myself at our hardest times in life. No matter what road we had decided to take or what monumental moment we had encountered, he was always right there to offer guidance and support. The fact that he did everything that he did tonight, and was able to deliver a song as powerful as that, truly meant more than words could ever explain.

"You have to go back down there soon," I hear Rachel tell me. "You can't stay up here with me for forever."

"I wish I could," I sigh.

"You have to go back home, baby."

"Annalise and I don't leave for New Jersey until Monday morning," I remind her.

"Not New Jersey, Finn. Lima. For good this time. Look, I took you away from there once and now that you're back, I won't let you leave ever again," she shakes her head.

"Rachel, I..."

"Thank you, for sitting up here with me for a little while this evening," she says, changing the subject. She abruptly stands up and smooths out her skirt. "We both have places to be, and we better get there soon."

I stand up, a bit hesitant at first. "When will I see you again?"

She shrugs her shoulders and sighs. "I don't know," she answers honestly. "I don't know how these things work."

"I love you," I remind her.

"Ditto."

As the ceremony begins to wrap for the evening, my family's looks of concern fade when I resume in my seat next to Annalise. I don't tell her where I was for the past forty-five minutes; but she knows that I was here. I'm glad I didn't sit amongst them, in all honesty. Judging by the wadded up tissues placed amongst their hands, this probably wouldn't have been a place I would have done too well in. The New Directions — the ones of us, at least, who could stand to be on the stage again — had reunited to do a mash-up of Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You" and Whiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth's "See You Again." I thought that upon hearing the first verse, it was an odd song selection; but they had made it work somehow.

Once the last song had been sung this evening, there was nothing else to say. Everything that we needed to say and that we wanted to say in those three hours had been said. The last bows had been taken, and the guests exited the theatre as quickly as they arrived. Next week, a new show would be here, and the same seats that we sat in will be filled by people that weren't looking to honor someone who has passed. Tonight will just fade off into oblivion for the rest of time. The theatre has become eerily silent at this point. The only two people left inside are Burt and myself. I couldn't leave right away; it was too painful, especially considering everything that happened here this evening. It felt like I was leaving Rachel's wake all over again, begging the mortician to keep her casket open for just a little while longer. Leaving now would have meant that she was really gone, and it was time to face the new chapter in my life come tomorrow morning. Burt places his hand on the top of my back and tells me that it's time to go, and that I need to come outside.

I'm not sure what it was that finally forces me out of my seat, but I had gotten there just in time. Annalise grabs my hand as we stand in the middle of Euclid Avenue, the street glistening with new-fallen rain. We watch as the marquee lights dim across the Theatre District, honoring our favorite girl. As we stand for a few moments and take in the atmosphere of downtown Cleveland around us, there was no place I would have rather been in this moment than right here.

As the valet attendants begin to round up the cars, I could have sworn I heard one of them say that they had experienced a record amount of rainfall this evening — the most that the city has seen in decades. It's then when I know that somewhere, up there, Rachel was feeling every emotion that we were this evening and enjoying this with all of us, too.

A/N: So, what are your thoughts on the little twist? Do you think we will see Rachel again?

I, of course, do not own any of the rights to the music used in this chapter.