A Tempo

Chapter Eleven: And the Bad News

Today was the worst day ever.

No, scratch that – the day her husband died had been the worst day ever. But today had been the most humiliating day ever. Damn it, scratch that again – the most humiliating day ever had been the day that her accountant told her that she was completely broke and up to her ears in debt.

Damn David for ruining everything. She couldn't even hit rock bottom anymore because he had effectively ruined that for her as well. If she said everything was terrible now, it would be incredibly petty in comparison. She could say, however, that today fell in as a close second on both accounts.

Rewind to last weekend. She had worked her butt of the entire week before, pulling all double shifts so that she could have Friday evening and the weekend off so that they could take the boys out of town. And things had gone so well!

Michael and Andrew had an absolute ball with Finn, fishing and playing in the water. He shined when he was with them. Rachel didn't dare to focus on the future, just the here and now, but she couldn't help thinking that Finn was going to make an excellent father one day. She would have loved to see him with a little girl, one with her dark eyes and hair and his dimpled smile…

And he had been so conscientious about keeping it "PG" around the boys, just like he had promised. She hadn't expected him to sleep on the couch that first night, but when he did, that only endeared him to her even more. How was it that one man could be so sweet and perfect?

He was still so much that boy from high school, perhaps just a little more confident and self-assured, and it truly suited him. And despite all the fun they had that weekend, her favorite part, certainly her most cherished memory, was the quiet ride home, the boys sleeping in the backseat, the dog stretched out across their laps, and just holding Finn's hand over the console of the rental car as he drove.

It all went downhill from there. She had come home to several angry messages from Maura, demanding to know why they weren't able to have the boys that weekend. She finally called her back on Wednesday and begrudgingly agreed to let her and Benjamin see the boys the following weekend. As much as she hated sending the boys with her, it couldn't have come at a better time. The principal she worked for called to see if she could come in on Friday for a meeting, so that took care of childcare that day, and she was looking forward to a little alone time with Finn without him jumping at every sound from the other room.

Her in-laws arrived Thursday afternoon to pick up the boys. Rachel walked them down instead of having Maura come up, and while Benjamin was friendly enough, Maura remained in the Town Car and neither of them attempted to exchange a civil word to each other. She watched forlornly as the vehicle pulled away from the curb before heading back upstairs and grabbing the bag she had packed for herself.

She was on Finn's couch within thirty minutes, his comforting arms around her as they waited for dinner to arrive. It was her favorite place to be and the longer he held her, the more she began to feel her spirits rise. Then, a little later, he awkwardly began rubbing her shoulders in an attempt at a massage, which she gathered was as much for her comfort as it was his attempt to get in her pants. It worked, of course, and in the end she did feel much better.

They got up and dressed together, an almost perfect picture of domesticity, and he walked her to the bus stop before heading to the studio. She arrived at the school early and made her way to her small music classroom. Instead of finding it how she left it at the beginning of summer though, she was surprised to see it piled high with boxes. Had they moved her classroom without telling her and turned this room into storage?

Determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, she marched to the principal's office. "Oh, hello, Rachel," his secretary responded. "How can I help you?"

She crossed her arms in front of her chest haughtily. "Why are there boxes in my classroom?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there are boxes in my classroom and I want to know what they're doing there."

The secretary's face went blank. "You mean Principal Montgomery hasn't told you? I thought you had a meeting with him."

"Of course, but I came in early so that I could start arranging my classroom. Thus we have the root of our problem."

"Just one moment, Rachel," she said, scrambling up. "I'll see if he can't meet with you right now."

She watched the stout little woman hobble into the other room. This was not a good sign, but she quickly brushed the thought away. There was no room for paranoia and negativity in her life; she was an excellent employee, she never missed a day of work, and she enriched the minds of young children through the power of music. This was just all a misunderstanding which they would quickly rectify and then she could get on with her day.

"Principal Montgomery will see you now." The secretary stood to the side as Rachel entered Principal Montgomery's office and shut the door firmly behind her.

"Good morning, Rachel," he said cordially, although he did look a little worried. "Early as usual, I see. Please have a seat."

She complied without a word. "So, how was your summer?" he asked, his face flushing. "How are the boys?"

"They're doing well. We just got back from a fishing trip of sorts," she said, wondering why her boss was squirming in his seat. "Is everything alright, Joshua? You seem a little nervous."

"Well, Rachel, I hate to tell you this, but the reason I've called you here today is not a good one."

"Ugh, are you moving my classroom downstairs? I told you, it's damp down there, and it's not good for our instruments or our vocal cords."

"I'm afraid that's not it, Rachel," he muttered. "The board told me just to call you, but considering your… circumstances, I thought it would be better to tell you this in person."

She nodded, the sense of foreboding coming back.

"As you know, we're just a small private school and we run on limited funds. They've been crunching the numbers all summer and we've had to make some cuts."

Rachel took in a deep breath. "What kind of cuts?" she asked quietly.

"Well, the board's decided to do away with our fine arts programs." She blinked at him furiously, trying to process what he was saying. "I hate to do it, Rachel, I really do. And it's not just our music program, it's Art as well. We were able to find another placement for Leigh since she's double certified but unfortunately you –"

"I'm screwed, that's what you're saying."

"You're an amazing talent Rachel," Joshua insisted. "And you're a good teacher, but we both know you could be doing so much more than teaching music in an elementary school."

"That's a pitiful excuse and you know it," she cried. "How do you expect these children to think for themselves if you just teach them the black and white? You're doing them a true disservice by cutting these programs!"

"And I completely agree with you. But it's out of my hands!" He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. "I'll recommend you highly to any other school you apply at. Here, I've already written you a letter of recommendation."

"Honestly, the board couldn't have come to this conclusion earlier? You know there's no chance of me finding a placement now that we're so close to the new school year beginning!"

"There are lots of schools in New York. Perhaps your sons' school is hiring."

She nearly scoffed at the suggestion. The teachers at Michael and Andrew's school all held PhDs. She had been hoping to catch a break, now it looked as if she was going to be stuck working at the restaurant full-time for another few months.

"Please let me know if you need anything," Joshua continued. "I won't fight it if you decide to file for unemp–"

"Thank you," Rachel said, standing up. "I think we're done here."

"I am truly very sorry, Rachel," he said, standing up with her.

"Me too," she muttered, showing herself out. She walked out of the school, not even bothering to say goodbye to any of her colleagues and made her way straight to the bus. She'd go to the restaurant and see if she could pick up a few hours since she obviously didn't have anything else to do that day.

She arrived right as the lunch rush began and made her way back to the manager's office. "Hey Martin, can we talk?" she asked, knocking lightly on his open door.

"Make it quick," he snapped, barely even taking a moment to look up from his computer monitor.

"Well, I know we discussed my being cut back to part-time in a few weeks, but my other job fell through, so I was wondering if you wouldn't mind keeping me on –"

"You want more hours?" he said, finally turning away from his game of Solitaire.

"No, I want to keep my regular hours."

"No can do. I've already hired another part-timer."

"What?" she gasped. Could this day get any worse?

"Well, you can't just keep changing your mind, Rachel. First you want to be full-time, then you want to be part-time, and now you want to be full-time again? I have a restaurant to run. I don't have time to play 'what does Rachel want to do today' everyday."

"And you have absolutely no room to give me more hours? I mean, look at this place, it's a madhouse as it is with all the girls you have out there."

"Sorry, we've got a budget."

"How on earth do you expect me to pay my bills?"

Martin shrugged. "Not my problem. And don't you have a rich new boyfriend anyway? I've seen him in here with your runts."

"He's not my 'rich new boyfriend,'" she snapped.

"Watch your tone," Martin warned her, "or I'll be happy to cut all of your hours. I have enough to put up with without worrying about your little diva fits. Go sing on Broadway or something, that's what you came here for in the first place."

"Oh you know what, Martin?" she hissed, jumping up. That was it, it was finally too much. She was tired of people telling her what she could or couldn't do, tired of living her life at the whim of others. It was time for her to take a little control, consequences be damned! "You can take Broadway and shove it. I quit this crap job."

She marched to the door and looked at the man defiantly. "Good luck finding another waitress who is going to put up with you."

"Don't worry about me, baby," he leered. "There are plenty of girls looking for a job out there. The only person you just screwed is yourself."

"Oh, you sniveling, sexist pig!" she nearly screeched, ignoring the eyes of the cooks in the kitchen. "I hope the city shuts this place down!"

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of my office." At that he slammed the door in her face. She turned to everyone watching her, suddenly feeling self-conscious. There was a time in her life when she would have loved the feel of people watching her, but this was completely different. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, smoothed out her skirt, and walked out of the restaurant with righteous indignation.

She allowed the façade to crumble when she was a two blocks away and hurried back to the bus stop before she could start crying. What had she just done? As liberating as her little tirade had been, she probably should have thought that through. She considered running back to the restaurant and apologizing to Martin for freaking out, but she had to maintain some sort of self respect.

No money, no job, and no hope. She felt the panic building up within her and she tried to clear her mind as she rode back to Finn's apartment. She considered calling him and telling him everything that had just happened, but he was probably busy. And there was no point in worrying him anyway; there was nothing he could do for her from work.

She blindly made her way up to his floor and let herself in using the key he had given her. She set resolutely on the sofa and hugged Tank tightly when he came to sit next to her. She gave into her absolute misery, crying inconsolably into the dog's fur. Once she had calmed herself down, she picked up her phone and stared at it blankly. She felt the need to talk to someone, anyone, for that matter.

Finally she hit the first number on her speed dial and prayed that someone would pick up.

"Hello?" a cheerful voice answered after a couple of rings.

"Daddy?"

"Well, this is a surprise!" he exclaimed, and Rachel could imagine him removing his glasses and setting them to the side as he spoke. "How are you, sweetie? How are the boys? Did you have the afternoon off?"

"We're fine. The boys are fine," she said, her voice trembling on the last word.

"Sweetie? Are you okay?"

"Oh, Daddy!" she sobbed. "I've made a mess of everything!"

"Shh, sweetie," he consoled. "We'll talk it out. Let's see if it's a mess we can fix."

"O-okay," she sniffled. And then she told him about her day.

By the time she got off the phone, she was feeling calmer. She wasn't feeling like herself, not by a long shot, but the panicky feeling had gone away and was now replaced by an aching hollowness. Her dad had come in during the middle of the conversation and together the three of them discussed her options.

Ever since David had died, they had offered her their unwavering support with no strings attached, unlike Maura. They wanted her and the boys to go back to Lima, of course, but until now, she hadn't viewed that as an option. Now, there was nothing left for her in New York. She didn't foresee herself having a huge Broadway career in the near future, so she was just dragging out her disappointment by remaining in the city.

Her fathers owned a few (very nice) rental homes and they offered to let her rent one. They would still be helping her out, but she would be on her own once she found a steady job. And fortunately they had heard through the grapevine that the middle school was hiring a new choir teacher. Of course, middle school was considered the cesspool of the teaching world, but at this point, she would take what she could get. With her degree and talent, she doubted they would find anyone in Lima, Ohio more qualified than her to coach prepubescent boys on how to maintain their pitch through the most strenuous years on their singing voices.

That just left two obstacles: her mother-in-law and Finn. It broke her heart to have to leave it like this when they had just found each other again, but she had to do what was best for her sons, right? The cost of living was so much less in Ohio and it would be good to get the boys out of the city for a little while. Let them have a yard to run around in, let them enjoy a simpler life. Finn would certainly understand that. And just because she was moving, it didn't mean they couldn't maintain a relationship.

She sighed and looked at Tank, who was now sleeping soundly next to her on the couch. She knew it was implausible. Wasn't their first attempt at a long-distance relationship proof enough? There couldn't be a middle ground – there was no reason for him to move to Lima and there was no possible way for her to stay in New York, unless she wanted to live on the streets or give into Maura. But maybe they could work something out. They just had to. She loved him and even after such little time, she had come to rely on him. She could no longer imagine her life without Finn Hudson in it.

She massaged her temple, suddenly feeling very exhausted. She curled up in a ball at the end of the couch and watched the clock blankly as one hour turned into another and then another. Her mind was racing with thoughts and plans, worries about telling the boys, worries about telling Maura, worries about leaving her heart in New York.

She was vaguely aware when Tank's head popped up and he leapt off of the couch to wait by the door. She registered the sound of footsteps in the hallway, the click of the lock, Finn's voice as he quietly greeted the dog. She sat up warily and watched as he placed his keys on the table by the door.

"Hey, Rach!" he exclaimed softly, an enthusiastic smile on his face. "I hope you have something nice to wear because we're going out." At that, he brandished a beautiful bouquet of Oriental lilies from behind his back.

"They're beautiful," she said, trying to force some enthusiasm into her voice. "What is the occasion?"

He planted a light kiss on her forehead and hurried to the bedroom. "We're celebrating!" he called, his voice muffled as he dug around in his closet.

"I don't know if I feel much like celebrating," she murmured.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. A spasm of guilt shot through her when he emerged from his bedroom already clad in a pair of jeans and a new shirt, still unbuttoned. His brow furrowed when he saw the expression her face and he plopped down on the sofa next to her. "Did everything go okay at work?"

"There's something we need to talk about," she said, placing the flowers gently on the coffee table.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "What's up?"

"I – I…" she stopped shook her head in frustration. This was humiliating. "They cut the music program at the school I worked at," she finally choked out. "I lost my job."

His eyes grew big and he pulled her into his arms. "Oh, Rach, I'm so sorry." She nodded and pulled away from him, unable to meet his gaze. "It'll be okay. We'll get through this. All you need to do is keep your job at the restaurant until you can find something else –"

"I quit my job at the restaurant," she said quietly. "The manager had already hired someone to cover my work part-time."

"Well… we'll think of something." He sat back and screwed up his face in concentration, not letting go of her hand. Rachel's heart immediately broke, knowing that he was wracking his brain to think of a suitable solution. "We'll definitely think of… something," he repeated.

"Finn, I already know what I'm going to do."

He perked up. "Oh good, because my mind is going a million miles a minute here. I mean, I know you want to do it on your own, but maybe I can find a job for you at the studio. With your experience, I'm sure we could find a good job for you there, or maybe Sam could –"

"I'm moving back to Lima, Finn," she interrupted, not bearing to hear another person say the word "Broadway" to her.

He dropped her hand and his face went completely blank. "…what?"

"I've talked to my dads and we all think that it's best if I move back to Lima. They have several rental properties –"

"Lima?" he choked incredulously. "As in Ohio?"

"Well, yes. That's the only other Lima I can think of off the top of my head. Unless, of course, you're referring to the one in Peru, and even then it's Lee-ma."

"But… what about me?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

Even though she had been giving that very topic much thought that afternoon, the question perturbed her. It wasn't just about him. "What do you mean what about you?" she asked, standing up.

"I mean, what about us? I thought we had something good. I thought we were, you know, working towards something."

"Finn, I'm working to keep my children fed and clothed. I think this is the best thing for us."

"Well, maybe you're being a little too hasty with your decision. Maybe you need to sit down and think about it some more. Rachel, I think if we put our heads together we can think of a better answer."

She took a deep breath and counted down from ten. She understood that he was just trying to help, but why couldn't he just respect her decision? "And what do you suggest Finn? My rent's due in a few days. I can't pay the rent with no money." She motioned around his apartment. "Oh, I know! Maybe we can move in here! There's no room for the boys, but maybe they can sleep on your futon. It'll be great, like one big frat party with you and your buds."

"Hey!" he interrupted, his face going red. "Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot! I'm just trying to help you out here."

"I know, and I apologize for that. But you have to understand that this isn't a game. We're not playing house. This is real, this is my life. I have two children to provide for, and if I have to move out of state to make sure that they have the highest quality of life possible, then that's what I'm going to do."

He jumped to his feet and paced anxiously in front of the couch, causing Tank to squirm in excitement. "I get that, Rachel, I really do. What I don't understand is why every time you decide to make these big life decisions, I'm the one who ends up getting thrown under the bus!"

"Oh, Finn!" she moaned. "Please don't make this about you."

"Of course not! It's always about you, Rachel. Lord knows I've been bending over backwards for you and your boys lately."

"I've never asked you to do anything you didn't want to do. I haven't asked you for anything."

"And you'll never have to. I'm just begging you to think of me this one time."

The complete hope in his gaze tore her to shreds and she could feel the tears she had kept in check flow over. "I'm sorry. I can't do that."

He nodded his head slowly as he absorbed what she just said. "I didn't think so."

"Finn, I am so, so sorry."

"Forget about it," he muttered, buttoning his shirt up the rest of the way. "I mean, why should I expect you to change the habit of a lifetime? You left me behind nine years ago; it shouldn't surprise me that you're doing it again now."

"That was a long time ago. I was just a girl. I thought I was doing what was right for me."

"And what was that? In case you didn't realize, you're not exactly a Broadway star right now."

Rachel sucked in a sharp breath as his barb struck home. "I can't believe you're going to throw that into my face now."

"Well, how the hell did you think I felt about it?" he cried out, his voice raising a decibel. "When you left, I thought, 'Okay, maybe it's for the best.' I always knew what you wanted out of life. I knew that sooner or later, I'd be holding you back. But this? It's all bullshit. You're nothing like the Rachel I used to know."

"How dare you?" she hissed. She clenched her fists at her sides and fought the urge to stamp her foot in rage. "What right do you have to judge my life? You don't know anything about my life."

"Yeah? I know you shacked up with the first jackass who came your way, let him talk you out of everything you ever dreamed of, and then he left you with nothing, Rachel. Nothing. I never would have done that to you."

"Oh please. You make it sound like David died on purpose. He loved me and he loved our sons. Yes, he may have made some unsound financial decisions, but don't let that diminish the fact that I was happy, Finn. Don't fool yourself into believing that I was miserably waiting around for you to come to my rescue!"

"Were you happy, Rach? Really? Sitting around at home all day with the nanny? He didn't even make the time to take your kids to a baseball game or fishing or to the movies. Andrew said they've never even been bowling." He set his jaw firmly. "You tell me right now that you were happy. That that was the life you wanted. Look me in the eye and tell me that and I'll believe you."

"You're jealous. That's what this is about," she accused, sidestepping the question. "You want me to make comparisons between you and David, but I won't do it, Finn."

"Please!" he laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm not asking you make comparisons. It's not a contest. But don't get me wrong. Yes, he was your husband. Yes, he loved you and Michael and Andrew. But does that mean I have to like the dead bastard? No."

Rachel's eyes widened in dismay. How could he be so callous? This time, she didn't even try to refrain herself, and stamped her foot furiously on the floor, causing Tank to run from the room and seek refuge under Finn's bed. "Take that back! Take it back right this instant, Finn Hudson, or else."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and shrugged petulantly. "No."

She grabbed her purse and stormed past him. "I don't ever want to hear from you again. Don't call me, don't e-mail me, don't – just don't! Just forget I ever existed, do you understand me?" She took a little pleasure as a flicker of pain flashed across his face. "I'm just another Lima loser, after all."

"You said it, not me."

She met his gaze and they stared each other down for a moment, the pain and tension between them almost palpable. She struggled to say something, but the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking, so she turned and left, feeling so numb and defeated that she didn't even bother to slam the door behind her.

Author's Note: ::ducks and hides:: Please, don't hurt me. But in all honesty, I did give y'all fair warning. And don't judge Finn too harshly; he's just hurt and sometimes he says things he doesn't mean when he's upset. :-(

Disclaimer: Glee is the property of Ryan Murphy and FOX. I'm just manipulating it for my own nefarious (and strictly nonprofit) purposes.