A/N: Thank you for the kind feedback, the likes, the reblogs, etc. Thank you for reading. Please keep it coming because I'm (not quite) almost finished writing this one and I could use the momentum since I'm still not 100% sure the format is a good idea. Ha. Let me know what you think as always, though. Thanks Jen for the beta, and to the handful of others who have given me various pieces of input.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Don't care. Still don't sue.

Chapter Two: Do We Know What We're Fighting For?

It seemed really stupid to him that he was nervous to go pee in a cup. Well, that wasn't the only thing he'd be doing, but he'd done enough of this process already that he should've probably been used to it by then; the recruiter he'd met with more than one time probably had no idea what his middle name was. He definitely had no idea why Finn was there in the first place or what he was going through in the slightest. As long as it didn't raise a red flag on the security pre-screen, Finn didn't think the guy even cared. It was actually sort of awesome and let him not think too much on what had happened so he could just look forward a little. As long as the future was mapped out and he signed on the line at the bottom of the page, it was way more manageable and less scary.

It was just this stupid thing where he didn't want to be a mechanic for his whole life and suddenly that was becoming a possibility. It was one of the job interests he'd listed for the recruiter, but it wasn't the job he actually wanted. He wondered if there was a way to cross that off the list of possibilities now. He wondered if he'd ever be able to make a decision he didn't second-guess, too, so he kept his mouth shut as they placed him in the Civil Affairs specialty even though he was reasonably certain his dad had done something along those lines and he'd gone insane—or died of an overdose or whatever with the details.

He didn't sleep much the night before, and was actually up about 20 minutes ahead of the wake-up call they'd set up; when the call sounded, he was messing with his phone and ignoring the texts that ranged from you can't be serious about this from Kurt to the please reconsider from his mom to I miss you already, so much. Please be home when I get back from Rachel. He sighed when he saw hers especially, the sadness palpable in even just her text messages. There were three total and he deleted every single one.

He was so sad it hurt but he had to keep calm, carry on because this was what he needed to do. He didn't just want it; and he knew the truth that he didn't only want her either, but there was really only one way he felt like he could prove himself and it wasn't by loving someone and holding her back at the same time.

They called his name first, citing a 'first in, first out' rule, and he was done with the entire first day of the process a full hour before anyone else because all of his paperwork was in order and his testing had been done beforehand.

He was really glad the recruiter who'd gotten him set up had told him to follow the bus from the hotel in his own car so he could leave when he was finished.

He sits outside the hotel room, on the floor, for two hours before the doorknob clicks and Leroy Berry comes out and here's the thing; he likes her dads and he thinks they like him, overall, but that they're scared because he and Rachel have been playing with fire for a long time and making plans for a future that no one thinks they have any business planning for yet. He kind of hates that word—yet. Three letters and it's the bane of his existence and maybe he's been, like, hanging around with Rachel too long or something 'cause really all yet means is he will have to wait and he's usually decent enough at being patient. Well, on the whole. And maybe not as much with big and important things.

So yeah, anyway, Leroy finally comes out and that's fine because Leroy is all about dirty looks and stuff, and he can definitely make you feel like you're about three inches high with the right one, but Hiram usually doesn't stop talking and he runs you over with his words 'til you're flat. He'd rather get into a staring contest than a word contest any day of the week.

He hears the door click and stands up so he's at full-height by the time he sees the guy and it just works. He doesn't feel like he's scrambling as much as he has for a couple days. It's kind of nice to do the right thing at the right time for once and he's just not gonna think about it too much until Leroy raises his eyes brows impatiently as if he's trying to ask what the hell is going on which is probably exactly what he's thinking.

"Hello, Finn."

So much for the standing and not nervous. Finn sighs and blows out a breath. "Hello, Mr. Berry. Thank you for…just… can I please see Rachel? Please?"

"Why?"

He's never been asked that question by one of her dads before and he literally has no idea what to say. Leroy doesn't say anything else either, but the look on his face still says plenty even if most of it is 'no.'

He licks his lips and looks at the door. He knows she's in there and he misses the time before he pushed her behind that door and he could see her without the whole face-questioning.

"Look, Mr. Berry, I know how this must look and how you definitely think I have no business marrying your daughter or even being here really 'cause I kind of signed the rights away but I love her. I'm not trying to hurt her. I'm trying to…"

"Finn, it's time to grow up and stop this. We have an extraordinarily close relationship with our daughter, and so a unique insight into her and your relationship with her. You have this problem with accepting responsibility." He opens his mouth to protest, but Mr. Berry holds up and a hand and that's sort of that. "So accept responsibility. Rachel has a purpose here, one that's greater than you, which you have acknowledged. So find yourself a purpose and then look her up. Do I make myself clear?"

And he did, which is how within a couple days, Finn ends up with three jobs (two crappy ones as a filing clerk or something 'cause he wasn't drunk for the interview and he could prove he knows the alphabet…like… the alphabet, and then the other as a bartender 'cause you can do that at eighteen in New York and it works out with the one good job; he gets something as an auto mechanic in Jersey City when Burt promises to send a recommendation that talks about the kinds of stuff he's worked on), crammed into an apartment with six guys—one of them is another mechanic—staring at a phone and wondering if working himself to death is the purpose or…or really if her dad is wrong and she is his purpose. It isn't the first time he thinks that, and it probably won't be the last. It's also not the first or last time he realizes she might be his purpose, but he definitely isn't hers. She has more.

She deserves something more.

The last part of his day was actually the next morning; they'd had so many people to get through specifically the medical testing that they did the final oath, signing, etcetera – all the following day. He sat calmly as they discussed what job he would be doing (the one in Civil Affairs), enlistment bonuses and options, and when he might be assigned to report for basic at Fort Benning. They outlined that he would have ten weeks there, a small break, and then report to Fort Bragg in North Carolina for the rest of his training. He heard what they were saying, but truthfully, he was really glad they'd written it down too because he was sure he wouldn't remember.

They needed Civil Affairs Specialists in areas where the military presence was winding down; he was leaving for basic in about three weeks and would have two more weeks in between. It was laid out on a calendar in his hand, in his lap sitting in the driveway, and then spread out on the kitchen table as he explained it to his mom while she had tears in her eyes the entire time and didn't say much about it. It was the next seven months of his life spelled out in day-by-day detail and he was a little relieved by that. At least he was leaving Lima. He left for basic two days before Rachel and her fathers returned and he never really knew if that was on purpose or not; he had a feeling his mom had discussed it with them because, even as he thought about it, he had no idea why they would stay in New York for a month. He also knew he had no right to ask, so he kept his mouth shut.

In fact, he didn't say a word about her to anyone for the entire three weeks before, just quietly went about the (insane amounts of) preparations he had to make before he left, and the process of burying whatever he felt about her and what he'd done so deeply it wouldn't resurface for the eight years he had just signed over to the Army.