DISCLAIMER: I neither own Glee nor the characters. They are the property of Ryan Murphy and FOX. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!
Chapter Nineteen: The City of Love
He couldn't get comfortable on the airplane; his seat was way too small to fit his six foot frame and no matter where he tried to place his legs he was stiff and cramped and fidgety. There wasn't even a safe place for him to put his arms; the older man next to him had fallen asleep the moment he'd sat down and was currently draped over the armrest that laid in-between them. The only thing Finn could do was curl up into the smallest ball possible, lean toward the window, and appreciate the view.
And what a view it was. At over forty thousand feet above the ground Finn was looking down at the clouds like they were fluffy little cotton balls, floating atop a deep blue sea. Nothing was in front of him but open sky and sunlight, and when the sun began to set he saw the atmosphere erupt into colors he never knew could exist in the sky.
His anxiety increased the closer the plane got to Europe. Finn couldn't speak French and despite Kurt and Rachel's attempts at getting him to learn a few choice phrases, he doubted that "Je t'aime" and "Tu es belle" were going to get him anywhere close to rue de Rivoli. In fact, he didn't even know how far away the airport was from Paris, and how the hell was he going to get to rue de Rivoli when he didn't even know where the airport was?
Basically, he was screwed. But he was going to find her no matter what.
The flight attendant proved to be very helpful when she passed him an extra blanket after sunset and he finally asked for help. She explained to him the basics on how to get to central Paris from the airport, and her thick French accent reminded him of what was waiting for him when he got there.
The flight landed in the early hours of the morning, Paris time. Finn was disoriented, tired, and his muscles were aching like hell, but he immediately grabbed his duffel bag and headed towards the train station in the center of Terminal 2, grateful that he didn't have to wait for any checked luggage. There he bought a ticket to central Paris from the multi-lingual machines (thank goodness for technology), and he watched the sun begin to rise from the suburban train as he made his way towards Paris.
He got off of the train at the station that the flight attendant told him to, a stop called Châtelet. She had suggested that he try and use the metro but he squashed that idea immediately upon his arrival. He had no idea where he was, or how to get to his destination, and no one around him was speaking English so he didn't want to chance the subway and get lost. The murmuring of the French language buzzed around him, almost blending into the background as he tried to focus on his task. The train station was busy, but seeing as it was early on a Sunday morning, it wasn't as crowded as Finn had expected it to be.
Following the signs that were hanging overhead and thankful that some of them were in English, Finn tried to find someway out of the underground train station, remembering the way he and the glee club had navigated through the New York City subways last year. Manhattan was the only major city he really knew about, so it was the only thing he could compare Paris to. In fact, France didn't look that different from New York, but the sun had barely risen before the train went underground, so he really hadn't seen anything yet.
When he finally found a flight of stairs to bring him aboveground, he realized that he couldn't have been more wrong.
Everything was so ornate and decorative; the facades of the structures that surrounded him were carved into intricate designs and the buildings that lined the streets were all uniform in height and design. Stylish people in chic outfits were strutting along the sidewalks with cups of coffee in their hands, completely oblivious to the beauty around them while Finn could not stop staring. Every little shop that lined the sidewalk was decorated with flowers, and the menus to the cafés were displayed for every pedestrian to see. An older man walking a tiny dog walked past him and he was almost positive that the dog was dressed better than Kurt usually was.
Walking through New York was like experiencing a mix of different styles, both old and new, modern and ancient and losing yourself in the spectacle. Being in Paris was like living in a fairy tale, completely transporting him back to an age of kings and royalty and splendor long past.
Of course Rachel Beri lived here. Everything around him reminded him of her; the language he heard people talking on the street, the pâtisseries he passed by, secretly wondering if one of them might belong to the Beri family, the little souvenir shops along the sidewalks, selling Eiffel tower aprons and keychains. The need to see her only increased the more he experienced Paris, her true home.
He had to figure out how to get to rue de Rivoli, and he stood on a street corner literally scratching his head trying to figure out where he should go next before he found himself lost in a back alley somewhere.
"English?" Someone asked him suddenly, scaring him enough to almost drop the precious sheet of paper with Rachel's address on it. A tiny old woman stood before him that was less than half of his height; her neck craning up towards his face as she smiled at him knowingly. Her accent was thick; so thick he almost couldn't understand her.
"Um, yeah," he replied, his face growing hot as she nodded her head.
"Where you go?" She asked patiently, and he didn't need to speak French to show her the address on the paper. She looked at it for a split second and pointed to her right.
"La-bas. Allez tout droite," she said kindly before hobbling away, a large sack of produce hanging from a bag at her side. Looking in the direction she pointed, he realized that he was basically on rue de Rivoli already as his eyes flickered to the street signs that were posted on the sides of the buildings. That flight attendant had basically saved him a day of searching as he headed east down the long and busy road.
He couldn't help but act like a tourist as he walked down the street that would lead him to Rachel. He spotted supermarkets and bakeries and restaurants that lined every store-front of every street. He peeked his head down small alleyways that no car could fit through but still held bars, hotels; some of them even led to a hidden park or two.
He didn't know what time it was; his watch was still on Ohio time and when he'd arrived in Paris the sun had barely risen, so he knew it was still pretty early in the morning. The further he walked however, the more people were beginning to line the streets in their finest clothes. There were vendors everywhere selling only the freshest of produce and meats, arguing and bargaining with their customers.
It was kind of like the United States, but it was also really, really different.
He liked it. The store fronts passed by him in a blur as he continued down the road, and he didn't stop until he saw a small blue sign distinguishing the number 47 over a thick red door. He paused in front of it, his heart racing as he approached, but when looked at the strange door, he knew immediately that he wouldn't be able to get inside. There was a numeric keypad next to the door locking him out, and there wasn't even an intercom there so he could contact somebody. How would he be able to get inside and find her if he didn't know the code? Dejected, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips, feeling the waves of fatigue crash down on him. He just flew across an entire ocean to come and find her and now that he was outside of her house he couldn't even get in.
That's when he noticed it. The door that was next to 47 led to a bakery, and the smell of fresh pastries wafted towards him with such familiarity that he sucked in a sharp gasp. He would recognize that smell anywhere.
Those were Rachel's pastries.
The bakery looked small, a faded red awning above the establishment marked it as "La Pâtisserie des Étoiles" as he moved closer toward the window to get a better look. The windows were lined with all different kinds of pastries, some he could recognize from Rachel's baking, some that looked very different but wholly delicious. He checked behind the counter, expecting to see Rachel there, but instead saw an older boy with curly hair and bright blue eyes that Finn had never seen before. Hoping against hope that he truly was in the right place he entered the shop, heading towards the counter with his heart pounding in his chest.
"Comment puis-je vous aider?" the young man said, looking Finn up and down. When Finn shook his head confused, the man tilted his head to the side and tried another tactic.
"I can help you?" He said in broken English, tripping over the words but still getting his point across. Finn knew that his English skills were probably non-existent, but he had to try. For Rachel's sake.
"I'm looking for Rachel Beri," he said slowly and clearly as the man's eyes grew wide from shock. "Is she here?" Suspicion entered the man's eyes as he backed up away from the counter.
"Qui êtes-vous?" The man said, his voice raising in volume. "Pourquoi cherchez-vous Rachel?"
"Is she here? I really just want to talk to her." He didn't know what the man was saying, but it couldn't have been good by the way he stared Finn down like he was about to rob the place. He disappeared into the back room and came back out with two tall, older men in tow who glared at Finn openly.
Well, at least he knew he was in the right place as the three men stood before him. The older men were her fathers, he could tell right away from the way they were staring at him, and the younger kid was the apprentice she had once mentioned.
They guy she had lost her virginity to.
Things were about to get really fucking awkward.
"Que voulez-vous avec notre fille?" Said the taller man, his head balding with thin glasses dropping towards the bridge of his nose. He couldn't understand them at all, so he shook his head and tried his best to explain.
"I don't speak French. No français," he said, and the men only grew more frustrated with him. "My name is Finn Hudson."
"'Udson," the other man repeated as he scratched his curly black hair. All of a sudden his face lit up in recognition, but he didn't seem too happy about it.
"C'est l'Américain!" He said suddenly, pointing at Finn while the other men stared at Finn in shock. The taller man looked down at his worker and demanded in a firm voice, "Donnez-moi mon fusil!" When the younger guy came back outside a minute later with a shotgun in his hands, Finn wondered if maybe he should have called first before he left the states.
"Whoa!" He said, putting up his hands and looking around the empty bakery for a sign of help that would never come. "I just want to talk to her!" The shotgun was passed over to the head patriarch and Finn closed his eyes as the gun was cocked, but the shot never came as a small bell rang behind him, alerting them to the presence of a customer. Finn wondered for a moment if they would murder him in front of witnesses, but the killing blow never came.
"Mes papas, Jesse, qu'est ce qui ce passe?" The sound was like music to his ears as the voice permeated the small bakery, and Finn turned around only to come face to face with Rachel, standing in front of him like mirage. She was stunned to see him as she craned her neck up towards his face, and she covered her mouth with her hands as Finn still held his up at gunpoint.
"Papa! Arrêtez maintenant!" She screamed, running in-between Finn and her dad's gun as the boy, Jesse, tried to stop her. He felt rather smug as she blatantly shook him off and continued to stand in front of him. "Que faites-vous?" She screamed, and the argument began.
He had no idea what they were saying. The entire argument took place in their native language and frankly, Finn wasn't sure he wanted to her what they were talking about anyway. Rachel's face was beat red from exertion as she went back and forth with her parents. Sometimes Jesse would throw in a word or two but he would immediately shut up after a fierce glare from Rachel or one of her dads. It was difficult to watch but all that mattered was that Rachel was here, he had found her, and he wasn't about to let her go again.
The argument felt like it had lasted a lifetime. Any customer who walked in during it was immediately chased out by the sounds of screaming and Finn knew that it couldn't be good for their business. When Rachel started to cry all of his instincts were telling him to grab her and run but he stood his ground and waited for them to calm down. Eventually they stopped fighting, but the men in the room did not look happy.
When she turned around to face him there were still tears lingering in her eyes, but she had never looked more beautiful to him as she stood in the middle of her family's bakery.
"Come on," she said, her accent thicker than he'd remembered. "We need to talk." She nodded her head towards the door and he followed her outside and into her apartment building. She typed the code into the keypad and the thick red door opened before they started to head upstairs. Her apartment was on the fourth floor but there was no elevator, so they walked up the stairs in silence; Finn wanted to wait until they were safe behind closed doors to beg for her forgiveness and try to explain his behavior to her.
If she would even listen to him.
He was completely out of breath by the time they made it to the fourth floor, and practically collapsed into Rachel's apartment while she showed no signs of duress. She had been doing this walk-up her entire life while Finn could barely breathe.
He took a good look at her while he tried to catch his breath, sitting on the couch and waiting patiently for him to calm down. She was wearing a spring dress that was baby pink and exposed her creamy legs for the world to see. Perched on top of her head was her signature white beret, even though he hadn't see a single beret on the heads of the French citizens that he had passed by on the street. It only proved to him even more that Rachel Beri was as unique as humanly possible as he tried to smile at her.
She didn't reciprocate the gesture.
"Why are you 'ere, Feen?" She asked patiently as he finally began to calm down. Now that his breathing was back to normal his heart started to race from her proximity as he felt her eyes on him.
"I came here to talk to you, Rachel." She shook her head.
"Why didn't you use 'ze phone?"
"I needed to see you."
"Why did you stop contacting me, Finn?" She demanded angrily, her voice rising in volume. "I thought you wanted to be with me."
"I did!" He backtracked when he saw the look of hurt on her face. "I mean, I do!" This was not going well. "After you left I couldn't take it. I couldn't stand being without you."
"S-so you ignore me?" She asked, her voice shaking. He could tell that she hadn't spoken English in a while by the way she tripped over her words. She shook her head sadly. "Why should I be surprised?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" He said defensively.
"Whenever you do not want to deal with something you just ignore it, Feen. You close your eyes, go to sleep and just hope it goes away, comme un bébé. I've said this to you before, back when you didn't want to apply to schools. You would rather sit around and be miserable 'zan do something to make your life better."
"You're right, Rachel," he agreed, noticing the shock register on her face. "That's exactly what I do. It's what I always do and it's killing me. I don't want to be that person anymore."
"What happened to fighting for what you loved, Feen?" She asked, the tears now falling freely from her eyes. "Isn't 'zat what we said to one another?"
"I know," he said, his voice cracking as he felt his own tears begin to fall. He hadn't cried since the day she'd left but it felt good to feel something again, rather than just ignore the pain. "I know we promised to keep fighting but I couldn't do it without you."
"'Zat's not fair, Feen!" She said, scaring him with the intensity of her voice. "I had to do this by myself, too, and I'm not 'ze one who just gave up!"
"Rachel, please. . . "
"I was 'ze one who had to explain this ring to my fathers," she said, pulling up the chain that still hung around her neck. The ring he had once given her still rested there, the promises he had made reminding him of how badly he had failed her. "I was 'ze one who had to tell them about my dreams and my plans to leave Paris. 'Zey think you are here to take me away from 'zem." He shook his head, unable to deny the truth. He was here to steal Rachel away from them, and as selfish as it was, he hoped that she wanted it too.
"They must hate me," he said, referring to her dads downstairs. "I deserved that shotgun to the face."
"Mes papas protect me. They love me."
"I love you, too."
She shook her head trying to deny the truth. "I don't know if I can believe that."
Her dismissal of his feelings was like a punch to the gut but he deserved every twinge of pain that wracked through his body. "It's true, Rachel. You don't know the torture I suffered through."
"Oui, I do, Feen. I suffered, too. I do not want to go through it again."
"You won't have to," he pulled the tickets out of his back pocket and held them out for her. She looked hesitant before taking the envelope into her hands. "These are our tickets back to the States, Rachel. The glee club paid for them. I really am here to steal you away, and I'm not the only one back home who can't do it without you." She was silent for a few moments as she stared at the tickets and he saw the ghost of a smile begin to pull up her lips.
"They did not forget about me?" She questioned, and he took this opportunity to close some of the distance between them as he kneeled down in front of her on the couch, looking up at her face.
"No one ever forgot about you, Rachel. I was too busy thinking about you all of the time to forget about you, and the club didn't realize what they had until it was gone." He placed his hand on her wrist and she didn't try to pull away. "We love you, Rachel. I still love you more than anything. We want you to come home."
She finally looked up at him with those deep, dark eyes that had always been able to see right through him. Couldn't she see how much he adored her? How sorry he was for messing up the most perfect thing he'd ever experienced in his life? How he would spend forever making it up to her if she just said yes and followed him back?
She placed the envelope down on the table next to her plush sofa and slowly reached out to cup his cheek in her hands. The touch of her skin on his was heavenly after all this time without her.
"Tu me manquais," she whispered, before letting her other hand rest on the other cheek. He brought his own hands up to hold hers and he never wanted to let go of her again.
"I missed you, too," he said, choking on his own words. "So much. I'm so sorry."
"My English is terrible again," she pouted. "I am out of practice."
"No way," he said. "You're the only person here I can understand." He squeezed her hands tightly. "We can work on it again, as much as you want."
"Why did you stop calling me, Feen? I know something is wrong." Her mind-reading abilities were still in tact as he exhaled and finally admitted the truth to her.
"I didn't get into UAkron, Rachel." She gasped, looking sympathetic as he continued. "I figured that if I couldn't get into school on such a late application then there was no way you could get into one too, and I gave up on the idea of seeing you again in the fall. I thought it would be too long before we saw one another again and I gave up." He broke eye contact with her then, dropping his head in shame. "You deserve better than a Lima loser like me, but I can't get over you. I can't."
"Feen. . . "
"And if you don't want to take me back I understand completely."
"Feen. . . "
"You deserve the best of everything in your life and I don't want to hold you back from your dreams."
"Feen!" She screamed, snapping him out of his downward spiral of shame. He looked up at her again with wide eyes as she smiled down at him. "I got into a school in New York."
The change in his mood was so fast he thought he might have mental whiplash. "What did you just say?"
"I applied to an international program and I was accepted into school. It's not NYADA like Kurt, but at least I'll be in the States. My visa has already been cleared." The excitement was becoming so strong he thought he might just explode.
"Are you serious?" He practically screamed, jumping to his feet and pulling her up off the couch and into his arms. He held her so tightly that he had to restrain himself from crushing her as all of his wildest dreams came true. He was with Rachel, she was coming back to the states in the fall, and while she was still upset with him, she didn't seem to hate him, which was more than he could have hoped for. Loosening his grip on her tiny frame, he pulled back and looked down to see the happiness glowing from her skin. "Are you coming back for Nationals? Figgins said that you can stay until the end of the year if your visa gets extended."
She beamed at him. "Bien sur! I 'ave to discuss it with mes papas, but 'zey will understand."
"Are you sure about that?" He asked, rubbing his neck as he remembered the sight of a shotgun in front of his face. "Because I think they hate me."
She fixed him a pointed look. "They hate 'ze way you treated me when I came home. They know how much you mean to me and I will tell them everything you just said." They held eye contact for a moment and he knew that he had to make this up to her somehow. He didn't care if it took all year long to fix his mistakes but he was going to fight for her.
Because he loved her more than anything in the world.
"Do you hate me?" He asked, needing to know if they could still make this work. He would never forgive himself if he messed this up beyond repair.
"I am still angry, but no, I do not hate you. I am glad you came here to get me. France is my home, but America is where my heart is. It is my future." That was all he needed to hear, and he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to make the States her new and permanent home.
"I love you," he said, hoping that she still felt the same after all the torture he put her through.
"I love you too, Feen," she said, and when she leaned forward, her eyes fluttering closed, he didn't hesitate for a moment to capture her lips in his and kiss her until they gasped for air. How could he have survived this long without her addictive kisses? He held onto her like his life depended on it as the lovers were reunited once more. "Come on!" She said brightly as they broke apart for air, and she grabbed him by the wrist and started to head towards the door.
"Where are we going?" He asked with a small laugh bubbling from his mouth. He hadn't laughed out loud in ages and with Rachel by his side he was finally starting to feel normal again.
"You are in Paris!" She exclaimed. "The city of love! Don't you want to see the sights?" She opened the front door but he put out a hand to close it right away before spinning her around and capturing her in his embrace once more.
"Paris can wait," he grinned, peppering her cheeks in kisses as she giggled. The sound of it healed the shattered remains of his heart and he finally felt normal once more. "I've got all the love in the world right here in my arms."
Merci mille fois, mes amis!
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