Rachel found a motel in Jackson Hole and checked in at 4AM. Jane had given her Finn's address, but she was reluctant to just barge in on him. He probably had a job, so she decided to wait until the evening to try and see him. After all this time, longing for the moment, it was as if she had a last minute failure of nerve. Besides, she was exhausted. Rachel climbed into bed, wearing Finn's shirt, and texted Kurt and Tom to say she finally made it to Jackson Hole.

Then she slept until noon. She had debated with herself for quite a while what to wear. Jane had told her, however, that Finn lived outside of town, renting a rustic cabin from the family of an Army buddy. So, when it came time to actually decide, she threw out all the options she had considered. She did, however, stick to her old nightly shower routine from home. Then she chose a simple white sports bra with matching panties, a plaid flannel shirt, and jeans, with suede desert boots. However, in classic Rachel Berry fashion, she went and had a manicure and pedicure, and had her hair styled into a simple but elegant French braid.

It was almost 6PM. She stood in her bathroom, gazing in the mirror. Then laughed. She felt comfortable. And beautiful. And confident. She took a picture of herself and emailed it to Kurt and Tom.

Tom replied:

You look beautiful. Good luck.

Kurt, however, was more playful:

Thank God you have inner beauty. (Kidding). He will think you look gorgeous, you know that. I love you, Rachel Berry.

The sun was just above the Tetons on this perfect late-spring evening, and the mountains stood, like grayish-blue, craggy teeth etched against a flawless azure sky. At their feet, lost in shadow, Jackson Lake rested, dark and still. Rachel turned off the highway onto a gravel road that ran for a few hundred yards through pine woods, stopping at a closed, locked gate.

Rachel got out, and stood by the gate, straining to see the cabin. But the driveway curved to the right, into some trees, blocking the view. Her heart pounded. She started to walk on the grass along the driveway, and as it curved around, emerged from the trees and began a gentle slope down to the cabin itself. It was a low, dark, wooden structure with a big porch,, looking out on a meadow which led down to the lake itself. A Ford Explorer was parked in the back. She could see some lights on inside.

As she got closer, Rachel began wondering what she would say when he opened the door. Fortunately, she heard a screen door slam and movement on the porch. The driveway led away from the front of the cabin, so she began traversing the grass towards the porch, and as a corner of it came into view, she saw him, sitting on the steps with a beer and a guitar. His hair was long and shaggy, and he had this exotic (at least to her), short, dark beard. He was dressed much like her. She stopped dead and listened as he began a song in his warm voice. Amazingly, she recognized it as one of the songs on the CD, one that hadn't particularly stood out then, but now could only have been chosen by the tether for this moment:

Early one morning the sun was shining

I was laying in bed

Wond'ring if she'd changed at all

If her hair was still red

Her folks they said our lives together

Sure was gonna be rough

They never did like Mama's homemade dress

Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough

And I was standing on the side of the road

Rain falling on my shoes

Heading out for the East Coast

Lord knows I've paid some dues getting through

Tangled up in blue.

Lord knows, but you have, she thought, letting him begin the second verse:

She was married when we first met

Soon to be divorced

I helped her out of a jam I guess

But I used a little too much force

We drove that car as far as we could

Abandoned it out West

Split up on a dark sad night

Both agreeing it was best

She turned around to look at me

As I was walking away

I heard her say over my shoulder

At that moment, Rachel stepped out into view, and joined him in singing the next line:

"We'll meet again someday, on the avenue".

Many years later, in her autobiography Faithfully, Rachel wrote about that moment:

Finn stopped playing and looked up.

"Hi beautiful," he said, with that old smile. It had been seven years since we had last seen each other, yet he acted as if I had been away only a few seconds, as if I had just gone to fetch a fresh beer from the kitchen. My mouth was too dry to reply, so I simply walked up the steps and sat down next to him. We then both leaned into each other, and remained like that, not speaking, as the sun set behind the Tetons. The Universe gently righted itself; the years slipped away, as if they never existed. I took a sip of his beer.

"Hi handsome," I replied.

"I've been thinking about you lately," he said, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She rested her head on his.

"Funny, me too." Her hand moved to his thigh.

All these things, the sitting together, the touching, were so familiar, as if they had found an old, beloved pair of slippers, and put them on after many years. It felt warm and comfortable, releasing memory like incense.

"I missed you," she whispered. "I missed you for so long."

His arm tightened around her. Suddenly, she straightened up.

"Come with me," she said, "I have something to show you."

"Okay."

Rachel led Finn back up the driveway to the gate, holding his hand the entire time. When they got to the car, he laughed.

"Is this Kurt's old car?"

She nodded, opened the back, and rummaged a bit. Then she turned and handed him a large, gift-wrapped box. Finn took it, commenting on its heft.

"Finn, open it," Rachel ordered.

He removed the wrapping, and opened the lid. His eyes grew wide, and she could see tears brimming in them.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked. She nodded.

"Take it out."

He pulled her Tony award out of the box, gazing at her name inscribed on it. The look of pride he gave her at that moment remained with her for the rest of her life.

"You did it. You did it! I knew you could!"

"I never forgot what you did for me," Rachel said softly, "I couldn't have done it but for you. So I want you to have this. It's yours. "

She paused , tears brimming in her eyes too, then choked out,

"I'm yours."

It was time.

He bent down, cradling her face in his hands and kissed her in the fragrant, sunset air. It was tender at first, but, the kiss, having waited for seven years, finally lost its patience. He slammed down the car's rear door, picked her up without breaking contact with her lips, and carried her, through the trees and down the slope, towards the cabin.

A/N: lyrics are from "Tangled Up in Blue", by Bob Dylan.