A/N: taking advantage of the road trip :)

Taking long road trips was something that Rachel had never thought she would like. Yet, just recently she had driven across two-thirds of the country alone, and had to admit it was fun. Driving from Yellowstone to Lima with Finn, however, was revelatory. They had always talked with each other in high school, but those conversations had none of the depth—or the raw honesty-their conversations on the road had.

She asked Finn about Jane, and did he love her.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

She told him about Tom, and that she loved him too. But both Finn and Rachel made clear that these loves did not rival their own. The bonds to Tom and Jane were of this world, made of different stuff. Rachel explained Tom's description of the tether and Finn was impressed. In absolute honesty he told Rachel that he looked forward to meeting him, and she beamed.

Rachel asked Finn if he had been frightened during that battle in Afghanistan. When he said no, she thought for a moment that he wasn't being honest, but then he made her cry when he told her he wasn't afraid because he had convinced himself he was already dead.

"If I hadn't done that, I'd have just remained in a fetal position in the rubble of that house."

Her heart went out to him.

She made him cry when she played the soundtrack to the musical. Her singing had always affected him deeply, but listening to her on a professional recording only emphasized that Rachel had truly achieved her dream, just as he always knew she would. Forgiving himself for deceiving her those last few days before putting her on the train became easier, but still took its toll, because he wanted her to trust him as he trusted her.

That trust was evident when, late at night in South Dakota, she finally built up the courage to ask him if he had killed anyone, and he told her the truth. He knew of only two for sure; he slew two Taliban charging the house, seeing them fall.

"I didn't see their eyes," he said, his voice quiet and solemn. "And I didn't know them. All I knew was, if I didn't kill them my comrades would die. That doesn't excuse what I did. It just explains it."

"No excuse is necessary," Rachel said, touching his arm, then grimly adding, "Especially to me, because I would have killed them myself if it meant saving you."

He smiled. Rachel Berry had his back.

"I fired a lot of ammunition that day," Finn admitted, "So there may have been others, but those two are the only ones I know of." He paused, then added, "Jane and I had this in common."

"Having killed someone?"

He nodded.

"In the RCMP, or Afghanistan?" Rachel wondered.

"During the prison riot," Finn replied. "When she was shot, she was spun around, and saw the prisoner who did it, grinning at her from ear to ear. Before going into shock and passing out, Jane drew her sidearm and tapped him right between the eyes."

Rachel gasped, but didn't turn away.

"I guess that's one way to get closure," she said eventually. He appreciated the gallows humor, though he appreciated even more the fact that she knew he would.

She wore a present that he gave her, a small, custom-made pakul, of pinkish wool. "I told the man I wanted it to be the color of this pinkish-red stone that's found there, "Finn said, laughing, "And I had to tell him it was for my nephew. He wouldn't have made it for a woman." He paused, lost in memory. "I was missing you, and I thought of all those berets you used to wear. I thought you'd look cool with it."

"And you kept it, even after we supposedly broke up?" She fondly remembered he had a habit of doing that.

"I guess I never got around to getting rid of it," he replied with feigned nonchalance, then winked.

That led to a long discussion on Afghanistan. She asked about the culture, to see if her perceptions of it were accurate. It was so easy, she thought, to make assumptions. Finn confirmed some of them, and contradicted others. The bottom line for him was how kind and generous the Afghan people were, even when they had nothing. But he said he didn't get their attitudes towards women, and got openly angry when he talked about the so-called "honor" killings. He also worried about how their economy's dependence on poppy growing would cripple their development as a nation.

Rachel listened to him in fascination¸ respect, and pride. This introspective, aware side of him had rarely been seen in high school. She had seen it, of course; they often talked about current affairs. But now Finn spoke about them more confidently, having had the time to not only experience more, but to also reflect and, yes, integrate it all into an adult world view. He seemed so much older than her, now. She was eager to learn from him.

Rachel told him how lonely she was that first year apart.

"I was struggling with school, being away from not only you but my family for the first time, fending off a seemingly endless stream of douchebags who wouldn't take no for an answer, worrying about your safety…" She sniffed. "Of course, it's not quite on par with facing the Taliban and almost getting your ass shot off…" And when he started to protest her downplaying her feelings, she put him at ease, winking: "It's such a nice ass, you know."

They even talked about Jesse. His prediction about his fate after losing Nationals came true; the firing came by text 30 minutes after the awards ceremony.

"Harsh," Finn commented sincerely.

It turned out Jesse finally gathered the nerve to strike out for New York on his own. Rachel was out with Tom and actually saw him in a restaurant, bussing tables, once. Even then, he gave her a wave and a smile, and she went up and kissed him on the cheek.

"He has a non-lead part in a struggling off-Broadway production of Cabaret," Rachel said., "But I haven't seen it yet."

They also talked about the ring, and what it meant now.

"It means what it meant then, Finn," she said, "It means I intend on fulfilling my promise to marry you, some day, when we're ready. Assuming you still want to marry me, of course." She gave him an impish grin.

"Oh, I do," Finn replied, grinning too. "But there is no hurry. We'll do it right."

She leaned against his shoulder as he drove.

"I still have the dress and shoes, you know, at my dads."

"Good, he said, "I have the image of you in that dress burned into my soul, and I couldn't marry you any other way."

She laughed, gaily.

"But what if I had thrown it away? I almost did, at one point."

He rolled his eyes.

"Well, it's a damned good thing you didn't," he said softly, taking the I-75 North exit off I-70, the exit to Lima. .