They were gathered on the sidewalk as Rachel and Finn pulled up at 8AM: Tom, Emily, Kurt, Blaine, Santana and Brittany. Tom had pulled his car away from the curb and parked it one block over so they could park and unload right in front of the building.
Finn's heart warmed to see Kurt, and he was anxious to meet Tom and Emily. Tom didn't look as he had imagined, and Rachel hadn't described him. He wasn't very tall, maybe five-six, and had curly hair and round glasses, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. He resembled a picture of a young Warren Zevon Finn had seen on an album cover at Jane's. Emily was blonde, a little taller, wearing a purple tank top and black yoga pants; she had a lithe, dancer's body. The rest were dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts except Kurt, whose outfit Finn couldn't quite get his mind around. It wasn't outlandish, and at first glance seemed to be a variation of what everyone else wore, but the angles were all off, as if he had ripped everything up into strips and sewed them back together, leaving a few pieces out. It was rather ingenious, he thought.
He hugged Kurt first.
"Welcome back, brother," Kurt said, with tears in his eyes.
"I've missed you, man," Finn said, sincerely.
Santana was next.
"Dammit, Lurch, don't you ever leave us again, " she admonished. "Do you have any idea what Berry is like without you? "
He watched Rachel hug Tom, long and close. They kissed each other on the cheek, and Finn liked the way Tom looked at her, with warmth and respect. Frankly, he had worried about what it might be like living with her former lover, irrationally thinking they'd be in competition. He had to tell himself that Tom and Rachel would have intimate interactions, simply because they had lived together so long, that had nothing to do with their past romantic involvement. He was relieved when the discomfort faded so quickly.
Brittany couldn't say anything. She just cried happily through the hug. Blaine shook his hand first and simply said "Glad to have you back."
Then it was time. Rachel went to his side, hand resting reassuringly on the small of his back, perhaps sensing his earlier discomfort, as Tom approached, hand outstretched.
"Welcome home, Finn," he said, "I'm Tom Foley".
Finn sensed surprise (and maybe relief?) when he grasped Tom's hand with both of his, warmly.
"Thanks, man," Finn said, with an open smile.
Finally, he approached Emily. She had been standing apart, shyly. He offered his hand.
"Pleased to meet you Emily, I'm Finn." She surprised him with a fierce hug.
"Welcome home. We're all proud of you. My younger brother Marty was a Navy corpsman assigned to the Seventh Marines in Afghanistan, and he came home safe, too. "
"We were on a joint operation with the Seventh Marines my first year there," he told her, "Let's talk later, okay?" She smiled and nodded.
"Okay! Now that we're done with the meets-and-greets, let's get Rachel and Finn unloaded so we can start celebrating!" Kurt was adorably excited.
"He's got an elaborate Sunday brunch reservation for us," Blaine whispered to them.
Finn held up his hand, his other arm tightly around Rachel's waist.
"That sounds great, guys, but there's something I have to do first."
He turned to Rachel, and, reaching down, cupped the back of her head in his large hands. Their eyes locked, hers radiating love and trust, and everyone—no, everything else but them—disappeared, just like it did the last time they kissed in New York, so long ago, and they kissed on the street, him bending her back like that famous photograph of the sailor and the nurse in Times Square on VJ-Day. He bent her back so far her pakul almost fell off. The kiss was deep, and she responded in kind, reaching for his face. Then he pulled her up, close to him, and she pressed her face against his chest, arms around his waist.
"We're here, baby," he murmured, "Just like we planned."
"God, I love you," she whispered.
The rest started clapping and laughing, as Santana sighed and grabbed something in the car.
The apartment was small, but bigger than he had imagined. It was sparsely decorated, with a couple of Broadway posters, the biggest and most prominent being the one for Mount Olympus Blues, which had a silhouette of Rachel as Sally, dancing about a fountain emerging from a pool, with a mountain behind it.
Their bedroom was nice: spare, a few more posters, and a bed with a nightstand, and a framed picture of them at Nationals. They stowed everything, to be sorted later, and joined their friends.
The restaurant was only a leisurely twenty-minute walk away, so the eight of them sauntered along, Finn soaking in the neighborhood, Rachel on his arm, pointing out various things.
The hostess at the restaurant reacted quickly to Kurt, and they were ushered to a nice outdoor spot.
"Rachel dear," Kurt said, 'Thanks for winning that Tony and letting me design that dress. It's opened a wealth of doors! "
The champagne was delivered, and everyone toasted Finn and Rachel's return. Then the questions began.
"So now you have matching outfits?" Kurt was intrigued. "I love your hats."
"Finn had mine custom made." Rachel said proudly.
There were a couple of questions about Afghanistan. Then, Santana sent Finn a murderous look when Jane's name came up.
"It's okay, Santana," Rachel said, smiling. "I met her. We're friends, and I hope she comes to New York to visit."
Finn, who sat next to Santana, put his arm around her.
"She helped me through the worst part of all this," he said, "And I haven't had a nightmare since Rachel showed up."
Santana just growled. "As long as Berry is cool with it…"
Tom had an enigmatic look, but said nothing. Emily squeezed his arm.
Brittany finally said something, asking if he saw any Afghan hounds.
"You know, I don't recall seeing one," Finn said. "Maybe I was in the wrong part of the country." Brittany nodded.
"Did you get to hear any Afghan music?" Tom asked.
Finn nodded.
"Yeah, a little. I liked it. But the best music I heard over there was from Uzbekistan. It had an Indian sound to it, lots of sitar, and with a heavy beat. I have some on my iPod; we can listen to it later, if you like. "The two of them soon were lost in a deep discussion about the music, and Emily hugged Rachel.
"This is going to be great," she whispered in her ear. Rachel laughed in agreement.
Kurt stood up and clinked a spoon against his glass.
"Guys, I'd like to say a few words on the behalf of all of us."
Finn winced; Rachel squeezed his hand under the table.
"It's been almost twenty-five-hundred days since my brother left us. For those of us who love him, fifteen-hundred of those days were spent praying for his safety, and the remainder were spent hoping he'd find peace so that he could return. I would like to toast his return to us." Kurt raised his glass, along with everyone else. "Here's to the return of Finn Hudson!"
Glasses clinked. Kurt continued.
"But there's another reason to celebrate. The entire time Finn was gone, the Universe was out of synch. It was out of synch because two people, who never should have been apart, were without each other. Those of us who love them suffered their agony just as intensely as they did. Rachel and Finn tried to make the best of it. They achieved some amazing goals, found new friends, even new loves."
Finn wished Kurt hadn't said that last thing. Rachel glanced kindly at Tom, and Finn saw him look down briefly, with a wistful smile on his face. Emily, empathetic, leaned closer to him. Finn made a note to himself to treat Tom gently. He already liked and respected him; he wasn't about to rub this in his face. His respect for Emily went up as well. Kurt continued.
"The truth is, I've never seen two people believe as much in the other as Finn and Rachel, and their separation broke my heart. So it makes me glad to see that they eventually came to their senses, and that the Universe may now get its way. You were meant to be together. Here's to that!" He raised his glass again, and everyone cheered, even Tom, Finn noted. They kissed happily.
"Finally, I'd like to congratulate Rachel and Tom for their achievements. I never dreamed I'd be rubbing elbows with Tony winners so soon. Here's to more!"
He finally sat down, and everyone enjoyed the meal. Rachel and Tom talked about the show. Miriam had been having a blast, and getting some good reviews, but the fans wanted Rachel back, especially when the producers mounted a large picture of her and Finn from Jackson Hole on a screen above the stage. Rachel called her agent and confirmed that she'd be back on stage in three days- she wanted to get some rehearsal time to get back in the groove.
Finn and Emily talked about Queens College. She was a graduate of the Drama, Theater and Dance department, and told him about the prestigious Aaron Copeland School of Music there. They agreed to take a trip over and check it out. Emily told Finn that his show choir credentials and drumming ability would help get him in.
"I saw the video of that Nationals performance, Finn, and Rachel wasn't the only star on that stage," she said. He looked over at Rachel, who mouthed "I'm proud of you."
On the way back, Rachel noticed Finn and Kurt walking together, talking in low tones, then saw Kurt nod and nearly burst with excitement, with Finn chuckling. She smiled to herself, and didn't bring it up.
The rest of the day was spent resting and hanging around the apartment, and after everyone but the four roommates left they ordered Chinese for dinner. Finn familiarized himself with everybody's schedule, which was posted on the refrigerator. Fortunately they all worked on the same show, Tom probably the least now, but Rachel and Emily were always gone for rehearsal and performances.
They sat together in the living room. Tom and Emily were drinking wine, and Rachel and Finn had beer, Pilsner Urquell, that they picked up at the small liquor store on the corner.
Tom gave Rachel a quizzical look.
"I didn't know you liked beer, Rachel" he said, puzzled.
Rachel paused, because she didn't want to hurt him, then remembered he was made of sterner stuff than that.
"It was something Finn and I enjoyed from way back," she said, "something we enjoyed together. I didn't want to drink it alone; besides, I like wine too, and since the both of you prefer wine…"
"Have you ever tried this beer?" Finn asked. Tom and Emily shook their heads. He got up and opened a bottle and handed it to them. Each took a sip, and, as Rachel expected, neither seemed to like it. But Tom surprised her by taking another sip.
"Maybe I can learn to like it," he said, and swallowed some more. "Maybe it goes well with football—you do like football, right?" And he winked.
Rachel and Emily groaned, suddenly realizing Finn's arrival had just doubled the football fans in the apartment, tripled when Blaine was over.
"Louie," Finn said, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
Everyone laughed, and Finn changed the subject.
"How did you come up with the idea for Mount Olympus Blues? "
Finn leaned back, arm around Rachel, and listened as all three joined in. He had a lot of catching up to do.
Later, as they settled in for the night, Finn tried to tune out the city's noises, to no avail. But he had Rachel in his arms, and felt at home. She had been right, all those years ago. Thinking about her, thinking about the reality of them, was enough for him to relax. So he simply stopped fighting it. He surrendered, and with it sleep came at last.
XXXxxxxx
Tom awoke earlier than usual, before dawn. He smelled coffee; this was new. Emily was tucked into him, on her side, still fast asleep, so he carefully peeled away from her, threw on a t-shirt over his pajama bottoms, and headed out into the kitchen.
Finn was sitting at the table, engrossed in reading something on his iPad. He was dressed in an olive-drab t-shirt and blue flannel pajama bottoms, and fur-lined moccasins. His big white coffee mug was decorated with an olive, inverted pentagon; a large red "1" inscribed inside it. He looked up with a grin.
"Help yerself to a cup of Joe," he said. "Emily's on Broadway time as well?"
Tom nodded, pouring himself a cup.
"I used to be, when we were getting the play ready for production, but I'm relaxing more these days, thinking about my next project." He sat at the table and took a sip.
"You're hired, dude!" He exclaimed. "This is fucking great coffee!"
"Well, you guys could make great coffee too, if you bothered to scrub out the carafe once and awhile," Finn replied, taking a sip himself. "Jesus, it looked like it was made of brown glass."
Tom grinned good-naturedly. Finn wasn't turning out anything like he had expected. To be honest, the way Rachel had described him, and the videos he had seen, Tom couldn't see what the connection, this "tether", actually was. In the flesh, however, it soon became clear. The two of them absolutely adored each other, but not in a goofy, high-school romance kind of way. Sure, there was the infatuation, but not sickeningly sweet, as Kurt and Santana had once described it. There was something tempering it: a profound, underlying, mutual respect, he decided. They were also very different in temperament. Rachel was intense, driven, strong; Finn was strong as well, but in a laid-back, quiet way.
Tom laughed to himself; the writer in him was coming out. The fact remained he never had that kind of connection with Rachel. But he was developing a fascinatingly different kind of connection with Emily. Artistically, Rachel had been closer to Tom in that she dealt with music and language. They also had similar temperaments. Emily, on the other hand, was concerned primarily with music and motion. She approached her art from a completely different perspective, something that also colored her relationship with him. In public she was physical, not disgustingly so, but subtle, yet unerringly direct, empathetic, and honest. Rachel would always tell him what she was thinking, but Emily simply showed him; that was the difference. She was a woman of few words and quiet strength. Like Finn, actually. Both women were beautiful, that wasn't an issue. With Emily, Tom felt he could spend the rest of his life learning her language, yet never get to the bottom of it, it was that different from his own nature. And her sunny, loving disposition made him want to spend the rest of his life doing just that.
"What are you reading?" Tom asked, curious. Finn handed over the iPad. It was an e-book, Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums.
"Hmmm. The only Kerouac I've read is On the Road." He saw Finn nod, familiarly.
"I knew this grizzled staff sergeant, a lifer, over in Afghanistan. He said the best thing I could do for myself, since I hadn't gone the college route, was to take advantage of the down time by reading, not playing fucking video games." He sat back in the chair and ran a hand in his hair. "I can't believe how much of my life I wasted playing those damned things."
Tom laughed.
"I never got into them, for some reason."
"Anyway," Finn continued, "He said there were a few books I should read that might help make sense of how I felt when I got out. On the Road was one—he said it addressed the restlessness. Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises was another. And the last was the best: Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge."
Tom's eyebrows lifted.
"Never read it."
"I didn't get a chance to read it until I was out of the Army, up in Canada. It's about a Word War One veteran's spiritual journey. There was a line that rang so true with me, about what I did to Rachel after graduation:
Unfortunately sometimes one can't do what one thinks is right without making someone else unhappy. "
"That's for sure," Tom agreed, then added, almost to himself, "Even if the person you make unhappy is yourself."
"Ain't that the truth," Finn said.
The two men sat quietly for a few seconds, both fully aware of Rachel's spirit behind their thoughts.
"I wanted her to love me as much as she loved you," Tom said, as honestly as he could, "But I realized she was far too much like me for it to last. It would have been glorious and intense, but…" he sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his shirt, "eventually it would have burnt out. What you have is stable. And good."
Finn let him pause again, because he was obviously going to say more, and it was going to be earnest.
"I need you to know that Rachel and I are, truly, only the best of friends, and you need not worry about me on that score. But, equally as important, we are artistic partners. I seem to write best with her voice in mind; you only have to hear Miriam sing, as good as she is, to see the difference. I want to know, need to know, that you are cool with that, because when we work it can seem as if we are an old bickering married couple."
Tom held his breath. Finn didn't respond right away. He seemed to be slowly digesting what Tom had told him. His face revealed no obvious emotion. Suddenly he cleared his throat.
"Does she throw her hairbrush at you?" he asked
Tom just stared at him. Finn shrugged.
"I really appreciate what you just said," Finn told him, as earnestly as he could express, "Rachel has told me what a fantastic working relationship you both have, and you needn't worry—working with you makes her happy. So it makes me happy, too. Fair enough?"
"Fair enough." Tom was relieved. He wanted to ask Finn something else.
"This spiritual journey in The Razor's Edge, tell me about it."
Finn described the basic plot of the novel, with its undertones of Eastern philosophy, and something clicked in Tom's mind. He felt the familiar rush of excitement, the telltale feeling for the genesis of another work. Finn gave him a very intent look. And then Tom explained what just happened, and started asking Finn how he had felt coming home, and could they somehow transform that into a work of art to explore the process, that spiritual journey, only done in a modern setting, with today's vet's concerns? Suddenly, Finn sat up.
"I have the perfect title for it."
"What's that?" Tom was grinning, the excitement was high, and to have a title already would be perfect.
"Integration," Finn said, and Tom jumped up to get a pad of paper and a couple of pencils.
Several hours later, Rachel ran into Emily in the hall after using the bathroom. They heard murmurs from the kitchen, and decided to check on how the two guys were getting along. They tiptoed down the hall and peeked inside: Finn and Tom were oblivious to them, heads down, writing and discussing something intensely.
"What are you guys working on?" Rachel finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Tom looked around, a huge grin on his face.
"Our next Tony Awards," he said.