Salvete, welcome back! I hope you're all ready for another chapter because I know I am! Just wanted to say thank you for all the reviews, they really make me feel special and motivated to write!

Disclaimer: Me no own Glee/Fox/Ryan Murphy Productions/Basically anything cool...

5) Unraveling

Finn's insides felt numb and his body strangely distant as he crumpled to his knees, ignoring the muddy ground and the cold, drenching feeling seeping through his pants. His eyes immediately zeroed in upon the handle protruding from his friend's back. Blood was welling through the soldier's garments as if they were merely as thin as paper, and he did the only thing he could think of: he pressed his gloved hands onto the wound, trying to think clearly while his mind could only focus upon the blood. So much blood...

Finn shut the bathroom door with a loud snap, trying to keep his breathing neutral as vision after vision flashed by his eyes. The familiar sight of the shower wavered before him, his products still there from the last time he used it which was almost two years ago when he got that short break before being ordered off. Before he learned the true horrors of war, people, and life. His stomach rolled and he fell to his knees, hands clenching into fists around a furry rag.

Screams and the loud explosions of gunshots tore the air but he was only aware of Nelson. He didn't move despite Finn's pleas to get up, that they were going to die if they didn't get up and take cover. Something cloyingly sweet and metallic hit his nostrils but he paid it no mind, nudging the shoulder of the still man.

It was only then did Nelson's head move slightly in the mud, one-half caked with grime. Finn reeled back at the sight, pressing a hand to his mouth as he tried not to scream. A round and large eye was visible, the pupil tiny in a flood of white. Fear was forever frozen upon it, staring directly at Finn with the eternalness of death. The disturbing smell grew more dominant and he pulled back his hand, the dark leather covered in blood and mud.

It was the smell of blood, Finn realized sickeningly, the smell of death.

Finn sobbed aloud, the sound luckily muffled against the fluffy rug to prevent Rachel from hearing it.

Rachel.

Finn's shaking form slowly began to relax, his clenched muscles unwinding one by one as he centered his mind upon Rachel. Her smiling face, the open and seductive allure to her gaze; the soft touch of her hands against his muscles, gently gliding over them as if trying to commit them to memory; the delicate taste of her lips pressed against his, the moans escaping through her mouth as he made love to her the night before. Remembering the blissful and extravagant feeling of content by simply being with her, knowing she loved him, he managed to push the memories away and struggled to his feet.

Gripping the edge of the sink for support, Finn wearily raised his eyes to the mirror and met his own reflection. Flicking over the same dark hair - cropped short but already beginning to show signs of growing back - and the same small nose and mouth, he reluctantly peered into his eyes. The once rich and deep gaze was empty, life ripped out of them by the horrors he witnessed; the destruction of life and innocence.

And it was all by your own choice, a snide and cruel part of his mind muttered darkly. You willingly stepped inside hell upon earth, all for the girl you love, the girl you are leaving wounded outside this bathroom door by keeping her away. Her heart is breaking at your coldness and all you can do is stare in a mirror and think how much you fucked up your own life.

"I'm doing it for her," Finn whispered in return, trying to look away but he was captivated by the empty depths. He felt like they were going to grasp him and pull him in, drowning him in the emotionless waters. "I'm doing everything for her, for Rachel. To save her innocence as I already have lost mine."

The shallow gaze only blinked at him slowly, its nonchalance boring into him like daggers and making his stomach churn uncomfortably and twist into knots; he tore himself away from the mirror. Stumbling to the shower, he turned it on quickly then turned and dry-heaved into the toilet, the acrid taste of bile flooding his mouth but nothing came out of his empty stomach. He could barely remember the last time he ate as he tried to spit out the taste, his mouth painfully dry.

Body trembling, Finn took off his boxers and slipped into the running shower. The water was cold, striking his skin like ice, but he barely felt it as he crumpled to the floor. The thundering rush of water on his head sounding like a flurry of gunshots, and he threw his hands to his ears with a small cry but it continued to echo in his head. The sound, the water drenching every part of his body, the cold; they all reminded him forcibly of that day, the day his whole world changed.

Blood stained his gloves, mud caked his leggings, tears streamed down his face, but Finn cared little as he continued to stare at the dead man before him. He would never move again, never smile and give a loud guffaw as he always did when he made a lame joke, or ever hold the child his wife had given birth to while he was away. Nelson would never know the joy of being a father or have the right to a long life; he was dead.

Finn lunged wildly for his shampoo but overreaching, he knocked it to the floor of the shower. The top popped off from the impact, brown gel spraying from it and scenting the air with the smell of Axe.

All he could smell was blood and the overpowering taste of earth; the smell of rain gone despite it coming down in sprinkles now.

Trying to stand, Finn grasped the bar with washcloths layering it - throwing mostly all of them to the floor - and heaved himself up with the shampoo bottle in one hand. He attempted to rid his mind of the memories but they flooded into him like the rain pouring onto him from above.

Rain? No, he told himself sharply, it was only the shower. He wasn't back there, he didn't have to fear dying every single day, no longer had to worry about going to sleep and fearing he wouldn't awake in the morning. He was safe, in Lima, in his home, with Rachel.

The thought of her and his home brought an instant reaction. His racing thoughts calmed, his legs finally strengthened to hold his weight, the memories whisked away into the dark, shadowed parts of his mind, and his breathing - once shallow and rapid - returned to the regular respirations. For a moment, Finn felt completely normal and like his old self, a smile tugging at his jawline. It was a blissful rush of nostalgia, remembering the beauty and simplicity of his old life. Where the only worries were the problems of life, not the difficulties of death and war.

That simple thought brought back the horribly day in awful clarity, the scene unfolding before his very eyes and making the shower disappear, but he grounded his teeth and forced it away. It was in the past, Finn told himself, it was in the past and it's over. Forget it and continue on, think about your dreams of the future now and not the nightmares of the past.

Chanting the words in his head as a constant reminder, he focused upon the shower and his normal routine. Washing the meager and short hair upon his head, he tried to relax and enjoy the water like he used to but his movements were quick and mechanical, efficient and to the point. There was no point in wasting water and time, the thought booming in his head like his old drill sergeant's voice use to, except lacking the two to three swear words usually invoked.

Barely after entering the shower, Finn turned off the water. The bathroom, once filled with the constant beating of water against the walls of the shower, was eerily quiet. Simply pushing the glass door aside seemed like a scream to him. Screams of people dying, calling for their loved ones who they knew might not answer back, the shrieks of finding them - he had to grip the edges of the door painfully tight to force the memories away and keep his stomach from rolling again.

Quickly drying off and putting on his clothes - a dull grey shirt and dark green sweats - Finn stepped out into his still-dark bedroom with tight anticipation of what he was going to see. Was Rachel going to still be there? Would she be angry? Sad? Hateful?

To his surprise, Rachel was seated behind his drum set, dressed only in one of his old shirts that draped her like a robe. A delicate smile was on her face, though, her eyes were set on the clock. "You're right on time," Rachel mused playfully, her gaze flashing in his direction. "Five minutes to the second, impressive."

Finn, relieved, only shook his head and threw his dirty clothes into a hamper. "Not really, I'm just so used to being on a schedule I can't stop it." Aware the conversation was looming upon a topic he didn't want to embark on, he abruptly changed it. "Do you want to get something to eat? We kinda missed your big party yesterday."

"In a minute, I'm still waking up," Rachel murmured, and, rising up with his shirt following around her like a robe, came up to him. Finn looked into her beautiful chocolate eyes, trying to discern anything that would show any hate or negative emotions toward him. He saw nothing but admiration reflecting in the gleaming gaze. Frozen, she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I love you, Finn. You know that right?"

"Of course," answered Finn, confused but none of it reflecting in his flat voice. "I love you too."

Rachel was silent for a moment, regarding him with a strange intensity which made Finn wonder if Rachel was actually putting on all she was feeling or if she was hiding behind a mask of love, like his own facade of stone. Then, she smiled suddenly and pulled away from him. "I missed you, Finn. I missed everything about you, from your kisses to your smile to the way you make me feel to the skill you show with the drums. I was hoping you...you would play something for me."

Finn felt his insides stiffen as he glanced warily at the drums, the sight bringing back a rush of nostalgia. The first time he learned to play, how he beat out his frustrations and emotions, the thousands of times he attempted to try and teach Rachel to play; he remembered them all. And that was why he couldn't play.

"Maybe later, you really need to eat something..." Finn trailed off as Rachel didn't seem to be listening to him anymore. She returned to her spot behind the drums and raised her eyes to meet his.

"How many times did you play the drums for me while I sang, for the whole gang?" Rachel asked but the question seemed more directed towards herself than Finn. "'Borderline / Open Your Heart,' 'Go Your Own Way,' 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart,' so many others. The way you played sent shivers down and up my spine, the sight mesmerizing if not somewhat hot." Her lips curled up seductively. "You are so talented, Finn, and it would be stupendous if you could play something again, for me, right now."

"Rachel..." Finn muttered, his stomach sinking as he exchanged his gaze between her and the drum set. "We should really get something to-"

"One song, Finn," Rachel interrupted, her voice like a sharp razor. With a finger, she beat playfully upon one drum and the sound reverberated through the room. It ripped through Finn and sent his nerves tingling but not in the ways it used to.

The echoing shots tore through the sky made Finn finally look up from his deceased friend, the body unnervingly still and silent. The man who had accompanied Nelson was gone, nowhere to be seen. The small village was situated in a perfect ring of trees, their tall canopies lending shade on the hottest of days but now, they only held the terror in the shadows. In the distant, a ringing drum beat was grinding against his nerves as it mixed with the screams, the shrieks, the gunshots.

"Stop," Finn said, his voice breaking through the hazy memory as he glared at Rachel, arms stiff at his side, hands clenched into fists.

"Please, one song? Only one."

Rachel hit another drum.

A large bash interrupted the smaller series of drum beats, and they all fell silent. Finn unconsciously froze, his body waiting tensely for something to happen. The screams seemed to dim in his ears, limbs numb as he kneeled in the cold mud, an ache crawling through his body.

Then the shadows parted from their forest beds, crazed screams gurgling from their throats as they shot into the village. One, a tiny form, was coming directly for Finn.

Rachel broke him away this time, her finger tapping against the drum.

"Stop! Stop!" Finn broke and striding towards Rachel, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the drumnset. His room was shifting, his bed and dresser replaced by bodies and small shacks, the bathroom door and pictures on the walls now ascending trees. The morning shadows dwelling in the corners, rippled around him, reaching and crawling towards him and Rachel.

"Finn," Rachel whined at his side. "You're hurting me, I'm sorry-"

Finn watched in horror as the shadows paused, their rolling black masses twirling in place, then thin tendrils began to extend towards Rachel. Hands, black with grime and blood, appeared, ready to take away everything good from Finn's life. His innocence, his dreams, now, his Rach.

"Nooooo!" Finn screamed, drawing a startled and confused Rachel into his chest and wrapping his arms protectively around her petite form. The shadows kept advancing, the slithering sound like something being dragged in the mud following in their wake. His eyes revolved around in fear at them all, watching with horror as faces shone in the mass. Cruel, blood-covered faces with wicked and mean smiles twisting their expressions into hideous caricatures.

"Finn, what's the matter?" Rachel's tone was now scared along with confused. Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his chest, though she struggled to break free of his strong grasp. Finn barely heard or felt her, drawing the two of them back as the shadows kept advancing.

Laughter rang now through air, mocking and triumphant. They were coming upon Rachel, long, clawed fingers grasping out towards her bare foot. Finn swept her aside with a cry and stomped his foot upon the shadow but nothing was there; the other shadows kept their approach.

"Go away! You can't take her!" The scream tore from Finn's throat in a roar, raw and ugly. Fear making him dizzy, nausea ripping into his stomach, tears clouding his vision, he barely could keep his hold upon Rachel as he kept backing away until he hit a tree, the edge cutting into his back painfully. The sky was dark and all he could see were the shadows, a black cloud of jeering faces and bloody palms.

"I'm fine, Finn! There's no one there!" Rachel's voice echoed in the shadows but Finn felt he was drowning in the seething blackness, the only comfort was her presence in his arms but that too was loosening as her form was struggling to break free.

"Rach!" Finn cried. Rachel was torn from him and his arms only filled with shadows, the darkness engulfing him as he fell to his knees. Screams and gunshots, blood and mud, they filled his senses as the dark dominated and he felt himself drowning. Tears streamed down his face, hands groping in the dark as he tried to find her. "No, you can't take her too. Not her, not Rachel..."

"It's okay, Finn. I'm right here." The words were loud and determined, cutting through the darkness and noise like a blade. Finn looked up to see light flare and the forest vanish to be replaced by his bedroom, the ceiling light turned on. Rachel, pale and scared, ran from the door back to his side; eyes large and filled with tears. "Are you okay, what's wrong?"

Finn, shaking and feeling sick, fell into Rachel's laps, tears cascading down his cheeks as he felt her warmth, her body, her presence, again. She wasn't gone, she was there and safe. Sobbing, all he could do was sit there and mutter, "Please, don't leave me. Don't take her away..."

He felt a pair of soft hands rub his short hair and wrap around his head. The touch of a delicate kiss. "I'll never leave you, Finn. Not now, not never. I love you."

Sorry about the long wait, it's been so busy of late and time seems to be flying by so quickly! Please, don't hate me! I hope you're all well! Cookie for the one who guesses what Finn has first!

~Dreamy