A/N: Not sure if this will go over well, but here we go =).


He runs his hand through his dishevelled hair for the hundredth time as he leans back against the seat. It's been a long week, and he honestly cannot remember the last time he slept. He guesses saving all of his leave for that vacation they were planning to take is going to be used up a little too soon. At least the school seems to understand. He just hopes the kids will. His mom has been calling practically every hour, and it had taken him the better part of two days to assure her that there was no need for her to come to New York. One Hummel in his apartment is enough. He bites back a groan at the thought of Kurt, who had insisted on staying over until things 'get better'. He loves his brother, but he thinks he might break something if he comes home to Kurt's relentless hovering one more time.

"Mr. Hudson."

He sits up, blinking his eyes open to pay attention to the doctor in front of him.

"Yeah," he answers, exhausted. He looks at the name plate to make sure he remembered the right name.

Dr. Christopher Wyatt looks like his younger than Dr. Carson. At least that mop on his head is still red anyway. He's supposed to be the Neurologist, and his schedule's a bitch, so Finn sure hopes to God he knows what's wrong with Rachel already.

"I'm sure you know Dr. Carson referred your case to me."

"Uh-huh. He said you might be able to help. So- so are you?"

He's not trying to be rude or anything, but right now his fiancé won't speak to him because she thinks she's married to someone else, and he kind of thinks that maybe that gives him some room to be. Dr. Wyatt looks at him intently, and he realizes that he's starting to get sick of people looking at him like that. The office is huge, but there are like a million books in here, and they're all over the place, in the bookshelves and stacked on the floor. This doctor feels like he knows a lot.

"Mr. Hudson, do you know anything about the fugue state?"

Finn stares blankly back at the man in front of him. The what now?

"I teach music and gym to elementary school kids Dr. Wyatt," he snaps, annoyed. "Do you think I know what that means?"

The doctor raises an eyebrow, and the ire he feels dissipates.

"Sorry doc," he apologizes ruefully. "It's just-" He runs his hand through his hair once again, sighing. "It's been a long week."

"I can only imagine," Dr. Wyatt says, nodding. "I don't mind Mr. Hudson-"

"Please call me Finn."

"Sometimes being on the other side can be just as overwhelming."

He laughs humourlessly, shaking his head.

"Yeah. So this Fuji state-"

"Fugue."

"Yeah, whatever. What about it?"

"Mr. Hudson-"

"Finn."

"How long have you known Ms. Berry?"

"Four years," he answers, smiling unwittingly at the thought. Thinking of her always makes him smile, even when it makes him want to cry. "We've been together for almost as long," he adds needlessly.

"And has Rachel ever exhibited any... inconsistencies about her past? Any vague discrepancies in her history?"

He's pretty sure he's staring at the doctor like he's crazy.

"No," he answers slowly. "She's an only child, she's an orphan."

"How did her parents pass on?"

"It was a car accident. She used to live with her aunt, but they had a falling out years ago, and she moved out, moved here."

"So she has no family to speak of?"

"Other than that aunt, I guess not. What does this have to do with anything?"

"What do you know about her childhood?"

"She doesn't really like to talk about it. Just random things, like how she used to dress up like Barbra Streisand and sing to her stuffed animals- look doc, I don't see how this-"

"A fugue state, Mr Hudson, is a rare psychiatric disorder. It's- well you can see it as a more complex version of amnesia, if you will. Are you following me?"

He frowns, his brows furrowed as he nods and gestures for the doctor to continue.

"Alright. During the fugue state, which generally lasts several hours or a few months, but in this case, I would deduce that it's been years, an individual forgets who they are and takes leave of his or her usual physical surroundings."

"What do you mean, years?" he cuts in, confused. She just got into that horrible accident last week. Dr. Wyatt shakes his head.

"I don't think you understand. In minor cases, like what I think we have here, the individual can assume a new identity. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"It sounds like you're trying to tell me that fiance's crazy doc," he answers, chuckling uncomfortably. "So I probably don't."

"Not crazy," Dr. Wyatt muses. "Dissociative disorders are not the same thing as being crazy."

Finn stares at him in disbelief, but he continues to look back with that same, normal expression.

"You're serious?" he finally asks.

"I don't joke with my patients Mr. Hudson."

"You're trying to tell me that my fiancé, my Rachel, was so traumatized by the accident, that she just ups and makes this Jesse guy up out of thin air? Why would she do that?"

Seriously, he knows she's dramatic and all that, but she's not that dramatic. Right? The doctor is practically staring holes into his head right now as he waits for an answer.

"Mr. Hudson," Dr. Wyatt says slowly, sitting up in his chest as he leans across the table. "I think you're mistaken. I don't think she's entering a fugue state, I think she's coming out of one."

Finn stares back, blood rushing in his ears as the explanation finally comes through. That's impossible.

"What are-"

"Rachel doesn't remember you because she doesn't know you, because she wasn't who she really is when she was with you."

Xxx

He paces back and forth across the room, shaking his head perpetually.

"You're crazy."

"Mr. Hudson-"

"You're fucking insane."

"I don't think there's a need for-"

"What kind of a doctor are you?" he demands as he stops short, turning back to glare at the doctor in front of him.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, in light of your distress," Dr. Wyatt starts calmly as Finn tries to catch his breath. "However, I do believe you're entitled to your opinion, I know this is a hard diagnosis to accept. And I am perfectly willing to recommend my colleague for a second opinion."

He considers that for a second.

"In another hospital? We have to move her?"

"Well. Yes, I'm the only neurologist here."

He shakes his head, groaning in frustration. She's already a basket-case as it is just sitting there in that hospital room. She won't even look at him these days. No way in hell is he taking her to another hospital.

"You're telling me my fiancé is crazy," he says in resignation as he drops back down onto his seat.

"Not crazy. Just-"

"Fine, you're telling me that she has a mental disorder."

"Yes."

"And that she's been... pretending to be someone else the whole time we've been together?"

"Not pretending. I think she believed that she was whoever she said she was."

"And if I don't believe you," Finn continues, talking to himself as he ignores the presence of the man in front of him. "If I think she's fine and- and doesn't have a mental disorder, then she's just a liar."

"So basically doc, what you're trying to tell me is," he says slowly, looking back at the silent man before him. "Either way, I'm fucked."

Xxx

She looks determinedly out the window, refusing to look at him.

"Rachel," he starts, tired. "You're gonna have to speak to me sooner or later. Screaming is not the same thing, by the way."

She turns to glare at him from the bed, and he holds his hands up in defense.

"I'm not talking to anyone until my husband gets here."

"Rachel-"

"I was so stupid when I thought I could trust you. Of course you're lying! Who are you really? Was I kidnapped? Am I part of some human trafficking syndicate?"

"Seriously?"

"And why won't this stupid hospital let me leave?" she finishes, her voice escalating with every word.

"Because, for the hundredth time, I am not lying to you," he answers, annoyed. "You were in a car accident and you broke your arm, and apparently lost your memory, or gained some new memory or whatever-"

"I feel perfectly fine-"

"I'm registered as your emergency contact," he tells her.

"And the hospital believed you, of course. This place is obviously incompetent. Let me guess, you registered for me," she says sarcastically.

"No," he answers quietly. "You did. Three years ago when you sprained your ankle in the middle of a school concert."

"I- " she starts contemptuously, almost ignoring him. But what he said must have registered because she stops and looks at him curiously. "What?"

"Yeah," he continues, almost angrily. "Back when we realized Santana was absolutely useless in case of emergencies and you said it might as well be me since it was going to be sooner or later anyways."

She looks at him, surprised. He's coming to terms with the fact that she can't remember, but he's not coming to terms with getting treated this way.

But her eyes harden, and he closes his, deflating.

"I don't remember that," she tells him.

"Of course not."

"I don't remember you."

He thought a week of her saying this like it's a prayer would have been something he got used to.

Apparently not judging by that sharp stabbing he feels, as usual.

Xxx

"This is impossible."

"Hudson-"

"She said I'm kidnapping her!"

"That's just her being dramatic."

"How do you know?"

He can practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone.

"It's Rach-"

"It's not."

"What?"

"She's not, San. She's not Rachel. I don't know who she is. Hell, she doesn't even know who she is, but she's not Rachel."

"Do you need me to go over there and help you pull your head out of your ass?"

"I'm serious, Santana."

"So am I. Look, Hudson. I don't really know what the hell is going on. So the doctor says maybe she's not who we think she is, I still call bullshit, because who just forgets her life like that? But, even if it's true. Even if she turns out to be some woman who like, ran away from her husband or something, that doesn't change the fact that for the last five years, she was my bestfriend. She's still my bestfriend, because she's still that same person no matter what her last name is."

"Corcoran."

"What?"

"Apparently her last name is Corcoran. That was what she said in between all the screaming anyway."

"I'll try and talk to her."

"Good luck with that."

"She doesn't scream at me. Then again, I'm not the one telling her she's been 'unfaithful' for the last four years and apparently also entering into bigamy with me."

"Funny."

"I'll talk to her, okay?"

He sighs at the soft tone of her voice, because when had his life become pathetic enough for Santana Lopez to be nice to him?

"Thanks San."

Xxx

"Kurt? You home?"

He sighs in relief when nobody answers, closing the door behind him as he leans against it. He drops his keys on the coffee table and lies down on the couch, closing his eyes almost immediately. His days are held together by moments like this, where it's quiet and peaceful and he gets just a few seconds to collect himself, to remind himself not to freak out.

He opens his eyes and his gaze falls onto the framed picture on the wall. It's a new one. She had made him put it up there when she moved in.

"It's our first picture together!" she had exclaimed when he asked her why.

"But we weren't even together in this!" he protested, to rile her up more than anything. She had rolled her eyes witheringly at him as she handed him the frame and a nail.

"Just put it up. Besides, look at us. Nobody would know that anyway."

He stares at the picture a little longer. She was right. They'd known each other for less than a week, but nobody would have known it with the way she held onto his arm, both of them grinning like idiots at the end of her first school year.

They'd think he's been in love with her all his life from that photo.

It's funny how he used to think he knew everything about her, everything that mattered anyway.

It turns out he doesn't know her. He doesn't know her at all.

xxx

"I don't know who you are Mr. Hudson," she tells him the next time he comes in. He brings her favourite desert, some health nut cake thing from the diner below their apartment, and Rachel, his Rachel or some other Rachel he doesn't know, seems to appreciate it.

It feels good to know that there's at least one thing about her that's the same, no matter who she is.

She speaks gently this time, almost civil for the first time in days. He nods his head silently from the other side of the room. She looks hesitantly at him, seemingly at war with herself before she sits up.

"If- if you're telling the truth-"

"I am," he answers, a little more forcefully than he intended. Their gazes hold for a few seconds as he tries to find any trace of his Rachel somewhere.

"Santana says that I really love you," she tells him as she breaks her stare. "Well, what she actually said was that I spray you like a cat in heat every time we're together," she corrects, wrinkling her nose. "But apparently that's just how Santana speaks."

"You do," he answers quietly, stepping closer to stand at the foot of her bed.

"Really love you? Or spray you like a cat?"

She smiles as she says this, amused, and he chuckles, feeling the barrier between them finally breaking down.

"Both, really."

She laughs and he grins, relaxing.

"I'm sorry," she apologises when she sobers up. "You've been so patient with me, and I've been nothing but a heinous bitch to you all week."

"That's okay," he answers, shrugging. "Don't call yourself that. You just- you have a lot of things on your plate."

"Well actually, Santana was the one who called me that," Rachel answers, rolling her eyes. "But she was right. I was angry, and confused, and I took everything out on you."

He shrugs again. It's not like there's a whole lot he can say to that anyway. He can't be pissed at her 'cause it's not really her fault she can't remember. He's hurt more than anything, but again, he can't exactly blame her for not remembering him.

"It's just- you need to understand that it's not that easiest thing in the world for me to just believe you," she continues, as she moves to stand. He watches as she winces slightly, probably from the jostling her hurt arm. He would have helped her, but she wouldn't let him touch her, so he just watches as she gets to her feet and stands, looking up at him.

He says nothing, gripping the fabric of his jeans so hard his knuckles are white.

"But I don't- I don't not believe you," she says softly, offering him a small smile, like it's some kind of consolation prize or something.

His fiancé doesn't not believe that they're engaged.

Awesome.

"Great."

She comes a little closer, and it hurts the way she touches his arm gently, like touching him didn't come as second nature to her. he barely moves, barely acknowledges her gesture because he gets the feeling that he knows what's coming next.

"But that- that doesn't change the fact that I'm married Finn," she continues gently. "Or that- that I have this whole life I just- just left."

She looks at him almost pleadingly, and he hears her. He hears everything the doctors have been telling him. He even listened to his mom when she told him that he needs to be careful. But listening and understanding is different from accepting, really. Because she's still here, and she speaks and looks and sounds like Rachel, and Rachel can't forget him, right? She could never forget him. Her hand is still carefully holding his arm, and without thinking, he grabs it in his, looking down at her earnestly.

"Are you sure? No, no hear me out," he continues hastily as she starts to speak. "I just meant- how do you know that it's real?"

"Of course I know!" she exclaims, pulling her hand out of his grasp to gesture wildly in front of her. "It's my life! I'd remember something like that."

"Like you remember me?" he asks bitterly.

"Finn-"

"Forget it," he tells her quietly, turning away from the pity he sees on her face. With everything that's been going on, Rachel feeling sorry for him is the last thing he needs. The room is deathly quiet, tense as neither of them move.

"I need to know what happened Finn," she says at last. "I need to talk to Jesse."

Xxx

"Dr. Elliot tells me she's doing well," Dr. Wyatt says the moment he steps into the office.

"Yeah?" he responds half-heartedly as he sits down.

"She's alert, less confused it seems."

He nods. Dr. Wyatt's really not that bad, Finn figures, for someone who obviously spends more of his time doing anything other than interact with other people anyway.

"So what do we do?" he asks.

"I'd like for you to take note that Dr. Elliot is our most senior psychiatrist."

"Yes. You told me that."

"Well then, it's of her professional opinion that Miss Bery is of sound mind to make her own choices."

He says his words carefully, but that doesn't stop Finn from flinching in his seat.

"What about you? What do you think?"

"Well, physically speaking, she's healthy, except for the casualties she received from her accident. Other than that I have no opinion."

"That's your way of telling me I have to do what she wants, isn't it?"

"That's my way of telling you I have no opinion."

Xxx

He crushes the piece of paper in his hand for the tenth time as his other holds his phone.

He can't believe he's really doing this.

He hates her just a little for making him do this.

But he loves her too much not to do it anyway.

Opening his fist, he dials the number and presses the talk button quickly before he could change his mind.

He holds his breath, tapping his foot nervously as he waits for an answer, hoping like hell that nobody will.

Somebody picks up the receiver and he shuts his eyes in resignation.

This is it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Jesse? Jesse St. James?"

"Yes, that's me."

"My name is Finn Hudson. I'm calling to ask if you know someone called Rachel? Rachel Be- Corcoran. Rachel Corcoran."

He hears a quiet intake of breath, and the sinking feeling in his heart makes its way to the bottom of his stomach.

"I haven't heard that name in years."


A/N: Feedback is much appreciated, especially after this chapter =P