A/N: I realize that I'm losing the ability to string coherent words together. In other words, writer's block. Again.


"He learned to live with the truth. Not to accept it, but to live with it."

-Nicole Krauss, The History of Love


"I can't believe you're doing this."

"Santana," he starts tiredly, ignoring the pointed look on her face as he leans back against the plastic seat of the cafeteria. "Drop it."

"I'm just saying," she answers, shrugging her shoulders in her attempt to be nonchalant. "I don't understand why you're doing this in the first place."

"It's what she wants. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You could not call the douchebag," Santana says dryly.

"San, we don't even know him."

"Oh please Stretch. Don't pretend for one second that you don't already hate his guts."

"Okay fine," he concedes,"I do, okay? I hate everything about this dude that I've never met, and even if he turns out to be the nicest guy in the world, I'll probably still hate him." She nods her head approvingly at this and he shakes his head. She still doesn't get it. What he feels is irrelevant. "But what does it matter?"

"It matters, because you could be using this time to convince her-"

"Convince her to do what?" he cuts in angrily, trying to contain his anger to keep himself from kicking over the chair next to him. "To remember me? That can't happen, apparently that's close to impossible. To like me? God forbid she spends even five seconds to talk to me about something else other than getting out of this place and getting on with her life. To love me? Because she doesn't even know me. She doesn't want me, alright? She wants Jesse."

Blood is pumping rapidly in his veins, and he can feel the strain of the knot on his forehead. He doesn't even realize the volume of his own voice until he looks up to find the people around them trying their best to avert their gazes. Santana is quiet as she shakes her head at his words.

"She doesn't know what she wants."

Finn opens his mouth to retort, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees him.

He doesn't know exactly how he knows. Maybe it's in the way the perfectly coifed blonde head turns incessantly as he walks through the door, looking for someone. Maybe it's the way he looks ridiculously overdressed, because who wears a fancy jacket to a hospital, anyway? Maybe it's just the intense dislike that he's inexplicably feeling right now. Whatever it is, he just does.

It's Jesse St. James.

He turns to look at Santana, who in turn is looking curiously back at him.

"Well," he says quietly. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Xxx

Santana sits next to him, glaring daggers at the oblivious man before him. Jesse looks like he has trouble actually believing that all of this is happening, and Finn couldn't really blame the guy. Life still feels like he took one loopy trip down the twilight zone, and he's just going through the motions. Finn has to hand it to the guy though, a lesser man would have been dust by now under the nothing but hostile glare Santana has been shooting him the moment he arrived.

"So," Jesse starts, his eyes wide. "So you're telling me that Rachel is really here? My Rachel?"

The vein that had been throbbing in his forehead feels like it's about to burst as Finn grips the bottom of his chair to stop himself from doing something stupid. Like beat the shit out of the guy's pretty face until he takes those words back.

"I guess so," he says levelly instead. Jesse lets out a slow whistle, shaking his head.

"Well I'll be damned. This is crazy."

"She's not, just so you know," Finn says quickly, his voice terse. "Rachel, I mean. She's not crazy."

"No, I suppose not," Jesse murmurs thoughtfully. "I saw Dr. Wyatt earlier. He's explained things. It's all very dramatic, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just... This whole situation. Thinking she's dead, and all the while she's just two hours away, living another life completely. It's the stuff soap operas are made of. She used to love those."

"This isn't a movie," Finn says, frowning. "It's real."

"Yes, obviously, I know that it is. I'm just saying-"

"Why didn't you look for her?" Finn cuts in, asking the first question that had popped up in his head the second he was calm enough to think properly. "I mean, you're her husband-"

"Was, her husband. And I- we all thought she had died. We found her car submerged at the bottom of the river Finn, and we couldn't find her anywhere. It was the most natural assumption."

"Yeah, but you never found her body. Why-"

"We looked for almost a month. At some point, it was just kinder on all of us to let it go."

"It wasn't kind to her," he answers tersely. Jesse looks at him grimly, staring him down. The man looks away when he realises he won't win, chuckling humourlessly.

"I won't feel guilty for something out of my control, Finn. It's easier to think that you'll be that noble when it didn't happen to you."

"It's not about being noble," he says impatiently. "It's about doing all that you can for the person you love. I wouldn't have left her the way you did because I love her too much to let her go like that."

Jesse's jaw locks at his words, but Finn's not about to back down.

"How romantic of you," the other man sneers. "Too bad you're not the one she's married to. I am."

"Was." They both look away from each other, turning to Santana who smiles acidly at the man in front of her. "Wasn't that what you said, or is all that gel in your hair messing with your brain?"

Finn almost smiles at that, but he places a hand on her thigh under the table instead. This is his battle. Jesse, on the other hand, looks affronted for about five seconds before he shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

"I don't believe it's necessary for me to receive your verbal insults any longer. Obviously, none of you know my wife all that well, because you would have realized that finding Rachel dead wouldn't really have been all that surprising, she was already halfway there anyway. But oh wait, neither of you know her, not really. Because she hadn't been herself had she?"

Finn ignores the comeback, his attention focused on Jesse's earlier words.

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "What do you mean halfway there?"

Jesse shoots him a superior look.

"That's none of your business Hudson. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll pay my estranged wife a visit."

He moves to stand, but Finn's grip on his wrist stops him.

"Let me go."

"Tell me what you meant."

"That's a private matter between us-"

"I make it my business to know everything about my fiancé Jesse."

"Ah," Jesse sighs mockingly, pulling his hand forcefully out of Finn's grasp. "Therein lays your tragedy Hudson. She's not your fiancé anymore."

He's never felt such blinding hatred for anyone in his life the way he's feeling it right now as he watches the man walk away, his hands gripping the table in a half stand.

"He's a fucking asshole," Santana spits out. He doesn't think they've ever agreed on anything more.

Xxx

Jesse's been in her room for hours. He's been loitering just outside the door for the last two. The nurses are all looking at him funny, but he ignores them. He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't understand how someone like Rachel could have ever chosen to be with someone like that douchebag, no matter what she was like. Who knows what they're talking about in there? What if they're talking about that thing Jesse said, about Rachel being halfway close to death. What the hell was that supposed to mean anyway?

He can't take the waiting anymore.

Taking a deep breath, he hesitates for just a second before he knocks swiftly on the door. He enters before she says he can.

His breath catches in his throat when he sees her holding his hand.

She lets go immediately when she sees him, but he can't seem to get that image out of his head.

"Finn!" she calls out, surprised. She smiles at him, the usual friendly smile he's been on the receiving end of these days. She looks at Jesse and her smile changes, and it kills him just a little, because he knows that smile. He misses that smile. "Finn, this is Jesse-"

"I know," he says, his voice tense.

"We've met," Jesse tells her, smiling. He nods at Finn, and it was all that he could do not to sock him in the jaw.

"Oh," she answers, looking between them uncomfortably. "You didn't tell me that."

"It was just for a second, right Finn?"

"Hmm."

"I should get going Rachel."

"Already?" she asks, disappointed.

"Yeah, but what we talked about-"

"I know," she answers, smiling. Jesse stands from the chair he was sitting on, and Finn grips the side of his jeans tightly, he does that a lot these days, as the man leans over to kiss her cheek.

"I still can't believe it's you," Jesse whispers as he pulls away.

"Everything about this is hard to believe," she tells him ruefully. Finn reciprocates a stiff nod when Jesse acknowledges him as he leaves. He hears the click of the door and turns to find her staring at it. He grits his teeth in an effort to keep his temper down.

Rachel turns to smile at him, and he forces himself to calm down.

"So what did you talk about?" he asks, trying to be nonchalant.

"Just... stuff." She answers vaguely, refusing to look at him.

"You should know that your secrecy is killing me," he tells her honestly, unable to hold himself back any longer. She looks up at him, and he tries to ignore the trace of sadness on her face.

"Finn-"

"I don't like him."

"He's my husband."

"He's an asshole."

"Finn Hudson!" She looks outraged as makes a move to stand, but so what? He is too.

"He's a jerk Rachel! Did you know he stopped looking for you after a month? A month? What the hell is that-"

"You don't know anything-"

"I don't need to, to know that when your wife goes missing, you try like hell to find her!" He knows he hit a nerve because she flinches at this, but he pushes the guilt away because he knows what she's going to do.

She's going to leave him. She's going to leave him to go back with that jackass, back to her old life, and he can't let her do that. He won't let her do that.

"He thought I was dead-"

"That's not an excuse! Hell Rachel, you barely know I exist, but I'm still here, aren't I? This is what you do for the people you love. You wait for them. You- you look for them when they go missing, you- you find them-"

"I'm not missing Finn!" she yells, cutting him off. There are tears in her eyes as she looks at him, and it takes him about a second to realize that everything's blurry because they're in his too. "Don't you get that? I'm not missing."

Her voice trembles as she speaks, her tone soft as if that will sooth the blow of her words.

"You can't- you can't find me, because this," she points to herself, her words barely audible from her tears. He can barely see her, he's trying so hard to just not- he doesn't want this conversation. But he can't look away from her. "This is who I am. That woman you love so, so much, she's not coming back, okay? She's gone, and she'll never come back and she took all your memories with her, and I don't have anything. I have nothing to give you. You can wait all you want, but she's never coming back, and you! You keep making me hope that she will-"

"Rachel-"

"You keep making me think that if I just try hard enough I will, but I don't. I can't. And I'm tired of trying for something that will never happen, because it hurts!"

She sags against the bed and he rushes closer, holding an arm out to steady her as she sobs. He pulls her towards him, and she doesn't fight it this time as she presses herself closer to his chest. It's weird how his heart hurts so much, every single word she says feels like a gunshot straight through his chest, but her presence, the way her fingers curl into his waist and the warmth of her body presses against his is a source of comfort, an anchor that keeps him from completely losing it.

"Ssh," he whispers, rubbing circles against her back as a shuddering sob rips through her. She can't seem to stop shaking as she breaks down in his arms, like she's finally allowing the entirety of the situation to weigh down on her. The weight is heavy, but he's prepared to weather it with her. He always has been.

"I-" she hiccups, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I can't-"

"Ssh baby, it's okay. Just- I'm here, okay? I'm right here," he whispers furiously against the top of her head, hugging her as tight as he possibly can. She shakes her head against his chest, but she doesn't let go, and he doesn't either.

His heart still hurts, but it's cathartic as he cries with her, his frustrations ebbing away with his tears.

Xxx

They find themselves on the floor, exhausted as they quietly breathe. His shirt is still damp from her tears and his eyes feel heavy, but she's still in his arms and he'll stay this way forever just as long as she doesn't let go.

But she does.

"You need to leave," she whispers, her voice cracked and hoarse as she finally pulls away. She tenses when he swipes a thumb gently under her eye. "It's getting late."

He watches her stand, carefully pulling herself up with one hand. He doesn't try to help her, because the moment has passed, and she has that mask back on. She refuses to look at him when he stands and stretches his legs.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he tells her back quietly. He turns to walk out the door, his steps heavy as he reaches it.

"You need to forget me Finn," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Like I've forgotten you."

He shuts his eyes as his teeth clench.

She's doing this on purpose. She's hurting him to push him away, because she wants him to give up.

Because she doesn't know him yet to know that he'll never give her up.

He's not giving up.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Xxx

His head hurts.

He stares at the redness around his eyes as he looks into the mirror, his fingers gripping the edges of the sink.

He rubs his face furiously, hoping to rub away that haggard look, but it doesn't work. He still looks about as tired as he feels.

He needs a fucking drink.

"Finn?"

He groans as he hears his brother's voice screaming his name from the living room.

So much for that drink.

He steps out of the bathroom after washing his face furiously, the excess water flattening his dark brown hair against his temple.

"Hey," he says, attempting a smile at Kurt who's busily arranging takeout boxes on the dinner table.

"It's Thai food day. I got you chicken Pad Thai."

He wrinkles his nose.

"What's that?"

"The best thing you'll ever taste," Kurt says, motioning for him to sit down. He does so obediently, taking the box from Kurt's hands.

"That's what you said about Sushi. And I can still taste that raw shit in my mouth."

"Salmon is a delicacy Finn. We need to insert some class in that tongue of yours."

"I'll take my tongue classless, thanks," he mutters, frowning at the foreign... stuff in front of him.

"Just eat it," Kurt says, rolling his eyes.

What the heck. It's not like he's all that hungry anyways. He grabs a fork, stabbing a piece of chicken.

"So how was your day?" Kurt asks as he shoves a forkful of noodle into his mouth.

"Long," he says through his mouthful of food.

"How's Rachel?"

"I don't really want to talk about it when I'm trying to eat Kurt."

"Fine, fine. You know, I'd visit her myself, if you weren't so sure that she'll lose it and freak out."

"Kurt."

"Okay. Fine. We'll just sit here and eat in complete silence like a bunch of Buddhist monks."

"Thanks," Finn answers, rolling his eyes.

Kurt says nothing, but the look on his face tells Finn that he is not pleased.

"This is pretty good," he concedes, trying to make amends. His brother tries and fails to hide his smile.

"There's hope for you yet Finn Hudson."

Xxx

His eyes shift away from Kurt's thoughtful gaze down to the half empty can in his hands. Somewhere between his second beer and Kurt's first glass of wine, he's managed to spill his guts like a prisoner of war tortured for information. And all Kurt had to do was to keep plying him with those drinks. He's on his fifth, his last words hanging in the air between them.

"She wants me to let her go."

"What are you thinking?" he asks, a slight slur to his voice from the beer that's taking its toll on him.

"Nothing."

"You're thinking something. You have that look on your face."

"I'm not, it's not my place-" He snorts, rolling his eyes at Kurt's slightly disparaged look. "What look, pray tell?"

"That look when you're dying to tell me what to do, but you know it's none of your damn business."

"Oh. Well. That look."

"Uh-huh. Just spit it out."

"You won't like it," Kurt warns. He snorts, using his long leg to kick Kurt's folded neatly next to his.

"Great. Then it'll just about fit the rest of my fucking life right now. What, Kurt? Stop giving me that look. I hate that look."

Kurt sighs, putting his glass of wine carefully down on the coffee table.

"I know you love her," he starts.

"I do."

"And I know how much she loved you. You were, you were perfect together. Admittedly, she took some getting used to, but we all learned to love Rachel, you know that."

"What's your point Kurt?" he asks, tense. Kurt says nothing for the longest time, and Finn can practically see him weighing his words carefully in his head.

"That woman, the one in the hospital. She's not Rachel, Finn."

"Shut up."

"She's not the Rachel that we know-"

"Shut up Kurt!"

"You need to accept this. You need to- you need to let-"

"I swear to God Kurt, I will hit you," he warns, his hands already balling themselves into fists. Kurt stops at that. But a determined look takes over his features, and before Finn could react, he says it.

"We know you love her Finn," his brother says gently, placing a firm hand on one trembling fist. "You love her so much you'll give her anything she wanted. It's just- do you love her enough to let her go?"

The coffee table overturns, and he vaguely hears the sound of the wineglass breaking into jagged pieces. It feels like a literal slap to the face as Kurt backs away a little, alarmed.

"You don't know shit about anything," he says, his voice low with controlled fury.

"Finn-"

"Fuck you."

Xxx

He lied when he told her he'll see her the next day.

He spends the whole day holed up in his room instead, wallowing in his own misery.

He wonders if she'll notice his absence.

Xxx

He spends his second day on the floor, making a mess out of the trunk in front of their bed.

He's still not speaking to Kurt, who finally gave up his attempts at reconciliation when Finn turned down his twentieth plea for a do-over. He left almost two hours before Finn padded out into the living room, determinedly ignoring the breakfast laid out on the table as he made his coffee. He's vaguely aware that he's acting like a child, but a line had been crossed and he's still furious.

As he aimlessly flips through the scrapbook of them that Rachel had painstakingly spent two weeks making after she moved in, his fingers freeze at the fifth page to stare at a photo of them taken a few months back.

Her smile is blinding as she held on to his arm in a death grip, her eyes wide with anticipation as they stand just under the theatre sign on her first day of work. An almost smile graces his lips as he thinks of it, but reality catches up quick, and in an instant the memory leaves a dull throb in his chest.

He sees her looking up at the worn out sign of the theatre, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, eyes wide in awe. Grinning to himself, he shifts closer, nudging her playfully.

"Nervous?" he whispers as he leans down.

"For my first stage debut?" she asks, still fixated on the sign above them. "Of course not."

He chuckles as she turns to shoot him a grimace. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forces her to face him, moving his hands down her arms to gather at her waist, looping his forefingers through the belt loops of her jacket to pull her closer.

"Hey," he starts seriously, leaning down to look her in the eye. "You're going to be the best Dancer number 12 this world will ever see."

She scowls, narrowing her eyes at his straight face.

"Finn Hudson, are you making fun of me?"

"I wouldn't dare," he answers, shaking his head as he smiles. "Wouldn't want you to forget me when you become a famous celebrity. Where else am I gonna find another crazy talented hottie to mooch off of? A teacher's salary is hardly enough for the lifestyle we're planning to have you know."

Her tense face breaks into a smile as he tugs at a lock of her hair.

"You're ridiculous," she tells him affectionately, wrapping her arms around him to pull him down for a kiss.

"No," he mumbles, pulling away just an inch. "You are if you think you're going to do anything less than blow these people out of the water when they see you."

"You have a way with words Hudson," she teases, smiling as she presses herself closer to him.

"Only with you Berry,"

"You two make me sick."

They pull apart, turning to look at Santana, rolling her eyes behind them as she makes a face.

"We love you too, San," Rachel retorts sweetly.

"PDA is so passé Berry."

"Says the girl who got detained for having sex in a park."

"Wait- what?" Finn asks, wincing at the whiplash he received from turning his head too fast.

Santana shoots him a withering glance, holding up Rachel's Polaroid.

"Hurry up so I can take this stupid picture already. And don't be getting up in each other's grills while I'm snapping, or I swear I'mma burn this picture along with this camera."

"She's a little sensitive these days," Rachel whispers apologetically as she wraps her arms around his and turns to smile at the camera.

"Really?" he whispers back sarcastically. "I barely noticed, she's been such a joy all morning."

Rachel giggles as Santana snaps their picture, turning up to grin at him.

"For the record, I would never forget you, so don't you even dare entertain for one second, the thought of finding some floozy to replace me, or I will kill you myself."

Her eyes are twinkling as she says this, but he knows she's only half joking. He laughs as he shakes her hand.

"Deal."

He sighs, hesitating, before peeling the photo off the page.

Kurt's words play over and over in his mind like a song he can't seem to shake off.

Maybe he's already starting to give up before he knows it.

Xxx

He looks down at the small, white envelope in his hand as he takes a deep breath. He looks back up at the ominous door standing between them, and somehow he just knows that this is the make it or break it moment. Steeling himself, he knocks quickly before he enters.

She sits up when she sees him, her face registering surprise and something else he can't quiet decipher.

"Hi," she says, her voice soft. He wonders why she looks so bewildered. Did she think he was never coming again?

"Hi," he answers, standing awkwardly by the door.

"You haven't been around."

"Yeah. I was- I was busy."

"Oh." She hesitates, looking away before she looks back at him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Are you really?"

"Yes," she answers empathically, offering him a small smile. He returns it, her sincerity soothing his gaping wound just a little.

"Well," he says. "Here I am."

Xxx

Their small talk is starting to taper off. There's not really all that much to talk about when she hasn't been anywhere but the hospital for weeks with her memory wiped clean.

Actually, he thinks wryly, there's a hell of a whole lot to talk about. If she'd just give him a chance. They sit quietly in their positions, him on the visitor's chair, eyes locked on her movements, and her on the bed, eyes looking anywhere but at him.

"Finn," she starts softly, finally looking up. Something in her eyes is telling him that this is it. Or maybe it's in the way her voice trembles. He braces himself. "I'm going home."

"Oh," he answers stupidly when she says nothing else. It's not that he never saw this coming, because everyone with the exception of Santana has been forcing him to see it. But really, what is there to say?

"With Jesse," she clarifies. As if he doesn't already know, as if there really is something for him to say other than the same thing he's been telling her all this while, all his different variations of "don't go". "Stay".

Maybe there's one more.

"What happens if I say no?"

"Finn," she starts, and he can see that this is hard for her. "Please."

"What if I won't let you go?" he asks, clenching the envelope in his hand as she straightens up in indignation.

"I'm not yours to let go," she retorts.

Her eyes grow wide as she gasps, clasping a hand over her mouth, and even though he knows she wasn't thinking, it doesn't hurt any less.

"Finn-"

"Oh," he snickers. "Right."

"I'm sor-"

"I forgot about that. I guess you're not the only one with the bad memory."

She shakes her head, refusing to take his bait.

"I'm not getting into a fight with you."

"Why?" he challenges angrily. "Because you're afraid I'll change your mind?"

"No. Because I know you won't."

He's clenching his fists so hard, he feels his nails digging into his skin as she looks back at him. He's trying to read her, but her face is saying a million different things he just can't seem to understand.

He can't read her anymore.

Because she's not the same person.

"Well you've always been stubborn," he says, moving to stand up. He needs to leave. "That never changed."

"Finn-"

"I guess this is goodbye."

"Finn-"

He thrusts the envelope into her hand before he has the time to think, talking quickly and saying the first words that come to him because he just can't afford to stop and think anything right now.

"This is for you. I don't even know why I brought this here, really. Maybe I just thought that if you could- you could see us, you'll see things my way, but I guess that's pointless now-"

"Finn-"

"It's a picture, by the way. You can do whatever you want with it. Keep it, burn it, it doesn't matter it's yours."

His words run over one another as he steps back, turning away from her quickly, his steps controlled and calculated as he makes his way to the door, trying his best to hold himself together, trying to stop his body from shaking too much, his heart from breaking too hopelessly.

"I leave in three days," she speaks up and he freezes. He hears the slight desperation in her voice, but he doesn't turn around. "Will you- Will I see you before I leave?"

"I think you can spare me that heartache," he answers bitterly, closing his eyes. "Can't you, Rachel?"

"I- Of- of course," she stammers. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

He can't turn around. He can't have his last memory of Rachel Berry be that she felt sorry for him. He doesn't think he can take her feeling sorry for him.

"I hope you have a good life Rachel," he whispers. He thinks he hears her whispering an apology, but that's the last thing he needs. He ignores the rustling he hears behind him, his hand reaching out for the door.

"Finn."

He stops, frozen.

"Was I-" her voice is small as she hesitates. "Did I make you happy?"

He lets out a shaky breath, hating her just a little because she can't seem to let him leave this room with his emotions intact.

His step falters as he turns. She's staring meaningfully at him from across the room, like his answer is the most important thing in the world. Her eyes are glassy as she holds on tightly to the photo in her hands.

It hits him like million arrows to the heart that this will probably be the last time he sees her.

He hates her.

He hates her for forgetting him.

He hates her for not remembering, for not trusting someone she thinks is a complete stranger, because that someone is him and she's supposed to trust him.

He hates her for taking away his home, because that's what she is.

But mostly, mostly he hates her because she made him love her, because he loves her so much, and he can't just walk away.

Her eyes grow wider with each determined step he takes. He's not thinking. He can't think right now.

He reaches closer, close enough to touch her.

"What are you doing?" she whispers as he towers over her.

She'll remember him, even if it's only for today, she'll remember him.

Reaching out, he grabs her by her shoulders to pull her closer as he leans down, pausing for only a millisecond to gauge her reaction.

She closes her eyes, and he dives in headfirst, tunnelling his fingers through her long hair as their lips meet.

He kisses her softly, trying to commit to memory the feel of her lips, the way her lashes brush against his skin as she stays frozen.

He pulls her closer.

Small, warm fingers wrap a fistful of his shirt, and she's pulling him in, sighing against him as she opens her mouth, reciprocating, pressing harder.

This still feels the same. She still tastes the same.

He forgets himself for a moment, forgets where they are and where they stand, when she opens her mouth, allowing him to deepen their kiss, pressing herself closer as his hand moves from the nape of her neck to the curve of her jaw.

The warmth of her tears against his cheek reels him back into reality and Finn pulls away with a gasp, breathing hard against her mouth, their foreheads still pressed together. She takes one long, shuddering breath as her fingers disentangle themselves from the death grip they had on his arm, and he releases her, stepping back completely.

He feels the pieces of his heart, held back together only a few seconds ago, start to disintegrate once again at the look on her face.

He shoots her a defeated smile, the back of his eyes burning.

"You made me the happiest," he tells her earnestly.

He turns around before she could say anything else, walking swiftly towards the door as his vision starts to blur.

He doesn't tell her he loves her.

He doesn't have to.

Xxx

The next three days go by in a blur as he returns to work. He tried not to, but he kept living in the future, kept waiting for the day she'll leave him for good.

He has absolutely no intention of being there when she finally goes, leaving his heart behind. But that doesn't mean he could ever stop thinking about it either. And when the day finally arrives, he's sitting in a bar, eyes glued to the clock as he nurses his third drink. It's five minutes past six. He wonders if she's left.

He vaguely feels someone sliding into the empty stool next to him, but his eyes still watch the clock, subconsciously counting the seconds as it moves.

"Over here, Stiffy."

He turns to find Santana eyeing the bartender with a bored look on her face. She doesn't turn to look back, but he knows she's here to find him.

"Hey San," he mumbles, his voice a little slurry.

"I thought I'd find you here. You're so boringly predictable Hudson."

"I'm not that predictable," he mumbles, sharing a commiserating look with the bartender when Santana shoots the poor kid another disdainful look. "I fell in love with a woman who can't remember me. That's not predictable at all."

Santana shakes her head, pushing her glass towards his, knocking them together.

"She left," she tells him after she downs her shot. He says nothing to that, tearing his eyes away from the clock completely. "You know, she waited for you."

"I told her I wouldn't be there."

"Yeah, well she waited for you anyway."

Her tone is a little accusing, and he tries his best to be patient. He doesn't have the energy it takes to argue.

"Well she left anyway," he answers tiredly. "She's gone back to her 'real' life, right? Back to whoever the hell she really is. Face it Santana, we were just placeholders, the replacements for the people she left."

"Screw that. I'm nobody's replacement," Santana mutters, glaring at him. He smiles wryly, shaking his head.

"No," he murmurs. "You're probably not. I guess it was just me."

She says nothing to that, and he shrugs, the right side of his lips pulling up in resignation.

"Your pity party sucks Stretch."

"You know, if you're trying to make me feel better, you're failing miserably."

"I'm not," she tells him bluntly "I won't bother trying, because what the hell could I say to make you feel better anyway? And even if I did have something, you deserve to wallow."

"Thanks, I guess."

"I came to give you something."

He looks up at her curiously. The way she can't seem to look him in the eye clues him in immediately.

He wonders how it's still possible for a heart this broken to still feel that sharp twist.

She says nothing as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket, fishing out a small velvet pouch. Placing it on the table, she pushes it towards him.

"It's called a Claddagh ring. Did you know that?"

"They're going to be my family too you know."

He feels his vision start to blur again as the memory of that night returns, and he shakes his head, refusing to cry. He tries to chuckle, but his voice comes out a little strangled as he runs a finger over the velvet fabric.

"Of course," he says, "I forgot all about this."

He picks it up, pressing it into the palm of his hand, feeling the shape of the ring through the pouch. He vaguely feels her hand on his shoulder.

"I'll see you around Finn."

Her words don't register, and he barely hears her leaving as his eyes fixate on the ring he's taken out.

She gave him back his heart.

He just wishes he knows what to do with it now.


A/N: So I lied. There's one final chapter coming.