A/N: Well this chapter took longer than expected. And yet there is still one more to go, so look out for that, and also an eilogue for this one soon-ish. Thanks for reading!
I do believe it's true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
By the time he catches up to her, he finds Rachel kneeling on the floor of their kitchen, picking a sleepy Star up from her basket.
"Rachel," he starts. He's not entirely sure what comes after that though, and so he says nothing as she stands, cradling the sleeping animal in her arms.
"Goodnight Finn," she tells him quietly, sending him a smile that never reaches her eyes. He wants to tell her to wait, but his feet are rooted to the ground and he's frozen both by utter confusion and the sinking feeling that maybe he made a mistake. She stands, waiting for him for maybe five seconds, before she sends him another small smile and makes her way to her room.
"Goodnight," he says dumbly as he hears the click of the lock.
Xxx
He wakes up to silence, and it weirds him out when he's gotten used to seeing her smile first thing in the morning with Star curled up on his belly. But both Rachel and Star are nowhere to be found, and his gaze move towards the ominously closed door of her room.
He sits up, scratching the back of his head as he sighs, and his eye catches the plate of French toast on the counter.
He hates that she's avoiding him.
Xxx
He loiters around the living room until noon, hoping to see her face peeking out of her room. He hears Star mewling restlessly from the other side and Rachel shushing her.
He gives up at one.
"I'm going out for a while," he tells her through the door, feeling just a little irritated when she doesn't answer.
He leaves, because she needs to get out of there some time.
Xxx
He doesn't know what to do, because what does it mean when she's being this quiet? Is she pissed at him? Or does she like, feel bad for him for humiliating himself that night? He doesn't know her enough to know what to do, and so he does nothing.
Xxx
It lasts for three days, the sinking feeling in his chest growing heavier every time she looks away from him.
Complete silence has turned into communication on a need-to-know basis. On Sunday she told him that she was going for a walk, taking Star, who looked like she'd rather be doing anything other than leave the apartment. She came home with a bag of takeout in one hand and Star in the other, and dinner had been a silent affair, safe for Star's incessant mewling.
She didn't even say anything when he slipped the cat a piece of his chicken.
By Monday he's becoming restless. Clearly, he needs to do something.
"I-" he says hesitantly when they're cleaning up, looking at anywhere but her. "I'm sorry, for you know, kissing you."
She doesn't say a word, but she freezes. He looks helplessly down at the cat, who's looking up at him, shrugging when she cocks her head to the left, as if asking him what next.
"You're sorry?" she finally asks, slowly turning away from the sink to look at him.
"I-" he stops at the unreadable look on her face. "Aren't you?"
She says nothing, but her face changes for a split second before she nods at him, turning back towards the sink.
"Okay," she says.
"Rachel."
"It's fine. You're sorry. Okay."
"No-"
"It's fine, Finn. Okay? I get it. You got carried away, and- and you were probably- you were thinking about her-"
"What?" he cuts in, confused as she rambles on, holding the same plate she's been holding for three minutes under the running water. "Who?"
Her shoulder hitches upwards as she takes a deep breath. She turns off the tap, finally placing the spotless plate with the rest of the clean utensils before she turns around, barely concealed conflict gracing her features.
"Rachel," she finally says in a quiet voice.
Santana's words hit him like a lightning bolt, and for the first time in three days, he finally gets it.
Her arms are wrapped around her like she's trying to protect herself as she looks at him, and he takes a tentative step forward.
"I kissed you," he tells her. She rolls her eyes impatiently at him as he takes another step towards her.
"Yes, Finn. I know-"
"No. I kissed you."
"Finn-"
"Are you sorry?"
"What?"
"Are you sorry? That I kissed you." he asks again quietly when he finally reaches her. She's leaning back against the sink, her eyes wide as he towers over her. She shakes her head imperceptibly. He smiles, the weight in his chest lifting for a second before she speaks up again.
"I'm not sorry," she tells him, her voice quivering. He leans forward, one hand tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. His heart is racing.
"Good," he whispers. He leans closer, close enough to kiss her again when she looks up, alarmed.
"No," she says, pushing him away. "No this is- this is crazy."
"Rachel-" he starts, surprised as she slips away from him, pacing the length of the kitchen.
"You don't want me," she mutters, shaking her head. "It's not- it's not real."
"Rachel what are you talking about? Of course I want you-"
"Do you know what it feels like?" she asks, ignoring him as she looks up, her eyes glassy as she finally stops in front of him. "What it felt like to kiss me? Because- because it was amazing Finn. Kissing you felt perfect, and- and wonderful. No you don't get it!" she exclaims when he starts to reach forward again, a smile growing on his face. "You've- you've felt this before."
"Rachel-"
"Were you- were you thinking of her?" she asks quietly.
"I was thinking of you," he tells her earnestly. She looks up at him through her lashes, a pained expression on her face.
"Which me?" she whispers. It catches him off guard, the question and the almost resigned way that she asks them.
"I-"
"It didn't feel new to you. It didn't feel- it wasn't something you never felt before."
"It felt perfect," he tells her quietly. She looks up at him, distressed, and he stops himself from comforting her, because it feels like she'll only shrink away from his touch.
"I can't stop thinking about it," she whispers. "I can't stop thinking about how you've felt this before, with her. And I'm just this replacement-"
"That's not true-"
"And it's crazy Finn, this whole thing is crazy, because I'm jealous, because- because I knew you were thinking of her, and she's- she's me. But I'm not her."
"Rachel." He calls her name forcefully, grabbing her by the shoulders to keep her still. She stops moving, standing still as she looks up at him, waiting. He can't. He can't say anything.
"How do I know this is real?" she whispers, her gaze searching. He wrecks his brain for something to say, trying to find the right words to explain. But how is he supposed to explain something he barely understands himself?
"What do you want me to say?" he finally asks, his tone hinging on desperation. "What can- what can I do? Just- just tell me and I'll do it."
She stares up at him, and it feels like they're staying that way forever, before she finally looks away, gently pulling away from his grasp.
"Nothing," she tells him, her voice subdued. "There's nothing you can do. You're still in love with her. And I can't compete with that."
Xxx
She leaves again.
He doesn't try to stop her this time.
Xxx
Santana calls him up to explain in various different ways just how stupid she thinks he is.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"It's- it's complicated San."
"Fuck that. There is fucking feline DNA all over my leather couch just because you morons can't figure out your stupid love lives without yanking me along with you. And there is also a tiny lump of crying mess on my bed right now-"
"Is she okay?" he asks, worried.
"Sure, if getting snot all over my sheets is your definition of okay," she answers sarcastically.
"I don't know what to do," he tells her quietly. He listens to her very loud, very exaggerated sigh of annoyance.
"Forty eight hours. That is about the limit of all my good deeds Hudson. Forty eight hours and I'm hauling the mutt and Berry's asses back to your dump, so I suggest you figure it the hell out now."
Xxx
He's nowhere closer to figuring anything out the next morning, and bickering ten year olds are no help at all.
One of his kids catches a bad virus and barely five minutes in, he's stretching himself thin between trying to comfort the crying boy (whether from the pain or from the humiliation of puking his guts out in front of the entire class he can't be sure), and trying to tamper down the other children, clearly disturbed by the sight of their chewed up lunch, and then some, all over his desk.
Half the class is absent the next day.
He should have known that he'd be next.
Xxx
He moans incoherently as he pushes the comforter away from his overheating body. It is so fucking hot, so why the hell is he still shivering?
It's like he's melting or something, his body feels slick with sweat and he can't smell a damn thing and this must be what the depths of hell feels like, the perpetually uncontrollable shivering included. Blindly reaching for his bedside table, he swallows the last of his Ibuprofen before leaning on his side in a fetal position, his pathetic attempt to stop his body from shaking.
The world spins in front of him every single time he tries to open his eyes and he barely made it through his phone call to the school.
Shit, what kind of zombie virus is this?
Xxx
He's stuck in the land between waking and dreaming, but he figures he'll still make it. Yeah, sure, he did just see a T-Rex parading around in a pink tutu in front of his bed, but the important thing was to be aware that he's hallucinating, right? But just to be safe, he keeps his eyes closed.
"Finn?"
Great, now he's hearing voices. He moans again, not even bothering to turn his sweat-drenched body into a more comfortable position. It's absolutely pointless anyway, because there is no comfort to be found anywhere.
"Finn?" His brows furrow and he winces from the blinding pain that small action inflicts on his forehead. Somewhere in the back of his heavily medicated and virus-addled brain, he makes out the sound of her voice. He tries to call her name, but what comes out is another incoherent groan. Vaguely, he hears the creak of the bedroom door before he feels a cool hand on his forehead.
"Finn, you're burning up." Her voice is worried, alarmed. She says her words softly, probably, but it still feels like someone just crashed a pair of cymbals together right next to his eardrums.
"Sorry," she whispers when he grimaces. Her hand moves from his forehead to the curve of his jaw, and the coolness soothes him.
"Rachel," he finally mumbles, his voice hoarse and barely there.
"Ssh. Don't talk. You need to rest."
"Don't leave," he mutters when the cool relief of her touch disappears.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Xxx
He goes in and out of fitful sleep, and by the tenth time he opens his eyes, he's convinced that she must be real as she presses a cool compressor to his head.
He missed her.
"I miss you," he mumbles, eyes still closed.
"I'm right here," she promises, her voice calming him. He forces his eyes open and vaguely makes out the outline of her face. He believes her.
"Where'd you go?" he asks. She looks like she might be confused, and he tries his best to clarify. "Where'd you go Rach?"
"I-"
"You're not s'posed to leave me y'know," he mumbles, closing his eyes again because keeping them open hurts his head. "How're we gonna get married if you leave me?"
"Finn,"
"Promise you won't go away anymore," he mumbles, frowning. He can't think straight, but he's pretty sure that this is important.
"Finn-"
"Promise me Rach!" He winces, the loud sound of his own voice causing a sharp pain in his head.
"You need to rest," she answers softly.
"Not until you promise me."
She doesn't say anything for a long time, or maybe it just feels long 'cause he's feeling like crap. He thinks maybe he's fallen asleep and didn't hear her. Her fingers run softly through his matted hair and he leans involuntarily into her touch.
"I promise."
Xxx
She's still there when he wakes up again, and he thinks maybe this zombie virus won't kill him after all.
She's sitting at the edge of the bed and he frowns, wondering why she's so far away. It hits him that she probably won't want to get to close and catch his virus. Rachel hates getting sick, since she's always terrified at the thought of anything damaging her vocal chords.
"You don't have to stay here," he croaks out. She looks up and smiles at him.
"You're up," she says warmly. "How are you feeling?"
He grimaces.
"I think the zombies are trying to kill me really slowly."
"What?"
Why does she sound so amused? This is totally serious.
"You shouldn't be here," he tells her instead. "You might catch it and then they'll get you too."
"The zombies?"
"Yeah, well maybe you could be a cute zombie," he rambles on, barely aware of what he's saying. "Like the first singing zombie or something."
"Singing zombie, huh?"
"I think that's what they're trying to get you for."
"To sing?"
He tries to nod, but that hurts too much.
"Yeah. It makes sense right?"
"Completely."
"Don't you have rehearsals today?" he asks, the exhaustion overtaking him again.
"No," she says in a quiet tone. "Not today."
"Kay. Hey Rach?" he mumbles, eyes half-closed. "Will you sing something for me?"
"Finn-"
"Please baby? I feel like crap."
"I might not be very good," she tells him hesitantly in a small voice. He scoffs at that because c'mon. He's sick, but he's not that sick.
"Rachel, you have the most amazing voice I've ever heard in my life."
"What do you want me to sing?" she finally asks after he almost falls asleep again.
"Anything," he mumbles. "I just want to listen to you."
It's quiet in his room, and he wonders if maybe the zombie virus is messing with his hearing, until he hears the hum of her voice. Instantly, he feels himself comforted. It feels like he hasn't heard it for years, even though he's pretty sure he must have and not remembered.
Rachel never goes a day without singing.
She sings a lullaby, he can't remember what it is now but it's a children's song his mom used to sing to him all the time, something about sunshine and happiness. He feels the warmth of her fingers against his cheek as she lulls him into a peaceful sleep.
Xxx
His fever breaks after 48 hours.
He wakes up a little disoriented when he feels a warm pressure on his chest, and opens his eyes to find himself eye to eye with a white furry face.
"Hey Buddy," he whispers, reaching out to pat Star on the head as she mewls softly. He hears a loud gasp coming from the door and looks up to find Rachel frowning as she hurries over to him to pick the cat up.
"Star I told you not to disturb Finn when he's trying to rest," she admonishes, holding it up to face her. Star answers with another mewl and he grins.
"I don't mind," he says from the bed. She turns to look at him and shakes her head.
"Regardless. She should know better than that."
"You're back," he says softly, ignoring her rant. She turns to him in surprise before she smiles.
"I am."
"Are you staying?" he asks carefully. He vaguely remembers her being around for the last two days. He remembers her voice, soft and clear as she sang to him. She holds Star close to her, hugging the small animal to her chest as she looks at him, her face unreadable.
"I want to," she answers quietly before she offers him a small smile.
He feels great, better than he has for days actually.
He's attributing a lot of that to the woman in front of him now.
"Then stay."
Xxx
He's got another day left on his sick leave, and he spends nearly the first half of that morning arguing with Rachel on who should get the bedroom. In the end she wins because she's adamant not to let him move from the bed, and no matter how much he tells her that he's well enough to move around, she stubbornly refuses to let him.
She spends her time fussing over every little thing and he tries hard not to take too much advantage of it. But it's a little hard when all he wants to do is pull her into bed and let her coddle him to her heart's content. She makes him a batch of her 'foolproof' chicken soup, and he refrains himself from telling her that it still tastes the way it used to.
"Thanks," he tells her with a smile a little later in the evening as he watches her carry in his dinner, precariously trying to avoid Star, who's hot on her heels. She smiles at him warmly as she sets it down next to his bedside table. He shifts a little to make room for her to sit.
"No problem," she tells him. "I- well I've always liked taking care of people, but I guess I never had that many people to look after. Jesse was always too independent for that and-"
She stops hesitantly until he places an encouraging hand over hers, currently resting on her lap. She smiles at him.
"Well, ever since my mom passed away I guess I didn't really have anyone to look after."
"I'm sorry," he tells her earnestly. She shrugs, as she shakes her head, leaning forward to grab the bowl. He wants to know more, wants to tell her to keep talking and stop holding back, but she's already holding a spoon up to his mouth and he refrains.
The faraway look in her eyes doesn't go away.
"Are you okay?" he finally asks.
"I'm fine," she tells him. He wants to tell her that 'fine' is not that look on her face, but he doesn't. He shrugs instead, because he's starting to learn who Rachel Corcoran is, and he gets the feeling that biding his time is the best way to get her to open up.
Sure enough, five spoonfuls later she stops again, leaving the spoon in its bowl as she turns towards him, her expression pensive.
"What?" he asks softly.
"I was going to name her Shelby," she tells him quietly, looking down at her hands like they're the most interesting thing in the world. "My- my little girl."
"Rachel-"
"She was going to be perfect, you know? My perfect thing. I was- I mean Jesse never really wanted her, I don't think. He didn't not want her," she says hastily when his eyebrows start to crease. "I just meant that, we were so young, and he had plans, and anyone could see how a baby would be a wrench thrown into it, but he- he stepped up anyway, you know? I was prepared to raise her all by myself regardless and- anyway," she stops, shaking her head.
"I was determined that I was going to be the best mom ever. She was going to be happy and perfect and beautiful and- and I was going to let all her dreams come true. I was- I wanted to call her Shelby after my mother, but- but I guess I was never meant to be one. Maybe- maybe she knew I'd be a bad mom-"
"That's not true," he interrupts forcefully, leaning forward to wipe away a stray tear. She shakes her head, allowing him to pull her closer.
"I knew something was wrong," she whispers as she leans back to rest her head on his chest. "From the moment I woke up. She- she wasn't kicking, and she was real quiet. Jesse told me I was being paranoid. But when- when it's been hours and she was still so quiet, I demanded him to take me to the hospital. I-"
"Sssh," he whispers as she starts to cry, turning her body to bury her face in his chest, her arms circling around his waist, fingers curling into his shirt. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
He shifts further towards the middle of the bed, pulling her with him. She holds him tighter, her body shaking. He presses a kiss on the top of her head without thinking.
"I had her for seven months," she says, her words muffled against his shirt. "And then she was gone. I never even got to see her. Jesse wouldn't let me see her. They- they took her out and when I woke up she was gone."
"I'm so sorry baby," he whispers. She shakes her head, pulling away to wipe her face.
"It's been years," she says, laughing humourlessly. "I really should get over this. It's part of the reason my marriage didn't work out, among other things."
"You loved her," he says. "When someone you love leaves you, it's not just something you get over."
The look she gives him is scrutinizing.
"No?" she whispers. He feels the shift in the atmosphere acutely as he sees her start to pull back.
"Rachel-"
"I don't sing," she says suddenly.
"I know you don't-"
"But I used to, a lot, when I was pregnant. I read somewhere, that it helps, you know, build a connection between you and your baby. My mom hated it when I sang. She was- she wanted me to be practical, because big dreams get you nowhere and she was living proof of that. She didn't want me to be disappointed, so she did everything she could to shield me from it. I listened to her because I wanted to make her happy, but that didn't really work out. I- I sang to my baby, because I thought that would make her happy, but- but that didn't work out either."
"Rachel-"
"I- I sang to you because-"
Her body is trembling as she hiccups, tears filling her eyes.
"Because- because what, Rachel?" he asks carefully, slowly inching forwards, not wanting to scare her off. She shakes her head when he wraps his fingers around one wrist, looking up at him with a look of despair on her face.
"Because I love you," she tells him, pulling her hand away and standing abruptly. He doesn't get to say anything, because she chooses to leave, swiftly walking out the door, leaving him bewildered.
Xxx
It takes him about thirty seconds to find his bearings and jump out of bed to follow her, ignoring the vertigo that comes with two days of nothing but sleep and medicine.
"Rachel," he calls out loud, marching up towards his door to tear it open. His eyes scan the room to find her gone.
"Rachel," he calls out again, louder this time as he knocks on the bathroom door. He pushes it open to find it empty. He shakes his head, feeling his heart beating furiously as he tries to think of where she could go. He doesn't know, but this doesn't get to end here, not if he has anything to say about it. He turns in determination as he heads towards the door, ignoring his jacket and the cat on his heels.
"Finn."
He turns around just as his hand is twisting the doorknob. She stands just under the doorway of the guest room, her face unreadable. He stalks over to her.
"You don't get to do that," he tells her angrily. "You don't get to tell me you love me and then leave me just like that."
"I don't-"
"No, you don't get to talk. It's my turn."
"Fine," she answers, sighing as she folds her arms across her chest. "What do you want to say?"
"I love you," he tells her firmly. Her eyes widen before she shakes her head again.
"No shut up," he snaps when she opens her mouth to speak. "Don't talk to me like I don't know how I feel. I know how I feel. I love you Rachel. You. And- and you think you're not, but you are. You are her, because she's you. I- I know this doesn't make sense, okay? None of this makes any sense, but if you think all I'm doing is holding on to the past than you're just stupid or crazy, or maybe both. But you know what?" he asks, holding out a hand to stop her from butting in again.
"It doesn't even matter, because I love you anyway. Every single part of you, the parts that you can remember and the parts that you can't, because they're all you. I don't- I don't love you because you used to be someone else, okay? I love that you cry every single time some cute animal comes on tv just like I used to love that you cried every single time you sang a solo. I- I love that you've only been to one school dance and it scarred you for life, but you went with me anyway, and you- you danced with me and never complained once about how terrible I was because it's just like you not to complain anything. And- and I love how you care, how you put so much effort into loving a cat, and- and Santana. And me. I love you with or without a past, with or without a Jesse St. James, with or without a baby. I love that you trust me, that you ran away, and you ran to me. Can't you see that that means something? Can't you see that we're supposed to be together?"
His hands are on her shoulders, his chest heaving. He clamps his hands tightly on either side of her as she cries.
"But I'm not-"
"You are," he answers forcefully. "You are her. I fell in love with a woman who believed in me, who- who thought so much of some lame school teacher like me, who nobody ever really thought much of-"
"You're a great teacher-"
"Just- just as much as I thought of her crazy Broadway dreams. Just as much as I think of you now," he finishes in a quieter tone.
Somewhere in between marching up to her and saying all he did, her hands have found their way to rest on his chest, and he knows by the way she presses into it, that she can feel exactly how hard his heart beats for her.
"You think of me?" she whispers as she looks up, her eyes bloodshot, dried tears staining her face. He shakes his head wryly, pulling her closer by the shoulders, wiping her tears away with his thumb.
"You're all I think about," he confesses. "I don't even care how pathetic that sounds."
She lets out a sound between a sob and a laugh as she leans closer, wrapping both arms around his waist.
"I- I love you," she whispers against his chest
"I love you too," he whispers back, tightening his hold on her as she sighs. He feels himself relaxing, finslly, for the first time in months. "Just promise me one thing."
"What's that?"
"Promise me you'll stop running."
She pulls away to look up at him, her puffy eyes conveying a million things he's starting to remember.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Xxx
He turns on his side cautiously, holding his breath. He's not sure if this is real. Maybe he's still sick. Maybe everything that just happened was borne out of his sick and delirious mind. But he still remembers the feel of her kiss, the way his fingers threaded through her soft hair when she had pulled him even closer, for once being the one who took things further.
He's pretty sure that really happened.
He reaches forward, his hand resting on the curve of her shoulder. She doesn't move as she sleeps on, and he slowly runs his hand down her arms, dipping into the curve of her waist to come to a rest on her hip. He shifts closer, and she sighs as she turns around to face him, her eyes still closed. He freezes as one leg moves to wrap itself around his.
He smiles, feeling her even breathing against his face.
This is real.
So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you're the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere
Lyrics to Soul Meets Body by Deah Cab for Cutie
