A/N: apologies for the delay, I had visitors and then I needed to revise the flow of these next few chapters.
Much thanks for all the positive feedback! I'm so happy that you're enjoying the story.

Disclaimer: what I know about neurobiology would probably fit into a small thimble, but I've tried to make this sound plausible.

Early the next morning Finn had another series of brain scans, this time in something called a 'functional MRI' machine that was supposed to show what parts of his brain lit up when. Another doctor, a shrink, came in to ask him a lot of questions while the neurologist watched the scan results.

At first the questions were about the last few days, just since he'd come out of the coma, and this was fine; he repeated what he'd experienced, and they all seemed happy that he was laying down new memories without any difficulty. But then they started asking him questions about general events he'd forgotten (like think about performing, about winning a football game as quarterback, about graduation) and people (a long list of names, some he knew, some he'd just met, many he didn't know at all). Someone had been telling them what he had been told, he realized, though he was also asked a few other things that he didn't remember even hearing about. And many of the names: Zizes, St. James, Spencer, Jackson, Rafferty, McLeod, Evans, Motta... was he really supposed to know all those people?

"Just think about it or how it felt," the shrink advised. "Don't try to imagine it at all – it's important that you don't confuse memories and imagination. And some of the things and people we're asking about are as controls." Meanwhile the neurologist grunted at each stage. Stuck in the machine and keeping very still, Finn couldn't see his face but figured it was probably blank.

Once Finn was out of the machine, he was told that the neurologist would 'review the results' and talk to him soon, which meant nothing. The shrink stayed a little longer, repeating what he'd said before: that it was very important that he not try too hard to bring back memories to the extent that he might invent memories instead of truly remember.

"It's called confabulation, where you imagine what might have happened and merge it into your memories," the shrink said. "It's what some people who suffer from false memory syndrome do, it can create memories that feel just as real as actual ones. In your case false memories would likely get in the way of retrieving the real ones that you're not currently accessing."

"'Not currently accessing' – does that mean they're still there?" Finn grabbed onto those hopeful words.

The shrink frowned. "We can't be sure at this point. The neurologist is reviewing your scans and will talk to you later. Just don't dwell on the questions we were asking you or try to figure out what the answers should be or who those people might be."

Whole lot of nothing, as usual. Finn was shown back to his room, but immediately forgot his annoyance at the still-noncommittal doctors when he saw the surprise waiting for him. The first thing he noticed was the stack of magazines by his bed: drumming, sports, and a big thick "yearbook" issue on team profiles for MLB 2012. While baseball wasn't his favorite sport to watch, it was July, he remembered being told, immediately after the all-star game, so that's what would be on. Cool. Then he turned to the TV and saw something that made him smile even more – his xBox, sitting on a small table next to the TV on the wall, all hooked up, with a stack of games next to it. Hell yeah. If he was going to be stuck in here at least he had something to do. He flipped through some of the titles, seeing the familiar names but unfamiliar subtitles and sequel numbers. Well one thing about not remembering is even old stuff is new.

But all the scans and questions had his mind tired, even if his body wasn't, so he flopped back onto his bed and reached for his iPod. It was a newer one, but the case was a bit beat up, like it had been rattled around inside something. Still worked fine though. Playlists...hmm. Glee. Wow, that's a mixed set. Drumming, that's more like it, had that list for a while but there's new stuff on it, maybe I could work on that in a bit. Driving. Yeah, guess I've been doing that a lot now since I'm eighteen – all I remember is Mom taking me out to practice. Guess the postal service is safe now if I'm better at it. Long playlist, good stuff. New – hey, a new Rush album, like actually new not just new because I've forgotten it. Unplayed. Maybe listen to that later so I can do something really new and feel less like an idiot. He scrolled down further, and saw a succession of lists with the same name on them, Rachel. Rachel - car. Rachel - mood. Rachel - musicals. Why did he have so many of her playlists on his iPod? And finally, at the bottom, a list with a simple two-letter name: Us. The songs on it had been played a lot. It does have a lot of Classic Rock, so not so bad... Finn scrolled down the list and saw a song he felt he was in the mood for, Styx's 'The Best of Times', so he pressed play and lay back to listen. (better that than their 'Too Much Time on My Hands', he figured, too close to how he felt. But right now he'd ignore the rest of the confusing world if he could.)

Inertia being what it is, he let the list move along from one song to the next. This was his kind of relaxation music, slower 80s rock songs mostly, the sort of stuff he'd grown up with listening to along with his mom. A little 38 Special, a little REO Speedwagon, quite a lot of Journey, some Queen and some Cheap Trick...

A few songs later he heard the opening notes of 'Faithfully', one of his favorite Journey songs. But the man he heard next as the singing started wasn't Steve Perry, which piqued his curiosity. The young man's voice did sound pretty familiar though, weirdly so. A few phrases later a woman sang, powerful, emotional, sort of familiar, like he'd heard her just... yesterday... like... – Rachel? And the guy joining back in, sounding emotional too – No. Freaking. Way. He checked the listing. Shit. Because there it was, in black and white, the artist listing: Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry. He jerked his headphones off in a hurry, in shock, and stopped play. This was really freaking creepy, listening to himself singing something he didn't remember – hell, he didn't even remember sounding that good. Sure, after yesterday he kind of understood he'd been singing with Glee Club, he'd certainly believed what Puck had told him and it seemed okay, but listening to it was a different thing entirely.

And a love duet with the girl he was apparently now engaged to. Just... no. Way too spooky, like a Twilight Zone episode or something, viewing or hearing his own life without remembering it, or having to watch himself while someone else controlled what he did and who he was. That man, that voice – it wasn't him. And this was the sound of that other Finn and that girl committing themselves to each other, in that song. He hadn't done that himself, that other Finn had done it for him.

Finn decided to give the music a rest for now, and turned on his xBox. Shooting things up should help him forget the creepiness of hearing himself. And the games – hey, a new Call of Duty. Well new to him anyway. He started it up and began a new solo mission, breathing easier as he lost himself in the familiar motions, keeping watch for the enemy and blowing them away.

After several rounds of the game, Finn heard a knock at his door, and put the game on pause. "Come in," he called out.

"Hey kiddo," his mom said, coming in and over to him. "Having fun I see."

Finn smiled. "Yeah, it's great," he said. "Better than just sitting around anyway, I'm glad you got them to let me have it."

"That wasn't me," Carole admitted.

"What?" Oh. Finn exhaled. "Rachel, huh?" Everything seems to involve Rachel.

"She's trying to get you access to the exercise machines too, but she's running into the physiotherapy schedule. You found yourself a very determined young lady."

"I guess so," Finn said hesitatingly. "I wish I remembered her." Especially since she's, like, everywhere.

"Hopefully that will come, in time." Carole sat in the chair next to his bed. "Is anything more coming back?"

"Not that I can tell," Finn frowned. "Even this version of the game seems brand new." He looked thoughtful. "I'm good at it though," he said. "Better than I remember being at previous ones, I mean. And there are some places in it where I seem to know what to do even though I don't remember seeing the scenario before."

"That's good, honey. Motor skills and unconscious memories, maybe. That's really good."

Finn exhaled and smiled at his mother. "Okay then."

She smiled back at him. "I never thought the day would come where I'd want you to play more of your videogames."

Finn laughed a little. "Yeah, probably not."

A brief knock at the door drew their attention, and the neurologist came in. "Finn, Mrs. Hu-, uh, Carole," he said, nodding to them both.

"Is there news?" Carole asked, starting to look hopeful.

"Some," the doctor answered, smiling at her a little. "It's good that you're here." He turned to Finn. "Now this is just preliminary, but we do see a marked difference in some of your brain scans from the functional MRI scans this morning, Finn."

"Difference?" Finn asked, puzzled and concerned. That doesn't sound good. He felt his mother's hand on his arm.

The neurologist saw his fear, and moved to reassure him. "It's a promising sign, actually," he said. He clipped two scan images up for display; the left one showed very little lit up, while the right one showed a lot more. "Here's an example of what your scans show. Both of these are for names of people you didn't recognize," he went on. "But the left one is for someone you haven't met or heard of, one of the controls. The right one is for someone you have met, someone we've been told you used to know."

"There's a lot more activity," Carole said, sounding excited.

"Yes," the neurologist agreed. "Quite a bit in the centers associated with memory, and a lot in this area of the brain," he said, pointing, "that is typically an emotional center."

"So I know that person," Finn said slowly, sinking down to sit on the bed. He looked over at his mother, then up at the neurologist. "I know him. Or her. Who is it?"

"I can't tell you," came the reply. "You shouldn't know, it would compromise future tests if you did."

"Oh. Okay, I guess that makes sense," Finn responded, though he couldn't help wondering about it, especially with all the activity showing in the 'emotional center', all for someone who's name he hadn't recognized. "But why don't I remember if the scan shows that I do? I didn't even feel anything about any of those names."

"I don't know," the neurologist admitted. "There is still a lot we don't know about the workings of the human brain. But even if you're not able to access those memories, it does seem as though at least some of them are still there. The neurons are firing even though the results aren't making it through. And the results are consistent. The real things and people you should know show significantly more brain activity than the controls. All of them."

"So he could remember," Carole said.

"We don't know. The physical scans suggest that there might have been a little minor swelling, though nothing that we would expect could explain these results. But in a way he does remember, he just doesn't know that he does." The neurologist looked back at Finn. "I wish we had something more definite and positive for you, Finn. But when it comes to issues regarding the brain, the definite answers are often negative."

Finn exhaled in a rush. "So... now what?" he asked. "I mean, is there anything we can do? And can I go home soon?"

"There isn't anything specific we can do, no. Dr. Belhaven – he was the psychiatrist talking to you earlier – he will set you up with some counseling sessions, discuss how you think, keep track of what you're remembering and when, and see if you might be able to connect with those memories in some way. He's working up a plan for you. But it will likely take a lot of time, and there's no guarantee of any progress."

"Oh."

"As for going home, we'd like to keep you here for two more days, just in case there is some residual swelling we can't see, but you should be able to go home the day after tomorrow unless something comes up before then. And that should be good for you, to get some structure back in your life and get back into the home routine." The doctor looked cautiously optimistic at this, but Finn felt that this was a faint hope. Still, he was looking forward to getting out of the hospital and back to whatever remained of his life.

The neurologist excused himself, leaving Finn alone with his mom again.

"Hey," she said, looking down at him. "I know that frown. How do you really feel?"

"Honestly? It feels like some alien took over my life for me, Mom. And now it turns out it's still living in part of my head."

Carole sat beside him. "That's not an alien, Finn, that's part of you. Your experiences."

Finn exhaled. "I know," he said, still frowning. "But if I think about it like that then it's like I'm incomplete. Broken. But I don't feel broken, I feel like me. I just – want to live my life, I guess. And it's like I didn't, like someone else lived almost three years of it for me." He groaned. "At least I'll be back home soon, I can't wait." But as soon as Finn had said that he looked at his mother and saw her trepidation. "What is it, Mom? What's wrong?"

"Finn... there are a few more things I need to tell you about what's happened in the last three years," she replied, looking at him for a reaction.

"There's more? You're starting to scare me Mom." Finn swallowed. "Hey, we're here, right? And you seem fine, great even. What's going on?"

Carole pressed her lips together, then took a deep breath. "A little over two years ago I met someone," she said carefully. "A man a little older than me, a widower with a son your age."

Finn was surprised, but one more thing made sense now. "Was that him? The dude with you when I woke up, that I didn't recognize?"

"Yes, that was Burt. Burt Hummel." Carole exhaled. "We really hit it off. And he's a wonderful man, very kind, he's good to me and to you as well. You get along great with him too, you go to games together sometimes, that sort of thing. He owns a tire shop in town and you've been working there, part-time during school."

"Uh, okay."

"And we fell in love, and we're married. Burt and I. We got married in November 2010, so we've been married for just over a year and a half now." Carole caught Finn's gaze dropping to her left hand. "I took the ring off so you wouldn't get spooked."

"You hid it from me?" Finn's mind was reeling again, and he felt hurt by what he was now finding out, both his mother's remarriage and that she'd been deceiving him. Change was piling on top of change, every time he thought he'd found an anchor it faded away.

"Just for a couple of days, until we had a better idea if you were going to remember things soon on your own."

Finn sat there for a few moments, his head bowed, looking at his knees. He finally raised his head to look at her. "So what does this mean?" he asked, his face twisted in emotion and confusion. "It's all different now, home too?" Everything. Nothing about my life is what I know. God. Now what, what do I do?

Carole moved closer to her son, and put her hand on his. "A lot is different, yes," she said. "We moved in together, so home isn't where you remember it is. Or how you remember it is. I know for your whole life it's just been you and me, and we've done fine, and we still are. But now we have more. A real family – not that you and I weren't a real family, but now we have more of one."

"You said he has a son my age?" Finn focused on the facts to try to stop from feeling like he was drowning.

"That's how we met, he's one of your classmates. Clubmates, actually. Kurt Hummel, he said you met yesterday. He's your stepbrother."

That pale kid is my stepbrother? Huh. No wonder he looked so awkward, I thought he hated me or something but I guess not. Or I hope not. "Do we get along?"

"Yes, you do," she answered. "It was difficult at first, especially until we found a larger place, but you worked things out and you're really close now." She smiled. "You're very different boys. Young men. And as only children with a single parent, neither of you had really had to share before. But you spend a lot of time together. And of course you were in Glee together, that's how you got to know each other and how Burt and I met."

"Whoa."

"Yes, it's a lot to take in at once." Carole squeezed his hand. "But I thought I should tell you now, to give you some time to absorb it before you come home."

Home. Not the home I remember, though. It won't feel like home. "So where is home?"

"We found a larger place that had room for all four of us," she explained. "It's on Whitman, about a mile from our old place, closer to McKinley. It's nice. You've got more space, even a bed that's big enough for you."

What about Dad? Finn wanted to ask, but that sounded dumb, to worry about a man who'd been dead for so long, that he didn't even remember. Still... "Do you still think about Dad?" Finn asked quietly. "Do we still miss him?"

"Of course we miss him, honey," Carole said. "We always will. And Burt and Kurt miss Elizabeth, Burt's first wife. She died from cancer ten years ago. But there's remembering the past, and there's living in the past. Loving Burt doesn't mean we love your Dad any less."

"Burt – am I supposed to call him 'Dad'? Do I?"

"No, you don't. You call him Burt, and Kurt calls me Carole. Burt calls you 'son' sometimes, but that's mostly just how he talks, he did that before we got married too." Carole dug into her purse and brought out her wedding ring. "Here's the ring," she said, putting it on.

Finn looked at his mother's hand, wondering what he'd thought about this before. But his only reaction was confusion as he felt he'd been set completely adrift from the life he knew. "Huh," he said, trying to look calmer. But his mother wasn't fooled.

"Hey, I know this is really confusing for you, Finn," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "You don't need to pretend, okay? But you needed to find out now so you can get a bit more used to the idea before you come home."

Finn sighed. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied slowly. He swallowed. "Can – can I meet him?"

Carole smiled broadly. "Of course. Tomorrow? He wants to come see you soon. You're probably all tired out today, even though it's barely lunchtime."

"Sure."

She gave him a hug and left.

Finn was forced to admit that he was tired; everything so far today had been so much to take in, and he'd been told he was still recovering from the accident. He saved his game status, lay down, and nodded off. But with all he felt, rest was not easy. He tossed and turned, sliding in and out of sleep, dreaming of how his life had vanished. He felt he was in his old bed, hemmed in by its shortness, but when he stretched he seemed to break out of it, and the familiar cowboy wallpaper started peeling off, first by itself and then torn away by a tall figure that finally turned to him so he could see its face, his own...