Late Monday morning Rachel stood in her bedroom, looking carefully at herself in the mirror. She smiled excitedly. Finally, finally she was going to see Finn at home, they'd asked her over for lunch. She turned, watching the skirt of her dress move, the white blue-striped sundress that Finn had always appreciated. ("Hey, we match," he'd said with a grin when he'd first seen her in it, "and your skin's really glowing, I love it.") Hair soft, over one shoulder. A little light makeup, very natural, just the way he liked her best. She looked at the pictures of Finn that she had by her mirror and smiled at the sight of him. She couldn't wait to look into those warm brown eyes for real again.

And maybe after lunch they could do something together, just Finn and herself, go for a walk or a drive, or just hang out in the yard or his room. Okay, his room was probably a long shot. Cuddling in the hammock, one of their favorite summer activities, was right out, she knew that; Kurt had told her that being back home hadn't seemed to bring back Finn's memory at all. But it would be so good to talk to Finn again and be around him. They could start reconnecting.

Rachel arrived at noon on the dot, right when she'd been asked to come, and Carole answered the door. Rachel smiled brightly at her and was happy to get her usual warm smile in return. But after Carole welcomed Rachel in, she turned away and went to the edge of the stairs.

"Kurt, Rachel's here," Carole called out.

Just Kurt? What about Finn? Rachel's face fell, though she struggled to hide it. She could hear sounds upstairs that were definitely Finn moving around in his room, so he was here.

Carole turned back to her. "Kurt's the one who asked that you be invited, Rachel," she explained. "We're trying to ease Finn back into his family life."

I suppose I can understand that, but... Rachel couldn't help but stare at the woman who just a week ago had been hugging her tightly as they both prayed that the young man who was so essential to both of them would live, and wake up. Who had welcomed her into this very house, to sleep there in Finn's own bed when she wasn't at the hospital. Who had called her 'practically one of the family' for over half a year, and been more of a mother to her than the one who'd borne her. Practically wasn't actually, apparently, not when her family might be at risk, not when she'd had the shock of almost losing her son. Never mind that in less than two months Rachel would have been the one sharing Finn's life, the larger of the two bedrooms in the New York apartment was supposed to be theirs. Or perhaps Carole had really never been entirely comfortable with their relationship and its intensity, she couldn't know. Rachel did her best to paint her smile back onto her face. "I see," she managed to say. "Well I'm so glad Kurt thought of me." Since it seems nobody else did. She turned away for a moment to wipe her eyes, blinking back the further tears that threatened.

Carole came over and touched her shoulder. "Finn's so unsettled, I don't want to push him."

Rachel nodded. "I understand." And she did understand... mostly... but that didn't mean it wasn't extremely hard on her. Or that it was right. Still, she thought as Carole went back into the kitchen, I'm here and Finn's here. It's an opportunity. She made up her mind to act as normally as she could, and walked forward to give Kurt a smile and a hug as he came downstairs.

They went into the kitchen for lunch, Rachel finding that a plate had been laid for her on Burt's long side of the table, next to Kurt. At least she would face Finn even if she wouldn't be in her usual spot next to him. But she wondered why it was changed, yes Carole had made her point clear but why not leave things in the way that they had been? Was Finn so far from remembering anything as that? Carole had told her about the scan results that showed memories were there, so shouldn't they try to find things that would trigger them?

Lunch was make-your-own wraps, with salad, vegetables, cheese and some deli meat laid out around the table. This at least was familiar, and easy to manage for a group whose eating habits were so diverse.

Then there he was, her heart leaping as she saw his tall form coming in to sit opposite her: Finn. She gave him a beaming smile and got a hesitant one in return. That's a start.

"You must be glad you're not cooped up in the hospital any more," she said to open the conversation. Happy to be home? No, that would be foolish, he doesn't remember home.

"Uh, yes, it's good to be out," Finn replied, with another small smile.

A good start. "Have you taken advantage of your freedom yet?"

"Uh, what?"

I suppose he didn't get that. "You wanted to be able to look around and see things for yourself."

"Oh. Um, yeah, I went for a drive yesterday, looked around a bit."

Rachel smiled at him, her chin lifted a little, her head cocked to the side, expecting more. He frowned and just looked back at her, blinking. Oh. I suppose I have to ask, she realized after a few moments. "Where did you go? Anywhere special?"

Finn's eyes flicked from her to the others, then down to his plate. "Just explored around here and then wandered around, went by some places I used to know," he said. "Driving's fine, you don't need to worry about that."

"I wasn't," Rachel protested. "You've always been an excellent driver, I'm sure it's innate." She paused as she got no response. "Innate, it's a part of you," she explained. Carole was watching them, she realized, while Burt and Kurt were eating quietly.

"I know what innate means." Finn's voice had an edge of annoyance.

You didn't before, Rachel thought. And you didn't mind my defining things for you, you never did. She pursed her lips, regrouping. He's probably just tired of being told things, she justified it to herself. "Did you take a look at your old neighborhood?"

Finn ate more of his wrap, chewing slowly. Rachel looked aside at Kurt, who gave her a small shrug. The table was silent. Eventually Finn spoke. "Not yet." He paused, frowning to himself. "I guess I didn't think of it."

"It might be useful to sort of say goodbye to it, see how it's changed," Rachel suggested. He'd done that before, with her, when he'd moved. "I'd be happy to go with you."

"I don't need a minder, I'm fine." Finn's face closed up tightly.

"Of course you don't," Rachel said rapidly, trying to keep her voice light. He was taking everything as badly as he could, it seemed. "I just thought you might appreciate the company." She took another bite of her own wrap, cucumber and red peppers and sliced carrots. It was a favorite combination of hers, but she barely tasted it.

"Oh." Finn took another bite of his own. "Uh, I don't know."

"You don't have to." This is like pulling teeth. Admittedly Finn isn't normally all that chatty, especially not Finn back then, but this is extreme.

"Well of course I don't have to go," Finn stated flatly.

"No, I -" Rachel frowned. She was so used to him knowing what she meant, from years of familiarity; it was like they didn't know how to talk to each other any more. She swallowed. "I meant, you don't have to know now. If you want me to come. I've restarted some of the voice lessons that I was teaching, but my schedule is flexible." She paused, but got no response. She cast a glance aside to Kurt, whose face betrayed how painful he found this attempted discussion. On the surface it might not seem so strange, she was doing most of the talking and Finn was focusing on his food, that was usual, but the feel of it was so very different and completely excruciating. "And I was planning on baking again soon, if you'd like some more cookies." Finn had grinned happily the first time she'd offered him baking, she remembered. That was this Finn, with mostly the same memories.

"Uh, I think we still have some," he muttered. "Thanks though."

"You think?" Rachel blurted out, startled. Finn not knowing exactly how many cookies were left (and what his plans were for them) was even more unlike him than any other part of this conversation. And he always wanted more to be available. Maybe he had been hurt in some way that they didn't realize.

Burt came to her rescue here. "If you didn't finish them then they're still there," he said. "I had a couple yesterday to indulge, when you offered, but that's it, they're your treat, buddy."

Finn seemed to be fine with Burt's 'buddy' comment, Rachel noticed. That's good. She forged on again, outwardly calm. "Well you can always have more."

"Uh, thanks." Finn swallowed, and finally smiled a little again. "They are really good. I just don't want to put you to any more trouble, you don't have to be always baking stuff for me."

Trouble? I'd walk through fire for you, my love. I played football for you. This is baking. Rachel looked into his face until he met her eyes, then smiled warmly at him. "Well I don't know what I'll do with my time if I don't," she said. "I love baking. And I especially love baking for you."

Finn smiled back, still hesitant, but the tension between them easing. "Okay then. Thanks." He swallowed. "So you didn't know I'd had them before, huh?" he asked.

Conversation. Finally. Thank you, Finn. Rachel brightened and followed his lead. "No, I didn't know you'd had them before, you never told me," she said. "Of course you must have known when I made them for you but we'd only just gotten to know each other so perhaps you didn't want to say."

"I guess not. And I didn't tell people back when I bought them, I didn't want to share." Finn's expression was sheepish, but he was still smiling, and their eyes connected briefly. She could sink into that warm light brown gaze all day.

"At the time Anna said that some behemoth from the football team had bought them all," Rachel recounted, "but with a description like that I thought she meant Azimio or one of the other offensive line Neanderthals, emphasis on the 'offensive', and I wasn't about to try to find out which one." She shook her head with a smile. "I suppose it's far too late for me to have words with Anna about her incorrect and insulting terminology."

'What, 'behemoth'?"

"Yes. You're tall, not monstrous." She smiled a little flirtatiously. "Not remotely monstrous."

Finn shifted in his seat, getting uncomfortable under her gaze, and the tension started to return. Maybe she'd pushed things too far.

"It's quite an archaic word," Kurt put in.

"Not for someone in the Renaissance Club." But Rachel forced a laugh. "Or it shouldn't be." She searched quickly for a new topic, realizing that clever vocabulary was surely the last thing that would put Finn back at ease. Help, she thought at Kurt, giving him a pleading look.

"How's your drumming?" Kurt suddenly asked. Finn turned his head sharply to Kurt. "I heard you playing the last couple of days."

"Ah, sorry," Finn muttered.

"That wasn't a complaint. Your drums are in your room, you can play them when you like unless there's a significant reason not to," Kurt clarified. "You always did before."

"It must be good to hear them again," Rachel said, looking at Kurt.

"Huh?" Finn brought his head up to look at her.

"For Kurt," Rachel explained. "He's used to hearing you practice regularly, it's not the same around here without that." Of course it was something Kurt put up with rather than liked, but the house had been eerily quiet without the drums, and she didn't like that Finn apparently thought his drumming was bothering people. He needed to be able to relax. "I'd like to hear you play again myself." Which was completely true, Rachel loved how Finn expressed himself on the drums.

"Oh, I guess. Um, maybe sometime," Finn replied. "I never really thought about that."

"That's okay. But we're all used to hearing you, it's not the same without you." Without him playing, and without him. "And I just listen and appreciate."

"Maybe sometime," he repeated quietly, then got up to clear the plates.

Dessert apparently needed a little preparation, since they had fresh strawberries, so they took a small break. Finn walked off into the living room, and she heard the TV come on; he was checking sports scores, though it was too early in the day to have much more than the upcoming schedule.

Rachel sighed softly. This was so difficult. It wasn't just that Finn was missing the cues she didn't normally realize she was giving, their rapport shattered, or that he was clearly pulling away from her. Finn also wasn't himself, he wasn't allowing himself to be himself. She thought back to the Finn she'd first met, and certainly he had been more self-conscious, more concerned about how he should act than he later became. She supposed it was natural that he should be like that again, and even worse since so much had changed on him, but she dearly missed the adorable goofiness that was Finn being himself, letting his inner kid shine through. That part of him was lifelong, he couldn't have lost that, but he'd reverted to a time when he suppressed that side of himself. Which of course meant he was far more uncomfortable right now than he needed to be. He was surrounded by people who truly loved him, he didn't have to second-guess himself. He could relax if he'd let himself do it.

Rachel went into the living room, where Finn was standing at the TV. He turned it off as she approached, but didn't quite meet her eyes.

"So, are you doing anything this afternoon?" Rachel asked, trying to be bright.

Finn paused for a moment before answering. "Not really."

"Would you like to do something? It's a lovely day, we could go for a walk in the park."

"Just with you?"

"Well yes just with me," she said, trying to ignore that he'd even needed to ask the question. He gave no response, so she continued. "We wouldn't have to talk if you'd rather not. But... maybe it would help if you did some things that you normally did, recently," she suggested tentatively. "That's one of them. We always found it relaxing, it's uncomplicated. And I could show you others if you'd like." What she really wanted him to do was kiss her, which would certainly qualify as something they normally did; like she had during their separation in junior year, she was largely convinced that Finn wouldn't be able to turn away from all he felt, that they both felt, when they kissed. From what he'd told her since, and his own quest for a kiss at Nationals in New York, she knew she'd been right then. And no matter how often they'd kissed since, the impact was still there, every time. But doing any activity with Finn would be good, a start, and he might find it familiar. A simple walk in the park, hand-in-hand or at least side-by-side – they'd done that a lot. And often just quietly enjoying each others' company, so now they could potentially escape the strain of trying to learn how to talk to each other again and just be together.

"It's hard enough just getting back into things I know I used to do," Finn replied, frowning. "I'll stick to those for now."

Tears sprang to Rachel's eyes. "Don't you want to remember?" she asked, her voice small.

"Of course I want to remember," Finn answered brusquely.

"Then -" But Rachel's protest was cut off.

"Look, I need some time, okay? Everything's so new."

"I know it is -"

"You said you could wait," he said shortly. "Well I need you to. Okay?"

"All right," Rachel replied hesitantly. She swallowed and nodded, her expression becoming more determined. "Yes, if that's what you need, Finn. I will wait."

"Okay." He turned away, muttering "Thanks."

"Just please, please, Finn, let there be something for me to wait for," Rachel whispered, too soft for Finn to hear as he walked back into the kitchen. Her mask fell and she started to tear up, bolting for the washroom so nobody would see her. She had to pull herself together somehow, she couldn't walk out before dessert and really didn't want to scare Finn any further away by breaking down. But she wasn't used to doing that, she usually let out what she felt, so keeping it in now made everything so very much harder. She wiped her eyes and splashed a little water on her face, glad that her makeup had been light enough to be essentially unaffected by her tears.

Dessert was ready so she went back into the kitchen, and she accepted the bowl of strawberries with a faked smile. She and Burt had them straight, while the others had ice cream as well. It was hard for her to swallow but she managed, eating slowly, trying to savor the taste and block out all other senses. Especially the sight of the tall figure that sat opposite her, ignoring her as he ate and talked to Burt about baseball. Now, he could talk.

Strawberries. He used to associate these with her, make private jokes about tasting berries (about kissing her, or more intimate things once they'd gone that far). For all the effort she was putting into focusing on them, they still tasted like dust, the dust of her life.

When they finished she smiled and nodded, helped Carole clear the bowls, and went into the hall to pick up her purse. Kurt followed her.

"I know you're not okay," he said softly. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why things are like this."

"No, I'm not okay at all," Rachel whispered, her mouth barely moving. "But I have to go now." If he got any more sympathetic, she would break down. If he gave her a hug, she would break down. If any of the others saw her, she would break down. She felt like she was held together by a few splintering toothpicks and if she didn't get out of there right away she was going to fall apart. "Later," she whispered.

"Okay." He moved to hug her, but she stepped back and shook her head, her jaw clenched.

She swallowed twice. "Thank you for lunch, Carole," she called out, sounding bright even as her face started to slowly crumble. "And all of you, Kurt, Burt,... Finn, thank you for having me over." With that she turned and went out of the house, walked as quickly as she could back to her car, started it, and drove around the corner before stopping and finally letting herself fall apart.

That night, as she readied herself for bed, Rachel sat at her dresser mirror and brushed her hair out. Her eyes fell on the pictures around the mirror, seeing the various different sides of Finn. Her Finn. Strong and handsome and adorably goofy and above all so loving. She started to cry again. Yes she'd told him she could wait, and she had to, but how was he ever going to remember her or even care to try if she wasn't around him at all? If he never even knew what it felt like to kiss her? When they were together he'd always sworn he couldn't get enough of their kisses, and neither could she. She craved him so, his kiss, his touch. His love. And now, when he didn't know any better, it looked like he was just going to walk away. Or push her away until things were over by default, even though she'd told him she'd never be able to get over him. That was why she could wait, not because she was patient (far from it) but because she knew she didn't have a choice. He was Finn, she loved him, she was his. Even if he didn't want her.

She felt – used. Used by the man she loved more than anything, the man that wasn't really there any more. In his place was the boy whom she'd also loved but who had also been so uncertain, who had used her back then too, through negligence and ignorance and occasionally desperation, even though he hadn't meant to hurt her. She'd learned and grown from their past problems, but this version of Finn hadn't.

"'Yes, thank you, Rachel,'" she muttered under her breath as she brushed her hair violently, tears streaming from her eyes. "'Thank you for making sure I had everything I needed when I was stuck in hospital. Thank you for taking such good care of me. Now go away.'" She flung her brush down and sobbed.