In the morning, Finn awoke still conflicted. Yesterday had been a lot to take in. He'd liked talking to Rachel, sure, and he was glad he'd made the effort to get past the terror he'd felt at their engagement. But it was still so different from the life he'd known, and his mom was right that she was intense. Rachel was unsettling, though from what Quinn had told him that could be the good kind of unsettling (try more, do more, better than anything you could have dreamed) instead of the bad kind of unsettling (run away, this is going to get ugly).
But his biggest fear about her was still there, that she wanted something from him that he couldn't give, wanted him to be someone he wasn't any more. And that idea (that he was broken) was more unsettling than anything.
He didn't want to be broken. But if he was, it was better that he fix himself than that he keep pretending he wasn't. He needed to remember, if he could.
I should go see Rachel, Finn thought. Now, before I chicken out. Where does she live? He went to the hall phone and took out the phone book, but while there was a number for them, the only Berry listed in the residential listing, there wasn't an address. I suppose I could call. And she might not be in if I don't check first. But it'd be easier if I just go see her, no anticipation, I don't want to wind her up or worry about what she's expecting. He could ask Kurt, he supposed, but he really didn't want to have to discuss what he was planning to do with Kurt, especially since he really didn't know himself. But then he mentally winced, and went to dig out his cell phone. Idiot, I wouldn't have had her address three years ago but I would have now. And there in his phone book, sure enough, was the information for Rachel Berry, complete with her birthday (December 18) and a cute picture of her wearing a blue plaid shirt that looked like it was once his. And her phone numbers and address, of course. 241 Birch Hill... shit. He sank down, burying his forehead into his hand. That's where I was going when I went for that drive, he realized. I was almost there, but I didn't recognize it and decided to go see Quinn instead. Damn, damn, damn. He groaned. Oh well, he tried to console himself, this means I remembered something, right? Even if I didn't know it and it was all automatic. That's still good, that I could do that, that where I automatically went on my first trip out was to see her. He tried not to think of the time he'd wasted because of the decision he'd made that Sunday.
On his way over, Finn tried to decide what to do when he got there. He knew he'd treated Rachel badly. At the same time, they'd actually been able to talk a little last night, relax a bit, and he didn't want to lose that hard-won ease by going through some sort of big apology, no matter how much she deserved it. The shrink had been very clear that tension would get in the way of regaining access to his memories. As well, he really wasn't sure what he could offer her at this point – while he was very sorry he'd pushed her away so much, he couldn't promise that he could be anything specific to her. He still wasn't the man she remembered and didn't know how he could be. He really needed this to work, for her and her ring and anything else about her to start bringing his memory back and his feelings for her. Then he'd be able to give her everything, assuming that all he'd been told about their relationship was true.
Arriving on Birch Hill, he looked for 241, and found it just a few houses down from where he'd broken off the previous time. It was a good sign that he'd gone there without remembering, before, it meant that somewhere subconsciously he remembered going there and had made it a priority. He parked outside the house. No, it didn't look familiar at all.
Finn took a deep breath and walked up to the house. Hopefully she was in. He rang the doorbell, and a few moments later the door opened to reveal Rachel. She looked like she'd been working out, wearing a loose shirt and yoga pants, her hair tied back.
"Oh. Hello, Finn." She was startled to see him, as well she might be, but still smiled shyly as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Hi." He smiled back briefly. "How -" How are you. Dumb question, I'm sick of it and I bet she is too. Finn started again."How was the movie? I would have asked you last night but you didn't stop in when you dropped Kurt off."
Rachel blinked. This obviously wasn't what she was expecting, nobody shows up at your door to abruptly ask for a movie review. And he was quite sure it wasn't his kind of movie and she would know that. "It was very late," she excused herself. Her expression flickered. "You... you wanted me to?" Her voice was soft, emotional, a mix of confusion and pain and hope.
"Yeah."
"Oh." Her reaction was barely a whisper. Finn saw tears in her eyes again, but maybe they were there for a good reason this time. He shuffled his feet awkwardly.
"Yeah, I should have before. I'm sorry I didn't." He lowered his eyes to look at her left hand, finding it bare but still showing an imprint on her finger where her ring had been. He looked up at her neck for the chain, but it wasn't there either, and he frowned. Previously he'd wondered why she was still wearing it, and now he wondered why she wasn't. Maybe because she'd been exercising.
"What is it?" she asked hesitantly.
"Your, um, engagement ring?" he asked, a little stupidly.
"What about it?" Her responding question was tense.
"I'd just... I'd like to see it. Properly, I mean, I don't think I really looked at it before."
"It's upstairs, in my jewelry box." She paused. "You can come up, if you like." She led Finn upstairs to her room.
Finn looked around at the bedroom that he supposed should be so familiar to him. It looked like her, he thought, then clenched internally as he saw the framed picture labeled '2012 National Champions'. It showed the whole club, but there they were, front and center, with their arms around each other, Rachel leaning into him and his head resting on hers. Another picture of the man he didn't remember being... he quickly shoved down his rising panic at seeing his face on that other guy. That guy looked so happy, happier than he could remember, ever. Yes, he wanted that if he could get it.
Rachel, meanwhile, had taken out the chain with her engagement ring on it and put it around her neck, quickly loosening her hair as she did so. "Here it is." She held the ring in her palm, protectively, and flinched a little when he reached out to touch it.
"Don't worry, I'm not trying to take it back," Finn said. He felt her relax a little, and knew he'd been right about her fear. "I just wanted to see it again, see if it'll help me remember something." He looked at the ring. It was pretty, small but distinctive, probably a lot like the girl that other him had given it to. He must have picked it out really carefully but he couldn't remember any of it. He'd probably looked at it a lot, too, thinking about her before he'd proposed, but he didn't feel anything seeing it. At least not panic, any more. "Can you put it on? On your finger, I mean?" There must have been a moment, when she'd said 'yes' and he'd put the ring on her, when he would have been so happy that she'd agreed to be his. And afterwards, he would have looked at it and thought about what it meant to them. Maybe if he saw it like that...
Rachel unhooked the chain, and started to slide the ring off. She hesitated.
"I know this must be so hard for you," he said. "But if it could help..."
She nodded wordlessly and put it on her left ring finger, then slowly extended her hand to him. Finn took her hand and held it up to see it, rubbing his thumb over the ring, impulsively pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. He must have done this before too, but – nothing. Nothing he remembered, anyway. He felt her tremble at the touch. He looked down into her wide brown eyes, noticing them glistening with unshed tears. This would be bringing back memories for her, even though it wasn't for him. He let her hand fall. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I just don't..."
"Maybe -" Rachel's voice caught, and she tried to compose herself. "Maybe we need to go back further," she said. "Earlier, since you've forgotten everything recent."
"Start over?" Finn thought about what Quinn had said, that him falling for Rachel had been so soon after the latest he could remember. And that was when she'd fallen for him too... maybe that was all she wanted, him, not necessarily her fiancé with all their history but him as he could be now. Could he try that? Recapture that, or remember that? It was closer to who he was now, certainly, the next memory in his broken sequence.
"In a way, yes."
Finn was suddenly conscious of how fast his heart was beating. Maybe it was just being so close to a girl, but he hadn't felt like this with Quinn. His mouth felt dry, and he unconsciously licked his lips and stepped a little closer to Rachel. He could feel himself harden as his heart hammered in his ears. God she was beautiful. Exotic, but natural. And her skin was flushed, her lips gently parted.
She looked up at him and put her hand lightly on his chest. "You know you can kiss me if you want to," she whispered, lightly trembling again.
"I want to." And Finn stooped to kiss her, Rachel rising on her toes to meet him.
Finn brushed her lips with his, feeling a shudder go through him at the intimate contact. Instinct took over, and he pressed harder, reveling in the soft supple feel of her mouth. He ran his tongue over her lips and was rewarded by them parting for him as the kiss deepened. A moment later his mouth was at her neck, tongue and lips worrying a spot below her ear that made Rachel moan.
"Finn... oh Finn." His name was wrenched from Rachel, and her knees went weak. She clung tightly to him, and he lifted her up to her bed, following her soon after as she lay back. Their tongues twined again as their bodies started to move together, automatically finding a rhythm, Finn grinding against her through their clothes. He pulled at Rachel's shirt, lifting it up, snaking a hand up beneath it to start massaging her breast.
"Oh yes, Finn," Rachel breathed, her hands stroking down his back. "I love you."
"I -" What am I doing? His brain alert again, Finn broke off and sat up suddenly. He stared off at her wall, then looked back at the girl on the bed, seeing her swollen lips, her disarrayed clothes, her mussed hair.
"I'm sorry, I can't do this," he blurted. He stood. "I'm not him, I – I know I look like him and sound like him, but I'm not him, not now, and I can't do this to you." He walked to her bedroom door, then took a last look behind him, where a stunned Rachel was starting to cry. "I'm so sorry, I just – I got carried away. I'd better go." With that he went downstairs, blood still pounding in his ears, guilt twisting inside him. He heard her call out for him to wait, but he didn't see how he could, not with the agonized way she called his name, wanting the man he wasn't.
Finn drove quickly home, full of guilt, his mind racing. How could I have done that? I was trying to stop hurting her and now I've made it worse. Used her, even.
He took his afternoon shift at the tire shop in silence, doublechecking all his work because he just couldn't concentrate. He'd hurt her when he'd pushed her away, then he'd gotten too close and hurt her again. He couldn't seem to control himself around her. But he had to, he had to stop hurting her. She was strong – she'd somehow managed not to break yet from all this, and he hoped she hadn't now – but he had to be strong too, even if he didn't know how.
Dinner with his family was awkward, though none of the others knew why Finn was so silent. He briefly considered trying to get Kurt to check on Rachel, but he wasn't sure how to put it, and if she wanted to be alone he should let her. And that night as he started writing in his log, a habit the shrink insisted on, he couldn't even formulate it into words. He'd certainly felt something. A lot. It had been off the freaking charts, how much he'd wanted her right then, so much more than anything he remembered ever feeling. But he hadn't had any flashbacks like he'd been hoping for. Kissing Rachel had been amazing but he didn't remember doing it before.
That night Finn dreamed, of what had happened and what might have happened if he'd kept going, the seductive taste of her mouth, the feel of her body under him and around him, taut, pliant, warm and yielding. And he awoke in a mess caused by his first wet dream since he'd been about fourteen (as far as he knew), feeling more guilty than ever, like he'd really used her by dreaming about her like that.
Mid-morning the doorbell rang. Finn answered it, and froze in panic as he saw Rachel standing there.
"May I talk to you, please?" she asked hesitantly. "It won't take long."
"Sure." Finn stood aside to let her pass, then closed the door. He swallowed. "I want to apologize again, for what I did yesterday," he said. "I had no right to take advantage of you like that and play on your feelings."
"You kind of do," Rachel said. She gestured to her throat, where she wore the silver chain, the ring hanging out of sight beneath her dress.
"No, I don't, I just hurt you more," he insisted. "I shouldn't do things I can't follow through on, and – and I shouldn't let you think I remember things that I don't. I didn't mean to."
Rachel's eyes swam with tears, but she held them back. "I think you remember more than you know." She bit her lower lip, determination growing on her face. "But I didn't come here for another apology, or to try to get you to kiss me again, much as I'd like it, the latter I mean. I came to tell you something, something private."
"Uh, okay," Finn said, though he had no idea where she was going with that. "We're alone, if that matters."
"It does. I don't want anyone else to know this." Her hands twined tightly together.
"I won't tell. I promise."
"How chivalrous."
"Uh, thanks. I try. Guess I wasn't so good at it yesterday."
Rachel closed her eyes momentarily, her face set. She stood a couple of feet in front of Finn, apparently wanting to be close but not too close. "There's a spot on my neck," she said, looking at him again. "I'm not going to tell you where. But there's this place, where you used to kiss me, that drives me completely crazy," she explained, blushing a little. Finn was puzzled and rather uncomfortable. He didn't know why she would tell him something like this.
"And there's this thing you used to do to it, that just makes me melt entirely," she continued. "And when we were together, before the accident, it took you a while to find that exact spot, I didn't even know about it, and you experimented quite a bit with it to fine-tune what you do. It's 'your spot', you're very proprietary about it."
Rachel took a deep breath and looked Finn square in the face, her eyes flashing passionately. "And yesterday you went straight for it like it was a magnet." Finn looked back at her, agape. "So you can tell me all you want that you don't remember, that my Finn isn't there," she went on, her voice full of emotion. "I know he's there. He's the only one that knows how to do that to me." She stopped, breathing hard, and clenched her hands at her sides. "And I'm going to leave now." She turned and let herself out, closing the door behind her, leaving a stunned Finn in her wake.
That night Finn dreamed again, the same dream of what might have happened if he hadn't stopped, of feeling Rachel's small firm body beneath him, wrapped around him, her soft lips against his. But when he woke up and winced at his obvious need to do even more laundry, he had to wonder: had he been dreaming or remembering? Or both? The details of the dream faded on waking, as dreams do, but he was still left with the same overall feeling that he'd had when he kissed her. Even not remembering her, there was definitely something there. And the way she'd looked at him when she'd told him what he'd done, how he'd touched her and what it had meant – fire.