A/N: Wow. To say that I'm blown away by the response to the last chapter would be putting it mildly. Thank you so much for all your reviews! I did a little clarifying based on early feedback, thanks to Amybf19 in particular for helping with that. I hope after all this waiting that the resolution lives up to the rest of it.

Around eight a.m., Carole came in from her night shift at the hospital. Things had been quiet, just normal duties, which unfortunately had left her with some spare time to worry about Finn. It was great that more of his memories had come back, but she knew he was frustrated by how patchwork the pieces were and by what was still missing, especially when it came to Rachel. The last week especially, he hadn't wanted to talk about it in detail with her but he'd been so happy at his latest regained memories and then depressed after his psych appointment, worrying about how he could go further. She knew it was all taking a big toll on Finn. He'd even been down when she'd started talking about Christmas, which had her very worried; Finn had always loved Christmas, and until this last week he'd been anxious for it because Rachel would be home. She didn't know what had changed but she hoped that when Rachel arrived they'd be able to put things back together.

As she passed by the living room she was surprised to see her son stretched out on the couch asleep, still in a t-shirt and jeans. The room was chilly, the fireplace's gas timer having turned itself off long before. He must be cold, she thought, pulling a blanket off the back of the neighboring chair. She looked down at his face, seeing his eyes flicker underneath his eyelids as he dreamed. Finn was clenching the cushion tightly, and she laid the blanket as much over him as she could. As she tucked it around his shoulders she heard him make a small unidentifiable noise that drew her attention. She paused, listening.

"Rach, baby," Finn mumbled softly in his sleep, pulling the cushion even closer to him. "I miss you so much, Rachel. I love you."

Carole inhaled sharply, then held her breath to avoid making a noise that could wake her sleeping son. This was unexpected. She'd never known Finn to talk in his sleep before, even as a child, not unless he was fevered. But he otherwise seemed to be sleeping normally; whatever he was dreaming now must be coming through unusually strongly. Also, Finn's feelings for Rachel had been returning along with his memories, well in advance of them really, but as far as she knew they were still quite tentative, especially in how he expressed them. The way he was talking to her now sounded much stronger, heartfelt, more like last spring than last week. Of course he was dreaming, and his subconscious likely remembered Rachel much more, but to dream of her so strongly and call for her like that was much more promising than anything she knew of before. Carole was torn: would Finn be more or less likely to remember his dream if she woke him now? Ultimately she decided to let things happen naturally, and settled into a chair to watch over him until he woke.

Half an hour later the sunlight warmed up the room, and Finn started to stir, sensing that he wasn't alone. "Rach?" Finn called out groggily.

Carole exhaled. "No, it's me honey," she said quietly.

"Mom." Finn blinked. "Right."

"You were asking for Rachel, though," she said tentatively. "In your sleep."

Finn sat up and rubbed his hand over his face and through his hair. "Yeah. I really miss her." He half-closed his eyes again, thinking, then looked over at his mother. "But I don't talk in my sleep. I've had enough sleepovers with Puck to know that, he'd've never let me live it down if I did."

"Maybe you just never had anything important enough to say before."

"Huh." Finn screwed up his face in concentration. "But I remember calling for her," he mumbled, barely audible. "Maybe I wasn't really asleep, not all the way." Carole waited, since Finn had his 'trying to make sense of something' face. "Mom," he asked after a while, "do we have a blue-and white plaid quilt somewhere?"

"There's one like that, we've had it for years," Carole replied, unsure as to where this was going but intrigued. "We haven't used it in quite a while though. It might be in your closet, I think I saw it there back in July."

Finn stood up. "I need to see it. Can you show me where you think you saw it? Please?" His mother followed him up to his room, where he opened the closet doors and started digging through his stuff.

"Over on the left, at the back," his mom said. "At least that's where I remember seeing it. I was just getting a few of your clothes to take to you in hospital," she explained apologetically. "I don't go through your things normally."

"That's okay, Mom," Finn said absently as he dug into the spot she'd suggested, then froze. "Hospital," he stated. "The accident." He waved his mom off, who was very concerned at this.

Two sets of memories warred in Finn's head – a long chain, near-unbroken, full of school and Glee and Rachel, and his memories from the last few months, when he hadn't known about the others. It didn't make sense, how he could remember something and yet also remember not remembering it. What was true? Did he really remember Rachel or not? He remembered not remembering her... but he also had memories of her now that weren't consistent with his more recent memories. Disjoint, disorienting.

Hospital. The accident. He'd forgotten, how that could be possible he didn't know, but he had. Last night... he'd been shocked by that too, he recalled. And now, was what he had now real? He'd seen Rachel in his mind, in that pink dress, coming to him, being with him, the two of them becoming as close as two people could. He desperately needed that to be real.

He returned to digging through his closet, and found what he was looking for: a blue-and-white plaid quilt, reversing to dark. He'd kept it. He inhaled sharply as he saw it, then pulled it out.

"It is important?" Carole asked cautiously.

"Yeah," Finn breathed, his jaw slack. He sank onto his knees and brought it close to his face, looking at it with a kind of wonder. He saw a thin line and touched it: a long brown hair still clung to the quilt. Rachel. He buried his face in the quilt, breathing in the scent he imagined it still had. It was real, what he remembered, that night, it had been real. And linked to it... so very much more.

"I guess you kept it for a reason, huh?"

"Yes," Finn choked out past the quilt. Rachel. It's real, and all that's with it must be real too. All those memories, rehearsals and performances and lazy summer days, arguments and breakups and longing and confusion, reconciliations and so very many kisses... everything that had brought them to that moment. All there in his mind, all real.

"And now you remember what that is."

"Yes." Finn nodded.

"Is that good?"

It's... yes, it's the best." He swallowed. "Mom?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I've had amnesia since July, right?" His memories from the last few months didn't fit with the others. He pushed them aside, still there but out of the way, to let the others take over.

"Ah... yes."

Finn nodded. "Just checking. It's really confusing. But Mom... I'm not sure I do anymore."

"Really?" came the gasp from his mom.

"Not much anyway, at least I don't think so. I have to get this all straight in my head though."

Carole stood by her son and put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you going to be okay, honey?" she asked.

Finn nodded repeatedly, then lifted his head from the quilt. "Yes. I will be now." There were tears in his eyes, but he smiled.

"Okay. I'll leave you then. Do you want breakfast?" she asked as Finn stood, still carrying the quilt.

"Maybe in an hour," he said, moving to the bed. "I have a lot to get straight right now." She nodded and left. Finn lay on the bed and clasped the folded quilt to him, with one thought in his mind: Rachel.

He wanted her. He needed her. He loved her, missed her so much that he wanted to get the first plane to New York and show up at her door. Beg her forgiveness for ever having forgotten her. Take her in his arms and show her exactly what he remembered them doing under this quilt. This quilt that confirmed that those dreams weren't fantasies, but memories.

Don't rush around as soon as you remember something, the instructions echoed in his head, breaking into his reverie. Reinforce, expand. He started running through that night again, from sitting alone at home moping about his lack of future, to Rachel showing up at his door, to his continued hurt at what she'd said before about losing her virginity to help her acting, how he'd felt their love cheapened by it. He heard her apologize and admit she'd been wrong. Insist how much she loved him. And he felt his heart swell at how much he loved and wanted this girl, how her voice and eyes and heart supported him and eased his self-doubt, how his nerves were on fire touching her. At how complete he'd felt in being with her, loving her, and lying spent with her in his arms. How she filled holes in him he'd never known existed, and how he felt he did in her too, in how she listened to him when she wouldn't to anyone else. Opened up to him, let herself be vulnerable and let him love her. How she helped him tap into who he really was. Like now.

He wanted to talk to her. Send her something to show he remembered. But... Don't rush around. He had to nail this down first. He had to be sure he was back before he got her hopes up or he'd just hurt her again by reversing for, what, the fourth time now? She'd be at school by this time, and he needed to see what else he remembered.

He held the quilt closer again, and thought about that night, of being with Rachel. Of kissing her. And thousands of kisses came to mind: that first kiss on the stage that he'd already remembered, when he'd exploded with how she'd made him feel; returning her kiss at bowling, when he knew he'd been manipulating her to come back to Glee for the sake of the kid he thought he was going to have, but it had still felt so real; kissing her outside school when they'd briefly been together, before he'd chickened out; her kissing him on the stairs before Regionals; the first kiss of them truly together, after they'd lost, and the hundreds more over that summer; even the kisses avoided, when they'd been broken up, because they'd each known they couldn't turn away from how they would feel if they did. And that one kiss they'd given up Nationals for, so powerful and passionate, it had led to a whole lot more. Some of their kisses had been really public, but why not? Kissing Rachel was awesome, she was as into it as he was, and he'd finally stopped caring what others thought about them being together. Plus once they'd become intimate even their kisses had gained something extra, and he'd had a lot more self-control.

Kissing Quinn had been like fireworks, before, it had been exciting at the time. Kissing Rachel felt like truth, like coming home, and like an ember blazing into an inferno, every nerve on fire just from a kiss. That kiss at Nationals, finally coming together after they'd both turned away from it – it had been like the universe had put itself on hold because nothing could break into that kiss. He remembered it fully now, the fragments fused in place like they'd never been broken apart. Coming home was also how it had felt when, God yes, she'd told him he was the love of her life and accepted his proposal and ring. He could see it now, feel it too, hear her voice join his in song, know that he'd won her over, that they could be forever. And even when not remembering and not knowing how he felt about her, he'd felt the power and truth that kissing Rachel always had for him. The taste of her lips, the touch of her skin, it all felt so right, like she was made for him. (He'd wondered about that once, how since he was older she would have been conceived about when his dad had died, or close to it, and he'd thought that maybe God or the universe had tried to help him out by making Rachel for him to find and love. Even now it was a cool idea.)

Finn's mind reeled from all he was finding in it now. Because everything in his life for the last three years, everything worthwhile, had been linked one way or another to thoughts of Rachel, she was never far from his mind. Somehow he'd opened that door, found his way into a significant memory that everything else was connected to, all those memories of her, but also of everything else too. Even stuff with his mom, and Kurt, and Quinn, everyone and everything else. He'd told Rachel before that nothing in his life made sense to him without her, but he hadn't realized how literally true this was. She was the key to open the door in his mind, worked into every link in the networks of his missing memories. And this was more than just pieces, even the pieces he'd had before were now fitting together, joined by his thoughts of Rachel. The transitions, the continuity he needed, it all came from his heart.

He needed to keep this, nail it all down, if he could – if, he'd better be able to – he could have everything.

He turned his head to look at her picture again, seeing his hand holding hers. And he remembered doing that, and yes he'd been feeling like she was the world's most precious thing, because she was. Though – Finn was puzzled. He remembered being happy that she'd agreed to marry him, even felt that giddy elation now at seeing his ring on her finger in the picture, but he didn't remember why he'd decided to go so fast, to ask her. He was glad he had, sure that ring had spooked him but it had also stopped him from walking away, but he must have made a decision. He snorted, shaking his head at himself – it had been the first memory he'd tried to get back, picking out the ring and proposing, and even with all the rest he still didn't have it. He must have done it, though, so that was still a hole. But the exception, not the rule, the rest of his memories stretching out smoothly instead of the separate pieces he'd had before.

He smelled bacon being cooked downstairs, and grinned. Yeah, Rachel had usually bought and cooked some for him when he'd stayed over. Back in June she'd found some in her fridge that her fathers had bought just before their last business trip, and she'd been so happy that it meant they really accepted him. She'd rationed it out over the week her dads had been gone, as they played house in preparation for the move to New York. That had been quite the week; aside from his Halo marathon late-night at Puck's (excused because of course he would go out with other friends sometimes in New York) they'd been really wrapped up in each other. And Rachel had insisted that she needed to learn how to keep quiet when they made love (New York apartment walls could be quite thin, she'd said, and they wouldn't want to wait for Kurt to be out) and that she needed to practice this. They'd each treated it as a bit of a challenge, hers to stay quiet, his to overcome that. He'd missed hearing her moan his name, especially since he normally used it as feedback, but the next week they'd snuck off to his room after a family dinner, with everyone else still downstairs, and proven just how wonderful being quiet could be. They'd done that at the barbeque too, right after the frisbee game, though while they couldn't have been overheard they knew disappearing for the better part of an hour (the much better part) was a giveaway.

Wow. If the smell of bacon was bringing all this to his mind now, no wonder Rachel had been so emotional about it. She'd probably hardly ever smelled the stuff at other times. And when he'd pressed her on it, no wonder she'd wanted not to hear him use her nickname when it wasn't the endearment it was supposed to be.

And like that, gradually, his regained memories of before and his newer memories of not remembering them were resolving, each allowing for the other.

Finn took a quick shower and dressed, then went down to have breakfast. His mom looked up from the table and smiled at him.

"So how are you doing, kiddo?"

"I'm great," Finn answered, grinning. "Really great, Mom. Awesome. There's a little missing, but just the exception I think. The rest – it's like it's never been gone." He took the plate she'd set aside for him and joined her at the table. Remembering was hungry work.

"Huh."

"Except I also remember not remembering, and that's weird, but I think it's settling down."

"So you got all that from West Side Story?" She was happy, but puzzled.

"Uh..." Even after all this, Finn didn't want to talk about that night with his mom. Maybe now his memory was (mostly) back he could keep some stuff private again. "That was part of it. It's complicated."

She chuckled. "Nothing new about that."

Finn grinned. "Guess not." Except what he felt for Rachel – if he looked at it the right way, it was the simplest thing there was. He ate for a while, enjoying the bacon, letting it remind him of mornings with Rachel, how he was always touched by how she took care of him and what it meant about how she felt about him. Reinforcement was good, especially of memories like that. Which made him think about other things he could use to reinforce his returned memories. "Uh, Mom... that song Rachel sent, the one you put on my iPod." She would have had to be involved somehow, even just to get in the house to do it.

She smiled sheepishly, but nodded. "What about it?"

"Well that's what got me the first month back, so I was just wondering if there were any more." Rachel had sung to him at various key times over the years, he'd bet there were some of those. If nothing else he ached to hear more of her voice again.

"She sent me a few. The one you heard is the one she said should be first. Blaine helped me put it on, I was just waiting until he could come over and set up some of the others."

"I think I can handle them now. I'd like to hear them, please."

"Sure." She stood up and cleared her plate. "I'll get them for you."

Finn finished his breakfast, and in about ten minutes his mom came back with a flash drive, which she handed to him. "They're all on here," she said. "Five more songs."

Back at his computer, Finn looked down the listing of the five other songs that Rachel had recorded for him. He knew most of these: "Go Your Own Way", her own "Get It Right", she'd even done "Gives You Hell"... but then he saw one he didn't know, selected it, and closed his eyes to listen. Rachel's voice flowed like honey: thick, rich, sweet, warm. (*)

I can't win, I can't reign
I will never win this game without you
Without you
I am lost, I am vain
I will never be the same without you
Without you...

And he knew, that question he'd been asking himself since he'd first started trying to remember, finally answered. Why he'd asked Rachel to marry him. He heard her sing and remembered that time, remembered watching her sing it in the choir room, everyone else fading away as if they were there alone.

She let him love her, let him in, see and know her in ways nobody else could, let him be the one thing she relied on aside from herself, the one that made her whole. And no matter how strange that sometimes seemed, that he could be that for her, he never wanted that to end. Being part of something special makes you special, she'd told him long ago, and she let him be part of her. No matter what else might happen to his life, even finding out that his lifelong idol, his dad, wasn't who he'd thought he was...

Wait a minute. I didn't remember that before either.

Shit.

But Finn heard Rachel's voice, supporting him, felt the memory of her arms around him loving him, and knew that he mattered more than just being his father's son. That he didn't have to rely on 'I have to make my father proud' like he used to, but he did need her.

And, like Kurt had taught them way back when he'd helped the football team to its first win: put a ring on it.

Okay, that was kind of crass, but the main idea was right. He knew he wouldn't be the same without her either, he didn't want to be without her, and with his future in doubt, it made sense to start with the one thing he couldn't live without. Take care of the most important first, like he'd neglected to do before.

He listened to the rest of her recordings as well, letting them reinforce those memories. They all felt surer, more stable. And he definitely enjoyed her solo from Nationals – he usually thought "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" was overwrought like just about everything else from Celine Dion, but having regained his own memory it had more meaning, and as when she'd performed it he had a irrepressible smirk at hearing his Rachel sing about 'nights of endless pleasure'. 'Cause yeah, he'd get on that. When you touch me like this... Soon, he promised.

Now he went back to his playlists, the ones that had spooked him out so badly when he'd first found them on his iPod. All the 'Rachel' lists – he grinned. They weren't hers, they were his ones that he'd done up to listen to with her, especially the custom 'musicals' one. He'd had Kurt's help with that, they'd gone through a lot of songs from musicals and Finn had picked the ones he liked the most (or annoyed him the least) so he'd have a list that she would enjoy that he could also put up with. He'd left off the stuff he really didn't like, and she was happy enough with what was there that she never seemed to miss anything. He mostly liked stuff she would sing along to anyway, because he liked listening to her.

And that "Faithfully" recording of theirs – Finn remembered Regionals when they'd sung it, and making the recording to listen to themselves, but he was still scared to listen to it. He'd freaked out so badly when he'd heard it in hospital, and then later when he'd listened to it deliberately his freakout had been all he could remember. Plus nobody ever sounded the same in a recording as they did in their own head (except maybe Rachel, who had practiced so much that she'd probably adjusted how she thought she sounded to match). Still, he'd better give it a listen if he wanted to be sure he was really all right now. He lay back, took a few slow breaths to relax himself, and started the playback.

Highway run...

He heard himself, and his brain came up with the other thing that had been in his head during that performance: I love you. He smiled. Yes, he loved Rachel, loving her just as much as she loved him, so much that yes, the world was a better place just because she was in it whether she was his or not. He got that now. But having not understood it for a while, he also got why their parents had been so rattled about their engagement and how strongly the two of them felt about each other, and why his mom hadn't realized the damage she was doing in her 'family first' approach when he'd been released from the hospital. This wasn't just some high-school relationship that would inevitably die and you'd get over. This was everything.

Everything. He'd known that all year as he put the time into getting his test scores up, working hard on school, knowing she was headed to New York and needing to at least try to go too, especially once football had fallen through. Even if he didn't make it he didn't want regrets. And when the letter from CCNY had come, he'd called her over to his place so he could show it to her, and he'd swear she was prouder of him than she'd been of herself two weeks before when she'd gotten her NYADA acceptance.

She'd explained that to him as they lay entwined in their afterglow, skin on skin, feeling more one than ever now that their future together was becoming real.

"I wouldn't have even dreamed of doing it without you," I tell her softly. "You taught me how to dream, I still don't know how you dream so big but I'm trying."

Rachel blushes, turning into my side. "You've taught me to dream too," she answers. "Even things I wouldn't have dared dream of before."

That doesn't make sense to me. "What, you wouldn't have dreamed of NYADA before? Broadway? You've always had that dream."

"Of course, but that's not what I meant," she says. She shifts to lie partly on top of me, and the way she looks into my eyes, her dark brown eyes so wide, it all makes me feel so warm and loved. "A big dream... that's relative to what you think you can do. Broadway seems like a big dream, and maybe it really is, but I'm... used to it. I've been getting prepared for it since I was a baby." I stroke her hair, and she sighs happily. "The really big dreams are the ones you hardly dare to have. If someone had told me, when I was ten or twelve or even fourteen, what my life was going to be like now, some of it I would have believed and some of it I wouldn't."

Like what, I wonder. "NYADA?"

"Being accepted into an elite musical theater program to groom me for Broadway stardom? Well I was quite full of myself, so I would definitely have believed that," Rachel admits. "But if someone had told me that I was going to find this wonderful boy, handsome and kind, with a lovely voice, a creative soul and a huge heart, and that he would know me and understand me, and love me anyway..." Her words that somehow mean me, her hand on my face, her body against mine, how did I get this lucky? "And that he would be here in Lima, right under my nose – or above it, most of the time," she giggles, "– I wouldn't have believed a word of it. Too impossible to even consider dreaming about. Like Christmas, you gave me what I hadn't realized I really wanted. I would never have dared dream that you existed until I met you, and even then it seemed too farfetched to happen. And yet here you are." She gives me a light kiss, and I'm just so blown away by all she's said, that I can be that for her, so special, and that she loves me so much, that I let myself go, kissing her back hungrily, wrapping my arms around her and rolling us over, caressing her body to show her my appreciation until she moans.

I feel her wrap around me. I prepare, pausing to whisper in her ear. "I love you Rachel."

I hear her answer "I love you, Finn," feel her hands stroke down my back and clutch me to her as our bodies fuse again.

Oh, how he needed her and missed her, missed that closeness they'd had. But Rachel had been missing that for five months, just when she was getting everything he'd been taken from her. He burned to see her, regain that last piece of his life and give her back what was missing from hers. He wasn't sure how best to approach it, though.

Finn checked the time. It was late morning now, and she'd be in class. He needed to be in his that afternoon, too, Psych was at one-thirty and it was getting close to the end of the course. At least he could find out when and how it would be best to get in touch with her, he didn't want to alarm her with a missed call or anything like that.

Finn took out his wallet, dug out her father's business card, and dialed. He should update him anyway, after all, and he didn't want to have to wait until tonight to get things moving. "Um, I'd like to make an appointment to see Hiram Berry, please," Finn said when the receptionist answered. "It's Finn Hudson."

"Just a moment, I'll check his schedule." She came back to him in a few moments. "He's quite busy for the next few days, Mr. Hudson. Is this urgent?"

"No, but I want to update him on my situation. It shouldn't take very long."

"Well he might have a bit of time mid-afternoon today. I'll check."

A minute or so later Finn heard a small click as his call was forwarded.

"Finn, glad you called," Hiram said. "How are things going with you?"

"Really well," Finn said. "That's what I want to talk to you about, actually."

"That's great, Finn. I can squeeze you in at 3:15 today for about half an hour, if you don't mind sitting in on my coffee break."

"You don't need to give that up for me –"

"Nonsense, I'll face the rest of the day's work more clearly once we've had a chance to talk. I'm glad to hear you're doing well. So I'll see you at 3:15, all right?"

"Yes sir," Finn said, smiling. Okay then. Time to get things moving.

* "Without You", written by Taio Cruz, Usher Raymond IV, Rico Love, David Guetta, Giorgio Tuinfort, Frédéric Riesterer.

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