A Decade on, and a Royal Appointment.
When dawn came the following day, Finn knew exactly what it meant; in a few hours, he would have been an angel for a decade, having died on a day that should have otherwise been such a happy one. He knew where he had to go first that day; he had resolved to let Rachel know about Emily ASAP, before someone else let it slip. Wes had agreed that it was for the best, although he like Kurt did wonder exactly how she would react to his news. Finn therefore made his way to New York; not to the house in Bedford Stuyvesant, but the dressing room of a Broadway theatre, and found Rachel sitting there quietly, the date at the forefront of her mind that day.
She looked up on feeling the draught, and smiled at him. "I had hoped that you would come and see me today; it is a particularly poignant anniversary, harder than the last few… I hadn't seen you around as much, so I wasn't sure whether I should expect you. Kurt told me something about you being on a mission?"
"He was correct; I am doing a task for Elizabeth in London, and I am only back for a few days over the anniversary… Look, I need to tell you something before anyone else does. You have always said that Sam is your second soulmate, and well, it turns out that I have a second soulmate too. Her name is Emily, she is British, and we are going to be together long term. I will always love you, Rachel, but I love her as much, and I think she is my second chance at happiness…"
Rachel stared at him in silence for a moment, and he wondered if this was going to be as bad as he had imagined; was she about to burst into tears and scream at him for finding someone new? Then she smiled, and said, "Well I am very pleased to hear it; I have always felt guilty that I had someone new in Sam; I worried that you were going to be left alone for the rest of eternity, or that Sam would be instead. Now we will both have someone, although I doubt that she is as talented and beautiful as me…"
"Naturally," replied Finn, not sure if she was being serious, but recalling that white lies were permissible for angels if they were used to safe the feelings of someone else. "She certainly does not have your vocal talents for a start; she is more of an academic type, but that is what I like about her. She has even managed to get me addicted to English tea, and has taught me the whole rigmarole that the Brits use. I was given a coffee when I got back and I could barely stomach it."
"Wait, is she an English angel!" exclaimed Rachel. "You aren't going to England for good are you? If you did, that would be so awful for all of us…"
"Relax; she is coming here when I finish my secondment there. Elizabeth has found her a job, so there is nothing to stand in our way. Once she is here and settled, I will arrange something so that everyone can meet her together; I know that you will all want to judge her, to make sure that she is suitable for me…"
"That is only because we care; we would not want to see you getting hurt. Of all of us mortals, I think Puck will judge her the most and will be vocal in his criticism if he feels that she is wrong for you."
"He will not be able to find anything to criticise, trust me. Anyway, enough about me; how is the show coming along?" Finn sat back and allowed Rachel to do what she did best; talk about herself. As he did, he realised that there was a very good chance that she and Emily would take a dislike to each other, but not because of him; they were just so different in their own character. He resolved to ensure that they were never left alone together, as it would result in a fight of epic proportions…
After he had spoken to Rachel, Finn headed to Massachusetts, and the home that was shared by Puck and Quinn. He was on a day's leave, and she was still on maternity leave from her teaching post. They now had two young children in the house, plus there was Beth, who they now saw on a semi-regular basis. Being a full time father had mellowed Puck a lot, and his favourite time of the day was when he was home in time to read his kids a bedtime story. That day however was a darker one in the Puckerman household, particularly for him. The sudden death of his best friend a decade ago had left him in turmoil, but it had of course been a good thing in some ways for his life. He had been forced to evaluate things, and had lead to the choices that had given him his career, and indirectly, his wife and kids. It was still hard though, and he often wondered how things might have been had his best friend not wandered into the path of a psychopath…
When Finn appeared in the room, he did not speak; he just held his arms open and let Puck hug him for several minutes. As they did, Quinn walked in, shook her head with a smile, and took a seat. When the two of them eventually broke apart, Puck saw that she had joined them, and instantly blushed.
"Don't worry; I know that bromances never end," she said coolly, which made Finn laugh. Quinn was observing him carefully, and with a broadening smile, carried on by saying, "However, I think that Rachel might have been replaced in his heart by someone else; you don't look as wistful as you have done for the last few years. I think that you have met another angel and are in love…"
Finn stared at her for a moment, then said, "Has Santana been giving you lessons on how to develop a third eye? Yes, I have met someone; her name is Emily, and she is the polar opposite of Rachel. Between the three of us, she is my actual soulmate; the whole sparks and tingles thing happens when I am with her. Rachel must never know, naturally. Emily is an intelligent redhead with the most charming English manners, and so un-divalike it is wonderful. She just prefers to sit quietly in a corner and read a book."
Quinn nodded, and couldn't help but think that Emily sounded a little like Emma Schuester, but the less said about that the better for Finn's sake.
"So when do we get to meet her, assuming from what you said that this is going to be a long term thing?" asked Puck, trying not to scream out his worries that Finn might be about to leave forever.
"Soon, I hope; I still have some work to finish over in England, but when it is done, she will be coming back with me and staying. Kurt's mom says that I will need to redesign my apartment first, but I don't know…"
"Finn, you will have to, no question," said Puck. "From what you have told me, your place is a man cave. You need to tone that right down, make it a comfortable home, not a bachelor pad. Kurt would no doubt help, but it might assist him if you find out the kind of style that Emily likes. She will appreciate things all the more if your place is close to her ideal home…" Puck stopped as he realised that his wife and best friend were both staring at him in mild amusement, wondering when he had become a sensitive new man…
Finn would go on to visit the majority of his close friends that day; all of them would welcome him warmly, glad to see him looking so happy on what had been a sad anniversary for all of them. It of course fell to Brittany to say something which struck a chord with Finn. She pointed out that whilst it had been very sad when he had died, and even sadder when Kurt and then Blaine had followed him, they could know all recognise that it was the start of something new and better; the time when all the quarrels and disputes of old had been set aside, old rivalries forgotten as two very different glee clubs from Ohio merged into one family…
Santana had nodded gravely, then said, "She has a very valid point. The way that those Warbler boys, suffering from troubles of their own, all stepped up to help us when you were gone; that initial show of support when the four of them showed up for your funeral… My initial reaction when I saw the meerkat there was anger; I wanted to call him out, punch him, drag him out of the building, but then I saw your mom, how upset she was, how she seemed to accept their presence, so I decided to do and say nothing. Now of course I know why they were there, what had been done to them, how your actions had saved them all from a much worse fate. A decade on, I regard Sebastian as one of my closest friends, and our name calling is all for play…"
"And you also have a physical bond, thanks to that little girl over there," added Finn.
"If you had said to me back then that I would have a child fathered by Sebastian Smythe, I would have laughed, then probably punched you. Now I am so glad that he was willing to help, even if it did start off as a joke. She gets more perfect every day, and the green tones in her eyes are all from him. He is a totally changed man, a better person, but then again, so am I. I have even stopped putting the razor blades in my hair." Finn smiled at that, but couldn't help but think that they would be going back in as soon as her daughter started school…
He spent the afternoon in the old house in Lima, alongside his mom, Burt, and Kurt. Blaine had made excuses that he had to be elsewhere, certain that they needed time to be just a family of four. It was an afternoon tinged with sadness, and when the exact time arrived that marked a decade exactly since the sheriff had knocked on the door and altered everything, Carole had started to cry. Her son reacted instinctively, wrapping an arm around her, and pulling her closer to him.
"I don't know why I am crying," she said quietly. "After all, I still have you around."
"You are crying for the months a decade ago between today and Thanksgiving when you didn't have me, and when you also lost Kurt and Blaine in close succession. You are crying because I was murdered, taken away from you at the whim of a deranged young man. You are crying for the grandchildren that I never gave you - yes, you have Cormac and the new baby on the way, but it isn't the same; they aren't flesh and blood to you. I could tear up myself if I think about all that I lost as well, and when I think about how sad and withdrawn you were back then. I don't, because we are all happy now, still together in so many ways. You have Rory to take care of and mother now, and if I hadn't died, then where would he be? Not here with Trent in all likelihood. If you think about it, from all of that misery and pain there has come so much joy and wonder for many people. I might have died, but a new way of living rose from the ashes of that loss and the others that followed."
"You are right, son," said Burt. "On that subject, if you had lived, then you might just have ended up with Rachel, and where would that have left Sam? For that matter, you would never have met Emily either, and that would have left four sad soulmates. In hindsight, as you say, your death was not an end, but the beginning of something bright, new and better…"
Finn ended his day by doing something that he hadn't done for nearly 10 years; he headed to the cemetery in Lima, and visited his own grave. It was naturally well cared for, and fresh flowers had been laid in profusion that day. Kurt had travelled there with him, and stood by his own headstone, admiring the words that his father had chosen which still touched his heart - 'Beloved only son. Taken in tragedy' - and below his own name, Blaine's.
"It is strange being back here, recalling all that I saw that day," mused Finn quietly. "Your mom made me come, and at the time… There were all of the relatives that I hadn't seen in years, talking about me as if they had only seen me last week; you, your dad and Blaine supporting my mom, along with Puck. The fact that Quinn and Brittany were absent rankled a lot at the time, but not now when I know why they stayed away. The four Warblers standing off to one side, getting stared at by Santana and some of the others, none of them knowing of course why they were even there… What's that poem in that film? Do not stand at my grave and weep?"
"I don't know if that poem is in a film, but you have made a very good choice. The next line is 'I am not there, I do not sleep.' It is the truth, although on the day of your funeral, I didn't believe that. What lies in those graves are mortal remains; we live on in better, angelic bodies. This may sound terrible, but in a way, I am actually glad that I died when I did, and will always be young," replied Kurt.
"Me too," responded Finn, and as he did so he smiled, as he thought about the new thing that an early demise had brought him; the love of a beautiful lady…
Finn would return to London on the final day of the month, and arrived back into London on the first day of April; a Saturday morning punctuated with the showers for which the month was known, but with warmer temperatures and a bluer sky behind those clouds than there had been for a few months. In Thurloe Square, the BBC breakfast show on the television ran with a story which was to Nick an obvious April Fool from the moment that it began; Jeff however remained convinced that it was true until the presenters of the show actually confirmed that it was indeed a fake, and that left him a little angry that he had not spotted it. The BBC was quite famous for making their jokes as convincing as possible, ever since the report in 1957 about the problems facing the spaghetti harvest in Switzerland had lead to plant nurseries being inundated with requests for spaghetti bushes.
Nick had to admit that this years tale about a cult that worshipped Richard Nixon could well have been true; even more credible if they had said Donald Trump instead. He was not worried that his husband was losing his touch as a prankster though; he just knew that he was nervous about the events of the following day, when Her Majesty was going to unveil his new work to the watching critics and public. It was one thing for the Queen to like it, but if the critics and the public despised it, then it would be a massive blow to Jeff. Nick knew this, and that was why he was keeping a secret from him, something he had sworn not to do. He had received a letter the day before from the head of the UN legation in the UK, offering him a permanent full time post in the London office.
"I will admit that we had issues when your secondment was first suggested to us, but they soon vanished, and now we regard you as a critically important member of the diplomatic team. The role we have envisioned for you is largely the same as your current one, but would expand into helping with the promotion of the United Nations' works and liasing more closely with the UK governments. There would be an increase in remuneration in reflection of this. We would also work to change your husband's visa to a working one, allowing him to resume his career here in London, where he would be in demand from the various galleries and colleges. At this point I must state however that your current department in New York was extremely reluctant for us to make this approach, but I firmly believe that this offer gives you more scope for career development and for an eventual promotion to higher office."
It was a very flattering offer, but there was one big problem. New York was home. They had friends there, family, and a beautiful home that they owned outright. Then there was a certain furry creature there, a cat that Jeff still pined for. They were scheduled to head home in around 13 weeks, and as far as Nick was concerned, they would be leaving then. He could not however just ignore the letter, and he also could not keep Jeff in the dark about it forever. That was something that could wait until the following night, once they had been to Windsor…
For Jeff, the whole of Saturday would be a blur, his mind unable to think straight. Then Sunday came, and they were up and about early for a trip out to Windsor again, albeit for much happier reasons this time. The skies had cleared overnight and the sun shone unimpeded as they made their way to the town on the same combination of tube and train. Wes was full of smiles, enjoying a day out and looking forward to seeing his royal playmates again, although he made no mention of where they were going as their journey went on, as his parents would have wished. He talked instead about all that he could see from the train windows, including all the planes that were landing and taking off from Heathrow airport. At Slough, he remarked loudly about how small the train that would take them down the short branch line to the royal borough was, and on arrival, how long the station name of Windsor and Eton Central was.
Seeing the castle looming over the town left him silent though, and as they made their way to the ticket office to hand over their credentials to the visitors reception, he just stared. They were invited to wait to one side, and then a member of staff appeared that would escort them to the private entrance to the family quarters. It came as no surprise that the Duchess was waiting for them at the door, and after greeting them all warmly, made time to give them a quick tour of the castle's main rooms before taking them along to the gallery where Jeff's drawing was to be revealed to the art world at large. It was hung in the middle of the main wall of the room, covered by a curtain for now.
At once Nick realised that the spot, immediately visible from the main entrance door, had to be the one that was for pride of place works, something that made his heart swell with pride. His face must have given away his thoughts for, as Jeff headed off with little Wes to show him some of the other paintings, the Duchess came over and whispered in his ear, "They moved a Gainsborough for it… Her Majesty comes here at least once a day just to see it, and she always leaves with a smile. After the ceremony is over today, she intends to ask Jeff for his permission to have copies made for Balmoral, Sandringham and of course, Buckingham Palace, so that she can always have it with her."
Nick nodded, and replied, "That will not be a problem, trust me. He is always so convinced that his work isn't good enough, but hopefully today can persuade him otherwise."
"Well I am certainly looking forward to being able to say, in the decades to come, that I met and enjoyed a friendship with your husband. Her Majesty has met so many artists in the course of her life too, more than even the most informed members of the public are aware of - Picasso for a start. Your husband's style is very different to his, but I think that the day will come when Sterling-Duval is just as well known a name to people, and people will line up to buy his sketches when they come up for auction…"
"I think so too; maybe even a gallery full of his works at GOMA in New York. However, if I say that to him, he just smiles, shakes his head, and says that will never happen…"
The conversation between Nick and the Duchess stopped then as Jeff headed back towards them. "Every time that I think I have seen all of the treasures of the Royal Art Collection, I come across something new that takes my breath away. To be the person that is in charge of all of these has to be an honour; if the job was vacant, that might be the one thing that could tempt me to leave New York for England on a permanent basis. You could spend the whole of your working life looking at these works and never be able to say you were bored…"
"I would agree," said the Duchess with a smile, "but the chances are that your husband might have something to say about that, and in any case, the present incumbent has, as you know, a good many years to go before they will reach retirement age. They are in their late thirties now, but they replaced a man that was in his late eighties before he gave up the post."
"I shall just have to be content then with the rare glimpse I have had of the works that the public do not see," said Jeff with a smile. "In any case, London is nice, but it isn't home."
"How much longer are you here for?" the Duchess asked.
"We are leaving at the end of June," replied Nick. "We have a beautiful brownstone and a precocious cat to get home to in the West Village."
"A whole townhouse! You are either fabulously wealthy, or very lucky."
"The latter would be the better description; we aren't poor, but even with all that we have been lucky to have inherited and been given in cash terms, and my decent salary, we could not have afforded to buy the house," responded Nick, who noticed that Jeff was staying silent.
"It is the same here for young working people. The whole Brexit mess did burst the bubble a little, but not enough. It is a crime that essential workers like teachers and nurses cannot afford to buy in the city, and even renting is a struggle with the shortage of social housing; that none of the rank and file officers of the Metropolitan Police can afford to live in the city they serve either. We have firefighters that commute in from the North of England. We have seen the start of changes to redress that, but the years of greed that started in the 1980s have left a horrendous legacy…"
Nick nodded in reply, impressed by the passion in her voice as she spoke; he knew that the majority of his colleagues in the UN office faced a 90 minute commute after work on average. Furthermore, there was a man in the next building that arrived from Scotland on a Monday morning, and went back to his family on a Friday afternoon…
At that moment there was a flurry of activity amongst the staff, and Kate excused herself, knowing that the guest of honour was about to arrive. Nick and Jeff found themselves and Wes directed to stand to one side of the covered picture. Nick placed his right hand gently on his son's shoulder, and took Jeff's hand in his left, the gesture hidden from view by their son. Then the door opened, and she appeared, dressed not in her usual twin set but in a dress. Jeff gasped as he realised exactly what she was wearing; an exact replica of the one she wore in his drawing…. The gathered journalists, the royal correspondents, also began to murmur as they saw it, and one that Nick was sure was the London representative of Vogue began to scribble quickly as the cameras clicked.
Then she was at the other side of the drawing and the room fell silent as she smiled at them all. "I have asked all of you to assemble here today to reveal a new item in the Royal Collection. It was gifted to me personally at a time when my life was in turmoil. Most of you will know that I have found great strength in a drawing known as The Judging Angel and it has continued to empower me in the last few weeks. The artist that created it, Mr Jeff Sterling-Duval, is currently residing in London, and I had had the pleasure of meeting him a few times before my husband passed away. On hearing of my loss, he decided to create a gift for me, a drawing on a more personal theme. Such however is the beauty of the piece that I feel compelled to share it with the nation, indeed the world. It therefore gives me great pleasure to reveal to you The Happy Couple."
Her Majesty pulled the cord and the curtain fell away. At once there were gasps of delight, approving noises and the clicking of camera shutters, all of which intensified as the significance of the Queen's attire was realised. The Vogue writer had her photographer working overtime, taking shot after shot. Jeff was suddenly being motioned to join the Queen on the other side of the image he had created, and for a while, artist and subject stood side by side…
Then came the questions, of course. People wanted to know what had inspired him to create the work in the first place, then the art critics moved in and began to ask him about his style and method. For once, Jeff felt able to take it all in his stride, and answered with confidence. That was until the final question from the BBC to Her Majesty, which she answered with the words "An honour would indeed not be out of the question; they have been awarded to US citizens before in an honorary capacity. I think that one might well be deserved given that he has managed to make me smile again…"
When the formal ceremony was over, the little family of three were invited into the private quarters of the castle for a late lunch. Wes was pleased to find the children were there and went off to sit with them at their own table. Jeff immediately found himself accosted by the Queen's two elder children, both of whom were keen to thank her personally for what he had done for their mother, and indeed for them. Although neither had even been thought of at the time that the original photo was taken, both had memories of those two youthful people, and so the drawing spoke to them too…
Nick meanwhile found himself invited to take a seat next to Her Majesty as they waited for the lunch to be served. "Do you realise, Mr Sterling-Duval," she said quietly, "that you and your husband are the first visitors that I have had in the last few weeks that have not begun their conversation by expressing their sorrows and asking how I am coping since my husband died? I would like to thank you for that, as it is so wearing after a while. One gets the urge to tell them to shut up, or indeed snap something rude at them. Instead you have acted as if nothing has taken place, and I am grateful for it. Life continues, and as you grow older, one gets resigned to what was once familiar ebbing away; what you used to take for granted vanishing. I know that in the fullness of time I shall be reunited with him and my parents. As one gets older, that certainty is a comfort."
"That is also something that I believe in, ma'am; that in the end, however long I may live, I will be reunited with all those that I love that have passed before me for all eternity, in an angelic realm." replied Nick.
The Queen nodded, then lowering her voice, said, "This may sound strange, but at Mr Smythe's performance - and before I forget, please thank him for the card he sent; it was not mawkish or maudlin, but contained lines from Shakespeare, which actually gave me hope and strength… I'm sorry, I digress. At his performance, Dame Maggie Smith informed me that there were angels in the room. Something tells me that you might be able to confirm if that could have been the case."
Nick looked around, then said, "Yes, ma'am, you would be correct. You might not be aware of the tragedy that Jeff and I found ourselves caught up in at school, but that lead to three people that we liked dying; by some miracle, we are lucky enough to have been given the ability to see them, along with any other angel that wishes to manifest themselves to us."
"Which means, as I always suspected, that Mr Montgomery posed for The Judging Angel… I would like to meet its subject when I pass on to the next world; perhaps he was the angel that Dame Maggie saw that day."
"Of that I cannot be sure, but it might well have been; Wes does keep an eye on all of us, as he always did in life. He isn't here today; however, there is an older woman sat in the chair on the right hand side of the fireplace, who from what I have studied, might well be your grandmother…"
The Queen stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "That was Queen Mary's favourite spot to sit in this room, and I have always felt something in this room; it has always felt as if there was love in here…"
"I don't really notice angels too much day by day; if I do feel a draught then it might well be Wes or one of the others coming to visit. Their wings do create quite a movement of air. I think what it comes down to in the end is this; if you believe that they are with us, then they will be. If you believe strongly, then one day you might start to see them, as has happened with a few of our friends over the years. For a woman of your faith, it should not be too much of a stretch of the imagination to picture them all with you…"
Then lunch was ready; it was a pleasant affair, with the subject of conversation quickly moving on to the season; it was Palm Sunday after all. The question of the tradition of Maundy Money was brought up; Nick was pleased to see that Wes was playing close attention as Her Majesty described the tradition of handing a small purse full of coins to older people chosen as worthy by the people of the diocese of whatever great cathedral she was at that day, and how this year she would hand out 96 purses each containing 96p. "I am not certain when they began to link the number of purses and the value of its contents to the age of the monarch, but there will be some regret when my heir takes over at the drop in value," she said with a small smile. "It has its origins of course as an act of giving alms to the poor, but now it is largely symbolic; they could not buy much with 96p."
"It is nonetheless an act of philanthropy that many other global leaders could do well to learn. We are all put on this earth to help each other, and that should be with no regard to race, sex or age," said Jeff, who then blushed furiously as he realised that he had not been expected to speak.
Her Majesty merely smiled back at him, and said, "I agree; we need to recall that we are all part of a community, a global heritage. The cult of self interest has gone too far in my view. However, the pendulum is slowly swinging back, although its journey will not be completed in my lifetime."
"Which is a tragedy; that vision should be one of your legacies, mummy," remarked her son and heir. No-one at the table could find any reason to contradict that line of thought…