:: CHAPTER 3: A NEW DREAM ::

He slaps the beeping alarm clock on his nightstand without cracking open an eye. His head pounds and his back aches and he barely got any sleep thanks to those goddamned haunting dreams. Nights like last night make him regret ever getting involved in this profession.

Five alarm townhome fire, four fatalities - two of them kids. Ages four and seven. As he rubs the sleep out of his eyes, he just can't erase the image of the family photo he'd been shown on the scene. Their sweet innocent cherub faces, so bright and alive and full of promise for the future.

Maybe worse than the image of those little faces was the sounds of their keening mother who'd collapsed in his arms when she witnessed the tiny body bags being carted out from the rubble of the now subdued inferno. Her pain had ripped through him like a shotgun blast.

Now it's time to get up to do it all over again and hope for a better outcome (isn't this the very definition of insanity?). Not every call is as bad as last night though. A good many calls around here are for simple false alarms, carbon monoxide alarms, MVA extrications, backyard bar-b-que accidents and the like. Structure fires rank fairly low on the totem pole of emergencies in these parts.

Six months ago he'd left the FDNY behind for exactly the purpose of avoiding frequent repeats of last night. He can handle the casualties and fatalities most of the time, but when there's a high chance of finding a kid in the wreckage – multiple times a night every night – the stress begins to take its toll.

His last active rotation in NYC was a daycare center with 14 injured and three fatalities (all under the age of five). The scene was more than he could stomach. It was time for a change, back to a (slightly) simpler life. Back to his roots – sort of.

The suburbs of Cleveland weren't exactly Lima, but they were close enough to get the feeling of home back in his bones, a peace of mind, a good night's rest without so many nightmares. Well, except for those goddamned dreams.

This wasn't even supposed to be his chosen path in life. Don't get him wrong, he loves his job. Being a firefighter has turned out to be an amazingly fulfilling experience and he doesn't regret making this pivot. But another lifetime ago he'd made other plans... safer plans. Plans where music guided his future.

But that all came crashing down on him a long time ago. The song stopped playing, and his plan for the future walked (well, flew) right out of his life, so he forced himself to find a new one. His passion for music may still be buried in there somewhere but so is the pain, and he's really not trying to be a sadist. So he wakes up every day and puts on the uniform and works his two or three day shift rotations and life goes on. He hopes it's enough. Most days it is, but others... well, others are plagued by those goddamned haunting dreams.

. . . . .

It's been seven years. Seven long fucking years and she still torments his restfulness, invades his very being. She always picks her battles wisely, waiting to attack his subconscious – because lord knows his waking self does one hell of a job burying those memories (although, the three failed relationships he's had since then might beg to differ).

He supposes it's his own fault for falling so hard so fast so young. From the moment her voice first reached his ears he knew he was a goner. She was his muse, the Calliope to his Oeagrus. He knew where she was ultimately headed – she told him as much from the beginning, and hell, he was more than willing to follow – even out of state. But across the pond? London? They'd never even discussed that possibility, not at that stage of their lives. He'd had plans, plans specifically plotted to orbit around her sun: New York, college, life together in a shoebox apartment, then Broadway for her and music teacher for him, and somewhere in between the I do's and the kids and their happily ever after.

But Greek tragedies don't end that way, do they?

He'd fought hard against New York initially. His family and friends and whole life were in Lima. He didn't have a direction or a plan or a fucking clue what he'd wanted to do after high school. And while at first he was perfectly content to consider loving and supporting Rachel Berry as a full time position, something deep inside him screamed that it would be the death of him personally and of them collectively if he didn't have something to call his own, something that fulfilled him as much as Broadway fulfilled her.

The old Finn Hudson was no one special and didn't dream any bigger than Burt's Tire Shop. He didn't know what possibilities the world could offer him and he certainly never considered himself worthy of anything more than Lima, Ohio. But that was before Rachel Berry. She made him feel alive and invincible, enriched every fiber of his being and broadened his horizons in ways that still amaze him to this day. It's pretty easy to feel like a god when you have a muse like her singing your praise, right?

After months of soul searching and long (no seriously, like really long all-night, days-on-end LONG) conversations with Rachel, he realized that next to her, music made him the happiest. But he also loved the idea of helping people and making a difference in their lives. Plus, he really liked kids. Rachel had always touted his naturally strong leadership skills. It just all fell into place when Ms. Pillsbury suggested that music scholarship and Mr Schue pointed out how great he'd be as a teacher, shaping young minds and changing the future all at once.

So following their senior year of high school, where once they'd made a career out of painstakingly planning every little minute detail for a future together in New York after graduation, it was a total slap to the heart when she changed the plan last minute without even discussing it with him.

London was calling, and she just had to go. But he already had that partial scholarship at NYU all set for the original plans – plans he was unable to change at this late hour… or maybe he was unwilling.

He didn't want her to go. He knew this was her big break but he just wasn't ready to lose her so soon. He'd expected he'd have at least a few years with her, the college years and the paying her dues years, time while they could still be just Finn and Rachel, before she gave herself over to the rest of the world.

But then that damn call came, and the scouts were recruiting her and he knew he was already losing her. He was young and selfish and maybe a little prideful. But he was also terrified. He knew once the world discovered his star he'd never get her back again, she'd never really be his again and he'd be left behind in tattered pieces like remnant space junk trailing behind a comet.

He'd never stand in the way of her dreams though. She was the comet and he was the planet standing in her path, but he's seen those movies and dammit, her story wasn't gonna end like that. So he blamed the fact that she'd said yes to signing on with the agency without asking him first, and he blamed the fact that he was unwilling to leave his mother behind right now to just drop everything and fly across an ocean to do.. what exactly? He had no clue, because they hadn't made plans for that. And now there wasn't time.

He pleaded. He begged. But he knew this opportunity for her might never come around again and he also knew how badly she wanted it. It was her dream eighteen years in the making. For a minute she was willing to relent, to pass it by. He knew if she did, eventually it'd destroy them. Their own personal Armageddon. It became painfully obvious to him that her superstar career track was going to tear them apart, if not now then later, so he might as well just pull the ripcord and get it over with.

She was unwilling to bend and he wasn't about to break her – yet he knows his words in fact DID do just that. God, how he regretted saying them. He never wanted to issue an ultimatum to her but at the time he just didn't see another way. He loved her too damn much and respected her dreams too much to ever make her choose. He already knew she'd choose him over Broadway if push came to shove – though he secretly also feared maybe she wouldn't and he wasn't sure which was worse. If she chose him, he believed she'd eventually resent him for it. They were doomed either way and it was inevitable so it seemed. The only way he could force her hand was to retract his own. So he did what he thought was best for her and said those words that he'll regret til the day he dies.

She'd tearfully returned the engagement ring and he'd reluctantly let her go. And that was the end of their epic love story. A future laid out so carefully over the course of three years, washed away in an instant. He both hated her and loved her for walking away and pursuing her dreams that way… but he's missed the hell out of her every day since.

Nowadays, he does his best to keep the wallowing in self-pity thing to a bare minimum. He tries his best to push away the memories and the longing for her, but it's always there, bubbling under the surface. They may have broken the engagement and ended their relationship, but he knew damn well their tether was still there – the one thing that survived their apocalypse – and probably always would be. So he still wrestles the demons and the ghosts of a whirlwind love gone… just gone.

The ghostly torturous visions during his slumber this time can probably be blamed on that damn call last night. Seeing the photo of those kids, especially at their ages, just reminds him of everything he lost when he'd lost her. It really didn't help that the picture showed a little girl with wavy long auburn hair and big brown eyes, and a little boy with a spatter of freckles on his face. It could have been their kids. It's supposed to have been… whatever.

. . . . .

Nine Years Ago…

It's their junior year and their first big trip away from home. Sitting with Mike and Puck in their hotel room in New York City – Rachel's dream city – preparing for their first stab at a National Show Choir win, Finn is conflicted. He knows this is the best place on earth to be, and if things go his way, he can come home with the trophy AND his girl.

He thinks he's got better than Vegas odds of hitting the jackpot and winning her back here in NYC than maybe anywhere else in the world. Except for one problem: they still need to actually write the original songs to perform at the damn thing, which is supposed to happen in just four short days. Well, make that two problems… there's also Jesse St. James. He was trying to figure out how he was gonna slay this beast with two heads and no sword.

Finn realized it before they'd left Lima; she's the love of his life and he wants her back. Hell, he already knew it the week after regionals when he broke up with her for kissing Puck (PUCK of all fucking people?). He was just too damned prideful and stubborn to give in to her again so quickly.

But he's always known, she is his future. Yeah true, she'd messed up, broke his heart, and he sat around licking his wounded soul waiting for it to heal. The problem, he eventually concluded, is that you simply can't heal HALF a soul; he still needed to get his other half back. But she was presently unavailable.

She's been seeing St. Jackass again for at least a few weeks, and he's really not sure where that's going or how serious it is. When they'd arrived at their hotel for the competition, she did mention to him that she'd told Jesse to stay in Ohio and that she wasn't even replying to his texts. 'No boys, no distractions until we win that trophy,' she'd said. He found that little nugget of info very interesting… and a seed of hope was planted.

Now in his hotel room in New York, he and the guys sit around munching on vending machine snacks drinking Red Bulls and trying to be teenage geniuses. Finn steers the conversation to a stroke of brilliance that hatched on the airplane and hit him like a thunderbolt: she can't ever resist him when they sing together.

"Hey, can I try something out on you guys? I think that one of our songs should be a duet with me and Rachel."

Mike's the first to pipe up. "I just want to win. We all know that you two doing a duet is our best shot at that."

The crescent shaped grin spreads over Finn's face quickly. "Awesome."

Puck throws a balled up piece of paper at Finn – whose face is buried in a notebook feverishly scribbling lyrics – in order to get his attention. "Okay. Can we just talk about the Jewish elephant in the room? Ask her out, dude!"

"Who? Rachel? But she's totally into Jesse right now."

"You're in New York, the city of love," Puck retorts enthusiastically. "Anything's possible here. You need to ask her out tonight. Take her on one of those big, awful dates you see in those unwatchable romantic comedies that you grow a vagina if you watch all the way through. This is your shot, dude."

He knows his lifelong mohawked friend is probably right. Within twenty minutes the groundwork for Operation Get'er Back, Dude is mapped out and Finn finds himself tapping out a text to the only girl whose eyes reflected back his future when he looked into them. 'Meet me in Central Park at Bow Bridge 3pm. Dress up.'

Two and half hours later, he's standing under a cerulean blue sky like an excited puppy waiting for his master's return on the iconic structure arched over the shimmering water on a gloriously beautiful late spring day in Central Park. Armed with a colorful bouquet of flowers and dressed in his Sunday best, he's watching in awe as an equally glorious sight approaches him.

She's a vision to behold in her pale Tiffany blue flowy dress, the sheer fabric rippling gently in the breeze on her tiny frame. Her hair's pulled to a low side bun and her face is as dazzling as he's ever seen it. He's bowled over by the mere sight of her, just like always. Her eyes go wide with surprise as they find him there and his heart skips a beat as his mouth goes dry, hoping his words don't get stuck in his throat.

He tells himself to keep his cool but he knows he needs to quell his hammering heart rate and pull it together first. He takes a couple deep calming breaths and summons all the charm of his inner Spencer Tracy then holds the flowers out to her with a suave half grin. "Oh, these are for you. I thought since, uh, we're both captains and all, we should write a duet for nationals."

She accepts his offering but he can see the mixed bag of delight, shock and slight skepticism pulling at her features as she smiles sheepishly. "The tie, flowers, Central Park?"

"It's, uh, a work date. Totally professional." He hoped he was playing it cool enough, not wanting to come on too strong, too fast. He's pretty sure she knew better though, since only she knows him well enough to know he'd never be caught dead in a suit in the middle of Central Park like this for anyone else.

Following an hour-long leisurely stroll through the park spent discussing their upcoming performance and his ideas for their duet, they finally arrive at their destination. He won't ever forget the look on her face when she realized where they were standing and that he'd made reservations. As they're seated in the iconic dining room she can barely contain her excitement. "Oh, my God, I can't believe we're at Sardi's! Sardi's – the birthplace of the Tony Award! One day they're gonna put a cartoon like this of me on these walls."

He loves that he was able to put that smile on her face. Sitting across the table from her, he just wants to get up and sweep her into his arms, pledge his eternal love and devotion and make her his again, make them FINCHEL again. It's all he's been thinking about since her song at regionals over a month ago. If he's honest with himself, it's all he ever thinks about since that first kiss more than a year ago. "I like the way you dream so big. I don't know how to do that. You look so pretty tonight. Rachel, I have something to say to you…"

Then goddamned Patti LuPone happened. Okay yeah, it was kinda cool meeting a celebrity and all, but now that's all she can talk about for the rest of their meal. Yeah, well so much for the first attempt... but he doesn't give up that easy.

They leave the restaurant and she's clinging to his arm like she always used to in the halls at school or at the mall or even standing in line for movie tickets or ice cream. It's like she's meant to be connected with him there, the way she fits so perfectly against his side. Like he was made to be her personal iPod dock.

He's pulled out of his thoughts as she muses, "Being in New York is like falling in love over and over again every minute. Tonight felt like one of those awesome nights you see in one of those amazing romantic comedies. All we need now is just a group of street singers to serenade us, and it would be perfect."

While she's chattering on about the romance of the evening with her wide brown smiling eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the street lights, he figures that's his cue; time to make his move. "Wait. This is the moment in those romantic comedies where I kiss you."

"I thought this was just a work date?" She looks at him with disingenuous confusion.

"Really?" He asks. "No." she replies.

He figures he's got this on lockdown now, there's no possible chance of screwing it up. So he leans in for the kiss but she tenses and pulls back from him, and he figures she's just gonna make him work for it a little harder – which okay, considering what a clueless jerk he'd been for so many months prior that was probably fair.

Seeing the hesitation in her expression has him feeling a little desperate but he doesn't want her to see that; he hopes it plays as sincerity and determination instead when he pleads, "Take a chance on me," and makes a second attempt.

And he's within millimeters of bliss when she stops him cold and says "I'm sorry, Finn… I can't."

The desolate look of reluctance and – was it sadness? – on her beautiful face pierces his heart. His hopes deflate rapidly and he watches in anguish and mild disbelief as she spins on her heel and walks away. He watches as she turns the corner and pauses just a brief moment to glance at him over her shoulder before disappearing from his view, and he's left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

With a heavy sigh and head hung low, he knows it's best to leave her alone now. Maybe she's just shocked and needs time to reconsider; after all, he'd sprung this on her out of the blue after months of denying her efforts to reconcile. Maybe she's too distracted by the city and her dreams and the performance they need to prepare for. Or maybe he'd blown it with her once too often in the past and his time for endless chances at do-overs has finally expired.

Suddenly a final option crosses his mind. He smiles a little in spite of himself as he considers one last possibility: she's Rachel Berry, someday Tony Award winning Broadway Diva and drama queen supreme, and she's making him work extra hard for it. A good old fashioned game of cat and mouse. He's no braggart but with his easy charm and good looks he's used to being the mouse, with girls often pining after him (Rachel was no exception). Maybe now she's turning the tables and HE has to be the cat. At least he hopes that's what it is.

The next day he's springing his original song duet on her at rehearsals and she's clearly floored by his lyrics but trying hard to hide it. Sorry Miss Berry, you can put on your performer's hat and act for anyone else, but not me.

Three days later they've logged about 20 hours of one-on-one rehearsal time and he's been playing it extra cool around her, fighting the urge to say all the things he's been feeling going all the way back to their beginning. He just wants to come clean because he knows he's screwed up time and again, but he's finally paid attention to her last original song and he's pretty sure he knows what he needs to do to Get It Right this time; he just needs to love her and let her love him back. He doesn't want anymore make-up-to-break-up scenarios, because he's pretty sure she's it for him.

But he doesn't say any of that. He just watches her in awe as she practices belting out those high notes and stalking around him in their loose but familiar choreography. But it's killing him, seeing that look in her eyes knowing she's fighting her own feelings just to spite him, and all he can do for now is burn.

Four days later he's standing on stage across from her in her pretty black dress waiting for their cue to begin. He's not sure how it's possible that she appears more beautiful every time he sees her. All the past few days of wanting to say something is finally bubbling over and he can't take it anymore. His nerves are twitching and his heart is racing and it has nothing to do with the competition. He's too distracted to perform like this. He needs answers and it just can't wait, so he starts to walk toward her and she meets him halfway, beating him to the conversation.

Her glorious smile sends a lightning bolt to his heart. "You wrote an amazing song, Finn. I didn't know you had it in you." It's her nervous chatter, he knows that. She rambles sometimes and says things that she thinks he wants to hear. He guesses it's a defense mechanism she's crafted and it's probably mostly his fault that she feels the need to use it now.

"Who cares about the song? What I don't understand is, all you've ever wanted is for us to be together… and I'm basically standing here begging for you and suddenly you're not interested."

She renders him stone still with her reply. "I am interested. More than interested. But.. This is my dream… being here in New York. I'm not gonna let anyone or anything keep me from it. I'm sorry, Finn. I love you. But.. There's nothing you can say or do that's gonna change my mind about it."

Then it's time and curtain's up.

Face to face and heart to heart, we're so close but far apart
I close my eyes I look away, that's just because I'm not okay
Will we ever say the words we're feeling?
Reach down underneath and tear down all the walls
Will we ever have a happy ending
Or will we forever only be pretending?

The song ends and she's standing in front of him with her little hands on his chest, and he can feel her fingers trembling against his heaving torso. Their eyes are locked on each other. Only a whisper of atmosphere separates their bodies and the crackling intensity of their gaze is bouncing back and forth between them like an electric current sizzling up a Jacob's Ladder.

He's not sure who made the first move – maybe it has something to do with magnetic fields and how opposite poles attract (and let's face it, there's no better metaphor for them than that). All he knows is they both hungered for that same release. The moment each of their lips seized the others', he knew they were both home again. It didn't matter a damn bit that they were actually still on a stage in the middle of their performance and it almost mattered less that they came in twelfth place; he was still going home victorious. He got the girl, and to him that's all that mattered. And this time was going to be forever.

. . . . .

He woke up in a cold sweat after that dream, feeling the breeze blowing through that cavernous hole that still sits in the center of his chest where his heart used to reside. His heart flew off to another continent thousands of miles away a long time ago and it never came back. He used to wonder how she was able to walk around with the extra weight of his heart in her hands, and hoped by some miracle that she hadn't really tossed it away. But those were yesterday's heartaches, even if they're still plaguing him like a poltergeist.

Right now back in the present, he does his best to shake off his ghosts and heads for the coffee pot. It's 9:30 PM and his shift starts in thirty minutes. There was a sudden torrential downpour pelting his windows and when he looked out across the front lawn he noticed a really dense fog came with it. Tonight's shift was likely gonna be a bitch, the weather rife for accidents.

The station is just a few blocks from his apartment so he usually enjoys the walk. He figures even in this tsunami of rain it'll give him more time to shake away the old ghosts and help get his head in the game for the night. It's a nice suburban neighborhood and he's the friendly fireman who helps rescue cats from trees and enjoys community touch-a-truck day and raffle ticket fundraisers, but tonight he's sure he'll need to prepare for the more demanding tasks his role requires.

The job is still dangerous – fire is still fire – he knows he's still putting his life on the line to save others. Deep down he's exhilarated by it and loves his job; despite the risks, he loves the adrenaline rush and the feeling of self-worth, accomplishment and community service.

He remembers a time when he'd wanted to honor his father and follow his footsteps into the army, but he figures this is the next best thing. He feels being a firefighter is a lot like the military just (usually) without the being shot at parts. The added bonus was the not having to shoot at anyone else part. It's why he didn't choose law enforcement as his plan B. He's not really fond of the idea of taking a life, even that of a bad guy, but he can totally get behind saving one.

Yes, he misses music, he misses singing and performing… but mostly he misses her, and music only serves to remind him of that harsh reality. But his Calliope is gone now taking his heart's song with her, so he'd forged a new path, one that would fulfill his sense of civic duty, one that gave him a purpose, to help save lives. It's just.. every now and again, after a night of dreaming those dreams, he wonders if anyone or anything can ever save him one day?

A/N -

SONG CREDIT: 'Pretending' - by S2 Glee Cast

. . . . .

We'll get back to the PRESENT DAY situation with Rachel at the hospital coming up in the next chapter. I just felt like some background color was needed first before we move forward... hope you're not minding the (yes i know i called them lazy writing tricks) flashbacks and dream sequences. It's also fun to do in this story because SIMP has been so canon-divergent that I never got to write some of those scenes... and 2x22 was my FAVE eps of the entire season. (are you surprised?) Plus they're serving a purpose to put you in the present day state of mind of our beloved F&R.

I also wanna to throw out a disclaimer: I AM NO EXPERT IN GREEK MYTHOLOGY. In fact you can fit on a postcard what i know on the subject from memory. I saw Clash of the Titans when i was a kid back in the 70s or 80s whenever THAT version came out and I remembered touching on it a bit through high school EONS ago. So I may have taken some liberties in referencing Calliope and Oeagrus, but a little bit of Googling told me I could do that since their historical citations seem pretty vague (hence, MYTH-ology)... anyway it's fanfic so i figure you'll just roll with it =)