I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head so I spent all day and last night writing this! There may be a few typos, so sorry in advance.
It's a shorter one-shot but hopefully still just as good!
Everything is foggy.
Though his eyes are barely open, it's almost too much pain and he closes them again before trying once more. A sound similar to a groan escapes his lips as they are finally fully open, gazing at the blurry hospital room in confusion.
His head hurts.
And everything else for that matter.
"Finn." The muffled sound comes from his right and he groggily turns hi head that way, ignoring his sore neck. He knows that voice, but why does she sound so hesitant?
"M-mom?" He forces himself into a sitting position, "what happened?"
The woman, looking older than ever, wipes at her teary eyes, "you were in a car crash. I couldn't believe it when they called me… I took the first flight out here." Her hands take hold of his tightly, "but you're okay." Her face crumples, "I thought that you were going to die."
Wait, why doesn't he remember this? And when he does try to remember, it hurts more than he'd like it to. He takes another look at his mother, who is elated that he's awake, and yet he can't help but feel that something is off. Maybe it's just that he's a little disoriented from the drugs and the shock, but there's something else. What is it?
Carole begins to fuss over him, asking if he needs anything to drink whilst fluffing up his pillows. She calls for a doctor, too. He hates doctors. He hates hospitals, but he supposes that there's nothing that he can do about that now.
"It looks like you're going to be just fine," his doctor smiles, "the crash itself was minor and you've only suffered a mild concussion and a few bruises. Take a couple of days off work and take it easy for a while but you should be as good as new in a matter of weeks."
He smiles because it's better news than he expected and the doctor says that he can leave that night if he's feeling up to it.
And even though he knows that he actually will get all the rest that he needs in here, he opts to go home because then he can get away from the clinical smell and the hospital food. He gets some more sleep and listens to his mom's advice for getting better, though it sort of goes over his head.
By the evening, she's helping him into his house, which is bare and empty.
"I don't understand why you had to move," she comments, taking off his coat and hanging it on the hook in the large hallway.
He peers at the pile of packed boxes, his scruffy handwriting indicating to what is inside. He has a couch and a coffee table. There's a TV too (thankfully) but the skeleton of the apartment leaves him feeling empty once more.
"There was a fire," he explains to his mother, "and the apartment block was pretty much incinerated. It was cheaper to move." He moves over to the couch and sits himself down instantly, loving how soft it is around his bruises limbs. He's not so sure how he got out of the crash with only his slightly battered body, after seeing the car when his insurance company contacted him – it'd been a mess and he's sure that a new one is in order.
He doesn't feel much like talking, or doing anything for that matter, but his mom insists on engaging him in conversation, as if she hasn't been able to do so for years. Finn doesn't listen though, only stare at his empty apartment. He was supposed to unpack days ago. He doesn't even have a house phone, and his mobile was lost in the crash apparently so now that's another thing that he needs to get.
At around nine, he goes upstairs to bed, curling into the large Queen sized bed instantly and wrapping the covers around him. He doesn't even have the energy to get changed. His mom's sleeping on the couch. He would've offers her one of the spare rooms, if they had beds in of course. They're just filled with more boxes.
He really does need to unpack.
Satisfied with his quick recovery, probably brought on by his large appetite and lots of sleep, Carole leaves the day after. He had to persuade her, of course, because she's been hovering around him like she thinks it's all going to disappear in a matter of seconds.
But he sees her off with a tired smile and then goes back to sleep on the couch. Work knows about the crash and he's been granted the week off, starting up again the following Monday, which he's grateful for.
A loud noise startles him out of sleep and he sits up straight on the couch to stare at the door, which he left unlocked. Is somebody trying to burgle him in broad daylight? Or is it his mother again?
His answer comes when the door opens and a tiny brunette steps inside, lugging a bright pink suitcase behind her. When she sees him, she practically runs and envelopes him in a tight hug, ignoring his winces. It takes Finn a few more seconds to register what is happening before he gently pushes the woman away.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Her brows furrow, eyes narrowing also. She's this little tiny thing, so if she's trying to look intimidating then it isn't working. "What do you mean?" And then a sly smile appears on her large, full lips, "are you playing that game again? I told you, I don't like it," she goes to hug him again, "and I've been so worried. I've been calling and calling but you didn't answer your phone!"
Finn's head hurts. "I don't know who you are, or how you got into my apartment. Now, if you please, could you leave? I'm really tired."
"But – "
"If you leave now, I won't press any charges."
"Charges?" she exclaims incredulously, "Finn, I don't want to play this game again."
How does she know his name? "We're not playing a game," he says, "you're going to get your bag and walk out of my apartment to your own place."
"This is my apartment."
His head snaps in her direction. "No, no, you see. I live here. So you can't." He begins to usher the girl away, hoping that she isn't completely deluded. He's a little scared, if he's being honest, because she knows his name and address. What if she's been here before?
The brunette stares at him, completely baffled. "No, this is our apartment." She gestures between the two, her words slow as she explains, "we bought it together. I mean, it's your name on the lease but we live together."
"I think," he chuckles at how insane this is, "I'd know if I lived with somebody else. Now, crazy girl, you've gotta go."
She gasps, "Finn, this has gone on far enough!"
"How do you know what I'm called?"
"Because," she steps closer, eyes filled with worry and doubt, "I'm your wife."
His world sorta flips sideways and shakes around a lot. What the hell? Yesterday he went through a car crash and now there's some nutcase announcing that they're married. Oh no. He doesn't have a wife, hell he doesn't even have a girlfriend. This girl is obviously has a few screws loose.
"I'm not married," he tells her, trying to shake her grip off of him and not noticing how her eyes are slowly filling with tears.
"What?" she sounds heartbroken.
"I," he points to himself, "am not married." He points to his ring finger, "see? Nothing. Explain that to me."
She gulps back tears and stands up at her tallest, appearing to be strong and confident. "Where's you ring Finn? Have you lost it?" He peers down to her own hand where she's wearing the ring, simple but classy, and then back to his empty finger.
"Look," he rubs his aching head, "I don't know why you're doing this but just stop it."
"I am your wife," she insists, "Finn, I love you." She tries to pull him closer though he easily slips from her graps.
"No! This isn't funny. Why are you saying these things?
And then she finally lets the tears fall, "why would I lie about something like this?" Her expression makes him feel guilty but he can't deal with her right now. "I left for a week and now you don't remember me?"
"There's nothing to reme-"
"How could you forget me?" she demands to know, anger seeping into her words, "you said that you'd always love me."
Finn shakes his head, "I don't know you. I'm sure that you're lovely and everything, but you're not my wife and you don't live here. You don't have any proof."
"I told you about the rings. Finn, baby, why don't you remember?"
His teeth clench together, "don't call me that!"
"What? Baby? I can call my husband whatever I want." She insists, taking his hand in hers, "I'm going to help you Finn."
"No!" he cries, moving away from her as though she burnt him with her touch and the girl's shoulders slump at least a mile, "stop it!" He points to the door, "just leave, okay? I need to sort this out. Y-you – you need help, professional help."
Her hands falls on her hips, "are you suggesting that I'm crazy?"
"Crazy, deluded…yeah. I don't understand why you're doing this to me." He turns from her, unable to look at the woman and the tears streaming down her sad face.
"I love you," he hears her say quietly.
"Go," he whispers, his voice just as gentle. He needs to get to the bottom of this and he can't do it with her there as a distraction. Turning, he sees how upset she is – her whole body is shaking as she stares wide eyed at the man. "I need the truth." She moves forward, "not from you. I can't trust you. I-I'll call you, okay? I just…I need to find out for myself."
She begins to speak but he holds his hand up to silence the woman. "What's your name?"
"Rachel," she chokes out, as if it's too painful to think that he doesn't know it. "Rachel Hudson."
He flinches at the use of his surname. "No, don't use my name, what's your real name?"
"My maiden name," she says, "is Rachel Berry."
"I'll call you," he repeats, "but, for now, stay at a friend's house or something. When I figure it out, then we can talk."
Defeated, she only nods and stares at him with longing before slowly marching over to her suitcase and taking it out with her. Finn didn't realise how fast his heart had been beating until she leaves the room and it's the only thing that he hears.
He needs to know the truth, if he is married or not. But, if he is, how could he just forget about something like that? You don't just wake up one day and not realise that you have a wife.
So he calls his mom and his friends and finally, his brother.
"Kurt," he says quickly down the phone, "I need your help."
"Oh, what an honour," the man says dryly, "the last time you spoke to me was a few months ago and now that you'd had a near death experience you finally decide to pick up the phone and call." There's a pause as Finn doesn't know how to reply, his breath rapid as he tries to calm himself, "Are you okay?"
"Yes, I –" he supposes that he should just cut to the chase, "Kurt, am I married?"
And, just like everyone else he called, the response is a laugh, almost laughing at him. "Heavens no! Can you imagine? Finn, you're barely mature enough to live by yourself, never mind actually live in a stable relationship."
He's sorta relieved to say the least, though he's pretty annoyed at Kurt for assuming that he can't handle a relationship when he very well can. He's twenty six and he can do long-term and such. Why does everyone seem to think the idea of him being married is funny?
"Are you sure?" he questions again.
"Finn, what's wrong? I'm sure that somebody would know if they had a wife," he chuckles, "Even you."
He sighs, "nothing's wrong. I was just asking. It doesn't matter anyway. Mom and everyone said that same thing as you."
Kurt pauses, "you're talking to Carole now?"
"Yeah…why wouldn't I be?" his brow furrows and he presses the phone further into his ear.
There's a moment of hesitation which makes it clear that Kurt obviously doesn't know how to reply. He eventually sighs, "I suppose that it's your business and not mine, though I'm glad that you're on better terms. " Better terms? When were they on worse terms? His head is hurting once more and he heads into the kitchen for get some paracetamol.
"Yeah," he agrees, though he has no idea what Kurt is talking about. "I've gotta go, but thanks man."
"Okay, bye. I hope that you call again sometime, or maybe we can meet up?"
He smiles, "cool. See you then."
And then he hangs up, left even more confused than before. Nobody knows Rachel – they haven't even heard of her before. So clearly she isn't his wife but she's apparently not even an acquaintance either. Is he like imagining her or something? Did the car crash leave his crazy?
But she felt real when she hugged him and she was warm and soft and stuff.
He frowns – maybe he needs to avoid this girl at all cost, even if she is a figment of his imagination.
Unfortunately, she isn't exactly about to give up anytime soon.
After his second day or work, he returns home to find the apartment filled with a delicious smell and some of the boxes have been emptied, furniture now in its rightful place. At first he wonders how she got in, but if she knows him enough to know where he lives and learn his name, she probably knows that he keeps the spare key behind the '5' on the apartment door.
He drops his workbag and coat onto the couch before following the smell into the kitchen, not surprised to see Rachel there. She turns and her face falls. "You didn't call," she explains, "and it's been a week, so I thought that we could talk about this over dinner."
Finn leans against the counter, watching as she effortlessly chops up some tomatoes and stirs them slowly into the pot. "I called everyone," he says, "family, friends… they don't know you. They're never even heard of you."
Her eyes meet his and he's pretty sure that she's about to cry again. "they won't know me."
He laughs to himself, "I must be imagining you then."
"What?" her head snaps in his direction.
"I'm crazy!" he announces, still chuckling, "I've made you up and this stupid that you're my wife. Maybe I'm lonely or something and now my mind created you to get rid of that."
She rolls her eyes, "you're not insane, or hallucinating. I'm real."
"No," he says firmly, "because, if you're real, then that means that you're the crazy one."
"Why do you have to assume that one of us are crazy?" she raises an eyebrow. He moves around her, stalking like a predator.
Finally, he stops right beside her, their shoulders touching, "because, this wouldn't make sense if one of us wasn't imagining some of the facts." And he's right, isn't he? One of them has to be wrong – they can't both be right. She says that they're married. He doesn't. Did he mention that there's another headache coming on?
"Maybe," she begins, "we're actually married and you can't remember?"
He's silent and so, her hope visibly deflates again. She quietly plates up the food and carries it over to the table. Finn has no choice but to follow her because if this girl is crazy, he has to be careful around her. She might be dangerous. And not to mention that the food smell awesome too. Taking a bite, he smiles and greedily swallows down more.
It's then that he realises Rachel's watching him, a sad glint in her eyes.
"How've you been?" she asks, ringing her fingers together nervously. He has a feeling that she's not used to being so helpless. She strikes him as a confident young woman, who always knows what's in store. Today, however, her actions suggest otherwise. She appears to be scared. She hasn't even touched her own food.
"I'm good," he says, "although I'm still confused. You're confusing me."
Her eyes cast downwards, bottom lip pouting. "I don't understand what's happened."
"I think it's pretty obvious. Either, I'm crazy," she shakes her head as he says this, "or you've convinced yourself that we're married like, you know, a stalker."
"Is this how you normally would treat your stalkers?" she asks, "because I'd have thought that you'd be slightly more scared if that were the case."
Finn shrugs, having another mouthful of the pasta, "I feel sorry for you." She only stares at him, eyes brimming with confusion, "you clearly need help. Like, I don't know, a therapist or something."
"I'm not a stalker," she clarifies, "I am Rachel Hudson, your wife."
"Then why doesn't anyone in my family know of you?"
"Because we eloped Finn!" she shouts, standing up and knocking the table forward, "we eloped three weeks ago because you didn't want to wait for marriage. You haven't spoken to your mother in years because you say that it's too painful and, because of that, you couldn't tell her about us. So nobody knew. Not her, not your friends, not your brother." She groans in frustration, "and I don't know what's happened, but you love me, and I love you."
He shakes his head firmly, "Rachel, we're not anything. We're not even friends. And you can't just make up stories like this."
"But we did get married. We went to the city hall – it was your idea."
"I –" he tries to form words though finds himself unable to, staring at the sobbing woman before him. She's hugging her body tightly, searching for any signs of comfort. "Look, I suggest that you go to the hospital, go and get some help."
"Ugh, stop saying that!" she growls, "Finn, actually listen to me."
Finn stares at her defiantly, no longer having the patience to deal with this woman's games, "no, you listen to me! This is my apartment, my home and you're not part of it. I've listened to what you have to say but you don't have anything to prove that we were even in a relationship. I just… I can't believe you. So that brings me to the conclusion that you're deluded." He stands too, walking over to her, "you need help."
Her heads drops into her hands as she weeps loudly, "please, Finn."
He turns his face away from her, "there's nothing to convince me – to make me believe. No ring, none of your things, no pictures."
"We lost everything in the fire…"
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
Her eyes widen, "no, don't let me lose you too, Finn. I love you so, so much."
He wants to tell her that he loves her too. He wants to be able to allow her little fantasies to go on but he just can't. If anything, he needs to rid them both because it's hurting the pair.
"Have you got a place to stay?" he asks because she thinks that she lives there and he can't leave the girl on the streets, though he must stress something, "a permanent place to stay?"
Stifling a loud sob, she nods and reaches out a shaky hand to clutch his shirt. He thinks that she's going to faint for a second, but she collapses into his arms and, for once, he doesn't stop her. Maybe she needs some closure, or maybe he's just making it worse.
"I'm sorry," he apologises, ignoring the tears prickling in his own eyes, "I wish that you didn't have to get so hurt."
"I love you," she says again. His shirt is wet with her tears.
They stand like that for a good five minutes. "You should go," he tells her finally, "I'll help you carry your stuff to the car."
And she remains in the same spot until he tells her that everything is packed in the trunk, tears rolling down her cheeks. He wonders where they're all coming from. It breaks his hear to see this woman, this stranger, so upset, but there's nothing that he can do now other than save her heartbreak and leave her life.
It's going to help her.
He should unpack, like pretty soon.
It's kinda of annoying living out of boxes, but he doesn't have the energy to spend all day sorting through the stacks and stacks of things. They're all new, from the looks of them, and he doesn't remember buying half of the stuff in there.
It doesn't matter.
He'll do it eventually.
Maybe when he has some spare time, though he's forcing himself into a lot of work lately, as if it's going to help him forget about all of his troubles. He hasn't seen Rachel for two weeks, so it looks like she really has given up and has decided to move on.
It's good, he thinks, that she can live her life now. As can he. His head hurts as he thinks about the woman, so he doesn't care to do it very often.
Sometimes she slips into his mind and he'll think about her soft smile or twinkling eyes. If he ever did have a wife, he'd want her to look like Rachel, he thinks. Because the girl may have convinced herself that they're married or something, but she's pretty. Especially when her smile is just right and her whole face seems to light up, not that she smiles a lot around him – she cries a lot, though that's his fault.
He was hurting her. He didn't want to, he never wants to hurt anyone. These things just happen.
But, for now, he's safe in the knowledge that Rachel is far away from him and that he can't do that do her anymore. She deserves better than that.
It's a month since his accident, since things stopped making complete sense and he's at the hospital for a check-up.
They say that most of the bruising is gone and it looks like he's in good health once more.
"I keep getting headaches," he explains, "really, really strong headaches." The doctor nods and tells him that that's common since he had quite a hit to his head. But it's all simply a matter of prescribing him the right drugs which should take care of it.
He wants to ask about hallucinations as well because, as much as he wants to believe that Rachel is real, there's still doubt in his mind that he's losing his sanity – imagining a wife for himself definitely comes under that category.
But, if he enquires into that, what are they going to think? What are they going to do? They could lock him up for the rest of his life until he stops seeing the pretty brunette.
And Finn doesn't want that.
She's real, she has to be. But then, if she is then it just complicates things.
So he stays completely quiet and plasters on a smile before taking his drugs and leaving the hospital. It's all going to be fine. She's safe away from him. Maybe she'll do the same thing with another man – become attached to him. Maybe he's one in a long line. She looked around the same age as him so he supposes that it's possible.
Anyway, he doesn't want to think about that anymore. He needs to get on with his life.
It's a sunny morning when he sees her again, by accident this time. He's doing his grocery shopping, not that he knows much about cooking.
But anyway, he's looking at the fruit section when he spins and accidentally bumps into someone. "Sorry," he says quickly, peering down at the small woman. "Rachel," he calls out in surprise, "what're you doing here?"
"Shopping," she says plainly. She looks tired and worn, her skin pale and face sad as she stares back at him with a weary smile, "how're you?" He thinks that maybe she doesn't actually want to know, but is just being polite.
"I'm good," he nods, "I can't complain really. I finished unpacking all of the stuff into my apartment." He notices the way she flinches when he says my apartment, though her lips just press together tightly and she tucks some hair behind her ear.
Her smile doesn't meet her eyes, "I'm glad. You always did take forever to finish something." And then she realises what she's just said, "I'm sorry – you'll probably get angry at me for staying stuff like that…"
"I'm not angry. I just…I don't know you," he shrugs, "and you suddenly came into my life claiming something that just seemed so impossible. It makes my head hurt a little."
"I wish that I knew how to help you."
It's like she actually believes that it's him who's the problem, that he's the one who doesn't realise the truth. And once again the next headache arrives. Finn rubs his sore temples, frowning at the woman.
"If you believe it so much, that we're married," he begins, "then why didn't you fight hard enough?
Rachel's silent, her face thoughtful. He really wants to know what's going through her mind. "I guess that I'm just waiting for a miracle."
He sighs, "you can't hold onto this belief forever. You need to find someone else. You need to forget me."
"I can't," she says, "but I can't prove that we're married either because I don't know where the wedding certificate is or you won't come with me to find out. I just… I love you so much. I'll always love you. And it's killing me that we're like this. I don't know what happened to you, Finn but I pray every night that you'll get better. I'm not the sick one."
"You know," he chuckles to himself, "I'm convinced that I'm going crazy. You're real, right?"
"I'm very real," she says with a soft smile, "and, when you finally get better, I'll be waiting for you Finn Hudson. But, it hurts too much to see you like this. You look into my face and you don't recognise me. How can I keep trying when it literally tears my heart out to see your confusion?" She wipes her eyes, "you're supposed to know everything about me. You're supposed to know what each smile means and how to comfort me when I'm sad. You're my husband."
"No, I'm not!" he snaps in a way more harsh that he wants to say it.
She gulps slowly and nods. "I'm sorry; sometimes I look at you and forget everything that's happened. You're the Finn that I married, but at the same time you're completely different from him. I don't understand." Her head shakes lightly, "I'm going to go. As I said, it's too painful."
Standing on her tiptoes, she presses a kiss to his lips and he doesn't stop her because maybe he wants to kiss her too, to kiss her senseless until all of her pain goes away. "Goodbye, Finn. I hope to see you again someday."
And, just like that, she's gone.
He understands her pain.
A month slips by in the blink of an eye and all Finn has to show for it is his long days at work. He calls his mother, who's delighted that they're talking, which makes him wonder about Rachel's words in which she told him that he hadn't spoken to his mom in years. Was she right? Or was it just part of her delusions?
But he tries not to think about her, or their last meeting. Strangely enough, he's sad that she's decided not to pursue him anymore. She says that she loves him and she's just letting him go.
Perhaps she's thinking like him – let the other be happy. It's a pretty nice thing for her, seeing as she clearly doesn't want to be apart from him. He'll have to thank her one day.
Kurt picks him up on the way home from work to go for a drink. He's with his boyfriend which makes Finn feel like the third wheel as they talk into the busy New York bar.
"Hey," he turns around to find himself facing an attractive blonde, who is smirking his way, "do you wanna dance?"
And he should say yes. Because he's single and she's single and they could totally date if they both want to. He's attracted to her too because she's gorgeous and he's not even going to try and deny it.
But there's this tiny nagging in the back of his mind, like he's cheating.
Cheating on who? The only image that appears in his mind is Rachel and he immediately wipes it away. How can he be cheating on her if they never were together? Yet the feeling is so strong that he can barely form words.
He shakes his head, mumbling a sorry and heading into the bathroom. It was too warm in there anyway. Finn takes deep breathes, staring at his flustered appearance in the mirror – what's wrong with him? He can't even flirt with girls anymore. He splashes some cold water onto his face and tries to regain his composure, not that anything's helping.
The door opens and he's facing an annoyed looking Kurt, "where did you go? I just turned around and you disappeared."
He frowns. "Kurt, I'm not feeling too good. I think that I might go home."
"What?" he exclaims, "you're supposed to be having fun. You've spent weeks locked up in that apartment and, when we do finally go out, you're just going to act miserable and then leave early?"
Finn doesn't even feel guilty about it. "Yes, I am. I'm just…I can't do this. I feel – I feel empty."
His brother frowns, "what do you mean?"
"Something's missing!" he exclaims, "I don't know what, and I can't explain it but it feels like there's something tugging on my heart and I can't figure out what."
"Finn, maybe you should go home," he says, noticing Finn's estranged expression, "come on, I'll drive you."
"No," he replies quickly, "I need to walk back. I need the fresh air."
He hurries from the bathroom, leaving a worried Kurt and barges his way out of the bar. That's all he needs – the fresh air to clear his mind. It'll all be fine.
When he gets home, there are three missed calls from Kurt and a load of text messages. He replies with a quick "I'm fine" and goes to sleep, dreaming of the one person that he knows he shouldn't be dreaming about.
He sort of locks himself in his apartment for a few days, wondering what's wrong to him. Is this what a mid-life crisis feels like?
And there's someone knocking on his door again. He thinks that maybe it could be Kurt again, or perhaps they're called his mom and she's flown down to see them, not that that's very likely. He almost doesn't answer the door, yet there's something that makes him do it – some strange feeling.
When he opens it, he's surprised to see Rachel, looking distraught and upset.
"Can I come in?" she asks desperately and he steps back so that she can step into the apartment. "I know that I shouldn't have come here," she explains, "but I didn't have anywhere else to go."
"What happened?" he asks, genuinely concerned.
Rachel's face scrunches up with pain as more tears fall, "my dads and I got into a fight. I mean, I've been looking for a new place to live but they want me to stay with them for a little longer so we argued a bit. I was so angry. I just got up and stormed out, and somehow ended up here." The next bit is quiet, though he manages to hear, "you always calmed me down."
He nods in understanding and maybe it's not a good idea to be encouraging a friendship between them but he can't just leave the upset girl on her own. "Er… do you want something to drink?"
She nods and quietly asks for a water. Whilst he's in the kitchen, he hears her gently humming to herself, adding a few words into the songs here and there. Her voice is beautiful – at a professional level clearly. Not only that, but it stirs something inside of him. He's not quite sure what, yet he feels himself literally pulled towards her. "Here," he offers her the glass, "y-you can stay here tonight, if you like."
Her eyes, wide and watery, stare at him like he's crazy. "Are you sure?" she stutters, "if you're uncomfortable."
"You could really use a friend," he explains with a soft smile, "but, one rule, just don't mention anything about marriage. Please." With a dejected sigh, she nods and takes a sip of her drink.
"I look like a mess," she says sadly.
"No," Finn instantly disagrees because, even though her hair is messed up from the wind and her eyes are red and puffy, she still looks beautiful, "you just need to relax a little. Why don't you go and take a bath? I'll order us in some food." She looks hesitant, "come on. It'll take your mind off things." He smiles brightly, hoping that she'll feel better.
She smiles back. "Okay."
And an hour later they're sitting on the couch with some Chinese food and watching reruns of Hoarders, each commenting every few minutes. She's even in some of his clothes as she didn't bring any of her own. He thinks it's funny how they completely drown the woman.
"I hope that I never end up like that," he laughs, "I think this is why I keep things simple."
She peers around the room, "I can see that. There isn't much in here, is there?"
"I just," he thinks, "I don't really buy lots of new things. I emptied everything from the boxes and that's it. I haven't bought anything new for the apartment."
"Well," Rachel begins, "you could do with a lamp in that corner and some pictures on the walls. It looks a little empty in here."
"I don't really know what I'm doing," he confesses.
Her voice is sad, "I know."
That leaves them in a bit of an awkward position, neither sure what to say.
He decides that he wants to know a little more about why she's here, "so, this argument with your dads?"
Rachel sighs, placing down her food and facing him fully, "they're upset because…I'm moving." There's a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach but he doesn't pay any attention to it. "And they think that I'm too hurt to live by myself."
"Oh," he says quietly, "where are you moving to?"
"There's a job in," she hesitates, "in England. I'm going in a month."
"Well, I can see why they're upset," he exclaims, staring at her like she's crazy, "you're moving to a different country!"
She sets a pointed gaze on him, "I need a new start."
And he totally gets it because she's still in love with him – she feels the need to remind him all of the time – and maybe she needs to start in a place where there's nothing to bring her down anymore.
"It's on the west end," she says, "as the lead. So I…I took it. I can't live here anymore. I'm going to miss everybody but I've got to start doing what's best for me." She nods, "and I can't keep waiting for you now. I've come to realise that it's fruitless. You're never going to remember."
He completely ignores the fact that she's already bringing up the topic of them, and he actually feels sympathetic to the broken girl. "There's nothing to remember Rachel." Her face falls and she curls her legs up against her chest, hugging them tightly, "I wish that I could tell you what you want to hear, but I can't. That's not how it works."
"I really thought that maybe you'd love me again one day," she mumbles into her knees, not casting a glance in his direction.
Before he can think, his hand moves to rest on her shoulder, "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologising," she shakes her head, "it's not your fault that you can't remember. Someone up there clearly isn't my friend at the minute."
"You can say that again," he agrees, "I've been feeling so empty lately. It sucks."
She nods along, "I know what you mean." She sighs, subconsciously leaning against him, "my daddies think that I've been depressed which, of course, I can't exactly say no to. I've just been so upset, with all of this. I feel so lost and confused."
Finn realises that that's exactly how he feels and so it appears that the pair at least have one thing in common.
And he'd do anything to be rid of the feeling. "You should go," he says, "to England. I'm sure that you can have an amazing life there."
She stares back, shocked before nodding. "Well, I was going to go anyway. I've already started packing.
"Yes," Rachel nods, her head against his shoulder, the position comfortable for the two of them, "and I'm sure that things will pick up for me, even if I couldn't make them work with you." She lifts her head, peering up at him. Finn looks straight back into her eyes. "I…" she trails off, seemingly transfixed with him face, not that he minds. They begins to inch closer until he feels her hot breath on his face.
He shouldn't kiss her as that's only going to confuse the woman more and she's not in the right place right now. He shouldn't, but he finds his lips attaching to hers and she's kissing him back.
And then there's a flash of images through his mind, of them kissing in all sorts of places. He pulls back, a pain shooting through his brain with ferocity and Rachel frowns. "I'm sorry," she begins quickly, looking around nervously, "I…I-"
"Don't blame yourself," he says, panting loudly as he wonders what the hell just happened. His head is in so much pain, like it's splitting open. He rubs at the temple, groaning to himself.
"What's wrong?" she asks timidly.
"My head. It's really painful."
Rachel shoots up from her seat and returns with a glass of water and his painkillers, which he thankfully takes. The kiss isn't mentioned again, though he feels like she really wants to say something. He does too, but right now isn't the right time. They need to think, both of them. So he bids her goodnight and heads up to his room, no doubt spending the night dreaming of Rachel Berry.
She leaves in the morning before they have a chance for said talk and all he wakes up to is a thank you note and the lingering smell of Rachel. The apartment is cold and dingy, but he doesn't dwell on anything as he has to get ready for work.
Maybe she'll call him – he hopes so.
It's this that leads him to realise that he doesn't even have her number. All the times where he said that he'd call her and he doesn't exactly know how to do that. Maybe she knows that too.
So why isn't she calling?
They kissed, an honest and real kiss, and now she doesn't want to discuss it with him. She really must be crazy.
He waits and waits for something. Nothing comes.
Kurt's worried about him and so is his mom. He doesn't care. He doesn't need anyone looking after him, not when there's Rachel to think about. When she moves to England, who's going to be there for her? Maybe she'll prefer it that way – a clean slate. He can't help worrying over the girl.
He's grown attached to her a little. Maybe he even… no, that's impossible.
Sometimes he'll dream of her, the pair just doing simple things such as walking through the park or spending the nights together. He wonders why his imagination is playing tricks like this on him and it makes him think how cruel his mind truly can be.
Days pass and he becomes more and more concerned with the silence from Rachel's side. Is she okay? Maybe she's avoiding him, worried that it's her fault. He can totally imagine her blaming herself.
Only time can tell, he supposes.
Okay, so when did Rachel become disinterested in him?
One day she can't help but talk about their non-existent marriage and the next she's barging into his apartment to gather up anything that she's apparently left over before she does the big move. He watches as she searches through everything in the wardrobe, oblivious to him standing there and watching.
"What're you doing?" Oh, so not completely oblivious.
"I'm just watching you," he says casually, leaning against the door, "I expected you to come talking to me the day after we kissed."
She freezes and turns right at him, biting her lip. "Finn, I'm done playing this game."
"I'm sick and tired of being rejected over and over. The kiss was a mistake and it only complicated things more. I'm leaving in a couple of weeks so we may as well just forget about it."
Finn's floored, staring at her like she's crazy, "you're just going to drop it? But don't you love me?"
"Yes!" she snaps, "of course I do. But you don't love me, not like you used to and, no matter how much I want our old life back, it's not going to happen." She continues to route through the wardrobe, "why are you making things so difficult anyway? You spent weeks denying that we're married and now you're wondering why I've given up?"
"You just shocked me, that's all," he tells her as though he doesn't care, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He cares, of course he does. How does he show her that? Maybe he doesn't love her, but that they could have a second chance, right? There's always another chance.
But she's leaving and she isn't coming back for a long time. They can't make it work if they're in different countries.
She sighs, "well, I don't think that there's any of my stuff here. Just as well. In two weeks you'll have me out of your life for good."
Rachel makes to leave the room where he stops her by her arm. "Rachel, don't act like you don't care."
"It's easier than showing you how much I do care," she counters. For a moment, she stares at his face, as if believing that she's never going to see him again, "have a good life Finn. I'm so sorry that this had to happen. I could've made you happy."
A few seconds later, he hears the front door slam closed and he wonders if she feels as sick and hurt as he does know. He hopes that she doesn't.
She can't just leave, he thinks to himself as he lays in bed, unsure of the hour but sure that he's been there for too long already.
Who does she think she is? She can't leave him here like this, by himself. Sure, he's got his mom and Kurt, but who else? The guys at work are fun enough yet they don't make him smile in the way that the thought of her does.
He thought that she loves him.
Finn feels torn in half, his emotions confusing him more than he ever thought they could. It hurts so badly.
He wonders – maybe if they'd met under different circumstances and she wasn't convinced that they were married, then would they have dated? Would it have worked out? He's pretty sure of the answer.
It all seems simple, sometimes, when he thinks about it and then something gets stuck in the cogs and the simplicity disappears.
Rachel is special and she deserves to be happy, so it's better than she goes to pursue a good job. He deserves to be happy too – maybe they weren't supposed to end up happy together.
He tries to distract himself before she leaves, shopping for some extra furniture for the house because it forces him to give his full concentration to something other than the brunette.
But then everything is a sudden reminder of her.
And he doesn't understand why he's so hung up over this girl who just flounced into his life dropping a bombshell on him and then getting upset when he didn't believe her.
His mom is in town and they're out for a small meal whilst it's not too busy. He smiles and laughs where appropriate but inside there's worry eating away at him.
"Honey, you seem a little distracted," she says, "are you alright?"
It's clear that she doesn't believe him because his reply was the least convincing thing that even he's heard. "Finn," Carole begins, "you've been down for a couple of weeks. Please tell me what's bothering you."
He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to share Rachel with anybody which, whilst incredibly selfish, is his decision.
"I'm just not feeling too well," he has a sip of his water, moving around the food that he's hardly touched. That's probably another indication that there's something bothering him. She doesn't press it though – she never presses anything with him. As usual, she tiptoes around the touchy subject and forces another smile onto her face.
"How're things at work?"
He shrugs, "good, I guess. It's kinda boring though. I feel like I should be doing more, you know?"
She nods but he doesn't thinks that she really understands. It's okay – nobody at work understands either.
"I'm really glad that we're talking again," she says out of the blue, leaving Finn with furrowed eyebrows and a mouth open in confusion. "R-remember? A couple of years back you just…wouldn't talk to me. After…after I told you about your dad."
He wasn't the man you thought he was.
Finn holds his forehead in pain. "W-what? I don't remember."
"Finn," she looks scared, "Are you okay?"
He overdosed, sweetie
And it's slowly coming back to him, his mother's crestfallen face and his own anger – the rage at being lied to for so many years. "Why didn't I remember?" he asks through clenched teeth. This isn't right. What is wrong with him?
Now Kurt's words make sense to Finn. He'd ran away from his mother, from all of the pain of Ohio to New York, where he could start new – where he could forget about his past.
But, if he forgot about that, what else has he forgotten about?
"I've gotta go!" he exclaims, practically running down the street.
He pants as he reaches his apartment, frowning when he sees an officer waiting outside the door. "Can I help you?" he asks, slowing his steps to stare at the man.
In response, he straightens up and smiles, "Mr Hudson. I have some objects recovered from your crash that I'd like to return. Some were damaged beyond repair but others seem to be perfectly fine." His heart is beating so fast that he doesn't hear his own reply and lets the man into the apartment quickly.
The officer produces a small plastic bag. "Your phone," he announces first, "I wasn't sure whether you'd still want it, seeing as people usually get replacements." He hands over the object which Finn flips in his hands, noticing that there are only a few scratches on it. Maybe he could see it for some quick money.
"And," the officer smiles, "there are some other things, like a wallet and some smaller things." Finn takes them gratefully. "Oh! And this." He slips his hand into the bag again and he retrieves a small object.
Finn notices the shine of it and feels his mouth run dry. The wedding ring is placed in his hands, though Finn has no idea how to react.
"It must have fallen off," the officer explains, "mine does that something."
All Finn can do is stare at the object in disbelief because it's a wedding ring. His wedding ring. Which means that Rachel was telling the truth. And he's turned her away, cast her out of his life like she's nothing. Finn feels dizzy…
Not a good combination.
A second later, he's vaguely aware of falling to the floor.
Everything is blurry as he wakes up, reminding him of the day in the hospital and the officer is staring at him with concern, "are you okay? You took a pretty bad hit to your head. You might want to go to the hospital."
"No, no," he shoots up, "I need to find Rachel."
"But you might be hurt!"
"I don't care about myself!" he shouts, "I need to talk to her. God, I've screwed up so bad."
How is he supposed to find her? He has no number, no address. His phone! He picks up the old, tattered object and hopes that it will still turn on. It does!
He scrolls down the contacts and there she is – Rachel, his Rachel. His friggin' wife!
The phone rings and rings and he almost cries when she doesn't answer. "Hey man, what's wrong? Why are you so panicked?"
"She's going to leave!" he exclaims loudly, trying to ring her again, "she's going to move to another fucking country! I have to talk to her. Come on Rachel."
And she answers the phone. Only, it's not her.
"Hello!" he rushes into the phone, "Rachel?"
"No, it's Santana," a cocky sounding woman replies, "Rachel hasn't used this phone in weeks."
He shakes his head because he just needs to hear her voice, "where is she? Where's Rachel?"
"What do you mean she left?"
"She moved to English," the woman replies simply, "she got on the plane like a day ago."
Finn can't believe what he's hearing, "no, but she isn't supposed to be gone yet." How is this happening? It's too late. He's lost her.
The woman doesn't sound at all worried by Finn's clear need of Rachel. "She didn't want to waste time so she left early. Something about her dads pissing her off, I don't know."
And he knows what he's got to do because he can't let her slip from his fingers. All this time, she's been telling the truth and he needs to make it up to her. He just needs to see her. "Do you know where she's staying?"
It'd been the worst journey of his life. First of all, he'd spent the whole flight feeling as sick as possible, being able to do nothing but stare at his ring and think about her. How could he just forget about her? It doesn't make any sense. Things are slowly seeping back into place, memories of being with Rachel but nothing is clear yet. There's more to remember, he's sure.
And the he'd spent a good hour trying to navigate himself around the city, ending up getting in a cab and not being able to understand the driver's accent, which was more than embarrassing.
Not only that, but he's spent most of his savings on the journey too. He'd only do that for her.
Now he's standing outside the her hotel room, after having to gradually get it from the receptionist, who must have thought that he was trying to kidnap Rachel or something with the way that she was acting.
He feels numb and his fingers are sweaty and his heart is probably about to go into cardiac arrest. Rachel could be on the other side of that door. The thought makes his heart ache with yearning.
Another thing that came out of the flight was Finn realising how much he missed loving her. She'd pretty much made him fall in love with her again, even when he couldn't remember.
Striking up courage, he closes his eyes and knocks.
There's a tiny bit of noise behind the door before he hears her beautiful voice, "who is it?"
"It's me!" he shouts back, his voice cracking.
And then the door bursts open and he sees a very shocked Rachel, standing there in nothing but a towel. Her hair is wet and her skin flushed and did he mention that she's in only a towel?
"Finn," she breathes, staring in disbelief. She grabs him by the arm and drags him into the room, "Finn, what's you doing here?"
He doesn't speak. He merely opens her hand and places his ring on her palm, hearing her loud gasp. "I'm so sorry Rachel," he whispers, "I should have believed you." She has tears in her eyes, staring at the tiny piece of jewellery with shock whilst he apologies, mumbling "sorry" over and over. He doesn't know how many times he'll need to do this to fully make up for it, but Rachel cuts him short with a small sob.
She shakes her head, "How did…I don't – "
"They found it in the car."
"I was in a car crash," he says simply because everyone knows. Wait, judging by her expression, she didn't know. Shit!
Her mouth falls open before she clenches up her fist and hits him hard in the shoulder, "you were in a car crash and you didn't tell me! You…you – oh I'm so angry at you! No wonder you didn't remember me. Didn't you have any suspicions? Didn't you talk to anyone about this?" She looks so pissed that he takes a step back from her.
Finn then begins to try and explain. "I-I didn't think. I thought that I was hallucinating."
"I cannot believe it. Finn Hudson. Do you know how much pain and time we could have saved if I would have known? What is wrong with you?"
He doesn't even know where to begin.
But the she surprises him, throwing herself into his arms and refusing to let go. He can feel the shape of her body against him and he relishes in her sweet smell. "You're a complete idiot," she half laughs, half cries, "but I love you so much."
"I love you too," he says for the first time in weeks and Rachel beams from happiness, leaning up to kiss him deeply. He remembers her kisses, each one perfect in its own way. This one doesn't disappoint.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that?" she sighs into him.
"Rach, I'm sorry, I wish that I could take all of this back," he says, "I never wanted to hurt you."
She shakes her head, cutting him off with a kiss, "you're here now. And you…you remember. That's all I need."
"I don't know everything yet," he tells her, taking hold of her hands, "but the memories are coming back, I swear." He grips her tighter, scared that he'll forget it all again. He's going to hold onto her forever.
With shaky fingers, she takes his ring and slips it onto his fingers. He takes hold of her hand, kissing every inch of skin. No, he's not going to let himself forget anything about her.
They spend the night together and he realises how truly lonely he's been without his soul mate sharing the bed with him. She's asleep in his arms now, dry tear tracks on her tanned skin.
He can't stop staring at her.
Is this real? It better be because he chooses this reality. He chooses Rachel.
Caressing her skin, he feels her wedding ring and smiles, thinking about how she never took it off, not once. She always had faith, even when she pretended that she didn't.
And that's what he loves about her.
I hope that you liked it and everything was explained properly (it was a little confusing in my head!)
Please review :)