Fic: Cinderella in a Party Dress (2/4)
Title: Cinderella in a Party Dress
Fandom: Glee
Rating: T
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Finn, ensemble
Setting/Spoilers: general spoilers for all episodes
Warnings: sexual situations, language
Summary: when you're dead, you're dead - except when you're not.
A/N: Title and lyrics come from The Killer's "A Dustland Fairytale." I owe a huge, HUGE thank you to my bestie, Kristen, who not only edited this but also helped me plan it and work through all the plot twists--even when that required laughing as I jumped up and down in excitement and spilled soda all over myself. You're an amazing beta and an even more amazing friend, Kris!
He wakes at six when his alarm goes off.
He brushes his teeth. He takes a shower. He goes downstairs.
"Good morning, sweetheart," his mother greets, smiling.
"What's the date?" he asks.
"Mmm -" She glances at the calendar. "The 23rd," she says.
"Monday?" he asks, just to be sure.
She nods. "That's right."
He eats slowly, his mind running on overdrive. Okay. It's Monday. This is the day he's supposed to tell Rachel everything, right? Because obviously there's some sort of plan going on, some sort of map of events, and he has to follow that map. He has to . . . Rachel talked about a circle. He has to stay on the circle. And the circle wants him to tell Rachel tonight.
But how?
---
He sees her in the parking lot with Sam.
He doesn't try to talk to her. He lets her laugh with Sam in the halls, he lets Sam put his arm around her shoulder, and he lets her eat lunch alone in the choir room. He's suddenly afraid to approach her. How did that happen? Why did this happen? Why did he let them just, you know, drift apart?
He thinks he might have gotten a one hundred on his history test, 'cause, you know, he's taken it three times and gone over the answers in class a lot, too. He wonders if that's like cheating.
He has last period with Rachel on Mondays, and he springs into action as soon as the bell rings. "Rachel!" he calls, hurrying over to her and blocking her exit. Jeez. She's not some skittish animal. Still. . . .
"Hello, Finn," she greets hesitantly. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," he says. "I just . . . I wanted to ask a favor."
"Okay," she says uneasily.
"Do you want to come over? To my house, I mean?" She's shocked, he can tell, so he rushes on quickly. "For Glee stuff!" he says. "I really need to . . . that song Mr. Shue wants me to do for Nationals, or maybe do, or whatever - I feel really uncomfortable with the second verse. Could you help me practice?"
And Rachel, good, sweet, wonderful Rachel, smiles at him. "Of course I'll help you," she says. "Let me just tell Sam that I don't need a ride, and then we can go over to your house. But could you give me a ride home after?"
"Yeah, sure," he says, trying not to smile too broadly.
She beams.
---
"Okay, now," Rachel says, dropping her backpack by his bed. "Let's start with some scales to warm up, and then you can perform the song for me, and then we'll focus on how you might be able to improve." She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth to belt out her scales.
"Wait," he says quickly, actually holding up his hand.
She frowns a little. "What's the matter?"
"I . . . I kind of lied to you. I don't really wanna practice the song right now."
"Then . . . why did you want me to come over?" she asks.
"I need to - to talk to you about something. Before you say anything, it's not about Sam! It's about me, and I . . . some stuff's been happening lately, and it's really freaking me out, and you're the only one who can . . . I just -" He groans a little and runs a hand over his hair. He's not doing this right.
"What is it, Finn?" Rachel asks gently. "You know you can always talk to me." She reaches out and takes his hands. "Here," she says. "Sit down on the bed." He does, and she sits beside him, her little legs dangling off. "Tell me," she encourages.
"I've been . . . I've . . . I can travel through time, Rach."
She stares at him. "I'm - I'm sorry?" she finally says.
"Well, like, I mean, it's more like I just randomly travel, you know? I don't actively do anything. It's done to me, if that makes sense. I just wake up, and it's a different random day. Most of the time it's a day during this one week, but one time it was way into the future."
"Finn," she says slowly, "is this some sort of joke?"
"What? No! It's not! Rachel, you have to believe me. You have to. Something's happening to me, and I don't understand, and I need you to help me figure everything out. I've been trying for, like, two weeks now or something, and I can't do it by myself."
She doesn't say anything, but she hasn't stormed out indignantly yet, either.
"It's like this," he says, standing. "A little while ago - I'm not sure how long, 'cause it's really hard to keep track of - but a little while ago, I woke up, and it was prom day. It didn't even seem odd to me. When I woke up the next day, and it was Sunday - like yesterday, Sunday, I mean, I just thought I'd dreamed up prom.
"And Sunday was a totally normal day, and then the next day was Monday, and that was totally normal, too. But then I went to bed, and I woke up, and it was December. Like, it was next December. And all this stuff had happened and my life was really messed up.
"Okay, so are you with me so far?"
"I'm with you," she says, nodding.
"So it was this awful day in December, and then I went to bed, and I woke up, and it was prom night. And then I think it was Monday again, but I started getting confused after that. The point is - this is, like, the third time I've lived through this day, and it all happens the same unless I do something different."
He's started to pace, but he pauses. "Are you still following?"
Slowly, she nods again.
"Okay, so I've been to Tuesday once, and to Thursday, too, and I've talked with you, and by that time I've told you, and you're trying to help me. But none of it goes properly, and . . . and this is the part where I don't follow anymore. I think, though, I think all this is happening because I'm supposed to change something. I'm supposed to stop what happens on prom night from happening, 'cause . . . 'cause it's kinda bad. Like, nightmarish, ruin-your-life bad."
"I see," Rachel says.
"Yeah, I know, it's crazy and confusing and it makes my head hurt. But at some point I'm gonna live the real Saturday, and then I have to . . . stop what's gonna happen from happening."
"Finn," she says, "this is very confusing - and very, very crazy."
"But you believe me, right?"
She sighs. "I don't . . . I don't not believe you."
She's said that before. "You've said that before!" he exclaims. "Tomorrow - you'll tell me that tomorrow, too!" He pauses. That's it! "I can prove it to you," he says, excited.
"Prove it to me?" she says.
He nods eagerly. He spins around. Paper. He needs paper. "I've lived tomorrow already," he explains as he grabs a notebook from his backpack and tears out a piece of paper. "So I'm gonna write a list of stuff that'll happen to you that I'd have no way of knowing ahead of time unless I could time travel, and I'll put it in this envelope, and then you can read it tomorrow and -"
He thinks of the conversation they had before in the cafeteria. She had mentioned an envelope. He was on the right track! He whirled around. "You'll see," he said. "I'll prove it."
"Okay," she tells him.
"Here, watch me," he says. "Look, see, it's a totally blank sheet of paper, and now I'm gonna right some stuff about tomorrow on it."
What should he put?
You'll forget your lunch for the first time ever, so you'll buy something, but you'll be suspicious of the spinach casserole. And you'll go running in the morning, and this song from Wicked will come on, and it'll make you think of Quinn. Plus, you'll wear a green skirt, and a matching green and pink argyle sweater. And you'll get pissed at Mrs. Hannigan, and Sam will tell you it's because she knows that you're smarter than her.
He adds some more about the stupid stuff Mr. Schue will do in Glee, and this one random line that Brittany will say, and he mentions what other people will wear, too, and he tells her that Quinn'll be pissy all day.
He thinks that should be enough. "Okay," he says. "Now, see, I'm just gonna fold it up, and put it in . . . in this envelope here." He grabs the yellow package envelope that video game he ordered from amazon came in two weeks ago. "And I'll - I'll staple it shut."
He holds it out to her proudly. "Look at the paper tomorrow after everything's happened. Like, after school."
Hesitantly, she takes it. "Well," she says, "this certainly isn't what I expected. But, okay, I'll open it tomorrow afternoon." She offers him a small smile. "I should go, though. I have homework and all of that."
"Do you need a ride?" he asks.
She nods, and he walks her downstairs and back out to his truck. The ride is quiet, and he wonders just how crazy she thinks he is right now. But his plan is gonna work. He knows it is. He doesn't take his eyes off the road, 'cause you never know what might jump out in front of your car, but he thinks about that last prom day, and her words.
"I really want to kiss you right now."
When he gets to her house, she tells him that he doesn't need to walk her to the door. As she steps out of his truck, though, he can't help himself. "Hey, Rachel?" he asks. She glances back at him. "Are we friends?"
"Do you want to be?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says, nodding.
She smiles. "Then yes. We're friends."
---
He has a nightmare that night.
He knows this is a real nightmare. Colors smear and voices loom out of nowhere, and Blaine becomes his mom who becomes that poor mailman and then Kurt screams mailman in a hysterical voice repeatedly while cows start to rain down and Sam turns into a vampire and Rachel flies from the car again and again and again, and she dies again and again and again, and she begs Finn to save her but he just can't and then the cows start a stampede and -
"Finn!" His mom tears back his covers. "You have school! Come on! You'll be late!"
He rubs his eyes. He glances at the clock. It's almost 6:30. He's definitely going to be late. But what day is it? "Mom!" he calls. "What's the date? And the day of the week?"
"It is Tuesday, May 24th!" his mother shouts from the hall.
---
After today, he'll have Rachel on his side. She'll read his note after everything plays out, and then they'll be able to make sense of everything. Unless . . . yesterday was real, right? He really can't tell anymore.
He goes through the motions of the day, though, and he has that same awkward with conversation with Quinn. He sees Rachel in the cafeteria, poking at her tray of food, and he grins. He sits with Puck and Mike, though, and they all mess around, and he feels normal for the first time in ages.
But he really wants to talk to Rachel.
He doesn't like that normal now doesn't involve Rachel.
He waits the day out, though. He goes to Glee practice, and he goes through the motions, and he pretends to care when Mr. Schue announces stuff that Finn's already heard before. He goes for a run after Glee practice ends, just to relieve some stress, but his wrist is still killing him, and he doesn't know what the fuck he did to it.
He must push himself too hard during the run, 'cause his ears pop and stuff afterward.
But he doesn't care. Only like ten minutes after dinner finishes, somebody rings the doorbell. He knows who it is, and he nearly sprints to greet her. She stands on his doorstep nervously, his notebook paper clutched in her hands.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi," she replies. She pauses. "Everything you put in here actually happened." She sounds a little shocked, but he only smiles. "I guess - I guess we should talk."
"Yeah," he says, and he opens the door wider to let her pass into the house.
He leads the way up the stairs and to his room. "I still can't believe this," she says as she sits at his desk and he closes the door. "I mean, I never much read fantasy novels, as I've always enjoyed biographies a great deal more - they're interesting, informative, and inspirational - but I still know some of the general theories in pop culture, and . . . wow. You can time travel."
"You really do believe me, then?" he asks, sitting down on his bed.
She nods. "I don't have any other explanation. And, of course, some aspects of the paranormal aren't really so far fetched. You know I have a sixth sense, of course."
"Yeah," he says.
"But you have no control over this, right?" she asks. "You don't choose what happens or which day you end up in?"
"That's right. I wish I could." It's quiet. She tucks one of her feet behind the other, and her fingers fidget a little in her lap. "This is kinda awkward," he says. That's supposed to make things less awkward, right, when you, like, acknowledge the awkwardness?
She chuckles a little. "Yes, it is." She pauses. Shit. It's totally still awkward. She goes on after a minute, though. "But we really ought to discuss what to do about your situation. Now, there's probably a purpose, and you mentioned that you think it's to give you the ability to change the events of our prom night, right?"
He nods. "Yeah, um, it's kinda really bad. Some - somebody dies."
"Oh," she says, her eyes widening. "Yes, yes, that is bad. But we can prevent it. I know we can." She smiles. "Let's see. Well, how many times have you lived through prom night now?"
"Um, I think three times," he says. "That's right. Three times. And it all goes down exactly the same way. There's, um, a car accident on the way to the school."
"And you've tried to prevent the accident to no avail?"
"Yeah," he says. "I mean, I've . . . I've tried to stop - but she keeps stopping me."
"She keeps stopping you?" Rachel repeats. "Who's she?"
He should just tell her. He has to, doesn't he? "You," he says.
"Me?" she says. "I keep stopping you?"
"Yeah, you." It's the truth. "You keep stopping me."
"But why would I . . . why would I want someone else to die?" She looks legit distressed, and he doesn't really want to have this conversation. But he needs her to have the answers, and she can't if she doesn't even know the fucking question.
"Actually, it's . . . it's you, Rachel." He tries not to sound panicked. The memory of her like that, of the blood, of the shuddering breaths, of the body bag - it tends to freak him out a lot.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"You're the one who dies," he says softly.
Her eyes widen. "W-what? I die?"
He nods. "It's awful. And after the first time, I thought it was just a nightmare, but I've relived it twice since then, and both times I tried to talk to you and explain everything to you, but you wouldn't listen and it's like you knew what was gonna happen and you just told me to let it happen, and then you . . . you died."
"I see," she whispers, staring at a spot on the carpet.
"I'm not - I'm not gonna let it happen, Rach," he says quickly. "You gotta know that. I'm not gonna let you die. I mean, I'm not supposed to let you die. I think - I think the universe doesn't want you to."
She glances back at him.
"No, seriously," he goes on, "I've been thinking about it. Like, okay, look at this. He grabs a sheet of paper from his backpack, some random homework assignment or something, and a pen from his desk. He draws a line. "This is time," he says. "And for some reason, something happens on prom night that creates this new alternate reality with a new time line. He draws a diagonal line, and then a new line from that.
"And, see, I think the universe is bouncing me from reality to reality so that I can, like, course correct and make sure you don't die and the regular time line goes on." He's kind of proud of his theory.
"That makes some sense," Rachel says slowly.
"Yeah, I got it from Back to the Future."
"I've never seen that," she says.
"You should really watch it," he tells her. "It's a good movie. And, now that I think about it - I mean, if I remember right - I'm pretty sure you're gonna watch it soon so we can, like, discuss."
"But, Finn," she says, "in my limited knowledge of time travel, I was also under the impression that time was circular, not linear."
"Yeah, you've said that before. But you never really explained. . . ."
"Time isn't something that happens step by step," she says. "It happens simultaneously. Like, you can't stop a man in San Diego from throwing his shoe at an innocent dog because it's happening right now, even though he's far, far away from you. Similarly, you can't stop a man right here in Lima from throwing his shoe at an innocent dog three weeks from now, because it's happening right now, even though he's, in terms of time, far, far away."
He's not really sure what dogs have to do with anything, but he kinda gets that point.
"But that would mean that you've already died," he says, "and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
She doesn't say anything.
"I am going to stop it, Rach," and he reaches for her hands.
He hasn't held her hands in a long, long time.
She smiles a little. "I believe you," she tells him. "And I'll help. We'll figure this out. This is all so crazy, and I can't believe that the first time we've really spent any time with one another, just the two of us, in some weeks." She sighs. "It's all so complicated, so insane, really. And we should be focused on Nationals right now, but this naturally takes precedent."
He nods. "I'm glad, though," he says.
"You're glad?"
"That, like, we're spending time together again. Even if it's for pretty messed up reasons."
She bites her lip. "I'm glad, too."
"Rachel, why - why did we stop?" His voice comes out softer, sadder even, than he'd intended.
"I'm not really sure," she says quietly. "You wanted space, and I wanted to give it you, because I thought we both needed to grow and be stars in our own right before - before we might one day be together again. And you took that space, and . . . and that was that."
"Yeah," he says. "I guess I . . . I guess I needed space. But, Rach - Rachel - I don't really want it anymore. I . . . I don't think I have for a long time. I've just been too . . . it's been so awkward and it was just easier to . . . I guess I'm just trying to say that you can totally crowd my space from now on." He pauses. "Okay, maybe that came out wrong."
But she smiles. "You're welcome to crowd my space now, too, Finn."
---
Rachel doesn't stay for much longer, but they share a grapefruit down in the kitchen before she leaves, and he thinks about everything she told him. He ends up on Facebook for a while, then, and he skims through old pictures.
He looks at lots that Rachel put up of them.
He's avoided those pictures for a long time. He kinda spends two and a half hours looking at them now, though. And when he finds the one from Glee club where she's leaning against him, smiling slightly as he says something to somebody not in the picture. His hand is, like, automatically reaching for hers. It's just a really good picture.
He leaves a comment.
This is my favorite.
Barely three minutes later, Rachel adds a comment beneath his.
Mine, too :)
---
He thinks maybe everything's back to normal when he wakes up.
His mom tells him that it's Wednesday - "Yes, Finn, Wednesday, May 25th" - and he realizes that the day before was Tuesday, and the day before was Monday, and maybe he's finally back on schedule. Maybe all the time travelling stuff has stopped now that he's figured out it's all meant to help him find a way to save Rachel.
And he will find a way.
He gets to school kinda late, but he sees Rachel down the hall after first, and he raises his hand to wave. She catches sight of him and smiles widely, raising her hand to wave, too. And then some fucking jackass throws a slushie in her face.
It goes just like that - Rachel smiles, Finn blinks, and then Rachel's standing there dripping in bright red cherry slushie, her shoulders tight and her face one of unpleasant shock as the people around her chuckle a little. Pissed, Finn shoves his whole backpack into his locker and starts towards her.
But a hand reaches out and grabs him and stops him, and he tears his eyes away from Rachel, who's trying to navigate towards the girl's bathroom a few feet down the hall. It's Quinn. "Leave her," Quinn says.
"What?"
"Rachel," Quinn insists. "Leave her be. She can take care of herself. It's not as if she hasn't had practice."
"Are you kidding?" he exclaims. "I can't just leave her! None of us has been slushied in ages, and I'm not just gonna let her handle it herself. I'm gonna help her, and then I'm gonna, like, knock some heads together or something."
"Actually, you and I are the people who haven't been slushied in ages," she tells him. "You don't think Puck still gets flack for his whole thing with Lauren? You don't think Tina doesn't get slushied every time Mike's not around? You don't think Rachel doesn't get a cold, icy facial every week because she's Rachel?"
That just pisses him off more. "Then I'm definitely gonna help her," he says.
"Finn, don't start down this path again!" Her fingers dig into his arm.
"Start down what path?"
She grits her teeth. "We've finally found a balance, Finn, between maintaining popularity and remaining in Glee. Don't mess it up. If you want to go to prom with me, don't mess it up." She glares at him, her eyes narrowed with the warning.
"You know, actually," he says, finally yanking his arm free of her, "I don't think I want to go to prom with you." And he stalks off, leaving her gaping behind him, and he feels pretty good about it all. Rachel has a hand on the handle of the bathroom when he reaches her.
"Hey," he murmurs, touching her back gently. "Come on." He leads her into the bathroom, and he helps her wash off, running his hands through her hair to get all the slushie out, and his stomach does all sorts of funny things. She talks about stupid stuff, like she always used to do in these situations, as if she can write it all off as no big deal as long as she talks about, like, her love of cats.
He gets a change of clothes from her locker for her, and then he stays and says he's always liked dogs more as she changes in one of the stalls.
---
"So nothing's happened, then?" Rachel asks as they walk through the parking lot.
"Nope," he says. "Your yesterday was my yesterday, too. I think maybe it's stopped."
"Then the next step," she tells him, "is to go through the events of Saturday hour by hour and make a fool proof plan for how we prevent my death. It shouldn't be too difficult, now that we're both on board, but we can't leave anything to chance, of course."
"Definitely," he agrees. "You wanna come over?"
"Actually, I can't tonight. I teach dance to children at the JCC now. I have since March."
"Really? That's cool." He so should have known that. He knows now, though.
"It is pretty fun. I find it fulfilling to inspire a love of dance in children." She smiles. "And after that I'm having dinner with Sam and his family, and then he'll give me another guitar lesson. He's been teaching me for a few weeks now, and he says I'm making real progress!"
She's having dinner with Sam's family, and he's teaching her how to play guitar? Finn's totally not cool with that. At all.
But she only goes on, oblivious. "I'll try to watch Back to the Future before I go to bed, too." She stops, and he realises they've reached her car. "Thank you for helping me earlier," she says, and her voice has gone soft.
"Sure," he says. "I've got your back."
She bites her lip, gazing up at him. And she leans up suddenly and kisses him gently, simply, chastely. She pulls back. Her cheeks are a little pink. She smiles softly, though. "I'll see you tomorrow, Finn," she says.
He just nods, 'cause he's kinda speechless, or whatever.
He goes over to his car, and he knows - he knows why he avoided hanging out with her again, even just being her friend, for so long. He's totally falling in love with her all over again. (Did he ever fall out of love with her?) He wants to kiss her again. He wants to hold her hand in the halls. He wants her to lean into him at Glee practice.
He wants to take her to prom.
But what about her? Is she falling in love with him? He can't be with her again if she doesn't feel the same way about him that he feels about her - they've done that before, and he barely got over it, if he ever really did. He sighs as he tosses his backpack into his truck and climbs in. He'll figure this all out later. He needs to focus on this Saturday.
First, he'll save her life. And then he'll see if there's a chance she could love him someday.
---
"Finn, sweetie, you need to wake up." Her hand runs over his face, brushing through his hair softly, and his eyes flicker open groggily.
"What's the matter, Mom?" he mutters.
"You need to wake up," she repeats gently. "We need to go soon."
He looks over at her. She's done something pretty with her hair, she has make-up on, and she's wearing a black dress. "Go where?" he asks. Doesn't he have school? He glances over at the clock. It's almost ten in the morning. He must not have school.
That means today isn't Thursday.
He's in some other random day. Apparently, the time travel hasn't stopped.
"Oh, sweetie," his mom says, and she gives him that strained smile she always uses when she's trying not to cry. "You want to go, I know you do, even if you don't feel like it now. You'll regret it later if you don't."
"Go where, Mom?" he insists, his stomach sinking even as he asks.
"The funeral."
He just stares. She leans forward and kisses his forehead. "Get dressed. I've laid out a suit for you. I'll be downstairs, and we're all ready to go when you are." She stands slowly and leaves the room, glancing back one last time to smile sadly at him.
He's supposed to go to a funeral today.
It's not Rachel's, is it? Please. Please.
He gets out of bed and dresses quickly, and he tries to comb his hair a little. He has a five o'clock shadow, his eyes are rimmed in red, and he has, like, actual purple smudges under his eyes. He's woken up in a time where it looks like he doesn't sleep or shave or . . . Oh, God.
It's totally Rachel's funeral.
He can't do this.
But he goes downstairs. He looks at the calendar before he looks at anybody else in the room.
Just like always, his mom has all the previous days marked off. Today is May 31st. Today's a few days after prom, a few days after Rachel's death. Burt rests a hand on Finn's shoulder. "Come on, kid," he says. Finn doesn't say anything as he goes out to the car with his mom, Burt, and Kurt, and he pretends not to see as Kurt wipes away silent tears again and again.
Finn doesn't cry.
Because Rachel isn't dead yet, not really. He still has the chance to save her.
It's bright and sunny out at the cemetery. Finn's pretty sure it's not supposed to be like that.
Everybody Finn knows is there. Mr. and Mr. Berry are there, and they're surrounded by people that look like relatives - Finn thinks one of them might be Mr. Berry's sister, who Rachel has a picture of in her room. Her aunt Ruthie, he thinks. All the Glee kids are there, too, and they're all crying - even Quinn. Mrs. Puckerman has an arm around Puck, who looks like he hasn't slept or shaved or done anything much at all since prom, like Finn.
Finn didn't really understand the service, and he doesn't understand much of what happens now, either, but he stares at her casket and he finds that he is crying, because this is Rachel's funeral. He shouldn't be here. This is way too fucked up.
He goes forward to drop dirt onto the casket. He doesn't want to, but both Mr. Berrys do, and then they look at Finn, like it's only right that he goes next. He stumbles forward, takes a fistful of dirt, and then let his hand hover over her casket. He can't do this. He can't.
Again, Burt touches a hand to his shoulder. "It's okay, son," he murmurs.
It's really not. But Finn drops the dirt, and he lets Burt walk him back to his seat.
He stays in bed the rest of the day, and nobody bothers him. He plans out how he's gonna save Rachel. He figures out all the details. It's gonna work. This won't ever really happen - circular time can go fuck itself.
Kurt knocks on Finn's door a little after eleven. "I can't sleep," Kurt says, eyes downcast.
"Me neither," Finn admits.
"I don't want to bother my father or Carole, and I've already leaned too much on Mercedes, and. . . ." Kurt rambles slightly, which reminds Finn of Rachel.
"Hey, it's cool," Finn says, and he pulls back some of his sheets and scoots to one side of the bed. "There's gotta be something on television we can watch." He finds Jon Stewart, and they watch that, and Finn doesn't really care when Kurt leans into him a little. They're brothers, aren't they?
Kurt doesn't realize that Rachel isn't really dead yet. So Finn lets him have this one.
He's not sure when he finally falls asleep.
---
Finn wakes up before his alarm can go off. The clock says it's a little past five in the morning. He goes downstairs. According to the calendar, it's the day of prom - again.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
He goes back upstairs and tries to go back to sleep. He can't. He's gonna prove today that he can save Rachel when the real prom night comes. Hell, maybe this even is the real prom night. He gives up on sleep around six thirty, and he takes a really long shower, almost an hour, until he hears the sounds of his mom in the kitchen.
He goes down to breakfast and asks if maybe she'll make him chocolate chip pancakes. Those are his favourite, and he could really use a pick-me-up. She agrees, and she asks him happily if he's excited for tonight. "Quinn's Mom got you a limo, didn't she?" she asks.
"I don't wanna go with Quinn," Finn says gruffly. "I wanna go with Rachel."
His mom doesn't say anything. He doesn't really expect her to. He just eats his pancakes and doesn't make anything else more awkward for her. He leaves as soon as he's finished. He starts the drive to Rachel's house, but when he realizes that it's almost nine in the morning now, he changes course. He knows Rachel, okay? She won't still be in bed.
He gets to Tina's, and he pounds on the door loudly until Mercedes tears it open. "Damn, white boy, it's bad enough that Rachel made us all get up to get ready at the crack of dawn!" But her anger disappears a little as he glares at her.
"I need to talk to Rachel."
"Yeah, okay," Mercedes says hesitantly. "Hold on."
It takes forever, just like it did last time, but Rachel comes out eventually. Her hair's in a messy ponytail, and she doesn't look thrilled to see him. "You shouldn't be here, Finn," she says. "You know that." He doesn't get this. If their talk from Tuesday really happened, and he thinks it really did, then why is she acting like this?
"I don't know that," he tells her. "And don't talk to me about pieces and slam the door in my face again. We need to talk." He pauses. "Let me take you to breakfast or something."
"I really can't, Finn," she protests. "You need to leave." She starts to shut the door on him.
And he goes for broke. He grabs her waist and yanks her up and over his shoulder. "Yeah, no," he says, "we're going to breakfast."
"Finn!" she screams, smacking his back, and her little fists are surprisingly painful. "This is absolutely outrageous - completely and utterly barbaric! Put me down this instant!"
"Nope."
"Help! Help me! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED!"
"Yeah, nobody cares," he tells her, and he opens his truck and tries to push her in as gently as he can. It's kinda hard, 'cause the crazy girl's kicking and punching wildly, and, yeah, he's gonna have some bruises. She scrambles along the seat in an attempt to escape, but he doesn't let her. He climbs in, blocks her escape attempts with an arm that forces her back against the seat, and then he starts up the car with his left hand.
"This is ridiculous," she hisses.
"You're right. So can you just behave for five minutes and go to breakfast with me?" he asks, glaring at her.
She glares back, her jaw locked, before she snaps, "Fine. Have it your way."
He cautiously draws his arm back, and she grabs the seat belt viciously and slams it into the buckle. She crosses her arms over her chest, then, and glares out the windshield, muttering something darkly under his breath.
Victorious, he puts the truck into reverse and pulls out of Tina's driveway.
---
Her takes her to this weird diner that only serves green mush and stuff like that. He hates this place. She loves it, though, and he's already had breakfast, so whatever. They don't talk as they sit down, and she refuses to look at him.
"Okay," he says. "So you know you're gonna die, right?"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she replies coolly, finally looking over at him. "Can I leave now?"
"Rachel, c'mon," he murmurs, pleading a little. Why is she acting like this?
She sighs. "Finn, don't do this, okay? Don't make it harder than it needs to be."
"Don't make you dying hard?" he says, incredulous.
But there's a plea in her eyes now, too. "We talked about this!" she says.
"No," he tells her, shaking his head. "I haven't. Not in your time, anyway. Look, I think there's, like, - there's real time, and then there's special time. And I think the week's slowly passing in real time, and I'm, like, jumping back and forth between real time and special time. And you only live in real time, but I haven't lived all of real time left, so, like, if we talked about this yesterday, then I don't remember, 'cause there's nothing to remember, 'cause I haven't lived that yet!"
He's not sure that makes any sense. Nothing makes sense any more, and it's driving him crazy.
"I understand," she says softly. "You've explained that to me before. But, okay, when is the last part of - of real time that you have lived?"
"Um . . . Wednesday. Or maybe just Tuesday. I'm not sure."
"Not Thursday?" There's something different in her voice.
"What happens on Thursday?" he asks.
A waitress comes over to the table. Finn's kind of annoyed, but there's nothing he can do. He orders a coke and Rachel orders tea, and then he stares across the table and repeats his question. "What happens on Thursday?"
"I think you're supposed to wait and see," she finally answers.
"It's gotta be something pretty big, if suddenly you're all ready just to die."
"I'm not ready to die," she says.
"You're sure acting like it!" he exclaims.
"Don't shout at me," she tells him. "I'm doing this for you."
"You're dying for me? I didn't ask you do that - I'm not asking you to do that. Rachel, please." He reaches for her hand, half expecting her to pull away, but she lets him grasp her hand, she lets him weave their fingers together.
"It's not that simple," she says softly. "But you can't live like this, Finn. You can't live trapped in one place, unable to move forward, to move on. And the only way you can move on is if you let happen what's going to happen."
"If I let you die, you mean," he says. "Do you not even believe me? Do you not think you're gonna die? 'Cause I've seen it, Rach. I've seen it, and it's gonna happen, unless you let me stop it, unless you help me stop it."
"Finn, that's just it - you can't stop it, not even if I try to help you. Time's circular. It's not like in Back to the Future. We've talked about this some already, I know we have."
"Then what's the point of all this?" he asks, his voice breaking a little. The waitress comes back with their drinks, but she hurries away again, as if she knows that she's interrupting something.
"Finn, you don't know it yet, but the next few days - in real time, I mean - they change my life," she says. "And they're some of the best days I've ever had, despite everything. I don't know how to make you okay with this. Because, you know, honestly, maybe I don't really think it's real. But I know that I wouldn't take back anything that's happened.
"And I know that you need all of this to - to realize how smart you are, and how strong you are, and how - how amazing you are. Maybe that's the point. Maybe you need this so that you can realize that - that bad things happen, terrible things happen, and you have to find a way past them, even when you can't fix them."
She runs her thumb gently across the back of his hand.
"I'm not willing to pay for a lesson," his says, his voice low, "that costs me you."
"Don't you get it, Finn?" She smiles a little sadly. "This is the lesson that brought me back to you." She blinks, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She stands, though, and she comes around the table before he can stop her. She reaches out and cups his face.
"Trust me," she whispers. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, lingering for a moment. "I need you to do this for me, Finn. Please do me this one last thing." Her voice is muffled against his skin, a whisper that's somehow distant. She draws back after a moment, and he watches her walk away - doesn't she need a ride? But she pulls out her cell as she goes, and he just sits there.
He goes home eventually. He blows off Kurt. He calls Quinn and cancels on her. She goes ballistic, but he really doesn't care. He lies in bed and plays stupid video games all afternoon, and he doesn't budge when Kurt begs him to come over to Tina's for pictures.
He falls asleep at some point, and he wakes when his cell goes off.
It's around nine at night. It's Kurt calling. Finn knows what he'll say. But he picks up the phone anyway. It's actually Blaine on the other line. "Finn?" he says. "It's Blaine. I'm calling because Kurt can't, and I thought - I thought somebody should let you know."
"Okay," Finn says.
"It's Rachel, Finn," Blaine says. "There was an accident, and . . . " Blaine seems unable to say the words. "I'm so sorry, Finn, but Rachel - she - oh, God, maybe I shouldn't have just called you liked this. You shouldn't hear this from me."
"It's okay, Blaine," Finn says dully.
"Rachel died, Finn," Blaine breathes.
Finn just hangs up the phone and goes back to sleep.
---
"Hey Mom," he says.
"It's Thursday," she replies.
"The 26th?" he asks.
"Of May," she says, nodding.
Rachel said this day was important. Or she implied it, or something. He's lived Thursday before, he thinks, but everything's sorta starting to blur together. Obviously, though, nothing big happened, or he would remember it, right?
He sees Rachel at her locker when he arrives at school. He wants to catch her before he goes to homeroom, so he tries to shove everything into his locker as quickly as he can. When he slams his locker shut and turns toward hers, though, he nearly runs into her.
"Hey, so I've done some more research," she says, a shy smile on her face.
"Research?" he repeats.
"Mmm-hmm. Well, I watched Back to the Future, as you asked. I actually thought it was rather amusing, I'll admit. But I found the doc's explanation for time travel to be vastly incorrect. I can understand why he sold you on his theory, though, because it's so simple, and we always want a simple explanation - it's a natural human inclination. I mean, isn't that what's behind Occam's Razor?"
"Um, yeah," he says, and then his eyes go wide, because holy shit they've had this conversation before, this, like, exact conversation.
"So, as I said before, time really isn't linear. It's circular. And you can travel around that circle, but you can't change any part of it, as what's going to happened has already happened. I've drawn up a picture for you - I think I can explain it to you in the same sort of terms the doc uses." She starts to rustle through her backpack.
"You wanna ditch homeroom?" he asks randomly. She looks up in surprise. "I mean, like, we gotta talk about this and stuff. So let's go out to the bleachers. Nobody'll be out there right now." He shrugs a little. And, to his surprise, she agrees.
They go out through the cafeteria doors. "I feel like such a rebel," she tells him, sounding a little delighted with herself, and he laughs.
"Yeah, Puck's got nothing on you," he tells her, and she shoves him playfully.
"Okay," she says as they sit down. "Now, this circle here is time. This random point is today. This random point is Saturday, is prom night. See, there's no start and finish, and no way to deviate off into another random circle."
"But," he says, and he takes the pen from her, "can't you just, like, leave the circle and start a new one?" and he draws another circle that just touches with hers at the point she's labelled Thursday.
"But that would create an entirely new future and an entirely new past. They would create a universe completely separate from ours except for this one day. The consequences could be astronomical!"
He stares.
"I may have also done some research in the form of a several hours viewing of the Sci Fi channel," she adds lightly. He starts to laugh at her. "It was necessary!" He only laughs harder, and she huffs and crosses her arms over chest. "Can we move on? I've looked over the timeline, and I think I understand how it works."
"The timeline?"
"That we made yesterday," she says, pulling another piece of paper out of her backpack.
"Right, that one," he says. He leans forward to see their timeline. He can smell her perfume, some sweet, flowery scent that she's always worn, and he almost wants to press his face closer to her and take a big whiff. That might freak her out, though. He focuses on the time - "Circle," he says. "It's a timecircle."
"I re-did it last night," she explains.
"Okay, cool." He thinks it would be a whole lot easier to read as a straight line, but Rachel seems to have a thing for circles, so whatever. "So . . . so there's real time, and there's special time, I think. But how do we figure out which is which?" he asks. "You know, I still don't really get how any of this works."
"I'm not entirely sure, either," she says. "I have a theory, though. Every day is supposed to play out a certain way, and you only progress forward in real time when the day you live in plays out correctly. If it doesn't, then time jumps you to some random day. So, Sunday played out correctly, and then Monday came, but it didn't play out correctly, so you jumped around until you came back to Monday, and then it did play out correctly, so you went on to real time Tuesday, and so on."
"And you only live in real time days, so, like, if today doesn't play out right, or whatever, then you won't remember any of this?" he asks.
"I think," she says slowly. "And this might not even be in real time, because I don't know if you've successfully progressed from Wednesday, although according to our timecircle I think you've successfully lived Tuesday in real time."
He's so lost it's not even funny. She glances over at him, and she smiles a little.
"Look, until we have any concrete ideas, here's the plan: try to let things play out the way you think they ought to. For now, don't mess with any prom related events."
"What does that mean?" he asks.
"I mean, for example, who's your date to prom?"
"I don't. . . ."
"You keep re-living prom night," she says, "and obviously each night is much the same unless you change something. So, in this apparently standard night, who's your date?" She pauses. "Do we - do we go together?" Her voice goes soft.
"Actually, um, I'm usually with Quinn."
"Oh." She looks away. "Okay. Of course. I should have. . . . I'll add that to our notes. So, now, this means don't do anything that would prevent your date with Quinn, because we can't afford to change anything until we've determined what must change."
"Yeah," he says quietly, watching her carefully, "sure."
"Well," she says, and she starts to put away her papers, "we really should go. I'm sure first period has already started, and the later we are, the more embarrassing it'll be." She stands.
"Okay," he says, standing up, too. "You wanna meet up for lunch and talk more?"
"I'm supposed to meet Sam, actually," she says. They start down the bleachers. "And then we have Glee practice, and then I have a guitar lesson with Sam after. I don't think we can meet again tonight. But we'll talk more tomorrow."
He knows what this is. He knows her well enough to get it.
"Hey," he finally says, just as they enter the school and start to turn in opposite directions. "We're friends again, right?" He knows he's asked before, but he wants to ask again. He needs to remind her. She nods, smiling a little. And he can't help it. He goes on. "I really hate that we ever became not friends."
She bites her lip. "Me, too," she says. "But I guess it isn't as easy to be friends once you fall out of love as it is to be friends while you fall in love."
"Yeah," he says. She starts to walk away, but her words slowly prick his conscious. "Rachel!" She glances back again. He licks his lip and forces the question out. "Did you really love me?"
She tilts her head at him, smiling a little as if that were a silly question. "Of course I did. I've never loved anybody like I loved you." A beat passes, she leaves, and he tries not to let her words terrify him.
(He hasn't really been wrong about everything, has he?)
---
"Hey Mom, what's -?"
"Wednesday, May 25th." She doesn't even look up.
He nods a little to himself and then pours himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch. Okay, so is this real time? That means he has to try to do the day right. Rachel told him not to mess with anything until they figured more out, but she won't remember that, will she? What does she remember?
When she came by his house on Tuesday night, right?
He wishes he could look at her timecircle, but he's pretty sure that doesn't exist yet.
Standing by his locker, he sees Rachel in the hall. He waves, and she smiles broadly and starts to wave, too, before she's suddenly slushied, and he swears he can hear her gasp. The people around her only laugh a little as she stands there, dripping in bright red cherry slushie, and he hates that he's seen this all before, that he has to see it twice, that he ever has to see it.
He shoves his backpack into his locker, slams the door shut, and starts towards her.
But a hand reaches out and grabs him and stops him, and he remembers exactly who it is even as he spins around to face her. "Leave her," Quinn says. He stares furiously at her. She isn't intimidated. "Rachel," Quinn goes on sharply. "Leave her be. She can take care of herself. It's not as if she hasn't had practice."
"Don't be mean," he snaps. "I'm not just gonna let her go through that by herself."
"Unless you want to be the next recipient, you better," she tells him. "Just because you and I haven't been slushied in months, doesn't mean the slushies have stopped. You don't think Puck still gets flack for his whole thing with Lauren? You don't think Tina doesn't get slushied every time Mike's not around? You don't think Rachel doesn't get a cold, icy facial every week because she's Rachel?"
She gave him a similar speech last time. "I don't care if I get slushied again," he snarls.
He knows Quinn's just dealing with all the same, like, insecurities and stuff that they all have to deal with and this is her way of handling it all, but he hates that she has to be such a big bitch to make herself feel better. No matter how bad she's had it in high school, Rachel's never been mean to other people.
"Finn, don't start down this path again!" Her fingers dig into his arm.
"Start down what path?" But he remembers the answer even as he speaks.
She grits her teeth. "We've finally found a balance, Finn, between maintaining popularity and remaining in Glee. Don't mess it up. If you want to go to prom with me, don't mess it up." She glares at him, her eyes narrowed with the warning.
"You know, actually," he says, finally yanking his arm free of her, and then he pauses. Rachel told him not to mess with prom events. Does this count? He glances down the hall, and he sees Rachel tentatively press her hand to the bathroom door. He can't just leave her to handle that by herself.
But -
"What?" Quinn says sharply.
"Fine," he tells her. He can't look at her, though, and he definitely can't look in Rachel's direction.
"Good," she says, and her whole demeanour seems to soften slightly. "My mom's already agreed to pay for a limo. All you need to remember is to pick up my corsage. I already ordered it and everything."
"Um, okay," he says.
She smiles and flounces off, then, and he slowly treks to the girls' bathroom. The hall's nearly cleared out, and he hopes he doesn't look like a creep or anything as he pushes open the door and slips in. He finds Rachel washing her hair out over the sink.
"Hey," he says softly.
She freezes for a moment, but she relaxes almost instantly. "Hello, Finn," she says.
"Sorry I didn't come by earlier," he tells her. "Quinn wouldn't let me." She doesn't respond, and he freaks out a little, so he quickly goes on. "Like, I wanted to, but yesterday I lived through Thursday, and you told me that I had to make sure for now that I didn't change any of the events from prom - at least, I mean, until we know more. So I couldn't mess with Quinn, 'cause. . . ."
"Because you're taking her to prom?" Rachel asks, straightening slightly. He barely has time to do more than stand and look guilty before she smiles a little. "That's fine, Finn," she says, and she honestly doesn't seem mad. See? Rachel's just nice. "Could you go to my locker and bring me a fresh change of clothes?" she asks. "You know the combination, right?"
He nods quickly, glad he can still help her. "I'll be right back."
part 1. part 3. part 4.
Fandom: Glee
Rating: T
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Finn, ensemble
Setting/Spoilers: general spoilers for all episodes
Warnings: sexual situations, language
Summary: when you're dead, you're dead - except when you're not.
A/N: Title and lyrics come from The Killer's "A Dustland Fairytale." I owe a huge, HUGE thank you to my bestie, Kristen, who not only edited this but also helped me plan it and work through all the plot twists--even when that required laughing as I jumped up and down in excitement and spilled soda all over myself. You're an amazing beta and an even more amazing friend, Kris!
He wakes at six when his alarm goes off.
He brushes his teeth. He takes a shower. He goes downstairs.
"Good morning, sweetheart," his mother greets, smiling.
"What's the date?" he asks.
"Mmm -" She glances at the calendar. "The 23rd," she says.
"Monday?" he asks, just to be sure.
She nods. "That's right."
He eats slowly, his mind running on overdrive. Okay. It's Monday. This is the day he's supposed to tell Rachel everything, right? Because obviously there's some sort of plan going on, some sort of map of events, and he has to follow that map. He has to . . . Rachel talked about a circle. He has to stay on the circle. And the circle wants him to tell Rachel tonight.
But how?
---
He sees her in the parking lot with Sam.
He doesn't try to talk to her. He lets her laugh with Sam in the halls, he lets Sam put his arm around her shoulder, and he lets her eat lunch alone in the choir room. He's suddenly afraid to approach her. How did that happen? Why did this happen? Why did he let them just, you know, drift apart?
He thinks he might have gotten a one hundred on his history test, 'cause, you know, he's taken it three times and gone over the answers in class a lot, too. He wonders if that's like cheating.
He has last period with Rachel on Mondays, and he springs into action as soon as the bell rings. "Rachel!" he calls, hurrying over to her and blocking her exit. Jeez. She's not some skittish animal. Still. . . .
"Hello, Finn," she greets hesitantly. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," he says. "I just . . . I wanted to ask a favor."
"Okay," she says uneasily.
"Do you want to come over? To my house, I mean?" She's shocked, he can tell, so he rushes on quickly. "For Glee stuff!" he says. "I really need to . . . that song Mr. Shue wants me to do for Nationals, or maybe do, or whatever - I feel really uncomfortable with the second verse. Could you help me practice?"
And Rachel, good, sweet, wonderful Rachel, smiles at him. "Of course I'll help you," she says. "Let me just tell Sam that I don't need a ride, and then we can go over to your house. But could you give me a ride home after?"
"Yeah, sure," he says, trying not to smile too broadly.
She beams.
---
"Okay, now," Rachel says, dropping her backpack by his bed. "Let's start with some scales to warm up, and then you can perform the song for me, and then we'll focus on how you might be able to improve." She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth to belt out her scales.
"Wait," he says quickly, actually holding up his hand.
She frowns a little. "What's the matter?"
"I . . . I kind of lied to you. I don't really wanna practice the song right now."
"Then . . . why did you want me to come over?" she asks.
"I need to - to talk to you about something. Before you say anything, it's not about Sam! It's about me, and I . . . some stuff's been happening lately, and it's really freaking me out, and you're the only one who can . . . I just -" He groans a little and runs a hand over his hair. He's not doing this right.
"What is it, Finn?" Rachel asks gently. "You know you can always talk to me." She reaches out and takes his hands. "Here," she says. "Sit down on the bed." He does, and she sits beside him, her little legs dangling off. "Tell me," she encourages.
"I've been . . . I've . . . I can travel through time, Rach."
She stares at him. "I'm - I'm sorry?" she finally says.
"Well, like, I mean, it's more like I just randomly travel, you know? I don't actively do anything. It's done to me, if that makes sense. I just wake up, and it's a different random day. Most of the time it's a day during this one week, but one time it was way into the future."
"Finn," she says slowly, "is this some sort of joke?"
"What? No! It's not! Rachel, you have to believe me. You have to. Something's happening to me, and I don't understand, and I need you to help me figure everything out. I've been trying for, like, two weeks now or something, and I can't do it by myself."
She doesn't say anything, but she hasn't stormed out indignantly yet, either.
"It's like this," he says, standing. "A little while ago - I'm not sure how long, 'cause it's really hard to keep track of - but a little while ago, I woke up, and it was prom day. It didn't even seem odd to me. When I woke up the next day, and it was Sunday - like yesterday, Sunday, I mean, I just thought I'd dreamed up prom.
"And Sunday was a totally normal day, and then the next day was Monday, and that was totally normal, too. But then I went to bed, and I woke up, and it was December. Like, it was next December. And all this stuff had happened and my life was really messed up.
"Okay, so are you with me so far?"
"I'm with you," she says, nodding.
"So it was this awful day in December, and then I went to bed, and I woke up, and it was prom night. And then I think it was Monday again, but I started getting confused after that. The point is - this is, like, the third time I've lived through this day, and it all happens the same unless I do something different."
He's started to pace, but he pauses. "Are you still following?"
Slowly, she nods again.
"Okay, so I've been to Tuesday once, and to Thursday, too, and I've talked with you, and by that time I've told you, and you're trying to help me. But none of it goes properly, and . . . and this is the part where I don't follow anymore. I think, though, I think all this is happening because I'm supposed to change something. I'm supposed to stop what happens on prom night from happening, 'cause . . . 'cause it's kinda bad. Like, nightmarish, ruin-your-life bad."
"I see," Rachel says.
"Yeah, I know, it's crazy and confusing and it makes my head hurt. But at some point I'm gonna live the real Saturday, and then I have to . . . stop what's gonna happen from happening."
"Finn," she says, "this is very confusing - and very, very crazy."
"But you believe me, right?"
She sighs. "I don't . . . I don't not believe you."
She's said that before. "You've said that before!" he exclaims. "Tomorrow - you'll tell me that tomorrow, too!" He pauses. That's it! "I can prove it to you," he says, excited.
"Prove it to me?" she says.
He nods eagerly. He spins around. Paper. He needs paper. "I've lived tomorrow already," he explains as he grabs a notebook from his backpack and tears out a piece of paper. "So I'm gonna write a list of stuff that'll happen to you that I'd have no way of knowing ahead of time unless I could time travel, and I'll put it in this envelope, and then you can read it tomorrow and -"
He thinks of the conversation they had before in the cafeteria. She had mentioned an envelope. He was on the right track! He whirled around. "You'll see," he said. "I'll prove it."
"Okay," she tells him.
"Here, watch me," he says. "Look, see, it's a totally blank sheet of paper, and now I'm gonna right some stuff about tomorrow on it."
What should he put?
You'll forget your lunch for the first time ever, so you'll buy something, but you'll be suspicious of the spinach casserole. And you'll go running in the morning, and this song from Wicked will come on, and it'll make you think of Quinn. Plus, you'll wear a green skirt, and a matching green and pink argyle sweater. And you'll get pissed at Mrs. Hannigan, and Sam will tell you it's because she knows that you're smarter than her.
He adds some more about the stupid stuff Mr. Schue will do in Glee, and this one random line that Brittany will say, and he mentions what other people will wear, too, and he tells her that Quinn'll be pissy all day.
He thinks that should be enough. "Okay," he says. "Now, see, I'm just gonna fold it up, and put it in . . . in this envelope here." He grabs the yellow package envelope that video game he ordered from amazon came in two weeks ago. "And I'll - I'll staple it shut."
He holds it out to her proudly. "Look at the paper tomorrow after everything's happened. Like, after school."
Hesitantly, she takes it. "Well," she says, "this certainly isn't what I expected. But, okay, I'll open it tomorrow afternoon." She offers him a small smile. "I should go, though. I have homework and all of that."
"Do you need a ride?" he asks.
She nods, and he walks her downstairs and back out to his truck. The ride is quiet, and he wonders just how crazy she thinks he is right now. But his plan is gonna work. He knows it is. He doesn't take his eyes off the road, 'cause you never know what might jump out in front of your car, but he thinks about that last prom day, and her words.
"I really want to kiss you right now."
When he gets to her house, she tells him that he doesn't need to walk her to the door. As she steps out of his truck, though, he can't help himself. "Hey, Rachel?" he asks. She glances back at him. "Are we friends?"
"Do you want to be?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says, nodding.
She smiles. "Then yes. We're friends."
---
He has a nightmare that night.
He knows this is a real nightmare. Colors smear and voices loom out of nowhere, and Blaine becomes his mom who becomes that poor mailman and then Kurt screams mailman in a hysterical voice repeatedly while cows start to rain down and Sam turns into a vampire and Rachel flies from the car again and again and again, and she dies again and again and again, and she begs Finn to save her but he just can't and then the cows start a stampede and -
"Finn!" His mom tears back his covers. "You have school! Come on! You'll be late!"
He rubs his eyes. He glances at the clock. It's almost 6:30. He's definitely going to be late. But what day is it? "Mom!" he calls. "What's the date? And the day of the week?"
"It is Tuesday, May 24th!" his mother shouts from the hall.
---
After today, he'll have Rachel on his side. She'll read his note after everything plays out, and then they'll be able to make sense of everything. Unless . . . yesterday was real, right? He really can't tell anymore.
He goes through the motions of the day, though, and he has that same awkward with conversation with Quinn. He sees Rachel in the cafeteria, poking at her tray of food, and he grins. He sits with Puck and Mike, though, and they all mess around, and he feels normal for the first time in ages.
But he really wants to talk to Rachel.
He doesn't like that normal now doesn't involve Rachel.
He waits the day out, though. He goes to Glee practice, and he goes through the motions, and he pretends to care when Mr. Schue announces stuff that Finn's already heard before. He goes for a run after Glee practice ends, just to relieve some stress, but his wrist is still killing him, and he doesn't know what the fuck he did to it.
He must push himself too hard during the run, 'cause his ears pop and stuff afterward.
But he doesn't care. Only like ten minutes after dinner finishes, somebody rings the doorbell. He knows who it is, and he nearly sprints to greet her. She stands on his doorstep nervously, his notebook paper clutched in her hands.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi," she replies. She pauses. "Everything you put in here actually happened." She sounds a little shocked, but he only smiles. "I guess - I guess we should talk."
"Yeah," he says, and he opens the door wider to let her pass into the house.
He leads the way up the stairs and to his room. "I still can't believe this," she says as she sits at his desk and he closes the door. "I mean, I never much read fantasy novels, as I've always enjoyed biographies a great deal more - they're interesting, informative, and inspirational - but I still know some of the general theories in pop culture, and . . . wow. You can time travel."
"You really do believe me, then?" he asks, sitting down on his bed.
She nods. "I don't have any other explanation. And, of course, some aspects of the paranormal aren't really so far fetched. You know I have a sixth sense, of course."
"Yeah," he says.
"But you have no control over this, right?" she asks. "You don't choose what happens or which day you end up in?"
"That's right. I wish I could." It's quiet. She tucks one of her feet behind the other, and her fingers fidget a little in her lap. "This is kinda awkward," he says. That's supposed to make things less awkward, right, when you, like, acknowledge the awkwardness?
She chuckles a little. "Yes, it is." She pauses. Shit. It's totally still awkward. She goes on after a minute, though. "But we really ought to discuss what to do about your situation. Now, there's probably a purpose, and you mentioned that you think it's to give you the ability to change the events of our prom night, right?"
He nods. "Yeah, um, it's kinda really bad. Some - somebody dies."
"Oh," she says, her eyes widening. "Yes, yes, that is bad. But we can prevent it. I know we can." She smiles. "Let's see. Well, how many times have you lived through prom night now?"
"Um, I think three times," he says. "That's right. Three times. And it all goes down exactly the same way. There's, um, a car accident on the way to the school."
"And you've tried to prevent the accident to no avail?"
"Yeah," he says. "I mean, I've . . . I've tried to stop - but she keeps stopping me."
"She keeps stopping you?" Rachel repeats. "Who's she?"
He should just tell her. He has to, doesn't he? "You," he says.
"Me?" she says. "I keep stopping you?"
"Yeah, you." It's the truth. "You keep stopping me."
"But why would I . . . why would I want someone else to die?" She looks legit distressed, and he doesn't really want to have this conversation. But he needs her to have the answers, and she can't if she doesn't even know the fucking question.
"Actually, it's . . . it's you, Rachel." He tries not to sound panicked. The memory of her like that, of the blood, of the shuddering breaths, of the body bag - it tends to freak him out a lot.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"You're the one who dies," he says softly.
Her eyes widen. "W-what? I die?"
He nods. "It's awful. And after the first time, I thought it was just a nightmare, but I've relived it twice since then, and both times I tried to talk to you and explain everything to you, but you wouldn't listen and it's like you knew what was gonna happen and you just told me to let it happen, and then you . . . you died."
"I see," she whispers, staring at a spot on the carpet.
"I'm not - I'm not gonna let it happen, Rach," he says quickly. "You gotta know that. I'm not gonna let you die. I mean, I'm not supposed to let you die. I think - I think the universe doesn't want you to."
She glances back at him.
"No, seriously," he goes on, "I've been thinking about it. Like, okay, look at this. He grabs a sheet of paper from his backpack, some random homework assignment or something, and a pen from his desk. He draws a line. "This is time," he says. "And for some reason, something happens on prom night that creates this new alternate reality with a new time line. He draws a diagonal line, and then a new line from that.
"And, see, I think the universe is bouncing me from reality to reality so that I can, like, course correct and make sure you don't die and the regular time line goes on." He's kind of proud of his theory.
"That makes some sense," Rachel says slowly.
"Yeah, I got it from Back to the Future."
"I've never seen that," she says.
"You should really watch it," he tells her. "It's a good movie. And, now that I think about it - I mean, if I remember right - I'm pretty sure you're gonna watch it soon so we can, like, discuss."
"But, Finn," she says, "in my limited knowledge of time travel, I was also under the impression that time was circular, not linear."
"Yeah, you've said that before. But you never really explained. . . ."
"Time isn't something that happens step by step," she says. "It happens simultaneously. Like, you can't stop a man in San Diego from throwing his shoe at an innocent dog because it's happening right now, even though he's far, far away from you. Similarly, you can't stop a man right here in Lima from throwing his shoe at an innocent dog three weeks from now, because it's happening right now, even though he's, in terms of time, far, far away."
He's not really sure what dogs have to do with anything, but he kinda gets that point.
"But that would mean that you've already died," he says, "and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
She doesn't say anything.
"I am going to stop it, Rach," and he reaches for her hands.
He hasn't held her hands in a long, long time.
She smiles a little. "I believe you," she tells him. "And I'll help. We'll figure this out. This is all so crazy, and I can't believe that the first time we've really spent any time with one another, just the two of us, in some weeks." She sighs. "It's all so complicated, so insane, really. And we should be focused on Nationals right now, but this naturally takes precedent."
He nods. "I'm glad, though," he says.
"You're glad?"
"That, like, we're spending time together again. Even if it's for pretty messed up reasons."
She bites her lip. "I'm glad, too."
"Rachel, why - why did we stop?" His voice comes out softer, sadder even, than he'd intended.
"I'm not really sure," she says quietly. "You wanted space, and I wanted to give it you, because I thought we both needed to grow and be stars in our own right before - before we might one day be together again. And you took that space, and . . . and that was that."
"Yeah," he says. "I guess I . . . I guess I needed space. But, Rach - Rachel - I don't really want it anymore. I . . . I don't think I have for a long time. I've just been too . . . it's been so awkward and it was just easier to . . . I guess I'm just trying to say that you can totally crowd my space from now on." He pauses. "Okay, maybe that came out wrong."
But she smiles. "You're welcome to crowd my space now, too, Finn."
---
Rachel doesn't stay for much longer, but they share a grapefruit down in the kitchen before she leaves, and he thinks about everything she told him. He ends up on Facebook for a while, then, and he skims through old pictures.
He looks at lots that Rachel put up of them.
He's avoided those pictures for a long time. He kinda spends two and a half hours looking at them now, though. And when he finds the one from Glee club where she's leaning against him, smiling slightly as he says something to somebody not in the picture. His hand is, like, automatically reaching for hers. It's just a really good picture.
He leaves a comment.
This is my favorite.
Barely three minutes later, Rachel adds a comment beneath his.
Mine, too :)
---
He thinks maybe everything's back to normal when he wakes up.
His mom tells him that it's Wednesday - "Yes, Finn, Wednesday, May 25th" - and he realizes that the day before was Tuesday, and the day before was Monday, and maybe he's finally back on schedule. Maybe all the time travelling stuff has stopped now that he's figured out it's all meant to help him find a way to save Rachel.
And he will find a way.
He gets to school kinda late, but he sees Rachel down the hall after first, and he raises his hand to wave. She catches sight of him and smiles widely, raising her hand to wave, too. And then some fucking jackass throws a slushie in her face.
It goes just like that - Rachel smiles, Finn blinks, and then Rachel's standing there dripping in bright red cherry slushie, her shoulders tight and her face one of unpleasant shock as the people around her chuckle a little. Pissed, Finn shoves his whole backpack into his locker and starts towards her.
But a hand reaches out and grabs him and stops him, and he tears his eyes away from Rachel, who's trying to navigate towards the girl's bathroom a few feet down the hall. It's Quinn. "Leave her," Quinn says.
"What?"
"Rachel," Quinn insists. "Leave her be. She can take care of herself. It's not as if she hasn't had practice."
"Are you kidding?" he exclaims. "I can't just leave her! None of us has been slushied in ages, and I'm not just gonna let her handle it herself. I'm gonna help her, and then I'm gonna, like, knock some heads together or something."
"Actually, you and I are the people who haven't been slushied in ages," she tells him. "You don't think Puck still gets flack for his whole thing with Lauren? You don't think Tina doesn't get slushied every time Mike's not around? You don't think Rachel doesn't get a cold, icy facial every week because she's Rachel?"
That just pisses him off more. "Then I'm definitely gonna help her," he says.
"Finn, don't start down this path again!" Her fingers dig into his arm.
"Start down what path?"
She grits her teeth. "We've finally found a balance, Finn, between maintaining popularity and remaining in Glee. Don't mess it up. If you want to go to prom with me, don't mess it up." She glares at him, her eyes narrowed with the warning.
"You know, actually," he says, finally yanking his arm free of her, "I don't think I want to go to prom with you." And he stalks off, leaving her gaping behind him, and he feels pretty good about it all. Rachel has a hand on the handle of the bathroom when he reaches her.
"Hey," he murmurs, touching her back gently. "Come on." He leads her into the bathroom, and he helps her wash off, running his hands through her hair to get all the slushie out, and his stomach does all sorts of funny things. She talks about stupid stuff, like she always used to do in these situations, as if she can write it all off as no big deal as long as she talks about, like, her love of cats.
He gets a change of clothes from her locker for her, and then he stays and says he's always liked dogs more as she changes in one of the stalls.
---
"So nothing's happened, then?" Rachel asks as they walk through the parking lot.
"Nope," he says. "Your yesterday was my yesterday, too. I think maybe it's stopped."
"Then the next step," she tells him, "is to go through the events of Saturday hour by hour and make a fool proof plan for how we prevent my death. It shouldn't be too difficult, now that we're both on board, but we can't leave anything to chance, of course."
"Definitely," he agrees. "You wanna come over?"
"Actually, I can't tonight. I teach dance to children at the JCC now. I have since March."
"Really? That's cool." He so should have known that. He knows now, though.
"It is pretty fun. I find it fulfilling to inspire a love of dance in children." She smiles. "And after that I'm having dinner with Sam and his family, and then he'll give me another guitar lesson. He's been teaching me for a few weeks now, and he says I'm making real progress!"
She's having dinner with Sam's family, and he's teaching her how to play guitar? Finn's totally not cool with that. At all.
But she only goes on, oblivious. "I'll try to watch Back to the Future before I go to bed, too." She stops, and he realises they've reached her car. "Thank you for helping me earlier," she says, and her voice has gone soft.
"Sure," he says. "I've got your back."
She bites her lip, gazing up at him. And she leans up suddenly and kisses him gently, simply, chastely. She pulls back. Her cheeks are a little pink. She smiles softly, though. "I'll see you tomorrow, Finn," she says.
He just nods, 'cause he's kinda speechless, or whatever.
He goes over to his car, and he knows - he knows why he avoided hanging out with her again, even just being her friend, for so long. He's totally falling in love with her all over again. (Did he ever fall out of love with her?) He wants to kiss her again. He wants to hold her hand in the halls. He wants her to lean into him at Glee practice.
He wants to take her to prom.
But what about her? Is she falling in love with him? He can't be with her again if she doesn't feel the same way about him that he feels about her - they've done that before, and he barely got over it, if he ever really did. He sighs as he tosses his backpack into his truck and climbs in. He'll figure this all out later. He needs to focus on this Saturday.
First, he'll save her life. And then he'll see if there's a chance she could love him someday.
---
"Finn, sweetie, you need to wake up." Her hand runs over his face, brushing through his hair softly, and his eyes flicker open groggily.
"What's the matter, Mom?" he mutters.
"You need to wake up," she repeats gently. "We need to go soon."
He looks over at her. She's done something pretty with her hair, she has make-up on, and she's wearing a black dress. "Go where?" he asks. Doesn't he have school? He glances over at the clock. It's almost ten in the morning. He must not have school.
That means today isn't Thursday.
He's in some other random day. Apparently, the time travel hasn't stopped.
"Oh, sweetie," his mom says, and she gives him that strained smile she always uses when she's trying not to cry. "You want to go, I know you do, even if you don't feel like it now. You'll regret it later if you don't."
"Go where, Mom?" he insists, his stomach sinking even as he asks.
"The funeral."
He just stares. She leans forward and kisses his forehead. "Get dressed. I've laid out a suit for you. I'll be downstairs, and we're all ready to go when you are." She stands slowly and leaves the room, glancing back one last time to smile sadly at him.
He's supposed to go to a funeral today.
It's not Rachel's, is it? Please. Please.
He gets out of bed and dresses quickly, and he tries to comb his hair a little. He has a five o'clock shadow, his eyes are rimmed in red, and he has, like, actual purple smudges under his eyes. He's woken up in a time where it looks like he doesn't sleep or shave or . . . Oh, God.
It's totally Rachel's funeral.
He can't do this.
But he goes downstairs. He looks at the calendar before he looks at anybody else in the room.
Just like always, his mom has all the previous days marked off. Today is May 31st. Today's a few days after prom, a few days after Rachel's death. Burt rests a hand on Finn's shoulder. "Come on, kid," he says. Finn doesn't say anything as he goes out to the car with his mom, Burt, and Kurt, and he pretends not to see as Kurt wipes away silent tears again and again.
Finn doesn't cry.
Because Rachel isn't dead yet, not really. He still has the chance to save her.
It's bright and sunny out at the cemetery. Finn's pretty sure it's not supposed to be like that.
Everybody Finn knows is there. Mr. and Mr. Berry are there, and they're surrounded by people that look like relatives - Finn thinks one of them might be Mr. Berry's sister, who Rachel has a picture of in her room. Her aunt Ruthie, he thinks. All the Glee kids are there, too, and they're all crying - even Quinn. Mrs. Puckerman has an arm around Puck, who looks like he hasn't slept or shaved or done anything much at all since prom, like Finn.
Finn didn't really understand the service, and he doesn't understand much of what happens now, either, but he stares at her casket and he finds that he is crying, because this is Rachel's funeral. He shouldn't be here. This is way too fucked up.
He goes forward to drop dirt onto the casket. He doesn't want to, but both Mr. Berrys do, and then they look at Finn, like it's only right that he goes next. He stumbles forward, takes a fistful of dirt, and then let his hand hover over her casket. He can't do this. He can't.
Again, Burt touches a hand to his shoulder. "It's okay, son," he murmurs.
It's really not. But Finn drops the dirt, and he lets Burt walk him back to his seat.
He stays in bed the rest of the day, and nobody bothers him. He plans out how he's gonna save Rachel. He figures out all the details. It's gonna work. This won't ever really happen - circular time can go fuck itself.
Kurt knocks on Finn's door a little after eleven. "I can't sleep," Kurt says, eyes downcast.
"Me neither," Finn admits.
"I don't want to bother my father or Carole, and I've already leaned too much on Mercedes, and. . . ." Kurt rambles slightly, which reminds Finn of Rachel.
"Hey, it's cool," Finn says, and he pulls back some of his sheets and scoots to one side of the bed. "There's gotta be something on television we can watch." He finds Jon Stewart, and they watch that, and Finn doesn't really care when Kurt leans into him a little. They're brothers, aren't they?
Kurt doesn't realize that Rachel isn't really dead yet. So Finn lets him have this one.
He's not sure when he finally falls asleep.
---
Finn wakes up before his alarm can go off. The clock says it's a little past five in the morning. He goes downstairs. According to the calendar, it's the day of prom - again.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
He goes back upstairs and tries to go back to sleep. He can't. He's gonna prove today that he can save Rachel when the real prom night comes. Hell, maybe this even is the real prom night. He gives up on sleep around six thirty, and he takes a really long shower, almost an hour, until he hears the sounds of his mom in the kitchen.
He goes down to breakfast and asks if maybe she'll make him chocolate chip pancakes. Those are his favourite, and he could really use a pick-me-up. She agrees, and she asks him happily if he's excited for tonight. "Quinn's Mom got you a limo, didn't she?" she asks.
"I don't wanna go with Quinn," Finn says gruffly. "I wanna go with Rachel."
His mom doesn't say anything. He doesn't really expect her to. He just eats his pancakes and doesn't make anything else more awkward for her. He leaves as soon as he's finished. He starts the drive to Rachel's house, but when he realizes that it's almost nine in the morning now, he changes course. He knows Rachel, okay? She won't still be in bed.
He gets to Tina's, and he pounds on the door loudly until Mercedes tears it open. "Damn, white boy, it's bad enough that Rachel made us all get up to get ready at the crack of dawn!" But her anger disappears a little as he glares at her.
"I need to talk to Rachel."
"Yeah, okay," Mercedes says hesitantly. "Hold on."
It takes forever, just like it did last time, but Rachel comes out eventually. Her hair's in a messy ponytail, and she doesn't look thrilled to see him. "You shouldn't be here, Finn," she says. "You know that." He doesn't get this. If their talk from Tuesday really happened, and he thinks it really did, then why is she acting like this?
"I don't know that," he tells her. "And don't talk to me about pieces and slam the door in my face again. We need to talk." He pauses. "Let me take you to breakfast or something."
"I really can't, Finn," she protests. "You need to leave." She starts to shut the door on him.
And he goes for broke. He grabs her waist and yanks her up and over his shoulder. "Yeah, no," he says, "we're going to breakfast."
"Finn!" she screams, smacking his back, and her little fists are surprisingly painful. "This is absolutely outrageous - completely and utterly barbaric! Put me down this instant!"
"Nope."
"Help! Help me! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED!"
"Yeah, nobody cares," he tells her, and he opens his truck and tries to push her in as gently as he can. It's kinda hard, 'cause the crazy girl's kicking and punching wildly, and, yeah, he's gonna have some bruises. She scrambles along the seat in an attempt to escape, but he doesn't let her. He climbs in, blocks her escape attempts with an arm that forces her back against the seat, and then he starts up the car with his left hand.
"This is ridiculous," she hisses.
"You're right. So can you just behave for five minutes and go to breakfast with me?" he asks, glaring at her.
She glares back, her jaw locked, before she snaps, "Fine. Have it your way."
He cautiously draws his arm back, and she grabs the seat belt viciously and slams it into the buckle. She crosses her arms over her chest, then, and glares out the windshield, muttering something darkly under his breath.
Victorious, he puts the truck into reverse and pulls out of Tina's driveway.
---
Her takes her to this weird diner that only serves green mush and stuff like that. He hates this place. She loves it, though, and he's already had breakfast, so whatever. They don't talk as they sit down, and she refuses to look at him.
"Okay," he says. "So you know you're gonna die, right?"
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," she replies coolly, finally looking over at him. "Can I leave now?"
"Rachel, c'mon," he murmurs, pleading a little. Why is she acting like this?
She sighs. "Finn, don't do this, okay? Don't make it harder than it needs to be."
"Don't make you dying hard?" he says, incredulous.
But there's a plea in her eyes now, too. "We talked about this!" she says.
"No," he tells her, shaking his head. "I haven't. Not in your time, anyway. Look, I think there's, like, - there's real time, and then there's special time. And I think the week's slowly passing in real time, and I'm, like, jumping back and forth between real time and special time. And you only live in real time, but I haven't lived all of real time left, so, like, if we talked about this yesterday, then I don't remember, 'cause there's nothing to remember, 'cause I haven't lived that yet!"
He's not sure that makes any sense. Nothing makes sense any more, and it's driving him crazy.
"I understand," she says softly. "You've explained that to me before. But, okay, when is the last part of - of real time that you have lived?"
"Um . . . Wednesday. Or maybe just Tuesday. I'm not sure."
"Not Thursday?" There's something different in her voice.
"What happens on Thursday?" he asks.
A waitress comes over to the table. Finn's kind of annoyed, but there's nothing he can do. He orders a coke and Rachel orders tea, and then he stares across the table and repeats his question. "What happens on Thursday?"
"I think you're supposed to wait and see," she finally answers.
"It's gotta be something pretty big, if suddenly you're all ready just to die."
"I'm not ready to die," she says.
"You're sure acting like it!" he exclaims.
"Don't shout at me," she tells him. "I'm doing this for you."
"You're dying for me? I didn't ask you do that - I'm not asking you to do that. Rachel, please." He reaches for her hand, half expecting her to pull away, but she lets him grasp her hand, she lets him weave their fingers together.
"It's not that simple," she says softly. "But you can't live like this, Finn. You can't live trapped in one place, unable to move forward, to move on. And the only way you can move on is if you let happen what's going to happen."
"If I let you die, you mean," he says. "Do you not even believe me? Do you not think you're gonna die? 'Cause I've seen it, Rach. I've seen it, and it's gonna happen, unless you let me stop it, unless you help me stop it."
"Finn, that's just it - you can't stop it, not even if I try to help you. Time's circular. It's not like in Back to the Future. We've talked about this some already, I know we have."
"Then what's the point of all this?" he asks, his voice breaking a little. The waitress comes back with their drinks, but she hurries away again, as if she knows that she's interrupting something.
"Finn, you don't know it yet, but the next few days - in real time, I mean - they change my life," she says. "And they're some of the best days I've ever had, despite everything. I don't know how to make you okay with this. Because, you know, honestly, maybe I don't really think it's real. But I know that I wouldn't take back anything that's happened.
"And I know that you need all of this to - to realize how smart you are, and how strong you are, and how - how amazing you are. Maybe that's the point. Maybe you need this so that you can realize that - that bad things happen, terrible things happen, and you have to find a way past them, even when you can't fix them."
She runs her thumb gently across the back of his hand.
"I'm not willing to pay for a lesson," his says, his voice low, "that costs me you."
"Don't you get it, Finn?" She smiles a little sadly. "This is the lesson that brought me back to you." She blinks, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. She stands, though, and she comes around the table before he can stop her. She reaches out and cups his face.
"Trust me," she whispers. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, lingering for a moment. "I need you to do this for me, Finn. Please do me this one last thing." Her voice is muffled against his skin, a whisper that's somehow distant. She draws back after a moment, and he watches her walk away - doesn't she need a ride? But she pulls out her cell as she goes, and he just sits there.
He goes home eventually. He blows off Kurt. He calls Quinn and cancels on her. She goes ballistic, but he really doesn't care. He lies in bed and plays stupid video games all afternoon, and he doesn't budge when Kurt begs him to come over to Tina's for pictures.
He falls asleep at some point, and he wakes when his cell goes off.
It's around nine at night. It's Kurt calling. Finn knows what he'll say. But he picks up the phone anyway. It's actually Blaine on the other line. "Finn?" he says. "It's Blaine. I'm calling because Kurt can't, and I thought - I thought somebody should let you know."
"Okay," Finn says.
"It's Rachel, Finn," Blaine says. "There was an accident, and . . . " Blaine seems unable to say the words. "I'm so sorry, Finn, but Rachel - she - oh, God, maybe I shouldn't have just called you liked this. You shouldn't hear this from me."
"It's okay, Blaine," Finn says dully.
"Rachel died, Finn," Blaine breathes.
Finn just hangs up the phone and goes back to sleep.
---
"Hey Mom," he says.
"It's Thursday," she replies.
"The 26th?" he asks.
"Of May," she says, nodding.
Rachel said this day was important. Or she implied it, or something. He's lived Thursday before, he thinks, but everything's sorta starting to blur together. Obviously, though, nothing big happened, or he would remember it, right?
He sees Rachel at her locker when he arrives at school. He wants to catch her before he goes to homeroom, so he tries to shove everything into his locker as quickly as he can. When he slams his locker shut and turns toward hers, though, he nearly runs into her.
"Hey, so I've done some more research," she says, a shy smile on her face.
"Research?" he repeats.
"Mmm-hmm. Well, I watched Back to the Future, as you asked. I actually thought it was rather amusing, I'll admit. But I found the doc's explanation for time travel to be vastly incorrect. I can understand why he sold you on his theory, though, because it's so simple, and we always want a simple explanation - it's a natural human inclination. I mean, isn't that what's behind Occam's Razor?"
"Um, yeah," he says, and then his eyes go wide, because holy shit they've had this conversation before, this, like, exact conversation.
"So, as I said before, time really isn't linear. It's circular. And you can travel around that circle, but you can't change any part of it, as what's going to happened has already happened. I've drawn up a picture for you - I think I can explain it to you in the same sort of terms the doc uses." She starts to rustle through her backpack.
"You wanna ditch homeroom?" he asks randomly. She looks up in surprise. "I mean, like, we gotta talk about this and stuff. So let's go out to the bleachers. Nobody'll be out there right now." He shrugs a little. And, to his surprise, she agrees.
They go out through the cafeteria doors. "I feel like such a rebel," she tells him, sounding a little delighted with herself, and he laughs.
"Yeah, Puck's got nothing on you," he tells her, and she shoves him playfully.
"Okay," she says as they sit down. "Now, this circle here is time. This random point is today. This random point is Saturday, is prom night. See, there's no start and finish, and no way to deviate off into another random circle."
"But," he says, and he takes the pen from her, "can't you just, like, leave the circle and start a new one?" and he draws another circle that just touches with hers at the point she's labelled Thursday.
"But that would create an entirely new future and an entirely new past. They would create a universe completely separate from ours except for this one day. The consequences could be astronomical!"
He stares.
"I may have also done some research in the form of a several hours viewing of the Sci Fi channel," she adds lightly. He starts to laugh at her. "It was necessary!" He only laughs harder, and she huffs and crosses her arms over chest. "Can we move on? I've looked over the timeline, and I think I understand how it works."
"The timeline?"
"That we made yesterday," she says, pulling another piece of paper out of her backpack.
"Right, that one," he says. He leans forward to see their timeline. He can smell her perfume, some sweet, flowery scent that she's always worn, and he almost wants to press his face closer to her and take a big whiff. That might freak her out, though. He focuses on the time - "Circle," he says. "It's a timecircle."
"I re-did it last night," she explains.
"Okay, cool." He thinks it would be a whole lot easier to read as a straight line, but Rachel seems to have a thing for circles, so whatever. "So . . . so there's real time, and there's special time, I think. But how do we figure out which is which?" he asks. "You know, I still don't really get how any of this works."
"I'm not entirely sure, either," she says. "I have a theory, though. Every day is supposed to play out a certain way, and you only progress forward in real time when the day you live in plays out correctly. If it doesn't, then time jumps you to some random day. So, Sunday played out correctly, and then Monday came, but it didn't play out correctly, so you jumped around until you came back to Monday, and then it did play out correctly, so you went on to real time Tuesday, and so on."
"And you only live in real time days, so, like, if today doesn't play out right, or whatever, then you won't remember any of this?" he asks.
"I think," she says slowly. "And this might not even be in real time, because I don't know if you've successfully progressed from Wednesday, although according to our timecircle I think you've successfully lived Tuesday in real time."
He's so lost it's not even funny. She glances over at him, and she smiles a little.
"Look, until we have any concrete ideas, here's the plan: try to let things play out the way you think they ought to. For now, don't mess with any prom related events."
"What does that mean?" he asks.
"I mean, for example, who's your date to prom?"
"I don't. . . ."
"You keep re-living prom night," she says, "and obviously each night is much the same unless you change something. So, in this apparently standard night, who's your date?" She pauses. "Do we - do we go together?" Her voice goes soft.
"Actually, um, I'm usually with Quinn."
"Oh." She looks away. "Okay. Of course. I should have. . . . I'll add that to our notes. So, now, this means don't do anything that would prevent your date with Quinn, because we can't afford to change anything until we've determined what must change."
"Yeah," he says quietly, watching her carefully, "sure."
"Well," she says, and she starts to put away her papers, "we really should go. I'm sure first period has already started, and the later we are, the more embarrassing it'll be." She stands.
"Okay," he says, standing up, too. "You wanna meet up for lunch and talk more?"
"I'm supposed to meet Sam, actually," she says. They start down the bleachers. "And then we have Glee practice, and then I have a guitar lesson with Sam after. I don't think we can meet again tonight. But we'll talk more tomorrow."
He knows what this is. He knows her well enough to get it.
"Hey," he finally says, just as they enter the school and start to turn in opposite directions. "We're friends again, right?" He knows he's asked before, but he wants to ask again. He needs to remind her. She nods, smiling a little. And he can't help it. He goes on. "I really hate that we ever became not friends."
She bites her lip. "Me, too," she says. "But I guess it isn't as easy to be friends once you fall out of love as it is to be friends while you fall in love."
"Yeah," he says. She starts to walk away, but her words slowly prick his conscious. "Rachel!" She glances back again. He licks his lip and forces the question out. "Did you really love me?"
She tilts her head at him, smiling a little as if that were a silly question. "Of course I did. I've never loved anybody like I loved you." A beat passes, she leaves, and he tries not to let her words terrify him.
(He hasn't really been wrong about everything, has he?)
---
"Hey Mom, what's -?"
"Wednesday, May 25th." She doesn't even look up.
He nods a little to himself and then pours himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch. Okay, so is this real time? That means he has to try to do the day right. Rachel told him not to mess with anything until they figured more out, but she won't remember that, will she? What does she remember?
When she came by his house on Tuesday night, right?
He wishes he could look at her timecircle, but he's pretty sure that doesn't exist yet.
Standing by his locker, he sees Rachel in the hall. He waves, and she smiles broadly and starts to wave, too, before she's suddenly slushied, and he swears he can hear her gasp. The people around her only laugh a little as she stands there, dripping in bright red cherry slushie, and he hates that he's seen this all before, that he has to see it twice, that he ever has to see it.
He shoves his backpack into his locker, slams the door shut, and starts towards her.
But a hand reaches out and grabs him and stops him, and he remembers exactly who it is even as he spins around to face her. "Leave her," Quinn says. He stares furiously at her. She isn't intimidated. "Rachel," Quinn goes on sharply. "Leave her be. She can take care of herself. It's not as if she hasn't had practice."
"Don't be mean," he snaps. "I'm not just gonna let her go through that by herself."
"Unless you want to be the next recipient, you better," she tells him. "Just because you and I haven't been slushied in months, doesn't mean the slushies have stopped. You don't think Puck still gets flack for his whole thing with Lauren? You don't think Tina doesn't get slushied every time Mike's not around? You don't think Rachel doesn't get a cold, icy facial every week because she's Rachel?"
She gave him a similar speech last time. "I don't care if I get slushied again," he snarls.
He knows Quinn's just dealing with all the same, like, insecurities and stuff that they all have to deal with and this is her way of handling it all, but he hates that she has to be such a big bitch to make herself feel better. No matter how bad she's had it in high school, Rachel's never been mean to other people.
"Finn, don't start down this path again!" Her fingers dig into his arm.
"Start down what path?" But he remembers the answer even as he speaks.
She grits her teeth. "We've finally found a balance, Finn, between maintaining popularity and remaining in Glee. Don't mess it up. If you want to go to prom with me, don't mess it up." She glares at him, her eyes narrowed with the warning.
"You know, actually," he says, finally yanking his arm free of her, and then he pauses. Rachel told him not to mess with prom events. Does this count? He glances down the hall, and he sees Rachel tentatively press her hand to the bathroom door. He can't just leave her to handle that by herself.
But -
"What?" Quinn says sharply.
"Fine," he tells her. He can't look at her, though, and he definitely can't look in Rachel's direction.
"Good," she says, and her whole demeanour seems to soften slightly. "My mom's already agreed to pay for a limo. All you need to remember is to pick up my corsage. I already ordered it and everything."
"Um, okay," he says.
She smiles and flounces off, then, and he slowly treks to the girls' bathroom. The hall's nearly cleared out, and he hopes he doesn't look like a creep or anything as he pushes open the door and slips in. He finds Rachel washing her hair out over the sink.
"Hey," he says softly.
She freezes for a moment, but she relaxes almost instantly. "Hello, Finn," she says.
"Sorry I didn't come by earlier," he tells her. "Quinn wouldn't let me." She doesn't respond, and he freaks out a little, so he quickly goes on. "Like, I wanted to, but yesterday I lived through Thursday, and you told me that I had to make sure for now that I didn't change any of the events from prom - at least, I mean, until we know more. So I couldn't mess with Quinn, 'cause. . . ."
"Because you're taking her to prom?" Rachel asks, straightening slightly. He barely has time to do more than stand and look guilty before she smiles a little. "That's fine, Finn," she says, and she honestly doesn't seem mad. See? Rachel's just nice. "Could you go to my locker and bring me a fresh change of clothes?" she asks. "You know the combination, right?"
He nods quickly, glad he can still help her. "I'll be right back."
part 1. part 3. part 4.