WIP - Perfect Sky is Torn
Title: Perfect Sky is Torn
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 4/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5618
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussions of rape
Finn's grandparents died six months apart when he was only seven. At his grandfather's funeral his cousin Jess had told him that their grandfather had died of a broken heart from losing his wife earlier in the year. She told him that whenever people fell in love, being apart was too painful to bear.
Childhood innocence led Finn to ask his mom if her heart had broken when his dad died. When she discovered the reason behind her son's question, Carole assured him that she wouldn't die of a broken heart while she still had Finn to love and care for.
Storing the knowledge Jess had imparted onto him amongst those facts he knew to be true, Finn pledged all the effort a child could towards making his Mom proud and happy.
*
Finn found Rachel by her locker first thing on Thursday morning. He was full of happy energy and not even the insults Azimio hurled at him as he walked by a group of guys from his former team could knock the good feeling.
“Rachel,” He greeted her in a friendly manner.
“I sincerely hope you're here to apologize,” Rachel stated scathingly, slamming shut her locker and turning to glare at him expectantly.
“I've got something better. I found us a song,” Finn declared proudly.
“A song?” Rachel repeated, an eyebrow raised incredulously.
“I guess I get what you meant.” Finn rubbed the back of his neck abashedly, “I'm not alone, not when I've got Glee... and we're Will's Glee club. He brought us together, and I think it's time we reminded Coach Sylvester of that. So I've got a song I know he'd be proud of, I just need you to help me sing it.”
“Is it rap?” Rachel questioned warily.
“Not rap,” Finn promised with a small, nostalgic smile.
“Can I sing lead?” Rachel queried, perking up.
“Sure,” Finn agreed.
“Great.” She beamed radiantly at him, “What do you need me to do?”
“Tell Mercedes, Kurt, Artie and Tina to meet us in the choir room after school. I'll clear it with Ms. Pillsbury.”
“Can do.” Rachel gave a small salute and turned to walk away.
“Ouch!” Finn exclaimed suddenly as something hard hit him in the side of the face.
“Why did he pick you?” A senior girl with glasses and thick braces hissed at Finn, bending her arm to throw another of her projectiles.
“Suzy!” Rachel rapidly stepped between her friend and the irate girl, “Calm down.”
“Out of the way Rachel, he deserves it!” Suzy weaved on the spot, trying to find a way around Rachel's defensive posture.
“Um, why?” Finn asked, holding a hand tenderly to the stinging spot on his cheek.
“I pined after him for years,” Suzy snarled. “It took reconstructive surgery and three psychiatrists for me to accept that he would never love me back, could never love me back. Then you came along and stole everything I ever wanted. You don't deserve his love!” Finn and Rachel ducked a wild throw from the senior student. “Why did he pick you? What do you have that I don't?”
“A cock!” Anderson piped up. The crowd that had swiftly gathered to watch the fight tittered at the comment.
Suzy turned her aim towards the laughing crowd and the jeering jock took a heavy hit between the eyes that knocked him backwards. Anderson slumped slowly down the lockers and collapsed on the floor unconscious. By then a small army of the faculty had arrived to break up the scene and the tearful senior girl was led away by Mr. Adams, the geography teacher.
*
“I'm sorry that our session will have to be short today,” Ms. Pillsbury apologized, shuffling the contents of her desk around as she spoke. “But I spent most of this morning dealing with Suzy Pepper's relapse.”
“How is she?” Finn asked, concerned.
“She's... settled down,” Ms. Pillsbury answered carefully. “I think the news of your situation roused some painful memories for her but I'm confident she'll make another recovery. How are you?”
“It really wasn't that bad.” He rubbed the spot on his cheek, the pink mark left behind was sore but not overly painful. “I didn't realize peppers were such a hard vegetable though.”
“Actually, I think a pepper is a fruit,” Ms. Pillsbury answered thoughtfully.
“Seriously?” Finn questioned.
“Yes, they're like tomatoes, I think.” The guidance counselor seemed lost in her thoughts for several moments before she snapped back, “But that isn't important. Is there anything you wanted to talk about?”
“Actually, I was wondering if we could use the choir room after school today,” Finn answered.
“I'm sure I can clear it with Principal Figgins,” She answered. “May I ask why?”
“There's a song some of us want to practice, so we can perform it for Glee tomorrow.”
“That sounds great.” She smiled gently, “Would it be okay if I watched?”
“Actually, I was hoping you'd wait for tomorrow to see it. I really think it'll be great once we've got it down,” Finn replied.
“Okay.” Despite the rejection to her request Ms. Pillsbury's smile grew a little brighter, “It's good to see you working hard for this, Finn.”
He smiled and directed his attention to the small pile of song books cluttering her desk, “You too.”
*
“No way, no how, not happening,” Mercedes insisted fiercely once Finn had revealed the song he'd chosen.
“Come on guys,” Finn pleaded. “This is for Mr. Schuester.”
“Finn, we wouldn't do disco when he was here. Why would we do it now he's not?” Kurt queried, arms folded and expression unrelenting.
“For exactly that reason,” Finn answered. “Because he's not.”
“I'll do it,” Tina volunteered, holding her hand out.
“If it's good enough for Tina, I'm game,” Artie added, placing his hand on top of hers.
Finn and Rachel added their hands to the pile and turned to Kurt and Mercedes.
“It'll be fun,” Finn promised. “Just the six of us putting on a performance, like old times.”
“If we're gonna talk 'old times', y'all might remember this one,” Mercedes answered. “I ain't no Kelly Rowland. Give me something to sing and I'm in.”
“I'm singing lead,” Rachel insisted.
“It's a group song,” Finn reminded. “We'll all get a chance to sing.”
Mercedes wavered a few seconds longer and then added her hand to the pile.
“Kurt?” Finn looked up and saw all of the anger from their argument by the dumpster dying down in favor of reluctance.
“Okay, fine.” Kurt placed his hand daintily on top of the pile. “We'll need someone with a little dance know-how to tame your two left feet and make sure we don't all look like idiots out there.”
“Hell, of course we'll look like idiots. It's disco.” Mercedes grinned.
“But it'll be fun,” Rachel assured, returning the grin.
“And it's for Mr. Schuester,” Tina added.
“Right.” Finn nodded, “So let's kick this song's ass.”
The group broke away with a cheer, a sense of elation shared between them that hadn't been felt in the choir room for weeks.
*
“Well Jemma, when I heard the news of the walkout at your practice this week, I was hardly surprised. The sight of that hideous blouse is making it hard for me to be in the same room as you,” Sue commented in her usual, insulting way. “So I'm rather curious as to why we're in the auditorium. You clearly have nothing to show for your week's effort.”
“Actually Sue, some of the kids have put a performance together,” Ms. Pillsbury answered, unhidden resentment in her tone.
“Marvelous, so they've learned that if they want to achieve anything they have to go beyond your almost non-existent aid and do things for themselves,” Sue summarized with false-cheer. “Truly remarkable for them to have reached that conclusion so quickly.”
The opening chords of the song interrupted any response Ms. Pillsbury might have made to Sue's criticism. Rachel, Tina and Mercedes appeared on one side of the stage while Finn, Artie and Kurt came on from the other side, they danced in time to the beat as they advanced into the center and then turned to face their audience.
“We are family.
I got all my sisters with me.
We are family.
Get up ev'rybody and sing.”
Finn smiled with joy as he saw the reaction the song had. As they repeated the chorus on stage, Mike and Matt started clapping along, the rest, even Puck, joining in readily.
“Everyone can see we're together.
As we walk on by.”
The group parted and let Rachel to the front as she took her solo.
“And we fly just like birds of a feather.
I won't tell no lie.
All of the people around us they say.
Can they be that close?
Just let me state for the record.
We're giving love in a family dose.”
As easily as the group had parted to let Rachel out, they parted again to let her rejoin. Finn wrapped an arm round Kurt's shoulder and stepped in time with him as they repeated the chorus another couple of times.
“Living life is fun and we've just begun.
To get our share of the world's delights.”
Puck whistled loudly as Mercedes set to work on the second verse, working her voice to deliver a truly impressive and soulful performance.
“High hopes we have for the future.
And our goal's in sight.
No we don't get depressed.
Here's what we call our golden rule.
Have faith in you and the things you do.
You won't go wrong.
This is our family jewel.”
The Glee club members in the audience joined in with the last few choruses of the song as it concluded, dancing in their seats and singing along emphatically.
“Okay, very nice, very nice,” Sue declared over the applause that ended the performance. “But 'very nice' isn't going to cut it when we get to Sectionals. It's good to see you've got something, but I want us to step it up a notch for Invitationals and another three notches by Sectionals. Understood?”
The murmured reply from the club was agreeable but rather incoherent.
“Now, from what I've just seen it looks like group performances are a real strength, so for Invitationals I think we should-”
“Uhm, Sue.” Ms. Pillsbury coughed and approached slowly, “I've already planned an assignment for the week. If that's okay.”
“Oh really?” Sue crossed her arms and turned her full attention towards the other woman.
Though she flinched, Ms. Pillsbury did not back down, “I spent some time going through the musical theater song books and I've selected a song for everyone. I want them to practice over the weekend, then we can each offer advice during our individual practices and see the final performances next Friday.”
“Musical theater?” Sue repeated, almost spitting the words out.
“Broadway is very popular with the judges,” Ms. Pillsbury insisted.
“Very well Ella...” Sue spoke dangerously, her voice a soft purr.
“My name,” Ms. Pillsbury interrupted boldly, “is Emma. E-M-M-A, Emma.”
Sue recoiled, clearly surprised by the other woman's sudden show of courage, “Isn't that what I've been saying?” She inquired. Emma didn't reply. “Fine. Give the kids their show tunes and bring me a bucket on Friday,” Sue declared, striding out of the auditorium with her head held high.
“Wow, Ms. Pillsbury, you look like you're gonna faint,” Puck commented.
“I'm okay,” She answered, her voice light and her hand clutching at her blouse above her heart compulsively.
Collecting the stack of song sheets from her bag, she stood in the aisle and handed each assignment out as the club filed by on their way out. Finn hung back so that he could collect his assignment last.
“That was awesome,” Finn praised.
“I shouldn't have antagonized her,” She disagreed. “She's just gonna take it out on the club.”
“Hey, this week we're singing show tunes. That's a victory,” Finn announced.
“I should thank you,” Emma mused quietly.
“You should thank Will,” Finn corrected. “I was terrified of Coach Sylvester, just like everyone else, until I saw him stand up to her. Saw that it's possible to beat her sometimes.”
Emma smiled softly, “I think he'd have been very proud of you today.”
“Thanks.” Finn shuffled on the spot, “Now I should probably go. It's the weekend and I have to translate Act 1, Scene 1 of Romeo and Juliet into Spanish by Monday or Ms. Lenin will kill me.”
Emma nodded, “Then I'll see you on Monday, Finn.”
“Monday,” Finn confirmed, jogging up the aisle to where Rachel was waiting for him.
*
There was another envelope waiting for Finn when he arrived home. Stark white, like the first had been. Finn wondered for a moment why bad news had to arrive in white envelopes, sterile like a hospital room. The logo on the front was different, LAB: the Lima branch of Aaron Beck psychiatric institutions. The place where the nut-jobs suffered electroshock therapy, every kid in Lima knew that.
Inside the letter was fairly brief. There was an outline that summarized that Finn was expected to attend fortnightly sessions with Dr. Harper, the first session scheduled for that Sunday, that would continue for a duration of six months. After that the letter simply gave directions to the building and listed several contact numbers.
Finn left the letter in plain sight on the coffee table, aware that his Mom would probably want to copy the contact numbers into her address book so she would have them to hand after the letter inevitably went missing amidst the accumulative junk of the household.
Upstairs in his room, he threw his backpack onto the bed and dug out his Spanish workbook and the copy of Romeo and Juliet he'd been given. Turning his laptop on and quickly navigating to the Spanish translation site he'd bookmarked long ago, Finn managed to translate 'Two households, both alike in dignity. In fair Verona, where we lay our scene' before the temptation to blow the heads off of some Covenant scum on Halo 3 became too strong to resist and he abandoned the assignment in favor of his X Box.
*
If, as Shakespeare suggested in his famous tragedy, some powerful force interacts with the lives of star-crossed lovers, then the force in question did not show favor towards Will on that particular day.
He'd woken in the early evening, as his new night-job demanded, traipsed about the darkening apartment indulging in 'morning' activities such as showering and preparing a hurried breakfast. He'd only just finished dressing when a knock at his door brought a new discomfort into his life.
“Dad,” He greeted the man in the doorway with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk,” His father answered hesitantly. “May I come in?”
“Sure,” Will stood aside and let him into the apartment.
To postpone the conversation, he made coffee for them both but once he'd sat down at the kitchen table Will knew there was no further way to procrastinate, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“I heard about what happened... at the school, with that boy and I...” He broke off and looked at his saddened reflection in the surface of his coffee. “I wanted to know why.”
Will scalded his mouth drinking the coffee as a way to stem his first response, “I... I've been asking that question a lot since-” He stumbled as the memory caused a fresh burst of hurt in his chest but continued, “since they fired me. I knew at the time that it was wrong, that I was risking everything but... when I was with him none of that mattered. It was like floating.”
“Now it's landed you here,” The older man commented disapprovingly.
“Yeah,” Will answered. The word was an empty statement rather than an agreement, “The weird thing is, part of me doesn't regret it.”
“You don't regret it?” His father queried, “You should. Hell, you're supposed to! Having an affair, dressing like an idiot, maxing out you credit card on a sports car; you're meant to look back and cringe.”
Will stared, totally appalled, “You think this is- you think Finn is some kind of mid-life crisis?”
“Losing Terri hurt you badly, Billy. You didn't say anything but I could see,” His father answered.
“I didn't lose Terri,” Will argued back, grinding his teeth. “She faked a pregnancy, betrayed my trust completely and I divorced her. My relationship with Finn was a step away from that, not a cry for help.”
“I wouldn't call what you had with that kid a relationship-”
“No Dad,” Will spoke firmly. “You can try to push it aside, play it off like I'm the victim here, but the fact is I knew what I was doing and I screwed up.”
The older man shrunk before Will's eyes, hunching in on himself and holding the mug of coffee closely, “I made mistakes. Lots of them. I prayed at night that it wouldn't affect you, that you'd grow up normal. I'd hoped that things would be different. You had a wife, a baby on the way... how did everything fall apart; why does our whole family have to keep suffering?”
“Dad, it...” Will choked, “It wasn't anything that you did. I... I'm fine.”
“Fine, huh?” His father repeated disbelievingly, eying Will's uniform, “Working as a night guard while everyone in town calls you foul names behind your back.”
“I'm going through a rough patch,” Will admitted. “Six months solid work where I am to build up a good reference, then once the worst is over I can apply to somewhere reputable. I've got good qualifications. I'll find a job somewhere.”
“I should get going.” The older man stood up, “You probably have to get to work soon, right?”
Will smiled stiffly and followed his father to the door, “It was good to see you.”
“You should visit sometime, Billy. Your mother would appreciate it,” His father answered.
“I will.”
*
Finn slumped as low in the passenger seat as he could manage, which wasn't all that much considering his bulky frame, but it was something of a tradition for him to lie as low as he could in the passenger seat while his mom drove him to a destination he had no desire to visit. A tradition that had started at age eight, with a trip to the dreaded dentist, in the old cream sedan that had finally broken down beyond repair when he was in his early teens.
Carole had learned to judge his mood by exactly how horizontal he sought to get during the journey, like some very bizarre limbo contest.
“You're bordering on dentist levels,” She commented wryly as Finn determinedly slouched lower. “Is it really that big a deal?”
“Dentists just poke your teeth, they're gonna be poking my brain,” Finn replied bitterly.
“Well if you're good you might get a lollipop.”
Finn turned to glare at her, “Are you enjoying this?”
“I'm trying to make the best of this,” She replied. “You may not like it, but these people just want to help you.”
Parking a block away from the Aaron Beck complex, Carole walked confidently down the sidewalk with Finn following reluctantly along behind her, well aware that her insistence upon accompanying him to his first session was little more than an excuse to ensure he actually attended.
A wide, metallic double-gate marked the entrance. The bars were painted black and a sign proclaiming the details of the establishment clung to the railings on one side. The first word on the sign was a cheery 'Welcome', Finn felt anything but as he followed his mom up the path, through a plain and neatly maintained garden area to the front entrance.
While Carole went to the front desk to announce their arrival and ask directions to Dr. Harper's office, Finn turned his attention to the room. It felt very much like a hospital: the same dreary, neutral paint coating the walls and the same heavy atmosphere, as if the time people spent waiting had condensed and clogged the air. To one side, a bulletin board was overflowing with leaflets announcing voluntary group sessions for people with passive-aggressive tendencies or the victims of abusive relationships. There was a poster appealing for people to participate in a sponsored run to raise money for a kids' autism charity, dated to have taken place two months previously. Finn hadn't even known it had happened. Turning his attention back to the people leafing through magazines or listening to their iPods, Finn wondered for the first time how deeply those issues affected the lives of people he'd never met.
“Dr. Harper's in the Matilda ward,” Carole stated, returning from the front desk.
The Matilda ward was small and noisy, which seemed appropriate for a ward dealing with small and noisy children. A pair of young siblings were enacting a battle between a plastic tyrannosaurus and a yellow forklift while their weary mother nursed her temple and kept glancing at her watch.
A young, disinterested receptionist with bubblegum pink hair and regular spearmint chewing gum in her mouth ticked off Finn's appointment on a chart and directed them to the small waiting area. Choosing to sit as far from the decibel duo as was possible, Carole chose a magazine from the jumbled assortment available and settled into a seat to wait. Finn sank into the seat beside her, picking away at the yellow padding spewing from a patch where the thread had worn thin.
The click of the lock on the door beside him alerted Finn and he looked over to see Dr. Harper leaving the room, accompanied by a thin, acne-ridden girl with an expression that suggested she was either annoyed or had just swallowed an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids.
“Bye Dr. Harper,” The girl trilled with false sincerity, walking over to a meek looking middle-aged couple that Finn hadn't noticed.
“Have a nice week,” The psychologist replied, before turning her attention to Finn. “Good afternoon, Finn. Are we ready?”
Sighing with defeat, Finn gingerly tucked the chunk of foam padding he'd ripped out back into the chair and stood up, “I suppose so.”
Dr. Harper led him through the door, which clicked closed behind them. On the other side there was a small hall, illuminated by a single window, and two other doors. The psychologist opened the door on the right and stepped into an office very unlike the one at the police station where she and Finn had met briefly before. The walls were brightly colored, complete with a zoo themed wallpaper border. A large spiral patterned rug lay on the floor immediately inside the room, around which a selection of comfortable armchairs were arranged. Further into the room, there was a low table and chairs with a selection of chunky crayons and felt-tip pens alongside a chest full of hand-puppets. Along the opposite wall were a number of file cabinets, with an electric fan and a potted plant tucked away in the corner. The effect was like a cross between an office and a daycare center.
“I apologize if this isn't exactly what you were expecting.” Dr. Harper sat in one of the comfortable chairs and collected a clipboard and pen from an end table perched nearby, “I deal mostly in child psychology and so my office reflects that. I'm sure you'll find it to be less distracting than you might first assume.”
“Okay,” Finn replied uneasily, perching on the edge of a chair directly opposite the doctor.
“Now,” Dr. Harper announced, letting the word resonate for a few seconds before continuing, “I think, for this first session it might be good to outline our goals.”
Finn frowned, “What do you mean?”
“What do you want?” She leaned forward expectantly, balancing with her elbows on her knees.
Finn answered entirely honestly, “Will.”
Dr. Harper sat back, her tongue trailing across her teeth, “Maybe we should step back slightly. What do you expect from this?” When he didn't immediately reply, she continued, “I can see that you're not exactly happy to be here. I suppose you think I'm some kind of troll.” She smiled softly, as though amused by such a silly idea, it came across more than a little condescending.
“Someone said... that you shock people here, like on the Simpsons,” Finn admitted timidly. He knew that it was a ridiculous rumor but all urban legends had some basis of truth. Everyone knew that Mike Tanner's family had emigrated to Australia but they avoided 'Melissa Brown, Witch o' the Town's house on Halloween anyway.
“The Aaron Beck psychiatric institution deals with a wide range of psychological situations. Some patients, those diagnosed with psychological disorders, are treated and cared for in the long-term wards. Others, such as yourself, are only here for scheduled therapy sessions. I can assure you, we won't been shocking you or pumping you full of drugs. The only method I'll be using is CCT.”
“Isn't that poison?” Finn asked, fidgeting in his seat.
The doctor frowned and then made the connection, “You're thinking of DDT. CCT stands for Client Centered Therapy. It means that everything we discuss will focus on you and helping you overcome your problems.”
“What if I don't have any problems?”
Dr. Harper ran her tongue along her teeth again. “I'd like to make that our first goal,” She answered, writing on her clipboard. “To help you identify what was wrong with the situation between yourself and Mr. Schuester, and for you to reach a point where you can understand the reasons why objectively. Does that sound okay?”
Finn shrugged indifferently, “Sure.”
“What would you like to achieve in the next six months?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow at his clear disinterest.
“What would it take to not have to come here anymore?” Finn muttered under his breath.
“An improvement in your attitude, for one,” She answered as if the question had been spoken aloud. “For you to show steps towards resuming an appropriate lifestyle, so that I can be confident you won't suffer a relapse.”
“That then,” Finn answered.
The psychologist added her conditions to the goal list and they both signed at the bottom. Dr. Harper assured that they would refer to it often to measure his progress, Finn approached the entire concept with abject apathy.
“So does Will get the same list?” Finn asked, “'Admit it was wrong, cry, promise not to do it again?'”
“I can't answer that question,” Dr. Harper answered. “For the sake of discretion Mr. Schuester's sessions are with a colleague of mine. We will share notes, but only in the interest of assisting you both to make a recovery. I will warn you now that I will not provide information on Mr. Schuester's circumstances, nor will I tolerate attempts to make me divulge such information.”
“No questions, check,” Finn stated, slumping backwards in his chair.
*
Finn's return to the daily torment of school was almost welcome after the horrendous session with the well-meaning psychologist. 'Better the Devil you know', after all.
He spent Monday's Glee practice ignoring everything Coach Sylvester said while he went over his performance of Oklahoma with Rachel, who assured him that she was more than free to spend her time on him as she had perfected her own performance over the weekend. On Tuesday, he and Rachel offered advice to Quinn on her rendition of I Don't Know How To Love Him. By Friday everyone was prepared and the excitement of performing pushed the discomfort from the weekend's meeting with Dr. Harper firmly aside.
Matt and Mike, less confident in their vocal abilities, sang back-up for Tina's performance of I Got Rhythm. She tripped a little in early lines but once she got into the swing of the dance routine her vocals strengthened up.
Finn felt a familiar resentment towards Sue when she applauded much harder for Santana's following performance of I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair than she had for the equally impressive act that had come before it.
Brittany left the stage flushing bright red and apologizing profusely when she forgot the words to Don't Cry For Me Argentina halfway through her performance. Santana's pinky finger wrapped around the blonde's reassuringly and Finn made a mental note to commend Brittany for the half-performance she had given, which had been impressive despite the fact that she had been singing ballerina instead of Argentina.
Kurt inadvertently rubbed salt in the wound by giving a flawless rendition of I Am What I Am and earning favorable praise from Sue.
“My song is I'm Not That Girl from the modern musical sensation Wicked,” Rachel informed once she had taken center stage. The music that started was very mellow, a strong contrast to the powerful ballad Finn had expected from her, and when the first line came up he was again surprised to find her words soft, “Hands touch, eyes meet. Sudden silence, sudden heat.”
A quiet sound beside him made Finn turn and he found Kurt lip-syncing the performance.
“Hearts leap in a giddy whirl.
He could be that boy.”
Finn turned back and found Rachel's gaze fixed on him, but it moved abruptly passed him the moment she realized he was looking.
“I'm not that girl.”
As the song continued a heavy weight settled in Finn's gut.
“Don't dream too far.
Don't lose sight of who you are.
Don't remember that rush of joy.
He could be that boy.
I'm not that girl.”
Sing to me, everything you feel. Kurt's words from long ago echoed through Finn's mind as he watched Rachel sing and Kurt share in the sentiment of the song. Any doubt he might have had about the relevance it bore to him was crushed as the soothing, melancholy song continued.
“Gold hair with a gentle curl.
That's the one he chose.
And Heaven knows.
I'm not that girl.”
The song came to a finish with a shortly sustained note, nothing at all like the impressive showstopping belts that Rachel prided herself on. It fit the mood of the song.
Oklahoma came out hollow. Finn's mind was somewhere else.
When Glee came to an end for the day, Finn rushed out the door, all good intentions of boosting Brittany's spirits utterly forgotten as a single, desperate desire overtook his heart.
Pushing coins into the slot, he tapped out the number he'd learned by heart and held the handset to his ear, trembling slightly. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Why aren't you there?
*
Dr. Jackson was a man of average height with charcoal hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. Will spent much of his time in his first session avoiding those eyes, they gave him the unpleasant feeling that the man was looking deep into him.
“How did Finn and I get together?” Will repeated the question, gaze fixed beyond the psychologist's head.
“It would help me to understand,” Dr. Jackson rationalized calmly.
“Well, uhm, I suppose we became closer through Glee club. That, and... there were circumstances we shared, similar situations, he looked to me for advice.”
“So he saw you as a father figure?” The psychologist prompted.
“No,” Will denied firmly, looking into the ice-blue eyes for a split second before turning away again. “I'd say it was more like, I'd been through the same stuff so I was someone who understood how he felt, more like a friend.” Friend was a safer prerequisite for lover than 'teacher' and had less Oedipal connotations than 'father figure'.
“I see, so how did the relationship go beyond that of a student/teacher dynamic?”
“Finn, he... he came to me for advice. Told me he was having feelings about another man, he was worried that he was gay...” Will stumbled over the memory, it was difficult to translate such an emotionally charged discussion into simple terms, “Once I'd reassured him, he confessed that the person he had feelings for was me.”
“He initiated contact?” The psychologist pried when Will's recital came to a stop.
“I... I would say the contact was mutual,” Will answered.
“I see,” Dr. Jackson frowned and scribbled some notes.
*
Pulling the hook down with his fingers, Finn listened to the metallic tinkle of his money landing in the coin return slot with a sinking feeling. Fucking need you, Will! He thought desperately, banging his head gently against the plastic window of the booth in frustration.
Author: dark_dreymer
Part: 4/10 (So far)
Word Count: 5618
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst, Language, Discussions of rape
Finn's grandparents died six months apart when he was only seven. At his grandfather's funeral his cousin Jess had told him that their grandfather had died of a broken heart from losing his wife earlier in the year. She told him that whenever people fell in love, being apart was too painful to bear.
Childhood innocence led Finn to ask his mom if her heart had broken when his dad died. When she discovered the reason behind her son's question, Carole assured him that she wouldn't die of a broken heart while she still had Finn to love and care for.
Storing the knowledge Jess had imparted onto him amongst those facts he knew to be true, Finn pledged all the effort a child could towards making his Mom proud and happy.
*
Finn found Rachel by her locker first thing on Thursday morning. He was full of happy energy and not even the insults Azimio hurled at him as he walked by a group of guys from his former team could knock the good feeling.
“Rachel,” He greeted her in a friendly manner.
“I sincerely hope you're here to apologize,” Rachel stated scathingly, slamming shut her locker and turning to glare at him expectantly.
“I've got something better. I found us a song,” Finn declared proudly.
“A song?” Rachel repeated, an eyebrow raised incredulously.
“I guess I get what you meant.” Finn rubbed the back of his neck abashedly, “I'm not alone, not when I've got Glee... and we're Will's Glee club. He brought us together, and I think it's time we reminded Coach Sylvester of that. So I've got a song I know he'd be proud of, I just need you to help me sing it.”
“Is it rap?” Rachel questioned warily.
“Not rap,” Finn promised with a small, nostalgic smile.
“Can I sing lead?” Rachel queried, perking up.
“Sure,” Finn agreed.
“Great.” She beamed radiantly at him, “What do you need me to do?”
“Tell Mercedes, Kurt, Artie and Tina to meet us in the choir room after school. I'll clear it with Ms. Pillsbury.”
“Can do.” Rachel gave a small salute and turned to walk away.
“Ouch!” Finn exclaimed suddenly as something hard hit him in the side of the face.
“Why did he pick you?” A senior girl with glasses and thick braces hissed at Finn, bending her arm to throw another of her projectiles.
“Suzy!” Rachel rapidly stepped between her friend and the irate girl, “Calm down.”
“Out of the way Rachel, he deserves it!” Suzy weaved on the spot, trying to find a way around Rachel's defensive posture.
“Um, why?” Finn asked, holding a hand tenderly to the stinging spot on his cheek.
“I pined after him for years,” Suzy snarled. “It took reconstructive surgery and three psychiatrists for me to accept that he would never love me back, could never love me back. Then you came along and stole everything I ever wanted. You don't deserve his love!” Finn and Rachel ducked a wild throw from the senior student. “Why did he pick you? What do you have that I don't?”
“A cock!” Anderson piped up. The crowd that had swiftly gathered to watch the fight tittered at the comment.
Suzy turned her aim towards the laughing crowd and the jeering jock took a heavy hit between the eyes that knocked him backwards. Anderson slumped slowly down the lockers and collapsed on the floor unconscious. By then a small army of the faculty had arrived to break up the scene and the tearful senior girl was led away by Mr. Adams, the geography teacher.
*
“I'm sorry that our session will have to be short today,” Ms. Pillsbury apologized, shuffling the contents of her desk around as she spoke. “But I spent most of this morning dealing with Suzy Pepper's relapse.”
“How is she?” Finn asked, concerned.
“She's... settled down,” Ms. Pillsbury answered carefully. “I think the news of your situation roused some painful memories for her but I'm confident she'll make another recovery. How are you?”
“It really wasn't that bad.” He rubbed the spot on his cheek, the pink mark left behind was sore but not overly painful. “I didn't realize peppers were such a hard vegetable though.”
“Actually, I think a pepper is a fruit,” Ms. Pillsbury answered thoughtfully.
“Seriously?” Finn questioned.
“Yes, they're like tomatoes, I think.” The guidance counselor seemed lost in her thoughts for several moments before she snapped back, “But that isn't important. Is there anything you wanted to talk about?”
“Actually, I was wondering if we could use the choir room after school today,” Finn answered.
“I'm sure I can clear it with Principal Figgins,” She answered. “May I ask why?”
“There's a song some of us want to practice, so we can perform it for Glee tomorrow.”
“That sounds great.” She smiled gently, “Would it be okay if I watched?”
“Actually, I was hoping you'd wait for tomorrow to see it. I really think it'll be great once we've got it down,” Finn replied.
“Okay.” Despite the rejection to her request Ms. Pillsbury's smile grew a little brighter, “It's good to see you working hard for this, Finn.”
He smiled and directed his attention to the small pile of song books cluttering her desk, “You too.”
*
“No way, no how, not happening,” Mercedes insisted fiercely once Finn had revealed the song he'd chosen.
“Come on guys,” Finn pleaded. “This is for Mr. Schuester.”
“Finn, we wouldn't do disco when he was here. Why would we do it now he's not?” Kurt queried, arms folded and expression unrelenting.
“For exactly that reason,” Finn answered. “Because he's not.”
“I'll do it,” Tina volunteered, holding her hand out.
“If it's good enough for Tina, I'm game,” Artie added, placing his hand on top of hers.
Finn and Rachel added their hands to the pile and turned to Kurt and Mercedes.
“It'll be fun,” Finn promised. “Just the six of us putting on a performance, like old times.”
“If we're gonna talk 'old times', y'all might remember this one,” Mercedes answered. “I ain't no Kelly Rowland. Give me something to sing and I'm in.”
“I'm singing lead,” Rachel insisted.
“It's a group song,” Finn reminded. “We'll all get a chance to sing.”
Mercedes wavered a few seconds longer and then added her hand to the pile.
“Kurt?” Finn looked up and saw all of the anger from their argument by the dumpster dying down in favor of reluctance.
“Okay, fine.” Kurt placed his hand daintily on top of the pile. “We'll need someone with a little dance know-how to tame your two left feet and make sure we don't all look like idiots out there.”
“Hell, of course we'll look like idiots. It's disco.” Mercedes grinned.
“But it'll be fun,” Rachel assured, returning the grin.
“And it's for Mr. Schuester,” Tina added.
“Right.” Finn nodded, “So let's kick this song's ass.”
The group broke away with a cheer, a sense of elation shared between them that hadn't been felt in the choir room for weeks.
*
“Well Jemma, when I heard the news of the walkout at your practice this week, I was hardly surprised. The sight of that hideous blouse is making it hard for me to be in the same room as you,” Sue commented in her usual, insulting way. “So I'm rather curious as to why we're in the auditorium. You clearly have nothing to show for your week's effort.”
“Actually Sue, some of the kids have put a performance together,” Ms. Pillsbury answered, unhidden resentment in her tone.
“Marvelous, so they've learned that if they want to achieve anything they have to go beyond your almost non-existent aid and do things for themselves,” Sue summarized with false-cheer. “Truly remarkable for them to have reached that conclusion so quickly.”
The opening chords of the song interrupted any response Ms. Pillsbury might have made to Sue's criticism. Rachel, Tina and Mercedes appeared on one side of the stage while Finn, Artie and Kurt came on from the other side, they danced in time to the beat as they advanced into the center and then turned to face their audience.
“We are family.
I got all my sisters with me.
We are family.
Get up ev'rybody and sing.”
Finn smiled with joy as he saw the reaction the song had. As they repeated the chorus on stage, Mike and Matt started clapping along, the rest, even Puck, joining in readily.
“Everyone can see we're together.
As we walk on by.”
The group parted and let Rachel to the front as she took her solo.
“And we fly just like birds of a feather.
I won't tell no lie.
All of the people around us they say.
Can they be that close?
Just let me state for the record.
We're giving love in a family dose.”
As easily as the group had parted to let Rachel out, they parted again to let her rejoin. Finn wrapped an arm round Kurt's shoulder and stepped in time with him as they repeated the chorus another couple of times.
“Living life is fun and we've just begun.
To get our share of the world's delights.”
Puck whistled loudly as Mercedes set to work on the second verse, working her voice to deliver a truly impressive and soulful performance.
“High hopes we have for the future.
And our goal's in sight.
No we don't get depressed.
Here's what we call our golden rule.
Have faith in you and the things you do.
You won't go wrong.
This is our family jewel.”
The Glee club members in the audience joined in with the last few choruses of the song as it concluded, dancing in their seats and singing along emphatically.
“Okay, very nice, very nice,” Sue declared over the applause that ended the performance. “But 'very nice' isn't going to cut it when we get to Sectionals. It's good to see you've got something, but I want us to step it up a notch for Invitationals and another three notches by Sectionals. Understood?”
The murmured reply from the club was agreeable but rather incoherent.
“Now, from what I've just seen it looks like group performances are a real strength, so for Invitationals I think we should-”
“Uhm, Sue.” Ms. Pillsbury coughed and approached slowly, “I've already planned an assignment for the week. If that's okay.”
“Oh really?” Sue crossed her arms and turned her full attention towards the other woman.
Though she flinched, Ms. Pillsbury did not back down, “I spent some time going through the musical theater song books and I've selected a song for everyone. I want them to practice over the weekend, then we can each offer advice during our individual practices and see the final performances next Friday.”
“Musical theater?” Sue repeated, almost spitting the words out.
“Broadway is very popular with the judges,” Ms. Pillsbury insisted.
“Very well Ella...” Sue spoke dangerously, her voice a soft purr.
“My name,” Ms. Pillsbury interrupted boldly, “is Emma. E-M-M-A, Emma.”
Sue recoiled, clearly surprised by the other woman's sudden show of courage, “Isn't that what I've been saying?” She inquired. Emma didn't reply. “Fine. Give the kids their show tunes and bring me a bucket on Friday,” Sue declared, striding out of the auditorium with her head held high.
“Wow, Ms. Pillsbury, you look like you're gonna faint,” Puck commented.
“I'm okay,” She answered, her voice light and her hand clutching at her blouse above her heart compulsively.
Collecting the stack of song sheets from her bag, she stood in the aisle and handed each assignment out as the club filed by on their way out. Finn hung back so that he could collect his assignment last.
“That was awesome,” Finn praised.
“I shouldn't have antagonized her,” She disagreed. “She's just gonna take it out on the club.”
“Hey, this week we're singing show tunes. That's a victory,” Finn announced.
“I should thank you,” Emma mused quietly.
“You should thank Will,” Finn corrected. “I was terrified of Coach Sylvester, just like everyone else, until I saw him stand up to her. Saw that it's possible to beat her sometimes.”
Emma smiled softly, “I think he'd have been very proud of you today.”
“Thanks.” Finn shuffled on the spot, “Now I should probably go. It's the weekend and I have to translate Act 1, Scene 1 of Romeo and Juliet into Spanish by Monday or Ms. Lenin will kill me.”
Emma nodded, “Then I'll see you on Monday, Finn.”
“Monday,” Finn confirmed, jogging up the aisle to where Rachel was waiting for him.
*
There was another envelope waiting for Finn when he arrived home. Stark white, like the first had been. Finn wondered for a moment why bad news had to arrive in white envelopes, sterile like a hospital room. The logo on the front was different, LAB: the Lima branch of Aaron Beck psychiatric institutions. The place where the nut-jobs suffered electroshock therapy, every kid in Lima knew that.
Inside the letter was fairly brief. There was an outline that summarized that Finn was expected to attend fortnightly sessions with Dr. Harper, the first session scheduled for that Sunday, that would continue for a duration of six months. After that the letter simply gave directions to the building and listed several contact numbers.
Finn left the letter in plain sight on the coffee table, aware that his Mom would probably want to copy the contact numbers into her address book so she would have them to hand after the letter inevitably went missing amidst the accumulative junk of the household.
Upstairs in his room, he threw his backpack onto the bed and dug out his Spanish workbook and the copy of Romeo and Juliet he'd been given. Turning his laptop on and quickly navigating to the Spanish translation site he'd bookmarked long ago, Finn managed to translate 'Two households, both alike in dignity. In fair Verona, where we lay our scene' before the temptation to blow the heads off of some Covenant scum on Halo 3 became too strong to resist and he abandoned the assignment in favor of his X Box.
*
If, as Shakespeare suggested in his famous tragedy, some powerful force interacts with the lives of star-crossed lovers, then the force in question did not show favor towards Will on that particular day.
He'd woken in the early evening, as his new night-job demanded, traipsed about the darkening apartment indulging in 'morning' activities such as showering and preparing a hurried breakfast. He'd only just finished dressing when a knock at his door brought a new discomfort into his life.
“Dad,” He greeted the man in the doorway with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk,” His father answered hesitantly. “May I come in?”
“Sure,” Will stood aside and let him into the apartment.
To postpone the conversation, he made coffee for them both but once he'd sat down at the kitchen table Will knew there was no further way to procrastinate, “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“I heard about what happened... at the school, with that boy and I...” He broke off and looked at his saddened reflection in the surface of his coffee. “I wanted to know why.”
Will scalded his mouth drinking the coffee as a way to stem his first response, “I... I've been asking that question a lot since-” He stumbled as the memory caused a fresh burst of hurt in his chest but continued, “since they fired me. I knew at the time that it was wrong, that I was risking everything but... when I was with him none of that mattered. It was like floating.”
“Now it's landed you here,” The older man commented disapprovingly.
“Yeah,” Will answered. The word was an empty statement rather than an agreement, “The weird thing is, part of me doesn't regret it.”
“You don't regret it?” His father queried, “You should. Hell, you're supposed to! Having an affair, dressing like an idiot, maxing out you credit card on a sports car; you're meant to look back and cringe.”
Will stared, totally appalled, “You think this is- you think Finn is some kind of mid-life crisis?”
“Losing Terri hurt you badly, Billy. You didn't say anything but I could see,” His father answered.
“I didn't lose Terri,” Will argued back, grinding his teeth. “She faked a pregnancy, betrayed my trust completely and I divorced her. My relationship with Finn was a step away from that, not a cry for help.”
“I wouldn't call what you had with that kid a relationship-”
“No Dad,” Will spoke firmly. “You can try to push it aside, play it off like I'm the victim here, but the fact is I knew what I was doing and I screwed up.”
The older man shrunk before Will's eyes, hunching in on himself and holding the mug of coffee closely, “I made mistakes. Lots of them. I prayed at night that it wouldn't affect you, that you'd grow up normal. I'd hoped that things would be different. You had a wife, a baby on the way... how did everything fall apart; why does our whole family have to keep suffering?”
“Dad, it...” Will choked, “It wasn't anything that you did. I... I'm fine.”
“Fine, huh?” His father repeated disbelievingly, eying Will's uniform, “Working as a night guard while everyone in town calls you foul names behind your back.”
“I'm going through a rough patch,” Will admitted. “Six months solid work where I am to build up a good reference, then once the worst is over I can apply to somewhere reputable. I've got good qualifications. I'll find a job somewhere.”
“I should get going.” The older man stood up, “You probably have to get to work soon, right?”
Will smiled stiffly and followed his father to the door, “It was good to see you.”
“You should visit sometime, Billy. Your mother would appreciate it,” His father answered.
“I will.”
*
Finn slumped as low in the passenger seat as he could manage, which wasn't all that much considering his bulky frame, but it was something of a tradition for him to lie as low as he could in the passenger seat while his mom drove him to a destination he had no desire to visit. A tradition that had started at age eight, with a trip to the dreaded dentist, in the old cream sedan that had finally broken down beyond repair when he was in his early teens.
Carole had learned to judge his mood by exactly how horizontal he sought to get during the journey, like some very bizarre limbo contest.
“You're bordering on dentist levels,” She commented wryly as Finn determinedly slouched lower. “Is it really that big a deal?”
“Dentists just poke your teeth, they're gonna be poking my brain,” Finn replied bitterly.
“Well if you're good you might get a lollipop.”
Finn turned to glare at her, “Are you enjoying this?”
“I'm trying to make the best of this,” She replied. “You may not like it, but these people just want to help you.”
Parking a block away from the Aaron Beck complex, Carole walked confidently down the sidewalk with Finn following reluctantly along behind her, well aware that her insistence upon accompanying him to his first session was little more than an excuse to ensure he actually attended.
A wide, metallic double-gate marked the entrance. The bars were painted black and a sign proclaiming the details of the establishment clung to the railings on one side. The first word on the sign was a cheery 'Welcome', Finn felt anything but as he followed his mom up the path, through a plain and neatly maintained garden area to the front entrance.
While Carole went to the front desk to announce their arrival and ask directions to Dr. Harper's office, Finn turned his attention to the room. It felt very much like a hospital: the same dreary, neutral paint coating the walls and the same heavy atmosphere, as if the time people spent waiting had condensed and clogged the air. To one side, a bulletin board was overflowing with leaflets announcing voluntary group sessions for people with passive-aggressive tendencies or the victims of abusive relationships. There was a poster appealing for people to participate in a sponsored run to raise money for a kids' autism charity, dated to have taken place two months previously. Finn hadn't even known it had happened. Turning his attention back to the people leafing through magazines or listening to their iPods, Finn wondered for the first time how deeply those issues affected the lives of people he'd never met.
“Dr. Harper's in the Matilda ward,” Carole stated, returning from the front desk.
The Matilda ward was small and noisy, which seemed appropriate for a ward dealing with small and noisy children. A pair of young siblings were enacting a battle between a plastic tyrannosaurus and a yellow forklift while their weary mother nursed her temple and kept glancing at her watch.
A young, disinterested receptionist with bubblegum pink hair and regular spearmint chewing gum in her mouth ticked off Finn's appointment on a chart and directed them to the small waiting area. Choosing to sit as far from the decibel duo as was possible, Carole chose a magazine from the jumbled assortment available and settled into a seat to wait. Finn sank into the seat beside her, picking away at the yellow padding spewing from a patch where the thread had worn thin.
The click of the lock on the door beside him alerted Finn and he looked over to see Dr. Harper leaving the room, accompanied by a thin, acne-ridden girl with an expression that suggested she was either annoyed or had just swallowed an entire bag of Sour Patch Kids.
“Bye Dr. Harper,” The girl trilled with false sincerity, walking over to a meek looking middle-aged couple that Finn hadn't noticed.
“Have a nice week,” The psychologist replied, before turning her attention to Finn. “Good afternoon, Finn. Are we ready?”
Sighing with defeat, Finn gingerly tucked the chunk of foam padding he'd ripped out back into the chair and stood up, “I suppose so.”
Dr. Harper led him through the door, which clicked closed behind them. On the other side there was a small hall, illuminated by a single window, and two other doors. The psychologist opened the door on the right and stepped into an office very unlike the one at the police station where she and Finn had met briefly before. The walls were brightly colored, complete with a zoo themed wallpaper border. A large spiral patterned rug lay on the floor immediately inside the room, around which a selection of comfortable armchairs were arranged. Further into the room, there was a low table and chairs with a selection of chunky crayons and felt-tip pens alongside a chest full of hand-puppets. Along the opposite wall were a number of file cabinets, with an electric fan and a potted plant tucked away in the corner. The effect was like a cross between an office and a daycare center.
“I apologize if this isn't exactly what you were expecting.” Dr. Harper sat in one of the comfortable chairs and collected a clipboard and pen from an end table perched nearby, “I deal mostly in child psychology and so my office reflects that. I'm sure you'll find it to be less distracting than you might first assume.”
“Okay,” Finn replied uneasily, perching on the edge of a chair directly opposite the doctor.
“Now,” Dr. Harper announced, letting the word resonate for a few seconds before continuing, “I think, for this first session it might be good to outline our goals.”
Finn frowned, “What do you mean?”
“What do you want?” She leaned forward expectantly, balancing with her elbows on her knees.
Finn answered entirely honestly, “Will.”
Dr. Harper sat back, her tongue trailing across her teeth, “Maybe we should step back slightly. What do you expect from this?” When he didn't immediately reply, she continued, “I can see that you're not exactly happy to be here. I suppose you think I'm some kind of troll.” She smiled softly, as though amused by such a silly idea, it came across more than a little condescending.
“Someone said... that you shock people here, like on the Simpsons,” Finn admitted timidly. He knew that it was a ridiculous rumor but all urban legends had some basis of truth. Everyone knew that Mike Tanner's family had emigrated to Australia but they avoided 'Melissa Brown, Witch o' the Town's house on Halloween anyway.
“The Aaron Beck psychiatric institution deals with a wide range of psychological situations. Some patients, those diagnosed with psychological disorders, are treated and cared for in the long-term wards. Others, such as yourself, are only here for scheduled therapy sessions. I can assure you, we won't been shocking you or pumping you full of drugs. The only method I'll be using is CCT.”
“Isn't that poison?” Finn asked, fidgeting in his seat.
The doctor frowned and then made the connection, “You're thinking of DDT. CCT stands for Client Centered Therapy. It means that everything we discuss will focus on you and helping you overcome your problems.”
“What if I don't have any problems?”
Dr. Harper ran her tongue along her teeth again. “I'd like to make that our first goal,” She answered, writing on her clipboard. “To help you identify what was wrong with the situation between yourself and Mr. Schuester, and for you to reach a point where you can understand the reasons why objectively. Does that sound okay?”
Finn shrugged indifferently, “Sure.”
“What would you like to achieve in the next six months?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow at his clear disinterest.
“What would it take to not have to come here anymore?” Finn muttered under his breath.
“An improvement in your attitude, for one,” She answered as if the question had been spoken aloud. “For you to show steps towards resuming an appropriate lifestyle, so that I can be confident you won't suffer a relapse.”
“That then,” Finn answered.
The psychologist added her conditions to the goal list and they both signed at the bottom. Dr. Harper assured that they would refer to it often to measure his progress, Finn approached the entire concept with abject apathy.
“So does Will get the same list?” Finn asked, “'Admit it was wrong, cry, promise not to do it again?'”
“I can't answer that question,” Dr. Harper answered. “For the sake of discretion Mr. Schuester's sessions are with a colleague of mine. We will share notes, but only in the interest of assisting you both to make a recovery. I will warn you now that I will not provide information on Mr. Schuester's circumstances, nor will I tolerate attempts to make me divulge such information.”
“No questions, check,” Finn stated, slumping backwards in his chair.
*
Finn's return to the daily torment of school was almost welcome after the horrendous session with the well-meaning psychologist. 'Better the Devil you know', after all.
He spent Monday's Glee practice ignoring everything Coach Sylvester said while he went over his performance of Oklahoma with Rachel, who assured him that she was more than free to spend her time on him as she had perfected her own performance over the weekend. On Tuesday, he and Rachel offered advice to Quinn on her rendition of I Don't Know How To Love Him. By Friday everyone was prepared and the excitement of performing pushed the discomfort from the weekend's meeting with Dr. Harper firmly aside.
Matt and Mike, less confident in their vocal abilities, sang back-up for Tina's performance of I Got Rhythm. She tripped a little in early lines but once she got into the swing of the dance routine her vocals strengthened up.
Finn felt a familiar resentment towards Sue when she applauded much harder for Santana's following performance of I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair than she had for the equally impressive act that had come before it.
Brittany left the stage flushing bright red and apologizing profusely when she forgot the words to Don't Cry For Me Argentina halfway through her performance. Santana's pinky finger wrapped around the blonde's reassuringly and Finn made a mental note to commend Brittany for the half-performance she had given, which had been impressive despite the fact that she had been singing ballerina instead of Argentina.
Kurt inadvertently rubbed salt in the wound by giving a flawless rendition of I Am What I Am and earning favorable praise from Sue.
“My song is I'm Not That Girl from the modern musical sensation Wicked,” Rachel informed once she had taken center stage. The music that started was very mellow, a strong contrast to the powerful ballad Finn had expected from her, and when the first line came up he was again surprised to find her words soft, “Hands touch, eyes meet. Sudden silence, sudden heat.”
A quiet sound beside him made Finn turn and he found Kurt lip-syncing the performance.
“Hearts leap in a giddy whirl.
He could be that boy.”
Finn turned back and found Rachel's gaze fixed on him, but it moved abruptly passed him the moment she realized he was looking.
“I'm not that girl.”
As the song continued a heavy weight settled in Finn's gut.
“Don't dream too far.
Don't lose sight of who you are.
Don't remember that rush of joy.
He could be that boy.
I'm not that girl.”
Sing to me, everything you feel. Kurt's words from long ago echoed through Finn's mind as he watched Rachel sing and Kurt share in the sentiment of the song. Any doubt he might have had about the relevance it bore to him was crushed as the soothing, melancholy song continued.
“Gold hair with a gentle curl.
That's the one he chose.
And Heaven knows.
I'm not that girl.”
The song came to a finish with a shortly sustained note, nothing at all like the impressive showstopping belts that Rachel prided herself on. It fit the mood of the song.
Oklahoma came out hollow. Finn's mind was somewhere else.
When Glee came to an end for the day, Finn rushed out the door, all good intentions of boosting Brittany's spirits utterly forgotten as a single, desperate desire overtook his heart.
Pushing coins into the slot, he tapped out the number he'd learned by heart and held the handset to his ear, trembling slightly. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Why aren't you there?
*
Dr. Jackson was a man of average height with charcoal hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. Will spent much of his time in his first session avoiding those eyes, they gave him the unpleasant feeling that the man was looking deep into him.
“How did Finn and I get together?” Will repeated the question, gaze fixed beyond the psychologist's head.
“It would help me to understand,” Dr. Jackson rationalized calmly.
“Well, uhm, I suppose we became closer through Glee club. That, and... there were circumstances we shared, similar situations, he looked to me for advice.”
“So he saw you as a father figure?” The psychologist prompted.
“No,” Will denied firmly, looking into the ice-blue eyes for a split second before turning away again. “I'd say it was more like, I'd been through the same stuff so I was someone who understood how he felt, more like a friend.” Friend was a safer prerequisite for lover than 'teacher' and had less Oedipal connotations than 'father figure'.
“I see, so how did the relationship go beyond that of a student/teacher dynamic?”
“Finn, he... he came to me for advice. Told me he was having feelings about another man, he was worried that he was gay...” Will stumbled over the memory, it was difficult to translate such an emotionally charged discussion into simple terms, “Once I'd reassured him, he confessed that the person he had feelings for was me.”
“He initiated contact?” The psychologist pried when Will's recital came to a stop.
“I... I would say the contact was mutual,” Will answered.
“I see,” Dr. Jackson frowned and scribbled some notes.
*
Pulling the hook down with his fingers, Finn listened to the metallic tinkle of his money landing in the coin return slot with a sinking feeling. Fucking need you, Will! He thought desperately, banging his head gently against the plastic window of the booth in frustration.