See, guys, this is the part where I curse my decision to put something up on here before it's totally done! I apologize for the wait, but— hey, this is it! The end! So before I delve into that, apparently Chapter 4 required some clarification, so let's review what happened- Jesse thought Rachel just slept with him out of pity, they stopped fucking, Jesse started getting more psychologically sound/adjusting to his condition, Rachel is late for her period, worries, takes a pregnancy test, Jesse finds it, accuses her of not telling him that she's pregnant, Rachel corrects him and tells him that she's not pregnant, he tells her about his pity fuck worries, Rachel confesses that she loves him and chucks a pillow at him, Jesse catches said pillow, proving that his condition has been improving and that he can see a little now, Rachel gets pissed that he didn't tell her, throws all kinds of shit out there about his family and how he'd be a terrible fathers, and when she threatens to leave, he lets her walk out, and it's just ALL VERY BAD. Anyway, with that, I give you, the end!

Six months after their fight marked the opening night of her Broadway debut, Rachel squealing in delight over her own dressing room and the undetermined end date of their show.

That night, everyone that really mattered to her showed up to support her. Her dads, Mr. Schue, Shelby, the whole glee club, ready to welcome her at her stage door with applause, flowers, and reservations at her favorite restaurant.

There was only one person missing.

It wasn't until approximately two months later, Rachel signing autographs at the stage door, bright smile on her face as she took pictures and spoke with her fans, that he finally made his debut.

"Your performance was just incredible! I've seen the show three times, and—"

Rachel had gotten used to the flowers fairly quickly, as any true star ought to have, but here, now, it meant that it inevitabely took her far longer to recognize him in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the stage door, all the rest of her costars having cleared out by now.

"Can we have a picture?"

"I—"

In an instant, Rachel froze, eyes wide as she stared, momentarily dumbfounded by his presence for a split second before realizing her mistake, blinking to tear her gaze off of him and return her attention back to the playbill she'd been signing.

"I, um. Sure. Here. Big showface smile!"

There were only a couple of fans left that had patiently waited their turn, and Rachel still wasn't sure whether or not to avoid the confrontation of looking at him, or to keep letting her gaze loiter back to him just as her eyes seemed to be insisting upon her doing, especially now that his head was poking out over the what had to be at least two dozen white roses.

Her mind was racing quickly enough that focusing on her signature alone was becoming necessary, trapped between thoughts of the here and now, how far she'd come, and on her own, no less— and six months ago, something almost like happy, with him.

Had he been lonely? Sequestered himself off from the world? Another brief glance offered evidence that he was, indeed, not hiding a cane, only sending her thoughts careening further. Did this mean that his sight had returned fully? And if so, why was he here? The only reason he'd kept her around, needed her, had been his impaired vision.

At least that had been what she'd told herself for the months following her move back to New York. Reasoning, rationalizing others actions— it had always been a particular specialty of hers.

But this wasn't something about which she could have possibly been wrong. She'd told him she'd loved him, and he'd let her go in spite of that. So why would he be here now? Why would he want to be?

Finding herself lost without another playbill to sign in lieu of talking to him, Rachel froze, awkwardly clearing her throat as she straightened and stuffed her sharpies back into their holders inside her bag.

"Hi Rachel. Your performance was flawless, as always. Not that I'm surprised. But... it's good to see you again."

A long, terse moment hung heavy in the air as she slowly turned to look up at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

"No, I'm serious. I haven't seen you in years, not... properly, anyway."

Hearing him sigh, she shrugged. "Shouldn't matter, right? I'm not your girlfriend."

"Is that your way of telling me that you have a boyfriend and I have no business being at your stage door with a bunch of roses? Let me guess... back with Finn again."

Glowering at him, she shrugged once more, noncommittal. She wasn't— had stayed single the whole time since their— whatever that had been— but that hardly mattered in this context; he deserved to be put on edge, made to be jealous.

"So what if I am?"

"Two options." Cheeky bastard. "I'd either call you a liar, or, on the off chance that you're not a liar, I suspect it wouldn't take me a great deal of effort to persuade you to change your mind."

"... what makes you so sure?"

"Most girls who are proud of the relationship they're in will list it on facebook."

Jesse had the audacity to actually wink at her then, Rachel huffing bitterly. And he was right, of course.

But he'd been the one who had let her go, not the other way around.

"You did that on purpose. Stalker."

Chuckling softly, he shrugged. "Maybe I did." There was a long pause as he finally pushed free from the wall, charming and cocky and seeming just as much of an asshole as always.

She couldn't help but wonder, puzzle over him, now that she could see him a bit better, illuminated by the light streaming in between the buildings. Had he had lovers? Had he tried to do without her— emotionally, not physically— and failed? Why was he here— why now?

"I, uh, found where you hid my booze. Behind... the bookshelf. Very clever." He stayed quiet for a long moment, Rachel holding her breath as she watched him, almost terrified of what he'd say next, and how much of it was really her fault. "Let's just say it was a long six months, Rachel."

"Yes, well," she shot back, swallowing thickly through the feelings rising in her throat like bile, trying to, fighting to keep them at bay. "You're a little late. I'll have you know that I was stupid enough to hope you'd be in that audience on my opening night two months ago."

"Who says I wasn't?"

If he thought he could play an elaborate game of cat and mouse with her, he was bitterly mistaken.

"Fine. Then what's so special about tonight that you're suddenly here?"

"It's the anniversary of my accident," he laughed hollowly, and suddenly, everything snapped into place for Rachel. "I guess I just thought it'd be appropriately cathartic. Make myself suffer for a while for making you suffer through dealing with me."

"You could have come after me," she whispered, slowly shaking her head, wishing she could figure him out, answer all the questions she'd held pent up for months on end now.

"No, I needed to get better first. Therapy, right? You always liked that option."

She had. But then again, she'd always thought that a part of his recovery would inevitably be her presence in his life. Knowing he'd managed to get better without her hurt far more than she'd expected it to, her frame seeming to draw in on itself as she wrapped her arms protectively around her chest.

"Being blind... made me want to hate everything I could hear. Especially you. I thought that if I... tried hard enough to shut you out, that you'd... leave before you realized that I never deserved you in the first place. My therapist called it a highly ineffective defense mechanism that only served to reinforce my low opinion of myself. I mean," he laughed, sounding a bit bitter, "it worked, right? I pushed you away. Lost everything that ever mattered to me. Just because I was terrified of losing you. It's the most terrible logic anyone could come up with."

But then again, hadn't that been the exact reason she'd been so terrified of his getting better? It was selfish, stupid, caring more about herself than his recovery.

"But, um. You— you got better."

"Yeah. Physically and emotionally. All better. Well— physically, all better. Emotionally... still working on that one. I guess you could say I'm missing a piece of myself before that can really happen."

"And what's that?"

Even before he finally stepped forward to slowly trail his hand up and cup her cheek, letting his fingers gently tuck her hair behind her ear— she already knew what he's going to say, her heart racing a little bit at the thought.

"It's always been you, Rachel."

"No, I— I need to hear you say it."

He took a deep breath, letting his gaze drop to the asphalt with a sigh. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you that six months ago."

"Even though I—" Her gaze fell to her abdomen just briefly, blinking up at him with big eyes as she bit her lip.

"We both made mistakes. We just need to forgive each other for that." Sighing softly, he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers, Rachel letting out a slow breath as she let her eyes close. This was nice, peaceful. Jesse wasn't angry anymore, and even as she felt lost in the wake of this new, far more temperate attitude, it was almost nice.

On the other hand, remembering how she'd felt about him half a year ago was far more terrifying than she cared to admit, small hands coming up to tangle in the material of his front, keeping him close.

"You didn't say," he whispered quietly, his breath hot against her face. "Do you still love me?"

This was the part that scared her the most, that she was still just as crazy for him as she'd always been, refusing to meet his gaze even as she slowly nodded. "Of course I still love you."

Rachel only living a handful of blocks from the theatre had not been something he'd counted on, but now, strolling down Broadway with her, he was more than a little grateful she hadn't just turned him away.

"I was... terrified that the only reason you even kept me around was because of your... condition."

The confession seemed to have come from out of nowhere, and Jesse slowed down a bit as he frowned, turning to face with her with a careful nod. "... yeah. I was sure that's why you were even bothering to stick around in the first place. And then you wonder why I didn't want to tell you I was getting better."

"... I'm sorry."

They walked in silence for a while, Jesse casting the occasional glance in her direction.

"What would you have done? If you had been pregnant?"

"Had an abortion," Rachel muttered softly under her breath, staring down at her shoes.

"Seriously."

"Yeah, seriously."

"Why?"

"You keeping me around because I'm pregnant is even worse than because of your condition, Jesse! I was never your responsibility, and you never signed up for a baby when I moved in with you! Between all the lies and the trust issues and the jealousy— how could you possibly expect me to think a baby would be a good idea?"

"What lies? Other than the shit with my sight, Rachel, because that's getting old really fast," he growled, grabbing her arm to whirl her around to face him, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Your family! Jesse, you can't pretend whatever is going on there is normal— and you wouldn't breathe a word of it to me."

"That's because it's private!" he hollered, looking furious.

"Then I guess I'm going home on my own!" she shot back, starting to walk again, briskly, as he chased after her to grab hold of her wrist.

"Rachel— wait."

A terse silence took hold of them as Rachel moved her arm free of his grip, crossing them in front of her chest with a pointed glare. "All right," she mused slowly. "Tell me."

Jesse stared at her long and hard for a moment before sighing in defeat.

"This is kind of a long story, Rachel."

"I don't care."

"One that's much better suited to a bottle of wine and the comforts of a couch."

"Right here," Rachel insisted, tone unwavering. "Or not at all."

"Fine."

Walking them over to a small ledge at the side of an office building, Jesse sat as best as he could, staring up at the stars with a sigh.

"For a little while when you disappeared after our first time, I stayed in Ohio. To wait for you to come around. Not that it worked out all that well, but— long story short, my parents hate you. Always have. And after they came to the conclusion that I'd somehow cured myself of the affliction that is Rachel Berry, they decided to set me up with a girl who couldn't have been more different from you. You know, tall, model thin, blonde, blue eyes, big tits, no brains, wealthy, upstanding family— her parents were friends with mine since forever— the most Caucasian-looking nose you'll find absolutely anywhere... anyway." He shrugged lamely, sounding just as tired as he looked, for once.

"I mean, if only for the sake of my parents, I really did try my best with— Tiffany was her name— but I just— god, Rachel, it's always been you. But... I pretended. For a while. Made my mom happy, anyway, and it certainly took my mind off of you, for once."

Jesse sighed, staring out into the night sky as he leant his head back, not paying any mind to the passersby. "I was going to say that we'd dated for about half a year, but I'm not sure you can really call it dating. We didn't have anything in common except for the fact that our families were both rich and influential. But it was enough for my mom, who, after that half year, decided it would be a phenomenal idea to give me her old engagement ring and a trip to France for two. And... I blew it." He offered a small, humorless chuckle. "Tossed the ring into a fountain halfway through the speech she'd prepared for me, told Tiff to enjoy the rest of her time in France alone, called my mother and told her to go to hell, and booked a ticket straight home to get my affairs together before moving out. And... I guess you could say we've been on pretty lousy terms since then."

All the air seemed to leave his lungs all at once as his shoulders sagged, hand shoved deep into his pockets. Silence reigned trump for a while before Rachel finally spoke again, swallowing hard, her voice quiet.

"... I think you'd make a great dad."

Leaning her head on his shoulder, she heard him let out a short breath of a laugh before she slowly felt him take her hand to interlace their fingers. "I'm glad you think so."

"What is this?" Jesse smiled, swirling the wine in his glass more out of need for something to do with his hands than anything else.

"Good, isn't it?" Rachel grinned, kicking the fridge shut with her foot before moving to the couch to pat the seat beside her, her own glass in hand. "Vintage 2009 virgin chardonnay."

"It's almost like Rachel Berry has taste," he laughed, crossing one leg over the other after taking a seat beside her on the loveseat. "This is a really nice place, actually. Was this...?"

Rachel took a moment to catch onto what he was referring to, whether or not this had been hers and Finn's place before she'd moved in with him, tainted somehow, and she promptly shook her head.

"No, no, this— this is mine. I... moved in with Kurt and his boyfriend for about a month after to give plenty of time to apartment hunting, since I didn't want to end up with just any place only because I needed it, you know. But, no, you're right. I do like it a lot. Location pretty much couldn't be more perfect..."

Jesse took a long, slow breath before downing the rest of his wine and refilling both their glasses. "My, um... my lease is up in two weeks. I have a couple of friends in town who could probably take me in while I go look for my own place, but..."

"Move in with me," she whispered softly, expression about as anxious as she felt saying those words.

"... really," Jesse breathed, staring back at her, the moment feeling suspended in mid-air.

"Really."

"I... think I'd really like that."

Talking to each other felt as normal and natural as ever— almost as though she'd never left him in the first place, as if he'd never been blind, angry, resentful of the world and her.

So when he set down first her wine glass, and then his, she already knew what to expect. Leaning in to softly cup her cheek, Jesse's gaze roamed hungrily over every feature of her face, almost as though it was his first time really seeing her.

"You are so unbelievably beautiful," he whispered softly, letting his forehead rest against hers before slowly leaning in to kiss her again.

Whimpering hotly against his lips for more, Rachel made no move to stop him as he picked her up, swiftly carrying her by the curve of her ass into the bedroom.

She couldn't help but moan, Jesse's fingers digging greedily into her skin as he kissed her, hard.

"Jesse—"

"Shhh, I've got you," he muttered softly into her hair, laying her down flat on the bed and crawling up over her, his hands running her shirt up as they roamed over her torso, desperate to feel her again, to do this with her again now that he could see every inch of her skin where the soft pads of his fingers were exploring.

Sighing as he lifted her shirt up over her head, shaky hands finding the clasp behind her back to undo her bra closure as he tugged her pants off of her, Rachel couldn't help but think that this would finally be their first time back together again for the last time, never wanting to miss him again.

Tugging his shirt over his head, Jesse slipped out of his slacks and had them both down to nothing but their underwear in no time. Kissing a slow trail of kisses down her front— pausing briefly only to suckle and worship at her breasts— dragging her panties off of her, he slowly spread her legs and leaning in to lick at her core, tongue occasionally slipping lower to fuck her, slowly, agonizingly torturous.

"Jesse, oh god!"

Tearing at his hair had no effect to make him any faster, but when he finally acquiesced to her request to fuck her with his fingers as he sucked dutifully at her clit, there was nothing she could have done to stop the inevitable orgasm coursing through her, a low moan trapped in her throat as her hips bucked up, helpless to him.

"It's even better when I get to see you, watch you come," he muttered softly as he worked his way back up her body, stroking himself once, twice, before settling between her legs. "God, baby."

Gathering her up into his arms, he moved to sit cross legged, pulling her into his lap and motioning for her to wrap her legs around his torso, grabbing her hips and slowly letting her sink down on top of him, their foreheads pressed together as she moaned into his mouth. "I don't want to miss a second of this, of you and your face," he whispered desperately into the sensitive skin of her neck, kissing her, suckling at her as they moved together as one.

It felt like a dance of intimacy, Rachel wrapped up in Jesse as he made love to her, soft, slow, sweet. He didn't dare close his eyes even once, whispering softly to her that he didn't want to— couldn't— look away from his perfect angel now that he had her back.

He made sure she came first, her pulsing around him sending him bucking up into her with a groan, and they stayed like this, tangled up in each other for a good while— at least until Rachel could feel him slipping out of her, forcing her off of him to clean them both up with some reluctance, far too eager to return to him as quickly as possible.

If someone had told her a year and a day before that she'd be falling asleep in Jesse's arms, tired, happy, and more in love than ever before, she would have never believed them.