A/N: This is my attempt at filling in the years between Rachel going back to school and winning her Tony. I've been known pretty much as a Finchel writer, and I want to assure you that Finn's memory will be honored better here than on the show. But Jesse's story needs to be told too, and I hope to do him justice as well. It may be long; I hope you enjoy the journey. I don't own any of the Glee characters. The original characters are mine.

Even her people-watching had changed. When Rachel had been in New York before, she always imagined passersby as potential attendees at her shows, wondering what they would think of the performance, and how they would react as she emerged from the stage door afterwards. Santana once said Rachel looked at her life as one big personal performance, and in a sense she had been right: there was a reason she had been attracted to a television show named after her; she had been attracted like a helpless moth before a flame. But now, after all she had been through the last year, she was grateful for not having been consumed by that flame. She was grateful to have come out just badly burned, and for Carmen Thibideaux's inexplicable generosity in giving her another chance.

Sitting outside, having coffee at a Manhattan café, Rachel now wondered what personal journeys the people streaming past had experienced, what dreams they harbored, and what loved ones they had lost. She thought about Finn, and her parents' divorce, and the string of disastrous decisions that led to her being here. Their weight made her feel so much older than her nineteen years. The fact was, she had flamed out, spectacularly so, and when school started up in a few weeks, Rachel would have to deal with the fallout. But as she sipped her coffee on that fine July morning, she felt certain she was on the right path.

She had moved back to New York in July, without fanfare. Her parents, perhaps in a fit of guilt over the divorce, found her a half-way decent one bedroom apartment in a nice part of the lower East Side of Manhattan, near the Williamsburg Bridge. It was a short bus ride or subway hop to the NYADA campus, about a half-mile south of NYU. She had needed, more than anything, to live alone, not to hide from the world, but to have a place where she could return to at night to process her new life, free of distraction.

"Rachel!" She looked up. A tall, willowy woman with beautifully long wavy red hair, in a white floral dress sat down at her table.

"Hi Marge," Rachel said, with an honest smile. Marge Bailey had been the first friend she ever made in New York, back when she had arrived heartbroken and scared on that train.

"I'm so glad you called me, hun. It's been a long time." She was in her mid-fifties, a Tisch-trained stage actress who had left the business ten years ago when her husband died to work at a diner near the NYADA campus. Rachel showed up there early one morning, unable to sleep, and the two women became friends. Rachel liked to think she had convinced Marge to go back to the stage.

"I know." Rachel looked down, into her cup. "I was ashamed. I'm sorry." Marge had counseled her not to leave Funny Girl. They hadn't seen each other since. She felt Marge's hand on her arm.

"Hey—Look at me." Marge's deep-set green eyes regarded her kindly. " I didn't show up here to sit in judgement, okay? I respect you too much, you must know that."

"Even after my boneheaded choice?"

Marge laughed and paused to order hot tea with milk and sugar. "So you made a bone-headed choice. What's important is that you recovered from it and made an excellent decision to correct it." Marge took her hand. "Nigel would have been so proud of what you're doing. So am I." Her husband had been a noted theatre professor at NYU.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be a good source of schadenfreude when I show up in class next month." Cesare and Bernard, her two ex-sycophants, would have some choice things to say, especially now that they were seniors.

"I'd say they will be more envious—how many of them are talented enough to get a second chance from Carmen Thibideaux?"

"Third chance, actually," Rachel said, and Marge chuckled.

"Damn, girl."

Rachel gave her a sheepish look. "I'm determined to keep as low a profile as I can. "

"Even when you could impart some hard-won wisdom? "

"I doubt anybody wants to hear me give career advice. I'm more a cautionary tale, if anything." She looked down again. "Like a ship that's run aground, serving as a warning to others. " Marge started to protest, but Rachel cut her off. "I just don't see myself as an inspiration to others, Marge. At least not yet. I need to be my own inspiration first." Marge nodded, as the waiter brought Marge's tea and a coffee refill for Rachel.

" What are your classes looking like?"

"Pretty good. I know something about all of the professors except one. For dance."

"It's not with Cassandra July?" Marge apparently remembered Rachel's stories about her.

"No. It seems Cassandra is taking a sabbatical in London, on a play. " She giggled. "Rumor has it Brody Weston was in the same play, in the chorus, but I know for a fact he's waiting tables here in New York right now." She and her dads saw him when they had dinner in Manhattan after she moved in. Both were embarrassed and didn't speak, but did smile and wave shyly at each other. "The instructor is an adjunct named Emily Lauder. Ever hear of her?"

Marge shrugged. "I'm not plugged into the musical side of things."

They talked shop for a few minutes. Marge was currently playing the female lead in a play, a revival of That Hamilton Woman, that had just jumped from off-Broadway to Broadway, and was growing in popularity.

"I'm coming to see it," Rachel said, "With Kurt and Blaine. They got married you know, and they live together in the old loft. Blaine got into Tisch!"

"Well, good for them," Marge said, smiling. "What about Santana?"

"Oh my God. You and I really haven't spoken in a while. She got married to Brittany in a double ring ceremony with Kurt and Blaine. Britany was offered a prestigious fellowship to remain at MIT, so they are living in Cambridge."

Marge called the waiter over.

"I need some tea cakes," she told Rachel. "And you'll help me eat them."

"Sure."

They chatted about showbiz gossip for a few minutes. It felt good to be speaking with Marge again. It was just hard to get used to not seeing her in that shabby old waitress uniform she used to wear, but Rachel also was overjoyed to see Marge finally free herself from her grief over Nigel and return to the stage. She dressed well, and carried herself differently—it was very apparent why Nigel had fallen in love with her. Rachel wondered if she had started dating again, and asked. Marge actually blushed.

"I've been doing that, off-and-on, for a few years. You know that."

"I mean successful dating," Rachel said, laughing, "Not the disasters you told me about."

Marge gave her a small smile. "I met someone in April, actually. An NYU professor, who just moved here from North Carolina. His name is Peter Hill, and he's an historian."

Rachel clapped her hands. "Oh my God, that's wonderful. And he's an academic, just like Nigel was."

"Yeah—it helped that I was already familiar with NYU's academic life. I went with him to a faculty party before the end of the semester, and you know what?" Tears appeared in her soulful eyes. "Some people remembered me and Nigel from the day, and came over and welcomed me like long-lost family."

"Is he a theater fan?"

"Not particularly, so the relationship is different enough from what I had with Nigel to make it fresh and special. But I'm working on his education." She winked. "How about you?"

Rachel knew she could trust talking to her about her heart. If anyone knew what she had gone through with Finn, it was Marge Bailey.

"I miss Finn every day, and I pray for his soul every night, and I think I'll do that for the rest of my life," she said. Marge nodded.

"Out in LA, I was so wrapped up in the show that I had neither time nor energy for dating. It wasn't until I went back to Lima that the loneliness really set in."

She hadn't told anyone—except Finn, in her prayers—about that.

"I thought getting involved with the Glee Club again would keep me occupied, but…" Her voice trailed off, and a warm smile came over her face. She rummaged through her bag for her wallet. "You never met Sam Evans when he was here, did you?" Marge shook her head. Rachel showed her Sam's picture.

"Lord have mercy," Marge muttered. "Is he as nice as he looks?"

"More," Rachel said. "He's sweet, and kind, and safe, you know? And he wasn't interested in a long term relationship, especially if I was going to be in New York. He was Finn's friend, too. Sam made sure to never dishonor Finn's memory."

"Did you sleep with him?" Marge arched her eyebrow playfully.

"No. But we came very close. A couple of times, in fact. But he was in unrequited love with somebody else. We were content to just be friends. I'm glad we did."

"Anyone else?"

Rachel furrowed her brow. How could she describe what was going on with Jesse? She wasn't even sure herself, and he had been so crazy busy getting ready for the show that they had only texted a few times. He did invite her to dinner with the cast one night, but she didn't feel ready being with Broadway professionals again.

"I've been talking again with Jesse St James," she said. "He's the male lead in the show I turned down."

"The Urban Prophet?" Marge asked. Rachel nodded. "There's a lot of buzz about that, and not all of it good."

"I know." Jesse had mentioned complaints about Jesse's casting over another, more experienced actor. Of course, the complaints were emanating from the actors press people. "They say Jesse has no 'street cred', too." She laughed.

"Are you planning on pursuing something with him? " Marge knew about their history.

"Maybe," Rachel said. "I think I'm ready to move forward, but anyone who ever gets involved with me will have to understand how I feel about Finn. I swear, Marge, I think I loved him comparably to the way you loved Nigel, and I'm still suffering from the loss. Anyone getting involved with me needs to know that, and, frankly, Jesse and I haven't even had that conversation yet."

Marge nodded.

"You have always admired his talent, Rachel."

"Yeah, I know, but something he said back in Lima recently grabbed my imagination."

Marge leaned forward, intrigued. "What was that?"

"He said we always made great music together." She paused, lost in memory. "And he's right. I've never felt as comfortable singing with anyone else besides Finn—and that scares me, to be honest. When I was at my lowest after Finn died, I thought I'd never find anyone with whom I could have such a musical connection." She looked down at her hands. "There's more. Back in high school, Jesse was as single-mindedly ambitious as I was. He was like a male me. I'm not sure I'm looking for my male equivalent, you know?"

Marge laughed. "Maybe he's changed, Rachel. After all, he did say you made great music together."

"I know. That's why I'm intrigued." She sighed and ate some cake. "But that can wait. I have school to think about first."

They talked for another hour. Rachel mentioned her parents' divorce—Hiram had moved to Cleveland, while LeRoy lived in a small rented house in Lima near his law practice. Touchingly, both of them said they would retire in New York, to be near her. She secretly wished the two of them would realize they had made a mistake, and reconcile in New York, where they could continue being the little, resolute family she had always known. But she wasn't holding her breath.

"Oh, hun," Marge said. "You need to catch a break."

Rachel gave a short laugh. "I could use some good news."

Marge and Rachel made plans to have dinner after one of her shows.

"We'll go to Sardis," Marge promised. Rachel liked that, glad to have Marge in her life again.

Walking back to her apartment, Rachel felt her hope and confidence returning. Starting again at NYADA would mean swallowing her pride, but that didn't scare her at all. She had lost her Finn, and felt she had failed him. Her pride came in a distant second to that. Starting over was as much for him as it was for her, and for a moment she wished she could visit his grave like she did so many times in Lima, to ask his advice. But then she remembered, and her heart warmed.

His star would be out tonight, and the weather was fair.