Music has always been her refuge. Rachel cannot recall a time when she hasn't been able to escape into the words of a song, let the notes sink into her skin and her voice release everything she's been feeling inside. Even after Jeremy had died she would stay up late, curled in bed, listening to people sing about loss, love and everything else in between. Sometimes it would make her chest hurt and others it would soothe the ache that still resided deep inside, occasionally coming out like when Quinn and Finn had come over the other night.

It's been a few months since Puck had taken her to that grossly unhealthy restaurant for lunch. She recalls sitting there, talking about Jeremy, and feeling for the first time like someone hadn't taken a sledgehammer to her body. It had felt vaguely nice, she thinks, speaking about a man who has left his mark on her soul, on everything she's ever considered good about herself.

Everyone's stopped walking on eggshells around her, looking at her like she just might split open at the seams. Mike and Matt still often exchange concerned glances when they think she isn't looking, and Quinn still feels guilty because Rachel hasn't received so many baked goods in her life. Finn smiles and ruffles her hair, asks her how her day has been and tells her about the boys he's taken under his wing – a bit too cautious at times but overall becoming the friend she's always had since leaving McKinley. Mercedes and Kurt have flittered back into her life and Rachel's enjoyed hanging out at their studio, laughing seeing the two of them and Quinn collide over what cut that fabulous new coat should be. Santana came to visit once, which had been slightly awkward. But the Latina's mellowed some since her teenage years and Rachel still smiles wickedly over the careless girls night of alcohol Santana had coerced Quinn, Kurt, Mercedes and herself into.

Then there was Puck, Rachel muses, plucking absently at the keys of the piano. The two of them had slipped into a nice routine of bickering and maybe the occasional bouts of flirting, all the while nurturing the talent that they have managed to unearth. Recalling the high G Lea had hit the day before, Rachel smiles thinking of her young protégé. Lea reminded her too much of herself so it was no wonder she's taken such a strong liking to the teen. Puck says Lea's a teacher's pet and how it damages group morale, which had sparked a discussion over coffee at Starbucks.

She frowns when she thinks of that day, how Santana had leaned over and asked what was up with the unresolved sexual tension.

'It's not like that. Noah and I are just friends,' Rachel tells her, taking a sip of her latte. She watches Puck over the rim of her cup, feels her fingers tighten when he says something to the cute blonde behind the counter that has her smiling and twirling her fingers through her curls.

'Yeah. And I'm a fucking nun,' Santana retorts dryly and Rachel huffs, grateful when Puck starts to make his way back. Santana had thankfully dropped the subject but Rachel had seen her smirk whenever she so much as spoke with Puck.

'I don't have feelings for him,' Rachel tells herself. Her voice echoes in the empty room and it sounds nice and loud, final. 'I do not.'

Then why do you keep thinking about how attractive he is? How nice his touch feels?

Rachel stares down at the ivory keys, not knowing what to say. Even thinking it feels like she's betrayed Jeremy somehow, that he's looking at her from somewhere and shaking his head because she's just proved him right somehow. It's entirely irrational and not at all normal, but Rachel can't help how she feels. The guilt that comes up whenever she even considers moving on is what holds her back and it makes her both angry and sad at the same time.

I know how much you loved him but he'sgoneElle. He's not coming back. And it'skillingus to see you try to hold onto something that's never going to be a probability!

Matt's words keep playing back in her head and a part of her knows he's right.

Maybe it's the fact that she's been in New York these past few months instead of hiding in London, but being back in the place Jeremy had always considered his home has been comforting. It's also a curse though because everywhere she looks around she can see places they've been together, shared together.

She walks through Central Park most days when she can, passes the place where they had had their first date. A picnic under the stars. He had brought this worn plaid blanket they had kept thrown over their living room couch afterwards and Rachel recalls the caress of his fingers between her own, the way he had tipped her head back and sampled her lips so gently.

The clock mounted on the wall ticks over and the rhythmic ticking fills her head as she pushes past the thoughts spiraling inside.

Is it wrong that I want to move on?

It strikes her, makes her worry her bottom lip. That's the entire crux of the matter isn't it? How long does she have to wait before she can move on? Is it even right that she wants to move on? It's confusing and makes her want to break something.

'It's midnight,' she breathes when the clock chimes. Her hands shake slightly as she reaches for the rings around her neck, her thumb tracing the writing engraved into the metal.

We were one tree not two.

It was a part of a quote from Captain Corelli's Mandolin that Rachel is still fixated on. The words spoke of love in a way no one else had ever done, reminded her of the way Jeremy made her heart skip a beat even after. It spoke of how love was something different from being in love. It was the feeling left over after the butterflies in your stomach had ceased flight, or when the giddiness of eternal passion had faded away. It was the breath against her neck when she was asleep, the way he would make sure her tea was always made whenever she got home, the times he would play with her hair while they were watching a movie. Small, mundane things that so many took for granted but which Rachel had always, will always, cherish.

It's Jeremy's anniversary today. Two years since the day she had come home and seen the flashes of red and blue light surrounding their building. She recalls brushing by the police officers, seeing her neighbour point at her while talking to a police officer. The ice slide down her spine as the officer heads towards her, doffs his hat. The black body bag, the blood, the 'I sorry Ma'am but is your fiancée Jeremy Green?'

The world blurs around her a little and Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, lets the tears fall. There's no one around to witness her crumble. She's done it far too much since that day and she just wants to stop falling apart. More than anything she wants to fix the pieces back together so she can be normal. Happy.

The envelope she's carried around all day lies at her elbow and she trembles opening the flap, shakes as she unfolds the creased white paper Jeremy had etched his last words on.

Rachel,

In the time since we've met, you've taught me that love is both an art and a fortunate accident. Please know that I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm doing this because I have to. You will never understand. I don't think anyone will. But sometimes love isn't enough. It pains me to say this but you've always told me to tell you the truth.

I'll watch over you. Just like a star.

J.

Anger boils up inside, like a dormant volcano that's been waiting to erupt. This is the first time she's seen his last words in two years. Yes there is pain and hurt, but now there's also the acknowledgment that if he had loved her as much as he said he did, he wouldn't have jumped out the window.

'You would have stayed with me,' she tells the letter harshly, almost rips it in two. She hates herself for feeling this way.

'God, what is wrong with me?' Rachel asks and doesn't receive an answer. She's thankful that Mike and Matt have given her space, known that she would need time to herself. Because right now she's conflicted and needs to figure something out. It feels like a turning point, much like her lunch with Puck.

Puck's arm at the back of her neck when they go out to that little bistro next to the studio with Mike and Matt. Puck's shoulder brushing against hers as they map out lesson plans. Puck smiling broadly whenever she lets herself laugh freely.

'I just need to sing it out,' she murmurs to herself, already placing both hands on the piano keys and tracing out the familiar melody that had played almost on repeat the weeks after Jeremy's death.

And when it rains,
On this side of town it touches, everything.
Just say it again and mean it.
We don't miss a thing.
You made yourself a bed
At the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)
And convinced yourself that
It's not the reason you don't see the sun anymore

And no, oh, how could you do it?
Oh I, I never saw it coming.
No, oh, I need the ending.
So why can't you stay
Just long enough to explain?

And when it rains,
Will you always find an escape?
Just running away,
From all of the ones who love you,
From everything.
You made yourself a bed
At the bottom of the blackest hole (blackest hole)
And you'll sleep 'til May
And you'll say that you don't want to see the sun anymore

And no, oh, how could you do it?
Oh I, I never saw it coming.
And no, oh, I need the ending.
So why can't you stay just long enough to explain?

Take your time.
Take my time…

At the end of the song she takes in a shuddering breath, reaches for the clasp of her necklace. The rings feel heavy in her palm, her neck conspicuously lighter.

'I'll always love you,' she says before pressing the rings to her lips, giving it an almost reverent kiss before placing it inside the envelope along with the letter.

'Shit, there's the Rachel Berry I've been looking for,' she remembered Puck telling her one day out of the blue a few weeks ago. The comment had puzzled her and Puck had brushed it off as nothing.

Looking at the closed envelope though, she can't help but wonder whether this was the moment she's decided that Rachel Berry needs to be found. She's spent so much time lost that it might be hard, she thinks.

Just like a star…

Rachel swallows, wonders if Jeremy had left that phrase there on purpose. She casts her eyes up, closes them as if she's seeking a blessing.

It's later when she's in bed that she receives her answer. She's on her side and suddenly feels what she swears is a kiss on her forehead. It's so real that it startles her awake, sleep evading her until she can see the beginnings of first light spill through.

When Rachel gets ready the next afternoon, she doesn't put on the necklace.

She thinks that's a start.