Epilogue

'We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable; that all men are created equal and independent, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent and inalienable, among which are the preservation of life, and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.'
-Thomas Jefferson

Every story has a happy ending, or so the old tales go. It encourages us to believe in love, perseverance, and determination, above all other things.

But those eight teenagers never received their happy ending. Not really. The happy ending would come later, when the idea of the Regime was simply a distant memory, built in the minds of youth by the stories told to them by their grandparents. A story that is told by those whose own minds are too clouded with age to ever get the details right. This is when the happy ending of this tale occurs, not as the eight teenagers grew older and were able to pursue their lives and dreams. Not when they grew old and realised they had actually made a difference in the world.

No, it didn't come until they were long gone, only their legacy remaining in the hearts of those who truly understood the sacrifice, and those few became quickly numbered.

That is not to say that their lives were unhappy. No, after the Regime, after all that they had done was over, their lives because full and whole.

Rachel and Finn were married in a small church just out of New York. The place held bad memories for them, but it was also a place of dreaming, the first place where the change from Regime to freedom really took place. And so it was there that they exchanged rings, and picked for themselves a last name, that they would share. They had been told of last names, of course, from the old stories, and even Terrence Drey himself. But never had they possessed one and so, faced with the opportunity, neither was sure what to decide.

Finn was the one who settled it, his eyes falling upon the Hudson river, and declaring for the whole service - their friends, family - to hear, that he and Rachel would be then on known as Rachel and Finn Hudson. And it was written down, and it became official, and although it took them both some time to get used to, as they got older, they began to forget their serial numbers, forget the way they had been labelled.

Rachel had a daughter, and called her Nadia. She grew up without fear of anything but bad grades and having her heart broken by the boy down the road. She was a symbol for Rachel of the life that she had longed to lead as a girl, what she wished she could have had.

Her second child became not part of her own family, but to Kurt and Blaine's. The two had married also, not long after Rachel and Finn, but in their home state of Ohio. New York was beautiful, but for them it had began there, and the Regime had seemed to hold it's strongest reign over them. It felt good to turn it in their faces, to laugh at them and prove to their neighbors and friends from the past that love between them was possible, could in fact be desired.

They had invited only a few people, but on the day itself, many more arrived, including Blaine's friend Jeff, from Dalton. His hand was entwined around another man's, someone who Blaine also recognized. Nick. They had been the closest of friends at school, closer than anyone, but it still came as a surprise to Blaine. Jeff had been a strong believer in not pushing boundaries, of obeying by the rules.

But after the wedding, they had come up to Kurt and Blaine, only two words being spoken. 'Thank you.'

And Blaine had nodded in understanding.

But so it was that Rachel's second child, a boy with dark curly hair, so much like Blaine's, fell into their family. It had been a wish of theirs, a dream they could not complete on their own, and although Rachel could be and had always been bossy and loud, she also had grown up with two gay dads, and it seemed fitting that she should be the one to carry their child.

They named him Leo, for the strength of a lion, and he grew into a young man who was respected by his peers despite the fact that he had two gay dads. He was close to Nadia too, more than cousins, but not quite siblings, and despite the fact that like any kids, they fought and argued, they came through everything stronger. Even into old age, they would look to each other for guidance.

Santana and Brittany too, grew old together. They had their rough patches, and it took a good few years before either could draw together the courage to admit they were wrong, that perhaps they should just forget the past and put it behind them. They still fought like they were worst enemies, but in a way that was what made them closer. Their differences had always brought them together, dark and light, blonde and brunette. And they somehow worked.

For the month after they arrived back home in Lima, Quinn and Noah worked to rebuild her mother's house, to fix what was broken and to make it livable again. For that time, Beth stayed with Shelby, and woman and child became close, closer than almost anybody Beth had ever met, except perhaps the relationship between herself and her own mother.

But when Quinn turned up on Shelby's doorstep, asking for her daughter back, she was handed over in silence, no tears falling until the dark haired woman closed the door. And then she cried for days.

And Tina. Poor Tina, whose whole family unit fell apart, was left alone. She lived for some time with Quinn and Noah, staying in their guest bedroom and looking after Beth when they went out. But as the years got on and Beth became older, more independent, she found the space was needed, and she left late one night, never to return to the house again.

She found her own place, just outside of Westerville, boarding with a boy a year older than her, the same age as Finn and Kurt and Noah and Quinn and Rachel. His name was Mike, and from the onset, their first meeting on the front porch, he had fallen in love with her.

But for all of their lives, Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, Finn, Noah, Quinn, Tina and Santana were haunted by their pasts. They were driven into nightmares, and awoke hot and sweaty in the middle of the night with shaking limbs and tears in their eyes. The doctors called it post-traumatic stress disorder, and diagnosed it in each of them, claiming their time in New York had changed them forever, but there had never been recorded cases in anyone as young as them. And it was impossible to know when the dreams would fade, or if they ever would.

Wow, so this is the end. The last chapter. I'm glad I did what I did this weekend and posted them all in one go, otherwise this chapter probably wouldn't be available till this time next year! I hope all of you who have taken the time out to read this have enjoyed it! I love you all, and I'm so so happy to share this with you. This was my baby for a month of my life, and one of those pieces that I am intimately proud of.

So I'd like to thank each and everyone of you to the bottom of my heart for coming along on this ride with me. Thank you!

And I hope to see you around when I upload my next story, The Wandering Poet (already available on my livejournal but I'm going to cross-post it, I promise!), and then, after that, when I get round to it, a new little thing I have going, entitled More Than Money and Sense, from the song L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N by Noah and the Whale. It's still being written, but I promise when it's ready, I'll give it to you in one big go, none of this, waiting half a year stuff again!

Once more, thank you thank you thank you! See you soon!