a/n - Hello everyone! I actually was pretty content to leave the world of Glee fan fiction behind…but then I got bit by a plot bunny. So here I am! About a month ago I went to see 'Once' on Broadway and it inspired me in more reasons than I can say. As I was listening to the cast album and thinking about the story I couldn't help but realize how easily it would lend itself to an interesting, non-traditional Finchel fanfic.

So now I ask you to suspend reality with me as I venture into my first attempt at AU. The title of each chapter comes from a song on the soundtrack if you would like something to set the mood while you read. I hope everyone enjoys and I'm quite curious to hear what you think.

Of course neither Glee or Once belong to me. This is purely for entertainment.

Chapter 1 - Leave

He stared out into the dark, starkly occupied room from his place on the stage. His guitar felt heavy as it hung from his shoulder and he let his fingers trail up the frets to twist the tuning pegs into place. He played a single chord and sighed against the microphone.

His eyes floated around the room. There were a handful a people sitting at the bar chatting amongst themselves and downing shots of cheap liquor. Two of the small cocktail tables were occupied, one by a pair of girls puffing on cigarettes and blowing wispy lines of smoke into the air, the other by a couple, the woman leaned into the man, her lips against his neck.

This is what his life had come to - a single microphone in a dirty dive bar. It kind of sucked.

Without an introduction he began to play his song. His fingers began to pluck out the lazy melody against the strings and an he leaned in to sing the lyrics that burned as they left his lips. Trying his best to not focus on the raw emotion his words revived, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his fingers as they plucked the guitar gently.

He played on autopilot for awhile, the song so familiar that he really didn't have to think about what he was singing or what chord he was strumming. The music flowed effortlessly and as he reached the emotional climax of the song his voice began to soar naturally and the sentiment caught in his throat. He scrunched his eyes together tightly, trying to fight away the pain in his chest. His voice cracked slightly as it slid into his higher register but he ignored it and continued to play, belting out the notes with every last bit of passion he had left.

He pulled back from the microphone slightly, leaving his fingers and the guitar as the only music. The pace of the song began to slow and he finally let his eyes slit open. Trying his best to control himself, he shook his head, sniffed slightly, and silently willed the approaching tears to stay put. The last thing he was going to do was completely lose it during one of his performances.

He played the final note of the song and instantly the room was filled with silence. He looked up to study the meager audience of the bar but they paid him no attention. The few people at the bar toasted their shot glasses together and drowned them in unison. The girls sitting at one of the tables each lit a new cigarette and leaned in towards each other to continue their conversation. The couple, who has already been affectionate, were now engaged in a full blown make out session.

He sighed and walked off the side of the stage. There was no use in waiting for applause or recognition that wasn't going to come. He climbed down the short flight of stairs that lead back into the bar while lifting his guitar from his shoulder. He admired the shiny mahogany of the instrument and appreciated the weight in his hand one final time. He had always planned on this being his final performance and after his reception (or lack their of) he couldn't help but feel like his decision had been justified.

He once loved music. It has been a part of him since high school and had been the major influence in his life since then. Because of it's prominent role it also held more painful memories than he could deal with and if he had any hope of moving on with his life then music would have to become only a memory. He could no longer sing the lyrics he'd written or the melodies he'd composed without thinking of her and he just couldn't do that to himself any longer.

He laid the guitar into it's velvet-lined case and with one final glance lowered the lid and latched it shut. He pulled his heavy wool coat onto his arms and covered his dark hair with a skull cap, preparing to fend off the brisk January night. He pulled the case from the table and walked as quickly through the bar as he could. He was preparing to reach for the handle on the door when someone swiftly stepped in front of him.

"You're only playing one song tonight?"

He looked down towards where the voice was coming from and was greeted by two big, brown eyes gazing up at him curiously. It was a girl, well a woman actually, who he hadn't noticed from his place on the stage. She had dark hair that was braided over one of her shoulders and was wearing a dark red coat and had fluffy white earmuffs around her neck, waiting to protect her from the weather.

She tilted her head to one side and continued to stare at him, a slight look of frustration playing on her features. "I don't get out much but don't sets usually consist of more than just one song?"

He felt his mouth open and shut a few times without any words coming out. He shook his hands to regain his composure and shook his head at her. "I'm sorry, what?"

She huffed at him slightly. "Ok. Let's try this for the third time. You played one song, ran off the stage, and now here you are. I liked your song. I was hoping to hear you play more."

"Thanks, but I won't be playing anymore."

Before their conversation could continue he stepped around her, pushed the door open, and stepped out into the night. He walked along the sidewalk for a minute before he heard the door open again and the sound of footsteps behind him.

"Well when are you playing next? I'd like to hear you sing again."

He stopped walking and turned around. The woman was standing right behind him, still staring up at him expectantly. He didn't get it. It was unusual to get any sort of response to his music so hearing something positive was nice, but it didn't change the way he felt. But he had to wonder why now? Why now when he was preparing to say goodbye to that part of his life?

"Well you can't. I'm done with music. I'm not singing anymore."

He turned and walked away from her quickly. He turned into the alley beside the bar and walked the few steps towards the large dumpster that sat there. He hoisted his guitar onto the dumpster and before he could change his mind walked away as fast as he could. He turned back onto the street and walked the opposite direction of the bar. When he felt like he had put a proper distance between himself and the discarded guitar he sank onto a bench alongside the deserted main street.

He was overcome with a multitude of thoughts…everything from his abandoned instrument to the interest the girl had expressed to her, the reason all of this was happening in the first place. He had just placed his head into his hands, willing away the thoughts, when he heard footsteps again. Before he could even think about what he was doing he looked up.

The girl was walking towards him, struggling to carry his guitar case. His guitar case? What he hell was she doing? With a slight roll of his eyes he stood up, prepared to run home if he had to.

"Wait!"

For some reason he chose to listen. He turned around, threw his head back and his arms out. "What? What do you want from me?"

The girl dragged the guitar case the last final feet and dropped it on the ground next to the bench. She sat down and then looked up at him again.

"You can't stop playing," she said simply.

"Excuse me?"

She looked pointedly at the guitar and then back up at him. "Do you have a hearing problem? I sure have had to repeat myself a lot in these past couple minutes." She composed herself and continued. "I said, you can't stop playing."

He continued to stare at her. What did she want? What was her angle?

"Your words," she continued, "your music. It means something. Please, please don't stop playing."

He glared at her, the innocence she was projecting beginning to grate on him. Who the hell did she think she was? She had no idea what she was even talking about and here she was, trying to convince him to continue doing something she had no idea about. So she liked the type of music he played and maybe related to the words he sang…she still didn't understand. She couldn't.

"You know, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you don't know anything about my music or anything about why I'm not going to play anymore so I would appreciate it if you would just put the guitar back where you found it and then leave me alone."

"My name is Rachel. Rachel Berry." What the hell? Had she not heard anything he'd just said? Maybe she was the one with the hearing problem. "I'm a musician, too, and as one musician to another I always like to give praise when it's due…which trust me, isn't very often. I'm sorry if I overstepped by boundaries but I don't like to see anyone give up something they so obviously love without making sure they realize how talented they actually are. I should know…I'm very talented too."

He stared at this odd, outspoken woman who sat on the bench next to where he stood and thought about what she had said. It was nice that she thought he was talented but did that really mean anything at all when the passion he'd once felt had been replaced only with sorrow? He couldn't continue to do something that only brought him misery and unfortunately that's exactly what music had become.

He sank onto the bench next to her as snow began to fall from the night sky.

"Your song…the one you just sang…what was it about?"

He glanced at Rachel, noticing the way the snowflakes were settling against her dark hair and eyelashes. She looked to be around his age and while she was quite pretty, there was also a certain sadness to her. He guessed he wasn't the only one with a story.

"Betrayal," he said bitterly. "Sadness. Disgust."

Rachel bobbed her head amiably. "Is she why you don't want to play anymore?"

God, who was this girl? How was she dissecting him so easily? Was he really that easy to read?

She continued to speak. "It's kind of hard to continue doing something when the one person you don't want to think about is the only thing you can think about when you're doing it." She glanced up at him again. "Isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

The snow continued to fall harder as they sat side by side on the bench with the guitar case at their feet. Neither one of them said anything for a long time. He sat there thinking about what she had said. He thought about the music and how proud he was of the calluses that had formed on his fingertips from hours of playing. They were like battle wounds to him, proof of his dedication. But thinking about the guitar only made him think about the countless songs he'd written…the ones that were about her. The image of her wrapped in his best friends arms flashed in his memory and he shut his eyes. The pain was just too strong. Even thinking about it made his stomach lurch.

"That song, well all of my songs, are about my ex-girlfriend." Why was he confessing this? To a complete stranger? But still…he never talked about it and after six months of being left with only his thoughts it felt refreshing to actually say something about it out loud. "I caught her cheating on me and before I really even understood what was going on she had moved to New York. After being together for six years she disappeared overnight. And it was over, just like that."

Rachel leaned back against the bench. "Ouch."

"She always inspired my music…everything about it. I can't sing any my songs now without her face flooding my mind and I just can't do it anymore. It's too much."

Rachel laced her gloved hands together and looked up at him. "Well I understand. I'm sorry I bothered you so much about your music I just haven't ever heard someone sing like that before, well except for myself. It's too bad that you won't be able to share your talents with more people. You really do have a gift."

For some reason he found himself giving her one of his lazy half smiles. "Thank you, Rachel."

She smiled back at him and brushed off the snow that was gathering on her jacket. "Well, what are you going to do now? If you're not playing your music what will you do?"

"I work in an auto-repair shop with my step-father. It's not much but it pays the bills."

As soon as he had spoken the words a giant grin spread across Rachel's face. "Really?"

He was confused. Usually when he told someone he worked as a mechanic they were disappointed, obviously expecting him to say something more glamorous. He supposed it was because he was a golden boy of sorts in high school and everyone had always expected him to do something spectacular with his life. But reality doesn't often live up to expectations. But Rachel was different. She looked up at him like he had just given her a million dollars.

"Um, yeah, Hummel Tire and Lube. It's over on State Street."

She grasped her hands together and smiled at him, her eyes wide and practically sparkling. "It's almost like I was meant to meet you tonight. I just so happen to have a car that desperately needs to be looked it. Do you think you could fit me in in the morning? I'm sure it's not anything serious but I've been putting it off for a long time and I'll feel so much better if I know it's safe."

Really? Ten minutes ago she had been pestering him about his music and his supposed talent and now she was just thrilled that he happened to be a mechanic? And of course she conveniently had a car that was in some state of disrepair. Rachel Berry seemed like a nice enough girl but she also seemed to possess at least a slight amount of crazy and he wasn't sure he wanted to invite that into his step-father's shop. But then he looked at her and her face was lit up like a Christmas tree. She was looking at him like she was expecting everything and nothing at the same time. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that and before he could stop himself he found himself agreeing.

"I can squeeze you in but you have to be there at nine a.m.. Is that ok?"

Rachel clapped her hands excitedly and bounced slightly on the bench. "Oh yes that's perfect. Thank you so much…wait…I don't think you ever told me your name."

Realizing he had been rude he extended his hand towards her. Her gloved hand wrapped around his and he looked down at their grasp and then back at her face. "Finn. Finn Hudson."

"Well, Finn Hudson, I thank you very much for your generosity. I really appreciate you fitting me in."

He pulled his skull cap down over his ears. "Yeah, don't mention it." He awkwardly shuffled his boots against the snow covered sidewalk and then shoved his hands into his pockets. "Well I better go, I guess I'll see you in the morning." He stood up quickly and hurried down the sidewalk. He needed to get away from Rachel Berry before she found out anything else about his personal life. The way she'd reacted so far made him think she might break into convulsions if she found out he used a red toothbrush. And there was no way he could handle one more look of adoration.

"Bye, Finn!" She hollered after him. "See you at nine!"

He turned onto one of the side streets and disappeared into the night. He wanted to get as far away from Rachel as possible before she realized that he'd left the guitar she'd dragged from the dumpster sitting by the bench. He would look at her car in the morning but that was it. He was still done with music.

Rachel sat on the bench and watched as Finn Hudson hurried away from her. She knew she had been out-of-line and should have left him alone the minute he told her that he wasn't going to be playing his music any longer, but she just couldn't. At first her interest had been merely about the music but now it was about the man. He was running from something, from someone, and of course cutting the link to his pain seemed like the most logical solution. Rachel knew first hand that it was never that simple.

As the perfect white flakes floated down and landed against the jacket she had just brushed off, she looked down at the sidewalk and realized that Finn hadn't taken his guitar with him. She thought that if he'd seen it again he would've recognized how hasty his decision was, but she rationalized that convincing him to continue playing was going to be harder than she thought. As it turns out there was actually a person in the universe who was more stubborn than she was.

She stood up and pulled the guitar case into her hand. She dragged it behind her slightly as her footsteps interrupted the perfect blanket of snow against the sidewalk. She wished she had more of a plan in mind when it came to how she was going to convince Finn that he needed to share his music, but she really had no idea what she was supposed to do. Hearing him sing, hearing his words, had ignited something inside of her and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that people needed to know what he had to say.

As the thoughts swirled around in her mind she kept focusing on one underlying truth…

She couldn't let him give up like she had.