The Dream, a glee fanfic

If only.

In the wee hours of Christmas morning, Finn was woken by his wife moving restlessly next to him.

"Rach?" he called out softly, but soon realized she was still asleep, but dreaming. Dreaming something that greatly upset her.

"Finn, no..."

"It's that nightmare again," he muttered to himself as he tried to still her movements. He was very careful, he shouldn't startle her, but all the same he hated knowing she was being tormented by that might-have-been one more time. He felt a little guilty at it too, from what he had done to almost go down that path.

"Surrender..." she moaned, removing any doubt he might have had. At least it seemed less major, nowhere near the force of the first time she'd had the dream, that full experience of her going to New York without him and what happened after. He had come to pick her up that morning, holding back his own tears and expecting to find her happily thinking they were going to get married, and instead had found her far more distraught than he'd ever thought possible.

A chill went down his spine at the memory, a shadow of what he'd felt then. He had always discounted Rachel's claims to be "a bit psychic", as she put it, but it was hard to find any other explanation of her dream, and her panic at it – a dream that started with an exact reflection of what he had intended to do.

Her fathers had known, of course, but they hadn't told her. Same with their friends in Glee Club, though they hadn't known quite as much. He'd sworn them to secrecy then, and had explained to her dads afterwards that he hadn't been able to go through with it and apologized for all the back-and-forth he was putting them through. But even if one of them had thought better of the whole thing and told Rachel before he had arrived, there was no way any of them could have known the words Finn had practiced to say. Nobody could have. So hearing "you told me we had to surrender and let the universe do its thing" wrenched from Rachel had shocked him.

And then he had become still more shocked, terrified at Rachel's utter panic, at how she held onto him so tightly he could barely breathe, sobbing hard, only a few words recognizable here and there as she struggled to get out the rest of what she had dreamed.

"And then – and then –" she had gasped for breath.

"And what, baby? Rach?"

"And then you – you died, Finn!" She had passed her hands rapidly over his face, almost poking an eye out in her desperation to verify that he was truly there. "You made me leave without you, and you shot yourself in the army, and came to New York but went back to Lima, and there was – oh but then – and then you were gone, forever –" she had dissolved into sobs, too broken to continue.

He had held her close, standing there stunned, letting her bury her face into his chest. She had dreamed it all, what he had planned to do, and he had died?

He had known in that moment he couldn't go through with it. He couldn't marry her either, still worried he was going to hold her back and anyway he'd cancelled the ceremony, but even if he'd been able to shift the sobbing Rachel from his arms, he couldn't let her go.

But they still couldn't get married then. So he had soothed her, kissed away her tears, convinced her she was too upset for the wedding to go ahead, they would want it to be a happy day after all. Once she had been settled he had made a few phone calls on the sly to let the others know the plan was off, wishing he'd never thought of it at all.

After that there was no way she would have gone anywhere without him. So they put plans together to move to New York, Rachel to attend NYADA, Finn to see what he could make happen for himself, and when Kurt threw in with them too it was like they'd planned it all along.

Better, even, with serendipity knocking. Kurt managed to get into NYADA's spring term, a planned Funny Girl revival was perfectly timed for the end of Rachel's first year, and Finn turned out to catch the eye of a soap opera casting director. They all worked hard and sometimes didn't see each other that much, but success came rapidly. Finn found the screaming girls that all declared themselves his "biggest fan" very bemusing, though he didn't mind it one bit. But he knew it had come so close to not happening, if Rachel hadn't had that dream; so he cherished his life all the more for how fragile it was, and knew his real biggest fan was responsible for it all. As well as her being Broadway's newest Tony winner.

He did eventually confess to her that he had made the plan, not long before asking her to marry him again, five years later. They had stayed engaged the whole time, but once they were both established and he felt the time was finally right for them to say "I do" – third time most definitely being the charm – he'd needed to know there wasn't any lingering secret that could come between them, and ask her again. She had been upset, but had held onto him tightly and said she was so, so thankful he hadn't gone through with it.

But every so often she had the dream again, like she was in touch with another universe, one where the worst had happened. Special occasions sometimes brought it on, or visits of her dads. They were expected tomorrow for the holiday, along with his mom and Burt. In previous years they had travelled to Lima, but given Rachel's condition they'd all agreed Christmas would be in New York this year.

"He was my person..." Rachel whimpered again, and Finn kissed her temple.

"It's all right, baby, I'm here," he murmured, turning her into him. He started to sing lightly: (*)

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on, our troubles will be miles away
Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more

He felt her ease at the sound of his singing, just as she always did. He leaned down and addressed the next words to her protruding belly:

Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
So hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

He felt Rachel's fingers lace into his hair, and heard her voice join his.

Finn's heart swelled with love. And he wondered, as he had many times before, how he'd ever thought he couldn't be happy in New York. Especially at Christmas, he'd always loved Christmas but New York did Christmas dialed up to 11. And with his family now – Rachel and the little one to come – life had never been sweeter. Even in his best dreams. He raised his head and met Rachel's eyes, glad to see her awake, calm, and happy.

Here we are as in olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Gather near to us once more
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
So hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

They finished in harmony, their eyes sinking into each other.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"This is real?" she asked, as she often did.

"This is real." He touched his lips to hers. "Real," he whispered, letting her kiss him to feel the truth, happy to feel her mouth curve against his.

Their kiss broke as she winced, but now for a far better reason. "He's kicking again," she explained. "Getting strong."

Finn smirked. "Takes after his old man." He nestled Rachel against him, her abdomen close to his. "Come on Liam, kick me for a while instead. You'll be out in eight weeks, then we'll find you a tiny little chair and you can do it right."

Even with her insides under attack from their growing son, Rachel giggled. "I love you," she murmured. She burrowed further into his arms, inhaling his scent and smiling. "Finn, my Finn... I love you so very much."

Finn kissed her forehead. "I love you too, Rach. Always." The shadow of her dream slipped away, and with it the regret it always brought back. Instead he had happiness, and gratitude that she had first dreamed it when she had, to keep it only as a might-have-been and show the height of their joy.

And next year, oh next year – with their little family of three – next Christmas would be even sweeter.

* Lyrics by Hugh Martin.

Merry Christmas, fellow Finchelites.