I'm going to throw my usual disclaimers out there….I don't own Glee or the characters, just the ideas. This story is a bit more serious and heartbreaking. It actual hurts my heart to write this, but I just couldn't shake the idea in my head. Hope you enjoy it all the same.

Finn checked the frequency on his police radio once more. It had been a quiet night so far, only one call for assistance at the bank ATM machine. An elderly lady couldn't seem to understand that she needed a pin number to get money from the machine. In her frustration she dialed 911, the dispatcher thought the call was for someone attempting to rob the ATM machine. Finn had been the officer closest to the scene, so he responded with gun drawn only to find a tiny silver haired lady beating senselessly on the ATM machine. If anything, it got quite a rise out of the Lima Police Department.

His patrol car was parked at the Super 8 motel, tucked away in a hidden parking spot, waiting to catch a joyriding teen speeding through town or even a tourist unfamiliar with the speed limit. Not that he enjoyed giving speeding tickets, but if he met his monthly quota then that guaranteed him a weekend off. And a weekend off meant more time with Rachel.

They had been married just over a year and he had to admit marriage was totally not overrated as Puck had tried to tell him. Actually if he remembered correctly, Puck had said dude, marriage is just a scam so women can have men by the balls. Boy, was he wrong. Finn couldn't think of a better way to wake up each morning, watching Rachel's eyes flutter in her sleep, her breathing deep. Most mornings though, he was just crawling into bed as Rachel was waking up. One of the downfalls of being a rookie police officer was working most of the night shifts. Rachel worked part-time at the local bakery, aptly named A Pinch of Heaven and the rest of her time was usually spent helping out at the community theater. She seemed to enjoy her work and seeing her happy made Finn happy.

Laying his head back against the headrest, his mind began sorting through ideas for the addition to their house. Within the last month, they had moved into Finn's childhood home. His mother had refused to sell it after she and Burt married, instead renting out to a host of families over the years. Finn knew Rachel would have loved the idea of a larger, flashier house, but he had his heart set on their first home together being his first home. There was a lot of work and repairs that needed to be done and they were doing them slowly. Rachel had painted walls at night, while Finn refinished floors during the day with Puck and Sam's help. They still had a ways to go before the house was to their expectations, but it was looking more like home every day.

Stretching his arms out in front of him, Finn heard the familiar crackle of the police radio. He turned it up just a bit, as the dispatcher rambled off details and code.

"Units, we have a 10-55 traveling east on King's Highway. Vehicle is a white Ford Mustang. Driver is described as a Caucasian male, mid 30's, short brown hair."

Intoxicated driver, he thought. Finn keyed his radio. "This is unit 1988. I'm about 3 miles from King's Highway, on my way."

He started the car, peeling out of the motel parking lot, flipping his lights and sirens on. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he pushed the Dodge Charger past 70 mph. He was quite sure the car would have no problems reaching that speed, however he had never had to before. Not much seemed to happen on his watch.

He slowed as he approached a red light at an intersection, glancing both ways before speeding through with his lights and sirens blaring. The sirens were so loud in fact that he didn't hear the first crunch of metal. It took a moment for him to realize that his police car was careening off the road and toward a telephone pole. Instinctively he shut his eyes tight as his car wrapped around the pole, slicing it in half and throwing him out like a ragdoll.

"Rachel." Finn tried to speak, but it only came out as a whisper. He peeked through the slits of his eyes, seeing what appeared to be a man standing over him, holding his hand.

"Don't try to talk. Help is on the way." The man assured him, fear all too real in his voice. He strained to hear what the man was telling someone apparently standing next to him. He could only make out a few words through an unrelenting headache. It felt like eternity before the paramedics arrived. Finn's sight was beginning to get hazy and black. He felt so weak and struggled to breath, barely tasting the blood that had oozed into the corner of his mouth. He started to shake violently, taking in one last ragged breath.

This was probably the most difficult thing I have ever had to write. I really struggled with whether I should even write this story or not. I have never killed off a character, let alone one of my favorite characters, so rest assured I am just as heart broken as many of you will be, however I wanted to tell this story. So bear with me…