Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
Author: Peanutbutter
Pairing: Rachel/Puck and Quinn/Finn
Note: This hasn't been beta read so there are probably a few mistakes. I'm sorry, in advance if there are a lot. I try to read over the story several times before I post but I'm impatient. This story is a 'what if' and though I don't really see things happening this way, its a nice place to visit, or at least it is for me.
For Each Ecstatic Instant
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
By: Emily Dickenson
So in the end they gave her up. Not to the Shusters, none of them wanted their child, innocent and sweet, her tufts of soft black hair and blue eyes in the arms of Terri Shuster and her creative medicating. Not to mention Mr. Shuster had no idea. They picked a couple out of dozens, each to them meeting and asking questions, ridiculous ones about football teams, and serious ones about religion, and family. Between the three of them they made a decision. Finn gripped her fingers, solemn silent, Quinn squeezed his back her eyes tearing, and Puck clenched his fists at his sides silently nodded though everything inside him said the decision was wrong.
Quinn watched her fingers spread across the cross haired glass as her baby's new parents, oblivious to her presence helped clean her up, put her tiny perfect foot on that piece of white paper and smeared her footprint in the small box. She'd spent ten hours of arduous labor trying to get her out, with Finn clutching her hand and Puck standing in the corner with a mantra of 'oh shit' repeatedly leaving his lips. In the end all three of them cried, and though Finn was her boyfriend her love, she felt worse for Noah. His eyes misted and he turned away from the both of them when she was laid in his arms, squirming and cooing. She was covered in goo, her nostrils suctioned but her body still too pink to be normal. He called her beautiful, kissed her damp head and handed her back to Quinn, and retreated into the hallway.
Quinn watched after him feeling, she was sure, just what he was, overwhelming love and chasm of guilt that threatened to drag her under. She loved her. The wretched little night kicker, who had given her heart burn, pain, worry, swollen feet, and an aching back for nine months and she loved her more than words could express. She watched Finn stroke her cheek, smiling. He loved her anyway, even though she wasn't his. She didn't want to give her away.
She decided not to name her. She was too afraid of the attachment that was blossoming of the possessive way Noah would press his ear to her stomach and listen, and Finn, his goofy grin, would wait with his hand over her stomach begging her to kick for hours. She rolled her eyes and pushed them away, but she didn't tell them that she talked to her all the time, that she was afraid of what would come next. She cried when they finally agreed on a family, alone, curled against her sheets sobbing because it was too messed up.
A hand slipped into hers. Finns comforting hold brought her back to herself and her hand slipped from the glass as the new parents took pictures. She blinked, tears slipping down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess her breasts ached, her body screamed, her eyes stung. She wasn't supposed to be up. She wasn't supposed to care so much.
"I came to find you. You're not supposed to be moving around." He's worried. She's broken.
"Finn, I cant," she paused her lips caught between her lips, "tell me, tell me again why we cant keep her."
He's silent his hand tightening on hers. She knows he doesn't want to give her up. He feels like the father. He feels like she does. She turns away from the glass. Her voice quavering she whispers. "Lie to me Finn, tell me that it's better this way, and lie to me if you have to."
He follows her as she heads back to the room and he has to support her half way back. He finally finds his voice when they step though the door. "She's going to be perfect, Quinn, happy and loved. She'll have working parents, old enough to take care of her, to love her." His voice breaks and she has to pretend she doesn't hear it. "They'll love her better than we could."
She cries again, sobs shaking her body, and she collapses against the bed her head in her hands. Finn wraps himself around her holding her close, letting her cry.
He's afraid to see her again. He can't bear the thought of her fingers wrapping around somebody elses hand. He wants her blue eyes to look at him, wide and blinking, when she says her first words. He wants to stroke her soft tuft of dark hair with his fingers, to kiss her, to love her, to take care of her, but he knows that he can't. The thought makes his stomach clench and a knot roll to life in his throat. He cant push it away and his face heats and his eyes burn and it's hard to breathe.
He still feels her weight, slight, but significant on his arms, against his chest. How can he leave her? How can he walk away when he's never loved somebody so much in his life? He doesn't understand how his father could do it. He left, didn't look back, didn't call, but Noah knew what it felt like to have a child, to hold her to watch her grow in her mothers stomach. He knew the connection. He could never walk away. He'd made a vow, years ago, that he would be a good father. He would stand by his child, but here he was, letting her go. How was he going to let her go?
"Noah?"
He doesn't look up because it would just figure it would be Rachel Berry to find him, especially when he was an emotional mess. She'd been interesting since the entire story of the baby and the real father came out. Surprisingly she didn't pick a side. She watched. She touched his hand when Finn refused to stay in the same room with him. Of course he pulled away and of course she followed her fingers clasping the edge of his, holding, a hold as insignificant as a paper chain, but he couldn't break free.
She hugged Finn, talked with him, was his friend when he couldn't be. She didn't date him, like he figured she would, running to him now that he was free, but Finn, had grown to love Quinn more than even he knew, and Noah realized that he would never love Quinn Fabray despite the life he put inside her. He loved his daughter. He loved Quinn, but he wasn't in love with her, and Finn, he felt horrible about Finn, and some how Rachel snuck into their little triangle making it a square. He didn't know what he felt about her.
"Fuck, Berry," he hissed because he was close to losing it and he wasn't going to do that in front of the Gleek. "Go away."
She paused her feet, probably clad in Patten leather Mary janes whispered squeaks against the tiled floor. She was fidgeting, silent. Rachel Berry was a lot of things but silent wasn't one of them. She was always launching into some sort of rant like silence was a disease. Even when they had dated, that strange whirlwind of a week, he spent most of the time listening to her rant, or letting his mind wander while she kept talking, and talking. He didn't talk a lot. He didn't need to, but Berry, god she made it her extra curricular activity.
"I saw her. Shes beautiful."
He swallows, his adams apple bobbing impressively and he feels like the time he tried to swallow an entire hot dog when he was ten. It got stuck, but he forced his esophagus to swallow despite the pain. Whatever was sticking to his throat was too big to swallow. He clenched his teeth, his eyes burned. Fuck her, fuck her for saying that. He couldn't say that to her, not when he was going to cry like a gigantic pussy if he opened his mouth. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest clenching his fists. He dug his nails into his palms, narrowed his eyes.
He wished he'd been wiser when he'd tried to escape shrugging away from his mother telling her he was hungry, but really he couldn't stand in the room any longer, knowing what he was about to do. He meant to escape but he went straight to the vending machines. He wasn't hungry, didn't figure he would be for a long time. His stomach was still churning. His mother must have told her where he was. He shifts, his eyes searching the machine. Everything looks like shit.
"I was surprised when I went to the room, to check on Quinn and Finn, and you, to find it completely empty. I mean she just gave birth. She shouldn't be walking around but seeing how Finn was missing as well I logically assumed they were together. I thought maybe you were with them as well, but I ran into your mother and she told me you were going to get something to eat. I know now that, perhaps my presence here wasn't the best idea. You're all hurting and I'm not really a part, but I was worried..." She trailed off.
Noah glared at the M&Ms. He fucking hated those M&Ms. Sitting in that fucking machine, demanding he pay for them. Well fuck the machine and the hospital. It was highway robbery to charge sick and sad people a dollar twenty-five for that pack. They were like fifty cents at the Wal-Mart.
"Noah," she was right beside him. He didn't even hear her sneaking up on him. She put her fingers on his shoulder, squeezed. He tensed even more from her touch, her fingers stroking his tightly coiled muscles. His jaw twitched. He blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek, unbidden, unwanted, and unacceptable. He shrugged out of her touch, reared back with a yell that sent her mary-janes scrambling backwards and hit the vending machine. He felt his knuckles split with the first strike, pain flared;his hand ached. He'd hit directly over those M&Ms rocking the machine the candy shook chaotically. He swung again. The pain was white, bursting in front of his eyes in a startburst of light. The machine rocked, buzzed, his blood roared. He heaved his breathing heavy and loud. His chest was rising rapidly his fingers were shaking, he couldn't feel the tips.
"Noah, Noah, stop," her fingers were on him again pulling his head away from the vending machine. He continued to glare. Her touch was soft her voice a whisper. Her lips were against his ear, murmuring. He couldn't make out her words. His head was buzzing. He shook it. She pulled him away from the vending machine, touched his face, and forced his eyes on hers. She was crying tears spilling from her eyes. He watched her, still not hearing.
Didn't she understand? He was no better than his father. He was running and his daughter would never know how much he wanted her. How his heart had swelled when he pressed her to his chest, heard her heart beat for the first, stroked her check, tickled her palm, realized that she might look just like him when she grew up. He wouldn't be able to tell her because he was no different than the father who'd left him waiting on his eighth birthday, crying on his ninth, and angry for everyone after that. One day she might, the girl he wasn't allowed to name, might hate him just like that.
"I cant keep her." He didn't know he'd spoken until the sound of his own voice reached his ears. He was still angry, still raging, but she pulled him close against her slight frame, down to her ridiculously short shoulder, and hugged him.
His chest swelled, his throat clogged and the heat that had rolled over him rushed to life. He trembled, fell into her. He didn't want to cry, not on her, not to anyone. His fingers fisted in her shirt, that stupid button down sweater. Finn and Quinn had each other and he, he didn't have anyone, but Rachel Berry.
They named her Sarah Anne Carmicheal. Was it wrong to think it was a stupid name? It was after all her new name. She had no choice in it. Puck said it sounded 'fucking stupid'. He was holding out for Lilly. He said as much while his hand was tightly clasped around Rachel Berry's small fingers. He squeezed her fingers when ever he spoke and Rachel held his hand, touched his arm, stroked the crook of his elbow and he leaned toward her taking a bit of that fiery strength for himself. Finn envied it. Not them, but Rachel's straight shoulders and tight mouth. She would pull him through, she was strong, but he wasn't, and Quinn was devastated.
He turned away from them following their line of sight to the baby sleeping just in front of them. She was hard not to look at. She was striking, olive skin, dark hair, blue eyes. She looked just like Puck, yet she still felt like a part of him.
He was holding out for Drizzle because she reminded him, even out of the womb and a real tiny person, of a fresh misting rain. She was new and sweet like the soft dirt of the practice field after a good rain. He used to sit just outside his window his feet dangling onto the porch listening to the rain, feeling the mist on his skin. He loved that feeling and even though nothing should tie him to her, to little Drizzle, he loved her too. Life was a little, well to take a phrase from Puck, 'fucked up'.
"Sarah's not that bad," he whispered because it was too quiet and he couldn't stand looking at her and not talking. He should be proud, laughing shaking hands, smiling, it was life after all, but nothing about the moment made him want to celebrate.
Puck snorted. " Dude, did you ever know a Sarah you liked?"
His voice sounded like he'd gargled gravel. Finn tried not to think about it. "There was Sarah, uh, Scott, from third grade. She was nice."
"Yeah, maybe," he paused, "Lillys better, at least it means something," he cleared his throat, shifted, his shoes squeaked. "Not that it matters."
"Drizzle means something." He piped up. Neither answers.
She stirs, little Drizzle, or Lilly, shaking a fist and opening her little mouth. They all watch her wiggle free of her blanket her small pink hat hardly staying in place. He wants to hold her. His shoulders tense.
"Princess," Rachel blurts, which isn't so unusual. She blurts a lot of stuff out and most of it doesn't make sense at all, but this time he quirks a brow and is about to venture into just why she said that. "Sarah," she whispers, "it mean Princess."
Finn looks away from Rachel and back to Drizzle, or Sarah, she balls her tiny hands into fists and shakes them in a mini tantrum. Just like a Princess. Maybe its alright after all, not as stupid as he first thought. Princess is something he can hang on to.
"It's got Hebrew origins," she continues.
Finn isn't really listening any more. He's watching his Princess, smiling a bit, before he remembers she's not his Princess. He frowns turns from her and backs away from the glass. He doesn't know if he'll be able to look at her again. It's too hard. He swallows, glances at Rachel and Puck, before ducking his head.
"I'm going to see Quinn."
They don't answer, or stop him and he takes a breath to try and keep his emotions in check. He can't cry, not when Quinn can't take a breath without tears rolling down her cheeks. He's the man, he'll be strong, for her, like Rachel is for Puck.
She's curled on her side, back facing the door, when he walks in. She's shaking. He shoves his hands into his pockets. They're shaking too and takes a step toward her. She stops for a moment, the shakes ceasing and he thinks, for a moment, that she's stopped breathing but her voice rushes toward him.
"Finn?" She doesn't move and he pauses wondering if he should tell her what the parents have named their baby. He didn't want to know, but he did, but she, she was... "Finn, is it you?"
"Yeah," he manages and forces his feet to move forward. "I'm sorry I was just," he swallows, "I was checking on Puck." He clears his throat. He can't tell her he was staring at the baby/Drizzle/Lily/Sarah, besides Puck was there. So it wasn't a lie. He was checking, and watching, and wondering just what kind of decision they had made, regretting, running back to logic, then regretting again.
"Where is he?"
She still hasn't rolled toward him, her voice measured and clipped her chest barely rises in breath between each sentence. He's not surprised she asked. Puck has been like their little shadow, rightfully so, for the past four months. He badly wanted to be involved. The three has scarcely been apart up until today.
He's still here. He's with Rachel. Is it odd to think of them together? Surprisingly, no. He doesn't know just when the two of them didn't generate a strong reaction. For Puck hatred, jealously, and Rachel a longing of 'what ifs' it had been a long time since he'd felt either and right now he was at an emotional overload. He just felt empty.
She laughed. It was soft, sorrowful and hardly joyful but it was a laugh. She followed it with a giggle. Her body shook and for a horrified moment he thought she was crying again, but she rolled toward him pulling the hospital sheet taught across her stomach, her nearly flat stomach. The sight was odd, but not nearly as odd as the sounds coming out of her mouth.
"What, Quinn," he rushed to her desperate to do something. Was she having a break down? Should he get a nurse? Her face turned red. Oxygen, electric shock, his heart starts to race. He can't do this. Hes panicking.
"I never would have thought." She breathes and pushes her blond hair out of her eyes, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Her nails were bitten to the quick, no longer long and manicured, polished, and perfect. "Noah 'Puck' Puckerman and Rachel Berry," she snorts. "He used to throw slushies at her every week, sometimes twice. He used to hate her."
Finn shrugs. Who was he to judge, he'd helped throw Kurt Hummel in a trash can and egged Rachel's house. He wasn't going to talk about it. Rachel was, she was something that didn't matter between the two of them anymore.
"Are you alright?"
She puts her hands down and smiles, though only half her mouth quirks upward. "No, I'm not." She wipes another tear but her blues eyes are dry. "But I plan to be."
Finn sits on the edge of the bed his hand on her shoulder squeezing. "I love you."
She puts her other hand on his. "I love you too."
He looks at the floor because its hard to talk. The speech that wants to flood out his mouth is a long time coming. He's had it planned, but it wasn't supposed to be today, not the day Quinn gave birth, and Puck nearly broke his hand, and he lost his daughter. He planned it for something fancier, something happier, but he needs to hear an answer and he wants to tell her just what he's thinking.
"Quinn?"
"Yeah."
She strokes his arm her body curled around him though he still sits up. Her knees are pressing into his thigh, her elbow in his lap. He takes her hand, kisses her quick bitten fingers lightly, and stares at the door. He should stare at her, but he's, he's, really a wuss.
"Quinn Fabray, I want," he swallows, "I want you to marry me. Not now," he adds quickly when her stroking arm stills. "When we finish High School and maybe college, but I want to ask you now. I want you to know," he thinks of Sarah's little hands, he wishes she was really his, "that one day I want this, for us, a baby, ours, and I want us to be a family."
She's too silent when he finishes and he can't keep from looking at her anymore so he turns. She's crying again. He thought for sure she couldn't cry anymore. He wanted to keep her from pain and heart ache. He wanted to make her happy.
"I'm sorry," he backtracks trying to fix it, anything to get that look off her face. "I just..."
"Shut up," she hiccups her hand tightens on his when he tries to rise. "What are you sorry for you big idiot. I've never heard anything so beautiful in my life. I've always wanted to marry you Finn Hudson."
He leans in, kisses her forehead, her cheek, her other cheek and smiles against her lips as he kisses her again.
Her hand hovers over the knob for the radio as he gets in her car. He hasn't said much, but he cried. Noah doesn't cry especially in front of her. He's pretty broken, and why shouldn't he be. He just lost his daughter. She pulls her hand away from the knob. No, no music, not this time. Maybe later, when he feels better, when his right hand isn't covered in white gauze and he doesn't grip her free fingers with his left exerting such force she fells like his grip will eventually prove fatal, too much pressure. She doesn't say anything about it, not when his thumb is rubbing her knuckles and his mouth is so straight, and tight, and obviously pressed shut by force of extreme will.
She extracts her hand to crank the car but sets it on the between the seats. It doesn't take long for his fingers to find hers. He's still silent. She, for once, doesn't know what to say. Her level of experience ended about five months back when she found out Noah was the real father of Quinn's baby. She didn't know what to think, not about Quinn, or Noah, or Finn for that matter. It wasn't something she ever would have envisioned.
She didn't bring it up to her Dads, and she always talked everything over with them, at least everything that was important. They didn't need to know about her weekly slushie showers, or the names, the pictures, the ridicule, but she told them about Finn, round about, about Puck, even if it only lasted a week. But this, this situation was beyond words, even for somebody with an expanded vocabulary such as her own. They didn't know that she was at the hospital. It was a week day and she felt marginally bad about skipping class, but the situation seemed to warrant the infraction especially since she had been in the parking lot when Quinn went into labor.
Her wide eyes had been so afraid, but not nearly as scared as Noah, who'd seen her slip from across the lot and run over, or even Finns ridiculously pale face. She had been no help what so ever only extra hands that weren't needed and a hysterical question thrower. She wanted to know their plan, and had been near panic herself when she divulged that there was no plan. That would have been her first priority if shed been in Quinn's position. A plan, a plan was everything, but that thought alone was why she didn't tell her Dads about Quinn, Finn, and Noah. That situation wasn't in any plan, let alone their own. Which was why, she assumed, Noah was so quiet. He hadn't even planned for the end result though he'd known about it for months. Everybody knew they were giving the baby away.
She's been idling for only a moment, but she feels unsure as she puts the car in reverse. She's supposed to be taking Noah home, but she wonders, despite the fact that he told her in very few words that he wanted to go there, if that is what he really wants. She glances at him. His eyes are red rimmed, his cheeks swollen. He looks terribly tragic. She wants to hold him again.
"So you want to go home?" She keeps her eyes on him as he shrugs. She presses realizing before she does that it probably isn't smart. He's not in the position or the mood to be pressed. She does it anyway. Sometimes she can't stop herself. She hopes the problem will remedy itself with age, but she doesn't hold much stock in the belief. "If there's somewhere else, or if I was too forward in asking to take you home. I, I mean your car is still at school and your mother is already home. Not that you wouldn't want to talk to your mother, but I feel like you don't much want to talk to anybody at the moment." She pauses when his jaw twitches. She feels stupid. His hand loosens on her fingers. The release of pressure is glorious and devastating. He lets her fingers completely loose. She doesn't know what to do with her hand. "Perhaps you need to talk to Quinn, or Finn, or even..."
He sighs; surprisingly its enough to shut her mouth. His hand free, strange without her own wrapped around his long fingers, pressed against his calloused palm, presses against his thigh. She swallows wishing she had the ability to just be quiet.
"Rachel, just get me out of here," he answers, not moving his hand. "I want to be anywhere else."
He calls her by her first name so she knows he's serious. He rarely does that, not since their ill fated relationship has her first name passed his lips. She backs out, both hands on the wheel. She doesn't know if she should lay it back between the two of them or if the act in presumptuous. She wants to comfort him, not pressure him. Sometimes she thinks she leans too far in the way of pressure as if her gauge of such things is of kilter. She cares, she does, but she wants too badly for things to work out. She told Noah as much, she wants everything too much. It messes with her ability to function like a normal human being.
She decides not to take him home, not yet. She takes him to the park. The day is already falling away by the time they pull in and her head lights have already automatically cut on. It's getting colder. The park is empty. The four baseball fields connected on the left and right sides with a concessions stand nestled in the middle of the strange circle were quiet. Nobody played ball in the winter. Little league teams swarmed the fields during the spring and summer, but winter was its dead time. Not that it really mattered to her. The baseball fields had nothing to do with why she came to the park.
Noah looks up as they pull in and turns to her, giving her a little bit of Puck incredulity. He raises a brow as she pulls out of the lot and into the grass soccer fields. His hand hasn't touched hers since they left the hospital. He hasn't even glanced her way, though she's looked at him, slumped against the passenger side window, eyes closed to slits, his fingers wringing themselves in his lap.
"You planning to seduce me, Berry?" He asks as she shuts the car off. He's trying, but his voice fails to reach that particular level of sarcasm that usually masks his words and she can let the comment slide. She knows he's trying to be and feel something he isn't.
"I come here when I'm feeling particularly down." She confesses. She shifts to face him, unhooks her seatbelt so that she can see his face. Of course at that moment the car's interior lights cut off plunging them into darkness, so much for looking at him while she talked. She could just make out the outline of his face lit by the moon as he looked out the window, it would be enough.
"Because you want to get raped by homeless freaks, Berry you're deranged." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I hope you keep your doors locked."
"It's perfectly safe," she admonishes surprised by his observation. She never thought about anything bad happening. "Besides there's a patrol man that passes over the park every hour, I see the lights."
"Does he stop?"
Rachel pauses, "Um, no, but..."
"Then I don't imagine he's real observant. You're sitting out here all by yourself, asking for trouble, I might add, and he just passes by. A big ol 'fuck you' to the innocent girl sitting in the car, all alone, at night."
"Noah," she tries, but he's still talking. Shes never heard him talk quite so much.
"Do you even have a can of mace in here?" He opens her glove box, tossing things out before she can answer.
She crinkles her brow, "I don't think that's necessary."
He starts again, "Nope, nothing. I thought you were 'Miss Prepared For the Future'." He puts air quotes around the last part.
"I don't really think..."
"The future, damn what's with that bullshit? All Ive been hearing since this whole thing started was the future, this and that. Either I'm not ready for it, or not good enough for it. Can you imagine, Berry, not good enough for your own future. How do you fix that problem?"
"Noah, really..." She cant finish a sentence and for once he can't stop talking. It's a bizarre role reversal.
"I had a plan, yeah, despite what she thought, I had a plan. I was getting out. My business, or whatever, was just a stepping stone. I was going places. I just, I didn't figure I'd have to push it into effect so soon. Then there was my GPA, the SAT, and what the fuck is with all the acronyms. Instead of all that shit just say Grade Point Average, or Standardized A..." he trails off.
"Achievement Test," Rachel supplies.
"Right, what-the fuck-ever, and why, all the sudden, did I have to worry about my class rank. I mean nobody even knows what theirs is."
"I'm 10." She bites her lips because he looks at her then, and even though she can't see his face she's afraid she might have said something wrong.
"Do colleges look at that?"
She didn't even know Noah wanted to go to college. She decides that it's not worth worrying him over. "Not really, don't worry about it."
"Right," he turns back to the glove box, where moments ago he was pulling stuff out. He starts to stuff things back in, haphazardly stuffing, shoving, and bending. Her eyes widen and she's glad he can't see her face.
"So whats with all that, and then there's her."
She's trying to follow she really is, but she doesn't really believe he's talking to her so much as just talking out loud. She just happens to be his sound board. He shoves in the drivers manual, folds it in half, and slams the door shut.
"She's," he puts is hands on the dash, smacks it smartly, "she's supposed to be the reason." He balls his hands into fists. He winces when he tries to do it to the right hand, and she hopes it's enough to deter him from hitting her car and most likely breaking his hand.
He stops long enough for her to speak. Her voice sounds too soft, even in her own ears, and she wonders if it's loud enough for him to hear. "Who's the reason?"
"Her," he answers back as if that explains it all. "I was doing it for her, for my daughter, because," he takes a breath not quite shuddering, but loose. His voice is thick when he continues, "Because I'm not like him."
He falls into silence eyes cast downward. Her heart breaks because despite it being private information everybody knows Noah Puckerman's father left when Noah was ten and his sister was a year old.
"Your father?" She asks.
He sucks in a breath. "I'm not like that."
It's almost a question. "You're not." She tells him, not because he wants to hear it but because its the truth.
He looks up, not at her, but out the window. He's silent again and there's a brooding familiarity to it, more like the Noah she knew before all this, but the silence also scares her. She knows he doesn't believe her. He still feels like that Lima Loser his father is labeled as. She doesn't know how to make him believe that he's nothing like that so she changes gears.
"Do you know why I come here?"
"I haven't the slightest," he mumbles.
She presses on. "Did you ever come here in the summer, around July?"
He turns toward her, "For the Lima Summer Fest?"
"Right," she smiles because the memory is rich, my Dads took me every year.
"I used to go with Finn every year. In fact I remember you," he trails off and turns away, "never mind."
"Yes, one year I was performing in the talent show and you and your Neanderthal friends doused me in snow cone." It had been cherry. Cherry juice dripping down her costume, staining the white pink, she changed back into her regular clothes and performed anyway. Her fathers didn't think to ask her about the missing costume.
"Sorry."
He does sound sorry, but she presses on her eyes focused on the grassy field in front of her. "Not the point. I'm telling you because at the end of the night, before they started the fireworks, they had a concert. I don't always remember who sang, but I remember wanting to be up there. My fathers were holding my hands, and I would hear the music and I knew, I knew, I would be up there." She knows shes running off track so she backs away from the bright lights and singing voices to the point. "So when ever I have a bad day I come here. I close my eyes and see the lights, the fans, and no matter what I feel better."
"Nice," He doesn't look up from the floor.
"I want you to try." She encourages.
"I don't really dream of singing in front of millions." He confesses.
Rachel shakes her head and reaches across the car grabbing his arm. He tenses and she tries to ignore the disappointment, this isn't about her, or even about the two of them, its about Noah. She pulls him back until his back is against the seat, his head on the rest. She reaches over him her arm against his, her chest hovering inches over his. He's breathing deeply, calmly. She grabs the knob by his seat and he falls backward and further away from her stretched body
"What are you doing?" He asks, slight annoyance slipping into his voice, but it's soft and he's not pulling away, so she continues.
"I'm creating the mood, Noah," she explains and puts her hand over his face. His skin is warm, soft. She runs her hands over his eyes forcing them closed. I'll move my hand if you promise to keep your eyes closed.
"This is stupid." His lip is curling to the side.
"Fine, the hand stays." She shifts to face him her hip resting on the consul between the seats. She ducks a bit so her head doesn't hit the ceiling. "What do you see?"
"You're hand," his sarcasm is thick.
"Noah," she hisses. "Tell me what you see."
"I see nothing Berry because my eyes are closed and this is pointless." He starts to sit up. Rachel puts her hand on his chest pushing him forcefully back down. "If you don"t let me up," He growls leaving the threat hanging.
"Noah, shut up, try it, once." She's surprised enough by her own outburst to guess Noah is stunned into silence as well. "Tell me what you want."
He sighs heavily but doesn't try to sit up again. She waits. The only sound is their breathing. His is still calm, lazy even, and she can feel his warm breath as he exhales and the expelled air hits her arm. Her's isn't nearly as calm. Shes cramped and uncomfortable, her breathes are shallow and short, but she stays still, waiting.
"I want," he starts after an agonizing silence. His tongue darts out and licks his lips. "I see," he pauses his voice lowering. "I can't do this. I can't have what I want."
"Say it even if you can't have it." She waits and she feels his lashes flutter under her fingers tickling her skin.
He doesn't speak immediately, but when he does his voice has dropped an octave. "Did you see the way her cheeks pinked up and her skin paled to a normal hue after she'd been sitting in the incubator for a while? I thought she was beautiful before, but when she was all dry and sleeping she was, is, just beyond." His voice is barely a whisper and she has to lean close to hear the last of it.
"Do you see her now?" Rachel asks her voice a tremble.
He blinks against her hand, as if his eyes are open behind her hand and he really sees what he's imagining. His voice is even softer. "Yeah."
"What do you want?"
"There's a park, near my house, where my Mom used to take me when I was little." He clears his throat. "I want to take her there."
Rachel leans close to his ear. "Take her."
"And I want her to see me play ball, even if she wont remember, and I want her to hear us sing in competition."
Her hand is wet. She tries to ignore it.
"I want to sing her to sleep at night, to teach her the guitar, to ride a bike, to punch the fucker who tries to date her." His voice rises a bit. "I want her to know I love her, that I didn't just walk away."
He doesn't say anything else and despite his even breathing her hand is soaked. She doesn't remove the cover from his eyes but waits a moment for him to calm down.
"Don't you see," she whispers, "if that's what you see, what you want, you're nothing like your father. You gave her up, you and Quinn, and Finn, because you thought it was best. You want her because you love her, but you gave her away because you love her too."
She lifts her hand from his face, hoping he isn't mad. He grabs her before she can see just what he's thinking and pulls her to him. Her face slams into his shoulder and she bites her tongue, but he pulls her the rest of the way onto his side of the car, onto his lap her legs bent awkwardly around the seat. His arms, too strong to be shaking, wrap around her shoulders and hold her against his chest. He buries his face in her hair.
It takes a moment for her to get her bearings and reciprocate the hug. Her arms, trapped between their chests, wiggle free and she reaches around him with one and to his head with the other, stroking the short hair of his scalp. He doesn't make a sound but pulls her closer and she holds him, hoping she's helped him a bit.
It's a long time before either one of them speaks. His good hand strokes her hair, gently pulling out the tangles, and the other roams her back, her sides. He's always come off as a person who craves physical contact, but this is something more than instant gratification, more than sex, because she knows tha'ts the last thing on his mind, and hers as well. Her face against his chest, she listens to his heart beat. She doesn't think about how long shes laid there, or what time it is, or even if her Dads are going crazy. In fact, for one of the few times in her life, she thinks very little.
Just as her eyes start to drift shut, lulled by the rhythmic sound of his heart, he shifts, forcing her into awareness. He doesn't push her up or even attempt to get up, but scoots lower in the seat, pulling her toward his face. He pushes her hair behind her ear and leans in, his breath tickling.
"Thank you," he whispers his lips nearly touching her ear and Rachel smiles.
The End. I hope you like. Its my first Glee fic so tell me what you think. The story wouldn't format correctly so if you notice any missing commas or quotation marks I'm sorry. I tried to catch all the missed ones.