Rachel Berry stands outside room 126. Her hands are shaking, and she's having trouble breathing.
She's not supposed to be like this. Rachel Berry is a high-profile star; an A-lister. She doesn't get nervous. She glides through everything effortlessly, thanks to years of training. In fact, the opening night of her latest Broadway show is in just one week, and her new movie is coming out just next month, and she's performing on the Tony Awards this upcoming summer.
But she stands outside of room 126, and she can't bring herself to go inside. The door is open, and she just can't take those 6 steps. Although she'd never admit it, Rachel is scared.
Distractions. She needs distractions. She digs through her purse for her Blackberry, only to find it's battery is dead.
You're a coward, she thinks as she rubs her hands with hand sanitizer. That voice inside her head is her motivator, the thing that's driven her to where she is and before she has time to talk herself out of it, Rachel is walking into room 126, her heart beating faster than she's ever felt.
Her eyes automatically see him, and she feels her chest get heavy, as if she's floating on her back in a lake and someone has just placed a large stone on top of her. She doesn't want to approach him, but she knows it's inevitable.
She walks forward, baby steps, trying to avoid making her heels click against the linoleum. As she gets closer, she begins to see the finer details, recognizing him more with each step. He's becoming more real, and when she stops and sees him there, she grabs his hand by pure instinct. He's freezing cold.
He opens his eyes and looks up and his eyes still have that twinkle, but it's diminished so much she does see it immediately.
"Rachel?" He says, raspy and so far gone.
She smiles but her eyes begin to burn and she doesn't want to be here anymore.
"Yeah," She says quietly, and she tries to laugh but it hurts so damn much.
He grabs her and although it's weak, it's enough force for Rachel to fall into him. He breathes in the smell of her hair, the same after all these years, but she also smells of something that's familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, and he can't place it.
His body makes her feel cold and it scares her, because this isn't who she knew and this isn't who she left. She runs her hands along his back and the tears do fall, but only when he cannot see them.
She sits on his bed, criss-cross apple sauce style, even in a dress and heels, and tells him about New York and Los Angeles; the sun, the theater, the people, the experiences. She feels awful, sharing all these wonderful things about the World with him, knowing that he'll never see any of it. He tells her about his illness, how long it's been, how sad it's been, how much he's missed and how sick he feels all the time.
Rachel knows this moment, this single hour of chatting and reminiscing...it won't last. He'll get tired, and won't be able to talk anymore.
They hit an hour and just as she suspected, she sees him dimming, and decides it's time to go. She leans into him and kisses his forehead and her eyes fill again, and a few tears fall.
His eyes flicker, and he looks up and she knows he just wants to tell her to not leave again, but he knows nothing can change this.
"I love you, Rachel," He says, and it breaks her heart, she's positively broken in two.
"I love you too, so much, Finn," She says, and she hugs him until she feels him asleep in her arms. She lays his head down on his pillow and then walks out quietly.
Outside she sits on a bench and cries harder than she ever has, harder than after they lost Regionals or after they won Nationals or after she left Finn for the first time.
The thing that kills her the most is that his last memory of her will be her holding him in his arms, the smell of Jesse St. James wrapped around her like a scarf.
...
Finn Hudson sits up in his hospital bed and looks out the window. It's a clear, sunny day, and the nurse thinks going for a walk would be a good idea, but he'd rather not. Ever since Finn was diagnosed with Lymphoma, he didn't really like being outside, or sunshine, or rainbows. It'd been 2 years, but it'd been 2 bad years, and he was more or less done.
After focusing so hard on his baseball career, the only sport he was actually good at, and only making it to the minor Ohio leagues, he never got married, had kids, or bought an actual house. And even though he was still young enough to do all those things, Finn knew it was too late for him. He wasn't getting out of this hospital bed anytime soon, and although he often wished at 11:11 that he would be cured, his wishes were like what doctors would always say after putting him on some miracle drug: unresponsive.
Finn Hudson doesn't want to go outside for a walk, but he feels himself getting worse every day, and even though he thinks this might not be the last time he goes outside, it very well could be.
He takes a slow but steady lap around the lake behind the hospital, his arm linked with a nurse, then goes back inside and sleeps for the rest of the day.
At least he tried.
...
When Quinn Fabray wakes up, she thinks of him. She doesn't know why. She doesn't know if she likes it. But he's in her head, his face so vivid, and she knows there's no more time to be a chicken.
She drives in her minivan to the hospital, her blonde hair flying in the wind as she walks through the parking lot. She taps her foot in the elevator, impatient as always, and she enters his room with ease that Rachel Berry couldn't seem to capture. Quinn was different than other girls.
He's staring out the window when she walks in, and the confidence she had diminishes in a split second. She just wants to cry.
"Finn," She says, and he turns and looks at her. She can tell it takes him a few seconds to place her face, but he does and smiles.
"Quinn," He says, and he reaches out to her and she grabs his hand and hugs him.
She doesn't sit down as Rachel did, but remains standing, knowing that this visit will be brief. Although Finn has seen Quinn cry before, he even held her as she did a few times, she refuses to let that happen today.
She crosses her arms, and the thing she didn't want him to bring up is the first thing out of his mouth.
"You're pregnant?" He asks innocently, his eyes drifting to her stomach, then back to her eyes.
"Yes," She says coolly. "Almost 9 months."
She knows it's coming. She seems him look into her eyes and she feels herself wearing down emotionally.
"Who's the father?" He says.
His name rests on the tip of her tongue but she can't bring herself to say it. She steers her eyes away from Finn and stares out the window.
"Puck," She says quietly, and she squeezes her eyes shut so she can not see. Tears leak as she does this and when she opens her eyes, and looks back at him, he has copied her and is staring out the window.
Tears drip down his face and he makes no facial expressions and there's no noise, just the sight of this poor young man with tears slipping down his sunken cheeks, staring out at the sun and knowing nothing lasts forever and nothing changes.
"We're married, Finn," She says, and her throat hurts. She remembers sophomore year, his promises of marriage and everlasting love and having another baby when they were ready. It chills her to the bone and she sees the hurt in his eyes.
"Rachel was here last week," He says. "She came all the way from New York. She was different."
"Rachel Berry? She's famous," Quinn says, remembering the merciless teasing she bestowed upon Rachel in high school. "She came back to Ohio?"
"I think she only stayed one night, but she was here."
"How sweet of her."
"She's not coming back."
The baby kicks, and it hurts more than usual.
"I think she will," Quinn says, wiping a tear off his cheek.
He looks up at her, in his confused and childlike way.
"You're going to be a good mom, Quinn," He says quietly.
Quinn left only minutes later, unable to stand it anymore. As she drives home she cries so hard she has to pull over.
She knows he's too far gone to ever come back, and she'll never forget the way his soft breathing hit her cheek when he hugged her goodbye for the last time.
...
Finn dies a week later, and, like Quinn said, Rachel came back to Ohio for his wake and funeral. In fact, all of New Directions was there; even Mr. Schuester.
Rachel was supposed to be at the airport at 6:30 AM the next morning, but she made a stop at the Cemetery first. As she walked to Finn, she noticed there was someone else there. A petite blonde girl sat on the ground in front of his grave and was shaking.
Rachel continued to walk. She stopped behind the girl.
"What are you doing here?" Quinn said, turning around, her eyes red.
"I'm leaving, Quinn."
"I just can't believe he's gone..."
Rachel began crying at the sound of Quinn's voice, at the loss, at the simple sentence that summed up everything. She hugged Quinn and together they sobbed, not needing to talk or look; they just felt.
Suddenly, Quinn stopped, and she stood up abruptly and ripped Rachel off of her.
"Quinn?" Rachel asked, wide-eyed.
"I think my water just broke."
The girls raced to the hospital. For the second time in her life, Quinn gave birth to a girl. Rachel missed her flight (and opening night of her Broadway show) to be there.
As the nurse handed Quinn the baby, she couldn't help but noticed...the baby was simply Finn. It had no genetic attachments but...the glimmer in her eyes, the tilt in her smile, the dimple...they were all there, and they were all Finn.
"Have you picked out a name yet?"
Quinn looked out the window, noticing the slight drops of rain outside. It was a mild shower, one that was commonly referred to as-
"Drizzle," She said.