Title: Make A Wish
Pairings: Puckleberry, Brittana, Klaine, Mentions of Finchel
Setting: Season Three, Pre-Season 3
Summary: "I have a bucket-list. Twelve things I want to do before I die. One of them is 'Save Noah'... Please, let me help." Major Character Death, Puckleberry, Mentions of Finchel, Heavy Shelby & Quinn, Set in Season 3

A/N: Well hey there people of the Glee-verse. Now, I know there are quite a few stories alike to this one out there, floating around . But... this is my take on it. Enjoy.

Prologue

When she was younger, Rachel used to have these dreams. Well, they were more like nightmares than dreams, but that doesn't matter right now. What matter's are the dreams themselves. She was always running in them. From something or someone, but she had never figured out what. No matter how fast or how far she ran, there was never anything ahead of her. Just a blanket of white. If she looked over her shoulder, the white would fade, darkness swelling and the black slowly crept towards her. Just as a pair of thin, frail looking hands reached out to grab her, Rachel would wake up. Screaming and panting, covered in sweat as she called out for her fathers. Rachel never understood what she was seeing, and she always forgot it the next morning.

When Rachel was younger, she used to like the park. Her father's would take her every Sunday, and she'd be the first to claim the swingset. Back and forth, higher and higher, Rachel would swing until she was sure she could touch the sky. The first time she met Noah Puckerman, she was on the downfall of a very high swing, and the older boy was standing right beneath her. Rachel had screamed, loosening her grip on the chains as Noah tilted his head and watched as she swung away from him. "Can I swing now?"

When Rachel was younger, she used to like sleepovers. Her only friend at the time was Noah, and they'd stay up all night watching movies or playing video games, until they both crashed. Deborah, Noah's mother, would find them sitting on two bean bags in the living room, Rachel curled in to Noah's side as the boy wrapped his arm around the younger girls shoulders. She'd wake them up after snapping a photo, call them in to the kitchen and the three of them would make pancakes together.

When Rachel was younger, she used to like hospitals. It was always so interesting, sitting in the waiting room chairs and watching people pass by her. She watched the ER, craning her neck as she peered over a passing gurney, a man unconscious and bleeding from his head flying past her in a rush to get to a room. Rachel's daddy, Hiram, was a doctor here, and sometimes he'd bring Rachel in after school.

When Rachel was younger, she got sick. Really, really sick. She spent hours in the hospital, in her very own room with a view, because her daddy was a doctor so she got special treatment. Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. She'd never really understood why she was there. Whenever she'd come to the hospital, all of the patients were gone after just a few days. She'd never gone further than the ER and the Cafeteria. One day, she'd asked her daddy what was wrong with her, and if she was going to die. Why else would she be in the hospital so long? Hiram had gasped, a choking sob escaping his lips before he turned and shook his head as her dad. "I can't do this." He'd muttered, Leroy encasing the man in his arms as he locked eyes with Rachel over his shoulder. "I don't know honey."

When Rachel was younger, she was diagnosed with Leukaemia. She didn't know what that had meant, just that she was really tired all the time, and that she was sick a lot. She had a bowl by her bedside because sometimes, she couldn't make it to the bathroom. She was always pale, very shaky. Sometimes she didn't want to talk, other times that's all she did. Noah and his mom would visit her. Deborah was always teary-eyed and Noah was always quiet. It was really weird for Rachel, because Noah had always been very loud, always causing trouble and Rachel... Rachel would always back him up.

When Rachel was younger, she became a survivor. Two years after she'd been diagnosed, after endless Chemotherapy and little time spent other than her hospital bed, Rachel was given the all clear. She'd returned home, and everything was back to normal. It took a while, but her father's finally stopped treating her like a porcelain doll.

When Rachel was younger, she was diagnosed with cancer.

Last week, the doctor told her that it was back.

Yesterday, her father's left.

Today, Rachel cried.

A/N: Reviews'd be awesome but y'know, no biggie.