Warning: This chapter is pretty heavy, but I promise I'll have everything work out fine.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters and I don't mean any harm by this — it's just my way of coping and trying to process everything that's happened.

Chapter 4

Rachel sat in bed, her left hand slowly releasing the death grip it had on the cool cotton sheets as silent tears continued to flood down her cheeks and fall on the soft, well-worn t-shirt she'd worn to bed. It was a mixture of shock and relief. Just an hour or so ago she'd woken up, apparently reincarnated as a younger version of herself, terrified that she was going to have to re-live her life without her soulmate all over again. Thank God things were different in this incarnation. She'd just spoken to him for the first time in nearly six decades — like actually had a conversation with him, not just the monologues she'd delivered to him while he was gone — and it felt incredible but until she saw him, held him, felt his big, strong arms wrap her up in a hug and heard his heartbeat again, she knew it wouldn't feel real. In fact it probably wouldn't feel real for the rest of this lifetime. She had to get to Vancouver, the faster the better.

Functioning on some kind of auto-pilot, she sprang out of bed, gathering a random assortment of clothes and shoes from her closet, and underwear from the top two drawers of the chest at the foot of the bed, her hands shaking so much she had to take a deep breath just to be able to grab the drawer handle properly. Throwing most of the clothes in her carry-on case, she separated out a top and a pair of skinny jeans to wear on the plane and began to get changed. As she pulled the dark grey t-shirt off over her head, she realised it was one of Finn's. In all the panic, she had missed that detail. It was at least four sizes too big for her and came down to just above her knees, the long armholes making it look like some kind of batwing top on her. And it smelled of him, she noticed, holding it to her nose and deeply inhaling the uniquely comforting, manly, scent. She'd kept a few of his favourite t-shirts in a memory box after he died and every so often would pull one out and curl up in bed with it, crying softly as she remembered cuddling up to him on lazy couch days and wishing the scent would never fade. Of course in time it did, but even after all those years she swore she could still detect it.

Sheila meowed loudly, pulling the human from her trance and hoping she remembered to feed her before she starved to death. Rachel glanced down, stroking the cat's head and tickling her behind the ears, throwing the t-shirt into her purse, changing her clothes, then wandering through to the kitchen and filling Sheila's food and water bowls.

"Don't worry Sheila, I'll get someone to come over and make sure you get fed, but Mommy's got to go to Vancouver to see Daddy," she cooed, smiling as she remembered Finn's amusement at being referred to as "Sheila's Daddy" for the first time. It was still quite early in their new relationship and as soon as the words had left her mouth she had wondered whether she'd gone too far, scared that he would freak out at the concept of commitment but he had confided that he thought he could handle the responsibility of being a cat parent as long as she was Sheila's Mommy. That conversation had made her secretly broody, daydreaming of a time when they might refer to each other as Mommy and Daddy in a different context — he would have been the most amazing father. Of course that had, tragically, never happened, but this time round she had hope that it might and the thought made her a bit giddy with excitement.

Darting into the ensuite, Rachel looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered whether security would let her through if she were wearing a paper bag over her head. Her eyes were red and puffy from all the crying she'd been doing and the last thing she needed was to get papped at the airport looking like this. She spent a few minutes attempting to disguise it with concealer and mascara before giving up and grabbing the biggest, darkest pair of sunglasses she could find, throwing her makeup bag into her suitcase.

Picking up the Range Rover's keys from the table next to the front door, Rachel ran through a quick checklist in her mind. Purse, house keys, passport. Check. She'd call Air Canada on the way to the airport, book the first flight she could get on and be in Vancouver before dinner.

Having chatted for an hour or so, Andrew left, agreeing to meet Finn for brunch at 11:30 before they picked Rachel up from the airport, Finn sat slumped on the couch, staring out at the ever-changing view, contemplating how he'd managed to screw up his life so badly. He'd upset Rachel. Not just upset her... She was sobbing on the phone, really heart-wrenching sobs and that killed him. He'd put her through so much this year and yet she'd stood by him and been there for him every step of the way. He should feel good about that — loved, supported — but he didn't. He just felt guilty. He didn't deserve her. He wasn't worthy of being with someone so beautiful, so perfect. Not when he was just a fucked up, thief of a drug addict. She deserved so much more than him. She and Ryan had tried to play up his importance to the Glee family, told him he was a great leader, but he didn't really believe them. He'd never really fitted in. Not at school and most definitely not in Hollywood. He was this screw-up new kid on the block. Sure, people liked his goofy sense of humour but he'd been doing this for, like, five minutes compared to the rest of them and he knew they must look at him as just a pretender. After all, he really wasn't that talented, just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He didn't deserve this level of success.

He groaned out loud in frustration at his internal monologue, sick of going over this shit in his head all the time. He knew he shouldn't do this and he knew he'd hate himself for it in a few hours time but he just needed something to make his brain shut up for a while. Hauling his tall frame out of the plush cushions, Finn grabbed a spoon from the coffee-making facilities, pulled a lighter from the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing the night before and reached into his bag for the last three items — a syringe, a sealed hypodermic needle and a small, folded piece of paper.

Andrew focused on the road ahead, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with the music on the radio, looking forward to getting home to his wife while simultaneously reflecting on the thankfully un-eventful morning. When Rachel had called, he'd been seriously worried about what he'd find when he got to the hotel, so he was pretty delighted to discover she'd been wrong. Bless her, she cared so much about that boy. He'd call her later and make sure she'd managed to get a flight okay... Andrew suddenly patted down all his pockets and realised he'd left his phone in Finn's room. U-turning at the next junction, he headed back towards the Pacific Rim.

Leaning against the ridiculous numbers of pillows on the huge bed, Finn watched, transfixed as he pulled the plunger of the syringe back slightly, seeing his blood mix with the dark amber liquid confirming he'd hit a vein. It was always the strangest feeling — on the one hand he was so completely disgusted with himself that he wanted to cry but on the other he knew the bliss that would follow, so there was no way he could back out now. He needed that warm, comforting feeling. Nothing but happiness and wellbeing. When Rachel had asked him what it was like one time, he told her to think of the best, most intensely pleasurable orgasm she'd ever had — they both knew damn well which one she thought of — and imagine that it lasted for hours. That was what he needed right now. A couple of hours worth of orgasm to take his mind off it. Gradually, he pushed the plunger down, emptying the syringe into his vein. The feeling he'd been seeking hit him almost immediately. Total euphoria.

He barely had time to think "wow, this is pretty strong" before he blacked out.

Andrew strode confidently across the lobby, reaching in his pocket for the key card to operate the elevator and nodding in Heather's direction. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he simply told her he'd forgotten to get Mr Monteith to sign his witness statement and smiled at her as the doors closed.

On the eighth floor, he wandered along to Finn's room and knocked on the door again. No response. He tried again.

"Finn? It's just me, Andrew, I forgot my phone."

Nothing.

"Finn? Ugh! Why do you have to be such a deep sleeper? Come on, open up!"

Still nothing. Now what? He looked down at the key card still in his hand and decided to give it a try. Miraculously, it worked. Heather must have programmed it for this room, not just the lift.

He stepped quietly into the the room, not wanting to wake his friend and peered round the corner, seeing Finn fast asleep. Andrew crept past, retrieving his phone from between two couch cushions. It wasn't until he turned to leave that he noticed the syringe next to Finn's open right hand. Then he noticed he wasn't breathing.

Shit.

Andrew had taken first aid training to comply with his insurance certificate for his acting classes, but he couldn't remember specifically what to do in case of a drug overdose. What he did remember was ABC - airway, breathing, circulation. He grabbed the pillows from under Finn's head and threw them across the room, then tipped his chin back slightly to open the airway. What was next? Feel for breathing. He put his cheek against his friend's mouth. Nothing. No breathing. Fuck. Okay, feel for a pulse. Andrew felt like time actually stopped as he waited with his fingers pressed against Finn's wrist to feel something, anything, his brow furrowed with concentration. Yes. There was something there. It was very weak, but there was definitely something there.

He started chest compressions while reaching for his phone and managing to dial 911, sandwiching the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he continued the compressions, pausing after every 30 compressions to pinch Finn's nose closed and deliver two rescue breaths, watching his chest rise and fall.

The next eight minutes seemed like hours. The ambulance dispatcher stayed on the phone with him, reassuring Andrew that he was doing a great job and that the paramedics would be with him soon, but his arms were getting tired and he kept begging them to hurry up. Finally, the door opened and the paramedics took over, one intubating to keep Finn's airway open and placing an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth while the other continued the chest compressions. They looked around the room, picking up the spoon and syringe, putting them in a plastic bag just in case the hospital needed to be able to analyse them later, and decided to administer Naloxone which they told Andrew would counteract the effects of the heroin but the effects would not be pretty. Within seconds, Finn's eyes flew open, his limbs flailing around as he screamed in agony, pulling the tube from his throat.

Andrew stood well clear, obviously shocked by the sudden change in his friend. Seconds before, he'd been completely unresponsive, now he was screaming, shouting and swearing. He'd never seen Finn like this, but one of the paramedics explained that the drug had just pulled him sharply out of the extreme painkilling effects of the heroin and it would feel like the worst pain in the world.

The two paramedics began talking calmly to their patient, telling him he'd taken too much and that they had to counteract the heroin if he wanted to live, before loading him onto a gurney and asking Andrew if he wanted to come to the hospital with them. Still stunned at the turn of events, he nodded, grabbed Finn's phone off the nightstand, and stuck it in his pocket.

While one drove the ambulance, the other medic, Sam, continued treating Finn, which at this point involved keeping an eye on his vital signs, calming him down and holding a cardboard vomit bowl in front of him as the Naloxone continued to do its work. Andrew could only stare at him, feeling completely numb.

"Is there anyone you need to contact?" Sam asked, pulling Andrew out of his stunned silence.

Shit! Rachel! She'd be halfway here by now.

"Yes, his girlfriend. Which hospital are we heading to?"

"Vancouver General ER," Sam replied. "There's a back entrance we can arrange for her to use, so she can avoid the press."

Andrew was surprised by that. He hadn't realised that either of the medics knew who Finn was.

"My girlfriend's kind of a fan," Sam confessed.

Andrew just smiled politely and pulled his phone out of his pocket, his hands shaking too much to be able to get to her number so he used the voice dialling feature instead.

"Rachel, it's Andrew... Finn's had an overdose. We're in the ambulance now. You have to come to Vancouver General Hospital. Give me a call when you get this message and I'll update you."

Somewhere over Washington, Rachel stared out of the window, reclined in the plush first class seat — all she could get at short notice — her cheek resting on Finn's t-shirt which she'd bundled up and was using as a pillow. The adrenaline rush of this morning was starting to wear off and now she was just excited to get to Vancouver and see her man again. In her head, their reunion would involve him waiting right outside the arrivals door for her. She'd walk out into the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd of expectant families waiting for their loved ones. She'd get that slight feeling of disappointment at not seeing him immediately, then she'd look up and spot him towering over the crowd and run to him, his arms opening wide to catch her as she ran and jumped up into his waiting hug. Her legs would automatically wrap around his waist to make up for the height difference as they smothered each other with hungry kisses.

Of course for them, it wasn't quite that simple. If any other couple did that, nobody would bat an eyelid, except maybe the occasional prudish woman nearby. If she and Finn did that, they were sure to end up with it on TMZ or something, so they would do what they always did and be reunited in the blacked-out safety of his rental car. Maybe she'd text him and tell him to meet her in the back seat this time, she smirked.

Just then, the captain's voice filled the cabin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon be starting our descent into Vancouver. Please listen to the cabin crew's instructions to prepare for landing. Thank you for flying Air Canada, I hope you had a pleasant flight."

Andrew shuffled impatiently on the hard plastic chair in the relatives room. When they'd reached the hospital, Sam had persuaded him to wait here to let the doctors get Finn stable. It felt like he'd been here for hours with no news.

Finally, Sam entered the room, accompanied by a female doctor.

"This is doctor Morgan. She's been treating Finn," Sam explained.

"Is he going to be okay." Andrew asked, eschewing the formalities of an introduction in favour of getting straight to the point.

"Hello Andrew," doctor Morgan said with a small, reassuring smile. "Finn's doing very well, thanks to your first aid skills. You did exactly the right thing. He'd probably have been dead if you hadn't acted so swiftly. As it stands, he's in a lot of pain, but he'll get over it. Of course in time we'll need to discuss his rehabilitation, but for now he's doing as well as can be expected."

Andrew nodded with relief, too stunned to say anything.

"Is there anyone we need to contact," doctor Morgan asked, resting her hand on his.

"His girlfriend's on her way. She'll need to get in through a back door or something. She's kind of famous... they both are..."

"Of course. Just let us know when she's close and we'll have someone meet her at the service entrance. Anyone else?"

"His Mom, Ann... but I don't have her number."

"Don't worry," the doctor said, "we'll track her down for you."

Andrew stared numbly at his hands for a second, his mind flashing back to that hotel room, his hands repeatedly pounding against Finn's chest. He looked up, willing the mental images to go away.

"Can I see him?"

"Of course, come on through."

As they taxi'd to the gate, the cabin crew gave the announcement that mobile phones could now be used again and Rachel immediately pressed the top button on her phone, waiting a few seconds for the logo to disappear. On the lock screen were a couple of notifications — a message from Finn and a couple of voicemails. She went straight to the message.

~ Sorry for scaring you baby. Can't wait to see you later. Love you. xxx ~

A smile spread across her face as she gathered her carry-on case and walked off the aircraft, thanking the cabin crew as she left, typing a response with her free hand.

~ I just landed so I'll see you very soon. Where are you? And stop apologising! Love you more. xoxo ~

Then she remembered the voicemails and tapped into the phone app as she marched down the corridor to border security.

The first message was from her stylist, talking about dress options for the upcoming Teen Choice awards. She'd call her back later. Second message, 9:46am. Andrew's voice. He didn't sound right. Sounded scared, worried. What was he saying? It was difficult to hear him over the sound of sirens in the background. On some deep level, she did register what he'd said, but she needed to replay the message once more before she actually heard the words. Finn. Overdose. Hospital.

She stopped suddenly as her world collapsed around her.

A/N: What a tough chapter to write. I'm sorry if anyone feels it's too much — I really don't intend to offend anyone. On the up side, Finn's out of immediate danger, although he's still got a lot to deal with.

I've never smoked or taken drugs and I don't drink very often. When River Phoenix died of a drug overdose when I was a teenager, I thought "well, he took drugs, what did he expect?" Like many people, I guess I saw drug users as bad people but this year some friends of mine gave me an insight into the world of addiction and I saw how many incredibly nice, normal, lovely people have been touched by one form of addiction or another and saw how much their lives fell apart because of it. Their stories really touched me and although I still don't condone drug use by any means, I'm so grateful for that insight because it made me compassionate towards the plight of people like Cory — good people, who through certain circumstances have found themselves addicted.

Please review — I'd love to know what you think.