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Rated: T for language
Disclaimer: We do not own Glee, just our story.
"What happened? Everything was okay last night," Rachel asked, running into Noah's arms breathlessly as soon as she burst into the hallway in the cardiac center ICU.
He shook his head and kissed the crown of her head. "I…I don't know. One minute he was doin' fine, or at least as fine as he ever is, and the next he couldn't breathe and they hooked up all these new lines and monitors and stuff." One of his hands left her shoulder to wave towards the extra equipment. Given what they were used to seeing around their little boy, it was just overwhelming to see more.
She counted three new drug pumps and a different respirator than he'd ever had before. Even just that made it hard for her to speak. "I am so sorry I wasn't here. Is…is he in any pain?" She choked out as she broke free from the embrace to peek into her son's hospital room through the large window in the hallway. She knew better than to try and barge in to be with him while they ran tests; she could see the pediatric cardiologist in there and she knew how precious that particular face time was with the busy guy. She had been in this position more times than she could count. She felt his hands on her shoulders kneading the tense muscles. His usually skilled hands weren't working their normal magic and she fought the urge to shrug off his touch. She folded her arms against her chest and just watched.
"No, they gave him some of the good stuff. He just… he needs the transplant."
Rachel swallowed hard, pushing back every impassioned reply that balanced on the edge of her tongue. She knew when it came to Noah, it was wasted breath; he knew how she felt and he felt the same way. "I know; did they give you any idea of how much longer he has before…" She did shrug, his hand sliding down her back, and she shook her head to keep the morbid thoughts at bay.
Her baby wasn't going to die before her. She wouldn't allow it.
"Nah. I mean, you know as well as I do what the cards are like. He's at the top of the list, but it isn't like someone can just offer a heart."
She looked up at him and nodded slightly. "Does it make me a horrible person to wish some other child doesn't make it… and they are a match? D…does it?" She squeaked turning in his arms, finally accepting the full press of his tight hug.
"No, it just makes you a mom of a very sick little boy; a mom who would do anything to save him." Rachel nodded against his chest. "You didn't do anything…did you?"
Rachel looked away from his whisper, hearing his meaning as loud as if he'd yelled the words in her ears. "I…I don't know what you're talking about." It didn't stop her from stepping away from him a little, though. He didn't know what he was talking about—she was just pretending she didn't know. And she couldn't in good conscience accept his comfort while she was lying to him.
He took her hand and led her to the plastic chairs in the small waiting area.
"Who are you trying to fool? You…did…did you sleep with him? Is that how you got him to give you the money?"
Rachel felt her stomach churn as she clenched and unclenched her jaw. "No. Regardless—it's none of your business," she spat. She turned away from a second, heart pounding in her chest and only fueling her anger, but just as suddenly, she totally deflated and then grabbed his hand, noticing the shock on his face when she turned back toward him. "Oh, I….I'm sorry, I…I can't seem to do anything right and Caleb is fighting for his life and…"
"Hey, hey…" he breathed, still spinning a little. He knew that had to be next to nothing compared to whatever she'd gone through. There was only so much he could theoretically even comfort her for as she sat, nearly hyperventilating and her voice growing thick with tears. "You are an awesome mom. Caleb is the luckiest boy in the world. So, stop…okay? The rest just doesn't matter at the end of the day," he replied earnestly, cradling her face much in the way Finn had just a few hours prior.
What the hell was she doing? She nodded and gently took his hands in hers.
"Thank you."
He shrugged and helped her to her feet. "For what?"
She leaned up and kissed his cheek softly, her lips lingering against his skin. "For everything. Just thank you."
He smiled, but she could see it didn't quite reach his eyes, which saddened her immensely; however, everything else faded away when the cardiologist exited Caleb's room and approached them. Time stood still in the brief moment it took for him to approach; she knew the look on his face and it wasn't particularly promising.
"Okay, so he's comfortable for now, but…but we don't have much time. He's officially top of the transplant list, but really all that means is more waiting. He's living on borrowed time and I can't make any guarantees as to how long that will last."
Waiting game…not much time. His intense, quiet words whirled around her as the room began to spin. They needed more time or a miracle…maybe a little bit of both.
"Is, is there anything we can do?" Rachel pleaded frantically, thankful Noah was holding her up when her knees started to buckle.
"Rachel, we knew this day was going to come. I don't want to sound insensitive, but if we don't get a donor, you will want to make the necessary arrangements." Dr. Stone (his name was not extremely apt; he'd been Caleb's doctor from day one and she actually really adored him, even if she wanted him to stop talking and stop being so fucking calm) reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently.
Rachel shrugged off both of them, shook her head, and pushed past on her way to see her son.
"You will not talk about my son like he is a lost cause. He will survive this and if you can't stay positive than maybe you shouldn't be his physician anymore. Excuse me," she said, not trying to hide her tears or mask her despair.
"Rachel, please understand I am not saying there is no hope left. But I can't see the future and I don't know what tomorrow will bring, even if I sincer—"
"No! He…he has a whole wonderful life. He is my bright and beautiful boy and he deserves to…he will grow up to be a wonderful man like…"she looked over at Noah and said brokenly, "like his father and…and I will see him graduate from college and get married….he…he won't…"
She didn't know what she was saying; she wasn't really saying much and the room was still spinning, faster and faster around her and making her feel sick and she definitely wasn't breathing properly and suddenly… everything was just gone.
Finn didn't bother with a driver; it just didn't seem like there was time. He needed to get to Philadelphia and find Rachel now and his head was absolutely spinning in circles, going faster and faster as more time passed. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd said she thought she had more time. More time for what? Was she still sick? Was that what the money was for? If it was, why didn't she just tell him? Why go through with his asinine plan? 'Cause that's exactly what it seemed like it was now—it was all stupid. The only thing that mattered was getting to her and he'd figure out the rest and sort out the labels later. Who was at fault for what, what had been a mistake and what had been a misunderstanding, just… it didn't matter. He knew whatever she was dealing with was probably life and death. She was normally dramatic and all, but the way she looked, the way she'd sounded, the way she'd left it; played over and over in his mind like a broken record and it made him feel like there was ice in his veins and a knife in the bottom of his stomach.
Maybe she just wanted a weekend with him, too. One last, good memory between them before …oh, God what if she was really dying? He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he weaved through the highway traffic, knowing he was speeding but he didn't care. And no, he had no idea how fast he was actually going, he just knew it wasn't fast enough.
He had his secretary calling every hospital in or around Philadelphia, but so far she'd had no luck searching for a Rachel Berry, Berry-Hudson, Hudson, or even Rachel Puckerman (he'd cringed as the third possible last name left his mouth). The very idea she might be using his name made him want to vomit. He wracked his brain for any clues as to what was wrong with her, but other than the headaches and her phone call he had nothing. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack with about a million and a half needles. Or if he felt like he was being optimistic, he was looking for up to three needles 'cause he still had no idea who Caleb was. Whatever. He guessed he could've called her fathers, but there was no way they'd help him. He was dead sure they'd sided with her in the not-a-divorce.
No, he was on his own.
He pulled over to get another cup of coffee, which was probably optional with the adrenaline overload he was working on, when his phone buzzed with a text from an undisclosed number. He usually ignored those (one-night stands were sometimes all about the random text message if they found his real number somehow), but something in the pit of his stomach—not the coffee—made him open it. He hoped it was Rachel. However, when he read the text he didn't know what to think because it was almost in code. Or like a language he didn't know how to speak or even deal with.
CHOP – CCICU – 4
What the hell was CHOP? Was Rachel in an ICU, maybe, and someone was texting him? He was still legally her husband and, unless she'd signed over power-of-attorney, he was technically the one who should or would be contacted. He kinda doubted the hospital would send a cryptic text message, though. That didn't make sense and, without a return number, he had no clue who to call.
Then he remembered how much he had around to help him; he didn't have to figure it out because he was paying someone else to do it. He dialed his office.
"Hey, it's me. Anything?"
"No, sorry…I haven't found her and I've exhausted every avenue I can think of."
"Alright, keep looking. I need to find her."
"Not to be a bitch, but why are you trying so hard?"
"She's my wife."
There was a brief silence. "A wife whom you failed to mention until she showed up here?"
"It's really none of your business. All you need to know is I'm trying to find her and I need your help to do it. The details are mine. "
"No, of course, Finn. I…I'll keep looking."
"Good, thank you. Oh and can you look up C-H-O-P for me? I think it's an acronym for a place in Philly, but…"
"Children's Hospital of Philadelphia?" She asked immediately, her voice spiking with curiosity again.
He slammed on the breaks, swerving onto the shoulder, ignoring the horn from the car that had been behind him on the thoroughfare.
A children's hospital? Why the hell…
Caleb.
She had a…she didn't want him to take…
No…no, she wouldn't…fuck. Fuck.
"Are…are you sure that is what it is?" He choked out, his mind racing with too many painful possibilities.
"Yes, positive. My sister's daughter had surgery a few years back and they picked CHOP because it's one of the best children's hospitals in the eastern United States, if not the entire country. Do you want the number? Or I can call and check something if you wish."
"No…no thank you." He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. It had been all he could do to choke out the end of the conversation. It just…so many things that didn't make sense before…they made sense now and he really didn't fucking want them to.
Because now even as everything suddenly made sense; they tore everything apart.
He threw his phone against the dash and watched it shatter into several pieces (just like his life seemed to be) that flipped all over the car.
She had a child. A sick child; one she was absolutely terrified of him taking from her for some reason.
A child she sang his…no, their…song to. He didn't want to think of the implications—he couldn't. Or he would lose it. His grip had been tenuous to begin with; he'd felt like she was slipping between his fingers and like everything he'd known about himself was going to go with her.
Now he knew—it had already been gone. He just couldn't think about it anymore than that. At the same time, he couldn't stop thinking about it. It was in motion and he couldn't stop it and the pieces kept coming, kept falling, and landing in a broken heap. Making everything more scrambled yet clearer all at the same time.
"No, you…you meant everything to me. You don't understand. I wasn't singing that song to Noah…I…"
She wouldn't keep his child from him regardless of how they ended, right? Who could do something like that?
"Finn, this isn't what it looks like," she whispered as she approached him, steadying herself against a nearby wall. She looked so pale and so tiny and so sick. His fingers curled into his jeans, fighting the impulse to reach out to her.
"Really? Cause it looks like you just fucked my friend in our bed."
She shook her head. "No, I…I swear, he was just helping me."
"'Helping' you? Is that whatcha call it now?" He slurred, still feeling the effects of several shots of Jameson. "Cause as your husband, I was more than willing to 'help' you out."
"Finn, I…I, I was sick and I needed to tell you that, I'm…" she stammered softly swaying in her spot. He wanted to help her, hold her, but no, she was a cheat and a liar, so he just left her alone. He kinda wished Puck had extended him—and them—the same courtesy.
"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see she can't even stand up on her own?" Puck shouted protectively as he helped ease Rachel—his wife, not Puck's wife—to the bed…their bed…the same bed she had just fucked him in. He watched in horror as his now ex-best friend, the ex-best friend he was so gonna kill, stroked his wife's hair and asked if she was okay in a low voice.
Who the fuck did he think he was?
"Get the fuck away from my wife." Finn growled. Puck stood his ground.
"No! If you aren't gonna listen to her, then I'm not gonna leave her alone with you. 'Specially not when you're drunk off your ass. Go sleep on the couch and you two can work this shit out tomorrow. You need to listen to her. Nothing happened man, I wouldn't do that to you."
"Like hell you wouldn't. Is this payback for taking her from you in the first place?"
Puck laughed. The bastard actually laughed. "Took her from me? You really are fucking drunk. If I had really wanted her, like really, you wouldn't have stood a chance," he growled back closing the distance between them.
"She's my wife."
"Yea, so stop being a fucking asshole and sleep it off. She needs you more than you can possibly understand. They need you, so…" Puck said patting Finn on the shoulder. He shrugged it off and headed towards the living room on unsteady feet.
Finn shook his head. Puck said they needed him. At the time, he thought Puck was referring to Rachel and himself, but shit. What if he was talking about...like it was DVD player or something, he fast forwarded through memories and years of bullshit to the conversation in his office.
"And the money isn't for me. You made me leave with nothing except the clothes on my back, no funds of my own and pr…well, I didn't have any other alternative."
God, she did it, she kept their child from him. He just…he… what the fuck did he do with that? What could he do? Nothing. He punched the steering wheel and he didn't feel any better.
Would punching her help? Not likely. Would punching Puck help?
Maybe a little.
Truthfully, he didn't know what to do. He didn't understand. How could she?
Rachel woke to the steady sound of Caleb's heart monitor echoing through the room. She hated the way the sound echoed against the linoleum floors; everything was so hard, so utilitarian. It wasn't a home. The tinny sound of the monitor pulled her awake and immediately grated on her ears even as she was grateful it was still there.
She opened her eyes and looked around the darkened room. Her heart both swelled and broke when she saw Caleb's tiny sleeping body in the bed next to her. She scooted her chair over and rested her head on the edge of the mattress while her hand reflexively stroked his soft hair.
"Oh baby, mommy is so sorry. I…I tried, I…I…love you so much angel. Please, please just hold on a little longer for me."
He didn't answer, not even a sleepy little 'mama.' All that could be heard was the sound of his labored breathing and her quiet sobs.
She was losing him and she knew it.
He pulled his car into the emergency room entrance, ignoring the shouting from parking attendants trying to show him with their arms that he was in a tow-zone. They could tow the car, impound it—what the fuck ever—burn it for all he cared. Nothing mattered except finding Rachel and figuring out what the hell was going on.
He raced through the corridors in search of the CCICU (what in the hell was that?) only to be stopped by a security guard.
"Where ya goin?"
"I…I am trying to find my wife and…" He paused and his heart painfully constricted as the words left his mouth, "…and my…my son…he is…the CCICU…room 4, I think?" The guard's eyes softened as he led Finn to the nearest nurses' station.
"She can help you. Rita he's looking for his wife and kid. Can you help him out? CCICU 4." The young nurse smiled sympathetically and began running her fingers over the keyboard.
"Oh yes, poor baby. I have been his nurse on and off for the past 4 years. I…I am slightly confused though."
Four years? His son had been sick his entire life?
"I'm sorry, what? Why are you confused?" He said distractedly scanning the new and strange world he'd entered.
"Well, you said your wife and son, but Rachel has never mentioned you and…and well, Noah is…"
Finn spun around to face her.
No…no. He had every reason to believe Caleb was his son, not…
"Wh…what did you say?" He asked hoarsely as he gripped the counter tightly. "Noah as in Noah Puckerman is listed as his father? Is…is that what you're saying?"
The nurse smiled tightly and picked up the phone. "Give me one second to get his mess straightened out."
Finn knew she was probably calling security because who would believe this fucked up situation? No one in their right mind because it wasn't right. It was straight out of a bad television mini-series.
He reached out to grab her hand, desperately trying to work up some of the charm he knew he'd laid on too thick with other women in the last few years. "Please, please, I know this sounds insane and I wouldn't believe it either, but…please. I need you to help me."
The nurse stared at him and he saw her features soften. "I'm not supposed to do this. It violates every hospital and HIPPA rule out there. That's…that's federal." He nodded and grabbed his wallet out his back pocket. Her eyes widened in shock and she waved her hands in front of her frantically, as if to convey not touching, not touching to people a hundred yards away. If he wasn't so sunken and so desperate, he might've actually laughed. "No, no I…I can't take a…"
He finally did laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. He had two choices; it was either laugh or cry at this point, and he had a feeling he'd be doing plenty of the second one once he got where he was going. Even at that, his laugh was empty at best and it was almost scary to even his own ears.
"No, I'm not trying to bribe you. Here, take it and see…"
She took the small paper, a photograph, from his shaking hands and smiled sadly when she looked at it. "You two looked very happy."
He lowered his gaze to hers.
"We were," he breathed. "We…just…please. I have to find them."
She handed back the small photo and gave him a visitor badge. "No one can know that I gave you this. No one," she said imploringly. He nodded in understanding and clipped it to his t-shirt.
"Thank you. Thank you," he said breathlessly. She smiled sadly again and nodded.
She pointed and issued the next statement quickly, in a low tone, with a discreet point in the general direction she was describing. "Fourth room on the right and for what it's worth…he really looks just like you. "
For what felt like the millionth time that day felt like the air was completely sucked out of him. That answered so many questions—and he was pretty sure it was the answer he hadn't wanted. Because for as much as it answered, it just pointed out a million others he needed to ask.
She didn't know what to do with herself. The only bright spot in her life was fading and she couldn't help him or do anything to stop it from happening. She looked down at her phone and contemplated calling Finn. She had been so close to admitting everything, but the universe was never on her side, now was it? She had been so ill during her pregnancy she'd actually been hospitalized her for the last few months. She'd thought, after all their suffering, she would have a healthy baby boy to bring home, but no. They found the defect in utero, but hoped it would be correctable. They didn't determine it was irreversible until three surgeries later. Maybe she should have been grateful he'd lasted this long without the transplant, but she wasn't. Maybe she was just selfish, but it wasn't enough time with him—not enough time for him. He hadn't experienced learning to ride a bike, or starred in a school play; he'd never been to an amusement park and eaten pounds of cotton candy, and he never had the chance to get to know his father. She buried her hands in her face and sobbed.
She'd failed her son. She'd failed Finn and she'd failed herself.
Finn had never been in an ICU before, and he had to admit it was the most depressing place ever. They tried to make it all homey or whatever with pictures and warm colors, even carpet on the floor in some places, but it was sterile and lonely. That was just, like, the surface feeling. He looked over at the small waiting rooms to see families huddled together either praying, crying or just sitting in silence—and those feelings deepened to include despair, desperation, and just…just basically nothing good. There was another room off to the side of the waiting area, door closed, and he could see people moving around in the room through the frosted glass. He really, really never wanted to be the one on the other side of that door.
God, had she had to experience this all on her own? He would have been there with her every step of the way and it was freaking him out how it almost felt like a missed opportunity and an oversight he was grateful for all at once. He shook his head as he approached the darkened room wondering why in the hell he cared anyway—obviously she didn't give a shit about him so…
He wasn't fucking here for her. He wasn't even there for them. He was here for his son. He knew at least that much now.
As his hand touched the cold metal handle he actually debated going in. For the first time, he paused and for just a damned second wondered if this was actually a good idea. If she didn't want him around, what had she told their son? Did he even know Finn existed or…or did he really think Puck was his father? White hot and raging, fury washed over him, stabbing everything that had been blissfully numb and asleep for so long; it was a feeling that he now always seemed to associate with his ex-best friend, however distant it usually was.
"You got my text."
Finn spun around and came face-to-face with the man who destroyed his life, or at least the one he'd been busy blaming for the last five years.
"Puck."
