Of Saints and Sacrifice

by Stevensone

Growing up, Noah Corcoran's little sister was always his superhero. He should have known that it would only be a matter of time before it was his turn to return the favor. AU.

36. Noah Corcoran December 2011 Part II

Hey guys, took a spontaneous and much needed camping trip up to Vermont this weekend so I'm sorry for the delay, but this chapter is another pretty long one so I hope it was worth the wait!

Also, I just wanted to let you know that I've been toying with the idea of a sequel these last couple of days. Of course, I have absolutely no idea what the main plot would be just yet, but I really do love writing this little family so I'm reluctant to let them go (even though there's probably going to be at least ten more chapters of this story haha)

Anyways, that's about all I've got for you. Just one more thing, there's a tad bit of football references (American Football that is) in this chapter so I apologize in advance for all of you that don't live in the States/know nothing about football. I tend to get a bit carried away :)

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Noah Corcoran – December 2011
(Part II)

---

He wakes up with a headache that can rival any that he's ever previously experienced, but then again, Noah has to admit that he's found himself saying this a lot lately… He can only assume that this is the price that one must pay for a utter and complete loss of control.

His eyes are painfully blurry. Through the fog of alcohol still attempting to process its way through his system – even hours later – Noah's fuzzy ears distinguish between a distant sound…

At first, Noah mistakes it easily for a foghorn. For the briefest of moments, he actually forgets himself and allows the assumption that he is stuck on a boat in the middle of the damn ocean cross his mind before slowly, the dull roar develops into a much clearer, much more distant wail.

"Noah!"

The mere sound alone is enough to make his stomach churn. His name pierces like a bullet directly through the center of his forcibly closed eyes, causing him to wince harshly even in his sleep – "Noah, wake up!"

The boy groans inwardly, grabbing at the closest of the multitude of pillows that he sleeps with, pushing the cushion firmly against his face… He cannot breathe, but in his mind this is a small price to pay for blocking out both the sunlight, as well as the voice attempting to rouse him.

"Get the hell out of my room!" Noah flails blindly, attempting to make physical contact with whoever dare disturb him, hoping that a smidgeon of violence will provide more than enough incentive to grant him a couple extra hours of much needed sleep.

"You have to wake up and go to school!" There is an annoyance about her persistence that only his mother can rival… If he hadn't known any better, he would assume it to be Shelby at his bedside, all but physically tossing him from his mattress. "Come on Noah, I'm not going to let you miss States tonight just because you got too blasted on a school night to adhere to the attendance policy."

Her insistence is uncanny… Her tone alone is enough to force Noah to sneak a single, inquisitive eye open… Noah glares briefly, the sunlight damn near blinding him against the indistinguishable silhouette before him so that for the briefest of seconds, Noah allows himself to believe that his mother had actually left Rachel's side long enough to pester him about waking up for school.

He is almost disappointed when it only turns out to be Santana.

"Come on, Noah!" She grows louder in her attempts to hand walk him through these last few steps of consciousness, her hands wailing down across his thick trunk, tiny hand latching onto any joint that she can manage a good grip as she attempts to literally pull the boy that is twice her size onto his own two feet.

If anything, her efforts only make his headache even worse… These days, with Santana living under the same roof as him, shuffling about and ordering Noah around as if she were his parent, Noah has found himself struggling to consider Santana anything less than family…

It makes the idea that they had once dating almost nauseating.

"Thanks mom," Noah groans sarcastically, justifying Santana's perfectly valid argument as a means to finally push himself upright, wrapping his sheets tightly about his bare body, suddenly very self conscious about the idea that he is wearing nothing more than a pair of old boxers, although Santana has seen before in much less.

"Just shut up and get your lazy ass out of bed." Her eyes roll about their sockets dramatically as she thrusts a handful of ibuprofen into one of his hands, and a bottle of water into the other…

Noah's eyes clear slowly. Santana is already dressed, her Cheerios uniform shining pristinely against the sunlight, hair tied back into a tight ponytail in a manner that leaves Noah deeply curious as to how much time he had left before he would be considered tardy.

"What time is it?" He groans, rubbing a large palm across his buzzed head as he pops two of the pills into his mouth before draining the entirety of his water in one sip… Still, his mouth feels like a barren desert; the lingering taste of stale alcohol and dry mouth mixing harshly against his pleated tongue… He pretends that there is relief, simply so that he can motivate himself enough to carry on.

"You have twenty minutes before I'm leaving." Santana shuffles towards the door, turning into the hallway in an effort to provide the boy with a sense of privacy. Her hips swing dramatically in a manner that – experience has taught Noah – she always does when she is annoyed. "So hurry up! I made breakfast."

Noah rolls over sideways, moving as slowly as humanly possible as if to keep the churning inside of his stomach to a bare minimum. He slides onto his feet, tired joints creaking as he stretches them to his full capacity, fingertips just grazing across the smooth ceiling before he follows Santana's lead into the hall.

Noah multitasks with a hint of expertise, stepping into a fresh pair of jeans as he sidles into the bathroom with every intention to make quick of his pit stop… Notorious for his previous ability to spend hours inside of the small room every morning in preparation for his daily debut into the halls of McKinley High, Noah has since noted that his rituals were not nearly as much fun without an annoyed Rachel pounding away at the other side of the door, insisting for her brother to allow her an opportunity to use the bathroom as well.

Besides, now that he had ridded himself of his mohawk his daily routine had since eased dramatically.

Throwing a t-shirt over his head as he moves, Noah somehow manages to make his way down the stairs, finding success in the idea that he's managed to remain upright the entire time… He walks automatically towards the kitchen, his nose instinctively following the aroma of anything capable of filling his stomach in an effort to replace the alcohol that still swelters inside of it.

Making himself comfortable against the doorway, his lingering nausea forcing him to move as slowly as humanly possible, Noah watches as Santana flutters with rhythmically synchronized motions about the small room, shuffling plates and pans filled with food in a manner that is so unusually domestic for Santana, that Noah can't help but to stare.

"What are you doing?" She jumps at the mere sound of his voice, damn near dropping an entire frying pan filled to the brim with scrambled eggs in the process.

"Cooking," Santana regains her ground quickly although she is clearly frustrated towards the idea that Noah's initial comments were not an expression of gratitude towards the idea that she had voluntarily chosen to slave over a full course meal simply for his benefit. "What does it look like?"

"You don't cook…" Noah comments on the obvious, his eyebrows arching suspiciously amidst his confusion…

Noah has never seen Santana cook so much as a slice of toast a day in her life… The fact of the matter is that housework labor these days, was a task lead solely by his aunt… Krista is the one that had displaced herself from Detroit into their guest bedroom in Lima simply to mediate in a time of crisis. She is the one that slaved over her tedious work during the latest hours of the night simply to ensure that they were all taken care of during the day. She is the one that moved like a ghost about the Corcoran home, barely seen, yet simultaneously ensuring that they were fed and well slept; that they had remembered to make their lesson plans and do their homework…

His Aunt Krista doubles as a reminder for him to keep on breathing most days… But then again, Santana has begun to take a very similar role in his life as of late.

"Yeah well I do today," She throws out his confusion casually, "On the menu today, we have enough carbohydrates to carry you through tonight's football game, and just enough grease to get you through a school day without anybody figuring out just how hungover you really are."

"Where is everybody?" Santana still hasn't addressed Noah's initial inquiries as to why she is the one that is taking care of him in the first place, doting over his every need, stepping in as the one to remind him to do something other than worry for a change…

"They're all at the hospital with Rachel." Santana swallows nervously in her response. Noah stiffens with the realization as to why Santana had been so adamant about holding off her explanation in the first place… Because she knew that she didn't have any good news to tell him. "Shelby called this morning. She told me to tell you that Rachel is still the same as yesterday. The nurse mentioned that they do have the results from all of the tests that they took last night, but that she's still waiting to hear from the doctor… She also mentioned that Rachel really wants to see you before your game tonight, so try not to look too hungover when you go over there, okay?"

"Thanks," He grumbles in his appreciation towards the relaying of his mother's message, force feeding himself more than he knows that he can handle at the moment, simply because he knows that Santana is right; he needs to be at his very best if he is going to make face in front of Rachel and his mother. "For everything, I mean…"

"I'm moving out."

It isn't exactly the response that he is expecting… Santana foolishly waits until Noah has finally managed his first forkful of eggs to deliver her seemingly random announcement. He chokes only slightly, swallowing against the intrusive bolus of food before raising his head to meet her strategically lowered eyes.

"What?" Noah stutters stupidly… The more that he thinks about it, the more he can only assume that this day would have had to come eventually… But the more he thinks of Santana as simply being another part of his family, the more he understands that the loss of her presence around here would not only be detrimental to the ease by which he flows through his day to day life these days, but to his already teetering emotional capacity as well.

"My mother… I got a phone call from her yesterday," Santana shrugs, her face glowing red in her explanation as if embarrassed to admit her desire to leave them for her own family… Noah wants to reach out and hold her in his support, he wants to tell her that she has nothing to be ashamed about, but he can't seem to find the strength. "She didn't say very much… just apologized for kicking me out. She asked me to move back in with her and my dad."

"Are you sure that that's such a good idea?" Noah is understandably skeptical. Forget the idea that he has grown to genuinely enjoy Santana's company around here, living with her parents had let her down in dramatic fashion before… Noah is not so sure that she could survive it happening again.

"It's time for me to go home, Noah." She nods confidently against his uncertainties, slanting her head upwards in a small smile, forcing their eyes together, "I need my family right now… You know how that goes."

"Yeah," He nods gently; he understands this concept, of course he does but that doesn't mean that – in terms of Santana's case – that he has to like it. "Yeah, I guess."

"Speaking of family, I heard that you and Finn got into a fight last night…" Santana segues flawlessly into her expertise of confrontation… She barely gives Noah any time to process her last bout of surprising information before she is shocking him with the true extent of her knowledge once more, "Well, actually I heard that you punched Finn in the face and then stormed out of the party."

"How did you hear that?" He raises an eyebrow, curious as to what the source of her knowledge is, "You weren't even there."

"I may not be the most popular girl at William McKinley anymore, but that doesn't mean that I don't still hear everything that goes on." She reminds him of what deep down, he already knows…

His mouth dips open; the silent inquiry as to who her direct sources are never reaching past his tongue in his sudden flashback of Quinn Fabray dropping both him as well as the incapacitated Brittney S. Pierce off at the otherwise empty Corcoran house last night… Either of them could have given Santana the answers that she so desired, although the idea that Brittney had been passed out in the back of Quinn's car at the time of the fight, narrows the possibilities down to a single, distinct person.

"He tried to… he was… he took advantage of Rachel, alright?" Noah struggles to find the appropriate words to defend his actions.

"Is that what you're calling it?" A smile appears across Santana's face as if to taunt him, amused to be watching Noah's inner turmoil… The boy instinctually straightens his back defensively, disappointment laced upon his face towards the idea that the one person that is supposed to be on his side the most out of any of them, was suddenly abandoning his reasoning.

"What the hell else am I supposed to call it?" Noah asks her, his voice elevating with the sheer volume of his increasing anger, "She was tired and she was sick and vulnerable when it happened, and Finn is too much of an idiot to figure out that a date that begins in the oncology ward of a hospital should never end in sex."

"Whatever, they didn't actually do it, Noah… Finn and Rachel fooling around, it was bound to happen eventually." Santana's eyes soften the second that she notices just how terribly Noah is taking the situation as a whole, "Trust me, not only is my gaydar spot on, I can also sense sexual tension from about a mile away. I've known that your sister and Finn were going to hook up ever since we were freshman."

"Ew, Rachel was in like seventh grade when we were freshman…" The boy groans, "Come on Santana, I'm having a tough enough time keeping my food down as it is. You know, you're supposed to be on my side here."

"Relax Corcoran, it's not like there are actual sides." Santana waves off Noah's overdramatic tendencies in the reminder that Noah can be just as much as a diva as his mother and sister when he truly wants to be, "Rachel is just having a tough time right now, that's all… So she's trying out a few new things, trying to get a few new experiences off of her chest while she still can. Her and Finn were nothing more than an experiment. Trust me, Frankenteen and your midget sister have absolutely no chemistry whatsoever."

"Just because you think that it was inevitable, doesn't mean that I have to be happy about it." Noah informs her through a huff of stubborn determination… He has taken to his own devices so much that he doesn't even notice Santana staring at him as if he has gone absolutely crazy.

"And just because you're obnoxiously overprotective doesn't mean that you have to get in a fist fight with every boy that so much as looks at Rachel." They bicker like siblings… Noah finds a pang lingering deep down inside of his already instable stomach towards just how much he will miss this when she is gone; her advice, her support, her honesty… He almost forgets that he is supposed to be upset. "Don't push them away right now Noah. Rachel needs you. And Finn will never admit it, but he does too."

Noah nods curtly, but his stone set jaw and lingering silence is indicative of the idea that he is pushing himself away already…

"Now will you please hurry up already," She pushes him away from the trap of self pity, attempting to rush him with the sweeping motion of her hands, hinting for him to get a move on before they are even later than what they already were. "We have to leave."

"You know, I'm gonna miss your daily psychotherapy advice sessions." He lags in his way up to his feet despite Santana's insistencies, wondering whether or not his admission will come as a surprise to the girl that Noah has been turning to left and right for advice ever since that day in the woods… She had become his primary and often sole source of human contact in his break from reality.

In lament terms, Noah Corcoran had fallen in but a mere matter of weeks, from the top of the totem pole to a self inflicted isolation of loneliness.

"Don't be so overdramatic," Santana merely waves off his attempts towards being sentimental.

"Besides, just because I'm moving out doesn't mean that I still won't be living right down the street."

---

At the hospital, Noah has to put up a fight simply for an opportunity to see his sister.

His first period study hall ensuring an easy escape in lieu of a frantic phone call from his mother informing him that Rachel was being moved into intensive care, he arrives with little information apart from the idea that their small family is being left entirely in the dark regarding what is crawling beneath the skin of their youngest member.

The only thing that Noah does seem to know is that whatever it is, it is apparently bad enough to warrant a stay in the medical ICU.

Noah has never driven so fast in his entire life.

Parents only; it is the order that he is met with the exact moment of his arrival outside of the determinedly closed, automatic double doors that separate the average pediatric cases from the grave ones…

Noah can't seem to decide which group this will benefit more.

"But she's my sister!" His voice elevates rapidly. The scene that is lingering is enough to warrant a visit from security; the burley rent-a-cop citing Noah's disturbance of grieving parents as their heads pop into the hallway from multitudes of various hospital room doors; tired, bloodshot eyes glaring beadily towards whoever dare bother their ailing child. ..

When his own mother finally befalls amongst that group – as Noah had known, she inevitably would – her eyes slant with an immediate embarrassment. Noah can see her cheeks shine red from opposite ends of the hall as she shuffles hurriedly towards the small, bickering group that is growing steadily louder with each passing moment.

"What's going on?" The mother places her hands firmly against her hips with a threatening undertone that Noah knows well enough to be silenced immediately… The nurse standing before them on the other hand, isn't as experienced as Noah; she clicks her tongue impatiently, clearly frustrated towards the necessity to repeat such a seemingly obvious concept.

"Mrs. Corcoran, it is our hospital's policy that only parents are permitted inside of the intensive care unit."

"You can't be serious…" Shelby's eyebrows raise in her disappointment towards such a ridiculous, pointless rule; unable to comprehend why it cannot extend into immediate family, especially the only immediate family that Rachel has. "Noah is Rachel's brother, they are the closest siblings that you'll ever meet, they-"

"I'm sorry Mrs. Corcoran, but…"

"No!" She takes back control of her own words, silencing the woman with a single, threatening finger that Shelby thrusts into the slightly shorter woman's face. Noah struggles to suppress his smirk. "How about this; I'll start following your ridiculous guidelines when you start telling me what the hell is wrong with my daughter, and why she was even moved up to this unit in the first place."

"Come on, Noah." She grabs her son by his thick wrist, her grip surprisingly tight as she pulls him towards the direction of Rachel's room. Noah is not surprised when nobody tries to follow him.

The hallway is quiet, curious eyes since retreating back inside of solemn rooms as the temperature begins to drop in a manner that Noah can't tell is real, or simply inside of his own head… Although his mother keeps her head poised with confidence, Noah can still feel the stares of the staff as they linger across the back of his neck in a manner that makes his hairs stand on end. They process their judgments in a manner that serves as nothing but yet another reminder towards just how different this place is from the friendly, familiar oncology wing.

"Dr. McCarthy, thank God…" The only words possibly capable to jolt Noah's glare directly ahead of himself once more, is the sudden burst that escapes from beyond his mother's mouth… Noah can feel his eyes widen, pupils dilating naturally as his focus befalls upon the image of the first familiar face he's seen all day, marching forwards to meet them from the other end of the hall.

The look on the man's face is enough to scare Noah into believing that something is terribly wrong… Besides him, he can feel his mother droop, her muscles falling limp in her silent terror towards hearing nothing other than more bad news.

"Shelby, Noah…" The man nods politely, but his voice is filled with sorrow… He extends his hand outwards towards Noah in an indication for the boy to reciprocate. He cannot find it inside of himself to manage his normally firm handshake. Instead, his muscles fall to his side like limp noodles… The doctor makes no distinct comment when Noah's arm simply twitches before falling limply to his side.

"Please Colin…" His mother is begging, dismissing formalities in a manner that makes Noah cringe. This is a tactic that Shelby only dotes upon when she is truly desperate, "What is happening to my daughter? Why did you move her up here?"

"We're trying to secure her a room in endocrinology, Shelby…" Noah swallows heavily, watching the doctor's face carefully as it contorts with sadness. The answers linger on his tongue, struggling to emerge any further as he attempts to organize them in an appropriate means. Noah is practically forced to look away. "For the time being however, until we can get Rachel a little bit more stabilized, I think that intensive care may be the best place for her."

"Why…" His mother's words blanket across the fog of his brain like snow. His eyes turn inwards towards his sleeping sister from through the open observation window that leads into her room. Rachel is laying on her back, her eyes clenched in a fierce bout of pain… There is a line that Noah follows straight into the crook of her elbow; a familiar morphine drip which Rachel holds the control panel via a tiny plunger that is clenched inside of her fist.

She is asleep but her thumb pushes down instinctively against it every so often anyway.

"Rachel is in kidney failure." He is blunt, straightforward and to the point, ultimately deciding that sugarcoating to a family all too familiar with tragedy would not be beneficial in the slightest.

Neither Shelby nor Noah manages a response. It is an answer that they are expecting, although to actually hear it renders them frozen inside of an impossible state of silence.

"We moved her into intensive care in an effort to monitor her progress a little more carefully, but at this point there is no other option than to start her on dialysis…" The man breathes through the tiny details. Familiarity allows him to understand that it is in both Shelby's, as well as Noah's personalities to want nothing beyond immediate answers. The time for questions will be later. "The likelihood of a transplant becoming necessary at this point is very near one hundred percent. In Rachel's case, in her sensitive state and vulnerability to infection thanks to the chemotherapy, dialysis will not be a permanent option. It will not even be a long term option."

"I don't understand how something like this can just… happen." Shelby is pleading in her desperation; tears well across her eyes as she attempts to reason with herself that it is simply not possible that her daughter truly is dying. "We were just with her and she seemed fine, she was taking to her treatments well, she was ahead of schedule for God's sake!"

"I know that this is difficult Shelby," He speaks as if he has a clue. Noah places his hands strategically inside of his pockets in an effort to prevent himself from blurting what he doesn't mean in a flash of anger towards the world itself, "But oftentimes with patients such as Rachel, the beginning stages of kidney failure are discrete. She is going to appear perfectly fine at first until one day, she just isn't… She's been showing symptoms of renal failure since August, Shelby. And yes, at the time they weren't concerning, and yes, the chemotherapy most likely exacerbated a problem that went overlooked, but if we continue to do nothing, these lucid moments that Rachel is experiencing will gradually disappear. She will grow sicker and more lethargic with each passing day, her pain will progress exponentially until one day she will go to sleep, and she will not wake up."

Noah forces himself to ignore the choking sob that emits from the base of his mother's throat. He forces himself to consider his sister, the girl that had never asked for a single thing a day in her life, the girl who had failed to receive the gift that she truly deserved - the world itself - only to get nothing more than a falling sky instead.

Now, Noah can only hope that the only thing that Rachel had ever truly needed was nothing beyond a clear, open place to fly.

"So if she doesn't get the transplant…" Shelby's voice fades with the question that she struggles to emit from her mouth. Noah is certain that she already knows the answer, just as he does… She simply needs to hear the doctor actually say it in order to believe it.

"Then her kidneys will become utterly useless," His answer is honest. From Noah's perspective, this somehow makes the experience slightly less painful… He is not certain however, that the same can be said for his mother, "The toxicity levels will eventually build up inside of her body, and since Rachel's immune system will already be weakened from her continued chemotherapy treatments, an infection from the dialysis after a little while will be imminent. Very quickly, these infections will combine and take hold throughout her body. They will enter into her body and ultimately it will lead to sepsis. Once this occurs, systematic organ failure will very soon follow, and not long after that, death… Shelby, I need to make it very clear to you that at the first signs of sepsis, there will be nothing left for us to do other than to make Rachel comfortable."

Shelby closes her eyes against the information; her head shaking slightly as her joints begin to tremble beneath the pressure of her sorrow… It is a song and dance that they have all heard before – Rachel standing on the mere threads of death itself.

She has beaten the odds before; now, Noah can only pray that Rachel has not already used up her miracle.

"How long?" Shelby's lower lip trembles as a blunt pain builds inside of her chest with every question that she asks that she knows she will not be able to tolerate the answer to.

"It's hard to say," He nods understandingly, "With dialysis, it can be anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of weeks…"

"Wow…" Noah breathes softly without even particularly meaning to, emitting the first words that he has spoken since the doctor has made his presence known as if unable to comprehend the idea that his sister, so physically present now, could become nothing more than a mere memory within a few short weeks… He can feel as two additional pairs of eyes turn to stare at him; his mother, as well as his sister's doctor gluing empathetic expressions straight through his very body as he stares ahead, determinedly fixated on a small stain on the wall before him.

"Noah…" Noah has known Colin McCarthy practically his entire life. The man that might as well be the fourth member of their family by now reaches over towards the boy and places a firm hand against his shoulder. He squeezes firmly, yet his touch is surprisingly gentle at the same time. "Are you okay?"

He makes the motion to nod absently, but suddenly, the thoughts that are running through his mind make this impossible… He wonders whether or not Rachel will be in any pain when it happens. He wonders if the ending that they have been fearing since his childhood will ultimately, in the end, become a reality for them all.

Mostly he just wonders if she will even know what is happening at all… when that time comes; whether there will be a golden light shrouding her with warmth and comfort, or nothing but an infinite darkness.

"I don't want her to be in any pain…" He feels his mother tense besides him at his words. Noah pretends to ignore it, concentrating solely on the fact that the doctor that is standing before him doesn't so much as skip a beat.

"She won't be." He promises. "I can make sure of that much, okay?"

Noah's eyes raise slightly. They're impossibly dark, a typical hazel reduced to blackness as his iris' cloud with a lingering fear that no words, no comfort can possibly erase. "Thank you."

The man nods. It's the quietest of motions, indicative in that it ends the conversation almost immediately. The length of their brief interaction doesn't minimize the effect. There is simply more important business to be had.

"Time isn't exactly on our side, Shelby…" He provides them with the information that the Corcoran family knows better than anybody else inside of this hospital, "We need to start looking for matches and we need to start looking fast. This means getting Rachel on the transplant list as quickly as humanly possible."

"I'll do it." Noah doesn't hesitate. He doesn't even consider the implications of his own words as he broadens his chest with a confidence that not even he is entirely certain that he feels right about now, "I gave Rachel my bone marrow when we were kids I have to be a match for a kidney too, right?"

"It's a good start, but Noah, you know as well as I do that a lot of things can change in twelve years." The man raises his hands in a gesture that indicates for Noah to slow down, that they weren't quite ready to put him on the operating table just yet, although he was halfway to walking there himself. "There are a lot of tests that we still have to run and little time to do it."

"Fine," Noah shakes his head as if this is nothing more than a brief setback to the inevitable. A part of him can't help but to wonder why they will even bother prolonging it when time will prove nothing but detrimental to Rachel's health. "Where do I sign up?"

"We can run your labs right now." The doctor motions with his hand for Noah to follow him, but with the options presented and open, Noah finds himself suddenly hesitant. He turns towards Shelby, more afraid now than ever before to leave her alone.

The woman has tears in her eyes, but Noah can tell that she is attempting to contain them to her very best of efforts for the sake of her son as she nods her head in order to indicate that she will be okay by herself. He doesn't believe her for one second.

"Thank you, Noah…" Shelby murmurs, wrapping her arms tightly around the back of his neck. She pulls him in closely towards her in a manner that Shelby hasn't done in years. He's eighteen. Noah is eighteen years old and he has been larger than his mother since middle school but still, he finds an undeniable comfort towards being inside of her arms as he attempts to absorb all of the regret that he can practically feel seeping through her veins towards the idea that she has not passed her own blood type along to either of her children.

That she cannot be the one to save Rachel.

"You don't have to thank me." Noah makes the promise that he views not as an option, but as a requirement; a responsibility that Noah had been signed up for the second that he became the big brother, the man of the house.

Noah practically forces himself from his mother. His hands linger briefly against her shoulders, gripping them for but a handful of extra seconds in an effort to instill an additional sense of support before he disappears without so much as another word…

He turns back only once; his eyes lingering behind him as he moves forward, neck turned almost painfully as he watches his mother slip silently back inside of Rachel's room… She breathes deeply, wiping her eyes as she moves in an effort to project nothing but positivity despite the fact that her heart is currently screaming.

---

His mother only bites her nails when she is truly nervous.

As it is, she has been hacking away at her poor, defenseless fingers for nearly half an hour. Noah watches from across the room as her eyes dart nervously back and forth across Rachel's sleeping form, spinning circles against her skull in a manner that leaves Noah worried that the motions are going to give him a damn seizure simply just for staring.

"Mom?" He is so close to telling Shelby to relax that for a second he mistakes even his sister's quiet, high pitched tone as his own… That is until the beckoning has Shelby jumping so quickly to her feet that she damn near rips her thumbnail off with her own teeth.

Noah doubts that she would have even noticed if she did.

"What is it honey?" Shelby hovers dangerously close above Rachel's head as if she has forgotten that it is not the girl's eyes that are failing her but her kidneys… As if any of them could ever forget.

"I don't feel well…" Rachel mutters what seems obvious, but Noah does not really blame her much.

"I know you don't sweetheart, I'm so sorry…" Shelby's voice dips in a genuine apology, begging for Rachel's forgiveness towards the idea that Shelby herself is simply not able to take all of this pain away from her daughter as Noah knows, she would do for either of them in a heartbeat, should only she have been granted such power.

"I feel… mushy." Rachel considers her words carefully, leaving Shelby smirking gently as she wipes a hand across the top of her daughter's bald head… The only thing that Noah can deduce from his sister's describing her feelings as being mushy is that the morphine has once again, seeped in through every crack and crevice of Rachel's body, taking over in a manner that Noah can only hope does not end with her accidentally giving away details of her sex-cipades with Finn to him once more.

"Mushy?" Shelby asks her to clarify with a short laugh that Noah embraces for everything that it is worth; even if it is emitted from behind impossibly sad eyes.

"I don't want to be sick anymore." Noah attempts to envision exactly what it is that Rachel is feeling, but he struggles to come up with an accurate depiction; the cloud filtering across her brain, blocking out even the clearest of thought processes inside of a thick fog that she has to fight tooth and nail through simply to produce a single, tangible idea… Noah can physically see his sister fighting the haze; her eyes spinning with effort as their mother tenses above her, eyeing her daughter carefully as she pauses in her struggle to come up with some sort of response to the impossible.

"I know you don't, sweetheart," She finally breaths after an extended pause but her voice is distant; she sounds unsure of even herself. "It's okay though. It's all going to go away really soon."

"I don't think so…" Rachel's voice shakes. For a second, Noah believes that she is actually crying. When he doesn't find so much as a hint of a tear upon her face, Noah finds that it is much easier to conclude that he had simply made the whole thing up. "My kidneys are failing, aren't they?"

The room silences in a tension so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Noah and Shelby's eyes deadlock; identical orbs narrowing with the concern that Rachel is seemingly not as oblivious to the world as either had initially thought…

Or hoped.

"Honey, the doctors are just running a few tests right now, they…"

"You don't have to lie to me mom." Rachel cuts off her mother's attempt to euphemize what all three people inside of this room already know to be true, "I know. I've known for days now… I'm sorry that I didn't mention it sooner."

"Don't be sorry Rachel." Shelby shakes off Rachel's unwarranted apology immediately, but still, her voice can't help but to choke with Rachel's unsuspecting revelation. It wouldn't have made a difference. Noah is repeating the sentiment that Rachel telling the truth about how she had been feeling days ago would not have made her any less sick than she is right now, just as he knows his mother is. They cannot focus on the past, on the what-if's, not when they're still so hopelessly stuck in the present that anything else would positively kill them. It is an effort that is futile to say the least. "We're going to fix this. The doctors are going to make you better again, alright?"

"Is Noah here?" Rachel glistens across the topic; Noah pretends that he does not see her slight headshake in response to her mother's encouragement. "He told me that he was gonna try and stop by this morning."

Noah takes his cue as directed, rising so quickly up and onto his feet that his head spins. He fights through the pain, pushing himself across the vast room, pushing himself to be the big brother that his sister needs him to be right about now.

"Yeah Rach," Noah produces his answer before Shelby so much as has the opportunity to open her mouth. "I'm right here."

"I wanted to go to your football game tonight… I was supposed to go." This time, when Rachel's voice falters there is absolutely no mistaking the tears that are inside of her voice; and now, inside of her eyes as well. She is disappointed. She's so disappointed about getting sick that Noah is starting to wonder whether or not she believes it to be her fault at all. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"It's okay Rachel," Noah makes the assurance quickly attempting to hush his sister's racing thoughts before her guilt can seep any further. "It'll be on TV anyway, and besides, I'll be here giving you a play by play the second that I get out."

"I wanna see the trophy that you get after you win." Rachel manages a smile, lifting her hands to rub feebly at her eyes… They're barely open half way in her exhaustion, and the part that Noah can actually see is bubbled over with the beginnings of fresh tears… Rachel wipes them away with her clenched fists, but she has already been caught.

"I'll get it to you," He promises, "Trust me Rach, I don't care if I have to rip it out of the hands of the damn President himself. You'll be the first to see it."

"It's highly unlikely that you'll have to do that, Noah." Rachel smirks; her eyes are squeezed closed in her pain, but she still finds it inside of herself to be a smartass.

"It was supposed to be a simile…" He shakes his head in his surprise towards his sister's response, but he is much too pleased to see his sister acting herself again to be upset.

"Like or as," This time when Rachel speaks, Noah is genuinely confused regarding what the hell it is that she is trying to say.

"You've been pressing too hard at that morphine pump of yours, Rachel." Noah makes a mental note to tell the nurses to cool it with the leverage that they give Rachel in terms of the drug department next time he sees them… Just because they love Rachel it doesn't mean that they have to drug her to the point that she's speaking in gibberish.

"You have to use the words like or as in order for it to be a simile." Rachel explains herself through a slow, steady breath leaving Noah shaking his head in his wonderment… Rachel was a smart kid. His sister is so damn smart and Noah can't help but to think how much of a shame that it was that her short life had already been threatened time and time again when he – the damn moron of the family – walked around freely to fuck up his life at his own will… "That was more of a metaphor."

"Whatever." Noah pretends to be unfazed but he swallows through the response anyway.

"At least you'll have grandma and grandpa there," Rachel drifts back towards the subject of the football game that she has been so obsessed with for months now already, "And Aunt Krista… and mom." Her mentioning of their mother's attendance is casual, as though Rachel actually believes that there is a prayers chance that Shelby would ever leave the hospital for something so petty – in comparison – as football.

"Rachel I'm not leaving you here by yourself tonight…" Shelby breathes gently, hoping that Rachel's passing comment was simply a mere error in judgment as punctuated by drugs and disease; that Shelby's reminder differently, will serve as enough a reminder to allow Rachel to retract her statement.

Deep down, they both know Rachel well enough to know that this will never happen.

"You have to go!" Her insistence is immediate and demanding and this time, Rachel manages to force her eyes completely open… They are wide, pleading, desperate… "It's Noah's last football game!"

"Rachel…" Shelby tries to warn the girl not to push her on this; that she isn't in the mood for it. She attempts to quietly inform Rachel that the argument is not one that is up for debate while simultaneously attempting to not sound too harsh on her child, stuck in a hospital bed projecting her wishes from within the ICU.

"What are you gonna do instead sit here and watch me sleep?" Rachel has a point. Noah watches as Shelby's lips purse inwards in a manner that allows Noah to understand that she knows this fact as well. "You need to take a break mom. You're gonna kill yourself worrying about me."

"How about you let me do all of the worrying around here…" Shelby plays the classic mother card; the conclusive argument having since become one of her favorites throughout the singlehanded raising of her young, and oftentimes rebellious children.

But Shelby's leeway does not rival that by which Rachel has, they all know this. The most that Shelby can do now is to hold on strong and wait out the fight until Rachel tires to the point that she falls right back inside of her drug induced sleep, waking up not remembering what it was the family had been previously fighting about.

"Because if I leave you to do all of the worrying, then it's going to be you sitting inside of the ICU next." Rachel struggles in the midst of her argument, to pull herself into a seated position against her flat bed… Noah is just impressed that she manages to make it up and onto her elbows before she falls back down once more… But the implications are more than enough; Rachel is determined and there is absolutely nothing in the entirety of this world that is scarier than a determined Rachel Corcoran, "Your fingers are bleeding, by the way."

It is a low blow, a punch below the belt but it gives Rachel that little extra push that she needs; a quick glimpse of her mother's fingernails, chewed to the quick telling her everything that she needs to know. Rachel knows as much as Noah does, the manifestations of her mother's nervous habits.

"Rachel this is not up for discussion." Shelby throws away Rachel's argument as if it has absolutely no validation when the reality of it is that all three of them know just how much it does. Noah can't help but to notice Shelby's haste in jamming her hands inside of her pockets as she speaks.

"Why not, I'm the one that has to sit here with you when you're a nervous wreck. I should at least have a say…" The manner that Shelby silences allows Rachel to know that she has won before Shelby can so much as say it. When Rachel picks an argument that she knows – without a reasonable doubt – that she is right about, it is simply impossible for anybody to win it; even Shelby.

"Fine," Shelby's face glows bright red as she concedes so that Noah can tell how much of a difficult task it is for her to pull out that one single, punctuated syllable. "I'll go. But I'm coming right back after."

"Of course you are." Rachel nods in her satisfaction. She isn't trying to get rid of Shelby for the entire night, just the couple of hours that the two of them so desperately need away from each other.

"Speaking of getting out of here, Noah you should get a move on." Shelby strategically does not give Rachel an opportunity to gloat upon her victory, as if she would have ever done so anyway… She turns towards her won, nodding to him so that for a second or two, Noah thinks that Shelby is actually kicking him out of embarrassment towards allowing her daughter to get the upper hand over her. The second that he catches a glimpse of the overhead clock however, he deduces the truth; that he only has about fifteen minutes left to get to class before he receives a tardy that he simply cannot afford today. "You don't wanna miss any classes today, especially a class like algebra."

"How do you know my schedule?" Noah raises his eyebrows suspiciously towards his mother's almost creepy knowledge of absolutely everything about his life.

"Because I'm your mother," She waves off his desire for an explanation with an answer that seems to have been obvious all along, "I know everything."

"Yeah, alright," Noah shrugs satisfied, understanding that he will not be receiving an answer any more detailed than this from his mom, "I guess that I'll see you guys a little bit later… The game starts at 8:10 mom, don't forget."

"I won't," Shelby promises, signaling for her son to approach her. He follows her orders obediently, allowing his mother to wrap him up inside of a comfortable embrace within her arms as she has been so prone to doing lately alongside the reminder of just how badly the necessity to keep her children close to her truly was, "I'll see you later."

"Bye Rach," He pulls away from his mother, offering Rachel the tiniest of waves in his departure.

"Bye Noah," Rachel offers the return but her voice has fallen feeble. She's exhausted from all of the effort that her argument with Shelby had required; as simply as it may have seemed, "Good luck tonight… Even though I know that you won't need it."

"Yeah…" Noah sighs quickly, the idea that Rachel will not be around to watch him play tonight hitting him with a hard, sudden force that strikes him full swing alongside the pang of regret towards the acknowledgment that while he is flying freely across the field that he was destined for, Rachel would be stuck here waiting while in the basement just below her feet, a team of specialists test his own blood to determine whether or not it will be safe to take his kidney out of his own body, and place it inside of hers.

Noah isn't stupid enough to believe that Shelby's lack of mentioning this detail was an accident.

He turns out of her room, allows himself to disappear inside of the hallway. Immediately, he finds himself using the gradual fading of the image of his mother and sister from behind his back as a forceful means of imagining what it might actually be like should Rachel not survive.

He doesn't want to do it. Lord knows that Noah is the last person on the face of this Earth with the exception of maybe Shelby, who wants to admit that the cold hard truth is that things simply are not looking too great for their little family here.

Noah's theory; his ultimate defense towards his actions rests within the idea that if can just spend the time that he is away from his sister pretending that she is gone in her entirety that one day, if and when it does truly happen, he will be ready.

His attempts prove to be harder than even he'd initially thought. By the time Noah reaches the parking garage, he is practically in tears, rushing towards his car, rushing for escape, rushing for a place to hide… He ducks inside of the driver's seat knowing full well that should the time come that he actually has to give her away, he won't be able to do it.

To hell with heaven, he professes violently, throwing his car into drive with the force of a sudden fit of rage towards the unfairness of it all.

She is here for now and that is all that Noah will ever truly need.

---

There is a certain silence that comes with an empty locker room that attracts Noah's interest even more than the thundering roar stereotypical of football.

Contraire to popular belief, Noah enjoys a quiet stadium even more than he enjoys a loud one.

He breathes steadily; deep, rhythmic motions into his lungs and right back out again as his cleated feet tap repetitively against the hard tile floor of the locker room alongside the music that blasts into his ears through a pair of noise canceling headphones.

His teammates surround him, but Noah would never be able to tell. In his head, Noah is all alone.

He picks incessantly at the bandage taped inside of the crook of his elbow; a cotton ball secured with a long strand of medical tape against the joint that Dr. McCarthy had drawn blood from earlier; the smallest of vials capable of providing the largest of answers.

Ripping the tape quickly from his skin with one single, sweeping motion, Noah ignores the small, lingering pain that accompanies his taking a handful of arm hairs along with it. A blotch a dried blood stains the center of the cotton swab the color of iodine. Noah finds himself entranced. He pretends that he can see the results from the outside, as clearly as the researchers working inside of the laboratory will see them. He pretends that he knows the ultimate truth to detract from the idea that he knows absolutely nothing at all.

Discarding the small bandage into his bag, Noah turns his attention back onto the music, his toes tapping continuously with a nervous energy as he pretends that he does not notice Finn staring at him from across the locker room.

The two haven't spoken since Noah had hit him. From Noah's understanding of things, Rachel and Finn haven't spoken much since either… He pretends not to be overjoyed with the reminder that he had had a hard enough time being allowed admission into intensive care and he was Rachel's brother… As long as she is there, her and Finn would remain satisfyingly separated; a positive note to an otherwise sour situation.

Noah tries to forget the idea that him and Finn are the dream team that is supposed to be carrying the Titans to a championship title in a matter of minutes.

Trying to shake all of the negatives from his head, Noah attempts to concentrate on the task in front of him, the only thing that truly matters; the family that is seated directly outside – his grandparents, his aunt and his mother, who despite a last minute attempt to back out of the deal that she had made with Rachel earlier that afternoon, was all but forced from the hospital by her daughter in the end.

Noah drums his hands gently against the padded white uniform pants that he adorns. His mind races, lingering heavily on his sister's stark absence inside of the stands tonight; only the second of his football games that she had ever missed, his semifinal tournament being the first.

His mouth teeters upwards with the reminder of his sister's surprising adherence towards the brutal sport, so opposite of her gentle personality, so different from everything that Rachel has ever stood for… She pretends to be appalled by the barbarism of the sport, but the truth is that Noah would pick Rachel over half of his teammates in terms of her knowledge of the game… Hell, she had even once proclaimed to Shelby that she herself wanted to play football…

Rachel had been in the second or third grade at the time and the truth was that she didn't want to play football at all; her miniscule size alongside the idea that the schedule interfered directly with her rigorous dance repertoire as well as those Junior Broadway classes that their mother had signed her up for until Rachel got tired enough of existing in the shadows of her mother's former career that to quit by middle school ensured that.

Noah had told her that she was too girly for football. That the equipment would be five times too big for her, that she wouldn't even be able to see out of her helmet… He had been right, of course but after a large screaming fit that she had put up against Shelby's insistencies that her pint sized daughter would not be playing football, the mother had given in.

But Shelby had seen the exact same thing that Noah had… Rachel hadn't wanted to play football at all, not nearly as badly as she simply wanted an excuse to be around her older brother just a little bit more… At the time, Rachel had been young enough to associate the two as going hand and hand, and in the end, Rachel had insisted so defiantly that despite her better judgments, Shelby simply could not refuse.

Rachel had lasted about five minutes into the first practice.

"Get ready boys. It looks like the damn Super Bowl out there." Noah identifies his coach's presence before the short, stout man actually speaks… Ken Tanaka is beaming. He wears a confident smile that stretches from ear to ear, and has Noah silently begging to channel this energy as well… He knows that he cannot afford to be anything but certain these days.

"Stay inside of yourselves tonight, gentlemen…" His coach opens himself amidst the center of the crowd, watching as his teammates bob their heads up and down rhythmically, "Tonight we can beat just about anything."

A roar of approval erupts across the cramped room; fifty teenage boys jumping onto their feet in a rush of motivated energy, clasping their helmets firmly around their head and chanting amidst the guaranteed victory that Coach Tanaka had promised for them in his stereotypically short speech… The large group filters slowly towards the locker room's exit, the traditional practice of captains taking the back making Noah cringe with the idea of standing side by side next to Finn… He wonders how it is that he is supposed to run behind the boy when he can't so much as stand the thought of looking at him.

"Noah, can I talk to you for a minute?" His coach saves him the trouble for the time being, pulling him to the side at just the last second just as the last of his teammates disappear outside and onto the field.

"People are expecting quite a lot from you tonight." Noah raises an eyebrow, hoping that his coach will not see the confused motion through the barrier of his helmet… He is not entirely certain what it is that Ken Tanaka is trying to get at as the man adjusts the Titans cap atop his head only briefly before taking a deep breath that propels him forward. "I know that those expectations go quite beyond the realm of football, but tonight I have no trouble at all seeing you playing the game of your life. People are expecting quite a lot from you tonight son, but I want you to expect to win."

"Yes sir," Noah nods through his insistencies that he will be doing nothing less than his absolute best.

"There will be other colleges out there besides Notre Dame." Noah swallows nervously. He is not entirely certain where it is that this conversation is going, but he is certain that he does not particularly like it. "Maybe they won't be quite as big, and maybe they won't be quite as famous, but they will be there. Tonight is your opportunity…"

"Don't look back Noah. Tonight is your chance. You deserve this."

---

"The two best teams in the state of Ohio are out here tonight folks, but only one will leave with a championship crown."

The first thing that Noah does upon stepping out onto the field is roll his eyes towards the obvious reporting; amateur announcers making him cringe as he aligns himself for the opening series, opening his stance directly behind Finn at his own forty yard line, trying desperately to ignore the desire to kick the boy in the back of the head while he is here.

"The Titans open up with the first offensive rush of the game. Hudson takes the snap, feeds the ball to Puck Corcoran behind him with a beautiful handoff…" Noah feels a natural surge of comfort as the football is pressed hard into his chest. He cradles the pigskin inside of his arms and finds the voice of the man speaking into the microphone from up above actually soothing his motions as he filters across the field… Noah Corcoran is ready. He is ready to pounce, ready to run faster than he has ever run in his entire life… That is, until a swarm of defenders rush him, trapping him like a rat inside of a cage. The results seem everything but accidental. "Oh no, David Karofsky, the Titans' center misses a huge block and Puck Corcoran has absolutely nowhere to go. He is hit hard for a five yard loss."

The wind is swept straight from Noah's lungs as he feels several pairs of arms wrap tightly about his trunk in a manner that sends him stumbling immediately to the ground… The only option that he is capable of is to protect the ball nestled inside of his muscular arms. He hits the turf below him so hard that he is certain that it will leave an imprint of his own body behind.

When he finally manages to stand back up once more, David Karofsky is sneering at him. For the Noah, his sworn enemy's intentions are immediately obvious… Karofsky and his offensive line were determined to intentionally miss their blocks against the strongest defenders in the state of Ohio. They were going to try to get Noah demolished. They were going to try to get him hurt.

Clearly willing to blow this game in an effort to exact revenge, Noah is suddenly made aware of the idea that he is going to need more than a miracle to perform tonight.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Noah's frustrations team in his elevated voice as he screams towards the boy, forcing himself to back away simply so that he will not be enticed to hit him. His words are muffled through his mouth guard but still, his intentions are emitted as perfectly clear. "Are you really going to blow the state championships just because you're still pissed about getting your ass kicked?"

"We'll see, Corcoran." Karofsky throws back towards him… Noah lunges but barely makes it two steps… The second that he feels Finn's arms wrap about his chest in an effort to hold him back, he rips them away and steps back once more… He does not want Finn Hudson touching him right now.

"It looks as though there may be a bit of tension on the field between the Titans' center and running back…" Noah just wishes that the commentator would stick to speaking about the game and nothing else… The school wasn't paying him to become the next Jerry Springer… "Puck Corcoran is clearly upset about David Karofsky's missed block but the Titans are going to have to hurry or they'll end up with a Delay of Game penalty…" The whistle blows; through the corner of his eye, Noah watches as the ref tosses the yellow flag out and onto the field… The boy throws his hands in the air in frustration, the disappointed groans of the crowd correlate directly with his heart as it pounds inside of his temples… If this beginning was any indication of how the rest of the game was going to go, they might as well quit now. "And there is the whistle, Hudson can't seem to snap the ball quick enough and the clock runs out. The Titans will receive a five yard penalty."

Hands on his hips, Noah is practically stomping the five yards that his team had been penalized because of David Karofsky's incompetence. It's 2 & 20 as Noah attempts to prepare to make up for lost yardage on this crucial second down, but he knows that he is going to have to pull out some moves that not even he is entirely certain he has in order to get anything going for this team.

He thinks of his family, lined up in support just yards away in the stands. He thinks of his mother, ripped from her daughter's sick bedside just to watch him fail. He thinks of Rachel, stuck inside of intensive care able to follow his disappointing run only on a television screen; shock written clear across her face towards his dramatic crash and burn… And all at once, Noah decides that tonight, it is up to him to become a piece of absolutely everybody on this field.

"Hudson opens right; the defense blitzes right away and pushes straight through the line and down goes Hudson… Finn Hudson is sacked for an eleven yard loss and this offensive team is off to an absolutely horrendous start." Noah's wishful thinking remains just that. He doesn't even have the opportunity to touch the ball this time; he'd barely gotten off of his own two feet before he watches Finn get pummeled to the ground… And as much as he's dreamed of watching the boy writhing in pain before him earlier today, this isn't exactly what he had in mind. "Yes, the Titans are going to have to start coming up with some big blocks if they want to start anything against this ferocious Spartan attack, and Ken Tanaka would be foolish not to be concerned about this All State ranked linemen who have picked the absolute wrong time to come up completely flat."

Noah's shoulders are hunched as his offense retreats from the field thirty one yards further back from where they had started. The crowd before him falls into an absolute and painful silence. Noah can't even bring himself to look up for fear that he will be able to read the disappointment on all of their faces, most importantly his family's.

"Ray Emerson, the Spartans nationally ranked quarterback comes up to give his team the opportunity to outperform this Titans' offense, which should be easy after that last display. Emerson runs right; he shifts, looks for an opening and finds it! Emerson runs straight up the middle of the field and just like that it is seven zip Spartans…"

Noah has barely had an opportunity to walk off of the field before the roar of the crowd at the opposite end of the pitch drowns the deafening groans of the loyal Titans fans that are currently shrouding their school with red support.

To say that their situation is looking pretty bleak would be an understatement.

---

"This is it folks, the final series of this half with the Spartans up twenty four to nothing. This Titans offense is going to have one more shot at a touchdown before the half…" Their situation from the first series has not improved as the half rapidly winds down, diminishing the hopes of the players and fans alongside it. If anything, things have only gone from bad to worse.

Actually, this is not entirely true considering the idea that Noah is simply glad that the score is not one hundred to nothing by now… This is the one thing that Noah has to go on as he lines up for what will easily become the last play before halftime, before they are forced to retreat in an inevitable defeat towards a locker room surrounded by a group of disappointed fans on the outside, and a pissed off coaching staff on the in.

Needless to say, there is a pressure pushing harshly against Noah's skull towards the idea that if he did not score on this run right now, his team might as well back up their bags and go home. It would at the very least spare them some embarrassment.

"Clean snap to Hudson and Corcoran shifts out right… Puck Corcoran is wide open as Hudson drops back to pass, and we might actually have something here folks…" Noah darts with an impressive speed out towards the far right. For the first time in the entirety of the game, he actually manages to clear the defensive line and take off down the center of the field. He can practically feel the fans stand slowly to their feet, eyes wide and hands held together in prayer for him to pull of this miracle. "There is pressure on Hudson but Corcoran is wide open in the backfield… Hudson throws! And the ball is tipped… it knocks off of the fingertips of David Karofsky. The Titans center seems to have put his hands up to block at just the wrong moment and he tips the ball straight into the arms of the Spartan corner who drops off inside of the twenty five. This is just heartbreaking for these Titans folks. Touchdown Spartans as the clock winds down on the first half and these Spartans take an impressive lead, jumping ahead thirty one to nothing at the end of two."

Noah's chin sinks so far downwards that it touches his chest. His head remains poised firmly down, he has absolute no excuse to raise it and neither does the rest of his team.

"This is truly devastating folks, a Cinderella story for these William McKinley Titans ending in heartbreak as they head into the locker rooms with a look of pure defeat –"

"And it seems like the hopes of this once great season may very well end right here."

---

He has never been inside of a room quieter than the Titans' locker room.

Marching in at the back of the line, Noah's eyes immediately dart across the lowered heads of his various teammates; eyes poised determinedly towards the ground, sweat dripping from their faces as each allows his helmet to roll against the ground before them; a clear expression of their prematurely declared defeat.

None makes so much as a single sound. Hell, there is no sound to be made.

Noah searches; his eyes wander to locate the one person that he knows he can actually place the burden of some of the blame on. The second that his eyes capture the smug glance of David Karofsky, a fire ignites inside of him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Heads shoot upwards the second that the first noise to permeate across the heavy room is the sound of their own teammates screaming at each other… The seated Titans tense expectantly. The last time this had happened, it had ended with one of their teammates in the hospital and the other in jail.

His helmet clutched tightly inside of his clenched fingers, Noah keeps the safety device fastened tightly against his side simply to ensure that his emotions wouldn't leave him beating Karofsky senseless over the head with it. The slightly taller boy stands from his locker in response to the perceived threat, straightening out chest to chest against Noah, glaring into the teen's eyes as if daring Noah to challenge him.

"Why don't you wake up and get your fucking head out of your ass, Dave! Whatever issues you have with me shouldn't get in the way of us winning a damn state championship!" His face is bright red, Noah can feel the heat radiating off of his skin as he turns away from David and throws his helmet as hard as he can against his locker. The cheap metal dents inwards against the intrusion, but Noah declares it a small price to pay knowing full well that he would not have been able to control himself against using the thing as a weapon for much longer. It bangs with a resounding thud in the collision; the entirety of the room flinches in an instinctive unison as the helmet rolls over once against the floor before falling stationary. "Do you really wanna hold a grudge over here Karofsky, huh? Because no matter what happens to us tonight, at the end of the day our high school football careers are over; hell for most of us, our entire football careers are over… You know as well as I do that there's not a lot of us around here who will ever have something greater than this game."

The most miniscule of glimmers shines inside of Karofsky's eyes. Noah bites his tongue against reminding David that his reputation towards the likelihood of becoming nothing more than a deadbeat Lima Loser rivaled even his own.

The broad center is silent. His muscles relax in an indication of his lowering his guard. Noah eyes the boy carefully, as if out of disbelief towards the idea that David Karofsky is actually considering something that he has to say for a change.

"Everybody sit," Noah's back is facing towards the locker room's entranceway. He manages to turn just in time to watch the stone faced coaching staff approaching them. Their backs are hunched, hands are in their pockets. Noah cannot read a single expression upon any of their faces.

The most that the captain gets is a nervous glance from Ken Tanaka as he recognizes the uncomfortably close distance between him and Karofsky; each boy never more than ten feet apart from the other without engaging in some sort of savage argument.

Noah shakes his head once gently, silently indicating that there is no need for a fuss this time around. The two sworn enemies obey their coach's direction without hesitating, seating themselves where they stand, directly besides one another.

Noah leans forward; he rests his elbows against his knees and begins playing determinedly with his hands. He is more nervous of hearing disappointment inside of his coach's voice than anything.

"The other team has already written us off. Hell, they're already celebrating a victory." Much to Noah's surprise, he can't read Ken Tanaka's voice anymore than he had read his expression. The coach moves with a characteristic slowness, removing his head before wiping nervously at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "The majority of the people that are sitting outside in those stands tonight, they've written us off too. But there are always those select few, those people who will still be believing in you when you step out on that field. They do not write us off."

Noah's eyes fall to the floor; they are wide, unblinking as he begins to bob his head alongside his coach's words. He can practically make out the image of his sister holed up inside of a hospital room, biting her nails nervously as the announcer on the television before her speaks of a Spartans guaranteed victory against the pristine tile floor below him.

Suddenly, Noah wants this even more than he'd even wanted it before.

"When you play in that second half tonight, I want you to go out on that field and play for those people. Play for the people who will not give up on you. You play with them in your hearts. Every single person at this field tonight will face a battle in their lifetime that they will either win or lose. Differentiating between these outcomes takes place in how badly you want it –"

"This battle is not over gentlemen. The fight is never finished."

---

"And the second half kicks off with the Titans on defense and if they want any chance of winning this game tonight, they're going to have to take control and they're going to have to do it right now."

Noah's feet tap nervously against the turf littering the sidelines as he eyes his defense lining up at the forty yard line. He senses their already shot nerves from here; each member tense in their preparation to defend what they all know is rightfully theirs.

"Corcoran come over here, listen to me; I don't want you even looking at them!" Ken Tanaka catches Noah's nervous motions as his eyes trail upon the opposing team. The coach pulls Noah to the side, he clutches onto the boy's facemask so that Noah has no choice but push his own face closer and closer into Ken's. Noah knows what the man is doing; he knows that he is only trying to prevent the already distracting boy from trailing further from the edge. "I don't want you to even think about them. You stay inside of your own head. You think about nothing else but how this next series of yours is gonna play out."

"Emerson drops back for the pass, and he is absolutely buried by two Titans and there he goes, fumble!" Ken Tanaka breaks his own advice almost immediately. Noah finds it as an excuse to follow suite, his eyes widening with the announcement as he turns back towards the large pile of bodies packed together uncomfortably at the end of the field, "Loose ball and the refs indicate that it's the Titans ball! The Titans pick up the fumble and touchdown Titans! Mike Chang is in for the touchdown and the William McKinley Titans are finally on the board!"

The very field itself seems to liven up as the Titans celebrate their first points. Noah's teammates jump and cheer as if they had just scored the game winning touchdown, as if they were not still twenty four points behind their opponents, with time running out with each passing second.

Noah simply keeps to himself; the boy moves silently as he straps his helmet back onto his head and incorporates the helpful deep breathing exercises that he knows he will need in order to get through these next two quarters.

Noah feels as though he is keeping one eye on the clock throughout the entirety of the game. Lined up behind his quarterback, Noah finds the distraction of a former friend as nothing less than a boost in the motivation that he knows he will require in order to ensure a victory that is very rapidly becoming much more plausible than before.

One minute left in play.

"Hudson falls back to pass, Puck Corcoran is stuck in double coverage…" Fifty nine seconds. Fifty eight seconds. "Hudson makes a beautiful throw and he connects with Corcoran who puts on the gas… He breaks away!" Fifty seven seconds. Fifty six seconds. Fifty five seconds. "Corcoran only has one more man to beat, and he leaps over the safety; the last line of defense finds nothing but the wind on Puck Corcoran's heels. Corcoran has nothing but room, he runs into the end zone, touchdown Titans and just like that it is thirty one to twenty eight Spartans and the Titans are back in this game just one touchdown away from the greatest comeback in Ohio football's history!"

"Onside kick! Onside kick! Onside kick!" Ken Tanaka is red in the face as he shouts the repetitive order that the special teams unit has already deduced anyway. Noah sidles into his positioning on the sidelines alongside the understand that he has to leave it up to his kicker, whether or not the Titans will have the opportunity to get this ball back, to win this game.

"The team lines up for an anticipated onsides kick that the Titans can only hope they will be able to recover first." Noah fiddles nervously with the tips of his gloved fingers, eyes glistening as the scene on the field before him appears to be moving in slow motion. "Kicker Kurt Hummel has been nothing but solid for this Titans team all season and we will see if he has one more miracle left in this kick."

Their tiny kicker, miniaturized impossibly greater by his bulky equipment sends the ball flying with a precision that only a dedicated performer can master. Kurt Hummel has the ball sailing high into the air, about ten yards in front of him. Noah loses the ball quickly inside of the spotlights. Tiny, green dots flash before him as he attempts to stare into the bright overheads. By the time Noah finally retains his normal sense of vision, the only thing that he can make out is the pileup of bodies folded in on top of each other at midfield.

The silence indicates that the call of which team has recovered possession has yet to come from the referees.

Three refs pull and tug against the back of bickering teams' jerseys in an effort to catch a clearer image of what is stuffed at the bottom of the pile… Noah is certain that there is not a single person on this field right now who is actually breathing.

"Titans ball!" Noah hears the call before he sees the telltale sign of the refs pointing towards the direction of the Spartans' end zone. The roar that erupts from the crowd behind him is practically deafening. "With just over thirty seconds left the play, the referees indicate that it is the Titan's ball and the offense will take the field for one more opportunity to pull off the miracle!"

He was never the religious type, but Noah can't help but to utter the shortest of prayers as he trots onto the field, murmuring his pleas under his breath as he takes his position on the field for what he knows may very well be the final time.

"Hudson is back to pass and in an unusual move by the quarterback, he's got his tight end Matt Rutherford cutting across the inside. Hudson fires a beautiful pass to Rutherford but he is surrounded by defenders, this is an unusual call from Ken Tanaka who knew that this very well may be the final play of the game, and with the clock running out Rutherford is buried, but wait… It's a pitch! Rutherford pitches the ball to Puck Corcoran on the lateral who breaks a tackle and sprints down the field!"

Noah is certain that he has never moved faster in his entire life, and in his day, he has had a lot to run from. The boy's legs move seemingly on their own accord, his lungs filtering heavy doses of oxygen like a well oiled machine into and out of his rapidly pumping heart.

Noah's body moves with an organized grace and through it all, he does not feel a single thing.

"The linebacker latches onto Corcoran's shoulders. Another one leaps up and catches him around the waist. With ten yards to go, they're trying to get Corcoran onto the ground but he simply will not go down!" In the back of his mind, Noah is consciously aware of the fact that there are two grown teens dangling from his body, attempting desperately to throw him from the ground. But he is inches away now; he can barely feel their best of attempts. He is not going to go down. Not like this. "Puck Corcoran dives in towards the end zone; the Spartan cornerback is trying to catch him at the last second. He lunges from the side, makes a diving tackle and connects hard with Corcoran who falls straight to the ground. Is he in? Is he in?"

The first recollection of any sort of a conscious feeling that Noah has is a blinding pain that shoots through the side of his skull, travelling the entirety down the length of his spine as the inside of his head seems to explode like a dynamite going off.

The collision between him and the Spartan cornerback is the first physical entity that he identifies throughout the entirety of his run. Their eyes literally latch as their heads connect with a force that not even Noah's helmet can protect him from.

Noah falls to the ground hard. He lays still, reeling in the agony that the blow has caused him as, amidst the fog of a blinding pain that blocks his ability to so much as move, Noah can't help but to wonder whether or not he at least made it into the end zone.

"The referees are running over, we're gonna have to wait for the official call and… Touchdown! Touchdown Titans! The Titans win! The Titans win State!" Noah is surprised to find himself describing the sudden roar of the crowd before him as grueling.

It pounds through his skull, seeps through each and every crack and crevice and leaves him wondering why it is that nobody has seemed to notice that he is on the ground; that he is not getting up because physically he cannot stand up no matter how hard he tries.

The thundering of pounding footsteps leaves the Earth beneath him quivering like an earthquake. Noah's muscles tense in anticipation of the worst. He cannot see his friends, his teammates, his family, but he assumes that they are rushing the field in celebration, hazed with the sweat sense of victory, blind to the point that Noah has become all but obsolete.

What if they don't ever realize that he is down here?

His heart constricts with the sudden notion of Shelby rushing the field to congratulate him, only to find him a crumpled mess against the turf. His mother has enough on her plate as it is she doesn't have to be burdened with an injured son as well. Noah's heart begins to beat exponentially, his breathing increasing to the point that he cannot seem to manage a proper flow of oxygen into his chest. He could die here; he can very well die right here, and if he goes, and if Rachel goes who was going to take care of their mother?

"Hold it folks. Puck Corcoran is down. Puck is down on the ground and he is not moving."

The voice swelters like that of an angle. Noah is provided with comfort towards the idea that at least somebody has recognized the fact that he is injured.

"He went down hard on that final tackle by the Spartan cornerback as he dove in for the touchdown. That was simply just a tremendous hit on Noah "Puck" Corcoran and he does not appear to be moving."

The stadium before him falls into a stone silence. Noah swears that he would be able to hear a pin drop should it so come to that. The celebration falters and dies directly before him, and if anything, this only forces Noah to perceive things as even worse.

"Noah can you hear me?" The boy's pull back into consciousness is met with a voice that sounds like a gunshot ringing through the air. His reconnection with the outside world forces Noah back into reality with a sharp inhale that burns at his aching lungs.

"Can you hear me Noah?" The question is repeated when his initial answer does not come swiftly enough, several unfamiliar faces hovering above him as he swallows his sudden uncomfortably dry mouth. He is in shock. He is in too much shock it seems, to so much as wrap his head around the concept of speaking.

"Noah can you hear me?" Noah finds himself vaguely registering a sense of annoyance towards the man standing before him for his repetitiveness as he blinks at the beaming penlight as it shines downwards and into both of his eyes. He cannot find it in him to physically respond as the overwhelming array of blinding white light leaves his head pounding and his chest heaving impossibly.

He wants to respond. He tries to respond but no words ever seem to emit from between his parted lips.

"Noah, can you squeeze my hands for me? Can you wiggle your toes?" He processes the instruction. Noah can physically hear the direction as he desperately wills his body to adhere to the motions, but no matter how much effort he seems to put into it, Noah's body simply does not want to follow the advice that his brain is providing it with.

"What do we have?"

"It may be a spinal injury." When the trainer whispers to the paramedics that come up along besides him, Noah can tell that he was not meant to hear it. His words leave the boy with an even sense of urgency. He tries impossibly harder, with a sense of pleading desperation to move. When he fails once more, he can call disappointment a profound understatement.

"I'm not sure yet."

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Sorry guys, in my rush last week I completely forgot to respond to your reviews. Please forgive me! I tacked them onto here :)

Miriami – Thank you as always! Your kind words always make me smile! Noah still has a tough time ahead of him, in both the past and the present. It's actually kind of funny that you mention her refusal to receive treatments, because it is gonna play a part soon (I'm not gonna tell you on what timeline though) and it's definitely gonna be hard for Shelby to process. I'd say that my inspiration for this story was an accumulation of a lot of different families I saw come through. They were all amazing in their different ways. I feel like I can never give them enough justice to accurately depict everything that they had to go through. Thanks again though for being so great!

Isabella_Poulous – Oh wow, thank you so much! I knew the basic direction that I wanted to go at the beginning of the story but I've definitely added details here and there. At this point I know exactly what's gonna happen up until the end but this is a very recent development :) Thanks for the review!

Clara_Meliza – Thank you! I like writing the present chapters best for the most part too but while I was writing the last one, it kind of struck me that it was a big transitioning point for Noah from being an innocent little kid to the guy he grew up to be. Those weren't my initial intentions, but I guess things just have a tendency to work out that way sometimes. Thanks for the review :)

Solemnxhypnotic – I'm sorry to make you cry! I feel the same way about Quinn. She's going through a tough time as it is that is kind of helping her to see the light and make her change, but at the same time she just seemed like the perfect candidate to be that kid that made Rachel's life a living hell when they were younger so Noah has every right to get defensive. She'll get a bit more important in chapters to come. Thank you so much for your review! I'm honored that you're at a Harry Potter emotional level because I know exactly how that goes haha.

Baygirl123 – Thank you!