Chapter 6: Nothing's Gonna Harm You, Not While I'm Around

The assignment of the week is girls versus boys. However, at Kurt's urging, Mr. Schuester is making it more challenging. The boys have to sing songs traditionally sung by women. The girls have to choose classic rock, traditionally sung by men. They're excited, but the girls sat down with Rachel the day it was assigned.

"Look, Berry, we know you're our best singer. But you're also only in school a couple days a week."

Rachel frowns. "I try to come more, but—"

"Rach, that's not the point." Mercedes interjects. "You need to be home resting. But if you're home resting, you're not here rehearsing with us."

"Plus, we need to make a routine that's not too strenuous for you. So you won't be the only soloist."

Rachel sits back, looking at her friends. "I didn't expect to be the only soloist. But I was hoping to have a solo."

The other girls relax. "Yeah, that was our thought."

Rachel grins a little. "Okay. Thanks."

While she understood why her friends talked to her about it, she still felt it was unnecessary and a little uncomfortable. They could have just worked on a routine where they planned out that she wouldn't be the star and she would have been fine with it. Instead, they made a point of telling her she wouldn't be the only soloist. She shakes it away. It doesn't matter. The girls spend a while choosing a song, but end up deciding to do a mash-up of Start Me Up and Living On A Prayer. She goes home and tells her mom about it. Her mom is amused, impressed, and hesitant. But she doesn't argue.

They spent Tuesday practicing as well. Rachel came to school late, but rehearsed with them in the afternoon. She didn't go to school on Wednesday, so the girls agreed to go to Rachel's house and practice that evening. Holly Holliday and her mom both helped them out with choreography and outfits. Holly also helped Rachel convince her mom that the outfits were appropriate. Because Holly promised to record it, her mom wasn't too upset about not being there for it. She'll watch it that night when they're all home. Rachel was worried about not being up to performing on Friday because Thursday's treatment side effects were pretty bad. She could barely walk into the house afterwards. Her mom got her to the couch and that's where she slept for several hours. When she woke up, it was dark and her mom was asleep in the recliner next to her. She was feeling better so she debated going up to her room, but knew if she did that she'd have to wake her mother. Instead, she quietly got herself a glass of water and curled back up on the couch to sleep.

It went off without a hitch. The boys loved it, hooting and cheering them on. The girls had a lot of fun, too. Rachel had fun, but mostly she was happy because she was able to perform the entire thing without an attack or dizziness. Finn pulled her onto his lap and kissed her passionately. When she pulled back, breathless, she grinned at his dazed expression.

"Is this from the outfit or the performance?"

"All of it." And kissed her again. He also asked her to pose for a picture before letting her change back to her normal clothes.

Kurt posted the performance on his vlog and got very positive feedback from it. His viewers absolutely raved about them. Of course, they also raved about the boys' performance. But the girls definitely took the cake.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel had woken up groggy that morning. When she pushed herself up, her arms shook. She sat on the edge of her bed for a while, resting her head in her hands. The young brunette wonders if this is a lasting effect of the cold she just shook off. Her fever is finally gone, but maybe she's not as recovered as she'd thought. Or maybe its because Dr. Reed told her that her numbers dropped further. She's still in stage 3, but her red blood cell count continues to dwindle. When she felt strong enough, she got dressed. She gripped the banister tight as she walked carefully down the stairs.

"Whoa, girlfriend. How we doing?" Holly hurries over and takes her arm to help her down the final few steps.

"Tired."

"Are you ready to eat breakfast?"

She shakes her head. Holly sighs and walks her to the recliner. Her eyelids are falling shut already. How long has she been awake? Minutes?

"I hate being this tired." She mumbles.

"I know you do."

She wakes up feeling a lot better the second time around. She eats, then Holly helps her with her schoolwork for a while. When it's finished, they sing a few songs. She's really glad her mom thought to hire Holly. And that the blonde accepted the position. As usual when she doesn't go to school, she texts back and forth with her friends. She loves that they check in on her when she's not there. Now that Sam knows she's sick, he is part of the group chat they use. She smiled at the funny picture he sent of himself holding a sign saying he wishes she was there. Her mom comes home a little early. Rachel suspects Holly told her about how tired she was that morning. Not just because she came home early, but because of how closely her mom watched her in the minutes after she arrived. So even though she's better now, her mom seems to feel better being home with her. Rachel curls up on the couch watching tv while her mom and Holly chat in the kitchen. Her tutor calls a goodbye as she heads out the door. Her mom joins her on the couch and they spend a while making fun of the crazy brides on the reality show she had on.

The tiredness begins to creep back in as the evening wears on. Limbs feeling heavier than normal, eyes dry and scratchy, eyelids slowly sinking, her responses slower than usual. Her mom kisses her head but doesn't comment or question. Kurt and Uncle Burt come over. They have dinner together and talk. Uncle Burt tells them that he's planning on proposing to Mrs. Hudson soon. Everyone is excited about it. By late evening, Rachel can't even stand on her own. She doesn't just feel lethargic; she feels odd. Heavy. Like she's moving through a thick fog. Uncle Burt carries her up to bed. Her mom helps her change into pajamas. Kurt kisses her cheek before he leaves, telling her to get some rest.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Beep

Beep

Beep

She hears it from a distance. It has an odd echo to it, but she's heard that sound often enough to know what it means. She's a little chilly, like a fall breeze coasting over her. An anvil sits on her torso. Its making it hard to get air in and at the same time causing her bruises to throb painfully. Her hands are being held, and yet they feel cold. Which is odd, since normally having her hands held makes them the only warm part of her. She tries to move, but nothing happens. Not her foot, not her head, not a finger, not even her eyes or lips. Everything feels like it's made of cement and impossible to move.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Cold fear rushes through her. She can't move, can't make a sound, and the only thing she hears is the damn beeping. It's getting harder to take in air. As her breaths get shorter, she now hears something new. Right by her ear is a low, soft murmur. She can't make it out. It might be a voice talking or humming. All she can tell is that it sounds sad. Desperate. Now a new hand joins the others, moving her hair. She tries harder to open her eyes or make a sound, but nothing happens. And she's getting colder. While she can't open her eyes or see anything, it seems to somehow be getting darker. Someone kisses her chilled cheek. This time when someone speaks, she hears the words clearly.

"Time to go, my little star."

Daddy?

The realization of who she just heard causes her heart to leap into her throat and tears to fill her eyes. Rachel gasps, suddenly able to take in more air, and her eyes snap open. She stares at a very familiar white ceiling. Her white ceiling. Blinking, she twists her head around. She's in her room. At home. The clock on her nightstand says 2:43. She sits up. Her heart is pounding and her breathing is shaky, tears sliding down her cheeks in tiny rivers. Shivering, Rachel pulls her comforter up over her torso and frowns. When her eyes find her window, she relaxes a little. She'd opened it earlier and forgot to shut it. The temperatures must have dropped on this October night. She's still shaking.

It was just a dream.

She should feel better upon realizing that, right? So why doesn't she?

She sucks in another breath and presses her hands against her eyes. She needs to calm down. She needs her mom. Pushing off her blankets, she rises. She grasps the door jam until the floor feels steadier under her feet, her toes digging into the plush carpeting. Then continues on, walking into her mom's room. Her mother is sleeping on her side, her back to the door. Rachel hesitates. Should she try to slide into the bed silently? Or intentionally wake her mother?

"Mom." The soft sob slips from her mouth. Her heart chose before her mind could decide.

Her mother jumps, eyes already going towards the door. They find her, first. As the haze of sleep slips from her mom's expression, alertness and concern take its place. Rachel takes one more step towards her but the older woman is faster. Her mom has her arms around her in seconds.

"Rachel? You're shaking. What's wrong?"

Rachel buries her head into her mom's neck, wraps her arms tight around her waist, and cries. Her mom's hand rubs her back, careful of the worst of the bruises. After a moment she pulls back, creating enough space between them so that she can see Rachel's face.

"Honey? Tell me what's wrong."

She tries. She opens her mouth to explain her nightmare, but all that comes out is a slightly louder sobbed "Mom."

She's pulled into a tighter embrace. "Honey, you're really shaking. Did you have an attack?"

Rachel shakes her head.

"Okay, I didn't really think so. You wouldn't be standing if that were the case. Something happened, though."

She tightens her grip on her mom and continues to cry, trying to calm down so she can explain.

"Alright, hun, let's get into the bed."

They shuffle the few remaining steps to her mom's bed and climb in. As soon as they're in, Rachel curls into her and begins sobbing her heart out. Her mom holds her, letting her cry. After a while, her mom begins trying to calm her down.

"Breathe in, baby, slower breaths. Bigger breaths. Come on."

With guidance, she is able to get control of her breathing. The tears slow but don't stop entirely. She lays quietly with her head on her mom's chest, feeling the warm hand softly rubbing soothing circles on her back. Under her ear, her mother's heart beats a comforting cadence.

"Talk to me, baby girl."

"I had a nightmare." A fresh wave of tears fill her eyes.

"About what?"

"Dying."

It was in the time after the nightmare, sobbing in the comfort of her mother's embrace, that she was able to identify the theme of her nightmare. Death. Dying. That's what was happening in the dream. Being cold, not being able to move or even really hear, not being able to breathe, and then hearing her Daddy. Her mom's hand stills. In stilted sentences and a quiet voice, Rachel tells her mother about her nightmare. She's not sure she expressed it correctly.

"I'm so sorry, honey. That must have been very scary. But it was just a nightmare. It didn't happen. It won't happen."

Rachel nods, but is already starting to drift off. "I'm tired. But I don't want to fall back into that nightmare."

She feels her mother press a firm kiss to her head. "You won't. You can sleep safe, here in my arms."

Rachel lets her eyes slip closed. Soft but strong, her mother's voice floats over her. It wraps around her heart, through it, filling in the cracks and strengthening the weak spots.

"Nothing's gonna harm you,

Not while I'm around

Nothing's gonna harm you

No girl, not while I'm around

Demons are prowling everywhere

Nowadays

I'll send 'em howling

I don't care, I got ways

No one's gonna hurt you

No one's gonna dare

Other's can desert you

Not to worry…"

Xxxxx

Shelby sings the whole song through, even after Rachel falls asleep. She keeps her arms around her child, feeling her deep breaths in sleep. She doesn't want to let go. She doesn't want to move. But she can feel her own breathing becoming harsh and her vision becoming blurry. When she can no longer hold back, she carefully slides out from under Rachel, makes sure she's still asleep, then heads into her ensuite bathroom. Shelby shuts the door softly behind her, grabs a towel, and sits on the floor, leaning against the far wall. The mother buries her face into the towel to muffle her sobs.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The following night, Shelby is back at her piano. Writing her song of hope. Unbeknownst to her, Rachel had spent part of her evening Skyping with Blaine discussing her own song.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Let's do the time warp again

Let's do the time warp again

It's just a jump to the left

And then a step to the right

Put your hands on your hips

You bring your knees in tight

But it's the pelvic thrust

That really—"

Rachel stops singing and kneels down. She's very familiar with the early signs of a moderate attack. At least she hopes it's a moderate and not a severe. The three she has had have been the worst experiences of her life. And that's saying something. Quinn is the closest. She grabs Rachel and holds her steady. Mr. Schuester stands from the piano bench, face alarmed, and starts heading towards her. Holly does the same from her seat. The rest of the kids stop singing and dancing, turning to look.

They sit nearby, waiting to see if they're needed. Holly begins timing it, as Dr. Reed requested whenever possible. Rachel grips Quinn's arms and takes in strained breaths. She's leaning forward, trying to curl up as best she can. Her friend whispers encouragement to her, curling with her so as to not lose contact. A particularly harsh wave of pain forces the air out of her lungs and makes the room tilt. Mercedes scoots closer and places a hand on her leg. Breathing in feels like shards of glass are imbedded in her lungs. She manages a heaving breath and drops her head forward.

"Hmm." She's learned to handle them well enough that she no longer cries or panics, but she can't help that the pain manages to squeeze some moans or whimpers from her.

"3 minutes." Holly intones quietly.

"When do we call an ambulance?"

"After 5 minutes. 1 and a half to go, now."

Like hell. No way she's going to the hospital if she can avoid it. She clenches her eyes shut and focuses on breathing in short labored breaths. It finally ends and she's left gasping, slumped back against her friend. Quinn presses her cheek against hers. She still feels like she can't quite catch her breath.

"Four minutes and 12 seconds." Holly announces.

"New record." Puck is immediately glared at and smacked by those closest.

Rachel cracks a tired grin. "Do I….get…..a medal?"

Puck smirks. "I'll steal you one."

Kurt begins talking but Rachel misses it. She's distracted by pinpricks in her chest. She frowns. The attack ended. Why is she in pain again? The pinpricks intensify. She gasps and grips Quinn's arm again.

"Rachel?"

She can't speak. She gasps again and groans quietly.

"Aah.." the soft exaltation drawing everybody's attention.

"Rachel, what's wrong? What's happening?" Mr. Schuester is kneeling beside her.

"I-I…" She can't talk. She also can't help the tears that slip out. She's scared. Her breathing becomes short, staccato gasps. While she's tense, her body is so exhausted that she remains practically limp against Quinn. Finn pushes past Mercedes.

"I'm taking her, Quinn."

She feels his arms slip under her knees and behind her back. He holds her against his chest. She's a rag doll in his arms, tense but unable to even sit up. He kisses her forehead and talks to her softly. After about a minute, the pain ends.

"Is it over, Rachel?" Mercedes asks.

She nods. They all relax a little, but still look nervous.

"What was that? Was that a mild attack?" Kurt takes her hand. "A minute after a moderate attack?"

"I-I th-think….s-s-so." Seeing their horrified faces just adds to her own horror. More tears slip out and her face crumples. "I-I don't l-like thi-is. I do-n't…."

Finn holds her closer. "It's okay. It's over now."

"I-I don't….feel….good." A quiet murmur.

She still feels…..oddly sore. Almost like phantom pains. She has never felt so bad after a moderate attack before. This feels closer to the aftermath of a severe attack, just not as bad. Holly calls Uncle Burt while Finn carries her to the car. He meets them at his house. He carries her up to her room where Holly and Kurt help her change into lounge clothes. She's assuming, since she was barely conscious at the time. The next time she's fully aware of her surroundings it's dark. Her mom lays on the bed with her, running her fingers through her hair.

"Mom?" She blinks in the darkness.

Her mom kisses her temple. "Hi, baby girl. How're you feeling?"

"Not good."

Fingers lightly trace her cheekbone. "Can you be a little more specific?"

"Tired. Weak. Nauseous."

"You had a double whammy, huh."

"It sucked."

Her mom chuckles. "Yeah." She props herself up on one arm and looks down at her. "Think you could try eating some soup? Uncle Burt has your favorite. It won't take long to heat up."

Rachel knows her mom would feel better if she ate something, but just the thought of it makes her stomach roll. Plus, she really really wants to go back to sleep. "No. Sorry."

In the moonlight, she can just make out her mom's expression. It's obviously the answer she was expecting, despite hoping for something different. "Alright."

She's starting to fall asleep again when something occurs to her. "I missed my treatment."

"Yeah, you did. We'll go tomorrow."

"Friday night treatments suck." She sees the look on her mom's face and something clicks. "You don't mean after school, do you?"

Her mom shakes her head. "No. I've already rescheduled it for 11 o'clock tomorrow morning."

Her tired mind whirls with thoughts. "But, I've already missed so many days! Shouldn't days off be reserved for when I don't feel up to going?"

"Rachel, you need your treatment. The sooner the better."

"Why can't I just go after school like usual?" Tears of exhaustion and frustration fill her eyes.

Her mom patiently brushes them away. "Because you need to rest tomorrow and I need you to get your treatment sooner rather than later."

Rachel sighs, conceding defeat, and rolls over. Rachel isn't sure if her mom had wanted them to go home tonight or not, but frankly she doesn't want to move so she's not even going to ask. She's just going to let herself fall back asleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mr. Schuester was sick. That's what her friends were texting her during her treatment, anyway. While Ms. Pillsbury insisted it was just a minor cold, she said he didn't want to risk spreading it to anyone. Despite Rachel not being there today (which they'd all kind of suspected would be the case), he didn't want to take the chance that his germs would spread to the other kids, which would lead to spreading to her. Ms. P assures them that by Monday he should be back at work. He, and Sue and Coach Beiste and Holly, have been making sure to take good care of themselves to try to avoid getting sick. Her friends have been great about staying away from her if they're sick at all. Her family (and her) has been great about keeping the house(s) clean with Lysol, and she's been good about staying away from sick people at school and resting when she needs to. Plus she just hasn't been at school as frequently. End result is she's only gotten sick once so far this school year.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plant in the corner needs water. It's distracting. The poor plant is getting sunlight from the window, but it's faded green leaves are starting to wilt. It clearly needs water. She wonders whose job it is to water it. When her mom takes her hand, she returns her attention to Dr. Reed.

"…which is why we're going to increase her treatment starting this week."

"Increase it how?" Rachel asks.

Dr. Reed caps his pen and leans forward. "You'll get two blood transfusions a week from now on."

Her stomach squirms uncomfortably. Twice a week transfusions? Twice a week she has to a) sit in the clinic for 2-4 hours and b) deal with the side effects? She blows out an irritated breath.

"I know. It really sucks. But your numbers are continuing to decline. We need to do something different."

"But you still don't think we should do a bone marrow transplant?" Her mom interjects.

"Correct."

"Why not?"

Dr. Reed hesitates, glancing between them. "Well, as I've explained before, she can only get this procedure once. Then she won't have it as an option if she gets sick again in the future. And it's usually worse if it returns a second or even third time. I still believe she can beat this with the traditional treatment and keep a bone marrow transplant in her back pocket. Just in case she ends up needing it in the future."

"But her numbers are still dropping. Are you sure sticking with traditional treatment is—" Her mom glances at her apologetically "—enough?"

Dr. Reed's expression is grim. "That's actually the other reason why I'd like to stick to blood transfusions. Her numbers are dropping steadily. She's stage 3. Even if we had a donor right now, all lined up, she'd still have to go through chemotherapy and radiation before we could do the transplant. She'd have to stop her current treatments for a while leading up to the transfusion. The fact that Rachel is already stage 3 combined with the rate at which her blood count continues to drop tells me that…..there's a strong possibility….that there wouldn't be enough time to do the bone marrow transplant."

Normally fear is hot for her, burning through her insides like acid. This time the fear is cold. It wraps around her and through her, making her shiver. She feels like she she may vomit. Her mom's grasp tightens and she looks up at her. Her mother's green eyes hold the same fear Rachel is feeling. Not enough time. Her heart pounds furiously, pushing blood through her faster. For a moment, all she can hear is the rushing in her ears. She pulls in a deep breath and slowly lets it out, looking at the plant in the corner again. It's dying. Is she? Sound rushes back in.

"—not enough time….for a bone marrow transplant. But you're sure she can still recover with increased blood transfusions?" Her mom's voice is shaking.

He nods. "I do. Even if her numbers weren't dropping, it would be negligent of me to have her get a transplant when we haven't exhausted all other avenues of recourse. Also, her symptoms are getting worse. Her body is already under incredible strain. Adding in chemotherapy just might be more than her body can handle at this time. Increasing her blood transfusions is the next step. Twice a week. We'll do that for a couple weeks. Then we'll decide if anything else needs to be done."

"Anything else like what?"

"Increasing the dosage of her medication." Rachel grimaces. "I understand, Rachel. It would mean your immune system would be even more compromised than it already is. You'd have to stay out of school entirely. So for now, we'll stick to the increased blood transfusions and see how that goes."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They go to Hummel-home. Her mom tells Uncle Burt while Rachel tells Kurt up in his room. Just like every other time she's gotten bad news from the doctor, they curl up on his bed together. She has a headache, but she's not sure if its from her illness, stress, or a combination. Either way, she mumbles to Kurt about her head hurting and he immediately gets up to get her some medicine.

"Can I still get tested to see if I could be your donor?"

She frowns at him. "I'm not doing the transplant. I don't have enough time left."

Kurt's already pale face loses even more color. "You said that." He snaps. "Sorry, I just…prepping for the transplant takes a long time and Dr. Reed thinks increasing your transfusions will help you get better faster. That's all it means, Rachel. It doesn't mean…."

He trails off, huffing. They both pretend they don't hear the muffled sob from downstairs.

"I know." She says quietly. "I promise, as soon as he even hints at possibly doing the transplant, I'll let you know so you can get tested."

He shifts on the bed to get more comfortable. "Me and everyone else."

"Huh?"

"Rachel, everyone in Glee is going to want to get tested."

Talking about something that's not happening is starting to irritate her. "If I end up getting a transplant. Kurt, we've been over this. Why-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll stop." He tries to mollify her. "I just….want to be able to actually do something to make you better."

Irritation fading, she wraps an arm around his torso. She's not really sure what to say. She gets it. She wishes it, too. But the fact of the matter is, no one can do anything.

"Just keep holding me."

And he does.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He grins as he shuts his locker. He'd seen the text sent out to their group. Rachel would be coming in to Glee. He fists bump Puck as they meet up. His mind drifts to what lunch will be. He's hungry. Yesterday they had corndogs. Corndogs! He may be a country boy, sort of, but he's never been a fan of corndogs. Or cornbread, for that matter. Actually, who decided to call hot dogs "hot dogs" in the first place? Why name such a tasty meat product after an adorable, lovable creature? Finn is disappointed when he walks into the choir room and his girlfriend isn't there yet. To distract himself until her arrival, he shares his thoughts about hot dogs with his friends. Sam nods, eyes furrow in contemplation. Puck shrugs. Everyone else who heard him is scoffing or rolling their eyes.

Kurt and Mercedes walk in, drawing their attention. Mercedes is looking sideways at Kurt, her expression concerned. Kurt looks….like he's barely holding it together. Finn sits up straighter. Kurt doesn't speak or answer any questions, so they give up trying. Mr. Schuester is watching him with a frown. Before he can speak, Ms. Holliday and Rachel walk into the room. Everyone goes quiet when Rachel stops front and center. Mr. Schue brings her a stool, looking concerned. She sits.

"What's going on, Berry?" Santana asks.

"I had a doctor's appointment yesterday, as you all know."

And they did. She left school early for it. Plus, they always know when her appointments are. They always ask the next day how it went. Rachel sighs.

"My numbers are still dropping, but I'm still in stage 3."

The kids look around at each other. They're not happy, but at least she's not really worse, right?

"If your numbers are still dropping, are they going to do anything different?" Mercedes asks.

"Two transfusions a week." She's clearly not happy about it. Neither are they. They've all gone with her at least once to a treatment. Most have gone with her more than once. They know how bored she gets and how sick she can feel afterwards. Having to do that twice a week just….massively sucks.

"I'm sorry." Tina says. "I—"

She's cut off by Mike. "Wait, didn't you say there was another option? You had kind of told us about a bone marrow transplant being a possibility. Why aren't they doing that?"

All eyes swing back to Rachel. Finn holds his breath. Rachel's lips are pressed together in a tight line and her eyes are…..weighed down. "Dr. Reed said…because I'm stage 3…..and my numbers are still dropping…there's not enough time."

Finn frowns. Not enough time? He doesn't understand. Mr. Schuester closes his eyes, his face falling. He then leans forward, resting his head in his hands. Coach Sylvester stands and folds her arms, turning away from them.

"Wait, what does that even mean? Not enough time?" Sam asks, brow furrowed.

Finn has never seen that look on Rachel's face before. He can't describe it, but just seeing it makes his heart feel like its being squeezed.

"I'd have to go through chemotherapy and radiation before doing the transplant. Plus I'd have to stop my current treatment for a while beforehand." She takes a breath. "Dr. Reed thinks…..if things continue as they are now…..I wouldn't….survive…..the preparation. I wouldn't live long enough to actually get the transplant."

His world comes to a staggering halt. Around him he knows his teammates are reacting to this news with despair and fear. But for him? Finn simultaneously feels like he could crush any opponent with the strength of his combined fury and terror and like he's made of glass and will shatter if anyone touches him. He refuses to shatter. Rachel needs him. So he stands, picks up his chair, and hurls it at the wall. He grabs another and does it again. Then he starts kicking every chair near him. Multiple hands grab him, arms going around him, pulling him down to the ground. He tries to shove them all off. A few are pushed back, but they return. They hold him down. He wasn't aware he was screaming until he heard a voice in his ear.

"Dude I get it, but you need to stop screaming. You're freaking Rachel out."

That's the last thing he wants. He sucks in rapid breaths. He stops fighting, but he's still shaking. He keeps his eyes clenched shut as he tries to force his emotions down to manageable levels. Soft fingers caress his cheeks before holding his face gently. He opens his eyes. An angel kneels before him. His angel. Her brown eyes are flowing with tears, but her face is calm. She continues to hold his face, her thumbs lightly stroking his cheeks until he is calm. When his breathing is normal and his shaking stops, she smiles slightly. The room is silent, save for a few sniffles behind him. But Rachel's eyes stay on him. She brushes her lips against his and he melts into her. He kisses her firmly, hearing a symphony in his head. For the seconds that their lips are connected, his heart is at peace and all is right in his world. After a moment, she pulls back, smiling softly.

"You're magic."

She gives a soft, short laugh. "I took you from one extreme to the other. It balanced you out."

"Right. Balance." He grins at her goofily. "You're my balance."

She shakes her head but gives him a quick peck on the lips. "And here I thought you were mine."

He ignores the "aawww"'s from behind him. He stands before reaching down to assist Rachel up. He looks around the room, seeing chairs in disarray and his teammates standing well back. He rubs the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Uh, sorry 'bout that."

"It's fine, Finn." Mr. Schue says, eyes wet.

Rachel tugs on his arm and he follows. She lightly pushes him down into a chair and sits on his lap. Her eyes sweep the room before returning to rest on him.

"Dr. Reed thinks my best chance of surviving is to increase my transfusions to twice a week. After a few weeks, we'll reevaluate. A bone marrow transplant may no longer be an option for me, but there are some other, less invasive, things to try."

Finn holds her just a little tighter, his fingers digging into her hips and his head resting against hers.

"It also means I'll be in school even less frequently." She adds quietly. "I….I…." She squeezes her eyes shut briefly. They give her the time she needs. "I know it's not fair to ask. Or even reasonable. It's selfish. But…"

"You still want a solo at Sectionals." Quinn finishes for her, a knowing smirk on her face.

Rachel blushes slightly. Finn kisses her cheek. Frankly, if anyone dares deny her this simple request he will be throwing more than just chairs. Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schue trade hesitant looks.

"Rachel," Mr. Schue begins, but is cut off.

"I know. It's selfish. And I want us to win, which means I shouldn't perform because well, we don't know if I'll be able to by then. I can barely keep up with the dances now. I know that! It's just…..what if this is….my last competition?" She brushes away a tear and Finn prepares himself to punch his favorite teacher. Knowing how hard Rachel has fought for solos in the past, he wouldn't be too surprised if she was laying it on thick to get sympathy, but he honestly doesn't care if that's the case. She's not lying about anything. And considering how hard she has tried to downplay her illness, he doesn't think she's intentionally being dramatic.

"You're right. You probably won't be up to performing by the time Sectionals rolls around." Mr. Schuester begins again, only to be cut off a second time.

"There'd better be a 'but' coming, Mr. Schue." Mercedes warns him, eyes narrowed.

Their teacher smiles at her. "But, I'm sure we can work something out."

Rachel relaxes a little, a small grateful smile on her face.

"What ever happened with the whole service dog thing?" Tina asks. "Did your mom look into it?"

Rachel sighs and starts playing with his fingers. "Yeah. She did. And we talked to Dr. Reed about it. Apparently it takes six months to a year to train a service dog. Besides, service dogs are meant to help people with life long conditions. Like blindness or epilepsy. My condition is either going to go away or I'll die. It could be over before the dog is even trained. Or after the dog is trained I could end up in remission."

"But you want a dog." Artie grins.

"Yeah, I do."

"What if you get a dog that could be trained to be a service dog. While it's just a pet, maybe you could sort of train it to sense your attacks and comfort you. Then, after you go into remission, the dog can go back to just being a pet." Artie looks quite proud of his idea. Finn thinks its a good one, too.

Kurt is the one to burst the bubble with sarcasm. "Oh, yes, let's add caring for and training a puppy to Aunt Shelby's and Rachel's lives right now. There's no stress there."

Artie slumps dejectedly. Rachel smiles at him kindly. "It was a good idea, Artie. It's just….not a good time."

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A/N: Please review!