Chapter 8: Please Hold Me

Morning light flittered through the window, creating a soft glow on one side of the room. Shelby sips her coffee and grimaces. She hasn't slept. Not really. She couldn't. She'd dozed a bit, her head on her daughter's bed. Rachel had woken once during the night, grimacing in pain both from her rib and her throat. The tube providing her oxygen had also scratched her throat, irritating it. She hadn't spoken at all, only whimpered a little. Shelby and her sister had carefully helped Rachel sit up just a little and drink some water. She'd fallen back asleep with the straw still in her mouth. With a sigh, Shelby sets the empty cup down. The Hummel's and Hudson's arrived early. Carole brought Finn, stayed for a bit, then went to work. The boys not only refused to go to school, but demanded to be brought to the hospital. Each promised to complete any work they will miss. Knowing they'd be too upset to focus in school anyway, their parents had agreed. Thankfully, Rachel had been moved out of ICU during the night and is now is a regular hospital room.

The boys, Burt, her parents, and herself are all sitting in chairs around the room. Kelly and Andy had gone to Shelby's house after Rachel was moved out of the ICU and slept. Chances are they're still sleeping. It's early. Kelly had said she was going to stick around, but Andy talked about heading in to work late today. He was hesitant, wanting to be nearby. It's sweet of him, really, though unnecessary. Between her parents and Burt, and later her sister, she has plenty of support.

As usual, Kurt has claimed the opposite side of the bed as Shelby, holding Rachel's hand. Finn sits next to him. There was some quiet discussion for a while that tapered off. Finn, the observant boyfriend, is the first to notice Rachel is awake.

"Rachel?" He speaks softly, not wanting to disturb her if she's not fully awake yet.

The others either sit up taller or learn forward in their seats. Shelby reaches out and brushes her fingers along Rachel's cheek. Her daughter's eyes find hers and Shelby tries to hide her emotions behind a warm smile.

"Hey, baby girl."

"Hi….Mom."

Hearing her voice, even as faint and scratchy as it is, causes tears to spring to Shelby's eyes. She leans forward more and kisses her forehead. "I'm here." After softly running her fingers through her daughter's hair for a moment, she manages to gather herself together to speak more. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Rachel's face is drawn. There's a pause while she has to gather the energy to keep talking. "Chest….hurts."

Shelby breathes out slowly. "Yeah. You have a bruised rib, so you're going to have to be careful when you move."

"'Kay….Had a…weird…..dream."

Lips curling up, Shelby asks "Oh? Weird how?"

"Was…..on a boat."

Amusement lightens her tone. "A boat, huh. A big boat or a little boat?"

"Row….boat."

"Definitely not a ferry." Kurt mutters quietly, a small smile tugging at his mouth. Finn nudges him to be quiet.

"Were you rowing?"

"No." The boys laugh quietly but they muffle it quickly, wanting to hear the rest of her dream. "Daddy was."

The room goes silent. Kurts face slowly falls, all amusement draining from it. Shelby swallows. Around the room, eyes meet uncertainly. Her heart stops and she has a dream about the one parent who is dead?

Finn leans closer to her. "Your Daddy?"

"Hmm."

"Did you two talk?"

"Hm-hm." She's fading. Shelby begins running her fingers through her hair again.

"What, uh….what'd he say?" Finn asks.

"He said…..that….next time…..I'll have to…row….myself. That…..he won't be….allowed to….row….for me….again."

Something very cold solidifies in Shelby's stomach. Her mother rests a hand on her shoulder. Shelby blinks and tries not to look too deeply into the possible implications of Rachel's words. It was just a dream.

"That was a weird dream." She kisses her cheek. "It's over now. Sleep and dream of Broadway."

Rachel's eyes flutter shut and within seconds she's asleep. Shelby finds herself a little relieved. She doesn't have it in her to keep talking about that dream. No one else does either, she guesses, since the room goes back to being silent. No one brings it up, but everyone looks a little disturbed by it.

"Can I ask what happened?" Dr. Morgan stands just inside the room looking around at everyone's expressions.

Kurt, sitting with his legs crossed and chin on his hand, looks up at her. "Our little diva has awoken and spoken. But the tale she told was not a fun one."

Shelby's mom cracks a grin and she hears Burt sigh.

Dr. Morgan blinks. "Meaning?"

Kurt sighs. "She had a dream that she was in a rowboat with her Daddy. The one that died years ago. He was rowing. He told her…." Kurt swallows "….he told her that next time she'll have to row herself. That he won't be allowed to row for her again."

"Is that….common?" Everyone looks over at Burt. "People who were near death dreaming of talking to loved ones who have passed on?"

"It has happened, yes. I've had a few patients say they experienced that. Whether it was just their frightened subconscious reaching out for comfort and fabricating a conversation with a loved one or something more, we'll never know."

"Frightened subconscious?" Shelby's dad asks.

"If a person knows or believes they are dying, even subconsciously, they can become frightened. In their fear, their minds could potentially connect their fear of dying to a loved one who has died so they have someone familiar and loving to greet them as they pass. Again, this is just speculation. Others believe that these people truly do pass some sort of barrier once their heart stops and that they do speak to someone who has passed on. If you're truly interested, there have been multiple studies done on this topic."

"Did Rachel know?" Finn's quiet voice draws their attention. "That she….did she feel her heart stopping? Or….feel herself…..slipping away?"

Shelby focuses on trying to steady her breathing.

The doctor looks at the teenage boy kindly. "We don't know. Rachel may not even know. She may not remember. Or it may have been subconscious, which she obviously wouldn't be aware of." The woman takes a deep breath, seeming to brace herself. "Another possibility is that the pain was too much. It is possible that Rachel felt she couldn't hold on any longer in the face of that pain and exhaustion and…..let go. If she made that choice, and did so consciously, she may have known or at least suspected she was about to die. I suggest giving her time before questioning her about it. Let her recover and get a little stronger before you ask her."

They nod. Shelby watches Dr. Morgan check Rachel over thoroughly. When the woman pulls up the gown enough to see her ribs, Shelby hears a quiet gasp. Finn and Kurt are staring at the dark bruises; specifically the new one. Dr. Morgan nods at them.

"You did a good job with the CPR. However, even performed well, it has the possibility of bruising or even breaking bones. Rachel has a bruised, meaning nearly broken, rib and, obviously, multiple bruises."

"We were just trying to help!" Finn stammers.

"You did help. Would you rather she have a bruised rib or be dead? Those were your options. I for one believe you chose correctly."

"Yes," Shelby says, picking up where the doctor left off "please. I'd rather her be bruised and broken but here. Keep her alive, we'll let the doctors help her heal afterwards. Please, please, don't let this cause you to hesitate if…if she…..if you end up needing to do CPR again."

Solemnly, the boys nod.

"I'm guessing she's in pain, then?" Kurt asks.

"She is. Or at least she will be once she tries to move. We iced her ribs on and off all night. We'll go back to doing that this morning. We'll also begin applying a balm to help her heal faster and keep her on a low dose of pain medication." Dr. Morgan assures them before leaving to attend to other patients.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hands hold hers. She can hear the tell-tale beep of a heart monitor. An oxygen mask sits on her face. She frowns slightly. She vaguely recalls having something in her mouth before. Weird. Voices are talking quietly all around her; deep voices are discussing football, other voices are discussing music. She's surprised that she's not cold. Her arms and legs are all warm. However, her chest oddly feels cool. She tries to move a hand to investigate, then recalls that it's being held.

"Rachel?"

She opens her eyes. Kurt is sitting next to her, of course. Not knowing what reaction she'll get from him this time, she tries to grin.

"No boa….feathers….Kurt." In response to what she heard them discussing. She hears chuckles from all around her.

The boy in question attempts to huff, though its a wet sound. He slumps back in his seat with his arms crossed but his eyes are bright. "None of you appreciate my fashion sense or design ideas at all."

Her eyes slide to Finn, sitting next to Kurt. "Finn."

He leans closer and takes the hand that Kurt had released. "Hey, Rach. Thanks for talking him out of it."

"No..…prob..lem." She looks around the room, seeing everyone. She's not used to waking up to a room this full. Odd, but nice. She tries to turn more towards her other side, where her mother is, but is halted by a sharp pain in her chest. She gasps and winces.

"Whoa, slowly, honey. You have a bruised rib. You need to take it easy so you don't aggravate it."

"Bruised?" How? She was held the entire time she had….both….attacks. Right, she had two back to back attacks. Probably explains why she's still so tired. But it doesn't explain why she has a bruised rib. She didn't fall.

A shadow spreads across her mother's face.. "Yea, hun. You, uh…..your friends performed CPR. They did an excellent job, but they did bruise some of your ribs."

CPR. Not just rescue breaths. So, she died? "My heart…..stopped?"

"Yeah, It did."

Died. For a moment, her breaths come in strained bursts. Her mom and Finn squeeze her hands. It isn't long before she is able to push her emotions down and control her breathing. Her eyes roam the room again, taking in each face and their expressions. If she breaks, so will they. Her gaze returns to Kurt and Finn. They are grim faced and waiting for her reaction to the news.

"CPR….who…..learned it?"

"Everyone." Finn tells her. "After you stopped breathing in June, all of us wanted to get trained on CPR. We did a course over the summer. Everyone in the club is certified. We wanted to be prepared….just in case."

"We're sorry we almost broke your rib, Tink. We're not sure who it was. We kept switching, rotating, so every minute or so we swapped jobs. Everyone played at least a small part in…..saving you."

She thinks about her team. She tries to imagine her lying there lifeless on the stage while they take turns performing CPR.

"S'okay…..thanks for…saving me."

Tears fill both of their eyes, to her surprise. Finn isn't usually a crier, but she guesses this is a good exception. They each lean forward and kiss her and she smiles. She wishes she could sit up and hug them, but is worried it would hurt and she knows she's not strong enough. Then something occurs to her.

"So….I died….on stage?"

"Yeah, diva, you did." Kurt informs her, his voice wavering slightly.

She works to keep a straight face. "Did I…nail it?"

"Nail what?"

"My first…..death scene…on….stage."

Startled laughter erupts around her, though some, like her grandparents, seem incredulous at the same time.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Yes. You did. We can leave it at that. Diva."

Rachel grins. "Mastered…..the….death scene…..already."

"She's definitely your daughter." Grandpa tells her mother, who is half laughing and half sobbing. Nana has an arm around her.

Kurt is amused, but still upset. She can tell he's trying to hide how upset he is from her and focus on the amusement. Finn, however, is doubled over laughing. Kurt shakes his head, eyes jumping between the two.

"You two were made for each other. Seriously."

With that, he stands up and goes to sit by Uncle Burt. Uncle Burt is leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and grinning at her. Finn moves into Kurt's vacated seat to be closer to her.

"I agree with that." Finn says through his laughter, starting to calm down.

Rachel tugs down the mask and Finn takes the hint, kissing her lightly on the lips. "Ditto."

"There was just one problem with your big scene." Finn tells her.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You went off script. That wasn't supposed to be a death scene. You improvised and threw everyone else off completely."

Her lips quirk. "Wasn't…..inten…tional."

"Yeah, I know. Just….stick to the script next time."

"'Kay."

Kurt sighs. "Like I said, you two are perfect for each other. You get one another."

"It's true, though." Uncle Burt tells the others. "Rachel and Finn have alwa uys had a way of making each other laugh, even if no one else found it funny. Or reassuring one another."

Rachel suddenly notices the woven material on her arms. She looks at it curiously. Are they….leg warmers? She hears a chuckle and looks up.

"Those were Brittany's idea. She heard your arms were cold and grabbed her leg warmers for you. Dr. Morgan let her and Santana come in and put them on you." Her mom explains, smiling softly.

Rachel smiles, thinking of her blonde and thoughtful friend. She'll be sure to thank her later. She's trying to stay awake, but the pull of sleep is strong. Her mom kisses her temple.

"You can go to sleep, baby girl."

"Thirsty." She mumbles.

Someone hits the button to raise the bed up. Grandpa hands Finn a cup of water with a straw. With help, she manages to drink half the cup. Rachel feels like if she keeps her eyes closed for more than 5 seconds, she'll fall asleep. She shifts in the bed to get more comfortable and is once again met with a stab of pain. Right. Bruised rib. Well, she imagines her whole torso is bruised, but a bone in her chest is bruised.

"Careful, Rachel."

Her mom and Kurt help her lay on her side, knowing that's how she's most comfortable for sleeping. It's pathetic. She needs help rolling over. She bites back tears; of pain, exhaustion, fear, and frustration. But then Uncle Burt pulls the blanket over her, tucking her in. Just like he used to when she lived with him. She looks up at him with tired eyes and he smiles softly down at her.

"Get some sleep, kiddo."

She closes her eyes and the world slips away.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel is frustrated but trying not to show it. She woke up a few minutes ago and is still just as tired as she was the previous time she awoke. Isn't she supposed to begin getting her energy back? Even just a little? Moving hurts her ribs, so on top of the fatigue, it's just another reason to not move. She also finds it odd that her mom hasn't held her yet. She died and her mom hasn't hugged her. Then again, maybe she's not being fair. Her mom hasn't left her side as far as she can tell. Every time she wakes, she's there. Her eyes drift over her mother. The woman has dark bags under her eyes, her face is pale, and she looks more exhausted than Rachel has ever seen her. She had been sitting directly by the bed, holding her hand, each time Rachel woke up. This time, she has allowed Nana to take that seat and is instead sitting in a seat a little further back. Her legs are tucked under her, arms folded, and her tired gaze stares at nothing. Rachel wonders if she's asleep with her eyes open.

Her gaze moves around the room to the others. No one has held her yet. No one has so much as hugged her. It's an uncomfortable realization. She's always being held when she's in the hospital; even if she's just leaning against someone on the bed with her. But they've done nothing more than hold her hand. Is it because of her bruised ribs? Are they avoiding jostling her? She'd rather be in pain and be held, than not be held. She's in pain. It's mild, and odd, but consistent. She wonders if she should mention it and ask for more drugs or wait until a doctor asks. She's never had to ask for drugs before. She's also never had to ask to be cuddled while in the hospital before, either. That's just adding to her frustration. She's exhausted, she's tired of being tired, she's hurting, she doesn't feel well, and she just wants to be hugged by someone who loves her. Right now she'd like nothing more than to be cuddling on the couch at home with her mom, watching a movie.

"Here, kiddo." Uncle Burt says quietly, handing her a hospital meal-shake.

She knows they're actually pretty good, but she is not hungry in the slightest. She's nauseous. She lifts her eyes to his and softly shakes her head, not taking the cup. His face falls.

"Please just try."

Slowly, grudgingly, she takes the cup from him. Nana takes the mask off of her so she can drink. She sips, ignoring the queasiness and how her arms are starting to shake slightly. Uncle Burt wraps a hand around the cup, over one of her hands, adding more support. She's too tired to be embarrassed. She lets her other hand drop to the bed. It's mostly Uncle Burt holding the cup, but her right hand is trapped under his, so it looks like she's helping. She keeps her eyes down, not wanting to see who is watching her struggle to hold up a cup. When she can't drink any more without throwing up, she pushes it away. Uncle Burt places it on the nightstand and returns to his seat while Nana replaces the oxygen mask. The room is quiet. She's debating if she's willing to endure the embarrassment of flat out asking for a hug when Kurt sits on the edge of the bed. She looks at him hopefully, but he remains on the edge.

"The rest of the gleeks will be coming after school lets out. I told them that you're out of ICU and awake, but I think they'd feel better if they heard it from you."

"How?" That's another frustration. Her voice is no longer scratchy, but it's still not strong.

He holds up his phone and grins. "A video, of course. We'll keep it short. Just wave and say hi."

To prove I'm alive? She bites her tongue before she can let the words slip out. But all that does is remind her that she already bit her tongue and it hurts. She actually bit her tongue, even though she didn't mean to. A coppery taste fills her mouth. Should she swallow it down or spit it out? She looks for a tissue.

"What do you need?"

She really, really doesn't want to swallow a mouthful of blood. She's pretty sure she'd end up vomiting. But she also can't explain what she needs without talking. She spies a small tissue box on the nightstand next to her bed and leans to reach for it. The movement applies pressure to her tender ribs and Rachel gasps in pain. She unintentionally inhales some of the blood and immediately starts choking and coughing. Dark red blood splatters the inside of her mask.

"Fuck!"

"Rachel!"

"Rachel?!"

There's a sudden cacophony of noise around her, everyone jumping up and trying to figure out what's wrong and how to help. All Rachel can focus on is coughing up the blood so she can stop choking on it and get in enough air. Her chest hurts from the harsh coughing. It's different from an attack, yet similar enough that she responds instinctively. She tries to curl up, hands against her chest, eyes squeezed shut, as she desperately sucks in air through the pain. The sounds around her blur into unintelligible chaos.

Through the pain she becomes aware of hands grabbing her. They pull off her oxygen mask. They press on her torso, feeling along her chest, ribs, and back. They cradle her head, hands framing her face. She's startled to feel a sharp pain in her thigh, then someone rubbing the muscle. She thought she was done with needles now that she has the port in her chest. The mask is replaced, but feels different. Her coughs reduce to wheezing breaths. As the pain dims and her breathing calms, Rachel becomes more aware of her surroundings. Monitors that had been blaring stop screaming their alarms and return to their normal beeping.

"—achel…Rachel…."

She pries her eyes open. Dr. Morgan is holding her head between her hands. Her chest is heaving painfully in uneven spurts.

"Alright, Rachel. Just give the medicine another minute and you'll feel better. Try to relax and breathe."

Dr. Morgan is right. It's only a few moments later that the pain fades completely and her breathing comes easier. But now she feels like she's made of lead. Colors begin to look washed out.

"Rachel…look at me, Rachel." It takes a lot of effort to bring her eyes up to the doctor's, but she manages it. "Good girl. Can you tell me what happened? We think we know, but it'd be easier if you could tell us."

"I…..bit…my…" Too tired to continue talking, she tries to gesture to her mouth.

"You bit your tongue?"

Rachel nods. The motion makes the room slowly swirl, so she stops. "I wan..ted….to…spit…."

"Spit the blood out?"

Rachel manages a careful nod. "Rea…ched….for…..tis..sue…hurt….ribs."

"You accidentally bit your tongue and you wanted to spit out the blood, so you reached for a tissue but the movement hurt your ribs."

Another careful nod.

"Okay, I'm guessing that caused you to choke on the blood and that made you start coughing?"

"Yes." She croaks.

"A series of unfortunate events. I'm glad its nothing more serious. The pain medicine will help you really rest now. You shouldn't feel any pain at all. It'll make it easier and more comfortable for your family to cuddle you."

Dr. Morgan smiles kindly at her, but her thoughtful words bring tears to Rachel's eyes. When the good doctor frowns, Rachel chokes out a very short explanation.

"They…haven't….no….one…..has…" The tears brimming her eyes overflow as she thinks about how upsetting it is to not even get a hug yet.

Dr. Morgan's face falls and she brushes some of Rachel's tears away. "No one has held you yet?"

"No." She cries, exhaustion making her feel like a whiny toddler.

The dark skinned woman looks over at a nurse and speaks lowly. "Go get her mother, please." She returns her attention to Rachel. "Try to stay awake. Just a little longer." She wipes away more tears.

Rachel hears the door open and footsteps approach. She can barely keep her eyes open, but she knows its her mother. "Is she okay? What happened?"

"Can you please climb on the bed and hold her?"

Her mother instantly climbs on, but then hesitates before pulling Rachel into her arms. "I don't want to hurt her ribs."

Dr. Morgan shakes her head. "We've drugged her up so thoroughly that we could cut off one of her fingers and she wouldn't feel a thing. You're not going to hurt her."

That seemed to be all the reassurance her mom needed, since she gently wraps her arms around Rachel, carefully pulling her into an embrace. Finally being held after everything she went through and how she's feeling breaks the last of her defenses. She has zero energy left to hold back the flood of tears.

"What happened?"

Her mom's voice wavers. It also sounds far away. As relieved as Rachel feels to finally be held, her extreme exhaustion combined with the drugs make it impossible for her to remain awake. She begins drifting off, even as her tears continue to soak her mom's shirt. She clings to the edge of consciousness, wanting to enjoy the warmth of her mom's embrace for as long as possible. Just in case she wakes up alone on the bed again. She is vaguely aware of her doctor explaining what happened. Then her mom is speaking directly into her ear.

"I'm so sorry, honey. I'm so sorry. I didn't hold you because I was afraid of hurting you." As Rachel struggles to focus on the words, she also feels her mom's hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "You've already been though so much pain that the idea of adding any more pain, even to hug you, was horrifying."

She feels her mom press a loving kiss to her forehead. It's the final push she needed to let herself fall asleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Guilt and shame, mixed with anger at herself, are strong enough to make her nauseous. She is a horrible mother. Her child went through hell and she didn't so much as hug her when she awoke. Not even when the doctor gave her the okay. Then her daughter was so upset about not being held that she inadvertently caused herself more pain. Shelby continues to rub circles on Rachel's back. Her face is wet. She's not sure if she'll ever be able to stop crying. She glances at the others in the room. After they were told, they too felt ashamed for not holding Rachel. But everyone had felt the same way as Shelby; Rachel had been through so much pain and was still hurting, so they didn't want to risk adding any more pain by holding her. No one stopped to think about how Rachel would feel about not being held. She fucking died and doesn't get a hug. Shelby presses a kiss to the top of her head. How the hell can she make this up to her daughter? Her mind flashes back to Rachel sobbing, upset at the thought of not being hugged simply because she would bruise easily. She'd rather be bruised and sore, but get hugged, than not be bruised but not get hugged. And now, when Rachel needed comfort the most, no one gave it to her.

Burt was going to take the boys for a late lunch, get them out of the hospital for a while, but after this, they refused. They want the chance to tell her why they didn't hold her as soon as she wakes up.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel slowly sips on her shake. She's still not hungry. Still fairly nauseous. The drugs they have her on are helping with her pain, but not with her nausea. She finally gives up and hands it to her grandfather.

"Rachel…"

"Nauseous."

He sighs and stands. "I'll go tell a nurse. I'm sure they can give you something for it."

She nods and he leaves. She leans more against Kurt, who is currently on the bed with her, an arm around her. He is the last. Since she last woke, everyone has taken a turn to hold her. Everyone. Her mom was the first, obviously. Surprisingly, Uncle Burt asked her mom for time holding her, so her mom slid off the bed and allowed Uncle Burt to climb on. He has always been there for her. Always. Every time she has woken in the hospital, he's been there. He holds her a lot when she's with him at his…..their….house. But he hasn't often held her while she's in the hospital, leaving it to her mom and Kurt. It seems that this time, everyone wanted a chance to explain why they hadn't hugged her yet and take the opportunity to hug her or hold her now. Everyone had the same reason: they didn't want to risk causing her more pain. She told them that she'd much rather be in a little more pain and be held, than not. Kurt had snorted. "Yeah, you made that pretty clear." Not that it really matters. The doctors have basically accepted that if she's in the hospital, she's in pain. Dr. Morgan explained that they'll instantly put her on a fairly high dose of pain medicine when she arrives, then ask her if she needs more when she wakes up. Her family promised they'd hold her, as long as she promises to speak up when she's in pain so they can increase the dose of the drugs.

Her Aunt Kelly had come by and hugged her, then quite literally dragged her mother out of the room. Her mom had fussed, trying not to leave, but her grandparents had stepped in and helped Aunt Kelly. They'd been gone for a little over an hour. When they'd returned, her mom had been a little paler and her eyes more bloodshot. Rachel wonders if it'd be appropriate for her to talk to her mom about how it's okay for her to step out and take care of herself. Or if it's not her place, as the child. Rachel watches Nurse Adam inject something into one of her IV lines. He winks at her.

"This'll get rid of that nausea for you."

She smiles her thanks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she steps through the door and sees Rachel with an oxygen mask on, the bed propped up so she's reclined but not laying down, and she's awake, Brittany grins. She quickens her pace and reaches the bed well before Quinn, who had been just behind her.

"My turn."

She practically drags Kurt off the bed. The boy in question goes willingly, hands up while being dragged across the bed, and chuckling. Once he's clear, Brittany climbs on in his place and immediately cuddles her small friend. Rachel is chuckling as well, hugging Brittany back.

"Hi, Brittany."

The simple greeting makes tears jump to her eyes. She was worried she'd never hear it again. Her friend had died. Died. Stopped breathing. Heart stopped beating. Lying on the ground lifeless and unmoving. It was far more terrifying than the attack in gym class last June. Her mom had made her an appointment with a therapist. They don't know how much longer Rachel will be sick or….how it'll end. Her mom said she needs to hope for the best but be prepared for the worst and that talking to a professional might help her handle it. Brittany doesn't want to handle it. She just wants her friend to be okay. So she hugs her a little tighter.

"Britt….thanks for the leg warmers. On my arms, I mean." Rachel looks up at her, smiling under her mask. "They've been keeping my arms warm."

Brittany looks and sure enough, she's still wearing them. She breaks into a wide smile, happy to have helped. "Good! I brought you new ones today. In case you're still cold."

"I'm not as cold as before, but I definitely prefer being warm."

Brittany wants to get her the new leg warmers, but also doesn't want to let go of Rachel. She frowns and looks for the bag she dropped. Quinn is holding it and smiling at them. The blonde sets the bag on Finn's lap, making him roll his eyes, and steps up to hug Rachel. Rachel hugs her back. Over the brunette's shoulder Brittany can see Quinn's eyes fill with tears. She quickly blinks them away and is dry eyed when she lets go of their diva friend.

"The rest are waiting their turn down the hall. They were all going to rush in, but the nurse suggested we come in smaller groups or pairs." Quinn explains.

"Well, we can step out for a bit and give you kids time." Rachel's grandfather offers.

He stands and holds out a hand to help his wife up. Every adult except Rachel's mom steps out. Brittany watches Ms. Corcoran wring her hands and look at her daughter hesitantly. After a moment, she seems to come to a decision and nods to herself. She stands, kisses Rachel's cheek, and steps out. Finn stands.

"I'll go tell the others they can come in now."

"Wait!" All eyes jump to Rachel. Brittany felt her heart jump, too. The brunette goes on. "Can you get a nurse, first?"

Finn is out the door as soon as he hears "nurse". Quinn sits on the bed.

"What's wrong, Rachel?"

"I want to see if they'll let me switch to a nasal cannula."

Something in Brittany's stomach unclenches at the same moment she sees Quinn's and Kurt's shoulders relax. Nurse Jackie enters and talks to Rachel for a minute, then listens to her breathe and checks the monitor.

"Alright sweets, I'll switch you over to a cannula. But the moment you start feeling like you're not getting enough air, you speak up. Got it?"

Rachel nods, smiling. Once the switch is made, Rachel appears more relaxed and curls against Brittany. The rest of the club filters into the room, squeezing to make room for everyone. Rachel smiles at them all.

"So, uh, thanks for saving my life."

There's a mix of reactions; head nods, smiles, tears, laughs, and scoffs. Every member takes their turn to hug Rachel and tell her they're glad she's okay. She then asks them about getting trained on CPR and they happily chat about it. The conversation changes tracks multiple times, flowing seamlessly between their large group of friends. Everyone relaxes more and more as they sit together, talking with Rachel and seeing for themselves that she's okay. She's not good. They can tell that. She's extremely pale. She's still clearly tired and weak. But she's alive and breathing on her own and awake. She's okay. And that means they're feeling okay now. Throughout the school day, each of them had moments of crying or getting angry and yelling. Or in Puck's case, throwing kids in dumpsters. Sam and Mike took turns using a punching bag. Brittany saw Mr. Schue and Coach Beiste crying in her office. What surprised them all was the rest of the Cheerios and football team. Word somehow spread and they offered support and sympathy. It was nice. The one thing that none of them could do was go into the auditorium. None of them could handle that. Not yet.

"You know what this makes me think of?" Everyone looks over at Rachel. "Last November."

Brittany remembers. The first moderate attack they all saw; Rachel's second moderate attack. After, everyone showed up at the hospital and kept her company. Brittany watches the mixed reactions. A year. In one year, they went from "what's wrong?" to "will she survive?"

Rachel frowns. "Why had you guys been standing at the door?"

The boys (minus Artie and Sam who hadn't been there) all share looks. Puck answers. "Standing guard."

"Against?"

"Your dad." Mike mumbles. Sam frowns. Brittany realizes he probably doesn't know about the abuse Rachel went through.

Rachel blinks. "Oh. Um. Thanks." Then she looks at Finn and Kurt. "Do you know if my Dad was told about….this?"

The boys shrug. "Don't know. Sorry."

Brittany can't imaging her dad not being there if she nearly died. Then again, she can't imagine her dad getting drunk and beating her. She frowns. What hasn't Rachel had to deal with? Santana and Mercedes, each sitting on either side of Rachel, both seem to have the same question because they both hug the girl tighter.

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She's never been in the hospital this long before. She's had a constant stream of visitors; Glee kids and Blaine, Mr. Schue, Coach Beiste, Sue, Holly, her grandparents, Uncle Burt, Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Pierce, and both sets of aunts and uncles (they left Oliver and Dylan with their other grandparents, not wanting to upset them). Even her neighbors came; the Johnson's and the Gaither's came together with flowers. Mrs. Johnson even brought a thermos of her special hot cocoa. Now, she's finally going home. Her pulse has been steady and she's been breathing steadily, and entirely on her own, for the past few days. They finally feel she's strong enough to go home. Oh, she's still weak. She can sit up on her own and hold things now, but that's the extent of it. She still sleeps a lot. Still can't stand on her own. Baby steps, Dr. Morgan told her. Rachel tried to explain that she went from crawling to running, skipping over walking entirely, but the doctor was sticking to her analogy. They were also waiting to see how her body would react to the next mild attack. It came yesterday. It hurt more than usual and seemed harder to handle than normal, but the doctors speculate its because she hasn't fully recovered from the double attack.

Kurt brought her comfortable clothes to wear home. Aunt Kelly was going to, but Kurt had insisted he do it. He'd sat with her for a while, holding her hand and talking about school. Now Rachel sits criss-crossed, hair in a ponytail, wearing sweatpants and a slightly baggy Wicked shirt. She ignores the fact that it wasn't this baggy when she got it over the summer. She only half listens to Dr. Morgan giving her mother a list of instructions. She only pays attention when the doctor hands over a small pill bottle.

"This is for both of you. It's a mild sedative to help you relax and sleep. You both need proper rest. Now, while your family is staying over, may be the best time."

Her mom takes it hesitantly, quietly thanking the doctor. Nurse Beth arrives with a wheelchair. Rachel doesn't bother arguing or even sighing. She knows its pointless. Grandpa lifts her from the bed like she's a doll and places her in the wheelchair. She opens her mouth to point out that she could have gotten into the chair herself, but stops. Does she truly know if she could have? They haven't let her get up yet. Her grandparents drive them home. She sits in the back with her mom, watching the scenery go by. It's odd, seeing the world and knowing she nearly left it. Feeling a tingle on her neck, she turns her head. Her mom is watching her, deep in thought. When Rachel catches her eye, her mom smiles warmly at her. Rachel smiles back, then goes back to looking out the window. It's weird. Even her mom's smile, while warm, seemed….off, somehow. Sad? Hesitant? Uncertain? She shakes the thoughts away. She can't even begin to imagine what it was like for her mom. For any of them, really. The same way none of them can imagine what it's been like for her to experience. It's odd.

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