Chapter 5: Fears, Old and New

Brakes squeal.

The smell of burnt rubber permeates the air.

Her arms stretch out towards the small boy, knocking him out of the path of the truck. Her momentum sends him slightly airborne, then tumbling to the road. Her relief for his safety is short lived.

"NO!" Her mother's horrified cry rings out above the rest.

Something clips her side and she's sent into a spin. She wasn't fast enough. She tries to curl up protectively before she hits the pavement, but it all happened so fast. She skids along the road, then rolls until she hits the curb on the far side of the street. She lays there, stunned, feeling like she's still spinning. She knows she's not. Her hand is flat on the pavement and she can feel dirt and bits of gravel under her palm. Her head is against the curb. A crack with a dandelion sprouting from it is inches from her face. The yellow flower is speckled with red. How odd. There is a pounding sound nearby. She initially thought it was her heart, but it gets louder and closer very quickly. Feet. Multiple sets of feet running in her direction. Why? Voices overlap, jumbling together incoherently. Then hands are on her.

A young voice cuts through the din around her, crying out "Mommy!"

Ollie. Rachel sucks in a breath and it all comes rushing back, the world suddenly snapping into focus around her. She twists, moving to get her hands under herself so she can sit up. The hands, which had been gently coasting over her body, now press down, preventing her from getting up.

"Stop, hold on, stop moving!" Grandpa snaps at her.

She glances at him with a furrowed brow, then looks around her. "Is Oliver okay?"

"Are you hurt?" Her mother is pale. Worryingly pale. And shaking. Rachel feels her frown deepen.

"I'm fine. Is Ollie okay?"

She looks over to where her Aunt Amy and Uncle Mark are carefully inspecting their youngest son. The boy is sitting on his mother's lap and bawling his eyes out. At least this tells Rachel that he is alive, conscious, and his lungs are just fine. She releases a breath of relief and finally becomes aware of her own shaking. Hands cradle her face and gently turn her head. She finds herself face to face with her own mother. Her mom's eyes stare intently into her own.

"He's okay. Alright? His parents are looking him over, but he seems fine. Let me check you over now. Are you okay?" Her mom's thumbs gently stroke her cheeks and her eyes begin scanning Rachel's body from head to toe.

There's a hand on her back. Right. Grandpa. He's slowly running his hands along her back and arms. Nana stands between her two fallen grandchildren, her shoulders tensed up, hands clenched, and constantly turning to look at both of them. Shouting pulls her attention. Uncle Andy has the driver shoved up against the side of his truck and is gripping the guys shirt, screaming in his face. She's never seen her easy going uncle like this before. She doesn't like it. It reminds her too much of her father when he'd get drunk. The driver is cowering and stammering out an apology. A flash of a memory, her cowering before her drunk father, forces her to look away. Aunt Kelly is standing at the end of the driveway with her arms around Abby. Her phone is in her hand, probably ready to call 911 if needed. Tyler has his arms around Dylan, who is staring wide eyed between Rachel and his younger brother.

"I'm fine, Mom." She insists, returning her attention to her mother.

"You're not." Comes the blunt response. "You're bleeding."

Oh. She hadn't noticed.

"Where does it hurt?" Grandpa has softened his tone. Now that it's confirmed there's nothing seriously wrong with either her or Oliver, he is able to calm down and speak normally.

Rachel turns more to look at him. "It doesn't. I'm fine."

Her mother glares at her, her green eyes watering. "Try again, Rachel."

She's saved from answering by motion next to her. Uncle Mark lifts Oliver into his arms and cradles him. Aunt Amy stands and follows her husband and youngest child into the house. She pauses only long enough to wrap an arm around her oldest son, pulling him against her side and leading him along with them. Tyler stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks closer to his father, who is no longer shouting, but is now arguing with the driver.

"I'm fine." She reiterates. "Can we go inside, please?"

She pushes herself up without waiting for an answer. Beside her, her grandfather and mother scramble to rise as well. Nana was already standing nearby, so she reaches Rachel first. Her hands grip Rachel's arms, stalling her.

"Would you slow down?! Seriously, Rachel! We have no idea if you have injuries we haven't seen yet!" Her grandmother scolds her.

She's never truly been reprimanded by this woman before. It makes her feel about two inches tall. She shrinks. "I'm sorry Nana, but I'm fine. I just want to go inside."

An arm slips around her waist. She knows instantly that it's her mom. "Fine, but slowly."

Her mom keeps her arm firmly around her and keeps her pace slow. Whenever Rachel tries to speed up, the woman's grip tightens and her pace slows even more. Her grandfather shuffles along behind them.

"Besides, your head is bleeding so we know you're injured. We just need to know how much and if we need to take you two to a hospital."

Rachel comes to an abrupt halt, digging her heels into the driveway and spinning to face her grandfather. "No! I don't need to go to the hospital!"

She is absolutely 100% done with hospitals. She has spent way too much of her young life in a hospital. She does not need to go again over some stupid scratches and bruises.

"We will be the ones deciding that, princess."

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Oliver sits on his father's lap on the couch. Aunt Amy kneels before them and is lifting his shirt to inspect him more thoroughly. Her mother guides her to sit next to them on the couch, then sits beside her. Aunt Kelly hands her mom a piece of gauze and she uses it to wipe up the blood on her head so she can find the cut.

"Okay, the cut looks small."

"Head wounds bleed a lot, Shel."

Her mom nods slowly and continues searching for more cuts. After a few minutes she sits back, releasing a shaky breath. "It looks like it's just the one cut, but it keeps bleeding."

"Head wounds do that. And she is anemic still."

Rachel frowns at her uncle. "Only slightly."

Nana takes over holding a fresh gauze to the cut. A small cry from next to Rachel pulls their attention. Her grandmother doesn't even seem to notice she's no longer holding the gauze in the right spot. Both of them are looking at Oliver, who is having his arm cleaned off by his mother.

"I know it stings, honey, but we need to clean it out so it doesn't get infected."

Rachel leans over so she can see better. Ollie's one arm is all scraped up and bleeding a little. She lets her eyes take in the rest of him and finds a milder scrape on his leg, going down his shin. His pants probably protected his legs from worse damage. There's a cut on his chin. His cheek is a little discolored and may bruise. Rachel's gut twists.

"I'm sorry."

Every adult's attention snaps to her and she shrinks back.

"Excuse me?" Aunt Amy is staring at her, dumbfounded.

"I…..I tried to stop him from getting hurt. I didn't think about how me shoving him could end up hurting him, I just wanted to prevent…." She trails off when Aunt Amy drops the cloth in her hand and move so she's right in front of her.

"Rachel…." She shakes her head, only glancing briefly at Rachel's mom before refocusing on Rachel. "Do not apologize to us right now. We will be talking later about your actions and how unsafe they were."

Rachel winces slightly at her aunt's fierce tone and drops her head. She hates disappointing and upsetting people. And it seems that's all she managed to do with her actions. But what other choice did she have? A soft hand cups her chin and raises her head. Her aunt's eyes are shining with unshed tears.

"But honey, if you hadn't—" she swallows hard "—if you hadn't pushed him out of the way, he'd have been hit by that truck. I am angry with you for putting yourself in danger. But I am so so so very grateful to you for saving my son's life."

The corner of her mouth tugs upwards. Aunt Amy leans forward and pulls Rachel into a hug. Despite her best efforts, Rachel can't restrain the soft gasp that escapes her or stop her body from tensing. Alarmed, Aunt Amy instantly releases her. Rachel hunches her shoulders slightly and anxiously peers at her mother. Her mom had already been pale. Now, she is white and wide-eyed. She nods to herself knowingly and stands, her lips pressed firmly together. She very carefully pulls Rachel up off the couch. Rachel doesn't even try resisting or arguing while her mother guides her to the bathroom. Once the door is shut behind them, her mother leans against the counter.

"Where are you hurt?" Rachel hesitates. It's a mistake. Her mother straightens up, as rigid as the door behind her. "Dammit, Rachel, I am very serious right now! You will show me exactly where you are hurt. Now."

She doesn't want to do this. It's not that bad. She's been in worse pain. Hell, she's been injured worse from her father after he'd had a few too many drinks. But what is worse? Showing her mother her injury and risking a) worrying her more and b) possibly being taken to the hospital, which is absolutely not necessary, or not showing her and upsetting her mother further that way? When it comes down to it, what would worry her mom more? Seeing the injury or not seeing it but knowing something's wrong? A memory comes to her, then. Her mother telling her she can't help her if she doesn't know what's wrong. Begging Rachel to talk to her and let her help. With a soft sigh, Rachel turns slightly and raises her shirt. The gasp from the other woman is all the confirmation she needs that it's already starting to bruise. Fingers lightly trace over her discolored side. She curls her body away from the touch, less out of pain and more out of annoyance and cold fingers. Without a word, her mother gently turns her so that she can examine her entire torso. Once she is satisfied that the only injury is the one on her side, she steps back.

"Is that from hitting the ground or the curb?"

Shitshitshitshitshit

Rachel swallows before responding quietly. "The truck."

Her mother stops moving. She may have even stopped breathing. Nervously, Rachel watches her. The taller brunette stares at her blankly for a moment.

"You were hit by the truck?" Her mother's voice sounds like her throat is being squeezed.

Rachel gives a half-nod. Her mother continues to stare at her. Then, she gives a jerky nod and leaves the bathroom.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christopher Corcoran is comforting his grandson. He's relieved that there only seem to be a few superficial injuries; just some scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious. He listens to his son and daughter-in-law debate whether they should get him checked out at the ER or wait to take him to the doctor tomorrow. He thinks about Rachel's injuries. A scrape on her arm and cheek, and a cut on her forehead. From her reaction to Amy hugging her, they assume she has another injury on her torso. He hopes it's not too bad. She was able to walk and talk just fine, but it still worries him. Christopher looks up when Shelby re-enters the room. The look on her face chills him. The talking around him comes to an abrupt halt. He stands.

"Shel?" He watches his youngest daughter grab her phone and toss it into her purse. When she reaches for her coat, he tries again. "Shelby, what's going on?"

"We're going to the hospital. Will you drive?"

His eyebrows shoot up. "Of course, but why? Is she badly injured?"

Shelby's jaw clenches. "She was hit by the truck."

Christopher hears a gasp from his wife. "What?!"

She nods. "The truck hit her side. I'm taking her to get checked out. I want to make sure she doesn't have a broken rib or something."

Christopher turns sharply towards the bathroom to check on his granddaughter. It wasn't necessary. She's standing in the entryway to the living room, twisting the hem of her shirt and biting her lip.

"I'm—"

"Don't you dare say fine." Shelby snaps. "You're going to the hospital whether you like it or not."

Rachel huffs quietly. "I was going to say I'm going to need my coat. I wasn't wearing it when we were outside and I don't remember where I put it."

He wonders if it would have cushioned any of her injuries if she'd been wearing it. It might have prevented the one scrape, but probably not much else. Abby rushes over to where the kids had all tossed their coats earlier and grabs Rachel's. Chris watches his oldest granddaughter help his youngest granddaughter put it on. Rachel's face remains stoic, but she puts it on slowly. More pain. When will this girl catch a break?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It is decided that Christopher will drive Shelby and Rachel. Mark will drive Amy and Oliver. They know Oliver wasn't hit by the truck; Rachel had made sure of that. However, he was still shoved pretty hard. Since Rachel will be getting checked over at the hospital, they decide to get Oliver checked out at the same time. If for no other reason than to calm them all down. They walk into the emergency room.

"Well, this is a new experience." Rachel mumbles.

Christopher frowns at his granddaughter's sass. It's not that he doesn't understand her dissatisfaction with being here, but she should have picked up on her mother's stress and give her a break. Shelby gives her an irritated look.

"A little less attitude, please."

Now it's Rachel's turn to frown. "I'm being serious. I've never walked into the emergency room before. I've always been carried in; either someone carrying me in their arms or I was on a stretcher. I've honestly never walked in before. It's a new experience." She shrugs lightly. "Still not a fun one."

Chris realizes she's right. He keeps frowning. She had to be carried in at least five times that he can think of off the top of his head.

"Not true." Shelby counters quietly. "You walked in with me when you hit your head after a moderate attack."

Rachel tilts her head, thinking back, then nods when the memory comes up. Chris sits with her while Shelby goes to check her in. Mark walks up behind her to check in Oliver. Amy sits beside them with Oliver on her lap. They end up having to wait for a while. Oliver slides onto Rachel's lap. At first the adults try to stop him, not wanting him to accidentally hurt Rachel further. The girl stubbornly waves off their concerns and wraps her arms around her little cousin. The boy leans back against her while holding Amy's phone. The two watch videos for a while. Mark and Amy chat quietly. On his other side, Shelby is leaning back in her seat with an arm on the back of it and her head resting on her hand. He hates the look on her face. None of them thought they'd be back at the hospital with Rachel after she entered remission. This is very different, but still upsetting. Chris pats her leg. She gives him a tense smile. Finally, they're called back. Oliver starts crying again. Rachel takes his hand and squeezes it.

"It's alright. I've done this a bunch of times." She smiles down at him. "The beds aren't really comfortable, but they're not too bad. The doctors and nurses are really nice. Well, the ones at my hospital are. I'm sure the ones here are, too."

Oliver is looking up at her with wide eyes, taking in every word. She keeps going, trying to keep him calm.

"They're gonna check you over. It'll be a little cold, but they'll give you a blanket if you ask nicely."

"Will it hurt?" Ollie wipes his nose with the back of his hand. Rachel grimaces in disgust, but answers.

"Your scrapes already hurt, right? They'll check them and clean them. It might hurt a little more for a minute, but afterwards it'll feel better."

They're led to two beds side by side. Initially, the nurses leave the curtain between the beds open. They're aware they're all one family. The nurses begin by checking their vitals.

"Will I need os-gen like Rachie?"

The nurse attending to him frowns. "Your cousin doesn't need oxygen, sweetheart."

"Not now, before!"

Confused, the nurse looks to the adults. Christopher clears his throat. "Rachel was sick for a while and frequently needed supplemental oxygen."

Understanding dawns and she looks back at the teenager. "How is she now?"

"In remission."

The look in the nurse's eyes as she stares between Rachel, looking mopey while sitting on the bed, and Shelby, watching her child with a tense expression, becomes very understanding.

"Both of their vitals are perfect. No problems. Now we're going to draw the curtain and have them change into gowns."

Oliver's scrapes, cuts, and bruises are looked over. The hard part for the boy was getting them cleaned. They said they'd done a pretty good job on their own at home, but at the hospital they used a magnifying glass and tweezers to get out tiny bits of gravel and other debris. Once clean, they put bandages over them and gave him a clean bill of health.

"So he doesn't need x-rays or anything?" Amy confirms.

"No, all his wounds were superficial. Your niece shoved him pretty hard, but she did it in a way that not only prevented him from getting hit by the car, but also avoided serious injury from falling. The fact that he was wearing jeans helped prevent the scrapes on his leg from being worse." The doctor taps Oliver on the nose. "Your cousin saved your life, kiddo."

The young boy nods seriously. "She's a superhero. But we already knew that."

The doctor laughs.

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Rachel grips the edge of the bed. A doctor peels back her robe to examine her side. She barely reacts when the doctor pokes and prods around. She only winces when he presses on the worst section. He ties her gown shut.

"Okay, I don't feel any broken bones, but considering the nature of the injury, I'd like her to get an x-ray just to be sure." The doctor pauses, looking between them. "You were hit by a pick up truck?"

"It wasn't a direct hit." Rachel argues. "It was more like it glanced off my side."

"What happened right after it 'glanced off' your side?"

"I spun."

"Did it turn you or spin you? Think back carefully."

Rachel frowns. "What does it matter?"

"It makes a difference. Please answer the question."

"It spun me around."

"How long ago was the accident?"

Rachel honestly has no idea. She looks to her mother, who answers for her. "About an hour and a half to two hours ago. Somewhere in there."

"Alright. Well, you sit tight, Rachel. We'll get you in for an x-ray in about ten minutes. In the meantime, we're going to ice that bruise, possibly stitch your head, and get you some pain meds."

He leaves and Grandpa comes in. "How're you doing, darlin'?"

"I'm f—"

"Rachel." Her mother snaps, her voice low.

Rachel looks down. She really is fine! She thinks of a different way to word it. "I am bruised but it only hurts when pressed on."

Her grandfather's lips twitch. "Alright, then."

A nurse comes in. "Hi, I'm Tammy! I'm going to fix up your head while we wait for your X-ray."

The nurse works on cleaning the cut.

"How's Ollie?"

"He's fine. They cleaned up his scrapes and gave him a clean bill of health. He'll be discharged very soon."

Some of Rachel's tension eases. He's fine. He'll be going home. Now if she can just get sent home, all will be good.

"The good news is you don't need stitches." Nurse Tammy explains. "The bad news is it's still seeping blood. We're going to give your butterfly stitches. It's really just a bandage that goes on tight and holds the cut closed. We'll put two on, then put another bandage over it to keep it clean."

Rachel nods and lets her put them on. The cut on her head hadn't even hurt. She hadn't even known she'd been bleeding until it was pointed out to her. But the nurse squeezing the cut closed and pressing the butterfly stitches over it? Yeah, Rachel felt that. By the time she's finished, they're ready to take her for x-rays. When she returns to her "room" (more like a cubicle), her aunt, uncle, and cousin have joined her mother and grandfather.

"They'll get the results to you soon." The nurse says before leaving.

Rachel gets as comfortable as she can on the bed and lets her mother replace the ice packs. That finished, she looks to Ollie. "You alright, Ollie?"

The boy grins and nods. "Yeah. Are you?"

She grins and nods back. "Yeah, I am."

"I think we're going to head back. It's been quite an afternoon." Uncle Mark stands. "Keep us posted, Shel."

Her mother nods and hugs him. Uncle Mark gives Rachel a careful hug. "Thank you, Rach." He whispers.

She doesn't respond verbally. She just hugs him tighter. Aunt Amy does the same. Then Uncle Mark places Oliver on the bed.

"Be gentle, buddy, she hurt her side, remember."

The boy nods. He moves to her uninjured side and curls against her. Rachel wraps her arms around him. For a minute, he doesn't speak. He just lays there quietly with her.

"I love you, Rachie."

She's not sure when he started primarily using that nickname, but it seems to be sticking. She squeezes him tighter. "I love you too, Ollie."

He looks up at her with a slightly bewildered look. "Well duh. You saved me."

She laughs and kisses his head. "I'll see you later."

They head out, leaving Rachel with her mother and grandfather. Her mom doesn't seem interested in talking at the moment. Her grandfather seems uncertain what to say at this time. So Rachel grabs the remote and turns on the television hanging from the wall.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Rachel does not have any broken bones."

Shelby releases a breath of relief and smiles. Thank God.

"However, I am concerned about something else. There is a possibility of internal bleeding. Even a small bleed left unchecked could end up being life threatening."

Life threatening. Life threatening. Again. Fucking again. She is so fucking tired of hearing those words in relation to her daughter. She clears her throat. "How do we check for that?"

"We'll do a CT scan. I've already scheduled it, we just need to wait for availability."

"How long do you think that'll take?"

Her eyes snap to her daughter. Seriously? She was just told she may be facing yet another life threatening condition and all she cares about is how much longer she has to be in the hospital? "Rachel…" It comes out sounding more like a growl. Seeing her daughter's wary expression, Shelby takes a breath to calm herself. "It'll take as long as it needs to. We'll wait."

"Yeah, but…I'm hungry. If we're not going to be here much longer, I'm fine with waiting. But if it'll be a while, I was going to ask Grandpa if he would go get us food."

They didn't have dinner. They'd been discussing what to make when they'd heard the shouts. Shelby had stepped out the front door in time to see her daughter leap in front of a speeding truck. All thoughts of food vanished from her mind. Even just thinking about the image she saw makes her stomach swoop. Her brother and father had been running towards the street, momentarily blocking her view, so she hadn't seen her actually be struck by the vehicle. She takes hold of Rachel's hand.

"It'll probably be a while." The doctor confirms.

"Alright, I'll go grab us some dinner, then."

"But first, Ms. Corcoran, I was hoping to speak with you alone for a moment."

She has to work to keep her expression calm. Shelby pats Rachel's hand and follows the doctor out.

"We did some bloodwork on her. I'm concerned that her iron levels are low."

Her stomach unclenches at this very minor and expected announcement. "Rachel had aplastic anemia. She has been in remission for a couple months, but she's still technically anemic. She's taking supplements."

The doctor nods. "Alright. That answers my next question about her low red blood cell count."

She straightens. "Low? How low?" It shouldn't be low. She's in fucking remission!

The doctor finally takes note of her anxiety and tension. "Not very low. Not concerning. Combined with her low iron levels, it is concerning. But if she had AA and is now in remission…..especially if she hasn't been in it for very long, it's not a big deal. I was just going to suggest you take her to get a more thorough check up from her primary care physician. It seems that's not necessary. I'm assuming she still goes to her hematologist?"

"Yes. She was getting monthly check ups. She's been given the all clear every time, so now she goes every other month. Her next appointment is in December."

"Alright, it sounds like her health is well in hand." He smiles kindly, trying to put her at ease.

Shelby walks back into Rachel's 'room' and sits with a heavy sigh.

"What'd he want to talk to you about?"

Shelby smiles slightly at her child. "To tell me that you're anemic. Your iron levels are a little low. He suggested taking you for a more thorough check up with your primary physician."

Rachel giggles. "Well, he's on the ball, that's for sure."

"On that note, I'm off to grab us food." Her father kisses both of their cheeks and heads out.

Rachel is twisting the blanket. So she is worried. Shelby reaches out and takes her hand. "Hey, kid. You're fine. Okay?"

Rachel nods. "Yeah, I know. It's just…I don't like being back in a hospital. For any reason. I wanna go home."

Shelby squeezes her hand. "I know, baby girl. When we get home, we are going to talk about this. In depth. But for now? Let's just try to relax. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Her father returns with food and they eat fast food. It's not what Shelby would prefer, but nothing from this afternoon and evening is. It's food. They clear away their trash and try not to pay too much attention to the clock. Her father steps out to update the family. Rachel's phone rings. She picks it up to reveal she's getting a FaceTime call from someone. Rachel answers it and Shelby leans back, trying to take her own advice of relaxing. Not that she'll be able to. Not until they tell her there's no internal bleeding and she can take her kid home.

"Hey, San."

"Berry, what was the name of that movie we—" Santana cuts herself off. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter and her tone takes on a nervous lilt. "Berry….are you in the fucking hospital right now?"

Before Rachel can answer, Shelby hears Quinn in the background asking Santana what she's talking about. She watches Rachel's face. She looks both annoyed and embarrassed.

"Um, yeah." As her friends start talking over one another to question her further, Rachel looks up at her hesitantly. "Um, Mom…..can I talk to them alone for a minute?"

She doesn't want to step away from her child, but she knows she's being a little ridiculous. She stands, but before she leaves she grabs the call button. She places it in Rachel's free hand, then kisses her cheek.

"Just remember, they should be here soon to take you for your test."

Rachel nods.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel releases a breath when her mother steps out. Looking back down at her phone, Santana's and Quinn's worried faces are pressed together so they can both see and be seen while FaceTiming with her.

"I'm fine."

"You always say that." Santana challenges. "What's going on? Why are you in the hospital?"

Quinn's voice shakes slightly. "Test? Your mom said they're taking you for a test soon."

"Yeah." Rachel sighs, but then grins. "And here I forgot to study."

"Berry! This isn't funny! Tell us why you're in the hospital!"

She feels bad that they're so worried, but she thought that her flippant remark would make it clear that it's nothing serious.

"I kind of…sort of….got hit by a car."

Her friends stare at her dumbly. After a moment, Santana's jaw drops and Quinn starts laughing.

"A car? Oh, God, you seriously have the worst luck!"

"How did that even happen?!"

"Ollie, you know my six year old cousin, ran out into the street in front of a speeding truck." Rachel shrugs. "I pushed him out of the way, but I wasn't fast enough to get myself completely out of the way, too."

Their humor slowly fades from their expressions.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I have a small cut on my head and a bruise on my side. Those are the worst injuries. The rest are little scrapes and bruises that really don't matter."

"What test was your mom talking about, then?"

Rachel adjusts the phone to a better angle and fiddles with the wires from the heart monitor they'd insisted on putting on her. "I have a CT scan. I already had an X-ray so we know I don't have any broken ribs. Now they want to make sure I don't have any internal bleeding."

"Show us the bruise."

Rachel rolls her eyes, but opens her gown enough to show her bruised side. Her friends make sympathetic sounds of pain.

"That looks painful."

Rachel shrugs while readjusting her gown. "I've had worse, so I don't get the fuss." Her friends trade looks. They obviously get it. It makes Rachel frown. "What? What am I missing?"

"I'm guessing your mom hasn't lectured you yet?"

"No. She said she'll do that when we get home."

They nod knowingly. "Okay. If you still don't understand the fuss after that discussion, we'll fill you in. But I'm guessing your mom will spell it out for you."

"Why are you two together right now?" She's curious and wants to change the subject. "Aren't you both still grounded?"

"Yeah, but we convinced our moms that we needed to work together on this homework assignment. Quinn's mom is downstairs talking to my mom while we 'work'." Santana even made air quotes when saying "work".

Rachel smirks. Of course they'd find a way around it.

"Alright, Rachel, we're ready for you!" Nurse Tammy says, walking in.

"I gotta go." She tells her friends.

"You need to text us the results. Tonight! I'm not kidding, Berry!" Santana calls.

Rachel quickly agrees and they hang up.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She doesn't have any internal bleeding. It's just a bad bruise. Given the all clear, they tell her to keep icing it on and off, move carefully for a day or two, and take ibuprofen as needed. She still has her collection of pain meds at home, left over from Danton's. Not that she thinks she'll need it. They get back to her grandparent's house pretty late, so she's surprised to discover Aunt Amy, Uncle Mark, and her younger cousins still there. They ask her mom to stay downstairs while they take Rachel up to the attic room to talk. They settle comfortably on the seats up there and Rachel waits for them to start the discussion.

Uncle Mark runs a hand tiredly through his brown hair. "Rachel, we know your mom is going to have this discussion with you when you get home, but we wanted to make sure we had a chance to talk it over with you before you leave."

"Okay?" She's honestly not sure if she's going to be yelled at or thanked.

"First, we just want to start by making sure you know how much we love you." Aunt Amy chimes in.

She nods. She does actually knows that.

"What you did was stupid" Uncle Mark's voice is low "and incredibly dangerous. Don't get me wrong, it was very brave and selfless and I am incredibly thankful to you for saving Oliver. But Rach, what the hell were you thinking?!"

Rachel frowns. "I was thinking that Oliver was in the street, about to be hit by a car. Even if he noticed the truck sooner, he didn't have time to move out of the way. As it was, he didn't see the truck or hear your shouts until he was already in the street and it was too late."

Her uncle nods. "Oliver is in a lot of trouble for running into the street. He knows better. He's also in trouble for ignoring us shouting to him before he made it to the street. I know he heard, he chose to ignore us."

"Rachel," Aunt Amy leans forward to grasp her hand, "did you stop to consider that you may not have had time to get yourself out of the way?"

"Yes. I knew."

Her aunt and uncle share a look of concern. "And you did it anyway?"

Rachel really doesn't understand this conversation. "Of course! Oliver was in danger!"

"But you put yourself in danger."

Rachel's eyes jump between them, very confused. "But if I hadn't done anything, he'd have been hit by the truck."

Aunt Amy pales. Her grip on Uncle Mark's hand tightens. Her uncle takes a breath and speaks quietly.

"But if you hadn't done anything, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. You wouldn't have risked your own life."

"But then Oliv—"

"Rachel," they're becoming agitated, "speaking as Oliver's parents, we are thrilled that he wasn't hit by the truck. I can't think of the right words to express the depth of my relief that he's okay. We can't thank you enough. But our gratefulness for your selfless act is cancelled out by our horror of you putting yourself in danger!"

Rachel sits back. Are they serious? "I don't…I don't understand. You're glad I saved Oliver but mad that in doing so I put myself in jeopardy?"

"Yes."

Rachel blinks. Seeing that she's still confused, her aunt tries another way.

"If you had stopped to save yourself, Oliver would have been hit by the truck. We would have been devastated and terrified. But we would have been relieved that you had stayed safe. We would have been relieved and happy that you were okay. We would not have been angry or upset with you in any way."

Her uncle nods. "We'd still love you just as much if you had protected yourself instead of him."

Rachel bites her lip, uncertain how to respond. "But he's your son."

A tear slips down her aunt's cheek. "Yes. And you're our niece."

"You've only known me-"

"No. It doesn't matter. You're family. We love you. Thankfully, it all worked out well today. Oliver got a few bad scrapes, but nothing serious. You got a cut and a bad bruise, but nothing serious."

"And not only do I love you," Uncle Mark takes over, "I love your mom. She's my big sister. I don't think you fully realize how scared she was."

She looks down. "No, I know I scared her today."

"I'm not talking about just today." Rachel looks up into her uncle's solemn face. "Being sick was not your fault at all. But she was very scared the entire time. As you got worse, so did her fears. When you hit stage 4, she was a terrified wreck. She spent every single waking moment that you were in stage 4 in a state or terror. It hit its peak when you were nearly dying in her arms. It only started to abate as you started to get better. You're healthy now. You're in remission. Your mom is thrilled and relieved. But a part of her is still scared. There's a part of her that was traumatized from nearly losing you. She's healing, but I don't think she'll ever fully recover from that."

Rachel wipes away a tear with a shaking hand. Her aunt rubs her back. Uncle Mark heaves a long sigh, then goes on.

"And then today….today she stepped outside and saw you in the street. She saw a truck go by. Then she saw you lying in the street, your was head bleeding, and you weren't moving. Ollie was already sitting up and crying, so we were pretty sure he wasn't seriously hurt. But for just a few seconds, we weren't sure about you. I know I was focused on my son, but I still saw that your mother did not breathe until you sat up."

Her mom's pale face and shaking hands spring to mind. Guilt fills her, churning her stomach.

"I didn't mean to scare her again, Uncle Mark. I swear."

"We know, honey. We know." Aunt Amy pulls her into a hug from her good side. "But the fact of the matter is, you did. You terrified her today. That fear she's still been carrying around regarding you was reawakened by this. So…don't be surprised if she starts being overprotective for a while. Try not to give her a hard time about it. Okay? It's a mom thing."

"Thank you for saving our son, Rachel. But never put yourself at risk like that again. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand." I think.

Uncle Mark wraps her in a warm hug, careful of her bruised side.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel thinks her grandparents intended to lecture her as well, but when they saw her expression upon returning downstairs, they thankfully let it go. Instead, they told her to be more careful in the future and that they love her. Her younger cousins had both hugged her goodbye. Dylan had whispered "I told you you were a superhero!" Her older cousins and their parents had gone home after being assured that both Oliver and Rachel were okay. She's kind of glad. She's had more attention about this than she'd like, and it hasn't exactly been pleasant. Besides, she keeps thinking about Uncle Andy yelling at the driver. She knows he had every right to be mad and the driver was in the wrong and her uncle wasn't drunk. But it was so much like her father that it made her uncomfortable.

The drive home was quiet. Her mother is still a little pale and looks really tired. Rachel feels bad for stressing her out. It's late. She's tired, too. Her grandparents had offered to let them stay another night, but her mom said she really wanted to get them home. Rachel had commented that they both have school tomorrow, but the look her mother gave her made it clear that neither of them will be going in. Rachel sent a text to Santana and Quinn, giving them the update. She asked them not to tell the others until she could. She promised that she'd tell Finn and Kurt soon, then they could tell the others.

When they get home, they put their belongings away in silence. It sets Rachel on edge. She takes a shower, then goes downstairs. It's late, but it feels wrong to just go to bed. She needs to talk to her mom first. Her mother is in the kitchen opening a bottle of wine.

"Are you ready for bed?" She pours a glass.

Rachel's can't answer. Her mouth goes dry. Her eyes are stuck, staring at the bottle in her mother's hand.

"Rachel?"

She drags her eyes away from the bottle and up to her mom's face. Her mother is frowning, looking confused and a little worried. She still can't answer. Her eyes drift back to the bottle. Then to the full glass on the counter. She feels like she's hypnotized. She can't look away. Images of her father reaching for alcohol when upset flash before her. Those memories overlap with the image of her uncle screaming at the driver earlier. Her breathing picks up. Her mother's eyes follow her gaze and understanding dawns. So does regret.

"Shit." Her mom sets the bottle down and wipes a hand over her face. "Rachel, I want you to watch me."

Her mother dumps the wine glass down the drain, then sets the empty glass in the sink. Next, she picks up the entire bottle. She makes sure Rachel is watching, then pours it all out. Every drop. Rachel's jaw is clenched, her fingers twitching. Her mother slowly approaches her.

"Honey, I am not your father. I swear to you I will never do anything that would make you feel unsafe or uncomfortable. Okay?" Rachel nods. Her mother rubs her back. "Relax. Breathe deeper. Come on, honey. It's okay. It's gone."

Rachel steps closer to her and rests her head against her shoulder. Her breathing returns to normal pretty quickly.

"I'm sorry, honey. I was just stressed. But….you're right. That's not a healthy way to handle stress. You know what's a better way? Ice cream."

She takes in her mother's tense smile and knows she's doing this for her. She doesn't really want ice cream and she knows her mother doesn't either. She smiles a little and nods anyway. They ignore the fact that it's midnight and they have a serious conversation hanging over them. Instead, they enjoy their ice cream and watch Funny Girl.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunlight streams through the blinds and shines on her face. Shelby doesn't open her eyes. She doesn't have to. She knows it's Monday, but she already called them both out for today. Not only does she want Rachel to take a day to rest her injuries, but they need to have a serious talk today. It'd been too late and they were both too tired and stressed last night. The events were still too fresh. They had fell asleep on the couch while watching the movie last night. She's warm, lying on this couch with her daughter curled against her and a blanket tossed over both of them. For a few minutes, Shelby simply enjoys how it feels. Eventually, she opens her eyes and looks down at her still sleeping child. She lightly traces Rachel's cheekbone, over the scrape, and up to the cut held closed with butterfly stitches. She swallows back her sudden wave of emotion and lightly cards her hand through Rachel's hair. The girl sighs and burrows deeper into her. Shelby presses a kiss to the crown of her head, taking in shuddering breaths.

She'd nearly lost her. Again.

It was too close. The truck had clipped her side. If she'd been any slower, even the fraction of a second slower…..Pinpricks pierce the backs of her eyes. She squeezes them shut to keep the tears at bay. She's okay. Rachel's okay. But for a few terrifying seconds, she hadn't been sure. She hadn't known if Rachel was okay or not. For a few breath stealing seconds, she hadn't been sure if her daughter was alive or dead. For a few seconds, the old fear came surging back. Shelby swallows it down. Rachel is fine. She's bruised, but alive and sleeping peacefully in her arms.

There are so many other dangers in this world. She's in remission, but she could relapse at any time. She could get in a car accident. She could be hit by a car. Again. She could fall. She could be attacked (that Nelson kid brought that fear front and center). She could choke. She could drown. She could have an unexpected allergic reaction. There are so many dangers. Her mind races. How do parents do this? How do you bring a child into the world, then send them off, out of your sight and reach, where anything can happen to them? How do you do that and stay calm?

"Mom?"

Shelby takes in a calming breath. "Yeah, baby?"

"Are you crying?" Her daughter is watching her in concern. While Shelby quickly dries her face, Rachel pushes herself up. Shelby sits up as well. "What's wrong?"

Shelby releases a short laugh. "We'll be discussing that shortly. Let's have breakfast first. I think we both need to have full stomachs for this."

Rachel bites her lip and looks down. "Okay."

"How are you feeling this morning?" Her child had better not lie or brush it off or so help her God…..

"Sore." Rachel shrugs. "Not badly, but it does ache."

"Your side?"

"Yeah."

"What about your head?"

"A little. My side is worse."

Shelby kisses her cheek."Thank you for being honest. Why don't you go grab some meds and I'll start breakfast? We'll ice your side while we eat."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I let my friends know I won't be in school today. Santana and Quinn know not to say anything just yet. I let Kurt and Finn know that I'll talk to them later today."

"I doubt they let that go without a reason."

Her daughter nods. "Yeah. So I told them I'm in trouble. Staying home to get lectured. They assumed I did something stupid and got in trouble at my grandparent's house and started making fun of me since my grounding from the party isn't even up yet. It's close to the truth and they'll know soon enough, so I didn't bother correcting them."

Shelby dries her hands on a towel then tosses it on the counter. She takes her daughter's hand and leads her to the couch.

"I want to start with what happened when we got home last night. I meant what I said. I will never do anything that makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable. If that means not having alcohol in the house, that's fine with me. I just need to make sure I understand. You've seen me drink wine before. What was different about last night?"

Rachel looks down, twisting the hem of her shirt. "Two things."

She hates how soft and small Rachel's voice suddenly sounds. "Okay. What two things?"

"Um, first….." Rachel's eyes briefly flit up to hers, then drop again. "You were upset. Any time my father drank, especially the times it was really bad, were when he was upset first. The alcohol exasperated his emotions and then he'd…it'd be bad. But it always started with him already being angry or upset. You were upset."

Shelby slowly releases a breath. "You're right. I was. I swear to you, I was only going to have one glass, just to help me unwind and fall asleep easier."

Rachel's eyes jump to hers, unable to hide a look of disbelief before looking away.

"What?"

"That's like what he'd say. Sometimes. If he bothered to talk to me at all."

"Okay. Be completely honest, Rachel. Are you okay with me having the occasional glass of wine as long as I'm not upset or angry? Or would you rather I not drink at home at all?"

"Maybe….maybe just not alone. Not when it's just the two of us, I mean."

Shelby frowns slightly, trying to understand. "So you're okay with me drinking wine if there are other adults present or if you're not here at all?" Her daughter nods. Shelby takes her hand. When Rachel looks up at her, Shelby smiles. "Okay. That's a very simple thing, hun. Now, what was the second reason?"

"Uncle Andy."

Shelby blinks. That is not what she was expecting. At all. It came out of nowhere. She wracks her brain, trying to recall any time when Andy drank alcohol around her. He has certainly never been drunk in front of Rachel before. She shakes her head, truly lost. "I don't understand, hun."

"Yesterday. After the accident. Uncle Andy had the driver pinned against the side of the truck." An image of what her daughter is describing flashes before her eyes. He did. "He was screaming and the driver was cowering. I've never seen Uncle Andy like that before. He's always been easy going, goofy, and laidback. Not furious and screaming."

"Honey, he was furious. And scared. He is a laidback guy. But he's a lot like Uncle Burt. Once someone he loves has been hurt or threatened, he becomes protective. Sometimes to the point of being aggressive."

"It just…it reminded me of my father. I saw myself cowering before Uncle Andy the way the driver was…the way I would before my father. It…..made me…uncomfortable." She curls up tighter. Shelby worries she's putting pressure on her bruise, but decides to hold her tongue for the time being. "That was already on my mind and then we got home and you were upset and pouring a glass of wine and I just…..I overreacted. I'm sorry."

Shelby scoots closer and wraps an arm around her. "No, baby girl. You do not need to apologize. If you're ever in a situation like this again, use your words. You can tell me or Uncle Andy or whoever is upsetting you what you're feeling. We'll stop and make sure you're okay. Alright?"

Rachel leans into her. "Okay."

Shelby obviously feels bad for Rachel, but she also feels bad for Andy. Her brother-in-law is going to be gutted when he learns about this. And he will, because he's going to have to speak with Rachel about it to make her feel comfortable around him once more. Shelby sits Rachel up, kisses both of her cheeks, then her forehead, then sits back, putting a little space between them.

"Now for the grand finale."

Rachel's lips twitch.

"Rachel, I love you. Very, very much. And nothing will ever change that."

"I know." The absolute certainty that was spoken with brings her warmth and relief.

"Good. I know Mark and Amy already spoke to you, and I know the basics of what they discussed, so I'll try to keep this short." Shelby takes a deep breath in, bracing herself. "I am proud of you for saving your cousin. What you did was brave and selfless. Heroic. I am so proud and I love you so much for it. But honey, I don't want you to be a hero. I just want you to be safe. Your actions were dangerous and unsafe. You put yourself in danger when it wasn't necessary."

"But it was! I was the closest person to Oliver. If I hadn't done anything, he'd have been hit by the car!"

"But you would have been safe. Did it even occur to you that maybe the driver would have swerved if they'd only seen one kid standing still in the road? Or that Oliver might have stepped back far enough to avoid being struck? Or that even if he was hit, it may not have been bad?" The look on her daughter's face tells her that no, she hadn't considered any of this. "What went through your mind?"

"That Oliver was in the street and a car was coming and that I was the closest person to him. I'd be able to get to him first."

"Did you think you'd have time to get both of you out of the way of the speeding truck?"

Rachel is twisting her shirt, stretching it out. Shelby's not sure she'll be able to repair it at this point. "No. I knew there was a chance I might not."

Her stomach feels like it's twisting as much as Rachel's shirt. "But you did it anyway?"

"I had to save Oliver. I couldn't do nothing! Was I supposed to stand there and watch?"

"Yes." She takes in the shock on Rachel's face. "I will never be in support of anything that puts you in danger. Ever. Even if that means other people risk being hurt. Oliver is my nephew. I love him. I am so very glad that he didn't get seriously hurt yesterday. But not at your expense." Seeing Rachel still doesn't completely agree with her, she decides to try a different track. "What if you had been hit more directly? What if —what if you had died?"

"I would have died happy, knowing he was safe. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make."

She'd thought her question would help Rachel fully accept the danger she'd put herself in. Instead, all it did was gut Shelby. She can tell her daughter means it. Something in her snaps and she can no longer hold back her emotions.

"Well I'm not! I am not willing to sacrifice you! Not for anyone. So if thinking about saving yourself isn't enough to get you to make safer choices, then you need to start thinking about me and how I would feel after it's all said and done." Rachel's face begins to fall and Shelby sees she's finally making an impact. "Think about how your choices affect me. I can't take it, Rachel. I can't lose you."

"I'm sorry!" Rachel wails, throwing herself into her arms.

Shelby rocks her daughter, relief at having gotten through to her washing over her. Now, they can move on.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Later in the day, Rachel led Shelby downstairs and sang "Cannonball" for her. Shelby was a mess of emotions. Proud and thrilled that her daughter and friend had written a wonderful original song. The parts about closing the door and getting a new beginning and living now, those brought Shelby pride and joy. But the part about choosing suffering and pain…..it's accurate and hurts to remember. She starts by hugging her child and holding her close. Once her emotions have settled, she sits down with her to discuss how she and Blaine came up with it.

"Well…I did get a new beginning. A second chance at life. I wanted to honor that in song. But at the same time, I didn't want to just brush off what I went through to get it. I wanted to acknowledge it, close the door on it, and move on. Blaine helped me with wording and with writing out the melody. He's really the one that helped turn my idea and words into a full song. Blaine is an amazing singer, but he's an even better songwriter."

"Clearly." She says with a smile. "And you used this to convince the others to write original songs for Sectionals?"

"Yeah."

"It's risky, but I think you guys can pull it off. If you weren't National Champions, I'd be encouraging you to play it safe. Then again, that was before I heard this amazing original song you wrote."

"We're not sure if we're going to sing this as one of them or write all new ones for the competition."

"This is a pretty personal song. Would you be okay singing it to a crowd of strangers?"

"Singing it to a crowd of strangers? Yes. For competition? I'm less sure. We have one song just about finished, so we'll start working on the others very soon. If we run out of time, we'll sing this one instead of writing a third new one."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: I'm curious if any of you had reread or recalled the prologue before reading this chapter. I realized that I unintentionally left details that implied Ollie could also be the person who died. That hadn't been my plan, but after writing chapter 4, it occurred to me how it could be interpreted. The prologue is intentionally vague, but when I wrote it I didn't mean to imply Oliver might die. Someone will die, but it won't be Oliver or Dylan. I can promise that much.