A/N: **microphone squeak**ahem** Attention passengers, it seems we have storm clouds ahead. This means we may experience some turbulence. So buckle up, folks, it looks like it's going to be a bumpy ride. If you'd rather avoid any potential discomfort, I completely understand and you are welcome to grab a parachute and exit out the emergency doors. Thank you for choosing SojournReader Airlines! You are appreciated. To those who remain for the entire duration of the journey, I hope you're enjoying your flight. We still have a ways to go, but it should be a good one…..turbulence and all. Thank you. Enjoy the ride. ;)

Chapter 19: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

The instant blast of warmth as he enters the clinic is a welcome reprieve from the bitter winter air. Kurt, Mercedes, and Blaine trail behind him chatting. They're a little late. Blaine was a last minute addition, so he wasn't expecting to drive out to pick the boy up. Not that he minded, he just doesn't like being late. Burt nods to the nurses at the desk. They stop him.

"Burt?" Nurse Jessica looks worried. "Rachel and Shelby haven't arrived yet. And Shelby hasn't called and she's not answering our calls."

Behind him, the kids goes silent. They arrived late, yet Rachel isn't even here yet. Her treatment should have started almost 15 minutes ago. Shelby is a stickler about being on time, if not early. His stomach churns uncomfortably. Kurt pulls out his phone and calls Rachel.

"They're probably just stuck in traffic." Blaine suggests. Burt nods slowly. Mercedes bites her lip.

"Rachel, give me a call or text when you get this. We just want to see where you guys are since you're not at the clinic yet."

The uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach grows. He pulls out his own phone and calls Shelby. It rings. And rings. And rings. When it goes to voicemail, Burt hangs up.

A chill that has nothing to do with the winter air runs down his back.

He turns to the kids.

"Wait here. Call me if they show up."

Wide eyed, the kids nod and hold each other's hands. Burt heads to his car, taking larger steps than normal. By the time he makes it to the parking lot, he breaks into a jog. His head swivels around, looking for Shelby's car. Nothing. Shelby would have let me know if something happened. He calls Shelby two more times on the way to her house. Each time it goes to voicemail and each time his heart rate increases. Why isn't she answering? Every red traffic light is a set of demonic eyes glaring down at him. He glares back just as fiercely. Stop slowing me down. His fingers ache from holding the steering wheel so tightly. What if something happened to both of them? He pulls into Shelby's driveway faster than is deemed safe and parks haphazardly. He jogs up to the front door and uses his key to enter. The house is dark.

"Shelby?"

The response is instant, but not one he wanted: a whimper from nearby. He moves quickly towards the sound. Setting foot in the living room, the sight before him brings him up short. Mother and daughter lay on the couch. Shelby is holding her daughter. One arm is around her back, holding her steady. The other is around her head, her hand covering Rachel's eyes. Quietly, Burt moves closer. Even in the dim lighting he can see that Rachel's grayish face is soaked with tears. Her lips are pressed tightly together in a grimace of immense pain. One of Rachel's arms is around Shelby, her hand clenching Shelby's shirt in a fist. Her other hand is gripping Shelby's arm that's around her head. Her breathing is ragged. Between every few breaths, she moans.

He meets Shelby's eyes. The mother looks like she's sharing her daughter's pain. Slowly, Shelby releases the arm around Rachel's back and raises her hand to her mouth, a finger to her lips and eyes wide. Be silent. Yeah, he got that. He assumes it's a severe headache, like a migraine, but he needs to be sure. He grabs his phone, opens the Notes app, and types a very brief question before holding it for Shelby to see.

Attack?

She shakes her head no. He types a new message.

911?

Slowly, uncertainly, Shelby shakes her head no.

Headache?

She nods firmly.

Did she take meds yet?

Another shake indicating 'no'.

Burt quietly but quickly hurries upstairs. He removes his coat, then texts his son. He tells him Rachel has a migraine and requires silence, darkness, and stillness. He asks Kurt to tell the clinic that Rachel won't be up to coming tonight. They'll have to reschedule for the next day. He silences his phone after getting a response. Kurt tells him to stay and take care of Rachel. They'll get another ride home. Relieved they're taken care of, he grabs the highest dose pain meds they have. He has never seen Rachel in this much pain outside of an attack, so he is confident it'd be a good choice.

Downstairs, he shows Shelby the bottle. She nods her agreement. He sits on the edge of the couch. Even that minor motion makes Rachel tense up and cry out. Shelby gasps as well, a couple tears leaking out of her own eyes. Very, very slowly they gently sit her up. It was too much for her. Her face turns stark white and she vomits. They freeze. Rachel moans, gripping Burt's hand like a vice. He grabs the nearest soft thing he can reach without letting go of her hand or moving too much. A throw blanket. He gently wipes her face. Shelby takes it from him and wipes up her shirt as best she can. The only upside to Rachel not eating much is that there's not much to come up when she vomits. From the very little that emerged, he's guessing she hasn't eaten in hours. It seems to mostly be water and bile.

Deciding that's as far as they're going to be able to get her up, Shelby grabs a pill from the bottle. She holds it against Rachel's lip so that she can understand what's happening without them having to speak. She whimpers, but opens her mouth enough to accept the pill. Burt presses the mouth of the water bottle to her lips and slowly tips a little water at a time into her mouth. She cringes and coughs, choking slightly on it, but manages to get enough in to swallow down the pill. She presses her lips together firmly yet again, a clear indication that she will not be willing or able to drink anything else. Shelby releases a quiet breath of relief. As slowly and carefully as possible, Shelby lies back down with her.

Burt stands and heads to the kitchen. He grabs a soft ice pack from the freezer and a couple dishtowels. He wraps one dishtowel around the ice pack and places it over Rachel's eyes. Shelby places her hand overtop of it, keeping it securely in place. He sets the other dishtowels on the coffee table, within Shelby's reach. He then goes to grab a vomit bucket, just in case. Finally, he grabs her oxygen tank. Shelby's face is one of relief and gratitude as he places the nasal cannula on Rachel.

His tension fading, Burt sits in the recliner and waits. The minutes tick by. Eventually, Rachel's body unwinds; her hands unclench, her pinched expression slackens, her breathing eases, and muscles go lax. The utter relief on Shelby's face causes a lump to form in Burt's throat. Shelby slowly breaths out her own tension, her hand beginning to rub soft circles on Rachel's back. Once it's clear that Rachel is unconscious, Shelby slides off the couch. After carefully tucking a clean blanket around Rachel, Shelby stands and covers her face with her hands. Burt stands as well and guides Shelby out of the room. In the den/office, he pulls her into a hug and lets her cry into his shoulder. She steps back once she's calm.

"Thank you, Burt." She whispers. Despite Rachel being under the effects of the strong drugs and asleep and in a different room, this experience clearly took its toll on the mother. She still can't bring herself to be any louder, not wanting to risk disturbing her daughter.

He nods. "Any time. Why don't you go change into something that's free of vomit? I'll sit with her."

She does. Burt had planned to sit in the recliner again. Instead, he finds himself sitting on the floor by the couch, softly stroking Rachel's hair. She's still extremely pale, but no longer grimacing. She is relaxed and pain-free in her sleep. When Shelby returns, she nods towards the kitchen. He joins her. She heats up some soup for them. While they eat, she tells him about how it all began. Rachel had told her about a headache in the early afternoon. She'd taken Tylenol. As the afternoon progressed, the pain got worse. She became sensitive to noise and lighting, so Shelby shut off anything that could make noise, turned off all the lights, and shut the blinds. She had been about to get one of the stronger pain medications for her when she'd started crying in pain. Shelby had decided to hold her for a few minutes, figuring she'd fall asleep or calm down, then she'd go get the medicine. However, it never faded. It got worse and Rachel wouldn't let go of her.

Burt sighs deeply. "Shelby, I think it's time to have someone around 24/7."

Shelby rolls her lips between her teeth, not even seeming to realize she was gnawing on them. After a moment, she nods. "You may be right."

"Can I ask why you haven't yet? I know your family has been offering."

Shelby looks a little self-conscious. "My reasons are twofold. For starters, Rachel has expressed some discomfort with the idea. I'm not sure if its because she's used to it just being the two of us here or if its because having someone else around to help take care of her is acknowledging that…..we're at that point."

"And your other reason?"

"I'm not ready to acknowledge we're at that point." Tears brim her eyes. "I know I need the help. Rachel needs to have more than one person around to help care for her. But…..I've been managing, just us. Reaching out to you or neighbors or others when I need a hand. Having someone around at all times, specifically for Rachel's care, makes it obvious that Rachel is so unwell that she needs more care than I can provide. It's stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid. It's a big step. A scary step." He reaches over, placing a hand on hers. "But Shel,…we are at that point. She is unwell." He hesitates, but knows it needs to be said. "She may only have a month left. Rachel is dying. Her condition is deteriorating faster now. She sleeps a lot, she's dizzy a lot, she's barely eating, she's throwing up what little she does eat, her bruises are spreading, she bleeds more, she shakes…..she can't even handle going down stairs without help, Shelby. Sometimes she needs help just getting from the living room to the kitchen."

Shelby wipes her tears with a shaking hand. "I know all that. This morning she struggled to get off the bed."

"You need to have someone around at all times. Not just for her. For you, too. You need to take breaks. Step away. Get some fresh air."

"I do. When Holly comes over, I go out. But this is all leading to another issue I'm having."

"What's that?"

She smiles sadly. "I want her all to myself."

He smiles a little at that.

"I've only had her in my life for 14 months, Burt. And I may only get one more. So part of me wants to be selfish and be the only one who takes care of her."

His smile fades. Damn. "You'll still be her main care provider. But with someone else around to help with her care, you can focus more on being her Mom than just caregiver." Shelby clearly hadn't thought of it that way. "Think of this: if your sister had been here today, she could have gotten the drugs and ice pack right away. She could have turned off all the lights, closed the blinds, and called the clinic to tell them Rachel wouldn't be coming. You could have focused on holding and comforting her. And, I bet you would have been calmer if you weren't handling it alone." He decides not to mention that that way, Rachel would not have been in pain for as long. Hearing it said outright like that would only hurt Shelby more.

She puts her head in her hands. He gives her time. "Okay. I'll call my family. I'll tell them they can start the schedule they created."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And so it began. Her sister arrived in under two hours. Burt stayed until she arrived, just in case Rachel woke up and was still in pain or anything else happened. They had worried about how bad it would be if she had an attack while already in so much pain. Kelly poured her a glass of wine, called her a "fucking moron" and "control freak" before hugging her and reassuring her that she understood. But that the insults still stood. Shelby had laughed tearfully.

"Mom?"

The quiet plea has her jogging into the living room. Rachel is pushing herself up. Or trying to. Her arms are shaking. Shelby slides an arm around her, helping her sit up. She moves slowly.

"How's your head?" She whispers, not sure how she is feeling.

"Aches."

Shelby frowns. They'd given her the really strong drugs just a couple hours ago. She kisses Rachel's temple. "Bad?"

Rachel sighs. "No. Dull ache."

"Okay. It's too soon to give you anything else, but we'll keep the lights low." She keeps her voice low, as well.

Kelly sits on Rachel's other side. "Hey, sweet pea. What can I get you?"

Rachel reaches for her aunt's hand. "A drink?"

"I'll get you some water. After that, how does hot cocoa sound?"

The corners of Rachel's mouth quirk upwards. "Good."

Later, Rachel leans against Kelly while drinking her hot cocoa. Her feet are in Shelby's lap. Shelby is massaging them. She's willing to do anything to make her more comfortable, to ease the pain and stress.

"We need to reschedule your treatment for tomorrow." Rachel cringes. "I know, princess, but it's nonnegotiable. I was thinking we could go for a massage tomorrow? Before your treatment?"

"I just had a massage last week."

"There's no law to limit how frequently you can go for massages, Rachel." Kelly teases. "I'd go every week, if I could."

Rachel shrugs.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

That's what they do. Emily, the masseuse who works with Rachel, has been informed that Rachel is now stage 4 and frequently in pain. Emily had pointed out that Rachel is also holding more stress and tension than before. The young woman is a marvel. She's calm, gentle, and good at her job. Rachel is comfortable with her and always leaves very relaxed and feeling good. Rachel leans on Shelby on the way into the room. Kelly follows behind. Emily watches Shelby help Rachel sit. Oddly, Emily asks if Kelly can help Rachel undress so that she can talk to Shelby for a moment. They agree.

"Is something wrong, Emily?"

"No. I just…I know that I've been stopping when Rachel falls asleep and then coming out to get you. But now, I'd like to keep massaging her, even if she falls asleep. She may not feel it in the moment because she's asleep, but I can still work out any tension I find and she'll feel more at ease when she wakes."

Shelby smiles warmly at her, blinking back tears. "I….I'd like that. Thank you. I actually wanted to let you know something before beginning. You can use pressure to relieve her tension, but please only use as much as necessary. Keep it light whenever possible. She's…she's bruising more. You'll see that she's now showing bruises on her arms and legs. And either the bruises are becoming more painful, or she's no longer able to hide just how painful they are. Either way, they hurt her."

Emily nods. "I'll go lightly, only using enough pressure to ease her tension and provide relief. I promise. Believe me. The last thing I want to do is add any more pain."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rachel leans against her in the waiting room, dozing. Shelby does her best to ignore the way the other patients are looking at Rachel. The pitying glances. Rachel isn't just very sick. She now looks it. Obviously, even strangers see it right away. They'd gotten the same looks while in the waiting room at the spa the previous day. When the nurse calls her name, Rachel lifts her head but doesn't stand. The nurse, Rose, comes over to them.

"Take your time, sweetie."

When she's ready, Rachel sits up straighter. Kelly and Shelby each grab an arm, helping her rise. She wavers.

"I can grab a wheelchair." Rose offers quietly.

"No. Please." Rachel mumbles, eyes downcast.

Shelby shakes her head. "We've got her. But thank you."

Rose nods, a gentle frown on her wrinkled face. The three women ignore the stares from the rest of the waiting room and make their way to Dr. Reed's office. The kindly doctor meets them halfway and takes Kelly's place. He keeps up a steady commentary on the remodeling they're doing around the office. Rachel's lips twitch. Shelby feels her own lips forming a smile, as they've been doing any time she sees Rachel smiling these days. When Rachel can't resist any longer, she lets a smile form. More of a smirk, really. Shelby has become familiar with this particular smile. She grins in anticipation.

"What?"

"Remodeling?"

Dr. Reed raises a brow. "Yes?"

"Paid for with blood money?"

There's a brief pause. Then the hematologist barks out a laugh, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Blood money for the blood doctor?" He laughs. "You know, in all my years working as a hematologist, no one has ever made that joke before. You are by far my wittiest patient, Rachel."

She grins, her eyes sparkling. In his office, he checks her vitals. It's normally a nurse or medical assistant who does this portion, but ever since entering stage 4, he has taken care of it all himself. When he takes a seat, it's not behind his desk, but next to her daughter. Her heart sinks. Kelly takes her hand. She takes Rachel's hand.

"Your numbers dropped, Rachel."

Rachel looks at him tiredly. She almost seems too tired to react. "Right on track with your prediction, then?"

Dr. Reed takes Rachel's free hand. "Yes and no. They dropped, but not much. In fact, it was a smaller drop than the last couple. While it is still possible that you only have about a month left, it is also very possible that your numbers will begin rising."

"But they still dropped."

He nods solemnly. "Yes."

"Anything new? No offense, but I kind of want to go to sleep."

An odd look crosses the doctor's face. "We discussed increasing your treatments to three times a week. I'd like to try that for a couple weeks."

Rachel sighs. "So….for the rest of my life, then?"

Shelby swallows a lump. Dr. Reed's eyes slant down in regret.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I need to talk to your mother briefly. Just some boring insurance stuff. Why don't you sit in here with your aunt for a few minutes while I talk to your mom about it?"

Rachel shrugs. Shelby tries not to show how much she's shaking as she stands and follows the doctor to another room.

"What's really going on?"

"I meant what I said. Rachel could very well begin getting better. Yes, her numbers dropped. But the fact that it was a smaller drop is actually promising."

She's not sure how she should feel right now. Before she can decide, he goes on.

"However…..there is a change you need to be aware of now."

The world starts moving in slow motion. Everything slows down. She's sure of it.

"Despite the drop being small, her numbers are currently in a…..very dangerous range."

"Meaning?" Her voice sounds muffled to her own ears.

"It's not very likely. In fact, it's unlikely. But still possible."

"What is?" She tries not to sound as frustrated as she is. Why won't he just tell her already?

"It is possible at this stage…..that Rachel may pass in her sleep."

She takes in a breath. There's a buzzing coming from the personal heater sitting on the floor. A slight gust of air moves the blinds in the window behind him.

"You may wake one morning…and find her already gone."

Her legs are jelly. He guides her down to a chair and takes her hands. "It's not likely, Shelby. Shelby, look at me. I need you to breathe. Please listen carefully. It is not likely. It is in fact unlikely. I believe she is going to start getting better. But I do need to make you aware of this very slim possibility. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't."

He guides her to put her head between her knees and take deep breaths. When she's breathing normally and no longer shaking, he lets her sit up. He takes her hand once more, passing her a box of tissues with the other.

"Unlikely."

"Unlikely."

"But possible."

"Similar odds of winning the lottery."

"But someone wins."

He sighs. "True. That was a poor analogy. Rachel's better at them than I am."

"So…..she could…go at any time, then?"

"No. Only if she's asleep."

"I don't understand."

"Think of it like drowning. If you're conscious and feel yourself start to drown, you swim harder, hold your breath, or call for help. You fight it. You fight to survive. If you're unconscious, you can't fight. You don't even know you're in danger, so you just….slip under the water."

"So while she's awake…"

"She's fighting." He sighs, deeper this time. "I may be out of bounds with this next part. If I am, I apologize from the bottom of my heart. I mean this to be a kindness." After she nods her understanding, he goes on. "If Rachel were to die in her sleep, she'd go peacefully. No pain or fear."

Pain and fear.

The two most common elements in their lives these days.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Burt doesn't like the haunted, empty look in Shelby's eyes. She'd asked him to bring Finn and Kurt to treatment that night. He had. Her sister, Kelly, had been there. While the boys were engaging Rachel in conversation, Shelby pulled him away. The nurses allowed them to use a small office to talk privately.

"This about the appointment with Dr. Reed earlier?"

"Her numbers dropped." Shelby's voice is emotionless.

Burt paces the room, rubbing a hand over his face. Once he's back in control, he returns to his seat. "How much?"

"Not much. A smaller drop than the last couple. But that wasn't what I need to tell you."

Hollow. That's how she looks. And sounds. Hollow. He braces himself.

"With her numbers where they are….she could die in her sleep."

He didn't brace himself hard enough.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Uncle Andy joined them after Tyler and Abby returned to college for their final semester. He arrived in time to experience one of the "episodes". Rachel curled up on the couch between her mom and aunt, her body heavy and exhausted. She couldn't move at all. She dozed on and off. She was trying to avoid talking, not just because she's so tired, but because she's slurring her words. Uncle Andy's arrival means he was able to carry her up to bed.

"Thanks, Uncle Andy." She mumbled, trying not to slur too much.

He kisses her forehead. "Any time, kiddo."

An odd longing fills her. A yearning for a past long forgotten; being held by one or both of her fathers. Feeling their strong bodies, smelling their aftershave, hearing their voices rumble in their chests as they all cuddled on the couch while watching a movie. She keeps her eyes closed, hoping it's enough to keep the tears in. It's not. He uses his thumbs to gently wipe them away.

"You need anything?"

Water. Many times she'd be upset and her dads would bring her a glass of water. But she knows she's not actually thirsty. Just sad. Rachel shakes her head slightly.

"Okay."

While dozing on the couch, she'd heard the quiet conversation between the sisters. Her Aunt Kelly had convinced her mom to take a sedative to help her sleep and let Kelly sleep with Rachel tonight. Last night, Rachel had woken several times during the night. Not fully, not even opening her eyes, but awake enough to be aware of her surroundings. One time her mom was crying quietly. Another time her mom was moving her slightly. It had taken Rachel a moment to realize her mom was checking her breathing. It'll be good for her mom to get a full night's sleep. She's glad her mom agreed to her aunt's plan. She deserves a peaceful night. They both do.

She falls asleep yearning for peace.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Shelby."

Shelby groggily rubs her eyes. The sedative is making it hard for her to wake up.

"Shel…."

Something in her sister's voice cut through the haze of drug induced sleep. Shelby shot up in bed, heart leaping into her throat. Kelly's face is white and tear soaked. Shelby jumps off her bed, heading towards her daughter's room. Kelly's hands on her arms stop her. She tries to move past her sister, but Kelly is proving stronger.

"Kelly, let go."

"Shelby…..no."

The fear that had been coiling in her stomach lashes out, sending her heart rate skyrocketing and making her shake. Tears blind her.

"Let me go to her!"

Violently yanking her arms away, Shelby breaks free.

"She's not there, Shelby." Her sister calls from behind her. "She's gone."

Stumbling and unable to breathe, Shelby reaches Rachel's room. From the hallway she can make out her daughter on the bed. On her back. Hands at her sides. Extremely pale. Not moving. The moment her foot crosses the threshold, her vision swims. When her sight is restored, she is standing at the foot of her daughter's bed. Except the bed is gone. In its place is a hole in the ground. The hole is so deep that the bottom can't be seen. At the other end of the hole from where Shelby is standing is a granite marker.

Rachel Barbara Berry
December 18, 1994 - January 21, 2011

Shelby's mouth opens, a scream building from deep within.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gasping, Rachel is yanked from sleep. She pushes herself up into a sitting position and leans forward, running her shaking hands over her head, pushing her hair back.

"Rach?"

Aunt Kelly sits up as well, watching her in the dim light offered by the moon. Rachel doesn't respond right away. Aunt Kelly rests a hand on her back, waiting. Once she feels calmer, she sits up more, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.

"Rachel?"

Rachel looks at her aunt. She doesn't want to talk. Not about how she's feeling and not about her nightmare. Aunt Kelly wipes away tears Rachel hadn't even realized she'd cried. Nightmare. No, she's not ready. Grabbing the water on her nightstand, she gulps down half the bottle. When she's finished, she sits on the edge of her bed trying to stop her tears. Aunt Kelly wraps an arm around her.

"You okay, sweet pea?"

No. She nods anyway. More tears. Still shaking. Slowly, she gets out of bed. She ignores her aunt's steadying hands assisting her. In the hall, she looks into her mom's room. Her mother is sleeping deeply, but not peacefully. Even under the effects of a sedative, her mom's face is pulled into a frown in sleep. Rachel glances behind her. Aunt Kelly is a few steps behind, watching and waiting, but thankfully not stopping or questioning her. She heads for the stairs. An arm wraps around her waist, but it's not her aunt. Uncle Andy silently helps her down the stairs. Aunt Kelly starts to follow behind, but then stops. She looks back up the stairs, shares a look with her husband, then returns to the second floor. Rachel understands. If her mom wakes up and doesn't see Rachel or her aunt, and her uncle isn't upstairs, she'd freak out. Better for her to wait up there.

Downstairs, Rachel lightly pushes her uncle's arm off of her and steps away from him. Still, he follows closely. She understands, but in this moment she can't handle it. Mildly agitated, she wanders around the first floor. She stays close to walls and furniture that she can grab on to in order to stay up. She pauses at the back door. Rachel gives her uncle a look. She knows he'll have to be close by, but she does not want him to follow her. He responds with a look of his own. She opens the back door. Before stepping through, she looks back at Uncle Andy pleadingly. He sighs, but grabs a chair from the table and brings it over. He sets it down right by the door and sits, giving her a stern look. Her expression turns grateful. Relieved. She needs to be as alone as she can get. If that means her uncle sits in a chair at the door watching her through the window, that's fine.

Rachel hesitates only a moment before stepping into the snow. Barefoot. She instantly tenses, the cold an uncomfortable shock to her system. She breathes out slowly and takes another step. The snow, leftover from the last snowstorm, is cold and icy, yet somehow soft. Despite getting cold easily, and not liking being cold, this feels oddly good. A memory rises to the rises to the surface.

She's little. She's being held above a pool. Her dads are each holding one arm. Her little feet skim the surface of the water. It's cold. She shrieks and pulls her feet up, trying to keep them out of the pool. Her dads are trying to ease her into it. All three are laughing and giggling.

Her residual shaking fades. She takes a few more steps, watching her breath puff out in front of her. The moonlight glitters on the snow, making it sparkle. It's a clear night. Looking up, she can even see stars. A breeze freezes her cheeks, reminding her of the tears she hadn't dried.

She and Kurt are wrestling for control of the shower faucet. Cold water sprays out of the shower head, soaking their pajamas. They're laughing and shivering, sliding around in the tub.

She's calm. She's alive. It's a beautiful night and she's here to see it. She's not happy, but….she's calm. It was just a nightmare. Her feet are starting to go numb, but she can still feel the cold and hear the pleasant crunch with each step.

Her cousins are lying in the snow around her. They're giggling and whispering, making plans to put snow down their parent's backs.

She should probably go back inside. She's been up and moving under her own power for longer than she has in a while. She also knows she's starting to push her physical limitations. But the snow is so pretty, especially in the moonlight. She'd like to watch snowfall one more time. Just in case. No, not just watch it. She wants to walk through falling snow. There's something magical about it. The world becomes muffled and soft. Everything looks white and pretty.

Making snow angels with her friends. Snowball fights. Sledding. Making snowmen.

Thinking of her friends makes her think about Finn. She suddenly wants to hear his voice.

"Rachel?"

Not the male voice she was expecting to hear. It's not even her uncle. Looking towards the fence separating their properties, she sees Mr. Johnson. He's watching her with a deep, confused frown.

"What are you doing out here at 3am?"

"Nightmare."

"But why are you outside in the snow?" He looks down at her feet. "Barefoot?"

She grins slightly. "Nightmare."

His mouth opens as though he's about to speak again, but then stops. His eyes jump to the dark house. His frown deepens and worry seeps into his tone. "Is anyone else awake, Rachel?"

She nods. "Uncle Andy."

As she speaks, said uncle opens the back door. He comes down the back steps towards them and nods to Mr. Johnson. "I think it's time you came inside, princess. I made hot cocoa."

Since she's starting to shiver, she agrees. With a small wave to her neighbor, she allows her uncle to guide her inside. They sit at the kitchen table and sip their cocoa.

"It's good."

"Thanks."

"Not as good as Mrs. Johnson's, though."

"I've heard hers is the best." He laughs quietly before sobering. "Nightmare?"

She nods, looking down into her mug.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shakes her head no.

"You should talk to someone, princess. I can wake your mom."

Again she shakes her head no. Then she remembers wanting to hear Finn's voice. It's ridiculously early, but he did say she could call him at any time. Time to put that to the test.

"Actually, can you get my phone for me? It's on my nightstand."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, but he agrees easily. He returns in moments and hands it to her. The couch would be a more comfortable place, she decides. She's glad Uncle Andy is following her because between her feet slowly getting feeling back and her exhaustion, she stumbles. He catches her. Once she's steady, he guides her to the living room. Rachel looks at him guiltily when he sits beside her.

"Uncle Andy? I really appreciate you being with me tonight."

He takes on a knowing look and grins. "But you'd like privacy for your phone call."

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Of course. I'll go sit in your mom's office and move stuff around just to annoy her. We'll see how long it takes her to notice."

She hugs him tight before he gets up. Looking at her phone now, she hesitates. She's very tired. However, she wants to talk to him and if she's going to test his promise, it may as well be on a Saturday. She doesn't have to worry about making him too tired for school. Finn answers on the third ring.

His voice, though rough with sleep and filled with worry, causes her lips to curl up. "Rachel?"

"Hi, Finn." She keeps her voice low.

"You okay?" Her lips quiver. She takes a moment to compose herself, not wanting to alarm him any more than she already has just by calling at three in the morning. "Rach?"

"Sorry for waking you this early."

"I'm not. Really. What's going on?"

"I had a nightmare."

"Tell me."

No platitudes. No false hopes. No empty promises. No walking on eggshells. He's simply there for her.

"There's not much to tell and I know what I dreamed isn't even possible, but it was still absolutely terrifying."

"Tell me anyway." She can hear the grin in his voice. His tone may be light, but the fact that he's insisting means he's not brushing it off. He wants to hear it and make her feel better.

"Okay, um, basically….I died. That part already sucked but then…..after I died, the dream didn't end. I knew I was dead and…..I was still in pain. And still scared. It didn't stop." Her voice is wavering. Her eyes sting and her throat feels clogged. She swallows. "The only thing that's been stopping me from being terrified every day about possibly dying is the knowledge that if I do, at least the pain will go away. It'll be over. Then this nightmare—"

"Was just a nightmare." Finn's voice is rough once again. "You said it yourself, Rach….it's not possible."

"I know. Intellectually, I know that. If I die, it'll be over. But of course my overactive—"

"—and very dramatic—"

She grins "—imagination had to take the worse case scenario and make it 1,000 times more horrible. It tried to take away the one thing keeping me sane."

"The one thing?"

"One thing. Not person. I have plenty of people keeping me sane. I'm talking about in my own mind, the one thought that has kept me sane."

"I'm sorry." Simple words, but she knows he means them.

"Thanks for listening. You're the best boyfriend ever."

"Really? Maybe the best boyfriend ever should come over and get a congratulatory kiss."

She laughs quietly. "At three in the morning?"

"Well…..it's four, now."

She sighs. "As much as I would like that, I'm pretty sure I'll be asleep very soon."

"Are you sure you'll be able to?"

"After talking it out with you? And hearing your voice? Yeah, I'll sleep just fine."

"Do me a favor?"

Surprised and curious, she immediately agrees. "Of course. What?"

"You still have that recording on your phone? The one of me singing 'I'll Stand By You'?"

"Of course I do."

"Listen to it before going to sleep?"

Her lips slowly form a soft smile. This boy. This utterly sweet, romantic boy. "I will. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Shelby?"

She gasps, heart in her throat. Her sister is sitting on the edge of her bed. Terror spikes through her and she tries to jump up. Kelly wraps her in a firm embrace, halting her.

"Relax. Rachel is fine."

Shelby slumps against her bonelessly. Kelly rubs her back.

"Just breathe, Shel. Catch your breath and calm down."

Once she is calm, she sits up. "She's fine?"

Kelly's smile is sympathetic. "She's fine. She's downstairs with Andy. That must have been some nightmare you had."

"How'd you know?"

Kelly's eyebrows jumps up. "Shel, I came in here because you sounded like you were in pain. Then I find you asleep, but looking like you were fighting something."

"Explains why I'm sweaty." Shelby mutters.

"Want to tell me about the nightmare?" Her big sister asks, wiping the last of her tears.

Shelby shakes her head. Kelly's mouth twists into an odd smile and she shakes her own head.

"Like mother, like daughter."

"What do you mean?"

"Rachel had a nightmare as well. And, like you, she didn't want to talk about it."

Shelby's eyes widen in alarm. "She had a nightmare? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, Shel. I already said that." Kelly sighs and takes her hand. "Look, it's almost 8. Other than that nightmare right at the end, you got a solid night of sleep. Rachel woke up around 3 in the morning from her nightmare, but she's back asleep."

"I thought you said she's downstairs with Andy."

"She is. After her nightmare, she didn't want to talk or go back to sleep. She went downstairs. Andy went with her. I stayed up here in case you woke up and panicked when you couldn't find her." Shelby nods appreciatively. "Andy said she wandered the first floor before taking a walk outback."

"In the snow?"

"And barefoot."

Shelby's mouth is agape, but she can't find any words. Kelly shrugs.

"It seemed to help her. After walking around for a few minutes, she came back inside and drank cocoa with Andy. He tried to coax her into talking about her nightmare, but she didn't want to talk to him. However, she called Finn and told him about it."

Shelby thinks about that. On the one hand, she's very glad Rachel let herself talk to someone about her nightmare. On the other hand, she'd rather Rachel talk to her. Or at least an adult who is family.

"After talking to him, she fell asleep on the couch. Andy covered her with a blanket and stayed down there with her. So, you got a good night of rest….nightmare aside…..Rachel's sleep was interrupted, but she did get sleep and is resting comfortably now. Why don't you shower and come down for breakfast?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kelly and Andy left after breakfast, which Rachel slept through. Kelly told her to tell someone about her own nightmare. Her, their parents, Scott, Diane, Burt, anyone. Just someone. Again, Shelby nodded. She runs her hand over Rachel's head, brushing her hair back. Her hand stills. Heart hammering, she places her hand more firmly against Rachel's forehead. Warm. Very warm. Her stomach twists. Shaking her shoulder, she attempts to rouse her daughter. When she gets no response, she steps away to grab her phone and a thermometer. 100. She closes her eyes. A flu could kill her. She grabs medicine, an ice pack, and water.

"Rach, sweetie, I need you to wake up now." Then, more firmly. "Rachel. Open your eyes."

Her head lolls. Shelby's stomach flips. Before her panic can get any higher, Rachel finally opens her eyes.

"Mom?"

"Hey, baby. I need you to take this medicine."

"Why?"

"You have a fever."

Rachel sighs but takes the medicine without complaint. "I haven't been sick much." Her expression is a cross between a grimace and amusement. "You know what I mean."

Shelby smiles. "I do. And I'm very glad. But you're sick now. You have a fever. Anything else?"

Rachel looks at her oddly. "Besides feeling exhausted, nauseous, dizzy, weak, cold, headache, and aching from bruises?"

She wants to laugh. She does see the humor. But the reality is too cruel to let the laugh escape. She runs her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Yeah. Anything different? Sore throat? Sneezing? Coughing?"

"Runny nose." Rachel admits. "But I figured it was from walking barefoot in the snow."

She seems to realize what she just admitted to and cringes, looking at Shelby cautiously.

"Aunt Kelly already told me."

"Oh. Okay. So…..maybe the fever is just from that, too?"

She has a point. "Maybe. We'll keep an eye on it. But Rachel, more than ever, I mean this: you need to tell me the moment you feel anything else. Any other symptom, no matter how small. And I mean immediately." She doesn't care how sharp she is. She fucking means it.

Instead of looking defensive or annoyed, Rachel simply nods, shoulders drooping. Shelby kisses her forehead.

"C'mon. You haven't eaten yet."

Rachel looks at her tiredly. "Not hungry."

"Then its a good thing I didn't ask you if you were hungry. I'm telling you, you're going to eat something."

"And when I throw it up?"

Shelby sighs. She truly doesn't know how to respond to that. Rachel watches her face fall and her own expression turns apologetic.

"Maybe I could try a banana? Or a protein shake?"

"Okay."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mark and Amy arrive after Mercedes and Tina do. Rachel's friends visit for a while, just lounging on the couch and watching tv. Rachel leans against Mercedes, resting her head on her friend's shoulder. The girls leave after Rachel falls asleep and doesn't wake after half an hour. They've learned that generally that means she won't wake for a while. Some of her little "cat naps" are only for a few minutes. Half an hour at most. In those cases, she'll wake up and go back to talking or hanging out with whoever is visiting. But if she falls asleep and doesn't wake within 40 minutes, it's not just a cat nap; she's down for the count.

Mark rearranges Rachel more comfortably on the couch, tucking her in. "She feels cooler than she did when we first got here, Shel."

He's right. Her fever has gone down. Shelby lets herself relax a little.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By Sunday afternoon her fever is gone and they all breathe a sigh of relief. Amy and Shelby go out. Amy talked her into going out for a relaxed lunch, just the two of them. Since Rachel was laughing while playing a board game with Mark and a couple friends, Shelby hesitantly agreed. When they returned home, it was to a scene that caused Shelby's heart to leap into her throat. Shelby was torn between wanting to scream at her stupid little brother and wanting to laugh and hug him.

They stepped through the door in time to see Mark sitting in a sleeping bag with Rachel on his lap. They slid down the stairs to laughter and cheers. When they hit the bottom they continued to slide, only stopping when they hit the wall. They'd had the foresight to cover the wall with cushions from the sofa, so their "hit" was soft and injury free. Standing around the bottom of the stairs were Sam, Mike, Noah, and Finn. The boys cheered and laughed, Mike recording the event.

"My turn!" Noah yelled, grabbing the second sleeping bag and jogging up the stairs.

"Mark Corcoran!" Shelby hollered. Everyone jumped and turned to her. Seeing the smile on her daughter's face begin to fade, she went with option b. "You should know to lean back to get more speed."

Rachel smiles widely and her friends hoot and laugh. Amy takes over recording as each took a turn going down the stairs. Pushingher nerves away, Shelby even climbs into a sleeping bag with Rachel and slides down the stairs with her. Her daughter's bright eyes and laughter make her nerves worth it. The final trip down was all four boys and Rachel, squeezed together on one sleeping bag.

Before the boys left, Michael bashfully admitted that whenever they were having a rough day at school, a picture from Rachel cheered them up. Just like she did the first day back after break. Rachel was touched. To that end, he requested they stage a few photos. Then, during the week, they could send the pictures to the group to make them laugh. Rachel happily agreed.

The first photo was of Mike and Noah holding Rachel, each boy kissing one of her cheeks. Next to them, Finn posed looking angry, with Sam acting like he was holding him back.

The next photo was taken in her room. Finn slid into bed with her and held her close. Noah wrapped a towel around his head and put on Shelby's bathrobe and slippers. Mike borrowed the suit jacket and tie that Mark had brought. Sam got on his knees, tousled his hair, sucked his thumb, and wrapped an arm around one of Mike's leg. They set up the scene to make it seem like angry parents Noah and Mike found Rachel and Finn in a compromising position while little brother Sammy watched on in confusion. Rachel and Finn pulled the comforter up to their chins and acted scared at being caught. Noah put a hand on his chest in shock. Mike was glaring and pointing a finger at them angrily. It was hard for them all to keep straight faces for this photo. Mark was practically howling when he saw the picture.

Mark and Amy stayed for dinner, keeping Shelby company while Rachel slept. She told them about her nightmare. They listened sympathetically. After dinner, they went home. They'd offered to stay the night, but Shelby knew that Amy needed to get the boys from their grandparents and Mark had a big meeting the next day.

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