Chapter 5

Thanksgiving was hard for the Berry family this year. For starters, since Rachel has been forced to start eating meat again, the turkey is a real turkey. She wasn't thrilled, even if it was delicious. But mostly, the small family didn't feel like they had much to be thankful for this year. Other than her dads watching the football game and eating turkey, they didn't really observe the holiday in their house. Her grandmother was going to come, but caught the flu. Since Rachel can't afford to get sick, she stayed away to protect her.

Black Friday was more fun. Rachel met up with her friends and did a little shopping. They went later in the day. They said it was to avoid the mad crush of crazy shoppers. However, Rachel wondered how much of that was true and how much of it was to let her sleep in. Unfortunately, while the day was fun, it was spent around lots of people. Rachel caught a cold. Which is how her friends discovered another downside to her illness. Not only do the immune suppressants make it more likely she'll get sick, they also make it harder for her body to fight off. Rachel spent several days with a high fever and cough, and unable to keep any food down. Even after the fever broke, she was still not well enough to leave the house. She missed the entire week of school after Thanksgiving break. Her friends visited her after school. She was finally strong enough to return the following week. Which worked out well, since the following weekend was Sectionals.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They won. Rachel wasn't surprised. She praised the stars of the competition (Mike, Brittany, Santana, Quinn, and Sam), telling them what a great job they did. She learned that while she never went out of her way to be mean, the fact that she never went out of her way to be nice also played a part in their negative opinion of her. So she made sure to compliment her friends. When it was deserved, obviously. She's not one to lie.

Rachel wasn't surprised they won, but she was relieved. She was also relieved that she made it through both songs without incident. She was happy to ignore the fact that she was shaking from exhaustion by the end. Her friends, however, did not ignore it. As soon as they were off stage, Mike scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the green room. She didn't argue. Kurt handed her a bottle of juice. Mercedes got her a snack. Brittany pulled her against her side, snuggling with her. On the bus ride home, she fell asleep with her head on Tina's shoulder. She woke up to find Puck's coat on top of her upper body and Finn's coat covering her legs. Tina quietly told her that she'd started shivering in her sleep.

It's nice to have friends.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She debated whether to throw a birthday party. She's sixteen. And dying. And her friends are fairly new friends. She's slowly starting to trust that they won't hurt her again. Not like before, at least. She decides not to. Her dads support her. They tell her they'll take her out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Because of her dad's work schedule, he asks if they can celebrate a day early. She agrees easily. Rachel spends a nice evening with her fathers enjoying a delicious dinner and good conversation.

She didn't mention anything about her birthday at school. Which is why she's confused to wake up on her birthday, a Saturday, to find she's not alone in bed. Brittany, Tina, and Kurt are all squeezed on the bed with her. Santana, Quinn, and Mercedes are sitting on chairs around the bed. They giggle at her bewildered expression.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Um, thanks. What's going on?"

"Someone is now sixteen." And may not make it to seventeen, Rachel thinks darkly. She shakes the thought away. "We want to celebrate with you. Is that okay?"

Rachel laughs. "Of course! What did you have in mind?"

"For starters, brunch in bed!" Kurt announces, bouncing happily.

Her dads enter with trays loaded down with delicious breakfast foods. The girls, and Kurt, enjoy it all, taking their time. They frown, but don't comment, on how little Rachel eats. She's not nauseous, thankfully, but she's not hungry either. When they're all finished, they draw her a bubble bath. Brittany had wanted to join her, but Rachel, blushing profusely and ignoring the laughter of the others, explained why she wasn't comfortable with that. They insist she take her time and relax.

Their next adventure is to head to a spa. Facials or massages for all. Rachel chooses to go with a massage. The masseuse, Emily, frowned and hesitantly asked her about her bruises. Rachel gave her a very brief explanation of her illness. Emily uses Himalayan salt stones, warmed, to help ease her muscles. Rachel is so relaxed she has to fight to stay awake. She's sluggish by the end, but thanks the woman profusely, telling her she feels very relaxed. Rachel figures that Emily was concerned about how slow she was moving, because Tina enters her room as she's struggling to redress. She hears a gasp.

"Rachel! Those look bad!"

Rachel has her bra on, so she she's not too uncomfortable. She looks over at Tina. "It's fine. I bruise easily, remember?"

"That doesn't mean they don't hurt."

"No, but it means I'm fairly used to it."

Tina frowns, but doesn't push it. She helps Rachel finish dressing so they can leave. Their next destination is a nail salon. Finally, they meet the guys at a restaurant for dinner. It was a truly wonderful way to spend her birthday. Rachel makes sure to thank each of them, telling them it was the best birthday she's ever had. When they recall that she'd thrown herself a birthday party the previous year and no one had come, they felt guilty. She promised them she's over it. And that this year more than made up for it. They have cake and she opens presents. It may have been a relaxing day, but it was still long. She's tired and a little dizzy. She grips the arms of the chair to stay up.

Mike puts his hand over hers. "You okay?"

"Dizzy." She mumbles back.

The guys pay the check and they sit talking quietly until the dizziness passes. Mike helps her stand. They're almost to the door when her knees give out. Finn catches her. She flushes, feeling the eyes of nearby patrons on her.

"Let me carry you."

She shakes her head. Instead, she leans heavily on him as they walk to his car. She hugs her friends goodnight. It really was a great birthday. She'd rather it not be her last, but if it is, it was a good one to end on.

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The following week, the final week before winter break, she fainted at school. She was walking with Tina and Brittany. She stopped when the dizziness began and leaned on her friends. It didn't fade. Instead, it got worse. The edges of her vision began dimming, sounds became distorted, and she began feeling heavy. She awoke leaning back against someone. She heard muffled voices and felt someone holding her hand. The person she was leaning against had their arms around her.

"—chel?"

"C'mon, Rach. Open your eyes."

With effort, her eyes fluttered open. Mr. Schuester kneeled before her looking worried. Dragging her eyes to the side, Tina was holding her hand. That must mean Brittany is holding her. The Cheerio's cheek is pressed against hers. Mr. Schue's face breaks into a relieved smile.

"Hey. You ready to head home? I'll get you to the nurse and your dad will pick you up from there. Okay?"

Feeling sluggish, she manages a slight nod. Her teacher slips his arms under her and lifts her with ease. She's lost some weight recently, but damn he must work out. Rachel slumps against him, her head falling tiredly against his shoulder. He carries her to the nurse's office and lays her on the bed. He brushes her hair back softly.

"Get some rest, alright?"

"Okay."

The nurse lays a blanket over her and she sleeps until her father arrives.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They convince her not to go to school the rest of the week. It's a short week, anyway. Her friends visit every day after school. She's getting worse and they can all tell. She's tiring faster. Eating less. Sleeping more. Dizzy more. Her fathers take turns staying home from work to be with her. They cuddle on the couch while watching movies or just talk. Her Dad teaches her origami, which she actually finds kind of fun.

In the week between Christmas and New Years, she's told she's stage 3. And so, she begins the new year with a life expectancy of around 30%. It's not promising. But not the end, Dr. Reed promises her. They increase her treatments to twice a week. Now she goes on Mondays and Wednesdays. When the new term begins, Rachel does not go back right away. After many long discussions and arguments, Rachel finally agreed to going to school three days a week and spending the other two days sleeping and doing her classwork. Her fathers had wanted her to go two days and be home three, but she talked them out of it. For now. Her dads are taking turns staying home with her. She'd overheard several arguments between them. They were trying to determine if they could afford for one of them to quit their job or take an extended leave to be home all the time. They agreed it'd be a good idea, but then argued over who would get to be the one to be home with her more. From what she could hear, they agreed to continue to take turns staying home with her for now. But both will be talking to HR at their respective jobs to figure out other options soon.

One day in mid January, they both join her in the living room. They turn off the show she'd been watching and face her with serious expressions. Rachel shifts so that she can see both of them comfortably and waits for one of them to start talking.

"Before we begin, we want you to understand that while we have a suggestion it'll still be entirely up to you. It's your choice. It's whatever you're more comfortable with. We will not push you one way or the other." Daddy starts.

"Okay. I understand."

Her dads share a hesitant look, then Dad clears his throat. "You're going to be fine. You will start getting better. But, it still might be a good idea to have some difficult conversations."

Her mind whirls with possibilities and an uncomfortable feeling settles in her stomach. "Like what?"

"Like talking to your mother. We know things didn't really go well when you two met and you don't know one another. But she is your mother. We're going to tell her soon. She deserves to know. If you'd like, then after we tell her, we can invite her over to talk to you. Spend time with you. If you're not comfortable with that, then we can let her know she needs to keep her distance. It's up to you, sweet pea."

Rachel bites her lip, thinking hard. "If I hadn't met her last year, would you still tell her?"

"Yes. We would. We'd call her and invite her to join one of us for coffee somewhere between us. Then we'd tell her you're sick. If you were interested, we'd then offer to let her meet you."

Her Daddy leans forward and takes her hand. "But the fact of the matter is, you two did meet. It may not have gone well and you're still practically strangers, but you've met your mother. We think it'd be a good idea for you two to talk. Get some closure."

Her Dad jerks slightly, looking mildly panicked before reigning it in and appearing calm once more. "We're saying closure because you didn't really get any yet. Whether you want to build a relationship with her in the future or not, you both still need closure from the way things ended last year."

Daddy gives Dad a slightly irritated look. "Yes. True. But we also need to face the fact that you're stage three now, honey. You will get better. But on the slim chance you don't, it'd be good for both of you to hash things out. Give you both a little peace of mind about the other."

"It'd be good no matter what." Her Dad reiterates.

Rachel knows her Dad is having a harder time handling her prognosis than Daddy is. He's strong and loving and supportive. But he's also slightly in denial about the chances of her survival. It's mild, but she still picked up on it. They've known she's dying from the start. Dr. Reed made that clear to them. Now that she's stage three, though, it's more likely. She bites her lip, thinking about their suggestion.

"When are you going to tell her?"

"I set up a lunch date with her on Thursday."

"Isn't she in New York with her daughter?" The words feel bitter on her tongue. But the way she sees it, Beth is Shelby's daughter. Rachel is just her biological offspring. Beth was chosen. Wanted. Rachel was handed off, picked up again, then summarily dropped in favor of a younger, cuter version.

"She was. She didn't stay long, though. She moved back to Columbus and has been teaching both a singing class and a theater class at the nearby college. So she's only an hour away."

Rachel isn't sure how she feels about that. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, Little Star. Take your time. Remember, we will support whatever you choose."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She had a hard time sleeping that night, tossing and turning in indecision. On the one hand, she doesn't want to talk to her mother. The woman walked away from her. Twice. On the other hand, she has always wanted to know her mom. She would love one more hug from her mom. But Shelby made it clear "I'm your mother, but I'm not your mom." That had stung. Really stung. Not that she wasn't right, but it wasn't what Rachel wanted. She wanted the woman to be her mom. Does she still? Is it possible? Is there even time? Does Shelby want the same? She doubts it. At school the next day, her friends notice that she's distracted. Mike gets his chance to question her when they get to Glee. He turns a chair to face hers and sits.

"What's going on today? You're really distracted."

"Is it about being stage three?" Tina asks from her other side.

"Is it about Regionals?" Artie questions.

Rachel smiles slightly. "No, it's about my mother."

She doesn't miss the way Quinn and Puck tense up. She wonders about their feelings regarding the woman raising their daughter. She wonders if she should ask them. They're all becoming better friends, but are they close enough to discuss something like that? She's not sure.

"What about her?" Mike asks with narrowed eyes.

"Apparently she moved back to Ohio a couple months ago. She's living in Columbus. My dads are telling her about me being sick on Thursday. They want to know if I want to speak with her again or not. I'm not sure."

"Talk about what, how she walked away from you?" Santana asks bluntly.

Kurt and Mercedes glare at the Latina, but she ignores them. Rachel shrugs. "Basically. My dads think it'd be good for both of us to get some closure."

"What're you thinking?" Tina prods her gently.

"On the one hand, it's like Santana said. She walked away from me. Twice. She turned me away and left. I really don't want to talk to her. But on the other hand my dads are right. It'd be a good idea to get closure. I'm stage three. I've been dying for months, but now, it's looking like I'm getting closer to that possibility." Mike's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard and briefly looks away. She takes his hand. "So if I'm going to make my peace with the woman who birthed me, then I should probably do it soon. If I do die, it'd be good to go to my grave having made peace with her. And I guess it'd be good for her to have closure before I die. If I don't die, then we'll both feel better having had our closure and we can either continue living our separate lives or reconnect in the future. I think it'll be easier to reconnect if we hash things out now."

"It sounds like you already made up your mind, you're just hesitating because you know it probably won't be pleasant." Kurt points out.

The others nod. Mike squeezes her hand. "I think you should go for it. Talk to her. You can yell at her, hug her, whatever you need to do. I think you'll feel better about it all. And like you said, it'll make it easier for you two to build a relationship if you've already cleared the space for it. If you don't want to meet with her alone, I can be there with you."

"I appreciate the offer, Mike. But if I do talk to her, I think it needs to be just us two."

"Alright. But I can come over after to let you vent or distract you or whatever you need."

She hugs him in thanks. The others chime in with their thoughts and offers of support as well. Mr. Schue lets them talk it out, only starting class when they're finished. Rachel knows it was for her sake and she appreciates it. After glee, Rachel asks Quinn and Puck to stay behind. Mr. Schue goes into his office but only after letting Rachel know that she is welcome to join him if she needs a break or quiet place after talking to them. She smiles her thanks. Quinn and Puck are waiting patiently, watching her expectantly.

"I noticed you two stayed quiet during our discussion before class. I don't know what it's like for you two or how you're feeling about her. Do you talk to her?"

"No." Quinn says quietly, but with a bit of a bite. Puck shakes his head.

"Do you want to? If I talk to her, I could bring up—"

"No. Don't." Quinn snaps, then look away and takes a breath. "Sorry, but no. It's not your business. It's ours."

Puck nods. "If you talk to her, it should be about you and her. Not us or…..or Beth."

"Okay. If I do—"

"Berry, you're going to talk to her. So after you do, what?"

Rachel smiles a little awkwardly. "Fine. When I do, if I learn anything about Beth, do you want to know? Or do you want me to not tell anyone? And it's only if I learn anything. I might not."

The teenage parents share a look, considering the offer.

"I don't really know. But thanks for the offer." Quinn tells her. "I'll let you know."

Puck shoves his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. I think I wanna know anything you hear."

"Alright."

They gather their stuff to leave. Quinn hurries out, looking a little upset. Rachel feels bad. She doesn't know Quinn well enough to discuss Beth with her, so she has no idea how she's been doing with it. It doesn't generally come up in conversation. Puck starts to leave too, but pauses and looks back at her. She hasn't moved.

"You going to class?"

Rachel sighs. "When my legs don't feel like jelly, I will."

The Mohawked boy frowns and returns to her side. "You alright?"

She nods lightly. "Just tired. Really tired."

He plops down in the seat next to her with a slight grin. "Then let's just chill here."

"We have class."

"I have class. You have an excuse to not go. And you can be my excuse to not go." He tosses a roguish grin at her.

"While I don't mind giving you an excuse to not go to class, don't you want to graduate next year?"

Puck frowns and crosses his arms. "That's next year."

"But you have to pass this year to get to next year. Don't you want to leave this town? Get out?"

He scuffs his foot on the ground and mumbles "Yeah."

"You have math next, right? I can help you with the work. That way I don't have to move but I'm still being productive. And you don't have to go to class, but you still get your work done."

He considers it and finally shrugs. "Fine. Whatever."

He pulls out his math stuff and opens to what he's currently working on. She's startled to realize he's taking the same level class as her. He actually blushes under her impressed look. "I hate going to class, but it's cuz it's easy for me. I can do math. Numbers are simple. I've been keeping books for my pool cleaning business for years."

"That's impressive, Puck."

"Yeah, well, it'd also ruin my rep if people knew I'm smart at math and even like it. If I sleep through class or don't go, I can keep my rep going. Then I ace my tests and pass."

Rachel shakes her head. "You're a conundrum, Noah."

"A what?"

She laughs. "Is math your only strong area?"

"Hell yeah. I don't care about the past or words or stories or shit like that."

She giggles. "Understood. I'll keep your secret, Noah, on one condition."

He frowns and looks at her. "What?"

"Don't let your reputation stop you from doing well in math class and graduating. You should graduate, leave this boring town, and go do something you enjoy. It sounds like you have a mind for business. Money, numbers, and the like. You should do something with it."

He shrugs awkwardly. "Yeah, whatever, I'll consider it. We're only Juniors, though. We don't need to be thinking about jobs and shit yet."

Rachel's shoulders fall a little and she looks down. "At least you know you'll get a future."

His eyes snap to hers and he sits up. "Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. You'll be fine, you know."

She grins wryly. "So everyone says. My numbers say otherwise. They keep dropping. I'm dying, Noah. And now, in stage three, I'm actually…." She takes a breath, "I'm actually starting to feel like it."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugs lightly. "Mostly that I'm tired a lot. Like all the time. I can't do as much. I get dizzy often these days. And my headaches are more frequent."

He stares at her silently for a minute, his eyes dark and lips pulled in a frown. He drops his gaze and flips through his notebook. Then he stops and stares blankly at the floor. Rachel is starting to think she should have kept her mouth shut when he finally snaps out of it and looks back up at her.

"What do you need? Like, what can I do to help you?"

Her face lightens and she feels pinpricks at the backs of her eyes. She blinks. "I don't think there's anything you can do. But thank you."

He nods awkwardly. "I can like, carry your bag for you. Or even carry you. So you don't have to walk."

She's not sure how to respond. It's a sweet offer, but she doesn't really want to be carried around all the time. "Maybe when I need it."

He nods again and clears his throat. He starts doing his math work, so she pulls out her assignment and does the same. They've been working for a while when she feels her eyelids start to droop and her writing slow. Noah scoots his chair closer and wraps an arm around her shoulders. Without a word, he gently pulls her against his side until her head rests on his shoulder. She stops fighting it and lets her eyes slip closed.

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Noah Puckerman frowns. He stares at Berry's limp hand, her pen slipping from her lax fingers. He uses his free hand to gently tug it free and places it flat on her notebook. He can't get a good look at her face while from the angle her head is resting on his shoulder. But he sees the dark shadows under her eyes. The paleness of her skin. She's skin and bone. He looks away, blinking hard.

"At least you know you'll get a future."

She should be the one with a guaranteed future. Not him. He knows she works really hard, pushing herself to be the best. She's so insanely talented. And ambitious. She has a dream and a goal and created a plan to make it come true. She has worked hard for years. Then, she gets sick and now it might not happen. What has he done with his life? He has fucked around, goofed off, and been a dick. He got his best friend's girlfriend pregnant. He sleeps around. He beats people up. He gets drunk and high. He avoids work unless it gets him money for the things he wants. And he's the one with a future ahead of him? It's not fair. She believes in him. Even after he bullied her, blew her off, and threw slushies at her. She still tells him how smart he is and encourages him to do something with it in the future so he can be successful and happy. Frankly, what right does he have to not work his ass off for a good future? It'd be a fucking insult to her for him to blow off his opportunity for a bright future. And why? For a fucking high school reputation as a badass? To avoid work or anything boring? That's pathetic. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that the people he considers badass are people who do badass things, not people who slack off or give up.

He needs to do better. He needs to take advantage of the opportunities life offers him. Opportunities others don't have. He'll work on it. He'll also start praying harder for Berry's recovery. She deserves better. She deserves the future she dreams of and works so hard for.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When she gets home from school on Thursday, she's surprised Daddy isn't back from talking to Shelby yet.

"I thought they were meeting for lunch." Rachel comments to her dad, dropping her bag next to the couch.

Her dad turns down the volume of the television and turns to her. "A late lunch. Your father sent a message earlier. Shelby was really upset about you being sick. She had a lot more questions than we'd anticipated, so your Daddy stayed longer to answer them all and help her calm down."

Rachel bites her lip. She's both relieved to know her mother cares that much about her and feels a little bad for the woman. She shrugs it off and helps her dad make dinner. She's cutting carrots when a drop of blood hits her hand. She frowns at it, pausing her chopping. Another drop. She blinks. The next couple drops come faster and land on the cutting board. She finally realizes what's happening and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her dad glances at her and does a double take. He drops his own knife and hurries over.

"Honey?"

"Nosebleed."

"Okay, so you didn't cut yourself at all, right?"

"Right."

He guides her to a chair and grabs a towel for her. While she holds it to her nose, he holds an ice pack to the bridge of her nose. It doesn't seem to be abating. She's soaking through her second towel.

"Dad? I'm getting kind of…..lightheaded." She admits.

Her father's eyes take in the two blood soaked towels and her pale complexion. He grabs his phone and sends off a quick text, then grabs her arm to help her stand. He helps her put on her coat and she stuffs her phone in the pocket. She leans on him heavily to get to the car. She doesn't have to ask where they're going. She watches scenery go by as he drives. It gets blurrier and blurrier, but she's sure he's not speeding. The hand holding the towel to her face drops.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Leroy sits in the chair beside his daughter's hospital bed and holds her hand. She's still out cold. She'd passed out on the ride over. He'd pulled up to the emergency room doors and leapt out of the car. He sprinted around to the passenger side and opened the door. He tried to wake her while unbuckling her, but she remained unresponsive. Blood was still dripping from her nose, down her chin, and onto her shirt. He scooped her into his arms and hurried inside, yelling for help. They'd taken his baby girl from his arms and laid her on a gurney before whisking her away. He'd told a nurse the basics before going to park his car. The emergency department wasn't too busy, so he didn't have to wait long before being led back to her. They'd given her a blood transfusion. But her numbers were so low and she still hadn't woken, so they decided to admit her.

He supposes they're lucky. She's been sick for five months and this is the first trip to the emergency room. And hopefully the last. Other than days where she had to stay home because she was too tired to go to school or sick (with a cold or stomach bug), nothing has truly gone "wrong". Not that it's gone right either. If things were going well, she'd be getting better. She's not. She's getting worse. It's harder for her to wake in the mornings. She tires faster. She frequently struggles to get up the stairs on her own. Leroy kisses her hand. Thank God for Hiram. He's the strong one. Leroy truly doesn't think he'd be strong enough to support Rachel on his own if, God forbid, he didn't have Hiram.

It's at that moment that Hiram comes hurrying into the room, his hair mussed from the wind and worry lining his face. Leroy smirks a little. His husband always has impeccable timing. Hiram's shoulders sag at the sight of their little girl asleep in the big hospital bed. Leroy watches silently as his husband comes closer. He watches him run his fingers through her hair and kiss her cheek. Then, he looks at Leroy.

"How is she?"

"Sleeping, obviously."

"Has she woken at all?"

"No, not yet. It's worrying them. That and," he sighs "Hiram, her numbers dropped more. Between that and how much blood she lost and the fact that she's still unresponsive, they're keeping her for the night."

They're quiet for a few minutes, their eyes on their child. "She's getting worse. She's slipping away, Lee."

Leroy swallows. His mouth feels dry. Hiram is supposed to be the strong one, staying positive. But they can't both lose hope. He shakes his head. "She'll be fine."

"We don't know that. What'll we do if….." He trails off, unable to finish. Leroy's glad. He can't bear to hear it.

"I don't know." He needs to change the subject. "How's Shelby?"

Hiram sighs and leans back in the chair. "Honestly? A wreck. She's been feeling really guilty about how she left things with Rachel. She said she's been wanting to apologize and make things right. She said she was going to reach out to us to ask permission to speak with her this summer. Then, I told her Rachel is sick and in stage 3 and she just…..fell apart. She wanted to know all about aplastic anemia and it's symptoms, the stages, the treatment, the prognosis, and how Rachel's doing. Both physically and emotionally. I'm really glad Rachel already agreed to meet with her. I don't know how Shelby would have handled it if I'd had to tell her Rachel doesn't want to see her. It honestly might have killed her."

Leroy thinks about what he remembers about Shelby. Both from when she was pregnant with Rachel and when she suddenly reappeared last year. She always seemed so strong and confident. It's hard to imagine her falling apart. The only times he saw her fall apart were when they asked her to sign the contract and right after Rachel was born. He'd felt bad for her then. But then, last year, when she'd broken his daughter's heart, he'd been furious.

"Did you make it clear—"

"Yes, Lee, of course. I made it clear to her that while we want both of them to get their closure and settle things peacefully, we need to make sure Rachel is the one getting what she needs right now. Shelby knows to be mindful of her words. She wants to make sure Rachel feels better about things between them, too. The last thing any of us want is for Rachel to leave the meeting with Shelby feeling worse."

"Just checking."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Her limbs feel heavy. Her head is pounding. She peels her tongue from the roof of her mouth and groans quietly at how uncomfortably dry her mouth is. Hands squeeze hers.

"Rachel?"

"Sweetheart?"

She opens her eyes and immediately squints at the harsh brightness. Her dad dims the overhead light. "Water?" She croaks. She is absolutely parched.

"Of course, Little Star."

The bed rises so she's sitting up a little more and her Dad holds a cup in front of her so she can drink. The cool water feels absolutely amazing and she drinks her fill.

Her Daddy kisses her cheek. "How're you feeling?"

"My head hurts."

He reaches for the call button. "We'll do something about that, okay?"

"'Kay."

"Other than your head, how are you?" Dad asks softly.

"Just tired." A nurse brings her some pain meds. Feeling more awake, she turns to her Dad. "Um, how'd it…..how'd it go with Shelby?"

"She was pretty upset, Rach. She's been carrying a lot of guilt and regret over how she left things with you. She wants to make it right."

Rachel looks down. "Okay. When?"

Her dads laugh a little. "I'm pretty sure she'd come running the moment you say you're ready. Are you okay with talking to her this weekend? Say, Saturday?"

She thinks about it. It's a little sooner than she'd expected, but sooner is better, right? "Okay. Saturday works."

Her Dad smiles. "I'll let her know."

Her Daddy goes to get them some dinner, since none of them ate. While her Dad makes a phone call, Rachel watches tv. The hospital doesn't have very many channels, so she's just flipping through aimlessly when her phone buzzes with a text message from Mike.

Oh, crap.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mike is standing on the Berry's front porch, frowning. No one has answered the door. He and Rachel planned to study for the Sociology test together, so he's startled to not get an answer. It doesn't look like anyone's home. Trying not to panic, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to his friend.

"Hey, where are you? We still studying tonight?"

His panic calms when he sees the three little dots that inform him that Rachel is typing. If she's typing, she's okay. Maybe they went out to dinner and are running late? Or ran to the store?

"I'm so sorry, Mike! I'm not home."

He chuckles and sits on the front step. "Obviously, since I'm here and you're not lol. Where are you?"

"The hospital."

He stares at those two little words and his panic returns. "What? Why? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, they're just keeping me for observation. I had a nosebleed earlier and it didn't stop for a while. I lost a lot of blood and passed out. Dad took me to the hospital and they gave me a blood transfusion."

"They're keeping you? For how long?"

"I think just overnight."

"I'm omw"

"Mike, visiting hours will end soon."

"Don't care. Omw"

He hops in his car and connects his phone to Bluetooth. On the way to the hospital he calls his mother and informs her. She gives him permission to stay with Rachel as long as he wants, despite it being a school night. When he gets there, he texts Rachel one more time to get her room number. He walks in and his stomach plummets. He knows she's only here because she lost a lot of blood from a nosebleed and she's been pale pretty regularly lately. But right now, she is extremely pale. The shadows under her eyes are more obvious than usual. For the first time, she truly looks as sick as she is. She looks drawn, yet she manages to smile up at him. He forces a smile on his own face and comes closer to the bed.

"Hey. Figures a drama queen like you would be in the hospital over a little nosebleed."

"Ha ha, very funny, Fred Astaire."

Mike smirks at her. "Fred Astaire? Was that supposed to be an insult? He was one of the greatest dancers in film history. I take it as a high compliment."

Rachel shakes her head in bemusement. "Huh. Yeah, I dropped that one. I blame how tired I am."

Her one dad moves to the other side of the bed so Mike can sit next to her. Mike smiles his thanks and takes the seat.

"How are you?"

"Fine. Just tired."

He takes her hand. "You sure?"

He didn't mean to sound so uncertain, but this is the first time he felt true uncertainty regarding her survival. He's been so sure she'll get better any time now. She's Rachel Berry. Nothing will stop her from getting to Broadway. But right now, in this moment, doubt begins to creep in. And worse? She sees it.

"Yes, Mike. I'm fine." She squeezes his hand.

He frowns. He should be comforting her, not the other way around. "I just mean, like, do you need anything? Food? Drink? Entertainment?"

He doesn't care how lame his cover is for his slip up. Her dads smile at him kindly, obviously aware of what he's trying to do. Rachel grins tiredly.

"Entertainment?"

He grins back. "Well you did call me Fred Astaire."

Her smile widens, her eyes twinkling. "I did, didn't I? Alright then, give us a show."

He knows she's just teasing, but he fully intends to make good on it. He just needs a few props, first. "Hold on, I'll be right back!"

He jogs out of the room and stops at the nurse's station. "Um, hi. I have a weird request. Do you have like a mop or broom or something I can borrow? Not to clean. I…..I'm trying to cheer up my friend so I was gonna…..do a little dance."

He knows he's blushes, but he won't stop now. The nurses seem amused. "We may be able to accommodate you. On one condition. I get to watch."

He grins. "Great!"

He returns to Rachel's hospital room with a mop and fedora (he got lucky with that one), with a nurse trailing behind. The woman checks Rachel's vitals, then stands in the corner with an eyebrow raised. Mike puts on some music, dons the fedora, and dances with the broom. His small audience watches with wide smiles. They laugh and chuckle at his antics and applaud when he's finished.

"That was quite impressive." Mr. Berry tells him.

The nurse takes back his props. "That was a lot better than I'd expected, kid."

Rachel is still smiling. "I like watching you dance. There's something captivating about it. Thank you, Mike."

Warmth blooms in his chest. Pride, mixed with something else he can't name. When he realizes she's struggling to stay awake, some of that warmth fades. He kisses her cheek. "You're welcome, Rachel."

He stays, holding her hand, until she falls asleep.

And then he stays a little longer.

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