Chapter 6
Brittany Susan Pierce is frowning deeply. She doesn't like frowning, but she can't avoid it at the moment. She's thinking about her new friend Rachel. The fact that she's only a "new" friend is upsetting. She'd wanted to be friends sooner, but Santana and Quinn insisted she was a loser and it wasn't allowed. Brittany didn't like that, but she loves Santana and Quinn so she listened. It didn't help Rachel's case that she was really arrogant and annoying. After a while, Brittany got fed up and stopped asking the others to give in and let her be friends. Now she feels guilty about that. She feels guilty for listening to others about who is worth being friends with and who isn't. She feels guilty about letting a few annoying traits keep her from trying to get to know someone. Worse, she inadvertently made that person feel like they didn't have any friends and weren't wanted. That…..may have some truth to it…..but it's still sad. And it's making Brittany sad. She's trying to be a better friend, now and listen to her own heart. Not other people's stupid rules. From now on, Brittany Susan Pierce will be friends with whomever she wants to, no matter what her other friends say.
But she's also frowning because she heard Mike say that Rachel is in the hospital. She's getting out later today, so Brittany can't even go visit her in the hospital. And she'd really wanted to. She wanted to dress up in a costume and do something silly to make Rachel laugh. Instead, she decides to head to Rachel's house after school. If she's awake and up for visitors, she'll hang out with her. Maybe they can watch old movies. Rachel likes old movies. Focusing on how to make her friend feel better makes Brittany smile.
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Sam noticed right away when Rachel wasn't in class Friday morning. He knows she struggles to wake up some mornings, so he had hoped she'd come to class late. But she didn't come at all. He bumped into Mike in the hall, who told him she's in the hospital. At lunch, Sam avoids the cafeteria. He goes out and sits on the bleachers. It's cold out, but he wants to be alone. He wants to think. He's never been really good at thinking. He's good at stuff with his body; sports, lifting weights, looking good, dancing, singing, and playing guitar. But he's thinking now. He's thinking about a small brunette. He'd left football practice and, still being new to the school, took a wrong turn. He found himself walking past the auditorium by accident. He'd heard singing. Curious, he'd poked his head in. Alone on the stage was a small brunette girl. Pretty. And very talented. He'd been stunned and honestly a little intimidated by her voice. So when Finn had asked him to try out for Glee club, he'd been curious but nervous. He bailed out the first time because he couldn't imagine singing with (what he believes is) his "so-so" voice in front of the brunette girl. Then, the first time he sang in front of her, she'd complimented him. It'd been a casual remark that she'd tossed over her shoulder before leaving, but it was still a compliment. After that, he simultaneously felt more confident and wanted to work harder. He wanted another compliment from her. As time went by, he realized he should be focusing on improving himself for his own sake, not anyone else's. Like she does.
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Rachel is in bed, but unable to sleep. She's tired, but her thoughts are keeping her awake. She was released from the hospital in the early afternoon. Her dads took her home and she finally got to shower and put on lounge clothes. Brittany came over after school, hesitantly asking if she was up for visitors. When she'd confirmed she was, Brittany had smiled widely and excitedly bounced into the house. The two of them watched Bringing Up Baby, an old Katherine Hepburn and Carey Grant movie. The girls curled up on the couch and watched it, giggling through the whole thing. By the end of the movie, Rachel could barely keep her eyes open. Brittany kissed her cheek and stayed cuddling with her until she fell asleep. It's nice to have friends. It's a new, but wonderful experience. But that's not what's really keeping her awake. What's keeping her awake is her nerves about meeting with Shelby tomorrow. Her mother will be coming over in the late morning. She'd agreed to meet with her, but is now doubting it. What if they yell at each other? What if one or both of them start crying? What if they walk away feeling worse than they already do? Will they have time in the future to fix things? Rachel hopes so, but she also needs to be realistic.
Morning rolls around and she struggles to get up. Her Daddy rouses her several times before having any success. She knows he's only pushing her to wake up because she'd said she wants to be dressed and up before Shelby gets here. If she weren't coming, he'd be letting her sleep. She got dizzy on the stairs. She clung to the railing and her Daddy held her arm until it passed. Her Dad made her breakfast, then she sat in the recliner to watch tv as a distraction until Shelby arrived.
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Shelby Corcoran sits in her SUV in front of the Berry residence. She's shaking. She goes through several breathing exercises to help herself calm down and feel steadier. Her hands grip the steering wheel.
"All that matters is making sure she knows that I love her. If I can accomplish that today, I can leave here satisfied." She whispers to herself.
That's not entirely true. She will not be "satisfied" until she and Rachel are on good terms and her daughter is in remission. So leaving today will be hard for her. Not that going in is easy. She wants to. God, she wants to. She needs to. She needs to set things right with Rachel. But she is terrified. Terrified that she'll say the wrong thing and upset the girl more. Terrified that Rachel won't forgive her. Terrified to go in and discover that Rachel hates her. But most of all, she is terrified that Rachel will die thinking that Shelby didn't want her and doesn't love her. Neither are true at all. So her main goal today is making sure Rachel knows how much she has always loved and wanted her. But not in a way that makes the girl feel guilty or upset. It's a fine line.
When Hiram had reached out to her, she'd initially assumed the man was finally calling to reprimand her for upsetting Rachel. She was surprised they'd waited so long. She'd gone to that lunch nervously bracing herself for an unpleasant (and yet well deserved) afternoon. Learning the true reason had been so much worse. She'd been devastated and scared. Hiram was kind and helped her calm down. They'd been arranging today's visit when Hiram had gotten the call from Leroy. Shelby's stomach had dropped when he'd paled and abruptly stood. The man had stammered out something about Rachel being rushed to the hospital and taken off, leaving Shelby sitting there nauseous. Thankfully, he'd been considerate enough to call her later in the day to let her know Rachel was okay.
Shelby takes another deep breath, swipes under her eyes, and gets out of the car. The walk up to the house feels both too long and too short. Hiram answers the door. He smiles at her kindly and beckons her in. He takes her coat and leads her further into the house. Her eyes immediately zero in on Rachel. The girl is asleep in the recliner, snuggled under a blanket. Her left hand is tucked under her turned cheek and her hair is spilling out around her. She looks adorable. But very pale. Shelby swallows hard. She turns to Hiram.
"Is this a bad time?" She whispers. "I can come back later."
He shakes his head. "No, it's fine. She sleeps more these days. And I don't think she slept much last night. I think she's just as nervous as you are about today."
"Which is why we don't want to put it off." Leroy comments, exiting the kitchen. "We want her to be able to relax, not be on edge."
"Take a seat. Relax. We'll wake her, then head upstairs. Please let us know before you leave."
She nods. Hiram squeezes her shoulder in silent support. Leroy starts the process of gently waking their daughter. Seeing how hard it is for her to rouse tugs at Shelby's worries. Rachel's brown eyes finally blink open and settle on Shelby. Shelby smiles at her as best she can. Leroy kisses her head and the men head up the stairs.
"Hi."
She tries not to react to the uncertainty that one word conveyed. "Hi, Rachel."
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Rachel pushes herself up into more of a seated position, not wanting to be reclined for this conversation. Shelby hurries closer and grabs her arm to help her.
"I've got it," Rachel starts, then realizes that may have been rude and softens her tone, "but thank you."
Shelby nods and steps back, wringing her hands. Her eyes rove over her and once she seems to agree that Rachel is okay, she sits back down.
"I'm really glad you agreed to this, Rachel."
Rachel nods. She's not sure how to start this conversation, so she decides to let Shelby guide it along. They sit in awkward silence for a minute before Shelby speaks again.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Just tired. But that's really common. I'm usually tired these days."
Shelby's eyes darken and her mouth tenses slightly. "I'm sorry."
Rachel shrugs. There's really nothing else to say about it.
Shelby clasps her hands and takes a breath. "I'm also sorry for how I handled things last year. I'd like a chance to explain myself better, if that's okay with you."
Knowing that's the whole point of today, Rachel nods.
"There's one thing that I need you to know above all else. I love you, Rachel."
Tears sting the back of Rachel's eyes and she has to look away until they clear. She has longed to hear her mother say she loves her. In their brief time together, Shelby never said those words. Hearing them now brings an odd feeling. A painful relief. Maybe not painful. Maybe bitter is a better descriptor. Bitterness that she's only hearing this now, when she's dying. Not when she was healthy and had her whole life ahead of her to spend building a relationship with her mother. And even if she starts getting better and goes into remission, she'll always know that it took nearly dying for her mother to finally tell her she loves her.
"You love me." The bitterness is controlling her words and she's too tired to fight it.
"Yes, I do. I always have."
"You love me so much that you walked away? Twice? Technically three times."
Shelby presses her lips together firmly and her eyes momentarily fill with tears. She blinks them away. "Rachel, you need to understand—"
"I understand," she interrupts, "you went out of your way to meet me. But once you did, you realized I wasn't what you were expecting. I wasn't what you wanted."
Shelby's face pales and she shakes her head. "No. That's not what happened. Not at all." She wipes her hand across her face and takes another deep breath. "You walked up to me in the auditorium and I was in the middle of rehearsal with my students. I was still in 'Coach Corcoran' mode. I was thrown. I'd wanted you to come to me. I'd planned for it. I was thrilled that you did exactly what I wanted you to do. But when I saw you, I realized I wasn't prepared. I had only thought about the moment of our meeting. A big hug, a tearful reunion. But instead, when I saw you, I suddenly realized that I hadn't planned for anything beyond it. I had no idea how to explain myself to you how to explain how we met to your father's, or how to build a relationship with you. And technically, I had broken the law to meet you. But I wanted to build a relationship with you, I swear."
"So why didn't you?"
Shelby sighs. "Because you told me that story about your dads bringing you water whenever you were sad. Remember? It made me realize a couple things. Like the fact that I'd be stepping on your dads toes. Like the fact that I'd missed so much of your life already, and that I didn't think you needed me. Your dads were clearly doing a wonderful job raising you. Me coming in after 15 years would just confuse you. I didn't want to disrupt your life in any way." Rachel looks down and hears Shelby laugh bitterly. "Clearly, I managed to do that anyway. I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention. I just wanted to meet you so badly."
"Well, you met me."
"I did. And it hurt me to walk away. Please believe that."
"But you did anyway."
"I thought it was what was best for you."
Rachel focuses on not crying and grips the blanket over her lap. "I went back to you. I told you I wanted you in my life. Even if it was just as a vocal coach. Really, I wanted you to be my mom. But I'd have settled for coach."
Shelby leans closer and takes one of her hands. "Honey, I am so sorry. Once I get something in my head, it's hard to sway me. Once I decided to meet you, nothing would have stopped me. Then, once I decided you were better off without me, nothing would have swayed me. It's not because I didn't want to be your mom. It's because I realized that I'd done it all wrong. What I'd done was technically illegal. And I did it without taking your feelings and life without me into consideration. I wanted to be your mom. But I realized I needed to wait, like your father's wanted me to."
Rachel raises wet eyes to her mother. "But what about what I wanted? I told you I wanted you in my life."
"I was so afraid I'd be screwing up your life by butting in, that it'd be better if I stepped back again and waited until you turned 18."
"So…..that's what you were going to do? Wait until I was 18 to reach out again?"
Shelby squeezes her hand and smiles softly. "Initially, yes. But as the months went by, I realized I couldn't wait that long. I was going to wait until this summer, then reach out to your dads. I was going to ask them if I could have this conversation with you then. I didn't want to wait until you turned 18 to clear the air between us. Then, depending on how that conversation went, I'd either step back and wait until you turned 18 to reach out again, or, if I was really lucky, maybe I'd get to meet up with you once in a while until then. Like the occasional dinner or lunch."
"Like I suggested to begin with?" Rachel sasses.
Shelby releases her hand and sits back. "Yes. Like you suggested. I'm sorry for not listening, Rachel. I'm sorry for turning your life upside down, then disappearing on you. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you think I don't want you or love you."
Rachel bites her lip and clasps her hands over the blanket, doing her best to stay (or at least appear) calm. A warm hand rests over hers and she looks up. Her mother's green eyes are peering earnestly back at her.
"What is it? I may not know you, but I can tell you're holding something back. You can say anything or ask anything."
Should she? Or should she brush it aside and forget about it? The little piece of her heart that cracked last year throbs, pushing the words to the forefront.
"Are you only saying this because I might die soon?"
Shelby's face falls. "No! Not at all!" She looks away and gathers herself before turning back to Rachel. "No. I swear, I was planning on having this exact conversation with you over the summer. I wanted to explain myself better and clear the air, so it'd be easier for us to build a relationship in the future. I love you. I just didn't handle things well last year."
"You really love me?"
"Yes. I do."
"But after you walked away again, you adopted a baby. A fresh start."
Shelby covers her face with her hands. It takes her longer to gather herself this time. "Rachel…I didn't get to raise you. I didn't even get to hold you. I looked for you in the face of every little brown haired girl I saw. I've always regretted signing the contract for selfish reasons and it has been so hard living all these years knowing I have a child out there whose life I can't be a part of. It hurt. After I met you and realized how selfish I was being and decided it'd be best to step back from your life, it hurt even more. I'd come so close to having you, only to screw it up. So when you told me that your teammate had just had a baby girl they were planning on giving up for adoption, I thought 'this is my chance to be a mom'. I lost that with you. And while Beth can never replace you, and I will always want you, Rachel, I needed my chance to raise a baby. To give someone else's child a loving home the way Leroy and Hiram did for you."
Rachel breaths out, unable to stop a couple tears from escaping. "So you weren't replacing me?"
All awkwardness and uncertainty is knocked out of Shelby with that one question. Her mother pulls her out of the chair and into her arms. Rachel melts into her, the tears coming faster. "No," her mother whispers fiercely into her ear, "Rachel. Never. You are my baby girl. I didn't get to raise you or know you, but you always were and always will be my baby girl."
Rachel lets Shelby pull them down onto the couch. Shelby keeps her in a warm embrace and rocks her while she cries. "You really mean that?"
The motherly kiss pressed to her head heals a little of the hurt she's been carrying. "I really mean it. Beth is my daughter and I love her. I'm happy to be raising her. But she can't ever replace you. It's why, of all the nicknames I keep coming up with for her, the one I can't give her is 'baby girl'. Because that's you and no one else. My baby girl."
Mother and daughter cry together, their hearts slowly healing.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Leroy and Hiram are playing a game of checkers in their room with jazz music playing softly in the background. They turned on the music intentionally to block out the murmurings floating up the stairs. Leroy had chided Hiram for trying to eavesdrop. His husband had blushed and stammered a defense until he realized Leroy had been trying to do the same thing from the air vent. Then Hiram had thrown a pair of socks at him and suggested they find a way to distract themselves. Leroy had grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Hiram had rolled his eyes and pulled out a chess board and checkers.
"So I can still top you, just in a different way." That had made his husband laugh.
A gentle knock interrupts their game. Hiram beckons Shelby in. The woman looks like she's been put through the wringer. Her movements betray her exhaustion, her face is pale, and her eyes are bloodshot.
"She's asleep. We had a good talk, then a good cry."
"So…." He's not sure how to ask what he needs to ask. Thankfully, he doesn't have to. Shelby understands. She smiles tiredly at them.
"I explained my actions from last year, apologized for hurting her, and told her I love her. I don't know how much of it she accepted, but at the very least, I think she finally believes that Beth is not replacing her."
The men share a look. "Alright. That's progress."
"We talked about doing this again, if that's alright with you." This time, the look the men share is darker. Shelby sees it and hurries to explain herself. "I'm not going to be insisting on coming by every weekend or anything. I know it's not the time for us to start building a relationship. But today was about the nitty gritty. Addressing the hardest, most painful topics. I'd like another day to visit where we can talk more casually."
Leroy rubs a hand over his mouth and turns away. Beside him, Hiram sighs deeply.
"Shelby," he begins.
The woman cuts him off, sounding a little desperate. "Obviously, this would only be if she's willing, too. But she's actually the one who brought it up first."
"Shelby." Hiram's tone changes slightly and she bites her lip. "Rachel's numbers dropped further. She's been sick for months with no sign of improvement. She's stage three and her numbers are dropping faster than before. We're happy to have you visit again, but….it may have to be soon."
Leroy turns back to them in time to see Shelby teeter slightly. He steps forward and grabs her arm, stabilizing her. "She still has time to get better. While Rachel was willing to talk to you today and seems willing to meet with you again, that's now. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but you two aren't close. Knowing her as we do, we don't think she'd be particularly comfortable having you visit if she's…unwell."
Hiram glances at him. "She does have time to improve. But like Lee said, if she gets worse, she probably won't want you visiting. To see her like that. She doesn't like spending entire days in bed and she doesn't even like us helping her get up. She's very independent and likes being seen as capable. Having her mother see her struggle to even sit up would probably make her too uncomfortable."
Shelby sighs. "Alright. I get it."
"But with that, we have another concern, Shelby. If the two of you start building a relationship, it'll be that much harder, for both of you but mostly you, if she dies."
Shelby blinks repeatedly and takes several deep breaths. "If the concern is for me, then I appreciate it, but you can drop it. If it makes her feel better….if I can make her happy by making sure she knows how much I love her, then it'll be worth it."
Hiram smiles sadly. "Spoken like a true mother."
They agree to keep her updated and promise to reach out soon about setting up another visit.
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Rachel is stretched out on the couch, her head on a pillow on her Dad's lap. He's running his fingers through her hair, trying to soothe her. It's been a hard day; more emotionally than physically. She'd been thinking about how, only months ago, she'd have been up hours sooner. Her weekends normally consisted of dance classes, voice lessons, and practicing on her own. She'd get up bright and early, hop on her elliptical for half an hour, then dive into her fully scheduled and planned out day. She was motivated. Ambitious. She wanted to get to Broadway and nothing would stop her. Her dads encouraged her, so it didn't matter if kids at school laughed at her or that she didn't have friends to spend time with. She figured they'd all regret it when she became a big star and left them in the dust.
Then she got sick. At first, nothing changed. Her dads watched her more carefully and reminded her to take it easy. Then, she just had to drop her dance lessons during the week. She still attended her weekend class and her voice lessons. She still practiced on her own. But she kept finding herself getting more and more tired, having less and less energy, and struggling more and more to do anything. As the months went by, she stopped using her elliptical. She stopped attending any dance classes, then any voice lessons. For someone as hardworking and ambitious as Rachel, being forced to stop these things was hard. She'd get angry, bitter, and hurt. Her dads did their best to lift her spirits, but there was only so much they could do. They reminded her it was only temporary. Surely, she'll start getting better soon and can go back to living her life and working towards her dream.
Now, she only goes to school a couple days a week. She struggles to get up stairs on her own. She struggles to wake up in the mornings. She sleeps a lot and is still tired. She hates it. But what upsets her the most, what pisses her off the most, is the feeling of waste. Wasted time and wasted effort. She worked so hard to make her dream a reality and, through no fault of her own, it may all be for nothing. A waste. While other teenagers her age were hanging out with friends, partying, and goofing off, she was working hard and dedicating her time to achieving her goal of getting on Broadway. And for what? What did she achieve? Nothing. She annoyed or pissed off her classmates enough to not have friends until recently. Most of her memories are of her dads and training herself. Not good times with friends or funny memories of goofing off. If she'd never gotten sick, she's absolutely positive she'd have achieved her goal of performing on Broadway. All the hard work and sacrifice would have been worth it. Now? If she dies, she'll have squandered her youth for nothing. Really, what does she have to show for her dedication? A couple awards that her dads will save and dust off every few months? A few friends who'll grow up with a couple memories of Rachel being a good singer, but those memories will eventually fade.
Rachel doesn't realize she'd started crying again until her dad wipes her tears away. She rolls over to look up at him. She hates how sad, tired, and old her dads look these days. He smiles down at her softly.
"You need to stop focusing on the things we can't change, Little Star."
"What can we change, then?" She realizes she sounds a little exasperated and feels guilty. Her dads have been nothing but wonderful. But realistically, what can she change?
He raises an eyebrow at her. "Your tone, for one."
She flushes. "Sorry."
He taps her nose, making her smile slightly. "You can change your perspective. You told us you felt like you wasted time rehearsing instead of spending time with friends, right?" He continues after she nods, "Well, now you have friends. Quite a few. More than your Daddy and I had put together. Spend time with them now."
"It can't make up for years of not having friends." She points out.
"No, but you'd truly be wasting time now if you choose to not spend time with your friends. Having just a few good memories can make all the difference. And you have some now, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"And you can make more memories with them."
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She doesn't go to school on Monday. Her head was hurting and she threw up her (very late) breakfast. Mike comes over after school. He plops down on the couch next to her and pulls her feet onto his lap.
"So? How'd it go? I've gotta admit, I was disappointed you didn't call me this weekend to tell me. I'm your best friend! Why do I have to come over here and pry it out of you?" He gives her a teasing grin, but she also sees the hint of truth in his eyes.
"Sorry, Mike. Saturday was….hard. Shelby and I had a good talk, but it still hurt."
"So she's still 'Shelby'?"
She gives him a look. "What? You thought in one meeting she'd go from 'Shelby,' who ditched me repeatedly, to 'Mom'?"
He shrugs. "It's not realistic, but I was kind of hoping for that, yeah."
Rachel smiles at him. "It's a nice thought, but no."
"You said it was a good talk, though?"
"Yeah. It was. She explained her actions a little better. I still don't agree with them, or even 100% understand them, but she repeatedly said she didn't mean to hurt me." She looks at her friend shyly. "She said she loves me."
Mike opens his mouth to reply. The look on his face tells her he was going to make a joke or a blasé comment. But he must see something in her expression and pauses. His mouth closes and he stares at her in quiet contemplation. Then, he smiles softly. "Good. You deserve to know how loved you are."
Her shy smile grows. "Thanks." Her smile dims as his does. His expression becomes serious and a little sad. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"I just realized I've never told you that I love you."
"You've told me you care about me plenty."
He squeezes her feet. "Yeah, but caring and loving are two different things. I started out caring about you. But we've been friends for months. I've gotten to know you pretty well." Now, he smiles widely. "I love you, Rachel. You're my best friend."
Rachel's eyes widen. "Really?"
"Really. You know, there are very few teens in McKinley who appreciate the expression and discipline that goes into dancing."
She laughs, her eyes watering. "I love you, too, Michael."
"So, bestie," he pauses to let her laugh, his eyes twinkling, "that explains why you didn't call me on Saturday. But what about Sunday?"
Her laughter fades and she lets her head drop back to rest against the couch. Mike waits patiently. She really does appreciate his patience. She's not a patient person, so he balances her well.
"Sunday was hard in a different way." When it becomes clear that he's still waiting for an explanation, she sighs. "I….I was…upset. I was thinking about how much time and effort I put into preparing myself for a career on Broadway instead of….really living. Now I'm dying and running out of time."
"Possibly." Mike remarks sternly.
She nods. "Right. I'm possibly running out of time. I wasted so much of the past several years with classes, lessons, rehearsals, and practicing on my own. If I go into remission and get on Broadway, then great. It'll have been worth it. But if I don't….."
She trails off, unable to finish the thought. It's unnecessary, anyway. Mike understands. He squeezes her feet again and stares out the window quietly for a minute.
"Did you enjoy it?"
"What?"
"Your classes, lessons, and the time you spent practicing. Did you have fun?"
She thinks about it. "I….I guess. Sometimes, yeah. Not always. Sometimes I was frustrated, tired, or even bored. But overall…..I guess I enjoyed it."
He smiles at her. "So it wasn't wasted. It's like an artist who paints a portrait for someone who never sees it. They'd probably be upset, but that doesn't detract from using their gift to create something."
Rachel bites her lip. "I get your point, but Mike, at least the artist has the painting in the end. Someone will have it and be able to enjoy it. Maybe not the intended audience, but someone will. And they made something with their talent. If I die soon, what do I have to show for my hard work and talent? A few old trophies? A few friends who'll remember that I could sing really well. But memories fade eventually, Mike. And those are just memories of me singing. I don't have a lot of memories of good times with friends. I do with my dads, but not anyone else. Will you and the others have fun memories of good times spent with me? There've been a few in the past couple months, but—"
She stops and brushes away the resurgence of her tears. Mike scoots closer to her. Rachel is startled to realize he's fighting back his own tears. Her friend wraps an arm around her, hugging her close.
"Yes. We have fun memories with you. I have good memories with you. And we'll make more!"
Rachel arches an eyebrow at him. "Are we going to plan fun memories?"
Mike sits up and grins at her. "We're going to plan fun times! That'll create fun memories!"
"You don't have to—"
He looks at her in amusement. "Are you telling me I shouldn't plan to do fun things with my best friend?"
Rachel realizes she's being a little ridiculous and smiles. "What did you have in mind?"
His knee starts bouncing; a sure sign he's thinking hard and excited. "Give me a few days. I think I have an idea."
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Kurt walks into the choir room sipping his chai tea. He's the first one here. Mike had sent out a group text last night demanding that everyone come early for an emergency meeting before school today. That had already piqued Kurt's interest. Then the tall Asian dancer insisted that they not inform Rachel about it. That had sent his curiosity into overdrive. He's not a fan of mornings, or getting up early, but today he had zero problems with it. He even had time to stop for a warm drink. He settles into a chair to wait for the others. He doesn't have to wait long. Everyone is curious and a little concerned, so it's only minutes before the entire club (minus their little diva) is present.
"What's going on, Chang?" Puck asks. The guy looks like he just rolled out of bed. Or off a park bench.
Mike stands before them looking antsy. He clearly has too many emotions going at once and it seems to be making him jittery. Kurt hopes he skipped caffeine this morning.
"Thanks for coming early. I'm not sure if Rachel will be here today or not, but even if she comes, it won't be for a while."
"And you don't want her to hear this?" Mercedes questions nervously.
"Well…..sort of. Not that I think she'd be upset, just possibly a little uncomfortable. You see, she got really upset this weekend."
"Because of Shelby?" Quinn grips the sides of her chair and peers at him tensely.
"No. Well, yes, but…..no, they had an…okay….meeting. What really upset her was what she was thinking about on Sunday. She started thinking about the past several years of her life. She didn't have friends," Kurt's stomach twists in shame "so she focused on improving her skills so she could get on Broadway one day."
"And she's upset about that?" Finn frowns.
"Would you let me finish?" Mike runs a hand through his hair and huffs. "She's upset that if she dies, she'll have wasted that time. Not only will she not be able to perform on Broadway, but she won't have many memories of…..of a life well lived. Just a life of working hard…for nothing."
Sweet Barbra Streisand. Kurt blinks tears away. He can't even imagine how horrible that must be to think about. Especially since it is a possibility. He's not the only one impacted by this emotionally. Tina is tearing up.
"How can we help her?" Tina is clearly upset, but sounds determined.
"By giving her lots of fun, happy memories. For her, and for us. She was also a little worried that if she dies soon, she's only shared a few good memories with us as friends. She figures she'll be forgotten before long."
"Rachel Berry? Be forgotten? That's kind of impossible." Santana remarks. Her tone is an odd mix of amusement and sorrow. A few others chuckle. Kurt smiles grimly.
"She wants to have something to show for her life if she dies."
"And this is a big if," Brittany insists, "she could still get better!"
"Yeah, she might. And what harm would it be to have a bunch of happy memories? None. No matter how things turn out, it's a good thing for all."
Kurt and the others nod. He's right, after all. And who doesn't like fun?
"So that's where I need your help. We know she might start getting better at any time. But she could start getting worse, too. So, just to be safe, we should start soon. We need to come up with some ideas. What can we do that'd be fun and be a great memory to look back on?"
Puck smirks and leans forward, clearly intending to share an idea. Quinn cuts him off. "Legal ideas."
Kurt laughs when Puck pouts and slumps in his seat. The friends eagerly start brainstorming.
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