A/N: I hope everyone is enjoying this so far; it's breaking my heart, but I love it so much. This chapter takes place about three weeks after chapter one.
It started with good news, very good news for both of them, but, after that, it all spiraled downhill.
A week before, Rachel had gone to her call back, and she was supposed to hear from the casting director's assistant any day now; she'd launched herself at the phone every time it rang for the past three days. The call came just before she left for the Center, and she was ecstatic; it was a dream role. Four phone calls later she was on her way to a meeting with the director to pick up her script. Today was a very good day for Rachel Hudson; the prospect of having a new show to work on was an excellent distraction from the worry over their attempts to have a child, and her therapist had told her time and again that she had to stop focusing on the negative aspects because the added stress was part of the problem. The moment her conversation with Finn ended, she was out the door.
He'd finally gotten a permanent byline, and it seemed like the universe was preparing for the fact that he was going to have a child to support; having a feature article in every issue meant a raise in pay, and while they were in no way having financial difficulties, extra money would certainly be helpful when they brought a child into the world. Rachel was still glowing about her role when he called to tell her that he was taking her out to dinner to celebrate, and he couldn't wait to surprise her with his promotion. Today was an extremely good day for Finn Hudson; he'd already submitted the ideas for his next article, and he was moving desks the next morning, finally getting away from Jensen, the idiot who bragged about his sexual exploits more often than Puck ever had. Jensen had taken one of his 'flavor of the week' girls to see the off Broadway production of RENT Rachel played Maureen in two years earlier, and upon finding out Finn was married to the 'little hottie in leather pants' the lewd comments had been almost never ending.
It started out pleasant; Finn managed to get reservations for Rachel's favorite Italian restaurant and had even secured her favorite table. It was difficult keeping a secret from his wife; Rachel Hudson was a very smart woman, and she rarely took no for an answer. Tonight, however, had been an exception because he had been able to convince her that they were celebrating her role; by six o'clock Rachel appeared in the doorway to their bedroom wearing a little red dress he hadn't seen before, and he was sorely tempted to skip dinner and stay in for celebratory sex instead. But he had promised her a night out, and they both deserved it. By dessert, however, something had gone terribly awry.
"So today, Thomas, our editor, called me into his office this morning, and I thought I was going to get fired for threatening to punch Jenson in the face." He chuckled softly at his wife's suddenly wide eyes. "But actually he gave me the second best news I've heard all day."
"Oh?" She lifted a delicate eyebrow and placed her fork back on the table.
"You know how I wrote that article on steroid use and college football players, the one that was featured in the last issue?" Rachel nodded with a smile; she made it a point to read everything he wrote. "Well, Thomas liked it so much that he's giving me my own featured article for every issue. I get to write about whatever I want, you know, within reason, and I don't have to be at the desk next to Jenson anymore."
"That's fantastic, Finn!" A bright smile lit up her face, and she clapped enthusiastically. "Things are looking up for us; I'm playing Fanny, and you got your byline. Now if only…"
"Hey, cheer up Little Diva." He reached for her hands across the table, filling in the fading of her voice with a nickname he hadn't used since they were in college. "Things are coming together for us, Rachel; I'm going to be making more money, and while I know you're going to be really busy with the show…"
"Wait!" Rachel cut in before he could finish, and he started to get that odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, the one that told him there was about to be an explosion. "Are you saying I'd be too busy with the show? Are you saying that just because I'm starting a new show I won't be interested in starting a family, even though I know that it's incredibly important to you?"
"No, baby, that's not what I was saying at all." But it was no use, Rachel was alright angry and it was going to get worse. "Please, Rach, calm down before you cause a scene."
"Do not tell me to calm down, Finn Hudson, not when you are sitting there accusing me of being selfish enough to disregard our potential family simply because I landed a role I'd be dying to play since the first time I saw Funny Girl." Her voice was already increasing in volume, and he could see the tears in her eyes. "I'm so terribly sorry that I couldn't conceive a child on the first try, Finn. Maybe you should have married Quinn, after all she got pregnant the first time she ever had sex, and she wasn't obsessed with coming to New York and being a star. Maybe she wouldn't let her career get in the way of having children the way you clearly think I am."
"Where the hell is all this coming from?" He buried his face in his hands for a moment; Quinn had not been an issue in their relationship since the end of their junior year of high school, even when she'd given one last try at taking him back from Rachel, and he didn't understand why Rachel was suddenly going on about her. "Baby, you are acting crazy; just calm down and think for a minute. Do you realize how crazy that sounds?"
"Crazy? So now you think I'm crazy." Rachel blinked hard, trying not to cry, and her voice shook. "Well if I'm so crazy then maybe we shouldn't have a child because we wouldn't want to pass on my crazy genes to our child."
"Will you just stop it? You sound absolutely ridiculous right now." He wasn't about to use the word crazy again. "Just calm down, Rach, and let's go home and talk about this."
"No, I'm going home, Finn, and you can go sleep somewhere else." His jaw dropped, and he stared at her with an expression that could only mean 'where?' "Just don't come home tonight; sleep somewhere else because you are not going to come home and try to make this all better by getting into bed with me. I'm sure Noah will let you sleep on his couch or something."
Finn had already paid the check, and he stared as she swept the small white container holding her left over cake from the table; she had never told him not to come home before, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He was, however, sure that Rachel was serious, and he prayed that this wasn't some terrible sign that their marriage was in danger. No, he refused to let that be the case; instead, he would give her time to cool off, and he would apologize for calling her crazy and ridiculous. He would make it right again, and they would talk about things. But for now, he was going to hail a cab and crash at Puck's; maybe his best friend wouldn't make stupid comments. Rachel already regretted her rash statement; telling Finn not to come home was a stupid thing to do, but she was too stubborn to turn around. Her anger and frustration at her own body's refusal to produce a child had boiled over into anger at Finn, and because of that she was going to sleep alone. Hot tears poured down her cheeks as she climbed into the cab, and she hugged her jacket to her chest; they would be alright, or at least she hoped they would. Things would cool down, and he would come home; she'd apologize for exploding, and they would talk about things like adults.
They had been together for nine years, married for about the last four, and they had not slept apart in almost seven of those years. He did the math in his head while he waited for Santana to bring blankets she'd promised, and he was grateful that Puck refrained from making more than one snide comment about him sleeping on the couch at their house. The idea of not waking up with Rachel in his arms was frightening, especially when he knew how upset she was, but she'd told him not to come home; she'd told him to sleep somewhere else tonight. His heart ached at the thought of her alone in their bed, crying, and he wanted so desperately to have his arms around her, kissing her tears away and making things right again. Santana entered the room with an arm load of blankets and tossed them in his lap; she wasn't angry with him for his fight with Rachel, which was a miracle, but she didn't seem too happy with the situation. Rebecca peeked around her mother's legs, looking up at Finn.
"Finny?" He glanced down at the sleepy toddler, and he knew what she was going to ask. "Aun' Rachie?"
"She's at home, Becks…" He forced a soft smile. "Didn't feel good."
"Hey, Little Bit, it's bed time." Puck scooped up his daughter, rescuing his best friend for a moment. "How 'bout you go tell Mama to read you a story or sing you a song?"
"Mama sing!" Puck handed Rebecca to Santana, who carried their daughter to bed, and Finn felt a wave of jealousy and guilt.
"Is everything alright with you and Rach?" Finn sighed. "Dude, I know it's none of my business, but she's never kicked you out before."
"She's just so worked up over this baby thing; she got this part in this show she's been talking about since high school, and I thought maybe it would take her mind off trying to get pregnant. Well I said the wrong thing at dinner tonight, and she told me not to come home. She's so pissed." Puck shook his head. "We haven't had a real fight since college; that is until we started trying to have a kid. All the doctors say it's normal for stress to cause strain like this, but I hate fighting with her because it just ends in her crying. We went to see her therapist last week, and she said to just keep focusing on the positives. I'm trying, man; I really am. It's just that I want Rachel happy again, you know?"
"I get it." Finn raised an eyebrow. "When San's dad threatened to disown her because she got pregnant before we got hitched, she was a mess; I'm pretty sure she never would've made it if it hadn't been for Rachel, and I couldn't stand to see her crying all the time. I know it's fucking girly, but it does hurt to see 'em like that, 'specially when you can't fix it. But give her time, Stretch, and she'll come around."
Finn was soon alone in the living room, his face buried in his hands; he could hear Santana singing something in Spanish for Becca, probably a lullaby, and he imagined looking in on Rachel as she sang to their son or daughter. He'd never wanted anything more in his entire life than he wanted to have a family with Rachel. After arranging the pillows and blankets on the couch, he reached over and turned off the lamp next to him and sank onto the pillows; alone with his thoughts, he tried not to think about Rachel, alone in their home, but he just couldn't let it go. Reaching over he picked up his phone, typing out a quick text. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm so sorry. I love you." He knew she wouldn't answer him, but he hoped that she would at least read it. In the darkness, he buried his face in the pillows, glad Santana and Puck were asleep so that they could not see the hot tears that streamed down his face or hear the soft sobs that shook his large frame. He needed her as much as she needed him.
The loft had never seemed emptier, and every small sound seemed to echo, right down to her heels clicking on the smooth floor; she let herself cry openly, throwing the small Styrofoam box containing her cake from the restaurant onto the counter so hard that it slid into the wall and fell to the floor, but she didn't have the will to pick it up. Her anger and frustration had boiled over, and she was terrified that this might be the beginning of the end for her marriage; of course, she knew such thoughts were irrational because Finn loved her and she loved him, but the strain of their attempts to have a child made things difficult at times. She was so tired of fighting; it wasn't fair. As the tears fell, Rachel felt the aching emptiness fill her; she needed Finn.
"You want to tell me why your husband is sleeping on my couch?" Santana's voice filled her ears almost as soon as she finished dialing the number.
"We had a fight." Rachel paused for a moment, trying to hold back her tears. "I made a scene in the restaurant, and it was ugly."
"And you can't just kiss and make up and be the disgustingly perfect couple you always are?" New tears threatened to spill, and Santana seemed to sense the tension. "Oh, that bad?"
"Yes, that bad; I told him not to come home tonight." Rachel sobbed.
"It'll work itself out, Rachie; I promise. Whatever is wrong will fix because you and Finn are too disgustingly perfect together for it not to." The Latina wasn't usually much for hugging, but she sorely wished that she could hug Rachel and make her feel better. "He's hurting too, you know; sitting on my couch damn near pouting. He loves you."
"I know he does, and I love him; I just couldn't deal tonight." Rachel sighed softly, trying to ease the ache in her heart.
Ten minutes later she was standing under the hot water in her shower, trying to wash away the pain, but nothing seemed to help; she wrapped a towel around her body, holding it tight, and immediately began to rummage through the drawers that held Finn's t-shirts. Buried at the bottom of a drawer, she found her target, and a sad smile crept across her face as she pulled out the slightly faded red jersey; for a moment she pressed it to her face, breathing in the memories, before pulling it over her head. The jersey, which smelled faintly like her husband, covered her small frame like a dress, reaching her knees, and the large white five spread across her chest. There had been many nights during their first year of college when she slept in his jersey or his t-shirt because she missed him so much. The tears began to fall again as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, and she collapsed onto the bed moments later; her phone buzzed, and she read the message from Finn, whispering to the empty room that she was sorry too. She hadn't meant that she didn't want him at home, and she regretted the decision to tell him to find somewhere else to sleep. Her arms wrapped around his pillow, and she buried her face in it, breathing in the scent that could only be described as Finn. She needed him; she needed his arms around her, holding her close and whispering that it would be alright, and she needed him to kiss away the pain.
"Rachel, you are my best friend and I love you, but you have to get the giant off my couch. Just let him come home."
It had been four days since she told Finn not to come home, and Rachel knew that Santana was getting tired of having Finn on her couch; while he left early each morning and worked until late in the evening, Finn's camping in the Puckerman living room each night was somewhat unsettling. Becca asked for Rachel each night, too young to understand why Finn was there if Rachel wasn't, and Finn was practically a statue, speaking only to Puck. Rachel was ready for Finn to come home; she couldn't stand the empty loft anymore, and she missed her husband. She hadn't really slept in the past three days, and she was afraid that the dark circles were beginning to show; it was difficult to fall asleep without Finn close to her, and it was even worse not to wake up in his arms. It had been almost seven years since she'd experienced an empty bed.
"I want him home, San, trust me." She sighed, glancing at the . "I need him home, and no, I don't mean that way."
Rachel gave her friend a playful nudge when the Latina wiggled her eyebrows at her; the unlikely friendship of Santana Puckerman and Rachel Hudson was a miracle, or so Rachel tended to tell people. They were seated in the small room that served as the make shift clinic at the center, going through supplies and making a list of necessities, when Caroline knocked on the door. The tall red head who ran the center often reminded Rachel of Emma Pillsbury without the terrible advice and OCD, and most of the children were fond of her; Rachel thought she was a bit pushy at times, but she wasn't nearly as pushy as Sister Theresa, who ran the children's shelter next door. Rachel looked up as Caroline spoke, her eyes growing wide.
"I know this inventory is taking a long time, and I'm truly sorry that it's in such a mess; however, I was wondering if I could get the two of you to take a break and help me with Emma." Rachel recognized the name of the little girl who spent most of her time in the music room, plunking away at the piano, or in the reading room with the picture books. "Her arm is bleeding, and she won't let Matt touch her."
"I'll go see if I can do something; she seems to respond well to me, probably because I'm the music lady. I'll bet she's in the music room again." Rachel's lips twitched into a small sad smile. "San, I'll see if she'll come in here with me, and then you can handle her arm."
Sure enough, Rachel entered the music room a few minutes later to find that the little girl, who was a month away from her fourth birthday, had climbed onto the piano bench and was now plunking the keys; of course there was no real tune, but Rachel couldn't help but smile softly as she moved toward Emma. It took a few moments for the little girl to notice Rachel's presence, but when the toe of Rachel's shoe struck a fallen tambourine, Emma turned suddenly, her dark braided pigtails swinging wildly and her bright blue eyes wide. It broke Rachel's heart to see the four little reddish circles that had soaked into Emma's purple sleeves, and she pulled in a shaky breath.
"S-sorry, Miss Rachel." Emma occasionally stuttered, and Rachel had learned early on that acknowledging it made it worse. "I-I know we aren't suppose to touch w-when you aren't around."
"It's alright, Emma." Rachel settled onto the bench next to her. "Miss Caroline says your arm is bothering you again. Can I take a look?"
Emma hesitated, and Rachel watched her carefully, hoping the small girl would offer her arm for closer inspection; when she finally offer it, Rachel slowly and gently pushed the fabric of Emma's sleeve up her arm, stopping each time Emma tensed. It took all Rachel had not to cry, especially when Emma's eyes began to tear, and she fought back the urge to swear as she inspected the small wounds. Sister Theresa had informed Rachel a week ago when she brought Emma to the center in hopes of lifting her spirits that she had been removed from her father's care because of neglect, but it wasn't until that moment that she realized the full extent of Emma's situation. It appeared that Emma had been burned, probably with a cigarette; the scabs had broken loose, and she'd removed her bandages, causing the wounds to bleed. Rachel couldn't believe anyone would do that to an innocent child, and it turned her stomach. Trying to remain composed and calm, she slid off the bench and held out her hand for Emma to take.
"Come on sweetheart; let's have Miss San take a look at that arm." As Emma hopped down from the bench and placed her hand in Rachel's, the petite brunette suppressed the urge to pull her into a hug. "I bet if you are really brave, Miss San will give you one of her suckers; would you like that?"
Emma nodded enthusiastically, and she allowed herself to be lead to the 'clinic' room for first aid from Santana; Rachel was always slightly taken aback by the fact that Santana was so patient and gentle with her patients, but she supposed that time had mellowed her friend somewhat. With Emma settled in her lap, toying with the loose strings around a hole on her worn jeans, Rachel watched Santana mutter obscenities in Spanish under her breath as she tried to carefully clean the small wounds, and she was certain she heard the words Lima Heights Adjacent; she felt Emma's small body tense, and the tiniest whimper of pain reached Rachel's ears. Suddenly Emma was looking up at her with those ridiculously bright eyes, brimming with tears, and she muttered one word, "h-hurts", before burying her face in Rachel's t-shirt. Instinctively Rachel wrapped her arms protectively around her, humming softly, and Santana gently applied burn ointment and wrapped a clean bandage snugly around Emma's small arm.
"Cheer up Chiquita, we're all done." Santana's voice held a softness that Rachel knew was typically reserved for her daughter, and Emma finally pulled up to look at them again. "Cherry or grape?"
"Ch-cherry," the reply came through sniffles, and Santana handed Rachel a bright red sucker wrapped in pink cellophane.
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it? You were a very brave girl." Rachel murmured as she unwrapped the candy and handed it to Emma. "Now, why don't you go see what Miss Caroline has planned for story time?"
Emma reluctantly slipped out of Rachel's lap, and after she left the room Rachel turned to Santana with unshed tear in her eyes; the two women worked in silence for the next hour. Neither of them really knew what to say. By the time the children were leaving, Santana and Rachel had completely finished the inventory and reorganized all the supply cabinets; it was astonishing what two women with nervous energy in spades could do. As usual, they stood outside the door while the children filed out and either were picked up by their parents or gathered around Sister Theresa to go back to the shelter, and Rachel felt a sudden embrace, catching her off balance momentarily; glancing down, she couldn't contain the smile that flickered across her face as Emma hugged her tightly, and she bent slightly to hug her back. Rachel would call Sister Theresa when she got home and talk to her about Emma because there had to be something she could to help her.
"Jesus, Hudson, will you just keep your eyes open for five more minutes?" Thomas's voice made him snap to attention.
He had nearly dozed off three times in the monthly concept meeting, and only the fact that his concept for this month's article had been brilliant saved him from as Finn put it "an ass chewing of epic proportions." He hadn't slept in four days, not really, and he hadn't bothered to shave; he needed sleep, and he needed Rachel. He hadn't been back to their loft in three days, not since he went back to grab a bag with some clothes to take to Pucks; he hadn't been sure Rachel would be ready for him to come home, and so he wasn't going to push her. Today was different. As he left the office, he knew where he needed to be; he was going home.
He took a cab to Puck's and picked up his bag, then stopped by Rachel's favorite cupcake shop to pick up two strawberry shortcake cupcakes before taking the cab home; the loft was almost silent when he stepped inside, and all he could hear as he walked down the hall was the shower running in their bathroom. The image of his wife in the shower, water running down her body, made him almost ache, and he had to remember to breathe. Now really wasn't the time to think about sex; although, the idea of slowly reacquainting himself with her body was terribly inviting. He tossed his bag on the floor next to the closet and sank onto their bed to remove his shoes and tie, and he almost didn't notice when Rachel silently entered the bedroom until she cleared her throat. Allowing himself to stare openly, he took in the way the simple pink towel wrapped tightly around her chest and the way her damp hair hung over her left shoulder; there were dark circles under her eyes that matched his own, and he knew that she hadn't been sleeping either. When she stepped closer, he could see the tears in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Finn; I'm so so sorry. I shouldn't have shouted like that. I just get so scared, Finn; I'm so afraid it won't ever happen, and I get so angry at my body. But I can't, I can't make my body do what I want so I get angry at everything else." Rachel allowed him to gather her in his arms, and she buried her face in his chest; he could feel her tears through the thin material of his shirt. "I shouldn't have told you not to come home; it was an awful thing to do, and I didn't mean it. It was so empty here without you; I can't, Finn. I can't live here alone."
"It's ok, baby; I know you didn't mean it. We're both a little bit more excitable lately, and we say things we don't mean. We just have to remember that we love each other; no matter how hard things are, Rach, I love you more than anything. We can do anything." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her closer as she almost sobbed in his arms. "You don't have to be alone; I won't leave you here alone again. I promise."
"I'm sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper. "It was all my fault."
'No, Rach, I'm sorry too. I get angry too; I'm mad at myself because I can't seem to get you pregnant, and I'm mad at the universe for being unfair. I shouldn't have said you were crazy, and I shouldn't have said you were ridiculous. I knew you were upset, and I should've been more understanding." She finally let her eyes meet his, and he was relieved to see that the tears had almost stopped. "I messed up too, Rach, and I'm sorry."
"Don't let me tell you not to come home again, Finn. Promise me you'll always come home." Her lips softly met his, and her fingers graved his cheeks, feeling the tickle of the slightly scruffy beard that had begun to grow there. "Promise."
"Always." He murmured the words against her lips as he kissed her slowly and tenderly. "You are my home, Rachel."
She whispered his name, and he shifted his weight to gently lay her on the bed, his hands tugging the towel so that it fell away from her body; he pulled in a sharp breath as he let himself take all over her in, and she reached for him, her hands lacing through his hair as he kissed her again. She pulled him flush against her body, and he allowed himself to melt into her. This time they would take their time, relearning each other's bodies as if they had been apart for years; this time they wouldn't try for a baby or even think about it.
"Finn?" Her voice reached his ears in the silence of their room, and he felt her lips press to his bare chest.
"Yeah, baby?" He let his fingers trail through her hair.
"T-today, I met a little girl who doesn't have a mother." He felt her tense against him, and he wrapped his arm protectively around her body, pulling her closer; it wasn't often that Rachel stuttered like this, and he knew it meant that something had upset her. "A-and her father, he h-hurt her."
"What do you mean hurt her, Rach?" He immediately regretted asking because Rachel began to cry as she related Emma's story, how her mother had died and her father was a drunken idiot who burned her and shoved her around and spent all his money on beer and cigarettes, and he felt the rage swelling in his chest. "She's not still living with that bastard, is she?"
"No. She lives at St. Mark's Children Shelter, next to the center." She bit her lip hard. "But her arm, Finn, that monster burned her little arm with cigarettes; she was so scared that she wouldn't let Matt touch her today, and I had to hold her in my lap while San cleaned her arm and put bandages on it. She was shaking so hard and crying, and she kept looking at me with the big bright blue eyes full of tears. And then this afternoon when she was leaving, she hugged me so tightly, like she didn't want to let go."
"Sounds like you were able to help her, baby, and that makes it a little better." He held Rachel tight against his side, wishing that he could make her feel better.
"I just wish I could do more, Finn. She's so little, and so young; she's the sweetest little girl I've ever seen." She swallowed hard, looking up at him. "I want to help her, Finn."
"I know you do, Rach; I know you do." He stared at the ceiling, wonder why an asshole like the man who hurt Emma was allowed to have a child while his wife, who was kind and gentle and wonderful with kids, wasn't; it just didn't seem fair at all.