Again we want to thank everyone for all of the feedback and support for our story. It has been a bumpy ride and can't say it is going to improve. Fore warning, might need a box of tissues. Again, thank you and remember just 1 chapter left.

Disclaimer: We do not claim to own Glee, just our own insanity

Rated: T

"Tell me about him," Finn said softly, stroking Caleb's silky brown hair from his spot in the chair next to the bed.

Rachel looked up at him from where she sat against the wall, on the floor (resisting the urge to crawl right into the bed with the boy even though it was a children's bed and far too small.) She smiled sadly, her eyes still shimmering with fresh tears. "Wh…what do you want to know?" She whispered back. As long as there was a staccato beep from the heart monitor, she could breathe. She was calmed by its now-familiar presence.

"I…I don't know. What did—does—he like to do?"

Rachel smiled gratefully at his change of tense. Her son was still alive; he would always be present to her, even when he was sleeping.

"He...he loves music," she said brightly, her tone picking up even as she kept her voice low.

"Well, you're a musical genius so it's not like that's a shock," he blurted out quickly.

"Thank you, but he doesn't sing. He can't, actually—which is kind of funny. He just listens to everything; he has very eclectic tastes. I guess part of that is because Noah used to bring by all kinds of mixes and play them for me—for us—those first couple years when I didn't know what to do with myself in the hospital. I…" she paused when she saw the pained expression on his face. "I…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him."

He looked down at the sleeping child. "No, I…I…he was there for you when I wasn't, so I…it just hurts. I'm just catching up. I don't…" he cleared his throat a little and tried to swallow down his doubt and all the other stuff he was feeling. "…I don't get how all this happened like it did," he replied sadly, his voice cracking more with each word. He hadn't wanted to bring it up, but it wasn't something that would go away either.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen. When I found out I was pregnant, you were working those insane hours and I had just landed that role. Things were so chaotic and I figured I would hold off on telling you until I had come to terms with the pregnancy."

"How long did you know?" It was easier to imagine she had just barely found out that night with Puck, when he had taken a few seconds to think about it. It just made it worse to think she could've chosen not to say anything, to think she had maybe held her tongue when he was around on purpose because she didn't want to tell him.

Rachel shrugged slightly. "A few weeks. I took a home test after I realized I was late and the morning sickness kicked in fairly quickly. I didn't know what to do, so I went to the doctor, who confirmed the pregnancy. I hadn't seen you for more than a few minutes here and there for a few weeks and our schedules never seemed to line up."

"There are times to force it," he argued softly. He didn't want to wake their son—he turned the word over in his head again because he couldn't even believe he had a son—but at the same time, he knew it really made no difference. The small boy was medically sedated. Not only did he have to get used to the word son, but…well. Then there was the rest of it. "You should've found a way to tell me and you know it."

"I know, but there were other things, Finn. I came by your office after my trip to the doctor and…and well…I was told you were too busy."

"What are you talking about?" He gasped out, his head starting to spin a little. "I was never too busy for you and they all…everyone knew that and…they…"

Rachel smiled sadly and looked down at the ground. "She was a redhead."

He shook his head in confusion. "Who are you talking about?"

She glanced up at him and sniffled softly. "The woman you were with that day—she was a redhead."

"Rachel, I wasn't ever with a redhead. You seriously aren't making any sense."

She cleared her throat a little and her voice was stronger, more certain. "She said her name was Margo and the two of you had grown really close. She made it a point to come see me in the lobby that day after my doctor's appointment. I came by with the test results and to see what you wanted to do about it, but then I saw the two of you and I guess she saw me too. She met me in the lobby and said her name was Margo and she demanded to know who I was since I was obviously looking at the man she was 'with'. That's how she said it."

"You…you talked to Margo? She…she was slightly obsessed with me, I guess, but I never mentioned it 'cause she was no one important and I didn't want to worry you and...and I had no idea she spoke with you. I never…" His mind was spinning now, the pieces of him were stirring around and around and he was afraid the spinning would toss them everywhere and he wouldn't be able to get them back.

Rachel wiped her eyes and inhaled a deep, steady breath. "I guess we both assumed the worst, didn't we? The difference between us was my willingness to stick it out. I knew men who married young probably had those sorts of 'what if' moments and I figured she was yours but…but I also knew we were meant to be. Why else would it all have happened so fast? I mean, how many people get married like we did, right? That had to mean we were something special, I…" She lowered her face in her hands.

"I…I don't know. I…thought we were too, but…but is it supposed to be this hard if you really love someone? I…"

Rachel looked up at him sadly. "I do love you," she whispered hoarsely. "I just don't think…I honestly don't know what to think anymore." She looked around the room. "Maybe all this is my punishment for being so reckless and impulsive in the first place."

"Don't say that," he pleaded in a whisper.

"Don't say what? That I am getting what I deserve? Because that's what it feels like. My son is dying, Finn. As much as I want to believe a miracle will happen, I understand the reality here. I have dealt with it for the past four years and I know…I just...He…he's already had three open-heart surgeries. He has suffered enough and maybe I didn't do enough while I was pregnant to stop it. I was so sick and I couldn't hold anything down almost the whole time. At one point, used IV lines and a stomach pump just to feed me. I…I wasn't strong enough. I kept him from you without even realizing how cruel I was being. It just hurt so much every time you slammed the figurative door in my face and I gave up pretty quickly. Then, when I finally get up the courage to come to you—the only person who could help—it was too late and now it's all blown up in my face. I lost you five years ago and now I'll lose my—our—son. Then again, maybe I never really had you to begin with."

He stopped for a minute and then lowered himself to the ground to face her.

"What does that even mean, you 'never really had me to begin with'? We were married…hell, we still are married."

"Yes, and we knew each other for twelve whole hours before we decided to run off together. We knew nothing about each other beyond having amazing sex and who does that? Who has sex with someone within a few hours of meeting them? Everything was so rushed and so crazy. We moved into that tiny apartment with Noah and could barely make rent, so I worked downstairs while you studied. Then you found the internship and yes, things were good for a while, but then…then they went so horribly bad and we didn't know each other well enough to handle those ups and downs."

"That's not true," he protested softly. He wasn't even sure at this point what he was begging for, but he knew he was fighting the urge to take her hand. "Yes, it happened so fast, but that made it even more amazing. I knew everything I needed to know because I knew I was in love with you."

"Then why was it so easy to push me away? Why was it so easy for you to give up without a fight? You say I should have told you, and perhaps you're right, but no one here is totally innocent. You could have found me anytime between then and now; I wasn't hiding."

He swallowed hard. He couldn't fight that logic. "I didn't want to find you," he said softly. "I didn't think I could even stand to look at you."

She nodded and pushed herself off the floor in one, fluid motion. "Well, I guess that pretty much sums it all up then, doesn't it? I…I am really sorry for how everything turned out, but…but I think you should go."

He scrambled to his feet, feeling like even that was something she did better than him. She was so cool, so composed. He was such a mess he couldn't even stand up on his own. "You can't kick me out of here! You've kept me away from him for his whole life. Let me have the last few moments with him, however long I can because he's my son."

"But see…he isn't your son," she protested, and he flinched in response.

"Yes…how can you…what…"

She shook her head sadly and rubbed her hand over her forehead. "He may be yours biologically, but…but not yours in the sense that he's Noah's. I…I know that I created this situation by not being strong enough to tell you after you broke me down to nothing, but…but Noah took care of me. He took care of Caleb when no one else would. My Dads helped where they could but I didn't qualify under their insurance and Caleb needed so much medical care and he…he put his name on the birth certificate and took Caleb home when I…when I was bedridden from delivery complications. He got up when Caleb needed medication. He held Caleb's hand and told him everything was going to be okay. He was the one who held me when I fell apart time and time again and you know what? I never gave him an ounce of encouragement or really even adequate appreciation. He knew I was forever tied to you. He knew that…that he could never fill your shoes, but he was there for everything and now…it should be him in here to say goodbye. I am sorry; this isn't fair to you and I can't take any of it back, but…"

"Rach, please…" he pleaded. "Don't do this. I deserve to be here…I am his father."

"By blood; but you said it yourself: you don't know anything about him."

So much for distance; he was begging now and he grabbed her hands tightly.

"Then tell me. Tell me everything about him so I can at least say I knew his favorite color or if he's clumsy like me, or if he likes chocolate ice cream and…please…you owe this to me. Don't make me miss anything else," he begged in a voice so weak he didn't even recognize it.

She didn't even hesitate when she spoke. "He loves chocolate ice cream and he's beyond clumsy; he could trip over his own feet while he's standing still. His…his favorite color is blue and he loves the rain the most. He sits by the window for hours just watching sometimes. He…he loves being outside, even if he can't really run around for long. He…he loves everyone he meets and no one can resist him. He…he has your smile and for so long, I cried when he smiled at me. He used to wrap his arms around my neck and snuggle against me when I cried and he told me one time he didn't have to smile anymore if it made me sad and then I just cried more. He…he likes it when I play with his hair and he…he always says 'I love you, mommy' before bed…except this time." She let out a breath and her voice wavered dangerously. "This time I wasn't here, so…so he didn't get to say it and I didn't get to hear it and…and now…now I may never get to hear his sweet little voice say 'mama' or 'hug me' because I was with you and not here where I belong. I…" she trailed off. She finally shattered in front of him, falling down to the ground. There were no more words, no breaks in sobs, no end in sight to the gut-wrenching sadness. She was coming apart, even as she held her arms around herself.

He carefully crouched down and lifted her into his lap. "I'm sorry. I, should have listened when you begged me to. I, was so damaged and…and now…God I…" He whispered roughly, crying openly and struggling to get the words out over the lump in his throat.

It was a while before she spoke, and her throat sounded raw. She still seemed to have a hard time; her composure was gone. "When…when they said he wouldn't get better, I…I actually wished I had never met you because if I hadn't then he wouldn't have been born at all. He wouldn't have suffered and I wouldn't have felt so empty and broken. I…I fought it for so long, telling everyone he was going to be okay, but…he isn't. He…isn't going to wake up this time and open his beautiful brown eyes to tell me not to cry. I…I wasn't here to say goodbye to him. What kind of mother am I?"

"Rach, don't do this to yourself…you're an amazing mother. I am sure of it and…and he knows you love him. How could he not? You wear your feelings on your sleeve and you love with your whole heart."

She shook her head. "I didn't get to say goodbye. He won't ever hear me sing to him or tell him a story again. He loved my stories, you know. Noah tried to tell him bedtime stories all the time, but he…he never wanted them and he never let Noah get away with sneaking them in," she said, sounding totally broken.

"What were your stories about?" It wasn't just Caleb he wanted to know about, and he honestly found it strange when he realized the urge he had to get to know them was as much about her, especially her as a mom, as it was about the little boy in the bed behind them.

Rachel looked up at him through her tear-drenched lashes before breaking down into sobs again.

"You; they were always about you and me and everything our life was supposed to be. He…he loved…"

"He loved what?" He choked out as she trembled in his lap.

"You…he loved you. He wanted to be just like the hero in my stories."

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. He was glad Caleb had even known anything about him, even if it wasn't any more than fiction.

"I'm no hero."

He murmured his low words against her hair, inhaling the fragrance, remembering how they used to sit and talk in the same position for hours on end. He thought it was probably one of his favorite memories, had been one of his favorite things they did.

"Well, you are to him and…and I would like him to keep that image of you. Is that okay?" she said softly, turning her head slightly so she could look up at him.

He should have said no; should've pointed out there was no reason to offer Caleb false hope that somehow he would be saved by his fairytale hero, but he couldn't say no to that look in her eyes. Her eyes were always his downfall.

So open, so honest…maybe if he had just looked into them that day he would have seen the truth and they wouldn't be here.

"I…okay. If that's what you want."

She nodded and scooted out of his embrace, then headed towards the door. His head was swimming as one emotion bled into the other, making it impossible to separate his well-deserved anger from her sadness, or from their love for one another and their dying child. It was beyond overwhelming; if yesterday anyone had asked what he was would be doing now, this wouldn't have even made the top one hundred. He not only someone's husband again, in a way, but he was also a father and someone's hero. He didn't deserve to be.

He had to admit, he almost immediately feared she hadn't told Caleb anything about him. He found himself wanting Caleb to know something about him, wanting the boy to know that Puck wasn't his father. He wasn't relieved to know there was an in-between, though. It kind of made him want to crawl out of his own skin to realize how much time he had wasted—and it was all measured in a lifetime. He would never get these last five years back. They were coming to an end.

He quickly stood, scrambling for any sort of control, and saw Rachel lingering in the doorway and looking at the bed and looking at Caleb.

Where was she going?

"Wait, why…where are you going?" he stammered. He needed her in the room with him—that much was just obvious.

"I'm going to give you some privacy; that's what you asked me for." He looked between the bed where his son was struggling to live and back towards Rachel, who looked as if she was barely holding on herself. He couldn't do this alone…without her. As much as he hated the way it felt to picture it, he knew she couldn't do it alone either and he understood what Puck had really done for her—for all of them. None of them needed to deal with this alone; thank God for small favors.

"Please don't go. I…I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be this guy."

She wiped away a few stray tears but didn't step toward him yet. "You're going to have to learn fast."

He sighed. "No. I just…someone else knows how to be this guy. You should go get him." He wiped at his cheeks with his knuckle and he sniffled a little. "Go get him and…and…" he shrugged a little. "You're right—he should be here. I'll try not to punch him again."

She raised an eyebrow. "Again?"

"I already told you I don't even know what I'm doing," he said. He turned to face back toward the bed. "What am I supposed to say? I…I don't…" He stammered his eyes brimming with fresh tears. God, he had buried all of his emotions for years and now…now he couldn't keep them down anymore.

"Tell him how much you like chocolate ice cream, so much so that you used to sneak downstairs to Doug's kitchen and steal it in the middle of the night."

"If I remember correctly you didn't mind it so much when I brought up your vegan stuff," he muttered in a low voice, casting one raised-eyebrow glance over his shoulder. Rachel laughed softly.

"Yes well, I was just suggesting telling him things that you have in common. Another one is you both love…well…loved to annoy me with the incessant tapping on everything." He looked over at his sleeping son and back to Rachel whose eyes were filling with unshed tears and he knew his own mirrored hers. At least something of his carried through even if he wasn't there to raise him.

"He…he does that too?"

Rachel rolled her eyes teasingly. "Does he do that? He taps on everything, and I mean everything, with anything; if he can't find something to tap with, he uses his hands. His favorite, though, are wooden spoons. Noah tried to get him interested in the guitar, but no—he insisted on tapping."

"It's drumming Rach; not tapping," he replied with a shrug. "I woulda taught him…I mean, if I had…" Rachel nodded and their gentle playfulness was replaced with sullenness again.

"I know you would have." She swallowed hard unable to meet his gaze. "I know you would have taught him a lot, if…well…"she trailed off. She shrugged and tucked her hands into her jeans pockets. "But you can at least tell him what you want to. I have to believe he'll hear you." She issued another sniffle and motioned over her shoulder. "I'm going to get Noah. Whatever you say will be just between you and him. But you…you could tell him that we were happy once and…and he was a product of that…" She paused when he looked over his shoulder, their eyes immediately locking. He sucked in a breath, the last one he thought he had left in his body as he began falling and drowning in her gaze when she kept talking. "We…we were happy once right? I…I didn't make that up in my head to…"

He blew out a breath and managed to drag his eyes away from her, knowing she needed to go get Noah because it wasn't like there was a lot of time. He could feel the urgency of the moment weighing down on him, choking him and strangling everything he had ever thought he knew.

"You didn't make it up," he replied gruffly. He moved toward the bed and she took that as her cue to go.

He could feel it when she left just like he could feel everything else. When she was gone, he could breathe a little. He reveled in that, just a little, took a big, deep breath and stepped forward all the way, letting his hand rest on Caleb's head and linger in Caleb's hair.

He didn't say anything, but his mind chanted his son's name over and over again, turning it over and getting familiar with it—branding it inside him. He knew he wouldn't forget anything he saw. There was something of Rachel in the curve of the boyish cheekbone, but something of him in the jaw and mouth.

"I loved you both," he breathed simply, watching his fingers displace the shaggy hair above Caleb's ear.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, just staring at the beautiful and fragile child before she reentered the small room. He could hear Noah stepping into the room, too.

Rachel stepped close enough to the bed she could lightly stroke Caleb's soft cheek. Finn hadn't ever seen anything so heartbreaking in his life. She looked so lost and so broken—a shell of the woman he once knew. Her attention was totally on her sleeping boy; his attention was entirely on her. She leaned into him when he tentatively wrapped his arm over her shoulders. She cautiously leaned her head against him, as if waiting for him to push her away, but he couldn't and he didn't want to. He could admit that to himself now.

"I…I should hate you, but…but I don't…I can't," he choked out, like he was answering the question he knew was in her head. And he was speaking as much to Noah, who remained silently on the other side of Caleb's bed, as he was to Rachel. She nodded slightly.

"I know… and if the roles were reversed…" she started, but she couldn't get the words all the way out and he picked up where she stopped.

"You wouldn't have hated me either." He said certainly, resting his chin on the crown of her head.

"No, no I wouldn't." She agreed.

Noah dropped down to sit on the tiny bed beside Caleb, barely fitting even one leg on the small bedside. He wasn't paying attention to their conversation at all, and Finn realized they were all just too tired to be mad or sad or anything—it would come later. For now they were just resigned to what was coming.

"I…what happens now?" She asked eventually, her voice cracking with uncertainty. He reached out and stroked their son's head, then pressed his lips to her hair once more.

"I…I don't know. I…we can't ever go back."

"No, we can't."

He made up his mind and spoke the words in the same instant. "And, as much as I don't hate you…I…I just can't… we're not going to survive this together. I can't."

She seemed as resolute as he did. "No. There's just too much damage," she whispered, as if the words hurt to speak.

He tightened his arms around as she leaned her body against his, clinging to her for this one last time, even if it was full of despair. They were together, even if just for the moment; they were the same two people who met, fell in love, and promised forever to each other…even if forever ended eventually. Now, they stood together in utter silence as they watched the last thing that bonded them together fade away into nothingness.