First update in awhile! How beautifully sad and heartbreaking was, "The Quarterback"? Lea Michele is truly inspiring, even in her grief.
It was the tail end of May. Last day of the Semester, and she, Rachel Berry had managed to conceal her pregnancy from everyone at NYADA, and most importantly, from Cassandra July. It was quite easy actually. The tights and leotard managed to suck in the very tiny baby bump she sported on her very tiny frame. Her doctor had mentioned that small girls like her don't even really show till their fifth month or something like that especially with their first pregnancy. She was hoping he was right. She just had to get through this dance final and she would be able to go home to Lima for the summer and relax.
"Schwimmer, you're up." Rachel breathed out heavily, trying to sooth herself. She walked from behind stage to join her dance partner who she did not realize until this very moment wasn't her friend Ryan but instead a much groomed, very plastic, very repulsive Brody. He grinned when he saw the scowl form on her face.
"Aw, come on now, Babe. You weren't looking at me like that all those nights in your apartment."
It took every ounce of self-control she had to refrain from going completely feral and mauling him right there on that stage. She hated him and his smugness.
She pointed her toe and held her hand out, ignoring his advances. "Shall we," She spat.
The dance began and she even had to admit, it was going well. Brody did know his way around a stage and was definitely steady on his feet which really mattered in this dance because she was constantly being hoisted around and lifted up, much to Finn's chagrin. She was always careful though, and she even let Ryan in on her secret so he could be especially vigilant too and he was, except this wasn't Ryan.
She noticed Brody looking at her funny half way through, right after he lifted her around her midriff. Fear struck her heart when she thought that he might've caught on. He seemed to soon forget it though and their dance progressed beautifully. There was only one more strenuous move to go, where Brody lifts her above his head by her waist and propels her down into a flip onto his lap. She took a deep breath and ran to him and as he lifted her up she felt his hands shaking wildly around her stomach. He knew. And that was her last thought before she felt herself plummeting to the ground when Brody's arms gave way and she smashed her head into the cold hardwood of the stage.
She came to a few moments later, wincing as she put a hand to her sore head. She felt strange, like she was in a dream—a definite concussion. "She's awake!" The crowd huddled around her shouted and Ms. July ran over.
"Shit, Schwimmer are you okay? I was just about to call an ambulance." Cassandra genuinely looked worried but Rachel protested, not wanting to go to the hospital and not wanting Brody to be around her for another minute.
"No, Ms. July. I just want to go home." She feigned being well and shakily lifted herself up off of the ground. Everyone was begging her to let them help but she kindly refused. What she needed was Finn, a hot cup of tea and a cold compress. She gathered her things in a daze and as she exited the theatre, Brody reached out and grabbed her wrist. He looked at her scorching, as if she were Satan himself.
"Tell me." He seethed.
Her heart was racing and her head was pounding and she was so angry at him for dropping her although she knew it was an accident out of shock she couldn't help but scream, "I HATE YOU. I WILL TELL YOU NOTHING BECAUSE YOU DESERVE NOTHING FROM ME." She yanked her wrist from his grasp and spun around.
She swore she heard him sniffle, and this time his voice was much quieter and far more serious, "Is it mine?"
Without even bothering to look back, she shot him a quick and painless, "No."
She fidgeted around with her keys in the lock for a good ten minutes. Her brain just couldn't focus and she was hurting everywhere, all she could think of was lying down and sleeping. Finally, the door opened for her and she stood in front of him looking awful.
"Jesus, Rachel. What the hell happened?!" He grabbed her by her shoulders and looked her up and down. Her head had a huge bruise, her stockings were ripped, and she was like super sweaty and pale.
She was so tired, she could barely give an explanation, "I- I'm okay." Her hand shot up to grasp her forehead as she cried out in pain.
"Rachel!" He supported her body with his strong hand on the small of her back, looking at her imploringly.
She steadied herself by putting a hand a Finn's shoulder and she morosely gave selective details, "I had to dance with… Brody." Finn clenched his hands into fists.
"And, I took a um, a bit of a spill." She instinctively put her hand over her stomach, feeling uneasy.
Finn felt his stomach drop, "Rachel, how bad was the fall?"
She swallowed, growing more worried about the baby by the second, "It was- it wasn't too great."
"That's it, Rachel I'm taking you to the hospital." He grabbed his keys and she stopped him.
"No, Finn. I'll be okay I just want to sleep." He looked at her puzzled; this wasn't the usual Rachel who was so on top of her health.
"I'm making the executive decision here. You need to get checked out, if you won't for yourself, do it for the baby, Rachel."
She looked at him with disdain, a look he had never seen from her before, like he was betraying her or something. She removed herself from his grasp, "I'm going in the shower." And without saying anything else Finn knew he had been overruled.
As Rachel walked away to the bathroom, tears began to stream down her face. She was terrified, petrified, that the baby had already suffered irreparable damage and going to the doctor was going to make it real.
Finn sat on the couch with a beer, trying desperately to pay attention to the game but he couldn't. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong with Rachel and her spending forty five minutes in the bathroom wasn't helping matters. What the hell was she doing in there? Why was she so quiet? He couldn't take it anymore and he ran down the hallway to the bathroom and began banging on the door.
"Rachel!" He yelled.
Rachel lifted her head up at the sound of his voice. She had finally regained consciousness and the world around her was spinning, even though she was perfectly still sitting on the floor of the shower. She wimpered, her hand falling to her abdomen as she felt herself cramping. She tried to get up and steady herself against the shower wall in an effort to shout out to Finn. Another cramp.
"Finn." She breathed. Well, that wasn't loud enough for her to hear it. She managed to shut off the shower and climb out. Putting on the Fresh clothes she had brought in for herself, her cotton thermal leggings and Finn's WMHS shirt. She rung out her hair and finally opened the door to an agitated Finn.
"Did you not hear me knocking?!" She could barely focus on his face. Right now, Finn had three noses and one eye and about two and a half shoulders. A really bad cramp, this one made her cry out.
"What's wrong?!" Finn reached over to Rachel, who was hunched over. Cramp after cramp.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to. She straightened and lifted one bloody hand up in horror to Finn and she collapsed into his arms.
"NO! No, no, no, no. Please. Rachel, wake up!" He frantically lifted her up and raced out the door with her. She was bleeding so heavily and with each minute he felt his son's life slipping away.
Just like that, just as suddenly as he came into their lives, he left.
Suddenly everything felt dark, drained of its color and luster. The world was bleak and he had lost his passion for everything. Rachel barred him from her hospital room and honestly he was thankful because for the moment he couldn't bear to see her so frail and so—empty. He felt his heart literally aching. Before Kurt and Santana arrived he knew he had to leave, he couldn't face them. He couldn't be the one to tell them that he was gone. He didn't want to say it at all. He didn't want it to be true.
He left the hospital in a haze not really sure of where he was headed until he was already there, outside of NYADA. He climbed the stairs two at a time until he reached the dance studio to find that asshole in all black stretching on the ballet barre. Without a word, he swarmed over to him picked him up and threw him across the room. Taken completely off guard, Brody stared up at the towering Finn, wide eyed.
"What the FUCK!" He screamed, as he shielded his face as Finn's fists were pounding down into it.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I TOLD YOU TO STAY AWAY FROM HER!" Finn could only see red.
Brody was spitting out blood and whimpering, "STOP! STOP! Finn, please… you're going to kill me!"
Finn froze, lifting his bloody hand from Brody's limp body. He stood in a shock for a moment, looking down at the battered man before him. He wanted to feel remorse, or anger, or hatred but instead he felt nothing. He looked down at Brody who was wiping away blood from his face and muttered, "That was for my son." And he slammed the door on the way out.
He arrived back at the hospital to find Kurt and Santana in the waiting room, both crying. They looked up at him mournfully and he scowled, wanting so badly not to be pitied.
"Finn! I'm so sorry." Kurt enveloped him in a hug and Finn shrunk into his thin arms. Santana rose and began rubbing his back, soothing him in between sobs.
"Why…" Was the only word Finn could manage to get out.
After what felt like a lifetime of tears, Kurt pulled him away and told him that Rachel wanted to see him.
It was the first time in two days that he felt anything, even if it was dread and apprehension.
"Kurt, I can't face her right now. I can't go in there and see her so broken." He wiped his eyes.
"Finn, you owe this to her. To grieve with her, to be angry, to mourn, you're the only person in the world who feels the way she does. That little boy was a part of both of you." Finn cringed at the mention of his lost son, like it actually caused him physical pain to think about him. But he knew Kurt was right. The person he loved above all things was hurting just as badly as he was, if not more. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to feel him stir inside of her and now for her to be so alone, so still.
He made his way to her room, ever so slowly and reached for the door handle. He twisted it and it creaked open, revealing her. She was on her side, staring out the window with no kind of emotion on her beautifully sad face.
"Hey." He whispered, making his presence known. She shifted and turned towards him, "Hi," she returned, monotone. No smile on her face, but no frown either.
"How are you feeling?" He asked standing in front of her bed.
She shrugged, "I have a serious concussion." As if he couldn't tell.
"Rachel, I meant..." She knew what he meant, was she an idiot?
"Empty, Finn. I feel empty." She reverted to her position from before, but this time it felt a lot more like she was doing it to avoid him.
"Baby, please look at me. We need to talk about this." He pleaded with her, taking a seat next to her bed.
"There's nothing to say, Finn. He's dead." She didn't even have the decency to look at him as she said it.
Then, she turned around and looked at him, again with that horrible, disdainful look she gave him just the day before, "Unless of course you want me to say that you were right. Because you were right, Finn. You told me and I ignored you and I killed our baby. Why are you here? Why don't you hate me? I hate me!" And that's when the gates opened and the tears flooded and they didn't stop for the next three or four days.
He told her that of course, he didn't hate her. In fact, he loved her and he would never stop loving her no matter if there was a baby in the picture or not. He told her that it wasn't her fault and the doctor even explained to her that no matter what time she had arrived at the hospital the baby wouldn't have lived through the trauma. He told her that this changed nothing, he was still going for his BFA in Acting and he had every intention on living in their little apartment with their two friends. He told her that one day, when they both felt up to it, they'd plant a little tree for their lost son and every year on his due date they'd decorate it and make it look magnificent in his honor. She liked that.
After spending a summer recouping together in Lima, Rachel and Finn boarded a plane back to New York, feeling just a little bit more like themselves than they had in the past three months. Finn took comfort in the way the light was finally returning to Rachel's eyes and how he was starting to get excited about things again, like the start of Football season. As they prepared for take off, he noticed Rachel texting his mom to let her know they were departing and he felt warm knowing that it was his mother that helped Rachel to cope with it all, like the mother she never had.
That's what Ms. Pillsbury said to do anyway- to look for all of the light in the darkness.
It was beautiful. The day was crisp and bright. The colors in the field were so vibrant that he felt as if the flowers and the trees were illuminated. He heard the laughter of his son echoing around him and watched as his little boy ran around in the grass, always just out of his reach.
"Chance!" He called out, getting more frantic.
The little boy kept on running, "Chance. Wait for me!" He just about reached him when the little boy had seemingly gained another twenty yards on him.
"Daddy!" The little boy giggled as he turned towards him, "Daddy, come catch me!" Finn grew anxious at the request. It was impossible, he couldn't reach him.
Completely distraught and out of breath, Finn came to a stop when he saw a figure appear and his son run up to it. The figure, or the man he supposed, lifted up the child and held him close. He saw Chance say something to the man which made him contemplative, but it was out of Finn's earshot. Whatever it was though, made the man look in Finn's direction. Without explanation the man appeared just a few feet away from him, with a smiling Chance in his arms. The man looked at the boy and then back at Finn and said two lingering words, "Not yet." Finn woke up in a cold sweat and looked over at a sleeping Rachel.
She stirred, seeming to notice that Finn was staring at her.
She woke up perturbed, as if she were dreaming about something as perplexing as he was. And she must've been considering her next question.
She fidgeted in her seat, "What do you think the point of all of this was, Finn?"
Of course, he knew what she meant, "Rach, there's no point in speculating…"
"No, I want to understand why we'd both grow to love something, someone, a little boy so dearly for nearly five months for him to be taken away from us. It just doesn't make sense." She cried.
Finn knew he couldn't skirt the issue. He took her delicate hands in his and breathed, "I had a dream."
She looked at him in confusion, not sure what this had to do with the matter at hand.
He continued, "In the dream, he was there. He was about four and running around in this beautiful meadow, calling out for me to get him. Every time I tried to reach for him he'd get further and further away until suddenly he ran over to this tall man. The man lifted him up into his arms and looked right into my eyes and said, "Not yet." Rachel's eyes were overflowing with tears as she hung onto his every word.
"Rachel, the man in my dream… it was my father." Rachel gasped and covered her hand with her mouth.
"Our baby is an angel, Rach. Just think about it. If I hadn't found out you were pregnant I would've never come back to New York, been there to get you out of the fire, we wouldn't have both realized how we belong together, we wouldn't have moved in together. He did all of that." He brushed his thumb across her cheek.
She blinked back the tears and breathed, "I just wish I could've held his little body in my arms and told him how much I love him and just… thank you."
Finn smiled sadly at her as he pulled her close, "He knows, Rach. He knows how much we love him, and I think he loves us too or else he wouldn't have done all those amazing things he did for us in the short time he was with us."
Rachel kissed him full and hard trying to show just how much she loved him without having to say it. Words were never enough to describe the kind of love they had.