Chapter two

Sleep. It was the one place she wouldn't be in pain, or at least any that she could feel. He hovered over her, still a bit scared to touch her. His gaze landed on her hand. More specifically, her left one. It landed squarely on her ring finger, which was now bare. Her fingers were too swollen to wear her engagement ring, but they both knew who belonged to the other one.

He lightly, very lightly, brushed his hand on her arm. Her skin was losing its natural softness. That worried him. Maybe it was the medicine? Maybe they needed to buy a new soap? Everything she did would worry him now. What if there was something they could do to make it go away? He didn't know. He was scared to ask.

"Rachel?" he asked quietly. She remained asleep. That was unusual, too. She was a notoriously light sleeper. "Rachel," he said again, a bit more firmly. Nothing. He shook her and her eyes shot open, sitting straight up. "What? What's wrong?" Her voice melted into panic. "N-nothing I…" He looked down bashfully. She sighed, irritated but understanding. Her hand searched in the dark for his, already knowing what the problem was. "It's just sleep," she promised him. "I'm just sleeping, like I do every other night." She rubbed his arm affectionately. "Right here next to you. I promise." He licked over his lips and nodded, giving her a goodnight kiss. She carefully laid down how she was, her back pressed into him.

He swallowed nervously. The moon was hitting her just right, her skin reflecting and acting as a small flashlight. It made him smile a little. He wrapped his arm over her and she took it immediately. She loved that feeling. She kissed his arm a few times, trying to comfort him. "You should sing something," he finally said, to break the silence. Her tiny fingers ran along the length of his arm. "Oh my man I love him so…" He grinned, placing a few soft kisses to her back before his eyes closed on their own. He was soon asleep.

She waited until she knew he would be. It usually didn't take long. He always asked her to sing to him. She was fairly talented at deciding when he would fall asleep by now. She eventually closed her eyes, linking their fingers together. She fell asleep to the sound of his breathing. It was oddly comforting.

The next morning…

He awoke to an empty side of the bed. He was used to that. She was an early riser. He yawned, looking around. The windows and curtains were open; the birds were chirping. He rubbed a hand through his hair. It must have been a long night. He couldn't remember the last time he slept that late.

"Rach?" he said as he trudged out of bed. He was wearing only his cowboy boxers, the ones with the little Indians on them. She'd gotten them for him for Hanukkah. There was no answer. He stepped outside his room. The smell of pancakes wafted through the air. He sighed and hurried downstairs.

There she stood, in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" he asked, surprised. She was really going to stand over a hot stove and make breakfast for him, even after the news she had just received? He would have kissed her like a madman if he thought it wouldn't hurt her. "Making you pancakes!" she exclaimed, surprised that he was surprised. He shook his head. Maybe yesterday had just been a horrible dream. He couldn't jump to conclusions…he needed a test run. "But you're sick…"

"I'm not that sick."

"You're sick enough that you need…chemir…chemir…"

"Chemotherapy," she corrected him. "And I don't even know if I'm going to do it." He froze. "Wait, what?" He walked over beside her. She was wearing his robe. He wanted to smile, but he couldn't. "What do you mean you're not going to do it? It'll help you." She was growing slightly irritable. Usually, the mornings were her time to relax and get everything in order. But he was up and at 'em today. "It will also make me lose my hair. I'll become sick all the time." She stirred the batter a bit more vigorously. "We won't be able to…" She paused, hesitating at her next words. "We wouldn't be able to have children period. It causes mood-swings, headaches…" She rambled on for a few seconds. She was more trying to convince herself rather than him.

"I'll quit," he said after a moment of silence. "I'll quit work. They don't need me there." She remained focused on her pancakes. He figured that a fry cook's job was replaceable. He hated it, anyway. "Don't quit because of me." He blinked a few times. "You make it sound like you're second-rate or something…" She poured the batter into the pan and sighed, turning around to face him. "I don't want this to put us on hold. When you face a new challenge, you buck right up and keep going, right?" He sighed. This wasn't a "challenge." This was life or death.

"Yeah, but you can't pretend like it's not a problem, either. You have to take precautions. I can't lose you," he said firmly. She licked over her lips and kept her gaze on the pancakes. "You're not going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere." She shooed him off to the dining room. "Come on. You want to eat, don't you?" He shook his head. She was deflecting. He walked into the next room (just to make her happy) and sat, waiting for her to join him.

"You're scared."

"I'm not scared. Rachel Berry doesn't get scared."

"Scared isn't bad. Sometimes it makes us do things we wouldn't normally do."

"You mean the bad kind of scared, Finn."

"Well, you should be scared. I would be scared. I would have pissed myself already." He gently pushed her hair back. "But you know why I'm not? Because I have you. And I'm thankful for that." She paused. Her eyes brimmed with tears. People always assumed that he was void of intelligence, or at the very least a relevant opinion. But then…he said things like that, and her troubles melted away for a while.

She leaned forward and kissed him before pushing his plate to him. "Eat," she said. "We're going to have a busy day. My first treatment was moved to today."