A/N: Sorry for the delay. I got really sick over a week ago and only just started truly feeling better yesterday.
Chapter 12
Rachel is curled up on her side. Her expression is pinched in pain and she lets out the occasional moan or whimper. They're soft and light because she's so exhausted and weak. Finn stands on the other side of the glass barrier and watches her with a permanently furrowed brow. They moved her back to isolation for a while since her immune system is completely gone at this point. It needs time to reset, so it's not safe for anyone to be around her. When her face pinches even more and she struggles to breathe, his jaw clenches. He presses one hand to the glass and hits it with the other, resulting in a loud thud. Finn cringes and checks if he disturbed her. He didn't. She's so absorbed in her own pain that she didn't even notice. He releases a breath and ignores the glare from a passing nurse. He wishes he could be able to go comfort her. His wife is suffering and all he can do is stand here and watch through glass. He had his brothers take Yero home because the dog was getting upset trying to get to Rachel and not understanding why he could see her but not get to her. Kurt reported that Yero paced their living room for a while before lying down. He hasn't been playing with his toys, trying to play with them, asking for a walk, or even searching out pets. He only eats when they bring the food to him. The poor dog is depressed and confused, missing his girl. Finn can sympathize with him.
She's in pain. She's been in near constant pain since waking up. Her bones and joints ache. Headaches are frequent. The lights hurt her eyes so they're keeping them dim. She's exhausted and spends most of her time sleeping. They're giving her as much pain medication as they can, but are being cautious as they're uncertain how her body will respond to medications at the moment. She's in a very fragile state right now. She's breathing hard, uneven breaths, clearly working to regulate her breathing. Then her breaths begin to hitch. Finn turns away, desperately searching for a nurse. One is hurrying towards him.
"She's—"
"We know."
The woman jogs past him and into the sanitization chamber. The nurse pulls on the hair covering, mask, gloves, and white body suit as quickly as she can before hurrying into the main room. Finn watches anxiously as the nurse uses her stethoscope to listen to Rachel's breathing. She removes the nasal cannula and places a mask on her. Finn rests his forehead against the glass, his fingers curling into fists. His heart lifts slightly when the nurse pulls up a chair beside Rachel and takes her hand, talking to her soothingly until she's breathing easier. She rubs her arm and talks softly. When Rachel's face relaxes and her breathing is more normal, the nurse pats her hand and stands. As the nurse passes him, Finn stops her.
"Thank you. I know it's not in your job description to stay and comfort her, so I appreciate that you did."
"Of course."
Finn nods and goes back to watching Rachel. Someone steps up beside him.
"They still won't let you in?"
Finn doesn't even turn to look at his stepfather. "No. Not yet. Next week at the earliest. I hate that she's alone."
"Me, too. We all do. But there's nothing we can do. She knows we're being kept out. She's not in there alone thinking its our choice to stay away."
He clenches his jaw. "It's not enough."
"No." Burt agrees. "It's not. But it's all we have."
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The days go by in a blur for Rachel. She mostly sleeps. When she's awake she's nauseous or actively throwing up. She hurts. Her bones and joints and the donation/injection site ache constantly to various degrees. The moderate attack she had was awful. She had to suffer through it completely alone because by the time the nurses got through the sanitization chamber and into sanitized coverings, it was over and she'd already passed out. When she'd woken hours later, Finn had been pressed against the glass watching her despondently. She'd been too exhausted to pretend to be better or happier than she actually was. One look at him and the tears began. She watches him beg the doctor to let him in, only to be shot down. Knowing it's not his fault, she'd turned away and done her best to go back to sleep. She spins her wedding ring around her finger repetitively to comfort herself. She tries not to cry but can't help it. She's so lonely and wants to be held so badly and knowing she won't be allowed to for a while is upsetting her.
She prays she feels better soon. Or at least is allowed visitors soon. Her current existence of isolation, pain, nausea, and fatigue is utter torture for her.
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"You should go home." Burt tells him. Finn gives him an incredulous look. Burt holds up his hands in supplication. "Look, I get it. But no one can go in there to be with her for a at least few more days, right? Maybe longer. She's not feeling well enough to even try to carry on a conversation through the speaker. There's nothing any of us can do but stand here and watch her. Go home. Get a shower. Shave. Get a good meal in you. Get a solid night of sleep. Then come back tomorrow."
Finn shifts on his feet. "I hear you. And I see the wisdom of it. But I can't leave her. I can't."
"You're no good to her dead on your feet. You're not sleeping well here."
"I'm not gonna sleep well until my wife is better." He snaps. Burt stares at him impassively and Finn rubs a hand over his face. "Sorry. I'm just—"
"Stressed. I get it. More reason to go home. Just a few hours. Less than a day. You need it and you know she'd say the same."
"Don't." He intones lowly. "Don't use her like that."
"Because you know he's right."
Finn spins around. Scott, Sam, and Puck are standing behind him. "Guys—"
"We're here to take you out for a while. Then we'll bring you back."
"No."
"Look, man," Sam steps forward, "if you could be with her and comforting her, we wouldn't be pushing this issue. But you can't. No one can. All you're doing is punishing yourself by staying here and watching her."
"And Rachel made us promise that we'd take care of you while she can't." Scott adds on.
That brings him up short. "What?"
They nod solemnly. "She knew you wouldn't leave willingly. So she asked us to make sure you take care of yourself. You know, sleep, eat, shower, rest. So let's do that now while you can't be with her."
He wavers and almost gives in, but one look at Rachel and he stays firm. "No. I can't."
Puck puts his hand on his shoulder. "Dude, we're doing this out of love."
They grab him. They grip his arms and drag him away. He tries to pull free and dig his feet into the floor but they slide on the linoleum making squeaking noises instead. Gritting his teeth, he focuses on yanking his arms free. But once he gets one arm free, someone else jumps in and grabs it.
"Think of Rachel!"
"I am thinking of her!" He snaps. "She's all I can think of!"
"She wants you to take care of yourself, man! Stop fighting us!"
"Finn." They all freeze and look up at Dr. McCann. "They're right. Go home. She's still too fragile for visitors right now. I won't be letting anyone in for at least a few more days. Go home, shower, eat, and rest. Come back tomorrow."
Finn sags in defeat. "Someone will stay?"
Burt nods. "The parents are staying tonight. All night. Alright? We'll keep watch and we'll call you if there's any change."
Feeling sick to his stomach and hating the idea of leaving, he reluctantly nods and leaves with Puck and Sam. They stay with him. They cook dinner while he showers and shaves. They eat together and talk about anything other than Rachel or hospitals or transplants or the future. Mostly sports, movies, and their jobs. He takes Yero for a walk, practically having to drag the mopey dog along. He gives him treats and pets as well, hoping to soothe the good boy. Fearing he wouldn't actually sleep, Sam and Puck make him take the mild sedative Dr. McCann gave him before leaving the hospital. He was reluctant, but they promised that he'd be able to wake up if the phone rang or someone shook him.
"Just don't put the chain on and one of us can get in to get you if we need to." Sam points out.
Finn hates climbing into bed without Rachel in it. The empty bed feel too cold and too big. His thoughts move to his wife, as they often do. Pinpricks pierce the backs of his eyes at the thought of all the suffering she's already been through and the suffering she's sure to go through in the near future. It doesn't seem fair that he's home and comfortable while she's alone in the hospital, hurting. He hates that they have to go through this. She shouldn't suffer ever again for the rest of her long, long life. He comforts himself with the knowledge that her body could begin responding to the transplant at any moment. He rolls onto his side and buries his face in her pillow, ignoring the tears the slipped out. It doesn't take long before the sedative kicks in and he's out cold.
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As promised, the parents stay through the night. They take turns napping in the private waiting area they were granted, but none of them are comfortable sleeping here. They've all gone to the kids apartments over the past few days to sleep and shower and eat. Never for real long, just long enough to do those things. They're relieved that Finn finally agreed to do the same. He needs it. He's been a wreck since the transplant.
Shelby hums into the speaker while Rachel is gasping for breath. After a while she switches to telling stories of her childhood. Burt steps up and comes up with original fairy tales of princes and princesses and dragons. Carole tells stories of Finn growing up. Scott tells funny stories from his time in the army. Anything to distract her from her pain and discomfort. Even if she's not fully hearing them, they hope that their voices alone are enough to bring her some comfort.
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Oliver lays on his bed at home. He hadn't wanted to leave the hospital without being able to see Rachel again and know that the transplant is working. But since she's still in isolation and they don't know how long it'll take for his marrow to start working with hers, they suggested he go home two days after the transplant, after he was completely cleared. At that point, there was still no change; still no sign that the transplant was working.
His hands are behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. The tree outside his window casts a shadow on his ceiling that dances with the wind. He has his headphones on and is listening to "The Impossible Dream" song that she recorded for them. Aunt Shelby sent him the recording after he was home. It's how they got him to agree to go home. She wouldn't send it to him or let him listen to it until he was home. He called that cheating and a "low blow" but no one else agreed with him so he sat in sullen silence the whole way home. It doesn't help that he's really tired and keeps getting headaches. That and the lack of appetite were expected and faded within a few days. Now, a week later, he feels fine. He's just anxiously waiting for word that she's doing better.
He listens to her song over and over before going to bed every night. He takes the final line as her promise to them: "Yes, and I will reach the unreachable star."
She will. He's sure of it. She obviously has hope and wants them to have hope in these dark days. It'll happen. He just hopes it happens soon.
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Finn sits on the floor with his back to the wall separating him from his wife. His elbows are pressed into his knees and his head is in his hands. Feet hurry up to him and a hand rests on his shoulder. Looking up he finds his parents, all four of them, looking down at him in concern. His mother is crouched beside him.
"Are you okay?"
"Did something happen?"
Their eyes flick between him and through the glass to Rachel. He shakes his head. "She's the same. In and out of consciousness. In and out of pain. Waking up to vomit once in a while." He sighs and stretches his legs out. "I got an email from HR and another from my principal. I didn't fill out the FMLA paperwork correctly. And I didn't submit it 'in a timely fashion'. So I'm required to go back to work or risk losing my job."
"What?!"
"That's ridiculous."
"Have they no heart?!" His mother demands, sounding truly angry.
"What are you going to do?" Scott asks.
"I'm going back." They look shocked at that. The only time he left the hospital since she got here was the night Sam and Puck literally dragged him out a few days ago. "Just long enough to be counted as present. I'll take a half day. And I'll fix the damn paperwork and deliver it to HR in person if I have to. I'll be back as soon as I can. Call me if there's any change. Anything at all."
"We will." They swear.
"But Finn." His mom gives him a sympathetic smile. "Shower again first?"
He sighs. "Yeah."
"And change clothes!"
"Yes, Mom."
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Finn Hudson stalks through the halls of his high school. Students call out greetings to him but he ignores them. Lauren, his front desk friend, jumps up from behind the desk to hurry over to him.
"Hi! I didn't think you'd be back yet."
"Didn't intend to be." He says shortly.
"Is Rachel okay?"
"She's alive." He can't bring himself to care that his tone is brusque.
Lauren takes a step back, her expression sad and confused. Wary. "Why—"
"Hudson?" Paul has clearly just signed in and is surprised to see him.
Finn nods to him. "Hey."
"What-what're you doing here?"
"They told me I had to come in or I'd lose my job."
Paul freezes. "What?"
"You heard me." Too short tempered to be polite, Finn spins on his heel to face the principal's office. Luckily, the man is exiting his office at that exact moment.
"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Hudson. I see you got my email."
"My wife is still in the hospital. She's hanging on by a thread." He exaggerates, wanting to lay it on thick to make his point. "Why is my job security being threatened when you know why I've been out and that I turned in my FMLA paperwork."
"Well you didn't turn it in on time." The man blusters. "We have rules and procedures to make sure there is no abuse of the system."
"Abuse?! My wife is dying! And I'm being told to leave her side and come here or lose my job?"
"Watch your tone, Mr. Hudson. I will not be spoken to that way. I don't allow it from students and I certainly won't allow it from my own staff."
Finn grits his teeth. "Either give me days off or fire me and be done with it, because I will be by my wife's side."
He goes to storm away fiercely, but Mr. H reaches for his arm to stop him. His principal scowls and opens his mouth to retaliate angrily. Paul steps between them and faces boss. His coworker responds very quietly but very seriously.
"I swear to God if you don't give him his days, you will see half the staff in this school quitting within the week. Maybe even a vote of no confidence for you with the union. You let that man be by his wife's side while she goes through hell."
Even Lauren chimes in, looking disturbed. "Have a heart. She's fighting for her life and he should be with her."
Mr. H looks around and realizes that all office staff and many teachers in the office are now standing still and watching the scene. One by one the teachers walk over and stand by Finn in a show of solidarity.
"I'll donate some sick days if he needs them." One of the English teachers says.
"Me too." Another chimes in.
"And me."
"Let him be with his wife, Dale."
Mr. H turns around and storms into his office, slamming the door behind him. Finn softens and looks at his coworkers. "Thank you. All of you."
"He's been a prick about stuff like that before, but this is taking it to new levels. We will definitely be filing a vote of no confidence with the union." A science teacher tells him.
Others nod, looking angry. Paul claps him on the shoulder. "Go. Be with your wife. Take all the time you need. We'll smooth things over here."
Finn holds up his paperwork. "I need to-"
Lauren snatches it from his hand. "I'll take that to HR myself. Go."
"Thank you." He says again, roughly this time. He leaves feeling lighter than before.
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Rachel is more awake these days. From her perspective, that is not a good thing. Being awake means being aware of how alone she is. She can see her loved ones, and even hear them, but she can't touch them. That's hard on her. She's still exhausted, but Dr. McCann explained to her that the fatigue could either be an AA symptom or a side effect from the transplant. Either way, it is expected and completely normal. She wouldn't mind sleeping more again, since the alternative is a lonely and painful existence in a blank white room. When she called it psychological torture, Dr. McCann had laughed. However, he'd returned half an hour later with a painting. He said it was from his office here at the hospital but she can look at it while she's in this room alone. He set it in her sight. She's grateful for that. She'd be more grateful for actual visitors and not just the doctors and nurses who come in to check on her or change her IVs. He also brought in a small radio so she can listen to music. She likes that more than the tv with no real channels sitting in the corner. But what she really wants is for her family to be in the room with her. The only upside to being more awake is having the energy to talk to them. It's been nice hearing them talk to her, and now she can talk back a little. Short conversations are a step up from before and make her feel a little less alone.
Since she's been here, she has been too nauseous to eat. Or she's been asleep. So they put a tube down her throat to put the nutrients directly into her stomach. But now that she's more awake, they've taken it out and bring her protein shakes. The pain isn't terrible; it's certainly not as bad as her attacks. Not even milds. But the constant ache is aggravating. If it's not the transplant site, it's her bones and joints. All of which are expected side effects of the transplant. She grits her teeth and does her best to ignore or sleep through it. She only asks for pain meds when a nurse or doctor come in to check on her.
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Her numbers are dropping. Slowly but steadily, they are dropping. So far, the transplant is having no effect on her. They go back to regular treatments starting at a normal dosage because she's already in pretty bad shape. They're afraid that starting her at the higher dose would be too much for her body to handle at the moment. She needs to get stronger and recover from the transplant first.
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Over a week after the BMT, Finn is finally allowed to visit his wife. He has to scrub up, go through the sanitization chamber, put on a mask, hair covering, and a fresh white body suit over his clothes. He doesn't have to wear gloves since he scrubbed his hands and up to his elbows and since she should be removed from isolation soon anyway. It takes around ten minutes to go through the entire process. But its worth it to finally get to be with her. She's asleep when he walks in. She still sleeps a lot, but they've been shorter naps lately. He sits in the chair beside her bed and takes her hand. It's chilly. Not surprising considering her blood count dropped, which is an ironic side effect of the transplant. He softly rubs it between both of his hands, hoping to warm her. Slowly, she cracks her eyes open. She seems stunned to see him. He grins at her, even knowing she can't see his mouth.
"Hi." One word, spoken less like a word and more like a soft breath. Tears well in her eyes but don't overflow. Her relief at finally having visitors is obvious.
"Hi."
"They finally…..let you in?"
He frowns, but places a nasal cannula on her without commenting on her shortness of breath. It's yet another side effect. Figures she'd get nearly all of them. "Yeah. Finally."
"How long has it been?"
"Almost two weeks."
She briefly closes her eyes before opening them again. "Felt longer."
He nods. "I'm sorry."
She squeezes his hand, clearly too tired to keep speaking, her eyes closing again. And staying closed this time. He sits quietly, playing with her fingers and stroking the back of her hand. As long as her white blood cell count goes up a little more, they'll be able to put her in a normal room in another few days. In the meantime, it's one visitor at a time and they have to go through the sanitization process first. The others are patiently waiting their turn.
He lifts her hand and presses the back of it to his mouth through his mask before bringing it down to his chest instead. Even half asleep she intertwines their fingers. He smiles and moves so that his chin is resting on their joined hands. He holds on until he's positively she's asleep. Then he sets her hand down and grabs a spare blanket from the cabinet in the corner. He spreads it out over her and tucks her arms underneath so they warm up. He tugs her beanie down more firmly so it stops sliding up. He retakes his seat but leans closer so he can stroke her cheek. Knowing how fatigued she is, he hesitates to wake her. But he thinks they'd both feel better if they had an actual goodbye before he leaves. He gently shakes her awake. It takes a minute to rouse her. This time when her eyes open, he can read the pain in them.
"What hurts?" He asks in a soft whisper.
"Bones. Joints."
Finn reaches up and hits the button to release some pain meds. "Once you're in a normal room I'll kick everyone else out, lock the damn door, and give you a massage. Sound good?"
Her lips curl up. "Yeah."
"Okay. But for now I have to go." His stomach sinks when he sees her reaction to that. "Hey, hey, its okay. You won't be alone. Your mom is coming in next. They're limiting you to one visitor at a time for now and only 15 minutes per visitor."
She cringes slightly at that. "That sucks."
"I know. It does. But its just for a few more days. Then you'll be in a normal room."
He stands. Her eyes widen even more and she struggles to push herself up. He quickly but gently pushes her back down.
"Rachel—"
"Wait! Please! Don't go yet." A couple tears overflow, tugging at his heart. "You just got here!"
Even though they warned him not to, he sits on the bed. Slowly and gently, he pulls her into his arms. She falls into him, her arms holding on tight. Screw what they said. Screw protocol. He knows Rachel. He knows what she needs. She needs this. So does he.
"I'll stay until you're asleep. Then your mom will be here. Now that they're letting us in, we will not leave you alone again."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
He stays holding her and softly rubbing her back until long after she is asleep and a nurse is telling him he has passed his time limit. He slowly sets her down and adjusts the blankets over her more comfortably. Turning so the nurse can't see him, he tugs his mask down just enough to kiss her cheek before pulling it back up.
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Her whole body feels weary. She does her best to hide that fact. The last thing she wants is for her daughter to wake up and see her showing signs of discomfort or stress. But Shelby can't lie; she is stressed. They had hoped and truly believed that she'd be getting better by now. She had the transplant. The transplant went well. And yet her body is not responding to it. Her numbers are dropping. Shelby is getting scared. And yet, she can't show that fear. Not to Rachel. So she pushes it all aside and focuses on gently rubbing Rachel's arm. She's not trying to wake her. She's trying to make it clear that she's not alone. Not anymore. Not even in sleep. The mother can't help but think about all the times in the past where she sat beside her child in the hospital. Too many. After a couple minutes, she begins to show signs of waking. Shelby keeps stroking her arm and begins humming. Finally, her eyes blink open.
"Mom?"
"Hi, baby girl." She coos. Rachel's expression becomes tight and Shelby frowns. "What is it? Pain again?"
"Yeah."
Shelby frowns harder and glances up at the bag of pain meds hanging above her. Finn told her Rachel had been in pain and that he'd hit the button to release a dose of pain meds already. It should be in her system by now. She shouldn't be in pain right now. She knows they're worried about how her body is responding to medications, but they need to increase the dosage of pain meds. She shouldn't be suffering.
"I'll ask them to increase the dose of pain meds, okay?"
Shelby had planned to get up and hit the intercom to call a nurse. Rachel, however, clearly has other ideas. She grips Shelby's hand tight. Not willing to break her grip, Shelby stays seated. She goes back to humming and stroking her arm with her free hand. She ignores the pang in her chest. After a few minutes, Rachel's expression and grip both relax.
"Is it easing?"
She nods. "More of an ache now."
"I'm sorry, baby."
"S'okay."
She has decided she hates that response. Her daughter only ever uses "S'okay" when she's not feeling well enough to enunciate the full words.
"How about some water?" She offers.
"'Kay."
She pushes the button to raise the bed more, then fills a cup with water and sticks a straw in it. As she holds the cup in front of Rachel and places the straw between her daughter's lips, Shelby tires not to think about all the times she's done this in the past. She supposes she should be grateful Rachel has lived a good life past those horrible days. But the fact that those horrible days have returned a few short years later makes it hard for her to see any silver lining. Rachel can. She consistently points out the bright side of things and focuses on the positive and Shelby is so proud of her for it. But she can't. All she can see is her little girl suffering yet again. And it makes her want to rage against the world. It's not fair. She returns the cup to the end table and takes her hand. After another minute or so of sitting quietly, she seems to feel a little more energetic and alert.
"You have to go back soon, right?"
Shelby swallows and looks away. "I can stay longer, honey. Just say the word and I'm happy to. You know this."
Her daughter smiles at her. "I know. But I'm just sleeping."
"I'm happy to watch you sleep." Shelby reminds her. She's been watching her sleep. For over a week.
"I know." Her smile widens. "My point is I'm okay with you going home. Just come visit soon."
"Oh, little girl, you can't keep me away." She pulls Rachel into a hug.
Rachel chuckles quietly. "Good."
Shelby doesn't want to leave. This room or New York. But she's talked it over with Scott, Finn, Burt, Carole, Kurt, and Blaine. Finn, Kurt, Blaine, and the rest of their NY family will be around constantly. No one will leave Rachel alone. They'll also keep the parents informed of any changes. And there's nothing she can do. All any of them can do is wait. She will return soon. All of the parents will. But there is truly no point in all of them staying at once. They came for the transplant and immediate aftermath. They even stayed longer than planned because none of them are willing to leave until she is in a normal room and able to be hugged goodbye. There's no way any of the parents can leave with just a wave through a window. So they all called up their jobs and extended their stay here. But once she's in a normal hospital room and on the mend, they will return home and to their regular lives. They'll be back soon.
Mother and daughter sit quietly until Rachel falls asleep and Shelby's time is long expired. She kisses her cheek before leaving so Burt can have his turn.
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"There's no sign of Graft-Versus-Donor disease, so that's a good sign." Dr. McCann informs them. "She is experiencing other side effects, such as lowered blood counts, nausea and vomiting, bone and joint pain, fatigue, and shortness of breath. These things are to be expected. The one that worries me is the lowered blood count since that's already a symptom of aplastic anemia. It makes it hard for us to determine how much of this is AA and how much is side effects of the transplant."
"Still no sign of the transplant working yet?" Finn asks.
"Not yet. The donated stem cells have not yet begun to engraft, meaning start to produce new blood cells. We're not seeing that yet. But we also knew it could take a while. Days. Weeks. Months. It's expected. The issue is that her numbers are dropping."
Kurt swallows hard and rests a hand on Finn's back. His stepbrother clears his throat. "She doesn't have months, does she?"
Dr. McCann takes a slow breath. "No. She doesn't. Or at least, she might not. She's stage three again."
Kurt's entire body goes cold. The icy fingers of fear slip down his spine and spread across his entire body. "Meaning?"
"Meaning if there's no change in the next week or two, we'll have to make some major decisions. So far, she's been holding on pretty well. Now…" He sighs, "….now holding on is more of a struggle for her."
The icy feeling is wrapped primarily around his heart.
"How can we make it less of a struggle?" Finn presses.
"We'll start by increasing the dosage of her treatment."
"But you said—"
"I know. But now we're running out of options. We're moving her out of isolation. Her immune system is improving enough that as long as her visitors wash their hands well, wear masks in public areas, and don't visit if they're not feeling well, we think she'll be fine. She's still very susceptible to catching illnesses so we'll be keeping a close eye on her."
"I'll pass that on to the others." Kurt swears.
"We'll start her on the higher dose if she doesn't improve in a week or so. After that…..we'll see. It's a waiting game now. It could go either way. We will continue to do everything we can to help her get better."
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They have her wear a mask while they wheel her to a regular room. She's too weak for a wheelchair so they lift her onto a gurney for transport. It's a weird feeling having multiple strangers lift her entire body onto another surface to lie on. They cover her with a blanket and wheel her through the halls. Not liking the feeling but finding that closing her eyes makes it worse, she keeps her eyes open. She watches the ceiling tiles and overhead lights, purposely ignoring other people they pass in the hall. As much as she hated being alone in that isolation room, she really hates having strangers stare at her while she's vulnerable like this. It's different when she's on stage performing. That's a good feeling. This is an uncomfortable feeling. She wishes she'd been asleep for this.
Two weeks. It has been a little over two weeks since her transplant and they're finally putting her in a normal hospital room. She'll be in the hospital for at least another two weeks, but probably longer. She wants to go home so badly that thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. Home. Comfort. Family. Things she has been denied for too long. At least she'll have regular visits from family now. That'll help somewhat with the comfort, too. She's just so tired of being in the hospital. They finally get her to her room where her husband and parents are waiting. It brings a smile to her lips. As soon as they connect her to the heart monitor and everything in the new room and leave, they step in to hug her. She tugs off her mask.
"It's about time."
They laugh and agree. Finn climbs on the bed with her and holds her. Curled into her husband and feeling his arms around her brings her great comfort. She wants to go home, but this is enough for now. Finn is her real home, after all.
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The image on the screen is an insult. He knows for a fact it was not taken with permission. There's no way. Oliver glares at it, his mouth open in angry shock. "What?! Who the hell—"
"Language!" His mom calls.
"Mom! Look at this!" He calls out in indignation.
His mom enters the room and looks at his computer screen. She gasps. "Is that—"
"Yeah. Someone managed to snap a picture of Rachel while she was being wheeled to her room."
It's not a very good picture. It's from a distance and snapped between people. But her profile, as she is lying on the gurney, is unmistakeable. It's Rachel. There's a caption beneath the photo: Broadway Princess at Death's Door?
"I'll call Finn." His mom promises.
"I'll write down all the information I have; what website its on, the username of the person who posted it, everything."
"Good."
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"How'd they even know?!"
Ana is quiet a moment before responding. "I may have put out a notice that she'd be moved out of isolation and to a normal hospital room."
"Why?" Blaine asks in irritation.
"Her fans have been asking for updates!" She defends. "It's been radio silence from her for months! No word, no sighting, nothing! Kurt even stopped updating his vlog."
Blaine releases a long breath. "I could have given you a statement from Rachel herself or from her husband or brother. And you know damn well she wouldn't want a picture of her out on the internet right now."
"She took her beanie off at the winter benefit." Ana points out.
"Ana, that was at a private event! And it was her choice! And she only did it as a show of solidarity for people everywhere who have or are going through chemo and losing their hair. She was really uncomfortable with it and in the end only agreed because the person who requested it offered a large donation in exchange. All she gets now is embarrassed and uncomfortable."
"She knows?" Ana asks quietly.
"NO!" Blaine yells into the phone. He takes a breath to calm himself. "We're not telling her. It'd just upset her and she's already suffering enough."
"I'll use the information you provided and do what I can do get it taken down."
"Do it fast."
He feels no guilt over hanging up on her.
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Her parents stay for the day taking turns holding her, hugging her, and talking to her. But she knows they need to leave. They have lives to get back to. She doesn't begrudge them this. In fact, she thinks it'd be good for them to go home for a while, then return later when she's feeling better. While parents offer a special sort of comfort, she isn't lacking visitors and comfort. She has plenty of loved ones ready and willing to stay with her so she's not alone. Having her parents around is nice, but not needed. Not long term, at least. She does want them to come back. Soon. When she starts improving.
She believes this. Which is why she was startled to find herself getting upset over their imminent departure. When they started talking about their flight the next day and having to pack their stuff up and say goodbye, her heart twisted painfully and tears pierced the backs of her eyes. She closed her eyes and pretended to fall asleep to hide her reaction. Why? Why is she now reacting to this this way? Her mom and Carole kiss her cheek before leaving for the night. They'll be back tomorrow for their actual goodbye before catching their flight home. Her dad rests his hand on her forehead for a moment, the way he did when she was a teenager. Scott lightly squeezes her hand. And then they're gone and she can think. Why?
The answer hits her all at once. She's dying. Not like she was when she was a teenager and stage four when they had an actual estimation of time left. But her body is failing. The transplant isn't having any effect yet. Yet. That could change at literally any moment. But it hasn't yet. She's getting worse. They didn't have to tell her; she felt it. Dr. McCann told her about dropping to stage three, but didn't say anything about her odds of surviving. He didn't have to. Something has to change. And soon. If her parents don't come back in the next few weeks, she's afraid she may never see them again. That realization is like a spike through her heart. That'd hurt. To die without being able to say a real goodbye to them? It'd destroy them, too. And she doesn't want them to feel guilty if that happens. She hopes they come back soon. But if she begs now, they'll never leave and that's not fair on them. She has to push this all down and focus on what they need. They need to see her relaxed, positive, and at ease with them going home. It's the only way they'll comfortably leave. She'll do it for them. She reminds herself that she could start getting better at any moment and they could come back a month from now and she could be in remission by then. It is possible. They just need to wait and see. Meaning she needs to keep holding on. Knowing she'll need her energy to be able to put on a convincing act tomorrow, she lets herself fall asleep.
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"C'mon, baby girl. I need you to wake up."
Her eyelids feel like lead. It's a struggle to raise them. She'd had a moderate attack in the early morning hours. On the bright side, Finn was there to hold her through it. But it left her extremely fatigued and weak. She was put on an oxygen mask as she was falling back to sleep. She slept the entire morning away, missing the final hours with her parents. Knowing how much she needed it, they let her. Until now. Now, it's time for them to leave. Her mom is sitting on the bed smiling softly down at her.
"Hi, honey. How're you feeling?"
"Tired. Heavy. Otherwise fine." She adds on the last part as an attempt to come across as positive.
"Do you need anything?"
"Water, please."
Scott hits the button to raise the bed. "Sure thing, kiddo."
Carole fills a cup with water and puts a straw in it. Her dad takes it and hands it to her mom, who holds it for her. If she had more energy, she'd laugh over the fact that all four parents had to be involved in some way just to give her water. Once she's finished drinking, they talk casually. The conversation slowly tapers off as the clock ticks down their time together. Her dad is the one to start the goodbyes. He sits on the edge of her bed and faces her.
"We'll be back in a few weeks. We'll come back sooner if you ask. Don't hesitate to ask."
Rachel lies through her smile. "I won't."
"I love you, princess."
"I love you too, Dad."
He hugs her warmly. She breathes in his scent and is flooded with memories from middle school and on. She blinks away tears. He kisses her cheek.
"I'll see you soon." He swears.
Carole is next. She hugs her just as warmly and kisses her cheek, making her promise to reach out even if she just wants to talk. Rachel nods along. Scott does the same, adding in a whisper about calling her mom as often as she can. She nods more firmly to that. And then it's her mom's turn. One look at the woman's face and she knows her thoughts are the same as Rachel's and that they're both fighting the same inner turmoil. Rachel knows with utter certainty that her mom will not be saying goodbye to her. It's half a relief and half…..not. They hug long and hard. Her mom rocks her slowly.
"I love you, baby girl."
"I love you too, Mom."
Her mom pulls back and her smile is so full of love and understanding that it chokes her for a moment. Rachel returns it as best she can. Just as she predicted, her mom leaves without another word. Anything else that is said now would sound too much like a goodbye. Kurt climbs on the bed and holds her as she cries out her fears, unable to hold back anymore.
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Finn keeps his promise. Once their parents leave, he tells everyone else to stay away for the evening. He waits until after the nurse does her vitals check, then shuts the door behind her. He pulls out a jar of massage oil and some towels. He even turns on spa music (Kurt's suggestion). Working slowly and gently, but still firmly, he massages her entire body. He goes lighter and gentler over bruises. He pays special attention to her aching joints. She groans in pleasure, making him smile. When she falls asleep with a contended smile on her face, he uses a warm towel to wipe off any excess oil. He ties her hospital gown around her again. It makes him wonder. If she's going to be here for a while (possibly months), maybe she'll be allowed to wear her own clothes eventually.
He makes a mental note to ask.
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Blaine and Quinn (using her PR connections) work together with Ana to get the illegally taken photo taken down and the person responsible punished. It takes a few days. Ana has her firm's lawyer help out. They get it taken down and the person responsible is given an official warning to not take any more photos of Rachel. They wanted to do more, but with that one photo being his only crime, there's nothing else they can do.
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Even though Rachel is in a normal room, they still won't let Yero visit. They insisted that dogs carry their own germs and they don't want to risk him passing anything to Rachel. She tried to argue that Yero is literally only with her or Finn, in their home, but the doctors will not relent. Not until she's stronger. All the others will tell her when she asks is that Yero is "fine". She really hopes that's true. At the moment, Finn is out to lunch with Sam and his girlfriend, and Artie. Artie had come by to visit earlier, then left with Finn. Kurt and Blaine are staying with her at the moment. She napped after he left but is awake now. She looks up from the book she's reading when Kurt starts talking.
"Well, look who the cat dragged in."
Mike and Tina are standing in the doorway with wide smiles. "Good to see you, too, Kurt."
Kurt and Blaine get up to hug and greet the two. Grinning excitedly, Rachel sets her book down and waits for them to get to her bedside. This is their first time seeing her since the winter benefit months ago. And she's aware she doesn't look particularly good, so she's unbothered by the looks of alarm and worry they couldn't quite hide. Mike recovers faster and hurries to her bedside.
"If it isn't our resident princess, holding court." He teases as he hugs her.
"Hi, Mike." She chuckles, hugging him. When they pull back he kisses her cheek.
"Hi, Rachel."
"Hi, Tina."
The ladies hug warmly. Unfortunately, Rachel has already been awake a long while. Even just sitting up and reading takes its toll after a while. She hopes she has the energy to stay awake and chat with them.
"It's really good to see you two." She says, still smiling widely. She adjusts her nasal cannula before sitting back.
She can tell from their expressions that they're happy to be here but are struggling with it. It's been a long time since they've seen her this bad. Years. She answers the expected questions about how she's feeling.
"I'm really glad the transplant went well." Mike says.
"Same. Any sign of it working yet?" Tina asks hesitantly.
"No." Rachel responds calmly with a smile. "But there's still time."
"We'll keep praying."
"Thank you. Now, how has—" Rachel cuts herself off, her eyes zeroing in on Tina's hand. Her eyes widen, as does her smile. Her tone becomes excited. "What's this? Do you two have an announcement to make?"
Tina turns to Mike. "Told you."
Grinning, Mike sighs and hands over a five dollar bill. "We had a bet on whether you'd notice it before we announced it."
"I'm sorry if I ruined your announcement." Rachel apologizes, feeling bad.
"No, don't apologize! We wanted you to be the first to know." Tina says with a grin. "Mike and I are getting married!"
Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine gush excitedly over the ring and demand to hear the story of how Mike proposed. The three romantics are in happy tears by the end. Mike took her to his stage late one night, where they had a picnic dinner. Then they danced, just the two of them, before he dropped to one knee and presented the ring to her.
"When was this?" Kurt asks, inspecting the ring more closely.
"Last weekend. It hasn't been long. But we wanted you all to be the first to know. You're our family."
Tears fill Rachel's eyes. It's nice to hear that even as their lives took them in different directions, to different states, and they aren't able to get together as often as they used to, they're all still considered family. It's how Rachel feels, so she's happy to hear that it's mutual still.
"Congratulations." She tells them sincerely. "I'm so happy for you both."
Tina's smile becomes wobbly, her eyes filling with tears. Mike's Adam's apple bobs and he briefly looks away before accepting it with a smile. It only takes a moment to understand why. Will she be around for their wedding? She hopes so. If not, she hopes they save a seat for her. She'll be there, one way or another. A glance around tells her they're all thinking about it. Wanting to push past the suddenly melancholy silence, she holds out her arms.
"Get over here."
Laughing, they hug her again. She squeezes as hard as she can, wanting to convey her happiness for them. She's exhausted. Artie's visit earlier, being up and reading for a while, now this visit is wearing on her. Even her brief nap earlier wasn't enough. Her limbs become heavy. Still smiling, she sits back and gets them started on talking about wedding ideas. Kurt enthusiastically chimes in. Blaine's gaze flicks to her. He knows what her goal was and gives her a small smile. She returns it. She fights against her eyelids slipping closed. Her eyes flutter open when Tina kisses her cheek.
"We'll head out and let you rest. We'll be back tomorrow, okay?"
"'Kay." She manages. She's asleep before they leave the room.
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The entire group, minus Mercedes who is currently in the UK touring with Beyoncé, meets up in Rachel's hospital room the next day to celebrate their engagement.. She'd had a bad nosebleed that morning and had needed a blood transfusion. That, combined with her ever present fatigue, left her with very little energy. Kurt shakes her awake once everyone is present. She smiles to see her room so full of loved ones. And to see everyone so happy. They raise a toast to the newly engaged couple. Even if her hand shakes as she raises the glass (water for her), she's glad she got to participate. They talk and laugh and celebrate for over two hours. Rachel fell asleep towards the end, despite her efforts to stay awake. The others only stayed a little longer after she fell asleep.
She's woken a couple hours later by a horrible migraine. Brittany and Santana are staying with her. Brittany curls around her, holding her while Santana gets a nurse to inject pain meds into her IV. Rachel grips Brittany's hand and takes in gasping breaths, doing her best to minimize her moans and whimpers. But the migraine, on top of her frequent bone and join pain, was a bit much to handle. And she's so tired that she doesn't have the strength to hide how much it hurts. She buries her face in Brittany's neck. The blonde holds her close and rubs her back. The nurse gives her the meds. As her pain fades, Santana joins them on the bed, sandwiching her between them. That's how she falls asleep.
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As time passes, so do the worst of her side effects from the transplant. The bone and joint pain fades. It's still there enough to make her attacks harder on her and more painful, but it's no longer a near constant ache. Her numbers are no longer dropping. They're not rising either, but she begins to feel a little more alert and a little more energetic. Not so much that she doesn't nap frequently or need to rest a lot, but enough that she begins to get restless. As long as she wears a medical mask, they allow her to go for "walks" around the halls. All that really means is someone holds on to her while she walks, she holds on to her IV tree on wheels and rolls it along with her, and someone follows behind them with a wheelchair. She'll walk slowly around the halls until she becomes too tired, then she sits in the chair and they wheel her back to her room. When it's Sam or Noah, they try to make it entertaining by either "racing" her or acting like she's a runner in the final lap of a big race and they're her coaches urging her on or commentators. Those are her favorite "walks".
"And here comes Hudson flying around the bend, moving at a solid 0.10 mph." A chuckle bursts out of her at that. "Her eyes are on the finish line, folks! It looks like she'll be taking the gold!" Sam follows along beside her, walking sideways and watching as though it's a thrilling race.
"I don't know, Sam, Puck is closing in fast." Finn says with a grin. He is following behind them with the wheelchair.
Rachel glances over her shoulder. Noah is just two steps behind her and running in extreme slow motion. His face is contorted into an expression of intense concentration and effort. She grins and shuffles forward a few more paces. As she moves, she hears Noah continuing his slow motion run in dramatic fashion. Despite the goofiness of the situation, she decides she wants to "win" and make it to the finish line (nurses' station) first. She wishes Yero were here. She'd order him to slow Noah down. It occurs to her that she can do it herself. Just as Noah pulls up a step behind her, she pushes her IV pole off to the side. Since it's connected to her, she creates a barrier of IV tubing in a horizontal line in the air front of him. Noah stops moving forward to avoid it. He stays in character, moving in slow motion, and pretends he's going so fast he has to do a cartoon style stop; arms continue to move in slow motion but his feet move fast as he backpedals. He avoids the obstacle but loses his progress.
"Did you see that?! What a move!" Sam continues to commentate enthusiastically. "Hudson throws a classic clothesline move at Puckerman and keeps her advantage. The race is on now, folks."
Laughing, Rachel keeps going. Finn uses his foot to nudge the base of the IV pole, pushing it back to her side. Noah overacts his motions, straining his body to act like he's running as fast as he can while making very little progress. Still, Rachel herself is only making little progress at a time, he actually closes the gap pretty quickly.
"It's a close one! Who will it be? Defending champ Rachel Hudson or newcomer to the game Noah Puckerman?"
Rachel stumbles the final few steps before her hands grasp the edge of the counter at the nurse's station.
"It's Rachel Hudson for the win!" Sam whisper roars. "The crowd goes wild!" The nurses at the station are watching with smiles and chuckling. Sam glares at them, clears his throat, and says pointedly "I said, the crowd goes wild."
The nurses laugh so hard that two of them toss their heads back. But they all laugh and clap, cheering for Rachel's "win". Laughing, she leans on the counter to catch her breath. Finn pats her back and gives her a congratulatory kiss when she lifts her head. Sam turns to Noah and folds his arms across his chest. He gives him an appalled look.
"You lost to her?" He jabs his thumb to where Finn is now helping lower Rachel into a wheelchair. She doesn't have the energy to walk back. Sam shakes his head in mock disgust. "You're a disgrace."
Noah punches his arm.
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With her numbers holding steady and her energy levels improving, so did everyone's morale. They became more relaxed and more hopeful. She even started talking to her doctors about going home soon. They agreed that if she held steady, or even started improving, in the next week, she'll be discharged to continue her recovery at home. Unfortunately, that didn't even last a week. Her numbers began dropping again.
And then she had another severe attack, leaving her chest feeling like it was left in bloody tatters. Again, her heart stopped. This time, her loved ones (Finn and Santana were the ones present) were forced to stand back and watch as the doctor and nurses fought to restart her heart. They put her on a ventilator, but not one down her throat. They put her on the one with the tight mask that forcefully pushes air into the patient's mouth and nose.
They insist its an unfortunate coincidence, but after the severe attack her numbers begin to drop even faster. The attack obviously didn't cause it. However, the fact that the attack weakened her body so much did make it harder for her body to fight. Once again, her condition is deteriorating.
Dr. McCann reminds them that the BMT could begin working at any time. She could start getting better at any second. They just need her to hold on until that happens. Her parents returned quickly after the severe attack. They stayed for two days to visit, help out, and reassure themselves that she survived and is still holding on. It scared everyone. As is the fact that her numbers are dropping again.
Still, they focus on the positive. At any time she could start getting better.
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It doesn't happen fast. It doesn't seem to be happening at all. The days begin to blur together again for Rachel. For Finn, too. The good days start to dwindle, as do her energy levels. Her "walks" become less often and shorter. Of course, having a moderate attack in the hallway sort of soured the fun of these walks anyway. She has constant visitors. Weeks pass. She's been in the hospital for two months. Midway through June they tell her she dropped to stage four. She was only half awake for that conversation, mostly keeping her eyes closed as the doctors explained it all to Finn. Her numbers were already dropping when she was admitted for the transplant; its why they had her come in so suddenly for it, after all. She dropped to stage three shortly after the transplant. And now…..
Stage four.
Each beat of her heart feels like a bomb ticking away.
More of her hope slips away and she finds she's too tired to reach out to grasp it.
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Kurt looks down at his sister with a heavy heart. She'd been doing pretty well. She'd been showing signs of getting better. Then it all changed in a blink. She's deteriorating fast. They're up to two treatments a week at the highest dose possible. Those treatments are hard on her body. The shaking, intense vomiting, and headaches are brutal for her. Add in that her bones and joints still ache from time to time from the transplant and it makes it even worse. And the shortness of breath. He truly never believed she'd ever hit stage four again. But here they are. She could start getting better at any time. The donated marrow could begin working and getting her marrow to start producing more blood cells at literally any moment. The problem is, she's running out of time.
They brought Yero in to visit her once. And only once. The dog hadn't jumped on the bed like he usually does. He'd put his front paws on the side of the bed and leaned his head down next to hers. She'd been sleeping. Yero nuzzled his nose under her hand and gently licked. Her eyes had fluttered and she'd instinctively begun petting him, scratching behind the ears. Yero had whined and strained to get closer, yet somehow knew not to jump up. Sam lifted him onto the bed and carefully set him down. Yero gently licked her face and she'd laughed softly, cooing at him for being the sweetest bestest boy. He'd settled down beside her calmly, his eyes up on her face until he closed them and fell asleep with her. He'd growled when they tried to take him off the bed. Rachel had kissed his furry head and told him to go. Whining and constantly looking back at her, he had.
Kurt spends as much time with her as he can. He is taking a long break from working at Vogue dot com, with his boss' blessing. He still does his off-Broadway show but otherwise spends most of his time wither with Rachel or with other NY family members. They've been gathering more often for comfort. He'd called Mercedes up. He'd explained that while he understood that she's busy with her career and is currently in another country, she may want to come back for a visit with Rachel soon. She'd said she understood. She didn't return, but she did FaceTime Rachel. The two talked happily for a long while, comparing notes on performing on a Broadway stage versus singing pop music on stage with a superstar. They also talked about their original music. Again, Rachel encouraged Mercedes to branch out and try to be her own star, insisting she has the talent for it. Mercedes agrees but doesn't feel ready yet. "Not all of us can be Tony winners by 23." She'd teased, making Rachel laugh.
Kurt brought in a small folding table to put between two chairs by her window. She'd been confused at first, but pleased when she realized what it was for. Kurt helped her get out of bed and walk to one of the chairs, where she curled up under a blanket. Kurt took the other seat and opened a puzzle. They chat and put the puzzle together. She likes getting out of bed when she can. They've taken her for walks around the halls when she feels up to it. She wanders her hospital room when she has the strength. Once she'd shaken off the worst of the side effects from the transplant, she'd had the strength to move around more and do a little more. Now, though, as the days and weeks pass, she's getting weaker. The now rare walks around the halls are done in a wheelchair, then they help her up and she walks a short distance before they wheel her back to her room. She still tries to get out of bed as much as she can, but now it's generally moving from bed to chair. She's sick of being in this room, which they all understand. Kurt helped out by bringing in decorations and making it look more homey. He set everything up while she was sleeping one day. The look on her face when she woke up to see her newly decorated hospital room was priceless. Kurt will never forget it.
He does his best to stay relaxed and casual around her. After all, they've been through this before. It worked out then and it'll work out now. He knows she hates being in the hospital this long and is desperate to go home, but that can't happen yet. They still need to monitor her regularly. And with her dropping to stage four, it's even more important. Brother and sister talk and put the puzzle together for a while before she tires. He's debating suggesting they stop when she beats him to it. She looks up at him with a weary smile.
"What do you say we finish this another day?"
"Sure." He doesn't bother admitting he was going to suggest it himself.
"Help me back to bed?"
He nods and stands. He grasps her forearms and helps her stand. Once she's steady, she leans on his arm as they walk slowly. Kurt wracks his brain, trying to remember exactly how long it has been since she took a "walk" around the room. Almost a week, he thinks. She'd developed a fever and been bedridden for a few days. Before helping her onto the bed, he hugs her. She happily hugs him back, only pulling back when she absolutely needs to sit. Once she's in the bed, they talk for a few more minutes. Ten minutes later she falls asleep mid conversation. He kisses her head before settling back into his seat.
Finn went out for the day. With her fever gone and her having a good morning and basically shoving him out the door, he went mostly willingly. He's using the day to spend time with Yero, get some exercise in, and take a short break. He'll be back later, though. He doesn't like spending the night away from Rachel. Not that Kurt can blame him. He himself has a hard time falling asleep at night. He fears he'll be woken by a phone call; by the phone call. While it's not extremely likely, it's not unlikely either. It's why everyone visits almost every day and those who can't FaceTime, call, or at least text. And every time Rachel puts on a smile. She still has hope, he knows this. But he knows her well. There's the slightest shift in her expression. Her smile doesn't come quite as easily and doesn't always match her eyes. That slight shift worries him more than anything else. How much of her hope is an act? Or is she just tired but forcing herself to smile for their sakes?
He's afraid of the answer. The thing that comforts him is her eyes. No matter how stiff her smile may be at times (not obviously, but clear to him), her eyes remain warm, hopeful, and full of life.
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Familiar voices wake her. That's not uncommon. What is uncommon are the voices she recognizes. Surprised, she opens her eyes and looks around. Her ears did not deceive her. Rachel smiles widely at her new visitors.
"Nana? Grandpa?"
"Hi, pumpkin." Nana smiles warmly back. "It's been a while since we've been able to see you in person."
In fact, this has been the longest stretch she has ever gone with not seeing them in person since she met them at fourteen. While she wasn't bothered by it, she is thrilled to see them. And relieved. They talk on the phone regularly and even FaceTime sometimes, but in person visits are even better.
"Hi there, sweetheart." Grandpa says from her other side.
Nana hugs her first, then Grandpa does before helping her lay back down. "How are you feeling?"
She smiles slightly. It's a frequent question and she almost always gives the same response. "Tired."
It's a fatigue that is bone deep and makes her feel heavy and weary, not that she ever specifies this except to her doctors.
"Quinn was here when we got here. She said you were dizzy earlier?"
Rachel nods. She'd been so dizzy she'd been clinging to the railing on the side of her bed in fear she'd slide off. Quinn had held her hand and talked soothingly, reminding her that she's not actually moving. She'd fainted before it ended, which to her was a relief.
"It's gone now." She promises.
They chat about their lives in Ohio and update her on anything new going on. Most of it Rachel already knows from her mom or talking to her other relatives on the phone. But she doesn't mind hearing it all again from them. She listens with a smile on her lips, asking the occasional clarifying question or commenting on things. She herself doesn't have much to say. She mostly sleeps. She misses being home. She is sick of being in the hospital. She's sick of being in this room. The only other things she can discuss are interesting things that happen in the hospital. She tells them about her walks, even though they've stopped, movies she has watched, and games she has played. She gets a headache about an hour into their visit. Her grandfather goes to get a nurse to give her pain meds for it. They sit quietly with her until she falls asleep.
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"Shelby said she's coming back next weekend, right?" Chris asks his wife.
She nods, not taking her eyes off their sleeping granddaughter. "Yes. She was going to come this weekend but backed off when we said we were coming."
He knows his daughter. "She wants to come and stay here, doesn't she?"
"She does. But she knows its unnecessary. So she visits frequently instead. It's stressful on her."
"On everyone." He acknowledges.
His eyes rake over his granddaughter. Stage four. Hearing it the first time, years ago, was hard because it was paired with a potential time limit. This time is almost more stressful because they just don't know. If things don't improve, she will die. They just don't know how long it'll take. Then again, the transplant could end up working at any moment. In that case, she'll start getting better. She could go into remission soon. Everything is so uncertain and up in the air that everyone is torn between fear and hope. The elderly Corcoran's turned down Finn's generous offer of staying at their apartment. Instead, they got a room at a hotel down the road. They can walk to the hospital if they want. They'll be having dinner with their grandson-in-law tonight while Kurt and Blaine stay with Rachel. They know his parents and in-laws check in on him regularly, but they want to as well. If there is anything they can do to help out, they want to know.
They return the next day to find Rachel short of breath and using an oxygen mask. It's disheartening but not surprising. They carry the conversation, making it so that she doesn't have to respond with anything more than one or two word answers. She looks so exhausted that Christopher doesn't feel guilty when it's time for them to go. She needs sleep and she won't let herself rest as much as she needs to while they're there. They hug and kiss her goodbye, promising they'll call soon and visit again in the future.
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"It's been over two months." Oliver mutters.
Amy rubs his back. "We know. We also knew from the start that it could take months or even years to work."
Oliver gives them a dark look. "She doesn't have years. She might not even have months."
"It's not your fault." Mark says firmly.
"It was my marrow." He snaps before leaving the room.
Mark sighs and stares at his wife. She's bent over, covering her face. Obviously they're all upset that Rachel's not getting better yet. But Oliver is taking it really hard, which is hard on his parents.
"Nothing we say is going to make him believe it." He says quietly.
"I know. But he's becoming depressed." Amy frets. "What are we going to do? He doesn't believe us and I don't think he'll believe a therapist, either."
Mark paces the living room for a minute, thinking hard. He makes his decision and turns to face his wife. "There's one person he might believe."
Her face sinks. "Mark…..that's a lot to put on her. She's already stressed. Adding on having to take on his guilt could be too much for her to deal with right now."
"Or, she can convince him it's not his fault and he'll stop being depressed and we'll all be happier."
"I…..I agree with you. But what if it backfires? You heard how your parents described her when they got back. What if seeing her like that upsets him even more?"
"And what if she dies and he never hears from her that it's not his fault? He'll spend the rest of his life blaming himself!" Mark whisper yells, not wanting their kids to overhear.
"She already told him, before the transplant, that it wouldn't be his fault."
"Lot of good that did. We all expected it to work. Now that it clearly isn't, he needs to hear it again. From her."
They're quiet for several long minutes, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, Amy bows her head. "Alright. I agree. But two things. First, we need to ask her and make sure she's okay with it."
"Agreed."
"Second…..let's wait a little longer."
"Amy, if we wait too long—"
"I know. But if she starts getting better soon…and it could happen. Let's just….let's just wait a bit. Then we'll ask."
"Okay."
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It's only days later when she's surprised by other visitors. Her Aunt Kelly, Uncle Andy, Tyler, and Abby are sitting around her bed. She reaches up and self-consciously tugs her beanie down more.
"Hi, princess." Uncle Andy says with a smile.
"Hi." She pushes herself up. They each hug her hello, then she settles back into a reclined position. "It's good to see you all."
"It's good to see you in person and not just through FaceTime." Abby says with a smile.
"Your mom gave us the latest update. At least we think it's the latest update." Aunt Kelly tells her. "That your numbers are no longer dropping. They're holding steady?"
Rachel gives a small smile. "Slight change since then. They even went up slightly. Not enough to make them think that the…" she pauses for breath "…..that the transplant's really working yet. But enough to keep us hoping."
"That's wonderful!"
It is. But it's also exhausting. This up and down is really wearing on her. Physically and emotionally. She wants to live but the constant battle is wearing her down and the constant uncertainty isn't helping. There's hope, but not much. The family talks casually for a while. Since Rachel is short of breath, they do most of the talking until she recovers. She enjoys listening to them all talk about what's been going on in their lives in more detail than she usually gets on the phone. When pain pierces her chest, she sucks in a breath and curls up as best she can. Aunt Kelly climbs on the bed and holds her while Uncle Andy hits the call button. The pain stabs into her chest repeatedly. Since she only recovered from being short of breath minutes ago, it makes breathing through it even harder. Rachel focuses on the feel of Aunt Kelly holding her and Tyler holding her hands. She feels the drugs flowing into her system like heat through her veins. That is one of the few upsides of being in the hospital. They keep the good pain meds nearby and come running when she has an attack, getting an injection in her in under two minutes. Usually under one. As helpful as it is, it's still exhausting for her. She passes out just as the pain is starting to fade. When she wakes later, it's just her aunt and uncle. They immediately make sure she's feeling better. She is, but she's more tired than before. She can barely lift her head.
"I'm so sorry, Rachel." Aunt Kelly says sadly.
She hasn't seen many moderate attacks and this is the first one she's seen in years. Wanting to reassure her, Rachel squeezes her hand.
"I hope you don't mind. Tyler and Abby went out to explore the city a bit. They'll be back tomorrow. We all will." Her uncle tells her.
"Finn came by. He just stepped out to call your parents and update them. He'll be back soon."
"Okay."
"Rachel, we know you're not feeling well. But we do have something important to ask you."
"What is it?"
Her aunt and uncle share a hesitant look. Uncle Andy clears his throat. "It's about Oliver."
Her heart jumps. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine. Physically, he's fine." Her aunt is quick to assure her. "But he feels like he let you down because his donated marrow isn't working for you."
"Yet." Rachel's reminds them quietly. "It could change."
"We know that. And so does he. But he's struggling. If the transplant doesn't start working, would you be okay with Uncle Mark and Aunt Amy bringing the boys to see you? While we really don't want to put any pressure on you, we think he'll listen to you more than any of us. Maybe if you tell him it's not his fault and you don't blame him, he'll actually believe it. He's not believing us."
Rachel's heart clenches. "Of course."
"Alright. I'll let Mark know. Thank you, sweetheart."
"It won't be right away. Like we said, we want to wait a little longer to see if you start improving."
She nods her understanding.
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She's in the midst of a mild attack when a hand takes hers. An aspect of being stage four that she'd forgotten is how hard it is to handle attacks when feeling this tired and weak. She hates that she's gasping for air from a mild attack. The person pats the back of her hand as the pain fades. She hears her usual nurse, Nurse Dawn, say something to her visitor while checking her vitals. Dawn switches her to a mask, then leaves. Tiredly, Rachel opens her eyes. Then stares in shock at her visitor.
"Sue?"
"Hey there, mini-Streisand."
Rachel grins. "I thought….you started calling me…Fanny."
"You're right." The woman acknowledges. "I did. And I'll stick to it. But I did call you mini-Streisand for a lot longer than Fanny. It's my go-to."
Rachel chuckles lightly, finally feeling like she's caught her breath. "Got it. It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you, too."
"What've you been up to?"
Sue shrugs disinterestedly. "The usual. Cheerleading. Glee. I got a cat."
"You did?"
"Yeah. I wanted a dog, but I'm not home often enough to be able to care for it how it needs. Cats are more independent, which is more my style."
"More like you, you mean."
"Exactly."
"Tell me about your cat."
Sue grins. "It's a female. A tiny little thing with a pretty brown coat. She's fine with being alone but loves cuddling when I'm home. She seems to enjoy music, too."
"What'd you name her?"
"Fanny."
Rachel laughs. "You named your cat Fanny?"
"I did. It was that or Babs."
"Why?" Personally, she thinks Babs is a better name for a cat than Fanny.
Sue looks away for a moment, then turns back to her. "Well, she's beautiful, brave, playful, hates the cold, and loves music and cuddles."
She doesn't say more, so Rachel chuckles and lets it go. While she and Sue talk occasionally on the phone, it's been a while. Rachel tells her what's been going on with everyone in New York and listens as Sue complains about her newest students.
"They're annoying and not as hard working or as talented as you guys."
"Well, who is?" Rachel jokes with a grin. Feeling a lot better, she pulls off her mask. Sue helps her switch it over to the nasal cannula.
"True." Then she gives her an amused look. "Glad you never got a big head about it."
They laugh.
"Will wanted to come, too. But with nationals coming up we couldn't both disappear. He sends his love."
"I send mine back." She says with a smile.
She talked to Will recently. He was telling her all about his son Daniel, gushing over how much he's grown. Rachel is thrilled for him. She hopes she gets to see him again one day. She'd held him once when he was a baby, but then got busy. Then sick. After a minute of sitting in companionable silence, Sue clears her throat.
"So, uh, the benefit is next week."
Rachel blinks. "June's almost over? God, I've been here for forever."
Sue's lips form a sympathetic smile. "Your longest hospital stint yet. I only bring up the benefit because I know you won't be there. None of you will this year."
"What do you mean?" Rachel frowns. Sue stares at her uncertainly before Rachel clarifies her question. "No, I mean obviously I won't be there. But the others…..they all said they weren't going?"
"Well…..they didn't say they were. And we all just assumed they'd stay here with you. Even your mom is only planning on going for the start of it to open it. Then she's leaving it to Holly, Will, and myself."
Rachel frowns again, thinking it over. "That sucks. It's kind of weird for none of us to go. We started it. I don't like the idea of no one from the original New Directions singing at it."
"They'd rather stay here with you."
Rachel understands why. But it still sucks. She decides to discuss it with the others.
"I still wanted to discuss the benefit with you." Sue tells her. "Is there anything in particular…that you do or do not want sung or discussed? Do you have a message for the donors?"
Rachel bites her lip and looks down, twisting the oxygen tube between her fingers as she thinks it over. "I don't know."
"You have a few days. You can call or text me to let me know. You don't have to decide now. Just think on it. And if you decide you don't want to send a message and don't care about what songs are or are not sung, that's fine, too." Sue promises.
"Okay. I'll think on it." Then she grins. "I know what I'd sing if I could go."
Sue laughs at that. "Of course you do."
That's when an idea hits her. "I think I do have a message after all."
"Shoot."
The woman pulls out her phone to record it, but Rachel holds up a hand to stop her. "Not yet. I'll have Finn or Kurt send it to you, okay?"
"Sure thing, kiddo."
"If I don't get a message sent to you in time, just let everyone know I said 'thank you' and that I'm very grateful."
"Of course."
They talk for a little longer, but Sue picks up on how tired she's getting. She hugs Rachel tight before leaving.
"I love you, Rachel." She says quietly in her ear.
Oh, God. If Sue of all people is expressing her love in words, then she must look really bad. She briefly wonders what Finn is telling people beyond the fact that she's stage four. Maybe hearing stage four is enough. She's been getting visits from practically everyone lately. Even Jesse stopped by. Still, it's nice to hear and she does understand why her old coach is making sure to say it now. At least one more time.
"I love you too, Sue."
When they pull back, both can tell from their eyes that they both have more to say. But because it's them, the words just aren't needed. They already know. They smile warmly at one another. Sue squeezes her hand one final time and leaves. Blaine rejoins her, having stepped out when Sue arrived. Rachel thinks over how to convince the others to go to the benefit without her. And whether or not she even should. She falls asleep thinking about it.
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