Title: Light Shall Shine Out Of Darkness
Chapter: Baby Mine/Dully
Canon point: AU past Season 4
Word Count: 1066
Parings: Finchel, Quick, Klaine (brief), Brittana, Barole
Warnings: Contains potentially triggering descriptions of PTSD. Language. Scenes of a sexual nature.
Chapter Summary: Finn Hudson didn't sing anymore. In fact, if you asked most people, including Finn Hudson himself, the list of things that Finn could successfully do in his current state were very few and far between. He felt like such a loser. He'd barely even finished three fourths of a tour, and the Army had still fucked him up.
"You had another nightmare again, didn't you?," Rachel asked Finn softly, finding him sitting out on the fire escape of their Bushwick loft, head in his hands. "Finn?," she continued, slowly lowering herself to sit beside him. "It's alright, if you did," she promised, relieved when he reached out blindly and squeezed her hand. "It's alright," she repeated, soothingly.
"It's cold," Finn responded, his brown eyes clouding with concern, which at least was an improvement over the hardened look they got when he had a flashback. "Why are you out here, Rach? It's too cold for you and the baby."
Rachel said nothing, choosing instead to lean closer to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. Finn was right. It was cold. And he was only clad in sweatpants.
"The baby woke me up," she said in a low tone, not wanting to wake either Kurt nor Santana. "I was hoping you would calm her down, but you weren't in bed," she continued. "I looked everywhere in the loft for you and finally decided to try out here."
"Please come inside," she begged. "I know that you were scared...please come inside."
"She's awake?," Finn asked, something vaguely resembling excitement in his eyes. "I didn't scare her, did I?" He deflated slightly as he asked the question. "I was screaming," he admitted. "I don't have to go back, do I? Don't make me go back."
Rachel shook her head. "You didn't scare her," she soothed, petting Finn's hair as she did. "You could never scare her. And you don't have to go back, remember? Your dad made sure of it."
She shivered slightly, leaning closer to her husband, torn between forcing him back into the heated loft or letting him sit and stew for a bit longer. She knew that wasn't fair of her. Finn was trying so hard to get better, to make sure that he was doing right by them, to not let his demons get the best of him...she knew he was.
"Come on," Finn commanded, his voice rough with unshed tears, carefully lifting her into his arms and opening the door to the fire escape, letting them back into the loft. "You're cold," he said, by means of explanation. "Can't have you bein' cold, yeah?"
"You can stay --," she attempted to assure him, as he carefully deposited her on their bed, covering her with a blanket before slipping a t-shirt on and sinking down beside her, taking her hand in his.
"Don't wanna," he replied, releasing her hands so he could run his hands through his hair. His bangs dipped into his eyes, and he frowned, pushing them roughly aside. "You're right, it's cold. And I don't like when you're worried, Rae."
He gave her a gentle peck on the lips, before smiling hesitantly at her. "'sides," he said, the hesitant smile turning into a proud grin, "'sides, you said someone I love more than anyone else in the world needs to be calmed down. I can't let her stay up too much past her bedtime, eh?"
Rachel found it ironic that their daughter -- who had fallen back to sleep during her frantic search for Finn -- kicked rather hard at Finn's words. "You should sing to her," she suggested softly, letting him nestle his head against her slight (yet ever-growing) bump. "She likes when you sing, honey."
Finn Hudson didn't sing anymore. In fact, if you asked most people, including Finn Hudson himself, the list of things that Finn could successfully do in his current state were very few and far between. He felt like such a loser. He'd barely even finished three fourths of a tour, and the Army had still fucked him up.
His diagnosis was PTSD, but they had officially discharged him due to his poor decision to clean his loaded gun and shoot it off into his knee. He may have done that on purpose, but he would never tell. He didn't know what was purposeful or not half the time, anyways.
He was a failure. He didn't know why Rachel had agreed to marry him, even though she was having his baby. He couldn't even work. His knee was still screwed up, forget about his head.
He did, however, sing to their baby, but he would swear on his father's ashes that that was different. She was his baby. Finn would have moved planets for that little girl that was growing inside of his beautiful wife.
"Course I'll sing for her," he whispered, curling up closer to her, needing the security of her touch. "I love Bumble Bee."
He planted a kiss above her belly button, feeling a nudge in response. "Daddy's here," he murmured, kissing the spot again and again, pleased when she moved and when Rachel giggled. "Daddy's sorry, baby boo. I'm sorry I got scared and made you and mamma go out in the cold to find me."
"Finn...," Rachel chided, though she trailed off, simply running her fingers through his hair. "It's alright," she concluded. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I don't like being this way," he muttered. "I want to be a good husband to you...a good dad to her...a good brother, a good son...everyone has their lives on hold because of me."
Okay, so maybe that wasn't entirely true. He couldn't exactly buy Santana being all that invested in Finn's emotional well-being if she had anything approaching a better option, but it was definitely true with Kurt and even Rachel, at least in Finn's mind. Not to mention his poor parents.
"I told you that isn't true," she protested. "Finn, I promise that isn't true. You are having a rough time right now, but you're getting better. We all know that."
He let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm trying," he said honestly, glancing up at her. "It's just...really hard."
She nodded, twisting her fingers through his hair. "They say it will get easier," she told him. "Eventually."
"I hope so," he whispered, curling even closer to her, the baby fluttering where his ear was pressed against in response. "You wanna hear something from Daddy?," he asked his audience, pleased when there was even more motion in response. "Daddy will sing to you," he cooed, enjoying the feel of both their baby and of Rachel's hands in his hair.