Hello everyone! I hope everyone has been enjoying the new year! So it's kinda late where I'm at and this probably hasn't been proofread to the best of my ability but I just wanted to get this last chapter up! I am insanely nervous about it and I've been struggling since New Year's Eve as to weather I wanted to give this a happy or sad ending and didn't make up my mind till last night. I also feel like this whole chapter just restates the same things, but I feel like that worked for a chapter like this... Anyway, I hope that you all enjoy (and don't think I've gone crazy ;) )!

I roll over in bed, careful not to wake the man slumbering next to me. His eyes move feverishly underneath his eyelids, an almost smile on his face. This is the man that I love.

But at the same time, he sort of makes me doubt myself.

I gave away our daughter because well, we couldn't raise her and the idea of Noah and I ever becoming a couple was a far off notion. But here we are, over ten years down the line and we're married. And we live in a beautiful apartment and we're trying to start our own family…

But we already have started a family. We have a little girl out there (who actually isn't that little anymore). Had I known that down the line, I would end up with Noah Puckerman and that I'd be so unbelievably happy, I don't think I would have given her away. No, I take that back. I know I wouldn't have given her away. It's not fair. I know that our lives would have been drastically different had I kept her and that the paths we've chosen wouldn't have been the same. But knowing that I now have this sort of happiness without my daughter… I don't know. I feel like we could've been happy, all three of us.

I roll over again because I'll drive myself crazy thinking about this.

I try to fall asleep because I am so unbelievably tired but I can't. It is freezing. I really think that both of us have gone soft in this California weather. It's only 40 something degrees outside which, yes is very cold, but nothing compared to back home. Still, I shiver frantically as I get up to go into the bathroom. The white tile is cold against my bare feet and I run my hand through my hair tiredly. I pee and when I wipe, there's blood on the toilet paper.

I groan and I'm apparently not too tired to feel the immense sadness creeping through my body.

We've been trying since I was 26 and now I sit here on a cold winter's night at the age of 31 and I'm still not pregnant. It was so easy the first time. But now… now we've been trying so hard and I'm always left with ruined underwear as a cruel reminder of what I don't have. Sometimes I think its God punishing me. That the decision I made was the wrong one and he's only paying me back now.

Noah pushes the door open, his eyes squinting when the light of the bathroom hits him. He frowns and it's then I realize I'm crying. "Why couldn't it have been different?" He raises an eyebrow and I wave my hand in the air. He likely doesn't think about our daughter the way I do and I understand that. Sometimes though, I wish that it were easy to talk about. Even now, after all these years, it's hard. Lumps form in throats when the thought of speaking of her aloud enters minds. She's a taboo subject that when spoken of now will likely make me break.

When we both get back to bed, I curl into his welcoming arms. "I don't think I can keep doing this," I whisper and he drops a kiss on my forehead.

"In the morning, we'll talk about what our options are okay?" I nod against his chest.

I jump on to the bed, hands hitting his chest. "Noah! Noah, wake up," I shout, shoving him frantically.

"What the hell Quinn?" He tries to roll over, hiding his head in his pillow. "It's 8 am on a Saturday. What are you even doing up?"

I straddle his back and bend down to whisper in his ear. "We got the call Mr. Puckerman."

"What call?"

"The call." His head shoots up and I almost fall off the bed when he moves to get up.

We're in my parents' house and after three years of going through the adoption process, someone's called. Someone wants us to have their baby. We're going to be parents. "We're going to be parents," I shout, a smile erupting on my face.

We're going to be parents. God, I love how that sounds.

Noah puts his hand up to silence my bouncing and takes my hands into his. "Don't get too excited Quinn. This has happened before. Remember, just because they like us doesn't mean they'll choose us."

I shake my head. "But Laura said that this girl took one look at our book, her first book mind you, and said that we were the ones." We'd been working through two adoption agencies. One back home and one here in Ohio. And between the two we've met a handful of people who all ultimately decided that they'd rather give their baby to someone else.

After almost a year of rejection and eight years of trying on our own (two of those being spent trying to be approved for adoption), I can't help but get excited about this one. There's just this great feeling inside of me that's telling me this will be the one.

Before we walk into the restaurant we chose to meet in, I make sure that both of us look perfect. I smooth out Noah's shirt and make sure that my now shorter hair is in place. "Remember, if this doesn't follow through, it's not the end of the world." I nod my head. "I love you." I smile and go on to my tiptoes so that I can leave a quick peck on his lips.

"I love you too." I take a huge breath of air as Noah laces his fingers through mine, opening the door of the modest restaurant. I spot Laura, our adoption agent, in the corner and she waves us over. We walk over hand in hand and when we finally face the girl who wants us to take her baby, I think I'm going to faint.

Brown curly hair that's so light it could be a dirty blonde. Her eyes are dark too and all around, she looks like a nice girl, save for her extended chest and stomach. She's no more than 16 and my cross lies against her chest.

My knees give out just a bit and Noah has to catch me a little, helping me down in my seat. "Are you alright," the girl asks while Laura looks at me with worried eyes.

I place a fake smile on my face and nod. "I'm Noah." My husband extends his hand to the girl and I don't think he's realized it yet. They shake hands and I notice his eyes flicker to the gold necklace. His jaw tenses.

"I'm Caroline."

She turns to me, her hand still extended from when Noah shook it. I stupidly stare at it for a moment before putting my small hand into hers. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I nod again, rubbing my lips together. "Just, nerves I suppose," I say, my voice unusually quiet. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking, why did you choose us?" I can't stop looking at her. She has my nose, the same curve of my lips and Noah's eyes. Does she even realize that when she looks at us that she may as well be looking into a fucking mirror?

She smiles politely (God, it's just like his smile) and takes a sip of water. "Well, I don't know. Just something about you guys popped out. You're both originally from Ohio and in your book it said that you've known each other since high school. I figure that anyone who can stay with the same person since high school has enough love in their hearts to welcome someone who isn't necessarily their own flesh and blood." Oh, how wrong you are sweetheart. "Plus, it does help that you guys sort of look like me." She rubs her belly and it's only now that it hits me that not only am I seeing my daughter for the first time since I gave her away, but that she's inadvertently asking me to raise my grandchild.

Noah turns to look at me, eyes red. He holds on to my hand tighter and I let out a shaky breath. "How do your parents feel about this? And… what about the baby's father?" I have no idea how he's managing to speak right now. But I suppose that's what I love about him. He always finds the words when I'm rendered speechless.

"My parents are not thrilled. The only way I'm being able to stay at home is by giving the baby up for adoption. And the dad?" She lets out a heavy sigh. "I haven't seen him since I told him about the bun in the oven."

"Do you want to give it away?" The question leaves my mouth without me realizing it. I want to stop looking at her, stop staring at her because it makes my heart grow heavy and crack, but I can't stop. She's here and it seems that she hasn't been given the life I want for her, the one where she became more than what I was.

She bites her bottom lip, hand running over her stomach. "It doesn't really matter does it?"

I wonder if Noah can feel my nails creating crescent moons in his hand or if he's as numb as I am. "It does matter…" I trail off and she's starting to look worried. "Don't do this because someone is making you. If you honestly feel like you want to keep her or that you should keep her, then do it. Don't be afraid of what the outcome is going to be." I feel like I should've told myself these exact same words sixteen years ago. Laura looks at me as if I'm crazy and I suppose I do sound a little crazy (afterall, I just made the assumption that she's carrying a little baby girl, just like I had). Who in their right mind would tell a teenage girl to forget all about the fact that her parents will kick her out and just keep her baby?

I duck my head down and close my eyes tight. "I'm sorry," I say when I look back up at her. I glance over at Noah and I really just want to get out of here.

"Do you think we could meet up again at a later date?" He opens his mouth as if to offer a useable excuse but nothing comes to mind and he shuts his mouth again. "We'll take a look at your background and all that and then we can set up another meeting."

She looks crushed. "Is it me?" Both Noah and I raise our eyebrows in confusion and our daughter continues. "Look, I want give you guys my baby. I'm not considering anyone else and I truly feel like you guys can give her the best life possible. There won't be any drama with that father because he really could careless and like I said, my parents are supporting this. I swear that I'm not a fuck up. This," she says, rubbing her stomach, "is the only flaw in my life. I get good grades and I do a million extracurricular activities. The father isn't the greatest but he's pretty and is a decent guy when it doesn't come to baby drama." She stops to talk a breath and grabs all of her background information, thrusting it towards us. "He doesn't have any major diseases or illnesses that run in his family besides diabetes, but really, who doesn't have diabetes now? And I'm afraid I can't tell you if I carry anything because I was adopted myself and I don't know anything about their background. But as far as I know I don't have any deadly diseases and just…"

She trails off and takes another breath. "Just please take him. I really don't care if you don't like me but he's a blank slate. He won't become anything like me because he'll have you guys to raise him in the best way possible. You'll love him as much as I already do…" She looks like she's trying not to cry. Tears are swelling in her eyes and her bottom lip is quivering.

I want to help her. I want to pull her into my arms and hug her like a mother should hug her daughter but I can't. I can't whisper those reassuring words and I'm not sure I can do this.

Noah shakes his head. "We like you Caroline," he says softly and I inhale sharply when he says her name. "We just really need to take a step back and evaluate if we can do this." He rises to his feet and I follow him, nails still clawing into his palm. He sends Laura an apologetic smile and leads me out of the restaurant.

When we get back into his car, I break down violently. I feel like I can't breathe, that there's a weight on my chest that can't be lifted and I have to close my eyes to stop from feeling dizzy. Noah pulls me closer awkwardly, the center consol digging into my stomach as I struggle to get as close to him as possible. I hear him sob in my ear as my tears soak through his shirt. "She was so beautiful," I whisper amidst my hiccups and sobs. I pull back and put my hands on his cheeks, thumbs rubbing away the silently falling tears. "She was our baby." He rests his forehead on mine and we stay like that silently for ten minutes until we're both okay enough to even start driving back home.

I'm lying on the floor with my eyes closed when my dad comes in. "Quinnie? You alright," he asks, sitting down on the edge of my childhood bed. He looks down at me and I open my eyes, taking in the sight of his aged and tired face, his graying hair combed into an almost boyish style. I shake my head. "Did the girl not work out?" I bite my bottom lip, my chapstick hitting my taste buds. My face contorts both from the tears clouding my eyes and the disgusting taste of the product on my lips.

"She was perfect," I say honestly, breathlessly, and my father's eyebrows furrow together in confusion. I squeeze my hands together tightly as they lay on my abdomen before I turn on to my side, eyes never leaving my father. "I know that you don't like to talk about it, that you like pretending it didn't happen…" My voice trails off as my dad's back straightens, his eyes hardening slightly. "But would you have done the same thing, kicked me out and all, if you had known what you do now?" His eyebrows move in confusion again and I take a deep breath before continuing. "I don't think I would have. As much as I love you and Mom," I'm not sure how true that statement is if I'm being honest with myself. My relationship with them both has been strained since I was sixteen years old, "I don't think I would have given her away. I wouldn't have pushed away Noah…"

I blink, a trail of tears escaping my eyes, my make up caught in its wet path. My father almost looks at me disapprovingly. "But Quinn… you probably wouldn't have your degree or be as happy as you are now… You wouldn't be in this exact place."

I smile softly. "I know. But I'd likely still have Noah and I'd me a mom and if we were all even just a fraction of how happy we are now, I think I'd be okay… I think I'd prefer it over this."

My dad is silent for a while before finally asking, "Where is all this coming from?"

I take a deep breath. "The girl who wants to give us her baby… she's our baby." His jaw locks and I shut my eyes because I don't want to see the look on his face. "And Daddy, her life would have been so different if I hadn't given her away and she looked so much like me and Noah and she was just such a beautiful girl…" I open my eyes when I feel my dad's hand on my shoulder. He's moved to the ground, now sitting Indian style in front of me. "And I hate that I feel like this is God's way of punishing me…"

My father shakes his head and takes my hand into his. "Have you thought about the fact that it may be His way of helping her? That the reason He never blessed you with another," I'm surprised he's acknowledging her now, "child was because He knew she'd need you?" I scoot closer to my father, my blonde head resting in his lap. "You can save her sweetheart…"

I lift my head and open my mouth to protest. This whole situation is so weird and confusing and so much good could come from this but it could also blow up in our faces. The older man puts up his hand and silences me before I utter a word. "Would you love that baby any different Quinn?" I shake my head. "Then what are your reservations?"

My father is a brilliant man but he just doesn't get it.

Noah comes back from his mother's to find me in the same spot. "My dad thinks we should do it," I say quietly and I almost want to snort. We can't do this… right? He shuts the door behind him, taking his shirt off once we're hidden away from the eyes of my parents. He lowers himself to the ground, hovering over me like he's doing a push up until our legs tangle together and he rests against my body, keeping his weight off my chest.

"What do you think we should do," he asks me carefully, brown eyes studying my face, like he's looking for another similarity between our daughter and me. I raise my hands to trace his features and smile softly.

"She looked more like you." He shakes his head.

"She was a perfect mix," he says as he lowers his head down, leaving a soft innocent kiss on my lips. When he pulls back he sighs and then finds my eyes again, eyebrow raised in question.

I shrug the best I can. "My dad thinks this was all planned. That we can't have more babies so we could save our first one when she needs us the most…"

"Do you believe that?"

I shrug again. "It'd be nice to believe that instead of believing that God's just been punishing me… but… I don't know. The whole situation seems so surreal." I run a hand over his head, nails scratching through his buzzed hair. "What about you? What do you think?"

He looks scared which probably why he leaves a trail of kisses along my jaw and down the side of my extended neck before answering me, voice quiet and rough in my ear. "I don't think we could raise him without being either grateful to her every day or without feeling like we've taken away the one thing that she really loved… like we've given her the years you wish you could've taken back…"

I nod and wrap my arms around him, pulling him down so that his weight rests on me. Tears pool in the sides of my eyes as a lump forms in my throat. She already loves her baby, just like I loved her. I can't let her make the same mistake I did… "We can't do this huh? No matter how great it would be." Noah nods against me and I exhale loudly as the tears come in steady streams.

Kisses mix with salty tears and my hair as my husband cries against my neck. "We're gonna be okay though babe… we're helping our baby girl and we'll be okay," he says as he lifts his head, his tears now falling on my already wet cheeks.

I nod and pull his lips down to mine.

We'll be okay…

She wants us to meet at her home. I don't think this is a good idea and Laura tells her it's against the rules. But she puts her foot down (or so I imagine during our weird three way phone conversation) and says that we have to meet at her house or we'll just have to wait until the baby is born to meet up the next time. I bite my lip when she says this and then let out a breath. "We can meet at her house so long as we don't get in trouble Laura," I say to the other woman on the line, my fingers nervously touching the pen that lies in front of me.

Laura lets out an exasperated breath. "Neither of this is to get back to the agency alright?" My daughter and I swear to not breathe a word. We all agree that tomorrow we'll meet up, after Caroline gets off school and while her parents are still at work.

This is probably for the best because really, there's a whole lot I'd like to tell the people I chose to raise my daughter.

Noah and I nervously step into the large suburban home, Laura in front of us, digging through her briefcase for the papers she's had drawn up because she thinks that we're taking this baby. I glance over at Noah and silently ask him if he'd like to talk to her first. He shakes his head and I turn to face Caroline whose smiling face only makes this harder. "Could I talk to you alone for a minute?" The younger girl nods and walks (waddles is a more appropriate word. She must be nearly seven months…) into the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink," she asks politely as I sit down on a barstool. I shake my head and smile at her softly.

"I'm fine. Why don't you just come sit down," I pull out the barstool next to me and she looks at me like I'm crazy. I realize what I've done and mutter an apology before getting up and walking with her to the dinner table, the chairs much lower so that the pregnant girl can sit down. I like my lips before drawing my bottom lip into my mouth, nervously chewing on the skin.

"It's a hell of a habit isn't it?" I drop my lip and raise an eyebrow. She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth just as I had done and then lets it go free. "I do that a lot. I thought I'd make my lip bleed I was chewing on it non stop the day we met." I bit my lip out of habit, trying to fight of the smile that's trying to creep on my face.

"Caroline, we can't take your son." I look at her and notice how her back straightens, jaw tightens and her hands squeeze into fists. "As much as we would really, really want to, we talked it over and we don't think it would be for the best." Her bottom lip trembles and I don't even think she realizes that she's crying. I place my hand on top of hers, squeezing it gently. "And I really wish that I could give you a better explanation but it's not my place. Just know that Noah and I would have loved your son with all our hearts… that we would have loved to do this for you, but we can't." She stares at our touching hands and shakes her head, short hair swishing from side to side.

"So what was it? Was it me? Was it something I said?" I don't want to lie to her. It was her, she was our daughter. It was something she said, her omission of love for the boy growing and moving beneath her stomach's surface. But I can't break her heart anymore than I already have.

"No, of course not sweetheart," I say softly. "You're perfect. Everything you said was perfect… And you know what? Maybe you should talk about this with your parents again… talk about keeping your son. I know you want to."

She shakes her head again, voice cracking when she says, "I can't keep him."

"You're so wrong… You can keep him. And I won't lie to you. It's going to be hard. It'll be hard doing it on your own and maybe without your parents' approval. But I don't think you've thought about what it'll be like after you've given him away. Things don't go back to normal. The bridges that were burned or left rattled by this don't mend, they just break. People think it gets easier but it doesn't… if anything it gets harder. I mean, do you think that you can live with the fact that you'll never know what he looks like? Never know it he got your hair color, or your nose, or the shape of your lips? Never know if he's safe or if we somehow fucked up his life? These are all things that when you're pregnant you barely scratch the surface of… It's not till you're alone that it hits you." I gasp for air like I've just been held underwater and lift my hand off hers, instinctively grasping the cross that hangs from my neck.

She stares at me, looks as though she's been given a puzzle with all the pieces laid out and numbered for her, giving her the answer as how to solve it. Her eyes focus on my hand and cross before she glances down to the cross I gave her the day I gave her away. She raises a shaking hand to her face, fingers outlining her eyebrow before resting her head against her fingers. "I'm so sorry Caroline," I tell her honestly and stand up quickly, walking back into the living room as my hands move fast to wipe away my fallen tears.

Noah's lips graze my forehead when he stands, walking into the kitchen I just left. Laura stares at me as I sink into the couch. "You're… you're not taking him," she asks like she's just been told I know the meaning to life. I shake my head and she looks down at all the papers she's laid out. "But, she's perfect for you Quinn… this was the perfect situation."

I can't say it. Can't admit to this woman who is now just disappointed with me that I just had to break my daughter's heart in order to save her from herself.

The front door opens unexpectedly and both Laura and I look up in surprise. "What are you doing here," the woman asks, eyes wide as she points at me. I stand up and walk around the couch to stand in front of the woman I've only met two times.

I stick out my hand. "I'm the woman who was going to adopt your grandson," I say with special focus on the last word, it hanging heavy in the air between us. She gulps and glances over at Laura before returning her gaze to me.

"Where's Caroline?"

I motion to the kitchen with my head. "My husband's talking to her…" Laura sits clueless on the couch, looking between us as if we'll let the secret spill soon enough.

"Does she…" The older woman trails off and I nod before shrugging.

"I'm not sure. I think she does though. She's a smart girl."

Suddenly the woman, I really wish I could remember her name, turns to Laura and asks her politely to leave. She's no longer needed here since I'm not adopting the baby. "I'm not really allowed to-" The woman glares at the adoption agent and Laura shuts her mouth before gathering the wasted paper and walking around us, shutting the door behind her. "You're not taking him," the woman asks again and I glare at her.

"You gave her an ultimatum?" My voice is louder and angrier than I had anticipated.

"She's sixteen years old. She cannot raise a baby. You of all people should know that," she tries to ration with me but I shake my head.

"I could've raised her. I could have loved her. I could have made it work," I tell her as she glances over my shoulder at the empty doorway to the kitchen. "I told you when I met you that I didn't want to do it. That I didn't want to give her away but I felt like I had to. And yeah, I suppose my life turned out alright. My parents talk to me again, I went to college, and married my husband. But I would trade it all in if I had the chance to do it over again. Because that year after I had her, the year I was completely alone wasn't worth this. None of it was worth it."

"You can't possibly think that she could really do it, that she could really raise that child. She's a child herself!" The woman throws her hands up in the air, shaking her head at me.

"And in three months she's going to be a mother too. Even if she gives him to some other family, she'll still be a mother and she'll have nothing to show for it." More tears somehow escape my eyes and then it all just starts pouring out. "I chose you and your husband because I thought that you would love her no matter what. That you would give her the greatest life and not make her feel like she's done something she should be ashamed of. That you would embrace her in her darkest times and always do what's best for her."

"Keeping that baby is not what's best for her! You are not her mother, I am! I know what is best for my daughter," the woman yells, words slicing through me like the blades of a knife.

Noah clears his throat from the doorway and both of us turn to look at him. Caroline stands next to him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders carefully. My daughter looks at me cautiously and then looks at her mother with confusion. "I want to keep him," she mutters quietly and the woman next to me inhales sharply.

"Cara," I wrinkle my nose at the nickname, "you're sixteen. This is a mistake."

She nods and then takes a step forward, Noah's arm dropping to his side. "And you always told me that I was the happiest thing that ever happened to you… something that God sent to you to help fix someone else's mistake." I meet Noah's eyes and frown. "I was given to you to make both your life and my birth parents' lives better… Momma, I don't see my life getting better if I give him away. He's not a mistake. I may not have planned this but I could never call him a mistake… I can't imagine seeing his face and holding him and then just passing him off to someone else's arms…" She's crying again, eyes closing as uneven streams trail down flawless cheeks.

The woman shakes her head. "I just… I… You're sixteen." The woman looks around at all of us and the runs her hand through her hair angrily. "Please get out of my house. I need to speak with my daughter." Noah nods and walks toward me but I stay rooted in my spot. I stare at Caroline who's just barely opened her eyes again. I want to tell her to come live with us. That we'll take care of her and our grandson and we could be a happy family (the one we could have been all along). But this isn't a fairytale. This is reality and in reality, I can't do anything to save this girl anymore.

Noah's hands rest on my arms, pulling me softly towards the front door. I don't want to leave her here… I don't want to leave either of them here. But I allow Noah to help me walk out of the house and down the driveway and into our car. "She wasn't a mistake… She has to know she wasn't a mistake," I say just as I'm about to buckle my seatbelt, letting the belt slide back into its slot when I let it go. Noah grabs my hand and keeps me in my place.

"She knows she's not Quinn," he says softly.

I shake my head. "Tay-Sachs," I mutter, Rachel Berry popping into my mind after all these years. "The baby could have Tay-Sachs. You're Jewish Noah, that means she's Jewish and-" He puts a finger to my lips.

"She knows about it and the baby is in the clear. When you gave her up for adoption, you told Mrs. Kaback that I was Jewish and to watch out for Tay-Sachs," he tells me, reaching around to pull my seatbelt across me, buckling me into the car.

"We have to help her," I plead with him and he shakes his head sadly.

"I want to help her too babe, but we can't. She's not ours to raise…" He starts the car and we drive in silence for a while.

"Did she tell you that she knew," I ask as we get on the freeway and he nods, eyes never leaving the road. "Did you tell her that we love her?"

He nods. "I told her that she was the best thing that ever happened to us. That I loved her before I even knew she was a she and that giving her away was the hardest, darkest moment of your life." He swallows hard, right hand searching for mine in my lap. Our fingers lace together, his hands warming up my freezing hands. "And I told her that if she ever needed anything, that we'd be there for her when no one else was…"

Loved it? Hated it? Let me know and I hope you all enjoyed this small fic!