A/N: This is it. The final chapter in the Mondays with You saga. Before I begin, I need to thank some very important people. First of all, I'd like to thank my lovely BEE, the other half of the bethandbee equation, who beta-read this and provided sage advice. Bee, you are the bear to my pterodactyl, and this fic is the first and greatest bearodactyl. Hopefully, there will be many more.
Another big thank you to the lovely people over at gleeclub, and to all the wonderful people who have read and reviewed this story. I honestly love hearing from you in your reviews and comments. I've been getting so many lovely e-mails (fun fact: every time I get a Mondays with You related email, Google asks me if I want to schedule the event "with You" as a weekly occasion on Mondays. I lol'd.)
So, six words: THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU. ENJOY.
"It's a girl!"
Quinn cast her eyes to the ceiling, breathing deeply. The nurse raised up Quinn's daughter, radiant in all her slimy, purple glory.
"Look, Quinn! You did it!" Kurt was ecstatic, his eyes wet with happy tears. "That's your baby!"
Quinn took her daughter from the nurse and cradled it against her chest. She was sobbing now, for a million reasons; pain, first and foremost, but also relief and joy and fatigue and sadness. There were no words to express what she was feeling. All she could do was hold this tiny little person close to her and feel through her tears.
Kurt lifted Quinn from her pillows, and wiped a stray blonde curl off of her sweaty face. His hands were marbled white and blue from Quinn's punishing grip on them during labour. He smiled down at Quinn, at her daughter, and then leaned forward and kissed Quinn's forehead.
"You are my hero, Quinnie."
"No," she murmured. She smiled weakly at him through her veil of tears and sweat. "You're my hero."
He wrapped his arms around her and her baby. Quinn rested her head on his shoulder and wept into the soft material of his bathrobe.
"You mind telling me where you've been all night?"
Kurt squirmed under his dad's grip. There really was nothing worse than a frantic and worried parent – until they found you.
"I was at the hospital, Dad. Quinn just had her baby."
His dad swallowed hard, releasing his grip on Kurt's shoulder to thump him on the back.
"How's she doing?"
Kurt nodded slowly. "She's all right. I just… I came home to change and grab some coffee. I'll probably head back to the hospital later."
"Is anyone with her now?"
Kurt shook his head. "No, it was just me. She was asleep when I left. I think her parents are coming in to visit her later."
"It's disgraceful, you know? Throwing her out like she's some kind of…"
"I know," Kurt nodded. "It's… it's awful."
Burt sat down on the edge of his desk, taking a long, slow drink from his coffee mug. Kurt crossed his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"And that Puck kid… running off like a coward."
Kurt nodded. "It's pretty complicated."
"Bull."
Burt set his coffee down on the desk behind him, leaned forward, and started rubbing his forehead in slow circles. It was really dreadful, this – when he knew why his dad was upset and he couldn't do a thing to bridge the divide. Burt had never been one to verbalize his feelings.
"I'd give you a ride, you know, but hospitals…"
"I know."
Kurt crossed the floor slowly, getting ready to sit down beside his father. Burt snapped up suddenly, pointing a finger at Kurt.
"Kurt, I need you to promise me one thing."
Kurt nodded.
"She needs you. Don't you ever leave her."
"Don't worry, dad." The corners of his mouth turned up into a soft smile. "I won't. I never will."
She was asleep when the nurse led her parents in an hour later.
"I'm sure you'll be happy to know that Quinn had a relatively quick labour," the nurse prattled. "She was quite apprehensive at first, but she calmed down when the baby's father showed up. After that, things went pretty smoothly."
"The baby's father?" asked Mrs. Fabray. "Finn?"
"No, I believe his name was Kurt. Curtis, maybe. Something like that."
"Oh," Mrs. Fabray hummed, clearly confused.
"It's a different boy every week," smirked Mr. Fabray.
Kurt strolled in brandishing a Starbucks tray. "Morning! I was just out on a coffee run."
He rested the tray on a counter, and then extended his hand to the Fabrays. "My name's Kurt. I'm a friend of Quinn's."
Mr. Fabray refused to shake Kurt's hand. "Russell."
Kurt, unfazed, turned to Mrs. Fabray. "And you are…?"
"Judy," she grinned, artificially, and shook his hand.
"Now, I'm a little confused here: are you the bastard who knocked my daughter up?" Mr. Fabray was suddenly aggressive.
"Oh, no, sir. Definitely not," Kurt laughed uneasily. "I'm just a good friend. Now, I was wondering if I could talk to the two of you for just a moment. It's about Quinn and the baby."
"We actually came here to see Quinn, if you don't mind," Mrs. Fabray said, hostility clear in her voice.
"It'll only take a minute," Kurt said, "And it's very important."
Mr. Fabray shrugged. "Fine."
Kurt stepped back, holding open the door. "We just need to walk over the chapel."
He led the way through the hospital, dodging gurneys and apparatuses of all kinds. Finally, they reached the chapel. Kurt held open the door and made his way inside after the Fabrays. He reached into the back of one pew and pulled out a Bible.
"What is this all about, buddy?" Mr. Fabray asked.
"One second. I'm finding the verse."
He thumbed through the pages. His dad was much better with this stuff than he was – Kurt didn't exactly read the Bible for fun. When he found it, he triumphantly stabbed the page with his finger.
"Luke 15, verses 13 to 24."
"Oh, for Christ's sake," Mr. Fabray mumbled.
Kurt ignored him, and began to read: "It wasn't long before the younger son packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, he wasted everything he had. After he had gone through all his money, there was a bad famine all through that country and he began to ache… That brought him to his senses. He said, 'I'm going back to my father. I'll say to him, Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; I don't deserve to be called your son ever again.'"
He paused for a moment. Mrs. Fabray coughed into her hand, shifting nervously.
"When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him. The son started his speech, but the father wasn't listening. He was calling to his servants, '…my son is here! Given up for dead, and now alive! Given up for lost, and now found!'"
Kurt closed the Bible, scanning the Fabrays' faces for a reaction. Mr. Fabray slowly uncrossed his arms, letting them rest in his pockets instead.
"What is this about?"
Kurt lay down the book, and crossed his arms angrily. "Quinn was sleeping on a couch in her friend's basement when her water broke. She went through six hours of labour all by herself."
"You are way out of line, kid," Mr. Fabray seethed. He charged forward.
"Russell, don't," Mrs. Fabray cautioned him.
"Oh, I'm out of line?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow. "I drove to this hospital at three o'clock in the morning to help Quinn deliver her baby, and I'm out of line?"
He took their silence as license to continue.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fabray, I can't imagine this situation was a dream come true for the two of you, but you have a responsibility to protect your daughter."
"I'm sorry - Kurt, is it?" Mrs. Fabray interrupted.
Kurt nodded.
"Kurt, we raised Quinn to have standards, to know when to say 'no.' Her… her decision was hugely disrespectful, and it went in direct violation of everything we'd ever taught her."
"You raised Quinn by this book," Kurt interrupted, pointing at the forgotten Bible. "Where in this book does it say that you're allowed to stop loving your daughter?"
The Fabrays stood, speechless. Kurt sucked in a deep breath.
"Do the right thing."
He strode out of the chapel, slamming the door behind him.
"Quinn? Quinn, wake up."
The gentle hand on her shoulder awoke her, and she opened her eyes. The room around her was a blur, but as she blinked dark water out of her eyes, two faces came into focus. Her mother loomed over her, one hand on her shoulder.
"Hi, Quinn. How are you?"
"Fine," she mumbled.
Mr. Fabray crouched behind her, stroking Quinn's hand gently. An awkward silence was heavy over the entire scene. Her mom was mumbling under her breath, barely a whisper. Suddenly, her voice hitched and she threw her arms around Quinn.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Quinn, I'm so sorry."
Tentatively, Quinn raised her arms and hugged her.
"…mom? What's going on?"
"I love you, Quinn."
"I love you too, mom."
Kurt stood on the outside of Quinn's hospital room, peering in through the door's small window. The curtains around her bed had been pulled back, so he could see clearly. And he liked what he saw. Mrs. Fabray was hugging a crying Quinn, patting her on the back, and Mr. Fabray stood, overlooking the scene. Kurt thought he saw him mouth the words, "I'm sorry." A few feet away, the newest and littlest Fabray dozed, safe and sound, in an incubator.
After a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Fabray made their way over to the door and stepped into the hallway. Mrs. Fabray smiled softly at him. Mr. Fabray nodded at Kurt, then clapped him on the back.
"She's asking for you now," Mrs. Fabray said.
"Quinn?" Kurt asked.
Mrs. Fabray nodded. "Thank you for helping her this morning, Kurt."
Rubbing his hands together, Kurt stepped back inside, and then slowly shut the door. Quinn was awake now, but still groggy. She was propped up in bed by about half a dozen enormous pillows.
"Kurt," she smiled. "You really are my hero."
"You pretty much amputated my fingers there," Kurt laughed. "I can't even begin to imagine how much that hurt. Pooping out a human being – that takes talent."
"I did not poop out a human being. It's called giving birth," she giggled. She threw open her arms for a hug. "Get over here."
He perched on the edge of her hospital bed, all too eager to return her hug. He'd gone home in the time she'd been asleep, and he was now dressed in real clothes and smelled faintly of aftershave.
"Kurt, what on earth did you tell my parents?"
"I just called them on their blatant hypocrisy, that's all," Kurt shrugged. "Fortunately, it worked."
"I have a home again. My baby has a home. Mom even said she's going to convert my sister's old bedroom into a nursery. They're going to help me raise my daughter. You have no idea how much that means to me. It's everything I've been praying for. I could never begin to repay you..."
"You don't owe me anything," he reassured her. "I'm just glad we're back to being friends."
"Me too," she smiled. She wiggled out of the hug and fell back against the pillows. "Um, Kurt? I have something I really need to ask you."
"Sure."
"Well, um. I haven't heard from Puck yet, and I… I don't really want to. Not at this point."
Kurt nodded.
"I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to be the baby's godfather?"
His eyes widened. "Oh, Quinn, I… wow…"
"You were everything I needed. Everything and more. You've played a special role in her life already, and if you would share your life with her a little…"
"I'd love to."
"Yes?"
"Absolutely."
He grinned at her, then stood up from his place on her cot. He made his way over to the incubator, looking down at Quinn's daughter. His goddaughter.
"You can hold her if you want."
Hesitantly, he lifted the baby from her mattress, taking care to support her head. He cradled her against his chest, holding her close as he walked back to Quinn's bedside. She was so warm, so small. He watched, spellbound, as she breathed in and out. He barely noticed the tears welling up in his eyes. Quinn laid a hand on his knee.
"Well?"
"She's beautiful," Kurt whispered.
Susannah Grace Fabray was rarely quiet from that point on. At her baptism, she wouldn't stop yelling, babbling and cooing as the priest sprinkled her with holy water.
"Calm down, Susie," Quinn had counseled her, juggling the baby in her arms.
Kurt had been standing beside her, dressed in a relatively modest blue button-down shirt and tan slacks. She'd carefully screened his outfit the night before to ensure he wouldn't arrive at the church in harem pants and a fedora. Hummel fashion was very unpredictable.
She passed Susie to Kurt, who, in the process, dotted Kurt's lapel with wet handprints.
"Susie is paying for drycleaning," he hissed.
Quinn elbowed him, and the two smiled broadly as the entire congregation applauded little Susie. The booming organ resounded throughout the chapel, and everyone began to sing.
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
It wasn't that everything was right again. Not by a long shot. But, she thought to herself, this moment was exactly right.