A/N: I'm not sure how many chapters this will be. Future!Finchel fic set in NYC. Oh the angst, y'all. I was in tears the entire time I wrote it, so I hope you enjoy it. (Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine)

Ten little white sticks scattered on the bathroom floor, all with little pink negative signs, and one sobbing petite brunette curled up on the extremely large bed, her arms around a purple teddy bear affectionately named Grape. They'd been trying for two years without success. The doctors had all said the same thing; physically there was nothing wrong with either of them. It was just one of those things; she kept taking her vitamins, and they'd tried everything. It didn't help matters that Santana called earlier in the day, practically glowing over the phone about the fact that she and Noah were expecting their second child. She was happy for their friends, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as Santana cooed about how Noah hoped that it would be a boy so that he could teach him to play football and pick up girls; it was hard not to be envious, especially when she visited the Puckerman home in Brooklyn. Slowly but surely, she fell apart again. A quiet whimper left Rachel's lips as she curled around the bear in her arms; this time she'd been so sure.

She hadn't answered his text about being on his way home, but he hoped that just meant that she was busy. She hadn't answered his text about bringing home Chinese food from her favorite restaurant, but he hoped that was just because she'd left her phone in her purse again. It was the fact that she didn't answer his texts that said "I love you" that had him worried. He'd sent her three, and none of them had gotten her usual five second response time. He knew in an instant that she was upset, and it didn't take a genius to know why. For two years they'd been trying to get pregnant, well, to get Rachel pregnant, and they'd had four false positives and no success. Not that trying wasn't tons of fun, especially since he was pretty sure he was getting more action than usual, but it was breaking his heart to see Rachel in tears with every confirmation that she was, once again, not pregnant. As his cab pulled up in front of the apartment building, Finn grabbed his laptop bag and slid out, quickly paying the driver; he raced up the steps, nodded to the doorman, and quickly took the elevator up to their loft.

"Rach?" He called for her as he stepped into large loft they'd been calling home for the past three years. "Rachel, baby where are you?"

There was no answer, and Finn felt a wave of panic; Rachel had been so cheerful that morning, and, although she had not said so, he suspected that she'd gotten her hopes up again. If that was the case, he was almost positive that she had been let down yet again and that he'd find her curled up in tears. He wanted a family terribly, but he wouldn't admit his infinite jealousy of Puck's happiness to Rachel for fear of putting more pressure on her. He could see the way Rachel tried to hide her envy and heartbreak when Santana was cooing over little Rebecca, who was the spitting image of her mother and at two years old was the unholy terror that everyone expected of a Puckerman and Lopez child, and it killed him. He knew Rachel would make a great mom someday, and it seemed so cruel that the universe was refusing to give her the opportunity. As he stepped into their bedroom, his heart broke; she was still curled up in their bed, her body swallowed up by an oversized grey NYU t-shirt that she'd obviously pulled out of one of his drawers, and he could see that she was still shaking with silent tears. Instantly he dropped his briefcase at the bedroom door, rushing to the bed and scooping her into his arms; he felt her tears through his shirt and had to bite back tears of his own.

"I was so sure, Finn. I was so sure this time." She couldn't stop the tears, and he held her to his chest.

"Shhh, baby it's alright." He tried desperately to comfort his wife, but nothing seemed to work. "It'll happen eventually; maybe it's just not our turn, yet."

"B-but when will it be our turn, Finn? W-we've been trying and trying, and you'd make such a great daddy." She stuttered.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

"Maybe it's me. Maybe I'll make a horrible mother, and the universe is telling me that I shouldn't have children. Maybe I'm just not supposed to have children because they'll have my attitude and personality and I'll be a terrible parent."

"Baby, no! You know that's not true! You'll be the best mom, and our kids are gonna be so lucky to have you, sweetheart." He gently rocked her in his arms. "It's just not the right time for us, I guess, but it will be some day; believe me, Rachel Hudson, when our time comes you will be such an amazing mother."

She offered him a sort of weak smile, and he gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head before settling her on her pillows and sliding from the bed to undress. Tonight would not be a 'let's try to make a baby' night; with a small sigh he filled a glass with water and brought it back to her, and she sipped it while he got ready for bed. Ten minutes later, he had tossed his clothes into the hamper, slid his briefcase and shoes against the wall, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed next to Rachel; she instantly snuggled closer to him, her small arms wrapping around his chest. She wouldn't sleep, not really, and he was well aware of that fact; she was all keyed up, and it would be awhile before she calmed. But he wouldn't really sleep either, not with Rachel upset. So instead he held her close, listening to her soft breathing, and he was grateful that her tears began to slow to a stop and that her small frame stopped trembling. He felt her drift off to sleep a few hours later, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead; uneasy sleep would eventually overtake him too, but for the time being he stared at the ceiling and wondered what he had done wrong and why the universe seemed to be taking out its anger at him on Rachel, who definitely didn't deserve it.

It was Saturday, and Finn was awake before Rachel, which was a rare occasion. Since the Off-Broadway run of West Side Story had ended, Rachel had been a little stir crazy, and it meant that she got up even earlier for some reason; Finn was the opposite. If he had that much free time, he'd probably sleep in more often. Gently kissing her forehead, he slid silently from their bed, trying not to wake her; she'd slept fitfully most of the night, and she needed to rest. He worried that she'd make herself sick stressing, and he couldn't bear the thought. In the morning quiet he cleaned up around the bedroom, picking up laundry that had been abandoned the night before, and then he went to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later the smell of coffee and pancakes filled the air, and he was sure that it would awaken the petite brunette he left sleeping in their bed.

"G'morning beautiful," the words fell from his lips the moment he saw her. "I made breakfast."

She wandered into the kitchen some time later, her hair slightly messy and her eyes almost more tired than the night before, and she offered him a weak smile; Rachel walked barefoot across the kitchen and into his open arms, and he held her close. She pressed a kiss to his bare chest, and he couldn't prevent a small smile from creeping across his lips. Stroking her hair gently, he baby stepped her toward the table and settled her in a chair before he turned to get her a plate and some juice. Returning to the table, he placed a plate with a stack of three pancakes made with whole wheat flour and two slices of meatless bacon and a glass of orange juice in front of her, and she murmured a thank you. She'd given up her vegan diet six months into their quest to start a family, and now she was a vegetarian who was allowed eggs and dairy; he knew she'd done it in hopes of increasing their chances by providing her body with more nutrients.

"We're supposed to go to Brooklyn today; I promised San I'd help her repaint Becca's room, and I know Noah wants you to help him work on that horrible motorcycle he bought last month." She pulled in a breath as he sat down across from her and poked his bacon with a fork.

"We don't have to, baby. If you aren't feeling up to it, Puck and Santana will understand." She shook her head.

"I can handle it, Finn. I may be unable to bear your children, but I am fully capable of putting aside my own problems to help our friends." Her voice was a little sharper than she intended it to be, and she was immediately hit with a wave of guilt. "Oh god Finn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I just… I'm sorry, baby."

"I didn't mean it like that, Rach." He whispered, but she was already threatening to dissolve into tears; sometimes he was terrified that their troubles would tear them apart, and he quickly pushed his chair back and hurried to wrap her in his arms. "I know, baby; it's alright."

He had been trying to be patient and understanding; he knew it was hard on Rachel, who viewed it as a failure on her part, and she couldn't stand to be a failure. Nothing seemed to convince the woman in his arms that she was not a failure and that it was not her fault that they hadn't been able to conceive. Rachel kept muttering apologies, and he knew it would take her a little while to relax again. She hated snapping at him, and she hated the way she felt lately. Her therapist said it was just fear and anxiety making her lash out, but that did very little to quell the guilt she felt at the idea of attacking her husband when he was so patient and kind. Once things felt calm again, they went back to their breakfasts, and she nibbled her bacon in silence for a while; the conversation turned to work, and her spirits lifted considerably as she relayed the incredible news that she had received a call back for Fanny Brice in the Broadway revival of Funny Girl. The role was a dream come true. Finn was glad to see her genuinely smiling again.

Two hours later, Rachel found herself struggling for balance as Rebecca Puckerman wrapped her arms around her knees and chanted "Rachie" over and over; the petite brunette grinned as she picked up her goddaughter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Santana chuckled at her daughter, and even Rachel giggled when her best female friend commented that it wouldn't be long until Becca was as big as Auntie Rachel, not that it would be difficult. Rachel forced her own sadness down, instead focusing on the fact that they all had the day off; putting Becca back on the floor, she watched with a small smile as the toddler wobbled away to find her toys, and she turned back to Santana, who was explaining to Finn that her husband was out in the garage playing with his new toy. Finn kissed Rachel's forehead, promised not to get too dirty, and disappeared outside, leaving the two women to their own devices.

"You better watch Finn, Rachie; he'll take one look at that damn bike out there and want one too." Santana laughed softly as she led her down the hall to Becca's bedroom. "I swear Puck spends more time out there every day."

"Finn's already mentioned that he could save on gas and beat the traffic if I'd let him have one." Rachel chuckled as they stepped into the bedroom, already marked off and ready for paint. "I don't know; he's sort of right, but they can be so dangerous, San. I couldn't stand it if he got hurt."

"Puck swears motherhood has made me soft, but I feel the same way." She tossed Rachel a brush, frowning apologetically at her friend's wince. "Sorry Rachie, I know you and Finn have been trying."

"S'ok, San, really." Rachel blinked back tears as she dipped her brush into a bucket of soft pink paint. "It's just that I know Finn wants children; he's always dreamed of having a son, and family means so much to him. I just… I want to give him that."

"Rachel Hudson, you are my favorite hobbit, but maybe you and Finn need to stop trying so hard." Santana quickly continued when she spotted Rachel's shocked expression. "I mean maybe you just have to let it happen when it happens. Lord knows, Puck and I sure as hell weren't trying for baby number two."

The two women set about painting the room, turning their conversation to work at the community center. Santana was finishing up her residency, and she volunteered on a regular basis, helping families and children who couldn't afford health insurance and healthcare; Rachel helped with the music classes and often read to the younger children when she wasn't at rehearsal or costume fittings. The center had been unusually busy this summer, and they were seeing a lot of new faces among the children.

"Hoping it's a boy, huh?" Finn glanced over at his best friend with a sort of half smile.

"Yeah, can you imagine? Beck's a little mini San, which can be dangerous, so maybe we'll get a mini Puck to match. I wanna teach him to play football and when he gets old enough I'll teach him to pick up chicks." Puck paused, wiping a grease smudge off his arm. "Dude, I'm sorry. I know you and Shorty have been going at it like rabbits trying to get preggers."

"I don't know, man. When she isn't crying because she isn't pregnant she jumps me the minute I get in the door. Don't get me wrong; the sex is fucking awesome, and I'm pretty sure I get laid more than any married man on the planet. It's just that I hate seeing her hurting all the time 'cause we haven't had any success." Finn let out a sigh, rubbing his face with a free hand and leaving a grease smudge on his cheek. "I guess I kind of had this image of you and me having kids growing up at the same time, playing on the same football team and shit. It's kind of dumb."

"S'not dumb, Finny D." Puck could tell it was a sore subject.

"It's just hard; I want Rachel to be happy again, y'know?" Finn pulled in a breath. "I hate seeing her cry, and I know she feels like a failure. The doctors all say the same damned thing though; nothing is wrong with either of us so we just have to wait it out."

"On the plus side, you are getting plenty of action." Puck gave a shrug and a wink before turning his attention back to the motorcycle. "Dude, hand me that wrench over there."

Finn was grateful for the change of subject, and the two men went to work on the motorcycle; it wasn't until Santana appeared in the doorway that lead to the house three hours later, Rebecca gripping her fingers tightly, and declared that Becca wanted to know where her daddy was that Finn felt the familiar pang in his chest. He'd long moved past the Beth issue, but he couldn't help but feel a touch of envy at the way the little girl stared up at his best friend and reached out for him to pick her up; he wanted that desperately, and it was beginning to feel like it was never going to happen. Not that he would ever say that in front of Rachel, who was standing next to Santana with a sort of sad smile on her face.

Rachel's eyes met Finn's, and she could see the way he watched Puck and Rebecca; watching with Santana with her daughter gave her the same sort of feeling, and she fought to push it aside. Someday, she kept reminding herself; someday she'd have a family. But, for now, there was a sort of empty feeling, and she was trying desperately to keep it together for Finn's sake. He'd seen her cry enough over the past few months. Noah announced that his mother was flying in from Lima, and Rachel quickly announced that perhaps it was time for them to head home; Mrs. Puckerman was still fairly vocal about the fact that Noah should have married Rachel because she was a nice Jewish girl.

"I think I'll take my grease monkey home." She chuckled, flashing Finn an affectionate smile. "You'll need to get Becca there cleaned up and ready to see her Grandmother."

"Well, I guess playtime is over, dude." Finn laughed softly. "Call me and tell me if it runs; if it doesn't I'll come back next weekend."

"Have fun, Sannie, and don't tell her that I was here." Hugging Santana, Rachel chuckled when her friend whispered a plea not to leave her alone with Noah's mother, and she quickly reached out for Finn's hand.

Later that night, as they both lay snuggled beneath the sheets, Finn pressed a kiss to Rachel's forehead and pulled her so that her warm body was flush with his; he knew she was probably hoping that somewhere between the shower and the bed they'd created another Hudson, and part of him hoped so too.

"It'll happen, Rach." He whispered softly in the darkness of the room. "We just have to give it time."

"Do you believe in miracles, Finn?" She whispered back. "Don't we deserve one of our own?"

"Our miracle will come, sweetheart." He kissed her temple as she curled her body as close as possible to his. "Our miracle is coming."