one-shot. really sad. you've been warned.
I dont own glee
"If I catch you slacking once more, I'll have you thrown out!" Mr. Fabray bellowed. Rachel stood there, quietly, watching her fellow worker being barked at by the mine supervisor. Not anymore did it have an effect on her due to the fact that the yelling was so constant. The twelve-hour day was done and getting home from the mine wasn't making her extremely jubilant.
Being a coal miner in the 1840's meant two things. You spent an abundance of time working and the time you weren't mining coal, you spent coughing it up. You also made little pay. Rachel didn't talk to the other children at the mines. She kept to herself and did her work with as little trouble as possible. It became apparent to Rachel that she was getting sick more often than she used to. She learned that the life expectancy for a miner was seventeen. She, just one year away from that age, was frightened.
Her fellow workers were ignorant when it came to the truth. Of course they were miserable, everyone was, but they had no idea how little they knew of the truth. And Rachel couldn't share her knowledge because that would mean blowing her secret.
She huddled back through the rain to her home.
Her small, crowded home.
The home that she would die in one day.
"You smell of dirt and sweat." Her mother cringed when she walked in the doorway.
"Mother, I can't help it." Rachel's mother worked at a cotton factory as well as her father. She wished she would one day be allowed to work there as well. It was above ground and that's all she hoped for.
"Go to bed now. You've got church in the morning and I will not have you missing it." Little did her mother know, Rachel hadn't been to church in over two years.
The following morning was sunny and the ground was wet from the rain the previous night. Rachel dreaded walking through the aristocrat neighborhood. They knew what she was. She was a peasant. The boys standing outside would grab her and say derogatory things and they could never be in trouble because of their social status and because of her, well her lack of one. But Rachel would ignore that because where she was going and what she was doing was worth all of that.
She went around to the back of the house, just like she always had done. What he had told her to do when they first started this arrangement.
"Blaine." She called, quietly, approaching him on his back terrace.
"Ah, Rachel, I'll be down in just a moment. We'll start with arithmetic today and we'll go over more reading, good?" He smiled his white-toothed grin and Rachel found herself smiling as well, though her smile was nowhere near as beautiful as his.
Blaine Anderson was from a family of rich aristocrats, his father, owning almost all the mines in London, including the one Rachel worked for.
Two years ago, when Rachel was fourteen years of age, Blaine and his father had come in to check on the workers and the mine supervisor, Mr. Fabray. Blaine's father had one of the coldest faces Rachel ever laid eyes on. But, her eyes weren't so much focused on Mr. Anderson, but on the boy to his side. The boy with the dark brown eyes that still lit up, the eyes that seemed to contrast his father's.
He was looking at her.
And she was looking at him.
After the day was done, Rachel found the young boy again.
"Blaine." He smiled putting his hand out. She put her hand, covered with black coal dust, into his and he brought it to his lips, causing her to blush profusely.
"I'm Rachel."
He had handed her a scrap of paper with an address and a note that said 'go to the back' and Rachel did. He said that she looked like a girl who would enjoy reading. She smiled, she wished.
"I don't know how to read. I don't have schooling. I have been working in the mines since the age of five."
"Then I will have to teach you."
That was what had started it. A simple reading lesson had lasted for two years. Every Sunday, Rachel would run to his neighborhood, through the back and he would teach her. She learned things such as how to read, grammar, mathematics, science, statistics, philosophy. Anything Blaine couldn't teach her, he would.
It wasn't long after her lessons started that Rachel realized she was a little bit in love with the boy. But, she knew he couldn't possibly feel the way she did. He was everything she couldn't have. But, it wasn't his money or his intelligence that made her feel the way she does. It was the little things he did. The scrunching of his face when the tea was too hot or too sweet or not sweet enough and the way he would run his large hands over her bruises when she had been beaten at work.
"What happened to you?" He had asked when she had come to his home with a bruise on the side of her face from being slapped. Blaine didn't understand what it was like to work in the mines. She didn't blame him, that's the way he was raised. She did, however, leave out the fact that it was Mr. Anderson who had slapped her. She didn't want to cause any trouble with him and his father.
"Don't fret." She had told him while he touched the sensitive area on her face. He would take care of her when she was hurt. Feed her. Give her his old coats. He cared for her and it killed Rachel all the more.
"I have a new book for us to read, Rach." He spoke, using the nickname he had given her the previous year. The arithmetic and statistics had been difficult and Blaine knew that she liked to end the day with a good story.
"What's it about?" She asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
"It's a fairytale. It's my mum's favorite. She said her father used to read it to her when she was young." His hands traced the binding on the book. "Try to read to the title. Remember, sound out the letters. And since there's a 'i' after the 'c' it's going to be…" Rachel thought for a moment, desperately wanting to sound smart in front of him.
"Cin…Cinderella?"
Blaine watched her eyebrows furrow in concentration as she read more and more of the book. She was becoming better at schooling every time they met. It was getting dark and he could see she was getting frustrated which is always when he chose to stop. "Rach, why don't we call it a day?" He suggested and she nodded, quietly. "Can I ask you something?" His voice interrupted her gaze at his hands. They were so much bigger than hers, but they were softer. Hers were calloused due to the work in the mines.
"Yes, of course." She beamed.
"There's this…this…uh.." Blaine Anderson never stuttered. What could he be trying to ask her? "A party, of sorts. And since I'm sixteen now, mother and father want me to bring a girl along with me. Would you do the honor of accompanying me?"
"Blaine." Rachel blushed and looked at the floor. "Even though, I would consider it a privilege to go with you, I cannot."
"Why not, Rach?" He tilted his head to the side.
"You know why." She turned her expression more serious to make him understand why she couldn't do this.
"But, so what? What's the dilemma? You're my friend."
"Yes. I am." She was running out of excuses. If he was willing to take her even with her social status, why couldn't she go with him? "Suppose I say 'yes'. What would I wear, Blaine?" She grinned, closing the book.
"You'd borrow a dress of my late sister's." Blaine' sister had died at age fourteen when Blaine was two. He doesn't remember much of her, but his parents had kept a shrine in her room.
"If I went to the ball in one of your sister's dresses, your father would…I don't even know, Blaine. He'd be so upset. And he'll recognize me. There's no way this is possible. I'm sorry."
"Rachel, please." Blaine grabbed her hand. He would never understand how this made her feel. Touch was such an important part in Blaine' bringing up, his family was always hugging and kissing and touching. There was none of that in her world. Her parents barely acknowledged her existence. Blaine held up his finger to Rachel's lips and ran off. She waited patiently until she heard voices.
"Blaine, son, I had no idea that you had found a lady to bring to this ball." She heard his father's voice. All the times she had heard it, it had been loud and booming. His voice was calmer now, soothing almost.
"I thought it would be, well, special, if she were to wear one of Bernadette's dresses. I know how much you miss her. I figure it would serve you well, especially you, mother." She could hear Blaine smile into the words. Rachel couldn't hear the next words, but footsteps coming closer until Blaine appeared, looking happier than ever. "My lady is allowed to wear one of my sister's dresses."
"Blaine, your father, I still can't go."
"What may I do to convince you?" She watched his eyes focus on her hands. She never knew why he was always staring at her hands, but it made her stare at his.
"I'll think about it." She spoke, bringing her eyes back up to his.
"Promise?" He asked, a child-like glint in his eyes that she had always admired.
"Promise." She stood up to leave. She wasn't lying. She would think about it. Nothing would make Rachel happier than to wear a beautiful dress and dance with Blaine.
He watched her walk away, longing after her like she always left him. Blaine had harbored love for Rachel since the day he had seen her working in the mine. He was surprised how hard those small hands could work, how calloused they could be, but he still wanted to hold them and run his thumb over her bruised knuckles. But, she couldn't possibly feel the way he did.
No.
Blaine was young and very naïve when it came to just about everything. He lived a sheltered life by other Aristocrat's standards, he couldn't even imagine what Rachel thought of him. Of course, he was helpful to her, teaching her. But, that's probably the only reason she came around. Yes, she was only sixteen, but she was a peasant. He silently cursed himself, he hated using that word to describe her, even though she used it daily. He imagined that Rachel had been with so many men in her short life, how could he ever compare?
Greatness was expected of the Anderson's. With generations of wealthy aristocrats, Blaine had large shoes to fill. His father was the first aristocrat to buy factories and mills and still be regarded the highest honor. But Blaine didn't want to run the mills or the factories or the mines. In secret, he would practice all sorts of instruments. While his mother encouraged his playing, they both kept it a secret from Mr. Anderson. He often wished to run away. He even wished to take Rachel with him. Blaine wondered what it would be like, being with her, just the two of them. In a big house, with children, maybe a cat. He just wanted to take his violin and the girl he loved, get on a train, and never look back to London. Maybe go to the south, maybe Helstone. But, he knew that would break his mother's heart. She'd had too much heartache in her life already. He couldn't put her through more. Blaine was all she had left. That didn't stop his dreaming, though.
"Blaine!" Rachel's voice whipped him out of his thoughts. "I was wondering if I could borrow the book." She asked, tentatively.
"Absolutely." He handed her the book and she grabbed it, her thumb accidentally grazing his fingers, making Blaine grin internally. "See you next Sunday then."
"Next Sunday." She nodded and walked off, her long brown hair following her suit.
If Blaine' father ever found out about his arrangement with Rachel, he knows it would be bad. After all, wealthy aristocrats are supposed to be with other wealthy aristocrats. He recalls the one time he saw Rachel walking on the street outside their house. She was leaving after a lesson with his son.
"Blaine!" He heard that unmistakable angry tone.
"Yes, sir?" Blaine asked, keeping his voice light and his eyes down.
"Is that a whore?" Mr. Anderson pointed to Rachel who was just fading out of sight.
"I don't know who that is, father."
"One of these boy probably called on one." He shook his head. "You would never do that, would you Blaine?"
"Of course not, Father."
Rachel began trudging home. She longed to spend the whole day with Blaine. To sit and discuss everything and nothing with him. There was nothing she wanted more than to go to this ball with him. Suddenly, she felt something hard hit the back of her neck. Rachel whipped her head around to see some of the boys in the neighborhood throwing stones at her. It didn't come as a surprise to her, the abuse. She saw it everywhere. She turned, quickly, and began walking faster as to avoid the rocks and the boys, but before she knew it, one of them had his hand wrapped around her arm, tightly.
"Why were you coming out of Anderson's house?" One of the four boys asked. They surrounded her and Rachel fought the urge to cry. This had been done to her before. Her brain quickly pushed the memories of her brother's friend from her mind so she could be alert to what was happening now.
"Please. I just want to go home." She kept her tone light and her eyes down. Something she had learned from Blaine, when trying to avoid conflict. "I'm not doing anything wrong. Let me go."
"We don't take your orders." The boy holding her arm, scoffed and pushed her to the ground. She immediately got onto her feet and tried running away before she was pulled back by her hair until her back was flush against one of theirs. Rachel tried struggling, but she was small, she was weak. She managed to get her arm free enough to slap one of them across the face, scratching him with her nails.
"You've got some gall." Rachel was pushed up against a wall and the skirt of her dress was held above her waist. She kept quiet now. Maybe he would stop. But, when she saw him start to undo his trousers, panic set over her. She could barely breath. Rachel spotted saw a tall, lanky figure in the near distance, walking past. She said nothing, not wanting another boy to join in, but she recognized the hair and the clothes.
"Blaine!" Rachel yelled. Louder than she ever had, just hoping he would come to her rescue. "Blaine, help me!" She was rewarded with a slap to her face. But, she saw the figure come closer and closer and when she saw his face, relief set over her, immediately. She felt the boy release her arms and allowed herself to breathe again.
"What's going on?" Blaine spoke. His tone reminding Rachel of his father's, briefly, before she was running to his side and hiding behind his tall frame.
"She yours, Anderson?" The boy raised his eyebrows and chuckled. Blaine said nothing, his mouth in a tight line. He glared at the boy. "Hey, I'm not looking to cause any problems with you. Let's be on our way, boys." Blaine kept the cold expression on his face until they were out of sight.
"You saved me." Her eyes were full of wonder. She was looking at him like he was a hero.
"I ran after you because I forgot to give this." He handed her a coat. Rachel took it out of his hands. The material was thick and soft, better than anything he had ever given her.
"Blaine,"
"Don't say anything. It's too small now and I want you to have it." He draped it over her shoulders, carefully. "Are you alright?"
"Nothing new." She shook her head.
"Rach…did they…" Blaine had no idea how to ask if she'd been….he couldn't even process it in his mind.
"I'm fine, Blaine. I swear." She beamed up at him, looking genuinely happy. "What can I do to ever repay you?"
"There's that ball…" He grinned, hoping she would understand.
"I would be honored to accompany you, Mr. Anderson."
Blaine had managed to get Rachel into his house and changed into one of the various undergarments of a ball gown before his mother had noticed.
"Mother, my guest is upstairs awaiting your help." Mrs. Anderson had made it very clear that she wished to help the young lady into one of Bernadette's dresses, with her hair, and anything else.
Rachel heard the soft footsteps come nearer to the door before it was knocked on.
"Come in." She called, suspecting it was Blaine' mother. "Mrs. Anderson," She bowed.
"Welcome, dear. Rachel, is it?" She extended a smile, which made Rachel relax a little.
"Blaine has told me that you wanted to help. I waited to put on the dress." She offered a nervous grin.
Mrs. Anderson helped her put on the dress. The older woman was surprised when she tightened the corset and the girl coughed.
"Are you not used to this, Rachel?" She asked, softly. Of course, Rachel wasn't used to this. She felt like her lungs were collapsing, but she suffered in silence. Rachel couldn't muck this up, not with Blaine counting on her.
"Just a little out of practice." She breathed out. "I am just in town, visiting. I came from," Rachel hadn't thought this through. "Helstone…I come from Helstone." She recalled Blaine telling her about a town called Helstone. "But, my father is thinking about moving up here. My mother is sick and he still needs to tend to his work as a minister, so I came alone." She let the long sentence flow from her mouth. She was surprised she was made it up within a matter of seconds.
"Can I give you a little advice?" She asked, as she buttoned up the back of the dress.
"Yes, of course."
"Stay in Helstone."
"Why would,"
"The Anderson family might be prosperous along with a select few, but the lower class….It's awful. My husband owns some mines and I've seen the way the workers are treated. When Blaine was seven he came home in tears and sobs after visiting one of the mines with his father. He said that the supervisor had beaten a young girl, his own age, to the point where she was begging for her life. Could you even imagine?" Yes, she could imagine. That girl was her. Blaine had shared that story with her once and it didn't take her more than a minute to remember that girl was her.
"I couldn't possibly. But, it is father's choice." Mrs. Anderson hummed in acknowledgement while she moved to the front of Rachel, inspecting her hair and face, which she had completely altered. Rachel didn't even know what she looked like now, in this dress.
"Blaine had told me of your beauty before tonight." She beamed. "But, you look absolutely breathtaking." She led Rachel to the mirror and she gasped, slightly. The curls in her hair cascaded down the front of the blue dress. She barely recognized herself. "Go on downstairs, my son is waiting. There's a carriage waiting for you. His father and I will be joining you later.
Blaine was beginning to become restless, waiting for Rachel. The carriage was outside. It was time to go, but he would never rush her or his mother so he waited, patiently. When he heard footsteps coming down the stairs he stood up and walked into the front hall.
And that's when he saw the most beautiful sight he's sure to ever see.
There she was.
So different.
But still that girl he fell in love with. When she was finally close enough for him to take her hand, he did.
"Rachel, you look," Blaine knew that he shouldn't stutter, but he couldn't help it. Her waist looked so small, he desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and spin her around the floor all night. "You look beautiful." He settled on this simple adjective. But, it was not nearly special enough for her.
"Blaine," She tried not to blush. "That means the world to me."
Rachel had never seen Blaine look at her the way he was right now. They sat across from each other in the small carriage and all she wanted to do was move next to him, to stay in his arms all night.
Once at the destination, Blaine helped Rachel out of the carriage, holding her up when she almost tripped over the long dress, she could feel the heat of his hand through the material onto her forearm. Once he had gotten her back on her feet she wouldn't move.
"Rach, what's wrong?" He asked.
"I have no idea what I am doing here, Blaine. I'm going to embarrass you and your family." She sighed.
"I will be with you all night. Don't worry." Blaine smiled and Rachel knew that she could never argue with his smile.
Dinner turned out to not be a fiasco. Blaine sat next to her, explaining what each utensil was used for along with all of the various plates and foods. The only issue was his father. He had asked her if they had met before. She tried to keep her eyes down, but she knew he would figure it out. All of Blaine' friends admired her and complimented him for bringing such a beautiful girl. That made Rachel feel like she could fly, but she was quickly brought back to earth when Blaine spoke the next words.
"Would you care to dance?"
"Blaine, I don't know how!" She whispered. He grabbed her arm before she could object and walked her out into the ballroom.
"Relax, okay?" Blaine smiled, softly. "Just do what I do." He placed his hand below her elbow and lifted it up to his shoulder. She felt his hand move to the small of her back and his other hand grasping her own, keeping it at her eye level since Blaine was significantly taller than herself. His feet moved back and forth in a rhythm Rachel was desperately trying to figure out. "Don't look at the ground, Rach." She stared up at him. "Look at me. Just look at me and just go with the music." She listened. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, mocking Blaine' movements without her looking down to them. "You're fantastic!" He grinned, holding up his arm. Rachel got the idea and twirled out and then into him. As she continued dancing she saw his mother and father watching them. His mother's eyes were full of joy and she watched her baby boy dance with a fair maiden. But, his father's, they were interrogating, still trying to figure out where he knew her from. "Trust me for this next one, okay?" He whispered in her ear. She nodded, eagerly. His hand that was holding hers, traveled around her waist and before she knew it she was lifted off the ground, being spun in circles while giggling.
"Blaine!" She laughed. He placed her back on the floor and regained his dance posture, taking her hand.
"I'm so happy you joined me tonight, Rachel." She heard him speak, but she couldn't answer. She was too wrapped up in his intense stare. It wasn't long before Blaine leaned his face closer to hers so she moved hers as well. The tips of their noses touched and he was about to experience what he had dreamt of for the last two years. His lips were barely a hair away from hers when Rachel was jerked away.
"How stupid do I look, girl?" Mr. Anderson was gripping her arm, tightly. "You thought I wouldn't recognize you!" His voice bellowed throughout the room and it caused the music to stop playing.
"Please, Mr.,"
"I don't want to hear anything from you!" He pulled up her sleeve to reveal her work stamp, the one that she got everyday from the mine, the one that was still fresh from only hours prior.
"Father, she,"
"Blaine! She works in the mines! She's not who you think she is!"
"No, I know,"
"Not another word." He threatened his son. "Take her out, please." At first, Rachel didn't know who he was talking to, but when two large men grabbed her, she didn't hesitate to kick and scream for Blaine. He lunged for her hand and grasped it, tightly.
"I'm not going to let them take you." He said, even as she felt herself being dragged away. Two similarly aged boys grabbed both of Blaine' arms and he couldn't follow her. It wasn't long before their clasped hands were forced to let go. She cried at the loss and continued to fight, but it was no use. "No! Rachel!" She could hear him call after her and thrash to be released from the arms of the other two boys. She was brought out back to an alley of some sort where the men threw her on the ground. Rachel thought they were done, they were just going to leave her there with a broken heart, but that wasn't enough. Pain coursed through her scalp when her hair was yanked back. She jolted up and was brought over to one of the horse troughs where her head was shoved in the filthy water and they didn't remove it. She screamed, but no sound could be heard. She fought, but she couldn't escape. Was this how it was going to end? Not from the coal dust? Not from a mining accident? She jolted in shock when she felt a sharp pain in her stomach. The man's hand, forcing her head down was removed, but she couldn't even find the strength to pick up her head. The fighting was useless now. She relaxed her longed for Blaine' warm touch. He was never going to know that she loved him.
Once his father had let him out of his sight, Blaine ran out of the manor, looking for Rachel. If he had those men do something to her, he didn't know if he could live with himself, knowing that he caused her such pain. It didn't take much effort to find a lifeless body lying by a trough. When he got closer he recognized the dress.
"Rach!" He ran to her side and rolled her onto her back. Her face and hair were damp and he realized what happened. They'd drowned her. They'd drowned one of the only things that gave his life any meaning. The balls and the money and the wealth meant nothing. He would trade everything for her. He thought of their last moments together before she was literally ripped away from him. His arms scooped her up into his lap and he sat down onto the dirt. He rested her head on the palm of his hand and just looked at the sweet, sweet face he had come so close to kissing tonight. He noticed her chest was heaving ever so slightly. "Rachel…" He whispered. Her eyelids fluttered, softly.
"B-Bl-.." She couldn't even speak his name.
"Come, there's still time to,"
"No." She grasped his arm. "I.." He looked at her torso and saw the blood, soaking through the side of her dress.
"Good God, you've been shot, we need to,"
"Blaine…" She smiled at him, lightly. "…It doesn't hurt..." Her hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into her cold touch. "I just need to," She leaned closer to his lips, but dropped back to his lap. "I love…B-Blaine, I…" With one last breath, her eyes closed and her head fell into his hand. There was no breath or life. She was gone. The guilt piled onto him like nothing he's ever felt before. She told him that this was a bad idea. That it could only end poorly. She warned him and he forced her. It was his fault. He pressed his lips to her temple and held her close.
"I'm sorry, Rach. So sorry." Blaine finally let the hot tears run onto his cheeks. One ran off the tip of his nose and landed on her face. He wished with all of his might that she would magically come back, feeling his tears of love on her skin. "No, Blaine." He muttered to himself. "There's no magic." He squeaked out, surprised by the anguish in his voice. "This is real life." He buried his face in her hair and rocked back and forth.
"This is real life."