This, right here, is my insanely long one-shot. Longest one-shot I've ever written. Welcome, friends.
The songs featured are, in order of appearance (like how they do the credits at the movies):
Speeding Cars by Imogen Heap. (Oh my god, I love this singer. She is amazing.)
Rolling in the Deep by Adele.
View From Heaven by Yellowcard. (BEST. BAND. EVER. 'Nuff said.)
If I Die Young by Band Perry.
Just to save you from any confusion, the parts in italics and past tense are flash back type things.
It's kin of blah at the end, and it could've been stronger, also I probably have various grammar mistakes despite my proof reading... Oh, well I've done my best on proofing.
It's a funny thing, the people who come to visit you in your final hours. Everyone seems to have a bit of selective memory loss. They forget how horrible I was, how terrible I am, and play me out as a holy saint. People don't like to speak ill of the dead, or dying, apparently.
It could be your family, your best friends, your true love (I'm fighting a eye-roll so hard), people who want to shut up their stupid consciences, or to make sure their dirty secrets stay buried with you, or maybe the nurse could be the only one who cares enough to drop by.
Whoever shows up to say goodbye, it all depends on who you are - I'm sorry, I mean were. Who you were. Who I was. Because I'm going to die soon.
In a matter hours, maybe a day if I'm lucky, I'll be gone. On my way to a coffin, into the ground, up to Heaven, down to Hell, or will I just simply be gone?
I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to know.
It's not like I planned this. I'm not committing suicide. I don't want to die. There's so much I regret, so much I never did. I never got out of this damn town.
But I do know one thing - all of us want a little more time.
So, you could die like I'm going to, in hospital, wishing for another day... Or you could get hit by a bus, and never see it coming.
I don't know, it's all in your deck of cards.
...
Kurt is the first one to visit me, well, except for the cancer-ward-kids. Kurt in his polka-dotted bow tie and Italian off-the-runaway shirt, the boy I'd splashed with so many slushies, wants to say goodbye. I want to cry, because I don't deserve this. I don't deserve his sympathy.
But, I still don't I think I deserve to die. Not yet anyways. Not like this. Hooked up to a mess IVs, my life-lines, watching every go on with out me.
"I always thought you were kind of tough, in your own way." I rasp. "But still you're a little girlish..."
"Some people..." he huffs, crossing his pale arms.
"Don't be hating on the dead girl, Hummel." I warn him, trying to come off with that twist of teasing and bitchiness only I could master. But it sounds bitter; like a girl who knew her time was up and resents that.
"You'll never be the dead girl, Santana."
I wish that was true. I really do.
...
I stared a the creamy envelope sitting on my dining room table. Doctors sending life-threatening test results in a little cheery letter seems so impersonal. But, I couldn't open the letter at the mailbox. That made it seem like it wasn't a big deal, that I was just checking the mail causally.
That envelope held my future. Vaguely, I wondered if other kids felt this way about college acceptance letters.
Trying to be fearless like everyone thought I was, I ripped open the envelope. Skimming through the long and confusing letter, I tried to pick out the important bits. My finally locked on the words I'd been dreading. I dropped the letter and held my face in my hands, letting the realization sink in. Pretty soon, I was full out sobbing. Holding myself, and wailing, wishing someone was home.
But, no, I was alone.
Reaching for my phone, I pressed the 1 one my speed dial for Brittany. "B-Britt? Brit? P-p-please! I need you!"
I crumpled up my letter flinging it across the room. But I could still see the letters proclaiming I had Leukemia.
...
Tina sits in the guest chair in my private room, fiddling with the fabric of her black (of course) skirt. She keeps pushing blue streaked hair back, shyly, and opening her mouth, letting disjointed syllables escape. I can tell she is fighting the urge to stutter and let her walls pop up. I couldn't blame her - wasn't I the girl who hid behind my HBIC persona? Mike is next to her, awkwardly saying goodbye. He's kind of thrown into this little farewell, and I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
"I wish you had more time." Tina finally says softly.
"So do I," I croak, tears forming behind my eyes. Tina doesn't say anything else, she just holds my hand and cries with me.
...
The day I get back to school, after the letter, every thing's different. The Cheerios slushying nerds don't give me joy. The jocks tossing Jew-Fro into the dumpster don't make me smirk.
Even a glimpse of Sam doesn't make my stomach go all fuzzy like it usually does. It maybe because I hardly ate this weekend.
Sam saw me staring and walked up to me, "San? What's wrong with-"
"Shut up, Sam," I whispered, his old nickname for me stabbing me like knives. "You dumped me. You lost the right to ask what's wrong anymore! Screw you, Evans!"
I ran into the bathroom and cried my heart out because it all hurt so much.
...
When Artie rolls in he made in very clear he wasn't about to wail over my life. He hates it when people pull out the patronizing act on him, so he knows better to do it to me.
"Take care of Brittany, please," I beg, the thought of me not being here to look out for her scaring me. Who will reassure her beliefs in unicorns and fairy-princesses? Who will make sure she doesn't fail her finals for Senior year?
The only person I can think of as an answer is Artie. Brittany's boyfriend since Junior year, and, as she often insists, the love of her life.
"Santana, I don't know if you know this, but people really care about Britt. She just... loves people so wholly, no questions asked. Mike, Tina, Kurt, Mercedes - Glee club is there for her. We're here for you, too." Artie says, wheeling himself out.
I wonder why I only realize that someone's here for me now, when it's too late for that to actually matter.
...
I told my parents and Glee in one day. My dad looked like he was punched in the stomach, then ran off to find the best doctors money could buy. It would've helped more if he just stayed with me.
My mother didn't cry when I told her. She just stands up and walks over to the liquor cabinet, ready to drown anything that even resembles pain in vodka.
I walk in to Glee, take one look at Mr. Shuester and the rest of New Directions, and said, "I have Leukemia."
In a flash, Brittany is at my side. We locked pinkies, like always. Mr. Shue tried to say something, but couldn't get it out. Everyone just kind of stared with big, big doe-eyes.
Finally, I just walked out.
...
Finn and Rachel come in together, like the molded little Siamese twins they are. Rachel looks like she's shrouded in a flowery curtain. Finn just looks awkward.
"I'd just like to say-" Rachel opens her giant mouth (bigger then Sam's, if possible).
"Save it, Hobbit. I hate to be a bitch, actually I don't-" I stop, a storm of coughing racking my body. The wires leading to my baggies of pain-killers and medicine shake with me. My tirade on Rachel was cut short by waves of pain coursing through me. Cancer is getting in way of me being the supreme HBIC. That is absolute crap. It makes me feel smaller and more helpless. If I don't have my vicious words, what do have left really?
I don't want to answer that.
Rachel gives me a look of pure pity, and I want nothing more then to throttle her - if I was still strong enough, that is, "I'm sincerely sorry, Santana. Really."
Finn nods like Rachel's summed in up pretty good.
"Look, Yentl, Finnocence, I appreciate the goodbyes and crap, but you're both making the migraines and pain worse. So, tootles, send the next victim in."
...
When I walked into Glee the next day, I was ambushed by the rest of New Directions. I honestly expected another rendition of "Lean on Me," but instead I got something softer.
Tina sang out:
"Here's the day you hoped would never come,
Don't feed me violins,
Just run with me through rows of speeding cars.
The paper cuts, the cheating lovers,
The coffee's never strong enough,
I know you think it's more than just bad luck..."
Brittany came up behind Tina and sang:
"There, there baby,
It's just text book stuff,
It's in the ABC of growing up,
Now, now darling.
Oh, don't lose your head,
'Cause none of us were angels,
and you know I love you, yeah."
As they sang I wasn't sure what to do. So, I just smiled while the entire Glee club finished the last verse:
"There, there baby,
It's just text book stuff,
It's in the ABC of growing up,
Now, now darling,
Oh, don't kill yourself,
'Cause none of us were angels.
and you know I love you, yeah."
"Thank you," I whispered as the final notes faded. "Thank you."
...
"I always thought we'd do another do another duet..." I admit to Mercedes. She's wearing a rather stylish striped scarf and a Beatles t-shirt.
She nod, "Me too. I though we'd do good singin' Hallelujah or something."
"We would've killed it," I agree.
"Put the angles to shame with your vocals up there, Santana." Mercedes says, getting up leave.
"Who says I'm going up there, Mercedes?" I whisper, biting my lip.
...
I fidgeted looking any where but Sam. Finally, Mr. Shue popped in. Before he could get a word out, I sauntered up.
"Shuester, I wanna sing and blast you all with my amazing vocals." I inspected my nails as I spoke, like I could really could care less. Really, I was wondering how I could so normal right now.
"Of course, Santana." Mr. Shuester smiled, surprised after my week of angry silence and cutthroat comments I wanted to sing. I was barely even nice to Britt. Thankfully, she understood, or I would've lost my only friend.
I stood up in front of the crew of Gleeks, straightening my red too-short skirt, "So, you can probably guess who this song is for. Since you all sang me a song I thought I'd sing one..."
I signaled to band, and began to sing:
"There's a fire starting in my heart,
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark,
Finally, I can see you crystal clear,
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your sheet bare,
See how I'll leave with every piece of you,
Don't underestimate the things that I will do,"
I was strutting around the room, feeling more powerful then I had in the days since the news of my, uh, condition. Especially with Sam's eyes glued to me.
"There's a fire starting in my heart,
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark,
The scars of your love remind me of us,
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all,
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless,
I can't help feeling...
We could have had it all,
(You're gonna wish you never had met me),
Rolling in the deep,
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep),
You had my heart inside of your hands,
(You're gonna wish you never had met me),
And you played it to the beat,
(Tears are gonna fall, rolling in the deep)..."
I took on final breath and sang:
"You had my heart inside of your hands."
...
Quinn walks in with Puck tailing her. Although she's been completely civil to me since the news of my Leukemia broke out, I've tried harder then ever to get her to crack. That girl has everything and it doesn't sit well with me. I have a special vendetta against Quinn. So, yeah, I've been known antagonize her. I've been know to antagonize everyone. That's my thing.
Do I wish I lived differently than that? Yeah, I do. But it served it's purpose; kept me from getting hurt.
And, anyways, it's too late now.
Quinn sits down primly, smoothing out the skirt of her yellow dress. "Santana, I hope you come to peace with God."
I roll my eyes, "Jesus Freak..."
Quinn scowls at me, "I'm trying to be nice."
I deflate a little. I don't like the idea of people coming to tap dance on my grave, so I guess I'd better be nice... kind of... "Sorry, Fabray. I guess this is goodbye."
"I'm sorry for telling Coach Sylvester about your boob job." Quinn says.
"And I'm sorry for stealing all your men." I reply.
"Hey! Quinn got me in the end, didn't she?" Puck pipes up. Quinn and I give him our patented, Ice Queen 'shut up, moron,' death-glare.
I just close my eyes because of the sharp pains and nod at Quinn. We're even.
...
For a month after I got the letter confirming my cancer, I did what I do best: indulge my self-destructive tendencies and spit venom at anyone who tries to stop me.
The doctors told me I'd have about another week until I had to start Chemotherapy. So, I decided to go to a club and get drunk.
Sure, this might have been a desperate plea for help, but I didn't care. I hoped it hurt them to watch me unravel, to watch me break, to watch my walls crash down.
I sat at the bar, a martini in one hand, flirting outrageously with the college-age bartender. My hair was loose, my make-up was perfect, and I looked pretty amazing in my little V-neck black dress. I was letting the bartender buy me another drink, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the last person I'd expect in a bar.
Sam Evans. My ex-boyfriend. Great.
To be honest, he clashed with the entire party scene behind him. Everyone was dancing to the loud music, grabbing another drink, trying to to catch someone's eye. Sam just stood there and gave me a sad, sad look.
I glared at him, "How did you even find me?"
"Brittany," Sam said, as her followed me into the bathrooms and paused, "Santana, about that song you sang-"
I cut him off, harshly, "Look, Sam, I get you love Quinn, not me. I was stupid to say I loved you. No need to rub it in."
"San, please," He groaned, "it's not like that."
"Oh, really? What's it like then?" I sneered, ignoring the mascara tinted tears rolling down my cheeks.
"I was scared okay?" He finally burst. I just stood there, shocked at the little crack in Sam's nice guy armor. "The last time I said that I loved a girl was Quinn and look how that turned out! She cheated on me with Finn and we all know she's still in love with Puck. Well, what I'm saying, San, is that I-I love you."
I kissed Sam hard, throwing my arms around him. Maybe something was going right in my life, even though everything else is crashing down.
...
Lauren pushes her butt-ugly brown glasses up her nose and says, "I've always hated you, Lopez."
"I've decided I'll tell the devil to murder you," I shot back. Lauren was my newest arch-nemesis - I've generated several - after the locker smack down scene during Junior year.
"I'm having my dog piss on your grave." Lauren purses her lips.
I take that opportunity to cuss her out in Spanish.
But as she shuts the glass door, Lauren surprises me. "I always kind of envied your determination, though. Not I liked you or anything."
...
I pulled myself upward from the trash can, in which I'd been puking. Chemotherapy sucks.
It felt like every single cell is my body had been ripped apart savagely and glued back together haphazardly. The nausea was even worse. Aside from keeping near the trash can 24/7, the room wouldn't stop spinning. I didn't want to eat, I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I just wanted to sleep.
Brittany was off getting me more mints and a bottle of water and my mother avoided me like she could catch Leukemia off of me, so I was alone. My dad had dropped in earlier, seeing as he practically own the hospital. He might make a living from take care of the sick, but it seemed he couldn't take watching his own daughter die.
So, I was stuck in agony wondering why Sam wasn't here already.
As if on cue, Sam appeared as I was yet again heaving my guts into the trash bin. He winced and sat down on my hospital bed. "Are you okay, San?" I gave him my most scathing glare. "Oh, yeah, stupid question..."
"Yeah, Einstein." I mumbled, not caring that I was biting the head off one of the two people I actually care about. I ran my finger through my dark hair, surprised as I feel a silky clump come off with my hand. I couldn't do anything but stare at the little patch of hair. I knew that was one of the Chemo side effects, but... it hadn't really sunk in. I let the tears flow as I stared and stared.
Then, it kind of hit me hard: This is real.
...
Sam walks in, smiling in a pained way, "Hey, babe."
"Hey," I say, motioning for him to sit down next to me on my bed.
Once settles himself next to me, my head on his shoulder even though it hurts a little, he takes a breath, "I want to sing something for you. If you don't like it, Finn helped me pick it out..."
"I'll love it," I promise.
Sam takes a deep breath:
"I'm just so tired,
Won't you sing me to sleep?
And fly through my dreams,
So I can hitch a ride with you tonight,
And get away from this place,
Have a new name and face,
I just ain't the same without you in my life."
I smile; I never thought I would get a guy who cares enough to sing a song for me.
"Late night drives, all alone in my car,
I can't help but start,
Singing lines from all our favorite song,s
And melodies in the air,
Singin' life just ain't fair,
Sometimes I still just can't believe you're gone..."
It's rather obvious Finn picked this, since Sam has a lacking taste in quality music. I mean, he might very well be the only guy on Earth to like Biebs. But, I still appreciate the sentiment.
"And I'm sure the view from heaven,
Beats the hell out of mine here,
And if we all believe in heaven,
Maybe we'll make it through one more year,
Down here..."
"Thank you so much." I whisper, fighting back tears, "I love it."
I take another deep breath then start on what I want to say:
"Okay, I just want to say: don't date anyone for at least a month, don't you dare let anyone forget to inscribe HBIC on my tombstone, and-and..."
"San, shhh..." Sam rocks me a little. I sob, my body felt like it was being crushed by a bulldozer. The tubes in my nose, they help with breathing or something like that, start to clog up/
He didn't get it. Sam would live on and get married and have kids and grow old. He would get to do all the things that have been taken from me.
All things I want(ed) us to do together.
...
I was sitting in the cancer ward surrounded by little kids. I was definitely the oldest patient in the room. Mae, at three years old, was the youngest. I suppose we kind of looked like one of those psycho kidnapping cults with our bald, slightly peach-fuzzy heads and pastel hospital gowns.
I have to say, Jess was my favorite. She was like me when I was seven. Mischievous bordering on conniving and demanding the best toys. But I did genuinely care for these kids.
Besides Mae, Jess, and I, there are Leo, Aubrey, Danny, Mason, and Harrison. They were all fairly feisty and I assisted their misdeeds. The kids had quickly adopted me into their family here at the hospital.
While I bounced little Mae on my knee, I got the shock of a lifetime when my poodle-headed Glee club director walked in, flanked by none other than Sue Sylvester.
"Boobs McGee!" Sue barked, "What are you doing in the rug rat day-prison? Are the munchkins using as an example of failure to maintain a position on the best cheer leading squad in the universe?"
"Sadly no. I'm here because I have cancer of the blood, like most of the kiddos." I crossed my skinny arms around Mae.
"Your future sounds as bright as the self-respecting hair dresser suicide rate as long as Will Shuester and his mop of questionably curly hair draw breath..." Sue said, maliciously. What can I say? I learned from the best.
"Wait, what?" Mr. Shuester's eyebrows scrunched together. Sue rolled her eyes.
"Why are you guys here, anyways?" I asked.
"To sing."
...
"Hey, Britt-Britt," I smile at my best friend. She's wearing a knee-length shimmery white dress. It's covered in sparkly white rhinestones and glitter. Brittany nestles herself on my bed, crossing her ankles. She's wearing silvery stilettos, that I let borrow back in Freshman year and never got back.
"Hey, San..." Brittany's forehead crinkles. "They say t-that you don't have much time left."
"I know, B..." I pause, gulping down air, "It's just that... Remember when your kitty Princess Unicorn died? Well, I-I'm going where she went."
"That doesn't make sense, San." Dammit! "Princess Unicorn went to Kitty Heaven. You're not a kitty!"
"God, Brittany... I'm not going to be here. " I sigh.
"You mean you'll be dead?" she accuses me.
"Yeah," I admit.
"I know what dead means, Santana." Brittany fixes me with one those really intense stares. "Dead means you won't take me to movies and let me buy candies. Dead means we don't become really, super famous together. Dead means you're gone, San!"
"I'm so sorry, B." I whisper.
"C'mon, San. Let's go! We have some thing to show you," Brittany stands up, wiping away the tears, and offering me her hand.
"What about all my wires?" I try, half-heatedly, "And it-it hurts to much to walk..." I croak, trying to hiding my shame.
"Get in the wheel chair, then."
...
It was my first day back at McKinley after my time in the hospital. Although I was happy my cancer was officially 'stable,' (whatever that means...) I was also apprehensive about setting foot back into school. The jocks and Cheerios where heartless. They ran Kurt out of school, ridiculed Tina, Artie, and Rachel, and pretty much made all of New Directions' lives miserable.
And I was one them too.
Logically, this should gain me some points, but that just made it worse. It was like Quinn's baby scandal all over again - watching one of the ones on top fall from grace to the bottom.
So, I strutted with my signature swagger, even though my clothes hung little off my body because I was even skinnier than I was on the Cheerios, even though my hair was in a short, short boy-cut instead my usual long, dark waves. I could feel the eyes staring at me all day. But no one had the guts to say anything.
As I rounded the corner, heading to the lunch room, when it happened. I got slushied. For the very first time
The was a grape one, Kurt and Quinn claim, burns the least. But my high school career as a ruthless, feared Cheerio hadn't prepared me for the freezing slap a slushy. Purple icy slushy dripped all over my clothes, making stains I was sure that would never come out. What was the worst was the stinging. My eyes felt like fire. You know that little sting you get when shampoo in your eyes accidentally? Well, multiply that by ten and you have a slushy splash.
"What the hell!" I shrieked, causing Karofsky and Azmino to jolt and spin around. "What is wrong with you two?"
They just stared at, which just pissed me off even more.
"You two are assholes, know that?" I spat, slapping them both and storming into the girl's restrooms, where they couldn't follow me. As I wiped sticky purple slushy goo off myself, the girls of New Directions appeared. Quinn and Mercedes held a change of clean clothes for me, Rachel and Tina had shampoo for my hair, and Brittany with a sad look, was here to give me a hug. Although I stopped her before she got herself sticky and wet.
"Thanks," I smiled, accepting the clothes from Mercedes and Quinn.
"Well, girl, you've been Christened. You're officially a Gleek." Mercedes joked.
...
"We wanted to say goodbye, San." Brittany explains as she wheels me and my rolling little stand for the medicine into the dark hospital cafeteria. Brittany runs back into the darker end of the room as a splotchy spotlight, borrowed and maned for the A.V. club, shines on Mr. Shuester, who is at a plastic keyboard. The spotlight swivels to show Brittany, sparkling in the glittery white dress, walking down a cafeteria table. I smile; New Directions manages to preform anywhere.
Brittany sings, soft and clear:
"If I die young bury me in satin,"
Quinn stands on the table next to her:
"Lay me down on a bed of roses,"
Mercedes smiles at me:
"Sink me in the river at dawn,"
Tina was next, looking out of character in a white dress:
"Send me away with the words of a love song,"
Rachel and Lauren appear, joining the girls as they all sing:
"Oh, oh, oh, oh,"
One by one, the rest of Glee appears. Together they sing:
"Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother,
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh and,
Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
ain't even gray, but she buries her baby,"
Puck and Artie sing out:
"The sharp knife of a short life, well,
I've had just enough time,"
The rest join them on the next verse, everyone's voices melding together:
"If I die young bury me in satin,
Lay me down on a bed of roses,
Sink me in the river at dawn,
Send me away with the words of a love song,
The sharp knife of a short life, well,
I've had just enough time, "
Sam steps down from his lunch table stage and sings:
"And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom,
I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger,
I've never known the lovin' of a man,
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand,
There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever,
Who would have thought forever could be severed by,"
Glee club sings together, everyone jumping of the tables in a flurry of white and silver:
"The sharp knife of a short life, well,
I've had just enough time,"
Mercedes belts out her solo, her powerful voice filling the room.
"So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls,
What I never did is done,"
Brittany smiles at me as she and Mike jump into perfect leaps. As she lands she starts:
"A penny for my thoughts, oh, no I'll sell them for a dollar,
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner,
And maybe then you'll hear the words I've been singin',
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin',"
Everyone joins hands and sings
"If I die young bury me in satin,
Lay me down on a bed of roses,
Sink me in the river at dawn,
Send me away with the words of a love song,
oh, oh!"
Kurt and Quinn stand next to each other, singing:
"The ballad of a dove,
Go with peace and love,
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket,
Save them for a time when your really gonna need 'em, oh,"
Everyone's slowly making their way back onto the tables, and fading away:
"The sharp knife of a short life, well,
I've had just enough time,"
Finally just the girls sing together, softly:
"So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls."