A/N: So I'm still not exactly sure what this is… but whatever it is, it took up my entire Saturday afternoon. I don't own any of the characters or Glee, don't worry. Um, yeah, read on!
Rachel walked down the street, eyes perusing the strange houses. When did the Wilson's have time to repaint their house, or mow their lawn? They had always insisted on having their porch painted green, no matter how much the homeowner's association had protested the attention-drawing color. The Jerome's dog wasn't out on their lawn, digging up the petunias either. "Confucius!" Rachel called out. "Hey buddy!" To her surprise, the Chihuahua waddled out from behind the fence, making his way over to the brunette. "What happened to you?" she asked. The usually sprite little dog was now dragging his back right leg as he walked, and was quite a bit grayer than usual. "Did Ryan try to set you on fire again?" Rachel asked, shaking her head at the thought of the Jerome's son trying yet another experiment on the family's beloved dog. She picked up Confucius, and continued walking to down the street.
When she reached the end of Moonmist Drive, she stopped at the brick house right by the mailboxes. The flowerbeds were still as impeccable as she remembered, and Rachel let out a breath she didn't know she was holding; at least her house was normal. She strode up to the front porch, deftly sliding away the pot of marigolds with her foot to reveal a scratched up silver key. Rachel bent down carefully, making sure she still had a firm hold on Confucius as she picked up the key. Straightening up, she inserted the key into the lock, and entered her house. "Dad, Daddy?" she called out. "I'm home!"
Rachel carefully set the small Chihuahua down and walked into the kitchen. She heard voices and stopped in her tracks. She knew these people.
Quinn dabbed at her eyes, trying not to smear her mascara even more. "I honestly didn't hate her. I wanted to, though. She never made any of the mistakes I did. She had so much heart, soul; she knew what she wanted with her life. She had a goal. Rachel had everything I wish I had, and now it's all gone."
Santana awkwardly rubbed Quinn's back, trying to soothe the emotional former cheerleader. "When I think back to how I treated Berry, I mean Rachel, I'm disgusted with myself. I was so immature. I was a coward- hiding who I was. She was always so open with everything in her life- she wasn't afraid to talk about her dads, and I used that against her. Rachel, if there is any way you can hear me, wherever you are, please know that I didn't mean what I said, I just…" The Latina broke off, unable to continue.
Rachel stood in her kitchen, shocked. Quinn didn't hate her? Ever since she had been in the 5th grade, Quinn had bullied and teased her, and now she was crying in her living room. Rachel tiptoed carefully, trying to hear more. A voice floated through the air, and Rachel strained to listen. "…Rachel, if there is any way you can hear me, wherever you are, please know that I didn't mean what I said, I just…" At the sound of Santana's voice, Rachel straightened and walked purposefully into the living room.
"Santana? Quinn?" A familiar voice rang out. Both girls sat up, unable to believe their ears.
"Rachel?" the girls asked simultaneously.
"What are you guys doing here?" the petite girl asked, confused.
"What do you mean what are we doing here?" Santana demanded. "What are you doing here?"
"I…I live here," Rachel responded. "I've lived here for the past 17 years. You know that. Remember the 7th grade, when you egged my house? And sophomore year, when you super-glued my front porch?"
Santana and Quinn exchanged a worried glance. "Rachel," Quinn asked softly, "what year is it?"
"2012," Rachel answered. "Are you all okay?"
"Who's the president?" Santana questioned.
Rachel thought for a moment. "President Barack Obama, the 44th president of the United States, and the first African-American. Why are you asking me these questions?"
Santana and Quinn met eyes for a second time, and Quinn nodded. "Rachel," she said gently, "you may want to sit down for this."
Santana stood and motioned to the couch. "Come on, Berry, we won't bite."
The brunette allowed herself to be led over to the sunflower checkered couch. "I don't understand. What is going on?"
Quinn and Santana sat on either side of her. "Rachel, you've been missing for 5 years. Nobody has seen you since you left glee one afternoon in 2012," Quinn started.
Santana took over. "Rachel, your dads were worried sick. No one knew what had happened. After a long and drawn-out search for almost five years, they finally had to stop. We actually just had your memorial service today."
Rachel's eyes widened as she tried to take in the new information. "I'm afraid I just…don't understand any of this. There's no way I can be 23. I just left glee to come back home. If this is some kind of joke, it's no longer funny."
"It's not a joke, Rachel. Where have you been?" Santana inquired.
"I told you, glee. I just got home," Rachel answered impatiently.
"Well, did you drive here?" Quinn wondered.
At this, Rachel hesitated. "No… I think I walked."
Santana jumped on this new piece of information. "But Rachel, that's impossible. McKinley is at least seven miles from your house, and you aren't even out of breath. There's no way you walked home."
The brunette seemed lost in thought. "I can't remember. I can't remember anything anymore." She broke down, sobbing. "I can't remember anything for the last five years. I don't even know how l got here again!"
Quinn moved closer to the distraught girl. "Rachel," she said carefully, "are you sure you don't remember anything?"
Rachel screwed up her face in concentration. "I'm trying… I'm trying so hard!"
"Calm down, Rachel," Santana soothed, "it's going to be alright. You stay here, and Quinn and I will get you some water."
The girls quietly left the room, and entered the kitchen. "Santana, she doesn't remember anything," Quinn whispered.
"I am more surprised than you are, Quinn," the Latina replied. "It seems like he kept his end of the bargain."
"So what do we do then?" Quinn asked. "We haven't planned pass this point. No one thought it could actually be done."
"Your guess is as good as mine, Quinnie," Santana responded. "As for now, she is not to be left out of our sight, until we can notify the others."
Quinn reached into the cupboard to get out the starred glass and filled it with water. "I understand. You go out there, and I'll cut up an apple for her. She must be in shock."
A/N: and thus ends the first installment of whatever this is supposed to be
So if you have any comments or whatever, feel free to leave a review, but I promise I won't be one of those authors that waits until they have however many reviews to continue. Well then, until next time! -Julz