Title: Silence

Chapter: 1

By: mitfordgal

Rating: T or mature

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters created by the talented group behind "Higher Ground". I do, however, own Rachel and anyone else you don't recognize.

A/N: Story was previously published. After a long break, I picked it up again and realized it could be a lot better so I'm reposting what I had and going on from there.

Takes place in what would've been the second season of "Higher Ground".

"I think what I remember best about arriving was the number of trees. Even though I didn't know it at the time, the protection of so much foliage was comforting to me."

Letter of December 21.

There were trees. Lots and lots of trees. Rachel decided that they must be in Canada by now as they had been driving for three days. All she knew about where they were heading was that it was a school in the middle of nowhere, designed for troubled kids, and far, far away from her grandmother.

She looked away from the trees for a moment and studied the woman beside her. She supposed that Grandmother was young by anyone's standards. Not many of her classmates at her old school had a grandmother younger than 60 who was a renowned judge in Atlanta, Georgia. Truth be told, Rachel didn't really know her grandmother that well – her parents didn't seem to like her very much and she could remember only one family vacation that took them south.

But then the accident happened. It was a warm summer evening in New Jersey and her parents were driving away from a party. Rachel was 13 – old enough to be left alone and smart enough to know that accompanying her parents was not something she wanted to do. She thought nothing of it when she went to bed in an empty house around midnight. But then there was a knock on the door and police and social workers everywhere and before she had time to blink she was living with her grandmother.

School started early in Atlanta – at least at the private school that Grandmother had picked out. Rachel supposed that sending her granddaughter to a public school was out of the question for a judge of Grandmother's stature. The school rapidly learned two things about Rachel. One, she was incredibly smart for her age. Two, she wouldn't speak.

After a closed-door meeting that Grandmother left with a red face, Rachel knew that she would not be returning to Chaucer Intensive. Grandmother actually took a day off work (Rachel was sure the entire judicial system in Atlanta had ground to a halt that day) and spent her time alternating between the Internet and the phone. The last phone call made Rachel prick up her ears because it was the first time she had heard her grandmother plead.

"Yes, I know she's young for your school but she's been tested and her comprehension and mathematical skills are five years above her age. I know your school deals with mature subject matter (God, thought Rachel, she sounds like she's previewing an episode of Law & Order) but I promise you she is very mature for her age. And she obviously is in need of some sort of intervention because she hasn't spoken since the funeral. Can we maybe just come up for an interview? Once you meet her…"

The next thing Rachel knew she was in Grandmother's car, heading north to a school that Rachel only knew as Mt Horizon. She hadn't even had time to research it on the Internet. And if the bags in the trunk were any indication, she knew she would be staying regardless of the outcome of the interview.

Rachel sat outside the director's office and swung her feet in boredom. Her grandmother had been in with the head of Horizon for almost an hour now and Rachel was beginning to wonder if she had been wrong and her grandmother's considerable wealth and influence were not going to win her a place to dump her granddaughter. She shut her eyes and strained to hear the conversation going on in the room behind her.

"We have made a very long drive and I have had to make arrangements for someone to cover my court cases in order to come here," Grandmother stated, haughtily. "As we discussed on the phone, my granddaughter is in serious need of intervention and although she may be young according to your standards, you will find that her schoolwork is exemplary."

Rachel had only seen the director briefly before the two had disappeared behind closed doors. He seemed like a kind man – he smiled at her and politely asked if she would mind waiting outside his office. Rachel wasn't used to being asked – she was used to orders.

"I can appreciate the arrangements you have made and the obvious concern you have for your granddaughter. I want to make sure you understand, however, that most of the teenagers here have been in trouble with the law and require close supervision as well as regular drug tests. This is not a school that focuses solely on the academics, although we are, of course, an accredited high school. From looking at Rachel's school records, it's clear that she needs to be somewhere where her mind is challenged."

Rachel was sure that despite the good points the director was making, Grandmother had no intention of allowing her to dissuade her from her plan.

"I'll worry about her academic needs once you get her talking. She is stubborn, willful and has no respect for anyone. A couple of years up here chopping wood and washing dishes is exactly what she needs. And if the older students put her in her place, all the better."

Rachel put her hand over her mouth to prevent her from crying out. She knew that her grandmother didn't like her much but she had never imagined that she hated her. All of a sudden Rachel wanted to stay. So what if they didn't offer chemistry, biology or physics? So what if she didn't get the opportunity to learn calculus like she was expecting? Anything, even total boredom, was better than going home with a woman who despised her. Please, please let me stay, she pleaded in her mind.

Rachel had missed the next comment that the director made but she didn't miss the sound of Grandmother opening her purse.

"I know I've covered her tuition but a school like this probably has many needs. Feel free to use this money however you want and I can guarantee you that my skills at fundraising are second-to-none. Many of my friends and acquaintances in the judicial system will be thrilled to donate to such a worthy cause."

Rachel didn't think it could get much worse. Now the director was being bribed to keep her. I wonder how much I'm worth? $5,000? $100,000?

The door opened and Grandmother came sailing out. She bent down and kissed Rachel's forehead. Rachel knew that it was a show for the director's benefit.

"Now, try to make a fresh start here, dear," she chirped in a voice that Rachel had never heard before. Then her tone turned steely. "I don't want to receive a phone call telling me that you've been kicked out of this school too."

Rachel hung her head and cursed herself for not being able to stop her cheeks from reddening.

"Mr Scarbrow, if she needs anything that I didn't pack, please feel free to purchase it for her and I'll reimburse you." To Rachel she warned, "I've left you the money they suggest for trips to town and buying essentials. Don't waste it." With a pat on her granddaughter's head, Helena Peake swept out and into her car, leaving Rachel staring after her.

The director took a seat beside her. "I'm sorry that we weren't introduced. My name is Peter and I run the school. It was started by a man named Frank, who you will meet but lately he's only been around part-time and works mostly with the boys. We divide all the students into groups, between 7 and 10 people and you will work with them, sleep with them, have group with them and they will become your best friends." He allowed a small grin on his face. "Or you kill them."

If she hadn't have been so nervous, Rachel might have smiled at that point. She liked Peter all ready. He seemed gentle and laid-back. But wait until he figures out that you don't talk, she told herself sternly. He'll spend all his time trying to make you and then he probably won't seem so nice.

If Peter was bothered by the lack of response to his little joke, he didn't show it. "Each group is assigned one or two counselors and they will look after the group. They are all trust-worthy and I hope you will feel free to turn to them if you need anything. Some are also teachers but we also have teachers who live in town. It won't be the education you're used to but we try and make it practical. The other staff is mostly weekend and night relief or nurses from the infirmary. A doctor comes once a week and we have a few therapists on call as well."

He stood up and grabbed Rachel's bag. "The first order of business is to get you checked in. I don't know exactly what group you'll be in at the moment but by the time we search your stuff and make sure you're not hiding drugs somewhere on your person, I'll have an answer for you."

Search? Someone is going to search me? Rachel tried to modulate her breathing and stop her body from shaking but she was terrified. Peter had already started walking halfway towards the door before he realized that she wasn't with him. He turned around and saw that Rachel was in the midst of a panic attack. Quickly he went back to her and told her to sit down.

"Rachel, look at me." He knelt in front of her. "I want you to focus on my face. Now take a shallow breath and let it out." He demonstrated for her and in a few minutes she was breathing normally.

"Has that ever happened to you before?" Peter asked, curious to see if and how she would respond. Rachel refused to make eye contact with him but nodded her head. "It's called a panic attack. It may feel like you're suffocating but your body can only handle that level of adrenaline so long before it will start to shut down on its own. Still, I know it's scary but we can teach you a few coping mechanisms to help you out." He paused and then decided to continue. "Do you know what triggered it?"

No response from Rachel. Peter knew it wasn't surprising. Regardless of whether she knew it or not, it was enough that she had responded once to him. It probably wouldn't happen again for a while.

"Let's make a deal," Peter decided. "The search of your belongings is mandatory so I can't bend the rules there. I'll have Serena, the nurse in the infirmary, to give you a drug test and I'm fairly sure it will be negative. That means we won't search you. Would that be better?"

Again no response but Peter watched Rachel's hands relax slightly from the fists she had made.

She doesn't belong here, Peter thought, not for the first time. Unless she's a lot tougher than she looks, it's not going to be easy for her to settle in. Rachel got up when he did, resigned to her fate and they walked together to the infirmary.