Rachel sat in the backseat of their car, clutching her severed braid in her hands as she stared at it sadly.
She had always wished her hair was like either of her dads. Instead, it was mostly wavy with a tendency to get poufy.
She had been contemplating changing her look for high school next year but had yet to decide how yet; at the moment, her papa or daddy always braided her hair in the morning for her.
Everyone always laughed at her either outright or behind her back when she said she did not know who her biological father was.
Her fathers assured her that she was nearly the spitting image of their egg donor. They found it simply amazing that biology had worked out well enough that they simply could not tell which of them ended up being her biological father. They'd really lucked out that the egg donor had very strong genes.
Rachel found it pretty amazing too.
"We're going to have to take her to a hairdresser and have it fixed," LeRoy sighed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change.
She had two loving parents, great fathers who wanted the best for her.
Rachel had never been able to lie to her dads. She was able to slip half truths and simply outright not mention certain things to them.
Things such as the fact that, for the past two years of Junior High, Jill Clark had been making her life horrible at school. Rachel was counting down the days until the summer. They would be going to different high schools. And her parents had utterly no idea.
Rachel knew that her life would greatly improve without Jill Clark in it. The bullying would stop, and Rachel would be able to focus on preparing for her future on Broadway.
So Rachel had prudently decided not to burden her parents with the knowledge.
Hiram snarled, "We're pressing charges. That's final." He was exactly eight inches shorter than LeRoy, but his presence was such that you would not notice unless it was pointed out.
Rachel knew logically that Jill was simply jealous of Rachel.
Rachel pitied Jill, she really did.
"Now now Hiram," Papa said soothingly, "It could have been an accident. We don't want to ruin some poor girl's life just because she accidentally cut Rachel's hair."
One day, Rachel would be a Broadway starlet. Jill would still be a nobody in Lima, envious and halfheartedly attending the community college with a vague plan to transfer to a four-year eventually, which she would never actually end up doing because she'd get impregnated first.
Rachel had a future.
It really was Rachel's fault for telling Jill exactly that, loud enough for everyone around to hear and laugh at Jill.
"Well, Rachel? Darling? Was this an accident? Did this girl somehow accidentally cut off most of your hair," Hiram said acidly, giving LeRoy a look before looking much more gently at his daughter.
It was not most -Rachel's hair had been rather long, and still was. Hiram sometimes exaggerated for effect.
Rachel opened her mouth to say yes. It very well could have been an accident, even if Rachel very much doubted it.
the
world
ended
She gasped, the braid falling from her hands as her body jerked forward painfully against the seat belt.
The pain of dying combined with whatever was happening blinded her for a moment. It took a moment for her vision to adjust; in that moment she lived two lifetimes.
Two lifetimes that were significantly much too short.
Either she had the most magnificent psychic premonition she had ever had, or somehow...somehow, the alien technology had made her time travel.
She took in a deep, slow breath and watched the cars and people around them, half in disbelief half warily.
"Darling?" Hiram asked, and she turned from the window to stare at him.
He was alive.
Both her dads were alive.
"Clearly LeRoy, Rachel's traumatized from the assault on her person. We press charges," Hiram hissed at LeRoy, turning to face her. "Don't worry darling, we will be home shortly."
She closed her mouth, then opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She managed to nod, and wrapped her arms around herself, unable to do more at the moment then stare at her fathers, an image of their corpses in her mind.
She finally closed her eyes, and put her forehead against the window, soaking up the sun and heat. Despite this, Hiram's half eaten corpse was still vivid and fresh in her mind.
It was reasonable to assume the others would have time traveled as well.
After zombies, then aliens, time travel was not too difficult to believe in -although, she was not quite sure she was going to write off her psychicness just yet.
Her papa, her daddy -they, and everyone that the group had lost, were not dead.
And Rachel was going to ensure they all stayed alive, no matter who or what stood in her way.
When her Hiram realized Rachel wasn't going to speak any further, he sighed softly, then said to LeRoy, "Betty said she could fit Rachel in at four."
It took a moment for Rachel to remember who Betty was -the hairdresser who took care of all three Berry's hair needs.
LeRoy nodded, "It's about two, how about we have a late lunch, do some grocery shopping first?" He looked at her in the rear-view mirror, "Does that sound okay to you Pumpkin? Or would you rather we go home?"
"I want to be with you and Daddy, wherever you are," Rachel said after a moment of thinking about it.
What she wanted to do was go to her great grandmother's cottage, and have her rifle and ammo next to her at all times.
"Where do you want to do for lunch darling," Hiram asked her expectantly, turning from the passenger seat to look at her.
She couldn't stop staring at the neighborhood around them as they drove.
The sun -she felt like she had not properly felt the sun on her face in a very long time.
And the people -her neighbors, going about their lives without any fear.
It took her a moment to answer him -besides the distractions, she couldn't remember when the Berry family had turned vegan.
All she could remember was Hiram getting the news from his doctor that his blood pressure was bad, and that, combined with the family history of heart attacks made him go vegetarian. Since he was the one who tended to cook more, they all simply followed suit -at least until someone sent Rachel a MySpace message that linked to a private video.
That, she would never forget.
It appeared, at first glance, as a fan video -which, naturally, Rachel had eaten up. They'd selected a video of her singing "Don't Rain on My Parade" which was, of course, a song that Rachel had been singing for a very long time, so she had mastered it. It was one of the few songs she could watch herself sing and not find any real flaws to pick at.
She'd been utterly entranced.
Then, they'd cut in scenes from the meat industry -animals, baby animals, being treated and killed horribly. Rachel had watched the whole thing, then, horrified, demanded the Berry's go vegan.
Never parents to deny their daughter anything, and since they were halfway there already, LeRoy and Hiram had gone along with it.
Although sometimes Rachel had suspected LeRoy would have the occasional burger here and there.
So it took Rachel several long seconds to answer, and finally, all she managed was, "I do not have a preference Daddy, you decide please."
LeRoy suggested, "Does 'Mama Luna's' sound good Pumpkin?"
"Sure papa," Rachel shrugged.
The adults started talking quietly to themselves about work -they were very successful insurance salesmen, leaving Rachel to her thoughts.
Rachel very much did not want to be alone with her thoughts.
She swallowed, determined not to think about anything.
Naturally, all she could think about was the last time the Berry family had driven through the streets of Lima -and how they were stopped.
Unable to take it anymore, Rachel closed her eyes. She needed to stop thinking about death, as difficult as that may be.
Quinn smiled at her, her fading pink hair mussed up around her like a halo. She was beautiful, the scar on her face doing exactly what Rachel had thought it would do. It gave her a little character, showed that Quinn was a strong warrior, and enhanced her beauty. The scar will likely always send that little message of self-doubt to Rachel that if she had the scar, she would be simply hideous with it. Although maybe it would have distracted from her nose.
Quinn reached over and gently ran a finger along the part of the burn scar visible on the front of Rachel's shoulder.
"I still can't believe how quickly your burn, everyone's burns healed," the smile had turned to a frown, and Rachel knew she was thinking about Beth.
Rachel gently placed her hand over Quinn's, deciding that she was not going to bring up Beth, unless Quinn brought her up first, "The alien technology is quite amazing, I hope they're able to do something helpful for us with it beyond defense."
Quinn raised an eyebrow at her, a look of bemusement and resignation on her face, "How long do you think you'll be punished for getting that alien technology?"
"I maintain they should be rewarding me, not punishing me."
"Of course. All you did was violate direct orders and nearly get yourself and two other people killed," Quinn replied dryly. She pulled her hand off Rachel's shoulder, and out from under Rachel's hand.
"Granted, things went rather unexpectedly, but in the end the results were worth it."
Quinn shook her head, "You can't just put yourself, and others at risk Rachel."
"This world puts us at risk, Quinn. We need to do what we have to in order to survive."
This was an old conversation by now.
Quinn sighed, "Well, you did send a girl to a crack house once..." Quinn managed a smile, and yet again this particular conversation was tabled for a time when they would have a serious discussion on the matter.
Rachel thought of her decision to leave a bitten Quinn behind because that was what was best for the group. It was a hard choice, but someone had to make it for the group's sake. And Rachel had quickly realized it had to be her.
She would not, no matter how many lifetimes she had, forget that feeling of needing to leave Quinn behind. At least it was distracting her from thinking about the last drive the Berry family had through Lima.
As her Papa parked, Rachel felt the anxiety rising through her.
There were too many people, people Rachel did not know, that could do anything to them because they had no way to defend themselves.
She couldn't move at the realization that the absolute last thing she wanted to at the moment was to enter the restaurant, and be around people she didn't know.
Her fingers itched for her rifle.
"What's wrong Pumpkin," LeRoy asked when he realized she had not moved to unbuckle her seat belt.
"I.." She could not find the words, did not know how to explain anything she was feeling right now to her fathers.
Hiram unwittingly came to the rescue, "Obviously she's had a long day, LeRoy, and we shouldn't have taken her anywhere but home. How about we get lunch to go, and go home until your appointment?"
She managed to nod.
"Right, I'll get everyone their usual then," LeRoy said, closing his car door softly, leaving her alone.
Rachel had to stifle her desire to run after him, to not let him out of her sight.
"I think, daddy, I could just have an appointment on Monday?" she said softly to Hiram. She just wanted to go home.
He turned to look at her critically, then shook his head, "Darling, that girl absolutely butchered your hair. And you have an audition for 'The Sound of Music' in Columbus on Sunday. You can not show up with your hair like that."
It took Rachel a moment to answer him. She did not remember this audition at all.
Rachel had tried out for community theater many many times, and ending up with exactly zero roles total. She knew one thing for certain -she did not want to waste time auditioning when she was not going to get the part. Or even if she did get the part, it did not matter in the end.
She would never be on Broadway.
All that time, that money, the sacrifices she made.
There had, in the end, been no point to it.
She had to accept that once already, had already accepted it.
So why did she feel like sobbing?
"Daddy, I think perhaps I will skip this audition, it is unlikely they will hire me anyway. Sometimes a person is just not the correct fit for a role," she said it slowly, feeling the weight of the words as she said them.
Even with everything that had happened, and the apparent second chance, they were not easy to say.
Hiram gasped, "No, no darling! You cannot give up just because one mean, nasty girl tried to knock you down. You will go to the audition, you will be amazing because that's who you are, and you will get the part of Louisa. That nasty girl will be a distant memory. "
Rachel very nearly snapped at Hiram, just managing to swallow the urge. She was only...how old was she?
She took a deep breath and thought.
She did not even know what month it was. She remembered that the Jill event having been some time in 8th grade. It seemed to be spring.
Giving that she'd entered kindergarten at the same time as her peers despite her December birthday, she was somewhat younger than the others in her classes.
That would make her...thirteen.
Which meant she'd be fourteen in December.
She was only thirteen.
She was only thirteen, and he was her father, and no matter how lenient the Berry's were, she was still a child and they her parents.
Hiram and LeRoy had been insistent on her doing dance classes since she was old enough to be able -they would not, especially Hiram, take her stopping them and other Broadway goal oriented activities lightly.
This was not going to be the first time she was going to find herself in the role of a child doing what she was told.
"Very well daddy," she said after a moment too long. He gave her a concerned look but mercifully said no more.
She did not feel like a thirteen almost fourteen-year-old child. Even if she was feeling like her father making her audition was unjust and she was fighting the urge to both yell and cry, due to the surge of hormones.
She did not even feel like the seventeen-year-old she had been -she sat up a little straighter when she realized she had only been seventeen.
How was that possible? It had not even been a year into the end of the world, yet they had gone through so much, done so much, watched so many die.
It felt like years; she was no longer a child but a woman. Had not been a child since that moment she tried in vain to keep her daddy from bleeding to death, so certain in her knowledge of the world, a world that until that moment had given her everything she'd ever asked for, that she did not even realize when he'd slipped away.
Tears in her eyes, not even noticing the blood spreading out and covering her tights and dress in blood as she kneeled down next to her daddy, Rachel put pressure on his shoulder and side. "It's okay daddy, you are going to be fine," she said clearly to her daddy, not wanting him to panic.
She could hear her father firing shot after shot with the rifle, cursing when he missed. Hopefully, someone else would come along, and they could get her daddy medical attention. Noah and Finn's mothers were both nurses, so if they could just get Hiram to them, he'd be fine. He had to be.
She couldn't bring herself to sing to him, no matter how much he enjoyed her voice, so she continued speaking soothing words to her daddy, while putting pressure on his wounds. She was acutely aware when LeRoy stopping firing and looked up at him.
LeRoy seemed to have aged ten years in the minutes it took him to put kill the zombies that had been coming towards them.
"That noise will draw them from all over," LeRoy muttered, then looked at Rachel, "How is he?" he asked, his voice low and pained.
"Papa he's bleeding so much, we need to get him to Mrs. Puckerman and Carole, or a hospital" Rachel looked up at her father, tears streaming down her face. She was intensely aware a large portion of her, from her legs to her wrists, were covered in her father's blood, and couldn't imagine what was going through her father's mind as he looked down at his child and partner.
"There are no cars, and I would think if there was any way to fix that truck they would have…" LeRoy muttered, loosely holding the gun at his side with one hand, he stomped to the pile of their belongings and shoved boxes aside till he found the one he was looking for. Opening it, he grabbed the large first aid kit, and turned towards Rachel and the prone form of his partner.
"Here Rachel, do what you can with..." He trailed off as he got a better look at Hiram.
"What is it papa?"
Swallowing thickly, he said, "Rachel, check for a pulse. Then put on your hiking boots."
Rachel did as her father ordered, wiping her hand on her dress first. "Papa? He's…."
"Your daddy…he's gone pumpkin. We need to stay ahead of those things, we have to leave."
"No, we can't, we have to do something!" Rachel was incredulous.
"We have to leave him. I know it's hard, but we can't stay here. He'd want us somewhere safe. Please, put on your hiking boots. Pull a pair of socks over your tights first. We'll…we'll be doing a lot of walking."
A few tears traitorously leaked from her eyes, and she could not help it -she let out a soft sob that turned into sobbing quietly.
When Hiram realized she was sobbing, he joined her in the backseat, and held her close to him, murmuring comforting things in Hebrew as she sobbed.
Listening to his heart beat, and his soothing words, all Rachel could think about was being covered in his blood.
Finally, she was cried out. She laid there, exhausted, curled up against Hiram.
"Hiram?" She heard LeRoy ask softly after the car door was opened.
"I told her she had to go to her audition on Sunday, so she simply must get her hair fixed today," Hiram said, then sighed, "She gets that from me -and the hormones don't help, I'm sure. I do wish she'd gotten a little more of your calmness."
"Perhaps she will once those hormones settle down? She's almost fourteen, and she will be starting high school next year, that's a rough time. Maybe we should think about limiting her extracurricular activities a bit?" LeRoy suggested. Rachel could hear the general rustling noises, then the click of his seatbelt, before the car started.
"Her schedule is rather full...I'm just not sure what we could cut from it," Hiram trailed off, "Piano?"
Rachel snuggled against Hiram, trying not to think about anything but the fact that they were alive. She would let them discuss which of her activities she would stop because it did not matter -Rachel was going to devote herself to learning skills that would be useful for the end of the world.
She allowed the car to lull her to a fitful sleep.
She woke up groggy, unaware of what was going on, and uncaring until she realized someone was holding her, stroking her hair.
Her heart raced, and she scrambled to pull away from them instinctively.
The seat belt stopped her, sending a jolt of pain through her.
"Rachel? Darling?"
Taking deep breaths as the adrenaline flowed, she opened her eyes and realized that it had been Hiram.
Not a zombie, or someone will ill intentions.
Just her daddy. Her living daddy who was looking at her with clear concern.
"Just...just a nightmare daddy, I hadn't realized I was dreaming..."
He frowned at her, "Perhaps we can see if Betty will do a house call darling, and you can go to bed early."
"I would prefer that daddy, thank you," he nodded at her, reaching over and opening her door.
Rachel took in deep, even breaths, trying to calm herself down as she climbed out the car.
The house, the Berry home, stood in front of her. LeRoy, carrying their lunch, was just at the front door while Hiram was still at the car.
Tears came to her eyes as she stared at the house.
"Starla!" LeRoy shouted, then sighed heavily, and called, "Rachel make sure she doesn't get into the street!"
Rachel held her breath as a black and white Pomeranian ran fairly quickly for an elderly dog with arthritis towards her.
Starla's tail was bobbing back and forth happily. Once she reached Rachel, she started jumping up and down, hitting Rachel's leg with her front paws, making little demanding grunting noises.
Rachel scooped her up.
Starla.
Rachel knew now for sure she was thirteen -that was the year Starla had died.
One day, the Berry family had woken up to find their furriest member had a stroke so severe the veterinarian had recommended putting her to sleep. Starla had been eleven, and the Berry's had thought they'd have at least, given that she had the best care, doting family members, and the small dog life expectancy, another three or four years.
Starla's death had left a hole in their family that they still had not been ready to fill years later when the world ended.
Tears once more came to Rachel's eyes, and she hugged the dog, who wiggled happily in her arms.
The car door slammed shut, and Rachel turned, watching Hiram carrying her backpack, his suitcase, and LeRoy's messenger bag up the path.
Rachel was so incredibly happy to see Starla again it nearly eclipsed how she was feeling about her dads.
There was a bitter sweetness to that happiness -she would not be able to stop Starla's death.
She could, however, stop Hiram's and LeRoy's.
And she would.
She had barely managed to stand Betty being in their home, tolerating it long enough for the woman to cut her hair.
She was confident that having Starla there, being able to hold her, was the only reason she'd managed to get through the hair cut.
Even so, she had been tense the entire haircut -she absolutely did not like having someone she did not know well with a sharp implement near her face.
She kept her hair longer this time, requesting that it be cut to roughly mid-chest. Mainly to get it done that much quicker, and keep their stylist away from her face.
Once the woman had left, taking Starla with her, Rachel had retired to her room.
She sat on her bed and stared up at the ceiling as she lavished attention onto her dog.
Eventually, when Starla was clearly tired out, she reached over to her neatly organized bedside table, and her Zune and headphones.
She looked through all the music, a feeling she didn't recognize going through her as she browsed. She'd settled on a classic rock playlist, and pulled the headphones on, pushing play.
Looking at the music she'd enjoyed when she was young was like pulling on a warm sweater, fresh from the dryer, on a chilly day.
Nostalgia.
That's what the feeling she was feeling.
She swallowed back tears -she was too young to be feeling like a twenty-something going through the music she'd enjoyed when she was a kid.
Contrary to whatever everyone had believed, she enjoyed a wide variety of music, including classic rock and roll -which LeRoy had introduced her too.
As the first bit of "Don't stop believing" started to play, her fingers twitched with the need to take action -she had never been good at relaxation or downtime in general, and since that first day she could count the number of times she felt truly relaxed, without anything on her mind, on one hand.
She needed to be doing something.
Her laptop -a heavy, clunky thing that sat on her desk, and, she idly started at it before she realized with a start that she could access the internet.
All the information in the world at her fingertips.
She stood up from her bed carefully -she didn't want to jostle the snoring Pomeranian and sat down at her desk chair.
There was so much she needed to know, to learn, that she was almost overwhelmed with what to look up first. Just the very fact that she can do so energized her in a way her brief nap in their vehicle did not.
It took her ten increasingly frustrated minutes to figure out what the password to her laptop was.
She tapped her fingers against her desk in agitation as first the laptop booted up, then Firefox.
While she waited, she looked around her room.
She somewhat remembered it -the details were hazy, but the room felt familiar.
After bat mitzvah, her dads had let her redo it however she wanted to, and, well, she had chosen to design the room in a "grandmother builds a room for her toddler granddaughter" aesthetic which had nicely matched her clothing preferences. She had updated it a bit more when she started high school, but not by much.
She had grown up on old movies and two dads who preferred to dress rather old fashioned. It was no wonder that she had the style she had had.
Firefox finally opened. Still undecided on what to look up first, and perhaps with a bit of nostalgia, she clicked on the saved tab that was always open on to MySpace. The slowness of the internet speed would take a frustraiting while to get used to -even if it was faster then most people had at this time, it was not as fast as she was used to.
She hadn't started doing daily videos until high school when it'd become clear to her that Glee club under Sandy was not going to give her what she needed and craved.
She only posted a video here and there before then. Now, she merely looked at the thumbnails of her videos -she did not want to hear herself sing.
It would be a fresh reminder that Broadway was gone, and so was the girl that she had been. And she had already cried enough today.
The newest video -a cover of her singing "What Goes Around...Comes Around" had quite a bit more comments then her other videos, which all had one or two.
Frowning, she clicked on it, quickly hitting pause before the singing started.
Sam Evans: Great job as usual Rachel.
Rachel Berry: You comment the same thing on every one of my videos!
Sam Evans: Because you do a great job singing Rachel. I've missed it.
Rachel Berry: ...? Well, I'm glad to have a fan! I will be certain to thank you in my first acceptance speech for always believing in me Sam Evans.
Sam was back as well.
Heart racing, she clicked to send him a private message. She paused at the keyboard, unsure of what to say, before finally deciding on, "Sam, I believe we have much to discuss. Please send me your phone number."
It took him two hours to reply -it was nearly seven thirty now, and she had spent the time waiting for him typing up everything she could remember from today until they had died. She intended on transferring what she had written into a notebook after she was sure she had everything down, and organized to her liking.
She had decided since she had years to prepare, that she did not need to start researching and learning just yet. There would be time for that, but first, she needed to decide, exactly, what she needed to learn and do.
Preparation was going to be key to survival.
When she had realized he had replied back to her, with his phone number and nothing else, she took a deep breath, then picked up her phone.
She had her own land line, for no real reason then Hiram had always wanted one when he was a boy, and they could. She would get rid of it eventually in favor of a cell phone, but for now she was glad for it to avoid having to go downstairs and have this conversation where one of her fathers might hear.
The phone was answered on the second ring.
"Hello?" A young voice that sounded familiar but not enough to place it asked.
"Um, may I speak to Sam Evans please," she said as politely as she could.
"This is he."
A flash of panic went through her -Sam hadn't sounded like this. Either she was remembering wrong, or something had changed and he was -her frantic thoughts were interrupted, "Rachel I'm going to go into my room, just a second," a few moments silence, then, "I'm sure I sound weird...puberty hasn't really done it's thing on my voice yet," he half laughed and that, at least, sounded more like him.
Rachel calmed down a little and let out a rush of air, "You sound so young."
He laughed again, "So do you. I'm almost twelve, you must be twelve or thirteen?"
"I turned thirteen in December, yes." The silence sat between them, until she added, "I just..arrived? Today."
"Since I was seven."
"Oh." She could not imagine coming back that early. "I'm so sorry Sam, that had to have been difficult...it must still be."
"Yeah, yeah it wasn't..it wasn't good for a while. But I think it'll be easier now that I know you're here too. I felt like a stalker when I finally found your MySpace, that took a while. I thought I'd remembered your last name wrong."
"My parents only let me make one when I entered eight grade..." She licked her lips, "I expect the others will be joining us as well, I can only hope before..."
"The day?" he suggested quietly.
"Yes. Before then, because it will be much more easier to prepare with them."
"How are we going to prepare? I mean, I pay a lot more attention to my granddad when he's teaching me stuff, and I read a lot but..."
"I am not sure yet, but now that we know the other is here we shall remain in contact." She felt the weight of being responsible on her shoulders, because of course there was not much Sam could do in Kentucky at the moment, and changed the subject, "Stevie must be a toddler now, and Stacy was recently born, am I correct? How are they? My fathers...they are amazing."
"I'm glad you have your dads back Rachel..." he trailed off, and was silent for a few long moments before he sighed, "Stacy's about nine months old. Sabrina's about two and half, and Stephanie is almost four."
"Sabrina? Stephanie?"
A terrible feeling went through her, and she closed her eyes as Sam answered, "Yeah...I well, I changed things...and...instead of Stevie and Stacy, I've got Stephanie, Sabrina, and Stacy."
"I am so so sorry Sam." To live with that guilt for the rest of his life, she could not even imagine.
"It's not...I kinda remember him, but not really? Like he's a character in a book I read a long time ago. The memories were a lot stronger when I first got here, but by the time I realized I'd changed things so that mom got pregnant with Stephanie a lot earlier then she'd gotten pregnant with Stevie, they were really faded. I wrote stuff down, but...I think a lot of that was just from being so little, but I suggest you write yours down too."
"I have started to, but I will make sure to finish," she pictured Sam reading to Stevie and Stacy. A deep feeling of sorrow went through her as she realized that she was literally the only person on the planet who truly remembered Stevie. "I am sorry, regardless."
"It's not your fault, it's not even really my fault. I was little, I was freaked out...I didn't know that by having a nightmare I'd butterfly effect Stevie out of existence," he replied wirily.
LeRoy sang out to Rachel that dinner was ready, and Rachel sighed, "I have to go eat dinner Sam...we shall keep in contact both via phone and MySpace."
"Alright, um. Well. When you know what we should be doing, call me? And if you want to talk...I know it's weird..." Sam trailed off.
"Of course. Please do the same with me if you need someone to speak to." They awkwardly said their goodbyes, and Rachel picked up Starla. Her mind was heavy with worry as she left her room and headed downstairs -it was, apparently, all too easy to change the future in ways you did not expect. Perhaps she should not, just in case, drop all of her current extra curriculars?
It was definitely something for her to think about.
Hiram insisted on giving her sleeping medicine Friday night, citing her earlier nightmare in the car, and that she needed to be well rested for Saturday. She argued against it, because the thought of being so deeply asleep frightenend her. Somehow that clear fear managed to prove Hiram's point. She lost the fight.
Friday night she did not dream.
Saturday's were, apparently according to the calendar on her desk, normally spent at two dance classes, and vocal training. She managed to get out of all three, citing what had happened at school on Friday, and wanting to prepare for her audition the next day.
She spent most of the morning in her room, with her laptop and Starla finishing up typing everything she could remember.
Her father's reluctantly gave her space. They did knock on her door an awful lot to see if she needed one of them, water, or anything really.
Rachel did not mind the so long of being alone, even when surrounded by the others, it was very nice to have her dads back. Knowing that there were two people in the world who loved her more then anything was a comfort, even if the fear that they would die for her one day was present.
She finished, saved multiple copies of the document, and carried Starla downstairs.
She had held off as long as she could, but she could not take it anymore.
She needed her rifle. She needed to have a small supply of items on the off chance that she woke up tomorrow to find something terrible had happened, much earlier. She needed to be prepared.
She set Starla down on the dog's bed, gave her a pat on the head and called out to the parent lurking in the kitchen, "I am going on a bike ride."
She slung her purse on, and was buckling her bike helmet when LeRoy called out, "Call home if you go too far and need a ride home!" Their neighborhood was nice enough that LeRoy would not worry if she rode around by herself. Hiram would, but Hiram tended to worry about everything.
She was going to ride her bike across town to her great grandmother's home.
It was roughly seven miles away across town. And she was planning on stopping at several stores which were along the way depending on the route she took.
Rachel was in excellent shape, so by the time she has ridden two and a half miles she was not particularly winded or even all that sweaty as she came to a stop in front of one of the army surplus stores in Lima.
She had selected this one because it was the biggest.
The first place she headed to was the bags, selecting a serviceable looking alice pack in black, not even trying it on -she had yet to hit her growth spurt, so was still under five feet tall. The pack was a large, it would look ridiculous on her.
Quickly, glad the store was mostly empty, she moved to look at the knifes. She wanted a large one that had multiple uses. She would keep under her pillow, and it would give her some simblence of peace of mind. She was mulling over two choices, and had finally decided on one, when the clerk, an older man noticed her looking and ambled over. "You know I can't sell one of those to you, right?"
Rachel looked up at him, "Why?"
"Gotta be eighteen. State law."
Rachel stared at him then said slowly, "Well, perhaps I'll simply buy the sheath, and the knife is included for free."
He chuckled, "Tell me what a little bitty girl like you needs with a knife like that, and I'll think about it."
She glared at him, "The end of the world. Sell it to me, and myself and mine shall buy from your store instead of your competition. Of course, money will be useless eventually."
He stared at her, then gave her a grin, "I like the cut of your jib kid. You ready to check out?" He pulled the knife she wanted out of the case and set it on the counter.
"This will be all for now, yes," Rachel set her shoulder's back, and tried to convey that she was serious.
It worked, too, because the clerk sobered, and seemed to take her much more seriously as he checked her out.
Once the knife was in her new bag, and the bag adjusted and on her shoulders, Rachel continued her ride to the cottage.
She tried not to think about anything but the sun on her face.
Not thinking about the future was easier said than done, and by the time Rachel pulled up to the cottage, panting slightly, she could not stop the over whelming feeling that nothing she did not was going to matter. She was going to fail, everyone she cared about was going to die, and she'd be alone.
She didn't bother with the kickstand, she just let the bike fall to the ground as she got off it, letting the bag slip off her shoulders as well.
She closed her eyes, feeling, despite the sun and the bike ride, cold.
With a little sob, she slid to the ground.
There was so much to do, to learn, and she had no idea when the others would be joining she and Sam.
"Did your fairy parents tell you you're adopted? Because you aren't, they bought an egg and paid a woman to carry you. They need to be more careful how they talk to you, there's a reason two men can't raise a child together. Need a woman's touch," a soft gravelly voice said.
Rachel looked up, and wiped away tears she stared up at the elderly woman who was looking down at her expectantly. She was a few shades lighter then LeRoy, and if you stood them side by side, you would realize they were related because they had the same kind, perceptive eyes. She hair was pulled back in two french braids that ended in neat buns, and she stared down at Rachel expectantly.
Rachel had quite forgotten that her great grandmother was alive and currently occupying her home.
"Miss Henrietta..." Rachel gasped out.
If she could not even remember a simple fact such as the one that Henrietta Rose Berry was still alive and kicking at this time, then how could she remember some needed vital information during an emergency?
Rachel started sobbing harder.
"Come on girl, Miss Henrietta will give you some milk and cookies. Although I'm sure your dads will be irritated they aren't all natural hippy milk and cookies," Miss Henrietta, with a surprisingly strong grip, helped Rachel stand up. Rachel allowed herself to be led into the cottage, and to Miss Henrietta's kitchen table.
She felt cried out and embarrassed by the time Miss Henrietta placed two glasses of milk and a plate of cookies on the table, then settled in the chair across from Rachel with a sigh.
"Did you start your monthly and LeRoy and the other one send you here to me because they're two men? It's been a mighty long time, but I suspect I can talk to you about that."
Rachel could not remember when she had her first period nor how her dads had handled it, just that it had not happened yet. She shook her head.
Henrietta Rose Berry, born in1919. She'd survived the Great Depression when half her siblings did not. She was one of the handful of African American nurses during WW2. She had so far outlived her husband and all but one of her children.
She loved LeRoy, he was her favorite out of her grandchildren. She tolerated Hiram. She was not one to curb her language or opinion, so her dads did not bring Rachel around her often. LeRoy took Miss Henrietta to church every Sunday, and had lunch with her.
That was all Rachel really knew about her.
"Well girl, there's a reason you rode your bike across town to see me. What is it? Have a cookie." Miss Henrietta pushed the plate towards Rachel.
Rachel tentatively picked up one of the cookies -obviously homemade, loaded with chocolate chips.
She took a bite, and it was the best cookie she had ever tasted. She was quite certain it was not just because until three days ago, homemade cookies had been a very rare treat with only just enough per person to say you had some.
"This is amazing," she mumbled through the bite. Once she'd swallowed, she took a deep breath, "May you teach me to cook? And bake? And sew? And anything else you can or want to? I know we are not close but...may I join you and Papa on Sundays?" She felt herself rambling. Miss Henrietta was Rachel's family, and, as crass as it was, she was a wealth of knowledge that would be a much better instructor then the internet or books.
Miss Henrietta pursed her lips together, "Well, I know your dads won't know any of that, being two men so I'm happy to teach you. I don't know if LeRoy and Hiram will be okay with it. They don't think I am a good influence," Miss Henrietta snorted, "And I would love for you to join us on Sundays. It's about time you start looking into your father's religion."
Rachel must have had a look on her face, evident through the second cookie she was nibbling on, while taking sips of milk, so Miss Henrietta added, "I saw that woman your dads bought -even talked to her for a few minutes. Her genes are very strong, but I can see LeRoy and his momma, bless her soul, in your face. "
Rachel took a sip of her milk, then said, "Everyone always laughs at me when I say I do not know who is my biological father."
"Well, they've clearly never seen a picture of the woman who donated herself to your fathers. You know Hiram's aunt, bless her, said she saw her features and Hiram's in you too, and we ultimately decided it didn't matter who your biological father is, but some people might think it's a big deal. You'll find, Rachel, that most people are fools. And that's likely something your dad doesn't want me saying to you, but it's not going to hurt you to have some reality in that fancy singing life Hiram and LeRoy insist on, is it?"
Rachel couldn't disagree. She found her fascinated with Miss Henrietta, and sat there talking to her. Well, mostly Rachel listened.
Miss Henrietta had the neighbor give Rachel a ride home when they both realized that if they weren't already, soon her dads would be getting worried.
It made Rachel sad that she hadn't really known her great grandmother before. Her father's had tried to shelter her...they had not known that Rachel would hear worse than Miss Henrietta's dated opinions at school.
She spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to read and not think.
It somewhat worked too, and Rachel ultimately decided that her visit with Miss Henrietta had done wonders to relax and calm her nerves. Likely because there was no pressure there; Miss Henrietta would die of old age sometime soon, and there was nothing Rachel could do about it.
Rachel went to bed that night at eight, because Hiram and LeRoy insisted on an early start the next day. Hiram decided against the sleeping medicine because he didn't want to risk her being groggy, or anything for her audition. Rachel wanted to point out it wouldn't matter, but kept silent.
They had to drive to Columbus fairly early for her audition and her dads had apparently also decided they would visit a supposedly excellent singing teacher that blew her current two out of the water the morning before the audition.
Rachel felt tears pool in her eyes, and unable to contain the sob she let out, Rachel turned away, and saw her father raise the rifle out of the corner of her eye.
With a sickening and very loud bang that seemed to echo through Rachel's bones, the crying mercifully stopped.
"We need to leave Pumpkin. I'm afraid there's nothing here for us," LeRoy said bleakly, staring at the stroller for a moment before he stepped back, and closed the supply closet door firmly.
Taking a few deep breaths to have control of herself once again, she nodded, and desiring to stir some hope inside them both, added, "Perhaps we will find a vehicle."
"Maybe we will…" LeRoy trailed off as loud growls seemed to get louder.
Rachel and her father both whirled around, and Rachel could only stare in horror at the sight.
A dozen yoga goers, apparently alerted to their presence from the rifle fire, crowded into the hallway from the employee area, making that hallway even dimmer since their red, swollen bodies blocked off the bright light from the rest of the studio.
Apparently, there had been a "Mommy and Me" yoga class going on, and none of the women had heard about what was happening. None of the slings or baby backpacks on any of the walking corpses held a baby, just a gore covered mess on torn straps.
Rachel felt the bile rise up in her throat, as once more tears pooled in her eyes. Those poor poor babies, they never had a chance.
"Rachel, stay calm pumpkin, we have to run. We'll be alright." LeRoy muttered, a note of hysteria in his voice as he shifted the rifle so he could hold onto it with one hand comfortably, then reached out with his other hand to Rachel. She grabbed it, needing the comfort, even if it would likely impede their running. Warily, for a moment the pair stared at the mass of zombies, now temporarily stuck in the doorway because they were too brainless to realize if they all tried to go through, they wouldn't make it.
The ones in front were struggling to break free, waving their arms in the hallway.
LeRoy ran, bringing Rachel with him. Every step was painful, but Rachel took no notice as she struggled to keep up with her father. The pair pressed themselves against the boxes against the wall, while trying to go as fast as they could. For a moment, Rachel hated the owner of this studio for keeping boxes in the hall, for the layout, for being open today, then guiltily pushed that thought aside; the owner had no idea what would happen, that their customers would turn into zombies, feast upon their own children, then try to kill Rachel and her surviving father.
"Just stick closely to the boxes Pumpkin, " her father muttered, "And be as fast as you can," he finished with a little sigh. Rachel immediately picked up her speed, even though it hurt her terribly to do so.
The exit was so close, Rachel knew, they just had to get past those hands and gnashing teeth. Rachel barely had time to second guess their path, when her father was pulling her through the small space in-between the arms and boxes, the finger's of the grasping zombies just barely skimming them. A box fell, hitting her painfully on the shoulder, causing Rachel to instinctively step away.
Right into the waiting arms, ready to pull Rachel to their teeth where they would try to get her brains, Rachel realized dazedly as she was pulled from her father's grasp. This was it, this was how she died. Not murdered by an obsessed fan, or very tragically on stage, or mysteriously that would have people arguing if she had faked her death, and was still alive somewhere retired from her fame.
Most of them seemed try to grab at her, and her clothing without thought, missing, just forever attempting to grab her. One managed to grab her hair, another grabbed her backpack, and yet another had her sleeve tightly held in her -it's clutches. She had barely been able to utter, "Papa," before her father, obviously realizing she was in trouble, turned around, and with several frantic stops towards her, starting hitting the things with the rifle butt, with -not with determination, but with desperation.
Rachel struggled and tried to pull away, tears falling freely from her eyes as she desperately tried to escape the grasps of the undead that held her. She could feel their nails digging into her clothes, pressure points hit her all over as she struggled to escape. Next to her, her father was roaring at her to pull away, alternating with pleading with the zombies to let her go as he hopelessly pummeled zombies with the rifle butt.
Desperate, as she tried to pull away, she started trying to pull boxes onto the zombies, frantic and hopeless. The zombies took no notice of what boxes she managed to get to fall, most weren't hitting them but landing dangerously near her anyway, and she felt herself budging inch by inch towards their hungry mouths.
She struggled with all her might, then finally screamed.
"Pumpkin!" LeRoy shouted her name, then with a roar he rushed towards her, dropping the rifle. He grabbed her, pulling her to safety and had a moment to say, "I love you Pumpkin," before the arms pulled him to the hungry mouths that waited, "Run..." he muttered.
"No, no, papa I cannot leave you!" She could only stare helplessly as the zombies started taking bites out of him.
Some of the zombies, in trying to get a better bite from her father, squeezed out of the doorway, and noticed her. "Run!" Her father commanded.
Then he started screaming.
Rachel turned, and ran.
Then she tripped over the forgotten rifle.
She fell to the ground, hard, then let out a sob as she realized the fall had knocked out all her teeth.
She frantically tried to pick them up, before she felt something bite into her ankle.
She was bitten, she was not immune, and now she was going to die. Toothless. What would Quinn do without her? What would their group do without her yin to Quinn's yang?
Rachel woke up Sunday morning slowly. Her heart was racing. A quick glance showed her it was twenty minutes before her alarm was due to go off, so returning to sleep would be pointless. She was not sure she would be able to return to sleep anyway.
It was silly, but she felt the need to check her teeth, just to make sure they were intact and where they were supposed to be.
They were.
She scooped up the still sleeping Starla, and padded downstairs in her nightgown to let the dog out to go potty. Once Starla had, (and Rachel watched amused as the dog had pointedly ignored Rachel in favor of walking past her and to settle in her dog bed) Rachel jumped into the shower.
She wasn't used to hot showers any more, and could not quite bring herself to luxuriate in one.
She dressed mechanically, settling on a dress, tights, and cardigan -before switching out the cardigan with one of Hiram's sweaters.
It did not matter what she wore anyway.
Hiram came down the stairs when Rachel was on her second cup of coffee.
He stopped short and stared at her, then said, "Darling, since when do you drink coffee? I thought your papa and I told you that you may try it after you start high school?"
The lie came to her quickly, "I woke up before my alarm, and I do not want to be sleepy at the audition."
He frowned at her, "It is a near two hour drive darling, you could have napped on the way there."
Mercifully, he says no more about it; the excitement of Rachel's audition always made him more lenient.
Rachel was really quite lucky she had two doting parents who spoiled her just a bit.
She did not sleep on the drive to Columbus -her fathers helped her rehearse Louisa's lines and they sang "Some of my Favorite Things" -her audition song, over and over together. Often times her dads would stop singing just to enjoy listening to her. When Rachel needed a break, or Hiram worried himself into a frenzy about the audition, they listened to a mix CD of various songs from various musicals.
She felt rusty, at first, but by the time they had drove onto the Columbus exit that feeling had gone away.
She was more than ready to get this over with.
A feeling that intensified as her fathers spoke with, and realized, the new teacher was a hack.
She was not exactly looking forward to school on Monday -the Berry's had a meeting with the principal and a police officer after lunch, and there was just Junior High in general to deal with.
She did not even remember which locker was hers, let alone the combination or her class schedule.
But handling that would be less of a waste of time then this audition.
"Darling, how on earth are you so calm?" Hiram asked as they waited for Rachel's name to be called, "We brought half a dozen water bottles but you have not needed a single one."
"Remember how at the last audition you had to pee three times?" LeRoy said then chuckled.
"Perhaps it was the coffee?" she suggested with a shrug.
It was quite easy to be calm when she knew that she was not going to get the part, and that there were much more bigger things to be concerned about.
"Please do not make a habit of drinking it, you are a wee bit too young for it darling," Hiram frowned, "And the amount of cream and sugar you put into it was way too many cal-"
"Hiram," LeRoy said sharply, and gave her daddy a pointed look.
Rachel's name was called, and as she walked to the stairs she could see LeRoy whispering rapidly to Hiram about not policing Rachel's calories.
That was an old argument they used to have, that they likely did not realize that she knew about. Hiram had been constantly worried that Rachel would eat herself out of stardom, while LeRoy was more worried that Hiram's worry would give Rachel an eating disorder. Especially when Rachel wasn't a huge eater in general anyway, so Hiram's fears were more anxiety ridden nitpicking than anything else.
Rachel had totally forgotten about it. It was funny how after your loved one was gone, you only remembered the good about them. Perhaps it was a way for people to cope with the loss.
"Name, role, and song?" a bored looking blonde woman asked from the front row. The lights seemed too bright, and she suddenly wished she had been more insistent on not wasting their time for this. She could count the days down to the day if she wanted to, and none of them should be wasted.
Rachel managed a smile, and said, "Rachel Berry," then, she decided since she was not going to get the part anyway, to reach for the stars. "I am auditioning for the role of Liesl. I will be singing..." it took her a moment to think of something, finally she said, "Mama Who Bore Me from Spring Awaking. Acapella."
'Mama Who Bore Me' had been the last song they had listened to in the car.
Singing acapella at auditions was a terrible idea and generally not allowed in the first place...but frankly, she did not really care.
She stared intently out into the audience, then started singing after a moment, "Mama who bore me...Mama who gave me..."
Hiram managed to last until they were at the car before he burst. "Rachel, sweetie, what happened? You sang the wrong song, for the wrong part. You are too young for Liesl, you have zero chance of getting the part now. How do you expect to prepare for Broadway if you do not get parts in community theater?" he took a deep breath, and stared at her as she opened her door.
Rachel had enough, "I told you I did not want to audition. I am not a little girl, my wishes should be respected." Hiram flinched at her words.
No. Not at her words -at her tone.
It was the tone of a someone who had made hard choices, and done things she never would have thought she would have done.
It was the tone of a survivor; cold, blunt, with an edge of danger.
She swallowed hard utterly aghast at herself.
"Hiram, she did say she did not want to audition. Rachel, we realize you aren't a little girl, but we are still your parents. Part of being parents is making choices for you." LeRoy said patiently.
"We spend a lot of money and time for you to learn these skills Rachel, and for you to just throw all that away," Hiram sounded like Rachel had just told him she hated him; the disappointment and melancholy coming through clearly.
"You are both correct. I am sorry daddy, papa. I did not think I would get the part anyway, so I decided to aim high, with the hopes that I would stand out by singing without music," she added, in hopes that it would distract them a bit, "Jill said...well, she said several racist things I will not repeat about my audition for 'The Sound of Music'. I let her get to me, I am sorry."
Her dads shared a look, and Hiram's jaw clinched. "Has that terrible girl been bullying you this entire time? What a little -"
"Hiram," LeRoy cut him off, "We will deal with her. I'll call our lawyer once we're home and have her meet us at the school tomorrow."
She climbed into the car, and her parents joined her, discussing tomorrow.
Her audition was forgotten, it seemed.
She hated lying to them about anything, but she could not exactly tell them the truth.
And she really hated how easy it was to lie to them.
The drive home started silent, as the three seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.
Eventually, though Rachel found herself watching her dads bickering over which station to listen through, eventually coming to a compromise of switching every commercial break. They both sing along to every song, regardless of if it's their preferred station or not.
Rachel felt like crying because she loved them so much. She settled on singing along with them instead. She vowed to herself that she would do everything in her power to keep them alive.
Even if it meant disappointing them.
"Good job boys, now help your sister," Abrams barked to his children as all three of them ran through the kid friendly obstacle course he'd built in the backyard for them.
Artie nodded, and gestured to Arthur, then both boys ran to their sister.
Abrams loved watching Artie run.
At first, he'd been confused and nearly convinced he was in some sort of hell.
He'd stopped his wife, and sons from going out anyway.
The drunk driver ended up wrapping herself around a pole instead of his wife's car.
Most marriages didn't survive losing a child, and theirs had not been exception. Now though, Arthur didn't die. Artie didn't lose the use of his legs.
Over three years now, and their family had grown instead of being torn apart.
Nearly two year old Arlene toddled over the tires, Artie and Arthur making sure she didn't fall.
Of course, that wasn't the only thing he'd end up changing, he though, grimly glancing up at the sky.
That had been much more difficult, but he'd known the right words to say to the right people, and well, this time earth wasn't going to be such easy pickings.
NASA's budget was at a record high, even if the President was getting flack for it.
He wondered idly if the next President would get the same flack or not.
That was the more public of what the USA and other governments had been doing. Behind the scenes...well.
The general public would flip out if they knew. Even the amount of satellites that had gone up, orbiting the moon and just away from earth in order to give them more advanced knowledge alone would raise some eyebrows.
Sometimes he wondered how the kids were doing -damned if he could remember their names, just that they were in Lima. A town the Abrams family would not be moving to this time.
He hoped they were preparing, getting ready for what was coming.
Like he was trying to do.
"Artie, run through again son, then we'll head into the house. I'm thinking ice-cream!" The kids cheered, and obediently Artie went to do as he was told.
Hopefully what he was doing with the government, and a good portion of earth's governments would do a lot to prevent what had happened.
If not, though, the Abrams family would be ready for what was coming. Abrams wasn't going to lose his family again.
A/N:
If you've just clicked this story please know that this is a sequel, and I highly suggest you go read the first story "Dead Girls Don't Sing"!
I always, when writing, picture Rachel fathers as the men we saw in the picture with her in her locker, not Brian Stokes Mitchell and Jeff Goldblum.
I didn't show Abrams's arrival back in time, but we did get a peak at him and Artie and Artie's sibling -Abrams has certainly been busy since he's come back in time, hmm?
Drop me a review and let me know what you think! Signed in reviews get a little taste of the next chapter (unless you express that you don't want a preview of the next chapter.) If you have a question or something you want to discuss, I'll reply to that too. :)
Oh, and you can find me on tumblr on my writing blog at Gee13. Lots of writing stuff, musings about glee things, and the best way (besides just simply sending me a pm here) to get ahold of me. I am seriously thrilled, you have no idea how much, whenever a reader reaches out to me on there. I will talk your ear off about whatever, honestly. :D So feel free to do so.