A/N: This was a plot bunny that wouldn't leave.
On the roof
They were all watching her now, milling together on the ground below, watching, waiting, taunting her. Screaming for her to jump. Some of them just screaming.
She took a breath, this was it, Rachel Berry's final performance.
The door to the roof closed with a soft thud, she sighed, "You're not going to stop me." Her hands gripped the railing reflexively.
"I'm not here to stop you." She could hear the smirk without even having to look, "This is the best seat in the house. I wanna remember this."
"That's..." she floundered, "That's disgusting."
"It's life."
The smell of tobacco smoke assaulted her nostrils as her companion lit a fresh cigarette, "That'll ruin your voice." She scolded, "You'll be useless for glee."
"You really think there'll be a glee club after this? Newsflash Midget, there won't be."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"I don't believe you."
Laughter filled the air, "Does it really matter? Honestly?"
"Yes." Rachel gripped the railing tighter, "I've got nothing left-"
"You've got your talent. Fuck Berry, you're probably the only person in this goddamn school who's gonna make it-"
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it."
Hands still gripping the railing, she leant forward, just a little bit, "Pretty soon I'll forget all about it."
"You really think that fall's going to kill you Midget?" her companion laughed again, "You'll fall, break a leg, or two... maybe even your back. End up in a chair like Wheels. You won't die. Then, Broadway'll be so far away you'll actually have a reason to be up here."
"You're not helping you know?"
"What? You want me to push you off? Can't do all the work for you."
"No," she mused, "I suppose you can't."
"What are you going to do about Puck?"
She frowned, "Where exactly does Noah fit into this conversation?"
"The big idiot likes you. Lord knows why, me, I'd rather punch you in the face and be done with it, but him? No, he likes you."
Rachel closed her eyes, "The point to this is what exactly?"
"You dying wouldn't hurt just you."
"It wouldn't hurt me, I'd be dead- what are you doing?"
"I'm climbing over the railing." Her companion replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "You go, I go."
"Get back over the railing!"
"Make me!" her companion growled, "C'mon RuPaul! Make me!" The grip was tight on her wrist, "It's a scarier when it's not just you, isn't it?"
She grinned, "You care."
"No, I don't."
"You so do." She beamed, "You like me."
"RuPaul!"
"Yes Santana?"
"You're over the railing now." Santana smirked, her hand snapping back to whack her upside the head, "Don't scare me like that again!"