Disclaimer: Alas, I still own nothing.
Author's Note: Sorry for the massive delay in updating.
Santana cursed as she ran into yet another wall that really was a wall. She was so tired and hungry, but she refused to give up. Brittany was depending on her. Santana shook her head. No, not Brittany. Rachel. Because Rachel would be the one losing if Santana failed. For the first time in her life, Santana felt bad for the way she had treated Rachel. The girl had never been anything but nice to her, yet Santana had treated her like crap.
"I'm going to get you out of this. So that way, you can shove it in people's faces when you take Broadway by storm," Santana said fiercely, to the empty air. "At least, I can shove it in their faces," she added with a smile. Rachel wouldn't shove it in their faces. She would merely put her trophies in a place where people would be bound to see them, then fake surprise and modesty when the awards were mentioned.
With more fire and determination coursing through her veins then before, Santana picked up her pace and pushed on.
Laying Rachel gently on a bed adorned with silk sheets and covered in a lace coverlet, Jareth tried to smile at her. "You'll be safe here. I promise."
"What are you going to do to me?" Rachel asked quietly, tears pooling in her eyes.
Jareth skillfully hid a wince as more of Rachel's fear and pain washed over him. He hated that he could feel each and every emotion of the wished away. It made it so hard not to get attached.
"We're not going to do anything to you," he said softly. "Just our job."
"What's your job?"
"Our job is to take those who are wished away. Keep him or her safe while the wisher runs my Labyrinth."
"Labyrinth?" Rachel stumbled over the word. "And the wisher? Isn't that kind of pointless. I mean, clearly if you wish someone away then you no longer want that person around. Why on earth would you want to run a..." Rachel struggled to remember the word. "Run your thing to get them back?" she asked finally.
"Rules are rules." Jareth sighed.
"Wait, Brittany said Santana was running the thing for me. Why isn't Mercedes? She's the one who wished me away, not Santana."
"Well, usually there is only one person around when I take someone away. Usually the wisher is alone. But you're a special case, Miss Rachel. You had 12 other people to run for you. Miss Lopez volunteered. She felt Miss Mercedes was not a suitable choice to come and-"
"Rescue me," Rachel finished with a watery smile. "I don't see why she's bothering."
"Whatever do you mean?" Jareth asked in surprise. Not that he had much experience with older charges, but this was not the usual reaction he got when informing them someone was fighting for their return home.
"I'm not wanted back home," Rachel said softly. She didn't say it to gather more sympathy or even to get reassurance that she was indeed wanted. She said it plainly and matter-of-factly. Like she had accepted it for what it was: the truth. "She should be happy. Happy that I'm gone. Out of their lives. Why are they fighting what should be a blessing to them?"
"Regardless of past behavior..." Jareth began carefully, "not everyone feels that way. There were three young fellows who wanted my head on a platter for taking you away."
Rachel shrugged. "Then why haven't they spoken up and defended me before?" Shaking her head, Rachel pursed her lips and continued in an entirely too calm and thoughtful manner. "No… they don't want me back. Not really, anyway. The only reason they do is because they think that's how they should feel. But I'm sure when push comes to shove, they'd choose anything over me."
Opening his mouth to speak, Jareth contemplated the young girl before him before snapping his lips together. He didn't know what had happened to Rachel in the past, but he knew it was no use trying to convince her otherwise now. Kick someone long enough, and sooner or later that person will believe they deserve it. So with a sigh, Jareth bid Rachel a silent goodnight.
He closed the door quietly and tried to control the rage that was slowly building up inside. He had half a mind to go back up into that choir room and wring out some answers from those fools who had broken a bright girl's spirit. Unfortunately harming humans was out of his jurisdiction. He could only torture their minds.
Quinn stalked down the halls, her hazel eyes sending everyone scrambling out of her path. She clenched her hands into fists repeatedly, feeling an ache deep in her joints as she slowly released the trembling digits from the tight hold. How dare someone make another person feel so low that she felt unloved and unwanted? What gave them the right to hurt another person in order to feel better about themselves?
Apart of Quinn knew she was acting irrationally. And that maybe she should try and figure out more of the story before making any decisions, but for the most part, Quinn didn't care. That beautiful girl with the long dark hair and sad smile had become the most important person to Quinn within a very few short minutes. Without a doubt, Quinn knew she had found her Sarah.
"Quinn!" the familiar voice of her cousin stopped her in tracks.
"Brittany," Quinn said evenly. "What are you doing down here?"
"My friend got wished away," Brittany replied. The girl caught up with Quinn, creating a huge contrast with her bright cheerleader uniform against Quinn's long, dark velvet dress. "I came here to try and help her cope. I failed. Quite badly."
Flinching, Quinn eyed her cousin with narrowed eyes. Had Brittany been the one to make the girl cry?
Looking uneasy, Brittany reached out and touched Quinn's shoulder with light hands. "You okay, Q?"
"What's her name?" Quinn asked abruptly.
"Rachel…" Brittany said slowly. Quinn had never shown an interest in the older generation of those wished away before. So why did she want to know about Rachel?
Nodding once, Quinn began walking again, knowing Brittany would follow. "Why was she crying?"
Brittany jogged to catch up, her eyes widening at the sharp accusing tone that lay underneath her cousin's question. "I wasn't very nice to her," Brittany eventually admitted. "I do have a reason though. A slightly poor one, given the circumstances and her current state, but a reason nonetheless."
"So spit it out," Quinn said flatly.
"She insulted Santana."
"How?"
"She called Santana Satan."
Quinn snorted. "Santana is Satan. Or at least his daughter." Then her tone darkened. "How did you respond?"
"In the worst way," Brittany said softly. "I crushed her dreams."
Taking a deep breath so she wouldn't lash out at Brittany, Quinn closed her eyes and increased her pace. "I see. Well, if you'll excuse me, I have something very important to take care of." Without giving Brittany a chance to say anything, Quinn quickly turned down a hallway and headed towards the room that would allow her to watch the Aboveground and everyone in it. She was determined to find out a way to make the people in Rachel's life pay. And she was sure if she watched long enough, she'd find out how to hit them where it hurts.
Rachel buried herself under the covers, desperately trying not to cry again. There was no point. This was her life now. Living in a world where goblins were servants and dreams were shattered with crystal balls and glitter. Where there was no Broadway, no loving parents, no Barbra Streisand, or even electricity. A place that was everything Rachel didn't want.
A soft knock made Rachel stop wallowing in self-pity. She stared at the door for a minute, then called out a shaky, "Come in." Inhaling sharply, Rachel looked at the blonde who poked her head in the room with a hesitant smile. "What do you want?" Rachel asked tiredly. She didn't have the energy to have another fight with Brittany.
"I wanted to apologize..." Brittany said sadly. "I was angry, tired, stressed, and way out of line. I shouldn't have said such harsh, false things. You didn't deserve them nor did you need anymore discouragement from going after your dreams."
"I'm not going to apologize for what I called Santana," Rachel said. "But I will apologize deeply and most sincerely for my own cruel words."
Brittany shook her head. "You were right. I do act stupid. I'm really not who everyone thinks I am. But I know they wouldn't be able to handle my true self. Even you couldn't handle my underground self. And you're one of the strongest people I know."
"I'm not, though," Rachel whispered. "I'm weak. And scared. So scared of everything that I try to control every situation just so I know the outcome, so there won't be any surprises or disappointments."
Not knowing what to say, Brittany came and sat on the bed. Wrapping her arms around the smaller girl, Brittany sighed. Rachel allowed herself to relax into Brittany's hold, and she slowly drifted off, falling into a deep sleep. Brittany looked down when she heard Rachel begin to snore lightly. She smiled sadly at the singer and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "You don't have to be scared, Rachel. Not here."
