Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. It still blows me away when I get comments that people are enjoying this story. :)
Cam05: I hope it isn't too odd to see Faberry friendship in a Rachel/Santana romance. I actually like all the Glee characters as friends sometimes, scheming together or having fun in group performances, and I wanted to explore some of those a little bit. In this case, Santana is dead, and while that has a really big impact on Rachel for obvious supernatural reasons, it would really affect Brittany and Quinn, as they're the closest characters to Santana. Do tell me if you think it veers too far of course, though, yeah?
Chapter Ten
Death's an early riser.
You've got to be real quick
To slip under his arm
Stretched towards you in the street.
His nails brushing you,
Press yourself against the wall,
Eyes wide open,
While he spins around,
In his white blindfold,
Arms like a Dutch windmill,
Or like huge scissors
On the pavement already crowded
With schoolchildren.
- Charles Simic, "Blindman's Bluff"
Rachel thought of every horror movie she had ever been forced to watch. Her life felt more and like a bad scary movie every day, and she thought it was appropriate that she start comparing her life to films. She figured that right about now was the time when this man of mystery would kill off one of the protagonists. Rachel assumed that if she and Santana were the stars of this twisted tale, and Santana was already dead, that it must be her turn.
Rachel had never before wished that she could be a background player, but she was beginning to hate the spotlight. She started trying to calculate the number of steps that existed between her room and the front door and wondered if she could outrun this man.
"Miss Berry, it is quite impolite to stand mute when one has been asked a question," he said, smirking in a way that implied that he knew exactly what she was thinking (and maybe he did.)
"I asked you to explain to me what you think you're doing," he remarked, tilting his head slightly.
Rachel cleared her throat. "As you can see, I am doing nothing more than standing in my room," she answered smartly. She felt like she was playing with fire (and she probably was.)
His smirk widened. She saw no visible lines across his face, no visible signs of age, and yet he seemed so much older than she could even imagine. The skin of his cheeks and his forehead was pulled across his features tautly.
He rose from the bed slowly and a chill ran down her spine, slipping through her vertebrae and lodging in her lower back. As he stood across the room from her, staring at her intently, Rachel felt herself grow even colder than she had been all day.
She was still leaning against the door and she grasped behind her in search of the doorknob, watching him take steady steps towards her. When she finally managed to grab it, it wouldn't move at all. Rachel abandoned all pretence then and turned slightly away to tug on the doorknob, attempting to twist it in any direction. It didn't budge.
He stopped in front of her, towering over her small frame. He was tall, his body long and lean as he peered down at her. She let go of the doorknob, turning to face him again, willing her features not to betray her fear. "You think you're clever," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think you can keep secrets and hatch plots like no one is watching you."
Rachel's arms fell limply to her sides. If this was the climax and this man had come to kill her... She wondered what fate she might have in the afterlife, if there would be anyone left alive who might bring her jackets and keep her company while she waited for something to finally take her away.
"Who are you?" she asked. She had made a promise, after all, and Rachel wasn't going easily, not without answers.
"Ah, but promises are such fickle things, aren't they?" he mused knowingly. "They are so easily broken, after all."
"I'm not breaking this one," she replied strongly. Her insides felt incredibly weak, but she put up the strongest front she could. "Who are you?" she repeated.
He chuckled and Rachel's blood ran cold through her veins. "Yes, you are quite used to pretending, aren't you? Particularly where she is concerned," he said. "Tell me this: how much did it hurt – all of the names and the taunts and the betrayals? How many tears did you shed because of that girl?"
The man stood before her casually, staring down at her with an expectant smile. "Those things don't matter anymore," Rachel answered. "Our lives could have been very different if you hadn't come into them."
"They don't matter?" he laughed. His voice was low and gravelly and his laughter accompanied a hard gurgling rattle in his chest. "Surely it matters that one of your biggest bullies used to mean so much to you."
He looked at her with mock sympathy as he shook his head. "Poor little Rachel Berry; she's even more naïve than I thought."
He uncrossed his arms, leaning down until he was at her eye level. He was so tall that he had to bend always completely at the waist just to get close to her. "What was your favorite name that she called you, hmm? Oh, better yet!" he called out, smirk firmly in place. "What was the best insult that she ever sent your way? What was your favorite way that she ever hurt you? I would love to hear that last one," he commented, rising back up to his full height.
There were a few dozen things that she could have said (Rachel wasn't short on things that Santana had said and done to her.) She sighed. "Who are you?" she settled for. "And why is it any of your business?"
His face fell, mirth quickly being replaced by anger. "I am everything," he said simply. "And I am nothing."
Rachel felt a stab of pain shoot through her left side. She cried out, bringing her palms to her ribs as she felt her muscles convulse. The man took a step away from her, glaring at her disdainfully.
"You can do nothing for her now," he warned. "It is within your best interests to stop trying."
Another wave of pain swept through her. Cold and hurt stuck to her muscles and her bones. "What do you want? Why are you doing this?" she cried, struggling to stay upright as she clutched her side.
His face was dark and sinister as he loomed over her. Rachel could see no lines on his face before, but suddenly she thought she could see every single one - centuries or whole millenia written across facial features. "She is meant to be dead," he snarled.
Rachel cried out again, sinking to her knees. She slid her hands over her stomach as her organs seemed to twist within her. "She is dead," she said, because it was true. "I watched her die."
And just like that, the pain was gone. Tears stung her eyes and she shuddered, a collapsed mess of limbs on the ground. Rachel gasped for breath as her insides seemed to unclench.
The man bent over again, bringing his face just inches away from hers. His eyes were almost completely black, his pupils dilated beyond measure. He was breathing heavily, practically panting in front of her.
His breathe hit her face and she met his eyes. Rachel thought of forests, memories coming to her unbidden.
Rachel is nine when she goes on her first and only camping trip. She's excited for the trip, but she's even more excited that her fathers let her bring her best friend with her. Rachel and Santana have their own tent and the girls zip their sleeping bags together because it doesn't make sense for them to sleep apart. Santana lays close to her, like she always does, and they giggle together in the dark. Rachel grips Santana's hand tightly as their pajama-clad legs brush. Santana kisses her cheek and tells her that she loves her before she snuggles down into their joined sleeping bags.
It isn't long before Santana falls asleep, snoring as she wraps a hand around Rachel's arm. Rachel doesn't understand how the other girl can sleep; she's far too awake to even think about such a thing.
She has the sudden feeling that she wants to experience everything, that she wants to run through the forest and breathe in the air and see the stars. The idea takes hold of her conscious quickly, and she starts shaking Santana awake.
Santana rubs her eyes and grumbles, asking what Rachel wants. Rachel tells her that she wants to go out and Santana groggily agrees.
Rachel practically drags the other girl behind her through the woods, gripping her hand and pulling her along quickly. She doesn't know where she's going, but she knows that it's this way. She can feel it in her gut, can see the path clearly even though the woods they're traipsing through are dark.
There are a few fireflies dancing around them as they walk as fast as Rachel can pull them. She can hear crickets and can practically feel the night urging them on. Behind her, Santana grumbles and asks her to slow down. But Rachel can't stop, not now, not when she can feel it so strongly, creeping through her limbs and pushing her forward to where she needs to be. She doesn't know what it is but she can feel it and it's so close and she can almost reach out and -
Santana stumbles and falls, pulling Rachel down with her into the dirt. Rachel stands right back up immediately, pulling on Santana's arm roughly. She cries out and yanks on Rachel's arm until she falls back onto the ground next to her friend.
"You're goin' too fast," Santana says.
"We're almost there," Rachel replies. "We have to keep going."
Santana scraped her knee during the fall and she wipes at it with her sleeve, a small bit blood staining the fabric. Rachel leans down and kisses her leg just above the cut and pulls Santana back up with a smile. "Please?"
Santana lets out a small sniffle but doesn't complain and Rachel holds her hand again as she leads them ahead. It isn't long before her almost frantic pace resumes. Santana mutters in Spanish as they march on, but Rachel pays her little mind. She doesn't have time to wait anymore. This will be worth it.
Eventually, they hit the edge of the trees, running straight through them into a large clearing. Rachel can't even see the other end of it for all the grass ahead of her. The grass is tall, much taller than either one of them, and it sways gently in the breeze. They stop, breathing heavily as they catch their breathe.
Rachel looks up and she gasps, grinning. She nudges Santana with her elbow, pointing up at the sky.
The stars twinkle above them in a greater number than she's ever seen before. They're bright as they shine down over the clearing and Rachel's never seen anything like it. The stars back in town were nothing like how they were out here in the forest.
Rachel feels like she can see forever up in the stars and she wants to be there among them, singing and dancing her way through eternity. When she looks back down, turning towards Santana to see the same joy on her face, the other girl lunges at her. Santana wraps her arms around Rachel's neck and kisses her the same way she had back underneath their tree in the park.
When Santana pulls away, they're both smiling. Rachel takes her hand again and starts running through the grass, pulling Santana with her.
Fingers snapped in front of Rachel's face. She exhaled and shook her head. She was still sitting on the floor of her bedroom, the very tall man bent over her. He continued to breathe heavily, bursts of air caressing her cheeks.
"Little children shouldn't go playing out in a universe that they can never understand," he hissed.
Rachel blinked and he was gone, the faint scent of leaves and grass still in the air and in her memories.
Rachel was ready promptly at seven, determined not to let crippling fear and terror from still-undefined sources keep her a sniffling mess on the floor of her bedroom for too long. Her fathers had been adamant that she was going over to Brittany's house and staying over.
"It will be good for you to spend time with your friends outside of school," Hiram had said. Her arguments had fallen on death ears after that.
Quinn and Brittany were outside her door when they said they would be, sitting in the front of Quinn's car as Rachel slid into the back seat. She placed her duffel bag next to her and the extra coat she had brought on top of it.
"Hey, are you all set?" Quinn asked. Rachel nodded.
"Why do you have two coats?" Brittany wondered, turning around in the seat to look at her. "Whoa, are you okay? You look kinda rough."
Rachel smoothed down her skirt nervously. "Yes, of course," she said. "I'm fine. I often find myself quite cold and I prefer to have the option of a tertiary layer of protection."
Brittany squinted at her. "I have lots of blankets."
"Nevertheless, Brittany," she responded. "I like to have options."
"Me, too," Brittany smiled gently. "We asked Tina and Mercedes if they wanted to come, but they're on a double date with their boyfriends."
Quinn turned a corner, nodding along with the girl beside her. "Maybe they can come next time, Brittany. It might be fun to have a party with just all the girls."
"You're just saying that because you yell at boys a lot when you're drunk and nobody likes a mean drunk," Brittany deadpanned. She seemed a little happier than she had been, just slightly more like her old self.
"Puck deserves it," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.
They made small talk for the rest of the ride to Brittany's house (most of it composed of Brittany teasing Quinn about her drunken attitude.) Rachel remained mostly quiet, watching the scenery as they passed it, the tall trees whose leaves had mostly already browned and fallen to the ground and the faded green and brown grass of various lawns. She couldn't shake the horrible feeling that he was there, somewhere. Or maybe he was just everywhere, she thought uncomfortably. She started checking behind the trees they passed and in the gaps between people's homes and fences, just in case.
What had her life become?
"Rachel?" Quinn asked. "Are you coming?"
Rachel hadn't realized that they had stopped until she looked around. They were parked outside of a house she had never been to and Quinn had opened the backdoor for her. Rachel slid out of the car, smiling at the girl in front of her, as Brittany opened the other door and grabbed Rachel's duffel bag and spare coat.
Brittany ordered them pizza, making sure to order one that was vegan for Rachel, and the three girls walked upstairs to Brittany's room. The infamous Lord Tubbington was sitting on the bed, and Rachel watched as Brittany picked him up carefully and carried him downstairs, stroking his fur.
There were pictures stuck to the wall and Rachel noted the gaps between some of them. There had obviously been others there, and judging by the discolored squares dotting the wall, some of them had been there for a very long time before someone had removed them. They would be pictures of Santana, she knew, some of them likely of her as a little girl. Her heart ached and she stopped herself before she had the very unkind thought that it wasn't fair that Brittany had gotten so much more time with Santana and that Santana had likely had a very happy childhood without Rachel.
"It's probably really unhealthy, huh?" she heard Quinn say.
"I'm sorry?"
"Lord Tubbington," she replied. "It's probably really bad for him to be that size."
Rachel shrugged, turning back to the pictures on the wall. Quinn was in a few of them, as both the blonde teenager she had become and the awkward-looking Lucy she had been. "You knew them when they were younger," she said simply.
Quinn came up beside her. "We met at summer camp. They were the only people who would be friends with me back when I was Lucy," she replied. She ran her index finger over one of the pictures, tracing the outline of three little girls standing together. They were all wearing dresses with their hair pulled back and up off of their heads with ribbons.
"We were all best friends," she sighed, shaking her head. "And then high school ruined us. It ruined all of us," Quinn said, looking over at Rachel sympathetically.
Rachel cleared her throat uncomfortably, biting her lip. "Our high school careers are not yet over. They don't have to ruin us," she said, hoping that it was true, not just for Quinn and Brittany, but for her and Santana as well. She reached out a hand towards Quinn, resting it against her forearm.
"I'd say they've already done enough damage at this point," Quinn replied, looking away from her.
Brittany popped her head in before Rachel could say anything. "The pizza's here."
The three girls didn't talk of serious topics anymore and Quinn gave no more indication that she wanted to talk about their last three years of high school. They chatted amicably as they ate their pizza and decided on a movie to watch together. Somewhere in between her second slice of pizza and the climax of the cheesy comedy they were watching, Rachel realized that she had almost forgotten that there were other things outside of Brittany's front door. Almost.
She sighed. If that man could be waiting in Rachel's bedroom, he could just as easily be waiting up in Brittany's bedroom. Maybe he was going to kill all of them. Maybe it didn't matter if Quinn thought they were all ruined because they were all going to be dead soon. Maybe it would be a welcome -
"No," Rachel stopped herself.
"I know, right?" Brittany said, gesturing towards the television screen. "She should totally just hook up with that blonde girl instead of chasing after the guy with the mustache."
"What?"
"Brittany," Quinn laughed. "You're supposed to want her to get with the guy with the mustache."
Brittany frowned, crossing her arms.
There was that almost-feeling again as she observed the two other girls, that feeling that maybe they could be okay. She put a hand on Brittany's shoulder. "It's okay, Brittany," she said. "I agree with you that the two female leads appear more compatible with each other than with the male leads."
Brittany shot Quinn a smirk. "See? Rachel totally gets it."
Quinn narrowed her eyes and a look passed between her and Brittany that Rachel didn't understand. "Mm-hmm," she hummed.
Rachel stayed on high alert for the rest of the night, despite the fact that she was tired and afraid. He could be anywhere, at any moment, and she didn't want anymore unfortunate surprises. Even as they all walked up the stairs to Brittany's room together and placed blankets and pillows on the floor, Rachel couldn't stop herself from looking around them at all times. She assumed that somewhere, he was smiling at her paranoia, grinning at her with his ageless face and laughing as she settled on the floor next to Brittany and Quinn.
She understood what he had meant then, when he said that he was everything and nothing. Even when he wasn't there (she hoped), she still felt his presence.
There was little moonlight this night and the room was dark, shadows clinging to the sleeping bodies of the two girls lying next to Rachel. She resisted the urge to drum her fingers across her stomach or tap her foot against the wall as she waited.
Eventually, Rachel was sure that Brittany and Quinn were asleep enough that they wouldn't notice if she slipped away, the former mumbling something unintelligibly and the latter snoring lightly. She quietly slipped her lantern out of her bag and grabbed the spare coat she had brought for Santana.
She snuck out of Brittany's house easily, grabbing the girl's keys. The scrape of the key in the door as she locked it behind her and her heartbeat pounding in her ears were the only sounds she made.
Rachel was very aware that something was wrong as she stepped out on the sidewalk, her lantern unlit as it hung at her side. Rachel peered up at the sky. The moon was small, just a dim sliver against the black of the sky, and there were few stars. There were even fewer clouds and she frowned. The night was too dark and oppressive as it wrapped around her.
Rachel set off towards the cemetery quickly, grateful that Brittany's home was close than hers was. She pulled the collar of her jacket up closer to the back of her neck as she walked, her shoes smacking against the pavement.
Rachel turned a corner sharply and ran into someone. She let out a high-pitched squeal and jumped back, flinging her lantern in front of her.
"Santana?" she cried, taking in an unsteady breath. "What are you -? How? You're not in the cemetery."
Santana stood before her shaking, her shoulders rising and falling as she clutched at the buttons on the jacket Rachel had given her. Her eyes were red and her face was stained with tears. "Oh my god," she muttered, grabbing Rachel's wrist. "I don't know," she cried.
"Are you okay?" Rachel asked quickly as Santana sobbed.
The jacket Santana wore was ripped, torn at the bottom so that half of it hung limp against her leg. "Fuck," she cursed, casting a quick glance behind her. "I don't know, but we have to go, okay? We have to go now."
"Santana, what happened? You're scaring me."
Santana bounced on the balls of her feet, gripping Rachel's wrist tightly. "No, Rachel, we need to fucking go," she said, fresh tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. "I'll tell you when we get to your house, alright? But we need to freaking move already."
Santana took off then, pulling Rachel behind her. The smaller brunette struggled to keep up as Santana practically jogged down the street. "No!" she cried, thinking of the strange and horrifying man who had been waiting in her bedroom earlier. "We can't go there. I'm staying at Brittany's."
The other girl continued to shake as they walked quickly. "Why the hell are you at Britt's house?"
"She and Quinn forced me to sleep over at her house."
Santana cursed again. "Okay, whatever, let's go there," she said. "I don't even care. We just have to go somewhere."
As they walked steadily towards Brittany's house, Santana continuing to cry and mutter under her breathe, Rachel slipped her wrist out of the girl's grasp and gripped her hand, squeezing it tightly. Santana's free hand wrapped around Rachel's arm and she leaned against the smaller girl.
Against her better judgement, Rachel thought again of horror movies. If she and Santana had been characters in a movie, they would have been dead by now. She looked up at the cloudless sky that held no stars and uncertainty swirled in her stomach.
She slipped the key into Brittany's front door, letting Santana pull her inside. She locked the door and Santana collapsed against her, wrapping her arms around Rachel's shoulders and crying into her hair. Rachel almost wished then that they had been in a horror film because at least then it would have all been over already. She brought her hands to rest on Santana's lower back and felt the other girl's fingers run through her hair. Almost.