Rachel/Santana, inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Santana shoots a look left. Then right. Focuses in on the woman in front of her, the skirt she's holding in her hand, the expectant look on her face. Rachel?
"Do you like this one? What do you think?"
She blinks, looks at the pattern and the cut as Rachel holds it against her body. "Depends," she says. "Are you going for the preschool look? Aren't you over the whole schoolgirl skirt thing?"
Rachel sighs, hangs the skirt back up. "I like my skirts," she says primly.
"They were hot when we were in high school, but don't you ever get tired of dressing like a five-year-old?"
"Just because I don't choose to dress like a woman of ill repute doesn't mean that I dress like a five-year-old," Rachel shoots back. She frowns and picks up a black pencil skirt, considering it.
"Are you saying I dress like a whore?"
Rachel's eyes narrow. "No. I'm just saying that if you bent over right now, half of the store could see your panties, or lack thereof."
Santana scoffs, crossing her arms. She rolls her eyes, catches the lights in the back of the store start to go off. The edges of the racks of clothes start to blur. Rachel's still talking but there's a dull buzz to her words that makes it hard to hear them.
She hears herself talking back but her lips aren't moving and she's not actually saying anything. What the fuck?
The clothes disappear. She blinks. Rachel's gone and in her place is a door. It's the front door of their apartment. Santana has the sudden urge to punch it or kick it or do something. Anger rushes through her.
Rachel is shouting at her. "Santana, you can't just walk away from this! We need to talk about it."
"All you ever want to do is talk," Santana groans automatically, unaware that she's saying the words until they've already been said.
"I'm sorry for wanting to speak with my girlfriend," Rachel says, "especially about the fact that Kurt saw her out with another woman on what looked like a date."
The color fades from the curtains and the walls. The couch disappears.
Santana rolls her eyes. "It wasn't a date!" she shouts. "I told you already: we were just having lunch. Am I not fucking allowed to eat with other people now?"
The room fades slowly, slipping first to a grey color before it succumbs to blackness. All that's left is her and Rachel.
"With your lips?"
Santana shakes her head in annoyance, opens the door and steps through it.
She's not in the hallway outside their apartment, she's in the bedroom. Rachel's lying in bed wearing a simple white t-shirt and pink panties. A script is in her hands.
Santana frowns, cocking her head to the side. How did they get here? She closes her eyes. How did —?
A white room, bookshelves with large medical texts leaning against the walls. A man, a doctor sitting in front of her. "Miss Berry chose to have you erased from her memory because it was too painful. She wanted a fresh start."
She's in her memories. She's in her mind.
"You had me erased," Santana says, blinking her eyes open. "You bitch, you fucking had me erased."
Rachel looks up from her script. "What are you talking about? Come back to bed."
Santana crawls into bed, fingers sliding across Rachel's thighs automatically. "You had me erased from your memory."
Rachel's thighs part slightly as Santana's hands slide upwards on instinct. "That doesn't sound very much like me."
"I know, right? I can't believe you would do this to us, to me."
The sun shining in through the window dims, replaced by nothing. The corners of the bedroom start to slip away.
"I'm sorry," Rachel says simply, fingers wrapping around Santana's wrist. "I must not have been thinking clearly."
Santana snorts. "You think?"
All that's left is the bed, the light clinging to Rachel's bare skin, soft beneath her fingers. The blanket on the bed is gone, the pillows long since disappeared. Santana tightens her grip on Rachel's legs for just a moment.
And then she's gone.
It's fucking freezing. Santana wears a thick winter coat and boots. Snow covers the ground, the trees. She's in the middle of nowhere and there's nothing around her but snow and cold.
Snow hits her right in the face, spreads out over her nose and mouth, slides down her neck. Santana gasps and coughs as arms wrap around her waist firmly.
Rachel laughs, grip on Santana tightening. "I got you."
She twists in Rachel's arms, fingers wiping away at the snow on her neck. "I hope you're going to warm me up now," she smirks.
Rachel's hair is in pigtails that fall out from under a red hat. She has a matching coat and gloves. She's kind of adorable, Santana thinks. Rachel grins, gloved palms pressing against Santana's sides. "I'm sure I can think of a few ways to get you hot."
Rachel's cheeks are pink and her eyebrows are raised. This is the Rachel that she loves, this adorable little dork. This is her Rachel. Santana sucks in a deep breath and glances around.
There are no more trees. The ground beneath her feet darkens. Where did the snow go?
Santana swears. "Shit, Rachel," she shakes her head.
"You don't want me to warm you up?"
She shakes her head again. "You're being erased. Look around. All of my memories of you are being taken away."
The sky is gone. Santana blinks and her vision goes blurry. "They're taking you away from me."
Rachel's arms around her waist tighten, then slip away. Santana feels cold, body and soul. She closes her eyes for a moment and then opens them again.
The lights backstage blind her for a second before she manages to focus. Crew members bustle around, a few of Rachel's cast members celebrating around them.
Santana is holding a bouquet of roses. Roses? Of course. It's Rachel's first off-off Broadway show and Santana delivered her roses after her first performance. She remembers now.
She asks someone where the dressing room is automatically, not because she doesn't remember but because it's part of the memory. She remembers exactly where Rachel's dressing room was; she spent enough time there before and after shows ruining Rachel's makeup with frantic, wanting kisses.
Santana knocks and waits for the door to open, smiles as soon as it does. Rachel is standing there, hair and makeup still done. Rachel throws her arms around Santana, pulls her inside and stays in her arms.
"That was amazing!" Rachel gushes. "It was everything that I always imagined my first real New York City stage performance to be like and more."
"You were fucking incredible," Santana says, hugging Rachel close. She holds her there for a few more moments. "You're the fucking best."
Rachel pulls back, sees the flowers in Santana's hand. "Are those for me?"
Santana nods, bites back a smart-ass retort and holds the roses out. "You earned them," she starts honestly, breaking the memory. "You stole the show. You only had a few lines in some of the songs and danced with the chorus, but you were the most memorable girl on that stage," Santana says. "I love when you sing."
The dressing room disappears in a single blink. It's just her and Rachel and the roses.
Rachel smiles softly, fingers the stems of the roses in her hand. "It's a shame that you aren't going to remember it anymore."
"You already don't." A pause. "You were beautiful."
"Thank you."
She's going to miss this memory. She and Rachel went out for a celebratory drink afterwards and Santana spent the rest of the night between Rachel's legs. She spent the next morning curled up in Rachel's arms, content to just lie there.
The roses go next. Santana pulls Rachel into her arms again, lets go of the rest of the night and the morning and clings to this moment. She meets Rachel's eyes, tries to memorize her soft smile.
"Santana, you missed your cue."
"What?"
She looks away from Rachel, from that soft smile and those understanding eyes, turns toward the voice speaking to her. "Mister Schue?"
She looks left. Then right. Glee club. She's in glee club rehearsal.
Santana glances down, eyes the familiar red and white of her cheerleading uniform. She looks up and there's Rachel Berry looking at her.
"What are you staring at, Man Hands?"
Mister Schuester waves at them. "Okay, guys, let's get back to work."
Rachel is next to her, following along to the dance instructions that they've been given. She nails a particularly hard part of the routine and her eyes meet Santana's as she begins to sing.
Santana smiles, then looks away. She's not supposed to smile at Rachel Berry. Stupid hobbit, always distracting her with her long legs and her bright smile.
No, wait. Santana misses some of the choreography. She has the overwhelming urge to throw a slushie at Rachel and she holds it back. It's just the memory, she tells herself.
A few of the glee club members are missing, as are the seats in the auditorium. Santana starts dancing again, looks back over at Rachel. She both wants to kiss her and have her thrown in a dumpster.
"I'm not going to remember the glee club," she says to Rachel. The music slowly starts to fade, grows quieter. "All the times we sang and danced together."
"We made beautiful music together," Rachel replies, spinning in place. "Eventually."
Santana nods, breaks formation and dances over towards Rachel. She grabs Rachel's hands, tugs her closer. "Yeah," she agrees. "I had to get my shit together first."
It's just them now, them and the small piece of stage left under their feet. Rachel smiles at her and they dance.
"I'm sorry," Santana says. "I guess I didn't have my shit as together as I thought."
"It's okay."
"You had me erased first."
"I know."
"I'll miss you," Santana admits.
Rachel shakes her head. "No, you won't. You won't even know that there's a me to miss."
"I love you."
"Not for much longer."
Santana hugs her tightly, inhales, closes her eyes.
She exhales slowly. Opens her eyes.
The curtains are pulled back. Sunlight streams into the bedroom. Santana groans and rubs her eyes. She has a headache, a hangover maybe. She feels like she got hit by a bus.
She pulls herself out of bed and stands shakily for a long moment. Something is wrong. Santana waits for a few more seconds, but nothing comes to mind. Everything is where it should be.
She shrugs to herself and wanders towards the bathroom. Maybe she'll call Quinn later and they can go out for a few drinks.
