I want to thank everyone for sticking with this story. I know it's a slow burn, but I do have a plan and everything that happens is a part of it. So thanks for not giving up on me while this story develops. I'm glad that everyone is still around and seems to be enjoying themselves.
Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. It's overwhelming. I'm doing my best to get out regular updates through my schoolwork, at least weekly. So don't hate me too much for the end of this chapter. :) Comments are always appreciated.
Chapter Nine
"It is told that Buddha, going out to look on life, was greatly daunted by death. 'They all eat one another!' he cried, and called it evil. This process I examined, changed the verb, said, 'They all feed one another,' and called it good."
Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Eventually, Rachel had to let Santana go. Years of practicing proper etiquette told her that the appropriate amount of time for a hug had long since expired. Not to mention, Santana had stopper crying and had renewed her efforts to get away from Rachel.
"Bring dead fucking sucks," she said, swiping her hand over her face. Wetness coated her hand and she glared at it. "It's like God or whoever-the-fuck couldn't decide to make me alive or dead so he just made me this. Wish he'd just pick one already."
Rachel bent over to retrieve the lantern she had dropped before she stood up straight again. Wet dirt and leaves stuck to it and she picked them off, grimacing. "The former would definitely be more preferable than the latter," she said. "Especially considering..."
"Considering what?" the other girl asked, crossing her arms and turning her glare towards the damp grass and leaves beneath their feet.
"You were already taken away from me once," Rachel started. "Well, twice technically. I would like it if you came back this time," she admitted, "as a friend."
Santana regarded her for a moment, looking up at her through thick lashes. "Why do I feel like he'll just kill me again?" she muttered, her voice shaking.
"Is that what he did before?" Rachel wondered. "When we were children? He took you away, I remember that."
Santana nodded. "Uh, yeah," she said. "He - fuck," she groaned. She kicked her foot across the ground, the toe of her black flat digging up mud that stuck to it. Her face contorted again and she closed her eyes tightly. "It's so fucking stupid."
Rachel didn't know how far stress and the situation allowed her to go with Santana, but she figured that if she could get away with a long hug, then she already had more leeway than she normally would have had. She carefully reached out to take Santana's hand. The other girl didn't pull away, and Rachel thought that she might as well have all the leeway in the world. "It will be okay, Santana," she said.
Santana's hand hung limp in her grip, but she didn't pull away. "You keep saying that like it's true," she responded.
"It is true," Rachel told her. "I made a promise."
Santana shook her head. "We're fucked," she said.
Rachel took a deep breath, squeezing the other girl's hand. "We just have to be patient while we figure this out."
"Okay, well you keep being patient and getting to be alive," Santana shot back, raising her head up to stare at her. "And I'll just keep sitting in this stupid freaking graveyard waiting to die again."
"You came back once," Rachel reasoned. "And you're back now, in some sense of the word."
Santana pulled away from her. "Yeah, until that guy shows up again," she said. "And then what?"
Rachel took a step towards her. She could see Santana's face hardening, could watch the anger and frustration travel through her features and settle there. "I don't know yet," she answered honestly.
Santana was silent for a moment, her brows furrowed. "I don't want to die again," she muttered.
Rachel's fingers trailed down the other girl's arm, playing lightly at her inner wrist. Santana's arm shuddered in response. "How did it happen the first time?"
"He drowned me," Santana said, her face falling just as quickly as it had hardened. "He carried me all the way to the lake and held my head under the water."
Tears stung Rachel's eyes and she let her fingers dance down across Santana's wrist, trailing down her palm and lacing their fingers together. She let herself hope for a moment that maybe if she held Santana there, she couldn't be taken away. It was naive, she knew, but it was all she had to hold on to besides the dead girl in front of her.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for you that time," she said.
Santana glanced away from her and gave her hand a squeeze. "Just don't do it again," she responded quietly.
Rachel smiled at her gently. "Do you remember when we used to have sleepovers at your house and your mom would get mad at us for making too much noise at night?"
Santana wiped her eyes with her free hand and the corners of her lips turned upwards. Se let out a strangled laugh. "Yeah," she said. "She always promised that this was going to be the last time you got to stay over."
"But it never was," Rachel supplied. "I was right back over there the very next weekend."
"We drove my mom crazy," Santana said, her smile widening.
Rachel said nothing at first, content to stand in front of the other girl, their hands clasped between them. She let her thumb run over the back of Santana's hand, caressing the skin there. There was hope there between them, hope and memories, and Rachel breathed them in like oxygen.
"Just to clarify, I'm not going anywhere," she eventually said.
Santana rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got that," she said, staring at their hands. "So what now?
Rachel shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"You make a lot of promises for a girl without a plan," Santana responded, looking up at her.
"If I could make a powerpoint presentation and detailed outlines, then I would," Rachel started. "However, I presently find myself without the proper introductory -"
"So when did this start?" Santana interrupted. Rachel raised her eyebrows in confusion. "This," Santana said, gesturing towards the other girl. "This whole 'blahblah I have six million plans for everything in my life' shit."
"Oh, um," she stuttered. "I've always been like this."
"Not with me."
Rachel swallowed thickly and a wind blew. "I suppose that it was a development in your absence," she said. "To be fair, though, you haven't always been this person, the scheming vindictive girl who sleeps around."
"So between us we have organization and sluttiness," Santana mused, biting her lip. "We're fucked," she repeated.
Santana's hand was clammy in her own and Rachel's thumb drifted again towards the sensitive skin at her inner wrist. She remembered spending nights huddled together under her comforter after watching a scary movie, when Rachel would be frightened and Santana would take her hand. She would play with her fingers and caress her palm and her wrist until Rachel was calm enough to sleep.
"Between us, we have a connection," Rachel said.
Santana's hand twitched and she jerked away, looking at Rachel sheepishly. "Sorry. That tickles," she muttered.
Rachel nodded absentmindedly as she held on to her lantern. She immediately missed the warmth that Santana had given her and she buried her now-free hand in her pocket.
She wasn't used to such heat from the other girl. Santana's palm had been sweaty, but it wasn't uncomfortable in the harsh cold wind of the October night. Rachel felt unbearably cold, like crushed ice was flowing through her blood vessels. She resisted the urge to move closer to Santana just for her warm presence.
She paused then, her eyes widening as she realized the implications of what she was thinking. "Wait, Santana, you felt that?" she asked suddenly and quickly, gripping the other girls forearm.
"Yeah, I - I guess I did," Santana said, her brows furrowing as she stared at Rachel's hand on her arm in surprise. She flipped her arm over, her palm facing the sky. "Do it again."
Rachel's hand found Santana's elbow as she stepped closer to the taller brunette in excitement. Her heart beat furiously in her chest and she dropped the lantern again. They were standing close together and Rachel looked up at Santana, smiling. Their foreheads were almost touching and Rachel had to force her hands to steady as Santana looked at her with wide brown eyes. She brought her other hand to Santana's arm, running the tip of her index finger from her elbow to her wrist slowly and gently. Santana's arm shuddered and Rachel reversed her path, dragging her fingernails back up towards Santana's elbow until her arm twisted away.
"I felt it," Santana cried. Rachel's hand hovered over the space where her arm had been and she raised it back towards the other girl. "I can actually feel it."
"You're warm," Rachel whispered, gazing up at the other girl. A soft smile settled on her face. Perhaps things were beginning to right themselves.
A gust of autumn wind blew past them and Rachel shivered, shifting closer to Santana before she had the presence of mind to stop herself. "Sorry," she said quietly, still gripping Santana's elbow.
Santana shook her head. "No, it's okay," she replied, meeting Rachel's eyes. Her gaze was soft, soft in a way that Rachel wasn't used to seeing from the girl before her. Well, not in many years at least. "It's nice to feel something."
Rachel nodded. If there were words to be spoken, she couldn't find them, couldn't seem to grasp much outside of the look on Santana's face and in her eyes. "Would you like me to do it again?" she asked eventually.
"No," Santana said immediately, her breathe warm across Rachel's cheeks as her voice echoed around them loudly. "I mean," she started again, lowering her voice, "just - just stay here for a second, okay?"
"Okay," Rachel said quietly. They were so close now that all she could see were Santana's eyes, shining with more unshed tears. Her own eyes slipped shut as one of them moved, bringing their foreheads together.
Rachel shivered again, her teeth chattering for a moment. But she didn't move and they stayed like that for several long moments, Rachel's fingers splayed across Santana's forearm and her body pressed the other girl's. She didn't know exactly when they had gotten that close, but there was no way that she was moving.
It was only when they seemed to realize that the sky was starting to grow lighter that Santana moved away from her. The world went from black to a faded grey quickly as they separated and Rachel was immediately colder than she had been all night.
"I should get home," she said, picking up the lantern again. She turned it off, its light no longer needed. "My fathers have been a bit overzealous in their attempts to look after me."
"Shit, Rachel, I can't even blame them," Santana admitted, tilting her head. She seemed to notice how cold it was, or perhaps it was the first time the cold affected her. She ran her hands up her arms. "It's only October. Why is it so cold?"
Rachel bit her lip, eyeing Santana worriedly. Taking a step back, she finally got a good look at the other girl. Santana was still pale, an almost ashy kind of white-grey that made Rachel's stomach twist uncomfortably. But there was something different about her now, something beyond the fact that she could suddenly feel and cry and radiate warmth. Rachel was caught by the familiar feeling that there were things just out of her reach, nefarious things lurking in the shadows waiting to snatch them away.
She shrugged off her coat, handing it to Santana. "You put this on," she instructed. "I'll try to bring you something warmer when I can make it back."
Rachel felt the cold immediately, biting at her uncovered arms and hands. If there had been slush in her veins before, it was hardening and freezing her blood now.
Santana thrust the jacket back at her. "No way," she protested. "I'm already dead. A little cold isn't going to hurt me."
Rachel backed away from her, moving towards the cemetery gate quickly before the other girl could give her the coat back. "Keep it," she said firmly. "I have several more at home."
Santana ran after her. "Wait," she cried, catching up with Rachel just before she managed to slip through the gate.
Rachel held up her hand. "Santana, I insist. I fully intend on going home immediately and procuring another -"
Santana rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around Rachel, interrupting her. She pulled the smaller girl against her fully, her cheek resting against the side of Rachel's head. "Thanks," she muttered into Rachel's hair.
Rachel merely smiled, letting Santana's warmth wrap around her. As they pulled apart and she hurried home through the cold, she thought she felt lingering heat clinging to her skin, sticking to her fingertips and her forehead and her heart.
She climbed into bed as soon as she reached her room, setting her alarm clock. She decided to skip her typical morning routine, again, in the interest of at least trying to give herself enough sleep to make it through another day. It was all they had, she thought, pulling her blankets tightly around her body and tucking them up underneath herself - they had the day they were living (or not living, in Santana's case) and that was all.
Rachel's room was warm. She could feel the heat coming up from the vent next to her bed, but she was still cold. A draft blew in under the blankets, nipping at her feet. She kicked her feet up until her comforter folded over on itself and she could rest her feet on the end of the blanket. She was properly tucked in on three sides.
She shivered still. Rachel briefly pulled her blankets up over her head, but something about not being able to keep an eye on things made her nervous and uncomfortable, so she pulled them back down and let them rest under her chin.
When Rachel did manage to sleep, it was fitful and restless. She dreamt in bursts, in screams and sobs that bounced around her brain until she woke again. She dreamt of being alive and she dreamt of being dead, and in her dreams, there was no difference. In her dreams, Rachel died a thousand times and she could feel the walls of the room she was in watching her as she did so.
Infinity and Eternity and Endlessness mocked her and when her alarm went off, Rachel was grateful for the respite from her own subconscious.
Rachel spent her school day in much the same fashion she had spent her previous school day. There were no longer voices in her head, echoes of old memories drowning out the sounds around her, but she still found herself unable to focus. Exhaustion weighed her down and she caught herself drifting to sleep in a couple of her classes. The only real difference was that Rachel had to keep her coat on all day because she was so cold.
Quinn was keep an eye on her (she could feel the other girl watching her anytime she was in Rachel's vicinity) and she had to keep dodging the blonde's attempts to engage her in conversation. Quinn was persistent, and while Rachel was too tired to put up much of a fight, she was also too tired to say much when pressed.
She spotted the top of a fedora at the end of a hallway as she walked to her math class and it filled her with dread for reasons she was too sleepy to remember. When she reached the end of the corridor, there were only students there, a couple of jocks in letterman jackets hanging around some lockers. She shivered, cursing the school and its endless budget cuts for limiting the heat in the building.
In Spanish, Rachel saw Mister Schuester watching her closely, too. He didn't say anything, but Rachel could see the concerned looks he kept shooting her, taking in the circles under her eyes. She was a little pale, fatigue very obviously wearing her down. She fled as soon as the bell rang and long before Mister Schuester had a chance to say anything to her.
Rachel was sure she saw him this time, absolutely positive. She was walking to English, and there he was, leaning casually against a wall in the science hallway. She stopped short as soon as she spotted the man. Rachel felt the blood rush in her ears as she stood still in the middle of a crowded hallway full of students rushing to their next class. His arms were crossed as he bowed his head, his gaze set on the floor in front of him. Teenagers and teachers alike walked in front of him, sidestepping him but never seeming to notice him.
A figure suddenly bounded in front of her and Rachel jumped.
"Hey."
"Hello, Brittany," Rachel responded, leaning over to peer around the tall blonde. The man was gone; where he had stood there was nothing and no one.
"How's it going?" Brittany asked nonchalantly, cocking her head to the side as she looked down at Rachel.
"It's been better," Rachel said honestly.
The cheerleader, following Rachel's line of sight, turned her head and looked behind her. "Are you okay?"
Rachel shook her head, inhaling deeply. "Yes," she said, forcing her voice not to shake. She turned her attention back to Brittany, who was frowning at her. "I'm fine. How are you?"
The other girl shrugged at her. "Okay, I guess," she answered. "What are you doing tonight?"
"Nothing in particular," Rachel replied. She only just managed to stop herself from glancing over her shoulder, feeling uneasy and paranoid. "Why do you ask?"
"Do you want to sleep over at my house tonight?" Brittany asked, smiling at her slightly.
"What?" she asked, finally focusing all of her attention on the cheerleader in front of her.
"Do you want to come over and stay the night?" Brittany tried again.
The hallway had cleared out by now and the bell rang. Rachel sighed, adding tardiness to the growing list of problems she was having with her classes. "Brittany, I appreciate the offer," she said gently, "but I'm going to have to decline."
"Please?" the other girl pleaded.
Rachel shook her head. "Brittany -"
"Quinn said that I'm not supposed to take 'no' for an answer," Brittany told her. "That means you have to say 'yes.'"
Rachel frowned. "Of course Quinn is behind this."
At any other time in her life, Rachel might have welcomed such an earnest attempt at friendship and camaraderie from Quinn Fabray and Brittany Pierce. But Rachel had a shivering Santana Lopez waiting for her at the cemetery and nights were her only available time to sneak away to the graveyard. She couldn't possible stay the night at Brittany's. There was less of a successful chance that Rachel could sneak in and out of an unfamiliar house full of people.
"I don't think my dads will allow my to spend the evening at your home, Brittany," she said. It wasnt a lie; her fathers were adamant that one of them be with her when she wasn't in school.
"No," Brittany said quickly. "We asked my mom this morning and she's gonna call your dads and get them to say it's okay."
"Brittany, I don't think that's a good idea."
The other girl shook her head. "Sorry, but you can only say 'yes.' We're picking you up at seven, okay?" Brittany didn't wait for Rachel to answer before she waved and bounded off. "See you tonight."
Glancing around the empty hallway quickly, Rachel bit her lip and hoped, for once, that her fathers overprotective nature would so something good. She couldn't see her fathers allowing her to partake in Brittany and Quinn's little sleepover.
She walked to English quickly, apologizing to the teacher for being late. He gave her the same sympathetic look that everyone did and nodded at her as she took her seat. When he called for everyone to turn in an assignment and Rachel didn't have hers, he frowned at her kindly and told her that she could turn it in late with no penalty. Rachel made a note in her planner, but she wasn't entirely sure what book they were even reading.
She didn't see him again for the rest of the day, even though she kept her eyes open for any sign of the man. She thought she saw someone out in the auditorium during glee club rehearsal, but when the lights came back up, there was no one.
When Rachel was picked up by Leroy, she found out that her parents worry for her didn't extend to sleepovers that they thought were a good idea. Hiram said that he thought a night among friends would be good for her. With no conceivable excuse, Rachel could only hope that Brittany's stairs didn't have any loose squeaky floorboards and that she could get her hands on a spare key. Rachel wasn't going to break the same promise to Santana twice.
With a sigh and half of a plan to sneak out of Brittany's house during the night, Rachel went up to her room to pack an overnight bag. Rachel opened her bedroom door and gasped, dropping her bookbag. She froze in the doorway, possibly even colder now than she had been all day.
The man sitting on her bed looked up, his eyes twinkling with a depth she knew little about. She got her first clear look at him that wasn't in a dream and it made her insides twist. He was neither young nor old, neither smiling nor frowning. He was somehow everything and nothing all at once. And he was sitting on her bed, his legs crossed and his hands resting in his lap.
The door eased shut behind her and Rachel leaned against it, staring at him. She suddenly felt very tired and very cold and found herself with little desire to move. Rachel finally started to understand Santana's reaction to him all those years ago.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" he asked simply.