Avid Reader: Dubai is a beautiful city and I've always wanted to visit it. Shokran! (I hope that's the right word. I asked one of my friends from the Gulf.) Thank you very much for this lovely review. I'm glad that you enjoy this story and I hope to hear from you again.

I've chosen to start with lyrics from a song for this chapter, instead of a quote or excerpt like I usually do. This song has had a big impact on me as I've been working on this story. If you want to hear it, I've posted a link on my profile.

As always, a really big thank you to everyone who's taken the time to review. You're all seriously awesome. :) I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, so let me know what you think.

Chapter Eleven

"We are the universe
observing itself
observing itself

We are the universe
destroying itself
destroying itself
destroying
itself."
Muse

Santana doesn't really want to go camping. She doesn't want to go out someplace with no t.v. and no bathroom. She likes her soft bed and her comfy blanket and the noise of the blowing fan as it lulls her to sleep. The woods have a hard ground and creepy little bugs and nothing fun. But Rachel is her best friend and when she asks Santana to come with them, she practically begs. She sticks her bottom lip out and gets all teary-eyed and even though Santana can always tell when Rachel is fake-crying, she still can't say no to the girl.

It turns out that camping isn't the worst thing ever. Rachel's dads help them cook hot dogs over the campfire and then they get to toast marshmallows on sticks. They eat way more than they should, especially Santana, and make s'mores. They even tell a few ghost stories, giving her and Rachel sinister looks while they repeat stories Santana's heard a million times.

Camping isn't as bad as she thought it would be. It's quiet and peaceful, a nice break from all the fighting and yelling her parents do. Santana doesn't understand why people always give Rachel and her dads such a hard time. They're really nice and they let her put extra chocolate between her graham crackers and that makes them way more awesome than any other parents she knows.

As okay as camping is, Santana's really not up for whatever middle-of-the-night adventure Rachel has in mind when she wakes Santana up. Rachel pouts, unfortunately, and Santana has no choice but to crawl out of their joined sleeping back and slip her shoes on.

Santana takes Rachel's offered hand and lets the other girl practically drag her through the woods. The forest is dark and it's hard to see and Santana struggles to navigate across fallen branches and logs. The dark combined with the look on Rachel's face is almost scaring her; she's never seen Rachel look like that before. Rachel looks desperate and eager, her face shining despite the darkness.

It isn't long before Santana's legs start burning and a stitch forms in her side. Santana starts pulling back on Rachel's hand, trying to stop her. Her body hurts and that look on Rachel's face... Santana just wants to stop and find out where that look is taking them.

Santana falls suddenly, stumbles and hits the ground hard, bringing Rachel down with her. Santana scrapes her knee and it bleeds, tiny rivulets of blood dripping down her leg. She wipes the blood away and is fully prepared to get mad at Rachel when the other girl leans down and kisses her leg. It makes Santana's stomach flutter and her insides flip over themselves and when Rachel begs her to keep going, there's nothing for her to do except follow along.

Eventually, they reach a large grass-filled clearing. The stars shine down on them and Santana hears Rachel laugh next to her. Rachel's smile is so wide that her face might split and when she looks up at the stars, Santana understands why.

It's beautiful, the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, probably. Santana doesn't know what to do with it, the sudden swell of joy and amazement in her chest, so she kisses Rachel. She throws herself at her best friend and presses their lips together because it feels like the right thing to do. When Rachel giggles and pulls away with a smile, she knows that it was.

Rachel pulls her out into the grass and stay start running again, giggling and holding hands.

The ground was cold. Standing up was cold. Leaning against a tree or against her tombstone was cold. Santana couldn't find any position that didn't make her cold. She had body heat again, somehow, but it was rapidly being sucked away. Santana was absolutely freezing, her hands and her feet starting to numb. Rachel had kept telling her how cold she was to the touch and Santana was starting to understand what she had meant.

Rachel. Berry. Manhands. Treasure Trail. Medusa. Yentl.

Santana had spent a long time spouting off harsh nicknames for Rachel, calling her out for no reason. She was pretty much the biggest bitch ever, especially to Rachel. And now they were stuck in some messed up mindgame with some crazy psycho and Rachel was all she had.

In another life, Rachel Berry had once been the only thing Santana wanted.

She told herself that that life wasn't this one and it didn't have to matter if she didn't want it, too (and she really didn't.)

Santana sat there, huddled against a tree, her hands stuffed into the pockets of Rachel's jacket. She could catch the faint scene of Rachel's perfume clinging to the sleeves of her only source of warmth. Santana brought her knees up to her chest and laid her forehead down against them.

Rachel was selfless. She always had been.

"Are you okay?"

Santana looks up, glaring at the girl she finds standing over her. "Fine," she snaps.

The girl fixes the headband on her head. "Are you sure?" she asks. She's loud and her voice is way too chirpy for Santana's tastes.

"I said I'm fine," Santana says, crossing her arms.

The girl bites her lip. "I heard what those girls said to you," she starts, sitting on the ground next to Santana uninvited. There's an orange in one of her hands and she sets it in her lap.

Santana knows who the girl is. She's in Santana's class and she sits right up front (Santana sits in the very back.) The girl answers every question the teacher asks and no one likes her because she's a know-it-all.

"My daddy says that you shouldn't listen to people who say mean things to you," she continues. "They're just jealous."

Santana just shrugs, staring out at the kids playing on the jungle gym. It definitely didn't feel like those kids were jealous of her.

"Do you want some of my orange?" the girl asks.

Santana shrugs again and watches the girl start to peel the fruit, tearing off pieces of the skin and dropping them on the ground in a neat pile. "Dad says that some people are just mean and it's not your fault," she says. "Mean people will always be mean people."

The girl struggles as she tries to pull the orange in half, its segments sticking together too strongly for her to pry them apart. She grunts and her tongue peeks out of her mouth, her small hands failing to do more than squeeze the fruit until some of its juice runs down her arm. Santana sighs and takes the orange from her, digging her thumbs into the top of it and halving the fruit easily. She hands one half to the girl and keeps one half for herself.

The smaller girl smiles gratefully. "Thanks," she chirps. "I'm Rachel Berry." She holds her hand out smartly.

"Yeah, I know."

"And you're Santana," Rachel says, smiling.

"Yeah, I know that, too," Santana replies, shaking the hand Rachel offered her. There's juice from their shared fruit clinging to both of their hands and their fingers stick together for a moment.

"I think those girls are wrong," Rachel says after a moment. "My daddies say that there's nothing wrong with having a different skin color. And I think you're really pretty."

Santana's cheeks tinge slightly pink and she ducks her head a little bit. "Thanks," she mutters, smiling slightly.

They sit together quietly until the end of recess and when they walk back into their classroom, they silently compromise and sit in the middle of the room next to each other. The next day, Rachel brings cookies for them to share.

All Santana had to think about all night are memories. She had a tangled mess of thoughts and memories that didn't make any sense anymore. Who they could have been and who they are was lost somewhere in between who they were once and Santana wished that she could close her eyes and disappear again.

Santana hated Rachel on principle, from the first day of middle school when the other girl walked in wearing an animal sweater and knee socks. Rachel didn't do herself any favors in the personality department, either.

But there was another Rachel. And that Rachel? She had been everything. She was Santana's first kiss (and her second and her third and fourth and way more than was probably acceptable for kids who were just friends.) She was the first person that Santana let into her world and she was always Santana's biggest supporter.

"Fuck," Santana muttered, trying to pull her head down into the jacket. The wind blew.

It was bad enough that she had to be dead, but suddenly everything was infinitely more complicated.

Eventually, the sun came up and brought with it some manner of warmth. Not enough to properly heat her, but if Santana did some of Coach Sylvester's Cheerio drills, she could stop feeling like her toes were about to fall off. She sprinted across the cemetery, darting around various tombstones until she worked up a sweat.

Santana didn't even get to go anywhere and she hated it. She couldn't close her eyes and will herself away to that weird place where hours passed in the blink of an eye. No, she had to run self-motivated cheerleading drills in a cemetery with nothing but her memories and confusion.

And it was really freaking unfair, she thought, falling to the ground to rest. Thinking was her least favorite thing to do, second only to talking about anything serious. If it wasn't a scheme or an insult, Santana generally wanted nothing to do with it. And now it was all she had.

Brittany's appearance did nothing to help her state of mind.

"Hi," a bright voice says.

When Santana glances up, she sees a tall blonde girl with long hair and shining blue eyes. "Uh, hi," she replies.

"Will you go on the seesaw with me?" the girl asks.

"No," Santana says immediately. "Why?"

The girl bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, shrugging. "I don't know. I really want to go on it and you look like a good saw."

Her eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"You look like a good saw," the girl smiles. "You know, to go with my see."

Santana raises an eyebrow at the girl. She thinks the girl might be in her class, but she isn't sure. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"I'll give you some of my Dots," the girl says simply. "Please?"

Santana opens her mouth to say "no" to the girl again (she hates the seesaw) when a boy runs past them. He runs straight into the blonde girl, pushing her to the ground. "Stay out of the way, stupid," he yells angrily, running away when a group of boys reach him.

The girl sits up, her eyes watering. She blushes as Santana stares at her, rising quickly and brushing the dirt from her jeans. She sniffles and turns away, saying nothing as she starts to walk away.

Santana doesn't know why she feels bad for the girl but she does. She stands up quickly, grabbing the girl's wrist. "Wait," she says. "I'll seesaw with you, I guess, if you still wanna."

The other girl turns back around. "Really?"

Santana nods. "Yeah, okay," she says nonchalantly.

The other girl wraps her arms around Santana suddenly, squeezing her tightly. "I'm Brittany," she says.

"Santana," she replies. Brittany's smile and energy is contagious and she can't help but smile with her.

Brittany links her pinkie with Santana's as she marches them towards the seesaw. "We're gonna be best friends now, okay?" Brittany grins toothily.

Santana grins back. "Okay."

Brittany had on her Cheerio uniform and her letterman jacket, mismatched mittens peeking out of from under the sleeves. As soon as she stepped inside the gate to the cemetery, she looked around uneasily, her brows furrowed.

Santana could do nothing but watch as Brittany walked towards her. And there was no mistake; Brittany was coming straight at Santana, walking swiftly and with purpose. Anticipation bubbled in Santana's stomach as she watched her. It was like she knew.

When Brittany reached Santana, she took a deep breathe before she turned to face Santana's headstone. She frowned deeply as she pursed her lips. "Hey, San," she said. Her voice was thick.

Santana whimpered despite herself. For a moment, it felt like maybe -

She shook her head. "Hey, Britt," she said shakily, a watery smile on her face even though the other girl could neither see nor hear her.

Brittany fidgeted for a moment, biting her lip. "We're getting ready for Sectionals," she muttered eventually. "It kinda sucks, but we're trying. We -" she broke off, her shoulders shaking slightly. Her cheeks tinged a light pink color as her eyes watered. "It's just - We want to win this year. For you, San."

"Shit," Santana sighed, her own eyes tearing up as she watched Brittany. "It's okay, Brittany," she murmured softly, her throat constricting. Brittany was everything happy and beautiful in the world, but she now was just as hurt as any of them. "I'm gonna come back, okay? I'm gonna come back and we're going to win together."

Santana brought her hand up to rest on Brittany's shoulder, running her fingers down her arm in comfort. Brittany shuddered and pulled her jacket closer to her body. She turned her head and looked to where Santana was standing. She looked right at her without seeing anything and Santana cried out, unable to stop herself. Brittany was so close that Santana could count the freckles that dusted her nose. She could make out every individual shade of blue and grey in Brittany's eyes. Santana could see everything and Brittany could see nothing and it only made Santana cry harder.

Brittany turned away, looking back at the tombstone in front of her. "I really miss you, Santana," she whispered, wiping at her eyes.

"I miss you, too, Brittany," Santana answered, reaching out to grip Brittany's mitten-covered hand. "You're my best friend," she said.

Brittany didn't react at all. She merely stood in silence, her face unbearably sad. Santana stood next to her, holding her hand and crying with her, wishing that the other girl could just feel her. She couldn't, though, and the thought hung heavy in Santana's mind. Brittany couldn't feel her and she was still dead and there was a madman on the loose who had ruined her life and everything just freaking sucked.

A horn sounded, startling both of them. Quinn had pulled up alongside the gate and rolled her window down. "Come on, Brittany," she yelled. "We're going to be late."

Brittany sighed and with one last look at Santana's tombstone, she walked towards Quinn's car. Her hand came out of Santana's grasp easily, as if it had never been there (and it likely hadn't.) Santana missed Brittany immediately, missed her mismatched mittens and her ponytail and her pressed Cheerio uniform.

Brittany climbed into Quinn's car quickly, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes for a moment. Quinn put a hand on Brittany's shoulder, smiling at her kindly. "It's okay," Santana saw her say. And then they were gone.

Santana kicked at the ground, stirring up the dirt. She tore Rachel's jacket off, throwing it down and stepping on it. She screeched, curse words in English and Spanish ringing through the graveyard because fuck, it just wasn't fair. Santana kicked at Rachel's jacket, digging her toes into it and yelling as she cried. Nothing was fair and nothing made sense anymore.

Santana fell to the ground, collapsed sobbing on to the dirty and the grass.

"Santana?"

"Yeah?" she says, glancing over at her friend.

Rachel bites her lip, twirling her fork through her spaghetti. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Of course," Santana smiles.

"Really? My nose is kind of big," Rachel replies, grimacing.

"I think it's cute."

Rachel huffs. "I don't."

"Well, I think you're beautiful."

"She's cute."

Santana looked up, her chest still heaving with sobs. She grabbed Rachel's jacket, wringing it between her hands. "You son of a bitch," she cried, her voice cracking. "You get the hell in here so I can kick your fucking ass."

The man was standing just outside the gate. That man, the one she would recognize anywhere. He had killed her twice and now he was just fucking with her, fucking with her and Rachel and everyone else.

Santana stood up angrily, slipping into Rachel's jacket. She told herself it was warmth and not because she could smell Rachel's shampoo on the collar. "Well, come in, asshole. I ain't gots all day," she yelled, willing herself to calm down and stem the flow of tears still trying to leak out of her eyes.

He smirked at her, brushing his fingers across the top of the gate almost tenderly.

Santana crossed her arms, taking a few deep breathes until she managed to stop crying. She continued to inhale, memories of Rachel teaching her proper breathing techniques flitting through her mind. She glared at him, wiping at her eyes angrily. He took that away from her.

He grinned fully then, baring his teeth at her. Santana knew what 'predatory' looked like, had practically invented the look, and the man standing just outside the cemetery looked every bit like a lion about to pounce.

"Oh, don't worry. I would hardly consider myself a lion," the man said. "And you're hardly a lamb."

"Whatever, I don't care," she snapped, marching closer to the gate separating her from him.

He chuckled. "Perhaps we should call Brittany back," he grinned. "I think she would care."

"Fuck no," she said. "You leave Brittany out of this." Santana's glare intensified. "And Rachel, too," she added. "You stay the hell away from all of them."

"It's a little late for that," the man replied.

"Why?" she demanded. "What the fuck have you done now?" Santana stormed closer still, stopping just in front of him. He was tall and thin, his face pale. He had long arms and she paused at what she hoped was a distance just out of reach for him.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he started, leaning down to rest his elbows on the gate. "I've already paid a visit to Miss Berry today."

Santana flushed, tightening her hands into fists. Her nails dug into her palms until she was sure they were bleeding. "What did you do to her? I swear to God, if you so much as -"

"Rachel's fine," he interrupted sharply. He slid his left arm across the top of the gate, letting it lie across the cold metal. He kept his right elbow where it was and brought his chin to rest in his palm. "For now."

Santana watched him with building rage. He had ruined their lives, all of them, and he had the audacity to stand before her nonchalantly, like nothing he did mattered. "Just who the fuck do you think you are?" she cried. "I am so fucking sick of this. You think you can just come here and fuck with us? Listen you sick fuck, I am done," Santana said, her voice cracking again as her fury grew. "I wants answers and I wants them now. I'm not playing your stupid fucking games anymore."

"Little Santana Lopez, always so quick to anger," he sighed.

"Uh, yeah," she said, throwing her hand up at him. "Of course I'm angry. You keep killing me, you dick."

He shook his head at her, dangling both of his arms over the gate. "It's not my fault you won't die properly," he smirked. "I don't mind, really. This is much more fun."

"Yeah?" Santana shot back. "Why don't you come in here so that I can kill you? Then we'll see how much fun you're having."

"I have a better idea," he said. He reached down with one of his hands and lifted the latch of the gate, popping it up until it hit metal. "Why don't you come out here?"

"Oh, I can leave now?" she quipped. "Look, if we're going to do this - whatever it is - you could at least tell me who the hell you are."

Santana made a move for the gate, but he raised a hand to stop her. "It's not quite time for that yet," he said, grinning again. "Why don't you turn around and at least say goodbye to the place that has so kindly allowed you to call it home?"

She scoffed. "I'm not stupid. There's no way I'm taking my eyes off you," she replied.

"You don't really have much of a say in the matter, I'm afraid," he said, half of his body practically hanging over the top of the gate. He looked bored and disinterested in her. "Children," he frowned. "They're always so quick to forget."

Santana blinked and when she opened her eyes, the man was gone. Everything was gone; she wasn't even in the cemetery anymore. It was nighttime now and she was standing at the edge of a field, brown and green grass surrounding her. It was as tall as her waist and she ran her fingertips over the tops of the blades around her.

"Of course," she muttered to herself. "All I get anymore is this bullshit."

The moon was nowhere to be seen, but the sky was dotted with stars, tiny dots of light that stretched out across the heavens. The universe was vast and unimaginable and she could feel it pressing down against her. It made Santana feel like just a pawn in some sick game (and she more or less was, as far as she could tell.)

Santana heard giggling and she whipped around, spotting two small brunettes that she recognized immediately. The taller of the two reached out and grabbed the other girl, kissing her.

The two girls took off across the field and Santana frowned. She had this memory, she knew she did, but something was different. Something was off. Frowning, Santana took off after the two girls, following a young Rachel and Santana as they ran.

Rachel has a tight grip on her hand as they run through the grass. Rachel's got that look on her face again, that kind of scarily determined one that makes Santana nervous. She stops suddenly and Santana runs into her, pressing against her back. Rachel teeters for a moment and Santana wraps an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

"It's alright," Rachel replies. "This is the place."

Santana looks around. The grass is shorter here than in the rest of the meadow and it brushes against her ankles as she stands there. All around them, the rest of the grass is too tall for her to see over. "How'd you know where this spot was?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel says. "I just had a feeling and it led me here."

Rachel smiles, pulling Santana further into the section of shirt grass. "Come lay with me, San," she says softly. "I want to watch the stars."

Rachel's face is back to normal now. She no longer looks desperate and determined. She's calm and kind and it makes Santana smile because that's what she's used to - the Rachel who takes her hand and looks at her like she's the only thing in the world.

Rachel spots some flowers, small orange ones, and she walks Santana over to them. They sit in the grass with their legs crossed and weave the flowers into each other's hair, wrapping them up into braids while the stars shine down in them. Rachel's fingers brush through Santana's long hair and she sighs.

Rachel eventually pulls Santana down on her back, lacing their fingers together as she settles next to her, dropping a kiss to her cheek as she lies down. Their legs brush and their hips rest against one another and Santana thinks that she could stay out there forever.

They don't know any constellations so they decide to make some up, tracing their joined hands up through the air above them. Rachel points out musical notes and flowers while Santana uses her turns to point out animals and sometimes, food. Other times, they just lie together in silence, watching the stars twinkle.

A star shoots over them and Rachel nudges Santana's leg. She points upward. "Make a wish," she says.

Santana thinks for a moment, biting her lip. Rachel squeezes her hand. "I wish that me and Rachel can be together forever," she settles on, looking over at her best friend. She thinks it's kind of cheesy, but she knows Rachel likes that kind of stuff. And besides, Santana really kind of does wish for that to actually happen. "You go," she whispers.

Rachel smiles at her, beaming brightly. "I wish," she pauses for a moment. "I wish that Santana's wish comes true," she giggles, throwing an arm around Santana's waist and leaning against her shoulder.

"Hey," Santana mutters. "You just wasted a wish," she says.

"No, I didn't," Rachel replies.

"But you like, just wished for the same thing I did."

Rachel nods against her shoulder. "Well, you took the one I was gonna say," she says. "And now that we've both wished for it, it has to come true."

Santana can't help the smile that settles on her face. "Hopefully," she admits.

Rachel opens her mouth like she's about to say something, but a sudden noise in the grass interrupts them. They look at each other with wide eyes as they stand up, their hands still clasped together.

A man steps out of the tall grass then, dusting off his pants as he steps into their clearing within a clearing. "Hello, children," he greets, nodding his head. He smiles down at them.

Rachel tugs on Santana's arm. "Hi," she says uneasily. "Excuse us. We have to go now."

Rachel starts backing away, pulling Santana with her. But Santana doesn't want to go quite yet. She's not sure why; she just knows that she doesn't want to leave. The man has shooting stars in his eyes and Santana wants to stay and make wishes on them.

"I only want to talk to you," he says. He smiles gently as he seats himself in the grass, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. He leans back on his hands.

"Let's just - let's just stay for a minute, okay?" Santana says to Rachel, gripping her hand.

"We're not supposed to talk to strangers," Rachel whispers back, eyeing the strange man with caution. She bounces on her toes and bites her lip as she stares at the man sitting in front of them.

"Ah, you're very smart, Rachel," he says. "Indeed, one isn't supposed to talk to strangers. But I'm not a stranger, you see. You know me."

Rachel shakes her head immediately. "No, I don't," she replies, leaning against Santana. She wraps her free hand around Santana's upper arm and moves slightly behind her.

"Actually, I think you'll find that you know me quite well," he remarks casually. He picks a blade of grass out of the ground and twirls it between his fingers. "I'm here to make all of your wishes come true."

Santana watched the scene in front of her with a smile on her face at first, reluctantly admitting that she and Rachel were kind of cute, in that little kid way. And then he showed up and she could have sworn that at one point he winked at her as she stood just outside of the circle they were all in.

Santana's eyes narrowed. She didn't remember this, not until she watched it happening in front of her. When she saw it, she could recall living it. She didn't know what was going to happen next, but it probably wasn't anything good.

Santana blinked and when she opened her eyes, she was standing on a sidewalk. She glanced around, taking in the trees and the road. She had spent enough time staring wistfully outside the cemetery to realize that she was outside of it.

"Well, there's that," she muttered, looking for the man and not finding him with her. She scowled; because of course he was gone, leaving her with a million more questions and no answers. "What now?"

Santana took off walking, heading in the direction of Rachel's house. Or she would have, if the jacket she was wearing hadn't caught on something. She turned around, muttering in Spanish.

"Holy shit," she cried. "What the -"

A little girl was standing there on the other side of the cemetery gate. She had long brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was remarkably pale, her cheeks sunken in and the skin of her arms was loose. She was wearing a headband and a torn sweater, matched with a plaid skirt. "Don't leave me here, Santana," she whispered, her hands gripping the hem of Santana's jacket.

Santana's jaw dropped and she stumbled back, ripping the jacket as she fell. A young Rachel pressed herself right against the gate, her arms sticking through the bars. She wiggled her fingers. "Please," she whispered sadly.

Santana drug herself from the gate quickly, sliding back across the pavement as she stood back up. "What the fuck?" she yelled. Her breathe came in short bursts and she backed away.

Rachel started crying. "Please don't go," she gasped, wheezing a bit. "Don't leave."

"The fuck?" Santana cried out. "I didn't - I don't even -"

Rachel, no older than nine, angled her body, fitting her shoulder through the gap in between the bars on the gate. She struggled, ducking her head down as she tried to climb through. "You can't leave me here, Santana, please," she said.

Rachel managed to get one of her legs through the gate and Santana didn't stay to find out whether she could get the rest of her body out of the cemetery.

"Wait!" she heard Rachel say. "Don't leave me!" she screamed.

Santana heard footsteps slap against the pavement of the sidewalk. They were own, maybe, or someone else's following behind her (she didn't turn around to find out.) Santana ran as quickly away from Rachel as she could, only stopping when she ran right into a different Rachel.

The teenage Rachel was standing in front of her, the living breathing Rachel that Santana had come to depend on as they were thrust into the most fucked up situation Santana had ever heard of.

"Santana?" Rachel cried. "What are you -? How? You're not in the cemetery."

Santana looked behind her, seeing no one. But that didn't matter, she knew. Just because she couldn't see anything didn't mean it wasn't there. She grabbed Rachel, practically dragging her down the street. Santana was crying, crying for reasons she couldn't even think about. All she knew was that Rachel's hand was warm in hers and when she leaned against Rachel, the smaller girl propped her up. That was enough.

When they reached Brittany's house and walked inside, Santana collapsed against Rachel fully, pressing herself against Rachel and running her fingers through Rachel's hair and across her neck. She could feel Rachel's hand moving down her back, her voice whispering in Santana's ear.

"It'll be okay," Rachel said.

Santana pulled away slightly, running her palms across Rachel's temples. They were a little chill from the cold they had just come in from, but her eyes were bright and her cheeks and nose were pink. She sighed.

"What is it? What happened?" Rachel asked.

She brushed her fingers across Rachel's face, skirting over her features softly. Santana felt Rachel push her hair out of her eyes and wipe the tears from her cheeks. She inhaled shakily. "I'm just – I'm really glad you're alive," she said honestly.

Santana was aware of how close they were – how her body was flush against Rachel's. Rachel smiled at her gently, looking up at her the way she used to. It made her feel warm and cared for, even though for all she knew, some maniac could burst in and kill them both in a second.

Her fingertips brushed over Rachel's lips, lips that she used to kiss without a second thought. She knew that she could just lean down and press their lips together because they were running out of time and running out of luck and it would be nice if she could just have one moment that made sense.

Rachel's breathe was warm across her face as she leaned down. She could still feel Rachel's fingers on her face, playing with her hair and she could almost –

"Rachel? Is that you?" someone called. Quinn came down the stairs then, pushing her hair out of her face and rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing down here?"