Note: This chapter is a bit of a big reveal and I would preface it by saying that while the man in question is of this type, he does not represent any specific mythological character. He is just a representation of this type of figure. The quotes that I've chosen throughout this story have all been meant to give you some insight into my mind and what I'm trying to do, and this quote has been one that has stuck with me as I've been writing.
A big thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story. Your thoughts and your comments have been really lovely and have definitely helped me get through some rough times. I have to give a really big thanks to everyone on Tumblr that has encouraged me and poked me over the last few days to power through this now that my semester is over. You're all really awesome. Depending on how things get split up, there are likely two chapters left after this one. Let me know what you think.
Chapter Thirteen
"Trickster is at one and the same time creator and destroyer, giver and negator, he who dupes others, and who is always duped himself. He wills nothing consciously. At all times he is constrained to behave as he does from impulses over which he has no control. He knows neither good nor evil yet he is responsible for both. He possesses no values, moral or social, is at the mercy of his passions and appetites, yet through his actions all values come into being."
Paul Radin, The Trickster
Rachel was nowhere. Or maybe she was everywhere all at once. She was sleeping, tucked underneath a blanket with a dead girl and lying next to two other girls who could neither see nor hear said dead girl. And then suddenly, she wasn't anymore. At least, not as far as she could tell.
She felt nothing as she lay there, felt the weight of emptiness settling across her thighs and her arms. And when she opened her eyes, Rachel could see forever. Forever looked like floating colors, every single one of them glowing and twisting around her; it felt like she could reach out and touch the edge of the universe, twist her fingers through raw energy and feel it tingle all the way up her arms and into her shoulders.
Rachel was nowhere and nowhere felt like everywhere. And if she reached out, she could almost hold on to it, could almost grab it and let it pull across the vast expanse of nothing towards - well, she didn't know where it would pull her, but the important thing was that she get her hands on it. Rachel wanted to crawl up inside nowhere and stay there with the lights and the colors and the universe.
"Rachel?" she heard. Someone called out to her, their voice echoing through her mind slowly. Rachel reached out towards the voice and the person it belonged to, her fingers dancing out in front of her as she stretched her arm out. "Rachel?" she heard again, closer this time. She stretched out her arm as best she could, groaning slightly as she angled her body through the nothingness.
Her fingers brushed something warm and Rachel gasped. She opened her eyes and blinked slowly. She was panting heavily, lying cold and exhausted on the floor.
"Rachel?" she heard and this time she knew the voice. Santana was peering down at her, leaning on her elbow. Their blanket was pulled up underneath her arm, half of it covering her and the other half lying between them. Santana gripped the corner of it and threw it back over Rachel.
Rachel's fingers were resting on Santana's cheek. Her skin was warm and while Rachel didn't want to pull away, she made herself retreat, sliding away slightly as she tried to catch her breathe.
"You okay?"
Rachel blinked a couple of times, staring at the girl hovering over her. She nodded, letting her eyes refocus and adjust to the dark. "I'm fine. It was just a dream," she whispered.
It was still dark in Brittany's room, the only available light slipping in through the crack underneath the bedroom door. It was faint but it gave Rachel just enough light that she could see Santana staring at her suspiciously. Santana wiggled a little bit, shifting their blanket again. Brittany stirred behind her for a moment before she settled again.
"Have you been sleeping?" Rachel wondered, muttering softly.
Santana shook her head. "Nah, I tried, but it didn't work," she said. "I've just been -" she paused for a moment, turning her head and glancing back at Brittany and Quinn. "I've just been laying here."
Rachel said nothing for a long moment, settling back against the pillow they were sharing and closing her eyes. There was nothing for her to say, not really, so she decided to let the moment pass. There was something like jealousy in her stomach, wriggling around her insides and trying to make her think about Santana watching only Quinn and Brittany sleep. Rachel took a deep breathe and tried to ignore it.
"I don't think we should stay here," Santana said. She was still leaning on her elbow over Rachel and when Rachel opened her eyes, Santana was so close that Rachel could practically feel her breathe tickling her cheeks. She could see the circles around Santana's eyes, dark and deep.
"Why? Where would we go?" Rachel whispered.
"I don't know," Santana replied. She nodded her head at Quinn and Brittany. "I just don't want that guy to mess with them, you know? It would be really shitty if he got our friends, too. I don't want them to be involved."
Rachel nodded absently, rubbing at her eyes. "Can we just - can I just sleep for a little while longer? And then we can go wherever you think we should go. I just need to rest first."
"Okay," Santana said, sliding back down to the floor and laying her head down next to Rachel's.
Rachel slid her eyes closed again, exhaling. She felt Santana shift on to her side and assumed that Santana had returned to her vigil over Brittany and Quinn. Jealousy tried to bubble inside her again, but she pressed her lips together and held it down.
There was warm breathe tickling her cheeks again and a hand took hers and this time, Rachel knew that Santana was watching her, too. Santana's fingers swept over hers and she slept.
Rachel's nervous. The man sitting before them is kind of scary. He's all big smiles and bright eyes, but they feel false to her; they feel like fake smiles and they make her skin tingle. She's sure that if anyone can spot fake emotions, it's an aspiring actress.
She doesn't like him, not at all. When she looks at Santana, the other girl looks star-struck, like she's just been given the biggest and shiniest Christmas present ever, lights shimmering off of it and reflecting in Santana's wide eyes.
Santana asks her to trust her, and Rachel's never even thought twice about trusting her best friend. Santana gets her into trouble sometimes by keeping her out late or by encouraging her to make a big mess of things, but Rachel always trusts Santana. When she has no one else, she knows that she has Santana and she knows that Santana will take care of her.
Rachel would be happy just being with Santana forever and she knows that Santana wants that, too. They wished on that shooting star together and the thought that maybe their wish can come true makes her tummy flip.
Santana takes her hand and she squeezes it.
"Excellent," the man says, standing up and brushing the grass off of his pants. He grins down at them and Rachel's stomach flips for different reason. "Now, let's talk about your wishes," he says. His limbs are long and his face is thin and gaunt and when he smiles, she can see his cheekbones pressing against the inside of his skin.
The man rubs his hands together for a moment. "Alright –"
"You said you weren't a stranger," Rachel interrupts. "But I don't recognize you. What's your name?"
His smile falters for only a moment. "I don't have a name, Rachel, but rest assured that you know me. After all, how else would I know your name?"
"Maybe you heard us talking," she tries, frowning. "Maybe you've been following us around. What do you mean you don't have a name? Everyone has a name."
He chuckles for a moment. "I'm not everyone," he says. "I don't need a name. I've been here all along."
The man takes a step closer to them and Rachel backs away, clinging to Santana's hand and stepping behind her. Santana has said nothing and Rachel's starting to worry. Santana always has something to say, even when she isn't supposed to.
"You don't have to be afraid of me," he says. His voice is soft and smooth and Rachel can feel it wrapping around her. It slides into her ears and slips around her limbs and she feels better all of a sudden. She feels light and calm. "I'm here to help you."
In front of her, Santana nods. When he reaches out a hand, Santana takes it immediately. He holds out his other hand to Rachel and she hesitates for a moment. Santana looks at her, finally meeting her eyes. Rachel is light and calm and Santana smiles at her and so she takes his outstretched hand before she can stop herself.
"Good girl," he says, smiling. She looks up at him and his eyes are bright, like stars on a cloudless night or the full moon at midnight. Rachel knows the stars. She stares at them out her window every night and she makes wishes on them and she feels like she knows them. And in that moment, she feels like she knows him.
Rachel woke up to a persistent tapping against her leg. She groaned and tried to ignore it, but it continued until she had no choice but to open her eyes. Santana was lying next to her, nudging her leg continually.
"Are you up now?" Santana asked. She didn't try to feign nonchalance; she merely continued to press her leg against Rachel's. "If you're awake, can we leave?"
Rachel jerked her leg away from Santana. "Stop that," she muttered.
Santana smirked.
"What time is it?" she whispered. The room was lighter now, the sky outside a mute grey instead of black. Brittany and Quinn slept silently.
"Dunno," Santana said, pushing the blanket off of herself and standing up. "I just - I don't know. I have a bad feeling and I think we should leave now."
Rachel sat up slowly. "You have a bad feeling? Santana, I haven't properly slept in days. Can your bad feeling just wait a little while?"
Santana slid Brittany's closet door open, digging around through several pairs of shoes until she pulled out some worn sneakers and slid them on her feet. "It just - shit, it makes me nervous, okay?" she muttered. "I told you, I don't want Brittany and Quinn to get mixed up in all this bullshit."
Rachel reached up to smooth down some of her hair. "Maybe I should tell them the truth," she suggested. "They might believe me. Perhaps they can be of some assistance."
"No way," Santana said immediately, grabbing Rachel's duffel bag. She zipped it shut.
"They're our friends," Rachel said. "They're your friends. I didn't want to tell them before because I didn't want them to believe that I'm crazy, but the more I think about it, the more I think that it might be incredibly useful to have some people on our side, some living people."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't tell them. They're our friends and that guy could seriously fuck them up," Santana shot back. "It's you and me, Rachel, and it's been that way since this whole thing started. It's not about Quinn and it's not about Brittany; it's about us. So put your goddamn shoes on and meet me downstairs. I'll find you a fucking banana to eat or something."
Rachel nodded mutely. She quickly found her shoes and grabbed the duffel bag Santana had zipped up for her. She eyed Brittany for a moment and frowned. They didn't have to know everything that was going on, but they should at least know that Rachel was leaving so that they wouldn't worry.
She sunk down to her knees and brushed Brittany's hair out of her face. "Brittany?" she whispered.
Brittany groaned and shook her head. "Huh? What happened? Is't time to get up?"
Rachel shushed her. "No, Brittany. My dads called and I have to go home," she lied. "I just wanted to inform you that I was leaving so that you didn't worry when you woke up and I was gone."
Brittany kept her eyes closed and nodded slowly. "Mm'kay. See ya later, Rachel," she mumbled, slipping back into sleep.
"I hope so," Rachel said, standing back up and slipping out of the room as quietly as she could.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Santana was standing against the front door. Sure enough, she was holding a banana. Santana smirked at her as she handed it to Rachel and slipped a jacket on.
"That's not the coat I gave you," Rachel noted.
"This one's Brittany's," Santana answered. She opened the door and gestured for Rachel to walk out. She locked the door behind them and twisted to door handle a few times to make sure that the door really was secure. "Yours ripped. Plus, it was kinda short on me."
"That won't keep him out," Rachel told her, stuffing her hands in her pockets.
The sky had yet to lighten and the sun still hadn't properly come out. The morning was grey and washed-out; frost clung to the tips of the grass in the yard. Rachel could see her breathe blow out in front of her like smoke every time she exhaled.
Santana led her down the concrete path that ran adjacent to the bushes in front of the house. She paused for a moment at the sidewalk before turning left, Rachel trailing after her.
"Where are we going?" Rachel asked after a few moments. Her duffel bag bumped against her hip with every step that she took and she was sure that it was going to leave a bruise.
Santana shrugged. "Your house? I don't know," she frowned.
Rachel shook her head for a moment. "You forced me out of bed in order to lead me out into the cold and you have no idea where we should go?"
"Technically, you weren't in a bed," Santana answered.
"Santana, you know what I meant," Rachel said. She peeled the banana she had been given and took a bite.
"Let's just go to your house, Rachel. You can go back to bed when we get there, alright?"
Rachel said nothing, turning a corner and marching out in front of Santana. She ate and they walked in silence for a few minutes. She was cold and frustrated and the silence felt complementary to the way she felt.
"I know what you mean about having a bad feeling," she eventually said. "I've had that feeling for a while now."
Rachel slowed down her pace slightly and waited for Santana to come next to her. "It always feels like something horrible is about to happen," she added.
"It's fucked up," Santana agreed. "I just feel weird, you know?"
Rachel nodded. "It's like something's pressing against you," she supplied. "You feel so full of dread and anticipation because surely something is going to happen soon and all you can do is stand there and wait for it to get you. You feel like it's always there and like you're powerless to stop it."
"Yeah, pretty much," Santana grinned. "Not in so many words, though."
Rachel couldn't help but grin back. "I am a diva," she said, "and as such, I often feel things very intensely and with a level of conscientiousness unparalleled by others."
"Do you get off on using that many words or what?" Santana asked.
Rachel scoffed and felt Santana nudge her. She glanced over to see the other girl smirking at her. It felt kind of nice, she decided, to be teased by Santana with friendship instead of malice. Rachel wondered what her therapist might say if she told her that she was friends with a dead girl (more than friends, perhaps.)
"Santana, why did you kiss me?" she blurted out suddenly.
Santana sputtered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing a couple of times. "What do you mean, why did I kiss you?" she muttered. "I told you last night: I like you or whatever."
"As a friend?" Rachel prompted. There was something in her stomach again, jealousy and a tightness that longed for answers.
Santana shrugged, the smile slipping from her face. "Well, yeah, I guess."
"You guess? I don't generally go around kissing people that I would consider to be mere friends."
Santana slid her hands into the pockets of the jacket she wore. "I dunno," she started, frowning when Rachel shot her a look in disbelief. She sighed. "Sometimes, I think it would be cool to kiss you. Or like, there are times when you look really hot and I think it be kind of awesome if we made out. Or maybe we could go to Breadstix and then make out, because those are like, two of my favorite things to do."
Rachel paused, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbing Santana's upper arm to halt her progress. "You - you want to go to Breadstix with me? On a date?"
Santana shrugged, her eyes shifting across the trees and the yards around them. "If it gets me closer to making out with you."
Rachel huffed again, crossing her arms over her chest.
Santana looked at her finally, meeting her eyes. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. "Look, Finn sucks, okay? He's super tall and kind of dumb. Puck's still hung up on his baby mama and their lizard child. St. James is M.I.A."
"Be that as it may, I -"
Santana held up her hand. "I can get you bling," she interrupted. "My dad's a doctor and he makes good money. I can get you bling and we can sing awesome duets. I – I figured out how to make vegan cookies," she said quickly. "My sweet lady kisses are the best and I'm a damn good cuddler."
"So you do want to date me?" Rachel said, slightly dumbstruck. "And you want to cuddle?"
"Have you been listening? That's what I said: dinner and second base," Santana said. "Assuming we get out of this shit," she added.
Rachel laughed slightly. She felt herself blushing and was grateful that it was chilly enough that if prompted, she could blame the pinkness across her cheeks on the fact that she was cold. She held out her hand and waited for Santana to take it. "It- it's a date," she said, grinning. "We'll see about the second base part."
Santana smirked. "Yeah, we will."
They resumed their walk, their hands laced together between them. She had been very cold for the last several days and Santana's hand was warm in hers, a fact for which she was incredibly grateful. Rachel let herself lean a little closer to Santana.
"I still remember all our constellations," Santana said after a moment. When Rachel looked at her, she continued, "I remember how we used to look up at the stars and make up our own constellations because we didn't know any."
"We used to sneak out to my backyard and lie in the grass together," Rachel added.
Santana nodded. "You said that you loved the stars because you were gonna be one when you grew up. You said they were beautiful and that you hoped that you could be like that one day."
"And you said that I already was," Rachel said. "You were a very sweet child, Santana."
Santana scowled. "I was a bad-ass," she shot back. "I'm pretty sure that's what got us in this shit, though. I think I'm the one that fucked us up."
"Even though I can't quite remember -"
"Brava," said a voice behind them. Someone clapped slowly. "You're finally starting to realize what you've done. It's taken you much longer than I expected."
"Shit," Santana muttered. They both turned and he was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Language, Miss Lopez," he said.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Santana spat. "You're gonna get on to me for my language? You keep fucking around with us, and for what? What's the fucking point?"
He sighed heavily, brushing his fingers over the lapels of his jacket.
"I'm tired of this shit. Why don't you just fucking tell us what you want instead of jerking us around?" Santana cried.
"Santana," Rachel warned, gripping Santana's hand tightly as she stared at the man. He was the cause of everything wrong in their lives and the last thing they needed was to anger him.
"Where's the fun in that?" he grinned. "You see, we made a deal, and even though you have refused to honor it several times, I've decided that I'm still going to have an enjoyable time. I might as well enjoy myself."
Santana shouted in Spanish, jumping towards him. "You fucking -"
Rachel wrapped her arms around Santana's waist, groaning and pulling as hard as she could. She hadn't been on this side of Santana yelling and trying to fight and she didn't know if she had the strength to hold the other girl back. She wasn't entirely sure that really wanted to, either.
"What kind of deal?" Rachel croaked, gripping Santana's waist until she stopped swinging her arms around and trying to charge at the man across from them. "You said that we made a deal and yesterday you told me that Santana's supposed to be dead. And I've already seen myself, wandering around as a dead little girl. What does that have to do with some kind of deal?"
"Oh, that's right," he sneered. "You don't remember," he spat mockingly. "At least you had the good grace to ask nicely. I'll let you in on a secret: the little girl's just for show. I thought it might be fun for you to see yourself as you're going to be: dead."
Rachel's arms were still wrapped around Santana and her cheek was resting against Santana's back. She blinked and when she looked around them, she saw only grass. The sidewalks and the houses and the nice suburban streets with the nice suburban lawns were gone, replaced with dirt and grass so tall that it almost reached Rachel's shoulders. It was nighttime now instead of the dull grey of early morning. Rachel shivered, colder still than she had been before.
The stars were bright, shining down in a number greater than Rachel had seen in many years. They twinkled above them and if she squinted, she could almost convince herself that they were really right in front of her, that she was swirling through the heavens towards something bigger than either she or Santana would ever be.
Santana started walking, scowling as she pulled Rachel from behind her. They walked instinctually towards the very center of the grass field they were in and after a moment, Rachel could see them – a young her and a young Santana and the very same man who haunted their steps now. She could see them and she could remember.
That feeling of something weighing her down grew even greater.
His hand is large, covering her small one completely until she can't even see her fingers anymore. His palms are sweaty as he leads them further into the clearing they had been lying in. When he lets them go, Rachel wipes her hand on her pants and grabs Santana's hand again, threading their fingers together.
Santana is still in awe of the man as she stares at him. Rachel squeezes her hand until Santana finally looks at her, her eyes shining with happiness. Rachel doesn't understand but she's never seen Santana so content and so she decides to just wait and see what happens. She thinks about her wish again and her stomach bubbles inside her until lightness fills her again.
"Why don't you start by telling me your wish?" the man says. "Tell me what it is that you want the most."
He looks at Santana first and she turns away from Rachel to face him again. She clears her throat and slides until she's closer to Rachel, their knees and shoulders touching. "My wish is that Rachel and I can be together forever. I already wished on the star, though."
He grinned. "That you did," he said, looking at Rachel. "And you, Rachel? Is that also your wish?"
Santana's fingers are warm as they hold hands and Rachel looks over at her best friend. Sometimes, when she looks at Santana, she feels kind of funny inside; her limbs tingle and her stomach dances and her heart beats really fast. And Rachel really likes that funny feeling. She looks at the man again and nods.
"You have to say it," he says gently. His smile widens impossibly.
"I," she stutters for a moment. "I wish Santana and I could be together forever," she says, feeling strange as she does so.
"What if I told you both that I could make this happen? That I could make sure that you both would be together forever?"
Rachel considers him for a moment, her eyes wide. She wants to ask him how he could do such a thing and why, wants him to explain where he came from and what he wants.
Santana speaks first. "How?"
"All you have to do is make a deal with me. If you agree and then hold up your end of the bargain, then you and Rachel can be together forever."
"What kind of deal?" Rachel asks, her brows furrowing.
Santana frowns. "We don't have anything," she says.
"But you do have something. And I want it," he says quickly. He runs his fingers across his thighs for a moment, taking a deep breathe. "You need not concern yourself with what it is right now. But one day, I will come to you and I will take it. If you agree, then I shall grant your wish. It's that simple."
Rachel doesn't like it. She doesn't like this man and she doesn't like what he has to say. Yet she still feels kind of calm looking into his eyes. Her head is worried but her heart is peaceful and she doesn't know what to make of her feelings.
"So what do you say?" he asks. He continues to smile down at them, his eyes soft and inviting.
Rachel says nothing for a second and before she can stop her, Santana reaches out and shakes his hand.
"Deal," she says.
Rachel's felt her heart drop, her suspicions confirmed. They had done this; she and Santana had basically agreed to everything that had happened. She looked over at Santana, her eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise. When she turned back, the clearing was empty and the young versions of them were gone.
The man was there with them again, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders. "So you see, you started this. I merely came for my end of our bargain, which you agreed to. It's not my fault that you wouldn't die," he said simply.
Rachel shrugged off his arm, sliding away from him and pulling Santana with her. Santana was scowling, glaring at him with more anger than Rachel had ever seen (and Rachel had seen Santana angry quite often.) A wind blew and Rachel shivered, taking Santana's hand and seeking the warmth she had come to associate with the other girl.
"You wanted to kill me? That's what our end of the deal was?" Santana spat. "How the hell were you going to keep us together forever if you kept killing me?"
"I lied," he shrugged, beaming at them. "Mostly, I just wanted to kill you," he said, his voice bright and full of mirth. "And then you kept coming back to life and I thought to myself, 'Well, that's perfectly fine because it means that I can just keep killing her.'"
Santana was ready to start throwing punches and cursing in Spanish that Rachel couldn't understand, but Rachel squeezed her hand before she could. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," she said plainly.
He nodded, still grinning. "Yes, it is quite ridiculous," he agreed. "It's so ridiculous that I've grown tired of your games. Whatever connection that lingers between the two of you is actually starting to annoy me and so I've decided that the best way to do this is to just kill both of you," he laughs, his voice rising in pitch and cracking slightly. "Doesn't that sound like a smart idea? I must admit that I was rather proud when the idea struck me."
"That's seriously fucked up," Santana growled.
"And that, my dear, is life," he answered. He clapped his hands. "Now, who wants to go first? Oh, listen to me, talking like there's a choice."
Rachel did the only thing she could think to do: she ran. She held on tightly to Santana's hand and pulled her along until she ran, too. She briefly considered that they had spent an unbearable amount of time trying to run. At least they were consistent.
"Fuck," Santana cried out from behind her. Rachel gripped Santana's hand even tighter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Rachel knew that they didn't have anywhere to go. She was absolutely freezing and overcome by the fact that this man, this horrible terrible man, was actually enjoying himself as he continued to play with them. All they could do, all they had ever been able to do, was run together and hope for the best.
Where had they gone wrong? she wondered.
Santana pushed ahead of her, her height and the athleticism that came from being a cheerleader spurring her on until she passed Rachel. "What are we gonna do?" she panted.
Rachel shook her head, darting into the trees as they finally reached the forest. Their progress was slower now and Rachel could feel herself growing more tired as she tried to run. She hadn't slept properly in days and she could feel the exhaustion creeping into her legs and her stomach.
Rachel could feel her body protesting her every move and she had to stop, ducking behind the nearest tree and pulling Santana with her. She bent over at the waist, her vision swimming as the world around her blurred.
"Rachel, we don't have time to stop," Santana cried, clutching her stomach. "We have to keep going."
"There's something I probably should have mentioned," they heard. The man was yelling and his voice sounded far away. Or maybe that was due to Rachel's inability to focus. She wasn't sure anymore.
"I've decided," he continued, his voice growing steadily louder, "to take Rachel's life and give it to Santana. Rachel will die first and then Santana will be alive again. Then when you're alive again, I'll snap your fucking neck," he snarled.
Santana swore, muttering to herself for a second. She grabbed at Rachel, pulling on her arm. "Shit, come on, Rachel. We can't stop, okay?"
Rachel shook her head again. She remembered seeing herself as a dead little girl, remembered seeing Santana as a dead teenager, remembered watching this man cart away her best friend when she was only ten years old. All they did was run, but he was always there.
Rachel understood what was happening: she was dying. The cold, the exhaustion – they were all a part of it. He was slowly claiming her while he drove them to the brink and forced them to flee.
"Try your hardest, but you can't run away from life. You can't run away from death, either," he called out.
Santana tried to pull her away from the tree, but she leaned against it heavily, grabbing Santana's hips and steadying herself. "I have an idea," she said quickly. She was still breathing heavily and the bark of the tree was rough against her back. Rachel's head pounded and her heart felt full. Rachel was cold; she was always cold.
Santana's body, meanwhile, was warm as she held on to it. She was panting as she peeked out from around the tree they were leaning against. "Does this plan involve more than just running out in the middle of the woods? Because we could really use a better plan right now."
Rachel eyed her for a moment. Santana looked so much better than she had before, her skin having regained much of its natural color and the dark circles around her eyes having retreated almost completely. She was no longer the ashen grey color of death. Rachel was dying and Santana was almost alive.
"Trust me?"
Santana stared at her for a moment before she nodded slowly. "Yeah, I trust you," she said. "I mean, I don't have a choice right? It's just you and me, remember?"
Rachel nodded. She smiled at Santana gently. "Exactly," she replied. "We have a connection, Santana. And we always have, ever since we were children. That's why you've never been able to die. Every time he's killed you, you've come back to me."
Santana nodded, ducking her head and peeking out from behind the tree again. "Yeah, that's one way to put it, I guess."
"You need to let him kill you," Rachel said bluntly.
"What?" Santana hissed, pulling away from Rachel slightly. "Are you smoking crack? The whole point is to not die."
"No, listen," Rachel said quickly. Her legs started to tingle uncomfortably and her entire body felt like it was being pulled down. "He can't kill you if you're already dead. He said he won't kill you until you're alive again," she continued. "He could have gotten you before tonight; he could have come to the cemetery and killed you any time."
"He just wanted to fuck with us," Santana said just as quickly.
Rachel grabbed Santana's hands, sliding her fingers across her knuckles and gripping her wrists. "I'm dying, Santana," she murmured. "I'm standing here now and I'm dying. You said you trusted me."
"I do, but –"
"Santana, you can't kill something that's not even alive. Life doesn't work that way," Rachel said firmly.
"How do you know? What if I just die permanently?" Santana asked quietly. She exhaled, her chest rising and falling heavily.
"Then we were doomed from the start regardless," Rachel replied. Her body shuddered for a moment and she slid down the tree slightly. "I'm going to lie here and play dead. It will be good practice for my acting career," she replied, trying to stop the feeling of dread resting inside her heart.
"Then what happens?"
Rachel's knees buckled and she fell to the ground, crying out. Santana's hands wrapped around her waist as she kneeled down with Rachel. The leaves beneath them were wet and they soaked through Rachel's pants, making her knees go numb from the cold. She blinked for a moment, struggling to open her eyes again.
"When he decides that I'm dead, you can come out of the trees. Let him kill you," Rachel said, her voice shaking. "Let him kill you and I'll bring you back again. That's what I do; I bring you back."
"You really think this will work?"
Rachel nodded.
"I trust you," Santana said.
Stars flared up in Rachel's eyes, shining down through the trees and floating in front of her. They caught in Santana's eyes and in the trees and Rachel was sure that if she reached out, she would be able to touch them. She closed her eyes and tried to stop her head from swimming
Fingers brushed across her cheeks, ghosting over her cheekbones and into her hair. They were hot and comforting against her skin.
Santana kissed her then, pressed their lips together like she always had. Her lips were warm against Rachel's, soft and full and better than they had ever been. Rachel's fingers slid across Santana's hips and she dug them into her sides for a moment.
Rachel heard leaves crunching nearby and she pulled away. "There's not much time. You have to go," she whispered.
Santana nodded, surging forward for a moment to kiss Rachel again, letting her lips linger and her palms hold on to Rachel's cheeks. "I trust you," she repeated. "You still owe me dinner and second base."
Rachel nodded. Her eyes were sill closed and she leaned back again, dropping her hands into her lap. She heard footsteps now, creeping close to her. She held her breathe, letting her body go slack. Playing dead is easy when one is already dying, she thought to herself. She felt the cold slide out of her limbs and creep into her lungs and through her insides. Rachel felt it tug at her heart and up through her neck towards her brain.
She heard sounds, heard leaves and rocks being kicked. But they were far away (or perhaps they were close.) There were voices, someone was speaking. The last thing she heard as she finally let go was yelling, familiar screams echoing in her ears and begging for her to make it stop.
And then Rachel was nowhere. She was nowhere and she was everywhere all at once.