A.N. Only the epilogue left after this.
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Breathing
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Everything I Should Have Said
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Opening her door with a sigh, Rachel staggered on in and shut it with a thump before leaning against it. She was exhausted, absolutely knackered, and how she had managed to make it home in one piece was beyond her. She was all but ready to go for a nap on the subway home.
Looking round the apartment, she spotted Kurt on the couch, his back to her, head in his hands, the TV on, but a blue screen showing. Thinking he'd just watched one of his rehearsals back and needed a bit of moral support, Rachel scraped the bottom of the barrel for the last remints of her energy and bounced over.
"I'm sure whatever it is, it's not that bad. I've probably done worse. Hit the wrong note? Done. Missed a dance step? Easy. Punched a backup dancer? Oh yeah. Fallen off stage? Mastered. So, let's go back to the beginning and we can critique how you should improve," she said, throwing her coat onto the seat opposite before falling down to sit next to him.
Kurt took a shaky breath and turned to her, and suddenly the thought of missing a few steps and singing out of key seemed inconsequential. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.
"What is it?" she asked concerned, seeing the red and puffy eyes of her best friend, and her heart picking up pace in fear.
"There's…there's something you need to watch. I haven't seen it yet but…you need to watch," Kurt garbled, fresh tears forming in his eyes, sniffling on his breath, and reaching out a hand in support.
"Why? Kurt, what's going on?" She took his hand, and gave it a squeeze, which he returned.
"Rach, you just need to watch this, okay?"
"You're scaring me."
"Promise me you'll watch this, and then I'll explain." He pointed to the blue screen, still casting a hue over them, and she nodded, eager yet terrified to know what was happening.
The lead weight in her stomach told her more than she needed to know. Whatever she was about to watch, whatever she was about to see, was going to be burned into her brain, forged into her heart, and she didn't want to hit the play button in fear.
Kurt was emotional, yes, but never had he looked so broken, so distraught over something. Not even when Blaine and him and broken up had he looked like this, and it was with a shaking hand that Rachel reached out to pick up the DVD handset.
Her finger hung over the play button for a few seconds, her mind trying desperately to steel itself up for whatever she was about to bear witness to. Nothing could prepare her. Nothing could have prepped her for what she saw when the blue screen changed, and it was with a harsh breath, that she saw a face she hadn't seen in three years looking back at her.
The screen filled with the sight of Santana, leaning back in a hospital bed, IV hooked up, tubes in her hands and arms, an oxygen line across her face, and her hair tussled over the pillow she was lying upon. This was not the Santana she knew, this was not the girl she had spent summer nights lying in bed with, nor was it the one who kissed her troubles away. This looked to be shell of the one she knew.
And then Santana smiled on screen.
That, that was the girl she kissed behind locked doors, cuddled in the dead of night, and confessed her deepest and darkest secrets to. That was the girl she fell in love with, the girl she gave her heart to so passionately.
But things weren't making sense. Why was Santana in a hospital bed? Why was Rachel even watching this? And why, why, was Kurt so broken at the sight of her?
A foreboding feeling crept up Rachel's spine, seeping into every nerve ending, spreading outwards until it nipped her fingertips and her toes, and it was with a shake of her head that she finally stopped breathing to see what was going to happen next.
"Hi," Santana whispered simply, her eyes alight with life, and her lazy smile reigniting the fire in Rachel's heart.
"Think of this, this video, as everything I should have said, everything I wished I had said but was either too scared to, or ran out of time to say." Taking a moment of pause, Santana's eyes on the blanket covering her, Rachel's heart began racing in her chest. It was all so ominous, so terrifying, to think there had to be a reason why she was watching this. Why was she watching this?
"I never wanted it to be this way, and I'm making this just in case things don't go my way," Santana joked, looking at the equipment she was hooked up to with displeasure. "I…I'm not very well, as you can see, but I needed to say this, to do this, because I couldn't handle the thought of not telling you."
Santana shifted in the bed, looking pained, and took a haggard breath, before her gaze fell back onto the screen. Those eyes, the ones that had captivated Rachel before their first kiss, the ones she looked into so desperately as Santana worshiped every inch of her, the ones she lost herself in on her worst days, and the ones she sold her heart away to, they practically pierced the screen, dragging Rachel in, making it like she was there, sitting at the end of that goddamn hospital bed, hearing the words actually fall from those lips.
"I never told you, and I should have. That day, you know what day I mean, that summer, you were right. You were spot on. I was a coward. I was terrified of it meaning anything because you were leaving and so was I, and if I allowed myself to feel even an inch of what I did for you, I'd fall to pieces when you left." Santana closed her eyes for a second and shrugged one shoulder, getting ready to continue.
"That's not an excuse, though. I should have told you. I wish I had told you. You must have known, despite my lies, you had to have seen through my bullshit and known. Please, tell me you knew. Please tell me that you knew. You said that you knew, you said that you did, but I really need you to have known, despite everything I said. Please tell me you knew," Santana begged, her face crippling with anguish for a few seconds.
"I never said it, and I wish I had. That day, I loved you. I was so in love with you, and I still am. There was no one else afterwards. Just you." She stopped again, taking a shaky breath, her eyes looking away for a moment before turning back to the screen, but this time when she spoke her voice was softer, reminiscent of the nights they spent under the covers of Rachel's bed, murmuring into the crook of her neck and kissing the skin as she spoke.
"I love you, and I'm sorry that we never had anything other than that summer, but that summer was the best of my life, and I'll never forget it. I relive it, every day. Your smile, your eyes, your lips, your love for me, it makes it all better, and I'm sorry I could never give you that in return. I wish I had, I wish I had said it, I wish I could hear you say it back, and I'm sorry for being crippled by fear. I wished I had tried. I really do. I'm so sorry I didn't try, because we…I just…I wish I had tried, I wish I had told you."
Santana wiped at the corner of her eye for a moment, pausing briefly and then chuckled dryly, as if what she was laughing at wasn't all that funny in the first place.
"I'm really hoping we never have to use this, because I want to say it to your face, I want to look at you when I tell you I'm in love with you, and I want to get that second chance. I don't know what you're up to and I'm sorry if this isn't what you want to hear. I'm really sorry, I just wanted you to know. If…when, Santana," she scolded herself, rolling her eyes. "When this round of meds works, I'll throw this in a drawer and fly myself out to New York and tell you in person."
"If…I guess, if the meds don't work," she began, disdainfully. "If it doesn't work, I want you to know I love you, Rachel, and I always will." She tried to smile, but her face was growing tired as each second passed. "Life will go on…without me, but I…I'd like to think I'll still live, after this, in whatever comes next, in my dreams, in my heaven…my life will go on with you and that summer and the life we should have had." At this, a sad smile graced her lips, and Santana closed her eyes for a moment.
"Look after yourself, and don't ever give up or let fear dictate your life. Though, you never did need to be reminded of that fact, which was one of the reasons I loved you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she repeated, the pain and regret evident in her eyes. "So, for the last time, I love you, and no matter what happens, I'll always love you." Biting her bottom lip, Santana raised one hand to wipe her eyes, and the other pushed her hair out the way. It was with a teary smile that she whispered goodbye, and then it was over.
The screen went blue, the video stopping, and Rachel sat motionless for a second, letting everything sink in, letting those words, her look, the memories, wash over her skin and seep on in. Beside her, Kurt was crying, letting go of her hand and picking up a piece of paper on the coffee table before them.
She accepted it with a shaky hand, her chest heaving as she tried to control her breathing, and wiped her eyes as best she could so she could read it. The handwritten letter was the last piece of the jigsaw, the straw that broke the camel's back, and it brought everything crashing down around her.
Dear Kurt and Rachel,
I'm sorry that you have to find out this way, but Santana passed away on October 16th after a complication from pneumonia, which led to sepsis, and then organ failure. It doesn't make any sense, I know, because she was healthy, but within a month, her body couldn't fight anymore and began to give up.
The disc enclosed is for you, Rachel. Santana wanted you to watch it, needs you to watch it. She had hoped to do it in person, but things took a turn for the worse, and then she was out of time. So please, watch it, because she was desperate to leave you one last message. It was filmed just in case she didn't respond to the new round of antibiotics, and we had hoped to never need it.
If either of you need to talk, please feel free to contact me at the numbers listed below, and again, I'm so sorry to have to tell you. We've all lost a friend, and right now, we should all stick together.
Love, Quinn
Screeching at the words on the page, Rachel dissolved into a mess, tears streaming, fighting for breath, clenching her fists on the couch and grasping at everything to keep her from drowning. Kurt did his best, grabbing her shaking body and hugging her tightly, hoping to calm her down enough to stop hyperventilating, but with his own tears adding to the mix, it was no easy feat.
Rachel was in a tailspin, her heart physically hurting, her head pounding, hyperventilating for breath, struggling to even comprehend everything that had just hit her. She'd lost more than a friend. She'd lost more than a fellow Glee club member. She'd lost more than anyone would ever know.
It may have been three years since Santana and her last saw each other, since they last went their separate ways, but they were not meant to end like this. This was not how it was meant to be. They were meant to graduate, meet up in the future, and they were meant to try again.
They were so good, so perfect for each other, but their timing was wrong. It had not been the end. It was not meant to be the end. So why, why, why had she died? Why had she been taken from her? How was Rachel ever meant to say those words back? How was she ever to kiss the girl one last time? How was she meant to move on from losing the girl she was still in love with?
It wasn't possible. Santana couldn't, she just couldn't be dead. It was wrong. Everything was wrong. Quinn was wrong. She had to be safe. She had to be well. She had to be alive because Rachel needed her. Rachel needed her to hear the three words she longed to say, and Rachel needed her to say them back. Rachel needed her like she needed the air in her lungs, and without Santana, she was suffocating.
At least before this bomb was dropped, she was under the impression Santana was still in Louisville, kicking ass and taking names, on her way to graduating next year, so why, why, why had it gone all so wrong?
Looking back at the bleary blue screen, Rachel feel off the deep end again, unable to control the sobs wracking her body, nor wishing to. She had longed to hear those words fall from Santana's lips for so long, she had prayed to hear them, wished to hear them, and begged to hear them night after night. This, this was not the way she ever thought those words would be engrained into her memory. This was not how it was meant to end.
How could she ever say them back?
Why did they not get a second chance?
Where was their happy ending?
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