Rachel Berry glanced nervously out the small plane window, her fingers drumming against the armrest. The blue expanse of the Pacific Ocean stretched endlessly below, broken only by the occasional wisp of cloud. She hated flying—especially in such a tiny, rickety plane. But the opportunity was too good to pass up. A chance to compete in the Singers' Elite Showcase in Honolulu meant the world to her. Fame, fortune, and her name in lights were within reach.
"Relax, Berry," came a voice from the other side of the aisle. "You'll give yourself a heart attack before we even land."
Rachel turned to the tall, broad-shouldered boy slouched in the seat across from her. Finn Hudson, the boy who'd somehow won the same regional qualifier she had, was grinning at her with an infuriating mix of charm and nonchalance. She had no idea how he of all people had made it this far. Sure, his voice was good—great even—but he lacked the discipline, the finesse, the drive she prided herself on.
"I'm perfectly calm, Hudson," Rachel snapped, adjusting her seatbelt. "Not all of us can rely on blind luck to get by."
"Blind luck?" Finn let out a laugh. "Maybe it's 'cause I've got talent."
Rachel rolled her eyes, her frustration mounting. She hated how easygoing he was, as if the stakes didn't matter. She opened her mouth to retort, but the plane suddenly jolted, throwing her forward in her seat.
The seatbelt cut into her chest as the plane dipped sharply. Rachel grabbed the armrest with both hands, her heart racing.
"What was that?" she asked, her voice shaky.
The pilot, a middle-aged man with a weathered face, turned to address them. "Just some turbulence. Sit tight, we'll be fine."
But as the plane rattled again, harder this time, Rachel's stomach dropped. She glanced at Finn, whose carefree demeanor had disappeared. His brow furrowed, and he sat up straighter, gripping the edges of his seat.
The plane's engine sputtered, a loud, metallic groan filling the cabin.
"That doesn't sound fine," Finn muttered.
Before Rachel could respond, the pilot's voice came over the intercom, tense and clipped. "We're experiencing an engine failure. Brace yourselves—we're going down."
The words hit Rachel like a punch to the gut. Time seemed to slow as the plane pitched violently, the horizon tilting outside the window. Rachel's mind raced—this wasn't how things were supposed to go. She was meant to conquer the stage, not crash into the middle of nowhere.
Finn's voice broke through her panic. "Rachel, look at me!"
She turned, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. His brown eyes were steady, filled with a determination she hadn't seen before.
"We're gonna be okay," he said firmly, though his grip on the seat betrayed his own fear. "Just hold on."
The plane hit the water with a deafening crash, and everything went black.
When Rachel woke, she was lying face down on a sandy shore. Her head throbbed, and her throat burned with saltwater. She coughed, spitting out gritty seawater, and rolled onto her back. The sun was blinding, the heat oppressive.
"Hudson?" she croaked, sitting up and scanning the beach. The wreckage of the plane was scattered along the shore, pieces of metal and luggage half-buried in the sand. But there was no sign of Finn—or the pilot.
"Finn!" she screamed, panic bubbling in her chest.
A groan came from a few feet away. Rachel turned to see Finn lying on his side, his shirt torn and his hair matted with seawater. He pushed himself up slowly, wincing as he moved.
"Guess we made it," he said, coughing. His voice was hoarse, but his eyes were alert as they scanned the shoreline.
Rachel stumbled to her feet and staggered toward him. "What happened? Where's the pilot? How are we—?"
"I don't know," Finn interrupted, shaking his head. "I just woke up, too. I think we're… stranded."
The word hit her like a slap. Stranded. No rescue teams. No competition. No escape.
Rachel's hands trembled as she stared out at the vast, empty ocean. "We have to do something," she said, her voice rising. "We need to find a phone, or a radio, or—"
"Rachel," Finn said, standing up and placing a hand on her shoulder. His touch was surprisingly steady, grounding. "Take a breath. Freaking out's not gonna help."
Her breath hitched, but she nodded. He was right, as much as she hated to admit it. They were alive—for now. And if they wanted to stay that way, they'd have to work together.
For the first time in her life, Rachel Berry wasn't the star of the show. Survival was the only thing that mattered now.