When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun
Title: When the Moon Fell in Love with the Sun
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Glee. But if I did, I would let people on my list write it.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: She opens the door, and standing outside is a girl.A/N: "You have to wear a t-shirt with one word on it for the rest of your life. Which word do you choose?"
When you’re born, you’re born into the world naked. Naked except for a shirt.
No one knows how. Even the tiniest baby, all icky from passing through the wonders of the human body, has a shirt on. It grows with you, and it never tears, or anything. Millions have tried taking it off, but to no avail. It’s stuck to you. It’s a part of you, actually, and it makes you you.
Every shirt is unique. All of them were of different styles, of different colors, each with different fonts, and with different words displayed on front. Most shirts were of a few words, but there were some shirts with paragraphs on them. The words were never the same color as the shirt, and always, in some way, depicted a portion of the person’s life.
And yet, even with all this knowledge, no one knows how.
Some people though, they think they know why.
Every shirt, each one, is unique. But sometimes, there are pairs of shirts which are exactly the same color, and exactly the same font. The only difference are the words. These cases are extremely rare, but they do happen. And yet, even with this rarity, some have been taken note of and written down. Because of this, people were able to find patterns, at least concerning those with paired shirts.
For example, of all recorded cases, those who find their other pair end up in each other’s lives for the rest of their times alive. Their words, when placed side by side, give a clue as to what their relationship will be like. A famous example is that of Hector and Akhilleus. Both were born in shirts of the most brilliant gold, engraved with words of the font Felix Titling. On Hector’s shirt were the words “And in my death”. On Akhilleus’s were “is my destruction”. The two were on opposing sides of the Trojan War, both the bravest warriors of their kingdom. They were made to battle, one-on-one, and in the end, Akhilleus slayed Hector. Soon after, Akhilleus himself died, from Hector’s men, who were fuelled by grief at the death of the bravest of their heroes.
They met just shortly before they died, but they had the greatest effects on each other.
As a sage once said, “Nothing is more intimate than murder. It is even more intimate than birth, for when you kill someone, you are completing their life.”
It is interesting to note that aside from this, people have figure out more patterns between pairings.
For example, when one dies, the other soon follows.
Brittany peeks out the window. The streets are deserted, the non-Aryans have fled. Hitler has terrified each and every one to scurry away.
There is nothing for her to do now. All the chores have been done, all her relatives are tuckered out, all her friends have ran away. The only thing left to do is think.
She will not think about Hitler. She will not think about all the crimes he has committed, all the people he has killed.
Instead, she will think about her shirt.
She looks down, black font on striking silver. The words go like this:
the sun rules light,
both beautiful,
yet without the other,
She knows in her very soul that this shirt has another pair. But she has seen all the Aryans, and none have a shirt even similar to hers. She wonders if one of those that fled wore the partner.
A knock on the door is heard, and Brittany cannot fathom who is on the other side. Her only friends are terrified of traveling outside their household nowadays.
She opens the door, and standing outside is a girl.
She was as non-Aryan as one could be; her hair was black instead of gold, her skin caramel instead of ivory. She should have run away ages ago.
As Brittany looks closer, she realizes why she didn’t.
The girl was dangerously thin, and she was shaking badly, obviously afflicted with fever. She looked as if she could barely stand on her feet, and her shirt was streaked with mud, as if she lived in the wild for a period of time.
The girl, with great strain, lifts her head to look at Brittany. Dark eyes lock unto the lightest of blue, and a moment later, Brittany hears the tiniest of voices whisper for help. In moments, the girl faints, and falls into Brittany’s arms.
She brings her in, and closes the door. Those who disobeyed the orders of Hitler, those who helped the non-Aryans, they were punished. Severely. But she cannot let this girl die.
She carries her, like her father carries the logs he chops for firewood, and she is both surprised and terrified at how light she feels, even lighter than her sister Ashley. A girl like this will not survive the night without care.
She goes upstairs and brings her to the room and lays her, ever so gently, on top of her bed. She closes her curtains, so that no one will see her. Brittany hurries to her parents’ room. She moves to knock, but stops herself.
How will she know that her parents will not turn her over?
Her parents, she knows, are horrified of Hitler’s teachings, but if they disobey, their whole family will face consequences. She knows her parents love her and Ashley too much.
Still, if she does not bring help, the girl will surely die.
Brittany knocks on the door. Soon, it opens, and she faces her kindly-faced father, who still looks as if half-asleep.
“Father, I have let a girl in our house. If she is not given care soon, she will die.”
Her father becomes more alert.
“Where is she?”
“In my bedroom, father.”
They walk towards her room, and as soon as her father sees the girl, he rushes towards her. He brushes hair from her face and lays a hand on her forehead to check her temperature.
Brittany cannot help but notice her beauty, even with such a malnourished frame.
“Daughter, go, wake your mother.”
“Will we help her, father?”
She watches her father’s eyes darken. Her gaze falls to his Gainsboro grey shirt. the lesser evil
“We shall see. Go, your mother.”
She goes back to her parents’ room, and walks through the open door, and all but runs towards her mother. Gently, she shakes her.
“Mother, father is in need of you.”
She hears a groan as her mother regains consciousness.
“What is it, Brittany?”
“I have brought a girl to my bed, mother.”
“Is she sick?”
“She looks as if at Death’s Door.”
Her mother rises to her feet and hurries off to Brittany’s room, Brittany close at her heels.
They enter the room to see her father pacing worriedly. Her mother turns to her.
“Daughter, we-lie with your sister. We will tell you what needs to be done when you wake.”
Brittany nods, and travels once again to her parents’ room, where Ashley is lying. Slowly, she settles next to her, but it is not enough, as she stirs.
Sleepily, Brittany’s sister asks, “Brittbritt?”
“Go to sleep, Ashley. Our parents are talking.”
“Hmmmmm…”
Ashley falls to sleep, and, eventually, Brittany does as well.
Brittany wakes up to sunlight passing through the window panes of her parents’ room. As of the moment, she has no memory of why she is there. Her stomach rumbles, and she decides that the time is right for breakfast. She walks down the steps, and makes way for the dining room.
She sees her sister and mother waiting by the table, her sister more reserved than usual, her mother looking more fatigued than ever.
Brittany then remembers the events that happened the day before.
“Mother, is the girl…?”
Her mother smiles, but it is as cold as their unlit fireplace.
“She has lived through the night. But she has to gain strength. Otherwise, we are not sure if she can live through another.”
Brittany bites her lip.
“Will we hide her?”
Her mother’s eyes darken in the same way that of her father’s did. Brittany notices the words on the Hunter green of her shirt. Heavy is the heart that carries on.
“Our priority is to nurse her back to health. We will decide afterwards. Go, Brittany; eat your breakfast. Afterwards, I will show you how to take care of the girl. I am in need of rest.”
“Yes, mother.”
Brittany finishes in record time. Her mother rises, and walks upstairs, Brittany and Ashley following. Brittany enters the room, to see that a chair has been moved to stand near to where the girl’s head was lying. On top of it was a basin of water, a rag hanging at its rim. On the bedside table is a bowl of oatmeal.
Brittany’s mother turns to her and Ashley.
“The two of you, spend your whole day here. You may bring your books and playthings inside, but never leave the girl alone. Brittany, make sure to check her temperature from time to time, and when much hotter than usual, wet her forehead with the rag. If she wakes, Ashley, wake me. Brittany, if she has the strength, feed her the oatmeal.”
Their mother yawns as she leaves the room. Ashley quickly leaves the room, presumably to gather her dolls. Quietly, Brittany removes the basin and lays it on the floor. Once done, she moves to sit on the chair.
She stares at the girl.
She looks so tiny, so fragile, on her bed. A closer look reveals abrasions all over her skin, and it seems as if she her lips are swollen. Every now and again, she stirs and moans. Even in her sleep, she is at unease.
“Do you think she ran away?”
Her sister creeps up on her, like a cat that does the same with a mouse.
“All those who are different from us are on the run.”
“Different isn’t bad.”
She looks to Ashley, who is staring at the girl lying in her bed. The Alice blue of her shirt creates the need for her words to have an outline. Hers is a longer one. Therefore give to Your servant an understanding heart to judge Your people, that I may discern between good and evil.
“I know, Ashley.”
She looks at the girl, who is beautiful despite all the hardships that show on her.
“I know.”
The girl stirs yet again, but this time, her eyes flutter open. Hurriedly, Brittany whispers to Ashley to wake mother, while she herself gets off the chair and on her knees. She lies low, waiting for the girl to fully awaken.
Her eyes open wider, and she sluggishly tries to get up, but her spindly arms have trouble bearing even her measly weight. The girl closes her eyes, and starts coughing.
“Brittany, get up.”
Brittany turns to the door, and, sure enough, her mother is there. She glides towards the girl while Brittany edges away. She checks her temperature and immediately reaches for the rag.
The girl stops coughing, and, gently, Brittany’s mother places the rag on her head. Brittany hears a weak voice where the girl’s head was lying.
“Who-who are you?”
With a soothing sound that only a mother’s love could make, she answers.
“Fraulein, we are here to take care of you. Are you hungry?”
“You-you will not kill me?”
Brittany feels a tug at her heart. Why should anyone be in so much fear as to ask that question?
Her mother’s voice trembles as she answers.
“N-no Fraulein. You are safe here.”
Brittany looks at the girl, and she sees her eyes twinkle with unshed tears.
“Tha-thank you, Frau…?”
“Pierce. You are?”
“Santana Lopez, Frau Pierce.”
Santana Lopez. The name is definitely non-Aryan.
“Can you eat, Fraulein Lopez?”
“I-I do not think I can hold the utensils.”
“Do not worry. Brittany, please feed Fraulein Lopez. Your hands are steadier than mine, and, I have to go about and cleanse the house.”
“As you wish, mother.”
Brittany stands up and retrieves the bowl from the top of the drawer as her mother exits the room. It is warm to the touch, but not so warm as to scald the tongue. She sits on the bed, and feeds Fraulein Lopez. Through much effort, she manages to get it in her mouth.
This was much too tiresome for a girl in her condition.
“Fraulein,” Brittany asks. “Is it a bother if I ask you to lean on me?”
“Ca-can you help me?”
Brittany nods and passes the bowl over to her sister. Carefully, she places her hand underneath her skull and the other by her spine. Brittany moves in closer, such that when she lets go, Fraulein Lopez is leaning on her shoulder.
It is much easier for her to feed her this way. She concentrates on this fact rather than the warmth that is spreaing out from the point of contact.
Soon, the bowl empties, and Brittany moves for her to lie on the bed once more.
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Fraulein.”
“Santana.”
Brittany smiles.
“I am Brittany.”
“Brittany,” Santana says sleepily. In a few seconds, she loses consciousness once more.
Three days have passed, and all the time Santana slips in and out of consciousness.
Now, she is asleep, but she is not at peace.
Brittany watches as she tosses and turns. Her fever has wavered; nightmares must be the cause of her fitful sleep. A tearful sob coming from the girl’s mouth only furthers her suspicion.
Brittany wishes she could ease her burden.
“No-no Papa. No.”
Santana is awake; sobs wreck her tiny frame as the echoes of terrible memories wash upon her consciousness.
Brittany remembers all the times she had to comfort Ashley after a night of bad dreams. During times such as those, she would crawl into bed and lie next to her, stroking her hair gently just so that she would know she wasn’t alone.
Brittany does not know what else to do, so she does what she has done before. She climbs into bed and wraps her arms around the girl. She continues crying, but it lessens in intensity, and as Brittany holds her, she eventually quiets down to a whisper.
Brittany hears a sniff as the girl burrows into her neck. She feels the wetness of her eyes leave a damp mark on her skin.
“The-they-he told me to run away. Papa.”
Her voice is small and raspy, almost incomprehensible.
“I was stu-stubborn. But he was able to make me le-leave just before they burned do-down our house.”
A sob breaks out from her lips.
“He ran out, and they…they…”
They killed him.
Brittany cannot fathom this girl’s sorrow. It is impossible for her to imagine losing her father. She holds Santana tighter, and once again attempts to use the things she did on her sister on her.
“Last night,” she begins softly, “I dreamt of riding a bicycle through a path in the forest. It was calm and quiet, as if I was the only thing alive. I reached the end of the path and descended, for I saw a pond further into the woods. I suddenly heard quacking, and I ran towards the water. I saw multitudes of yellow duck trying to lift an overweight cat from the water. But it was no use, he did look very heavy, so the ducks called on me for my help. They told their children to pull me to the water, and in a few seconds ducklings were pulling at my clothing. I waded through the pond, to the middle where they were, and I lifted the humongous cat. Once they were up in the air, they flew away, while I was laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.”
She hears a weak chuckle.
“Ca-can you tell me more?”
“There is nothing I would like to do better.”
Brittany continues to weave more stories, and eventually Santana falls to sleep by her side, a smile shining on her face.
Brittany watches as the week passes by, she and Ashley looking after Santana during the day, her mother tending to the girl at night.
At the end of seven days, Santana can stay awake for longer, and she can sit by herself.
It’s after seven days when Santana asks Brittany of something.
“Ca-can I ask for a bath? My odor is atrocious.”
Brittany feels blush underneath the surface of her skin. She nods, and places her arms underneath Santana to carry her. She is still uncomfortably light, seeing as her diet consisted of nothing but oatmeal. She has not gained enough strength to chew tougher food.
She carries Santana to the bathroom, but it dawns on her that Santana cannot shower alone. Blush increases, and she wonders if she should refuse…but no. She really does need a bath, Brittany reasons.
The two girls get into the tub, and Brittany lets Santana down on her feet. Her legs buckle beneath her, and if Brittany were not holding her, she might have fallen hard. Brittany wraps an arm around Santana, just underneath her armpits, and Brittany feels skinny arms wrap around her neck. The heat traveling to her face increases, but she still does not get out. She opens the shower and lets the water fall on them.
A minute passes when Brittany starts to feel Santana squirm. She feels a hand release itself from her shoulders, and Brittany realizes that she is trying to cleanse herself of the mud caked on her shirt. Determined by how fast Santana was currently doing, it’s take them forever to finish it.
Brittany swallows the lump in her throat.
“Do you need help?”
“I-I-no, it’s okay, you’ve done eno-”
Santana’s arm drops limply by her side from prolonged usage. In the smallest voice, Santana asks, “Could you?”
“Just tell me if it hurts.”
Brittany remembers well that the dirt is concentrated near her shirt. She brings her hand to Santana’s stomach and cleaves away the mud. Once the bulk is removed, she rubs her hands against it to remove stubborn stains. She feels her squirm.
“Should I stop?”
“O-only i-if you are do-done.”
Brittany continues for several seconds, and then stops. Her hand then follow the ridge of prominent ribs to remove the rest of the dirt, and, like last time, Brittany rubs it off.
“Th-thank you.”
Brittany grabs a towel for Santana and wraps it around her. Using one hand to support her, Brittany uses the other to grab another towel and dry herself. Once done, she unwraps Santana and carries her back to bed.
Brittany lays her down gently, and Santana falls back to sleep.
Brittany notices that without the mud, she can see her shirt. It’s black, and the words are of a silver similar to the color of her shirt.
…could it be?
No. The words on her shirt are of a different language. And now that Brittany recalls, pairings have the same colors, not opposite ones.
They are lying in bed, Brittany having just finished telling Santana of Frau Holda and her pool, through which newborn babies pass.
It reminds her of the Germany of old, filled with challenge and adventure, myth and magic: the Germany she loves.
She tells Santana this, and that sometimes she relives folklore to forget about what Germany has become.
“Brittany?”
“Yes, Santana?”
“I would like to-may I tell you about my own homeland?”
“You were not born here? I mean obviously you are not of Aryan descent, but-I shall be silent now.”
She sees Santana sluggishly smile.
“So, do I start?”
“I would love it if you do.”
Brittany watches as Santana closes her eyes and recalls childhood memories.
“Spain was a beautiful country. My mama and papa, we would travel everywhere. We travelled through great cities, stayed near the sea shore, in the forest, on mountain tops…it was beautiful.”
Brittany hears a sigh; in it she feels nostalgia and longing, but mixed in is a hint of content and happiness.
“I was saved by a dolphin once.”
“I always longed to see one.”
Santana smiles.
“I wish I could bring you there.”
Santana continues telling her story after story of her childhood, which were on par with those that Brittany creates.
It plants a wish in her heart.
She wishes that someday she and Santana would travel to Spain.
Together.
Days pass, and Santana grows stronger
Brittany’s relationship with her grows as well.
Santana can be awake for hours at a time, and during these, they exchange words. Stories of childhood, tales of adventure, fables and fantasies, or even just asking and answering each other’s-they begin to feel as if they knew each other their whole lives.
Weeks pass, and Santana can walk, even run, on her own.
But now that she’s back in good health, Brittany fears for every day that approaches. It might be the next where her father tells her that Fraulein Lopez has to leave.
They are sitting on the couch, Ashley’s torso on Brittany’s lap, her head on Santana’s, when her father barges in. He drops the suitcase by the hall and immediately sits on the nearest table and places his head in his hands.
Brittany’s mother hears the commotion and looks out the kitchen towards her husband.
“What is the problem, Frederick?”
His next words cause Brittany’s heart to stop.
“They have started checking across town. She has to leave. Now.”
Ashley rolls out as Brittany stands up.
“There has to be another way!”
She feels tears stinging her eyes as hopelessness takes a hold of her heart. She will never forget how broken she looked when they first met.
“We could hide her up the fireplace! We could dig a hole under the table! We could transfer her from house to house! The Fabrays, they are our friends! So are the Evans! Maybe we could-”
“No.”
Brittany turns to Santana. She is standing up, her eyes closed, her hands clenched at the side of her hips.
“I cannot endanger you any further. I will go.”
No.
“Don’t you remember what happened to you the last time you were out there?”
“They will punish you if they find me here.”
“I-”
She would do anything for her.
But she is not her family; she cannot speak for them. She can only speak for herself.
There is only one thing she can do.
“Let me run away with you.”
The scraping of wood against wood tells her that her father is now standing up. A rare moment happens, where his kind and gentle voice turns into one angry and affronted.
“I will not let you put yourself into danger!”
She turns to him.
“What about her?!”
“She is safer on the run! You are safer staying!”
“I won’t let her go alone.”
“What about your mother and I Brittany? What about Ashley?”
She can’t choose. She can’t.
“Father, let her go. She needs to.”
Ashley’s childlike voice echoes through the silence.
Her father looks angry and heartbroken, but her sister…there are tears in her eyes, but it seems like she understands something, which no one else in the room does.
“I-I can’t take you with me. If they find you with me…I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Brittany’s eyes travel back to Santana, Santana who she nursed back from the dead, who she fed and bathed, she who she told her hopes and dreams, who told her her own, she who became someone dear to her heart. Her best friend.
“I will go to the ends of the earth for you.”
“So be it. Let her go Frederick.”
Her mother, who has been silent throughout everything, speaks up. She looks sure of what she said, even though at the same time it looks as if the whole world was pressing upon her.
Brittany’s father falls onto his chair. He sees that there is no use.
“Go, cover yourself in the thickness of the dark at night and of the forest in day. Run until you reach the end of the border. Leave now, before they arrive.”
Brittany runs to him and hugs him.
“We will go back, once everything is over.”
“Fraulein, I hope you know what you are doing.”
She hugs her mother.
“Remember that our hearts are always with you.”
“I will never forget.”
She embraces Ashley.
“Oh, Brittbritt.”
There are tears running down her eyes now.
“We’ll be back before you know it. Promise.”
She runs to Santana and grabs her hand, and leads her out of the house. Before she exits, she looks back to the three who own her heart. She knows she promised to come back for Ashley, but…
Under night’s veil they travel. There are several more houses to pass before they can reach the forest.
They’re almost there. Four more houses to go.
Three more.
Two.
She feels Santana stop.
“Santana,” she whispers, “are you okay?”
“Well, well.”
Brittany turns around and sees a giant of a man crushing Santana in his hold. Moonlight shines down on his shirt. Power is Everything.
“You are helping this sub-human escape?”
Santana looks so fragile.
“You do know what happens to traitors?”
If the man squeezes any tighter, she might break.
“If you run away now, I will pretend that this never happened.”
Santana lets out a pained gasp.
“Let her go!”
The man actually chuckles.
“She will die soon anywa-”
Brittany kicks him between his legs. The man bends over, but his hold on Santana doesn’t loosen.
“You will pay for that.”
He reaches for Brittany, and before she can react, the rag in his hand is over her nose. She inhales the chloroform, and she passes out.
Cold water drips on the side of her face. Brittany wakes up, just in time for her to see the cell door open and a guard get in. She sees that he is different from the first one, but just as brutish. The dim torches hanging outside the cell light up the words on his shirt: it festers in the heart. He walks over to where Santana is, still passed out, and he pulls on her arms, startling her awake.
“Stop it! You are hurting her!”
The man ignores her and drags Santana to the door.
“Where are you taking her?”
The man stops and turns around, allowing Santana to get on her feet. He says slowly, cruelly, “We are on orders to bring her to the gas chamber.”
The gas chamber.
She has heard of these things, where they put Jews in alive, and where the same Jew come out as carcasses. she has even heard of stories where the bodies are frozen in a fetus-like position, their faces frozen in screams, dried blood running from their ear-
“I will come. I should have died long ago.”
Santana sounds strong, even though her words sound like she has accepted defeat.
“Santana, do you not value life?” Brittany sounds desperate. She cannot lose her like this. Santana however, there is a twinkling in her eye when she speaks.
“Life is most precious to me. Mine was at its greatest when I met you. I feel now that I have been given everything I have ever needed, ever wanted. My life is complete, and so I will accept death.”
“You have heard her,” says the guard. “Wise words for a sub-human.”
Santana might accept her death, but Brittany can’t.
“Take me with her.”
“Do not endanger yourself! You are an Aryan, you still have a chance to esca-”
“I love you.”
Tears fall from her cheeks.
The man speaks to her.
“If you so want to follow your lover,” he says with contempt, “I will not stop you. You have fouled our race with your sinful want.”
Brittany silently nods.
The man doesn’t take hold of her; he knows that she will not run away as long as Santana is still in his hold.
Brittany follows him, her eyes ever looking for Santana, who was hidden from her by the bulk of the guard. They travel through row upon row of cells, and climb up several staircases, until they emerge from the ground. Further they travelled on, in a land as barren as this man’s heart. They reach what appears to be a cave, and once again they descend. It evens out into level ground, and it looks like the jail they just left. The cells, however, are bigger and look slightly different. Ominously so.
The guard leads them into one at the very back, and, without a word, leaves. He shuts the door.
“You…love me?”
The dim light passing through the window of the door allows Brittany to see Santana’s face. Her eyes are vortexes of emotions.
Brittany nods.
“We are…we are going to die.”
“I love you.”
Brittany drags herself closer to Santana and lies next to her. It is hard to imagine that it was just yesterday that they last did this.
“At least we will die together.”
They hear a low whistling sound.
Their time is nigh.
“Do you remember when you told me the story of the shirts?”
Brittany remembers. It was just after she gave Santana a bath.
“Yes, I do.”
“I have always wondered why you never asked me what the meaning of my words were.”
“Would you like to tell me what they are?”
“I will, but you must do it with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Read your first line, and I will read mine. Then the second, and I will follow suit. And finally the third, and I will do so as well.”
Brittany wonders…
“The sun rules light,”
“the moon the dark”
“both beautiful,”
“glorious, potent”
“yet without the other,”
“not one is complete”
It…she’s her partner.
“I was telling the truth. When I said that when I met you my life was completed.”
Brittany’s vision grows dark, and she knows her consciousness will soon leave her.
She replies Santana with a kiss, her first kiss. It stars of sweet and innocent, but she eventually kisses her with the passion of a dying sun, knowing that she is so. Santana is surprised, but then she kisses back.
It is not long before she blacks out, but the last thought she has is that, finally, she has found her other half.