FIC: Say Good-Bye to This Heart Of Mine - Glee, Rachel/Santana (2/4)
TITLE: Say Good-Bye to This Heart Of Mine (2/4)
AUTHOR: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
GENRE: Rachel/Santana, mentions of Brittany/Santana; Rachel/Finn, Santana/Puck - Glee
RATING: Mature
WORD COUNT: Around 14500
SUMMARY: It's her and Rachel Berry against the fucking world.
NOTES: AU/Future!Fic. This is gilligankane's fault. And I also blame reading 'The Zombie Survival Guide' recently.
WARNINGS: Character Death. And as much as it seems like it, this isn't really a zombie fic. But it's dark. Hopefully you'll trust me enough to read it.
QuickLinks: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
PART II
Rachel and Santana have slept pressed together since almost the first week. It's borne out of necessity. They need it for warmth. They need it for security.
That's all okay. She and Rachel are survivors, and it means doing stuff like cuddling has nothing to do with intimacy and everything about making it through another day.
It feels different now, and it bothers her.
Rachel's half-naked on top of her, hand against her naked breast. Their legs are interwoven, and their pants, zippers down and flies open, sit barely above their hips.
They had sex, and now they're cuddling, and habit alone makes Santana feel damn uncomfortable with the idea.
The only person she's ever cuddled with after sex is Brittany.
But she's boneless, and despite her misgivings, Santana smooths her hand over Rachel's bare shoulder and pulls the blanket over them, keeping her close.
Rachel shifts. Her hand comes up to press against Santana's cheek. From Rachel's fingers wafts the odor of sex; pungent and strong.
A part of Santana's mind wants to explode at the thought of Rachel Berry's hands being inside her. Another shudders in memory of how hard she made her come.
"Go to sleep," she hears Rachel murmur, and feels a kiss press against her collarbone. "We have to get up early."
Santana glares at her, a useless endeavor considering she can't see her. Rachel just shifts against her.
Sated and spent, Santana doesn't have the energy to hold the grudge.
Her eyes close and she drifts off to sleep.
Brittany doesn't come to her at all.
--
She's awoken by Rachel's manhandling, hard shoves against her shoulder that bring her out of a deep sleep.
"WAKE UP!" she hears, a hard hiss against her ear that makes her wince.
"What?" she slurs, trying to shake the cobwebs out of her head, and then wincing at her own stiffness.
"Someone's outside."
The frightened admission jerks her alert. Her eyes lock with Rachel's, then to the opening of their tiny alcove - covered by a dark blanket that would render it invisible at night, but certainly not in daytime.
Outside, she hears the snap of twigs, the crunch of leaves. Heavy, sure footed steps that can't belong to a Crazie, but could belong to any sort of bandit.
"Shit," she breathes, and fumbles for her shirt, throwing it over her head and grabbing hold of her rifle, shuffling forward and motioning silently with Rachel to do the same.
If it's one, they can take them. If it's two? Or more? They're trapped.
The person comes closer. Rachel settles beside her, fingers trembling as she struggles to cock the rifle.
Through a tear in the fabric, Santana sees a dark set of boots, the tip of an AK-47.
Holy fuck.
The figure comes closer. One feet. Then two.
The blast from Rachel's rifle makes her jump, nearly setting hers off in the process.
It skids a bullet at the intruder's feet. He lets out a sharp, surprised whoop.
"Don't come any closer!" Rachel cries out, voice wavering, then holding steady. "We'll shoot."
There's quiet, and suddenly Santana's heart drops when she hears, "Rachel? Rachel Berry?"
Rachel's head swivels with an astonished expression.
"Rachel? It's me! It's okay! Come out!" The gun drops, falling into the leaves and twigs. "I'm unarmed."
The voice is one they haven't heard in two years. Rachel reaches for the curtain.
"Rachel," Santana snaps.
Rachel ignores her.
Santana curses, and stumbles out after her, rifle high and settled against her shoulder, squinting against the sunlight in an attempt to aim her rifle, keep her target.
"Santana? Is that you?"
The gun nearly drops in her shock.
Staring at them with a dirt-smudged face and a smile that presses dimples into his cheeks is Finn Hudson.
--
Finn still smiles like one of Peter Pan's Lost Boys, and it makes him look like a man-child, even with his crew cut and his heavily muscled body. When Rachel launches herself into her arms, sobbing like the drama queen she is, he almost engulfs her.
"I can't believe it's really you. I thought I'd lost you forever."
They hold each other so long and so tightly, Santana feels damn invisible, and when they finally pull apart to gaze into each other's eyes, she realizes exactly who Rachel's first was.
She loses patience and snaps acidly, "What are you doing here?"
It breaks whatever spell they're under, and though Finn makes an attempt to hug her, he seems to rethink the idea when she doesn't lower the rifle.
"You guys gave me a really good chase, you know that?" He's all ruddy cheeks and shining eyes. "If it weren't for the bike tracks I would have lost you completely."
Rachel gasps. "You were the one at the creek?!" Finn grins, and Santana swallows, finally lowering the rifle when Rachel smacks him hard on his arm. "You scared the hell out of us!"
"Explain," Santana says smoothly, and when he glances at her and sees her expression, he does.
Rubbing at his shorn head, he smiles at Rachel. "I was out scouting and heard you singing. At first I thought I was going crazy. Like the voices in my head finally got the better of me. But then I went toward it and it only got louder, and it was our Regionals song and I'd recognize that voice anywhere, Rachel. I couldn't believe it." Once again, his voice fades and he stares hungrily at Rachel.
"Neither can I," Santana answers dryly, when Rachel's too overwhelmed to respond. "What the hell are you doing way out here in the boonies anyway?"
"What does it look like?" He reaches down and proudly picks up his assault rifle. "I joined up. We're hunting down the rest of the Crazies." He trails off and stares at them both. "I just… I can't believe… you two. I never expected to find you two. Not together. Not at all. We thought everyone was dead."
"So did we," Rachel answers, and stares at Santana, goggle-eyed, because it's fucking Finn Hudson.
Santana sucks in her breath and tries to exhale the tension that's building up inside of her.
"We need to get moving," she says, and turns away.
--
Finn helps them break camp. He chatters at them like an excited chipmunk, telling him that after the explosion, he and Puck fought off the Crazies and joined up with the local militia.
"It's not like it was before, guys. The government finally got their shit together! Now it's just clean up duty. When we get back to the base-"
"Wait, what?" Santana interrupts, hands on her hips as she comes up behind Rachel, pressing into her shoulder. "When we what?"
Finn blinks, looking at them both blankly. "You're coming with me, aren't you?" Rachel turns to look at her, but her expression remains enigmatic. "Guys," Finn blurts, tumbling through in exasperation. "You can't stay out here! It's not safe!"
"We've survived this long, haven't we?"
"Yeah, and major props to you and all, but we're not like… cavemen! You're like… two chicks! Hot ones!" Santana rolls her eyes and evades looking at Rachel's pouting lips. "Hey, we're got the bandits more or less under control, but they're still out there. And they're still taking women."
"We know, Finn." Rachel's voice is patient, gentle. "We've run into them before."
"Then you're lucky! Come on." Santana reaches down, and flings her pack onto her back, lids lowered as Finn comes up to Rachel, takes her hands in his humongous ones. "Rachel, I'm not going to let you go just when I've found you again."
Her hands grip onto her strap, and she waits for Rachel to look at her with that morose, dramatic expression. "Three is safer than two, Santana. We should at least check it out." Santana quietly stares at her. "Where else are we going to go?"
It's logical and necessary, and Santana is fucking pouting.
She sighs and manages a nod. "Yeah, sure." Finn's smile lights up his entire face, and Santana feels suddenly so resentful that her question blurts out of her without warning. "Finn, where's Brittany?"
His expression freezes. He turns and stares at her, and his eyes are so mournful that Santana knows his answer before he says it.
"I'm sorry, San," he says as gently as he can. "She didn't make it."
Santana told herself a long time ago that she was too pragmatic to hope. That she could put Brittany with the dead because that's most certainly where she was. Brittany barely had enough instinct to survive high school, and that was with Santana watching out for her. There was no way she could survive this.
In spite of that, in the face of Finn's confirmation, Santana's insides shatter.
Across the camp, next to Finn, her soul mate, Rachel stares with wide, watery eyes. Her expression is all unspeakable pity and sympathy.
Santana looks away from her. With a tight, rigid body, she nods her thanks to Finn and turns toward her bicycle.
Rachel breaks the tension by asking Finn to show them the way, and he does. Wordlessly, feeling like she's in a fog, Santana follows.
--
She holds it together until they get to Finn's campsite. He boasts to Rachel how the area is wired with wireless security and they're safe for about a hundred yards. He builds a fire and shows off his tent and props one up for Santana. He doesn't say it, but it's clear he thinks Rachel will share his.
It's all so civilized and sweetly Finn.
She hates him for it.
She hates the very sight of him.
She excuses herself and moves into the brush, taking her rifle and settling on a felled log.
There, alone, truly alone for the first time in two years, Santana finds the sobs bubbling up within her. She crumples into herself, muffling the cries with her palms pressed flat against her mouth.
A warm body suddenly settles beside her. Santana shuts her eyes; tries to will her away. Rachel Berry stays, stronger than she seems as she pulls Santana into her, until Santana has no strength to push her away.
She sobs harder, raking in a wet breath as she turns into Rachel and clings to her, digging into her nape.
"I'm sorry," Rachel says, just like before. "I'm so sorry."
Just like before, she presses kisses against her cheek, her shoulder, the corner of her mouth.
When Santana pushes up and looks into Rachel's face, she beholds streaked tears and genuine sympathy.
Rachel's palm moves to her face, wipes at the wetness, so intimate and loving that Santana can't stand it.
"Why did he have to make it and she didn't?" she snaps, voice stained with misery.
Rachel's lower lip trembles. She doesn't answer.
"Just leave me alone."
Santana pulls out of her grasp and stares ahead, unseeing, tears silently running down her cheeks.
Rachel doesn't move, sitting beside her until she hears Finn call out. Then, and only then, does Rachel grab hold of her.
"Leave me alone."
"I'll leave you alone when you're safe in the tent. Not before."
Santana smirks bitterly, but has no strength to argue.
--
"I still can't believe it. You and Santana, after all this time."
In Finn's guest tent, Santana lies quietly. Outside, there are sounds of fire crackling and Finn and Rachel's hushed voices, loud enough to carry through the fabric of the tent.
"We were together after the explosion happened. It just made sense to stick together."
"How did you two manage to travel together this long and not kill each other? You hated each other in high school."
"We didn't hate each other."
"Rachel…"
"We didn't always see eye to eye but Santana and I were never enemies. And besides, she's saved my life countless times, Finn. And I hers. We're a team. Partners."
"Allright, I get it. You're besties."
"Through necessity, but yes."
"You think she's okay?"
Rachel doesn't answer right away. There's another pop from the fire, and then, "Finn, how do you think she is? Her soul mate is dead."
"Soul mates? Really?"
"Yes, soul mates. What would you call it?"
"Best friends, I guess."
"Lovers."
"They were lovers with the whole damn school."
"Finn…"
"I'm just saying."
"You know Brittany was different."
"I guess."
"She never said anything but I know she was always hoping she was still alive. That they would reconnect."
"It's crazy, isn't it, meeting up like this?"
"It's definitely a surprise. I'm so glad to see you, Finn."
"Guess we're the lucky ones, huh? To get a second chance?"
Santana finds the IPOD that she's stolen from Finn's pack, and with a click, drowns out the rest of the conversation with Linkin Park.
It's the first time she's heard music in months.
It's a bittersweet experience.
--
The conversation that starts the issue with Brittany is one she should have seen coming.
"Will you go to prom with me?"
Checking her make up in her locker, Santana doesn't think much of the question.
"I'm already going to the prom with you," she says, rolling her eyes. "Remember? I got Matt and Mike to rent the limo. We're all going together."
She focuses on her gloss until she realizes Brittany hasn't responded. Santana finally pauses and glances over.
Teeth digging into her lower lip, Brittany leans into the locker. "No, I don't mean like… a group thing. I mean go together."
Santana frowns, unsure what to think. "What do you mean?"
Brittany rolls her eyes like she's stupid. "What do you think I mean?"
It doesn't click right away. When it does, Santana feels her cheeks flush and her lips purse.
"Come on, Britt. We talked about that. Remember? We talked about having fun right now and then worrying about the rest of it later."
And now Brittany looks insulted. "What if that's fun for me? You said we couldn't do it because it'd be gay, but Kurt's practically humping his boyfriend in the halls all morning and they're gonna be Prom Kings!"
"Britt, come on." Santana glances around the halls, and then leans forward, taking a moment to gently brush her finger against the soft skin of Brittany's cheek. "In a few months we'll graduate and be on our way to Berkeley. We have our whole lives for that. We can wait."
Brittany just looks at her. Santana's knowing smirk fades when she realizes that for the first time in forever, she has no idea what Brittany is thinking.
"What?" she asks, exasperated and unnerved.
Brittany hugs her books to her and shrugs. "I don't want to wait."
She ducks her head and turns away.
When Brittany starts to date Mike Chang seriously, Santana thinks it's a punishment. Brittany pushing her resolve. Making her point.
Santana thinks she can hold out as long as Brittany can, because Brittany wants her. Brittany LOVES her.
She knows what will fix it. All she has to do is agree to be Brittany's girlfriend.
She won't. Santana has a plan and she knows better and Brittany just needs to follow it. They're meant to end up together, Santana isn't so dumb that she doesn't know that. But they have time.
Knowing that doesn't stop her from trying to cut Mike's balls off.
And then Rachel drags her into a choir room over it and their time runs out.
--
Her eyes open when she feels a gush of cold air. Santana lifts her head, and glances back to see Rachel staring at her. Without a word, Rachel crawls inside and closes the flap behind her.
The numbness that's overtaken her allows her no expression. Feeling defeated, angry, and exhausted, she just turns back and puts her head down.
Fabric rustles, as Rachel settles down. The warmth of Rachel as she presses in close is more confusing than comforting.
"Why aren't you sleeping with your boyfriend?"
Rachel quietly exhales. "Santana, just try and sleep."
"I don't need your pity, Rachel."
A moment later, Rachel's turned into her. Her arm curves around her waist, her nose tilts into her nape.
Fucking Rachel Berry is actually spooning her. Like she fucking owns her. Like she has every fucking right when Finn is alive and Brittany is dead.
"This isn't pity."
Santana's eyes open. Rachel's hand, spread against her abdomen, burns with warmth.
"What is it, then?" She pushes up to her elbows and turns, until she's looking at Rachel's shadowed face. When she lowers her head, presses her lips to Rachel's, the other woman responds instantaneously.
But Rachel isn't kissing her like she wants to fuck her. She's careful and slow, like Santana's made of fucking glass. She breaks free and glares, shoving at Rachel until Rachel's on her back and Santana can settle on top of her.
She tries again, kissing Rachel wantonly, and noting with bitter triumph that Rachel's begun to writhe underneath her. "Guess that one time with Finn wasn't all it's cracked up to be. I know what you mean. He wasn't that impressive when I fucked him either." Rachel jerks back, stricken. The validation and thrill Santana feels is petty, but she doesn't care.
When she kisses Rachel again, it's a fucking assault. Rachel stops kissing her back and Santana doesn't care about that either.
Her mouth drags away from Rachel's and her hands palm Rachel's breasts roughly.
"Santana-"
She sucks at Rachel's neck, hard enough to leave a bruise.
"Santana!"
Rachel shoves her hard.
"What?" she hisses.
"No." Rachel's fingers clamp on her shoulders, keeping her back. "Not like this."
Her eyes grow cold. "Not like what?" Rachel stays quiet, but her grip remains strong. "Oh, I get it. Now that Finn's back, you don't need to dabble in homosexuality?"
Rachel actually winces. She pushes Santana off of her.
"I'll be as much of a friend to you as I can be. But I'm not going to let you sleep with me just so you can pretend it's Brittany."
The pain hits in such a deep way it leaves her breathless.
"Don't for a second think you'd even compare." Into the silence she continues. "Why don't you go sleep with your soldier boy, Rachel? Let him fuck you while he chants about his mail man."
The slap stings her hard. Her eyes water from the pain of it, and she's glad for it.
She doesn't have to see Rachel leave.
--
In the morning, she's sitting at Finn's campfire, cleaning her gun. When she hears movement at Finn's tent, she looks up quickly. Rachel stares at her, doe-eyed and vulnerable.
Santana looks away, but she grits her teeth as she waits. When Rachel gets close enough, she manages to eek out, "I'm sorry."
Rachel doesn't respond right away. She sits down next beside her and watches Santana work.
"Please. I've heard worse from you." Santana can't argue that. "When we get to the base, I want to stay there."
Santana falters. She wills her focus to stay on her gun. "Fine."
"We can't keep going on like this. We've been lucky. But eventually that's going to run out."
"Fine."
"I mean, we've survived for so long I think we've forgotten how to just live."
"Rachel." Santana finally looks at her. Rachel looks morose and afraid, like Santana is going to shoot her or burst into tears. "I said fine."
Rachel closes her mouth; puts her hand in her lap.
"We only stayed together this long because we had to."
"Is that what you think?"
There's something in the way that Rachel asks that. Petulant and a little hurt, and after two years, Santana's gotten used to it. Used to her. She knows how to stroke down Rachel's ruffled feathers. It's almost instinctive.
Her smile is a small one. "We also kicked some serious ass together."
She catches Rachel's eyes and holds the stare. Slowly, Rachel's eyes darken and a smile forms on her lips.
"We were amazing together," she agrees gruffly.
Finn comes out of his tent, looking too happy and too idiotic to be worth Santana's attention.
Ignoring the tightness in her chest, she breaks Rachel's gaze and goes back to cleaning her gun.
--
END PART II | Part III
AUTHOR: Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
GENRE: Rachel/Santana, mentions of Brittany/Santana; Rachel/Finn, Santana/Puck - Glee
RATING: Mature
WORD COUNT: Around 14500
SUMMARY: It's her and Rachel Berry against the fucking world.
NOTES: AU/Future!Fic. This is gilligankane's fault. And I also blame reading 'The Zombie Survival Guide' recently.
WARNINGS: Character Death. And as much as it seems like it, this isn't really a zombie fic. But it's dark. Hopefully you'll trust me enough to read it.
QuickLinks: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
PART II
Rachel and Santana have slept pressed together since almost the first week. It's borne out of necessity. They need it for warmth. They need it for security.
That's all okay. She and Rachel are survivors, and it means doing stuff like cuddling has nothing to do with intimacy and everything about making it through another day.
It feels different now, and it bothers her.
Rachel's half-naked on top of her, hand against her naked breast. Their legs are interwoven, and their pants, zippers down and flies open, sit barely above their hips.
They had sex, and now they're cuddling, and habit alone makes Santana feel damn uncomfortable with the idea.
The only person she's ever cuddled with after sex is Brittany.
But she's boneless, and despite her misgivings, Santana smooths her hand over Rachel's bare shoulder and pulls the blanket over them, keeping her close.
Rachel shifts. Her hand comes up to press against Santana's cheek. From Rachel's fingers wafts the odor of sex; pungent and strong.
A part of Santana's mind wants to explode at the thought of Rachel Berry's hands being inside her. Another shudders in memory of how hard she made her come.
"Go to sleep," she hears Rachel murmur, and feels a kiss press against her collarbone. "We have to get up early."
Santana glares at her, a useless endeavor considering she can't see her. Rachel just shifts against her.
Sated and spent, Santana doesn't have the energy to hold the grudge.
Her eyes close and she drifts off to sleep.
Brittany doesn't come to her at all.
--
She's awoken by Rachel's manhandling, hard shoves against her shoulder that bring her out of a deep sleep.
"WAKE UP!" she hears, a hard hiss against her ear that makes her wince.
"What?" she slurs, trying to shake the cobwebs out of her head, and then wincing at her own stiffness.
"Someone's outside."
The frightened admission jerks her alert. Her eyes lock with Rachel's, then to the opening of their tiny alcove - covered by a dark blanket that would render it invisible at night, but certainly not in daytime.
Outside, she hears the snap of twigs, the crunch of leaves. Heavy, sure footed steps that can't belong to a Crazie, but could belong to any sort of bandit.
"Shit," she breathes, and fumbles for her shirt, throwing it over her head and grabbing hold of her rifle, shuffling forward and motioning silently with Rachel to do the same.
If it's one, they can take them. If it's two? Or more? They're trapped.
The person comes closer. Rachel settles beside her, fingers trembling as she struggles to cock the rifle.
Through a tear in the fabric, Santana sees a dark set of boots, the tip of an AK-47.
Holy fuck.
The figure comes closer. One feet. Then two.
The blast from Rachel's rifle makes her jump, nearly setting hers off in the process.
It skids a bullet at the intruder's feet. He lets out a sharp, surprised whoop.
"Don't come any closer!" Rachel cries out, voice wavering, then holding steady. "We'll shoot."
There's quiet, and suddenly Santana's heart drops when she hears, "Rachel? Rachel Berry?"
Rachel's head swivels with an astonished expression.
"Rachel? It's me! It's okay! Come out!" The gun drops, falling into the leaves and twigs. "I'm unarmed."
The voice is one they haven't heard in two years. Rachel reaches for the curtain.
"Rachel," Santana snaps.
Rachel ignores her.
Santana curses, and stumbles out after her, rifle high and settled against her shoulder, squinting against the sunlight in an attempt to aim her rifle, keep her target.
"Santana? Is that you?"
The gun nearly drops in her shock.
Staring at them with a dirt-smudged face and a smile that presses dimples into his cheeks is Finn Hudson.
--
Finn still smiles like one of Peter Pan's Lost Boys, and it makes him look like a man-child, even with his crew cut and his heavily muscled body. When Rachel launches herself into her arms, sobbing like the drama queen she is, he almost engulfs her.
"I can't believe it's really you. I thought I'd lost you forever."
They hold each other so long and so tightly, Santana feels damn invisible, and when they finally pull apart to gaze into each other's eyes, she realizes exactly who Rachel's first was.
She loses patience and snaps acidly, "What are you doing here?"
It breaks whatever spell they're under, and though Finn makes an attempt to hug her, he seems to rethink the idea when she doesn't lower the rifle.
"You guys gave me a really good chase, you know that?" He's all ruddy cheeks and shining eyes. "If it weren't for the bike tracks I would have lost you completely."
Rachel gasps. "You were the one at the creek?!" Finn grins, and Santana swallows, finally lowering the rifle when Rachel smacks him hard on his arm. "You scared the hell out of us!"
"Explain," Santana says smoothly, and when he glances at her and sees her expression, he does.
Rubbing at his shorn head, he smiles at Rachel. "I was out scouting and heard you singing. At first I thought I was going crazy. Like the voices in my head finally got the better of me. But then I went toward it and it only got louder, and it was our Regionals song and I'd recognize that voice anywhere, Rachel. I couldn't believe it." Once again, his voice fades and he stares hungrily at Rachel.
"Neither can I," Santana answers dryly, when Rachel's too overwhelmed to respond. "What the hell are you doing way out here in the boonies anyway?"
"What does it look like?" He reaches down and proudly picks up his assault rifle. "I joined up. We're hunting down the rest of the Crazies." He trails off and stares at them both. "I just… I can't believe… you two. I never expected to find you two. Not together. Not at all. We thought everyone was dead."
"So did we," Rachel answers, and stares at Santana, goggle-eyed, because it's fucking Finn Hudson.
Santana sucks in her breath and tries to exhale the tension that's building up inside of her.
"We need to get moving," she says, and turns away.
--
Finn helps them break camp. He chatters at them like an excited chipmunk, telling him that after the explosion, he and Puck fought off the Crazies and joined up with the local militia.
"It's not like it was before, guys. The government finally got their shit together! Now it's just clean up duty. When we get back to the base-"
"Wait, what?" Santana interrupts, hands on her hips as she comes up behind Rachel, pressing into her shoulder. "When we what?"
Finn blinks, looking at them both blankly. "You're coming with me, aren't you?" Rachel turns to look at her, but her expression remains enigmatic. "Guys," Finn blurts, tumbling through in exasperation. "You can't stay out here! It's not safe!"
"We've survived this long, haven't we?"
"Yeah, and major props to you and all, but we're not like… cavemen! You're like… two chicks! Hot ones!" Santana rolls her eyes and evades looking at Rachel's pouting lips. "Hey, we're got the bandits more or less under control, but they're still out there. And they're still taking women."
"We know, Finn." Rachel's voice is patient, gentle. "We've run into them before."
"Then you're lucky! Come on." Santana reaches down, and flings her pack onto her back, lids lowered as Finn comes up to Rachel, takes her hands in his humongous ones. "Rachel, I'm not going to let you go just when I've found you again."
Her hands grip onto her strap, and she waits for Rachel to look at her with that morose, dramatic expression. "Three is safer than two, Santana. We should at least check it out." Santana quietly stares at her. "Where else are we going to go?"
It's logical and necessary, and Santana is fucking pouting.
She sighs and manages a nod. "Yeah, sure." Finn's smile lights up his entire face, and Santana feels suddenly so resentful that her question blurts out of her without warning. "Finn, where's Brittany?"
His expression freezes. He turns and stares at her, and his eyes are so mournful that Santana knows his answer before he says it.
"I'm sorry, San," he says as gently as he can. "She didn't make it."
Santana told herself a long time ago that she was too pragmatic to hope. That she could put Brittany with the dead because that's most certainly where she was. Brittany barely had enough instinct to survive high school, and that was with Santana watching out for her. There was no way she could survive this.
In spite of that, in the face of Finn's confirmation, Santana's insides shatter.
Across the camp, next to Finn, her soul mate, Rachel stares with wide, watery eyes. Her expression is all unspeakable pity and sympathy.
Santana looks away from her. With a tight, rigid body, she nods her thanks to Finn and turns toward her bicycle.
Rachel breaks the tension by asking Finn to show them the way, and he does. Wordlessly, feeling like she's in a fog, Santana follows.
--
She holds it together until they get to Finn's campsite. He boasts to Rachel how the area is wired with wireless security and they're safe for about a hundred yards. He builds a fire and shows off his tent and props one up for Santana. He doesn't say it, but it's clear he thinks Rachel will share his.
It's all so civilized and sweetly Finn.
She hates him for it.
She hates the very sight of him.
She excuses herself and moves into the brush, taking her rifle and settling on a felled log.
There, alone, truly alone for the first time in two years, Santana finds the sobs bubbling up within her. She crumples into herself, muffling the cries with her palms pressed flat against her mouth.
A warm body suddenly settles beside her. Santana shuts her eyes; tries to will her away. Rachel Berry stays, stronger than she seems as she pulls Santana into her, until Santana has no strength to push her away.
She sobs harder, raking in a wet breath as she turns into Rachel and clings to her, digging into her nape.
"I'm sorry," Rachel says, just like before. "I'm so sorry."
Just like before, she presses kisses against her cheek, her shoulder, the corner of her mouth.
When Santana pushes up and looks into Rachel's face, she beholds streaked tears and genuine sympathy.
Rachel's palm moves to her face, wipes at the wetness, so intimate and loving that Santana can't stand it.
"Why did he have to make it and she didn't?" she snaps, voice stained with misery.
Rachel's lower lip trembles. She doesn't answer.
"Just leave me alone."
Santana pulls out of her grasp and stares ahead, unseeing, tears silently running down her cheeks.
Rachel doesn't move, sitting beside her until she hears Finn call out. Then, and only then, does Rachel grab hold of her.
"Leave me alone."
"I'll leave you alone when you're safe in the tent. Not before."
Santana smirks bitterly, but has no strength to argue.
--
"I still can't believe it. You and Santana, after all this time."
In Finn's guest tent, Santana lies quietly. Outside, there are sounds of fire crackling and Finn and Rachel's hushed voices, loud enough to carry through the fabric of the tent.
"We were together after the explosion happened. It just made sense to stick together."
"How did you two manage to travel together this long and not kill each other? You hated each other in high school."
"We didn't hate each other."
"Rachel…"
"We didn't always see eye to eye but Santana and I were never enemies. And besides, she's saved my life countless times, Finn. And I hers. We're a team. Partners."
"Allright, I get it. You're besties."
"Through necessity, but yes."
"You think she's okay?"
Rachel doesn't answer right away. There's another pop from the fire, and then, "Finn, how do you think she is? Her soul mate is dead."
"Soul mates? Really?"
"Yes, soul mates. What would you call it?"
"Best friends, I guess."
"Lovers."
"They were lovers with the whole damn school."
"Finn…"
"I'm just saying."
"You know Brittany was different."
"I guess."
"She never said anything but I know she was always hoping she was still alive. That they would reconnect."
"It's crazy, isn't it, meeting up like this?"
"It's definitely a surprise. I'm so glad to see you, Finn."
"Guess we're the lucky ones, huh? To get a second chance?"
Santana finds the IPOD that she's stolen from Finn's pack, and with a click, drowns out the rest of the conversation with Linkin Park.
It's the first time she's heard music in months.
It's a bittersweet experience.
--
The conversation that starts the issue with Brittany is one she should have seen coming.
"Will you go to prom with me?"
Checking her make up in her locker, Santana doesn't think much of the question.
"I'm already going to the prom with you," she says, rolling her eyes. "Remember? I got Matt and Mike to rent the limo. We're all going together."
She focuses on her gloss until she realizes Brittany hasn't responded. Santana finally pauses and glances over.
Teeth digging into her lower lip, Brittany leans into the locker. "No, I don't mean like… a group thing. I mean go together."
Santana frowns, unsure what to think. "What do you mean?"
Brittany rolls her eyes like she's stupid. "What do you think I mean?"
It doesn't click right away. When it does, Santana feels her cheeks flush and her lips purse.
"Come on, Britt. We talked about that. Remember? We talked about having fun right now and then worrying about the rest of it later."
And now Brittany looks insulted. "What if that's fun for me? You said we couldn't do it because it'd be gay, but Kurt's practically humping his boyfriend in the halls all morning and they're gonna be Prom Kings!"
"Britt, come on." Santana glances around the halls, and then leans forward, taking a moment to gently brush her finger against the soft skin of Brittany's cheek. "In a few months we'll graduate and be on our way to Berkeley. We have our whole lives for that. We can wait."
Brittany just looks at her. Santana's knowing smirk fades when she realizes that for the first time in forever, she has no idea what Brittany is thinking.
"What?" she asks, exasperated and unnerved.
Brittany hugs her books to her and shrugs. "I don't want to wait."
She ducks her head and turns away.
When Brittany starts to date Mike Chang seriously, Santana thinks it's a punishment. Brittany pushing her resolve. Making her point.
Santana thinks she can hold out as long as Brittany can, because Brittany wants her. Brittany LOVES her.
She knows what will fix it. All she has to do is agree to be Brittany's girlfriend.
She won't. Santana has a plan and she knows better and Brittany just needs to follow it. They're meant to end up together, Santana isn't so dumb that she doesn't know that. But they have time.
Knowing that doesn't stop her from trying to cut Mike's balls off.
And then Rachel drags her into a choir room over it and their time runs out.
--
Her eyes open when she feels a gush of cold air. Santana lifts her head, and glances back to see Rachel staring at her. Without a word, Rachel crawls inside and closes the flap behind her.
The numbness that's overtaken her allows her no expression. Feeling defeated, angry, and exhausted, she just turns back and puts her head down.
Fabric rustles, as Rachel settles down. The warmth of Rachel as she presses in close is more confusing than comforting.
"Why aren't you sleeping with your boyfriend?"
Rachel quietly exhales. "Santana, just try and sleep."
"I don't need your pity, Rachel."
A moment later, Rachel's turned into her. Her arm curves around her waist, her nose tilts into her nape.
Fucking Rachel Berry is actually spooning her. Like she fucking owns her. Like she has every fucking right when Finn is alive and Brittany is dead.
"This isn't pity."
Santana's eyes open. Rachel's hand, spread against her abdomen, burns with warmth.
"What is it, then?" She pushes up to her elbows and turns, until she's looking at Rachel's shadowed face. When she lowers her head, presses her lips to Rachel's, the other woman responds instantaneously.
But Rachel isn't kissing her like she wants to fuck her. She's careful and slow, like Santana's made of fucking glass. She breaks free and glares, shoving at Rachel until Rachel's on her back and Santana can settle on top of her.
She tries again, kissing Rachel wantonly, and noting with bitter triumph that Rachel's begun to writhe underneath her. "Guess that one time with Finn wasn't all it's cracked up to be. I know what you mean. He wasn't that impressive when I fucked him either." Rachel jerks back, stricken. The validation and thrill Santana feels is petty, but she doesn't care.
When she kisses Rachel again, it's a fucking assault. Rachel stops kissing her back and Santana doesn't care about that either.
Her mouth drags away from Rachel's and her hands palm Rachel's breasts roughly.
"Santana-"
She sucks at Rachel's neck, hard enough to leave a bruise.
"Santana!"
Rachel shoves her hard.
"What?" she hisses.
"No." Rachel's fingers clamp on her shoulders, keeping her back. "Not like this."
Her eyes grow cold. "Not like what?" Rachel stays quiet, but her grip remains strong. "Oh, I get it. Now that Finn's back, you don't need to dabble in homosexuality?"
Rachel actually winces. She pushes Santana off of her.
"I'll be as much of a friend to you as I can be. But I'm not going to let you sleep with me just so you can pretend it's Brittany."
The pain hits in such a deep way it leaves her breathless.
"Don't for a second think you'd even compare." Into the silence she continues. "Why don't you go sleep with your soldier boy, Rachel? Let him fuck you while he chants about his mail man."
The slap stings her hard. Her eyes water from the pain of it, and she's glad for it.
She doesn't have to see Rachel leave.
--
In the morning, she's sitting at Finn's campfire, cleaning her gun. When she hears movement at Finn's tent, she looks up quickly. Rachel stares at her, doe-eyed and vulnerable.
Santana looks away, but she grits her teeth as she waits. When Rachel gets close enough, she manages to eek out, "I'm sorry."
Rachel doesn't respond right away. She sits down next beside her and watches Santana work.
"Please. I've heard worse from you." Santana can't argue that. "When we get to the base, I want to stay there."
Santana falters. She wills her focus to stay on her gun. "Fine."
"We can't keep going on like this. We've been lucky. But eventually that's going to run out."
"Fine."
"I mean, we've survived for so long I think we've forgotten how to just live."
"Rachel." Santana finally looks at her. Rachel looks morose and afraid, like Santana is going to shoot her or burst into tears. "I said fine."
Rachel closes her mouth; puts her hand in her lap.
"We only stayed together this long because we had to."
"Is that what you think?"
There's something in the way that Rachel asks that. Petulant and a little hurt, and after two years, Santana's gotten used to it. Used to her. She knows how to stroke down Rachel's ruffled feathers. It's almost instinctive.
Her smile is a small one. "We also kicked some serious ass together."
She catches Rachel's eyes and holds the stare. Slowly, Rachel's eyes darken and a smile forms on her lips.
"We were amazing together," she agrees gruffly.
Finn comes out of his tent, looking too happy and too idiotic to be worth Santana's attention.
Ignoring the tightness in her chest, she breaks Rachel's gaze and goes back to cleaning her gun.
--
END PART II | Part III