(no subject)
Title: Pandemonium
Author: xfindyourlight
Pairings: Will/Emma, Kurt/Puck, Santana/Brittany, Finn/Quinn
Warnings/Spoilers: no spoilers. Character death. Angst.
Summary: A moment, an accident, changes their lives forever.
They’d won Sectionals, really won. The bus is filled with utter euphoria. True, Vocal Adrenaline’s star had developed laryngitis two days before the competition and thus thrown off their entire performance, but all the same, New Directions had won. The group was happily chatting, full of joy and pride.
The bus driver didn’t have time to react. The truck next to them swerved violently, no doubt due to the driver’s multiple beers, and slammed into the bus causing it to lurch. It tumbled off the road and over the guardrail, as useless and fragile as a toy car. Screams pierced the air as the members went tumbling out of their seats, unguarded due to the lack of seat belts, and into the air. With a loud crash, the bus landed, somehow right-side up.
Pandemonium.
Those still conscious panicked and desperately checked their surroundings. The window next to Rachel’s head had shattered and the glass was scattered across the girl’s lifeless body. Puck gasped awkwardly. Glass from his own window had sliced his neck and blood began to drip onto his white tee shirt. Kurt, seemingly unharmed, clambered across four rows of seats to him, shaking hands checking the injury and mumbled words praying for help. Finn had somehow kept his head and immediately called 911, issuing details to a crew member, when he heard Quinn’s agonized scream. He hung up and ran to her; they might not have been speaking, but, hell, if he’d let her be in pain. Her face was ashen and her breathing was ragged.
“I think the impact started my labor.”
Santana escaped unscathed. Next to her, Brittany seemed okay, but her face was screwed up in pain and her torso was contorted, as though her ribs ached. Tina, with her disfigured wrist, and Mercedes, limping, attempted to hoist an unconscious Artie back into his wheelchair, trying to ignore Mike’s unseeing eyes staring at them. Matt sat slumped next to Mike, unconscious but breathing. Jesse ran out of the bus, getting as far away from that destruction as his legs could take him, only to collapse and smear Rachel’s blood on his jeans.
This was how it began.
* * * * *
“Noah, Noah, Noah.” It was Kurt’s chanted mantra. He didn’t believe in God, but he would pray to anyone to keep this boy alive.
“Stop, Kurt, it’s fine,” he mumbled in reply, batting away Kurt’s hands.
“It’s not fine.” Kurt couldn’t remember what he’d learned in health. If something blocked blood flow, should you leave it to prevent bleeding or take it out to insure some oxygen gets to the brain? Puck’s eyes were getting less focused by the moment, so he took a deep breath to try to steady his hands and pulled the two prominent pieces of glass from his neck. Puck hissed in pain as his blood trickled at an alarming rate down his neck. Kurt pressed down on the boy’s neck, applying pressure to the wound and praying beyond all hope that it would clot. He made awkward starts at conversation, anything to keep him conscious. Puck’s eyes were shut tight, but he could still answer Kurt, and Kurt took this as a good sign. His heartbeat became more apparent under the pressure of Kurt’s palms.
Please, let him have made the right choice.
* * * * *
“Breathe, Quinn, come on. You’ll hurt the baby if you don’t breathe.”
Finn had no idea what he was doing. He knew nothing about childbirth. He didn’t know anyone who’d had a baby and he’d never seen a mother give birth on television. All he knew was that it wasn’t good that she was nowhere near doctors and panicking.
“I can’t have my baby here, Finn. There are no doctors. What if there are complications? They always tell me it hurts.” She was talking too fast, eyes welling up with frightened tears. “I can’t do this. I’m not ready. I need a hospital. Finn, I messed up so badly.” And she was sobbing.
It wasn’t easy for him to learn about her betrayal and part of him still aches from that wound, but she needed him then and some deep, buried part of him still loved her. He pulled her into his arms and she clung to him as though he were her life preserver, mumbling words he can’t understand. The smell of her hair short-circuited his thoughts with memories of them and (“It’s always been you, Finn. It’s always been you.”) he found the strength to keep calm to get her through this.
“Keep calm,” he told her, getting her in a horizontal position and taking her hand. He holds it to his lips. “Just breathe. I called 911. They’ll be here soon. You’ll have your baby in a hospital, okay? Just stay calm.”
* * * * *
“Are you okay? What hurts?” Santana was well aware that Brittany had a ridiculously high tolerance for pain, so anything that makes her grimace like that couldn’t be good.
Brittany tried to say something, but all that came from her lips was a half-moan, and she gestured to her ribs instead. Her ribs must be broken. Santana resisted the need to vomit.
“I’m calling an ambulance, okay?”
Dialing the number, she was told that the incident was already called in and that help was on its way.
“They’re coming to help you, okay, Brit? They’ll be here soon, so just stay with me.”
Quinn screamed from the front of the bus, but Brittany was more important at that moment.
“Okay, Brit?”
Brittany met her eyes with disturbing clarity. Her lips were still drawn taut, but the usual confusion that clouded her eyes was gone. Her blues bore into Santana, relaying unspoken messages that she wasn’t able to decipher. The minutes crawled by and she was sure that Brittany was only getting worse, but those eyes never lose their clarity.
It terrified Santana.
* * * * *
“Stay with me, Noah, say something.”
“Something.” It was garbled, but it was something.
“Smartass.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” Kurt hated how soft and small his voice sounded. “So stay with me, okay?”
* * * * *
“She’s coming.”
Finn’s blood ran cold. He didn’t know how to deal with this.
“Try to stop it.”
“I can’t!” Quinn was hysterical with fear at this point. “I don’t know what to do. Oh, God!” She screamed in pain.
“Just breathe, Quinn. Keep breathing.” The only thing he could think of to do was wipe the glistening sweat from her forehead and let her squeeze his hand until he’s certain it’s going to break.
* * * * *
Miles away, Emma Pillsbury listened to panicked voices and pained screams. She’d known something was wrong when Will stopped speaking suddenly and the phone cracked as hit the floor, or something of the sort. She heard Finn calling the ambulance and that’d been when she got in her car and headed toward the hospital she assumed they’d wind up at.
She put her phone on speaker as she drove to listen to the horror. It was silly, but she was terrified that if she hit the little, red end button that she’d never hear them again.
* * * * *
Quinn let out one more tormented scream, only to be joined by another set of cries. Covered in blood and muck between her legs, there lay a tiny, fragile child. How horrible, Finn thinks as hysterical sobs broke out from the back of the bus, to be born into hell. He took the small creature in his arms and offered it to Quinn only to find her losing color quickly, eyes beginning to flutter closed.
“Drizzle,” she said. “Drizzle Melody. Make sure she’s named that, okay?”
“Of course,” he replied. “But hang on, okay? Help is going to be here soon.”
She merely nodded feebly and gave him the slightest of smiles that made him feel like his stomach had fallen out of his body.
Finn started to panic when he noticed Mr. Schuester unconscious in the row in front of them and the baby’s cries getting softer and weaker. But he heard sirens and hysterically thought, Everything’s going to be okay.
* * * * *
Emma was pacing through the entrance of the hospital. Judging by what Will had last said, she was certain they would be there soon. But how soon? Things sounded awful and those kids needed help soon.
Suddenly, she heard yelling and Quinn and a baby are wheeled by running doctors on gurney down the hallway. Quinn had her baby on the bus. Her vision went momentarily black as she processed the amount of germs that must infect the baby and mother currently. The hospital staff won’t let Finn follow them in and he screamed in rage.
“Finn.” It was hardly as loud or forceful as she hoped it would be, but he heard all the same. He staggered over to her, falling to his knees and finally letting panic overcome him. He sobbed into his hands. Against her better judgment, she held him in an embrace and watched them race Puck, Brittany, Will, and Artie by. Two slowly moving gurneys followed the parade of less injureds: a limping Mercedes, Tina clutching her wrist, a dazed Matt. Last she saw those spared: a shaken and pale Santana, the stricken face of Kurt smeared in blood. They joined Emma and Finn on the floor.
None of them said a word as they descended into a spiral of despair.
* * * * *
The hospital is too clean, too pure, too bright. It’s offends their bloodshot eyes. Each copes differently. Santana paces wildly, occasionally murmuring what sounded like Spanish prayers. Kurt sits very still and appears very small, now dried blood contrasting his pale skin. Finn sits; then stands; then sits again; then jitters his leg; then stands; and so on. Emma has taken control of the situation, allowing duty to shield her from the utter horror of their situation. She knows every room each person is in, which doctors are tending to them, the gravity of their injuries, the state of mind of those waiting. It’s mind consuming and she’s grateful. She’s not sure what she’ll do once she has to face everything.
A doctor pulls her aside and tells her details. Finn reminds her so much of a puppy with the desperate look on his face.
“Um,” she starts, not too strongly. Finn stares; Kurt doesn’t move; Santana continues to pace, but looks at her. “Here’s everything I know so far. Tina has a broken wrist. They’re putting a cast on her right now. She’s going to be fine. Mercedes sprained her ankle and has some sort of elbow injury, both of which will heal soon. Matt has a concussion, as does Artie, but Matt is aware and moving about. Artie’s still a little out of it. They don’t think it’s anything too serious.” She takes a deep breath before she utters her next sentence. “Rachel and Mike have passed away.”
Finn looks like he’s been kicked; Kurt flinches like he’s been shot; Santana murmurs in Spanish.
“Quinn?” His voice breaks on her name.
Emma shakes her head. He jitters his leg.
* * * * *
Burt Hummel and Carole Hudson come together, the first parents to arrive. They wrap their respective children in tight embraces. Finn holds his mother tight as she chants, “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.” Kurt can’t move, but a tear or two leaks from his eyes. Santana murmurs in Spanish. Parents try to take their children home, but both refuse. They need to know if the others are okay. Being home will be no better than being there. Kurt insists that Burt go home; he has work tomorrow and he needs his energy. He’ll call when he needs a ride. Burt can’t disagree, so he nods. Finn urges his mother to go as well. He’ll be fine. They go together, holding hands and looking sad. Their children look far older than they should.
Emma asks for the home numbers of those injured.
“Quinn’s parents disowned her. Mr. Fabray hung up on me after I told him,” Finn says.
“I tried Noah’s mother. She’s horribly drunk,” Kurt says.
“Brittany’s parents are in Holland for the week,” Santana says.
Emma wants to cry for them.
* * * * *
Mercedes is the first one released.
She comes out with crutches. No one screams for her, no one runs to her. Emma smiles at her and offers gratefulness for her health. Mercedes nods politely and sits next to Kurt, taking his hand. They don’t say anything. When Mrs. Jones arrives, she’s loud and intrusive to the quiet and desperate peace the uninjured have created. She embraces her mother tightly, assuring her that she’s alright.
Matt comes out moments later, quiet as always. Mercedes offers him a ride home and he accepts with a slight nod.
“I’m sorry, Kurt,” she says. “But I gotta get outta here. I need my bed and I need sleep. Let me know about the others.”
Kurt nods. The three leave.
Tina comes out next with a doctor. (“Artie has to stay the night just to be safe, but he’s going to be okay,” Emma announces to the group.) Her wrist is bound in a pink cast that’s far too cheerful for the four.
“H-h-h-h-h-how is-s-s-s every-ry-ryone e-else?” They all know her stutter is fake, but the trauma of the event forces her back into the safety of her stutter. Emma explains the circumstances quietly to her and her face pales. She sits silently and plays with her bracelets until her mother walks into the waiting room. Tina immediately goes to her and pulls her from the room before any words are spoken.
There are four left behind the walls of the hospital and four wait for news anxiously.
This must be what hell feels like, they think.
* * * * *
A doctor comes up to Emma, talking softly with her in the corner. She makes reference to Finn, who doesn’t dare to hope. The doctor waits awkwardly by as Emma approaches him.
“They need you” is all she says and he all but runs to the doctor, who leads him further into the hospital.
They wait.
* * * * *
It’s now Kurt Emma must approach. He doesn’t look at her, but she knows he’s listening.
“There’s no easy way to say this, Kurt, and I don’t think you would appreciate me trying to make it flowery with little sayings or euphemisms. They said you did a great job stopping the blood flow, but the way the glass cut his artery was fatal. He lost too much blood. It was inescapable. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Kurt’s lips fall open. His eyes widen. No longer guarded, they spout tears that travel down his face and neck, wetting the color of his shirt. Emma leaves him alone; it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk.
Kurt and Puck were a surprise to everyone, including themselves. They were enemies on the surface, but slowly and surely a friendship grew. They pointed out one another’s shortcomings and yelled and screamed, but they’d grown into stronger and better people for it. They saw beyond the front they gave for others, saw the cracks in the armor, and destroyed them with it. But it was out of love. They cared enough to pay attention to the tiny details everyone looked over and they were virtually inseparable.
He was the first boy he’d ever loved.
He was the second love he’d ever lost.
Everything in Kurt’s life had been subconsciously built around him and he’s lost. He feels the need to vomit, but his body refuses him that release, choosing instead to churn his stomach. It’s devastation that Kurt feels. He puts her face his hands and wills it all away.
This is far too real for him.
* * * * *
Santana is last.
Emma takes her arm and makes her stand still. The wildness in her eyes alarms Emma.
“The impact of the crash broke a few of Brittany’s ribs. The break wasn’t clean and the cracked bones pierced some of her organs. They did the best they could, but the internal bleeding was too much. She passed on a few minutes ago. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Santana just stares at her. She backs into a wall and slides down, curling her body into the tiniest area possible. She doesn’t cry.
It’s not possible for Brittany to die. She’s too strong to die. Brittany survived Sue Sylvester’s boot camp last summer, she can’t die now. Not even from some stupid bleeding. There’s just no way Santana will never see Brittany’s goofy, proud smile again. It can’t be that she’ll never fall asleep next to her warm body. It doesn’t make any sense.
Brittany isn’t dead. Santana refuses to accept even the possibility.
* * * * *
Finn returns pale and tear stained. Emma looks at him. He shakes his head.
“There were, uh, complications in the childbirth. The birth tore open her insides or something and-“ He cuts off, unable to work his voice.
“And the baby?” she asks softly. He looks at her wistfully.
“She’s beautiful,” he croons. “She looks just like her. Drizzle Melody Fabray. That’s what Quinn told me to name her. She-“ He shakes his head and his eyes well dangerously with tears. “I never forgave her. I’ll never understand why she did it or talk to her about it. She died never knowing how much I still love her, even though she hurt me so badly.” Tears spill over onto his cheeks, but he ventures on, needing to say his dues. “This is all my fault. If I had talked to her earlier or didn’t punch Puck or just extended a hand when I know she wanted to, she’d be okay. She wouldn’t’ve been sitting alone in the front and I could’ve protected her and she would still-“
“This isn’t your fault, Finn,” Emma says gently. “This is a horribly accident. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I should’ve been there,” Finn says, not really hearing Emma. He sits on the plush hospital chair and Kurt lets out a strangled cry. Finn wants to beat things and to sleep and to cry and to go back in time, but mostly he just wants Quinn.
* * * * *
The last bit of news is the hardest for Emma to hear.
“The brain trauma was too intense. Will Schuester died.” It’s all she can muster before her throat closes up and she loses control for the first time that evening. Finn shakes his head violently; Kurt continues crying; Santana wails and beats her fists against the polished ground.
Powerlessness; denial; loss; anguish.
The four are quite the team.
* * * * *
It takes two weeks for all of them to be back in school, excepting Ms. Pillsbury, who picked up her things and returned to live with her parents in Iowa. Glee is disbanded, but Sue Sylvester can’t even be happy about it. A Virgil for the six lost is beautifully adorned in the lobby, but the uninjured avoid it. Mercedes, Matt, Artie, and Tina form a little group. They mourn appropriately, but slowly yet surely, they learn how to smile again. They suffered and survived.
Finn, Kurt, and Santana bind together. They are rarely seen without at least one of the others, but they never speak. Finn keeps a protective arm around whoever he walks with; Kurt and Santana hold hands tightly as they walk through the halls. They are outsiders to their own grief. They were merely observers as they watched those they loved most slip through their fingertips as they went on unscathed. They block out the rest of the world, those who weren’t there and those who rightly suffered.
They remain consumed in their guilt for surviving.
This is how it ends.