Walking With A Ghost (1/7)
Title: Walking With A Ghost (1/7)
Author: Irisayame
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: PG-13 for the first 6 chapters, NC-17 for the last.
Length: ~ 24000+
Spoiler: Uh, none really, but let's say season 1?
Summary: When Rachel dies, she returns as a ghost. She doesn't know what to do, let alone what's keeping her on earth, until she discovers that Quinn alone can see her. Will Quinn help her, or will the cheerleader let their lifelong animosity get between them?
Disclaimer: Don't own anything I may refer to, and of course, I don't own Glee
A/N: I wrote this for the Glee Femslash Big Bang. It took longer than it should have. It's big AU and I know it, and I can be a sucker for cliches, to warn you, but I hope you like it anyway :) read, enjoy, and I'm REALLY curious what you think about this (I've been kind of obsessing over it for a long time) so please, pretty please, review?
A/N 2: Song is called Radio's In Heaven by the Plain White T's. Lyrics are from Coldplay's Viva La Vida and Paramore's Misguided Ghosts!
***
~ I used to rule the world ~
Rachel knew from the second she woke up that morning that something was wrong. She didn’t know what it was, that vague feeling of queasiness in her stomach, her sixth sense on high alert. It started when she was lying on her bed without the slightest clue what chain of events had brought her there.
Then, she wasn’t hungry at all, and even skipped breakfast, the most important meal of the day.
When she walked her 5 minutes to McKinley High she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her gut feeling actually was a bad sign, or just a way of her pent-up frustrations with Finn’s absolute lack of romanticism and Glee’s lack of showtunes to make themselves clear.
She decided on her usual tactics, bury it beneath optimism and hope, without which all would be lost in the world. Then, the first strange thing of the day happened.
She was on her way to her locker when it happened. The undeniably horrible combination of Karofsky and a lime slushie. Being target no. 1, Rachel was well aware of what was about to transpire. Karofsky never could resist. So she closed her eyes, held her breath and got ready for…
The bell rang. Rachel opened her eyes and turned around frantically. She might have hit someone, but didn’t feel anything. She was supposed to have 5 more minutes until the bell, she was absolutely positive!
And 5 minutes couldn’t have passed. She had a good set of lungs and she regularly trained them with breathing exercises, but as she blew out the breath she’d been holding she remembered her record being 2 minutes.
Karofsky was out of sight, and she was lacking the familiar feeling of a brainfreeze and dirty sweet bits of slushie sliding their way into her clothes. She looked down. No, nothing.
Then she realized she was late. She could kiss her flawless attention record goodbye now, because she, Rachel Berry, was late, for the first time in her life. She sighed, already both agonized and mystified by this day, before making her way to Spanish.
Others would have skipped the class altogether, she knew, but she wasn’t others. The door was still open, she noticed, which meant Mr. Shue must have been running late as well. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she slipped inside the classroom and slid inside her seat, completely unnoticed.
The others were still talking amongst themselves of course, but the class fell dead silent when Mr. Shue walked in with red-rimmed eyes before slamming the door shut loudly. She caught a whisper behind her. “Do you think he fought with the red-head?”
But Mr. Shue’s look laid down a blanket of silence over the classroom. His eyes went to Rachel’s desk. Rachel smiled at him, but somehow, he seemed to not even notice the girl behind the desk. He breathed in deeply through his nose twice, and then unexpectedly, called out a few names.
“Kurt, Brittany, Puck, Tina, I’d like to speak with you right now. For the others, class dismissed.” Rachel froze for a sly second, before making her way out of the class along with the others. After doubting a second she decided to wait for her team mates until they were done.
She was really, really curious what that was all about. She couldn’t think of anything outside of Glee that Kurt, Puck, Brittany and Tina had in common, but if it were something Glee-related, Mr. Shue wouldn’t have dared excluding her from it.
He knew like no other what Glee meant to her. She hadn’t been waiting for very long when they came out.
“Hello!” Rachel started, but they walked past her without even so much as a sideways glance. “I really wonder what he’s so upset about,” Tina stated. Rachel could hear Kurt’s reply clearly.
“I’m sure he’ll share it with us at the emergency Glee meeting next hour.”
“Maybe his dog’s sick,” Brittany said before adding: “I don’t like dogs, ‘cause they don’t like cats and they’re mean to ducks and I like cats and ducks.”
Then they disappeared around the corner, and Rachel wondered when her piercing, one of a kind voice had suddenly become inaudible. You see, there weren’t many people out there who loved the spotlight and attention in general quite as much as Rachel. Thankfully, or the world would have been too small a place.
But Rachel wholly believed that even if negative attention wasn’t favourable over good attention, it actually was favourable over no attention at all. And for a girl like her, few things were crueler and more horrible than being ignored completely, like now.
Devastation and hurt immediately pierced her chest. She’d been excluded from a Glee thing, the one thing that made her feel like she was part of something. She was the heart of Glee, the talented, fearless captain of the ship. Or at least the leader. She was the star.
The hurt went away, or at least beneath the surface, when she squared her shoulders. They couldn’t exclude her from Glee. She’d be there next period, in the choir room, and someone had better have an excellent explanation for her.
She walked through the open doors of the choir room and went to sit on her usual seat. She spent the rest of the hour - unable to help herself - thinking about why nobody had told her anything, why the world seemed to be pretending that she wasn’t there, in what eloquent manner she would make the guilt sprout up inside of her team mates, and when the bell finally rang, she was in full on battle mode.
The familiar faces of her fellow members of Glee club walked in, one by one, none of them acknowledging the presence of the breezing brunette in the corner. Mr. Shue walked in and closed the door while 2 seats were still empty, her favourite and her least favourite team mate had yet to join them, Finn and Quinn.
Mercedes beat her to the punch, saying: “Wait, we’re not all there yet. We’re still missing Finn, Quinn and Rachel.”
“What? I’m right here, Mercedes. Look no further,” Rachel said quickly but nobody minded her. Before she could say more, Mr. Shue said to Mercedes: “I know, they’re not coming.”
He scraped his throat and that look appeared again on his face. Defeated. Lifeless. Infinitely sad. He looked at the pupils, the students, the kids from Glee club, and then finally started speaking.
“I’m afraid Finn is too upset to join us now. Quinn is with him for moral support, but he got some really bad news today. News that is going to be a blow for all of you as much as it was for Finn, or myself. It concerns Rachel.”
Rachel sat up. Nobody turned to look at her.
“There’s been… a horrible accident concerning Rachel and her fathers. A car crash. One of her dads is relatively fine, one is still lying injured in the hospital, but Rachel… she didn’t make it. She was dead the second they crashed.”
It was silent for a few short moments, before Mercedes said: “Hold on. Wait. Like, dead-dead? No hope? Rachel is dead?”
“She is,” Mr. Shue said in a soft voice.
Gasps and squeaks went through the group, and one emotion was gripping everybody now. Shock. Rachel blinked.
This was absolutely and utterly ridiculous. She knew she wasn’t stupid - not according to her 3.9 GPA she wasn’t - but she honestly just really didn’t get the clue of this really weird practical joke.
Was it Mike or Tina who had thought of this? Asians always did have strange sense of humour. Perhaps Artie. He managed to be both positive, yet have a strange morbid side to him. She shot her teammates a look.
She had to give it to them, she’d thought she was the only one in Glee who could once get in to the biz as both an actress and a singer, but she saw that both Kurt and Tina could cry on demand like her.
Even Puck, Brittany and Santana were taking it seriously. Wait, were Santana’s eyes moist?! They were really pulling out all the stops, weren’t they?
Of course, that was why Finn and Quinn weren’t there. They would have ruined it. Finn unable to keep in is laughter, and Quinn unable to pretend she cared even in the slightest bit. Santana buried her head in Brittany’s shoulder and, although it was kinda fun, Rachel thought it was best to put a stop to it now.
“I realize that some people have a more twisted sense of humour than others,” she started, rising from her seat, “but this has gone on for long enough, and frankly Mr Shue, I believe it is highly irresponsible of you to sacrifice a Spanish class for a practical joke.”
Tina broke a sob. Artie had trouble putting his arms around her, obstructed by his wheelchair, and he pulled her on his lap, without a second look from a still slackjawed Mike.
Kurt was blinking his red-swollen eyes feverishly, and Puck’s face was aimed towards the ground before he suddenly jumped up, growled, kicked his chair and stormed out. Mr Shue was comforting Santana, Brittany and Mercedes.
Rachel was growing more and more annoyed, especially when it turned out that Puck couldn’t pretend anymore either and left like that. She bet he was snickering with Finn and Quinn out there somewhere.
She walked to the front of the room, and it was then that she made the gesture that changed everything.
She tried to shake Mr. Shue’s shoulder, but she felt nothing beneath her hands but air. She gasped and watched intently as, again, her hand passed straight through Mr. Shue’s broad shoulders.
This had to mean that either Mr. Shue was literally untouchable, which was highly unlikely because Santana was clinging to him like she had no trouble touching him whatsoever, or she was untouchable, or she was crazy.
She ran to Mike and tried to smack him, tugged on Brittany’s Cheerio’s uniform, unsnapping one of Artie’s suspenders, but her hand went through all of them, like someone who wasn’t really there.
She stumbled back and realized that, if she wanted proof, this wasn’t the place she would get it. No. Rachel turned around and ran, well, fled the scene, really.
She had a clear goal in mind and felt that her body didn’t get tired from running at full speed. No stinging in her sides, no sweat, no racing heart - was it beating at all?
She didn’t check, didn’t want to know - she only stopped on her way to try and touch random strangers, or yell at them. It would have been embarrassing if they could hear her, but they didn’t, so it was mostly just desperate.
She finally arrived at the sliding doors of the hospital. They didn’t open. Rachel stared at the doors like they were kidding her. They were just normal, regular sliding doors. They always opened for her. They sensed people, or something alike, and after noting her presence they would open for her. But not now.
Nearly panic stricken, she started pacing in front of them, jumping, disappearing behind a corner before jumping out again, even trying to say “open sesame”, but to no avail.
A mad idea came to her. She knew it was mad, but if she’d already gone mad - a real possibility - then what did it matter? She walked back several feet, swallowed thickly, closed her eyes and ran for the doors.
She felt like Harry Potter on platform 9 and three quarters. After counting to 20 in her mind, she opened her eyes and found that she was in the hospital.
Oh. Maybe the doors had actually opened after all.
It was a rather small hospital and on every floor there was a list with it’s patients. On the 3rd floor she found the name of her father with his room number. Feeling nauseous, she went to his room.
The door was open, and she spotted her father, with her dad on his bedside. Both were sleeping, holding hands, tear streaked faces. She had seen enough and raced the stairs to the top floor.
Obstructed by a door again, she took a deep breath and felt barely surprised when she stepped through the obstruction, so she was standing in the hospitals morgue.
She walked past the slates, checking the tags. There, between Beckenbauer and Carlton, there she was. Berry, R. B. Rachel Barbra. Her breath stuck in her throat and she noticed her lungs weren’t throbbing, no longer begging for air.
She kept holding her breath when she bended over and let her face slip through the blanket, trying not to think about what she was doing. She was met by her own face, but not like she knew it, mirrored. This was how other people saw her face.
Hopefully not like this, though, because she looked horrible. Asleep, but scarily pale. Probably cold, too, she couldn’t tell. A thought occurred to her. Why not? Why, obviously, her essence had survived. And her body had, she was looking at it right now. Why not reunite them?
She already saw it happening in her mind, just like the movies. She laid down on the slate, slipping the rest of herself through the blanket, mirrored her body’s position and waited. Myth busted. Nothing happened.
Disappointment struck her hard when she rose and didn’t feel or see the blanket fall from her body. It was then that she was sure. She was beyond hope. Rachel Berry had passed away.
~ Misguided ghosts ~
She walked out without another look, through the streets, to her house, going through people, trees, cars - ironically enough - until she reached her own bed and laid herself down to think. What did this mean? What did this change? She knew the answer.
“Everything,” she whispered. Her life was over, literally. All her hopes and dreams vanished. This would forever be her life, stuck in Lima, never getting to New York and making her dreams come true.
Everything she had ever wanted was now out of her reach before she had really gotten a chance to go on and get it. She felt like she was crying but no actual tears spilled from her eyes. Only sobs from her throat, while all the things she’d lost formed a horrible parade in her head.
She lost track of time with her sorrow, especially when nobody came home after a while, and in the dark, her optimism crumbled along with so many things that shaped her, and she mourned herself till dawn. At the end of it all, there was but one thing wrecking her mind.
What was she still doing here?
Shouldn’t her essence have died with her body? She prided herself on never drinking, doing drugs or having sex or anything else that could be described as “sinful”.
Frankly, if she didn’t deserve to go to heaven, nobody did. Unless the Christians were right and all the Jews were damned from the beginning, which would be highly unfair, but even then she should be burning in hell.
In any case, she shouldn’t have been stuck on earth like now. Was she supposed to let the world know her talent in vain before passing on to either heaven or hell?’ She didn’t know. What she did know was that she would never find anything out if she stayed in bed.
When her alarm clock went off, she sat up with a start. After trying to get her elliptical running - but failing to push the on button - she decided it didn’t matter since she would never eat again anyway, never change.
She shook her head and left her home, not bothering trying to bring her bookbag. She would never make another test anyway. That was kind of good. No more tests. No more studying. Never the gratifying feeling of getting an A, never graduating…
She walked on. She had already gone through most things during the night, listing them in her mind, but the list grew as the small things added up to them. Walking barefoot on a newly mown lawn, tasting salt on your lips after swimming in the ocean.
That final bow, hearing nothing but cheers and applause… She suddenly found herself at school, the place her feet had automatically led her to. She checked the clock. First period started 5 minutes ago. She walked through the door and after a minute, she walked in her History class, unnoticed, of course.
She went to sit on her usual seat, and made notes in her mind in stead of on actual paper. After that, she tried the same thing in English, but had that class with Kurt, Mercedes and Brittany and Santana, who were casting such sad, horrible looks at her seat that it disturbed her focus a little.
During lunch she was planning on going to the choir room as for usual, although she didn’t know what she was going to do there now, unable to touch something.
Being dead really ruined your day.
Once there, she saw that she didn’t need to worry.
Apart from Puck and Quinn, the whole Glee club was there, whispering, scared to talk too loud, it seemed. Mr. Shue walked in. He looked sad and tired, but seemed to have pulled himself together overnight. He was carrying a radio.
He put the radio down with a clap and looked at the Glee club. He sighed.
“It will probably take some time to get over this. But we can’t let it crush us, even though it’s easy to, we can’t. Last night, 2 of your friends stayed up all night and made this happen.”
He turned on the radio and on came a presenters voice.
“And the girl-”
“Rachel,” Quinn’s voice caught him off. Rachel gasped, and wasn’t the only one surprised.
“Right, Rachel. She was in your school’s Glee club?”
“She was our star,” Puck’s voice said. Rachel’s breath stuck in her throat again.
“Why are they on there?! They didn’t care for her! They didn’t even like her!” Finn said, a little too loudly.
Mr. Shue stepped up. “They lost a friend just like you guys.”
Kurt agreed. “Think about it. They did this. Nobody here was always nice to her, none of us really deserve it, if you’re fair.”
The radio went on, Quinn telling about what she’d meant for Glee club with Puck filling in some blanks.
“So why are you here?”
“To pay a tribute to her. Our own, personal Jewish icon.”
“Alright, go for it guys. Here are Quinn Fabray and Noah Puckerman, with a tribute to the late Rachel Berry.”
“This song is called Radio’s in Heaven, we switched up the lyrics a little. This one is for our captain.”
Rachel closed her eyes, and wished she were there. She knew somehow that it could be done, and when she opened them, she saw Puck and Quinn, Puck playing his acoustic guitar, and Quinn started singing in her soft, delicate voice.
Your time has already come and I don't know why
The last thing that I had heard
you were doing just fine
It seems like just yesterday
I was dancing with you
Songs at Mr. Shuester’s house
Well you taught us well, didn't you?
I hope I'm just like you
It was impossible not to notice the change in lyrics, even for someone who didn’t know the song. Rachel remembered hearing it once or twice when they were hanging out with the Gleeks, and someone’s iPod was playing in the background.
After that, she’d looked it up, because it was infinitely romantic to her, the whole idea behind the song. And who was here singing it? Quinn, of all people. Though Noah joined in for the chorus.
Do they have radios in heaven?
I hope they do
'Cause they're playing my song on the radio
And I'm singing it to you
And I'm singing it to you, ,you, ,you, ,you
You left before we had a chance to say goodbye
But that's the way life usually is
It just passes you by
But you can't hold on to regrets and you can't look back
So I'll just be thankful for the times that I had with you
I hope I'm just like you
Quinn kept her eyes closed throughout the whole song. Usually Rachel would have commented that it was bad if you wanted to connect with the audience, but this was radio.
Well, do they have radios in heaven?
I hope they do
'Cause they're playing my song on the radio
And I'm singing it to you, I'm singing it to you
If they don't have radios in heaven
here's what I'll do
I can bring my guitar when my time is up and I'll play it for you
I'll play it for you, you, you
Puck changed up the rhythm, a light frown was etched on his handsome features. He let the last chord of the bridge ring while Quinn held her tone longer than was necessary, showing off.
Rachel kept in a snort. She was often guilty of showing off herself, and she wasn’t a hypocrite. The key change went swiftly, and suddenly Quinn was singing a key higher.
Tell me can you hear me now
if not, then I can try to sing real loud
What's it like up on the other side of the clouds?
I hope I'm just like you
I hope I turn out to be as good as you
And do they have radios in heaven?
I hope they do
'Cause they're playing my song on the radio
And I'm singing it to you, I'm singing it to you
And if they don't have radios in heaven
here's what I'll do
I can bring my guitar when my time is up and I'll play it for you
I'll play it for you, you, you
It was quite the tearjearker, the song, not that something was wrong with that of course. When Puck strummed his final chord, Quinn let out a shaky breath, seemingly emotional, Rachel detected surprised.
Quinn opened her eyes, and hazel eyes locked with chocolate brown.
Rachel gasped. Quinn wasn’t looking through her. The surprised look in the blonde’s eyes gave her away. The radio cut to commercial and the presenter gave them his condolences before leaving quickly, taking full advantage of his short break, no doubt.
“That went great. We rock!” Puck said grinning, before stating: “I’m pretty freaking sure she heard that.”
“Yeah,” Quinn agreed. “She sure did.”
As they walked to the elevator, Rachel was on Quinn’s tail. In the elevator, Quinn was focused intently on the numbers that told her they were going down, until Rachel said: “…Quinn?”
Quinn cringed and Rachel squealed.
“I knew it! You saw me, you heard me! You can see and hear me!”
“Are you alright, Quinn?” Puck asked doubtfully.
“Alright? Alright?! Noah, she is a psychic! She’s gifted! You’re more than alright, Quinn!”
“Ugh,” Quinn said, before loudly - trying to get over Rachel’s voice - saying: “Thanks Puck, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Why are you yelling? We’re in a freaking elevator.”
“Yes, Quinn, why are you yelling?” Rachel asked, grinning wildly.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Quinn muttered, before the ‘bing’ indicated they’d arrived downstairs.
“What?” Puck asked.
“Nothing. Ehm, Puck, I think I’d rather walk home, if that’s okay. Get some air. It’s barely a 15 minute walk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
Puck was still doubtful, looking at her concernedly.
“Do you need me to like, call someone or something? You don’t seem normal.”
Quinn sighed, trying to hide her annoyance.
“It’s fine, Puck, I promise. Just need to get some air. See you soon.”
“Yeah, take care alright?” Puck said.
When he walked away, Rachel sighed.
“I thought he was never going to leave. Now, I have several questions I would like to ask you, as you probably can imagine.”
Quinn turned around, looking dead tired and worn out. She cringed again when she saw Rachel, and groaned: “Why does it have to be you? Can’t I see, like, someone cool? Like Marilyn Monroe or Paul McCartney?”
“Actually, you will find that Paul McCartney is still very much alive, unlike me.”
Quinn groaned again, exasperated.
“My point exactly. Why does it have to be you?”
“I am very sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. And don’t pretend that everything you feel towards me is negative, because that radio performance just now proved otherwise. I am unsure where exactly all that heartfelt emotion came from, but I grant you my compliments. Now, do you have an explanation or are we both just lost in the dark here?”
“You’re dead.”
“I know.”
“Well, that’s a start. You died in a car crash last Sunday.”
“I know. I saw my body.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how to reply to that and so she didn’t. Rachel wasn’t about to waste any time, though.
“You can see me, and hear me.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.”
“Why? How? Am I a ghost? Are you like Jennifer Love Hewitt in Ghost Whisperer? Are you psychic? Am I not really dead? Are you a witch?”
“This is so not happening.” Quinn started walking from her, but Rachel caught up with her within a second.
“You can’t do this! You’re my only hope! Please, you must help me! You have to help! They always do on Broadway!”
“I don’t have to do anything!” Quinn snarled at her, coming to an abrupt stop. “I’m not obliged to help anybody, least of all you! I don’t owe you anything! This isn’t one of yourstupid shows, this is my life! And let me tell you this, Berry, I didn’t choose this… whatever, and if there’s one person I didn’t want to come and haunt me it would be you! You’re dead, Treasure Trail! Stay dead, and act like it!”
Quinn decided to jump on a bus, and Rachel knew that at that specific moment, she wouldn’t reach anything with Quinn. Quinn was tired and taken by surprise, probably upset, possibly emotional, and Rachel could do with some time to sort things out as well. So she gave Quinn a break. For now.
Part 2
Author: Irisayame
Pairing: Rachel/Quinn
Rating: PG-13 for the first 6 chapters, NC-17 for the last.
Length: ~ 24000+
Spoiler: Uh, none really, but let's say season 1?
Summary: When Rachel dies, she returns as a ghost. She doesn't know what to do, let alone what's keeping her on earth, until she discovers that Quinn alone can see her. Will Quinn help her, or will the cheerleader let their lifelong animosity get between them?
Disclaimer: Don't own anything I may refer to, and of course, I don't own Glee
A/N: I wrote this for the Glee Femslash Big Bang. It took longer than it should have. It's big AU and I know it, and I can be a sucker for cliches, to warn you, but I hope you like it anyway :) read, enjoy, and I'm REALLY curious what you think about this (I've been kind of obsessing over it for a long time) so please, pretty please, review?
A/N 2: Song is called Radio's In Heaven by the Plain White T's. Lyrics are from Coldplay's Viva La Vida and Paramore's Misguided Ghosts!
***
~ I used to rule the world ~
Rachel knew from the second she woke up that morning that something was wrong. She didn’t know what it was, that vague feeling of queasiness in her stomach, her sixth sense on high alert. It started when she was lying on her bed without the slightest clue what chain of events had brought her there.
Then, she wasn’t hungry at all, and even skipped breakfast, the most important meal of the day.
When she walked her 5 minutes to McKinley High she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her gut feeling actually was a bad sign, or just a way of her pent-up frustrations with Finn’s absolute lack of romanticism and Glee’s lack of showtunes to make themselves clear.
She decided on her usual tactics, bury it beneath optimism and hope, without which all would be lost in the world. Then, the first strange thing of the day happened.
She was on her way to her locker when it happened. The undeniably horrible combination of Karofsky and a lime slushie. Being target no. 1, Rachel was well aware of what was about to transpire. Karofsky never could resist. So she closed her eyes, held her breath and got ready for…
The bell rang. Rachel opened her eyes and turned around frantically. She might have hit someone, but didn’t feel anything. She was supposed to have 5 more minutes until the bell, she was absolutely positive!
And 5 minutes couldn’t have passed. She had a good set of lungs and she regularly trained them with breathing exercises, but as she blew out the breath she’d been holding she remembered her record being 2 minutes.
Karofsky was out of sight, and she was lacking the familiar feeling of a brainfreeze and dirty sweet bits of slushie sliding their way into her clothes. She looked down. No, nothing.
Then she realized she was late. She could kiss her flawless attention record goodbye now, because she, Rachel Berry, was late, for the first time in her life. She sighed, already both agonized and mystified by this day, before making her way to Spanish.
Others would have skipped the class altogether, she knew, but she wasn’t others. The door was still open, she noticed, which meant Mr. Shue must have been running late as well. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she slipped inside the classroom and slid inside her seat, completely unnoticed.
The others were still talking amongst themselves of course, but the class fell dead silent when Mr. Shue walked in with red-rimmed eyes before slamming the door shut loudly. She caught a whisper behind her. “Do you think he fought with the red-head?”
But Mr. Shue’s look laid down a blanket of silence over the classroom. His eyes went to Rachel’s desk. Rachel smiled at him, but somehow, he seemed to not even notice the girl behind the desk. He breathed in deeply through his nose twice, and then unexpectedly, called out a few names.
“Kurt, Brittany, Puck, Tina, I’d like to speak with you right now. For the others, class dismissed.” Rachel froze for a sly second, before making her way out of the class along with the others. After doubting a second she decided to wait for her team mates until they were done.
She was really, really curious what that was all about. She couldn’t think of anything outside of Glee that Kurt, Puck, Brittany and Tina had in common, but if it were something Glee-related, Mr. Shue wouldn’t have dared excluding her from it.
He knew like no other what Glee meant to her. She hadn’t been waiting for very long when they came out.
“Hello!” Rachel started, but they walked past her without even so much as a sideways glance. “I really wonder what he’s so upset about,” Tina stated. Rachel could hear Kurt’s reply clearly.
“I’m sure he’ll share it with us at the emergency Glee meeting next hour.”
“Maybe his dog’s sick,” Brittany said before adding: “I don’t like dogs, ‘cause they don’t like cats and they’re mean to ducks and I like cats and ducks.”
Then they disappeared around the corner, and Rachel wondered when her piercing, one of a kind voice had suddenly become inaudible. You see, there weren’t many people out there who loved the spotlight and attention in general quite as much as Rachel. Thankfully, or the world would have been too small a place.
But Rachel wholly believed that even if negative attention wasn’t favourable over good attention, it actually was favourable over no attention at all. And for a girl like her, few things were crueler and more horrible than being ignored completely, like now.
Devastation and hurt immediately pierced her chest. She’d been excluded from a Glee thing, the one thing that made her feel like she was part of something. She was the heart of Glee, the talented, fearless captain of the ship. Or at least the leader. She was the star.
The hurt went away, or at least beneath the surface, when she squared her shoulders. They couldn’t exclude her from Glee. She’d be there next period, in the choir room, and someone had better have an excellent explanation for her.
She walked through the open doors of the choir room and went to sit on her usual seat. She spent the rest of the hour - unable to help herself - thinking about why nobody had told her anything, why the world seemed to be pretending that she wasn’t there, in what eloquent manner she would make the guilt sprout up inside of her team mates, and when the bell finally rang, she was in full on battle mode.
The familiar faces of her fellow members of Glee club walked in, one by one, none of them acknowledging the presence of the breezing brunette in the corner. Mr. Shue walked in and closed the door while 2 seats were still empty, her favourite and her least favourite team mate had yet to join them, Finn and Quinn.
Mercedes beat her to the punch, saying: “Wait, we’re not all there yet. We’re still missing Finn, Quinn and Rachel.”
“What? I’m right here, Mercedes. Look no further,” Rachel said quickly but nobody minded her. Before she could say more, Mr. Shue said to Mercedes: “I know, they’re not coming.”
He scraped his throat and that look appeared again on his face. Defeated. Lifeless. Infinitely sad. He looked at the pupils, the students, the kids from Glee club, and then finally started speaking.
“I’m afraid Finn is too upset to join us now. Quinn is with him for moral support, but he got some really bad news today. News that is going to be a blow for all of you as much as it was for Finn, or myself. It concerns Rachel.”
Rachel sat up. Nobody turned to look at her.
“There’s been… a horrible accident concerning Rachel and her fathers. A car crash. One of her dads is relatively fine, one is still lying injured in the hospital, but Rachel… she didn’t make it. She was dead the second they crashed.”
It was silent for a few short moments, before Mercedes said: “Hold on. Wait. Like, dead-dead? No hope? Rachel is dead?”
“She is,” Mr. Shue said in a soft voice.
Gasps and squeaks went through the group, and one emotion was gripping everybody now. Shock. Rachel blinked.
This was absolutely and utterly ridiculous. She knew she wasn’t stupid - not according to her 3.9 GPA she wasn’t - but she honestly just really didn’t get the clue of this really weird practical joke.
Was it Mike or Tina who had thought of this? Asians always did have strange sense of humour. Perhaps Artie. He managed to be both positive, yet have a strange morbid side to him. She shot her teammates a look.
She had to give it to them, she’d thought she was the only one in Glee who could once get in to the biz as both an actress and a singer, but she saw that both Kurt and Tina could cry on demand like her.
Even Puck, Brittany and Santana were taking it seriously. Wait, were Santana’s eyes moist?! They were really pulling out all the stops, weren’t they?
Of course, that was why Finn and Quinn weren’t there. They would have ruined it. Finn unable to keep in is laughter, and Quinn unable to pretend she cared even in the slightest bit. Santana buried her head in Brittany’s shoulder and, although it was kinda fun, Rachel thought it was best to put a stop to it now.
“I realize that some people have a more twisted sense of humour than others,” she started, rising from her seat, “but this has gone on for long enough, and frankly Mr Shue, I believe it is highly irresponsible of you to sacrifice a Spanish class for a practical joke.”
Tina broke a sob. Artie had trouble putting his arms around her, obstructed by his wheelchair, and he pulled her on his lap, without a second look from a still slackjawed Mike.
Kurt was blinking his red-swollen eyes feverishly, and Puck’s face was aimed towards the ground before he suddenly jumped up, growled, kicked his chair and stormed out. Mr Shue was comforting Santana, Brittany and Mercedes.
Rachel was growing more and more annoyed, especially when it turned out that Puck couldn’t pretend anymore either and left like that. She bet he was snickering with Finn and Quinn out there somewhere.
She walked to the front of the room, and it was then that she made the gesture that changed everything.
She tried to shake Mr. Shue’s shoulder, but she felt nothing beneath her hands but air. She gasped and watched intently as, again, her hand passed straight through Mr. Shue’s broad shoulders.
This had to mean that either Mr. Shue was literally untouchable, which was highly unlikely because Santana was clinging to him like she had no trouble touching him whatsoever, or she was untouchable, or she was crazy.
She ran to Mike and tried to smack him, tugged on Brittany’s Cheerio’s uniform, unsnapping one of Artie’s suspenders, but her hand went through all of them, like someone who wasn’t really there.
She stumbled back and realized that, if she wanted proof, this wasn’t the place she would get it. No. Rachel turned around and ran, well, fled the scene, really.
She had a clear goal in mind and felt that her body didn’t get tired from running at full speed. No stinging in her sides, no sweat, no racing heart - was it beating at all?
She didn’t check, didn’t want to know - she only stopped on her way to try and touch random strangers, or yell at them. It would have been embarrassing if they could hear her, but they didn’t, so it was mostly just desperate.
She finally arrived at the sliding doors of the hospital. They didn’t open. Rachel stared at the doors like they were kidding her. They were just normal, regular sliding doors. They always opened for her. They sensed people, or something alike, and after noting her presence they would open for her. But not now.
Nearly panic stricken, she started pacing in front of them, jumping, disappearing behind a corner before jumping out again, even trying to say “open sesame”, but to no avail.
A mad idea came to her. She knew it was mad, but if she’d already gone mad - a real possibility - then what did it matter? She walked back several feet, swallowed thickly, closed her eyes and ran for the doors.
She felt like Harry Potter on platform 9 and three quarters. After counting to 20 in her mind, she opened her eyes and found that she was in the hospital.
Oh. Maybe the doors had actually opened after all.
It was a rather small hospital and on every floor there was a list with it’s patients. On the 3rd floor she found the name of her father with his room number. Feeling nauseous, she went to his room.
The door was open, and she spotted her father, with her dad on his bedside. Both were sleeping, holding hands, tear streaked faces. She had seen enough and raced the stairs to the top floor.
Obstructed by a door again, she took a deep breath and felt barely surprised when she stepped through the obstruction, so she was standing in the hospitals morgue.
She walked past the slates, checking the tags. There, between Beckenbauer and Carlton, there she was. Berry, R. B. Rachel Barbra. Her breath stuck in her throat and she noticed her lungs weren’t throbbing, no longer begging for air.
She kept holding her breath when she bended over and let her face slip through the blanket, trying not to think about what she was doing. She was met by her own face, but not like she knew it, mirrored. This was how other people saw her face.
Hopefully not like this, though, because she looked horrible. Asleep, but scarily pale. Probably cold, too, she couldn’t tell. A thought occurred to her. Why not? Why, obviously, her essence had survived. And her body had, she was looking at it right now. Why not reunite them?
She already saw it happening in her mind, just like the movies. She laid down on the slate, slipping the rest of herself through the blanket, mirrored her body’s position and waited. Myth busted. Nothing happened.
Disappointment struck her hard when she rose and didn’t feel or see the blanket fall from her body. It was then that she was sure. She was beyond hope. Rachel Berry had passed away.
~ Misguided ghosts ~
She walked out without another look, through the streets, to her house, going through people, trees, cars - ironically enough - until she reached her own bed and laid herself down to think. What did this mean? What did this change? She knew the answer.
“Everything,” she whispered. Her life was over, literally. All her hopes and dreams vanished. This would forever be her life, stuck in Lima, never getting to New York and making her dreams come true.
Everything she had ever wanted was now out of her reach before she had really gotten a chance to go on and get it. She felt like she was crying but no actual tears spilled from her eyes. Only sobs from her throat, while all the things she’d lost formed a horrible parade in her head.
She lost track of time with her sorrow, especially when nobody came home after a while, and in the dark, her optimism crumbled along with so many things that shaped her, and she mourned herself till dawn. At the end of it all, there was but one thing wrecking her mind.
What was she still doing here?
Shouldn’t her essence have died with her body? She prided herself on never drinking, doing drugs or having sex or anything else that could be described as “sinful”.
Frankly, if she didn’t deserve to go to heaven, nobody did. Unless the Christians were right and all the Jews were damned from the beginning, which would be highly unfair, but even then she should be burning in hell.
In any case, she shouldn’t have been stuck on earth like now. Was she supposed to let the world know her talent in vain before passing on to either heaven or hell?’ She didn’t know. What she did know was that she would never find anything out if she stayed in bed.
When her alarm clock went off, she sat up with a start. After trying to get her elliptical running - but failing to push the on button - she decided it didn’t matter since she would never eat again anyway, never change.
She shook her head and left her home, not bothering trying to bring her bookbag. She would never make another test anyway. That was kind of good. No more tests. No more studying. Never the gratifying feeling of getting an A, never graduating…
She walked on. She had already gone through most things during the night, listing them in her mind, but the list grew as the small things added up to them. Walking barefoot on a newly mown lawn, tasting salt on your lips after swimming in the ocean.
That final bow, hearing nothing but cheers and applause… She suddenly found herself at school, the place her feet had automatically led her to. She checked the clock. First period started 5 minutes ago. She walked through the door and after a minute, she walked in her History class, unnoticed, of course.
She went to sit on her usual seat, and made notes in her mind in stead of on actual paper. After that, she tried the same thing in English, but had that class with Kurt, Mercedes and Brittany and Santana, who were casting such sad, horrible looks at her seat that it disturbed her focus a little.
During lunch she was planning on going to the choir room as for usual, although she didn’t know what she was going to do there now, unable to touch something.
Being dead really ruined your day.
Once there, she saw that she didn’t need to worry.
Apart from Puck and Quinn, the whole Glee club was there, whispering, scared to talk too loud, it seemed. Mr. Shue walked in. He looked sad and tired, but seemed to have pulled himself together overnight. He was carrying a radio.
He put the radio down with a clap and looked at the Glee club. He sighed.
“It will probably take some time to get over this. But we can’t let it crush us, even though it’s easy to, we can’t. Last night, 2 of your friends stayed up all night and made this happen.”
He turned on the radio and on came a presenters voice.
“And the girl-”
“Rachel,” Quinn’s voice caught him off. Rachel gasped, and wasn’t the only one surprised.
“Right, Rachel. She was in your school’s Glee club?”
“She was our star,” Puck’s voice said. Rachel’s breath stuck in her throat again.
“Why are they on there?! They didn’t care for her! They didn’t even like her!” Finn said, a little too loudly.
Mr. Shue stepped up. “They lost a friend just like you guys.”
Kurt agreed. “Think about it. They did this. Nobody here was always nice to her, none of us really deserve it, if you’re fair.”
The radio went on, Quinn telling about what she’d meant for Glee club with Puck filling in some blanks.
“So why are you here?”
“To pay a tribute to her. Our own, personal Jewish icon.”
“Alright, go for it guys. Here are Quinn Fabray and Noah Puckerman, with a tribute to the late Rachel Berry.”
“This song is called Radio’s in Heaven, we switched up the lyrics a little. This one is for our captain.”
Rachel closed her eyes, and wished she were there. She knew somehow that it could be done, and when she opened them, she saw Puck and Quinn, Puck playing his acoustic guitar, and Quinn started singing in her soft, delicate voice.
Your time has already come and I don't know why
The last thing that I had heard
you were doing just fine
It seems like just yesterday
I was dancing with you
Songs at Mr. Shuester’s house
Well you taught us well, didn't you?
I hope I'm just like you
It was impossible not to notice the change in lyrics, even for someone who didn’t know the song. Rachel remembered hearing it once or twice when they were hanging out with the Gleeks, and someone’s iPod was playing in the background.
After that, she’d looked it up, because it was infinitely romantic to her, the whole idea behind the song. And who was here singing it? Quinn, of all people. Though Noah joined in for the chorus.
Do they have radios in heaven?
I hope they do
'Cause they're playing my song on the radio
And I'm singing it to you
And I'm singing it to you, ,you, ,you, ,you
You left before we had a chance to say goodbye
But that's the way life usually is
It just passes you by
But you can't hold on to regrets and you can't look back
So I'll just be thankful for the times that I had with you
I hope I'm just like you
Quinn kept her eyes closed throughout the whole song. Usually Rachel would have commented that it was bad if you wanted to connect with the audience, but this was radio.
Well, do they have radios in heaven?
I hope they do
'Cause they're playing my song on the radio
And I'm singing it to you, I'm singing it to you
If they don't have radios in heaven
here's what I'll do
I can bring my guitar when my time is up and I'll play it for you
I'll play it for you, you, you
Puck changed up the rhythm, a light frown was etched on his handsome features. He let the last chord of the bridge ring while Quinn held her tone longer than was necessary, showing off.
Rachel kept in a snort. She was often guilty of showing off herself, and she wasn’t a hypocrite. The key change went swiftly, and suddenly Quinn was singing a key higher.
Tell me can you hear me now
if not, then I can try to sing real loud
What's it like up on the other side of the clouds?
I hope I'm just like you
I hope I turn out to be as good as you
And do they have radios in heaven?
I hope they do
'Cause they're playing my song on the radio
And I'm singing it to you, I'm singing it to you
And if they don't have radios in heaven
here's what I'll do
I can bring my guitar when my time is up and I'll play it for you
I'll play it for you, you, you
It was quite the tearjearker, the song, not that something was wrong with that of course. When Puck strummed his final chord, Quinn let out a shaky breath, seemingly emotional, Rachel detected surprised.
Quinn opened her eyes, and hazel eyes locked with chocolate brown.
Rachel gasped. Quinn wasn’t looking through her. The surprised look in the blonde’s eyes gave her away. The radio cut to commercial and the presenter gave them his condolences before leaving quickly, taking full advantage of his short break, no doubt.
“That went great. We rock!” Puck said grinning, before stating: “I’m pretty freaking sure she heard that.”
“Yeah,” Quinn agreed. “She sure did.”
As they walked to the elevator, Rachel was on Quinn’s tail. In the elevator, Quinn was focused intently on the numbers that told her they were going down, until Rachel said: “…Quinn?”
Quinn cringed and Rachel squealed.
“I knew it! You saw me, you heard me! You can see and hear me!”
“Are you alright, Quinn?” Puck asked doubtfully.
“Alright? Alright?! Noah, she is a psychic! She’s gifted! You’re more than alright, Quinn!”
“Ugh,” Quinn said, before loudly - trying to get over Rachel’s voice - saying: “Thanks Puck, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Why are you yelling? We’re in a freaking elevator.”
“Yes, Quinn, why are you yelling?” Rachel asked, grinning wildly.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Quinn muttered, before the ‘bing’ indicated they’d arrived downstairs.
“What?” Puck asked.
“Nothing. Ehm, Puck, I think I’d rather walk home, if that’s okay. Get some air. It’s barely a 15 minute walk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
Puck was still doubtful, looking at her concernedly.
“Do you need me to like, call someone or something? You don’t seem normal.”
Quinn sighed, trying to hide her annoyance.
“It’s fine, Puck, I promise. Just need to get some air. See you soon.”
“Yeah, take care alright?” Puck said.
When he walked away, Rachel sighed.
“I thought he was never going to leave. Now, I have several questions I would like to ask you, as you probably can imagine.”
Quinn turned around, looking dead tired and worn out. She cringed again when she saw Rachel, and groaned: “Why does it have to be you? Can’t I see, like, someone cool? Like Marilyn Monroe or Paul McCartney?”
“Actually, you will find that Paul McCartney is still very much alive, unlike me.”
Quinn groaned again, exasperated.
“My point exactly. Why does it have to be you?”
“I am very sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter. And don’t pretend that everything you feel towards me is negative, because that radio performance just now proved otherwise. I am unsure where exactly all that heartfelt emotion came from, but I grant you my compliments. Now, do you have an explanation or are we both just lost in the dark here?”
“You’re dead.”
“I know.”
“Well, that’s a start. You died in a car crash last Sunday.”
“I know. I saw my body.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how to reply to that and so she didn’t. Rachel wasn’t about to waste any time, though.
“You can see me, and hear me.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.”
“Why? How? Am I a ghost? Are you like Jennifer Love Hewitt in Ghost Whisperer? Are you psychic? Am I not really dead? Are you a witch?”
“This is so not happening.” Quinn started walking from her, but Rachel caught up with her within a second.
“You can’t do this! You’re my only hope! Please, you must help me! You have to help! They always do on Broadway!”
“I don’t have to do anything!” Quinn snarled at her, coming to an abrupt stop. “I’m not obliged to help anybody, least of all you! I don’t owe you anything! This isn’t one of yourstupid shows, this is my life! And let me tell you this, Berry, I didn’t choose this… whatever, and if there’s one person I didn’t want to come and haunt me it would be you! You’re dead, Treasure Trail! Stay dead, and act like it!”
Quinn decided to jump on a bus, and Rachel knew that at that specific moment, she wouldn’t reach anything with Quinn. Quinn was tired and taken by surprise, probably upset, possibly emotional, and Rachel could do with some time to sort things out as well. So she gave Quinn a break. For now.
Part 2