Angeles (Chapter Five)
The Day The Sky Caught Fire
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter 5: Go On and Lose the Gamble
London, England, 1348
Walking to the market with Brittany shouldn’t be so comforting, but Rachel is just desperate to hold on to the shreds of her life before the angels fell from the sky. There is a tranquility to their routine that has been absent in recent weeks and so Rachel chooses to savor it.
It won’t last. She is beginning to understand most things don’t.
Brittany is different. Lost in her own world, she skips in time to Rachel’s steps, her eyes more focused on the fog dancing through the village than anything else. She sees things most people don’t - or maybe, Rachel suspects, Brittany sees things most people shouldn’t. Because there’s something about the faraway look in her eyes, something that could almost be confused for intrigue…
It’s just fog, Rachel wants to argue to Brittany, it’s nothing special. It shouldn’t mean anything, so why are you looking at it as if it does?
She wants to ask Brittany, she really does, but the last time she asked someone a question, Santana just sighed and looked at her with such disappointment in her eyes that she can’t bear to go through that with her own sister.
“What are you looking at?” Rachel eventually asks Brittany as she follows her sister’s line of sight, trying to find a way to get answers to a question she doesn’t quite know how to ask, much less what it means. All she sees is fog, but from the way Brittany is looking at it - is there something else?
“Do you see them as well, Rachel?” Brittany asks excitedly, tearing her eyes away from the fog and towards Rachel.
“What do you mean?” Rachel glances back at the fog, but there’s nothing there, no shape she can visibly make out.
“There’s more of them,” Brittany breathes. “There’s more of them but they’re afraid because they don’t know what to do. They’re waiting to see what is going to happen.”
“More of them?” Rachel repeats, confused. “More of what?”
“Angels,” Brittany answers, and the dreamy tone of her voice does nothing to soothe the panic taking over Rachel.
“There are angels here? Besides Quinn and Santana? And Finn?” Rachel stutters. Brittany nods, the same lost, dreamy look still on her face. “Can you show me where they are?”
Brittany points up at the sky.
“They don’t know what is going to happen anymore,” she repeats softly. “They can’t see it as clearly as they could before. So they’re just waiting to see if the future happens the way it was supposed to or if the prophets were wrong, after all.”
Rachel stares at her, at lost for words.
& & &
Santana leans against the wall, watching Quinn play with the fire.
Quinn does that, sometimes, when she needs to clear her head. She just plays with the fire, watching as the flames dance and intertwine with each other; something about it provides her the peace of mind she needs to work out her problems.
They don’t always talk about what is bothering them, but they don’t always need to. Sometimes just being there, just sensing the other’s presence, is enough. It won’t always be, and sometimes their stoic silence has been almost dangerous, but for now it’s familiar, a routine they aren’t in any hurry to break.
They’ve been there for each other for over a thousand years. They’ve seen so much during that time, seen empires fall to be rebuilt again, seen civilizations save their neighbors only to turn on them… Human nature hasn’t changed all that much, despite everything it has been through. Humans have a tragic tendency of repeating their mistakes and then ask divine beings for forgiveness.
It’s angels, though, who bring salvation. It is angels who drift along the mortal plane bringing peace of mind to the humans, they are the ones who bring hope to those who have lost.
“Careful,” Quinn’s voice breaks Santana out of her thoughts. “You’re starting to sound like me.”
“Doubtful,” Santana responds. “I’m not philosophical enough.”
It’s enough to actually earn a genuine smile from Quinn, and those are becoming more and more rare. Quinn is so often lost in her misery, desperate to escape a fate she knows one day will have to catch up with her. They’ve been dodging fate for over a thousand years but it’s only a matter of time before it runs out on the both of them.
Santana chews her bottom lip, contemplative. They’ve been here before and managed to escape more or less intact. But what about the next time? Will they get off as lightly or will the verdict be more severe? Could the quality of mercy be strained, after all?
“You know what would be the worse punishment of all,” Quinn says suddenly.
“I hate it when you read my thoughts,” Santana snaps, suddenly tired.
“The worse punishment would be having to repeat all of this,” she sighs. “An eternity of meeting them and not being able to escape from the prophecy. An eternity of watching it happen, over and over again, and never being able to find the loop hole. Watching the same event happen over and over and constantly surviving it. It would be enough to drive anyone mad.”
“It won’t happen to us,” Santana says quietly.
“No,” Quinn agrees, “it won’t.”
A flicker of emotion flashes through Quinn’s eyes. It looks a lot like intrigue, or defeat, what frightens Santana is that for Quinn the two emotions are exactly the same.
An instant later, Quinn’s back is against a wall and Santana’s hand is wrapped around her throat.
“I’m stronger,” Quinn snarls as a reminder, annoyed at having found herself in this situation.
“You’re tragic,” Santana hisses back at her. “Don’t confuse the two.”
Santana leans forwards, tightening her grip around Quinn’s throat. Hazel eyes flash back at her. Santana can almost see the darkness swirling inside Quinn, howling in its desperation to be unleashed.
“I get it,” Santana says quietly, keeping her eyes on Quinn the entire time. “I get it, you’re hurting a lot right now, you’re really confused because you’ve been told over and over again you would never feel again and now that you found Rachel again, you suddenly want to feel again. It’s confusing for you and I get that.”
“But you forget that we are in this together,” Santana continues. “We both have something to lose here and that means we need to stick together. I have something to lose too, Quinn! And I am saying this right now. You will have to get over my cold, dead body before you lose your mind.”
It takes about a minute, but the darkness in Quinn’s eyes eventually vanishes, replaced with the most brilliant shade of gold. Santana loosens her grip and irritated hazel eyes glare back at her.
“You can’t die,” Quinn mutters, “you’re immortal.”
“And you have no soul,” Santana smiles at her. “It’s what makes our friendship work so well.”
& & &
Santana turns around when she sees Rachel storm into the kitchen.
“Are we really doing this again?” Santana sighs in irritation, but there’s a trace of what could be seen as amusement underneath it.
“You lied to me!” Rachel screeches. “You lied to me and you left us all alone and how could you! We haven’t done anything to you so why are you doing this?”
Santana stares at her.
“You told Quinn you don’t like eating meat,” Santana says slowly, as if she is talking to a small child. “So we prepared vegetables and potatoes. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would get so upset over it, we just wanted to help…”
Rachel stares back at her, her expression completely blank.
“You made dinner?” She asks. “But the kitchen is so clean.”
“We washed the pans?” Santana blinks at her. “I don’t understand why you are so upset. You are upset, are you not? That’s why your voice went so high, am I correct?”
Rachel sighs softly. Yes, she thinks, that must be i., I was upset because they didn’t tell me they were cooking dinner. I was just being unreason -
“No!” Rachel shouts. “Stop getting in my head, this is serious!”
Immediately, the haze surrounding her mind disappears, leaving Santana’s slightly confused expression staring back at her.
It strikes Rachel then that Santana genuinely doesn’t know what is going on. She doesn’t know that Brittany can see The Others - she doesn’t know why she capitalizes it but in her head it is necessary.
“Brittany can see angels,” she tells the angel. Santana nods but her expression doesn’t give anything away. “She saw them this morning, when we were walking to the market.”
“Ok,” Santana says softly, her expression completely neutral.
“Ok?” Rachel repeats, stunned. “No, Santana, it is not ok. My sister is walking around seeing angels in the fog. That is not ok!”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Santana snaps. “It’s not my fault!”
“Yes, it is!” Rachel argues. “You think Brittany was walking around seeing angels before you and Quinn came into our lives? This is your fault! You obviously brought them here!”
“I brought them here?” Santana snarls, suddenly invading Rachel’s personal space. “That’s actually enlightening, considering the only reason we’re here is because Quinntus had the audacity to believe in herself, which is actually really ironic considering the last time she believed in something it was you, and that almost got her killed!”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Rachel defends herself.
“Yes, it was!” Santana shouts. She takes a step back and takes a deep breath. “You won’t remember it but I do. Quinntus does. It was your fault and Quinn has spent the past thousand years paying for your mistake. How many more times does she have to suffer the consequences before you realize everything Quinn has done for you has been to save you?”
“I’m really sorry,” Santana says, and the abrupt change in conversation confuses Rachel momentarily.
“What -“ Rachel is cut off by Santana staring straight into her eyes.
“Perhaps it would be best if you went out for a walk for an hour,” Santana breathes quietly, right before Rachel’s mind goes blank.
“I should go out for a walk for an hour,” Rachel smiles at Santana and heads towards the moor.
Rachel is standing in the moor when Santana’s compulsion wears off, and her first reaction is that of horror. She knows on some level that Santana wasn’t being completely vicious when she used her mind control - she just needed to get away from Rachel so she could talk to Quinn - but it is the sheer principle of the thing that makes her so angry.
What sobers her up immediately, though, is the sight of Finn leaning against one of the trees on the edge of the moor.
“Hello, pet,” he drawls, smiling at her. “Fancy finding you here all by yourself.”
& & &
“Please don’t hurt me,” Rachel stammers.
Finn raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not going to,” he smiles at her. Then he tilts his head towards her. “Well, I won’t, as long as you do what I want. Nobody has to get hurt, love, just be a good pet and obey.”
“What do you want?” Rachel asks, trying not to cry.
“Quinntus,” he answers simply. “I just want Quinntus back. But we’re in quite the predicament, you see, because it’s come to my understanding that Quinntus wants you. Quite funny, really, because this is exactly how it played out before, and well, you remember how that particular tragedy ended, don’t you?”
Finn sniffs the air in her direction. “Of course, you’re a mortal now, so actually you don’t remember. Not to worry, though, I remember, and Quinntus definitely does, so really, do your memories even matter?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Rachel whispers. “I swear, it’s not my fault, it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t have anything to do with it, you have to belie-“
“Hush now,” Finn leans down enough to look at her in the eyes. “I think if you try hard enough, you’ll find you actually remember quite a lot.”
“I don’t,” Rachel pleads. “I swear, I don’t remember Quinn from before, I know her from when she fell from the sky, I promise…”
“You know what’s really so tragic in all of this?” Finn continues as if he hasn’t heard Rachel at all. “It’s that it doesn’t matter if you remember it at all. She does. She’s spent the past thousand years remembering what you looked like, remembering everything from a distance, and then, because of her own arrogance, she falls from the sky, drags Santana down with her, and they end up on your doorstep. And just to twist the blade in Quinntus’ heart a little more, you have absolutely no memory of her.”
“Well,” Finn smiles, “maybe there’s a reason after all that the Ancient Greeks were so obsessed with her, and I’m not just talking about her looks. She just makes tragedies so appealing, doesn’t she?”
“Stop it,” Rachel says. “Stop, please, I’m begging you…”
“Whatever happened to you?” Finn sniffs. “You used to think you were superior to everyone, including me. Now look at you, all… human and everything. Quite pathetic, really. If only your mother could see you now...”
Something in Finn’s words trigger a reaction in Rachel. Her jaw sets, and her eyes begin to flash in defiance.
“Shut up!” Rachel yells. “Shut up, you shut up! Leave her out of this!”
“Well, well, well,” Finn says, sounding almost intrigued. His reaction is almost identical to how Quinn reacts around human emotions and Rachel shivers to think what else her angel shares in common with the one standing in front of her.
“Why is it that you stand up for her and not for Quinntus, love?” Finn murmurs. “Why does that mortal deserve your loyalty and not her?”
“I love Quinn,” Rachel defends herself. “I might not remember her from past loves but I do love her, I swear.”
“Do you?” Finn sounds intrigued again, and the warning bells keep going off in Rachel’s head. Where are her angels when she needs them most?
“Yes,” Rachel says, and she just knows it’s true. She does love Quinn. “I do love her.”
“You have a strange way of showing it,” Finn shrugs. “Quinntus always ends up having to suffer the consequences of your actions. Is that you believe love to be, then? Constantly having to pay for the other’s mistake?”
“Loving Quinn isn’t a mistake,” Rachel argues. Finn shrugs again, and his complete indifference to her emotions - well, Rachel can feel her blood pressure rise all over again.
“Your love would have gotten her killed, had she not made that deal.” Finn looks down at her and there’s that hint of - resentment?- in his eyes, like he holds her accountable for what has become of Quinn. “That can hardly be the definition of love, even by human terms.”
“What do you even know about love?” Rachel asks, put off by his accusations. “Your love for Quinn is selfish. You only want her because you’ve never wanted anything else.”
“I thought I told you to behave,” Finn scowls at her. A darkness swirls in his eyes and Rachel shrinks away from him. “Don’t question me again, pet, I have angels and the Gods on my side, you have - what? Humanity?”
“I have Quinn,” she says.
Finn raises an eyebrow at her. “Maybe, but you’re going to give her to me. Otherwise, I’ll tell the prophets where she is. I know one prophet in particular who is quite eager to collect her dues, if you know what I mean.”
“I love her,” Rachel repeats quietly. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”
Finn leans down, putting his lips against Rachel’s ear. The fog dances around them, Rachel’s panicked breath revealing itself as mist.
“Because your love is what ruined her,” he whispers softly. “Everything that has become of Quinntus is your fault. You did this to her. You’re the reason she had to switch off her humanity. That’s not love, pet. Call it whatever you want but that isn’t love.”
Finn eventually steps back.
“Bored now,” he says, tilting his head to look at the sky. “You should go back, I’m sure your family is getting worried.”
& & &
Rachel is alone when she’s walking back towards the farmhouse and for once she welcomes the solitude. She doesn’t want to look at the fog anymore, not with Brittany’s earlier confession and Finn’s implicit threat running through in her mind in a constant loop.
She doesn’t want to look up in fear there’s something looking down at her. She isn’t sure what the angels would look like - would she see the same curiosity that lingers in Quinn’s eyes? Or would these angels look at her the way Finn looks at humanity, with such disdain, such resentment?
Why is everyone so interested in an angel whose main crime was just believing in herself? Is it really so bad, especially in light of everything Quinn had been forced to endure? Is that what the angels are really about - manipulating people’s beliefs as they see it, until the only salvation possible is in the hands of the angels themselves?
Is that what hope is, at the end of it all?
It’s quiet when Rachel enters the farmhouse and she hesitates in the doorway, listening for signs that someone else is home. She looks at the hall but the cloaks are gone, meaning that wherever Shelby and Brittany are, they aren’t home.
Rachel sighs as she walks further into the farmhouse but comes to an abrupt halt when she sees Quinn sitting in front of the fire, watching the flames. Habits don’t always change.
“I see Santana’s compulsion wore off,” Quinn says as a greeting.
“It did,” Rachel agrees as she sits down next to the angel. Quinn doesn’t look at her, just keeps watching the fire, and Rachel begins to wonder if maybe there’s something else there, if Quinn is seeing more than fire. She’s looking at it the same way Brittany was looking at the fog, earlier, and it gives her the chills.
“It’s just pretty.”
Quinn’s voice is soft, almost to the point of being broken. It’s not that different from that day when Rachel found her, when she was begging to be saved, and is that why she’s looking at the fire? Because she believes the beauty of it might save her from the fate she’s been running from for the past thousand years?
“It’s ok,” Rachel says softly. “I promise you, it’s ok, really, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me…”
She’s rambling and she knows it. But Rachel is also desperate for the angel to understand she won’t hurt her, that there’s this implicit trust between the two of them that has been building for centuries and even though her memories have been erased, she knows that Quinn won’t hurt her.
“You shouldn’t trust me,” Quinn confesses, but she sounds so broken as she says it Rachel wonders how she’s supposed to do anything but.
“Maybe,” Rachel smiles. “But I’ve also been told I shouldn’t love you, either, so I mean, I’m doing a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing.”
Quinn sighs softly, turning her attention back the fire. But her hand reaches towards Rachel’s, and her fingers lightly trace patterns on her palm. It’s a strangely intimate gesture from someone who Rachel isn’t completely convinced knows what intimacy actually means.
After all, Quinn is rash, compulsive, fueled solely by impulsion and a desire to survive. Just how the combination hasn’t gotten Quinn killed, Rachel isn’t quite sure.
“Finn told me a prophet is looking for you,” Rachel says quietly, reluctant to break the moment but still needing answers. “But surely, if she’s a prophet, she can see where you are?”
“It’s not important,” Quinn dismisses, but Rachel can tell she’s lying, by the way the hazel shimmers briefly to gold then back to hazel.
It strikes Rachel that this is the first time Quinn has really lied to her.
& & &
“The prophet is looking for us.”
Santana stops looking at the fog and glances at Quinn.
“I thought you said Finn took care of Emma,” Santana responds.
“No,” Quinn shakes her head. “The other prophet. Sue.”
Santana scowls, annoyed. They’ve been trying to evade Sue for the better part of 500 years, it figures she’d try and catch up with them here, in this mediocre town in the middle of nowhere.
“Not going to happen,” Santana eventually sighs. “She’s not going to risk coming here, not with so much at stake. It sounds bad but we’re probably safer staying here than we are running away.”
“We’re not going to be hiding forever,” Quinn argues. “Eventually Sue will figure out why she can’t see us clearly, and then -“
“She won’t,” Santana suddenly hisses. “You know why, Quinntus? Because as of right now, we have something Sue doesn’t. We have Shelby, and for reasons neither of us are quite sure, Shelby’s aura is cloaking us from anyone seeing us clearly. Emma’s visions were hazy for a reason. Finn can’t stay for too long at a time because the smell of humans make him nauseous, and to be frank he’s not always wrong. Sue won’t risk being down here for too long if she loses her sight.”
“So what do we do?” Quinn whispers.
Santana sighs. An instant later, Quinn finds herself on her knees with Santana staring at her in the eyes.
“No,” Quinn begs, “Santana, come on. No, please, don’t. Come on, don’t do this to me, please, I won’t survive it…”
“Your humanity, Quinntus,” Santana breathes quietly. “It’s time to turn it back on.”
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Disclaimers:
- Unpaid interns don't tend to own Glee
- The title of the chapter is a line from "Angeles" by Elliott Smith
- Special thanks to Erika who, even though she got a month off, still looks over the details of the plot
- "Could it be the quality of mercy is not strained, after all" is, of course, a play on Portia's speech in 'The merchant of Venice' by William Shakespeare. Which, if you haven't already read, you should :)