17 [Accidental Voice]

[somethingspecial]

[Twelve Midnight.]

Is this a -- ?

[A dozen beeps -- whoever has the PCD is pressing an assortment of buttons.]

Hello? Can anyone hear me? Mercedes? -- has she not set up her voicemail, this is ridiculous --

[Another series of buttons.]

Kurt? Hello, it's Rachel, I need someone to come pick me up -- is there no service? --

[A much longer pause, before the girl dials another series of numbers.]

... Finn?

[As if she would rather utter any other name and, this time, her voice trembles slightly.]

I really need someone to come pick me up, I think I've been kidnapped --

[But when no one answers, three buttons are pressed.]

Hello? -- even without service, 911 should work, what is this -- I told Dad I should have switched to Verizon --

[And then, the PCD clicks off.]

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[saintedsinner]

Yeah? -=There's something a little broken in his glance back to her.=-

What's up with my arm and leg, then? Remember that?

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[somethingspecial]

[Rachel starts a little at that, mouth slightly open to respond, because surely, she remembers.

But... nothing. Not a whisper, not a hint, just a nagging feeling that she should know.]

... I don't know.

[It's quiet.]

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[saintedsinner]

Yeah.

You probably won't remember until I tell you.

-=He keeps walking, not bothering to give her the information about his limbs as they start walking into what could be deemed as civilization. If one could say ruined rubble and buildings as civilization.=-

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[somethingspecial]

Will you tell me?

[She follows him, more or less blindly. He doesn't seem threatening.]

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[saintedsinner]

...They're prosthetics. Called automail.

-=As if talking about it bothers him, he rolls his right shoulder. It doesn't seem like it's a false limb. At least not to the untrained eye.=-

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[somethingspecial]

And they work that well?

[She seems impressed, even envious.]

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[saintedsinner]

Yeah. I have the best mechanic.

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[somethingspecial]

Then perhaps, should my friend Artie arrive here, you can refer him to your mechanic. He's in dire need of legs.

[... it sounds insensitive, but SHE MEANS WELL.]

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[saintedsinner]

-=WAT.=-

That wouldn't work. Winry's not here. And it doesn't fix dead nerves.

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[somethingspecial]

... oh.

[The tiniest amount of wilting disappointment. No good, then.]

I see.

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[saintedsinner]

Besides, he probably wouldn't appreciate that. Not your problem to solve.

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[somethingspecial]

He does want to walk again.

[That, Rachel knows without a doubt. But she decides to drop it after the not-too-subtle hint to do so.]

Is there any chance that I will remember anything that I've experienced here?

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[saintedsinner]

I don't know. Anything's a possibility, around here. You keep a diary or anything?

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[somethingspecial]

At home I do, yes.

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[saintedsinner]

Maybe you kept one here, then. -=He's heading towards one building that looks better than the others. Solve.=-

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[somethingspecial]

It's entirely possible. If I were dropped into a new world without any warning whatsoever, it would be very Rachel Berry to document it in order to turn it into a major motion picture or something of the sort.

Or perhaps I knew this might happen and I prepared for the worst.

[She's quiet for a moment as she jogs a little to keep up.]

Thank you, for coming to get me.

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[saintedsinner]

A moving picture? -=He just shakes his head.=- Who knows. Your room is upstairs, two doors down on the left.

-=He stands there, watching for a moment.=- Don't worry about it.

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[somethingspecial]

I think Kurt is waiting for me there.

[From what he showed her, anyway.]

Not very many people have been... expressly kind to me, during the past three or four years. Those that have will be thanked.

I suggest you accept it.

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[saintedsinner]

-=He can't help but snort as he unhooks his pack from his shoulders.=-

You're no princess here, Rachel. Don't start acting like one. Better to be who you are. You're more valued that way.

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[somethingspecial]

I never said I was a princess.

[She brushes past him to go up the stairs to the front door.]

But I will thank who I want to thank.

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[saintedsinner]

-=It brings a small smile from him as he watches her go. He'd start a yelling match, but people were supposed to be sleeping.=-


....

-=He'll be certain to thump extra hard on the walls when she starts singing.=-

Yeah, just keep your caterwauling till tomorrow, okay? I'm tired.

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[somethingspecial]

I'm not planning on --

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[somethingspecial]

[Watch Rachel slowly turn on her heel.]

Caterwauling?

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[saintedsinner]

Yeah. Caterwauling. Know what it means?

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[somethingspecial]

You cannot be serious.

[Positively indignant!]