Chapter Text
Rhonda takes a desperate, disbelieving step towards the exit door that had seemingly appeared out of thin air. An ethereal bell sound rings in her head as the door opens slowly, beautiful golden light spilling from just beyond its frame. She couldn’t tear her eyes off of it even if she wanted to.
Her previously cold and hostile scar seems so peaceful now, drenched in the door’s honey colored light. It warms every surface and rounds the sharpest edges until it’s nothing more than a guidance counselor’s office. The distorted, unfriendly music finally cuts out and all Rhonda can hear is her erratic breathing.
The exit’s blinding light prevents her from seeing past the door, but the feeling of peace that emanates from it is all she needs. She can feel a smile growing on her face and a relieved laugh catches in her throat.
If Rhonda just reaches out, takes one more step, she might feel the light’s warmth against her skin. She aches to be engulfed by the light, bathe in the promise of peace. After sixty long years her mind goes quiet. The race is finally over and her exhaustion fades to the background. All that’s left is the desperate plea and need to be free.
She lets out a shaky, relieved sigh before taking a hesitant step towards the door. Her feet move almost as if on autopilot until she’s standing in front of the door. She closes her eyes and takes one final step forward.
Rhonda opens her eyes in the band room. She’s lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling and she can’t help the scowl that grows on her face. Tears well in her eyes and she wipes them away furiously.
Her mind returns to its infinite turmoil. Thorny vines winding protectively around her heart in a familiar fashion. She lets out a shaky, angry breath, pressing the heels of her palms against her closed eyes until she sees stars.
Rhonda doesn’t even remember falling asleep. Everything from the night before is muddled with exhaustion from the mind-numbing trips to her scar. Since Simon got stuck at the school a couple days ago everyone is constantly on edge, working desperately to find a way to get him out. She’s had to return to her place of trauma more times than she ever thought possible.
Ghosts technically don’t get tired and therefore don’t need to sleep but she was so mentally drained she must’ve accidentally dozed off while taking a break. Rhonda usually avoids sleeping because of the vivid nightmares she’s prone to having. This was almost worse than the dreams of a violent counselor.
It was a taunt, a cruel prank pulled by her own mind, she almost feels betrayed. Except she knows why it happened: Janet got her exit the same night Maddie got back to her body. Rhonda was happy for Janet, she had the opportunity to be free, but it still hurt. It hurt to see someone reach the point Rhonda had been struggling to reach for as long as she could remember.
And then Janet turned it down. And of course Rhonda knows why she did but she can’t help feeling bitter. Rhonda would kill for the same opportunity. How could anyone turn down their chance at getting out of this hell?
Maybe whatever god put her here is laughing right now. Taunting her for her inability to leave. It makes Rhonda madder than it should.
She doesn’t know how long she lies on the couch, contemplating falling asleep again before finally sitting up. She can see the red light of dawn seeping into the room through a window. The same sunrise she’s been watching for six excruciating decades.
In roughly half an hour the first teacher will arrive, half an hour later, students start arriving, and an hour after that, the first bell will ring to announce the start of first period. It’s a tired routine Rhonda has unwillingly memorized and her mind recites it almost automatically as she takes in the sunset.
She feels tired just at the thought of getting up and working on figuring out the solution to their newest problem. That’s all her afterlife is recently, problem after problem.
Consumed by her bitter thoughts, Rhonda almost misses the blanket that had been draped over her in the night. It’s practically falling off the couch with Rhonda’s sudden movements and she eyes it warily. She can’t remember the last time she fell asleep with a blanket. Ghosts can’t feel temperature changes so when she does sleep she doesn’t bother looking for one.
All of her previous irritation fades as Rhonda runs her hand over the soft woven surface. It’s a pale yellow color and smells like it was stuffed in the back of a closet for most of its life. She doesn’t mind though. As she gently pulls the blanket off of her she notices a figure leaning uncomfortably against the end of the couch.
Rhonda kicks her legs over the edge of the couch and peers over the side at the person. Rhonda already has a feeling of who she’ll find but that doesn’t stop her.
Quinn is sitting on the floor, fast asleep, Rhonda can just make out her barely audible snores. An open notebook is falling out of her lap and several pages of sheet music have already fallen out onto the floor.
Rhonda is still clutching the blanket when she stands up, guilt mixes with her quiet confusion as she realizes that Quinn must’ve been the one who put the blanket over her. Quinn is still new to being a ghost and she hasn’t fully kicked any of her living habits.
She’s not entirely sure why Quinn cared enough to look for a blanket in a school just so Rhonda wouldn’t be cold while she slept. Or why Quinn sat by her in the night, accidentally falling asleep from her equal exhaustion.
The two have admittedly grown close over the past couple weeks, especially since their conversation at the bleachers only a couple days ago. Is this just something close friends do? It’s been more than six decades since she had a friend like Quinn. Not that Charley, Wally, and Maddie aren’t her friends, it’s just that what she has with Quinn is different. She’s not even sure if she fully knows how. It just is.
Rhonda crouches down in front of the girl and takes the open book from her lap, carefully slipping each sheet of music back into its place. She places the book on a nearby side table. Before she fully stands, she hesitates, taking the soft yellow blanket and draping it over Quinn’s sleeping frame. (she would try to move Quinn onto the couch but Rhonda has enough self-awareness to know how that would end).
Rhonda eyes the girl carefully, soft features and relaxed eyes. She seems so peaceful, engulfed by the blanket as her body shakes with gentle snores. Some of her sleep tousled hair had fallen over her face while she slept and before Rhonda realizes what she’s doing, she reaches out and smoothes it over her ear.
Rhonda smiles at Quinn fondly before straightening up with a yawn. The room is filled with the pale yellow light of early morning as the sun finally pulls itself above the horizon. She stares out of the window for a second before deciding to head to the faculty lounge to make her coffee before the room is flooded with teachers. Maybe she’ll make Quinn one too.
Quinn joins her in the faculty lounge an hour later, eyes bleary with sleep and still wrapped in the yellow blanket. Rhonda offers her a coffee and the two sit on the couch, listening to the teachers gossip. Quinn pulls the blanket around both their shoulders and, despite Rhonda’s usual objections, she lets her.
They sit in peaceful silence and for the first time in days, Rhonda forgets all about crossing over.