Blackbird

Summary: Scott figured out a few weeks back that if Rachel woke at a precise moment after the gas, he could command her to sing, and she'd do it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to The OA or "Blackbird" by Paul McCartney… Darn.

Warning: Drug use reference

Prairie wakes with the taste of honeysuckle in her mouth. Everything blurs, like a painting left in the rain. She hears the trickle of water from their shared creek at her feet, a cool dampness that mirrors the sweat along her neck and back of her legs. A dull ache radiating around her skull reminds her that this isn't a regular dream.

It's a nightmare.

In the first few months of her captivity, Prairie used to close her eyes after waking, pretending she could slip back into the nothingness of her sleep. And she'd open her eyes and be back in Abel's house, back with her bare feet pressed into his plush carpet and safe and blind.

"Again."

Her eyes open wide. She clears her throat, her senses coming back to her at once. Blurry vision fragments, strains, focuses. She is still in her clear cage. Partially obscured by foggy glass, Scott is sitting on his cot to her left, legs bunched up to his chest. His eyes are fixed on Rachel, who is standing perfectly still. Prairie notices that Homer isn't back yet from the tests, and her heart skips a beat, wondering if today will be the day, the day he will learn what happens in that other world. And then the others won't view her as stupid or crazy or whatever, but someone who has seen a way out.

Prairie is about to sit up when the singing stops her.

Rachel doesn't sing often, but when she does it never fails to take Prairie's breath away. Her haunting a capella is blues and country and soul all entwined together, jagged, with a kind of clarity that brings tears to her eyes. Prairie leans back and listens to the words, exhaustion from the drugs settling over her bones. A chill runs across her spine, green potted plants sway overhead, and the overhead lights seem to wink at her.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night…

She closes her eyes and thinks of Homer and the hope of a new day.

Scott says, "Again."

Rachel pauses for a moment and starts the song over.

Scott figured out a few weeks back that if Rachel woke at a precise moment after the gas, he could command her to sing, and she'd do it.

He likes it when Rachel sings.

Probably 'cause she doesn't do it very often. Like, maybe once. Half a year ago. And Scott's been craving any kind of music. He tried to convince Hap to get them a boombox or Discman or something to jam out to down in the crypt, but Hap didn't go for it. 'Cause Hap's a major killjoy. A real sadistic downer.

Homer can't carry a tune, Prairie's specialty is violin, and Scott's own voice could drive himself crazy. But Rachel. Rachel has the voice of an angel.

So Scott spends the next hour or two prompting Rachel to sing. He gets worried when Prairie stirs and wakes, but then she lies back down and seems to fall asleep again, which is a big relief. She'd probably freak out at him if she knew what he was doing. Because Rachel's a pretty private person—she doesn't talk much. And, come to think of it, Scott really doesn't know a whole lot about Rachel, other than how she died the first time. And that she has a jaw-dropping voice.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly…

Like Ella Fitzgerald or Etta James, with a touch of Norah Jones.

Not that Scott considers himself a connoisseur of vocal music or anything. His favorite bands pre-Hap were Rammstein and Black Sabbath, with a little Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd thrown into the mix if he was dating someone with "standards." But there's something about Rachel. Something pure. Purer than any junk he tasted back in the old days, before the addiction and spiraling out and living on the streets. Something in the timbre of her voice turns a light on inside Scott where he was convinced the bulb had shattered years ago. Her song makes him almost…believe.

So Rachel stands there, face pale, eyes glassy, dark shoulder-length hair unkempt, drugged out of her mind, and unknowingly singing some of the most beautiful damn music Scott's ever heard in his life. He feels a little guilty about that. A little.

But not enough to command her silence.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise…

Scott flashes back to a year ago when Rachel hit her head after their first epic failed attempt at uncovering Hap's experiments. How he had prayed that Prairie wasn't dead until he discovered the key to the gas's effects. And then, when Scott knew that Prairie was safe, how he had prayed for Rachel to wake up wake up wake up.

Then her eyes opened. And the first thing Rachel did was smile at him. At him. Scott. The ex-junkie, loudmouth, pessimist, will-never-be-a-team-player Scott.

That was the moment Scott realized he loved her.

Blackbird, singing in the dead of night…

When the artificial lights go out, signaling twilight, Rachel keeps singing. Her voice carries like a ghost's across the distance, through the glass, straight through Scott's soul.

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see…

Scott has become so hypnotized to the sound that he doesn't even notice when the basement door clunks open and Hap appears with Homer, slumped over in a wheelchair. Had Homer succeeded at last? Scott wishes he cared.

Hap shines a flashlight at the enclosure and Scott flinches. In the cell beside him, Prairie continues sleeping, oblivious to what's happening. Scott meets Hap's indifferent gaze, then looks away.

All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free…

Hap silently opens Homer's cell, wheeling his motionless form inside and gently setting him in his cot. Homer huffs a sigh in his sleep and rolls over. Hap studies the younger man for a few moments, then pushes his glasses up on his nose and exits, locking Homer's cell and wheeling the chair back with him. Then he hesitates.

Scott holds his breath, thinks: He knows. He knows what I've been doing to Rachel.

Hap walks over to Rachel's cell without the wheelchair and stands still, head cocked eerily, as if he's listening too.

Blackbird, fly…Blackbird, fly…

"Stop," Hap whispers.

…into the light of a dark black night…

"Stop," repeats Hap, stronger this time. His voice echoes through the underground, starkly contrasting the legato melodies Scott has heard for the past few hours. He sucks in his breath.

Rachel pauses mid-chorus. She blinks, as if coming out of a deep trance. Through Hap's flashlight beam, her mouth opens into an "O" of confusion, as if to say: What am I doing here?

Scott can feel himself blush with regret. He never meant to embarrass Rachel or anger the mad scientist. He wants Hap to know that it was his fault. "I…." Scott can't find the right words. "I'm sorry."

Hap's eyes burn through the darkness. He says calmly, "Go to sleep, Rachel."

She pivots towards him like a dancer, still stoned. So innocent, so different than how she usually acts. She looks to Hap for guidance, as if she's confused.

He says, even softer, "Go to sleep."

Then Rachel folds her hands in her lap, like a good little girl, and slides into her cot. Her eyes are closed before her head touches the pillow, dark hair brushing against its soft porcelain in the luminescence of the flashlight beam. Satisfied, Hap goes back to the wheelchair and pulls it up the steep stairs. Scott hears the basement door close and lock in the blanketing darkness.

Scott wriggles underneath his blankets and knows that he will never ask Rachel to sing again under the same circumstances. But his ears continue to ring with the memory of her haunting song in the hour it takes him to go to sleep, and it is the first thing he hears in his dreams.

Blackbird, fly…

~Fin~

A/N: Ummmmm, anyone out there? I watched the show earlier this month and couldn't stop thinking about it. So I figured I should just get out some of my feelings and ideas about it through fanfiction. I love all the characters in the show, and I wanted to delve more into their back stories a little bit, particularly Rachel's. There are soooo many questions I have about her character.

I have ideas for at least two other one-shots to follow this one. Please let me know what you think about this fic, and feel free to PM me if you have any ideas for future one-shots.

~Ista ^_^