Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They belong to One Tree Hill/The CW. All song lyrics and titles belong to their respective owners, and the band name mentioned in this chapter belongs to Emma of Twitter.

Summary: Pretending to be someone else is the only way some people know how to survive. Rachel has been wearing a mask for so long that even she isn't sure what's underneath anymore. And Ripley? She's just trying to get by.

A/N: This fic takes place in Season Four and will feature femmeslash; two females in a romantic relationship. (Rachel Gattina/OFC) Rating may rise in later chapters due to sexual content. Also some subject matter in later chapters may upset some people. I don't want to give anything away however I have been told the hints I drop are enough for people to pick up on what's up. If anyone is worried and wants to be spoiled, just PM me and I'll tell you. :) This is my first One Tree Hill fic that a friend cheered me on to write so I hope that you enjoy it!

Chapter One: Will You Stay, Stay 'til the Darkness Leaves

Ripley Sinclair was a student at Tree Hill High and yes it was as totally unglamorous as it sounded. Well unglamorous for her because she wasn't one of the popular people and she's not a total loser, so like others in the middle she just was. Heard the gossip about those that walked in the sunlight and saw the ones that no one else bothered to see; sometimes she was the latter. But she didn't care because she'd always been someone who thought about the bigger picture. She knew that one day high school would end and what you did in the hallowed halls of THH wouldn't matter at all. So she floated and she acted however she wanted to act. People were going to talk either way.

Not that she was immune to hearing the gossip because she wasn't. No one was. Even the teachers heard somethings. Teenagers tended to have big mouths and they wanted their exploits to be known. Also it was a small town so…

For example she knew all about Nathan and Haley James getting married and almost getting a divorce because of Haley's music tour and kissing some other guy. She knew about the love triangle between Lucas Scott, Peyton Sawyer and Brooke Davis in which Lucas was with Brooke but sorta cheated with Peyton. Apparently according to sources history was repeating itself and that is why Brooke and Peyton weren't friends anymore.

Everyone knew about the shooting—done by Jimmy Edwards—she'd been in the art room at the time and had jimmied open a window to escape out into the quad. That day was insane all over. You heard about school shootings on the news but you never expected it to actually happen where you were. And yeah he didn't release a barrage of bullets into the hallway but he still killed someone. Lucas' Uncle Keith who everyone managed to love in one way or another, he was just that awesome.

It was just interesting how so much crap could happen in such a little town. And the funny part was that nothing used to happen to this select group of people until Lucas Scott got onto the Raven's basketball team. Until he was forced to be in close quarters with his brother, and watch his best friend hook up with said brother.

Right now though Ripley's hands were covered in paint and smudged with charcoal from her latest work of art. Painting was just one of her many hobbies but she didn't like to brag. In fact the only people besides college recruiters and close friends that knew what she was into were her parents. And well her little sister and older brother but they didn't care.

Some would probably call her an overachiever but that wasn't the case at all. She was just—she liked to try a lot of different things and her parents indulged her in most of them. Ballet when she was three and then violin lessons and piano lessons; then her father taught her how to play the guitar and her mother helped her turn play dough villages into real works of art. But she couldn't do everything. She was terrible at gardening and didn't get the point of running for fun.

Pushing open the door to the girls' room, she scraped a nail over the bright yellow on her fingers and moved to the sink, turning on the hot water and grabbing up the soap. She was humming to herself and watching colored flakes swirl down the drain when she first heard the tell tale signs of sniffling. Someone was crying on the toilet.

Biting her bottom lip, she kept washing and glanced back to the doors. It seemed stupid to just ignore when someone could need help. Bending down just a tad, she saw expensive tennis shoes. "Um, are you okay in there?"

The sniffling abruptly stopped and about two minutes later the door opened to reveal a cutely dressed redheaded Rachel Gattina. Everyone knew Rachel because she'd made quite a name for herself in her few months at their high school. Mostly as a boyfriend stealing, conniving slutty cheerleader that didn't give a damn about anyone and had no qualms about using others to get what she wanted.

Ripley had never talked to her though, never even really been in the same space unless you counted their shared classes together and no one ever did. "Are you okay?"

Rachel wiped her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well…usually when someone cries in a bathroom stall they aren't okay. Unless they're happy tears but people don't usually hide happy tears." She shrugged and continued washing her hands. "Unless they cry ugly of course."

"What?" Shaking her head, Rachel fluffed at her hair. "For your information I'm fine. I don't know what you think you heard but you're wrong. I wasn't crying and I'm fine."

"Alright you're fine." Ripley yawned, letting the matter drop.

The redhead stared at her like she was a peculiar puzzle she was trying to figure out. "Where's your accent from?"

Ripley smiled; it's something she got asked often. "Australia. My dad was stationed there in the formative years of my life and I sorta developed one. You should have heard my sister though—for the first three years she only spoke Japanese cause we were in Japan then. But yeah, I never kicked it for whatever reason, even when we moved. A lot of people think I'm faking it."

Rachel nodded. "I could see that. It's a small town and I'm sure a lot of people have faked it to seem cooler. Everyone needs an angle."

Ripley tilted her head to the side. "What's yours?"

The other girl dug in her pocket and pulled out a tube of lip gloss. "I don't need an angle. I'm fabulous all on my own."

The blonde watched her as she dragged a bar of badly used soap over her skin. "But that is your angle, isn't it? Being the fabulous one with the expensive clothes and flashy jewelry. Or the bad girl?"

"Bad girl? Obviously my exploits are becoming legendary. Cool."

"I suppose. Still doesn't explain why you were alone, crying on the toilet."

"I wasn't crying!" Arching a brow, she turned to look at the blonde. "And even if I was why would I tell some nobody like you?"

Ripley smiled and yanked down a paper towel. "O…kay then. Consider me sorry for getting involved."

Rachel huffed and stormed out of the bathroom without another word, slamming the door behind her with a flourish, off to her important life of popularity. Ripley followed a second later as the bell rung, adjusting the strap of her gray shoulder bag. Anyone else would probably be bothered by Rachel's harsh words but she'd learned a few things since entering high school. Everyone hid behind a mask because they thought if you saw who they really were, you'd reject them. And yeah, some people would totally be rejected but it's the fear that made everyone do it.

Once upon a time she'd had that fear too but not anymore. It was stupid to put so much stock into the opinions of people you'll probably never see again after graduation. It was stupid to let them define you. So after a few months of trying so hard to be what she thought others wanted, she decided to be herself. And now she was much happier for it.

She took her time meandering through the crowd of people until she was outside and heading to her usual round table in the courtyard where her friends were already gathering.

There was her best friend Glenda Farrell who considered herself a Goth this time around complete with black lipstick and wardrobe. But in all honestly she was just doing anything she could to try to get her mom's attention. Sucked because her mom was a total bitch and couldn't care one way or the other what she did.

Next were Eric Pierce and his brother Jeremy, both were pretty regular as far as high school boys went. Interested in sex and fast cars and sex and music, and did she mention sex? They're fraternal twins, they liked different things but at times they shared one brain.

And bringing up the rear was Toby Charles who was nice to everyone and just hoped they were nice to him in return. Oh and he dreamed of being on the Raven's basketball team and had for like, ever. He thought it would solve all of his issues.

"You're late." Glenda remarked. "Where were you?"

Ripley flopped down onto a bench. "I had paint all over my hands and I had to get it off. Oh and I was being insulted by Rachel Gattina."

Jeremy jerked his head up, swallowing the bit of food in his mouth. "Damn but that girl is fine. I'd give my left testicle to fuck her. Did she smell like roses?"

His brother grinned broadly. "I bet she smells like cinnamon. Did she smell like cinnamon?"

Glenda snorted. "More like she smelled like penicillin to treat all the STDS she has."

Ripley chuckled. "Well actually she smelled like perfume and I don't know if cutting off a testicle would get you in her pants. She strikes me as the type that has a certain type. I mean she did go after Lucas and Nathan."

The other female nodded. "Whore. Why did she insult you?"

Ripley considered telling her friends the truth but figured they didn't need to know. "She didn't like my shoes."

"God she is such a bitch. I can't stand that whole crowd she hangs out with, except Brooke. She's okay." Glenda mused. "But Rachel is the worst. She walks around like she's so important."

Eric ran a hand through his brown spiky hair. "C'mon believe it or not, you'd do her, wouldn't you?

Ripley smirked at the nickname she's had since junior high. "She is visually pleasing but I don't know about that. She's more about fun times."

Jeremy dipped his French fry into ketchup. "Duh, that's the whole point. Fun naked times in the back of my van."

Glenda laughed and tucked a strand of dark auburn hair behind her ear. "Your Chester Molester van?"

He pointed a finger at her. "Hey it's called the Shag Wagon! And I don't hear you complaining about it when it's giving you free rides to school."

She grinned. "I'm just messing with you. Besides I get what you are saying. Girls like Rachel are good for having fun but not for anything else. That's why she doesn't have a boyfriend."

Toby pushed at his food with a fork. "I don't think she wants a boyfriend. I think she likes being how she is."

Ripley disagreed with him but kept it to herself. "Are we still on for practice tomorrow?"

Stealing a few of the fries form Glenda's try, Eric shoved them into his mouth before she could react. "Yup. Dude, you need to talk to Sawyer about getting us an actual gig at Tric. I'm tired of playing in my garage. I want people to know how awesome we are."

"Why me?"

"Cause you're…approachable and stuff. I'd be too busy staring at her boobs."

"Fine I'll see what I can do."

"Sweet!"

As her friends fell into an easy conversation about their next classes, Ripley slouched and opened her brown paper bag lunch. She pulled out a thick sandwich on a sesame seed bun and checked to make sure it had no lettuce before taking a big bite. She, along with Eric, Jeremy and Toby were in a band of their own making called The Blonde Theory and had been since they were fourteen years old. At first it was just a way to pretend to be cool rock stars but they were actually pretty good. Ripley wrote most of their songs and she also sung; Eric said the appeal of a female singer in a band of boys would bring them more success. She didn't want to be a famous musician however but she went along with their plans because they were her friends and she cared about them.

Licking mayo from the corner of her mouth, she cut her eyes across the quad to where Rachel settled at a table with Brooke Davis. She didn't know why but she liked Brooke—most people did though. The brunette was bubbly and funny, and something about her puppy dog brown eyes made her seem vulnerable in a way that some people gravitated towards. And you got a feeling that as class president she wanted to help people. It was weird how that didn't clash with her party girl/cheerleader persona.

Twisting the top off her juice, she took a few sips and turned her attention to Rachel. She was laughing and waving her hands expressively, beckoning over the other cheerleaders when they were in view. To an outsider looking in she seemed…perfect. Flawless like smooth marble and probably just as cold. She worked hard at not emoting for whatever reason; maybe it was easier. Ripley could understand that. In high school if you showed any kind of weakness the jackals would eat you alive.

So you cried in the privacy of a bathroom stall and just hoped no one came in to find you.

Ripley couldn't help but wonder why she'd been crying. Why did someone who appeared to have the world feel the need to lock themselves away with cool tears? Sure sometimes she had bad days—especially during that time of the month—but she never cried at school. She didn't cry too much anyway unless it was over a movie or whatever. She tended to be a sentimental sap that way.

But it stood to reason that Rachel was most likely hiding behind her reputation for reasons she would never know. Not that it was a crime, everyone did it. Glenda hid behind her Goth exterior and her hatred of all things conforming. Toby hid behind his shyness and the twins hid behind their every man guise. Hell she wasn't above it either with her devil may care attitude.

In the end everyone was pretending to be someone else. It was the only way you could survive high school these days. The only way you could survive period.

The end of the day came with a slam of lockers and whoops of freedom that Ripley echoed silently to herself. She hated school. She hated getting up early and she hated not having those hours to herself to do whatever she wanted. And yeah she was Salutatorian but that was basically genetics on her part doing their job. Both of her parents were intelligent and classes came easy to her. Yet she still wasn't sure she was going to college. More school just didn't come off as fun no matter what her SAT scores were.

Waving goodbye to her friends as Eric pulled out of the parking lot in his big white van; she strolled over to her red Ducati motorcycle and climbed on. It had been a gift for her sixteenth birthday and she absolutely loved it. She loved to go fast and feel the wind in her hair on the back roads when she'd take off her helmet and just drive. She hated helmets. And yeah she knew they were required by law and might save her life but still she didn't have to like them.

With that in mind however she yanked hers out of her bag and slipped it on, starting up the engine with a kick and revving before taking off. She rolled past the yellow school buses that hadn't shipped out yet and the idle vehicles of those staying behind for activities and out onto the open road, her thighs squeezing around the back as she took a right turn towards the road leading to her house. She was singing loudly into the wind and about a mile from the high school when a large stalled Denali with the hood up caught her eye. She slowed but passed, looking back to see the body of a female peering at the engine and looking confused. Snorting, she pulled over to the side and into the grass, cutting her engine before crawling off.

She placed her helmet on top of her bag and made the short trek back to the stranded person, her long crimpy blonde hair tickling the sides of her neck. "Problems?"

Looking up, Rachel sighed with a slight frown. "What? You stalking me now?"

Ripley pointed to her bike. "If you want I can always get lost and leave you here. Maybe someone will help…" Though I doubt it…

Rachel folded her arms over her chest. "Fine. Do you know anything about cars? It was running fine this morning and then it just…died."

The blonde strolled up to the beast of a machine and peered under the hood, leaning far to jiggle a few things. The sounds of water caught her ear and she peeped down. "Your radiator is busted. That's where all of this water is coming from."

"I don't really know what that means but it sounds bad." Rachel bit her bottom lip. "Great. How am I gonna get around now?"

"It'll cost you about two hundred to get fixed." Ripley explained. "Your insurance company should give you a rental car."

"Fuck. I'll have to call my parents and get all of that information. Unless they don't call me back and then I'm screwed."

"Just get one of your friends to give you a ride."

Rachel eyed her rather suspiciously before jerking when a surprise clap of thunder sounded. Storms could pop up in North Carolina on a clear day and no one really questioned it. At least they had actual weather unlike in Los Angeles or whatever.

Smirking, Ripley scratched at her wrist. "Do you want a ride home before it rains?"

Rachel weighed her options then relented. "Yeah. Thanks." She fetched her bag out of the backseat and followed the blonde to her bike.

Ripley gave her the helmet since she was the passenger and she was more used to riding without one. She climbed on and watched as Rachel did the same behind her, her arms hesitatingly wrapping around the blonde's small waist. When they were both settled, Ripley started up and took off.

The ride wasn't that long but by the time they were on Rachel's street, the blue sky was dark and the wind had picked up, sending leaves and small branches bolting from the trees.

She'd never been to Rachel's house but she knew that she lived in a white Cape Cod style two story home with a wide yard and a lake off to the south right. The driveway was paved and on either of the two sides were trimmed hedges and a manicured lawn. Previously owned by an old money family, the Gattinas had it remodeled after moving in.

Ripley parked before the front door and admired the wraparound porch. A streak of purplish lightning darted across the sky and she counted the seconds between the next thunder clap, wondering if she could make it home before the rain started. Not that she would mind getting wet, it was the maybe being struck that scared her.

Rachel dismounted with her long legs and dug her heels into the dirt, her eyes trained on the weather. "Thanks for the lift."

"You're welcome." The blonde replied resting to the 'hump' of her motorcycle.

"Um, it looks like it's gonna be a really hard downpour or whatever," Rachel begun as small drops started to fall. "You—you can wait it out inside if you want. I don't mind."

A boom shook the trees and the redhead visibly jumped before trying to school her features. Ripley cottoned on immediately however and sighed, deciding that another good deed for the day wouldn't hurt anything. She kicked her bike into drive and rolled it up onto the porch so that the seat wouldn't get wet, then followed Rachel into her impressive house.

It was lovely but then she'd figured it would be. A black grand piano was nestled off to the side and it caught her eye the most after she looked at the expensive furniture and vases. She dropped her bag to the floor and migrated over to it, dragging her fingers over the ivory keys. Her piano at home was wooden with chinks from enthusiastic yet ill advised indoor baseball games and angry tangents from her sister. But it worked.

Still this was a thing of beauty and before she could stop herself, she was sitting on the cushioned bench and playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

"Is that all you know?" Rachel asked with an amused tone. "Like I should talk though. I don't play at all—it's just there for decoration."

"I've had lessons." Ripley said. She cracked her knuckles and slowly began to play the opening bars of the song Pieces by Red. Without the violin it sounded more somber and yet still beautiful. "I download the sheet music to a lot of songs just to see if I can do them."

Rachel leaned over the top and watched her fingers. "You like to play?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Instruments are kinda my thing." She played the same few bars over and over before switching entirely to something decidedly romantic. The melodies rose and fell steadily like a temperate heartbeat, staying on the light side with the deeper keys coming in like a low swell onto the beach.

In her mind she saw a couple dancing, around and around, faster and faster with the harmonies until drew them closer and they knew everything was going to be alright. And at the crest of the song—a kiss—one they'd been wanting forever.

Blinking, she pulled her hands back and looked contrite. "Sorry."

"I liked it. What's it called?" Rachel inquired.

"It's a lullaby. I never named it." Clearing her throat, she chastised herself and stood. "Sorry. I'm like a little kid in a candy store when it comes to pianos, guitars and violins."

Rachel chuckled and sashayed into her grand kitchen with its granite counters and stainless steel appliances. "You play all those? What? Did your parents make you when you were little or something?"

Ripley perched on a bar stool and shook her head. "No I asked to learn. I'm kinda spastic like that in that I like trying new things. I also did ballet and karate."

"Sounds exhausting." The redhead took a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted off the cap. "My parents probably would have paid me notto do any of that stuff. No time to take me to the rehearsals or whatever. It's fine though. I'd much rather spend that cash on clothes and stuff to keep people being super jealous of me."

Ripley smiled. "Where are your parents?"

"Europe." She opened a cabinet and looked inside, nearly dropping her water when a particularly loud blast of thunder shook the windows and the lights blinked out. "Fuck."

By now it was pouring outside; that dense foggy rain that smelled like pine. "Not a fan of thunderstorms, huh?" That much was quite obvious.

"No." She said honestly. "C'mon I've got some candles up in my room."

As Ripley followed her up the staircase, she took out her cell phone and called her mother. She related that she was riding out the weather at a friend's house and she'd be home eventually, hanging up with an I love you to her mom.

Rachel's room had two beds with silk purple sheets and an end table at each side. The bathroom was to the left and there was a large walk in closet as well as a mini fridge. "I thought Brooke would be home but I guess she had class president stuff to do." She reached onto a shelf and pulled down white votive candles which she lit on her vanity. It wasn't dark but without lights or the sun they were needed.

"I don't mind hanging out." Ripley sat down slowly on one of the beds. "You know I thought for sure this house had a window seat. It looks like it should."

Rachel snorted playfully. "Why?"

Ripley plucked at her bracelet. "I don't know. I'm partial to a good window seat. I had to fight my sister for my room because it has one."

The redhead laughed and threw herself onto the other bed when she was done with the candles. "How old is your sister?"

"Fifteen. Her name is Meadow."

"Meadow? Are your mom and dad hippies or something?"

"My dad is an ex marine so, no. But my mom is kinda flower childish I suppose you could say. Likes herbs and all that. She and my dad like, compromised on our names."

"How so?"

"Well we each have one regular name that he picked and one…that she picked. So my sister is Meadow Amelia and my brother is Sky Andrew."

"And you're…shit I never asked your name. I'm sorry…"

"Heh Ripley. Ripley Rainbow Sinclair."

"Hm well I kinda like them. Could be worse I guess. You could be like Moonbeam or Sunshine or something equally embarrassing."

That was very true. "Yeah. Or Anne; I hate that name. It's too plain." Spying a few white pieces of paper on the table, she picked them up along with the pencil they're on top of and started sketching.

Rachel grinned, resting her chin to her hand. "So, you got a boyfriend?"

"Nope." The thought made her smile. "You?" She knew the answer but she felt it polite to ask anyway.

"I have lots of boyfriends." Rachel smirked but it slowly slid from her face. "I—there was this guy I was seeing but he—he left." Pause. "I guess you heard about the limo shit?"

Ripley looked upon her with big blue eyes. "I did."

Rachel wet her lips. "Boys are so stupid. You crash a limousine, almost drown them and suddenly they don't want anything to do with you."

She was going for jokey but Ripley could tell the situation had messed her up. Still she favored her with a small grin. "You lead an exciting life."

Rachel appeared please by the assessment. "Sometimes a little too exciting. I do regret the accident. And I really regret falling for Cooper." Exhaling, she changed the subject. "Are those tattoos?"

Smoothing a hand across the ink of the left side of her neck, Ripley nodded. "Yep." She pushed her hair out of the way to show them off. A pattern of tiny black stars spanned her peach flesh in no distinguishing order.

"Got anymore?"

Ripley motioned to her back and turned, lifting up her shirt to show off the dark vine with its tiny rosebuds up the length of her spine. There were several breaks so that it looked as if it were woven in and out of her flesh.

"Not surprised those aren't exactly…regular. Like a butterfly or whatever."

"Eh those are boring. And there was no way I was getting a tramp stamp. My body is my canvas and all that."

For about thirty minutes they talked about nothing of substance and Ripley continued to draw by candlelight when Rachel started showing off some of her expensive outfits. It was nearly six when the lights came back on and the storm finally died away, heading to other parts of the state. Rachel hopped off the bed and alerted that she was going to order them a pizza, and Ripley requested no pepperoni.

The storm was over though and she could go home but a few slices of pizza wouldn't hurt anything. She got the feeling Rachel was lonely and that sucked, though changing her attitude would probably help her make more friends. But it wasn't her place to judge. Instead she signed her name to the picture of the busty super heroine she'd drawn and put it on Rachel's nightstand for later before joining her downstairs.

Brooke was home and on the phone bitching to Haley about Lucas and Peyton by the time Ripley left. Rachel stood in the doorway and waved, watching as she sped off into the night on her red motorcycle. She snickered under her breath and trudged upstairs with a peace sign to her roommate, snuggling up onto her bed with her little teddy bear. She'd meant to apologize to the blonde for being snappy earlier but it had vanished from her mind once the storm started. She'd never been a fan of thunder or rolling ominous clouds. Yet now she felt guilty for being a bitch to someone who'd helped her.

Not to mention not knowing her name had been brutal.

But at least now she could say she knew it and wouldn't forget it anytime soon. Who forgot a name like Ripley Rainbow?

Ripley was weird but kinda cool in a weird way. She seemed settled and Rachel really had no idea what that felt like. She'd been to like four different schools after being kicked out of each one for one offensive or another. And each time her parents simply loaded up and moved—enrolled her and left for another grand vacation somewhere. Running as far away as they could from their mistake.

It was okay though, she was used to that. To them. Sometimes however she wondered what her life would have been like had she had family like other people. Like Ripley. Parents who gave a damn and didn't just throw money at her. A mother who told her she was beautiful instead of offering to pay for her many painful surgeries that made her the girl she was today.

Still Ripley was probably one of those natural beauties like Brooke or Peyton.

Digging her phone out of her purse, she flipped through some of the pictures until Cooper's face was on the display. Everything would be so simple right now if he'd just loved her back. God she'd really needed him to love her back. So what he was an adult and she was seventeen; she totally consented to everything they did. And besides soon she'd be eighteen and it wouldn't matter anymore. Surely he'd known that.

Of course he'd known he just hadn't cared. He'd wanted sex with some faceless chick. All men did and so far she was really good at being that faceless chick. But if he'd wanted her then they would have been together and she wouldn't have gone home with that other guy. She tried hard not to think about that, otherwise she might end up in the bathroom crying again.

And that kinda shit never helped anyone.

Maybe she was being punished for all of the horrible stuff she'd done to people. Stolen boyfriends, back-stabbed and oh yeah the most terrible; opened the time capsule that got Jimmy and Keith killed. What happened to her was her own fucken fault and she had no one to blame but herself.

She didn't deserve someone as good as Cooper and he had known that from the minute he hooked up with her. That she was nothing but a fat girl inside trying desperately to make herself feel better by being flirty and wearing revealing clothes. She didn't deserve goodness or friendship or love. She purposely looked in places she knew she wouldn't find it so that later she wouldn't be disappointed. She didn't deserve happiness.

Too bad she couldn't stop looking for it anyway.