Here is the next chapter! it's the longest chapter yet so please reward me with some REVIEWS!

WARNING: contains brief section featuring self-harm

once again, this chapter is historically accurate. events and other things I refer to, those things happened to people.

so anyway, read, enjoy and REVIEW!

Chapter Five

At long last, the train seemed to be slowing down. Murmurs of curiosity filled Rachel's ears and she wondered where they were. She slowly ran her fingers over the notches - eleven. She'd been here eleven days, in pitch darkness. Thank goodness it wasn't winter or she would have frozen to death.

They grinded to a sudden halt, the pressure jerking her backwards slightly. After a moment, she heard the crates next to her being opened, and the sounds of tired footsteps stumbling out. Rachel felt a thrill of anticipation rush through her; she was getting out of here, finally. Her legs had gone numb several days ago, and her neck was painfully stiff, conditions that came as a result of being stuck in the same position for eleven days and nights. Rachel knew that she smelled terrible, as did everyone else around her, and she didn't even want to think about what state her hair was in. She gingerly ran a hand through it, feeling the grease and tangles. Then she heard keys just outside, and everyone held their breath as the lock clicked and the door opened.

The first thing that hit her was the light. Rachel squinted, the light actually hurting her eyes. She wondered where they could possibly be - where had light that was so bright that it hurt? But then she realised that it was just normal summer sun, and it hurt because her eyes had become so accustomed to darkness.

People seemed to be getting up, so Rachel tried to move her dead legs and finally managed to stand. She blindly stumbled across the crate and out of it, a Nazi shoving her roughly down the steps. Rachel saw literally hundreds of people, all of them women and children, filing out of the train. She noted that this didn't seem to be a train station; they had stopped in the middle of the line and were standing in a field. It seemed to be the middle of nowhere, but when she turned to her left, she could see a small town, very far away in the distance, and when she turned to her right, she saw it. The camp.

It was relatively close, but still looked like a long walk. It had fences, higher than any that Rachel had ever seen before, made of barbed wire. Behind the fence, there were rows and rows of metal sheds with slits for windows. Behind those, she saw an enormous building, made of dark bricks with corrugated iron on the roof. Small chimneys and large windows. It looked like some sort of factory.

'Move!' yelled a Nazi, and all the women hurriedly began walking towards the camp. Rachel held onto her case tightly as she walked, and yawned, trying to stay awake. She grimaced as she stepped in a patch of mud. Her shoes were made for walking the city streets of Berlin, not these dirty countryside fields.

Suddenly a deafening bang cracked across the sky, and then another, and another. Rachel gasped, looking back to see what had happened. She saw, to her horror, that the Nazis at the back of the group were shooting those who weren't moving fast enough. Not wanting to look at the lifeless bodies, Rachel turned away and walked all the more quickly, blinking back the tears. It had been alright on the train - well, not alright. Death was never alright, but she had been able to cope with the death around her on the train, because she couldn't see it. But here, in broad daylight, she could quite clearly see the limp bodies fall to the ground, and watch as the Nazis stepped over them, laughing about their victory. It made her feel sick.

After about thirty minutes, the group arrived at the gates of the camp. Rachel was somewhere around the middle of the group, so she saw those in front of her enter one by one through a metal gate in the fence. Nazi officers stood guard. There were a few who tried to run away, but they were shot dead within seconds. Rachel had already decided against escaping long ago.

She saw the women before her hand over their cases, and Rachel sadly realised she would have to do the same. She remembered the requirement on the letter: 'make sure you bring your most treasured, valuable possessions with you for safekeeping.' Rachel had packed her small case with several photographs, her favourite dress, a few sets of underwear and her favourite book. She knew that most people would find these worthless, but it was the jewellery and money she had packed which Rachel was now worried about. There was a bracelet from her parents, a ring left to her by her great aunt, and a necklace that Jesse had bought for her, as well as fifty marks - all the money she had. Now, the requirement to bring all valuables suddenly made sense, she realised, as she watched the Nazis throw all the cases into a large pile. They wanted to steal the valuables and keep them for themselves.

Rachel quickly opened her case, and tried to see what she could save. She grabbed the fistful of marks, stuffing them into her bra, and then debated over the jewellery. The ring would be too obvious. Maybe she could wear the bracelet, if she made sure her sleeve always covered her wrist...but this was too risky. She decided on the necklace. It was probably worth more than the other things, but that wasn't why she kept it. She kept it because Jesse had bought it for her. Rachel swiftly fastened the clasp behind her neck and briefly fingered the musical note that hung on the thin gold chain, before hiding it under her shirt. She then took a moment to feel the soft pink silk of her dress beneath her fingers for the last time, and then quickly ripped off a corner of it before she could change her mind. It didn't matter if she ruined the dress now. She was never going to wear it again, so she may as well keep a small reminder.

Rachel tucked the scrap of material into her bra along with the money. Then she looked at the photos she had bought. There were a few of her family, and she smiled fondly at their faces, remembering the happy times she'd spent with them. Those days seemed so very long ago, now. Then there was one of her and Jesse, taken on the street in Berlin. She remembered that day - Jesse had asked a lady on the street to take a picture of 'me and my beautiful girlfriend,' Rachel remembered him saying proudly, and how she had blushed. They were grinning at the camera, both so happy in that moment. She remembered how Jesse had been given the camera as a gift that morning - Jesse's parents spoiled him terribly - and he had excitedly shown Rachel. After taking pictures in his home, they had grown bored of the indoors and taken to the streets. The two had captured anything and everything of interest to them. After using up countless rolls of film, they had hopped on a tram - oh, the days when she could ride trams! - and arrived back at Jesse's, shutting themselves in a dark room, developing all the pictures. Rachel had watched in amazement as the blank papers transformed into photographs before her eyes, as if by magic. That had been one of her favourite days of all time.

Now, in the present, she folded the photograph in half, and in half again, before placing it beside the scrap of dress in her bra. Whenever things got truly terrible, she would look at the photo, hold the golden musical note, and feel the pink silk. And that will get me through this, Rachel decided firmly.

All too soon, she arrived at the gate, and, as she expected, they snatched her case and threw it aside. She then told them her name and they found it on the list they were holding, marking that she had arrived. They then told her to go into the hut, pointing to the left. She did as they said, entering and arriving in a small room, where she was greeted by another Nazi. Well, greeted was the wrong word. She told him her name again, which he crossed off another list, and he told her what to do. 'Go through there, take off your clothes. Then you will be washed and dried,' he said monotonously, pointing at a door.

Rachel walked through the doorway her had directed her to. It was a changing room of sorts; women were taking their clothes off, embarrassed, and covering themselves with cold hands before making their way into the next room to be washed. Rachel was at first embarrassed at the prospect of stripping naked, something she had only ever done once, with Jesse. But then, as she slowly took her shirt off she worried about what she was going to do with her memories. Rachel glanced around, seeing if any of these other women had kept their possessions too. Nobody, it seemed, until her eyes fell upon an older woman several feet away from her. She was holding a ring, clearly a wedding ring, which had been stashed in a pocket. The woman also held a piece of paper, which Rachel couldn't see but was clearly very important to the woman. Rachel watched to see what she would do with the objects. After a moment of deliberation, the woman folded the ring inside the paper, folded it up and held it in her hand. She then slipped her hand between her legs and put the possessions inside herself. Rachel blushed, looking at the floor. She couldn't do that...could she?

Before she could decide against it, Rachel put the necklace, silk and money in a bundle, and wrapped the photograph around them. Then she took a deep breath and slid it inside her, doing it quickly, before anyone would notice. It was uncomfortable at first, but Rachel soon became used to the sensation, telling herself that she needed these things to survive. Leaving her clothes behind, she began walking towards the washroom, trying to cover herself as best as she could with her hands.

The 'shower' consisted of a deeply embarrassed naked Rachel standing before a man - a man! - hosing her down with cold water. He then threw talcum powder over her shivering, soaking body to dry her off. Rachel stumbled back towards the changing room, but she was stopped. 'You go in there,' ordered the Nazi, pointing at a door on the other side of the room.

'But my clothes...,' Rachel protested feebly.

'There are clothes in there for you to wear,' he told her, still pointing at the other door. Defeated, Rachel walked into the other room. There, her name was taken yet again, and a Nazi threw some clothes to Rachel. She examined them - a shirt and some trousers, blue and white pinstripes, and some underwear. As she slid her body into the cheap, rough material, Rachel noticed a number on the shirt, stamped across the chest. 71428. She realised, horrified, what it meant. That there were over seven thousand people here already. If they were still here, she wondered, but stopped herself thinking like that. She couldn't afford to let more death into her life; the Nazis had done that enough. She wasn't going to do it herself too.

Jesse was lying in his bed, unable to sleep, which had begun happening more and more often over the past few weeks. It had been sixteen days since Rachel had been taken away from him. Thirteen days since Santana's parents had been taken away from her. Nineteen days since Kurt had been taken away from Blaine. He missed Rachel unbearably, but told himself that it could be much worse. And besides, he'd see her again. He would.

Jesse had never really believed in God, and he didn't much care for Christianity, the faith which his parents had bought him up to believe in. But he had always, for as long as he could remember, felt as if there was some sort of higher power above him, watching him. Recently, however, he had begun to doubt the existence of such a deity.

Jesse sighed, getting out of bed and entering the kitchen. He saw Santana sitting on the window-sill, surprising him. He was momentarily embarrassed - he was only wearing his underpants - but she rolled her eyes. 'Don't worry. It's fine. Hell, be naked for all I care,' she said dully, gesturing at her own body, which, he noticed, was scantily clad in just a bra and knickers. She nursed a bottle of wine, which was more than half empty, Jesse noticed. He was worried about Santana. She had begun drinking more and more. But, he reasoned, she had good reason to.

'Can't sleep either?' she asked him. Jesse shook his head.

'Not even a little bit,' he answered, reaching into the fridge for some juice. 'Do you want some?' he asked Santana.

'Does it have alcohol in it?' she asked vaguely.

'No. It's apple juice,' he said, waving the bottle at her. She shook her head.

'I'll pass,' she said, taking a long gulp of wine. Jesse sighed as he swigged some juice straight from the bottle, not wanting to say anything about Santana's drinking. He was beginning to worry that she had a problem, like his uncle, not to mention that his parent's liquor cabinet was practically empty, and the stocks in the wine cellar thoroughly diminished. They were due home next week, and he was wondering how to explain the absence of drink, as well as the addition of a fugitive to the household.

'You should be careful over there, by the window. Someone might see you,' Jesse warned. Santana shrugged.

'I don't care anymore,' she said sadly. 'Let them,' she said, standing on the ledge and dancing around freely. The window was a large one, six feet high, and anyone on the street would be able to see her quite clearly. Panicked, Jesse ran over there, wrapping his hands around her waist, not caring about boundaries for a moment, and pulling her away. He fell backwards, and they ended up on the floor, Jesse's arms wrapped around her. Santana struggled for a moment, then relaxed onto his chest, crying. 'Sorry,' she sobbed into him. Jesse held her for a few minutes, stroking her gently and kissing her hair, trying to calm her.

Then he realised that they were both relatively naked, and this was not an appropriate position for two friends to be in. He adjusted slightly so that she was no longer lying on top of him. He let her cry for a moment before talking to her, but his thoughts were stopped by the sound of footsteps downstairs. They both froze. 'Somebody saw me,' she whispered.

'Hide?' Jesse suggested.

'No. That will just make it worse,' she said. Santana was looking more scared than Jesse had ever seen her. She thought for a moment, and then ran out of the kitchen into the spare room where she had been sleeping. Jesse followed her. She pulled on her dress, the blue one that she had worn on the night she came here. Then she threw Jesse the pile of new clothes that he had bought for her. 'Hide these,' Santana said. Jesse stuffed them into his wardrobe obediently. 'Right, now let's go to your room,' she said.

As they dashed down the hall, hearing footsteps getting gradually louder, Jesse spoke. 'How can you think so fast?' he asked her.

'I've been prepared for several possible situations,' she said quickly, throwing Jesse some pyjamas. 'I know it's too hot, but you need to put these on,' she told him. He did so. 'Thank god you live on the thirty fifth floor. It should buy us some time,' she said, steering him into his bed.

'What's the plan?' he asked her.

'When they come in, you pretend to have been asleep. Then they search, they find me, and...and take me,' she explained, her voice shaky.

'I can't let them do that!' Jesse said, pulling her onto the bed and refusing to let go.

'You have to, Jesse. You have to pretend that you've never seen me before, otherwise they'll take you, too. And you need to stay here, you need to fight with the others,' she told him. 'I wish I could stay too, but I can't. It's too late for me,' she said, tears beginning to fall. 'So you have to act shocked. You've never seen me, you didn't know I was hiding here. Don't look upset when they take me away. Don't try to save me. Don't try to stop them. Just let them take me,' Santana told him.

Jesse nodded, realising that she was right. This was the only thing to do. He took her into his arms for a moment, holding her. They listened to the footsteps for a moment. 'I think we have about four minutes,' he whispered.

'Tell Puck and Quinn and Blaine and Sam and all the others that I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye,' she said. Jesse nodded through his own tears. 'And tell Brittany that I love her. Tell her that we'll see each other again one day. Tell her to never stop being exactly who she is, because she's amazing. Tell her that I'll never stop loving her, ever,' Santana told Jesse fervently, and he nodded.

'I'll tell her, of course I will,' he promised.

'And you, Jesse. I'll miss you too. So much,' she said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his forehead. 'You've been wonderful to me, ever since we met. You're - you're my best friend,' she told him.

'Mine too,' he replied. 'I'll miss you so much, Santana,' he told her. They held each other for a moment longer, and then Jesse heard the footsteps come dangerously close. 'They're right beneath us,' he said. 'But I don't want to let go,' he said.

'You have to,' Santana said. She stood up and went to the door, hovering for a second. 'Be brave, Jesse,' she told him.

'I should be the one saying that to you,' he said quietly. They looked at each other.

'Lay down and pretend you're sleeping. Good-goodbye, Jesse,' she said, stifling a sob and turning to run out of the room. Jesse swiftly got under the covers.

'We'll see each other again,' he called after her.

'We will,' she agreed from the other room. Jesse sighed, and closed his eyes, waiting.

Blaine walked into the bathroom and almost fell over in shock. 'Brittany what the fuck are you doing?' he said, taking in the blood all over the sink and the gashes on her wrist.

'It's alright,' she murmured absently, watching the blood drip out of her.

'It is sure as hell not alright,' Blaine said, taking the knife out of her hand. He paused for a moment. 'This is because of Santana,' he stated. It wasn't a question, it was a fact. Brittany gave a tiny gasp on hearing Santana's name. 'Brit, she wouldn't want you to do this. Remember what Jesse said? She doesn't want you to stop being anything other than who you are,' he reminded her.

'I'm doing it for her. Look,' she said, turning her arm to show Blaine. He tried not to look - it made him feel sick. 'Four cuts. One for each day that we've been apart,' she explained, fingering the bloody lines.

'You have to stop,' Blaine told her, finding a bandage in the cupboard and beginning to gently wrap her wrist, but Brittany pushed the bandage aside.

'I don't want to hide them. It's her. I'm carving her into me, so I don't lose her,' she told him. Blaine sighed. He'd always been a little wary of Brittany's naivety and simple mind, but he never thought it would lead to this.

'But you're not going to lose her. She'll be back. And you'll have her again. You don't need to do this, Brit. Please. If not for her sake then at least for mine,' he begged her, but she didn't seem to hear him. They were quiet for a moment, Brittany murmuring things he couldn't hear to the ugly marks on her wrist. 'I think I preferred it when you cried all day,' Blaine said.

'I don't think I have any tears left,' Brittany told him sadly.

'Look. I know how you feel. I've lost Kurt, remember? I'm hurting too, but I'm not going to make myself hurt even more by taking a knife to my skin,' he said softly.

'Well that's the thing. It doesn't hurt. Well it does...but it's good. It's a good pain. Not like the pain I feel when I think about...about her, and how she's gone. This hurt, it gets rid of all the other hurt. Don't you want to forget your hurt, too, just for a moment?' she asked him.

Blaine looked at the knife in his hand. It certainly sounded tempting. He'd give anything to not feel this way, the way he'd been feeling ever since he watched love being dragged away before his eyes. He bought it up to his wrist and slowly pressed the blade into the skin. It hurt, a lot. It was good. But then he stopped, throwing the knife onto the floor. He wasn't going to do this. He hadn't cut very deep; there was just a small gash, a few drops of blood emerging. He washed his hand and made Brittany do the same. 'We're not going to do this. The Nazis have hurt us enough. We are not going to hurt ourselves too,' he told her very firmly. Brittany nodded reluctantly. He helped her stand up, and they left the bathroom.

'Come on. Jesse's coming over for dinner and I haven't even started cooking yet,' he told her.

'If Jesse's coming here then I'm not staying,' she said, grabbing her coat and purse before heading for the door.

'Brit, you can't treat him like this. It isn't his fault,' Blaine called after her, but she was already gone.

Jesse knocked seven times at the door, and Quinn let him in. 'Hello Jesse,' she said. He remembered how happily she had greeted him just a few weeks earlier, the first time he had come here, but now her smile looked forced, her voice dull, her eyes tired. He returned her greeting and opened the cabinet, going downstairs.

He said a short hello to Puck at the bar as he ordered a drink before joining Blaine at their usual table.

'Evening,' he said.

'Hello,' Blaine returned, standing up to hug Jesse. He returned Blaine's embrace. They had begun doing this each time they saw each other, out of solidarity and comfort. Both needed the contact. Jesse would close his eyes and imagine the smaller figure as Rachel, and Blaine would pretend the arms around him were Kurt's. Neither told the other that they did this.

'I should warn you,' Blaine said as they sat down, 'Brittany is angry with you,' he told Jesse.

'I'm angry with myself,' Jesse said.

'It's not your fault,' Blaine began, but Jesse continued.

'I should have done something. I should have hidden her...I should have stopped them...I should have done something. Anything!' Jesse said, still distraught at the memory of what had happened six nights ago.

'None of those things would have worked, and you know it,' Blaine told him. 'Santana was right. The best thing for you to do was to stay here. We need you here. You can help get her back,' Blaine reassured him. Jesse didn't say anything.

'I just feel hopeless. It's the same with Rachel. I should never have let her go to that place,' Jesse said, putting his head in his hands and beginning to cry. 'The people I love are gone, Blaine. The only thing I have now is you,' he told him.

'You'll always have me, Jesse,' Blaine promised him, but Jesse shook his head.

'What if I don't? What if they come for you next? Or me? Then I have nothing,' he sobbed.

Blaine held Jesse's head against his chest, letting him cry. Jesse could feel Blaine's heart beating.

'I can't promise that you'll always have me. I can't promise that one of us won't be taken away. But we have to stay strong and fight. The minute we start giving up, that's when we've let the Nazis win. And we can't let them win, Jesse. We just can't,' Blaine told him.

Jesse collected himself after a moment and sat up. 'Sorry,' he murmured, embarrassed at his display.

'Don't apologise for being human,' Blaine said, leaning on Jesse's shoulder. His head fit nicely in the crook of Jesse's neck. They sat like that for a moment, before Blaine realised what this must look like. 'Sorry. I didn't mean - I don't want - ,' he began, but Jesse stopped him.

'Don't apologise for being human,' he said, putting his arm around Blaine and pulling him closer. 'It's alright. It's alright,' Jesse told him softly. Blaine smiled up at him, and he managed to smile back.

After a minute, Jesse was resting his head on top of Blaine's.

Another minute, and Blaine took Jesse's hand. He laced his fingers through Jesse's.

Jesse had never sat with a man like this. He had never held hands with a man. It was nice.

The meeting was over fairly quickly. There was not much to report. Then came the part of the meeting where anyone could speak. Sam stood up.

'I was recently promoted, and I think they're going to send me to work at one of the camps,' he told them. He didn't look happy at the prospect.

'When do you leave?' Quinn asked.

'They haven't said anything to me yet. But everyone else who gets promoted generally ends up working at the camps,' Sam said glumly. 'I don't know how often I'll be able to come back, and I don't even want to think about what I'll have to do to people - innocent people, when I get there. At least in Berlin I can pretend, I can get by without hurting anyone. It won't be so easy out there,' he told them. There was a silence as everyone took this in. 'I do have some good news - well, as good as it can be in this situation,' he said. Sam turned to look at Jesse. 'I know where Rachel is,' he told him.

'What? How? Where?' he asked, all in a rush. His heart was beating fast.

'The paperwork came into the central office this morning. She's at Ravensbrück,' Sam told him.

'Where is that?' Jesse asked.

'It's in Germany. Probably about ten days or so by train. It's a women's labour camp,' he explained.

'What does that mean?' Jesse asked.

'There are no men - except the Nazis, obviously. And they won't try to kill her. It's not an extermination camp. It's probably because she's young and strong; that's why they want her to work. Generally, people are kept at a labour camp until they are too ill or too tired to work - if they survive - before being transported to an extermination camp. Hitler calls it the 'final solution', but I don't know how it works. I'm not high up enough,' Sam explained.

'Do many people die in the labour camps?' Jesse asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

'Quite a lot,' Sam said, not sugar-coating the facts. 'But from what I've seen, the younger someone is, the better chance they have at surviving. And Rachel is very young. So we'll hope,' Sam told him.

Jesse nodded. 'Can I visit her? Can you sneak me in? Or sneak her out?' he asked hopefully, but Sam shook his head hurriedly.

'Not a chance in hell. It's impossible. I could get Kurt out for one night, but he's not in a camp, he's in a jail cell, and even then it was difficult. The camps are entirely different. I can't get anyone in or out. Well. I might be able to, but I won't know for certain until I get there. And I might not even be at Ravensbrück,' he told him.

Jesse nodded. When people continued talking, about other things, Jesse couldn't really hear them. All he could think about was Rachel. She seemed closer than ever and yet even further away. He just knew that he was grateful for Blaine being here, right next to him. Blaine squeezed Jesse's hand comfortingly, and without thinking, Jesse planted a soft kiss in Blaine's hair.

Then he realised what he'd just done and froze. He didn't know what to do, or say. He didn't want to apologise because he wasn't sorry. He used to kiss Santana in the same way, to show friendship and comfort. Was it really any different to kiss Blaine? Something inside him told him that maybe it was different, but he ignored it.

Blaine didn't say anything. He just moved closer to Jesse, showing him that it was alright. They were friends, and they were being close. That was all.

Santana coughed as they threw the talcum powder at her. She'd only just arrived at the camp and she already hated it. As she walked into the next room, feeling no shame at her forced nudity, Santana took a moment to be grateful that she wasn't at a death camp. She knew where she was - Ravensbrück - because there had been a tiny hole in her crate, and during the train journey she had relied on her geography and sense of direction to keep track of where they were. She was a traveller, after all.

After she pulled on the ugly uniform, she walked into yet another room. How many more stages of degradation do I have to go through, she wondered. It was only when she was pinned down, and they quickly and roughly shaved off all her hair that Santana decided that things couldn't possibly get any worse. She was wrong, but would not discover this until later.

They shoved a cap onto her head and she left, somewhat relieved that there was not another room to go through. A Nazi shouted at her. 'You, gyppo,' he sneered. Santana recoiled at the racist slur, but conceded that at least they didn't know that she was a lesbian. 'You're in barrack number twelve. You may as well wait there until dinner, it's in twenty minutes,' he told her. She nodded, and walked away from him. 'You don't know where it is, freak' he called after her. Santana spun around and fixed the Nazi with a hard glare.

'I can find my way,' she said firmly, before turning on her heel and walking away. Sure enough, she found her barrack within a few minutes and went inside. The first thing that hit her was the smell. It was dirt and degradation and death, coming together to create a foul concoction in the air. There were no beds, just rows of hard wooden planks lining the walls. No blankets, no pillows. Santana knew it would be bad, but she didn't think it would be this bad. Who am I kidding, she thought, it's the fucking Nazis. Kindness is a foreign concept to them.

The barrack was deserted, except for a small, skinny girl. She was curled up, holding something that Santana couldn't see. 'Hello there,' she said, going towards the girl. She jumped, not having seen Santana, but looked relieved that she wasn't a Nazi. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,' she said.

'That's alright,' the girl said, hastily hiding her object. 'Are you new?' she asked. Santana nodded.

'Just arrived,' she confirmed. There was a pause.

'You can sleep here, if you like,' she offered.

'But this is your bed,' Santana said.

'You don't get your own bed. We have to fit three or four people in one space,' she explained. Santana raised her eyebrows, surprised.

'These Nazis just get better and better,' she muttered.

'I know,' the girl said glumly. They were silent for a moment, and Santana sat down next to the girl.

'I'm Santana,' she said, extending her hand.

'Rachel. Rachel Berry,' the girl returned, shaking her hand. Santana gasped.

'Rachel? Oh my god, it's you!' she exclaimed, enveloping her in a tight hug. 'I've seen a few pictures but you look different without your hair,' she said.

'I'm sorry, have we met?' Rachel said, utterly confused.

'No, no we haven't. I'm friends with Jesse,' she explained.

'He never mentioned you,' Rachel said.

'He wouldn't have been allowed. We're both part of a - a group, but I can't really tell you anything else. Sorry. But he's one of my best friends. He was with me the night that I was arrested by the Nazis,' she told a very surprised Rachel.

'How is he?' she asked.

'He's alright, I think. He thinks about you, all the time. He misses you so much, Rachel. And he hates himself for not trying to save you,' Santana answered.

Rachel nodded, taking this in. 'I'm glad that you're here. It gives me a connection to him,' she said.

'And I'm just glad to have a friend here. We are friends, aren't we?' Santana asked. Rachel nodded.

'I'd say so, yes,' she said, offering a smile, which Santana returned gratefully.

'So where is everyone?' Santana asked, glancing around the empty room.

'Probably at dinner,' Rachel presumed.

'I thought dinner wasn't for another few minutes,' Santana said.

'People like to get there early to line up. The first people there get more food,' she explained.

'Are you not hungry?' she asked. Rachel shook her head.

'I am, but it's sardines tonight, and I don't eat those,' she said. Santana nodded in understanding. 'Don't let me stop you, though,' Rachel said.

'I'm not hungry,' she said.

'That won't last long. Pretty soon you'll be in a permanent state of starvation,' she told Santana.

'I'm used to that,' she murmured. It was true; there had been many occasions throughout her life, when travelling, that they had run out of food and didn't have much money. Rachel nodded, but didn't ask what she meant. Santana realised after a moment of silence that she ought to tell Rachel a few things.

'Rachel, there's some things you should know, if we're going to be friends. And sharing a bed. Well. Sleeping space,' she said.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Well, first of all...I'm a gypsy,' she told her. Rachel nodded.

'Yes, I knew that because of the brown triangle,' she said, gesturing to Santana's uniform. Santana glanced down, and, indeed, there was a brown triangle stitched across the breast which she hadn't noticed before. 'I don't mind. I went to school with a boy who was a traveller,' Rachel assured her. Santana nodded, but was still a little nervous at what she had to say next.

'I'm glad you think like that. But that's not all I need to tell you. They - the Nazis - they don't know about this, so please keep it a secret. The thing is...I'm a - a lesbian,' she whispered, glancing around furtively. Rachel looked confused.

'A lez - what?' she asked.

'You don't know what a lesbian is?' Santana asked.

'I've never heard that word. What is it? What does it mean?' Rachel asked, her eyes perplexed.

'It's the term for a homosexual woman,' she whispered, but Rachel still looked blank.

'I don't know what that means either. Is it something to do with sex?' she asked.

Santana paused for a second, thinking how best to explain this. 'A homosexual is someone who has relations - has sex with - people of the same gender. So, a lesbian - me, I only have sex with other women. Not men,' she explained.

'Do you just not want to have sex with men?' Rachel asked.

'Not exactly...it's not that I don't want to. It's not really a choice. It's just who I am. It's what's in my heart. I've never felt the way about men that I do about women. I've never thought about men, in a sexual way, ever. I don't look at men in the same way. I just - it's just not me. I'm attracted to women,' Santana said. Rachel was quiet for a moment, thinking all of this over.

'Well, I've always tried not to judge people. I see everyone as the same, unless they're a murderer or something, obviously. And when I came here, I learned even more that you shouldn't judge people. We're all different. We're all special. And maybe the thing that makes you different is what makes you special. So...I am fine with you being a lesbanim,' Rachel concluded. Santana giggled.

'That was really, really nice, honestly. Thank you, Rachel. But it's lesbian, not lesbanim,' she told her. Rachel laughed.

'Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you,' she said, which made Santana laugh again.

'Seriously, thank you. That means a lot to me,' Santana told her. The two girls smiled at each other, in spite of everything.

'Having you here with me will make things more bearable,' Rachel said.

'Likewise,' Santana replied. 'So. Tell me everything about this place,' she asked.

'But WHEN are we going to do something?' Brittany asked in despair. Everyone stared at her. Puck and Quinn glanced at each other, unsure what to say. 'We keep saying that we're going to do something, we keep saying 'oh we'll get them back!' and 'oh we'll stop the Nazis!' but WE NEVER DO ANYTHING! We just sit here and learn about more and more problems without solving them! I need this war to be OVER!' she said, tears streaming down her face.

'Brittany, calm down,' Jesse murmured, and she turned swiftly, slapping him hard across the face.

'Don't talk to me! If it weren't for you, she'd still be here!' Brittany cried. Jesse didn't say anything - he knew that there was no point reasoning with her when she was in this state.

'We can't turn on each other,' Quinn said. Brittany promptly slid onto the floor and cried.

'I'll take her home,' Blaine said, passing Jesse his empty glass. 'Here, use the ice,' he said.

'Thank you,' Jesse said gratefully, grabbing a few chunks and holding them on his cheek. 'I'll see you tomorrow?' he asked. Blaine nodded.

'Tomorrow. Sorry about Brittany,' he apologised. Jesse dismissed this with a wave of his hand.

'Don't worry about it,' he said. As Blaine coaxed Brittany into standing, Sam suddenly rushed in.

'You're late,' Puck said. Sam was panting, out of breath. Then he saw Blaine, and dashed across the room, grabbing him by the shoulders.

'Blaine! Blaine, they're putting Kurt on a train. He's going to a camp,' Sam told him.

Blaine stood still for a second. This couldn't be real...this couldn't be happening. He frowned, trying to speak, but all that came out was a choked moan of despair. He tried to walk away, but his legs wouldn't work. Kurt. Kurt...in a camp. No.

He felt someone's arms around him - Jesse's? - and he fell backwards as everything went black, crying Kurt's name.

So much has gone misunderstood; this mystery only leads to doubt

What did you think? PLEASE REVIEW! I didn't have many last time and it was kind of saddening. It's so easy to review now, look! The box is right there infront of you! PLEASE REVIEW!