Rachel Andric and The Editor

Chapter 22: Ballad for a Bard

Rachel's head ached, and she kept her eyes closed in an effort to remain asleep a little longer. She remembered clearly everything that had happened in Cinderella's Story, and she wished she could write it off as a bad dream. But as Morpheus, she knew it had been real. Completely real.

"He's...undergone Final Death." Merlin's devastating words still rang in Rachel's head. First Ewan, her last relative, now Alan-a-Dale. He should never have even been involved. Carson had kidnapped him to tend to Will when the young outlaw had been dying from a knife wound, and he'd maintained his involvement since then.

Rachel hated herself for bringing Alan to Camelot with her after finding out Guy was missing. She should have kept anyone from coming with her; this was a private war between her and the Editor. Instead, she'd involved Alan and gotten him killed. A sob escaped her throat, and when she allowed that much, she started crying.

"Rachel..." The soft voice broke through her desperate, racking sobs. She raised her tear-streaked face and saw Merlin standing in the doorway of the room. His own eyes were dry, but they were red-rimmed as though he had been crying only a few minutes before. "You're—you're awake."

She nodded, unable to gather enough energy to speak. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to hide her tears from the sorcerer. He sat beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Rachel, I don't think I can do this anymore."

That caught Rachel's attention. She sat up and managed to speak for the first time. "Why?"

"Alan's death...his Final Death, it's all my fault," Merlin said, all in a rush. "I could've stopped it, it should have been me! He saved me...and I left him in Cinderella's Story to die. I shouldn't have let him come, I should have done something!"

"What could you have done?" Rachel yelled, her grief suddenly turning to anger. "What, did you want to die with him? Well, fine! Dishonor his memory! Run back to Camelot with your tail between your legs like some lost puppy! I thought you had a spine, Merlin! I lost my brother when we fought Carson, and did I run away? No! Because both Ewan and Alan died to help us. To run away now...to give up...it would dishonor them and make their deaths useless!"

"But..."

"But?" Rachel was aghast. "How can you find a 'but' in there? I don't want some lily-livered coward with me! Go back to Camelot! Or, better yet, go back to Sherwood Forest and tell Alan's wife he died for you and you're running away and making his sacrifice pointless. Go and look Alan's baby girl in the eye and tell her that her father died and you're too upset to continue." She turned her back on Merlin, fresh tears falling.

"That's just not fair!" Merlin shouted back at her, getting angry. "I can't go on like this anymore! I can't have anyone die on my account anymore! Alan would understand! He died because of me...for all I know, he could have hated me in his last moments of life. I always made fun of him, mocked him, but he was the best friend anyone could ever ask for, and I never told him that. I treated him like he was a fool and unimportant, and now he'll never know that he was one of my best friends."

"I think you're being stupid," Rachel retorted. "Alan knew you were his friend; why do you think he was always teasing you? Always threatening to sing? Because he knew you would always reciprocate, and that was the sort of relationship the two of you had. So if you're going to throw all that away because you think he hated you, then you're stupid."

"That doesn't matter," Merlin said stubbornly. "What matters is that we failed. Cinderella's Story is gone, and...and so is Alan. And you can't tell me it isn't my fault, because it is. I should've been able to open a Story door, and because I failed, they're all dead. Once I'm fully rested, I'm leaving. I don't care where I have to go. I can't bear for anyone else to die because of me. Lancelot and Gawain, Alan...I just can't do it anymore."

Rachel didn't answer; her head was in her hands as she wept. Merlin touched her shoulder, and she jerked away. "Leave me alone, you coward!" she sobbed. "I don't need you. Just abandon me, for all I care! You're no friend of mine...when I most need you, you turn your back on me and run away."

"I am your friend, Rachel!" Merlin insisted.

"Not if you go." Her words were spoken with quiet certainty. She didn't want anybody who turned tail and ran at the first sign of a war. "Alan wouldn't have run away. He would've stayed until the bitter end, no matter the cost. And he did stay to the end—his end. I thought you cared about us; I wish you were Will."

"Fine," Merlin said with cold finality. "Hate me, for all I care. But nobody else will die because of me."

Rachel stiffened and turned around. "Listen," she said in a low voice. "Do you hear that?"

Merlin cocked his head and frowned. "It's...a lute," he said, confused. "But Alan was the only one who could play it."

Exchanging astonished glances, Rachel and Merlin hurried out of the room and down the stairs. In the living area of wherever it was they were, Red Riding Hood sat with a tiny lute in her hands, strumming out a sad song. She didn't hear them as they came up behind her.

Rachel's eyes filled with tears as she listened to the melancholy tune. The terrible thing was? She recognized it—Alan had written the song when he thought she was dead. "The Ballad of Rachel Andric," Guinevere whispered. She sat nearby, unnoticed by the others as she listened to Red's playing. "He played that song, in the Little Mermaid's Story."

Red turned around and faced Rachel and Merlin, hiding the lute behind her back. "It...it's not what you think," she stammered. "I...I...I know I'm terrible, but—"

"That was Alan's song," Merlin interrupted, barely able to get the words out. "Where did you learn it?"

Red brushed tears from her cheeks, licking her lips in embarrassment. "He...he taught me," she explained in a broken voice. "He taught me how to play the luth to pass the time in my Story. This was the first song he taught me."

Merlin cursed and turned away. The grief of the moment had apparently been too much for him. Rachel reached out and took the little lute from Red, feeling the smooth wood beneath her hands. "I think...," she said slowly, "I think that ballad should have a new name."

"A new name?" Red asked. "What sort of name?"

"The Ballad of Alan-a-Dale," Rachel decided, a sudden hardness in her voice. "And let's give the ballad a good ending. Let's find the Editor and avenge him, and everyone in the Cinderella Story." She remembered her waltz with Guy; he had to have escaped the destruction of that Story. He couldn't have perished with Alan.

"Agreed," Guinevere said, her calm voice mirroring Rachel's.

"Convenu," Red added.

"I agree." Merlin's addition surprised Rachel. They each turned to face each other, and Merlin gave Rachel a shaky little smile. "After all...Alan may have been my friend, but you all are too."

In a totally emotional and un-Rachel-like move, Rachel flung herself at Merlin and embraced him, sobbing. He laid his head on hers, his tears landing in her hair. "I won't be a coward," he told Rachel quietly. "Alan deserves that much. He deserves to be avenged."

"And we'll...we'll be the ones to do it," Rachel agreed, and they stepped away from each other.

"That's all well and good," a voice said, "but who are you people?"