A while ago on tumblr I took some prompts. I got two asking for the same thing: a hunger games/quinntana crossover. I got carried away with the idea and so decided to write a mini-story rather than a one-shot. This is planned to have 3 parts in total and so far the first 2 have been posted on tumblr. I decided it was time to post them on here too.
Even though I already said it when I first posted these, I have to say a massive thanks to bh9 and empresskris for all their help with both parts so far. You are fantastic and I value you far more than you probably know.
I hope you enjoy it.
If I Let My Heart Go
Part I
Save for the occasional stream of dappled light, it's dark under the cover of the tall trees that hide us from the world. We wander together, just as we always do, towards the lake where the majority of our childhoods were wasted away. Except this time everything seems so different.
The leaves crunching pleasantly under our feet aren't different. The moon glimmering overhead isn't any different. The water rippling gently in the breeze is no different at all.
Everything feels so different now, yet the world hasn't inexplicably changed overnight. It's us.
It's been building for a while, the dread and anxiety we're both feeling, but until now it's gone unspoken. You see, there's nothing either of us can do about it so what's the point in endlessly discussing it?
The reaping is tomorrow and, like it or not, there's always a chance that one of us will be picked out as tribute for District 12.
In reality, since we'll both soon be 19, this is the last year either of us can be selected and we've been incredibly lucky so far. I know for a fact that Santana's name must be in that stupid glass bowl more times than I'd care to think about due to the amount of tessarae she's taken over the years. I guess I'm much luckier. Being the Mayor's daughter means I've never had to face that choice like Santana has. If I could I would scribble out her name on those pieces of paper that hold our fate, and replace it with mine. I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I can't because the whole scenario is impossible.
The Hunger Games are all I've been able to think about for weeks. Now though, those thoughts have become overwhelming. I know she feels the same. I also know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she could figure out every thought that's in my head. So, without even discussing it, we've done what we've always done in these situations, both understanding the other's needs. We've escaped.
Of course I don't mean that literally. There's no chance of any sort of real escape, but this lake (our place, if you like) is the closest thing we've ever had to one.
We exit the clearing and Santana immediately settles down on the smooth, flat rock by the edge of the lake. The sight of it is familiar, and the vision of her perched on it seems so normal that it almost puts me at ease. Almost.
As the wind blows through her dark hair she kicks off her shoes and without hesitation places her feet in the cool water. I watch her face as she lets it lap gently over her skin, the steady back and forth motion creating ripples around her toes. We've known each other for long enough now for me to understand that this is something she does when she's feeling stressed. It's something she's done ever since her younger brother died.
I sit down next to her, my arm brushing against hers as I do. Before I know it my mind is taking me to places I don't want to go. Flashbacks run through my mind at a hurtling pace, tears threatening to spill as I recall everything the two of us have been through.
I remember the first time we met, both of us just kids who were forced to work together for a school project. At first, I didn't understand Santana at all, her harsh words and cold nature confused and baffled me. We were only 6 but I could tell there was something different about her, something that she was hiding from the world. Puck, the mouthiest kid in our class, was chasing me around, ignoring my requests to leave me alone, when Santana strolled up and gave him a dead leg. She didn't say a word to me as he winced in pain, rolling on the floor, but she grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the swing as if nothing had happened. Slowly, her walls came down and she let me see the real her, a person who is more kind and thoughtful than she'd ever care to admit. We've been best friends ever since.
Suddenly I'm transported forwards to the time when we snuck out to our lake in the middle of the night, splashing around in the water while the sounds of the darkness surrounded us. It was like being in our own little bubble where nothing, and no one, could reach us. Santana's dad practically shouted us into outer space when we eventually came back. At the time I just remember knowing that it was worth of every second of his anger. Of course, my parents hadn't even realised I was gone, too busy to notice. I remember feeling guilty at the harsh punishments that followed for Santana, whilst I got off free, although the other part of me wished someone cared enough about me to bother telling me off.
The memory is quickly replaced by another, this time we're 13 and we're sat in the alley behind the baker's shop eating sweets that we'd managed to steal from my Father's office. It was all Santana's idea of course, her hand wrapping around mine and dragging me along the corridor, insisting that her plan was completely fool proof. To be honest, she could have said anything and I'd have followed her without question. To this day, my Father doesn't know a thing about it.
I remember the time that she told me she wasn't into boys. We were 16 and she had the most enormous crush on Marley, a girl in the year below us. The two of them had a brief thing, but it ended all too suddenly and Santana wound up on my doorstep, her heart in tatters and her head all too muddled due to the amount of alcohol she had managed to find and consume. I let her cry through the night, her head resting on my chest, until she fell asleep clutching my hand.
Our friendship hasn't always been perfect, I know that. The two of us have been through a lot and we've had more than our fair share of arguments, but every single time (even when we've slapped each other senseless) I've always known that eventually she'd come back to me, and I to her. It's just the way it's meant to be.
The memories have flooded my head, bewildering my senses, and all I can think about is how painful it would be to lose her.
She looks over at me and I can tell from the expression on her face that she's immediately noticed something's wrong in a way that it wasn't before. Of course she has. She knows me like nobody else.
"Quinn?"
Her tone is soft and I don't break the eye contact between us, "Yeah?"
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
"No," I say simply, my voice cracking slightly as I do. I tuck my feet up onto the rock, clutching my knees to my chest.
She doesn't push me to say anything. Instead she hops off the stone, gently moves my legs, and begins untying my shoes. It takes her a matter of seconds and when she's done she pulls them off and lets them drop carefully to the ground below. She stands up and holds out her hand in my direction, "Let's swim."
"In our clothes?" I take her hand and hop off the rock, landing on the rough ground to my left.
She shrugs, "Well I'm not planning to."
We've done this plenty of times before, although it hasn't been quite like this for a long time. As she pulls off her clothes I feel a blush spread across my cheeks. The moonlight casts enough of a glow that I can easily make out the outline of her body as she walks into the water. After a few steps she effortlessly glides in and disappears under the surface, reappearing again a few metres away. Treading water, she turns around and shouts at me to join her.
I carefully remove my clothes, shedding each layer with much more thought than usual. I know I should be expecting it, but as the cool water laps against my skin I shiver at the contrast in temperature regardless.
Within seconds I'm by Santana's side once more and my eyes are automatically drawn to hers. Droplets of water are clinging to her eyelashes and that familiar ache pangs inside me once more as I contemplate what life would be like without her. I will myself to push the thoughts away but the task seems too impossible. She's been such a huge part of my life for so long now, and the reality of the situation is too much to cope with.
Not for the first time I think of the Gamemakers, no doubt sat there excitedly anticipating the beginning of yet another year of entertainment for the Capitol. Anger starts to build, mixing with the fear and sadness inside me and creating a lethal cocktail of emotions.
"Q?" Her voice breaks through my thoughts, shattering them but not ridding me of the anger burning through my veins or the fear twisting in my stomach.
"I just…" I begin but my words are blocked by the lump forming in my throat.
She looks at me simply, her eyes still locked to mine, and smiles sadly, "I know."
"How can they do this? We're just entertainment to them, Santana, don't you see? People are going to die, people we might know, and they're going to sit there and watch, drinking wine and laughing about it. It makes me sick."
She runs a hand through her damp hair, ruffling it slightly, "The Gamemakers, they're just dicks, but no matter what this is still your life, Quinn."
"Is it? Don't you see? We're trapped here like animals. We can't escape, we can't go anywhere at all. And then once a year they send two of us for the slaughter. What kind of life is that?"
We're side by side now and Santana's own tears threaten to spill over, mixing with mine in the water that surrounds us, "We can't think like that, Q. Not tonight. We've got one more night and then after tomorrow it's done for us. This is the last year we'll be entered."
I smile half-heartedly, trying desperately to shift this feeling inside, "It's normally you getting angry, not me."
"Time for some role-reversal, I guess," she says softly. Pausing, she looks out across the water and I can see the sadness in her eyes. She blinks and it's gone, hidden from view once more as she gives me a crooked smile, "I'm fed up of being angry. Besides, you know that's not always me."
"I do," I nod. Silence hangs for a moment between us, although it's not awkward in the slightest. Eventually I break it, unable to hold the words back any longer. My voice is so quiet that at first I'm not even convinced she's heard me, "I'm scared of losing you."
I swear I can hear the breath catch in her throat, "Don't think like that, Quinn."
"You're my best friend, Santana."
She gives a small chuckle, a clear attempt to diffuse the situation and get me smiling again, "Oh come on, you'd be just fine. Think about how much less slapping you'd have to do? I know I drive you nuts sometimes, and you can't say I don't."
Her attempt to lighten the mood doesn't work, instead it somehow just makes it all worse, "I don't know what I'd do without you."
She doesn't try to make light of it this time, or tell me it'll all be alright. Instead she simply looks at me, and as her eyes connect with mine it's as though we're the only two people in the world. It's just me and her and everything else is melting away, insignificant in comparison. Maybe she's right, maybe we do just need to focus on tonight. Tomorrow can wait. I know without a shadow of doubt that if there's anyone I can do that with, temporarily forget it all, it's Santana.
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips and my stomach twists in a way that's entirely new and unexpected. I don't even have time to understand what it means or why it's happening before I feel her lips pressed against mine.
It all happens so suddenly that honestly, it takes me a few seconds to actually begin to comprehend it all. When my brain eventually clicks into gear and I realise that she's kissing me, it's too late. Her lips are already gone and so is the moment. All I'm left with is the memory of it all and the shivers that are still coursing through my body, tingling deliciously down my spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
She's pulling away, panic so clearly written all over her face. I try to speak but the words aren't forming right, somehow getting lost on the tip of my tongue, balancing precariously but refusing to fall out of my mouth in any sort of rational way. My brain is too muddled to make sense of anything, let alone the fact that literally only seconds ago my best friend was kissing me, and that more importantly it's left my body riddled with sensations that I'm struggling to analyse.
Her mouth opens and I wait for her to speak but all that comes out are unfinished words. She takes a deep breath and I can hear it shudder through her body. Eventually, one word leaves her lips, nothing more than a breathless whisper, "Sorry."
Before the last syllable has even left her mouth she's turned away from me, launching herself into the water and back towards the shore.
I swallow, begging my senses to return to me. All I know is that I don't want her to go. In the end it's this fact that seems to wake me up enough for me to shout across the water at her, "Santana! Stop!"
The water crashes around me as I swim as fast as is humanly possible, chasing after her in desperation. I exit the lake and see that her clothes are gone, clearly scooped up as she made her escape. Her wet footprints, glistening softly in the moonlight, lead back towards the trees. I haphazardly pull on my clothes, deciding to leave my shoes by the side of the rock where Santana placed them only minutes ago. I can come back for them later, for now all I know is that I have to find her.
My feet pound heavily against the ground, and I ignore the sharp stabs in my soles from the rocks and twigs that litter the floor. My voice echoes through the trees but it's pointless. All I can hear is the wind whistling through the trees, and the soft rustling of the leaves on the ground.
She's gone.