Song shuffle: Q/S Part IV
If I Die Young [The Band Perry]
author: summer_rain
Santana's head was fuzzy, the commotion around her muffled her senses. It was all hazy.
She looked down at her hands.
They were covered in a thick red substance. Santana sat there intrigued at the liquid that was coating her fingers. She couldn't quite remember what the substance was.
Her head throbbed painfully, she touched the right side of her head. It was sticky and warm. Her hands came back were coated with more of the red liquid.
Wait...?
Santana narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows trying to understand what was going on.
She was so tired. Everything hurt. There was something warm calling for her, it was like a string tugging gently at her soul. She felt it spreading from her chest, she wanted to close her eyes, to walk into the darkness.
Memories of Quinn flooded the blackness behind her eyelids.
A single tear escaped. "I'm sorry."
"Lopez! Stay with me!"
Santana groaned, head rolling back as Sam shook her.
"Lopez!"
It was Sam's voice. His eyes looked panicked.
Suddenly she was off the ground, then world faded away.
/
"I'm leaving for the front line tomorrow."
Santana's posture was rigid, her lips were pulled into a straight line.
Quinn's face paled. She had dreaded the day this would happen. She fought back the tears that were threatening to spill.
"Okay." Quinn stepped forward and wrapped Santana in a tight hug, closing her eyes.
Tears silently streamed down her face.
"Quinn..." Santana swallowed a lump in her throat. "I will come back. Just wait for me. I promise, Q."
Quinn's voice was shaky. "I hate this. I hate it every time you have to leave me." Quinn sniffed, she was aware her tears were staining the front of Santana's shirt.
"I hate having to leave you, Q."
And not knowing if I'll ever come back again.
The unspoken sentence hung between them. The air suddenly grew thick.
Quinn buried her face into Santana's neck, inhaling her scent. Santana smelt of cinnamon, sandalwood and something the was uniquely Santana.
"Stay." Quinn mumbled into Santana's neck.
"Q, you know my father would never allow that. He believes I should follow in his footsteps." Santana's brown eyes were warm, a deep chocolate colour. However, her pain was evident, it was painted in her eyes; in beautiful shades of brown. There was nothing she could do.
Quinn leaned in slowly, resting their foreheads together.
"I love you, Santana."
Quinn's breath ghosted over Santana's lips. Santana leaned in, pressing their lips together gently. Her hands moved to wrap around Quinn's waist, gently pulling Quinn towards herself.
Their kiss was slow but passionate. Their tongues danced to a song their mouths knew off by heart. They shared a breath, their souls entwining.
Santana knew that behind the languid caresses, there was a sense of finality.
The atmosphere around them was charged. It was different to the other times they had parted.
Something was different.
/
Bullets collided with the surface of the desert, ricocheting in all different directions, kicking up dust. In the dying sunset, the dust specks caught the dying light-a purple haze.
Her head throbbed painfully; her hands were caked with dry blood. She smelt metal burning, and the dusty scent she had come to associate with the desert. The sand scraped at her cheek. She searched her memories, trying to piece together the pieces but nothing came. Santana was aware of the dead weight of a heavy body above hers, pressing her to the ground. Her rifle was gone.
It was cold. Cold, now the sun had begun to go down. She felt goose bumps break out over her skin.
In midst the fray, she heard the cries of her men as they were gunned down.
Santana breathed heavily. The smell of something burning reached her nose. She used her strength to roll the body off her.
/
Quinn's knees buckled as she watched the two commanders walk up her driveway.
The doorbell rang. She was biting back tears as she opened the door.
"Quinn Fabray?"
"Yes." Quinn's voice caught in her throat. It sounded empty and broken.
The men removed their hats, holding the hat by the brim and it over their chest.
"Sergeant Lope-"
"What happened?" Quinn managed to ask, she didn't want to hear words she knew the man was going to say but she had no other choice.
"They were ambushed. The entire Unit was taken down. That's all we know."
Quinn nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"We're sorry for your loss, miss."
/
Santana rolled out from underneath the body, dragging her legs behind her. It was then that she recognised Specialist Sam Evan's lifeless face. His mop of blonde hair was matted with sweat, sticking to his once jovial face. Santana felt sick. She wanted to throw up.
Sam's body armor was caked in blood, Santana could make out the distinct shape of 6 bullet holes.
She remembered being lifted up in Sam's strong arms. Santana felt immense gratitude towards the boy. He had used his body, shielding her from the gunfire.
"Fuck!" Santana gritted her teeth together, pain shot up her back as she tried to manoeuvre her body out from under Sam's corpse.
The skin on her leg had been ripped open by shrapnel during the explosion, the skin was gone, and Santana was sure she could see the white of her bone. She noted that a bullet had grazed the back of her left calf, carving out a ravine in its wake.
She tried moving her right leg. It didn't move.
It was as if someone had pulled the plugs and disconnected her brain from her leg. The signals in her brain no longer translated to movement of her body. That was when the panic set in.
It coursed through Santana's body, her eyes widened in alarm.
A bullet buried itself into the ground next to her arm.
"Fuck."
Santana dug her elbows into the ground beneath and used them to propel her whole body forward. Her right leg dragged behind her like dead weight. The ground was hard and rough, it scraped at her elbows, rubbing painfully at the skin.
Santana squinted her eyes, the trench was not more than 10 metres away.
The trench. She needed to get back into it.
/
"You called?" Mike stood in front of her, brow furrowed.
Santana let a small smile grace her lips and passed something to Chang.
It was an envelope. To Quinn
"Keep this safe, Chang."
There was a heavy silence.
"Give it to her when the time is right." Santana spoke closing her eyes.
Mike nodded.
"Sergeant!"
Santana opened her eyes. The classified file sat on her desk. She had read it over and over. It was the details of their attack.
Corporal Finn Hudson, walked in, his face was grim, lips pulled into a thin line.
"Sergeant Lopez." He addressed her curtly.
"What is going on?" Santana asked closing her eyes. This had to be a dream, a nightmare.
"We have orders for deployment in T-30 minutes. All units need to board the aircraft."
"Any information from the front line? How is the situation?"
The corporal opened his mouth but was cut off by an incoming transmission.
"Code red. I repeat code red. Unit B12 S-1 is under heavy enemy attack. code red. Request immediate back-up."
They could hear the persistent gunfire in the background.
"They have alrea-."
The radio cut off.
Corporal Hudson urgently reached for his radio.
"This is Thunderbird 06, B12 do you copy?"
They waited for a response.
It never came.
The white static was never more deafening.
/
Quinn slumped down onto her couch. She felt drained. Her eyes drifted to the picture frame resting on the counter.
Her body moved before she could stop it.
They had taken the photo on the day Santana had left. A year ago. Her eyes drank in every detail of Santana's face.
A year ago she had everything.
She had dreams, now they were dreams that would never be fulfilled.
War had taken Santana away from her.
She wasn't coming home.
/
Santana gritted her teeth, sweat collected on her brow and forehead, her hair stuck to her forehead. Santana grunted with physical exertion. She was nearly at the edge of the trench, she was almost there.
The skin of her forearms and hands were red and raw, the rocky ground had rubbed off the layers of skin. It burned every time Santana made contact with anything. Pain continuously shot up her left leg, a searing pain that made her see stars.
The sound of rapid gunfire was incessant. Both sides continuously firing round after round of bullets. Bullets that ripped into the flesh of mankind like a knife through butter. They fell like a puppet would when their strings were severed.
Santana propelled herself forward, pain shot up her leg as she travelled the final few metres.
A gunshot preceded the plash of the bullet as it plowed it way through flesh and dug deep into a pulsating heart.
Santana watched the world go into slow motion.
Her body still moved.
Her mind registered searing pain, it tore through her body. It felt like someone was pulling her apart. The pain exploded outward from her chest. Santana's body crumpled as she tumbled and landed in the trench with a thud.
The blood had already drenched her uniform, bleeding out from the where to bullet had entered. It began pooling around her body, staining the desert clay with an angry crimson red.
Santana's head rolled back. With each breath she took the weight on her chest grew heavy. It held her down as she drowned.
"I will come back. Just wait for me. I promise, Q."
Santana's vision began blurring. Suddenly the pain was gone, the numbness overtook her. She felt tired. Something tugged at her soul, ready to lead her into the darkness.
"I love you, Santana."
The world around her was distorted and distant, like the depths of a murky pond. The once loud sounds of gunfire sounded far away and muffled. The edges of her frayed vision were a intense black-the colour of demon's eyes.
With the last of her strength, Santana lifted her hand to her chest pocket and reached inside. She pulled out the two items and clutched them tightly in her hand.
She exhaled and whispered weakly to the sky.
"I love you, Q."
The life slowly faded from her mocha eyes, leaving behind a dull brown. The darkness came to greet her, and with a gentle hand He brushed over her eyelids and closed her eyes.
Santana's body lay there, beaten and limp, resting in the final dying rays of the setting sun.
/
"Quinn Fabray"
Her name was neatly printed in Santana's handwriting on the envelope.
Quinn looked at Mike's solemn face. He stood stiffly, his left leg supporting most of his weight.
"Santana, asked me to give it to you. She made sure I survived. She wouldn't let me join her on the mission."
Mike swallowed before continuing.
"I was furious at first. I wanted to fight, you know? I managed to get myself assigned to a different unit."
He gestured to his fake leg.
"She...without Santana, I would've lost more than a leg."
"I think she knew…that...that...we weren't going to win."
Quinn's fingertips brushed the edge of the envelope, she felt a wave of emotions wash over her; a shiver ran down her back. It was as if the envelope contained a part of Santana's soul; rising out like wisps of smoke and whispering softly to Quinn.
With trembling fingers, Quinn carefully opened the seal.
She took a deep breath and unfolded the letter.
Dear Quinn,
If you're reading this then something has happened. I love you. I want you to always remember that.
I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, fuck, I promised you I would come home. I promised you I would be ok. I'm sorry, Q.
I'm at the HQ today, I got the file detailing our attack plan. It's fucking suicide. We're getting deployed within a week. The new kids are eager. I can't understand them. War is not a game. People you care about are killed, blown apart before your eyes. You lose something every day you walk out here alive, knowing a fellow soldier didn't. They were going home in a coffin.
I needed to write this. I need you to know. I see Puck scribbling away in the next room. He keeps telling me that I should write a letter. I think he is the only one understands me.
I just want to thank you. You make me so fucking happy. You have a beauty that nothing can compare to Q. In my eyes you're perfect. Fuck, you even make me sound like a sap, but I don't care. Words can't express the feelings that bloom inside me whenever I am with you. I love you. I regret that I have never told you those words you desperately wanted to hear.
I'm in love with you Quinn.
Hopelessly so, I so stupid, I hate that I realise that now. I can't stop thinking about you. You're my best friend, my girlfriend. You challenge me in a way no one else can, leaving me speechless and breathless. I want you and I need you Quinn.
Fuck, I can't stop shaking.
One day, Quinn, when the time is right. Let me go. Please.
You will find someone else, I will always be your first love, but I may be not your final. I just want you to find happiness, even if it means letting go.
I have a favour to ask of you, will you sing for me Quinn? I have always loved you voice. I want you to sing for me at my funeral, to send me off, for closure.
Anyway, I have to go now. I'm entrusting Mike with this letter. He is a good man.
I love you.
Quinn ran her finger along the rough edge of the paper.
Fuck. I wasn't meant to write that.
There had been something written but it had been hastily torn out, leaving behind a vacant gap.
-Santana
/
Specialist Puckerman gently closed the front door as he stepped outside.
Quinn was alone again.
The brown package sat in her hands. Quinn wiped her tears before she picked it up and carefully inspected it.
There was writing on the tag of the package.
To Quinn Fabray,
This belonged to Santana. I made sure you would receive it as I believe it is rightfully yours.
Noah Puckerman,
Specialist Officer
Quinn carefully carried the package to her room. She sat down on her bed cross-legged.
Her fingers trembled as she removed the packaging. The paper rustled as she tore it away, slowly revealing what was within.
Quinn's breath caught in her throat.
Santana's journal sat amongst the crumpled brown paper.
Quinn brushed her fingertips lightly across the cover, the leather was cool to the touch; a familiar texture. The cover was worn at the corners, the pages tattered and browned from the dust of the desert.
She flipped open the journal cover. In dark ink, Santana's familiar scrawl covered the pages. Imprinted on every page was her heart and soul; the journal was a piece of Santana herself, her work of art. The thoughts that swirled around her mind were the paints; her pen and ink the brush, together they brought the work to life.
Monday, October 23rd
Dear Diary,
Oh what the fuck, this is so lame.
Don't even ask why I did this. This damn journal was practically making eyes at me in the store. I sense we had a connection (cuz come on, my psychic third mexican eye is never wrong…) Whatever. I guess I'll have to start off like every other lame ass human and talk about my day. (Maybe in the future, I can burn pages of this journal for fun). Oh come on, you're not even alive. Stop complaining. Oh god, I'm having an imaginary conversation with my diary…
The corners of Quinn's mouth twitched upwards, a smile gracing her lips. She sighed, exhaling a trickle of melancholy, and filling the room with nostalgia. Her Santana was a completely different person to how Santana had been in high school. She remembered many of Santana's 'best' moments. (If Santana were here she would disagree).
But she wasn't.
The smile disappeared as quickly as it had came.
Quinn lay down onto the bed, eyes tracing the outlines of the shadows dancing around on the wall of her room. She absentmindedly began playing with the pieces of brown paper, scrunching them up and unfolding them again.
Quinn suddenly frowned. From this perspective she noticed a gold chain wedged between the pages of the diary. The once lustrous gold was coated in a thin layer of sand.
She flipped to the bookmarked page. Well, what was left of a page.
The unevenly torn edge of the page stood out, it was clear Santana had ripped a page out of her diary. Quinn gently picked the journal up for she had intended to move under the covers.
Several things happened at once.
The gold chain silently slid out of the journal and on her quilt covers.
A small piece of paper fluttered out of the journal and onto the ground.
Quinn picked up the chain, and then bent over to reach for the small piece of paper.
She froze.
The paper had landed face down. It was creased, like a landscape of a thousand valleys and ravines. In places the paper was stained with the dark carmine colour of dried blood. However Quinn's attention was drawn to the edges of the paper.
She traced her trembling finger along the edges before turning it over.
It was Santana's hand writing.
Even through the creases and blood stains, Quinn could make out the six words.
They were beautifully heartbreaking. Everything Quinn wanted to hear.
Even in Santana's small letters, they spoke volumes. Quinn could see the slight shake of Santana's hand as she wrote them out.
She could imagine the crease that would form between her girlfriend's eyebrows as she anxiously waited for Quinn's response. She could sense Santana's vulnerability, and it made her that much more human and not an angel (nothing but part of Quinn's imagination).
She could imagine the way the words would have rolled of Santana's tongue.
Quinn knew what her answer would be.
It would roll off her tongue in a quiet whisper that would send shivers dancing down Santana's spine and smooth away the worry etched on Santana's face.
Those words sent Quinn's heart soaring, borrowing the wings of the wind, but at the same time crushed it, leaving it shattered like glass fragments.
The paper filled in the hole that Santana's letter to her had contained.
Quinn carefully closed her hand around the ring that had been threaded onto the golden chain.
Santana had it all planned out, but Fate had other plans for her.
Quinn sat there bleeding salty drops of her soul; they streamed down her face, matching the familiar feeling of grief that had settled into the hole in her heart, hindering her every breath.
The words echoed in her mind.
"Quinn Fabray, will you marry me?"
"Yes." Quinn whispered. Her vision was blurry while her soul kept bleeding (those salty droplets).
/
A/N: I'm backk, this was Part IV of my Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez song shuffle collection. You can find the others at my AO3 account. I kind of don't understand the concept of 'short'. Check out my other stories, if you want. Read and review please (if you follow me I will be eternally grateful) x