A/N: This muse was just too perfect not to listen to. Please let me know what you think. :)
Disclaimer: Glee is still not mine.
He's lost track of how long he's been walking, how much pavement has met the sole of his shoes. All he does know is that the whizzing cars won't stop. Why would they? He's an idiot in stripped pajamas waving his arms up and down. The cars that pass must think he's crazy. He stops for a minute and smiles. His face is nothing compared to the one who's plagued his memory. He laughs quietly to himself realizing that the strangers that pass him, too busy to do nothing but laugh and go on their merry way, wouldn't be too far from the truth. He knows he looks like a mental case. He's wearing nothing but pajama pants and an aged leather jacket. But he doesn't need medication; he doesn't need to see a stupid doctor. He needs her.
He needs her long blond locks, smooth enough to run his fingers through. He needs more than the laugh that fills his ears without cause. He needs to see that smile spread across her glowing face with his own two eyes. He can do nothing to erase her. To be completely honest, he doesn't know if he even wants to. Even if it's been ten years since the last time he's met her eyes across the same room. Those ten years could pass five times over and nothing about her would change. At least, not the way he felt about her.
For all he knows she may not remember him after so long a time. If she does, she probably wants nothing to do with him anymore. She's probably married with 2.5 kids living in a mansion guarded by a perfect little white picket fence. And if she's not, she's living out her dreams. And she should. She deserves it more than any other person he knows. She deserves to make a name, a life for herself. For the longest time, he thought he'd be a part of it. But that's not what she wanted. She wanted to start fresh. She left Lima with the hope of forgetting. He is Lima. In fact, he's the town's biggest loser. So it's only natural that she not give a second thought to where he is or who he's become. He should do that too. Start fresh, make a life for himself.
But that's the problem when you give yourself to someone. You give yourself over completely. It doesn't matter that they don't feel the same. What counts is the fact that you do. It matters that you love them entirely. Even if it means you're faced with loving alone. Because, that's the thing about love. It allows you to rip your heart out of your own body and lay it in their hands. And as you watch them walk away, that hole, that wide open space, where your heart once sat, beating blood into every cell of your body, yearns for the chance to see her face when all you have is her back, covered partially by thick blond waves that your callused fingers once wrapped around themselves. So even if it means the world's longest journey, he's going to do it. He has to. She's a thief. A beautiful angelic thief who's taken every bit of him hostage.
Finally, he sees it. A couple has stopped right in front of him, the booming voice of an older man tells him to get in the damn car. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he staggers for a minute before righting himself. Slightly flustered, he crawls into the backseat. The minute he closes the door, the woman in the passenger seat bombards him with questions. He answers each one respectfully and in his typically laid back tone of voice. Eventually, she's not the only one asking him so many questions. The man he assumes to be her husband has joined in on their heated round of 20 Questions.
They're asking him why he's dressed the way he is. He simply shrugs claiming that it's the warmest clothes he owns. He doesn't tell them that it's also pretty much the only clothes he owns. That would start an entirely new set of questions. Questions that would distract him from his overall goal. Finally, it comes. He's asked the only question that really has any true meaning. The one question that gives him reason to walk with no clear idea where the hell it is he's going.
"Do you know how crazy you are to be walking these roads? Do you have any idea what it is you're even doing? It's almost dark. Where were you planning to sleep when it finally got too dark to see?" The explorer just shrugs. To be honest, he's never thought that far ahead. He lives life in the moment. To him it doesn't matter what happened yesterday or what happens after tonight. All of that is either done or hasn't even started yet. His only focus is now. The only thing he needs he hopes is still exactly where he left it. He knows a wish like that is too long a shot to ever really come true. But he's a risk taker. Always has been and always will be.
"Yes," he admits honestly. It doesn't take a shrink to see that he's crazy. But she's made him that way. Even without knowing, she's allowed him to completely lose all sense of self. He's completely lost it, lost himself. But he doesn't need a doctor; he doesn't need to swallow pills. He just needs her. The angelic thief who holds his heart for ransom. He has no idea how much she wants for its safe return. And maybe, he doesn't want to pay for it. Maybe, he doesn't want it back.
It's not like he even has the money. There are days he can barely afford decent meals. So it's hers. His most vital organ is hers to have, even if she doesn't want it. Yes, he's crazy. He's crazy for a woman who probably doesn't even know if he's alive or dead. He's crazy for a woman who probably doesn't even remember his name. His heart lies in the hands of a woman he doesn't even deserve and will probably never have.
But that's the thing about hope. Sometimes, that's all you have to hold onto. Sometimes, the world deals you a nice hand, a set that adds up and makes sense. And sometimes, as much as you wish to come out a winner, you lose. You end up losing everything. He likes cards. He likes to gamble. So he plays again, and again, and again, and again. He's going to play until he comes out a winner. He's going to play until he wins her. He's never been very good at math but he knows this much. If you want something badly enough you go for it. Even if it means starting over a thousand different ways, you work until you get it right.
"Why are you out here?" is the question that breaks through his train of thought.
"I lost something and I need to find it again," he mumbles.
"I'm not sure if your mind's out here to be found, son," he laughs.
"I lost that a while ago," he mutters. "I have no reason to go looking for it. I know exactly where it is." He sees the woman blink through the rear views mirror. The explorer just shrugs as he meets the headrest. "Quinn," he mumbles.
"Huh?"
"Quinn," he repeats. "That's her name."
"And how long have you known this Quinn?"
"I guess you could say I've known her forever. Or at least, that's how it feels anyway." He finds the entire story sitting on the edge of his tongue. He sighs quietly, realizing that these two strangers are the only two who are relatively interested in anything he might have to say. They were the only two willing to talk to a crazy.
And so he tells it. He tells the story of a girl. He tells them of a girl who haunts him daily. He tells the story of a girl who probably doesn't even remember. He tells them of the woman for whom he walks these roads. He tells them of an angel who defines him. For the next half hour, he launches into his favorite story. For the next half hour he tells them of what was supposed to be his forever.