A/N: Just letting you know ahead of time, this does not have a happy ending. It's a pretty bleak story all around, in fact.
The world had ended months ago. There was an outbreak. A virus that moved too quickly to be contained. One bite from an infected host, and you might as well kill yourself right then and there. It'd mean less suffering for you and less trouble for the other survivors.
There was no cure and they had lost hope long ago.
Santana and Quinn were on their own now. They had been on the run for days, the last surviving members of their group. The group had been attacked, not by infected, but by greedy survivors who sought to conquer rather than join forces and band together against the common evil.
The duo had barely managed to escape, with only the clothes on their backs and a backpack that contained limited supplies. They had become adept at surviving in the wilderness. They knew how to fight and protect themselves if need be, and were reluctantly confident in their chances of survival.
But after witnessing the death and destruction of all they knew and loved, they knew they were only living on borrowed time.
They broke into a house on the outskirts of a small abandoned town and decided to camp there for as long as they felt safe. They had nowhere else to go. There were no longer any safe houses or fortified cities to be found. So they decided to set up camp for as long as they could, and move on only when they had to.
The house they found was a godsend, all things considering. There was a nearby lake that they used as a water supply, and they found a few small boxes of untouched non-perishable goods hidden away in a secret compartment in the basement. The infected that roamed the streets were few, and easy to dispose of if necessary.
They spent their days playing card games or reading the multitudes of books they had found in the attic. They would sometimes even scavenge one of the nearby houses for supplies if they were really desperate to get out of the house.
They were restless but they were safe. They were surviving and, in their minds, that was all that mattered.
They were walking back "home" after a short scavenging mission when they heard the dragging footsteps and the telltale groans of the infected. They turned to find that a small group had accumulated behind them.
Their camp was only a few feet away, but they knew that any attempt at escape would only cause the infected to follow. So they lowered their bags and readied their weapons.
They were so occupied with the few that were before them, they didn't see the others emerge from the forest that lined the town. Quinn turned just in time to see a limping figure making its way towards Santana. Its mouth agape and arms outstretched.
Quinn smashed her crowbar into the skull of her own attacker, making sure to feel the crunch of bone and flesh, before turning on her heel and sprinting towards Santana.
Santana was able to land killing blows on two of her own attackers, before she felt herself being grabbed from behind. She felt the hot breath of the infected on her neck as it wheezed and groaned, ready to tear into her flesh. There was no time to properly react or fight back. All she could do was close her eyes and grit her teeth in anticipation of the pain.
A loud squelching noise sounded behind her. The weight on her back fell away and she turned to see her would-be attacker on the ground, a crowbar sticking out of its head.
There was no time to dwell. They quickly disposed of the last few, more vigilant than ever before, unwilling to be caught off guard once again. They gathered their belongings, once the last of the infected had fallen, and headed home.
Quinn was by her side seconds after the door was shut and barricaded, frantically examining Santana's face and body for any wounds or bites.
"I'm fine," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "It didn't get me."
Quinn remained unconvinced, pushing Santana's hair away from her neck and examining it carefully. She gently ran her fingers across the smooth skin, exhaling an unsteady breath once she was satisfied that it remained unmarked.
They stood there for a long moment, staring intensely into each other's eyes. Quinn's hand never moved from its spot on Santana's neck. Her adrenaline was still flowing and her heart was pounding in her chest. Quinn couldn't stop thinking about how close she had been to losing Santana.
So she kissed her. She kissed her with the fevered passion of someone who had been given a second chance and refused to squander it.
And Santana, who loved Quinn even before the world went to shit, returned the kiss with equal fervour, as she tried to forget that it took the end of the world to finally have Quinn in her arms.
A few months had passed. Their food cache had almost run out and they had cleaned out any usable supplies from every nearby building. They had no choice but to move on.
They had been so careful. But she was exhausted. They had been travelling for days and the lack of food finally caught up to her.
Quinn let her guard down for one second and that was all it took.
It happened so fast. They had been scavenging at an old grocery store, searching for anything that might help them stay alive just a little bit longer.
Quinn tried to keep her focus on the task at hand, but she was distressed by the fact that she was starting to forget what her mother looked like. She was so overcome with the need to piece together her mother's features in her mind, that she didn't hear the footsteps before it was too late.
Across the aisle, Santana turned just in time to see one of the infected sink its teeth into Quinn's neck.
They had taken refuge on the roof of the grocery store. Santana could hear the groans on the other side of the locked door, but she was deaf to the world around her, focused only on the girl in her arms.
There was blood everywhere. Santana had kept continuous pressure on the wound, but it was no use. Quinn was bleeding out faster than humanly possible. Such was the nature of the infection.
"Fuck, Quinn. It's okay. It'll be okay. Just hold on," Santana said, trying and failing to keep herself together. "Oh god. Please, please don't leave me."
Quinn could only respond with gasping breaths as she fought the blackness that was quickly overtaking her vision.
"I'm sorry, Quinn," Santana sobbed, as she grasped onto Quinn's hand and pressed her lips to her knuckles. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
Quinn wished she could speak, but she was too weak. She had lost too much blood. All she could do was look. She gazed upon Santana's beautiful tear-stained face, and tried to convey with her eyes how much she loved her. How grateful she was to have lived and died with Santana by her side. How sorry she was to be leaving so soon.
She wanted to make Santana promise to never give up, but it was too late. Her strength had faded. The darkness that she had been evading finally overcame. She breathed her final breath cradled Santana's arms.
Santana only had a few minutes before Quinn would transform. She removed her gun from its holster and made sure there were still only two bullets left. The ammo was saved precisely for this purpose.
She couldn't stop her tears from falling as she pointed the gun at Quinn's temple, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger.
She had lost everything. Santana looked to the heavens and released a primal scream of pure anguish.
She looked at the gun in her hand. One bullet left.
This wasn't what Quinn would have wanted, but there was nothing else for her here. She placed a final kiss on Quinn's lips and tightened her grip on the gun once again.
A final shot rang out that evening, as the sun set in the Ohio sky, and Santana Lopez was no more.
END