Santana refused to talk to Rachel until they'd set up camp for the day and she'd drank three of the eight wine coolers Quinn had grabbed from the fridges of the gas station.
They hadn't gone in with the intention of stealing alcohol, but when life gave you booze, Santana reasoned, you drank it. Plus it helped her deal with Rachel's continued sulking that they didn't clue in her to what they were going to do.
"If we don't have trust, we have nothing! It's the four of us versus the rest of the world now, and while I can appreciate on some level that perhaps you were protecting me from what is a terrible thing to do to someone, I also realize that the more likely reasoning behind your betrayal was to protect yourselves."
Quinn reached for a wine cooler, as Brittany happily sipped from a bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Furthermore, the disregard you are currently exhibiting by ingesting alcohol is greatly disappointing."
Quinn wordlessly handed Rachel an unopened wine cooler and shrugged at her.
Rachel's mouth flapped open and closed.
"I don't think –" she started to say, catching Santana's look of complete contempt and sighing. "Fine."
Things had been going so well between the four of them, and now her and Santana were back at square one.
Perhaps a drink was just what she needed.
"Whoo!" Brittany yelled, turning the ignition in the car and pressing play on the CD player. The thumping bass of a dance track echoed around the valley they were camping in.
The blonde nimbly jumped onto the car's bonnet and started to sway her hips back and forth, reaching her arms above her head and closing her eyes.
Quinn scowled, grasping the neck of the Jack Daniel's bottle and swigging from it.
"I just don't know why you hate me," Rachel slurred, leaning into Santana's shoulder and pouting.
"Because everyone hates me!" The Latina replied, bursting into tears.
It was midday, the sun beating down on them as cars flew by a quarter of a mile away on the highway. They'd set up their tents in preparation for sleeping, but the excitement from the night before had still been coursing through their veins and they couldn't sleep.
Especially when they'd rifled through the grocery bags and found bottles of alcohol and juice.
Quinn didn't even remember grabbing half of what they now had – including dairy items they'd thrown out of the car windows despite Rachel's contradicting protestations about littering and the cruelty of the dairy industry – but along with the alcohol and food there were hair ties, condoms, magazines and engine oil.
Brittany had blown up most of the condoms and tied the ends, batting them around happily until she'd gotten the urge to dance.
"I don't hate you! You hate me!" Rachel cried, snuggling deeper into Santana's shoulder as the Latina cried even harder.
"It's just so hard you know, because I'm not blonde!"
Quinn took a mouthful of liquor, swallowing it quickly as her vision began to waver.
"Being blonde doesn't make things easy!" She yelled, slamming the bottle into the grass and trying to stand. "Being blonde is hard!"
Rachel blinked at Quinn groggily, smiling at her after a few moments and reaching toward her.
"I always wanted to be blonde. So I had to make my voice blonde, for people." She hiccupped, watching as Quinn stomped over to one of the tents and kicked it.
"It is easier being blonde! Everyone wants you! Everyone thinks I'm a bitch!" Santana wailed, jabbing her finger at Quinn and tipping her sixth wine cooler back.
Brittany pouted as the song she was dancing to came to an end, but perked up quickly when an equally thumping bass track followed it.
"I love this song!" Rachel clapped her hands and half skipped half stumbled towards her car, attempting to climb up and dance with Brittany.
Brittany unbuttoned her shirt, dropping into a squat before slowly twisting her hips and rising back into a standing position. Rachel clambered up next to her, spinning around to survey the countryside and spreading her arms wide, singing along with the music pumping out of her car.
"You are a bitch!" Quinn spat, trying to pull the tent into a new position because it was just wrong where it was and this always happened when she got drunk.
"I'm just real!" Santana spat back, swaying in place as fresh tears poured over her cheeks. "I'm the only one who never lies and what does it get me? No friends!"
"You're my best friend! You don't even care!" Quinn rambled, not really sure what reasons she had to back up what she was saying but feeling the anger pouring out of her anyway.
"I care," Santana started, looking more serious than she ever had before. "So much. Quinn, I killed your dad over it!"
"No, I killed my dad!"
Santana trudged over to where Quinn had given up trying to rearrange the tent, and grabbed her shoulders.
"No, Q, I killed him. And I should've like, so long ago. What an asshole."
Quinn sighed, pursing her lips.
"Maybe we killed him. Together."
Brittany's shirt hit the grass, followed quickly by her bra, and Rachel squealed laughing. She impulsively grabbed the blonde and hugged her, the left side of her face getting mashed against Brittany's bare breasts.
Brittany hugged the brunette happily, smiling brighter when she saw Quinn and Santana hugging near their tents. Santana was weeping, and Quinn was frowning, but they hugged tightly and it was such the best thing she'd ever seen. She hated when her best friends weren't nice to each other.
"Your boob is on my face!" Rachel giggled, blinking rapidly as Brittany kept dancing even with the shorter girl leaning most of her weight on her.
"Your face is on my boob!" Brittany replied, reaching her hands down to unbutton her shorts.
That was when Rachel lost her footing, and slipped off the bonnet, landing in the soft grass.
Within the last week she'd been almost raped, murdered people, assaulted a police officer and committed armed robbery.
And she'd never been happier.
O-O
Quinn awoke with a start, completely disoriented and with her mouth tasting like Finn's gym socks. She screwed her face up, blinking through a headache and feeling like she was covered in a light sheen of sweat.
It was hot, like, really hot.
She cracked open her eyes, making out the roof of her and Rachel's tent just barely – as if it were dawn, or dusk.
Movement against the side of her body made one of her eyebrows raise as she looked down.
Rachel Berry was spooning her, one of the diva's legs thrown over the blonde's, her arm wrapped around her waist.
Quinn let her head drop back down onto the ground.
What had happened?
She remembered Santana crying, and then yelling abuse in garbled Spanish at Rachel when the girl had tried to climb back onto the car after falling off. Brittany had been almost naked, and Santana had crash tackled the diva away from the car while Quinn had struggled to remember that they were trying to hide and not doing a very good job of it.
The Latina and diva had squabbled in the grass for a while, before hugging each other furiously and declaring they should be best friends.
Well, Rachel had declared that. Santana had just sobbed brokenly until Brittany invited her onto the car to dance.
Things were blurry after that, though she did remember falling into the tent sometime in the afternoon and passing out.
And now here she was waking up cuddling Rachel Berry.
The smallest part of her mind immediately threw up arms, demanding she throw the girl off her and snark out a gay joke or something, but she honestly couldn't be bothered. Enough out of the ordinary things had happened to her in recent times, this just seemed like nothing in the scheme of things.
Or, well, not nothing. But nothing to have a fit over.
She tightened her hold on the smaller girl, and sighed. It was nice to have someone to hold, someone to care for her. She'd wanted Rachel to get a second chance, she really had. Truly.
But she was relieved the girl was still with them. What had Rachel said? That it was the four of them versus the world.
Brittany and Santana, who always paired up, sure. And now, her and Rachel.
She let her eyes drift shut as her body relaxed.
Seriously, she thought before she passed out again, if Finn could see them now.
O-O
They were all far too hung-over to drive. It was out of the question.
Besides, what would one more day in the same spot hurt?
Lying on the grass and looking at stars was actually much nicer than driving, Brittany thought, counting the boobs she could see and thinking about the chained princess and the monster.
Santana was wearing sunglasses, even though it was completely dark and the only light they had was from a small flashlight Rachel had in her glove compartment.
The Latina claimed to remember nothing from the day's drinking, refusing to acknowledge Rachel every time the shorter girl brought up their bonding in the grass.
Quinn, on the other hand, had woken up to Rachel apologizing profusely for their intimate position, but had waved the girl off with a smile. She'd told her it was nice, and it was.
Now Brittany and Santana murmured softly to each other, spreading one of their sleeping bags on the grass and curling up together on top of it. The night was warm enough that they didn't need a blanket, and the sky above them, in the absence of streetlights, shone so brightly with stars it was almost overwhelming.
"Snapple?" Quinn offered, having gone to the car to retrieve more juice. The flashlight beam bounced over the grass as she found her way back to the diva, who had mimicked the other girls and laid her sleeping bag outside of the tent.
"Thank you." Rachel replied softly, taking a sip as Quinn settled in beside her.
"So you know a lot about constellations, huh?" Quinn sipped her own beverage, eyes looking into the stars and relishing the feeling they gave her – of infinity, of endlessness. Like the whole world didn't matter, not in the scheme of things, not compared to the whole universe.
"A little," Rachel shrugged, though Quinn couldn't see her having turned the flashlight off. "More that I know a lot about romantic stories."
The shorter girl's mind turned to Finn once more. Her first love. She had invested so much into the boy, wanting so badly for him to be The One – to even have a One.
"Ah, of course," Quinn laughed softly. "Rachel Berry: hopeless romantic."
"Maybe just hopeless." Rachel answered self deprecatingly, taking another sip of the apple drink.
"Well, what with your options in prison or an even smaller town than Lima," Quinn shrugged. "Might be a little hopeless, now."
Rachel turned her head to where the blonde's voice was coming from, unused to how warm the girl's tone was.
"Did you love Finn?"
It wasn't a question Quinn was expecting, though perhaps she should've, at some point down the road. But with all the law breaking and killing, she hadn't even thought of the boy aside from amusement at what he would say if he knew what was going on.
But in terms of her feelings for him?
"I think I did." She answered, finally. "I mean, how do you know?"
Rachel sighed, reaching her hand into the grass next to her sleeping bag and fingering the blades she found.
"Well, popular culture tells us that our hearts beat faster, and our thoughts are consumed by the other person. That our lives become entirely fixed on their well being." Rachel pulled at the blades of grass. When she was little, she would pull until they snapped. But these days, she just pulled gently, because grass was alive too. "And you understand them, and they understand you. But the most important thing in love, the one part above all other things that let's you know for sure, is you put their safety and happiness above your own."
Quinn blew out a breath.
"Then no, I never truly loved Finn."
They were quiet for a few moments as Rachel contemplated Quinn's words.
"I wanted to love him. I was getting there," Rachel whispered, wincing when she pulled too hard and a blade of grass fell from her fingertips.
"But you weren't willing to put him before your future?"
"No. And I don't think I was wrong not to."
"I don't think you were, either."
Quinn leant backwards until she was lying on the sleeping bag, her arms folded behind her head. After a moment, Rachel followed suit.
"Why did you hate me so much?" Rachel's voice was very soft, as if afraid to ask.
Quinn took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She'd been waiting for this – not just since they'd been on the run, but for last two years of them being in Glee Club. Finn had been a convenient excuse to bitch out the other girl, but he wasn't the sole reason.
Hell, he hadn't even been in the picture when the tormenting had started.
"You remind me of someone. Kind of." Quinn started, her heart rate increasing. "Someone I got rid of."
Rachel's mouth opened and closed a few times, before she sat up in alarm.
"You've killed before?"
Quinn laughed, realizing after the sound left her mouth that it wasn't reassuring the other girl.
"No, I wasn't talking – God, Rachel, I was talking about myself!"
Rachel was still confused, but she eased back down to lie beside Quinn, and fixed her gaze back on the sky.
"I'm still not following you."
"Remember last year, when I ran for Junior Prom Queen, and that – that poster with the fat girl on went round the school?"
Rachel nodded absently. "Half the school thought it was you, though I was adamant that it was simply a cruel joke played by one of your adversaries."
"Yeah, well, it was me."
Rachel gasped, her mind's eye giving her a blurry memory of seeing the poster.
"No!"
"Yes. Why else do you think I wore the Lucy Caboosey shirt?"
"Because of your status as a teenage mother, I assumed it was referring to your – well, um –"
Quinn snorted. "Seriously? You thought I was proudly wearing a shirt calling myself a ho?"
Rachel frowned; glad Quinn couldn't see her face.
"It's not exactly a stretch."
"Anyway, it was actually referring to a nickname I had at my old school. Where I was, well, my ass was bigger. And my hair was brown. And my nose – look, I was just different."
"Hang on, you said just a minute ago that I reminded you of this different appearance you once had. But I must argue that my posterior is perfectly proportioned to my body and not at all large."
Quinn rolled her eyes. Rachel was still frustrating to talk to, but now it was a kind of affectionate frustration. Whatever that even meant.
"Rachel, I had no friends. Not one. No one would sit with me or talk to me, everyone thought I was weird and stuck up because I was too shy to talk to people thinking they'd take one look at me and run in the opposite direction. Or pity me. And I got rid of her. I just – I wished her away, and after a year of changing a whole bunch of things, she went."
"Oh, Quinn."
"And there you were, with no friends or status to speak of, strutting around like you didn't care and it – look, I know now it was wrong. But it was easy, Rachel, to torment you because – because –"
Rachel didn't agree with what Quinn was saying. But she understood it.
"Because I did the opposite of what you did. You erased yourself, and I didn't bow to social pressure."
"I wanted to make you bow," she covered her face with her hands. "God, I'm mean."
Just then, Brittany let out a loud gasp as a shooting star fell across the sky.
"I forgive you." Rachel said simply, and quietly.
"Why?" Quinn asked, removing her hands and taking another deep breath. She had never talked so much in her life.
"Because it isn't worth holding onto." Rachel answered. "Besides, we're kind of on the run from the law together, having committed murder multiple times – and you saved my life! I was so absorbed in – anyway, that cook would not have bode well for my physical well-being or continued freedom. So you mustn't hate me anymore, Quinn. If you had you would have left me in there to die or be arrested."
"No, I don't." Quinn whispered, feeling oddly emotional as she had an epiphany. "Even though I changed myself, I still didn't have any friends. Not really."
"But you had Santana, and Brittany?"
Quinn shook her head. "Not really, not before Glee Club anyway. We were friends because we were on the same squad, but – God, look at them, you know? They've been best friends since, like, the dawn of time. It was only really last summer that we got closer, close enough to – they're my best friends in the world, Rachel. But it will always be Brittany and Santana, and then me."
Rachel scrabbled to think of what to say. She wanted to dispute it, Quinn's voice just sounded so sad.
"But you had Mercedes, and Kurt!"
"Until I moved back in with my mom, and Kurt went to Dalton and got a boyfriend. Look, it's stupid; I know it's stupid. I'm just saying. I –"
"You have me!" Rachel turned over, reaching for where she approximated Quinn's hand to be in the dark.
"Yeah, and it took a bunch of people dying for us to become friends." Quinn sniffled, trying to keep her tone light.
"No," Rachel answered softly, fumbling for the flashlight and clicking it on so she could see Quinn's face. She shone the light at both of their faces, making eye contact. "I was your friend before all of this, it just –" she leant closer. "It took a bunch of people dying for you to see it."
Rachel clicked the flashlight off as Quinn burst into tears, grabbing the other girl and hugging her.
"Gay!" Santana called out, Brittany giggling and making shushing noises.
"They're being cute! Don't ruin it!"
Rachel pulled back, attempting to wipe the tears from Quinn's eyes, and poking her in them instead since it was too dark to see. Quinn started laughing.
"Ow! Jesus, Berry! I didn't realize being your friend involved pain!"
Rachel giggled, laying back and turning her face to the nighttime sky again.
"Well, get used to it."
It was the lightest Quinn's heart had felt in a long time.
"I keep wondering what they think of us, back in Lima. Especially Finn."
"Me too. But I don't think it's – I don't think we should dwell on it. You were right, just after we left, when you said we should only face forwards."
Quinn hummed happily in agreement.
"Do you know any more constellation stories?"
Rachel paused, thinking. "Not really, but I do know a poem about the one I told you about, if you'd – it's silly, so you don't have to –"
"Tell me."
Rachel smiled, feeling suddenly like everything was going to be all right for them. Somehow. Impossibly.
"The smooth-worn coin and threadbare classic phrase of Grecian myths that did beguile my youth, beguile me not as in the olden days: I think more grief and beauty dwell with truth. Andromeda, in fetters by the sea, star-pale with anguish till young Perseus came, less moves me with her suffering than she, the slim girl figure fettered to dark shame."
And still she saw Quinn chained to a rock by the sea, a monster looming on the horizon ready to devour her because her parents had failed her, so many times. Except now she saw herself as Perseus, swooping down on a winged horse to free the trapped girl, and take her away.
If she could only figure out where.
O-O
"Britts, sweetie, you know I love your dancing. It's super hot." Santana started, running her fingertips over the blonde's palm. "But I was thinking, you know, maybe, next time, we make our own music?"
Brittany nodded, feeling totally ashamed.
"I'm so sorry, San." She murmured, but the other girl just shushed her.
"Hey, I know you are. It's okay. We just have to get more gas soon, that's all. Even if you did use a whole bunch of it playing your CDs, it's okay. Just," she smiled gently. "Maybe we can look for like, a battery operated stereo set or something, so when you wants to dance it don't use all our gas?"
"I'm sorry, guys."
Rachel turned around in the passenger seat, offering the girls in the backseat a bright smile.
"No use dwelling on the past!" She chirped, still replaying the conversation she'd had with Quinn the night before.
Beside her, the ex-HBIC of McKinley now murderess on the run, smiled. Sure, it was a little annoying to get back in the car and realize Brittany had used half a tank of gas dancing, but a small part of her was thrilled to hold up another gas station. The first time had been a little overwhelming, but this time she'd keep her cool and make sure to get only those things they really needed.
Plus, breaking the law without anyone dying?
She thought back to that day with Puck – his body above hers, a picture of the Lord above his – and how good it had felt to do something so wrong. Sure, it had blown up in her face afterwards, and all the pain and blah blah blah.
But it was exciting. It was living. It was grabbing life by the balls – her nose scrunched a little, ew – and saying to hell with the consequences – no, she amended, fuck the consequences – and go with the moment.
She gunned the accelerator, figuring they had a good night's driving left before things would become really dire and they'd have to refill.
Once upon a time, her moments had been empty and lonely. She'd spent her nights dreaming of a life she could have, and praying that things would get better. Then she'd changed herself, and started over, and still found herself praying for things to change, to turn in her favor.
But no more dwelling on the past. Maybe even no more dwelling on what the future could bring? As the girls in the back sang along with the radio, and Rachel harmonized over the top of them, she couldn't keep the grin from her face.
Whatever happened, for the first time in her life, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be lonely.
O-O
"San?" Brittany whispered as she listened to the giggling coming from the other tent.
"Mmm?" Santana was this close to falling asleep.
"Will things ever be like they used to?"
But now she was completely awake.
"No."
It was all she could say, really, and she thought it was pretty obvious but the sudden sniffling sounds coming from her best friend caused her to roll over in alarm.
"I want them to be!" Brittany got out, just barely, seemingly more distressed than Santana had seen her in years.
"Hey, hey, it's okay! Things are so much better now, we don't have to go to classes or –" she ran her fingertips over the crying girl's cheeks, lifting her face gently towards her own.
"Not that!" Brittany hiccupped, leaning into Santana's hands.
"Oh, then – sweetie what are you talking about?"
Brittany took a deep breath, thankful for sleeping in the daylight since it meant she could see Santana perfectly.
"Us."
The Latina's eyebrows shot up, and she leant back.
"Us?"
Brittany followed her retreat, gaze unwavering as Santana tried to look elsewhere.
"You haven't kissed me in a year."
Well, there it was. Awkwardness. And just when things had turned fun again.
"Britts, come on. It was your idea to be friends, to just be –"
"Yeah, and we are, and now I want you to kiss me again."
Brittany sat up; annoyed that Santana wouldn't look her in the eye. Her best friend was out, and proud, and so amazing just like she knew she would be. And they'd become super close again. Plus, there was no one else, especially out here on the – oh.
"Do you want to be kissing Quinn or Rachel instead? Because we can swap tents." Brittany mumbled sadly. Maybe she could kiss whoever Santana didn't want? She hoped it was Rachel, because Rachel was hot, and also had dark hair so she could pretend, for a little while, that it was Santana.
"Oh my God. No."
Which wasn't entirely true, but Brittany was so sad and of course she was her number one choice for – she shook her head. She couldn't believe her mind was now listing the other three in chronological order of who she'd mack on first.
"So you just don't want to kiss me? You used to like it."
"I – Britts, it isn't about that. It's – look I love you. You are my best friend. Ever. You know that, right?"
Brittany nodded almost imperceptibly, her pout so intense that her top lip had completely disappeared.
"Yeah."
"Last time we – look, we used to kiss and have – make – well, the other stuff, and it was super fun and hot and awesome. But I can't do that anymore, not with my best friend."
Brittany felt like her heart was breaking all over again.
"Oh."
Santana shook her head, reaching out and turning the blonde's face back to look at her own.
"I don't mean it like – it's not just kissing and sex now, Britts. Sex does mean dating for me, okay? At least with you. It's super gay, I know it is, but I can't just kiss you and not have feelings involved. It's not – do you get what I'm saying?"
And Brittany did, completely. So much, her pout disappeared and she smiled in relief.
"I would love to date you, I don't just want kissing. I want my San back."
It was only natural to fall into a hug.
"And I want my Britts, back." Santana whispered into blonde hair. "So let's just take it slow and – and see what happens?"
"Okay." Brittany tightened her hold of the other girl, pressing herself as closely as she possibly could.
O-O
"Camp Crook?" Santana cackled as they passed the turn off sign. "Oh we needs to be stopping here!"
Quinn flipped the indicator on, chuckling with the rest of her passengers when they saw a second sign.
"We should live here!" Brittany laughed, winding down her window and sticking her head out to survey the approaching town.
"It is tiny." Rachel agreed, looking out for a gas station or convenience store or something.
"I don't see any hot ladies or a Breadstix," Santana added. "Hell, I don't see much of anything!"
"There's the gas station, and general store, and repair shop, apparently." Quinn muttered, pulling in slowly. "All in one!"
"Okay, so, how are we going to work this?" Santana leant forward, Brittany following suit. Quinn and Rachel each turned to look at them.
"How much money did you steal from the last place? We could just buy what we need?" Rachel offered slowly, her voice trailing off at the eye-rolls from the others.
"Rach, we might need to stay in a motel again or – the cash can be used for other things. We should – we made a pact, okay, no more killing. No one gets shot, we just – take stuff."
Santana lifted the gun up with a grin.
"Amen, Q."
Rachel chose to remain with the car, pumping gas until the tank was full and then waiting in the driver's seat ready for them to burn rubber out of there.
God, this was so wrong but also so intensely thrilling.
Until a police car pulled up, and there were shots from inside.
"Okay, we work this like the last place. Santana, you hold up whoever's working here and Brittany and I will gather supplies. We get in, we get out. No shots fired, no one harmed. We good?"
The Unholy Trinity stood facing each other, and Santana had a crazy urge to put their hands in the middle in some kind of 'Go team!' encouragement. God, she was turning into the freak.
She lifted the gun and smirked instead.
"Rock and roll!"
Quinn headed immediately for the shelves, eyeing the labels as Brittany followed her lead.
"Just what we need, okay?" She mumbled to the other blonde, as Santana strode into the store.
"Listen bitch, put your hands in the air!" She pointed the gun steadily at the woman in her forties, who in turn narrowed her eyes.
"Like hell I will. Get out of my store!" She replied, heaving herself off of the stool she was sitting on and glaring at them all in turn.
Santana frowned. In her mind's eye she looked terrifying right now. Maybe she had to step it up.
She cocked the gun.
"I will blow your fucking head off if you don't put your damn hands in the air!"
The woman paused before she slowly raised her arms up.
"Fuck, bags! We need bags!" Quinn gestured at Brittany, making a mental note to bring some in with her the next time. What with the hold up, the gun, thinking about what they needed to steal, baggage was the last thing on her mind.
Brittany skipped towards the counter, smiling prettily at the scowling woman and leaning over to fumble with the paper bags. As she pried some lose, the woman moved quickly, and before she knew what was happening, a shotgun was in her face.
"Um." Brittany was now completely unsure what to do. As slowly as possible, she leant back from the counter and raised her hands. "San?"
Santana was frozen, her eyes unable to leave the shotgun that was now pointed at her best friend.
"That's right, girlies, now I'm gonna blow your heads off! Coming in here to rob me like a bunch of – hell, I seen you on the news! Evil little spoilt bitches! I seen what you did to those folks – well, you ain't doing that to me!"
The woman cocked the shotgun, and Brittany whimpered. It was enough to spur Santana into action.
Like she'd been doing it her whole life, she cocked the gun, threw the safety off – thank God for The Sopranos marathons with Puck – and fired four times, straight into the woman's chest.
The shotgun blasted a whole in the ceiling as the woman fell backwards, and Brittany screamed and ran for cover.
"What the –" Quinn started, ducking down behind the shelf she was furiously pinching items from, eyes wide as Brittany skidded to a stop next to her.
"Shit!" Santana breathed, staring at the gun in her hands dumbly.
"Freeze!"
She spun in place, eyes bugging out of her head when she saw a police car parked in front of Rachel's and two cops pointing guns at her from outside.
She was tugged backwards as gunshots broke through the glass doors of the store.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!"
They huddled together; peeking anxiously through the gap in the shelving units as the police officers cautiously entered the store.
"Come out with your hands up!"
Santana was suddenly extremely opposed to being arrested. Not that she had ever been for it, but now, being faced with the likely possibility of everything coming to an end, she thought, fuck it.
She aimed the gun around the corner of their hiding place, and fired off four more rounds. There was a scuffling sound as the officers took cover.
"This is it," Quinn breathed. "Fuck, this is it. I'm so sorry."
Brittany shook her head. "No, it's okay. I know what to do."
"I got, fuck I don't know, five bullets left? That's enough for – for the three of us to –" Santana wasn't entirely aware of what she was talking about, she only knew she was not going to jail.
"What if they already have Rachel?" Quinn gasped, her heart hammering so loudly she barely registered Santana speaking.
"Guys, I know what to do!" Brittany insisted, though the other two completely ignored her.
Santana felt tears pricking her eyes. She was just so young and still had so much life to give. She took a shaky breath.
"Slide your weapon across the floor! Come out with your hands up! I repeat, put your goddamn hands up!"
Fuck this. She wasn't surrendering like some – she was going to go out gun fucking blazing. It was going to be –
"Toss me!"
She turned to Brittany, who was nodding her head determinedly.
"What?" Quinn's voice was barely there, her eyes wide as she kept them trained on the tips of the police hats she could barely see across the store.
"I'm going to count to three, and then you," she made a half basket with her hands, raising her eyebrows at them. "Will toss," she lifted her hands up quickly as if teaching small children a new dance move. "Me."
"I don't –" there was no way Santana was going to do this.
"Or we die or go to jail." Brittany said simply.
"No, I'm not risking you –" Santana wanted to cry. This was just so totally fucked.
"Please," Brittany leant closer to her, and kissed her very lightly on the cheek. "Trust me."
It was the hardest thing Santana had ever done, nodding her head and agreeing to toss her best friend – the only person she had ever truly loved – at some police officers that would likely kill her.
But she did trust her. She'd always trusted her. And if they were about to die, it was the most important time to keep that trust alive.
"I love you." Santana declared as Brittany moved backwards. She grabbed her own wrist with one hand, crouching in front of Quinn, as the other girl mirrored the position.
They'd done this countless times since Freshman year. Coach Sylvester hated wasting, well, anything, especially cheerleaders who could be flipping elsewhere instead of assisting in lifts and tosses. So she'd demanded that only two people were to form the bases during routines. Sure, there were broken ankles, wrists, and noses at least once a year throughout the squad, but it gave them an edge in competition. An illegal, highly dangerous edge, but there it was.
Quinn met her eyes, and they nodded, grasping each other's wrists and forming a basket.
"You have until the count of three to surrender!"
Brittany used the countdown for her run up.
She leapt onto the hands of her best friends, bending her knees and straightening them as the girls supporting her bounced her upwards.
And then she was flying.
She could see the cops with their guns out, and portly bellies, and it relaxed her because they were no match for her. She was young, and fit, and could land in a roll fairly effortlessly without hurting herself. Coach had made her do it more than enough times, anyway.
It was simple, after that. She tucked her head down and used her momentum to carry her up and onto her feet. Then she turned gracefully, wanting to laugh that the cops didn't even know she was suddenly behind them.
She quickly stepped toward them and pushed her hands into the backs of their heads, using a little extra pressure to knock their foreheads against the shelves they'd been using to spy on them.
Just in case they weren't completely knocked out, she detached one of their batons and hit them firmly – but not too hard – on the backs of their heads to send them into a nice sleep.
"It's safe!" She called out happily, so proud that her plan worked.
But of course it did. She was awesome.
Santana and Quinn ran out after her, doing double takes at the still bodies of the cops. Quinn paused, though, and ran back inside after a minute to grab the woman's shotgun and a half empty packet of shells that sat underneath the cash register.
Rachel dropped the softball bat in surprise, having just gathered up the courage to go in after her friends and try and hit at least one of the cops so they could escape. Sure, the other one probably would've shot her, but she couldn't just stay outside while her friends died. She had to do something.
But suddenly there they were. She burst into tears, so relieved she couldn't even speak.
Quinn sprinted toward them with the shotgun, jumping into the passenger seat and resting the newly acquired weapon by her feet. Rachel climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine quickly and then reaching for Quinn and hugging her tightly.
"Let's just go." Quinn said, accepting the hug, but feeling too anxious to stay.
The other two were already in the back.
"That was –" Brittany started, but was cut off as the car pulled away from the gas station, general store, repair shop, whatever it was, and away from Camp Crook entirely.
Santana could think of nothing else to do. Could think of nothing else she wanted to do. All that existed was relief, and awe, and love for the crazy girl she could never ever live without.
So she grabbed her roughly by the shirt, and pulled until the blonde's lips were on her own. She kissed the absolute life out of her, pressing closer as Brittany grabbed her shoulders, and then there was nothing but lips, and pressure, and taste.
It was unlike any kiss they'd ever shared. Before, their kisses were always loving, or drunk, or nice and soft. Before, there was passion, but Santana had always been slightly removed from it. Before, they were always just nice.
But this was need. This was relief. This was two people finding each other again after so long, and realizing they could never exist in a world where they didn't kiss each other. Not ever again.
"So, that was close." Quinn mumbled, awkwardly, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the back seat.
"Y-yes." Rachel stuttered, doing her best not to glance in the rearview mirror and watch.