Chapter IV


Now that the two girls had secured their building, reinforcing all exits and entrances, they could safely and comfortably sleep on the second floor. They had spent the majority of the day working, the stagnant air of the shop enticing beads of sweat to slip down their temples, but the end product was well worth it, and once on the second floor, they were able to crack a window.

Quinn immediately offered the bed when the time came to sleep. It was automatic, and to hide the sincerity she could feel creeping inside her, she waved at it like she was resigning against her will.

"Quinn," Rachel started, circling the bed. The window behind her was dark, not another light lit in the world outside their little room. Quinn stopped in the doorway. She was going to bunk on the couch, in a different room than Rachel. Maybe then, she could get some proper sleep without her very dreams consisting of whether or not the little brunette was safe.

"I don't think… I can sleep without you—" Rachel's eyes grew wide then a split second after she spoke and hastily added, "Without you in the same room! I mean, I would be too scared if you weren't where I could see you…"

Listening to her scramble, Quinn tried. She really did. There was no stop the smile that smoothed across her face and then she found herself walking back into the room, shutting the door behind her. She reached the opposing side of the bed, took one of the pillows, and brought it over to a chair in the corner of the room, right in Rachel's sight from where she would lay. Accompanied with a blanket in the closet, Quinn curled up in the chair, twisting the blanket around her to keep warm. Rachel was satisfied, giving a slight smile. She took the gun out of the waistband of her skirt, checked the safety, and then set it on the nightstand; always cautious. It was getting really dark in the room and it made Rachel uneasy. It was something Quinn had noticed in the beginning, whenever night descended on them on the rooftops. It raised a sort of wariness that couldn't quite be categorized with fear or excitement.

With this in mind, Quinn got back up from her spot in the chair and went back into the living room. She brought the couple duffel bags given to them from the helicopter into the bedroom and rummaged through a particular one where she had stashed the flashlights she found earlier. Taking one out, she walked over to Rachel's side. The light flickered on and then back off for Rachel to see, and then was set it on the nightstand beside the singer's handgun, within reach. Turning on her side with a rustle of sheets, Rachel watched through the dark as Quinn resettled on the chair until she was comfortable. The last sound of the night was Quinn checking the safety of her gun and setting it on the dresser near her head.


"Quinn!"

A scream; hoarse, panicked, forced. The kind that finally broke past a barrier where no sound was made so that it split the air, once quiet.

Quinn jolted awake, a flashlight magically appearing in her hands, but there was nothing in the dim room besides a pallid figure sitting up in bed that a harsh white beam of light kept flashing over. In a moment, Quinn was out of her chair, the flashlight abandoned, and was crawling into bed. The small singer as damp with clammy sweat, panting, practically hyperventilating. Her innocent brown eyes were wide and staring aimlessly, just trying to process what was reality and what was the nightmare she had once again awoken from. She clutched with white knuckles at Quinn's clothing, pulling herself into the embrace Quinn was providing. The pinkette began to rock her, like always, and played with her long chocolate tresses, actually whispering soothing things to the girl this morning, something she had never tried before. Rachel gave a choked sob and Quinn could feel the tears falling on her chest. They stung.

"What if I didn't save you," Rachel choked out, the words cracked.

Quinn stalled, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. Tears were beginning to prick at her eyes. The image of the storeowner rearing its head, ghastly eyes and bloodied mouth— she shoved away the thought and breathed in an inaudible, resonating breath. She had to remain strong. She was never one to be weak, to show fear or weakness, and now more than ever, she had to support Rachel as well. She couldn't do it from behind scenes like she had done through their high school years.

"Don't think about it," Quinn murmured. She absently massaged the back of the girl's head. In saying so, she forced herself to not either.

"I'm so scared," Rachel said breathlessly between sobs. She was speaking into Quinn's neck, her words warmed by her breath, true feelings moistening skin.

"I am too," Quinn admitted a beat later. There was no use in lying and it felt good to let it out. If there was one thing school had taught them, it was that no matter what it was, it always felt nice to have someone in the same position as you; like a failed test or forgotten homework. "But we have to be brave, as shitty as it sounds."

There was a raspy laugh, half-hearted.

"We'll find the others, I promise."

"What if we do find them… and they're turned?"

That hadn't quite occurred to her yet. She always nourished the idea that if her and Rachel could've made it this far, then so could have everyone else— but then again, that could be said for loads of people and so far, they were all walking dead. Resting her forehead against Rachel's crown, she closed her eyes, working on calming her sudden realization instead of answering. She didn't have an answer. She had so many questions but no answers. There was no one to answer them, either.

"Don't think about it," Quinn repeated into Rachel's hair.

There was silence following, just two people holding onto what remained. But Rachel, always the curious and never quite knowing when to stay quiet— which she had already deemed would be her downfall— had to speak up again. She had another question, one that had been nagging at her since her first night on the roof. She had to ask.

"What do you think happened to Finn?"

Quinn's throat constricted. Finn was going to have to be brought up sooner or later. He was engaged to Rachel after all. But Quinn didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about Finn. Before, she didn't even want to think about Rachel because it hurt too much. To see someone as promising and bright and beautiful as Rachel want to seal herself to Finn's name forever, a man, a boy, who would only cause her to sink; it was heartbreaking. In more ways than one. Anyone could feel heartbroken over a woman worth a million marrying a man who was like a scam. For Quinn, it was that and more— Quinn was the one Rachel was supposed to be with. It was supposed to be that way since they first met. She couldn't be the only one who thought so, the only one of the both of them who felt that strange draw, the jealousy that was directed in the opposite direction. Quinn knew she wouldn't weigh Rachel down; she would lift her higher. She would help her reach her dreams. She would strive to continue to make her the better person Rachel wanted to be. And no one else could see that. No one else thought the way Quinn did. No one thought Rachel should be Quinn's. Only Quinn did. And it scared her. It scared her more than the god-damn apocalypse.

What frightened her more was the idea of Rachel surviving this with Finn. She was glad Rachel was with her, even if she didn't know how to show it just yet. Quinn didn't want Rachel with anyone else… in this matter. She would protect her with her life, not something Quinn could see Finn vowing to do. Hearing Rachel this morning, calling her name in a shriek, terrified what would have happened if she hadn't saved her for the second time; she was Quinn's heart, the part of her that should be self-conscious and worried for her own safety, like a piece of her conscious. She completed Quinn. But hearing that her thoughts were on Finn and probably have been most of the time; it was like Rachel was walking out of her body, leaving her in agony and without air, stripping a bit of sanity away.

"He will be fine," Quinn finally croaked, after emerging from her thoughts. As much as Quinn disliked the boy, as much as she hated seeing Rachel with him, as much as he deserved a smack to his face to put his head on straight— no one deserved to die like this. And if there was any way to stop Rachel from crying, to feel better, to help her, Quinn would pray Finn was alive and safe.

There was only one way to find out.


Revised!