This would have been up yesterday but the site was down. I'm hoping that the changed summary will attract more readers, but if not, thank you to the few that are following this story.
It's been two years, two years without a sound or a voice, nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company. She wonders to herself how long it will take her to lose her mind completely, to start talking to the shapes in the walls. Everyone is dead, her parents, her sister, her darling Matt. Matt was the first of them to die. She told him to stay away from the hospital, that it wasn't safe, but Dr. Rutherford had a job to do, and with the world in total chaos he had to do the right thing, at all costs, she both respected and hated him for it, hated him for leaving her. She remembers the last time she saw his face. It was right before he left to assist with an emergency in town, a pileup that claimed dozens of lives before the virus could. There were mass traffic accidents happening all over the world, several times a day, the thing about death taking people without warning was that it didn't matter where you were, whether it was in your bed sleeping soundly or behind the wheel of a car. Matt never made it to the hospital that night. It took him like the others, without warning, without mercy. She waited months for death to come to her, but it never did, now she's not sure what she's waiting for, just a voice maybe, something to let her know that she's not alone, the voices in her head certainly aren't doing the trick. She wonders all the time why she doesn't just kill herself, end it now, so she can see them all again, so she can see Matt again, so the loneliness will finally subside, maybe she's just a masochist, maybe she just hasn't given up hope yet, maybe she should. She gets up from the floor, pacing her room, her arms wrapped around her body, tears in her eyes, threatening to fall at any second.
"Please," she says to herself, "Someone, anyone, just answer me, I won't hurt you, I won't try to fight you if you want to hurt me, I just want to hear your voice, anyone's voice, please just answer me." she collapses onto the floor then, sobbing, her arms wrapped around her body, she doesn't know how long she cries.
"Why are you crying pretty girl?" she looks up then as someone touches her trembling shoulder. She knows that he isn't real, the handsome if somewhat rough-looking man kneeling beside her, his long, disheveled hair partially pulled back from his face in a ponytail, his body cloaked in a filthy trench coat, a gun clasped in his hand, a bag filled with what looks like several cans of food stolen from her kitchen. She didn't hear anyone down there, probably because she was crying too loudly to hear, but most likely because he's just a figment of her imagination.
She doesn't speak, she just reaches out to touch his face, running her hand over his tanned skin it as if she's afraid it will go right through him.
"You're not real are you?" she says softly, staring into his tired hazel eyes.
"Last time I checked I was," He says, tucking the gun into his pants. "Are you here alone?"
"Are you going to kill me?" she says as if she isn't even afraid of his answer.
"No, I'm not going to kill you," he says. "I just wanted your food, you have some good stuff, Progresso soup, Stagg chili, canned peaches, I hit the jackpot. The worst I would do is knock you out if you tried to fight me."
She just stares at him, utterly transfixed.
"Are you okay beautiful?" he says, placing a gentle hand on her hair, and at that she lunges herself at him, crying bitterly, and places kisses all over his stubbly face and chapped lips, holding him tightly as she kisses him, and to tell the truth he's a bit afraid, but he lets it happen, kissing her back, comforting her.
"Hey, hey, hey, It's alright," he says holding her in his arms and stroking her hair as she cries into his chest, her fists curled into his shirt. "It's okay, I've got you."
"Please," she says, "Please don't leave me here" she continues, crying hysterically. "Please take me with you."
"Of course" he says hesitantly. "Anything you want, just please don't cry," he continues. "What's your name, can you tell me your name?"
"Quinn," she says, almost inaudibly. "Quinn Fabray, what's yours?"
"I'm Noah Puckerman," he says still holding her. "But you can call me Puck."
It started off so slow, they would hear a news report about five residents at a nursing home dying in their sleep at once and he wouldn't allow them to think anything of it, he couldn't. When she stayed up late watching the news, shaking so hard, it broke his heart, because part of him, and it was a big part, knew that she was right to be afraid, a big part of him was afraid too. He wanted the nightmare to end, he wanted things to go back to normal the way they always did so that him and Rachel could continue living their lives, but when an entire percent of America's population was struck down by the virus in a single day and the living began rioting in the streets, smashing windows in search of medicine that wouldn't work and face masks that wouldn't protect them, he knew that he couldn't afford to be skeptical anymore. The problem was there was nothing he could do, nothing any of them could do but hope not to die.
There were no symptoms, no warning signs, no way out once it hit. You died, plain and simple. It was rumored that a miniscule percentage of the world's citizens carried an immunity gene, but once the word got out about it things only got worse. There were stories about the government snatching people from their homes to study them, hoping to find a cure within their blood, but even if a cure was found it was too little too late. Before long the dead littered the streets and the living were left without hope, without family, without a future. During those terrifying first days he couldn't sleep at all, all he could do was watch her and pray with everything he had inside of him that he wouldn't lose her. He was never a religious man, but praying became the only thing that kept him from breaking down, even if he didn't know who he was praying to in particular. It ended with them, the two of them alone in their house, years of food stocked, their parents buried in back and the two of them, clinging to each other with all of their might even as the world around them crumbled.
Those first days seem so distant now, like a whole other life. It's hard to believe there was a time when he didn't have a care in the world, when Quinn had a comfortable life with a doctor fiancé and likely wouldn't have taken a second glance at a guy like Puck, let alone love him so completely, and Puck's affections were distributed evenly throughout half the female population of Chicago and fatherhood was the furthest thing from his mind, when the world's population numbered in the billions, not hundreds of thousands, when everything made sense.
She shifts next to him, murmuring softly in her sleep and he combs her hair away from her face and lightly kisses her cheek, she's still cold, but not so much that it worries him, the fire seems to be doing the trick. He glances over at Puck and Quinn, asleep on the mattress, the baby between them. Looking at Beth fills his heart with what can only be described as a feeling bittersweet. He knows it must be hard for Rachel, considering what she went through during those first days, before they even knew for sure what was happening. But she seems to be nothing but enchanted by Beth, and it fills him with relief.
"Finn," she whispers groggily.
"Yeah babe?' he replies.
"Do you think it was the virus that killed her?" she whispers softly, trying not to wake them. "Do you think the baby got sick inside of me?"
He swallows hard, not knowing how to answer that right away. It's the first time she's ever asked it, but he knows she's thought about it, because he has too. "I don't know sweetheart, I think it could have been a lot of things," he says carefully. "But I think if we're both immune the baby probably was too."
"But if it wasn't the virus that means we can have another one right? When we get to Washington? When I get better?"
"Is that what you want?" he says carefully.
"I think now is the time to start living again," she says pulling his arms tighter around her. "And creating new life, that's a part of it right? What do you think?"
"Do you really think it's fair though?" he starts. "To bring a child into this world? Where people will kill each other without a second thought over a can of beans?"
She remains silent for longer than he would like and his immediate reaction is to hug her tighter and kiss her hair.
"I love you," he says. "So much, and all I want is to make you happy, you know that."
"No, I get it," she says. "It's not about me, it's about this little boy or girl that is going to have it a lot harder than we ever did growing up…"
"But?" Finn says, goading her on.
"But," Rachel continues. "When the world started it didn't start with a government and skyscrapers and TV and cell phones. It started like this, barren and brutal, and if mankind would have decided then that it was wrong to keep things going, to keep hope alive then we never would have made it as far as we did. Maybe there will be a whole new, better world in our future and our child could help make that happen, that doesn't sound like a bad thing to me Finn."
"You're right," he says. "That sounds like a beautiful thing…"
"But?"
"But I think we shouldn't make this decision now. We don't even know if this place is going to be there Rachel."
"I know Finn, I know that you're skeptical, and I know that you're going along with this mostly for my sake, but I believe with all my heart that it's real. I know it is," he notices that her voice breaks a bit as she talks.
"Hey, look at me," he says, and she obliges, turning in his arms to face him, letting him kiss her long and deep. "Even if I don't entirely believe that this place exists, I believe in you," he whispers against her mouth. "You're the strongest, bravest, smartest person I know, and I'll follow you anywhere, I'll follow you to the end of the earth. I go where you go, no matter what."
"I go where you go too," she says, tucking herself tighter into his embrace.
"Go to sleep now princess, we have a long day ahead of us."
They know that Quinn feels conflicted about sending them away, they wish she wouldn't, she's right, protecting her daughter is the most important thing, and now that it's daylight they can get out of the city safely.
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Rachel says.
"No, it's safer here, Beth needs to be someplace warm, at least until the winter is over. We'll move on then," Quinn explains, and Rachel nods reluctantly.
"Promise you'll find us if you're ever in Washington okay?" Rachel says, wrapping Quinn in a tight hug.
"We promise," Quinn says, she sounds sincere but Finn can't help but think the look on her face suggests they'll never see each other again. He truly hopes that's not the case.
"Yeah, don't hog all the hot water while you're there," Puck says.
"I won't, honest," Rachel says, hugging Puck.
"Thank you guys," Finn says taking his turn to hug them. "For everything."
"Thank you for not shooting me," Puck replies.
"And you little girl, you better take care of them," Rachel says to the smiling baby in Puck's arms. "They're counting on you." She kisses the baby on the cheek then and it makes Finn's heart ache. She would be such a great mom, the best one in the world.
They make it out of the city before sunset, pilfering through a few more shops and homes along the way, they don't come up with much, bandages here, a few cans of food there, a stack of playing cards, a few books neither of them have heard of, batteries, cold medicine, still no antibiotics. Finn finds a dusty gray cap with a disintegrated tag still attached and puts it on Rachel and Rachel finds the only old shopping cart with all of the wheels still turning, they put their bags in it and push, Rachel can ride in the cart when she gets too tired, as tiny as she is the cart will still accommodate her, even with the bags loaded into it.
They walk late into the night, until they reach the first residential area they can find outside the city. They'll find a place to camp here, they hope there is an empty place to sleep among the dilapidated houses. The area looks deserted, but it's hard to know for sure whether they'll run across anyone dangerous. They got lucky with Puck and Quinn, but Finn knows that they were the exception, not the rule.
"What about that one?" Rachel says pointing her flashlight at a white two story, or at least they think it used to be white but a good deal of the paint is dull and chipped away.
"Let's check it out," he says. "Stay close," he adds unnecessarily, she's always right by his side now. He knocks first, he knows that it's a risk alerting anyone inside that they're there, but it would be a far bigger one to let themselves in without warning. He's shot more than one person who broke into their house without warning during the five years they stayed there. There is no answer, he shines his flashlight through the window next, seeing nothing, no one. It's only then that he feels secure enough to try opening the door.
It's locked, as they suspected, but it isn't hard for Finn to pick the lock open with his dad's old Swiss army knife, they point their flashlights and their guns as they step inside tentatively.
"If there's anyone inside who can hear me, I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to take anything from you. We're just looking for a place to stay for the night," Finn says loud enough for anyone inside to hear.
"I think it's clear," she says, he thinks she's right.
They search the house from top to bottom, for food, for people, for medicine, they don't find any of that, but the only thing they really need for the time being is shelter. There is a bedroom upstairs that locks, and the acoustics seem good enough to hear if anyone wanders in. They think they'll be safe here for the night.
They leave their clothes on as they get under the covers, the better to escape quickly if they have to, but a big part of him wants to undress her, to feel her naked skin against his, to bury himself inside of her body and stay there for hours, their sweat mixing, his love cries harmonizing with hers, their hands touching each others bodies with abandon. Like always he needs her body like he needs oxygen. Clearly she feels the same, the way she's kissing him now, and unbuttoning his heavy coat as she does and shushing him as he halfheartedly tries to protest. They can always put their clothes back on right after.
A/N: Now that I know who Rachel's dads are it's probably going to be a lot harder to kill them in AU fics, this is the fourth time I've killed one or both of them, it's still not as hard as killing Carole though. One more thing, just so you know, I plan on incorporating a bit of bullshit science into this story toward the end, but seriously, what's a Sci Fi story without a little bullshit science? Anyway, until next time, stay tuned folks!