Part Four – The Whole World Is Coming To An End
The Sue's Corner theme plays. When the title is stamped onto the screen there is a sub-heading beneath it that reads, 'The Road To Victory'.
Shot of the William McKinley High School choir room, where Sue is seated in an armchair at the bottom of the risers. She is stern faced, looking at the camera.
On the risers sit eight teenagers – some looking nervous whiles others smile at the camera in delight – and a man with curly hair wearing a vest.
"Good evening, America, and welcome to Sue's Corner: The Road To Victory edition. I'll be taking you on a tour of the same sites four teenage girls made a nuisance of themselves in over the past month. However, before I leave Lima, Ohio – the town that birthed these ridiculous events that, however tragic, has lead to the syndication of the very show you are watching – I bring you the William McKinley High School Glee Club. Now, if you're sitting at home thinking, hey Sue, we love your show and watch it with more religious fervor than we attend Sunday church sermons, what are these un-photogenic children doing in your glorious presence? Well, viewers, I ask myself the same question."
The vested man shakes his head.
"Sue, just get on with the interview. The kids and I –"
"I'm sorry, William, I seem to be confused. Is this Will's Corner? No. And further to that, I retract my apology and statement of confusion and redirect it to you."
Sue turns back towards the camera with a pained smile.
"Now, where was I? Oh, that's right, in a room with a group of miscreants that make me want to arm myself with a time machine, a knitting needle, and like a terminator of justice, locate their pregnant mothers before they can be born. Before you pity my current circumstance too much, viewer, let me just say this; these kids were the club-mates of the hooligans out there currently making you quiver in fear – or arousal, if you're one of those Triple F'ers – in your homes. Could one of these children spring a gun at any moment and demand your hard earned income and a fan club?"
Sue shrugs.
"That's what I'm here to find out. First question goes to Teen Dad – when you carelessly knocked up my Head Cheerleader and ruined over a years worth of my hard work, did you think for any moment in that ridiculous mohawked head of yours that your thirty seconds of amorous bliss could one day lead her to murder and a life of crime?"
The boy with a mohawk looks blankly at the camera.
"Huh?"
Sue nods sagely.
"Just as I thought. Next question goes to Wheels – who do you pray to at night when you offer thanks for the fact that, if these events had transpired a year ago, you'd have bullet holes in place of eyeballs right now?"
The boy in the wheelchair looks at the other students on the risers in alarm.
"I never thought about – Oh my God, what if they come back here and – Santana has a gun now –"
Sue, for the first time since the opening credits, smiles.
"Now I'm going to pick on someone at random."
She surveys the students, before pointing at a boy with triangular eyebrows and dark hair.
"Next goes to you, Warbler – and just to clarify, I've been lead to believe that's your real name, and don't care to be educated otherwise, as I cannot imagine a more suitable, ridiculously fruity surname for a boy with those eyebrows. Hell, by the powers invested in me by my ever growing audience, I hereby officially dub thee The Warbler – I've been wondering for a while now, and since this is my last cameo at this school and, really, good luck getting anything done without me – I just have to ask: how many Beluga whales die each year just so you can gel that mess on your head you call hair? Someone alert Hayden Panettiere and her group of whale lovers; this kid and Will Shuester combined are wreaking havoc on aquatic ecosystems with their blatant misplaced vanity."
The boy's jaw drops, before he squints his eyes and appears to grow angry.
"How dare you not only insult myself and a man who used to be a colleague of yours – and who remains a respected man at this school – on national television, but do so under the guise of concern over a tragic –"
Sue holds up her hand, and though the boy's mouth continues to move, there is no longer sound.
"That's better. I've been waiting to shut that kid up since I first saw his ridiculous face. Now, let's see what –"
"Sue! Enough!"
The vested man stands.
"I'm done with this, and I'm done with you! You came here proclaiming to want to help the situation and – like a fool – I continue to give you the benefit of the doubt. Well that is enough –"
Sue waves her hand again, and the man's voice cuts out.
"I couldn't agree with you more, William. Next question goes to Porcelain – tell me, and the nation, why exactly you said, on national television, that you expected those girls to kill people?"
By this point, half of the club has risen to its feet, ready to follow the vested man who has just stormed out of shot. The only person who doesn't sit back down is the Warbler boy, who walks off the risers shaking his head.
The boy who had been seated next to him looks worriedly between his retreating figure and the camera.
"Well – I – Blaine are you – well it's complicated but – Blaine!"
Sue frowns.
"You've got four seconds to answer the question Celine, or I'm moving on."
He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.
"The reason, Sue, is because Rachel Berry was known for her, how can I put this, determination, and both Santana and Quinn were under your guidance. Since you no longer work at this school, and thus have no jurisdiction over my future or day-to-day life anymore, I can say without fear of repercussion that you are out of control. Of course girls under your influence would commit murder. I'm surprised they didn't start here and, frankly, disappointed it wasn't with you."
Sue looks squarely at the defiant boy, who flips his fringe at her and then stands. He turns toward a very tall boy in the back row.
"Good luck with her, Finn, you have my sympathies. I hope you find Rachel, I really do."
He turns back around, quirks his eyebrow at the camera, and then walks off without another word.
"Amen!"
A heavyset girl stands and follows him. Four more of the kids do the same – the boy with the mohawk, a goth looking girl, and a tall thin boy in a football jacket who helps push the wheelchair bound boy out of the shot.
One student is left on the risers.
Sue turns back to the camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this interview is over, and I am leaving William McKinley High School forever. Lurch, since you're with me now – go get me a protein shake, say goodbye to your mother, and meet me at the Fabrays at six in the ay em sharp."
The final student – Finn Hudson – looks deeply troubled as he stares in the direction the Glee Club had left in. He looks back at Sue, cheeks flushing, as he seems to struggle to hold in his anger. He just sighs, though, and nods his head.
O-O
Sue stands next to an elderly woman, both in front of a large house with police tape around its perimeter.
"Edna Bellfries, you saw the girls leave the property behind us that fateful afternoon, didn't you?"
"Yes, my word I did. They was driving so fast I rushed right to my telephone to tell the police. Oh, and the yelling and screaming that came out of that house – I thought my hearing aid was acting up, I did. You don't expect bad things to happen in a street like this – not in all my years living here have I heard such a ruckus!"
Sue nods her head.
"Did you see the girls at all, Edna?"
"No, I did not. Just caught a glimpse of the little one – she was driving – as that gold car done flew right by my house. Such a shame it was to lose Judy from the neighborhood."
"Thank you, Edna."
The elderly woman smiles brightly, lightly grasping Sue's elbow.
"Anything for you, dear. I watch your show every day!"
Sue gives the woman a cocky grin, before turning it to the camera.
O-O
Sue now stands in front of a roadhouse, with similar police tape around it. Next to her is a stocky man in a dirty trucker's cap.
"What you can see behind me, viewers, is Joe Shmoe's, a truck stop on the outskirts of Beavercreek, Ohio. Just one week after fleeing Lima for murder, the girls came here to kill again. Why did they do it? And furthermore, they were spotted in Illinois before coming here, so why come back to Ohio at all? With me is Dennis Jackson, the only surviving witness from the night of the roadhouse murders. Tell us what you saw, Dennis."
"Well, I was inside that there roadhouse getting myself a steak dinner before setting off on a ten hour duty. I parked my truck up, went in and sat down, and not twenty minutes later this tiny thing walks in looking for a telephone. Now, she looked real nervous and fidgety like, and I remember thinking to myself, 'what in Goddamned hell is she planning?' and anyways, she heads to the washroom, and this other feller in there stands up and goes after her. He's a real big guy, right. But heck, I didn't know what was going to happen. For all I knew, she was running away from home and he was her sweetheart. I mean, he was all smiles when he saw her."
Dennis swallows visibly, and Sue nods her head.
"Continue, Dennis."
"Well, there was this God awful screaming all of a sudden. Like, I never heard nothing like it. It were like – like someone in trouble, and then it stopped, and – and then it started again and I swear to God and all the angels that it was like a demon had been let loose. I was about to go back there and – and see if everything were – but this other feller was sitting closer to it, and he got there first. And damned if he didn't come running back around that corner like he'd seen a ghost. And that – that little spit of a girl – comes chasing after him covered in blood and like – like something I only ever saw in a nightmare, ma'am. I swear it. She was possessed by something. I got out of there as quick as I could, went running for my truck. But as soon I was through that doorway there was this other girl – blonde, and real pretty like – I would've stopped if I weren't so scared just to get another look at her – and she was running in there with a bat."
Sue squints her eyes in thought.
"You'd be talking about Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray?"
"I believe so, ma'am. That's what the police told me, anyways. I don't know, though, I'll just never forget the look on that girl's face. Or the blood on her. Or how that pretty blonde looked, marching into that place. I just got away as fast as I could."
Sue turns to the camera.
"On the one hand, a horrifying tale. On the other? Seems I underestimated Rachel Berry after all this time. Pity, I could've used a spirited girl like that on my squad. Lurch, when we find your little girlfriend, remind me to berate her for not trying out to be a flyer. What a waste."
O-O
Sue stands with a middle aged, overweight man in front of a gas station.
"Jacob McDermott, you were the first of the girl's robbery victims. Tell us, in your own words, your experience with armed teenagers?"
"It was actually, uh, a little confusing. They were dressed up like – pardon my French – hookers or something. One of them went flying around my store making a mess of things before calling in this really tall blonde friend of hers from outside, and the other one was like a dominatrix or something. Really demanding. Threatened to shoot me in the ass if I called the cops. That's why I waited a good hour or two before I did."
Sue nods her head, looking proud.
"That's Santana, all right."
O-O
"I'm standing outside the Camp Crook General Store And Repair where the sixth murder victim – Elsa Lafontaine – was shot while on the job. You know viewers, this town boasts a population of sixty-three people, and I couldn't find a damn one of them to interview. But, that doesn't bother me in the slightest. While Lurch partakes in a slushy the size of his torso, I'll simply use this opportunity to bask in the magnificent athleticism that was displayed in this very spot by Brittany Pierce."
Sue closes her eyes, taking a deep breath of fresh air and smiling. She opens them again after a moment, and looks into the camera.
Finn Hudson exits the store in the background with a large slushy in his hands, looking directly at the camera and darting out of shot.
"I have to say – while it isn't true that I taught these girls how to kill, you could say that I conditioned them, at least, to survive. Do with that what you will."
O-O
A pink haired girl with a nose ring smiles excitedly next to a scowling Sue Sylvester.
"It was awesome! Rachel came in first and, God, she is so nice. I mean, everyone was all, 'she's a stuck up bitch!' but they were so wrong, she is the sweetest thing. And man Brittany is just, like, so tall and hot! Wait, what am I saying? They're all hot!"
"And they didn't shoot you?"
"Of course not! I told them, 'I'm your number one fan!' And I am, and now I've met them and – okay, Santana? Like, I saw her pictures and was like, damn she's hot. But in person? I could've died. I could've just orgasmed and died right there."
Sue looks appalled.
"You –"
"And they left, right, but then Quinn comes running back in and just – my little brother is one of those Pokémon weirdoes, right? I never got him, until that day. Because, man, I totally collected them all! Faberrittana forever!"
The girl pumps her fist at the camera. Sue lets her microphone fall, stalking off screen looking disgusted.
O-O
Sue stands in front of a diner with police tape around it. Next to her is a young man in a suit, with oiled hair and slight mustache.
"My grandma was shot in there, by those girls. Don't know why they did it, she wouldn't hurt a fly, not at all. Hell, she'd been missing for a few days and we – we thought she'd died anyway, I mean, she just up and disappeared out of her bed one night but we – she died here, with three bullets in her and bare feet."
Sue nods her head.
"This is the scene of the highest number killed so far, your grandmother among them."
"Yes, ma'am. We're still grieving her, but we know she's with the Lord now so – so that's all there is. Those other folks in there are with her, too. I didn't know them at all, but this place out here has always had a good reputation. Some people get nervous when they find it, out in the middle of nowhere, anything could be going on. But they was good people who ran the place, and it's a shame to see them go."
Sue looks solemnly into the camera.
"What do you say to that, Triple F? Actually, never mind. There's nothing you can say."
O-O
Sue stands outside of a different diner, with the words 'Famous Seamus' in neon above it. A waitress stands next to her.
"Folks, I'm currently outside of Wellington, Kansas at the scene of, perhaps, the most bizarre of the famous four's stops so far. No, no one was killed, and the place wasn't even robbed. Footage, however, has been turned in to police that apparently shows the girls dancing in front of a jukebox inside the establishment behind me. Katie Delaware here claims she served the girls, not recognizing them until after she overheard them calling each other by their given names. Katie?"
"That's right, I did hear them calling each other Quinn, and Santana, and those names ain't so usual around here. Plus, I'd seen the news and I watch your show all the time. It was strange, though, you know? I expected them to come in guns blazing and shooting up the place, but they just walked in and ordered some food and I didn't give them a second glance. They started up the jukebox, too, did some dancing and had everyone having a swell old time. That little one, Rachel, sang along with the music and that girl can sing, I'll say that. And then I recognized them and – and I called the police. They were long gone by then, I mean, but they just really weren't what I was expecting."
"Did you overhear anything else? Specifically, their intended destination?"
"No, I didn't hear anything about where they were going or even where they'd been. They just were – they just ordered their food, like a bunch of normal kids out on the town for the night. They were laughing and – and no one looked twice at them, and if they did, it was only to smile."
Sue raises her eyebrows.
"And you just let them go?"
"No, I – I didn't realize they were, you know, who they are until they left. It just stuck with me, they were all so happy and – and their names were so strange. That's all. When it hit me, I looked at our tapes from the night and – and I called the police."
"Well, Kansas, it's safe to say they aren't in you anymore. Lurch? Start the van. This is the most recent stop, and since there hasn't been another reported yet, they can't have gotten far."
O-O
Another gas station. This time a man in his fifties stands next to Sue, smoking a cigar.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm coming to you from a gas station outside of Beaver, Oklahoma, where the girls were spotted early this morning by gas station owner, Earl McDonahue. Tell me Earl, how is it a man with a fondness for cigars owns and operates a gas station without blowing himself up?"
Earl chuckles.
"You're a spitfire, you are. I watch your show. Stomping all about the place, yelling and screaming for attention. Hooey, girl, you got to get yourself a boyfriend. How long you in town for?"
Earl winks. Sue frowns.
"Tell me what you know about the girls."
"All right, all right. Can't forgive me for trying. Any who, yeah they were through here just last night. Got their gas, paid for it, and left. Nice bunch of girls, they were. Except for that Mexican talking one, she was a right little vixen like you."
Sue seems to be physically restraining herself.
"And did they say where they were headed?"
"Nope, not a damn word. Got some candy, and some booze, and off they went."
"They're underage."
"Yep, that's true. You know what else is true? They're wanted for murder. Hell, slap me with a fine if you have to, but better that than a bullet in my ass."
O-O
"Ladies and gentlemen, I come to you tonight live from a Denny's in Silver City, New Mexico. No, the girls didn't stop here. But we have. Why? Well, viewers, it seems Lurch here ate one too many breakfast burritos this morning and, to keep the van free of his bowel stench, we've stopped here for an hour now allowing the four teenagers once on a killing spree to get further away. I say once on a killing spree because, it seems, they've had a change of heart. Paying for goods, dancing in diners? And now to be spotted driving west across Texas and into New Mexico in broad daylight? Frankly, ladies, I'm disappointed."
Sue sighs, putting the hand not holding the microphone on her hip. She looks around her.
She shakes her head helplessly, before turning back to look at the camera. She opens her mouth to say something, though is stopped by Finn Hudson running out of the diner's door. He is waving his hands and yelling.
Sue turns, annoyed.
"What?"
Finn gestures wildly, shouting something incomprehensible. Sue is shaking her head at him, waving her hands.
"Speak English you behemoth! I swear to all that is holy I will smother you in your sleep tonight! You worthless –"
Finn reaches Sue, grabbing her microphone and staring excitedly into the camera.
"They've been caught! I just saw it on the teevee in there! They got them! They've been arrested! They're caught!"
Sue grabs the microphone back, pushing the boy forcefully off screen.
"What are you talking about? They haven't –"
Her face pales as she looks at something off camera.
"You're certain?"
Her expression darkens considerably.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears you didn't hear it here first. However, Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry and Brittany Pierce have been arrested tonight on the outskirts of Duncan, Arizona. Santana Lopez has –"
Sue swallows visibly.
"Been shot in unknown circumstances. Police will arrest her once she – if she regains consciousness. I repeat, the girls have been caught. It's over, America. Their reign of terror has ended."
Finn appears on the screen, smiling and looking relieved. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed, and he appears to be panting slightly. Sue turns to him, using her microphone to hit him over the head repeatedly.
"You useless excuse for a – I hate you Finn Hudson! And when Sue Sylvester uses the word hate it translates to an eternal rage of hell fire and destruction! Don't you run away from me you half giant son of a bitch! I'll kill you myself!"
The sound cuts off as Sue chases Finn Hudson off screen. The camera moves to track them as the boy zigzags along the Denny's car park, looking fearfully behind him as Sue gains ground. He trips over his own feet, and Sue leaps onto his back, brandishing the microphone as if it were a baton.
O-O O-O O-O O-O
Brittany gently placed her hand in Santana's, clutching the bag of food in the other. She wasn't really hungry anymore, but if they didn't get food out of it then – then – then why had they even stopped at all, and why had these people died? The old lady had creeped her out, big time. Everyone had just been so angry and she didn't know why. Would probably never know why.
But at least they had what they came for. That was something. It had to be.
When they reached the car, Rachel was sitting in the driver's seat and Quinn was beside her. They weren't talking, though they leaned toward each other slightly.
"Fucking mess," Santana mumbled, getting in the backseat and sighing heavily.
"Let's just go." Quinn murmured her reply, as if afraid to talk too loudly.
Brittany strapped her seatbelt across her chest, because she knew Rachel liked them to be safe.
They drove away from the diner, each lost in their own thoughts.
Santana felt, for the first time, incredibly guilty. Like, sure those people had been narrow-minded assholes, but she'd just shot them like – was that was she was now? Someone who just shot people she didn't like?
God, was that what they all were? She boasted that she liked to keep things real, but for a painful few moments as they drove along a dark Utah highway, a deadweight settled in her stomach because maybe, just maybe, she hadn't been keeping it real in the last few weeks. Sure, she'd pretended everything was fine, and awesome, but –
She turned to look at Brittany's profile – the slope of her forehead, down along the bridge of her nose and settling on those goddamned gorgeous lips – and felt the weight in her abdomen get heavier, and heavier.
The worse shit they did? The worse shit they were in. It was as simple as that.
Brittany was staring out her window, her eyes on the almost full moon suspended in the sky. She'd seen a full moon before, but not one this bright. Sure, everything was still dark, but now she could make out, faintly, cliffs and rocks and trees. It was all bathed in white, and it was the loveliest view she'd ever seen. Even with the dead people they'd just left behind, and the burgers she'd craved going cold in the bag on the seat between her and Santana, there was still loveliness. She decided to concentrate on that, instead of the other stuff. Just for now.
And when Santana reached over to take her hand, and hold it tight, she imagined a great white unicorn sprinting along the car with them, leaping over the trees and the rocks, it's mane flying out behind it. She imagined it so hard she could almost see it, as if the white glow of the moon was somehow a magical light. As if the unicorn had been waiting for the right moment to show itself to her, and her alone.
Quinn wasn't looking at the view, or anyone else's face. She had her head bent on a slight angle, and her gaze fixed firmly on the gun she still held in one hand. It was heavier, all of a sudden, and just so black. She could see parts of its surface shining, reflecting the moon back at her, but all it did was make it seem ugly. This awful little thing she held – had effortlessly raised and pointed and used – had done so much damage. She wanted to demand the car be stopped, and fling the horrible thing as far away from her as possible.
All that stopped her was what she held in the other. Her left hand rested comfortably in Rachel Berry's lap, with the shorter girl's fingers entwined with her own. Rachel ran the pad of her thumb back and forth over the back of Quinn's, not really understanding why she was doing the comforting motion, just knowing that right now she had to.
For Quinn, and the desperation that had been in her eyes when she'd – when they'd kissed and –
And she was doing it for herself, too, because, suddenly, she realized how much she needed it.
O-O
They stopped in Arches National Park, near the Utah border. None of them spoke, other than to softly request assistance with erecting the tents, or to pass food, or to excuse themselves to bed.
Santana kept her head on Brittany's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat and trying to stay in the moment. Her mind kept fast-forwarding to a point where she wouldn't be able to hear it any more, though. Where Brittany was dead, or somewhere she couldn't reach her, and there would be no warm body to hold or lips to kiss or girl to love.
Soon, everything would end. She wasn't stupid. They couldn't keep it up, especially not after the diner because – because that shit just felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
Except Brittany, and the sound of her heart beating steadily in Santana's ears. It gave her hope, and courage, and all that crap she'd never really believed in before now.
"I don't want to lose you," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes though she tried to blink them away.
"You won't," Brittany replied softly, her hands lifting to tangle in Santana's hair. She ran her fingers through the dark strands, marveling at how nice they looked even though they'd only been able to wash their hair with bottled water and hand soap since leaving the motel, what felt like, so long ago.
"I can't," Santana's voice cracked. She turned her head, burying her face in Brittany's shirt and struggling to breathe without crying.
"You won't," Brittany reiterated, stronger, gently moving one hand town to pull Santana's shoulder until the girl had turned enough that she could see her eyes.
Well, partly. She was trying to hide them since they were red and puffy from crying.
"I'd rather die than –" Santana started, before a sob forced it's way through her throat. "We're going to go to jail and I'll never see you again and – and I'd rather die."
Brittany's chin trembled as she shook her head fervently.
"Don't say that, please don't say that."
"But it's – but it's true –"
Brittany shook her head again.
"No, San, no. You have to make me a promise, right now."
Santana closed her eyes, because she didn't want to promise anything. How could she when everything was so damned uncertain and they were going to die or something anyway so –
"No matter what happens, you can't die, San. You can't. Because I'm going to live until I'm at least one hundred and thirty and – and I don't want a single day of that to be without you."
God, this girl was so sweet, it made Santana cry even harder.
"Well you – you will be without – without me because we'll be separated and –"
But Brittany kept shaking her head, waiting until Santana opened her eyes before she spoke again.
"San, you could be on the moon, okay? And I could be at the bottom of the ocean with Spongebob, but I would still be happy because I'd know – I'd know you were still alive somewhere. I can't – even if we do get separated – I can get through anything as long as I know you're out there, San. I need you to promise me that you won't make me ever live without knowing that, even if we're not together."
Brittany had tears leaking out of her eyes, and had begun to sniffle, and it was all Santana could do not to punch herself for upsetting the girl so much.
"Baby, I don't know if I can promise that."
But God, she wanted to. She wanted to be able to say, 'Sure Britts, let's get our forever on,' and be done with it. But they had guns and were wanted by the law, and there was as much chance that they would be arrested as there was that they would die.
"Yes you can. Someone else might break that promise, I know that. But as long as it isn't you who breaks it, that's all I care about. So promise me right now. Please."
It was that last word that did it. It was like a breath more than an audible word, but Santana heard it and was powerless to resist.
Brittany had been the strong one for so long now, even though she knew it didn't look that way. But fuck that, and fuck it forever. It was time she stepped up, and let the love of her life depend on her.
"I promise, Britts. I promise to stay alive every goddamned day for the rest of your life, so you never have to be sad about me. Even if they throw me in – in Azkaban and you in – in some other fucking fictional reality hardcore prison – I will stay alive every single motherfucking day because – because I don't wantyouto ever have to exist in a world without me in it, somewhere, keeping my heart beating until I get back to you."
She lifted up suddenly to press her lips against the blonde's. This romance shit wasn't that bad, after all. Actually, it was kind of inspiring and hey, she was awesome at it.
It was the first day in a while that they didn't end up fucking all over the tent floor. They just kept each other close, kissing until they were too tired to fight sleep any longer.
Even then, though, they didn't let go of each other.
Rachel remembered the first night she'd shared a tent with Quinn Fabray. At the time, she'd been thrilled simply by the idea of sharing such an intimate space with someone she'd always wanted to be friends with.
And sleeping next to someone was the most intimate thing one could do.
Or so she'd thought.
She currently lay on her sleeping bag – unzipped and stretched across the tent floor – with Quinn's sleeping bag unzipped and acting as their blanket.
The sun had only just risen, and it was Rachel's favorite time of morning. Everything appeared softer than it would in a few hours time, and the allure of an entire day starting made almost anything feel possible.
Lying on her side, facing Quinn, and staring into the girl's eyes was causing her stomach to feel things she'd only read, and dreamt, of. And it wasn't like she'd been led to believe, either.
Perhaps it was butterflies, and perhaps they were from the Jurassic era and had carnivorous intentions. Perhaps, too, they were flying south for the winter because her entire body had become like the champagne fountain her aunt had insisted on having at her absurdly extravagant wedding when she was fourteen. She remembered watching in awe as a waiter had brought out a small ladder, propping it next to what seemed liked hundreds of glasses stacked in a pyramid, delicately extending his arm with the opened champagne bottle and beginning to pour.
The glass at the very top had filled and spilled over; the glasses underneath had done the same. Another impeccably dressed waiter passed up a second bottle to him, and the effervescing cascade had continued on and on, down and down, until each cup was full.
It was beautiful, and it had left her reeling. She would have the same at her own wedding, one day, she promised to herself. She would find her leading man, he would inevitably propose, and soon after she would watch her own fountain fill, cup by cup.
Except, that would never happen now. But, strangely, Quinn's eyes seemed to be pouring into her, overflowing and heading down, every one of her cups running over with – with –
She didn't even know.
She'd looked into those eyes before, and never felt this. Whatever this was. What had changed?
Quinn's hand was on her hip, and their bodies were only barely touching where they lay.
But then the blonde shifted forwards, knees nudging into Rachel's, who naturally let her own fall back and open a little. Quinn lifted herself onto her elbow, the hand on Rachel's hip sliding over her stomach, and heading up very slowly to cup her face.
Rachel was fairly certain the butterflies had led a revolt against her abdomen and were trying to exit her body entirely through her –
Her thoughts were stopped as Quinn's thumb brushed over her cheek, and as she leant towards her, those magical eyes slipped shut at the same moment her lips parted.
She had kissed a few boys in the last three years. From kissing no one, to kissing Finn – who had a surprisingly soft mouth, and stopped his enthusiastic lead-with-the-tongue when she asked him to – and then kissing Puck – who somehow straddled the line between gentle and rough, and had taught her what to do with her tongue – to kissing Jesse – who was passionate, and assured, though less focused on kissing than getting to more amorous activities – to Blaine that fateful, drunken night – his mouth had been tender, as if he used a chap stick on a regular basis – and all had been enjoyable. In fact, other than a few moments of over-enthusiasm with tongues, or hands, she had had no complaints when it came to making out.
But, God, suddenly the bar had been raised.
She wasn't sure if it was because Quinn was a girl, or because of their convoluted past, or simply because she was Quinn but her mouth was – just, God, she couldn't get enough of it.
Rachel lifted her head, pressing her mouth harder into Quinn's, tilting her head and parting her lips further.
Quinn's hand slid through Rachel's hair a little, her fingertips lightly pressing against the back of the girl's head to help keep her in place as she tilted her own.
Rachel let her hands rest on the blonde's back, holding her there gently, but firmly.
It had been fun, before, with Finn and Jesse. It had been thrilling to feel wanted, and when it started to go too far, or her lips had gotten sore, she had always stopped it. More often than not, with Finn, he had stopped simply by –
Well. All of a sudden, she wasn't so sure she could blame him.
Above her, pressing as close as she could, Quinn tried not to allow any thoughts into her head at all.
For the first time, all she wanted to do was feel.
O-O
"So." Quinn slowly stirred the small pot filled with vegetable soup. It wasn't at all what she felt like eating, but it was still food. "Maybe we should stay here again tonight."
Santana looked up from the bag she was rummaging through, trying to find clean clothes she could wear. It was one thing to be on the run and killing people, and another to realize she had nothing left to put on that didn't make her feel gross.
"Honestly, Q?" She threw the bag away from her with disgust. "I don't really give a shit."
Quinn lifted a spoonful of soup from the pot, blowing on it lightly before testing the temperature with her mouth.
"Then we'll stay here tonight and set off in the morning."
Santana raised her eyebrows, moving to sit cross-legged and lean back on her hands.
"And drive in the daylight, huh?"
Their eyes met steadily, neither looking away for a few moments.
Santana was vaguely surprised when it was Quinn who backed down first.
"Well, why not?"
Santana had woken that afternoon from a series of nightmares, all involving Brittany. In some, they were running from people or monsters who wouldn't stop chasing them, but as hard as she tried to move her legs, it was like she was trying to run hip deep in mud. They couldn't get anywhere. And in others, Brittany was just crying. Weeping, and sobbing, and every time Santana tried to reach out to her and comfort her, she'd be met with accusing and hateful eyes.
"You know something, Q? I don't know anymore." She turned her eyes to the sky, watching the first stars appear as the sun set completely.
Quinn turned the stovetop off, picking up the pot and pouring its contents into four plastic bowls that had certainly seen better days. They needed to be washed properly, for one. Well, actually, they all needed to be washed properly; their bodies, their clothes, belongings and utensils. Bottled water and hand soap was a make do solution, as were the diaper wipes they'd swiped from the last gas station.
But it wasn't a shower. It wasn't a washing machine, or a sink full of soapy, hot water.
"We could drive during the day, and stay in a motel at night. One with a laundry, maybe." Quinn handed one of the bowls to Santana, taking one for herself and leaving the others for whenever Brittany and Rachel got back.
Santana ate a spoonful of soup, leaning forward and leaving the stars until her meal was finished. She nodded slowly, the weight in her stomach feeling the heaviest it had so far.
"Yeah, we could. Clean underwear would be a freaking Godsend right now."
Quinn smiled slightly, the corner of her mouth quirking at the other girl's words.
"And a shower too, God, can you imagine? Hot water, soap..."
They both sighed as the blonde's voice trailed off.
"So you feel it too, huh?" Santana kept her eyes on her soup, hating the taste of the fucking stuff but stomaching it for the moment, so she had something to do in the heavy silences that seemed to follow whatever she or Quinn would say.
"Yeah. For a while now, I've just tried to ignore it." Quinn chuckled a little, though it was humorless. "Like everything else."
"Time is – it's running out, isn't it?" Santana placed the bowl down, looking at Quinn and waiting for her answer. Hell, she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from Quinn, too. Whether it was the leftover Cheerios dynamic slipping through, or the simple fact that she respected the ex-HIBIC, and would always default to her final say in the matter, she didn't know. But she did know that it mattered to her what Quinn thought, because aside from Brittany, she was the best friend she had, and she loved her.
Not that she would ever say as much, but hey, at least she admitted it to herself.
Quinn just nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Santana thought, for just a second, that she'd never seen her so vulnerable.
At that moment, Brittany and Rachel clambered back to the camping spot with damp hair and skin, and empty bottles of water. They were giggling together, and Brittany immediately went to Santana's side and kissed her wetly on the cheek.
"Hi baby!"
Santana tore her eyes from Quinn's, smiling at the glowing girl now seated next to her.
"Hey, so we were thinking of staying here tonight and – and going someplace tomorrow night, like a motel, so we can have real showers."
Brittany looked confused, but happy, and turned to look at Quinn.
"Really? Because hot water would be awesome. The bottled stuff isn't so bad, but sometimes it makes my nipples so hard I think they're going to fall off."
Rachel snorted loudly, as Quinn started choking on the spoonful of soup she'd just eaten. The shorter girl reached a hand out, and patted her back.
"Having just spent a good twenty minutes alone with Brittany, I must say my immunity to her innocent remarks is at an all time high right now. You should've heard what she said when I informed her that, actually, we wouldn't be stripping completely naked and pouring our bottled water over each other in a mutual act of cleanliness."
Rachel blinked when Quinn's eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
Santana's jaw dropped because, well, shit. There was a mental image and a half.
"It makes sense though. If Rachel could see my body, she'd know where to pour the water. And then I could pour it on her, and we'd be each other's shower." Brittany shrugged.
"And did –" Santana cleared her throat, since no way was her voice naturally that high. "Is that what you did?"
Rachel smirked, her hand still on Quinn's back, running her fingertips lightly over the material of her shirt. Quinn was struggling to keep her eyebrow from merging with her hairline, because this? This was nice. Really nice. None of her boyfriends had ever been this affectionate with her and it was a nice reversal. Not that Rachel was her girlfriend but, well, she could live with this much physical contact. Possibly even more.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rachel answered primly, taking her hand away from Quinn to pick up both bowls of soup, reaching forward to hand one to Brittany, who wrinkled her nose at it.
"I wish we still had those burgers," she mumbled, squinting at the soup. She could barely see it now the sun had gone.
As if reading her mind, Santana stood up and walked towards the car, leaning in to turn on the ignition – though not the engine itself – and flipping on the lights.
They all squinted at the light, turning their backs to keep it out of their eyes.
"May I ask why we're planning on going to a motel?" Rachel ate her soup slowly, doing her best to enjoy every mouthful since someone, somewhere, had taken the time to make it. Not just that, but they'd left out any animal products so people with a conscience could eat it without a morsel of guilt.
Quinn hesitated for a moment, before stretching her hand out and placing it on Rachel's back, running her fingers over it in the same manner the girl had done to her. She was pleased when Rachel leant into the touch, giving her a slightly bashful smile.
"Well, why not?"
Rachel swallowed her mouthful. "Excuse me if what I say next is painfully obvious to everyone but me, however, I was under the assumption that we'd agreed to stay underneath the radar – as it were – and staying in a motel is, well, not doing that."
Santana, who had sat back down next to Brittany, and leant her head on the girl's shoulder, shrugged.
"As much fun as it's been, holding up gas stations? Not really staying under the radar, is it? And shooting people, which hasn't exactly been fun, is pretty much the same deal."
Quinn increased the pressure of her hand, rubbing Rachel's back with firmer strokes.
"So if we're going to be obvious, why not be comfortable?"
Rachel nodded thoughtfully, looking at the blonde with a slight frown. "Are you giving up?"
"No, we're not giving up. We're just, God, I don't know, Rachel. It's just –" she wanted to reiterate what Santana had said, about time running out, but something in the brunette's eyes stopped her. "We'll wear disguises, okay? And we have a different license plate so – let's be comfortable for a night. And let's see a whole day's worth of sunshine, and go from there."
All eyes fell to Rachel, and she paused for a moment. She agreed with everything they'd said, and the thought of a bed, and a hot shower, were so tempting she probably would've stopped at the nearest police station just to have one. The bottled water business was enough to get by, but once upon a time she'd had a vigorous and thorough shower cleansing routine that her pores were missing rather severely.
Anyway, they were willing to wear her disguises again.
And, a small lecherous voice in her mind whispered, she'd be in a motel room with Quinn Fabray. In a motel bed. Freshly showered and –
"Okay." She shrugged, trying to hide her blush behind her hair as she ate more of the soup.
Brittany grinned, discarding the rest of the contents of her bowl because it felt like vomit and tasted worse.
Santana squinted slightly at the obvious affection between Quinn and Rachel, wondering when exactly that had happened. Also, how far had it gone? Because her and Quinn were tight, but they'd never been that tight. Hell, she'd only been that tight with Brittany.
And she was pretty sure that she'd declared her endless love to the girl in a fit of emotion and shock the night before. Which, sure, she'd own that and declare it again from a rooftop or whatever if she had to.
But this was Quinn and Rachel.
She watched as they bent their heads close to one another, smiling and blushing like –
Well, damn. She wanted to laugh, because, really. But her laughter didn't come from that mocking place usually reserved for the midget, and sometimes for Quinn, this time. It came from somewhere else, somewhere happy and – and nice.
Shit, she thought, the power of love. It had turned her into a total fucking sap, but whatever.
Brittany stretched an arm over her shoulders, leaning down and kissing her forehead.
Yeah, whatever. This love shit was awesome.
It was a nice night, as it turned out. The sky was clear, and the stars were plentiful. Next to the full moon, they couldn't see as many as before, but they could at least faintly see each other.
Santana turned the car's lights off once they'd finished eating, while Brittany and Rachel each collected a sleeping bag and lay them, side by side, on the patch of grass they'd set their tents up in.
They still had a heap of food and candy left from, what they now affectionately referred to as, The Cherry Experience. There was booze, too, but for some reason none of them actually felt like drinking. They opened a bag of peanut butter cups, Jolly Ranchers, and Rachel assigned herself a packet of Oreos to join in on the sugar binge.
Sure, this wasn't happening in her living room while they watched romantic comedies, giggled over handsome actors, and played truth or dare. But it was still the closest thing to a slumber party she'd ever had, and she loved it. She loved them, these girls she'd once only dreamt of befriending.
Even Santana.
"Hey, Berry! You got anymore star stories hidden in that head of yours?"
Rachel relished both the feeling of the cool night air on her skin, and having Quinn's head resting on her shoulder, as she contemplated Santana's question.
"I could point out Orion's Belt, but I couldn't tell you the significance of such a thing, I'm afraid. I'm really more of a – well, a hoarder of romantic stories than one about constellations."
There was a moment of silence as they all kept their gazes on the sky, before Santana coughed slightly, as if trying to be nonchalant.
"I can deal with romance."
Rachel blinked, as the arm Quinn had wrapped around her waist tightened.
Her heart could've burst right then and there. To hell with the fear of the law and the horror of killing people, none of that mattered in this moment. Or, she reconsidered, perhaps this moment mattered even more because of those things.
After all, what had she said? Everything mattered.
"Well, I – let me see what I can –" her first instinct was, of course, to recite any number of musicals she grew up watching. My Fair Lady? No, the ending was too ambiguous. A Star Is Born? Oh, God, her heart clenched at the thought of it. Far too tragic, she would probably dissolve into tears before she could even introduce the characters, though Barbra Streisand was flawless and –
"Well, Berry? You telling us a story or what?"
"I'm thinking of one, Santana, and I ask for your patience while I do so."
Brittany dragged her fingernails up Santana's arm in a comforting manner, as the girl sighed impatiently.
"I know a story," she said, hoping the other girls would want to hear it.
"Okay, Britts, you tell your story while Berry takes forfuckingever to think of hers."
Rachel rolled her eyes, though didn't take the words to heart.
"Yes, Brittany, I would love to hear your story."
Quinn chuckled into Rachel's shoulder.
"Yeah, B, me too."
Brittany took a deep breath, and began to speak.
"Once upon a time in Paris, there was a lady cat called Duchess, and she had three children. She lived with her friend, an opera singer, called Madame Adelaide Bonfamille, who was really old and so had to write out a will. She decided to leave her whole fortune to her cats, which totally pissed off this creepy guy called Edgar, who was her butler, because he would only get all the money once Duchess and her babies had died..."
Santana closed her eyes, laying her head on Brittany's chest and listening to her heartbeat once more. Her voice was muffled, her body was warm, but her attention to detail with the story kept her from drifting off to sleep entirely. When Brittany loved something she remembered every single thing about it.
Rachel remembered seeing The Aristocats when she was younger – it had been one of many reasons she had wanted a cat in the first place – and took simple utter delight when Brittany launched into the film's title song, 'Everybody Wants To Be A Cat'. The girl remembered every lyric, and while it was at first foreign to Rachel, she found herself joining in anyway for the final chorus.
Quinn wanted to laugh, and scoff, and give up on sanity completely. Here she was cuddling up to Rachel Berry, who in turn was singing a strange duet with Brittany Pierce about wanting to be a cat. Not just that, but they were in the middle of a forest, wanted for murder, and she was pretty sure their entire future was, at best, grim.
And yet, she wouldn't trade it for anything. Not for freedom, or not killing her parents, or even for all the Prom Queen tiaras in the world.
No more hiding, she thought, no more darkness. More than anything? No more fear. This was happiness, it had to be; she'd never felt so light.
Or free.
It wouldn't last. Time was running out. But all of a sudden, she didn't care.
Nothing would take away from this moment, right here, surrounded by the only people she could say, without any hesitation, she loved.
O-O
Quinn drove them into Colorado the following morning, after a desperate search by all of them to locate enough pairs of sunglasses to deal with the morning sun.
The sunlight wasn't the only shocking reminder of the life they'd left behind, either. There were more cars on the highway, now. Brittany counted four before they'd even left Utah.
It was weird for four to feel like such a big number.
Brittany had taken over the radio once more, choosing the second CD of her compilation and singing along as loud as she could. She'd only ever played it at half volume at night, since it seemed wrong to be so loud in the dark.
But now, with the sun shining, and everyone smiling, it was just the best to hear nothing but her music.
Santana sat behind her, laughing and singing too. Because, hell, she hadn't been as stressed in her life as she had in the last month. Sure, there'd been moments of reprieve – especially the sex with Brittany moments – but for the first time in a long while, with music blaring, and countryside flying by her on either side that she could actually see? Well, it was the closest to freedom she could get.
Rachel watched Brittany and Santana laughing and singing, catching glimpses of Quinn's slight smile in the driver's side mirror as she rested her head against the window. Perhaps, one day, she would question why she felt so happy amidst all of this terror. Perhaps she'd question, too, why she even involved herself in the first place.
But that would be then. For now, she did her best to memorize this feeling, instead. To take a mental video of the girls around her; of Quinn's mouth, that she was almost aching to kiss again; of Santana looking happy, and allowing that happiness to be directed at her; and Brittany, dancing in her seat, as the sun shone on all of them.
She hoped, when whatever terrible future fell upon them, that she could simply hit replay in her mind, and stay in this moment for the rest of her life.
Santana took over the driving after lunch, since Brittany was dancing too exuberantly to drive a car at the same time, and Rachel claimed she wanted to nap. Really, she just wanted to sit next to Quinn.
Quinn stretched, getting into the backseat with a small smile to the brunette in the back. She'd just spent five hours stealing glances at the girl's mouth in the side mirror, and now she fully intended on getting as close to it as she could.
They'd spent the previous night telling each other stories until well after midnight, and had settled on a somewhat chaste peck goodnight in light of having to leave early the next morning and get as much sunshine as possible.
Now, with Santana and Brittany in the front, she hesitated slightly because –
Well, her brain had taken over her feelings again, apparently.
Rachel slid across the seat to rest her head on Quinn's shoulder, wrapping an arm around her waist and sighing contentedly. She actually was a little sleepy, after all, and when Quinn, in turn, stretched her arm around her shoulder, she found that the sudden comfort made her drowsy.
Santana caught Quinn's eye in the rearview mirror, quirking an eyebrow.
The blonde deliberated for a moment, before reaching up to Rachel's face, tilting her chin up, and placing a soft kiss against the mouth that had been the only thing she had found, in her whole life, that shut her brain up.
She met Santana's eye again, quirking her own eyebrow in return.
But the driver just winked at her, laughed, and turned her eyes back to the road and the dancing girl in the seat beside her.
Quinn took a deep breath, because that? That felt good.
Really good.
So she turned her face back to Rachel's, and kissed her again.
O-O