A/N: Hello again. =) This is a bit of a long chapter so it took a while to write up, but we're finally off on an old school road trip! Tidbits: I placed this fictional McKinley to be just around south of Roswell in New Mexico. The locations mentioned here are/were (at the time) real places in NM and Texas, so I do not own them either. (And in case you're wondering, I've never been to any of them, though I now have a newfound appreciation from looking them up and would love to!)
Also, cookies to those who caught the reference to the film, Fried Green Tomatoes, in the last chapter. And we will be meeting more familiar faces as we go on. But when and what they will be doing in this western universe, you'll have to see. ;)
I'd also like to say thank you to Wlfgrrl for writing the most wonderful PM that made my day, and to President Raggy, thatdamnyank, and Sanmon510 for taking the time to share your enthusiasm and words. =)
Chapter 6 – To Stars, Keeping Watch in the Night
...
It was just a few moments after dawn when the last of the supplies were packed and the chuckwagon was secured – albeit crowded once Rachel had managed to impound the chest containing the group's extra clothes, dusters for rainy weather, possibly one pair of trousers for herself if necessity required her to be brazen on horseback (she still adhered to the taboo of women in anything but gingham dresses and prairie skirts), and extra underpants, according to Santana.
She and the Latina weren't particularly fond of the other, but since this was her first step into the seemingly endless sweep of unknown earth, she opted to take any advice she could avail of. This included the trail books and Artie's instructions on handling the medical supplies, which she dutifully organized in a separate compartment in the wagon bed, as well as the brief lesson on the logistics of a cattle drive that she kept in a pocket she had sewn into the inner lining of her bolero, because Quinn had drawn it for her and it was the first thing Quinn ever gave her, and she wanted to keep it safe.
She pulled the brittle yellow paper out and unfolded it to look fondly at the little splotches and lines of ink that created the positions of humans vs. animals, teaching her the five points of the herd that the drivers would control. She looked out at the ambient light that scattered over the mild stirring of a herd in anticipation.
Puck was positioning the extra remuda horses that he'd handle as the wrangler at the drag point of the cattle, which would also allow him to help move along the cows and calves at the rear. Brittany was securing her lariat rope onto the horn of her saddle, important when riding at the flank and catching strays. At the swing position a third from the front was Santana, in charge of keeping the bunch together and moving – and hell, any normal creature would probably displace itself at the vehemence that came out of Santana's mouth, so it was a perfect match.
Rachel stifled a snort and swept her finger that followed the inky cattle line to the pointer and trail boss. She smiled and scanned her gaze to the positions at the front that would serve as a guide for the animals to follow, saved for the best hands on the team, but Quinn wasn't there.
Puzzled, she glanced around in the lull of her twilight until it was broken upon seeing the blonde approach, almost supernal, with streaks of hair aglow under the peeking rays of morning. She hurriedly stuffed the paper away and mused on the wagon brakes, as one could never get going with such hindrances, but alas were necessary at times to keep the wagon from ending in a ditch and— "You ready to stand the gaff?"
And the brake came off. She held it awkwardly in her hand as Quinn's face broke into a smile and a laugh.
She shrugged and chucked the brake into the wagon, simply because it was a chuckwagon and it was okay to simply be Rachel around Quinn, and said, "I suppose so, now that the brakes are… broke."
Quinn continued to wear her smile as she turned to secure the harnesses on the wagon horses. Rachel was giddy. She continued her momentum of releasing the rest of the brakes.
"You good with the route, Fabray?" They turned to see Burt Hummel, a half smile to one side.
"Yessir. Taking the Pecos River down, then turning a right through the mountains to catch the water."
He beamed. "Alright then. Just a couple folk here wanting to see you off."
He stepped aside as Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury arrived from the road with Lily, a somber expression on her face as she looked up at Rachel and Quinn.
Rachel stooped down and held the tiny shoulders. "We'll be back before you know it."
Lily ducked her head and gave a light nod, but didn't say goodbye. Rachel exhaled a deep breath before standing to bid a farewell to the others. The little girl watched quietly as Rachel moved towards the wagon. She then saw Puck walking up to join the meeting.
He held out his hand. She ran to him and flung her arms around the side of his waist instead and whispered, "Who's gonna take care of me if you go?"
He tightened his lip and carried her up into a hug. "Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury will take good care of you." She calmed and he set her down to shake hands with Burt.
She then looked to Quinn who said, "You keep watch of the town while we're gone, alright?"
The child smiled at that. "Promise I can join the round-up when you get back?"
Quinn rumpled the short blonde locks. "If we bring a herd back."
"You will."
Quinn smiled as the child returned to the group. They were still in discussion when she noticed another horse exiting the stables. It was Kurt, and he was riding towards them, saddle fully equipped, coming to an abrupt stop next to his father.
"You leaving today too?" Burt asked without looking at him.
"Yes, Dad."
After worrying his lip, Burt finally looked up and said, "Well. You take care of yourself."
Kurt softened at that. "I'll be back," he said, as he tipped his hat before turning his horse north.
Burt looked after him as he galloped off. No you won't, he thought. His vision watered and the fleeting figured blurred away.
Santana rode up to Quinn. "The sun sure is taking its damn time rolling its ass out the hills."
As if it heard, the heavenly body broke through at that moment with first-light, shining a path down the valley. They all looked towards it and grinned at one another.
"Take 'em to El Paso, Fabray!" Burt hollered. Quinn tipped her hat, tied her bandana, and climbed her horse.
Rachel made a move to climb into the wagon, but turned at the sound of her name. Lily was running towards her. She scrunched her face and swooped down once more to take the child in her arms. The little girl burrowed her face in brown hair. Rachel leaned back and brushed strands of blonde to the side to place a light kiss on her forehead. Lily finally let go.
"This ain't going to work if you're gonna be hugging everybody every time you get on the wagon, Berry. That's over a hundred cows to hug, let me remind you."
Quinn gave Santana a look. "That's our cookie for the drive you're talking to, Lopez." She then smirked. "You better make sure she gets on the wagon or no beans for you."
The Latina narrowed her eyes. Quinn chuckled, "Let's line up the herd."
Santana snorted but smirked back, "You're the captain, boss."
Rachel had been attempting to climb into the driver's seat during this time, but the dress was to be an impediment. Not to mention that the wagon was a bit tall for someone of her stature. She'd played off every failed lunge by pretending to tighten the stake rope on one of the bows, when really she was trying to use it as leverage to swing on. Santana watched her and shook her head.
"This is so sad it hurts. It's like watching a baby cow die—Berry, stop torturing me!" she griped as she finally managed to push the brunette up into the mouth of the wagon. "Wear pants next time!" she huffed, as Rachel fixed her dress and took up the reins.
"Dresses are pretty, Santana. You should try them."
"I'm already pretty, Berry. Now let's get a move on!" she yelled back, cantering off to help with the line up.
...
When the team was all set in position, Quinn gave Santana the signal. Santana grinned and raised her arm to whip in the air as she hooted a 'Yee-haw!' and loped her horse at the cattle. Brittany and Puck saw the signal from their respective points and joined in the shouts as they cast in, arms beating and lassos thrashing; creating a quickening that spread through the herd, awakening the bovine instinct to follow. And just like that, hooves thundered and clopped amidst the sound of whoops and whistles, dust scattered, and the whole valley came to life. The cattle were strung into a line. The drive had begun.
Rachel had never felt anything like the majesty of the rush that filled her at the sight of the gentle beasts that flowed past both sides of the wagon, sweeping down the stream of sunlit ground. Though she was particular to organization, today she wasn't swayed by the mess of dust that billowed around her because when she thought about it, those particles were flying free in the air – and how she longed to be free at that moment. So she gripped the reins wound around her hands and flicked them loose.
Wheels turned and drove her to a position beside her pointer. Quinn flashed her a smile as she trotted beside her. Rachel grinned back before giving a "heeya!" And they were off – Rachel Berry, commandeering her own driver's seat.
...
They plodded through the desert basin, past the flora that reached out to graze their movements or dance with the wind. Mountain ranges surrounded them, resilient to the whirl of the world. Rachel had never felt so small, and she knew what small was. Her heart was filling with a sense of the beauty of such a vast space that she was afraid she couldn't hold any more as her eyes darted manically, trying to absorb every new sight, her skin trying to feel every new sensation.
And when she breathed to renew that space, just being assured of Quinn's presence whenever she'd rein to a trot beside the wagon always managed to fill her to the brim again. She found her eyes setting very frequently on the blonde as she led them forth; a master on the quarter horse and as resilient as the mountains, but moving and alive and in her element, and it was beautiful.
While she felt so awkward. She was the only one still in a dress, though she figured out a way to mount the wagon on her own wearing it because she didn't want Santana to have the last laugh at her choice of trail outfits. She scurried behind Puck at the sight of a lizard she claimed was a dragon because it leapt out of the brush, though he reassured her that it was only 8 inches big and didn't spout fire. She argued that it was 8 inches of big sharp teeth, and that you should never play with fire anyway. Or was it water? She would yelp at the sight of little calves that waded too far into the river because she feared them drowning. Brittany then comforted her by graphically telling her how dead calves would make for great beef for the chuckwagon, leaving the blonde to wonder why Rachel would try even more frantically to shoo them away from the riverbank.
"Rachel, the calves need to drink too!" Quinn would yell out.
"Santana said it was a sad thing to watch baby cows die!" she would cry back, flailing her arms at the animals.
Quinn would just smile and laugh, and ride over to herd the calves to the chuckwagon, where Rachel would let them drink from the water barrels she made sure to refill daily.
"This—is the most interesting thing I have ever seen in my life. In a what the fuck way," Santana would grieve.
Quinn agreed only with the former. Rachel was a most interesting sight. She was quirky when out of her comfort zone – like chicken scratches that were lovable but could transform into elegant script once given the chance to learn. Rachel's musings would brighten her day that sometimes she would rein next to the wagon just to breathe them in and notice little things, like that the brunette's hair began to grow out in color from the sun, turning lighter shades of rich copper at the ends that made her seem to shine. Still, Quinn never made any motion to let Rachel know this because she didn't know how to simply be like that yet, because of the complexity of things like the colors of Rachel's hair.
...
So the drive continued this way for the first few days, following the steady course of the river. Rachel was up before dawn with a lantern on the chuck box that folded out into a work table at the back of the wagon, where she prepared their breakfast and coffee for the day. They would drive the cattle for 10-15 miles – so as to keep their weight stable for selling – stopping to graze for the noon meal and retiring at the next camp area where Rachel would drive ahead to prepare supper.
In the evening, they would pull out their bedrolls and extra sheets to set teepees, then pick straws to see whose turn it was to watch the herd that night. Santana and Brittany shared one teepee, leaving Rachel alone in the other as Puck and Quinn both preferred to sleep outside. They would then fall asleep to the strums of Puck's guitar as Rachel turned the tongue of the chuckwagon to point north, so that Quinn would know which direction to continue the drive the following morning.
The new panorama of life was magnificently terrifying for Rachel, because the words in the guide books were now palpable, as if she had been numb before and then suddenly jolted into her senses – and how do you prepare for that but to experience them head on? And she wanted to feel it because she wanted to be moving and alive and beautiful too. So she 'stood the gaff' and treaded on. And the desert taught her many things.
She learned that though it looked barren at first, it was full of life. And that its creatures had to adapt to survive its complexities. That you have to adapt to grow, and that growth is life. She observed that lizards and snakes would hide from the heat of the day and slither when the sun set, so she learned to keep her boots on at night while preparing supper between the fire and the chuck table. And what she appreciated most was the teamwork. That though she felt out of place sometimes, they respected her purpose, and would bring her firewood and water for camp and help with the dishes.
Still, when it got too hot to wear the bolero and she would toss it in the back of the wagon, she felt a painful longing to keep her paper drawing though she had no pockets in her skirts. She still jumped at the strange noises that whistled in the night, and would chastise herself for looking for Quinn when she ran out of her carefully constructed sheet-teepee and Puck was the one to check up on her to tell her that it was alright to go to sleep. She realized she just wanted Quinn.
...
So Rachel decided to be even more eager to please, and Quinn noticed that their breakfasts began to consist of bacon. Lots of bacon. She didn't mind one bit, but she knew at this rate, they'd run out of meat.
Rachel was packing the chuck box for the morning when she saw Quinn walking up to her. This plan is flawless, she thought, and a smile crept on her features.
"Rachel?"
"Yes, Quinn?" Her eyes blinked with more frequency than what was normal.
"We've been having a lot of bacon lately—"
"Yes! Do you like it?" Her smile shot out across both cheeks.
"I do, but—"
"But…?" She began to frown. Quinn didn't like it when Rachel frowned. She scrambled for a response.
"It's just that, if we run out early, we're going to have to kill one of the cows for beef."
Rachel gaped in horror as she stammered, "Oh! I'm sorry, I just noticed that you seem to really like eating it, ever since—you know—the jail, when I cooked it for you because I don't eat it myself."
She then quickly resumed securing the wagon, leaving Quinn conflicted. She didn't want Rachel to think she didn't care. Because she did. She was so beginning to care, and a whole lot more than she knew what to do with. But Rachel remained quiet for the rest of the day. She was brooding. She figured this was just a minor setback and began hatching another plan.
...
The following afternoon, she hauled out a steaming pot and set it down in front of Quinn who was resting against a rock, her hat covering her face.
"I brought you something," she announced eagerly, kneeling down next to the blonde. Quinn pushed her hat up. "It's nice and hot," Rachel continued, as she gave her a cup of stew.
Quinn sat up and offered a smile. Rachel didn't budge and stared at her holding the cup. Oh. She began to sip – and she would've swallowed the first bit regardless of the temperature, but it was without a doubt the most God-awful thing she had ever tasted. She was about to gag when her eyes flickered upward and saw Rachel looking expectantly at her. And she cared about those brown doe eyes, she did. So she mustered half a smile as she gulped it down. "Mm," she nodded as her eyes teared.
Rachel face split into a wide grin. It was a masterpiece. And she didn't even use a single piece of meat. Quinn wanted to douse her mouth into the water barrel, but Rachel stayed with her, so she smiled crookedly while continuing to drink because Rachel was happy.
Santana finally saved her when the brunette went to scold the Latina for making a mess of the wagon bed while rummaging for utensils. Santana emerged with two bottles of whiskey.
"Berry, what did I tell you about big bottles?" she smirked.
...
That evening, against Rachel's admonishments that the liquor was from Mr. Schue's stock that he intended to sell in El Paso and Santana reasoning that they'll pay him back with the money from the drive, the bottles were eventually opened. They relaxed around the campfire passing swigs of whiskey as Puck strummed his guitar and Santana bounded around relating stories of the old cattle trails.
Rachel ended up joining in to prove Santana wrong about little people being able to handle their liquor, as well as to build some liquid confidence to get close to Quinn again. Sitting beside Puck, she looked across the fire at Quinn as she drank from the bottle, feeling the burn in her throat, before passing it to Santana with a smirk.
"Whatever, Berry," sneered Santana, accepting the challenge.
When Quinn kept passing on her turn, Brittany asked, "Are you in abstinence?"
Quinn chuckled, "You know I never drank much at the saloon." She nodded towards Santana and Puck who were now starting to sing randomly and added, "Besides, they're not gonna be able to keep watch tonight."
"Yeah, I don't let San carry watches. She might hurt someone with the metal if she gets angry." Quinn scrunched her forehead.
"She gets angry when people make her feel like she can't do things just because she's pretty and hot, so she usually has a hard time making friends. But she protects the ones she has like they're a pot of gold," Brittany explained. She smiled and looked to Quinn. "Thanks for giving San a chance."
Quinn warmed at that. She'd never had a real friend before either, and now here she was bonding with 4 others. She realized Santana was also probably just being protective of her when it came to Rachel. She gazed over at the two who were arguing about how bad the stew was earlier and that Rachel should never cook it again. Now she just had to get the Latina to play nice.
"You know you make a lot of sense, Britt?" she acknowledged.
"I speak truth, Quinn."
She smiled and took a deep breath, watching Rachel now argue with Santana about singing and not dancing. "So what do you reckon is the truest thing right now?" she joked.
"Rachel wants to get her sweet lady kisses on," Brittany nodded nonchalantly, before getting up to join the dancing that started to the guitar's song.
Quinn was left with a slight chill in the air.
...
She was lost in thought when Rachel hunkered down next to her, almost swaying over. "You wanna dance—Quinn?" she squinted, grabbing the blonde's arm to tug on it.
Quinn shifted uneasily, but not because she didn't like Rachel's touch. It was more of a buzz that hummed through her that made swallowing difficult. And the fact that this was probably not the best way to figure out what Brittany meant since she could smell the whiskey on Rachel. So she went with, "I think you've had a little too much to drink, Rach."
"I knew—it! You don't wanna dance—with meee," Rachel slurred, as she poked at Quinn's cheek. Quinn just lifted her eyebrows and chuckled. Rachel – without a gun – was by far the cutest thing to ever be doused with alcohol. Her eyes then expanded at Quinn, trying to focus. "WHY?" she asked.
Quinn turned her head to look at the brunette wrapped around her arm, her eyes reflecting the twinkle of the fire. A rich brown, like dark sugar cookies.
"Because you need to get to bed, you're our cookie. Who's going to cook breakfast?" she soothed.
"Mm. Cookie. I like that," Rachel mumbled, her lids becoming heavier. She then passed out.
After sitting for a while trying to memorize the feel of Rachel's temple on her shoulder and how utterly content she was at that moment just listening to the hum of the steady breathing of the girl next to her, she knew that they couldn't stay like that through the night. The fire was crackling its last and Santana and Brittany were starting to head in.
"Alright, Cookie. Let's get you to bed," she murmured, as she carefully slid her arm from Rachel's grasp to wrap around her back. She then turned to loop her other arm under the girl's knees and slowly lifted her up into a carry. Rachel was dead weight, and Quinn exerted her best to not let her hold slip as she shuffled towards the cook's teepee. The flap was too low to carry the brunette through. "Rachel. I need you to help me walk you in, alright?"
Rachel stirred as Quinn let her stand, her arm still supporting the girl's back. Knees bent, however, and Quinn found slender arms wrapping around her neck. She noted the smell of the soft brown hair that grazed her chin – a warm vanilla – as she continued to usher them inside.
"Here," she said softly, kneeling them down to sit Rachel on her bedroll.
"Mm… Quinn," Rachel mumbled, reaching out to her shoulder.
"Yes?" she replied, holding the girl steady.
"…Why do I have to like you?" she murmured, her head tilted and her eyes closed.
Quinn felt her pulse skip and her thoughts slightly short-wire. She blinked rapidly and swallowed with a chuckle. She wanted to say something back, but feelings were hard to say. She always thought all you had to do was feel them. So she took a deep breath and replied once more with, "Goodnight, Rachel."
Rachel probably wouldn't even remember her words tomorrow. But maybe because some things are truer said under the stars, a hope remained in her head that Rachel might still remember by the time it took for her to be able to speak of feelings. So for now, she took off her fringe jacket and rolled it. She then slid it tenderly under the brunette's head and wrapped a blanket around her before stepping outside.
...
"What were you doing?" Puck asked in a low tone, looking warily between her and the teepee.
"I just helped get her to bed."
Puck studied her before looking out at the herd and saying, "Well, you get to bed, boss. I'll keep watch."
"It's fine. You drank too, you get some rest."
Puck looked back at that and said, "I've lived out under this sky as a child. I know what I'm doing. Trust me."
She now studied him. He had become calmer on this drive. "Alright. But tomorrow I nighthawk."
"It's a deal."
After picking out his night horse from the remuda, he looked back at the camp and saw Quinn moving the chuckwagon to point the tongue north, which was usually Rachel's job. He was beginning to trust her too, for something deep down told him he wouldn't be able to look out for the old sheriff's daughter forever. The wilderness was calling him. And it troubled him sober. He gazed out to the sleeping herd and listened to the whistling noises of the night.
...
After one week's journey, they spotted a peak of limestone that rose abruptly from the desert basin.
"They call that El Capitan. We'll be heading into the mountains soon," Santana informed.
"You've been here?" Rachel called out.
"We came from El Paso before moving to McKinley," Brittany revealed.
"That's where me and B met! Why do you think Hummel let us take this route?" Santana winked.
"Did you know this?" Rachel asked Quinn. Their trail boss nodded.
Quinn still kept things from her that she thought she should've known. She began to regret blurting out her drunken confession the other night. She remembered, and now realized the blonde never said anything because she didn't feel the same. Something splintered inside her.
...
They pushed into the mountain canyon, trailing the cattle slowly through the highland forests; all hands staying alert to the dangers of a sudden slip, or an attack from the mountain lions and black bears that roamed in the wilderness, or anything that could cause a stampede. All hands except Rachel.
She droned on lost in her thoughts, tending the shards in her stomach, until she faintly heard someone calling out to her. "Rachel." She turned to the sound.
"Rachel." She saw Quinn galloping towards her but blurred and distant, and she wondered why.
"—on the horse, Rachel!" It was louder and clearer, and she was suddenly thrust back.
She felt drops on her head and looked up. Dark clouds enveloped them as the heavens flushed water upon their part of earth, the rain becoming heavier. She looked back to Quinn, her eyes confused and frightened.
"Rachel, get on the horse," Quinn repeated, turning her steed parallel to Rachel's seat. She did as she was told and they turned back towards the herd.
"What's going on?" she finally spoke, as water trickled down her face.
"Caught a monsoon. We have to keep the herd together. And I had to get you out of the wagon, in case we can't."
Rachel looked out at the bustle. The others were circling around the mass of cattle, holsters open and lassos ready. It was then she realized her arms had been around Quinn's waist as the blonde shifted to pull off the rope from her saddle. She suddenly blushed at the fact that she could feel Quinn's muscles on her abdomen with a damp shirt as the only barrier, and shifted as well, but Quinn pulled an arm back and turned her head saying, "You have to keep holding on, we're going to be moving a lot. Alright?"
She could only swallow thickly and nod her head.
All of a sudden, a loud cracking noise tore through the atmosphere, trembling the ground as lightning flashed in the distance. Reverberations spread up into the herd and started a churn. It was a rumble that spelled what they dreaded most.
They all snapped into action, rushing to the first points of cattle to break on the run. The milling turned into hysteria however, and soon a flood of longhorns swarmed in different directions. Rachel held on tight as Quinn reached for her pistol and galloped towards the direction of the moving herd, shouting for Santana and Brittany to round the sides in the opposite direction and for Puck to secure the backflow. They shouted and yipped and fired shots in the downpour, until finally, the lead steers of the herd slowed down and the cowhands were able to round them up into a circular mass once more, establishing control.
...
"Shit. The wagon," Puck noted, once they drove back to their original point. It had been knocked over by the stampede, with the cover torn in one part and their supplies littered in the mud as the rain continued on, lighter now.
"Let's make camp and fix what we can," Quinn decided, as they dismounted and began sifting through the remnants.
Brittany picked at a closed chest and peered in. "At least we still have some underpants to change into."
"Are those the only dry clothes?" Rachel walked over, clutching her shoulders to ward off a shiver.
Brittany nodded. Santana laughed and turned to Rachel. "Guess you're gonna have to wear pants after all, Berry."
"I hate you, Santana," she sulked. "I hate the rain."
"Rain makes the flowers grow," Puck smiled, trying to comfort her. "And extra water for your calves," he continued, as he pulled out the water barrel and set it upright with the mouth open.
She grumbled and went off to try and scavenge her skirts, but found them trampled in mud. Upset and still soaked, she turned to find Quinn wrapping a long dark coat around her shoulders. It was one of the dusters they had packed for the rain. She would've remembered to distribute them earlier if she had been paying attention. She looked up at Quinn, whose face was framed by drops of water, and Quinn gazed back.
"What about you?" she stammered, as Quinn rubbed on the coat arms to warm her up.
"You're the only one not used to this, and it's the only dry one I found," she replied. Rachel shivered, but not at the cold.
"What?" Quinn eyed her with concern.
Rachel shrugged further into the coat and looked out at the mess. "Santana's right. I shouldn't be walking around in a dress out here."
Quinn chuckled, "Why? You look… nice—in them." Rachel's eyed widened and looked up at hers. She stumbled in her thoughts and recovered with, "I mean—you looked nice. When you sang at the saloon…"
Rachel let out a tiny laugh as her cheeks colored and cleared her throat. "We only have trousers left."
As Quinn nodded in response to her and glanced around, she noticed that the blonde hadn't moved from the spot just inches in front of her. And that Quinn's hands still held her arms.
As she stood there thinking about this and how Quinn had come for her at the wagon and about the warmth of the coat around her, she realized Quinn had been watching over her this whole time. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Quinn did feel something for her.
"Thank you," she blurted.
Hazel eyes turned to peer deeply into hers, as Quinn's lips slowly broke into a half-open smile. A new thought began to ache at a part of her. She wanted to kiss Quinn. It was unexpected, and she felt as if her chest would burst from the inner war to find her breath.
"Q, the food's spoiled!" Thank you, Santana.
"Then we best look for supper," Quinn called back, as they broke apart reluctantly and turned towards the encampment.
Along the way, their hands managed to find each other. They had no idea of how it happened, but only that they fit perfectly.
...
That night, Rachel sat next to Quinn as they leaned against a rock and looked up at the night sky through the clearing in the sentinel trees. The rain clouds had dissipated. Rachel traced a familiar outline with her eyes that her father once taught her so that she would always be able to find true north. She didn't need to trace it really – it was always the brightest star in the dark – but she did it out of habit, like she used to as a child. It was an act of reverence for the beings that held the light up in the heavens.
Quinn noted the poignancy in her expression and asked, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm remembering, about angels," she whispered, and turned to Quinn, who looked on patiently. She continued, "I know it sounds silly but… I used to think they were the ones who held up the stars in the sky to guide people, and that they're supposed to be like guardians and keep us safe." She looked down. "Daddy was the one who taught me about them as if they were real. But they couldn't even protect him. So I stopped believing in them."
"Why are you remembering them now?" Quinn asked softly.
She gazed back up to the sky. "Because maybe I was wrong. The stars still shine, no matter how dark the night is – and that they shine all the more brighter the darker it gets – and the sun still rises every day. And, maybe they're so real you can feel them. That they're always still watching over you. I, I don't know…"
Quinn turned to find her fighting back the pooling in her eyes. "What do you think?" Rachel asked her. Their hands were holding again.
She contemplated and answered, "I never believed in angels. But I believe in stars."
Rachel dabbed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"The room I was kept in as a kid, it only had one window. And it was up on top so I couldn't see anything but the sky. It faced a direction where I couldn't see the sun, but I could see the stars at night. Especially that one." She pointed to the shiniest one.
"Polaris. The north star," Rachel said.
Quinn smiled and said, "It was the only constant light. Everything else in the world was moving except me, and that star. I would wish on it… That one day I'd be able to get away, that I'd be able to move, and run. And I got my wish."
Rachel felt repose at that. She no longer feared the night, as she snuggled into Quinn's shoulder, their hands sheathed together. Then, gazing back up at the sky, she made a wish.
...
Across the camp, keeping watch, Puck turned from where he too was reflecting on the order in the constellations. He focused once more on the whistling noises of the night. There was something different in their tune. Something very familiar. He opened his holster.
...
Through the trees, under the leak of moonlight, a shadowy figure slinked behind the teepee next to the chuckwagon.
