She was running.

Bonnet on her head and dress hiked up, she ran through the streets of downtown Lima. Her basket of cakes and pastries was shaking but she didn't care. Quinn just couldn't shake the feeling she was being followed. Her labored breathing matched her increased heartrate as she ran, looking behind her from time to time.

Citizens looked at this lone, running woman like she was crazy. But Quinn was far from it. Instead, she was a person who was being hunted and she was the prey. Her wide eyes scanned everywhere – left, right, behind her, in front of her. She wasn't safe and she was totally scared. He had to be somewhere near her…right?

When she reached the schoolhouse/church, she veered right and increased her speed. Her lungs hurt from the exertion but she had to make it to Rachel's house. She just had to!

Crows cawed overhead. She looked up and it was unusual to see them flying in the nighttime sky. At first, it was only one or two. But after awhile, the allegedly dirty birds soon hovered overhead, casting the nighttime sky into an even darker realm. She shivered as she ran, even though the Indian Summer raged on.

Suddenly, she almost collided with a carriage! Grinding to a halt, the driver snarled at his horses to a stop and Quinn ignored his epithets. Opting for survival, she ran past them. One of the horses whinnied wildly, but Quinn had experienced this before. When she was beyond their reach, she wiggled her index finger and the upset horse came to a stop. When that was done, she bolted towards the Hudson's house.

Bang, bang, bang, bang!

Quinn was completely out of breath when she rapped on their door and couldn't stand up straight. She madly turned around, looking and looking. The crows still hovered overhead and didn't completely understand why.

"C'mon! C'mon!" she wailed. Bang, bang, bang, BANG!

An idea hit her. The crows were squawking so noisily that she took one of her cinnamon biscuits out of her basket and threw it at them. Then, she directed her finger to make it hover in the air. The birds flew right to it and completely ignored her.

That's when the front door opened.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed.

But the blonde beauty raced inside the door. "Shut it!"

Exasperated, Rachel slammed it shut and locked it. Quinn felt like she could finally breathe, gasping as she was. She took a few moments to collectively close her eyes and gather herself. Her heartrate wouldn't go down already!

A male voice asked, "May I-?"

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

Quinn whirled around to see that tall, lanky man suddenly shrink back at her scream. But when she recognized him as the church sexton and Rachel's husband, she placed her hand over her heart. Both Rachel and Finn slowly approached her.

"Quinn?" Rachel softly asked. "Are you OK?"

Quinn took a deep breath and dropped her hand. "Yes… Yes, I am. Now."

Rachel and Finn glanced at each other and she approached the stricken blonde. "Well, sit please. Finn? How about some tea?"

"S-sure." He said. He left for the kitchen. But Quinn stared at him in wonder.

"Your husband," Quinn began, "actually…enters the kitchen?"

Rachel smiled. "Well, of course! We share in many duties here, just like in God's house."

In God's House. Quinn thought those were the most amazing words she'd heard in a long time. Her only response was a smile. Rachel patted her gently on the shoulder just as Finn re-entered the room.

"I hope…" he began, "I hope you like this." He placed the steaming teacup on the edge of the table and quickly backed away.

Quinn looked up at him. "I humbly apologize, Mr. Hudson. I haven't…been myself lately."

Finn awkwardly smiled and said, "'Tis alright, ma'am. I know we haven't met yet, but I'm Finn Hudson."

"I know." She responded with a smile. "And I'm awfully sorry about that. I've just been…"

Rachel pleasantly intervened. "Please, Quinn. Have a sip. It's licorice tea!" Quinn looked at her like she was crazy and Rachel immediately understood. "I know. Many people don't like the taste of it, but it's soothing and sweet. It's Finn's favorite. He makes it often!"

Quinn looked up at this unusual man. She had never encountered an Ohio man who would do such domestic things. Gratefully, she took a sip of the tea and her face scrunched. Rachel laughed.

"Yes," Rachel amiably said, "it's not very good. But it's good for sore throats and good for the heart…I think."

"Oh," Quinn sadly started, "I think I need that lately. A lot more often, I believe."

Rachel sat down beside her while Finn hovered nearby.

"Why are you so frenzied?" Rachel asked.

Quinn set her teacup down along with her basket of pastries. "Oh! Would you both care for some-?"

"No, Quinn. We don't."

Quinn noticed Rachel's serious tone and Quinn wasn't completely aware she was trying for a delaying tactic. In the end, Quinn took a deep breath and decided to open up. A crow landed on the windowsill outside the house window.

"I can't shake the feeling…" Quinn began, "that I'm being followed…"

"By whom?" Finn asked.

"I think we can guess," Rachel interrupted, "on who has been pestering her lately."

Finn didn't get it. So he just sat down, pulled out his pocketknife, and fiddled with some wood to make clothespins. Rachel turned her attention back to her.

"You must use caution, Quinn. But I strongly suggest that you keep Sheriff Abrams informed of all of this."

Sheriff Abrams. Just the mention of his name put a little warmth in her heart. She thought back to the other night, when he was so nervous in front of her. If the truth could be told, she was just as anxious. She stared off at the far wall, ignoring the hearth and lighted kerosene lamps. The soft firelight gave an even warmer glow to the room that almost matched her heart. She had no idea she was being scrutinized by a former Jewish friend.

Quinn suddenly turned to her and saw Rachel's eyes narrowed. "What?"

A smile wormed its way on Rachel's face. "You're sweet on him!"

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

Quinn looked down, trying not to laugh. "Are you sure you don't want any pastries-?"

"No. Now, talk, Quinn. Did anything happen…?"

The blonde reached for her teacup. "Oh no! Nothing of the sort! I'm not that kind of lady!"

"Of course you're not!" Rachel calmly said. But then, that ornery smile came back. "But you are sweet on him."

Quinn finally smiled to her. "Well…"

Rachel clasped her hands together! "I knew it! Sheriff Abrams is a fine man!"

"He handles divorces." Finn oddly said.

Rachel glared at him, but Quinn barely reacted.

"Yes, I know."

The brunette stared at her. "He does? And you know what that means?"

"Oh, yes." Quinn confidently said. "Oh, yes I do. In fact…"

Both Rachel and Finn looked at her. "What?" they asked.

But Quinn wasn't sure what to say here. She was talking to staunch Christians and it was very risky in the late nineteenth century to discuss terrible topics such as divorce. She weighed her options and decided to take a chance.

"Sheriff Abrams," Quinn whispered, "has twice suggested I divorce."

Rachel and Finn gasped. But after a moment or two, Finn stood and began walking to the kitchen again.

"Good riddance." He said.

"Mr. Hudson!" Quinn exclaimed.

"Unfortunately," Rachel sadly said, "I agree with Finn."

"Rachel!"

"Well, look at what he's done to you! You're a frazzled mess and he's made you this way." She reached for a biscuit and took a hefty bite. "When I was Jewish, divorce was unheard of, but I have heard of one or two Christians who have…" she swallowed, "divorced. And he's a cruel, cruel man Quinn."

"You don't know him like I do." Quinn quietly defended.

"I know enough. I know exactly enough! And as God is my witness, I will not let him harm you!"

"Me too!" Finn chimed in from the kitchen. The sound of clanging bowls filled the air then and it dawned on Quinn that he was going to serve dinner. A man was going to do that!

"I'm…" But Quinn faltered. She looked down at the hem of her dress, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "I'm…scared."

Rachel placed her comforting hand on Quinn's. But the blonde suddenly yanked it away! She didn't want to wiggle her finger and harm her friend. It could happen.

It could.

Rachel ignored it. "Listen, Quinn. Being a Christian, I can't condone divorce. But he's dangerous. I could even argue that he's…" her voice lowered, "evil. You must get away from him at all costs."

Quinn said nothing.

"And not only that," Rachel continued, "you must draw your attention to Sheriff Abrams. He has character."

The crow outside the window kept its eye on Quinn. Rachel and Finn did too. Moments of silence passed and a tear threatened to fall down Quinn's cheek. But in the end, her strength wore on. Having enough confidence to thank her friend properly, Quinn clasped Rachel's hand. Together, the two women vowed to help the stalked blonde. And no one would stop them.

"Dinner is served!"

They looked up to see Finn carrying in some bowls of beef stew and non-alcoholic apple cider. Even more surprised, Quinn couldn't believe that Finn presented her with a lap napkin. She heartily thanked him and didn't know what to think about anything anymore. All she knew was that she was in a loving home, where there was a good man and a good woman, and they were happy and healthy.

The Lord's Prayer was recited by Finn and after that, all three began to eat. Quinn eagerly enjoyed the delicious broth, which had different spices than her own stew. She loved not knowing what they were and could see that she was welcomed and loved.

There's something empowering about those moments in life.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked.

"Yes?" Quinn answered, wiping her mouth.

"There's something I want you to promise us."

The blonde took notice of both of them and gave them her unyielding attention. "Yes?"

Rachel boldly said, "I want you to divorce David Karofsky."

And right when Quinn was about to protest, the crow outside left and Finn spoke with his mouthful.

"I'll star da diorce paerwork for you."

.

Bam….BamBam!

"You see this?!" Dave roared. "Do you see this, you fucking son of a whore?!"

Artie looked up from the floor, trying his best to shield his face and ribs. But Dave smashed his head again!

"You fucking see this?!" Dave screamed. "This is my wife's skillet! My wife! And I will be…" he chuckled a little bit, "I'll be good and goddamned if you take my wife away from me!"

Artie turned on his side away from him. He choked air out of his lungs and his vision was blurry. Ribs ached, his world spun, and in the corner of his eye, he saw Dave raise the cast iron skillet high in the air like a caveman.

Baaaaam!

Artie groaned and Dave smiled.

"That's right, lawman!" The brute hollered. "That's right, ya' fucker! You come here and bring me divorce papers?! Fuck you! I got your divorce papers!"

Bam!

"Annnnnnnd another thing!"

Bam!

"I will not…!"

Bam!

"Let you…!"

Bam!

"Take her from meeeeee!"

Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam!

Blood trickled out of Artie's mouth. He could no longer see. Absentmindedly, his left hand extended towards Dave as he tried to do something. But Dave didn't care. Instead, he inspected his skillet that he bought for his wife on their wedding night. It had a few dents in it, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with enough elbow grease. And then, he looked down at the bloodied, battered mess of Sheriff Abrams.

"One more should do it…" Dave muttered. He smiled down at Artie, loving how the blood seeped from every orifice in Artie's face. Dave clasped the skillet in both hands and raised it far above his head. But suddenly, he paused.

"See you in hell…"

Quinn…, Artie thought.

BAM!

.