I know it's been ages since I last updated, but I've been seriously busy! My exam period is rapidly approaching and I'm drowning. Anyways, enjoy.
They lay head to head in the middle of the dimly lit basement, surrounded by piles of trash and whatever debris Quinn had accumulated from all her lonesome adventures during these past years. Golden wisps of hair sprawled out, tangling with brown curls that poured onto the dusty beige carpet that had not been cared for in forever. But judging from the hysterical looks on the girls' faces, neither of them seemed to notice. In Quinn's hand sat a large bottle of Smirnoff vodka. She twirled the glass bottle in her hand as she giggled along mindlessly to whatever Rachel was blabbering about. The transparent liquid whirled around about half full, and every few minutes both girls would fall silent only to heave the half empty Smirnoff to their lips to take a swig. Then they would collapse beside one another; ready for another around of Rachel's sluggish gibberish.
"This was a brillyant idea, heh. Why didn't we think to do dish before? This is Brill- brit… brilliant. AK!" Rachel slurred.
Quinn giggled and tossed and turned on the floor, eyes rolling all over the place as she fell into another wave of intoxication.
"This. Rachel Berry. This is why I never considered doing this. Look at you! Who knew one could have such low tolerance?" Quinn lifted a hand above their heads, clumsily pointing down at Rachel's lolling head to emphasize her reason.
"You can bame... blam... you can blame my height... for that." Rachel remarked, following Quinn's finger point with her eyes as though she was being hypnotized.
Quinn unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh before propping herself up on one arm, bringing half of Rachel's long hair up with her own. She looked down on the brunette, eyes half out of their sockets as they glared up at the ceiling. The girl was fiddling with her stitch lines, smiling giddily to herself. Quinn merely rolled her eyes, though it sent a pang of pain to her head.
"How many times have I told you not to touch? You'll start bleeding… again." Quinn snapped at her playfully, brushing Rachel's hands away from her stomach. "No more alcohol for you. You look like shit." Quinn stated, moving the bottle away from even herself, weary of temptation.
Rachel was quick to register. She seemed to turn slightly epileptic as she jolted upright, smacking her face into Quinn's jaw.
"Ow! What the hell!" Quinn exclaimed, grabbing her chin. The force of Rachel's head caused her to bite her own lip, and immediately the metallic taste of blood began to fill the blonde's mouth. Rachel, however, did not seem to hear, as Quinn watched her crawl pathetically towards the vodka.
"Get back here you little… crap face!" Quinn blurted out. She was well aware that her HBIC name-calling attitude dissolved completely while she was verging on indisposed. "No more vodka! I knew going to dad's stash was a stupid idea… Don't even know how you found it anyway. Rachel! Stop moving!"
She lunged forward, flopping onto Rachel's back, and wrapped her arms around Rachel's fragile torso. Rachel continued to be silent, apart from the little grunts she made as she hauled herself towards the precious drink. It took about ten seconds of dragging and hanging on for Quinn to realize. The stitches.
"Oh shit!" Quinn released her hold immediately and slumped to the floor, dizzy and buzzing. She licked the blood off her lips, and grabbed Rachel's foot.
"Let go of me! I need, I need… need this… Quinn! Let me..l-let…" Rachel slugged on, within centimetres of the bottle, before the alcohol caused her to collapse in utter exhaustion.
Again they lay there, quietly giggling at each other and at themselves, Quinn with a vice grip on Rachel's ankle. She lay face flat on the floor, sucking in all the dust from the carpet and swallowing as much blood in her mouth as she could. We are never doing this again.
"Let's play a game." Rachel spoke, piercing the silence.
Oh God no.
"Truth or dare?" Rachel continued, cheek pressed to the floor as she drew spirals in the ancient carpet.
Let me die.
Quinn knew truth or dare meant talking about the one thing she hated thinking about. School. School and all its horrible glory.
"Quinn? You listening?" Rachel asked, voice increasing by a couple pitches.
Quinn froze, hoping to sweet Jesus that Rachel would think she'd passed out or something. But that would only mean Rachel would help herself to the rest of the bottle. The blonde processed her options, eyes darting everywhere as she conjured up the best approach, only to be met with a foot in her face.
"Ow! Rachel! Quit kicking me in the face!" Quinn yelled, slapping the foot away.
Rachel simply giggled and continued stretching her legs out at Quinn, obviously satisfied with annoying the girl. Quinn yanked herself away from the crazy little drunk, trying as hard as possible to sit upright.
"I swear you're going to kill me someday." Quinn commented, holding her fingers to her red lips.
"Sorry," Rachel said a little too joyfully. She even added a small pout. "So. Truth or dare? Pick!"
Quinn sighed. Rachel sat up.
"C'mon Quinn! Pick one! Pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick pick-"
"Alright, oh my God! Shut up!" Quinn shouted over Rachel's incessancy, leaning forward to put a hand over Rachel's massive mouth. Though it landed more on Rachel's entire face, rather than her mouth, and Quinn's weight pushed her forward onto the smaller girl. They toppled over again, this time directly on top of each other, before they exploded into another round of giggles. Rachel laughed silently, choosing to ignore the pain arising from her stomach. She invited the weight of Quinn - it felt strangely comforting, and she rested her hands on the blonde's back as she settled down, tears of laughter leaking out of her eyes.
"Alright. I pick… truth. Let's get this over with." Quinn mumbled.
"Yes!" Rachel clapped her hands together in sheer excitement, and her legs bounced up and down, shaking Quinn's body over her. "Okay, okay. Hmm. Truth… Wait!" Rachel shouted as she hit an epiphany.
"Ow! Ears! Quiet down!"
"Jeez, sorry." Rachel glared at Quinn. She looked up to the ceiling, drumming her fingers on Quinn's back to aid her thought process. Quinn slowly began to drift off with it, taking with her the simply joy of physical human connection.
"Okay, I got one."
Here it comes. Kill me now.
"Out of the three boys you dated, which one was… you know… the best?" Rachel asked, with a much more serious tone than before.
How original.
Flashes of truth or dare with Brittany and Santana in this very basement wafted back to Quinn for a moment as she thought of an answer. Somehow, dare after dare from Brittany had led to a full on make out session between her two best friends, leaving Quinn very red and very left out. If they were here now, seeing what a mess I've turned into…
"Quinn? I'm waiting…"
"Huh? Oh. Um, yes. Okay. I suppose I would have to say… Sam." Quinn randomly picked a guy, she really didn't know. Or care.
"Sam?"
"Yeah."
"Why him?"
"I don't know!" Quinn groaned. She noticed that Rachel was quiet, waiting for a proper answer. "I guess he was kind, not a douchebag like Puck or a dweeb like your boyfriend…"
Rachel giggled. And then straightaway her face scrunched up.
"Wait what... My boyfriend was not a dweeb!"
"Next question!"
The brunette huffed, thinking of her next assault on Quinn's past. She closed her eyes as she drummed on Quinn's back, preparing her question like a drumming ritual.
"Did you love him?"
"Who?"
"Sam."
Quinn thought for a moment. Sam was the good old American blonde boy. He was cute. He was dorky. He was the perfect boyfriend. But Quinn never loved him.
"No."
"Why?"
They turned their heads to face each other, though their gazes were cloudy due to the alcohol.
"Well, I don't know really. Can't really explain it. I guess… I guess there was just something missing. I don't know. I didn't deserve him anyway."
Rachel didn't respond. She simply looked back up to the ceiling and continued drumming. Quinn continued staring at the girl, vision slightly blurry. Without thinking she reached over and took hold of a lock of Rachel's hair, curling it around her fingers. The feeling was still so foreign – being able to touch another living being. And now that it was right in front of her, she would never let go. Quinn felt Rachel's heart beating steadily below her and silently, she revelled in the connection.
"Quinn?"
The blonde twitched out of her haze, and noticed that Rachel was staring straight at her. Quinn released Rachel's hair and looked away, flushed.
"Quinn it's your turn to ask."
"Oh," she mumbled, relieved. She thought for a moment, then smiled to herself as she riled up a nasty question. 'I've got a good one. What the hell did you see in Finn Hudson?"
Rachel scoffed. "I'll have you know that Finn was – is – probably the kindest, loyal and caring boyfriend anyone could ever ask for! He truly loved me for me, and not just my talent, which I'm definitely sure he loved too."
"Hah! Finn was a dweeb! A dim-witted, clumsy football player."
"But-"
"Oh and also he lied to you. About Santana. And football. And so many other things."
"No-"
"He lost it to Santana, of all people. Oh and also he was a terrible dancer."
Rachel's flustered face was bursting at the seams. "You went out with him twice!"
"Yes and for that I continue to question my sanity everyday." Quinn remarked, cringing at the thought.
And with that, she hauled herself off the tiny girl, fighting the dizziness.
"Oh God, my head. We are not doing this again. We can't expect to survive by getting smashed in the middle of zombieland." Quinn stated, very matter-of-factly.
"Not with that attitude." Rachel muttered under her breath as she attempted to stand.
Quinn shoved her back onto the floor, before scooping up the Smirnoff and taking it to the other side of the basement, far, far away.
"My attitude is what keeps us alive." She called over her shoulder, satisfied with her comeback.
And suddenly, the whole room went black.
It was completely dark. There wasn't a speck of light to be seen anywhere, and Quinn found herself walking into a table.
Black out.
Quinn seemed to sober up almost immediately. She cursed – how could she had been so stupid, forgetting to check the generators! She'd been too wound up in chasing after Rachel that her own fortress was falling apart. How the hell was she going to get out of this one?
"Rachel! Rach, it's alright, there's just been a black out. Damn generators must have failed. Where are you?"
Slowly she began to work her way back to where her instincts told her the girl would be, wherever that was. Quinn put her hands in front of her, feeling around for whatever she could recognize.
"Rachel? Can you talk… or something? That would be much appreciated."
There was silence. A pin drop could be heard.
From the nothingness Quinn made out the tiniest of whimpers coming from the other side of the room. Shit. Quinn had forgotten – Rachel was terrified of the dark. Instantly she picked up the pace, frantically groping the air and shuffling forward towards the sound.
"Rachel! I'm coming! It's okay! Just hang on and stay still so – ow fuck!" Quinn crashed into several boxes of tools, knocking them over and spilling them all onto the floor, as they made thunderous clanks and screeches against each other.
The sound only heightened the brunette's whimpering. Quinn could tell the girl was crying.
"Oh shit – that was just me! And a bunch of crap! Hold on, God fucking damn it!" Quinn tossed a box out of the way and practically sprinted to the sound of Rachel's snivels with her arms tossed out in front, grabbing at the air.
More tables were turned, silverware and papers and other random items fell onto the floor. After climbing over a couch Quinn could virtually feel Rachel's presence. She reached out a hand to confirm that what she was grabbing wasn't going to be a lamp, and sure enough, it wasn't. An ear-piercing yowl escaped from Rachel's lips as a hand grabbed her by the face.
"Oh God! Rachel! Rachel it's just me!" Quinn pulled Rachel towards her, yanking her by the shoulders again. "Rachel stop screaming! They'll hear you! Rachel! It's me!"
Quinn tried to cover her mouth, her hand getting bit on in the process. "Crap fuck shit!" Quinn cursed, pulling her hand back. "God damn it Rachel! Please, please stop screaming. It's me. You're safe. You're okay. Please."
Gradually Rachel stopped quivering, her shrieks falling in volume. Quinn wiped her now wet hand on her shirt and placed it on Rachel's arm again.
The girl sounded as though she was hyperventilating, still shuddering and quaking in Quinn's grasp. Quinn retaliated by shaking her. "It's okay. You're safe. I've got you, alright? Everything's going to be okay."
Once again Quinn began running her hands down the girl's arms just like before, soothing Rachel's spasms away. Ever so slowly her breathing relaxed.
"That's it. Just take deep breaths. No one's going to hurt you. You're safe here with me." Quinn pulled her into a hug – it seemed to be working. Rachel wrapped her arms tight around the blonde's neck, hanging on as though it was the end of the world. Quinn could feel her heart still pounding out of her chest, and she responded by rubbing Rachel's back to lower her pulse rate.
They stood there for an insane amount of time, with Rachel muttering 'I'm okay' into Quinn's neck over and over again. Quinn had to admit, despite this little freak out, she felt amazing – having Rachel Berry pressed up against her. After no contact with a human in years, suddenly she had Rachel – of all people – holding on to her for dear life. This was probably the only miracle Quinn had been given in a really long time.
"Hey," Quinn murmured, "why don't we sit down. I think you'll feel better off your feet."
Rachel stopped her muttering. Quinn could feel her still wet cheeks on her own neck.
"Don't let go." Rachel whispered, almost desperately.
"I won't," Quinn took Rachel's wrists, and began lowering themselves onto the carpet. She held the wall next to her for guidance, and eventually Quinn was sat with her back to the wall, still clasping Rachel hands tightly. The next thing she knew, Rachel had folded herself into Quinn, leaning back into her. She rested her head on the blonde's shoulder as Quinn almost instinctively wrapped her arms around Rachel's stomach, this time careful not to squeeze too hard. Maybe it was the alcohol that caused Rachel's sudden need for physical connection, maybe it was just her fear, but whatever it was, Quinn didn't question it.
"My head is still buzzing." Rachel stated softly, wiping at her wet cheeks. "Sorry about this. I know it's a stupid fear, but I can't help it."
"Don't be sorry. Everyone's got their stupid fears," Quinn reassured. She inhaled the scent of Rachel, closing her eyes and falling into the silence.
That was when the first scream of the night decided to arrive.
Both girls jumped slightly out of their skin. Quinn's eyes had barely been closed for a second before they burst open, and she fastened more tightly onto Rachel's body as the girl stiffened.
Perfect.
"It's okay." Quinn whispered.
From the screams, Quinn guessed it was around five or six-ish. Well this is convenient. The screams picked up after a moment, and soon the girls were surrounded by the Dolby digital surround sound zombie experience. How on earth was she going to fix the generators tonight? They'd have to wait for tomorrow. In the meantime, how would they survive down here? Quinn usually maintained her fortress of a house – black outs were not things she'd experienced yet, especially not with a scared shitless Rachel Berry. I guess finding a flashlight would be a nice place to start.
Quinn was about to ask if she could leave Rachel to go find one, when she realized her legs were throbbing in pain. It took a couple seconds to realize Rachel was clutching her thighs tight, fingernails digging in deep. Quinn held in a wince, slowly encasing Rachel's hands in her own.
"I've got you, Rachel. Nothing's going to happen to us here."
Rachel's stiff body relaxed ever so slightly, falling back into Quinn's.
"Okay."
Brittany sat crouched over the gas canister, staring at the sizzling yoke of her eggs on the frying pan. How she managed to find them, nobody knew. She looked around the grass eagerly, salivating at the same time. It had been too long since she'd eaten something this… fresh. Ah, there. The girl scooped up a fine looking stick and began prodding at her eggs, not caring about the grime it was covered it. I mean, come on, it had been years since she'd eaten eggs. Brittany expertly flipped one over, just how Santana liked it. The other, she left sunny side up for herself.
From out of the bushes a dark haired girl emerged, carrying with her a finished toilet roll.
"Britt, we're out of toilet paper. Do we have anymore around somewhere?"
Santana ran a hand through her messy raven hair, walking to the trunk of their car. Brittany; wholly focused on her gorgeous eggs, licked her lips in hunger.
"Brittany!"
The blonde tore her eyes from the pan and looked up at Santana, who was wearing a tank that hugged her toned abdomen, and denim shorts that hung low over her bright red boxers. God, she was beautiful – even after she probably just took a crap.
"Brittany?"
Brittany looked around herself frantically, as if some toilet roll would magically appear by her side. Her eyes landed on a nice, smooth looking leaf instead. She reached over and lifted it up for Santana to examine.
"I fucking hate living in the woods!"
Santana snatched the leaf that Brittany was dangling in the air, bent over to grab several more, and stomped back towards the bushes, grumbling to herself. Brittany smiled, returning to her eggs. When Santana re-emerged – still with a scowl on her face – Brittany was sat on the hood of their car, picking at the eggs she'd plopped onto some cardboard.
The smell was almost invigorating, and Santana was naturally drawn to the eggs, one hand on her empty stomach. How long had it been since they'd actually eaten? Santana looked down at the perfectly cooked eggs, a little perplexed. She gazed at Brittany, one eyebrow raised as the girl vacuumed in the golden yoke with her mouth.
"Brittany… Where did you get these?" Santana asked, taking a fork and picking at them.
"A duck nest!" Brittany exclaimed; obviously very proud of herself.
"A duck nest."
"Yes a duck nest – by the lake in the rushes. Don't they taste amazing? Just like chicken."
Santana stood by the car, chewing on them with interest. They did indeed, taste very much like chicken.
After they'd downed their eggs, and whatever food they'd scavenged from the car, they packed up quickly and efficiently, leaving no trace, just like they'd done so for the past few weeks. Santana was very aware of how low they were running on supplies. Yet hopefully, they'd get there today. If only they'd encountered fewer zombie ambushes, the journey would've been a breeze. But that was not the case for the girls. Santana spent a couple minutes reapplying a bandage to a nasty cut on Brittany's arm, before heading to the car.
"San, d'you think this is going to work?" Brittany asked as she hopped into the passenger seat, a lolly hanging out of her mouth.
Santana glared at her with a furrowed brow. "Brittany where did you get that!"
"Get what?" Brittany replied, genuinely concerned. She looked about herself, was there was a spider stuck to her shirt?
"The lollipop!"
"Oh that! Oh it was under the carpet in the backseat! Funny how we have so much stuff…"
Santana yanked it out of her mouth with a pop from Brittany's mouth, and threw it out the window of the driver's seat.
"Oh God it's brown! Oh God, Brittany that's just disgusting! I don't want you to die from a lollipop! You could get like – AIDS or something." Santana huffed, starting the engines of their blood red Ferrari – the greatest thing Brittany had ever stolen, if you didn't count Santana's heart. The day Brittany carjacked this baby was one of the greatest days of Santana's life – she had never been so proud before.
"You need to get that shit out of your mouth. Where's the water." She looked around her, while Brittany sat there staring quizzically at Santana as she simultaneously backed out of the forest clearing and searched around the car.
"San, I'm fine."
Santana reached over Brittany's legs and opened the glove box, taking out a flask of some unknown liquor. She glanced at it suspiciously for a second.
"Fuck it. Here, Britt – rinse your mouth this… And spit it out when you're done." She dropped it onto Brittany's lap and returned both hands to the wheel.
Reluctantly, the blonde took a swig. It was vile, stinging her throat like acid, and almost as soon as she drank, it was flying out the car window. She made sure not to get it on the car itself, at least. Then she slumped into her seat, folding her arms in frustration. Within seconds they were travelling at one hundred and twenty kilometres an hour, speeding past empty brown farms and dusty old ghost towns.
After a moment's silence Brittany spoke again. "So, is this plan going to work out?"
"I don't know. But this has to be better than Miami. Zeds down there were fucking insane." Santana answered, shuddering slightly at their Miami experience.
They'd first gone down there because Brittany wanted to see dolphins, so naturally Santana – being the whipped cream she was – had to agree. Everything was fine at first, they'd even met some other survivors, and together they held a supply station fort sort of thing. That was until the zombie ambushes became too intense and too hard to handle for even Santana – who was probably the best zombie slayer the group had. The zombies were attacking in the day – even with the Florida heat. No one understood why, but in the end, the numbers of zombies in the area had increased to the point where they practically lived next door to where the fort was. Santana thought back to the day they left, the two of them had gone out searching for gas in the morning. When they arrived back, they found the entire block on fire. The other survivors had either been killed or converted, and they had become the only two humans left in Miami. The girls barely made it out of the state alive.
"You think they won't be as bad in Ohio? 'Cause you know we've been ambushed so many times…" Brittany mentioned, doodling on her bandage with a pen she'd found somewhere.
"I have no idea, Britt-Britt. All we can do is keep moving. And who knows, we might actually find some skinny pathetic zeds to slaughter in Columbus, for once."
"D'you think we should go back to Lima?" Brittany asked, face lighting up.
Santana grimaced. The thought of Lima caused her to think of everyone she knew. Her family and friends, she'd never know if they managed to escape, or whether they were dead or undead like everyone else. Going back there would probably only confirm the truth, and even after all this time it was something Santana was not ready to face yet. But she kept that to herself, not wanting to remind Brittany of what happened all those years ago.
"Maybe."
Rachel was dragged out of her sleep in cold sweat, awaking to the still wailing zombies running around above ground. She'd had another nightmare. They never seemed to stop coming. At first the girl was completely alarmed. Why was there no light? It was completely black; she could only feel the damp sheets that had been creased by her shaking… how did she wind up in a bed anyway? And Jesus her head! It was throbbing – badly, like someone was hammering at it over and over again. Rachel brought a sweaty hand to her forehead, wiping her brow. She squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them again to be met with the same eerie darkness.
Then she heard the sound of deep breathing from her right. Quinn. Rachel quickly realized Quinn was lying only inches away from her; their legs tangled together with the sheets. She immediately felt her cheeks heat up; she couldn't believe it, but Rachel must've fallen asleep in Quinn's arms. What the hell happened last night? It took a moment for everything to come back to her. The Smirnoff, truth or dare, the blackout, her nervous breakdown… and now they were lying here together – Quinn even had a hand grasping her own.
Rachel lay wide awake for a while, absorbing the shrieks of the zombies above and basking in the comfort of Quinn at the same time. She'd never had a friend like Quinn, not even Kurt or Mercedes were ever this close to her. None of her friends had ever really made her feel this cherished. Something about the way Quinn fiercely guarded her, or constantly worried for her safety… sure it was annoying and overprotective, but it just… it made her feel cherished, loved even.
Rachel turned her head to look at where she believed Quinn's head was. Her head pounded from the after effects of the vodka; she promised she would never drink again. Yet Rachel felt her condition deteriorate. The sweat was getting thicker; she could smell it all over her. There was a lump forming in her throat, and suddenly she felt nauseous. The brunette lifted her head off her soaking pillow and instantly the world began to swirl. Jolting upright then and there, she knew what she needed - what Rachel Berry needed right this moment was an empty toilet bowl. And she needed it now.
Carefully but rapidly she untangled herself from Quinn, trying not to stir her sleep. Then she leapt off the bed and dashed forward, instincts guiding her towards the bathroom. All the while her stomach was erupting, her head was throbbing, her chest was pounding, and everything was on fire as she tore the basement apart, searching for the toilet. In her haste she ran straight into a shelf of some sort, obviously a metallic one because there was a massive clang caused a cry to rip through the air. Well done Rachel, Quinn will definitely wake up now. Rachel gripped her throat; she desperately needed to find the bathroom. By the time she reached the door she could feel her insides churning – horrible retching sounds erupted from her mouth and she fell onto the toilet, releasing piles of acid and liquid in one heave.
At least she aimed correctly. That was possibly the only upside to this. As soon as she vomited her first round of puke, not only could she feel her throat burning from the acid, but she felt as if her stomach was being stabbed a hundred times over. Rachel gripped her torso, buckets of sweat seeping from herself. She continued to retch into the toilet bowl, hair falling over her face as she did so. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a white beam of light; her eyes pricked and squinted from the first sign of light in hours.
Quinn had found the flashlight, at last. Her own head was cloudy from the vodka as she shuffled towards the bathroom.
"Rachel are you okay?" She called towards her.
"Yes I'm totally fine!" Rachel replied sarcastically just as another waterfall of vomit poured out of her mouth.
Quinn shone the flashlight at Rachel as she emptied her stomach, and her jaw immediately fell to the floor. Rachel's shirt was completely soaked in dark red, with puddles of blood pooling by her knees. It almost looked as if she had just turned into one of the infected. Those damn stitches.
"Who would've thought that after weeks of physical fighting and chasing you around, it was your own barfing that led to your literal undoing?" Quinn asked smugly as she helped Rachel lie on her 'surgery table.'
Quinn had repaired Rachel's body so many times now that the table had been given a new name. She even had a tray of surgical tools sitting next to the table, ready for Rachel's next operation.
"Oh haha, yes. It's all my fault your stitches keep falling apart. Do I need to remind you that it was you who initiated all our little fights and scrambles?" Rachel asked as she swallowed some painkillers.
Quinn gave Rachel a cynical look.
"You're going to have to take off your shirt."
Rachel hesitated. Quinn sensed the uneasiness in the air, suddenly regretting being so forward with her.
"But… I'm naked under this shirt…"
"Oh, you don't say?" Quinn asked sardonically, hoping to provide some humour to their situation, and also immediately regretting that decision. Shut up Quinn!
Rachel was silent, still clearly in a state of reluctance. She avoided eye contact, looking to where the light of Quinn's torch didn't reach.
Quinn was becoming more frantic. "Is you being naked the biggest of your concerns right now? You're spilling blood all over the table, and the floor." God now she probably thinks I want to see her naked… which would be an interesting experience… oh my God, no. C'mon Quinn.
Rachel looked at herself, then at the carpet. Sure enough, blood was leaking everywhere, not to mention the pain she was currently enduring. Quinn was tapping on the bottle of painkillers on the tray, as if tempting her with more drugs. Rachel admitted to herself that she was being preposterous. Yes, she was possibly in a life or death situation right now, but being half naked while Quinn worked on your body wasn't a particularly comfortable and relaxing experience that one would want to think about – and just why exactly, Rachel still hadn't figured out.
Quinn was ready to try convincing her one more time before she told herself she would have to use force – and that was clearly something Quinn very much wanted to avoid. Not to mention how Rachel would think of her afterwards. Could I have been charged for sexual harassment… or molestation?
"Rachel, you're being ridiculous. Who's gonna see? Finn Hudson? Don't worry, I'll make sure to tell him I didn't try anything on you." Quinn scoffed.
"Shut up!" Rachel retorted loudly.
"If you want I can try and call his cell, but… you know… he might be a bit busy walking into ceilings… or devouring someone's brain!"
"That's hilarious. You're hilarious. You should've been a comedienne."
"I'm here all day." Quinn remarked.
Rachel groaned a very exaggerated groan, before lifting the hem of her shirt. Or rather Quinn's shirt.
"Fine. Let's do this."
Success.
Quinn bit her lip, trying to contain her satisfaction with herself. It would have been extremely embarrassing had the lights been on. Thank God she can't see my face.
"Um… Quinn. I can't – I can't lift my arms…" Rachel mumbled. "Quinn?"
"… Oh! Right! Yes okay. No worries."
Quinn wiped the smug smile off her face and quickly pulled the completely red shirt off Rachel before the girl lay back down. Holding the flashlight with her teeth, she began undoing the stitches, almost in a professional manner.
Meanwhile, Rachel lay there, fully exposed, trying as hard as she could to prevent her cheeks from changing colour. She thought of the most horrible things to keep distracted: paper cuts, fingernails running along blackboards, getting slushied by everyone on the football team, etcetera, etcetera. It didn't really work.
Even in the darkness Rachel could feel Quinn's hazel eyes scraping her naked body; it was so overwhelming that even the pain of stitches being yanked from her torso was ignored. The touch of Quinn's fingers on her was cool against her warm, insecure self. She could feel her own heat rising, filling the room with a steamy atmosphere.
Quinn made a valiant attempt not to peek. She glimpsed at Rachel's expression, which was also trying to look as neutral and nonchalant as possible. Though Quinn knew Rachel could not see her own face, she could not bring herself to look at her dark brown eyes – that was something she considered too intimate, and made her feel as though she were invading or exploiting the girl. However, it was impossible to avoid staring at Rachel's breasts, after all, the lesions were practically right below them anyway. How could she not look? Wow I would be one really distracted doctor. Quinn took extra care not to work too near them, but once in a while her hand would graze along their delicate curves, and both girls would hold their breath, waiting to see if Quinn would apologize or if Rachel would start complaining. But neither of them dared say a word, afraid of putting one another off. After an eternity Quinn finally broke the immensely uncomfortable silence, as she cleared her throat to swallow all the saliva that had been building up.
"Right. I'm gonna put in the new stitches now, so hold on."
Rachel nodded, gripping onto the edges of the table, as though she were preparing for something else entirely. When the needle penetrated her skin she let out a small squeal, just before the stinging set in.
"Sorry I don't have any morphine or anything."
Rachel increased her grip on the table edges.
"It's… fine… we've done this… several times… now," she seethed, a new wave of perspiration appearing on her skin. The sweat gleamed in the white light and Quinn found her fingers covered with both blood and sweat as she applied the new stitches.
For the next half hour Quinn worked while they listened to the screams of the zombies, which were gradually dying down. Soon it was quiet enough to hear each other's breathing rhythms, so they began to listen to them instead, for a nice change. Rachel's breathing was light and rapid, almost like a panting dog. With every hitch or wheeze Quinn felt increasingly worse, like she was causing Rachel's suffering on purpose. She really hated doing this.
Meanwhile, Rachel listened to Quinn. She closed her eyes, enhancing the sound of her, though the stab of the needle was also enhanced. It didn't matter. She could hear Quinn subtly clearing her throat; she could even make out when the blonde licked her lips, or when she ran her tongue across her teeth. The whole library of sounds just emanated pure concentration and focus. Listening to it developed Rachel's admiration for her, not to mention the security she felt in Quinn's capable hands.
"Okay. It's finished. And I have to say, I think it's the best I've ever done – probably because you're almost healed anyway. But still, don't mess this up again!" Quinn demanded authoritatively. "Just have to clean you up now… and add some lotion…"
When Rachel said nothing, Quinn took a towel and began wiping Rachel off. She swabbed off the blood that was beginning to dry, as well as the sweat caused from Rachel's pain. She took extra care around the stitch lines, trying hard not to press too hard on them. Rachel then heard the sound of a bottle opening, and then a cold gel was applied to her ribs, causing her to quiver slightly.
Quinn was as gentle as ever, rubbing the lightest circles over the stitches. Once again Rachel felt Quinn's eyes on her body, but this time she softened, welcoming the touch completely. Would it be weird to say that this feels nice? Rachel closed her eyes again, hoping this would last forever.
It didn't last twenty seconds.
Before long, the screams had subsided.
"Well, guess that means it must be daytime. You can finally get some sleep now, while I go and check the generators. You're finished!"
Rachel dreaded hearing those two words, all she wanted now was to continue lying there while Quinn basically massaged her. But of course, she would never let Quinn know that; it was ridiculous.
Quinn helped Rachel to her feet, and with an arm around Quinn's shoulder, they made their way to the bed. The blonde handed her another one of her own shirts before heading to the kitchen. She returned with a basin and a glass of water.
"You used to say your dads would bring you water to help you cheer up. So here, hope this makes you feel a little better. Oh, and the basin is in case you start hurling again. Don't want you destroying my bed with stomach acid." Quinn said jokingly.
Rachel rolled her eyes, causing her head to pang again.
"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" She asked, secretly wanting to stay by Quinn's side. It just felt right, especially after all that Quinn did for her today, and the day before, and the day before that… and pretty much ever since they met.
"Of course! You need to rest. Look at you, you're exhausted." Quinn waved the flashlight at her, gesturing with it to her body. Dark circles had developed under Rachel's eyes, and though she was pretty – which Quinn would never point out – she seriously needed to sleep.
"Go on, I'll be here when you wake up, unless I'm ambushed and eaten alive." Quinn joked again.
Instead of a sarcastic glare, genuine fear spread across Rachel's face. Oh fuck.
"… Which won't happen! Because… I'm a fighter… and a badass zombie killer!" Quinn added, trying to reassure the brunette with a nervous grin.
"It'd better not happen." Rachel muttered as she crawled under the covers.
"You said you wanted to take a walk – this is us – taking a walk!" Quinn reasoned.
"This is hardly a walk. Look! We've barely walked thirty yards – I can still see your house right there!" Rachel raised her voice, pointing to Quinn's home. "How does one consider this a walk? Are we elderly? Is it because of my stitches? Because I can assure you that they are seriously, finally ready to be taken out. In fact I could pull them out right now, look just watch-"
"No, do not – don't be silly. Stop." Quinn ordered, stopping Rachel from lifting her shirt up.
They stood there bickering for several minutes in the middle of Quinn's block.
"You know what, the last time we 'took a walk'," Quinn started, using her fingers as quotation marks, "we almost died. I actually can't believe we're arguing over this."
"I seriously can't believe you – out of all people – are so readily giving into your paranoia so that every time we set foot out of the house, you believe we're going to die."
Quinn's face went bright red, and Rachel swore she could see her hazel eyes burst into flames. Both girls stood back from each other in shock.
"First of all," Quinn began, her HBIC persona stepping in, "There is only you, and me here. You've got no other people to compare me to – unfortunately. Secondly-"
Rachel opened her mouth to interrupt, only to have a hand put in her face.
"Secondly, how many times do I have to say this? My paranoia – as you like to call it – my paranoia is the freaking reason why we're still here!" Quinn was almost yelling, lifting her arms up and gesturing to their general surroundings to emphasize her point.
No sooner had she said that then a bunch of infected emerged in the distance at the other end of the block.
"Oh for Christ's sake this is exactly my point. Look!" Quinn pointed to the figures wavering in the distant heat waves that rose from the tarmac, progressively heading in their direction.
Rachel turned and watched them come closer, seemingly puzzled.
"Quinn…"
"Let's get back inside before we know they've started targeting us for sure. Maybe they haven't noticed we're here yet."
"Quinn! If you would just-"
"Rachel! Show me you're not totally insane and get back here now!"
Quinn was darting towards her front door, eyes very much in alarm as she turned to shout at Rachel.
"Quinn! If you would just take a look for one second! Just look for one second!" Rachel bellowed, though it came out more like a girly shriek.
The blonde whipped her head around in boiling frustration, glaring at the approaching undead.
"What is it!" She hissed.
Quinn studied the pack more intently… they were engaging in a fight, but with each other? Perhaps the new breed they'd suspected was evolving was now wiping out the old variety. Rachel moved to stand by her side; both had pistols at the ready. What the hell are they doing?
The mass of grunting zombies was now in firing range, and instinctively Quinn raised her gun, staring down the barrel at the closest one. She was about to fire when something absurdly odd appeared in her line of sight. Why does one of them have blonde hair?
Quinn leaned forward, lowering her gun. What the hell? Rachel had also stepped forward, obviously intrigued as much as Quinn was. Then, in the midst of the raging battle, she saw a figure with dark raven hair. Quinn leaned back. No way.
The figure shoved a gleaming silver pistol straight into the mouth of a burly zombie that towered over the assailant's small frame. The trigger was pulled, splattering blood and flesh all over the both of them, before the gun was yanked out of the now dead zombie's jaw in one fluid motion, ripping apart its entire face.
"That's how we do it in Lima heights!"
So, hope you guys enjoyed that chapter. Despite having to wait so long for this, I actually wrote it in only two days. Trolololol! Anyways, hope you're all surviving this hiatus! I'm certainly not. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, my exams start in May and I'm already dying as it is. So it'll probably be a while. In the meantime, please review! Thanks.
Also, please excuse my horrible spelling/grammar mistakes, if you found any.