A/N: Thanks once again for the reviews. They are always so very much appreciated, and inspire me to keep writing. My apologies for today's chap: it's definitely FAR from one of my favorites. But I felt like the last two chaps were kind of choppy, and featured far too little Finn/Quinn, so I threw this one in to kind of tie everything together.
Elias liked living alone. That was why he did it, after all. He'd never really liked people – not since that skanky bitch Petunia stole his crayons back in pre-K. That had been enough to prove to him that the world was filled with selfish, conniving, dickwads. So as soon as he'd made enough money (apparently said dickwads loved reading romance novels – go figure) he'd bought himself a cabin in the Pennsylvania woods and moved in. He liked his ratty old furniture, the fireplace that heated up the den, and the complete lack of a tv. He liked the isolation. He liked that the woods were filled with animals, ripe for hunting. He liked that no solicitors came to his house, clamoring for him to buy this or enroll in that. He liked the collection of old cars slowly accumulating in the empty lot next to him.
He knew when the bombs went off – was pretty sure that everyone in America knew, because they were loud. The ground shook. And the animals freaked out. All in all, he figured that the bombs were a godsend: as Dickens would have said, they were sure to "decrease the surplus population."
Plus, hunting had gotten super easy, what with all of the animals suddenly running in the same direction, their puny minds screaming FEAR at him.
The only downside, as far as Elias could see, was the radiation poisoning, if that's what it was. Huge chunks of his hair had fallen out (including all of the hair on his right forearm). He'd been sick for two days straight, subsisting only on the water that he always kept saved for emergencies and left-over lentil soup. But then he'd gotten better, and gone outside to go hunting again.
When he'd returned, there had been a huge yellow bus parked directly in his front door. He frowned as he walked toward the house, because everything was kind of humming, the same way that the packs of animals had started humming when the bomb went off. It was kind of pleasant, actually.
The sun had nearly set when he went up his porch, and the closer he got to his cabin, the louder the humming got. It vibrated through his head, short-long pulses. He frowned. It was distinctly less pleasant as he got closer.
He opened the door and stepped in. He glanced around. There were about a dozen kids – looked to be somewhere between middle school and college, though Elias sure didn't know a thing about kids. Most of them looked sick. Pale, sweaty, shaking. Five of them looked okay, though, give or take, and were pressing glasses of water to the other kids faces. The humming was the loudest from those kids. He pressed one hand to his forehead, wishing that the buzzing would go away.
"Why is there a bus parked in the front yard, and who the hell are you kids?" he asked.
A skinny, short kid stood up, his arm in an awkward sling. He was radiating FEAR/SICKNESS/EXHAUSTION and looked about as done in as any of the kids lying down. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Elias shook his head and pointed to the ground.
"Not you," he said gruffly. "I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth." He looked at the other four – the mohawked kid, Blondie, Squints, and a tall beast of a kid. He pointed at the tall kid. "You. Explain."
He liked this one, because he was simple. The complicated harmonies of the other kids' emotions was nonexistent. This kid just radiated pure and simple HOPE, and Elias might not like people all that much, but hopefulness he could dig.
"Um, hi, sir," the kid said. "I'm Finn." He then proceeded to introduce every other kid, pointing them out in the turn. The conscious ones waved hello, while the sick kids just moaned a little bit. Elias pressed a hand to his forehead. "We're really sorry," the kid – Finn – said. "We didn't know anyone was here, and we ran out of gas, and food."
"Also, we're worried about zombies," Puck said. Quinn glared at him.
"There's no such thing," she said sharply.
Elias wasn't about to contradict her. Though, in his mind, everyone over the age of twenty was a zombie, obsessed with work, reputation, and money. These kids weren't there yet, but they would be soon enough. Or would have been, if it weren't for the bombs.
He was sure that those bombs had changed the outside world quite a bit. He'd hoped they wouldn't have an effect on him.
"Well, you can't stay here," he said.
"Please, sir," Finn said, imploringly. "Just for a few days. It seems like everyone's getting better. Just a few days, and then we'll be out of your hair."
"We're heading to Ohio," Puck said, clearly trying to be helpful.
"You could come with us," Quinn suggested. "It must be lonely, out here by yourself."
Elias rolled his eyes. The absolute last thing that he wanted to do with these crackheads was go with them anywhere. He looked at them again, more critically. They all looke exhausted, even Finn. They'd probably just mostly be sleeping if he let them stay. Plus, he'd been preparing for the Apocalypse since his first Harlequin had been published, and had more than enough supplies to last him his lifetime, and still give the kids a week or so of a free ride.
He really though they'd mostly just sleep. That's why he'd agreed to let them stay.
It was instantly clear that they weren't going to just conk out, though. The sick, curly-haired kid quickly took over. He ordered Finn and Puck to move some of the kids to the bedroom, made sure everyone was arranged properly. Quinn immediately went to the bathroom. Elias tried to escape to his kitchen, only to discover that his chicken broth and pots had been commandeered. He frowned. Minutes later, Quinn flounced back in, and proceeded to fill a gallon of water, and opening another container of Swanson.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Elias asked. Quinn just quirked an eyebrow at him and said threateningly –
"Don't touch me."
And hot damn, but the pure steely determination and contained anguish that rolled off her at that thought nearly sent Elias reeling backward. He clamped hands over both his ears, and slumped into a chair.
When he was able to focus again, the squinty kid with glasses was sitting at the table with him, calmly sipping at a cup of soup. Since when did kids eat so much? Elias wasn't so certain about his supplies anymore, and would have said something if it weren't for the hum of COMFORTLOVE coming from his den and bedroom.
"Where are the rest of your little buddies?" he asked instead.
Squinty – right, Artie – glanced up at him and smiled. "Puck's trying to get everyone who's sick to eat some broth. Finn is trying to get them to drink. Blaine is giving them cool towels, and I think Quinn is checking out your cars."
"Hmph," Elias muttered. He glanced at the huge bowl of soup that the kid was slowly shoveling away. "You going to eat all of that?"
Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, Elias watched the kids in amazement. They took shifts throughout the night so that all of the sick kids were continually being kept hydrated. Finn and Blaine always went together, and Artie, Quinn, and Puck. He watched in amazement as the circles under their eyes got darker, and their gestures a little shakier. It was a shame, really, kids being forced to be caretakers like this. Elias shrugged his shoulders and went outside to sleep in his hammock. Whatever. It wasn't his problem.
When he went into the kitchen in the morning, Quinn was standing at the stove, humming a little song as she made Malt O Meal. Elias glanced in the pot. A glob of butter slowly dissolved in the middle. His mouth watered.
"Make enough for me?" he asked. Quinn turned to him, and gave a restrained smile.
"Of course," she said.
Elias tried to stay out of the way of the kids. The humming was irritating, and he really hated people. Really, he did. He went fishing and brought back trout, which Quinn cooked up, despite the moaning of all the boys. The weird, glowing kid ate lunch with them, before going to lie down with the sickos again.
"I know you want us gone by the end of the week," Quinn said during lunch. "But I don't really know how we'll fill up the bus tank."
Elias grunted. Quinn glanced at Finn, before continuing on.
"I was wondering if we could borrow two of your vans."
Elias raised one eyebrow at that. "You gonna return'em, sweetcheeks?"
Quinn flushed, but there was no EMBARRASSMENT emanating from her – just that same steely resolve. "Probably not," she said.
"Quinn, I don't think that's a good idea," Finn said slowly. "Do we really want to split everyone up?"
"Well, we can't take the bus, the gas mileage is horrible," Quinn said. Elias considered, still chewing his trout (he'd always liked fresh fish). Just then, a smoking piece of ass walked into the room. She was barely buzzing, and Elias found that he liked it a helluva lot better than the raucous zings coming from everyone else. He was nearly bowled over by the sudden explosion of JOYHOPE from the kids around the table, and had to steady himself on the oven.
The new girl stared at them each slowly, her face unreadable, before finally resting on Blaine. He, for his part, was focused on cutting his fish up into ever tinier pieces. Elias wasn't sure that he'd actually eaten any.
"What's wrong with your arm?" she asked.
Puck said "Santana, baby, looking good!"
Blaine, meanwhile, choked out GUILT before saying "It's just broken."
Elias couldn't take it any more, because all of the kids were just screaming out feelings at him. He had to leave the room, had to somehow get out. Covering his ears with both hands, he pushed his way through the screen door, and stood heaving just outside.
He tried to go for a walk. The further he got from the house, the easier it was to walk around. He took in deep, steadying breaths. He knew what the kids thought – they'd been discussing it over breakfast. Radiation poisoning, and mutated genes. So maybe that was it. . .maybe he was hearing/feeling things because of those bombs. He shook his head.
He didn't like people. He really didn't, and he didn't like the kids and the way they'd invaded his house. He wasn't a bad guy, he really didn't think he was. He just wanted to be left alone. He honestly didn't know how he was going to stand six more days of those kids just screaming at him nonstop. It wasn't so bad when it was just joy and hope, but when they were scared or angry. . .
At just that moment a sudden blast shot through his head of intense sorrow and fear. He groaned, and grabbed at his head. It was gone as soon as it had come, but left in it's place a dull throbbing – a steady bass below everything else. Coming from his house.
Maybe he could just leave – ditch the cabin, let them have everything. It would be easy. Except that he'd spent years stockpiling, and he was pretty certain that nobody else had thought to save up toilet paper in case of atomic warfare, or canned goods for an apocalypse. He was pretty sure that none of his neighbors had gallons upon gallons of water in their basements. He didn't like people, and he didn't like those kids, and he sure as hell wasn't going to die for them.
As he kept walking toward his cabin, that dull throbbing sound grew louder and louder. Maybe one of them had died – that was all he could figure. But when he entered the kitchen it suddenly disappeared, replaced by calming RELIEF. He let out a breath, and walked into the den, where all the kids were gathered around the cute blonde girl in the cheerleading uniform. He looked at her critically – she sure didn't look good.
"I think it's about time you kids go," he said. "I don't want to catch whatever sickness she has."
"It's radiation poisoning, you old coot," The new girl said. "You can't just catch it. And you proably already have it, anyway."
Elias stared at her, because how did she know? She just stared back at him, defiant, and Elias realized with relief that she didn't know anything, that she was just some spoiled rich kid from out of state who was scared and bitchy.
"Santana, that's our host," Quinn hissed. "Try to use some manners."
Elias glanced at the blonde girl. He still felt the same thing from her, that same determination. No emotion. She kept it in, closed off. He realized, with a start, that he might actually be beginning to like her.
Ridiculous. He didn't like people. He shook his head.
"You've got 'til the end of the week," he said. "Not a full week. . .until the end of Saturday. That's two days. Then I want you gone. All of y'all."
He went back to the hammock. He went back to the hammock and he put his feet up and he closed his eyes. He heard the kids leave the house – heard the jumble of emotions, heard the roar of one of his vans. Opened on eye to look. Sighed. And walked back inside.
Quinn looked up at him with a smile, from her near permanent position near the stovetop. Elias' face fell, though if he had to admit it, he was glad that she was the one still there, with her firm control on her feelings. Also, her ability to cook really delicious food.
"The boys went to raid a convenience store," she said. "They felt bad about stealing all your food."
Elias raised one eybrow and stuck his finger into the soup that she was stirring. Quinn frowned at him, and his the back of his hand sharply with her spoon.
"Okay," she said with a smile. "Blaine felt bad. I think Finn and Puck just went with to make sure he got junk food."
Elias nodded. He could feel Santana's presence in the next room over, and Mike Chang. Soft rolls of love. If they could keep themselves in check like this he wouldn't have to kick them out. But even as he was thinking that (not considering it, no, not really) another wash of FEAR hit.
"Someone else woke up," he said. Qunn looked at him quizzically.
A minute later there was a soft murmur of voices in the den, and then a skinny, girly-looking boy walked into the kitchen. The waves of fear were emanating off him.
"Quinn?" he asked shakily. "Where is everyone? Is everyone else okay?"
"Hey, hon," Quinn said. She handed the spoon to Elias, and walked over to engulf the boy in a gentle hug. Some of the fear abated. Elias took a sip of the soup. It was green. "Everyone's still okay. The boys just went to get food."
The boy nodded uncertainly. "Oh. . ." He glanced over Quinn's shoulder. Elias scowled at him. Maybe if he seemed less friendly they'd all do a better job at leaving him alone. The kid did cower a little, so maybe it would work out okay.
"I'm sorry," Quinn said, stepping back and reclaiming her spoon. "Elias, this is Kurt. Kurt, this is Elias. He's been kind enough to host us."
Kurt held out a hand, and gave Elias a watery smile. "Hello. Thank you," he said. Elias grunted, and pulled out a bowl. The kid gave off waves of DISAPPOINTMENT. Elias' stomach clenched. As if the other kids weren't bad enough, this one was fucking projecting his feelings everyone. Projectile emotional vomit. Elias shook his head.
"I'll get some bowls," he said.
Within ten minutes the table was set. Elias had to tell off the Kurt kid when he started folding the napkins all fancy like. Elias was no pansy pants, and he wasn't going to eat using a napkin that was all. . .decorated. The kid scoffed a little at that, and projectile emoted some more. Elias frowned.
Quinn was just ladling out soup when the familiar rumble of one his trucks sounded outside. Elias girded himself, closing his eyes. He really didn't want to abandon the delicious-smelling soup, but he wasn't sure that he could handle the riot of kids, either.
Finn and Puck came in first, their arms laden down with food. Quinn greeted them warmly, and they both seemed pleased to see Kurt up and around. Several beats passed as they put things away. Kurt was fairly bouncing on his heels.
"Where's. . ."
Just then Blaine walked in. Elias glanced at him. The kid was empty. Completely empty. Nothing was coming off him. He let out a slow breath. He looked like shit, but at least he'd finally calmed down. He'd been almost as bad as Kurt.
Just as Elias was processing this, Kurt bitchslapped him with such intense JOY that he dropped his head heavily onto the table. It would probably bruise later, but for now he couldn't feel anything except the invasion of his own senses.
He was still staring at the table when there was a sudden pained gasp. He didn't see the curly-haired boy turn a sickly shade of green at Kurt embraced him with a gleeful "Blaine!" He didn't see his eyes roll up in his head or his legs go suddenly weak. He didn't see the panicked expressions that appeared on Finn and Kurt's faces. He didn't see the two boys hit the ground in a tangle of limbs.
All he saw was the fine grain of his wood table, and then a sudden jolt of TERROR to his heart and everything went black.
A/N: Coming soon: the Return of Finchel! Quinn and Santana have a heart to heart! And Death is sneaking up on our poor, unsuspecting Glee Clubbers. . .