A/N: Hello! How are you? It's been a while, I know. =\ In my attempt to reconcile writing with real life, I started working on an idea I've had for a while to get my creative juices flowing, which helped me get back into TPS. As a little gift and my apology to you, I've uploaded the other project entitled Repetitions (Sci-fi/Future AU) along with this update for your literary consumption. I hope you enjoy! =)

Chapter 9 - A Taste of Dawn

...

It felt like floating, the fall. It seemed to envelop her senses in a limbo of numbness that the air she had funneled through was but a minor pass. The only thing she could remember - the one thing she had felt - was the lift of hands that took her up a step higher from the dark plastered halls of the mezzanine. It was like floating because it didn't hurt when they landed.

The same hands helped her up again from the ground. She smoothed down her dress and glanced back at the shrubs before looking up at the blonde who was scanning the perimeter and rubbing her shoulder. She looked back at the shrubs - completely still, and wondered who had truly broken their descent.

"This way," she heard, before the crescendo of the escaping crowd marked with staccatos of shouts and gunfire started to fill the street.

And so they ran around the side of the manor into the night. She didn't know where they were running, only that Quinn was holding her hand as allowed herself to follow.

...

Across the manor's entrance, they hid behind a darkened corner, waiting as the rest of the guests filtered out. She heaved a sigh as soldiers on horseback arrived to corral the disorder.

"Q was supposed to meet us here! Dammit, where are they.."

The blonde lifted her free arm to the other girl's shoulder. "They probably just had to go another way. They'll be okay, San."

"…I shouldn't have let Berry stay."

"Rachel's come a long way. You don't give her enough credit." The latina looked at her while loading the revolver's cylinder. She continued with a small smile, "And besides… Quinn always finds Rachel."

Santana focused on clear blue eyes. "I hope you're right."

A small blast blew a crack through the side of the dried adobe wall above them. She stole a glance around the corner at the sight of the redhead walking steadily towards them, the barrel of a carbine facing their way and exuding smoke, before darting back in time as another shot scarred their barrier.

"Fuck."

"Let's get out of here, San. We can meet them in the mountains."

"Sorry, Britt, but this redhead is really starting to piss me off." She locked the cylinder in place.

...

The herd was still under the cover of nightfall, as if everything was at peace. But he knew there were things at stake, as did his horse. It stirred, knowing that the earth could tremble at any minute. Ominous as it were, he welcomed it because it kept him awake and alert. They had been waiting a while.

He looked over at the man brooding over the hill, a mohawk growing wild, though one would never know except for the fact that it had been kept in line earlier in the day. He knew about hair. He noticed those things. He didn't know the man's thoughts, however.

He reigned his horse up quietly. "They're taking too long."

"You're impatient."

He gazed out at the town lights. He knew this town. But he also knew it wasn't his. There were people there that didn't want others to belong because they wanted it to be theirs too much.

"Look. I know you trust that they can take care of themselves."

Dark eyes turned towards him. "They can."

He shook his head. "But I saw those men when they were makin' their dealings. They have friends in high places in these parts."

"Speak plainly."

"There's a chance that your friends are in trouble. I'm going back to find them."

Puck spun around. "What?"

"I know my way out, remember? Besides, you're the one who's better at this cowboy business." The boy fitted his hat and rode off.

As Puck trailed his sight from the rider towards the town, an explosion lit the sky like thunder and lightning out of nothing, the dying flames falling to the ground. Too far to alarm the sleeping herd. Still. Damn kid might be right after all.

...

She was on the run for the first time in her life and she felt alive. She was beginning to understand why people run - it was like having wings. And Quinn knew how to use hers because she was fast. She led them through back streets and alleyways as if from memory.

"Have you been here before? El Paso?" she gasped as she ran.

"No." Quinn paused and looked at her. "We were supposed to meet Santana and Brittany. They know the way."

Rachel's eyes widened. Quinn cradled her hand.

"We need to get to the edge of town where the herd was. Soldiers were setting camp and making fires. If we can find where that light is, we can head towards it."

Rachel glanced around but every way was dark except for a busy street outside the alley. She turned back to her trailboss who was looking at the overhang of a saloon porch on the street, and she knew.

"Ever climbed a roof before?" Quinn smiled lightly.

"Hahhh… NO."

"Rachel, we need get off the ground to find out which way the fires are." The brunette gave her a look. She extended her hand. "I'll help you up. C'mon."

Rachel placed hers on her hips. "You think this is funny?"

"No." Quinn looked at her dress then smirked. "Well… A little."

She couldn't help but smirk back. The bottom ruffles of her dress were already ruined - she was already ruined. It was Quinn's smirk and Quinn's hand that was still in front of her, waiting to be held, and the fact that she had already been running. Perfect dresses are for porcelain dolls, but dolls were not alive. She was. Perhaps she wanted to be ruined.

She reached for the hand. "Let's climb it."

...

They sifted through pedestrians and lamplight towards the porch. Suddenly, gunshots rang out and dust flew, mixing with people diving for cover.

As they scrambled for the side of the saloon, Quinn caught several faces meeting her gaze. They were unfamiliar, but had steel and were bent on firing in her direction. Reaching the part of the overhang that was sheltered from view of the street, she wasted no time in lunging up and clamoring on before turning to help Rachel.

"Sorry we don't have time to teach you the basics of climbing…"

"It's okay," the brunette grunted as she clung onto the edge and swung herself on at her companion's push.

Quinn followed and hurtled herself over the roof as the zing of a bullet broke the air behind her.

"Yeah, looks like my old buddy Jesse got himself some new recruits." She peered over and saw the men attempting to follow on the overhang. "Shit. We have to go."

And so they ran - flew, rather. Quinn's hands were smooth, their turns sharp as bullets raced after them. It was dangerous, this flying. Everything she wanted right then seemed wrong. But she knew one thing that felt right - that even if she couldn't see the way, she would follow those hands. She had been walking around looking for them before she realized it was how she had wanted to be cut - as precise, as gentle - to be pasted onto Quinn's hands, as that gun she always carried.

"Quinn."

She pulled them behind a sloped roof and turned towards her name.

"What?" They caught their breaths.

"I think we lost them."

"Yeah?" She looked around the corner. Clear skies; she could see the stars. She turned back with a smile, "Looks like i—"

A pair of lips caught hers mid-sentence. Her breath hitched. Few things caught her by surprise, but this one did and she moved away slightly, her hand grasping the one holding her cheek. The brown eyes were prettier than the stars. They smiled at her.

"You were saying?" Now she was giving her that secret smile from the mezzanine. She wondered if it was the cause of why her heart was beating like this. She drew them closer again.

"I, uhh…" How to explain something you never felt before? She interlaced their fingers, looking for answers between their spaces.

They just fit. Everything. Fits. Like when she picked up one of them revolvers on the dusty old ranch where the greenhorns trained, not sure what she was looking for really. So she carried it around for a while trying to figure it out, until she learned how to hold it properly - and when she did she realized it was just the right weight and size for her grasp. Soon it turned into her most prized possession, attaining that special place at her side in the nicest holster she could find for it, even though she never thought she'd ever be one to use a gun because she used to associate it with her old man. But she kept it at her side because it became a source of comfort. It felt…

"…Safe," she whispered.

"Huh?"

She shook her head in composure, and a conclusion lit her face as she looked back. "You're… safe."

The girl looked at her and slowly grinned. "And you're darn crazy."

She gaped back, still trying to form words and regain her focus on the situation. Rachel chuckled and fiddled with their clasped hands. "Which way to the soldiers' camp?"

She gazed back into the brown depths she wished were the night sky so she'd just look there for answers instead of having to look away, but a burst of light in the air answered their questions. They turned towards what sounded like the deep popping of corn in the distance to see sparks of shooting stars brighten the night. Rachel gasped.

They were real.

"Fireworks…" she whispered in awe.

"Explosives!" Quinn ascertained, turning to her. "That's what the soldiers were setting up with all the powder earlier."

They had found their way. She nodded in understanding, but looked once more to the dazzling view and remembered the book Mike had lent her. He was right. They were beautiful. She thought she'd never get to see them, but there they were, almost as if dancing in the sky for her to convince her of her decisions to brave her fears.

"C'mon Rachel!" a voice called out ahead of her. That ever-present voice in her head that had been guiding her to the light, whether the owner was aware of it herself or not - and whose voice was gradually finding its way down from her head to a place in her chest. And this time she followed with vigor, because even if they were on the rooftops - which was quite a dangerous activity at that hour and in those dainty boots and dress - she knew where she was running this time, and she knew why.

...

She could see the campfires, the soldiers manning different heaps of pyrotechnical materials, and the general cheer occurring outside of the sphere of their current situation. But there was no herd at the ranch.

"It means the boys were able to get to the mountains with no trouble," Quinn reassured, noting her line of sight.

"What about Santana and Brittany?" she remembered. "We were supposed to meet them outside the Mayor's…"

Quinn scanned the entire strip of land that led into the mountains in the distance. Nothing irregular about the commotion. "They would've figured we had to go another way and probably went ahead to the meeting point," she posited. "Either way, it's up to us to get to the mountains now to be sure."

She looked down the quiet street they descended on from the roofs and out to the crowd by the river edge. "You think it's safe for us to just walk on out? There are soldiers - the outlaws wouldn't dare to, would they?"

"You don't know them, Rach," muttered the blonde. "They don't know what it means to quit. And they'll do it quietly through this camp if they have to."

"So we'll never be rid of them," she concluded, staring at the hazel eyes.

"Unless they're dead."

"Or unless we're dead, you mean," she blurted. The thrill of the rooftop escapade had settled down. It was being replaced with the cold feeling of dread. She began to doubt. She wondered if it had been better to stay at home and not have gone on this adventure in a foolish attempt for self-growth.

Quinn saw the creases of the brunette's face begin to wrinkle. "Hey," she called out.

The brown eyes looked up. "What."

"We'll be alright. I can handle them. I'll figure it out," she promised.

"You don't have to do it alone, Quinn," said the tiny voice, trying to match the conviction in her tone.

She chuckled. "Let's just get you out of here first, alright?" She made a motion towards the shadows of the establishments lining the river edge, but a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Promise you won't try to go off on your own," said the same voice, a little louder.

She still hadn't figured out how to deal with Rachel's feistiness. She knew she wanted to do things for her. Perhaps anything. She now wanted to be anything Rachel needed her to be, but most of all she wanted to keep the girl safe. That's what she said earlier, didn't she? She wondered how she would balance it in the end, but they couldn't stay there all night to come to a conclusion.

"Promise," she half-smiled.

Rachel looked to the shadows, appeased. "Alright. Let's go."

...

The two made their way in the darkness opposite the spots of light where flames whipped about in the camps, their shadows moving in rhythm along the walls of trader shops and rail yard buildings. Rockets of neon lights seared in random outbursts from the crowd as they traipsed along, distracting Rachel a few times. In the beginning, it was from the shock of the blasts atop the din of the camps' merriment. Soon it became a distraction of sight. She wanted to see them again.

Quinn noticed the distance between her and Rachel and turned to find the brunette looking to the sky. She smiled at the wonder in the girl's face, then began to frown as she realized their shadows were not aligned against the wall. Her shadow shouldn't be that close to Rachel. She looked to the wall beside her and saw another shadow - and when she jerked in slight alarm, it moved to mimic her.

She snapped her head back towards Rachel, now moving towards her, an unknown shadow trailing behind hers.

In a flash, she pushed her companion behind a pile of wood, and dove towards the outlined figure. She heard her name being yelled out in the scuffle as she brought her hands clamping down on what felt like a neck and rolled them into the moonlight.

A boy dressed in dirty flannel flailed under her grasp as he sailed punches near her face.

"How many of you are there?" she seethed as she took a hit. The boy just groaned and tried to reach for his holster.

She immediately kneed him in a fragile place, making him contract and allowing her to swipe his pistol. In one motion, she shoved off while bringing her arm down to strike him on the side of the head with the pistol grip. He didn't get up.

She rose gradually from her crouched position, her shoulder aching from the strength of her swipe. She staggered up to see the brunette pointing the barrel of a gun at the body on the ground.

"I almost fired, Quinn!" she gasped.

"Why didn't you?" she huffed, straightening her shirt. "It could've gotten them soldiers up and about."

"I didn't want to shoot you by accident…"

She draped an arm around the girl's stiffened frame. "It's alright. He'll be knocked out for a while."

Rachel began to relax as she sheathed her pistol. "This trip is becoming a bit more than I bargained for," she chuckled.

"And it's not going to let up anytime soon, I fear," the blonde uttered.

Rachel looked down the alley and saw them. It was literally a gang of men making their way to where they stood.

"Run."

She didn't need to hear any more.

...

They darted out into the encampments, apparently not providing a big enough distraction to the blasts of fireworks being set off.

She yelled as they ran. "Where are they all coming from? You said they were disbanded, Quinn!"

"I don't know!" came the reply.

"Well— they sure as heck— had a successful recruitment— while you were away!" she gasped. She couldn't keep running like this. Cooking and singing were not good enough conditioning for this sort of activity.

Thankfully, Quinn stopped and hid them behind a tent overlooking the river.

"Funny, Rachel."

"Glad you think so," she grinned. Though she wasn't actually quite that amused. They were taking too long. The others must surely be worrying by now. "We need a faster way out of here. Over the river?"

Quinn saw a mesh of color on the ground up ahead. Giant baskets. Burners. "I have an idea," she replied.

Rachel looked at the signs as they ran up to the crowd that was assembling around an inflating tent. Want to fly? Try a balloon ride! She remembered the materials being unloaded from the train earlier in the day.

She looked to one that was about to be sent up with a few adventure-seeking citizens. The burner was lit and it began to rise. The basket lifted off the ground to cheers and the delighted faces of those onboard. She didn't believe that people would ever be able fly, but she was seeing them take off into the air before her eyes. It was glorious yet frightening.

What if the burner set the balloon on fire? What if a bird hit the balloon? Can you control where to go? Surely, this wasn't Quinn's idea?

She whirled around looking for the blonde in the multitude.

Quinn was bartering with the crew in charge of another balloon being inflated. At least one pilot to fly the contraption then a dollar per person. Each balloon had to be filled with four people. It was expensive - that's probably how much she made a day on this drive according to Santana. But how often do you get to fly?

She looked up at the sky at the balloon that had already gone first. Then the fireworks in the distance. And how often do you get the thrill of trying to survive a flight through a field of explosives?

She saw Rachel meeting her gaze as the brunette made her way through the rabble. She's going to kill me.

She scanned back towards the encampment. She couldn't tell gang member from soldier from civilian apart any longer and felt a tinge of panic. Still, better than them killing us.

She turned back towards the crew member in charge.

"What is this?" he gruffed, looking down at the crumpled bill in her hand.

"Five dollars," she offered. "For me and my companion."

He lifted a scraggy eyebrow at her, almost putting her eyebrow lift to shame. "You need two more people."

"Keep the rest for the unfilled spots. A dollar extra to set us down on the other side of the river," she pressed. He snorted.

"Please," she continued, catching herself by surprise. She'd never settled for pleading before. "It's all I have."

He scrutinized the unease in her eyes and snatched the bill. "Alright, alright. Hold yer hankies."

She breathed a sigh of relief and turned in time to catch Rachel in a hurry.

"Are you serious, Quinn Fabray?" It was a tad shrilly. She slid her hands down the tightened arms to calm them. Touching apparently worked. Rachel grumbled quietly as she stared in question.

"I've seen these before. It's our way over the river, Rachel. Trust me, please." Dammit. Twice in the span of minutes. Rachel's eyes softened. This girl was doing something to her. Snap out of it, Fabray. You're no desperate fool.

She exhaled lightly and climbed up into the basket. The balloon was fully inflated and ready to go, the burner lightly on to allow a preliminary lift off the ground, and the pilot being given last instructions in a group of crewmen. She extended her arm towards the brunette. "Take my hand," she said.

This time there was less hesitation on Rachel's part. She'd been holding that hand most of the night. This would be no different. She grabbed it and was about to step up when a zing unhooked one of the ropes that latched the basket to the ground. The basket shivered and tilted to the attached sides, catching her off balance with a yelp. Quinn held onto their grasp and looked ahead.

There was movement amongst the crowd, heading towards them. They wouldn't shoot the balloon down for fear of explosion and attracting too much attention, but they would shoot either girl if they got close enough. Where is that damn pilot? The crew was looking about confused.

"Rachel! Come on!" she grunted as she pulled the two of them onboard. "Hang on!"

"Quinn, what are you doing?"

"Turn up the burner!" She took out her pistol and fired off another rope. They tilted up.

"Are you crazy?"

"We don't have time!" Another shot. Another rope.

The crew members began running around the rising balloon, yelling. The audience's attention shifted. Rachel panicked. Then she saw faces from the chase. It did not help the panic. She flung an arm out to a knob and turned it. The flame smoldered. The sound was deafening. She looked to Quinn.

"Trust me," repeated the blonde.

She nodded in reply, her eyes wide.

The last rope whipped off and she felt a sudden lift. She felt arms steadying her as they rose and swayed gently with the wind. She cast a gaze down at the receding ground. The little faces looked aghast.

...

"We're in big trouble, Fabray," she breathed, the cold air cooling her throat.

"We'll make a run when we set down." Her companion's breath breezed past her cheek and she realized Quinn had wrapped an arm around her waist and that she could feel her pressed against her back. She turned her head to the side, forehead pressed against a soft chin.

"I was right. You are crazy…"

The chin shifted away and hazel eyes looked into hers, a half-pout on the lips before they moved. "That's the third time you've said that about me tonight, though I recall it was you who decided to stay behind and jump off buildings with me." A strong arm reached out to adjust the burner.

"Ha, think what you will, Fabray."

"…What happened to just 'Quinn'?" the lips smirked. Rachel remembered them over pork chops sizzling in a pan.

She rarely saw this playful, spontaneous - and crazy - version of the girl she'd come to know over the past few months. She cocked her head and wandered her eyes over the pretty face. Quinn smiled and continued to tweak the burner to catch the right flow of wind. No, there was still that reserved, stoic manner about her.

"Quinn is more… than 'just Quinn'," she fumbled. Hazel eyes looked up and she remembered the mountains and the specks of sunlight against a backdrop of night.

"And Rachel is more than just Rachel," came the quiet reply.

She glanced awkwardly at the floor, not knowing how to respond, her cheeks pink. A small laugh made her look up.

"Why aren't you looking out?"

She shook her head. Somehow the blonde read her mind.

"Don't worry. See my hands? I'll hold you," the girl smiled. Rachel swallowed. Quinn continued, "Look. It's your north star."

She finally dared herself to look out and face the edge of the basket. The last thing she recalled was her mouth falling open.

They weren't just tiny lights in the sky anymore. She didn't have to look up as much. She didn't have to feel like she was reaching for nothing. She was flying, and she was flying amongst them. She didn't feel alone, for they were all right there in front of her - almost within reach and illuminating them with an incredible brightness in the clear night, the peppered fireworks in the backdrop only adding to the splendor of the universe. She remembered the gold star her father always wore and when he would put her on his shoulders when she was little to reach the things she couldn't on her own. And she realized she had come all this way, went on this trip that she had no business being on, been through storms and stampedes and being chased by outlaws - yet still, she was alive. She was safe.

How?

Because of Quinn.

The girl had saved her every time. Take my hand. Helping her up so she wouldn't stumble. Onto ledges and balloons to safety. Onto carriages in the night. Even catching her when she slipped in the kitchen over elderberries. Then, the sweet smell of berries and pancakes. I think your nose is nice. Silly, but it stayed with her. She had never thought of herself as particularly attractive. You look… nice - in them. The smell of rain and Quinn's raincoat. And fish. Waiting for them. Listening and learning. How to survive in the wilderness. You'll feel it if it's right. Well, it did. She fluttered her eyes at the thought. Everything about Quinn felt right.

She whirled around and met the hazel eyes once more. She remembered what her father told her about angels. Something welled up inside her. He had never been wrong.

Quinn approached her. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. Then after a beat, "Can you do something for me?"

"What is it?"

"Kiss me."

The features of Quinn's face tightened, her eyes revering their view. "You don't have to ask," she said softly.

Rachel smiled lightly and moved closer until their hands met. One caressed her cheek as she looked on the lips that told her she was more than she thought she was. She glanced up, their eyes meeting. She could feel an arm wrap her waist gently, but firmly.

Feel.

She realized how colorful it sounded against the monochrome of the empty sheriff's desk. She couldn't even remember how those long-gone days felt. She just knew they happened.

But here. Now.

She could see Quinn. She could feel her body pressed against hers. She could smell the leather of her belt and boots, the wind from the desert. She could hear their breaths mingling with the breeze. "Close your eyes," she heard.

And when she closed them, she felt hands caress her cheeks and move upward. They brushed her hair from the sides of her face. She felt lips brushing tenderly against her eyelid, then the other, trailing down towards the creases of her mouth. And when she regained glimpses of logic amidst the hold of their lips on each other, she knew what Quinn's mouth tasted like. Life and second chances.

...

When they finally pulled apart for air, Quinn gazed at the brown eyes. They still held the mysteries of the universe, but something had flickered within them.

She knew because she had seen Rachel Berry in the moonlight, and not even the darkness could keep away the impending dawn of a star that had finally decided to come alive. And she believed in the stars.

They had always guided her home.

She glimpsed across the river to the safety of the opposite banks. Almost there.

She reached a hand out to ease the burner for their gradual descent, but a loud clap erupted in the vicinity of their sky, the blast reverberating against the smooth sailing of their basket.

They shook and began to lose altitude. Fast.