"Finn?" Rachel asked in a small voice. The world moved in jerky lurches around her: Finn's hand holding the gun, Sue making thick, horrible sounds as she breathed, Kurt lunging for Finn. Finn's face shifting between fear and something foreign that she didn't know at all.
"Who are you?" Kurt demanded as he grabbed Finn's t-shirt in his fists. "Oh god, I can feel it, what are you doing to him?"
"Help me," Finn whispered, and then laughed in a voice that Rachel had never heard before. When that stopped, he started crying and dropped the gun to the ground. Mike snatched it away from him, moving in a blur, and pressed against the curved wall.
With a quick look at Finn and the gun, Santana, Brittany, and Quinn bolted for the front of the plane. Carole stole glances at her son with a broken expression as she kept them in the air. "Finn, baby?" she finally asked. "What did you do?"
"It's inside me," he choked. "The thing that was inside Shelby. One's inside me. I felt it, she broke my shields, they heard me, she told them, they knew I'm a telepath, they came after me. They got inside my thoughts and found out where they were in Toledo. Help, please. Get it out."
"Oh my god," Quinn choked as she checked on Sue. Rachel looked between Finn and Sue, her mouth half open, and wondered just when she'd also started crying. "She's still alive, but..."
"What does it want with you?" Kurt asked. He occasionally looked over his shoulder at Sue, shattered, but always refocused on Finn. "We're going there! Isn't that what they wanted?"
Finn shuddered. "It was going to kill her there, and grab someone when you were too close. Shove them in. I had to..." His eyes screwed shut. "I couldn't stop it. It was taking over. I could only make it go earlier, so you guys would know what was happening. So you wouldn't be taken by surprise there."
"We're in a plane!" Mercedes said, and pointed at the windshield still plugged by his energy. "Are you nuts?"
"Mercedes!" Rachel snapped, and finally lunged out of her chair to grab Finn's arm. "Finn, please listen to me. You have to hold on to yourself. I love you, I can't lose you to this thing. Please stay here, please."
"How did they get to you? How did she 'tell them?'" Kurt asked desperately, but then froze. Maybe he'd realized it himself, or maybe he'd heard something from his terrified brother. "Being around this energy, like we have in us. It means psychic remnants hang in the air after someone dies. That's how they got the memories for our parents, Dad told me that. Shelby stayed around, didn't she? She clung to you. She told them to grab you."
If Finn's shields really were that down, Rachel thought darkly, a Rift probably could have stayed as pure energy and slipped right in. It never would have formed a physical body they could notice, or that would be stymied by walls. And after all, Shelby had told them how easily they could connect to psychic minds. "We're here, Finn," she promised, and squeezed his hand. "You just have to hold on. Then you can shove it out of yourself again, or we'll get help, and everything will be all right."
"Kurt," Santana said, and looked at him meaningfully.
At first annoyed at her for daring to pull him away from Finn, Kurt turned and went very still. It was like he'd entirely forgotten Sue, and now he could only stare at her bleeding body. Carole, still in the pilot's seat, was rigid as she flew.
"She wants to talk to us," Quinn said.
Rachel knew what that meant. "Go, I'm here with him," she whispered to Kurt, and clung more closely to Finn as he shook. Mechanically, Kurt nodded and walked down the aisle. From where she was serving as Finn's life preserver, Rachel could hear Sue's words in the small plane.
"You should turn around," Sue said. Her breath rattled as it left her chest. "Back home. You won't have my talent making up for..." She couldn't finish.
"We're incompetent," Santana agreed, voice choked. "We know, right."
"Horrible," Brittany said.
"Embarrassments," Kurt offered.
"Manatees who got lost and wandered from Florida to Ohio," Quinn said. The four looked at each other with tears in their eyes at that last one, and smiled. It looked like it hurt. Finn was doing nothing more than breathing in and out, so Rachel let him cling to her and watched the front of the cabin.
"Stick together," Sue said. Her voice sounded thick, like Shelby's had as she sprawled on the street. "Santana, Brittany. There's a reason they kept you two as a pair."
Santana took Sue's remaining hand in her own and nodded through her tears. Brittany hugged Santana's shoulders. "We will," Brittany said.
"You two..." Sue's eyes closed, and Kurt and Quinn both grabbed for her hand, and claimed it from Santana. "My bag. Look there. And don't be on your own. But be great. Don't disappoint me."
"Okay," whispered Quinn and Kurt, one after the other. Then things went very quiet, with only Finn's gasping breaths and the whine of the high-tech engines, and Rachel knew that Sue had died. Everyone seemed reluctant to move; the scene wouldn't become real until they started dealing with its outcome.
When she spoke, Carole sounded apologetic for breaking that spell. "Artie, I know you shook your head," she said. Her voice wavered. "But I really do need a co-pilot. I can tell you what to do."
"Right," Artie said shakily. "I should be able to... I've been able to figure out things when I'm using them. I'll be okay. Puck, can you get me up there?"
"Wait," Kurt said. Rachel turned again and saw him gently fixing Sue's hair. "Santana, do you mind if I use the seat you were in? It's not... she shouldn't be on the floor."
"Yeah, that's fine," Santana said. She and Brittany pressed against the wall, out of the way, and Kurt tried to move Sue's body into the seat Santana had vacated. It seemed to be harder than it looked; the full weight of an adult body was more than Kurt could easily handle. Quinn did what she could, and together they managed to get what was left of Sue Sylvester seated and belted.
Silently, like it would be disrespectful to do otherwise, Puck carried Artie down the aisle and helped him get seated in the co-pilot's chair. "I can't really see," Artie said in a wavering voice that he tried to steady. "There's blood all over the window. And Finn's little telekinetic patch."
"That's all right," Carole said. She took several deep breaths. "I just need you to watch the instruments. I'll tell you what to do. We'll land at Newark. I'll get authorization. It'll all be fine."
As if she'd forgotten until then, Quinn jolted and dug for Sue's bag. She opened it, and then, confused, retrieved several sealed files. "It's what they did to us," Quinn said after a few seconds of study. "She grabbed it. It wasn't in the school when it burnt."
"Does anyone actually want to look at that now?" Mercedes asked. The group, stuck in a small plane with a broken windshield and ripe with the scent of blood, shook their heads. "We'll do it afterward," she told Quinn. "After we save everyone."
"Right," Quinn said, and put it back into Sue's bag. Her hand trembled as she fixed another stray piece of their former coach's hair.
"You're going to be fine," Rachel finally said to her silent, terrified boyfriend. Now it was time to deal with him; they had to move beyond Sue.
Finn said nothing. He was whimpering, and Rachel finally steered him back to a tiny conference table. It was a jet designed for working and solving problems in the air, not dying in it. He let her arrange him on of those table's seats. Thankfully, the others there had squeezed into the front of the plane when they saw him coming, so Finn would have room. In truth, they might simply have been scared of Finn. "You're going to be fine," she repeated.
"They're going to do it," Finn said haltingly. Kurt returned, then; Rachel noticed blood dark against his pale hands. She chose not to say anything. "They're going to keep pushing Beth. If they can't get us there, then they want to blow up the city. They want to destroy it."
"So," Kurt said, his face grim, "they're flat-out sadistic, then." He looked back to the front of the plane. Rachel knew who—what—had his attention, and she said nothing. Sadistic, indeed.
"It's not... whatever that word means. The feedback with Beth, it wouldn't be a little dimensional... burp. It'd be an explosion. All the buildings getting blown up, being set on fire..." Finn began, and Rachel felt a chill.
Santana had wondered if her fireballs were safe to use. Yes, Kurt had told them: so long as she hit them very, very hard. She had to hit them so square-on that it would overcome any benefit they got from the fire's energy. It sounded like it was very draining for the Rifts to come into their dimension. Setting fire to McKinley had probably just only recovered what they'd lost in the process of getting there; they'd come hoping for a bigger payoff.
The entire New York metropolitan area being set alit with a single move? That was an excellent energy payoff.
That sort of energy would open a lot of doors for their friends back home. After that, they would be overwhelmed. Unquestionably. Even without those machines, the Rifts could surely figure out something to do with them. Perhaps they would just juice them like a lemon, and even that might bring on the worst for everyone. "Sue told us to turn around," Rachel said slowly. "But we can't. If New York is set on fire, our whole world will be filled with those things." Everyone looked confused. Rachel met Santana's eyes when she said, "Fire is energy. It takes energy for them to appear here."
"Shit," Santana said, and rubbed her eyes. All of them had scrubbed their faces before bed. No one's hair was styled, no makeup was on. Even those in their shrapnel-shielding costumes weren't wearing masks. It was just them, bare. "But we don't even know where they are."
"I know," Finn said dully, and shivered. "It's telling me where to go."
"We can't trust it," Santana immediately said. "Finn's possessed by some creepy evil thing. That is the exact definition of 'when you don't trust someone.'"
"Actually," Kurt said sadly, and looked at Finn's pale face, "this is exactly when we should trust it. Because it wants us there, so someone can try to grab us. That's the better option for them. Blowing up the city is just a band-aid in comparison. It wouldn't steer us wrong. They can't drain someone if we never get close."
"There's something we could do that would solve everything," Tina said quietly. Something about her calm, measured tone drew everyone's attention, even though it should have been too quiet to hear. "We're thirty thousand feet in the air, and they can only drain us if we're alive."
Realization sunk in, person by person, and the group stared at her with every expression from grim acceptance to horror. Rachel accepted what she'd said, though she hated the idea. Puck refused, and looked angry at the mere suggestion. "Hell no," he snapped at Tina. "Are you insane?"
As Mike stared at her in disbelief, Tina explained to him, "Shelby put the world at risk because she was scared of dying. Of being dead. Meanwhile Sue was ready to sacrifice herself to keep us safe, and..." She swallowed. "And I guess she did." Their collective act of pretending that Sue's dead body wasn't just a dozen feet away wobbled uncertainly for a few painful seconds. "I'm just saying. Are we better than Shelby?"
"We're trying to save people," Quinn said. "Not hurt them. If they blow up New York and start pouring through, and we're not around? They're still going to start doing whatever they can to harvest what this world has to offer. It might not be as good as us, but they'll destroy it all the same to take what they can find. And it'll start with Beth."
"And think about who else is there, Tina," Mercedes said, teary-eyed. Rachel looked around the cabin and saw Kurt and Puck in similar states. Clearly, none of them would be willing to write off any of the abducted people. She had no idea if their decision made them heroes or unspeakably selfish. The label probably depended upon whether or not they won.
"Okay," Tina said, not seeming willing to argue. Now that they were past the first, tense seconds, Rachel saw that she didn't seem particularly set on the idea of sacrificing themselves for the potential of a greater good. Or at least, a lesser evil. "I just wanted to point it out."
"I'm glad you decided that," Carole said from the pilot's seat. Her voice shook on odd syllables. "Because I wouldn't have set the plane down, anyway." She took a few steadying breaths. "Finn, sweetie? How are you doing?"
"Scared," he said in a whisper too soft for her to hear. Rachel and Kurt each took one of his hands, and after a quick, wavering smile at Rachel, Finn zeroed in on his brother. Kurt was probably an anchor, Rachel thought; she knew his thoughts were easiest for Finn to read. Kurt's mind, unchanged by any invaders, must be like a security blanket. After a few beats, Finn raised his voice and said, "Mom? I can tell you where to go."
"Prepare to enter coordinates," Carole said to Artie. Even from the back of the plane, Rachel could tell that the woman was just barely holding herself together. "Okay, honey."
"The northwest part of Staten Island," Finn said. "There are a lot of big, open fields. Look for a building with a bunch of vents on its roof, and blue light coming out of a grating."
As Carole nodded and conferred with Artie, Quinn started laughing bitterly. "Of course. Somewhere people forget about. That's why Finn thought of it like that: he knew that everyone forgot me, over there."
The network of lights below them thickened like capillaries becoming arteries. Occasional streetlights gave way to massive freeways. They were close. Rachel felt sweat bead on the back of her neck. "Making our approach," Carole said as they began to descend. Rachel's stomach flipped as they began to fall back to earth. "Moving into vertical descent mode," Carole informed them professionally. Rachel's stomach flipped further as their high-tech plane moved into a new mode and began to move straight down.
When they were almost on the ground, half a mile from the location that Carole had located and then veered away from, the instruments screeched at Carole. The plane tilted wildly, and she yelled for them to hang on as she brought them down. "We just... we passed through something right there," she said, gulping for air. "It made everything go wild."
"I remember that I couldn't contact them last time," Artie said uncertainly. "From my house, I mean. Some sort of freaky energy field."
Carole tensed, and then checked her instruments. "I can't reach S.H.I.E.L.D. I can't get backup. God, I'm stupid. Out of practice. I should have asked in the air. We're right here and I can't ask for help. Artie, do you think you can punch through?"
"I can try," Artie said, as all of them began to slip off the plane. Rachel supposed that was the best they could hope for. "Uh, guys... just... have your communicators on. We're all inside the field together, so now they'll work."
"Sounds like you wanted to say 'don't die,'" Puck corrected. Yes, that was what Artie's tone had really been. Artie shrugged helplessly as they left him behind, and that served as their good-bye.
They made their way across the pitch-black meadow in silence. It felt like their first night examining their powers, a seeming decade earlier. When they first saw spotlights, Finn smirked, and Rachel knew in an instant that it wasn't him any more. "Now that you're here, I guess they can kill those three." He shuddered, put a palm to his forehead, and breathed deeply. "Sorry."
"You have to fight it off, Finn," Rachel said gravely. "If you don't, and if it takes over you... you could send out a telepathic alarm. Everyone here would hear you."
After another long breath, Finn closed his eyes and nodded. With consideration, Rachel noticed that he'd turned straight toward Kurt, even without seeing the people around him. "Kurt," she asked quietly. "Can you anchor him? All the time? It sounds like his telepathic shields are absolutely shattered. It's obvious that he's latching on to you."
"Yeah," Kurt said, swallowing. "Just hold on to my mind, all right?" When he laughed, it sounded pained and nervous. "This time, I give you full permission to dig in as deeply as you want."
Puck met his eyes. "If he freaks out again and he's inside your brain..."
"Then it happens," Kurt said, and thought that was clearly that. Though agonized, Puck didn't argue with him. "Let's hurry," he said, and hugged himself. "If that thing inside Finn wasn't kidding about... about what it said..." He trailed off, unable to finish, and looked ready to cry.
Reassured that Kurt was steadying Finn, Rachel turned her attention back to the facility. How were they going to get inside? It wasn't as if the place was swarming, but she could make out dull-eyed guards here and there. Shelby had clearly mindwiped not only S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but also police officers, locals... anyone who might serve as a sufficiently meaty body to stand in-between her and her destiny. Given another day or two, her effort would have been discovered. She couldn't expect that she could steal away dozens of people, maybe more, and have that go unnoticed.
But one of those people might well be empowered via Beth's energy in very short order, and so one of them might be grabbed. Or the machine would backfire, New York would perish, and things would fall apart a bit more slowly. There was no time to wait for a natural discovery of what had happened.
Rachel's powers weren't the most spectacular of the group. She'd made enormous mistakes. If she was going to be worth anything, she had to show that, if nothing else, she could be a leader when the situation really called for it. She'd assumed the leadership position was hers by right. Now it was time to earn it. "Tina," Rachel said after that thought. "I know you can make people feel scared or pleased from a distance, right?"
Tina nodded.
"Can you put them to sleep? Not knock them completely out, but make them feel tired? Like they'd think it was just getting late, and they're bored and sleepy?"
Blinking, Tina considered that, and then nodded again. "Yes, I think so. Brains work like that. Um, I don't really want to drain the plane, because they might need it for the signal. So let me go to a car? Maybe?" She shrugged. "I guess they have a parking lot somewhere, and I can do a few guys at a time."
"No," Rachel said thoughtfully. She glanced at where Finn had started clutching Kurt's shoulder. They all had to work together. She could finally see how their powers fit together in a perfect puzzle, like they'd tried to do with their small group missions. It was clear, now. "We need to hit them all with one strike if we're going to slip in. Going back and forth like that... we'll be seen, and it'll take too much time."
"Okay, but where am I going to get that much energy?" Tina asked. Rachel was pleased to see that she didn't feel like she couldn't hold that much power at once, simply that she didn't know where to find it.
"Can you absorb any sort of energy?" Rachel asked. When Tina considered that and nodded, Rachel smiled and turned to Mercedes. "Like, say, an incredibly powerful energy beam?"
After a second, Mercedes smiled. "I'm not gonna do it if I'm gonna hurt her, but... would I hurt you?"
Tina shook her head, grinning back. "It's just energy, I should be fine."
"Okay," Mercedes said. Her hands started glowing and she ducked low against the ground; a few stray bushes hid the light. "Pulling me out to wail at the beginning this time, huh?" she asked as the power began to creep past her wrists. If not for her obvious fear about what could happen to Sam and to all of them, she might have sounded good-natured about the whole thing.
As she waited, Rachel made her way to Kurt and Finn. Her hand rested possessively on Finn's back, and she said, "Just hold on, Finn. Once we fix this and get Beth away from here, then you won't have to try so hard. We'll get S.H.I.E.L.D. and get you help, and everything will be fine. You'll see. We'll win here, we just will."
"I'm not a leader," Finn said quietly. "You are. I'm not. Everything has just been handed to me. I just... I don't deserve it. What life was like for us in New York, how Kurt pointed out that I just get automatically considered for everything at school... but I haven't done anything. I couldn't even fight back this thing in my head enough to stop from shooting Sue. My big heroic moment was to shoot her sooner."
"We can have this conversation later, Finn," Kurt said insistently. "Right now, focus on staying as yourself. Okay? Both of us love you, and you will prove yourself tonight. You will be strong and reliable and everything you think you aren't. You don't have to have people hail you as 'a leader' for that. Just stay here."
"We do, Finn," Rachel said. "We love you. We don't care about you being a leader right now. We just want you to hold on, and be safe. We're going to get everyone out of this, do you hear me?" She caught an odd edge to Kurt's expression after that, and asked, "Kurt?"
"Tina?" Kurt slowly asked. "How long do you think people will stay sleepy?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe five minutes, maybe half an hour. Either way, we'll be able to get the jump on them."
"Yep. Just give me a few more minutes," Mercedes said as she charged up.
Tina added, "And we don't know if it'll affect any Rifts hanging around in there. So if we want to get inside, we'll have to move quickly, or they might pick up on people dozing off. Even if people pass out for half an hour, we'll still get noticed by the creepy aliens."
Rachel inhaled and nodded. It sounded rather serious, put like that.
"Rachel," Kurt said, "if I can take your communicator so Artie can wake me up, or if Finn can just jolt me or something, then I can get inside and save Blaine, Sam, and Lauren."
"No way," Santana instantly said. "Are you nuts?"
"If they're mostly asleep," Kurt said, "then I can get to wherever they're holding Blaine and the others." He saw the immediate protests. "I know I can do this. I did it before. That's how we broke into the first place: I went in."
"We're going to stay out of that machine by sticking together," Mercedes said. "Kurt, I want to rescue Sam, but you getting captured is the exact opposite of helpful. For everyone."
"I won't get caught," Kurt said confidently. He turned to Finn. "Because Finn is going to stay latched onto my mind. Which means that he's going to be safe, secure, and him. And he'll keep an eye out for anyone coming near me, and warn me."
"This seems really risky," Brittany said, hugging herself awkwardly.
"Rachel... Anthem just said that no one is going to die." Kurt flicked his eyes toward her. "If they know we're coming, then the three of them won't have much time left. Because whatever's in Finn said they were willing to kill them."
"You shouldn't do this," Puck said. He reached out for Kurt's hand and then forced himself back. Seeing the anticipated comment, he continued, "I love Lauren, and you'd be saving her, too. But going off on your own? Saying you'll be right back, or whatever? This is horror movie central."
"I am going to save all of them," Kurt said. It didn't sound like it was up for discussion, and Rachel had the distinct feeling that they might have to knock him out to stop his big plans.
As the protest began to build, Quinn took a deep breath and turned to Kurt. "S-Sue told us not to be alone. Let me go with you. I trust them to get to Beth." A quick look over her shoulder said that she'd best not regret that.
Though he didn't seem averse to the idea, Kurt said, "You're tiny, but are you flexible enough? I know, Cheerios practices, but I also remember breaking into that first place. How sharp those turns were. If I didn't have my powers..."
"I want to try something," Quinn said calmly. She glanced at Santana. "Santana and I have very similar powers, right? We're practically like mirror images." When she saw that Kurt was growing impatient, she quickly explained, "Santana's explored her power limits more, while I haven't pushed myself. So let me see if I can do... this." As the last words left her lips, Quinn's pale form faded into translucency. Above her collar and past her sleeves, she was perfect, pale ice. "No friction," Quinn laughed, and kicked off her boots. Her voice sounded sharp and thin.
"All right," Kurt said, and somehow managed a nervous smile. "If you can bend almost far enough, then I can slide you. Good plan. Let's go."
"Wait," Rachel said. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control: first Sue, then Finn, and now they were splitting up. "I don't... how are you even getting in?"
"The roof," Kurt said confidently.
"How are you getting on the roof? How is Quinn?"
Kurt didn't hesitate. "I'll illusion Puck, he'll throw us up there, and you'll come grab him when you make your way inside. Or he'll run back. Fastball Special, remember?"
"I know where people are in the building," Finn said softly. "I don't know who's who, it's hard to focus on everything... I can't focus on everything, but I can focus on Kurt. And I'll know if someone's near him." He met Kurt's eyes. "If you want to do this, then I'll help."
If this was some sort of misguided apology from Finn... Rachel didn't even know how to finish that sentence in her head. But she couldn't condemn Blaine, Sam, and Lauren to a likely death. Not when Kurt had already successfully assaulted one facility. Not when he had backup. Sue Sylvester might have been ready to kill Puck for the greater good, but Rachel couldn't just write off three lives, even if doing so would be so, so much wiser. "All right," she said, and took off her communicator. There were others in the group who had them, she thought as she clipped it to Kurt's collar. "Stay safe."
"Come on," Kurt said, and motioned Quinn and Puck toward the facility. He made sure to keep a hold on both of their arms. After four steps into the night, they vanished.
•••••
"We're Gwen Stacy," Sam said as he hugged his knees to his chest. His earlier enthusiasm for life was long gone, and he sounded increasingly hopeless the longer they were there.
They hadn't been killed immediately upon arrival. Once Blaine had worked through his most crippling fear, he tried to sort out the facts into some sort of reasonable picture. Fact: Jesse seemed to be working for someone, and had only been carrying out orders. Fact: their significant others were very big targets, and so the three of them were likely serving as bait. Fact: those significant others had no way of knowing whether they were alive or not, but yet, they still were.
If they hadn't been conveniently disposed of when Jesse was right there, Blaine doubted that they were going to be killed simply for the sake of it. He knew what it felt like to be a target. If Jesse had shot them, it would have felt like a natural conclusion. But no: they were still alive. Maybe they had some other plans for them, or maybe they didn't care at all about the group so long as they lured in their targets, but they were still alive.
Lauren lifted the wrenched-off leg of a cot she'd disassembled, took a deep breath, and clanged it heavily against their door. It went flying from her hand to ricochet around their cell. She stared unhappily at the damage she'd failed to do. After Blaine and Sam finished cowering from her inadvertent attack, Blaine turned to Sam. "We're who?"
"Gwen Stacy." By that point, Sam seemed ready to disappear into the shadows of his chosen corner. "Rachel had them read the story in the workbooks she made for everyone, but I already knew about her."
"All right, but who is she?" Blaine asked. He thought he sounded patient, considering everything.
"Spider-Man's girlfriend, probably. He knew her, at least." At that, Lauren stopped frowning at the door and paid attention to Sam.
Any light in Sam's eyes about heroes, superpowers, and grand stories had long since faded. If he'd been on a high earlier about how heroes had the potential had to be the very best, now he was lost in the lows of fearing they were facing the very worst. He knew all those stories. He was convinced they were living out those pages. "Long story short, she died because she was around a hero. A bad guy grabbed her. She got killed in the crossfire."
"What, so some damsel in distress?" Lauren instantly sneered, but even she sounded unsettled. After all, like Sam, she'd wanted the group to blow up Columbus for the most spectacular fight possible. She'd wanted laser beams and explosions and fireballs. She knew how dramatic their new world could get. "I'm no damsel. I am never a freaking damsel."
"We are," Sam said. He looked dizzy. "We're freaking damsels. We're going to get killed and shoved into a refrigerator to make our girlfriends and boyfriends sad. That's it. We're gonna get fridged."
Blaine would really love for Sam to stop speaking in tropes. He understood that the boy had clung to the idea of something greater, that would fit right into the stories of his boyhood, but now his fantasy life meant that they were nothing more than extras in an even grander tragedy. No, Blaine didn't want to just be part of someone else's story. He would put his trust in Kurt and his friends to help the trio out of a situation entirely unique to them. They didn't have to play out some role that Sam had read in some comic book. "Look," he said, and knelt next to Sam. Quickly, he ran through his facts and logic about how they hadn't yet been killed, even though their deaths would go unnoticed.
"And?" Sam asked. He was still clearly convinced they were about to be 'fridged.' Bizarre term.
"If we're not already dead," Blaine said, and began to feel a sliver more confident as he acted confident for their sake, "then we're probably not going to be dead."
"I'm not a damsel," Lauren nervously muttered to herself as she tried to peer through a tiny barred inset in the door. She seemed incapable of simply waiting for assistance, and so began another futile tactic to break them free.
"We're going to be fine," Blaine said to both of them. Sam looked at him, and although he didn't entirely seem convinced, he wanted to hear what Blaine was saying. "We're going to be fine."
Some part of Blaine hated himself for lying, and hated the others for making him play the strong one when he would be entirely justified in curling up into a little ball of fear and never coming out again. But he fought back that part. He tried to keep the cell from losing itself to despair. They had to hold it together. They would be rescued, he would be safe, and everything would be fine. Kurt would come. Everyone would come. And it would be fine.
He could break down afterward, when he was safe.
•••••
"Tina will hit the whole facility," Kurt whispered. "So we'll probably be caught in it. Artie will send feedback to wake us up, and Puck? You need to either make sure to bolt for cover, and I'll try to shield you the whole way, or find a place to collapse until they come near."
"Got it," Puck said, and extended a hand like a ladder rung. He hesitated as Kurt moved into position. "Hey, so, uh... you remember."
"I remember," Kurt confirmed. They stared at each other for a long, intimate second. "I'm happy now."
"Yeah. I know."
"The two of us have... everything that happened in Ohio."
Puck swallowed. "Yeah. Know that, too."
"But way deep inside of you, where you hardly let anyone see," Kurt said with a soft smile, "there's a good guy. Don't forget him. I'm glad I didn't."
With a shuddering sigh of relief, Puck smiled like he'd been granted absolution. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then shook his head. "Ready?"
"Ready," Kurt said, and was thrown into the air like a javelin. His hands caught a narrow beam running along the roof, and he used his momentum to arc up and over it, landing on the metal plating in absolute silence. Remembering himself, he unclipped his communicator and instead clipped it directly to one ear, even though it smarted. The speaker aimed directly at his eardrum, that way. He then leaned over the edge and gestured for Quinn.
Even from up there, he could see her expression: you had better catch me, Hummel. He wasn't any stronger than he'd once been, but they'd both been trained by Sue Sylvester. Not only was Kurt confident in his ability to catch her at the peak of a throw, but if worst came to worst, Puck could catch her on the descent. He nodded and held his breath. A second later, Quinn's gloved hands were latched tightly around his wrists and Kurt pulled her to the rooftop. They both waved at Puck, who pointed at the bush cover they'd come from. Kurt illusioned him as best he could as Puck sped back to the group.
He and Quinn were alone, then. "We'll find a vent," he whispered, "and then wait for Tina. I don't want to fall asleep in the middle of this."
She nodded, and when the wave did hit them, they were prepared. A pleasant, dreamy lassitude swept over them and Kurt found himself dropping to his knees. It didn't feel abnormal. It felt wonderful after his long, impossible day. It would be nice to just go to sleep and wake up the next day. Hopefully. Or maybe he'd be dead. Oh. Right.
One thin, shrill round of feedback screeched in his ear, and Kurt clawed the communicator off his earlobe. Glaring at it, he archly returned it to his collar, silenced it, and shook Quinn awake. They were ready, then. Time for the belly of the beast.
"This won't work," Kurt said as they were about to climb into the vent he'd opened. Just as he'd been about to slip inside it, he'd caught another glimpse of Quinn and realized he'd been a complete fool to agree to this plan.
"Why not?" Quinn asked impatiently.
"This is going to be tough for me to bend my way through. And I'm pulling you. You might not have any friction, but that outfit still does."
She hesitated, looked distant for a second, and then nodded. "Okay," Quinn said as she began to unzip her outfit and peel it away from her body. Kurt stared at his feet as soon as he realized what was happening. Eventually her clothes fell to the roof, and he looked back up. Quinn was a perfect nude statue. Although it was difficult to see in the dark, the few lights around them caught her translucent form and made it perfectly clear that she'd held onto every single detail of her fleshy body.
"You're blushing," Quinn said lightly. "And I did say I was Santana's counterpart with ice, right? Well, think of that accident she had with her costume."
"I didn't really expect this, is all," Kurt said. "Especially from you."
She took a beat to reply. "Neither of were happy about these powers. We tried to get out of them more than almost anyone. But now it's only the two of us who can save these lives, and that has to happen. That's important, that matters, and that makes me feel like I matter. I don't know why I ever had a problem with what we are. Even if I don't normally plan to fight naked."
Kurt looked down into the black maw of the vent system, and turned back to Quinn. "Sue said that the two of us were the only ones with the personalities to be agents. Like her." His voice barely wobbled at her name. He realized that he was probably repressing his grief, just like he was repressing his fear over Finn and Blaine and a Beth-powered nuclear bomb. "She said we're strong alone."
"But she also told us not to be alone," Quinn retorted. "So let's work together, be heroes, and save them."
"There's a good chance there's a security system in there that will shoot us full of holes or something," Kurt felt compelled to point out.
"And?" Quinn asked lightly. "It's not like I'll bleed out right now. You should look out, though."
That made Kurt giggle nervously, and he nodded. There was nothing more to be said, and so he slowly released his full weight into the vent system. The metal under his feet protested and he readjusted his stance until it could bear him securely, without any tell-tale groans. His gloved hands served as a footstep for Quinn's icy foot, and soon they were slithering through the lungs of the building.
After two corners, the vents bent at what seemed like an impossible angle for anything but air. Kurt curved himself like a cat, wondering at one point where his spine had gone or why it wasn't protesting, and then reached out a hand for Quinn. She came less easily, but without any friction against the walls, they managed to slide her back and forth like a car moving into a parking space just barely sized for it. And then, she was in. They could make the turns.
Kurt didn't say "let's go." They both knew to move on, forward and down.
Besides, they didn't want to catch the attention of whoever might be below them. Being sleepy was poor protection.
•••••
This was ridiculous, Rachel thought as they scurried toward the door, half-bent. Finn might as well not even be trying to conceal himself. At least the night shielded them. They were untrained teenagers, let off their leashes by the unexplained death of their overseer, and now the only other woman who might be able to help them was desperately occupied with trying to get assistance that might actually mean something. Meanwhile, as Carole and Artie tried to contact S.H.I.E.L.D., they were about to break into a building and had already let their group split up.
And if the Rifts could sense Tina's energy, they'd be wondering what was going on. Maybe they hadn't planned this well, after all.
"They can't," Finn said. He must be catching stray thoughts, as well as having the thoughts of that thing inside him. "Psychic energy connects really easily to them. Tina's... they tried to figure out what we could all do. Tina's an energy-sucker, like them, but she just moves it around. It doesn't hurt anything. They suck it out of our dimension, and it makes everything go all wobbly and weird, and then things blow up." Rachel stared at him blankly, and Finn clarified, "Tina's energy is too much like them. They don't feel it at all."
"Okay, good," Rachel said, barely reassured as they waited outside the door. "Artie," she said as she leaned in to Santana's shoulder. "Have you popped the door open, yet?"
After a pause, Artie quietly replied, "But I thought getting in touch with S.H.I.E.L.D. was the big priority."
"Never mind, we'll figure it out."
"You can do it," Santana said encouragingly to Brittany. "Just... make the lock go away."
"I don't want to," Brittany said, and swallowed. "I'll make it blow up in our faces or something."
"Any chance your shields can muffle sound?" Santana asked Mercedes after a long sigh.
"I can give it a shot," Mercedes said, and after a quick experiment of snapping her fingers inside a glowing sphere, nodded. When Puck ripped the steel door off its hinges, no one came running from around a corner to catch them. They were in.
"Move carefully but quickly," Rachel said in a low voice. "We need to find Beth and get her out of that machine. Listen for a baby to be crying. They might not have fed her all day, or changed her... she's probably crying." She saw Puck's look of distress and reiterated, "If we get Beth out, then we can start fighting at full tilt if need be. Until then, every spent second is dangerous."
"I can go on ahead and look," Mike said. "I can fly, so they won't hear footsteps or anything. I won't wake anyone up."
"Can you brake, now?" Santana asked dubiously.
"Most of the time," Mike said after a second's hesitation.
"Go with him," Rachel said to Brittany, sighing. She didn't want them to split up. She didn't. But it did make sense to cover more ground, and their fliers might as well work together.
Tina and Santana looked ready to protest, but they gave up and said their farewells with embraces and deep kisses. "How do you think they're doing?" Mercedes asked Puck as they watched the duo speed off, just a foot below the pseudo-ceiling made of industrial vents and pipes. The entire place simultaneously gave the impression of being infinitely old and impossibly high-tech. It felt as if a spaceship had been hidden away inside a cavern hewed roughly from cinderblocks and poured concrete.
"They're probably... you asking about air vents or holding cell?"
"Holding cell," Mercedes said.
"Oh." Puck rubbed his head as Rachel rubbed small circles on Finn's back, and told him to hold onto Kurt as often as he needed. "Uh. I mean, they're probably just sitting in there."
"Air ducts?" Mercedes asked next. "'Cause you're obviously thinking about..." Indeed, there were no two people more tricky for Puck to worry about than Kurt and Quinn. Not with everything in their past, both in New York and Ohio. Complicated didn't begin to describe it.
"I hope no one hears them," Puck said quietly.
"Let's try this way," Tina said, returning from peeking around a corner. "Worst case scenario, I can just drain the lights."
•••••
Kurt pulled his invisible head back up into the vent and dropped the disguise. They'd checked the hallways on the third, fourth, and fifth sub-basements. Each time, the space had clearly not held any sort of brig for troublesome individuals. But now, finally, the sixth sub-basement had doors clearly marked as holding cells, and Finn had raised a warning. A guard dozed peacefully outside one of those tiny rooms.
Unwilling to talk in case Sleeping Beauty might wake, Kurt held up his hand and indicated that Quinn should wait inside the air duct. He slithered out of the hole, invisible again, and crept toward the door. The man dozing there was solidly built and looked like he was probably a police officer caught by Shelby's telepathic, Rift-enhanced web. He reminded Kurt of Burt, more than a bit.
Kurt carefully avoided the man where he stood half-propped up against the wall, and put his ear against the door.
"They're going to come for us," Blaine said inside the cell.
"You keep saying that," Sam said. "And I'm telling you, this story is going to have a Gwen Stacy."
"We're not just characters in one of your comic books, Sam," Blaine snapped, sounding uncharacteristically tense. Of course, it had been a particularly trying night. "Let's deal with what's in front of us."
Right, then. He'd found them. Kurt wasn't sure what to do next. Clearly, he had to get rid of the guard, but he had no idea how he was going to get the door open. His swords cut through flesh and bone—
Coach Sylvester
—not metal. Kurt took a deep breath and just barely kept himself from sighing it out. He couldn't get Quinn's help, because he'd have to keep her invisible. Kurt knew his reserves were limited, and they couldn't run out at a bad time. That also meant that he should stop making himself invisible, lest he burn off energy he didn't have.
It was time for the straightforward approach. Pulling his hand back, Kurt clocked the man across the head as hard as he could with the hilt of one sword. The not-Burt officer swayed, groaned, and Kurt hit him again to make sure he'd go down.
"Sorry," Kurt whispered when he stared at where the man's scalp was bleeding, and hoped he hadn't done too much damage. He crept back to the vent and whispered for Quinn, and they made their way back together. "Hey," Kurt said softly through the small air vent in the door.
The trio, who'd gone still at the sound of their guard being attacked, stood. "Kurt?" Blaine asked, just as softly.
"Quinn and I are here. Stay quiet, we'll get you out."
"I told you they'd come," Blaine said smugly. When Kurt peered through the door, he saw Sam about ready to collapse with relief.
"How are we getting in?" Quinn asked as she studied the door.
Nervous, Kurt glanced up and down the hallway and then illusioned her, as well. He didn't trust his reserves to last, but he also didn't trust everyone in the facility to be dozing like that guard had. Quinn said nothing as her hands vanished from view, and they continued their conversation invisibly. "I have no idea. These swords would be a little big to serve as a lockpick."
"Okay, I have a plan," Quinn said after a second. Kurt heard a faint sliding sound, eventually realizing that she was moving her hand up and down the door. From what he could place, she seemed to be right in front of the seam where the door joined the wall. Then, ice came. Kurt couldn't predict where it would be, and could already feel a headache threatening, and so he didn't illusion it. He hoped whatever she did, she finished quickly.
"Potholes," Quinn said shortly. "Ice gets into tiny cracks in the road, and it expands. Plain old water can tear apart asphalt." The door groaned as ice began to fill the space between it and its frame. Kurt looked up and down the hall again. Surely, they would soon be discovered.
"Hurry up," he said when he became too nervous.
"I am," Quinn said tightly.
Eventually the lock wrenched open and Kurt pried the door free. As soon as he stepped into the cell, lunging toward Blaine, he became visible. "Are you okay?" he asked, checking him over.
"Oh my god it's good to see you. We're fine. Scared out of our minds," Blaine admitted, "but fine. Are you?" He kissed him, hard, and so Kurt didn't immediately respond.
"Yes. We need to get back to the group right away, or get out of the building. Either one, just so long as no one catches us. Come on." Kurt nodded to Sam and Lauren, who smiled broadly at the sight of him, and then turned to the door. Quinn was dragging the unconscious guard inside, and obviously having a rough time of it. He helped her work and was pleased to hear the man faintly groan; he wasn't comatose. A trail of blood followed the man's progress, and with a frown, Kurt asked, "Any way you can use your powers to scrub that off?"
He needed to keep the man from raising an alarm once he came to, Kurt thought with concern. After one quick second of considering his sword and how he could assure that permanently, Kurt shuddered with horror at himself and thought of other options. "Sam," he said when he looked at the trio's clothing, "I need your shirt."
Blaine, despite his obvious and crippling fear, actually managed to look bemused at that. "Woven fabric," Kurt explained as he took the shirt and began slicing it into neat stripes. "You're in a knit. I'm worried that he would just stretch it out as he struggled." Moving quickly and efficiently, Kurt bound and gagged the guard, and propped him up in the corner. "There," he said with satisfaction as he looked at his work.
Quinn slipped back into the cell, and Kurt dropped her invisibility again when he heard her words. "It's all cleaned up. Enough that you wouldn't notice it at a glance, at least. And Sam doesn't have a shirt on."
Sam, Lauren, and Blaine all blinked back at her. "You're naked," Sam pointed out in return.
"I don't know if naked ice really counts," Blaine said, although he was clearly a bit put off by the whole thing. Lauren simply looked confused.
"Long story. Let's go." Quinn looked at Kurt and, in unison and without need to discuss any plans, they started listing their strategy.
"I don't know how much longer I can do illusions, and especially not for multiple people," Kurt said, "so we'll scout out in front. I'm sneaky and I can put one up if I absolutely have to—"
"And it's hard to see me," agreed the translucent Quinn. "You three, only follow us when we say it's okay."
"What are your shoes like?" Kurt said and began to inspect their feet. Quinn's bare feet were a necessity, but they couldn't defend themselves and might need to run. With displeasure, he saw that all of them weren't wearing any; Lauren and Blaine had bare feet, while Sam had on a pair of socks with a hole over a big toe. As he scowled, he realized just how hard Blaine was holding back his fear. Even with the good sign of their rescue party, the boy he loved was trembling. He wanted to be out of there. He wanted to be safe. "Let's go," Kurt said gently. "I'm going to get you home safely, okay? I promise."
"I believe you," Blaine said, exhaling shakily. "Let's go."
With a quick nod to Quinn, Kurt set out through the hallways. He could hear them following, and Kurt became unpleasantly aware of the volume of every single footstep that Blaine, Sam, and Lauren made. He was a ninja. Quinn was a masterful cheerleader and gymnast. They were neither.
With any luck, Kurt thought as he peered around a corner and verified that it was safe to move, the others wouldn't trip any alarms. So long as they stayed quiet, they should be fine.
They should be just fine, he told himself, and tried to believe it.
•••••
"I'm about to lose my mind," Puck said as the group made their slow way through the facility. Finn looked around them, like someone might hear, but there was nothing. So far, they'd been lucky. It turned out that brainwashed randoms from wherever weren't the best attack force.
"Don't say that," Finn said when he was finally assured that they weren't about to be attacked.. He managed to force a nervous smile. "I'm the only person who gets to lose his mind."
With sympathy, Puck looked him over and asked, "Seriously, how are you holding up?" Rachel glanced back at the question, clearly interested in whatever new information he could dig out. When Finn hesitated, Puck murmured, "We were friends, the four of us. Way before we knew anyone else. I don't know what went on in your head when you tried to paint me looking bad to Kurt, but we were friends. Me and Rachel are pissed at you, you and Kurt are pissed at me... it sucks. We screwed up on some stuff. Big stuff."
"Yeah," Finn said. He could feel the oil slick inside his head ooze against his shields, and he quickly put fresh effort into bolstering the wall it was examining. Nausea surged and he reached out quickly to the one warm, sure thing he could. After he'd clung to Kurt's unaffected mind long enough to steady himself, Finn opened his eyes and looked at Puck. "We did."
"You're not okay," Puck said needlessly.
"I'm dealing," Finn said. "We'll talk later. I... yeah. We have stuff to talk about."
After that, Mike sped in with Brittany trailing him. He looked ready to shoot into the wall, and Puck just barely snagged him in time. "We heard a baby," he said. "Down the hall, about... three turns to the right, and down a staircase."
"She's crying really loud," Brittany said, worried.
"Okay," Mercedes said. "We know where we're going. Show us where to go."
"This has been weirdly easy," Santana said, eyes narrowed. "I don't like it. Something's about to go wrong." They crept down the hallway, listening for any patrolling guards, and waited for the seemingly inevitable, ironic disproval of her statement. Nothing came, and they breathed a sigh of relief.
Artie's voice crackled suddenly on Santana's shoulder. "We've drilled a hole through the field. I seriously can't believe I pulled this off. I... yeah, I can't believe it. We can contact S.H.I.E.L.D. Mrs. Hudson... Hudson-Hummel... Mrs. Whatever is doing it now."
Everyone had been so tense, so fearful, that his sudden voice brought panic rather than reassurance. Rachel placed her hand lightly against her throat and breathed deeply. "Very good, Artie. Let us know when help is on the way. We're almost to Beth, so things should be all fixed soon."
As everyone nodded, Finn shifted uncomfortably and felt darkness oozing around inside his skull. He'd been startled. Artie surprised him. When he was surprised, he was distracted, and things could get inside. He needed to center himself, quickly and totally, or that passenger would use his telepathy to scream an alarm. Without checking what was happening to Kurt, Finn reached out for his brain and wrapped himself around it like a needy child.
•••••
"Come on," Kurt said as he slid through a nest of security lasers, and then gestured the others forward after disarming the panel on the far side. "We're actually making pretty good time," he said happily, almost unable to believe it. And they made quite a team: him, completely suited up and with swords; Quinn, icy and naked; Sam, shirtless and overwhelmed; and Blaine and Lauren, who clearly just wanted to get the hell out of there and were not going to complain so long as that happened.
Another nest of lasers rested around the next corner. Kurt rolled his eyes impatiently. Just because they were six stories down in the guts of an incredibly secret government research lab didn't mean they had to be so intense with the security. "Wait here," he said, and began to contort his body through the beams.
Midway through, Finn grabbed his brain and locked around it, tight. Not right now, Kurt thought in a panic as he tried to focus on not letting his body brush those dangerous streaks of light. Finn, give me five seconds. But Finn didn't listen, and the back of Kurt's heel cut through a single laser.
The lights above their heads turned from harsh, unforgiving sodium yellow into a hellish red. Light moves faster than sound. The alarms came a second later.
"Run," Lauren said, and set off where they'd been headed without any more concern about slipping unseen through security. No one argued.
•••••
"Fuck!" Santana said as lights started flashing. Under their red glare, she melted into fire. "Let's grab the kid and get the hell out of here!"
"They're going to know where they are," Finn said. "Oh god, I did it again. I distracted him. I just... it would have taken me over, it would have used me to broadcast, and—"
Rachel kissed him, hard. "Finn, if you don't hold it together I will kiss you again, or slap you. Tell me which would be more effective."
Finn actually considered that, even as he looked ready to pass out. "I think it likes pain, so no slapping."
"Okay," she said, and kissed him again. "Now focus on Kurt as much as you can, and let's get Beth out of that machine. Everything will be fine, then."
"They tripped security," Puck said distantly. "Didn't they? It wasn't us. We didn't do anything. That means they know where they are, not us."
"Maybe," Rachel said helplessly. "Finn, is anything heading toward them?"
Everyone turned to Finn, and he swallowed. "Yeah. Oh god."
"They need backup. They need..." Puck closed his eyes. "Swear to me you will get Beth out of there. You need someone fast who can get from Point A to Point B even if it means punching the hell out of some doors."
"Mike, go with him," Rachel said, and they both sped toward the nearest stairwell. It was all falling apart, just like with Jacob. What were they doing, she asked herself as she ran. The first shadow appeared under the flashing red lights, and Santana whipped a fireball squarely into its head. It shrieked, a horrible sound of rending metal-on-metal, and then vanished into nothing. It must not have materialized fully, Rachel decided distantly as they sped toward the sound of Beth's cries. It didn't leave a corpse. Maybe they were short on energy, having done all the experiments and testing with Beth and Jesse. Maybe they would be easier to fight.
They rounded a corner and found themselves staring at a massive portal. Like two outstretched arms, metal arcs held crackling energy between them. At the center of it, suspended by the field in defiance of gravity, was Beth. Her small, soft face was red and desperate. She barely paused for breath as she wailed. Rachel could see a streak running down her leg; she'd been left there alone for a long time, abandoned inside a machine designed to kill her.
"Oh my god," Mercedes said, gulping.
"Okay," Santana said, and snapped out of her fire form. "So... how do we get her out of there without getting sucked in, too?"
With that question hanging over them, they all stared at the machine in front of them, and wondered what they were supposed to do.
•••••
Carole Hudson-Hummel had tears running down her cheeks, but her voice was steady. She never should have let the kids go off on their own, even if it was to save twenty million people. Or the world. Her sons were in there. They were each worth the entire world, all on their own. "Anticipated arrival time requested."
Artie gritted his teeth and constantly adjusted dials that she didn't understand nor recognize. The line was static-filled, but it stayed open.
"Agents are suiting up and heading out from the helicarrier now. Give them five minutes."
Damn. Damn. "Should I assist inside?" Carole asked.
"Negative. They are capable of defending themselves and we need you to maintain contact with us. We cannot pin your transmission. We need exact guidance or it'll be half an hour."
"There's someone else in here," Carole said desperately. "He can keep it open and tell you where to go."
"I really can't," Artie said. Even the distraction of speaking those few words ruined his work, and it took a good five seconds before the line cleared again.
"All right," Carole said dully. "We're in northwestern Staten Island..."
•••••
Thank you, Quinn Fabray, Kurt thought to himself as he sliced the head off another half-there Rift. If she hadn't offered to come along, he would have been completely overwhelmed. Her long-range attacks were the only thing keeping them from being swarmed, and those that did get through, he handled.
In his mind, there was no twin brother and all the history there. There was no long-lost love. There was no just-rescued love. There were only his swords and the paths they carved. When he turned to slice off another head, Kurt stumbled. He nearly fell before he corrected himself. He was tired.
"Keep moving forward," Quinn said. "Once we get up to where the others are, we'll be fine."
"Yeah," Sam said, sounding like a funeral dirge. "Sure we will."
"We'll be fine," Blaine said. He sounded terrified.
"I want a... a bat," Lauren said as they moved down the hallway. "A crowbar, freaking something. A gun."
"A gun would be nice," Kurt agreed. Would he have mastery over guns, like he did for swords? If so, a gun would be a lifesaver. Maybe he couldn't kill them at a distance, like Quinn could, but he could at least slow them down. For all that his powers had seemed so flexible and useful, right then, Kurt would trade them for simply being able to nuke people from the far end of the hallway. Thank you, Quinn, thank you.
They had just a second's warning before the building itself reminded them that the guards weren't the only security. Kurt dodged the bullets instinctively, not even aware of what he was doing.
The targeting ignored the thermal void that was Quinn Fabray.
Once again, sound took a second to reach him. Two voices were crying out in pain.
Lauren was standing there, stock still with shock and fear, where she'd once stood at the very back of their group. Sam was curled around himself on the floor. Kurt barely noticed the two of them. All he could see was Blaine clutching a hand to his side, and the red seeping between his fingers.
No, Kurt thought dumbly, unable to move. He'd said he'd get him out. He promised. This couldn't be happening.
As Quinn took out the guns with a quick ball of ice, Kurt finally lunged toward Blaine. "Oh my god, say something," he demanded. If Blaine could talk, he wasn't dead.
"Hurts," Blaine said. His fingers curled around his wound, and with a grimace he forced his hand flat again. "I don't..."
"You don't what?" Kurt asked frantically. Blaine couldn't die. Kurt had promised he wouldn't. He'd said he would be fine. It was just impossible for Blaine to have gone through all of this because he was unfortunate enough to know Kurt. No. Blaine didn't deserve that, like no one would, and so the only acceptable option was that he was fine. "Blaine, sweetie?" he said and stroked his face like he might break him. "You need to keep talking to me." He was finally, distantly aware of Lauren and Quinn checking on Sam.
"I want to go home," Blaine said. He sounded like a child.
"I will get you home," Kurt said, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks. With a few whispered words of apology, he lifted Blaine onto his shoulder. Blaine cried out in pain, and Kurt staggered under his weight, but failure wasn't an option. "Lauren, carry Sam," Kurt said. Lauren looked satisfied to finally be doing something she was good at, and arranged Sam over her shoulder as he groaned, too. "Quinn, you're going to have to cover us all."
"Right," she said, and set off moving again. She thought she could, Kurt insisted to himself. She hadn't sounded incredibly resigned, there. They would be fine. Because Blaine had not just gotten mortally wounded, and was not about to die.
•••••
Rachel had to figure out what to do. She was the leader.
She could do this. She could—
"Santana, Brittany, kill them," Rachel said as she saw two Rifts lunging out of thin air, and took care of a third herself. Right. They were at the heart of it all, and were sure to get attention. They couldn't just wait for S.H.I.E.L.D. to help them. Worst of all, a huge assault on the facility might mean that the machine would backfire. That gun was loaded. Who knew what unwittingly dangrous tricks the assault group might pull, unaware of what they were standing before?
"It's right on top of my brain," Finn whimpered, and clawed at his head. "It's like... it's me under a layer of this thing."
"Whatever you do," Tina told Mercedes very seriously, "don't shoot more energy into that portal dealie."
"Duh," Mercedes said.
That was when Rachel wanted to slap her forehead. "Tina," she asked. "If you stay back here—" One of her notes blew apart another half-formed Rift. "Can you drain energy from the wires? Destabilize the field?"
"Sounds like a plan," Tina said, and started prying apart the nearest box.
Santana's communicator crackled, and they all listened as she continued lobbing energy at new intruders. "Let me help," Artie said. "S.H.I.E.L.D.'s almost here. They know where we are, so I can help here."
Tina's hand closed around an open wire, and her eyes lit up. Lights dimmed around them. The computers started flickering with garbage, soon replaced by the lyrics to some of Artie's favorite songs. And the portal before them flashed, flickered, and Beth fell out of it, straight toward the floor, twenty feet down.
Instinctively, Rachel tried to reach out for her, only to realize the only thing she could do was blow Beth apart before she hit the floor. Mike and Puck were gone, and so were their hopes of catching the baby.
"No," Finn gritted out, and pried a hand away from his head. He held out that hand to Beth and it wrapped in purple energy. She slowed and came to a stop a foot off the floor, and dropped gently to it. "Now I need... but Kurt's barely awake, I..." He dropped to his knees, shaking. Energy was still being aimed at Beth, even though she no longer needed it.
And then, the unstable field shot out a beam of energy and caught hold of Finn's lingering telekinetic net. Like some mythical sea monster, it began to drag him toward the field.
They tried to stop him. But no one could.
Finn was about to be taken into the device that could rip all of his fully-formed powers out of him. And no one could stop it. No one. They were going to reach into his mind, pull out his energy, and send it right back to their dimension.
Rachel's eyes widened. That thing that was on top of his brain. "Finn!" she screamed. "Let it take you over!"
He met her eyes. Wracked with fear, he still trusted her. In the next second the thing before them was not Finn Hudson, but something dark and cruel that laughed at their failure. They shouldn't have been so stupid as to come there. They should have let their friends die. Let New York die. At least they would have lived for a little while longer.
Another beam of energy shot out of the machine, straight into the top of Finn's head.
The second it started draining him, the bolt turned pitch black. Energy void met energy void, and the howling of a million distant voices erupted. A Rift was pulled up out of Finn's head, inexorably toward the center of that portal, even as it struggled. A black hole was about to meet a black hole.
"Artie!" Rachel screamed into Santana's communicator, and then Santana took over.
"Ruin that shit!"
The screens flashed again. The unstable machine was pushed, just a little more. A tiny nudge.
The energy turned white again, and Rachel was blinded by it.
•••••
Kurt took another slow step, and his knee buckled when the building shook. The part of Finn inside his mind was cold and distant. He just managed to put his weight against the wall instead of falling.
He couldn't do it.
It had been the longest day of his life. He'd only gotten a couple hours' sleep. He'd already been running on little more than adrenaline, and that was fading. Blaine needed Kurt to save his life and Kurt couldn't do it.
When Kurt forced himself to take another step, he fell entirely to his knees.
"Kurt?" Blaine asked weakly. He didn't even groan from being jostled like that. "You can't carry me any more, can you?"
"Of course I can," Kurt lied. "I just need to... Lauren will carry you both for a little while, and then I'll take over again." He looked over to Lauren, his savior, and his tiny hope died.
Lauren Zizes was strong. That didn't mean, after all she'd gone through, she was up for carrying around two limp, nearly full-grown bodies. Even Sam had her tired out, as much as she was trying to cover it. Sam Evans was a big guy, solid with muscle. Lauren was stronger than Kurt, but Sam was heavier than Blaine. When she met Kurt's eyes, he knew that she wouldn't be able to go for too much longer, either.
No.
"Quinn," Kurt asked desperately, having moved past logic. "I can... I can fight. You have to take him, and then I'll fight, I just need to rest—"
"I can't carry him," Quinn said apologetically. "I can't. I'm sorry."
As Kurt's chest began to ache, and air heaved in and out, he put Blaine on the floor. "Okay, okay, just hang on." Blaine pressed his hands weakly to his side. There was so much blood. "I'm going to drag you. It's a smooth floor. Maybe it'll feel better than me carrying you." Blaine didn't protest, and Kurt grabbed his feet and began to pull. After four more steps, he tripped and landed on his knees again. Darkness crowded the sides of his vision.
He couldn't do it.
Blaine was going to die while Kurt watched.
The sound of something battering against the door caught his attention, and Quinn raised her arm. Kurt distantly wondered how much she had left in reserves. If Quinn couldn't hold them off, then they'd all die. That was fair. If he'd let Blaine die in front of him, because he'd been pulled away to manipulate Kurt, it didn't seem fair to let him get out of it, either.
When the door ripped away, Puck and Mike stood behind it. Their eyes widened at the sight before them.
"Puck," Kurt whispered. Puck was there. Everything was going to be okay. "Puck!" he yelped, and tried to lunge to his feet. He started falling over; Mike zipped there in time to catch him. "Puck, you have to carry them out of the building, they got shot, they need help, ask Artie where a hospital is before you get outside the field, run there, you have to. You have to, please, Puck, please."
With one quick nod, Puck moved to grab Blaine and Sam. Lauren shared a quick kiss with him, but then pulled back, looking odd. "Make sure they're okay," she said quietly.
"Don't let him die," Kurt pleaded. "And don't get hurt, either." The words came out before he could help them.
"Same for... all of you," Puck said. He swallowed hard, and then left like a speeding car before any more good-byes.
"Mike, can you help me fight?" Quinn asked, sounding even more exhausted. "Just... I know this isn't what you're best at, but—"
Guards rounded another corner, and Mike shot forward. Like a pinball striking pegs, they were all knocked down in short order, and he returned to them. Unlike their group, he clearly had energy to spare. "Thank you," Quinn said. "We might actually make it."
Yeah, Kurt thought dully. They might.
•••••
"Got it," Puck said as Carole told him a hospital address, and generally how to find it. Head east. Head east. Head toward the lights.
He could feel Sam and Blaine's blood on his arms.
Time to be a hero, Puckerman.
He ran, not like Mike could but still as fast as a cheetah. Cheetahs have no stamina, he heard in his own voice, and almost started laughing. He had stamina. He could do this. He was going to have his big moment.
He covered more than a mile before he slowed. He wasn't worried about getting tired; he could run for an hour, probably. But he was running hard and fast, and they were slippery with their own blood. He hiked them up again and sped, adjusting his path slightly when he felt like he was getting off-course.
•••••
The sound of bullets greeted Rachel's ears even before the light faded. She could hear shouts from people identifying themselves as members of S.H.I.E.L.D.
They were still in New York. They weren't dead. They might have won.
•••••
After another stretch of hard, pounding running, Puck grunted slightly and tried to shift his grip again. It sent pain radiating through Blaine, and though he tried to bite it back, a whimper slipped out. "Sorry," Puck said, and laid him on the ground with surprising care. "I just need to adjust."
Water ran cold against Blaine's back. Long grass and the late hour had hidden the shallow ditch below him, and rainwater soaked his jacket. His entire body felt cold by that point, like he'd been swimming for too long, even though he knew it was one of the hottest nights of summer. Only the spot where his blood flowed free felt warm, and it was blazing. "You're getting tired," he said. "You need to..." Blaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was hard to open them. He was tired. "Find a car. Call for help."
"I'm not tired," Puck said, and adjusted his grip on Sam. "You're just awkward, I didn't want to drop you." Blood smeared his arms. Blaine wondered how much Sam had lost, if he felt so exhausted but was still awake while Sam was completely unconscious. He felt floaty, distant. It was surprisingly easy to admit that both he and Sam might well be dead by the end of the night. It would just happen to characters in a movie. Not to him. Not to anyone real.
It would just happen to characters in a comic book. They'd be the tragic losses that set the heroes on the right path. Origin stories. Just footnotes in their story. Turning points in their tales. Sam was right.
It was a shame they were in New York, Blaine thought tiredly as he felt his body fail around him. Even on the island, the lights of the city meant that he could barely see the stars. If you died at night, outside, you should at least be able to see the stars.
"Okay, got him," Puck said, and knelt down to recover Blaine. "Whoa, hold up," he said, and instantly pulled him out of the water as Blaine began to slump into it.
Fresh pain tore through him, and Blaine returned to earth. His eyes closed tight against tears that wanted to form.
"There's water there," Puck pointedly out needlessly. "You were about to get it in your cut."
Blaine blinked at him, feeling slow and stupid, and still trying not to sob from the pain.
"It looks pretty gross," Puck said, and carefully retrieved him from the ground. "You don't want it to get inside where you got hurt," he explained as he carefully got a good hold on Blaine, and then moved back into the road to re-orient himself toward their destination.
If that dirty gutter water had gotten inside his wound, Blaine thought through his haze, he would have developed an infection. No doubt about it. That was water filled with the runoff of lawn fertilizers and dog droppings, of tears in garbage bags where leftover bits of chicken had fallen into tiny pieces. They would have filled him with new blood and stitched his wound. He would have been in recovery. Then he would have spiked a fever anyway, and then he would have died.
He would have died quietly, and no one would have ever even looked at Puck.
"You could have let me," he mumbled, and didn't know if Puck heard him.
Puck did. "I would never do that," he said, and clearly knew exactly what had run through Blaine's mind. "And I'm going to be the guy that no one would think that of, either."
"Sorry," Blaine said. His brain felt as thick and stupid as his tongue.
"You'd better take care of him," Puck might have said, if Blaine wasn't imagining it. "Like I tried to."
There were lights, soon, and people leaning over him, and a stretcher. Sam was on one, too. He wasn't moving. The last thing Blaine saw before consciousness fled was Puck staring at him, his face unreadable.
•••••
The machine was, if not destroyed, not easily activated again. The Rift had been pulled out of Finn's mind, rather than Finn's powers. And, Rachel thought with exhaustion as she heard the group approach, they had backup.
She didn't know what was happening with anyone not in that room, but for now, they were safe.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents flooded the room, guns at the ready. She knew it was a small, untrained group compared to what they might have normally sent, but they all looked like angels. "Status!" one shouted.
"We... it's over," Rachel panted. Santana and Brittany were leaning against each other in exhaustion. Tina and Mercedes looked ready to do the same. If she and Finn didn't have a room between them, she'd fall into his arms. "Finn let it drain—"
"One of the metahumans is preparing to activate energy transfer," said the captain, interrupting her. "Halt it at all costs."
But that didn't make any sense, Rachel thought, and was about to tell them that.
They had their orders, though. A target was a target, just like Sue would have killed Puck. A S.H.I.E.L.D. sharpshooter raised his gun, and put a bullet directly between Finn's eyes.