"It's nine o'clock on a Saturday. The regular crowd shuffles in. There's an old man sitting next to me makin' love to his tonic and gin."

Santana clutches the steering wheel tightly. The three of them have been driving for hours. They were supposed to be heading to Fabray's Mansion, but Rory demanded that they make a quick stop at one of his safe houses first. He said that he had a safe box stashed away. By the way he described it, he seemed to have enough money to last them a year. Not that she was planning on her and Britt staying with him for that long.

"He says, 'Son, can you play me a memory, I'm not really sure how it goes, but it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger man clothes!" Rory sings loudly on the last note causing Santana to flinch and veer slightly off the road. She lets out a strangled shriek, and swerves back onto the road.

Santana took in deep, desperate breaths as she held a hand over her heart while the opposite hand clutches the wheel so hard her knuckles started to hurt. Brittany grins happily, completely oblivious to her girlfriend's apparent terror.

"La la la, di da da. La la, di da da dum!"

"Flanagan, if you do not keep it down-" Rory ignores her and continues to sing as if the fuming Latina were not in the room.

"Sing us a song, you're the piano man." Santana's eyes widen in horror when Brittany joins in for the chorus. "Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feelin' alright."

"Brittany!" Santana shouts accusingly.

"What? I like the song." The blonde shrugs. "And apparently so does Charity." She adds petting the tabby cat. Santana sees Rory catch Brittany's eyes in the mirror. The Irishman winks at the blonde causing Santana to grab Brittany's hand. 'Mine'.

"San, don't you think you should have both hands on the wheel?" Brittany asks pointedly.

Santana frowns, but reluctantly pulls her hand away and returns it to the wheel.

"Sorry, B. You just looked a little lonely." She says, flashing Brittany a winning smile.

"That's okay, San. Leprechaun is good company. He's a pretty nice singer." Brittany replies.

At that the smile completely vanished from Santana's face. She looks at Rory through the rear-view mirror. The boy was humming annoyingly to the song, occasionally glancing at Brittany who too, was singing under her breath, not wanting to be loud so that Santana wouldn't be angry with her.

Santana growled under her breath when Rory started to sing loudly once again.

"And the waitress is practising politics as the businessmen slowly get stoned. Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone," Rory leans over in between the two girls sitting in the front. Brittany grins, she can't help but sing along "Sing us a song you're the piano man, sing us a song tonight. Well we're all in the mood for a melody, and you got us feeling alright."

Santana grabs the steering wheel with one hand as she uses her other hand to shove Rory back into his seat.

"That's enough out of you, Ireland." The Latina slams her hand on the radio, silencing the music. She sighs loudly. "Now why didn't I do that to start with?" She asks herself breathlessly.

"San, you don't have to be so mean." Brittany says, looking visibly upset. She turns in her seat to look at Rory, who was rubbing his shoulder where Santana pushed him. "Are you okay, Leprechaun?"

Rory smiles cheerily at the concerned blonde.

"Nonsense, I feel grand. No need to worry about Santana an' me. She's just a tad tired. Right, Lopez?" He asks happily, clapping Santana's shoulder. Santana grunts and shakes his hand off of her shoulder.

Santana looks from Rory to Brittany then back again. The kid was smart. He knew that Brittany would get upset if she called him out or treated him the way she usually did. Brittany was beginning to get wrapped around his chubby little fingers

"Yeah. Tired." She says shortly, looking straight ahead, refusing to look at the two of them.

"Ya see, Brittany? We're pretty close to my home. Thankfully, we all get our own bedrooms." He says enthusiastically causing Brittany to squeal and clap excitedly.

"That's nice, but Britts an' I always share a room. Right, Britt?" Santana asks, looking at the blonde out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh yeah." Brittany says with a wide smile. She almost forgot about that.

"Well you see, Brittany, I didn't want ta tell you this, but..." Rory motions for Brittany to lean in. He voice descends an octave. "I got a bad case of the night terrors. I get really scared if no one's in the room ta keep me safe."

"Flanagan..." Santana growls warningly.

"What? I was jus' sayin' that maybe we could all share a room, it's not fair if Brittany an' you both have get to share while I get no one."

"Come on, San." Brittany pouts and kisses the latina's cheek lovingly. "He gets nightmares... What if the Fairy Mab comes in and gives him super scary dreams?"

"But Britt, how can you stop him from having nightmares?"

"I'm good at keeping nightmares away. Remember that one night when you woke up crying? I gave you sweet lady kisses and you were all better." Brittany reminds Santana, stroking her arm soothingly.

"You are not kissing Flanagan!" Santana snaps angrily.

"I'm still here ya know." Rory interjects. Both girls ignore him and continue talking. He falls back in his seat defeated. He had officially lost Brittany's interest.

Brittany pouts and circles her long arms around Santana's waist, almost climbing completely on the driver's seat. Santana struggles to focus on her driving with Brittany being so close to her. Brittany kisses her ear. She whispers quietly, "I would never do that to you, Sanny. Sure, Rory is super cute-"

"Thank you." Rory says.

"But I can't understand what he says have the time. Plus, you are way way hotter." Brittany says, punctuating each of her words by kissing Santana on the cheek, on her neck, and by the corner of her mouth.

"Hey!" Rory says, offended.

"Shut it, Irish." Santana calls back. "You just tell me when we're close. Got it?"

Rory sighs.

"Got it."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Rachel shivers slightly as another cool breeze hit her skin, leaving goose bumps in it's wake. She looks behind her discretely every few seconds. Lima Heights was not a place where you should let your guard down.

In all her life, she has never remembered being so mad. She was sick of being treated with the cold shoulder, especially when she was falling apart at the seems. She was tired of people acting like they knew what was going on with her.

She was annoyed every time Karofsky told her no, like he was doing her a favour.

She was pissed off every time she heard news from uptown Lima. She hated not being able to talk to her father's or Finn.

Or Quinn.

Don't think about Quinn.

She turns the corner to the warehouse district, but she can't will herself to go any further. She was just so mad. Granted, she has calmed down quite a bit, thanks to a certain someone. Or something for that matter.

She doesn't know what to think of Melpomene. She had done some research online. She was like her in a way. Patron of tragic dramas and song. She knows Melpomene was her Half-State, she wasn't stupid. And so far, Melpomene was completely truthful. She knows that it sucks for her too. Not being able to be completely there. Not being able to hear anything. It still doesn't stop her from wishing that Melpomene didn't exist. She wouldn't know what would happen if she didn't pay attention in those painfully disturbing classes.

She slumps to the curb and rests her head in her hands. She was disturbed that she lost control so easily.

She wants to be carefree. She wants her only worry to come up with a way to make the Glee Club suck less. She wants to be cheering in the stands when Finn throws the winning touchdown. She wants her fathers to be tearing up at her graduation.

But life isn't like that. It can't be completely perfect. The world needs balance. It needs issues and people to create bad to balance the good. It's unfortunate, but it's true.

She was living at the perfect little bubble when she arrived at Mountainview. She had friends for the first time, not counting Finn. She was somewhat popular. She wasn't bullied, besides Santana and Harmony for the first while. And maybe- just maybe- she found the person who could have been the one. The one that made her feel like she was the only person in the world.

Then the world sucker punches you in the face and laughs, "Ha ha. She's evil. Sucks to be you, huh?"

There's some small part of her that thinks that Quinn had nothing to do with this. That she was brainwashed. Or the man she called "Father", used mind-control on her. Quinn had always described her father has hot-tempered.

But, no. Even if she wasn't physically involved, she did nothing to stop it. Gave no warnings. She just stayed in the shadows, pretending to like her- and even if she wasn't pretending, she had no right to make her feel that way then leave, taking everything else with her.

She shivers at the thought of the kiss. Cool lips pressed softly against hers. Being held in strong, slim arms. Cold hands in her hair.

She sighs. Then she had to go and fuck it up.

"Fuck you, Quinn." She laughs quietly, kicking a loose piece of gravel across the road.

"Wait... why do I smell smoke?"

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Santana has officially decided that she does not like Lima Heights. And this is coming from someone who lived in ghetto, New York from 1920 to 1950. And it was horrible then.

"So what exactly is it that you do?" Brittany asks Rory curiously. Santana groans and shakes her head. Here we go again.

"I do a lot of things, actually. I'm a lover. A fighter. A dreamer and a realist. I'm a singer. A dancer. A poet. A jester. A king-"

"Please speak English." Brittany pleads causing Santana a small smile to grow on her face.

"She wants to know what your gift is, Irish. It's not like it actually is a good one..." Santana trails off mockingly.

Rory huffs in response.

"Maybe not in a brawl, but when it comes to luck," Rory taps his forehead and flashed Brittany an award winning grin. "I'm your man."

"So your..." Brittany looks at him, confused. "Lucky?"

"Exactly. I was in Ireland most of my life. My mum and brother's moved here when I was eleven. Can hardly say it was perfect when we got 'ere. But I was hypnotized by the dazzling lights. The flashes, the fame."

"The lack of farms and potatos." Santana mutters, turning the curb. Brittany giggles as she pushes her arm playfully.

"As I was sayin'," Rory shoots Santana a pointed look. "My mum got married to this Italian fella, not sure what 'is name was, Tony something, anyway, he took me with 'im when he went out ta play poker. It was then when I realized my talent."

"So your like Lucky the Leprechaun." Brittany says in awe.

"That I am. Mr Fabray found out around then too. So he and Miz Lopes over there sorta found me at one of my step-dad's poker games." Rory claps his hand over Santana's shoulder, "You haven't aged a day, by the way."

"Just finish the story, Flanagan." Santana snaps. Age was a touchy subject for her. Very touchy.

"Mr Fabray was havin' a bit of a financial problem. He lost all of his blood money after his wife died. He was sued. Had to pay the bail. Blah, blah, blah. So he helped me discover the limits of m abilities, whereas I, in turn, helped him with things like winning lottery numbers and sports bets. All that new found wealth? All me." Rory informs proudly.

"He let me handle my own life after his third lottery win. Said that I could travel around a bit. I still had to do some work with him, but I still 'ad my own place. He gave me enough money to 'deck the place out'." He air-quotes causing Brittany to giggle.

"I later found out that it wasn't just money. It was everything. Avoiding accidents, surviving, a little luck with the ladies, and stumbling across important information... Also sports. I got good at those too. Oh look, we're here. In the ghet-to" He says, pointing to a large, lonely warehouse by the docks.

Santana tenses.

"Something's wrong."

Rory smiles at her.

"What? It's not that bad, I promise."

"No, I mean something is wrong. I smell smoke... not a lot, but still smoke none the less."

"It's probably coming from a hobo can, lets go." Rory states.

Santana parks the car and slowly climbs out of it.

"Hey, now I smell it too." Rory says. Brittany nods in agreement.

"Let's go." Santana makes her way to the main door. She cautiously pushes it open.

Inside looks as if someone tried to set off a fire cracker. Luckily, the building was still in tact. The carpet was flaming slightly and dust rose from the debris. Everything besides that seemed to be perfectly fine.

"Nice place you got here, Irish." She says cockily, gesturing to the gaping hole in the wall. "I take it this was a new renovation?"

"My wall!" Rory wails, collapsing to his knees in shock.

"San, what do you think happened here?"

"I don't know, B..." Santana suddenly snaps to attention. Her eyes dart around the room.

"Hun, what's wrong?" Brittany asks worriedly.

"I smell someone." Santana murmurs. "Wait here."

Santana follows the scent to and upstairs hallway. She pauses at one of the doors at the end of the hallway. She grabs the doorknob and jiggles it. Locked. She grabs hold of it tighter. Bracing herself, she rammed her shoulder against the door. The minute it flew open, she was greeted by a punch to the nose.

"Joder!" She swore loudly, clutching her nose. She grabs the attacker and pushes them back. The attacker stumbles until their knees hit the back of the bed. "You are so-"

"Santana?"

"Rachel?"

"What the fuck?"

"I should be asking you the same."

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"No, I live 'ere." Rory appears in the room with Brittany.

"Rachel!" Brittany shrieks as she pulls the smaller girl into a tight hug.

"Brittany?" She states breathlessly as the blonde continues to squeeze the breath out of her lungs. "Yes, yes I missed you too. Now can you let go so I can breathe."

"Rachel what happened here? Where is everybody?"

"And why are you in my house!" Rory shouts.

"I-I don't know what happened here. I was out for a walk. When I came back it was like this. Everyone's gone. Mercedes and Puck first, taken probably by the same people who took the others."

"Wait, everyone got taken?" Brittany asks. "By who?"

Santana and Rory share a thoughtful look.

"Well there's only one person I know ruthless enough to kidnap a group of people like us." Santana says.

Rachel nods silently. This was supposed to be a closed case.

"We have to find them."

"No shit, Sherlock." Santana replies.

"There's no need to be rude, Santana. Karofsky had the ability to find anyone, anywhere. But he was taken too. Since the only way of finding Mr Fabray is gone, I cannot think of any other alternatives-"

"And Mr Fabray has tons of safe houses. Last I heard they were leaving the Fabray Mansion. They were making a big deal about safely transporting the captives. I say we go with our original plan, and check for clues there." Rory suggests.

"No way, that place is huge. Even if we manage to get past the crazy security, it'll take forever to find the slightest trace of evidence." Santana interjects, glaring at Rory.

"Found him." Brittany states simply. "Russel Fabray is currently at his vacation home in Willow Field, Indiana."

The three teens turn to Brittany who was typing away on Rachel's golden star laptop.

"What?" The three of them say in unison.

Brittany shrugs.

"Even evil people have Facebook."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Come on, Berry! Pack your things and lets move it." Santana calls from downstairs.

Rachel remains silent as she files through her drawers. She remembers putting it somewhere around here.

Finally her fingers find the source of coolness for which it was searching. The flower remained unscathed throughout all of her troubles. It remained as perfect and cold as they day on which it was given.

"Coming!" Rachel calls back.

She slips the rose into her backpack as she slings it around her shoulder.

She was going to get her friends back. She was going to have to be the strong one yet again. She might even get to see Quinn again.

She doesn't know if she wants to kiss her or slap her.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Quinn's head snaps up at the sound of her large cell doors slide open. She hurriedly stands up before realizing that was a bad idea. She clutches her stomach and drops back onto the cot groaning. She hears the clicking sound of high heels. She looks up weakly to see the very person who had been haunting her thoughts since birth.

The blonde's mouth turned dry. She tried to weakly form words, but ended up coughing hysterically.

The process as everything she imagined it would be and then some. It started off as a horrible feeling in her stomach. As if she were about to die from fright. Then it turned to burning anger. Every person she ever hated, every mistake she wishes she could change.

Then the pain.

It frickin hurt like a bitch.

It felt as if part of her soul had been ripped away from her, leaving a gaping hole in her mind and body.

And the only thing she could coherently think when the pain reached it's peak was, "Rachel."

When it was over, her body felt as if it were an egg on the side walk in summer. She was so hot. She could here the chaos happening around her, but they weren't worried about her. Oh no. Ms. Sylvster had apparently given a lot of energy for her to feel like utter crap while she went digging around in her mind. And that was only a few days ago, and it still hurt. Also, there was-

"Lucy..." Quinn chokes out.

The thing that scared her, was that she was her, and vice versa. In looks and stature. Lucy had the same outer appearance except for a few obvious changes. Lucy seemed to have tried to make her as different looking from Quinn as she possibly could. She was decked out in ripped jeans and a dark tank top. Her hair was cropped short with specks of pink dye. The girl looked uncomfortable in her own body so much that it was obvious. She kept touching herself as id to reassure herself that she still had a body.

Quinn groans lowly. She felt sick. Very sick.

"Your dad is coming soon." Lucy informs her gravely. "He told me to tell you that your most likely going to feel horrible for a few more days." She adds nonchalantly, playing with the ends of her hair.

All Quinn could do was nod in response, too tired to form words.

"Yeah..." Lucy finishes awkwardly.

Quinn jerks her head towards the metal table bolted down into the middle of the room. Lucy follows her line of sight to the table. On top of the table was a pencil and plain piece of paper.

"You want to write something?"

Quinn nods shortly.

Lucy shoots her an odd look, but consents and hands the paper to the sickly girl in the cot.

Lucy watches curiously as Quinn scribbles slowly on the piece of paper. She hands it to Lucy before her eye lids start to feel heavy. She feels her eye lids lose slowly as sleep overtakes her.

Lucy snatches the paper from Quinn's hand and examines it carefully. Lucy closes her fist tightly until she can feel ice seeping through her palms. She drops the frozen paper to the ground causing it to crack. She turns around stiffly before exiting the cell.

Lucy, when I get back on my feet, I will kill you. That's a promise.

-The real Fabray

A/N: Let's get to 200 reviews. I know you can do it! XD