"Why do you have Brittany's mugshot on the wall?" Quinn asked with her mouth full of breakfast. She gulped it down and frowned. "Wait, why does she have a mugshot?"

"Pfff, like you never got arrested in college," Santana said defensively.

"Uh, I didn't."

"Of course not," Santana muttered. "Some shady looking guys came looking for her and showed me that photo."

"What did they want?"

"They wouldn't say and started giving me a load of classified bullshit. When I asked Britt she didn't seem to know what they might want either."

"You ever wonder what she does out there in the desert? Just her and that cat." Santana shot Quinn a sharp look as she waved a loaded fork around thoughtfully. "You gotta hope it's not aliens. I went out there once and she-"

"Wait, you did what? You went out to her trailer? When was this?"

"A couple weeks back," Quinn replied relishing Santana's focused and incriminating interest.

"She never told me," Santana huffed.

"Didn't want you to get jealous I guess," Quinn said innocently trying to hide a smirk.

"Do I have to remind you I am the person handling your food right now?"

Quinn winced and eyed the plate as Santana slammed a second helping down onto the dish and scrambled eggs rolled off the side with the force.

"So? What were you out there for?"

"That's confidential medical information that I am legally forbidden to share. I took an oath, Santana, an oath as serious as a pinkie swear."

"Is she okay?"

Quinn squirmed at the genuine worry displayed before her.

"As much as I admire your fortitude and dedication to the oath of your vocation, Fabray, you'd best answer me right now." Santana shook a spatula in the woman's face.

"Oh my god yes, Santana. Calm down. She was sending me weird texts about heatstroke so I went to check and it was that damn cat."

"The cat was sending texts?"

"No, Brittany was. Honestly, I swear you lose your mind when she's around, anyway, your raging jealousy aside-" Santana picked up the spatula again in warning, "-the cat was sunbathing in a fur coat and overheated." "Have you ever considered a change of career? Perhaps interrogating criminals. The point is, she's got like scientific equipment set up all over the place. It was taking readings of something. I did ask but honestly I have multiple medical degrees and know some pretty complex technobabble and even with that I didn't understand what she said. What it boiled down to was she was 'monitoring the universe', whatever that means. Man, I hope she's not some UFO nut."

"What's wrong with being a UFO nut?" Santana demanded.

"Nothing!" Quinn said quickly with a commendable straight face.

Santana glared at her then sniffed. "Statistically, Quinn, we're probably not alone in the universe."

"You have got it bad, Santana. You know I'm sure she'd tell you or show you if you took her up on her offer to go over there."

"Mind your own business."

"Maybe she's a drug dealer, because who really knows what goes on out there in the desert."

"Shut up, eat, and get out of my store."

Quinn ignored two out of three of the demands. "You don't know unless you go out there. She could be distilling cacti or something."

"I don't trust anything you say. You eat bacon and eggs every day and think it won't do you any harm and you call yourself a doctor!"

"I'm on vacation." Quinn shovelled another forkful of bacon into her mouth. "Humour me. So are you ever going to tell me? Britt won't say."

"Tell you what?"

"Why she works for you and why you won't date her. She's head over heels for you and you know it."

"She owes me 579,331 dollars and fifteen cents."

"…" Quinn gaped at her. "I'll be perfectly honest with you, I was not expecting that for an answer. I was thinking like you're the daughters of rival crime families and your love is forbidden. Or you're in witness protection and a relationship would put her in danger."

"You watch too many TV movies."

"How can she owe you that much money?"

"She won the deeds to this place in a poker game. Then lost them."

Quinn set down her cutlery and interlocked her fingers to rest her chin on. She gave Santana her undivided attention. "One, where was this poker game and why wasn't I invited? Two, how drunk were you to bet the deeds to your livelihood? Three, who does own it?"

"I was visiting a supplier in Santa Fe and met Brittany at a bar. We got talking and then some people Brittany knew invited us to a game. My family is from Santa Fe so this business was set up using the bank there. I had the deeds with me to make some adjustments and hadn't returned them to the bank yet…"

"How drunk were you to bet them?" Quinn stared at her, horrified.

"Look don't judge me until you've seen Brittany play cards, okay. She was either cheating or counting and I challenged her to a fair fight and she still beat me." Santana pouted. "Damn queen of hearts."

"But who owns this place now?" Quinn asked, puzzled.

"No one, sort of. She won the papers but then I wouldn't stop crying and she promised to give them back because it was just a stupid game but she lost them. Lost the papers as in they're missing, she couldn't remember where she put them and she feels bad and that she owes me so she's working to pay it back. And this is to remain a secret okay, Fabray?"

"She followed you here," Quinn realised, her face split into the biggest shit eating grin Santana had ever seen.

"Quinn, don't-"

"This is the strangest courtship I've ever seen. Including those birds that dance backwards and regurgitate bugs. Oh, oh, oh, maybe that's what she's doing, some fancy pants prospecting for gold to pay you back."

Santana straightened up suddenly from where she was leaning on the table next to Quinn.

"I hope you enjoy your bugs in your scrambled eggs. Some of us have got important business-y things to do and I cannot stress this enough, Quinn. I must not be disturbed."

Quinn eyed her with distrust and watched as Santana scurried into her office and shut the door pulling the blinds closed behind her.

"Well that was weir-"

"Morning Quinn!" A clear sing song voice rang out. Quinn pivoted on her stool to behold Rachel Berry, Perfection's self-proclaimed artist in residence, followed by her friends Kurt and Mercedes.

"Where's Santana? We're here for breakfast."

"I ate it."

"All of it?"

Brittany's British ex-army land rover rattled along the road. Brittany scrolled the old fashioned dial trying to find a radio signal but as usual in the valley the signals were obstructed by the encompassing granite mountains. After a fruitless search for some top 40 or even some farm emo she gave up and pushed in her reliable lone cassette tape into the old tape deck.

Her companion dozed on the passenger seat oblivious to the bone shaking potholes and crackly old tape while Brittany sang along to Fleetwood Mac. The tape had come with the vehicle at no extra cost much to Brittany's delight and Lord Tubbington's disgust.

Brittany slowed down as she passed Puck's place alongside the road. She waved as he whistled at his dog who was herding the sheep to a smaller paddock where they were due a haircut.

"Morning, Britt." Puck leaned on the fence as she pulled up.

"You need any help with them?" she nodded her head toward the sheep who were collectively glaring at the yappy dog harassing them.

"It's cool. I can get them all done today, I reckon. Finn said he'd stop by this afternoon to help finish if there was any left. Hey Britt, you heard from Schuester? I ain't seen him in a while. I was just wondering."

"No, he hasn't been over the store for a while. I'll drop by on the way back from Sue's. It's only up on the ridge."

"Cool."

"Hey watch you don't give yourself another accidental haircut."

"That was one time and it was really hot weather, okay? And anyway, mohawks are cool."

"Sure they are. You sure you don't need any help?"

"It's all good, Britt. Besides, isn't it garbage day?

"Thanks for reminding me."

On her way to the only pass from the valley where the mountains met Brittany slowed down at the roadworks covering one half of the road. Finn managed to raise a hand to wave from where he was jackhammering into the concrete at the side of the road. Brittany nodded and drove on her eyes wide as Finn's foolish wave lost him control of the machine and it bounced off in the wrong direction.

With a drop down in gear Brittany took the track past the pass and up the steep sides which led to a compound on top of the ridge. She pulled up before the security gates surrounding a squat block building reminiscent of a requisitioned military building.

"Stay in the car," she ordered the non-responsive Lord Tubbington.

Leaning over the gently snoring cat's body she pulled a rag out of the glove box usually used for wiping the windshield. It hadn't been white for a long time but it would have to do. Waving the makeshift flag nonstop in the direction of the CCTV cameras scanning her every move Brittany advanced warily on the gate with her hands raised.

"Delivery!"

A rumbling sound startled her and she watched as the reinforced steel door to the main building opened and a tall thin woman wearing khaki combat trousers and a red tracksuit top exited. She marched over to the gate which opened as she swiped a fob over the sensor.

"Pierce."

"Hey, Sue," Brittany smiled. "Delivery for you. Arrived last night."

"That girls got you wrapped around her little finger."

Brittany shrugged then stared uneasily at the gun Sue had slung over her shoulder.

"Are you sure the assault rifle is entirely appropriate for a postal delivery?"

"This old thing? I was just letting off a few rounds. Gotta keep in shape. I didn't spend twenty years in the Special Forces just to be caught out because I didn't practice every day. You can't be too careful, Pierce. You never know what I might find skulking around my gateposts one morning."

"Um, so, Santana thinks it's your drone."

"Oooh!" Sue dropped her rifle and without hesitation opened the back door to the Land Rover and tugged out the large box onto the ground. Brittany eyed the discarded rifle with discomfort then took a wide eyed step back at the sight of Sue pulling out a combat knife and slicing open the box with a disturbing motion which wouldn't be out of place gutting a dragon.

"What are you going to do with it?"

"That is classified."

"Ooooh-kay. Well I'm going to go now." Brittany said closing up the back of her 4x4. Garbage to collect, etcetera."

"Not so fast, Pierce." Sue snapped her fingers as though remembering something. "While you're here you may as well come and shoot grenades off the top of the cliff. Want to see how close we can get to Hudson before he calls the Sheriff?"

"Uh, as satisfying as that sounds I do have to go work. Some other time though?"

"I see. Lopez got you on a short leash. Well, if you want to go shooting, let me know."

"Sure thing. Thanks, Sue."

"Or we could take the tank out," Sue suddenly offered. "It's a two man job."

"You have a tank?"

"Classified, Pierce. Bring that girlfriend of yours. And the doctor too."

"Quinn?"

"Sure. She's got that look about her."

"Look?"

"Like she'd kill a man with her bare hands."

"I'll be sure to pass on the invite. Next time I get a day off I'll give you a call."

"You do that. Pierce," Sue nodded sharply then her face lit up with glee as she unwrapped her new toy.

"You ate it all?" Rachel was outraged.

"You're vegan!"

"Kurt and Mercedes aren't."

"I had half a grapefruit," Kurt shrugged. "I only came over for the scintillating small town gossip."

"I ate your Cheerios while you were doing those abnormal stretching exercises," Mercedes confessed as she pulled up a stool next to Quinn.

"Granola bar?" Quinn offered. "I hear they never go off." Rachel snatched it with a scowl.

"How's the musical writing going?" Quinn aimed her question at Kurt.

"Show. It's a show," Rachel interjected.

Quinn shot a sharp warning glance Rachel's way causing her to look around for Santana.

"It's nearly completed," Kurt said proudly. "It was a great idea coming out here to work on it. The solitude, focus you can get here, the acoustics, are all incredible. Only Mercedes is missing the comforts of civilisation."

"I came over to use Santana's coffee machine," Mercedes chuckled as she walked over to where the shiny beast sat and began to press buttons. It was the ten thousand dollars' worth of coffee making prowess which brought coffee drinkers in to visit it religiously for miles. A potent money spinner considering the nearest Starbucks was 75 miles away.

The machine gurgled and spluttered and steamed furiously to life and Mercedes hummed happily at the scent it emitted.

"Should you be touching that? I'm not allowed to touch that upon penalty of maiming," Rachel pointed out.

"That's because you tried to make weird tea with it," said Quinn with an eye roll. "Brittany spent days cleaning out the entire system and refitting it."

"I don't know what she did to it but it makes better coffee than it did before," Mercedes said dreamily. "She should go into business making super coffee machines."

"Are you running the place?" Rachel's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Where's Santana?"

The blind hiding Santana's office twitched.

"On that note," Quinn stood and stretched then dropped twenty dollars on the counter. "I have to go to work"

"You're on vacation."

"My house isn't going to build itself. If you're here when Brittany returns ask her to drop by I need a hand shifting some timber."

Rachel huffed after her. "And good day to you too. Don't forget the council meeting tomorrow night, Quinn!"

"I wouldn't miss it even if the world ended!"

Brittany let out shaky breath as her Land Rover got to the end of Sue's driveway which was naught but a precariously engineered gravel track on the cliff face.

"Phew, that woke me up. What about you, Lord Tubbington?" The cat didn't open an eye just stayed sleeping on the passenger seat as he had through all the lumps and bumps and 27 degree inclines of death.

Back on the main road she turned off again onto a barely noticeable track toward a distant shack where old man Schuester lived. Legend had it he was an eccentric playwright but legend was self-proclaimed as such, also known by the names Rachel and Kurt and were prone to exaggeration. Brittany couldn't fathom why anyone would want to hide in the desert to write a play unless there was a beautiful woman located there. The important thing was Rachel and Kurt thought he was wonderful and got a bit weird about it when they thought he'd be sighted in town. As a result everyone in Perfection knew far too much about Will Schuester than they wished to.

The Land Rover pulled up to the Schuester place in a cloud of dust and Brittany stepped out looking around with interest. She had only been there once before to deliver a parcel but had received a friendly welcome, a cup of coffee and an interesting chat with the reclusive man. He'd moved out there after having his heart broken and was attempting to turn that heartbreak into something positive by channelling it into his work. His only problems were unannounced visits from two of his biggest fans and while he took them in good humour Brittany understood completely they could get very annoying very quickly.

"Hey, Will!" Brittany called out looking around the small property. His rusty old car was parked alongside the cabin. "Schuester?"

She tapped on the door and it creaked open. Sticking her head in the minimal cabin there was no sign of life in the two rooms.

Brittany walked over to the yard where Schuester had been working on a native garden using local grasses and cacti. The beginnings of a ditch had been dug near to the building. He had joked he was moving with the times by finally having a septic tank installed. Brittany didn't like to think where he'd been storing his poop before.

She meandered over to the washing line where a few garments flapped in the breeze. There was no sign of him off into the distance where she surmised he must be out stretching his legs.

As she stepped back her foot almost caught a hat siting on the ground. Brittany frowned recognising it as Schuester's tweed fedora he was rarely seen without. She reached down to pick it up then threw it away from her in horror at the sight beneath. In a small depression in the ground where the hat had been resting Schuester's face looked up at her. Covered in dust and sand his eyes were glazed but his mouth was open in a silent scream. Presumably the rest of him was beneath the sand.

Brittany's heart thudded wildly and she stumbled backwards.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit."