Disclaimer: Please, please, please if you are of a sensitive disposition then don't read. Traumatic scenes and death.
A/N Okay, okay so I've been seriously lacking on the uploads front, but with good reason. I've been absolutely swamped with college work. However the 22nd onwards is my half term so I'm planning on building up a backlog of uploads for y'all. As my disclaimer says this contains sensitive topics and no matter how much it pains me to lose readers, I really can't go traumatising anyone.
It had been two days since Mercedes and Tina left in search of their loved ones leaving the camp tense with fear. I felt like I was blindly trying to get through a labyrinth where the partitions were coated in blades, unable to see whether my friends were still behind me. My mind had become a forbidding place to be. I was sitting in my tent on a mound of sleeping bags, the comfiest seating arrangement I'd had in days, I watched over Blaine's sleeping form. His fever had been at a relentless peak; as I watched a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his forehead. I needed to bathe him, just with cold flannels but I couldn't bear to wake him. For once Kurt wasn't a lingering shadow over Blaine, he was by the camp fire contributing to the heated discussion that had been dominating everyone's waking thoughts; our imminent danger. I didn't want to think of our hazardous location, couldn't bear to decide whether we should give up our faith on Tina and Mercedes.
Instead I sat with an unconscious stranger trying to keep my morning sickness at bay. Yes morning sickness. Looking down over my protruding stomach shielded in a loose cotton dress that picked up the faint orange luminosity of the tent I let my hand tease the hemline. I hadn't looked at my stomach in days, I couldn't bear the significance that its appearance held but I also couldn't hide from it forever. I couldn't hide from anything forever, not from Rachel who I had been avoiding like the plague, not from Tina and Mercedes mortality, not from our uncertain future or from my unborn child. More over my unborn child did not deserve to be ignored. Holding the hem between two fingers I timidly lifted my dress, gaining more nerve at the sight of the tight skin that really wasn't all that foreboding, I pulled it over my bump in a single swift movement; letting my hand run across the surface of my stomach and my mouth drop in awe. Some part of me had not believed it, not believed that I could actually be carrying something so pure within me, that I could really be a mother. That part of me perished beneath the weight of my child's magnificence. Seeing my bump brought a tidal wave of love, love for the child inside me; a love that I couldn't comprehend, a love that I could only be in awe of.
"You will be loved" I whispered softly to my stomach.
A love that was very tangible and equally as in danger.
Looking down, down at my stomach I let my mind wander, let my subconscious drift in to the abyss that as our newfound reality. I let scenes of empty playgrounds fill my glassy eyes, I let the echo of laughter and school bells fill my ears. All the dead children filled my mind, the sorriest sight conceivable. The empty corridors and the empty classrooms, I thought of rotten apples on teachers abandoned desks that had been left hastily, forgotten. My child growing inside me, would she, he ever see a playground full of children. Would I ever tearily see my child off on their first day of school? Would I ever save a college fund up, would I ever watch my daughter, son graduate? Would my child ever get to run freely, without a care or a heart filled with grief? I thought about the freedom that running held, running for dear life and screaming so wickedly as the person who was 'it' started catching up, even though really I craved to be 'it', to have the limelight. I still ran away terrified. I remembered when everything came naturally, when everyone was best friends. I recalled the first day of school that I went in with my braces on; I remembered their carefree laughter and my tears. I remembered feeling unworthy of my perfect family and I remembered my family showing me they felt I was unworthy of their perfection. I remembered forcing myself to be perfect.
To be a Fabray.
My child would not go by the name of Fabray, nor Puckerman. My child would be free to choose her, his own last name. To be his, her own person. If I could give my child could have nothing more in this sorry reality then I would give my child freedom.
Letting my eyes refocus, my mind slip back into the present the first thing I saw was the tears, filling my vision like I were submerged in water. The second was through the soft world tears provided, Blaine.
"Quinn?"
Startled I looked over at Blaine's sickly form, His head was turned towards me and his eyes were wide.
I hadn't spoken much to Blaine; whenever he was conscious Kurt monopolized him. I knew that he was kind and gentle; I knew that Kurt was falling for him like he'd fallen for no other. I knew Kurt trusted him so I trusted him. None the less my heart filled my throat like an expanding balloon. I hurriedly pulled my dress over my abdomen.
"You don't need to hide from me Quinn, I won't judge you."
He spoke so softly, his voice filled with such compassion that I couldn't help but feel my rigid muscles relax.
"I…"
I genuinely had no words so as I attempted to speak, say something, anything my voice cracked and I felt a new wave of tears fill my eyes.
"Hey, hey come here."
Behind the weakness that his physical condition brought on his voice seemed confident, he sounded like someone in control. And God knew I needed someone to take control for me, so I crawled over to his sickly form and let him slip his solid arms around me to pull me into his embrace. He was hot but his body had started to shiver and I could feel the Goosebumps on his bare arms against me, I found myself curling into him wanting to warm him as much as he wanted to comfort me.
"I'm scared and I don't like it, I don't want to be scared anymore. I'm sick of being scared of my own shadow." I found the words tumbling out before my mind chose to say them but it was true. I felt like someone was going to sneak up behind me and pull every good thing I'd ever had from under me.
After a few long silent moments Blaine spoke, his voice was quiet but strong.
"My entire life I've been telling myself "don't be afraid"; I've been hiding my fear and telling it to go away. But it's only now that I'm grasping how stupid that is. Don't be afraid; that's like saying "don't flinch at the heat of fire" or "don't move out of the way of a hit" or "don't blink." Don't be human." He sighed a deep sigh that made my head rise and fall with his chest. "Quinn, I'm afraid and you're afraid and we're always going to be afraid, because that's the point, we're only human."
"Can we be afraid together for a bit then?"
He didn't reply he just looked at me. His eyes told me "yes, of course, I'm here for and with you." It was a look that I'd only seen two other people give me.
No, not my parents.
Kurt and Rachel.
I could see something forming.
I'd been surrounded by so many people devoted to an image, my image but I felt so alone. I had all eyes on me but they were cold. This was different; having gazes filled with compassion on you. It fills you all up and makes you feel like you're not alone. Having three people close to me felt warmer than a hundred stares.
I let my eyes flutter shut.
I wake up to shouting; shouting and a thudding heart.
"Blaine what's happening?"
"I don't really know. They've been getting progressively louder, arguing about leaving and safety."
Kurt's shrill tones broke through my consciousness at that moment,
"Don't be so pig headed!"
Within the next moment Santana's volume rose to match,
"Pig headed?! Pig-" Santana's words turned to what I could only describe as feral snarls.
In reaction to the sound my every nerve awoke, I knew that sound, I'd seen her make that sound. I knew that Santana was currently hurtling herself at Kurt, my delicate, lovely Kurt; claws first.
I was out of Blaine's arms faster than you could say over-protective. But as I reached my destination, my eyes landing on Kurt I found him holding his own. Of course Finn and Puck holding Santana back helped but Kurt's fury simmered for no savage cheerleader.
In fact Santana's outburst seemed to only be fuelling Kurt.
"Yes! PIG HEADED. ALL OF YOU! I AM TRYING TO KEEP YOU ALIVE, WHAT ABOUT THAT DON'T YOU GRASP? THIS IS NOT SAFE, WE ARE NOT SAFE!"
"Come on man we can't just leave Mercedes and Tina aren't back" Finn seemed to be trying fruitlessly to stand his ground whilst diffusing the situation.
In return Kurt's voice grew cold, his face relaxing from its mask of fury.
"Do you truly believe they are coming back?"
The eye of the storm; I knew his tone from the way my farther used to address me. Hate in its purest form oozing from the words, his mind white hot with anger.
A gasp that seemed to echo the campground burst unexpectedly from my lips at his cruel words, a gasp that I regretted before it even finished.
Kurt spun on me with an expression full of such loathing that it shocked me to my core, making my legs turn to what felt like iron.
"NOT YOU TOO, NO QUINN. I-YOU-I CAN'T. NOT YOU QUINN."
And with that he stormed off, I watched until he had gone too far for my eyes to see.
Only once he was out of sight did I feel my muscles give, my knees crashing to the floor.
I didn't understand it. It had been at least an hour since Kurt had stormed off, they'd looked around but no one had a clue where he was. I had never expected Kurt to express such hatred towards me; of all people I thought he actually understood me. Knew me.
"An hour! An hour, where could he have gone? Anything could have happened in an hour! Anything" We both knew what I was implying, Blaine and I.
"Quinn it hasn't been an hour, it's been 25 minutes at the very most. He's fine, he's just calming down. Better he did it away from the group." No matter how soothing Blaine intended his words to be there was a nervous edge to them that ruined the effect completely.
Picking the wash cloth up once more I continued dabbing his forehead, trying to focus on the menial task at hand.
"How're you feeling?" I could feel my face fall in to a mask of worry.
"I'd be better if I could have a shower."
"Be careful what you wish for, that caravan shower leaves you with bruised elbows and goose bumps."
I watched a smirk creep onto his face making me gently hit his arm
"Hey you get me, your gorgeous, marvellous, exceptionally intelligent, raucously hilarious nurse." I said trying to keep the laughter out of my voice.
He raised a thick brow in question but went along with it.
"Oh I see, well I have been most ungracious. Do excuse me for forgetting to bow upon your entrance."
"You're forgiven. Come on now; help me get you up so I can sponge your back."
Gently I eased him up, and shuffled in behind him. As he turned his head to look at me sitting behind him I feigned disgust wrinkling my nose.
"Ew, you sticky mess."
I started work on his sweat slick back, sponging it with a damp cloth. I watched as he took the water bowl onto his lap, dipping his head in until all of his hair was submerged.
"What on earth are you doing?"
He then proceeded to flip his head back up, spraying me with water, making me gasp in the process. Turning I watched a devilish smile form on his lips and attempted to jump away but he still soaked me, shaking his head like a dog.
"Blaine!"
The air was filled with a mischievous laughter as he moulded his hair, parting the now soaked curls and slicking them back. Suddenly he looked incredibly dapper.
"Well someone's feeling better."
But as he sagged back against the sleeping bags I knew he wasn't really better. That he'd used up all of his energy.
"That's better" A lazy smile grazed his lips as he spoke.
"Blaine?" I spoke cautiously
"Yeah?"
"What were you like in the real world? I mean pre-apocalyptic?"
His face gently scrunched in response to the words, it was the universal 'thinking face'.
"I, well I guess…" His voice had lost all confidence and he seemed abruptly confused, on the verge of scared.
"I don't know" He said after a long moment.
His face looked so raw, so vulnerable that I knew something wasn't right.
"Blaine wh-" But I was interrupted by a small figure darting into our tent, a look of terror on her face.
Rachel.
"Rachel, Rach what's wrong?" It was only as she broke my bubble that I noticed the distant screams.
"Quinn, there are zombies, really close. There were some, some other people and they weren't far, but now they're screaming and the zombies are coming and-" Her voice shook so hard it was almost undecipherable.
Grabbing her small form up into my embrace I felt adrenaline course through my veins. He needed to move, or fight, something, right now.
Weapons. I needed weapons.
"Stay here whatever you do. Just, Rach look after him. I'll be right back."
Looking back over my shoulder at Blaine's waxen face and Rachel's tiny form I knew I had to protect them. Trying to keep my mind off of Kurt I ran to the caravan, letting the world blur, letting Santana's form handing Britney a large knife blur, letting terrified faces and large orange tents blur. Frantically scanning the work surfaces for potential weapons I let my had whip out and grasp the handle of a heavy frying pan but before I can turn and throw myself back out to the tent a sharp pain engulfs my hand making me drop the frying pan.
"Shit!"
I look down at my already blistering hand and curse my allergy to iron. Hurling myself at the sink I turn on the tap and run cool water over my swelling hand, take a deep breath and let myself focus, scanning the surfaces once more. Wrapping my hand in a tea towel I picked up two large knifes and a rolling pin.
Finally running from the caravan I tried not to let the slack grey figures approaching distract me from my purpose. Once in the tent once more I handed Rachel and Blaine a knife each.
"Blaine can you walk?"
"If I have to I can do anything." He said his voice thick with determination.
"We're going to see how many there are, fend them off until we know for sure we need to leave the camp."
Lose all of our possessions and transportation.
I looking down over Blaine's feverish form
"Rachel can you stand at the tent entrance?" I let myself dive forward and kiss her forehead leaving her sock still, proceeding to run from the tent before I could regret it.
I'm immediately faced a scene of sheer chaos, friends already at hand to well face combat. Steeling myself against nerves I charged, letting a warrior roar rip from my throat.
I Launched off of the ground rolling-pin first towards the closest 'fallen'. Watching her pallid limbs flail one last time as she fell to the hard earth I coughed in an attempt to subside the lump that had taken up residency in my throat. Resisting the need to bend down and gently close her eyelids I forced my gaze away, towards my next victim. My next victim- my mind stuttered at the sight.
My father.
The father who had fed me when I was too young to hold a spoon, whom pushed me on the swing when my legs were too short to push off the wood chip. The man who raised me stood before me.
The look in his eyes as he tended to his growing daughter –me- was one of disgust and regret. I let that fill my consciousness and somehow his glassy eyes filled once more with that disappointment.
That made it easier to look at his newly pallid complexion, his shallow cheeks, dragging leg and vicious stance.
He was upon my in moments, thirsting for my death. Just as I'd always secretly thought he had, just now he was literally attempting to murder me.
Raising my rolling pin in my shaking hands, glaring through tear filled eyes as his lumbering mass savagely cut its way towards me.
You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes when you die? Well that's what happened, not as I died but as that part of me died. The Fabray. As my rolling pin came down repeatedly upon my father's head I saw all the unrequited love, all the hate and all the ways I changed myself to be good enough for him. I watched as all those changes fell away and as my father fell to the hard-packed mud.
Dazed, I stepped back, seeing my father lying before me with glassy eyes staring unseeingly those steps became more frantic, stumbling backward in a desperate attempt to put space between myself and his corpse. Eyes darting wildly and panic building in my chest making it hard to breathe I tripped falling to my knees. Looking up my eyes seemed to lose all peripheral vision as I noticed a shimmering that drew my gaze and made my body slack, feeling drawn to the distant iridescence. Trying to tear my gaze away, knowing distantly in my mind that I'm not safe and I should be defending myself against the fallen; my eyes skim over a familiar face, a face that fills my heart with hope. Kurt, running from the distant shimmering towards me, but still so far away; too far away because in the next moment a heavy mass was on me. Blinding me with a cotton shirt, a fallen. My arms still lay slack at my sides, unable prevent the face that was beginning to bare down on me, snapping her jaws and digging her nails into my shoulder. But in the next moment just as her knee connected with my stomach causing shooting pains to bombard my abdomen her face that had been hovering momentarily over my face froze before falling limp onto my own face. Her head proceeded to be pushed off of mine and Rachel's face anxious filled my vision.
You can't just expect someone to save you.
There are no superheroes.
There are people, real people who save you out of love. People who save you a second too late; but that's because they're human. They weren't bitten by a spider or an alien orphan.
The battle finished with minimal damage for most. There were only seventeen fallen but that was all it took.
I lost my baby.
Each sob tore a part of me out with it, my very soul dissipating with the sounds vibrations in the stale air. My numb mind couldn't process the danger that my strangled cry's where drawing upon us. Nor could it understand the protesting arms waving in my tear soaked face. In those moments I welcomed the fallen. Take my pain away I pleaded them.
When my mind had calmed enough for me to think once more I desperately crawled over to the tent flaps and peered through. Yes, it was still there; the distant shimmer. Letting my body collapse again I lay face down, feeling my chest tightening again, choking on my sobs. I felt hollow; so hollow that I couldn't support my own weight.
Kurt pulled me back into his arms and cried until I ran out of tears, most of them now in Kurt's shirt. He stayed with me all night, occasionally whispering sorry for leaving me, for not being there to protect him, even though it wasn't his fault. Rachel brought me water sitting with us for long periods of time and Blaine lay beside us, in his fevered state drifting in and out of consciousness. After a long sleepless night of tears in Kurt's arms I lay down I felt clean fresh morning air wash over my stiff body, making my every muscle relax and my minds thump dissolve until I fell to sleeps grasp.
Looking down at my knobbly knees that weren't smooth and Barbie-like as my mothers were I felt the same sense of shame; if only I'd stop falling over and grazing them, if only they were beautiful like mums. I'm sitting on my landing, observing between the bars at my parents who are entering the living room adjacent to the hall aka stairs. They're fighting, again. About me, again. I'm thirteen. I have brown pigtails, glasses, braces and an excessive amount of baby fat.
"SHES NOT NORMAL, SHES NOT RIGHT." She's hysterical and it seems my father's making an attempt to calm her.
"We took her in, that was our decision."
That just goes over my head.
"SHES NOT MY BABY GIRL, I JUST WANT MY BABY GIRL."
"Quinn died Judy. We haven't had our baby in a long time. She's all we have."
I feel tears spill across my chubby cheeks and confusion throb my head.
"I CAN'T EVEN TOUCH HER"
"Why? She's our baby."
"She's not. She shouldn't look like us Russell. Why does she look like us?"
And as suddenly as I was thrust into the past I wake up. Lying in Kurt's sleeping embrace, my eyelashes still clumped with tears.
That's not how I remembered it! In reality they had been arguing over how their child wasn't normal. How she didn't fit in, not that I wasn't theirs.
That was when I became Quinn. I decided to be everything they wanted me to be.
If only I'd known I was taking on someone else's life.