The rumbling and jolting of the bus almost lulled Quinn to sleep but the vibration of the window against the crown of her head was making it a little uncomfortable. Her dreary eyes watched the Californian scenery transform from a luscious forest to an arid desert. Her eyes fell from the landscape before her to the envelope clutched in her hand. Her thumb graced over the loopy writing of Rachel's. "To Quinn, open it when you feel the most alone. Your Rachel". Her Rachel. That little thought made her smile.
The bus moved forward in its journey once in a while stopping at a rest stop to let the somber soldiers-to-be stretch their sore muscles. They finally came to a brief stop at a bus stop and the driver let a couple of people in. Quinn watched them look around for seats. She quickly spotted a young, mohawked man coming towards her, his eyes lighting up at finding her seat open.
"This seat taken?" he asked. Quinn looked up at him. If she weren't gay, she would have found him very attractive. He was the epitome of a stereotypical, good-looking, muscular soldier, gay boys and straight girls would drool over. She quirked her eyebrow and motioned for him to sit.
"What's up I'm Noah Puckerman," he said, "but folks call me Puck." He proffered his hand in greeting which Quinn politely took. "Quinn Fabray," she said.
"Quinn, very pretty name, nice to meet you," he said. Puck's eyes suddenly dropped from her own and she shifted uncomfortably as he very noticeably started to check her out. "What such a pretty eyed girl like you going off to war for?"
"I have a girlfriend," she suddenly spewed out.
"Whoa, okay, cool. Not really answered my question but OK. Fuck me, you know what? I'm sorry. Didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable but you're hot, I'm hot and I just thought, you know?" he rambled, "but now that I know, other guys are gonna try to get at you and I suggest you stick by me and I'll protect you" he said, flashing her an honest smile.
Quinn looked at him unconvincingly. She gathered that if she was going to risk her life in the battlefield she might as well make some friends who would have her back.
"Okay, Puck, but no funny business," she warned him
He just shrugged nonchalantly. "So now you wanna tell me why you're going off to war?"
Quinn smiled in amity and told her the basics, not delving too much into her history. She asked him the same and learned that he came from a small town in Texas. He was a rebel living in out of juvenile facilities for mild misdemeanors and he left his single mother, sister and girlfriend back in Texas. He didn't know anything about his deadbeat father and even though he was in constant trouble he had been able to provide for his family until the Army came to his town looking for recruits. He willingly volunteered knowing that a soldier's pension would aid his family further.
She could tell by his change in conduct, that decision had been heavy on him, leaving his family behind. And just as the subject had turned the mood into a somber one, he changed it to one much more lively and he told her about all the crazy shenanigans him and his cronies' got into.
Time flew by. They shared stories and reminisced about their childhoods, their shared love for dogs, music and bacon.
Night had finally dawned upon the dour bus, it's occupants slowly drifting off to sleep one by one. All dreaming about the life they had to sacrifice.
The sudden banging against the bus startled everyone awake. The yelling of someone screaming "Up, up lazy maggots!" let everyone know they had finally made it to camp. The groggy, confused and semi-frightened members of the bus got off and lined up in front of the bus in a single file. Quinn was happy that Puck was still at her side. It gave her a sense of comfort and familiarity.
A stoic woman stood in front of them; her eyes twinkled with a somewhat demonic glint.
"Welcome to Fort Irwin, maggots! I'm Sergeant Sylvester and this fragile, sorry excuse of a man is your Lieutenant Will Shuester."
"Hi guy-"
"Shut up, Will! As I was saying, most of you disgraceful, degenerate, lowlife, ingrates have been drafted by our glorious motherland because you might as well be useful by defending her instead of wasting space and precious air. For those who volunteered, you have no idea what you just signed up for"
She had been chewing on something and made Quinn scrounge her nose as she spit whatever was in her mouth right in Lt. Shuester's shiny boots. He didn't attempt to remove whatever was in his boot as if he was used to Sgt. Sylvester's antics.
The Sergeant walked slowly towards the first person in the line. She inspected the person closely. She apparently had no sense of personal space and was completely up in the persons face.
"Where are you from, maggot?"
"I'm from-"
"I don't care" she said, moving on to the next person, "look at you. Disgusting"
She continued like that, degrading all the recruits and making some of them cry. When it was Quinn's turn, she braced herself for the worst, mentally prepared to block whatever was fired her way.
Once the Sargent stepped in front of her, they entered into a starring contest as if the Sergeant was trying to size her up with just one look.
"Well, well, well. A little bit above average height, a little bit above average looks, and a fire in your eyes. You remind me of a young recruit Sue Sylvester who went on to become the best drill Sergeant the US Army has ever seen"
Quinn's lips quirked up in a small smile.
"And you ruined this moment by smiling."
She moved on to Puck telling him because of his height and muscular body, he would be perfect for the Viet Cong to use as target practice and that his mohawk was ridiculous and it look like a sloth had taken a dump and had draped it over his head.
The sun was just rising when they marched into their barracks. They weren't divided by sexes for they believed in group solidarity and told them they had to get used to sharing a space since they would have to be together anyway in the battlefield.
They were told to choose their bunk and Puck rushed to save him and Quinn one. She took the top bunk while he took the bottom.
She heard a murmured "Goodnight, pretty eyes" coming from Puck.
"Goodnight, Puck," she said, "Goodnight, Rachel" she thought.
The sun was blazing hot. Quinn could feel it burn her pale skin turning it into a painful reddish color.
"We're going for a little run," Sgt. Sylvester said sitting in a golf cart while sipping on an icy looking drink.
"But we haven't warmed up!" someone yelled.
"Thank you track star, because of that you'll all be running 10 more laps"
The soldiers set up a block and began to run as a unit with Sgt. Sylvester driving in circles around them telling them to repeat whatever she said back at her which usually ended being praises for herself.
They did everything together as one unit, one entity.
That night, no one could sleep. Everyone groaned every time they shifted in bed.
Quinn wrote to Santana and Rachel to help ease her mind from the pain.
The days drove on with training. Quinn swinged from monkey bars, crawled on the sandy, desert floor on her elbows with grains of salt entering her mouth and nostrils. She learned how to fire an M-16. How to disassemble and assemble it in record time. She learned to clean her weaponry, her boots and equipment to shiny perfection. She learned to hang from a rope and grip her way across a pond.
She learned to fight. Hand-on-hand combat was the hardest for her. She had grown up a pacifist and non-confrontational and here she was wrestling bigger people than herself to the ground.
She learned to cross murky, muddy waters without getting her weapon dirty. She almost giggled when she spotted a fellow recruit named Finn Hudson mud deep trying to find his lost weapon.
But all that training had to become of use as one day Lt. Shuester and Sgt. Sylvester called role for people that were to be sent off to Vietnam the following morning.
Quinn felt her heart drop when her name was called.
My dearest Rachel,
Two months of training have flown by. I swear the army Sergeant's way of training is a form of torture.
I've got some news to tell you. I'm being shipped off to Vietnam. The guy Puck I talked to you about is coming too.
I'm being honest here, Rachel. I'm scared. I'm scared of what is waiting for me in 'Nam. I know my country needs me but it frightens me to think of what I'll see and experience there. How will I be able to shoot some person dragged into this senseless war? How could I live with myself knowing I took some poor man or woman's life? I hope I don't have to kill anybody, it goes so against my values. I hope God forgives me if it comes down to it.
I haven't opened your envelope but I think I will tonight. All these restless nights have been filled with thoughts of you. There's something about dreaming about you that relaxes me. I miss your voice and warmth like crazy, Rach. I try not to think too much about what I'm leaving behind or I'll get too sad. I gotta keep my mind busy either drawing, paperwork or writing to you and San.
Oh, and Rach, don't worry if you don't receive any more letters for the next couple of days. I'll write as soon as I can. And don't cry, my love. I promise I'll be as safe as I can so I can get back to you. Wait for me.
I love you.
Quinn F.
PS: I'm sending you a picture of me and Puck that a guy named Artie Abrams took of us. Good looking huh? :) But don't worry, babe, like I told you, he knows I belong to the prettiest girl ever.
She slowly opened the envelope. She dipped her fingers in and took out a black & white picture of Rachel in a flowery dress, similar to the one she had been wearing when they had met. She was perched on a table from the diner with pearly, white smile flashing through. Quinn just wanted to reach out and swipe her bangs away from her face and touch her. Tears welled up in her eyes as her eyes turned to the glittering star necklace that Rachel had been wearing that fateful day. She ran her thumb over it perfect shape. Behind the picture in Rachel's loopy writing was the words: "I'm letting you borrow something that means a lot to me and I expect you to bring it back yourself. A star so that when you luck up at a starry night you remember us and know that I'm remembering you too, I love you, Rachel"
Quinn gripped the necklace in her fist, closed her eyes and prayed for the safety of her platoon and herself.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading!
Until next time, LP.