AN: Hey guys, sorry for the delay. Yes, my NaNo went very well :) (for those who asked). On with the story!

When Rachel's eyelids fluttered open in the morning she felt more than slightly groggy. Which wasn't that surprising, really, given the emotional workout of the night. Still, for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel that startling rush of anxiety over having fallen asleep or the lingering aftereffects of yet another nightmare. In fact, as she stirred and started to stretch the kinks out of her neck and shoulders she felt almost lethargic. Like she'd gotten a blessed weekend off and was planning on spending the day in her pajamas, napping and watching daytime television.

Bewildered, she tried to shake off the new-old feeling until it all came flooding back when she realized just where she was.

In the night, after sleep had finally taken hold of her, she had shifted, slumping over until her head landed... well, landed in Quinn's lap. There was a hand in her hair and her cheek was pillowed on the well developed muscle of Quinn's thigh.

And that feeling - the one that felt so out of place to her now - it was contentment.

Contentment. In the zombie fucking apocalypse.

Only the end of the world could take something good and twist it into something dangerous.

Quinn stirred as though she sensed that Rachel was awake. Her eyes dragged open to half-slits, a glimmer of murky green peering down, and then they flew open.

They stared at each other, Rachel's head turned at an uncomfortable angle to be able to see Quinn. She noted their hands still tangled together, and somehow the awkwardness Rachel was expecting never surfaced.

It should have been awkward. Quinn should have bolted like a startled doe. Rachel should have been fumbling to find something to say, to apologize for her sleep-assisted boldness, but it didn't happen. None of it happened.

Instead, Quinn smiled.

"Hi," Rachel said, simply.

Baby steps.

"Hi," Quinn replied, slowly pulling her hand away from its nest in Rachel's hair.

Rachel sat up but didn't release her hold on Quinn's hand, not yet. "I feel like I slept through my alarm or something."

"We probably missed breakfast," Quinn joked, rolling her head until the muted pop of vertebra realigning was heard.

"Don't say breakfast," Rachel groaned. She turned away from the fascinating sight of Quinn first thing in the morning and looked out the window to see where everyone else was. It appeared that they had, in fact, slept in, and somehow nobody had seen fit to wake them up.

But if everyone else was up... she could see Chevy and Luz talking with Ollie, all three of them standing in a circle staring at a map.

They knew where Quinn was.

"We should probably see what's going on," Quinn said, and finally, reluctantly let go of Rachel's hand.

Rachel bit her tongue to keep from suggesting that they wait just a few more minutes, not wanting to give up the moment yet. She knew better than that.

That's why they were playing with fire. Or at least she was.

Baby steps.

Quinn left the Bronco first and Rachel followed swiftly after. She pushed her sunglasses onto her face and scowled up at the sun. Her eyes were tender and the glare was not helping. It was almost like having a hangover. She let Quinn go ahead of her, following in the tracks left behind. They didn't stand next to each other, something they'd agreed to without saying anything. Quinn went immediately to Chevy's side and Rachel drifted over to Ollie.

"We're going to need to stop again," he told her, right to the point.

Who needed coffee when a single sentence would work just as well to wake someone up?

She immediately felt sick, a rush of cold coming over her as she stared from one face to another. "We just..."

"It wasn't enough, but if we can get one more good fuel run we can probably make the coast," Chevy said, just as bluntly. "Probably."

"Probably," Rachel repeated. God, did they all wake up on the wrong side of the car?

"We're close to another town; it's small but there's got to be a gas station," Luz put in pointing out a tiny blip on the map.

Probably. Got to be. Another town, another chance for salvation, another opportunity for them to lose more than they gained.

"I'll go."

Rachel's head snapped in Quinn's direction so quickly her neck popped and heat moved up the abused muscles to settle hotly at the base of her skull. The instant denial died in her throat, coming out as nothing more than a half-whine. A pathetically mewled objection that Rachel didn't have the power to make.

The awkwardness she'd been expecting after waking up so innocently but intimately close to Quinn finally made it's appearance. Everyone else, everyone not Quinn or Rachel, shuffled their feet or looked off into the distance with pursed lips. Rachel would have been embarrassed, or maybe annoyed, if she wasn't too busy trying to get air to her lungs and aching head.

She couldn't tell Quinn no. It wasn't her place. There was no way she could object as strenuously as she'd like, not without throwing herself too far into the open. Would she rather it was someone else? Ollie or Kevin? Maybe one of Quinn's friends?

Ethan?

Instead she was forced into silence, yet again, biting down on her tongue to keep herself from screaming.

"You'll have to take a car," Chevy said, dark eyes flicking back and forth between Rachel and Quinn. "It's - you should take someone with you."

"Quinn, are you su- "

"I'll go too," Rachel input before someone else could beat her to the punch. "We can take the Bronco."

"Rachel..."

"No! No way..."

Kevin and Ollie both started to rant, voices overlapping in their urgency. Rachel didn't bother with looking at them, too busy trying to read whatever Quinn was communicating with only an eyebrow and the small upwards tilt of her lips. Was that a challenge?

"Rachel, you can't - you're too important to the group. I'll go," Ollie finished, his hand heavy on Rachel's shoulder, like he could hold her in place with just that small contact.

"You're like the glue that holds us together," Kevin continued, almost pleadingly. "We need you here."

"I want to do this - that's what I want - and what we really need is gasoline," Rachel said firmly turning to each man in turn as she squashed their arguments. "How am I supposed to be anybody's leader if I don't lead the charge? Maybe in the military they'd do it differently, maybe I'd stay behind and send out the troops with my plans and strategies. This isn't the military, and I'm not an Officer or even a Sergeant," she paused long enough to look to Chevy for confirmation and smiled at him when he gave her a curt nod. "I'm Rachel - Rachel Barbra Berry - and you've all followed me for whatever reason. I need to prove to myself that I'm capable of being that leader you all treat me like. Alright? So stop trying to protect me and let me lead."

More silence. Rachel almost started laughing because of it. Ever since Quinn had shown up it was like even the desert was afraid to make a sound.

Luz actually did start laughing, quietly but it was there, and Rachel jumped at the unfamiliar sound. "Oh, so that's what you were talking about," she said to Quinn.

Rachel narrowed her eyes and for the first time in a long time executed a Diva Storm Out - or, at least, a new version of it. She didn't roll her eyes or huff, didn't shake her head, instead just turning around with her shoulders set and striding determinedly back toward her Bronco. The only attitude she gave came when Kevin called after her. He was no doubt ready to try again to convince her to stay behind or let him take her place, and in response she pulled Mick from his holster and held him aloft.

"You always were a bit of a pistol," Quinn commented softly, minutes later when she joined Rachel at the back of the Bronco. Rachel snorted and continued her mental prep list, taking stock of everything in the vehicle that would need to be transferred just in case they didn't come back.

"Thank you. Can you go get the gas cans? I'll start moving stuff around to make room," Rachel said, waving her hand at the various bags.

"Sure. Oh and, Broadway?"

She canted her head slightly, listening to Quinn even as she reached for the first duffle bag of many that would have to be moved.

"Chevy said that he's served under a lot of officers and sergeants... and that you would give some of the best of them a run for their money."

Rachel blushed, feeling it burn across her cheeks and up to the tops of her ears.

She turned to tell Quinn - to admit that she wasn't going to let Quinn go without her, not again. That she couldn't let Quinn go gallivanting off on her own, stealing all the glory. But, Quinn was already walking away, leaving Rachel smiling to herself.

"Oorah," she said, shaking her head as she reached for another bag.

Normally when she went out on a "mission" Quinn felt apprehension, at least a first, followed by the buzz of adrenaline in her system. It wasn't so much fear - anticipation of danger, yes - but not fear. Like she was sitting in the front car of a rollercoaster that was approaching that first big drop.

It was different, this time, riding in Rachel's Bronco once again and heading for that drop together. She'd gone on missions with Luz, Alex, and Chevy before and been fine, hadn't felt any different about it. But now she kept stealing glances at Rachel, unable to shake the feeling that maybe Rachel's seat belt wasn't going to hold this time. Maybe she'll survive the drop, but on that first loop when they are hanging upside down so far above the ground it will give way and there'll be nothing she can do to save her. She'd have to watch her fall and know that it's the end.

Her imagination was as vivid as it had ever been and Quinn knew there'd be no chasing away the thought or image of Rachel free falling into nothingness in her mind - so she did the only thing she could to shut it up.

Rachel had left her hand in the middle of the seat again, no doubt on purpose, keeping the lifeline there for Quinn should she want to take it. Quinn took a moment to appreciate her tenacity and reached for that hand. The second their skin met her mind went from conjuring horrifying things back to its normal programming. Back to yelling at her for daring to touch someone so boldly.

Quinn held more tightly to Rachel's hand and refused to give in, smiling to herself at the small triumph.

If Rachel was surprised by the action she didn't show it, at least not on her face, but her hand did wiggle in Quinn's grasp until their fingers were comfortably and familiarly linked.

Later they might be screaming or running and one or both of them could get hurt or killed; Quinn had no way of knowing. There was no way she could predict the future or even really prepare for all the possible outcomes and in the past she'd let that thought eat at her.

But for now she was riding in a car, holding Rachel's hand, and being brave.

Little victories.

When Rachel pulled the car to a stop just outside the town they were raiding for gas, the first thrill of adrenaline slammed into Quinn's system. She felt like her skin was vibrating with energy, her muscles twitching, primed and ready for a fight or to run. Rachel must have been feeling it, too, because she was out of the car like a shot, scrambling up the side with a pair of binoculars.

Quinn was kind of proud of her.

She didn't join Rachel on the roof, instead walking around the nose to the driver's side and craning her head back to watch Rachel scout the town for trouble. "Well?"

"It's alarmingly still," Rachel called down to her. "I hate to be a pessimist, but somehow a lack of things moving doesn't make me feel better."

"Pretty sure ghost towns are supposed to be unsettling," Quinn replied. "Especially after the apocalypse."

"It doesn't make any sense, though. Where'd they all go? Weekending in Vegas?"

"We won't know until we go down there, Broadway."

Rachel hopped off the roof, landing a few paces from Quinn and handing over the binoculars. "Closest gas station is right at the edge of town. I feel like saying 'I smell a trap' but..."

Quinn carefully laid the binoculars down on the vacated seat and then planted her hands on her hips, swivelling to face Rachel. "What's the plan then?"

"Drive down. Wait to see if there's any movement. If there's not check for gas, get the gas, and leave. If there is..."

"Haul ass?" Quinn suggested, smiling when Rachel snorted in response.

"I was going to say 'execute a tactical retreat' because it sounded more dignified, but yes."

"One change," Quinn said, holding up a finger. "I'm driving."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, and for a moment Quinn was certain she was going to simply bolt for the driver side and try to secure herself in the seat. "You're driving?"

"Rachel, I solemnly swear not to wreck your Bronco," Quinn promised. "I know I don't have the greatest track record, but I'll take good care of it."

"Fine, but one scratch and you're paying for it."

Quinn looked over at the beat up Bronco, covered in dirt and more scratches than she could count, and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Hey," Rachel huffed, keys dangling from a finger as she held them out for Quinn. "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts."

"Did you just Star Wars us?" Quinn asked, blinking hard, sure she'd imagined that. "It really is the end of the world."

"That's rich coming from you, Hollywood." Rachel shook the keychain, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh, now it's on," Quinn told her and snatched the keys. Shaking her head, she pushed the binoculars aside and climbed into Rachel's seat, wracking her brain to think of an appropriate counter-quote. Unfortunately her train of thought was fully derailed when she knocked her knee painfully on the steering column, having failed to adjust the seat beforehand. "Ow! Jesus!"

"Problems?" Rachel asked primly, already settled with her seatbelt on while Quinn rubbed at her knee, sure that it was bleeding.

"No, just a new respect for Gandalf," Quinn muttered, jerking hard on the seat lever and sighing when she no longer felt trapped by the steering wheel. "Hobbits."

The time for joking passed swiftly as the Bronco rumbled its way down into the town, and Quinn felt like they were slowly descending into Hell.

Of course that was when all the excellent movie quotes popped up so very unhelpfully.

She couldn't - wouldn't - give voice to them, not now. The Bronco rolled to a stop just next to one of the pumps and she managed to line up the gas cap within easy reach of the nozzle out of habit.

Nothing moved.

Quinn nearly held her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nothing. Not even a damn tumbleweed.

"Well...?" she whispered, glancing over to see Rachel gripping the door handle so hard her knuckles were visibly blanching.

"Yeah," Rachel replied distractedly, hand still holding the door shut. She just licked at her lips and kept looking from left to right, scanning for movement. "I'll - I'll fill up the cans. You can stand guard."

Quinn nodded and reached up onto the dashboard for her shotgun, happy to have the reassuring weight back in her hands. Before she'd felt naked without her cell phone; now she could barely move without her shotgun within sight. "I'll go investigate the station real quick."

They didn't count to three or anything so absurd, merely making brief eye contact, something passing between them in a single weighted look. They moved in tandem then, throwing open doors and freezing again.

Still nothing.

Rachel headed for the back of the Bronco and the gas cans while Quinn circled around the pump, warily eyeing the dark interior of the gas station. Goosebumps erupted on her skin and she shivered, the sickly feeling of something not right settling over her. If she had hackles they would have been rising as her ears strained for any sign of the trouble her body was telling her was coming.

It couldn't be that easy.

She wasn't ever that lucky. They weren't ever that lucky.

The click of nails on wood sounded from around the corner, and she knew that whatever luck they thought they had carried with them had just run out.

"Rachel..." she started to say - to warn - but it was too little, too late.

The dog wasn't Cujo, wasn't massive or even the type of dog that ordinarily would have made Quinn fearful...

It was a goddamned poodle. Not one of those yappy miniature ones, of course; this one was about the size of a labrador, its curls matted and drooping. Not a doberman, like in the Resident Evil games or films. Or a rottweiler or pitbull.

A poodle.

But it was only one, and Quinn was sure she could put the poor thing out of its misery before it could do anything to them.

"I see it," Rachel said shakily from the back of the Bronco, clearly waiting for Quinn to deal with the undead dog.

Quinn almost felt bad as she shouldered her shotgun and took aim. "Sorry, doggie."

"Quinn?"

More clicks, blunt nails on various surfaces.

Lots of nails.

Lots of dogs.

"Can you get back in the car?" Quinn asked almost soothingly, as the poodle pulled back its lip to reveal chipped and rotted fangs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another dog approaching appearing far worse for wear, dragging a back leg, its ribcage exposed and half its face torn away.

"There are two back here, close to the truck. I don't think I can..."

How foolish they'd been - how stupid - thinking it could be that easy. They could stand there and wait until there was no hope for escape or they could force the inevitable.

Keeping an eye on the mangled mess of the other dog still slumping towards her, Quinn raised her shotgun again, resting her cheek against the stock and aiming for the poodle.

"When I shoot..."

"Yeah," Rachel called back, clearly anticipating the hastily thought up plan.

Quinn wished she could see her.

The shotgun went off, bucking back into her shoulder where a bruise would form later. The poodle dropped with a wet yelp, a gory hole in its chest, and Hell broke loose.

Moving out of instinct and a fair bit of terror Quinn jumped forward, heading toward the gas station. If she could just get around the back there would be a ladder and she could climb up to the roof; taking the rest of the pack out from there should be easy.

She heard Rachel's pistol firing and another yelp, twisting her head briefly to see where she was. There was a flash of dark hair and then Rachel was yelling something. Yelling her name.

Quinn turned too fast, suddenly knowing why Rachel was screaming at her.

Another body crashed into her, the shotgun going off again as Quinn reflexively jerked the trigger. The other dog she hadn't seen hit her with all the force of a linebacker, her head bouncing as she hit the ground and hazy dots swimming around in her vision just before snapping teeth filled it. Searing pain ripped up her torso, shocking her into action. She set the rifle horizontally across the dogs chest, using it to try and push back, to keep those teeth from tearing into her jugular.

Her arms trembled with the effort of keeping the mutt at bay and she closed her eyes, wondering when her strength would give out, if it would hurt as badly as she was expecting. Quinn hoped it would be over fast.

She thought she heard a little girl laughing.

Three shots rang out in rapid succession and the dog stopped fighting. The brute dropped limp, right on top of her, and Quinn's breath left her in one big whoosh. Blackness crept up, circling her eyes and slowly started to drag her under...

"Quinn!"

Quinn's eyes snapped back open and she really wished they hadn't. The headache was instant and so intense that she needed to throw up. The body on hers was shoved off and she rolled to her side to empty her stomach of its meager contents. She heaved, coughed, and choked until there was nothing left to give, slumping back into the arms that had at some point circled her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, wincing at the sour taste in her mouth.

"Am I okay?" Rachel shrilly repeated, right in Quinn's ringing ear.

"Turn down the volume," Quinn mumbled, closing her eyes again against the dizzyness. "This hangover sucks."

"For fuck's sake, Quinn."

And then Quinn was being lifted, or at least Rachel was trying to help her up to her feet. Her legs wobbled and Quinn thought for a brief, terrifying moment that she'd been paralyzed again. But then she realized she could still feel them, her knees were just a little weak. Rachel held onto her tightly, and when she adjusted her grip one of her hands brushed along Quinn's hip and the pain returned, screaming to the forefront of Quinn's mind.

"Ow, ow, ow!" She pushed the offending hand away and swayed on her feet. "I'm fine, stop touching stuff!"

"You're not fine," Rachel retorted, coming around to where Quinn could actually see her. "You're bleeding... did it bite you?"

"No, I think it's just a scratch," Quinn said, ignoring the expression on Rachel's face in favor of finding out what exactly felt like it was on fire. She lifted the end of her shirt, exposing her stomach to the bite of the chilly air, and looked down. There were four long, angry, red gouges in her skin from just to the side of her hip bone down. "Son of a bitch."

Rachel knelt down in front of her and Quinn almost made a comment, stopping herself at the last moment, figuring that a head injury was not really a good excuse for being an ass.

"I - I don't think it's deep enough to be..." Rachel trailed off, pressing a finger alongside the deepest tear.

"Would you stop poking it?" Quinn asked and recoiled from the touch, stomach muscles clenching at the contact.

"Would you stop being a baby?" Rachel fired back.

Quinn sighed. "Look, let's just get the fucking gas and get out of here, alright?"

"No, not until I at least put something over that."

They glared at each other, Rachel still at Quinn's feet and Quinn still ridiculously holding up her shirt, neither wanting to budge from their decision.

With a huff Quinn dropped her shirt back down and waved a free hand towards the Bronco. "Fine."

While Rachel went to retrieve what little medical supplies she had stashed away Quinn bent and scooped her shotgun back up, sighing in relief when it was back in her arms. She looked around at the scattered bodies of the pack and shook her head. "Fucking dogs. Fucking zombie dogs... fucking apocalypse." The whole thing was stupid, feeling like she was trapped in one of Puck's video games.

"I found some antiseptic," Rachel offered, holding the bottle up for Quinn to see. Not that she cared much; it was going to sting whether she could read the name on the bottle or not.

"Fabulous," Quinn muttered and lifted her shirt again. Her quick mental preparation for the burn of the liquid didn't help much. She still hissed at the sensation and her eyes still welled up with tears she couldn't help.

"Sorry," Rachel said, wincing in sympathy as she tried to coat the whole injury as liberally as she dared. "Just let me tape some gauze..."

To take her mind off the sharp agony racing up and down that side of her body, Quinn focused on watching Rachel. Watching the way she bit her lip as she concentrated on her job, how that lip was trembling just noticeably at the corners, and the dewiness to Rachel's eyes under the furrow of her forehead, her eyebrows drawn together with a frown.

"This is why," Quinn told her. "This is why you're a good leader, Rachel. You don't have to be Rambo, or Xena, or any other hero you've read about or seen on screen. You care, and everyone knows it and they trust you to make the decisions because they know you care enough about them to worry, to try and keep them from harm."

Rachel paused, her fingers hovering over the line of tape she'd been applying, looking up with the most heartbreaking expression Quinn had seen on her yet.

Doubt.

"You have the rest - the charisma, the stubbornness, the drive of a natural born leader... but you care. No one's a nameless face to you, even when we all feel like we're teetering on the edge of extinction. It's important." Quinn finished applying the tape herself and dropped her shirt and then reached down to help Rachel back to her feet. "You're important, Rachel, and you saved my life. Thank you."

"You are the single most frustrating person I've ever met," Rachel told her, looking anywhere but at Quinn. "You're welcome, and thank you for saying that."

"Any time," Quinn replied, shrugging it off as no big deal. "So, gasoline?"

TBC...