AN: Loooong time coming. This story is finished and being checked over by my beta. The rest will be up. I won't leave you hanging.
Quinn shivered in the flickering light. Her small fire might have been pathetic but she thought it was pretty good, all things considered. It wasn't for warmth or to try and signal for help anyway; she needed it to keep the darkness from swallowing her whole.
There were far too many things in the forest that could come out of the dark. No one was safe in the moon's embrace especially not a defenseless fool left out in the harsh wild due to their own folly.
Yet here she was lost and on her own - all to prove a point.
She sniffled, hunched closer to the little flames, and breathed softly on the embers to keep them alive.
The woods seemed so much closer now that night had draped itself over the scenery. It was almost as if the trees had used nightfall to move in secret, lifting their roots and shuffling forward to cage her. They pressed in all around her surrounding her sad scene of attempted rebellion. Quinn struggled to keep her breathing pattern stable. Reminding herself she was in a great big wooded area helped and so did the gentle, cool breeze rushing through the ravine. At least she wasn't trapped in an enclosed space that was slowly collapsing in on her. Trapped? Yes, for sure – or maybe stuck was more like it. Trapped in a box or buried alive? No. Not that. Not in a closet, or a coffin, or in a wheelchair unable to move her legs.
Nice job, asshole. You're freaking yourself out.
"It's not like I've ever been good at being a rebel," she said with a strained laugh and shake of her head. Even her short-lived punk phase hadn't accomplished much. She could play tough characters in movies without breaking a sweat but it was an act and it never lasted.
Leaves rustled as a fresh breeze swirled around her and kicked up the sharp, acidic smell of puke. Choking, she swallowed back the encroaching tide of fresh vomit. It had been awhile since she'd cried so hard she'd thrown up. This time she hadn't even had the pleasure of tequila to help the process, just the self-gagging, heaving sobs for things she couldn't fix. Long-dried tears made her cheeks sticky and she thought she felt her skin crack when she dared contort her face to grimace before licking at her lips.
No one had mentioned that going out on a walk might lead to hysterical sobbing in the woods, or that it would be the kind that would knock her legs out from under her and leech away whatever strength she had left.
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. A healthy one, even, to use the expected privacy to face down her own demons and the silence and solitude for contemplation and soul searching.
Instead she'd ended up curled in a ball and hurling, covered in snot and tears, and screaming as her traitorous brain threw image after image of memories in front of her, each one a knife to the gut.
Remember this?
How about that?
She'd done it though. She'd fucking done it. She'd been brave and stupid and reckless and hadn't run away for once in her miserable life. Alone in the woods stripped raw and bare to the stoic trees and unyielding wind Quinn let it all go. She screamed and cried and beat her fists against the ground howling like a lunatic. The pain cut so deep it stole her breath away. She had no way to right the wrongs and nothing to keep the ghosts at bay.
They surrounded her, tore through her, and dared her to face them.
She'd done it - stood before them, let them beat her, but she didn't run. She didn't bury them.
Peace, she'd begged. Please. Let me have peace.
She was alive and they weren't and she needed to let go. Release the burden. Life was for the living. Not just surviving.
Not anymore.
She'd proven to herself that she could be an actual woman of actions. Big actions. Not fake ones for the entertainment of others, but actions for herself and for those who needed them from her. Actions that would speak louder than the words she couldn't find the strength to get out.
But the past held her back. Reminded her, always, of her weakness, her cowardice that cost the lives of those around her. She caused pain like some sort of ancient god everywhere she went.
She couldn't anymore. She just wanted to live.
She wanted to be brave. Truly brave.
Of course because her plans and aspirations rarely went according to plan she'd also managed to strand herself in the woods. Emotionally and physically drained, hands wrecked, and body aching she had nothing. No food, no water - nothing but her knife and flint.
At least she wouldn't freeze.
"I want to go home," she muttered, leaning back against the hard support of the tree trunk behind her.
The insanity of it all smacked her in the face with another stiff slap of wind and tears welled anew as she laid there in dirt and rocks.
"Of all the fucking things… this was supposed to fix everything." She groaned as her ribs protested the jarring motion of sobbing laughter. "I'm such a fucking idiot. How am I even alive?"
Pity, party of one?
No.
"If I'm going to die here like this in this embarrassing display of almost, it's not going to be throwing a pity party." She set her jaw and dredged up all of her deep, ill-concealed emotions.
She had things to live for, after all. At least, she had. Hopefully that was still true.
"Hey, Rachel!" she bellowed at the swaying treetops. Her voice bounced back off the trees and rocks and Quinn sneered at the sound. "I've been too afraid to tell you that I like you. I've always liked you! You're brave and good and everything that I'm not. You're inspiring!"
She swiped at her eyes, crying and grinning like a defeated fool. All her memories of Rachel - the treasured ones, the book-marked ones - came to the surface. A wonderful, heart-wrenching montage of images. Rachel's defiance and her determined smile. That little foot stomp and the strut of someone who didn't care if her peers thought she was insane. Rachel the lion-heart.
She thought of tender Rachel who only ever wanted to be friends. To have friends and to be cared about as she cared for all of them - no matter how many slushies and insults they hurled at her. The way Rachel had looked at her over the years in high school. How she sang to her when the pregnancy had demolished Quinn's everything.
Then new Rachel. Patient Rachel. Leader and warrior Rachel. Here at the end of the world she still looked at Quinn the same way. With that same determined spark in her eyes and that sure smile that had become sadder around the edges but remained on her mouth. The tenderness in her eyes that helped shine a light to chase away all the darkness they both held.
Quinn choked on her own spit and laughed again even though it all hurt so much. "Of all the stupid… I've been such a bitch and I don't deserve any of you. Not with all the things I've done."
The firelight wavered and dimmed. She turned awkwardly on her side and stretched out for more leaves to put on the embers. Her lungs burned but she managed a few weak breaths to keep the fire alive a little longer.
"She did what?" Rachel shouted, fingers curling into her palms. Her fists shook and the need to punch something was so heady her head swam.
Chevy shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. "I think she went –"
"I heard you the first time," she said with a snarl. "How could you let her do this? Both of you knew?"
She turned to Luz and wasn't shocked to see an impassive expression looking back at her.
"It's not our fault. You might want to check yourself, Mayor. We'll share the blame with you but neither Chevy or me is going to take all of it. Q's the one out in the woods right now. In the end she's the idiot that lied to me, didn't tell you or Chevy, and went tra-la-laing out there."
"I don't understand it at all." Rachel sat heavily on the couch – Quinn's blanket and pillow still on it. She sank her head into her hands and breathed through her nose, attempting to find calm. "Why would she… it's not like her to lie to you. Or to not tell someone where she was going."
"Luz, I know we're gearing up for a rescue, but can you give us a moment?" Chevy's large hand landed on Rachel's shoulder. She didn't bother with trying to duck out from under it. Her eyes burned as a memory of her dad making a similar request for a father-daughter moment popping up unbidden.
I'm not a teenager anymore, she thought, fighting feelings of guilt even though she knew they were deserved.
I did this. I drove her out.
The door to the cabin closed on a stream of Spanish and then silence.
But not the blessed kind.
"So, we're going to talk about this," Chevy said, squeezing his massive frame next to her. "Because we need to get some things done but it's not going to be safe launching off when we're all unfocused."
"I'm focused." She raised her head and looked at him. "I – we have to go get her. She can't be out there in the dark, Chevy. I can't leave her out there."
Not without me.
Her chest hurt, heart hammering away in a ferocious beat. She swallowed and shook her head. "This is my fault."
He sighed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "In my opinion, you're both being stubborn, dumb jackasses. Yeah, you shouldn't have brought up Q's kid like that even though you were right to be pissed at us. Just like Quinn should probably have tried talking more and definitely shouldn't have gone out in the woods alone."
"I was wrong. It was stupid and I was mad and now…" Stomach tied up in knots, Rachel stood up and dragged her hands through her hair. "I have to get her back. I can't apologize to – if she's –"
He didn't say anything and his somber expression, brown eyes so devastatingly serious, shook her so hard she grabbed the wall for support.
"Oh god," she said, goosebumps rising up all over her body. Harsh reality stared at her and she wasn't ready. She wasn't ready for it to attack again. Not like this. They were supposed to be safe now. No more heroics or the horrors that demanded them. "Chevy, what if the last thing I said to her was that? I was so angry and I wanted to hurt her! I wanted to land a punch and force her to think."
"Think about what?"
"The people who care about her!" She blinked, shocked to hear her own shout echoing back at her. "I just wanted her to know that there are people who depend on her and that she's important. Too important to do something so crazy that it could leave us without her. There's only one of her. She's special to… people. She's Quinn; she's always been important."
To me, she finished unspoken, wiping angrily at the tears on her cheeks and avoiding his too-knowing gaze. "We're not in the fucking desert anymore, but I forgot how to not be that person. I've been so afraid to lose anyone and that's been a real danger for so long. We lost so many... I lost people."
"You're still in survival mode," he said and stood as well. "It's okay, Rachel."
"It's not," she choked out. "It's not okay. She was right, I was holding on too tight and I was scared and I lashed out. I didn't want to lose her, too. I've been too late so many times and I'm sick of being helpless. Now she's out there alone and I practically dared her to do it!"
He grabbed her in a hug and she leaned into his chest hiding her face. Shame and overwhelming fear spilled over her. She shook, drowning in the feelings.
"Now look," he said, after she'd regained control of her breath. "It's a fucked up situation, but we're only human and we're dealing with some terrible shit. We're human and we're not invincible. Now that you've got it out, let's put that level head back on and go get your girl."
"She's not my girl," she mumbled miserably into his chest. Might have been, maybe, but you messed that up pretty good, Berry.
He snorted. "Broadway, she's been your girl from the moment she woke up in the back of your Bronco."
She pressed away from him and wiped her face again. "I'm still mad."
"You and me both," he said. "Luz is furious. And we can all be mad together later, after we bring Q back home. We use it to get the mission done and then we'll deal with it. She's not the little angel that got lost in the woods. Some talking needs to be done with her, too. Just not right now."
Not right now, she thought, sucking down a huge breath. "Use it?"
"Yup." He nodded and pointed at the door. "We march out there, angry and on a rampage, and let it sharpen our focus on the job."
"How?" She clipped her walkie-talkie back to her belt and froze in reaching for Mick, not on her hip. An automatic, ingrained response. She'd have to retrieve him for one more task. Hopefully the last one.
Chevy's expression shifted, fury radiating from the set of his jaw to the hunch of his shoulders and bunch of his fists. "That fucking forest has Quinn. I will chop down every goddamn tree if I have to and strangle a bear with my hands. No fucking way does a bunch of trees beat me and keep Quinn. Not today."
"Not today," she echoed, and nodded. "I need to get my pistol and we'll need torches or some sort of light. Do we have flashlights with any battery power left?"
"A few. I say we take them and do the torch thing, too. Cover all the bases."
She nodded again and rubbed her forehead where a headache had taken over. "Right. We'll put some teams together, and we'll need something to mark our trails so we can get back. No sense in more of us getting stuck out there."
"We've got some chalk and ribbon stashed away. Do you want to take the flare gun too?"
Rachel considered for a moment. "Yes, that's probably the only way to signal to the rest of the teams when we find her. We have the walkies, too, and we'll want to make sure to use them. Every search party should have a medical pack, flare gun, and walkie. No mistakes tonight." She cracked her neck and then her knuckles, eyes closed. When she opened them again she looked at Chevy and jerked her head toward the door. "Let's get after it. Time is not our friend, and I have a few things I'd still like to say to Quinn."
"On it, your Majesty," he said with a wink.
Rachel's attempts at using her anger to focus fell by the wayside quickly. The forest was dark, ominous, and so cold. As she and Chevy stumbled their way deeper and deeper her anger dissipated, leaving only the frosty touch of fear. With every plume of foggy breath her heart lurched higher up her throat and threatened to strangle her.
Quinn was out in this, somewhere, and she wasn't responding to their calls of her name.
Even Chevy had been affected. His determined scowl slipped away as the furrow between his eyebrows deepened. He waved the flaming torch in his hands back and forth, checking everywhere, and the steadiness of his movement became choppier the further they went without finding her.
"Chevy," she said, her voice a croaking crack in the silent forest. "Chevy, it's not – she could still be – right? These are survivable conditions?"
"Q's smart." He grunted as he stepped over a fallen tree. "I mean, this was stupid, but she's smart enough to have her flint and a knife with her. I taught her how to start fires. She knows not to move in the dark if lost. She's probably hunkered down waiting for sunrise to hike out."
Rachel shivered, picturing Quinn with her back to a rock wall, hands cupped around a fire, and hazel eyes wide with fear. "Yeah," she said and licked at her lips. "You're probably right. She's fine."
He paused and grabbed her by the elbow. In the light from the torch he looked tired, older than before as deep shadows darkened the lines on his face. He scratched at the bristles of his unshaven cheeks. "Look, I shouldn't say anything. Not now, or ever really, but I knew she was planning on coming out here."
Anger returned and socked her in her tangled guts, the blow sharpened with more fear. She widened her eyes and then narrowed them. "What?"
"She's after something," he said with a sigh. "She wanted to prove something to herself and it had something to do with being out here. A lot of people find some sort of awakening - self-discovery or whatever - in the woods. Quinn's looking for hers."
"What the hell does that mean?!" Rachel threw her hands up, beyond done with all the secrecy and danger and bullshit. "I know we're supposed to be safe now, but that doesn't mean you go into the woods alone looking for some sort of spiritual awakening!"
He nodded, wincing. "I didn't say I thought it was a bright idea. What I'm saying is if Quinn was planning on doing this there's no way she came out here unprepared. She'd have brought stuff with her for the just in case. I'm trying to be reassuring, Rachel."
"That's great. You've been taking reassurance lessons with CJ." She slumped, rubbing at her tired, gritty eyes. "I don't care about the reasons right now. Okay? I don't need the reassurance. I need to find her. I just need to see her and make sure she's alive. After that there's a few things that will be discussed. With her and I alone and then with everybody in Humanity. I can't keep doing this. I'm too tired and worried and can't anymore."
"I understand," he said, moving forward again. "You've been under a lot of pressure for a long time. You need a break to reset."
"That's what this fucking island was supposed to be," she grumbled, glaring around her. "I've hit the limit emotionally."
"Maybe you need a spiritual hike in the woods."
"It's not funny," she snapped.
"Sorry - old habit, trying to drain tension." He shrugged, cleared his throat, and then yelled, "QUINN?"
Rachel's heart surged again and her stomach twisted up further. Every time he yelled her name like that, that one word was enough to level her. TKO by a name. She never wanted to hear it shouted like that ever again.
Onward they trudged, tripping on roots and the thick underbrush. Around them branches snapped as the trees brushed together surrounding them in rustling sounds. Anything could have been out there, among them. Stalking them.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach, queasy at the thought of raising her voice to call for Quinn. Her impressive belting range had never been used for this before. It wasn't a good feeling.
"Quinn!"
The forest answered but the voice she wanted didn't call back to her.
I'm here, she heard inside her head. Quinn's tremulous, husky alto, haunting her.
"Quinn!" she tried again, one syllable breaking in the middle. Please, please answer. Please be okay.
TBC...