AN: Two more chapters after this. I'm sorry for the wait, and I hope you enjoy the last few chapters.

Some habits never change. Habits that had been ingrained in him long ago still remained. Chevy didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing; some of his habits were good to keep, to maintain.

He'd been a soldier Before, and he was a soldier still. It had never been something he thought much about. Those warrior habits, drilled into his head by zealous sergeants, had kept him alive. They weren't things he often thought about, reacting instead as he'd been trained and carrying on from there.

But now, marching through the thick, dark woods on an island in Alaska a particular habit caught his attention.

He remembered those long ruck marches, the weight of his bag and weapon, and how heavy every limb felt. To keep his mind off the pain he recited one thing, one thing to keep him motivated, on point, ready.

It didn't fit like it used to, not in the newest version of the world. Here he was just another survivor. Every single one of them wore that title. They were all soldiers now.

I am a warrior and a member of a team, he thought with a grimace of a smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rachel Berry. Fearsome little Broadway Berry. Sure, he hadn't thought much of her the first time he met her – but time moved different in an apocalypse. People were more transparent and it didn't take as long to figure someone out. Rachel had been an unlikely leader of a team and now he was following her orders, too, because as strange as it seemed that tiny woman had something in her. Something he hadn't seen often, something that made men and women charge headlong into battle without a second thought. There were lots of words to describe it but none that hit it right on the head. There was just something about her.

Even now, frightened, cold, and hurting, she kept up with him. Brown eyes wide, mouth set in a determined frown, she marched into the darkness alongside him without a single complaint. He'd been around more than a few warriors in his service to his country. True warriors, with blood in their mouths and deadly purpose in their eyes – impressive men and women. Hard, cold heroes. He never would have imagined a Broadway singer would fit in with that bunch, but she would. Hell, he'd even say that she could give a few of them a run for their money.

He paused mid-step, head cocked to the side. Rachel froze next to him with a glimmer of hope in the lift of her eyebrows and barely-there smile. It was late, it was dark, and every snap and call from wildlife stopped him in his tracks because he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ignored a noise and it turned out it had been Quinn. But every time he took a second to check and it wasn't Quinn he had to watch more of the light die out in Rachel.

This time was no different. He shook his head and pressed on forward, hating the way Rachel sighed, how her shoulders slumped. She recovered quickly though, straightening back up, head high, and jaw set. Back on target.

Chevy wiped his cold cheek against his shoulder and cleared his throat of the lump obstructing his voice. "Quinn!"

He paused to listen – to pray – for a response this time.

Nothing.

Rachel called out next, her voice rough and cracking from their continuous yelling. "Quinn?"

Silence.

He forced his legs forward once more and moved his tired arm, muscles quaking with adrenaline and fatigue, gritting his teeth against the sour taste of defeat. The torch-light didn't reach very far but he couldn't stop looking. They weren't done until they found Quinn and brought her back. Brought her home, dead or alive. Rachel's flashlight blinked on, the small beam of light reaching further and touching trees, boulders, bushes, only to blink off again.

He chose to ignore the way the light wavered in her shaking hands.

Quinn wasn't a quitter, that much he knew. It wasn't in her nature. She'd proven it time and time again in their journey across the ravaged wasteland they used to call home. Never once had she given up and the lengths she would go to… she'd surprised him as much as Rachel. He'd recognized her, of course, when they'd met up with her that fateful day in Ohio. Quinn Fabray, movie star. But she wasn't spoiled, or soft, or anything he'd thought she'd be. He'd watched her charge into the fray of battle to rescue Rachel. She didn't look back, she didn't question herself – she leapt.

There was no way he was going to leave her out in the woods. Because Quinn was a kindred spirit and she would never have left him, or any of them, behind either.

"How long have you known Quinn?" he asked with a glance to his left.

Rachel's jaw wobbled for a second as she took a deep breath and raked a hand through her long hair. She squinted away from him. "We went to highschool together."

"I know that part," he said, shifting the torch to his other hand. "I mean, did you guys keep in touch after?"

They had a bond of some sort. Something powerfully strong, something anchored in history, something that had survived an apocalypse. He'd watched them interact and he knew the strength of their tether immediately. It wasn't something shared by an old, forgotten friend or schoolmate. It was something else, something deeper.

"I saw her off and on during college. After that we emailed each other occasionally. Why?"

He ducked a low-hanging tree branch and swung the torch. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention, and cold slithered into his belly. "I, uh, I'm curious. Q's quiet, keeps to herself, all locked up. I never saw her getting close to anyone until we ran into you. I figure there's a story there."

"It's complicated," she said, frowning. "It's still complicated."

Complicated. He mulled that word over, weighing it against his desire to ask another question. One he knew would not be well received. Curiosity won out over rationality. "Did she tell you what happened to her daughter?"

"What?" Rachel stumbled, but swiftly righted herself.

He winced at the tense expression she aimed his way. "I don't know either. I know Luz tried to talk to her about it once. Luz had kids, too."

That didn't need further explanation. Had kids, past tense.

Rachel stopped, swiped at her mouth, and looked up at the sky. "I didn't know that. That's why she's so good with the kids here, and so focused on them."

"She had two," he said. "Tony and Sophia. Sophia was autistic. They were with their dad when…"

"Please, don't." She shook her head and turned on the flashlight again.

"She doesn't talk about that, for obvious reasons. But sometimes, if you catch her in a good mood, Luz will tell stories about them. The good things, you know? Like the last time she was on leave they went to the zoo." He smiled, imagining Luz's little girl with a yellow ribbon in her dark hair squealing in excitement over the elephants. "Q doesn't do that. She doesn't talk about her daughter at all. I wondered if she talked to you."

He cupped the side of his mouth with his free hand and called again. Rachel flinched but echoed him soon after.

"She hasn't said much."

"I'm pretty sure that's what this trip into the woods has been about. I think she's trying to make peace." He scrubbed at the back of his head, frustrated by the tingles and alarm bells telling him they were so close.

"Quinn hasn't brought it up," Rachel said, slowly following him. She hugged herself and expelled a shuddering sigh. "I knew she wasn't ready to tell me what happened. I shouldn't have – I never should have used Beth like that. It wasn't right."

He reached over to rub her shoulder, squeeze gently. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel bad about it, again. Like I said, I'm just curious."

"She lost Beth." She rubbed her palms against her face. "Three times, she lost her. Of course it's – we've all lost someone, but that – Beth has always been a catalyst for Quinn. She feels things so profoundly. She's always been that way. I don't know what to do with this new Quinn. It's like she's drowning and I can't reach her."

Knowing that she knew all of that made what she'd said worse. He bit his tongue to keep that thought to himself. They all made mistakes in the heat of the moment and Quinn was no saint either. The two of them would have to work it out on their own. Once they found Quinn.

"I think we're getting close," he told her against his better judgment. Any sort of breadcrumb would help. She needed something to hold onto and he needed to stop being a dick. But the longer they were out there the harder it was to think they'd get a happy ending to the story. He didn't know what would happen if they found her too late.

"You can't possibly know that," she said and checked with the flashlight again.

"My gut says we're close. I've learned to trust it." He narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see further in the dark. It didn't help much, but he had the strangest sense of déjà vu. "I think we're near where we hiked to the other day."

She scowled at him. "Why did you do that, anyway?"

Now? Now she wants to ask?

"It wasn't to piss you off," he said, distracted by an excited energy that reawakened his tired limbs. "She wanted to go do something. I agreed to go with her. Battle Buddy system and all. That bottled energy has to be expended somehow. Hiking's a pretty safe activity."

"But…"

He turned to her, holding his free hand up to stop her. "No buts. We came out here because Quinn needed to. I told you, she's looking for something. It's important to her. Important in a way that means you don't argue. Next thing I knew it was getting dark and she hoofed it back double time. We got caught up talking and when she realized how late it was, how far we'd gone, she hurried back."

"And I bit her head off."

"You weren't wrong. We were irresponsible, we both know better than to fuck around in the woods at night. You overreacted, sure, but we set ourselves up for an ass chewing. You know what though? I bet she forgives you. I'll also bet that you'll forgive her for being a moody asshole." He shook his head. Drama in the apocalypse. Days of our zombie hearts. "There's this thing called communication. You both suck at it."

She chewed on her lip. "I kind of want to punch you."

"That's fair," he said and offered his shoulder. "I probably earned a couple."

"I'll get you back later."

"Deal." He took a deep breath and checked the sky, looking for the position of the moon. His hands tingled and a fresh bout of alarm bells rang phantom tones in his ears. "Head that way," he said pointing off to his left. "Call for her. I'm going to fan the other way. Watch out for the ridgeline; it's a steep fall."

She nodded and turned to her mission without another word.

He watched her go, heart practically in his mouth. If Quinn had gone down that bastard hill…

Eyes on the nearest tree he walked forward in a straight line and bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Quinn!"

I will never leave a fallen comrade.

The fire went out. She couldn't stop it or help it – it died slowly, flickering in weak attempts, fighting against the wind. A good fire. Brave. The little fire that almost could.

Cold had been seeping in at a steady pace. Quinn watched the fog form, coating the area in a creamy mist. She shivered and hunched closer to the sputtering fire.

Her eyes didn't want to stay open and her head didn't want to stay in its upright position. She caught herself nodding off more than once. The overreaction of jerking upright and forcing her eyes open wider did not help stave off the sudden bout of sleepiness. She squinted down at the fog wondering if it might have some sort of energy sapping qualities and flexed her numb fingers.

"I'm an idiot," she said, voice scratchy and throat burning. So maybe the shouting hadn't been the best of ideas. Not only had it sapped her energy it had wrecked her throat. It reminded her of the first couple of days after she'd picked up smoking. Except it didn't come with the rush of doing something 'naughty' and the sweet intoxication of nicotine.

"Damn," she muttered. "If I wouldn't kill for a cigarette right now."

Her eyes closed again, gritty and gummy with the lashes sticking together. She didn't bother trying to open them again. Sleep lingered nearby, offering in that oh-so-subtle way to take her safely away from reality. Peaceful, deceptive slumber.

The others will come looking for you. She shook her head with a wince and tasted iron on the back of her tongue. They'll come and get you out of here.

"Tomorrow." She shifted, searching for an angle that would ease the aches in her body and not make her head hurt more. "I just have to make it to tomorrow."

That's a lie and you know it, the other side of her woozy consciousness argued. You're not getting out of this one.

Back and forth her internal argument raged while she lay there wishing she could shut her own brain up.

Rachel will come. She will. Quinn imagined it – Rachel, charging to the rescue, anger in her eyes but relief in the lines of her body.

Why should she? You've been awful. The image shifted. Rachel sitting on the couch in the cabin sipping tea and glaring at the wall.

They know you're missing now. They'd never leave you like this.

Because you've never been left before?

That one stung. Quinn hissed out a breath and forced her eyes open once more. "Rachel's never left me," she said, blinking heavily. "She always finds me."

In a hallway at school. Out back behind the bleachers. In the godforsaken bathroom. After the end of the world.

You knew better than to be out here after sunset. It's too dangerous for them to come out here.

"Yeah, well, since when have any of us taken the safest option?" She snorted, counting stupid, crazy ultimately selfless things she'd witnessed or done. "Zombies bring out the best in the worst."

"Quinn!"

She raised her head, neck straining, and squinted at the darkness. That sure sounded like her name.

"I'm here," she said, croaking the words. After clearing her throat she tried calling out again to the auditory mirage. "I'm here, Rachel."

Why the hell am I bothering with this? It's not real.

She licked her lips and smiled. "She's going to rescue me."

"Quinn!"

It's not real.

"I'm here." Her eyes closed again as fresh dizziness and nausea swamped her. The buzzing in her ears grew louder but she thought she still heard her name. "I'm here."

The fire died.

TBC...