I have to apologize for the wait, being a family man now makes things a little difficult to update, but hopefully, I'll get back into the swing of it now. Updates every weekend. Thank you for your patience.

Journey Into Madness

The I-80 west is surprisingly void of traffic. Leaving New York, you could see the piled up cars, wishing for salvation, but only getting so far before the owner's had to abandon their safe havens and continue on foot.

Quinn paid no attention to the piled up dead bodies by the city's barbed wired entrance, nor did she pay attention to the dead military and police personnel that had stood by and suffered their death protecting the city. Now laid against concrete bollards, their bodies, half eaten by the infected, are now a silent reminder not to enter the city.

Rachel sits beside her, surprisingly quiet, fiddling with a map she had picked up from the mechanics before they had left. She had planned the route meticulously, but they didn't know how far they could get before another pile up of cars was to impede them.

They had been lucky so far, but Quinn knew that luck didn't last forever. It had been sheer luck that she had survived the initial outbreak, it had been a major leap of luck when she found Rachel in a once bustling metropolis, and she can't help but feel it's her last piece of luck within her that led her to the car.

The Mustang was dealing with the onslaught of tight breaking and break neck speeds quite well. The car had been tuned to perfection, but Quinn knew she had to take it easy. There had been no gas at the mechanics, and she could only imagine how hard it would be to get her hands on some.

The Mustang, while fast and sturdy, was a bugger for guzzling fuel. They'd left with just over half a tank and she could see it steadily decrease the further they sped along the I-80.

"We shouldn't really look for gas stations on the highway. Naturally, those would have been the first to go first."

Quinn nods, trying not to glance at the remaining fuel, "We'd have to try somewhere off the highway."

Rachel glances at her, "You think that'd be safe?"

She can tell by Rachel's voice that, of course, it wouldn't be safe, but what other choice did they have? They wouldn't be able to bat their eyelashes at a dopey gas attendant to give them just a little bit of extra fuel for the trip, or swipe their credit cards.

"We have to make the trip," She glances behind her, toward the back seat, "We need more food too."

"What do you propose?"

"We need a little town, somewhere with a small population. They'd have been wiped out easily, and maybe they left some stuff behind."

Rachel doesn't reply, and Quinn looks at with a quick flick of her eyes, "What?"

"You just sound so…" Rachel shrugs slightly, "Blasé about it."

Quinn fights the urge to roll her eyes; even though Rachel had taken down an infected, she still hadn't seen the bigger picture. They were no longer human, they didn't have thoughts and feelings, they were just an obstacle that they would have to overcome to survive. Survival was everything now; not empathy.

"See how blasé I feel about it when an infected has you pinned to the floor trying to eat your flesh, Rachel."

Rachel doesn't reply, instead, she steadfastly ignores Quinn's comment and buries her nose in the map. She fiddles with the pen in her hand as she tries to figure out a location for them to go to.

It annoys her, how Quinn seems to think that she doesn't understand what is happening in the world. She knows that she can't afford to be that sweet girl from High School anymore. She's seen the death, she's seen her theatre friends die in front of her before she ran for the sanctuary of her dressing room.

She knows what's happening; she just can't help it that she's terrified.

"There's a tiny town called Hope."

She hears Quinn snort, "Are you serious?"

"As serious as the gas tank."

Quinn frowns, "How do I get there?"

The tiny town of Hope is completely massacred.

Quinn pulls up just outside the town and shuts off the engine. Even from here, so far out from the town square, they can see the devastation. They both sit there, in silence, and watch as fire and flames bellow from the town hall.

"They didn't have a chance." Rachel comments quietly, before leaning back to grab her holster and climbing from the car.

Quinn sits quietly, listening to the sound of her breathing. She wonders, almost for a second, if Lima is still standing. If a tiny township like Hope is completely devastated, how can she be so sure that Lima, with its much bigger population, is still standing?

Her mother could be dead for all she knows.

With a shake of her head, she grabs her holster and backpack and departs the car also. Rachel is looking down the street that heads into the town, her hand resting on her gun.

"If you see one, use your knife. We don't know how many infected are still around and we don't want to attract them with the noise."

Rachel nods, "Where to?"

"Food first, then we'll find gas." She opens up the trunk of the Mustang and pulls out the jerry can, "Hopefully, there's still some around."

"Did you just make a pun?"

Quinn smirks lightly, "Just trying to lighten the mood." She walks straight past Rachel without even looking at her, "Did it work?"

Rachel wipes the small smile off her face before Quinn looks back, over her shoulder, with a light smile on her lips. Rachel follows, but she can't help but worry that Quinn's smile was just as fake as it was back in High School.

With only a population of 403, Hope was once a quite lively community. With a gleaming Town Hall, local stores and shops, and even a college, Hope seemed to be on the up and up. Now the local people wandered the streets, somehow unable to leave their little town. The Town Hall now sits on its foundations, slowly burning to the ground, the dead wander in and out of the stores and shops, hoping to find a meal, and the college now sits haunted, unloved and untouched.

"It's like a ghost town."

"Yeah, with dead bodies," Quinn quips, leaning up a nearby wall, "It was easier in New York, I knew where all the stores were."

"We could split up."

Quinn just stares at her.

"Or we could just circle the town centre."

"Better idea," Quinn kicks off the wall, "We do the usual. We get in there, we search for threats, get rid of them, and grab whatever can stay fresh. Canned goods, jars, water, dried foods. You get the idea. Anything with a long shelf life."

They continue on, hoping to find some form of store that hasn't been looted. Most buildings seem intact, but swarm with infected on the inside. They steadfastly ignore buildings with more than ten infected inside.

After all, they're still newbies.

"I'd ask how you know all of this…but I'm worried for the answer."

"Why?" Quinn asks, "You think I knew that the infection was going to happen and learnt how to survive an apocalypse?"

"Maybe…"

She stops, in the middle of the street, a few undead ambling just up the street toward them, "I was a journalist, I worked for the New York Times, not the Pentagon. You seriously think I had early information about all of this? I wouldn't have been in New York when it hit, that's for sure. I wouldn't be here, with you, searching for food and water, I'd have stockpiled it long before the looting happened."

Rachel nods, "I'm sorry, I don't know why I thought you knew."

"I heard about it, from the other countries, just like everyone else. It's all that was on the news. I'm a victim too, Rachel."

"Yeah, we both are." Rachel continues, feeling Quinn follow her closely from behind, "And our families."

"And everyone else in the world," Quinn replies slowly, "Instead of having a conversation, we should find food and gas. There's a few stores up there," She points up the street, noting the two infected that amble across the street, "We'll sweep it together, grab what's left, and move on. We do it fast."

Rachel nods, still out of her league. She has no idea what to do, so she follows Quinn's lead, hoping she'll catch on eventually. She's still shocked though, that Quinn is so utterly calm about the dead walking the streets. Quinn had always been a calm soul, except with her it seemed, so she assumes that she can just switch off her emotions and get the job done, but this is to such an extreme level that Rachel worries.

Is Quinn distancing herself so much that she could potentially land herself in hot water?

Quinn raises her hand slightly, silently urging Rachel to stop in her tracks. The two infected, as they neared, smelt their scent. They smelt the flesh, still alive, blood pumping, and they stare blankly at the two girls, mouths agape, teeth caked in old flesh and blood. They're hungry.

"I'll take care of them," Quinn's already pulling out her knife before Rachel can interject, and all she can do is watch as Quinn dispatches the two infected and lets them slam to the ground, finally lifeless.

"You're getting rather good at this…" Rachel comments quietly, walking toward Quinn as she cleans her knife off on her pants.

"I've adapted," Quinn replied in almost a sigh, "You will too, in time." She turns to look at Rachel, "You were taken by surprise at the garage, but next time, you'll be able to deal with it better. They're just human beings, you just have to know their weaknesses."

"The brain?"

"Mhm, attacking their limbs or torso does nothing. They flinch it off like it's a paper cut. The only way to stop it is to attack the brain. You didn't see the news when that scientist from the CDC told people that?"

"I stopped watching after a while. It terrified me."

Quinn nods slowly, "Understandable." Then she looks back up the street, "The stores. Remember what I said; sweep, grab and run."

Rachel only nods.

The first store is a bust. They make it out with a lonesome jar on honey and a bag of penne pasta. It's not much, but at least it's a few meals if they ration well enough. Rachel seems overjoyed to see pasta, quoting, 'at least I won't be living off of candy', to which Quinn rolled her eyes. It had been a good first run in Rachel's eyes, but to Quinn, it did nothing to strengthen their stockpile.

They needed water and bulky foods to keep their calorie intake up but without over eating. Pasta was a good way to go, but they needed more.

The second store, much to Quinn's dismay, was flush with loot. A small corner store, the goods behind it were sealed behind haphazardly installed metal bars and wooden boards to stop looting. It had worked, but from peering inside, Quinn could see the owner now wandering up and down the isles, eyes glazed, steps trembling.

"We need to get in there."

"We'll need a crowbar."

Quinn nods, "Yeah. Any ideas where to find one?"

Rachel shrugs, "I've never picked up a crowbar, let alone know where to find one. I'd say a hardware store, but the only one I saw was down the street and there were too many infected inside."

"Guess we'll just have to deal with them."

Rachel's back straightens instinctively, suddenly worried, "With just our knives?"

Quinn stares at her, "Yeah," She replies dumbly, "Unless you wanna bring the whole town on our asses?"

Rachel rolls her eyes, "Then what was the point in grabbing guns if we can't use them?"

"Last resort," Quinn pulls her knife free and wanders back down the street, "I'll take them. I'll draw them out one by one. The doorway is narrow enough."

"Should we do it together?" Rachel asks, catching up to the fleeing blonde.

"Only if you think you can handle it," Quinn stops and turns, "I don't want you to get in over your head. Putting down one infected is good, but if you don't think you can do it again, just step back."

Rachel wonders if she truly can handle it. Her one infected death was through pure adrenaline alone. She had been pinned down and with her knife nearby, she had been able to get herself out of the situation, but her mind had panicked her. How was she going to deal with the onslaught of death that surrounded her if she would just continue to shy away like a defenseless child.

She was a grown woman, she could deal with the cut throat attitude during High School, College and Broadway, why couldn't she deal with it now? Sure, it was on an entirely different level, but she had shown strength during her years. All she needed to do was use that strength for survival, instead of shrinking away and depending on Quinn to save her ass every time.

She was Rachel fucking Berry, she could do this.

"I can do it. I'll prove it to you."

Quinn smiles softly, "You don't need to prove it to me, Rachel. You need to prove it to yourself." Quinn steps closer to her, "I know you're capable, I know you're strong. No matter how many times I put you down in High School, or how many slushies Santana doused your hideous argyle in every day, you still held your chin high. You're strong, stronger than I ever give you credit for. You can do this, I know you can, now you just need to make yourself believe it."

Rachel stands, stunned in silence, eyes tracking Quinn's movements as she peeks her head inside the store. She blurts out the only thing she can think of.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Quinn glances over her shoulder, "I can be nice." Then she smirks, "Sometimes."

Rachel barely holds back the giggle that threatens to rise from her throat, but as she opens her mouth to reply, her jaw drops, "Quinn!"

With her head turned, Quinn hadn't noticed the threat that was looming upon her. An infected, one in the hardware store, had caught on there was a living meal nearby, and while her defenses were down, lunged for her and grabbed her hair, ragging her head back against the door frame, neck clear to be bit.

"Oh my God!" Rachel screams in a panic, hands to her mouth, eyes wide. Quinn struggles against the strength of the infected woman that threatens to end her. The fearsome groan and growl of the infected sends a shiver up and down Quinn's spine, and in her haste, she fumbles for her knife. Her hands slip, trembling; she's terrified, and instead, tries to pry the woman's grip from her hair.

"Rachel!" She screams, wondering why the hell Rachel hadn't even bothered to help yet. Struggling with clenched hands in her hair, her eyes shoot the Rachel. The girl is rooted to the spot, hands clenched to her mouth, eyes watering, unmoving. "For fuck sake, Rachel, help me!"

Quinn's terrified scream seems to jerk Rachel out of her terrified state, and grabs the first thing she can. Her Glock. With other infected ambling toward them from within the store, she can't trust herself to work quickly with her knife. Quinn may kill her, but at least Quinn won't be dead.

She raises her gun, and hand trembling, sight rocking back and forth from the infected's head, she tries to calm herself.

"Duck your head!" She screams to Quinn, when she realizes that her head is obscuring the infected's prime target location.

Quinn does, as best as she can, and bites back a scream in agony as she feels strands of her hair rip from her skull, and then she gasps as a ringing fills her ears. The tight grip on her hair slackens and she lets out a breath as she feels the infected behind her slump to the ground.

Rachel's gun is still smoking when she looks at her, hand no longer shaking.

"Get down!"

Quinn does, without hesitation, and listens as six shots are set off in quick succession.

Then silence.

She glances behind her, into the store, and sees four dead bodies collapsed to the ground, congealed blood pouring from their skulls and torsos. Rachel had missed a few shots, but had dealt with the threat effectively. The undead had been taken care of.

But at a price.

"Are you completely out of your mind?" She screams, stumbling to her feet, almost crawling toward Rachel in desperation to get away from the store.

"I-," Rachel stutters, hand falling to her side, "I was saving you."

"And by using your gun you completely fucked us over," She rips the gun from Rachel's hand and throws it to the ground, "More will be coming and we won't open that store in time to get away, we have to abandon."

Rachel frowns, "We'll just hide until they pass on."

Quinn sees red, "They won't just pass on, Rachel! They'll stay here, knowing something living was nearby and they won't leave!"

"Well screaming at me won't help us, will it? How about you grab the crowbar and we rush up to the store. We'll hole up until it passes over. At least we'll have food and water." Rachel stomps, almost childishly to her gun and rips it from the asphalt, holstering it, "You're welcome by the way, Quinn." And she continues up the road, to stand next to the grocery store door.

Quinn groans, feeling herself calm, the adrenaline settling down in her veins, "Lunatic…" She mutters angrily before rushing into the store and locating a crowbar. She finds one easily, but she stops herself from leaving the store straight away.

She did have some right to scream at Rachel. The girl could have possibly doomed them. But Rachel had been only trying to help, and with the potential threat of five infected upon them, she could hardly except Rachel to take them all down with one knife. She had settled on something safe, something she could use from a distance that would get her out of the situation. And it had worked. A few misfires, but it had worked.

She was still alive, and she hadn't even thanked Rachel.

"Shit…" She whispers, wiping the blood away from her cheek that had begun to dry. She leaves the store, crowbar in tow and rushes up the street to distance herself from the oncoming hoard.

She can hear them already. They're a few blocks away. She has to work fast.

Rachel doesn't even talk to her as she rips the 2x4's off of the door one by one. They're strong and sturdy, but the brand new crowbar makes a quick job of it. She's half tempted to look at Rachel, just to see the expression on her face. You could easily tell what Rachel was thinking just by the look on her face; she was always that sort of girl. Instead, she focuses on the job, and within four minutes, all the boards are off and she shoves the crowbar between the frame and the door and uses all her weight to push.

After a few heaves, she hears the telltale crack of the lock and smirks in victory. The door swings open effortlessly, and as the infected store manager notices her, she grips the crowbar tighter and with one harsh swing, wraps the crowbar around his head. The crowbar still hangs from his skull as he collapses to the floor.

"Come on, we need to shut the door," Quinn whispers quietly, hoping to break the tension.

Rachel doesn't even reply, she just walks in and lets Quinn shut the door behind her.

"We lay low until they pass on." Quinn comments as she grabs the crowbar from the owner's head. She uses it to push between the metal bars of the window and the door handle. She jigs it a few times, to be sure it's secure, before she can bring herself to walk away from it.

Rachel doesn't say anything, she just walks up and down the two aisles, glancing at the products that line them. From a quick glance, Quinn can see some canned foods that doesn't have an expiry date in the next month. Pasta is good, especially after being cooked; it'd expand in their stomachs. They could eat a little less ration wise, and still feel as full.

"Grab a few things we can eat cold and we'll sit in the back office."

Rachel grabs two cans and a bottle of water from beneath the shelves and moves toward the back. With a sigh, Quinn does the same, grabs a can opener, and hopes that the awkwardness will eventually die down.

They sit together in the back room, Rachel propped against the office chair and Quinn against the door, just so she can hear any movement in front of store. It seems quiet, and the dying moans seem to be outside the store itself, so she can rest easy for just a few moments and eat.

Rachel fiddles with the cans in her hand while Quinn uses the can opener to crack open her can of…she hadn't even looked. She glances at the labels of her cans; canned pumpkin and fruit salad? She frowns, she hates pumpkin. She glances up at Rachel and sees the girls bounty; baked beans and a can of stew.

"Here…" Quinn whispers, sliding the can opener toward Rachel, "You open yours first."

Rachel nods quickly at her, then opens her can of stew. She watches as Rachel's face morphs into some twisted look as she smells the beef, but it's hearty, and she knows it'll fill her.

"Good pick," Quinn comments, glancing down at her cans.

"You," Rachel shakes her head to herself, "We can switch if you like? I prefer pumpkin to stew."

Quinn is eager to take the can, but with how skinny Rachel looks nowadays, she takes Rachel's needs into consideration. Rachel hadn't eaten for over a week when they first met up, and since, Rachel had only eaten a few handfuls of peanuts and two bottles of water.

"You need it more than I do. Eat up, its hearty."

"I could share."

"Rachel," Quinn shakes her head at her tone, "You need to eat more than I do. Keep your strength up. We'll just grab an assortment when the infected move on."

Rachel turns silent again, and together, they slowly eat their canned goods. Quinn tries not to smile when Rachel cringes at each swig of her stew, which is quickly follows by a long swig of her water. It takes her a good twenty minutes just to eat half of the can, and in that time, she looks like she's going to throw up.

"Your stomach has shrunk, try not to eat so much you throw it back up again."

Rachel nods and settles the can down in front of her, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket.

The silence continues and Quinn, although starving, can't bring herself to eat her fruit salad. She puts the can down, rests her hands on her knees and sighs, "I'm really sorry about how I treated you."

Rachel glances up at her, and notes that Quinn can't even look her in the eye. Half of her feels sorry for her friend, but another half is still hurt, "When? In school or now?"

Quinn shakes her head, "Rachel…"

"I saved your life only minutes ago and you looked at me just as you did back in high school."

"I'm sorry for-,"

"Quinn, I appreciate you coming to find me in New York, but I can't help but let fear take over me. You were grabbed, and the first thing I thought was gun. It was quicker than grabbing my knife and my hand was shaking so badly I couldn't have…"

She turns silent and only looks up when she sees Quinn in front of her, on her knees, having crawled over.

"I appreciate it. I truly do. This is just a little hiccup. One day, you won't let fear take over you. We just need to remind you of the Rachel Berry back in high school that didn't take any prisoners."

"Circumstances are a little different now, Quinn. This isn't about a starring role or a solo-,"

"Then think that it is." Quinn nods with a light smile, "Just imagine that every infected you come across is just another barrier from getting that starring role."

Rachel scoffs out a laugh, "Are you being serious?"

"Deadly." Quinn settles back on her backside and brings her knees up to her chest, "This is a matter of life and death, and now, we're the only two left. We both need to be as strong as each other, and Rachel, I know you can be strong." Sadly, she remarks, "Even stronger than me sometimes."

"Quinn."

"We have to stick together."

"We will."

"Or we'll both become one of them."

"I know."

With a nod, Quinn moves back to her seat on the floor and grabs her can, sipping away the syrup before tackling the sodden fruit.

Rachel sits and watches her, taking her in. Quinn Fabray was an enigma back in school, never truly showing her thoughts and feelings, and it seems that Quinn was still that scared little girl from high school.

"They're not going away," Quinn groans, settling her forehead on the door frame of the office. She's been wandering to the door every twenty minutes for the past two hours to see if the infected had moved on, yet, they still ambled outside, knowing there was a meal on the other side of the barred door.

"Maybe we just need to give it a little while. They'll get bored eventually, won't they?"

"They're not human, Rachel, they don't get bored. All they do is eat."

"Then what is our plan B?"

Quinn turns to look at her, "There's no other exits, the only way out is through the front door. So either we wait, which isn't a good idea, because if we go out there to get food, they'll spot us and stay longer. Or, we push our way through them and run for the car."

"But we didn't get gas. We probably only have enough left to reach the next town."

"Then we'll have to try there."

"But the food…"

"We can't carry it and run at the same time."

Rachel sighs, resting her head on her knees, "If only I hadn't shot off that gun."

"It's too late now, what's done is done." Quinn pushes away from the door frame and glances back out into the main store. From the barred windows, she can see at least six on the other side, and god knows how many more nearby.

There's no way they could run with the food, it's way too bulky and it would slow them right down. The infected only ambled, but when carrying goods to a secure location, its almost as if they ran for you, knowing you weren't as fast as you usually were. Perhaps it was something mentally within her that made her think that, but nowadays, an infected could be a good ten minute walk away, and when you looked back seconds later, it would be stood only yards away.

"So we'll run? Forget the food and gas?"

"This drop was a bust, but it doesn't mean the next town will be. We'll run straight for the car. Do you know the way there?"

"I pride myself on a good memory, Quinn."

She rolls her eyes, "Alright, so, we make a run for it. Push any infected away, but don't use weapons just yet. If your knife gets stuck, it could slow you down. I'll take the front and you just follow, alright?"

"And if we get separated?"

"We meet at the town hall, around the back, but try not to get separated, alright?"

Rachel smiles softly, "I'll endeavour not to."

Quinn nods, "Ready?"

"No, but we have to do it now, right?"

"Exactly," She picks up her jacket that had long since been forgotten and pulls it back on, "Lets go. Stay close to me."

The groaning gets louder with each step they take closer to the door, and Quinn feels herself tremble as she rests her hand on the crowbar that keeps them safe.

"On my count."

Rachel says nothing, but Quinn feels her close, only inches from her back, and she knows that she's been heard.

"We run and don't look back until we get to the car."

She almost feels Rachel nod.

"On three."

Quinn's hand grips the crowbar.

"One."

She tenses her arm and listens to Rachel shift behind her.

"Two."

She shuts her eyes and takes one long breath before ripping the crowbar away and kicking up the door.

"Three!"

She takes out two infected that stand in front of her with the crowbar, both in quick succession, and pushes the remaining bodies away so Rachel can dash ahead of her.

"Go!"

Rachel dashes ahead, and true to Quinn's word, doesn't even both to look back. But as she heads down the street, she doesn't hear the telltale thumping of Quinn's boots, or heated words of encouragement as they run.

She stumbles to a halt, glances behind her and gasps.

Quinn is stuck within the throng of infected. A group of them, perhaps around twenty, surround her, and she can see Quinn's crowbar sailing down onto their heads.

She's in trouble.

She reaches for her gun, but falters; the noise could attract more. She grabs her knife and dashes back toward the group, feeling her heart pound soundly in her chest. She's terrified, and as she gets closer, she drops her knife in fear at the endless groans and bloodied bodies.

One infected hears the drop of the knife and turns its attention on her. She stares at it for a second, stricken down with fear, but calms herself when she hears Quinn grunting, sending the crowbar down and down against, trying to separate herself from the throng.

Rachel grabs the knife, holds it steady in her hand, "You won't take me or my friend." She rushes forward and shuts her eyes when she feels the blade begin to slip through the infected's skull.

She feels the cold blood, feels the infected's body just slump against her, and the urge to throw up is right there in her throat. She rips the knife free and jumps back with a squeal, watching the infected collapse the floor in a heap.

She had done it.

She had finally done it.

She turns her attention to the group of infected, who still surrounded Quinn. She was losing strength, it was easy to see, and Rachel knew that even though she could take down one, there was no way she could take down another twenty.

The gun is the first thing she reaches for and as she raises her arms, she silently apologizes that she didn't abide by Quinn's rule.

"Quinn, get down!"

Quinn can barely hear the tiny voice around her, it almost sounded as if there were fifteen Rachel's, all surrounding her. But she does as the voice says and dives to the knees, listening to the individual pops of the gun around her.

But then it stops, and she glances up, watching as two infected walk toward Rachel who fiddles with the magazine of her gun.

She's out of bullets.

"Shit," Quinn clambers to her feet and un-holsters her own gun. She aims the Colt at their heads, and in quick succession, lets of three rounds. Almost in synch, the infected fall to their knees and collapse to the ground.

Rachel, who stands shaking, still trying to put the new magazine in her handgun, doesn't realize Quinn walks toward her, and screams when Quinn rests her hand on her shoulder.

She raises the gun and tries to pop off another bullet, forgetting that the magazine hadn't even been put in the gun yet. Her hands shake as she drops the gun and collapses into Quinn's arms.

"Oh my God, I can't, I can't do this, I can't!"

Quinn holds her close, trying to keep Rachel stable and steady. It was too soon to think that Rachel was ready to go out into the open. Quinn had been able to adapt to situations a lot easier, and it seems that Rachel needs a little bit more time.

It was easy to see, as she held the trembling girl close. She was completely terrified.

But as she glances behind her, Quinn pulls away and makes Rachel look, "Rachel, this is what you did. You can do this. You're stronger than you think."

"I don't know how I did, I just…"

"It's the adrenaline. But you did it. You took them out. You saved me my life…again."

Rachel turns to look at her, "I did?"

"You did. If you hadn't have come back, I'd be one of them."

"You weren't there…"

Quinn smiles softly, "I told you not to look back."

"I only did when I couldn't hear you. You stayed behind to make sure they didn't grab me."

With a shrug of her shoulders, Quinn holsters her gun again, "It's what a friend would do."

"It's not like holding a door open, Quinn. You could have died."

"But I didn't, thanks to you." She pats Rachel softly on the shoulder before leaning down to grab her gun and unused magazine, "Come on. We need to get back to the car. More will be coming."

Rachel nods, "Next town?"

"Next town." Rachel slides the magazine slowly into her gun before holstering it and continues the walk up the street, hands still shaking.

Quinn stands in the street, looking back at the pile of bodies that lay outside the door of the store.

Rachel had saved her once again.

But at what cost?