Synopsis: The survivors from Manhattan Island are soon to arrive; Quinn's learning how to defend herself. Santana and Quinn come up with a plan to find sustainable resources for the small population, and Rachel is not happy about it.

Author's Note: You guys are all seriously amazing. The best part about writing is that I get to write things I enjoy (I'm a fan of post-apocalypse theories and fantasies, even though that's really morbid) and you guys seem to like the product that comes from my own peculiarities. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Day 71

The survivors from Manhattan Island were making the trek from their encampment to what would stand as their new home. Being composed of 15 civilians, it wasn't going to be the safest trip. Back at base, everyone was preparing to take them in, though already there were grumblings about smaller rations and other various problems that may arise.

It occurred to Quinn the previous night that she would have no way to physically defend herself. Quinn's type of survival wasn't the same as Santana's. She couldn't throw a punch, didn't know how to use a weapon, and wasn't nearly as muscular. Santana was all lean muscle, catlike and swift, while Quinn was just good at survival's basics: run, find food, sleep, travel some more, find water. The blonde was not like others perceived her. However tough on the outside, there was quite a larger measure of softness on the inside that had prevented her from learning how to do what she may have to do in the future: kill someone. This world and her survival would depend on her ability to make the choice to defend herself or die.

That following morning, after a restless sleep and waking up to Rachel's empty cot beside her, Quinn had sought out the boy from the Recon mission and asked him to show her how to use a gun — it was not as intimate as using a knife, she had heard. Jupiter seemed glad to agree.

Quinn spent a large amount of time that day with Jupiter. The boy was not more than 16, but he was buff and his dark Afrikaner skin made Quinn feel like she was the walking dead. He had bright eyes, despite his darkness, and an accent she could quite place. His parents had been immigrants, but like many of the dead they were not mentioned in conversation. By the time the afternoon hit, she was used to the recoil of the Glock he'd let her borrow, and could hit most targets.

The most important lesson, he'd told her, was that nothing would be able to prepare her for shooting a human being. Quinn didn't need him to tell her that, because she was still shaken from the Recon mission and the fact they had killed or disabled an entire group of bandits. The blonde recalled the copper smell of blood every time the weapon fired, and it gave her a sick feeling in her stomach. She swallowed it down, reminded herself that she needed to become just as useful as a tool as the gun she held. Honing her edge, her sharpness, her outward hardness would be the necessary step. Jupiter grew hungry in the afternoon, as did Quinn, so they parted ways in the agreement that they'd repeat lessons tomorrow.

Quinn was evolving herself from a tool of survival to a tool of defense, sharpening the edges of her spirit. This was the world they lived in now, and the reality of it — no matter how biting — was inescapable. Before lunch, Quinn made her way through the emptiest part of their dwelling and looked out at the foreign landscape, the tip of her cigarette burning slow. Inhaling the bitter smoke, the thickness of her tongue drew over her bottom lip. When she'd been travelling, she hadn't had much time to take in the Tolkien-like state of nature now. Whatever had caused the death of humanity had somehow mutated everything else, given it new life and the ability to quite literally engulf the scars humanity had left. It was beautiful, Quinn mused. She dropped ash on the window sill, stared out at the dark green sky. It would be nighttime soon, and though she could not, she tried to squint into the distance and spot the trekking Manhattan Islanders.

Change was breathing into the wind, and Quinn could hear it. The blonde knew something was coming. Vines of fate were tangling themselves around Quinn's life and she could not help but feel the talk of finding new land to live on had something to do with it. Since Brittany's recovery, they had been discussing the possibility of looking into rural areas for settlement. Neo-pioneers. While science-fiction had predicted humanity's ascent into space, it seemed instead that the future consisted of a descent into nature. Having traveled across what was left of the land, Quinn had seen the best and worst of it. Perhaps she could help them decide where to go.

Lost in thought, she did not feel the presence beside her until it yanked the cigarette from her mouth. Rachel stamped out the burning tobacco and Quinn all but snarled, "Hey! That was one of my last ones!"

"And it'll kill you." Rachel stated matter-of-factly, gave Quinn a harsh look. It was the first time she'd seen the brunette that day, and while the irritation simmered that she'd taken away the solace of nicotine, it was nice to see Rachel's face. Her large brown eyes lingered on Quinn, as if she wanted to say something.

Quinn only looked down, listening expectantly and pushing the ashes of her ruined cigarette across the cement floor.

Rachel had moved closer by the smallest noticeable distance, and she rested her hand over Quinn's. When the blonde had the courage to look, she saw Rachel's eyes locked on their hands, following the path her thumb stroked over the back of Quinn's palm. It unsettled Quinn, the way Rachel had the capability to hypnotize her with the simplest contact. She drew in breath, felt it hitch in her throat. She didn't think it was possible to feel butterflies still, but felt them she did.

Still stroking the back of Quinn's hand, Rachel spoke quietly, only loud enough for Quinn to hear, "Santana told me you seemed pretty upset, seeing what had to be done to the bandits."

Quinn shrugged. She couldn't bring herself to look at those earnest eyes again, so instead she settled on the cityscape. "It's do or die now. There's no room for reaction."

"But there is," Rachel insisted, her voice a little louder now. Her fingers had effectively curled around Quinn's hand, and she was standing still. "It's totally normal to feel frightened of the way things are now. Only a few months ago at most we were all living normal lives and — "

"It doesn't do me any good to hold on to the past."

Rachel didn't respond to that. Quinn was grateful for the silence. "You're still human, Quinn."

"Barely."

Her optimism had dulled.

Day 72

News had arrived that the Manhattan Islanders would be arriving the following day. Quinn could hear change in the wind, like a chant pulsing through the air. She woke up with Rachel's cot next to her own that morning, but it was empty once more. Part of her wanted to go find the girl, but she knew Jupiter would be waiting for her. So Quinn made her way to her lessons, humming a few bars from Rachel's favorite musical. Maybe she was still a little bit human, somewhere inside.

###

Rachel found her at lunch, sitting alone by one of the cooking fires. Quinn had been trying to recall the landscape she'd traveled through on her way here, again lost in thought and ambushed by the girl. As with before, Rachel didn't say anything. She sat next to Quinn, and stared.

"You know, the leering is getting a little weird when you don't say anything," Quinn had a ghost of a smirk on her lips, and her hazel eyes found an expectant pair of brown staring back at her.

Rachel blushed and smiled, "Sorry. Sometimes I can't .. before you got here I thought you were … " The brunette seemed unable the finish the sentence.

Quinn knew what Rachel had thought. She'd thought the very same. "It took the world ending for Rachel Berry to be speechless." The amusement was much-needed, and Quinn laughed a little to herself.

Rachel's smile grew. "It's so good to hear you laugh. I missed that," and suddenly Rachel looked as if she'd said something wrong, and looked down at her own lap. Her hands were tangled there, fidgeting. Quinn noticed but didn't say anything.

"You became famous and somehow still thought about the little people?"

"Besides Santana and Brittany, it was just you."

Quinn didn't know what to say. The tone Rachel had spoken in was so sincere that she felt her heart quiver a little in her chest. A nervous swallow, and she closed her eyes. Maybe it was just the end of the world getting to Rachel. They'd hated each other. She just wanted someone to hold on to, that was all. For some reason, that belief saddened Quinn. "Rach — " she began to speak, wanted to say that she knew Rachel was just saying that because she had a very human need for companionship, wanted to say that Rachel had never really felt that way and Quinn couldn't attach and then lose someone. She'd lost too much.

Quinn fell silent, eyes cast upward as Rachel moved. Rachel silenced her not with anything theatrical — no silver-screen kiss, no tears. She simply stood, squeezed Quinn's shoulder, and left the room. Quinn didn't see her the rest of that day.

Day 73

When the survivors arrived, their number seemed much more than 15. Quinn had been assigned to guiding them safely in, and Santana was standing beside her. The Latina, while still an efficient military tool, seemed softer and happier now that Brittany was back. They both watched the arrival with trepidation. This would change things.

"I've been talking to the team. Velma, she's this genius-kid, you know. She thinks we're going to need to move before our resources run out. Less than a month," Santana sounded unhappy about this, and Quinn didn't blame her. They had all settled in and been settled for so long that leaving this place would be dangerous, a risk to the safety of many. They would have no other choice. In the rubble of New York City there would not be any land, food, anything sustainable for a small population of people. "She's working out a list of duties for everyone while we travel, even the new people. The problem is — "

"We're going to have to watch out for bandits, and watch our backs for any loose cannons in the new group," Quinn surmised.

Santana nodded. They'd both apparently given this some thought. The unit of people, civilians included, that Santana was in charge of operated much like a family, a pack. They could trust one another with their lives. There was no worry about stolen rations or outbreaks of violence, but with this new group there would be people they did not know. People who weren't a part of this 'family' yet. Santana was worried, rightfully so.

The blonde let a comforting hand rest on Santana's back, and watched the last of the group file in, unaware that they were being watched, their faces memorized in case they needed to be taken care of. Such was the game of survival in this world.

###

Later that night, there was a low drone of conversation around the new fires. A clear divide separated the two groups, with very few people mixing company initially. Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Rachel all settled around one of the larger fires. Quinn could hear Jupiter telling some off-color joke a few paces away at another fire, and she could remember how she craved conversation when she'd been traveling alone. Against all odds, she'd found not only survivors, but familiar faces. She had not stopped being thankful, despite her moments of doubt, and it was easy to be optimistic around the warmth of a fire.

The girl named Velma joined them, a lean young girl with dark eyes and short hair. Santana was drawn into planning with her, and Quinn could just hear their conversation.

"I know the land pretty well, toward the West. When I was traveling," Quinn informed them, and she was vaguely aware of everyone's eyes on her — at least around their particular fire. "I could help scout out some land. We should send out a patrol group, find the place before we have everyone travel. It would be safer that way."

Rachel looked horrified. "Go out there?"

"One would assume," Santana gave the shorter girl a look, sighed at Rachel the way one would impatiently at a sister or a cousin. "I think it's a great idea, I don't know why we didn't come up with it before."

Velma had a bit of a croaky voice, "The Recon team, minus you, Razorblade. We can't have the family or the new arrivals here alone without leadership."

"And Quinn," Brittany added. "It was her idea."

As most nodded in agreement, Rachel shoved up from her position beside the fire, "I love how we're just throwing each other out to the wolves now. 'Cause we haven't lost enough already, let's just sacrifice the people we have left," her tone was surprisingly bitter. It was a diva storm-out, but somehow just a little bit more aggressive.

Quinn didn't understand her reaction. Perhaps she could have, had she allowed herself a little more room for the softness of emotion, but survival had sharpened any of her soft edges.

Santana rolled her eyes, "It amazes me that even the apocalypse didn't change her little tantrums."

Quinn laughed a little, sighed.

"You should go after her. She'll be upset a while," Brittany spoke, gently poked at Quinn's arm.

"Why me?"

Santana was the next to answer, "Because she's only upset that you're going out there. She's got tunnel-vision, Tubbers."

It took Quinn a moment to stand, mostly because she didn't quite get why Rachel was persistently upset whenever this same topic came about. Any moment she thought Quinn would be in danger, she became moody and temperamental. A part of her was glad that they had not lost the old Rachel in the apocalypse, but another part was afraid it was that tunnel-vision that would put Rachel in danger.

And for some reason, that bothered her.

The blonde stood after some thought, moved into the darker parts of the building. She found Rachel in the sleeping area, sitting on her cot. Quinn couldn't see very well in the darkness, but she heard Rachel sniffling.

"Rachel?"

"Of course they'd send you," Rachel murmured. "To convince me that any of this is a good idea."

Quinn moved forward, catching her silhouette and sitting down next to Rachel, the weight of them both causing the cot to squeak slightly. "I don't understand."

"What?"

"I don't understand," Quinn repeated.

Impatiently, Rachel huffed, "Yes, I heard that. What don't you understand?"

"Why you're so afraid of me going out there? What about Santana? She goes out there nearly every day, to scout for food or whatever," Quinn glanced over. She fished her lighter out of her pocket and lit one of the thick waxy candles on the floor, set it near the cot. The area illuminated slightly, and allowed Quinn to read Rachel's reactions.

Rachel wouldn't look at her. "I thought you were dead once, Quinn," she mumbled.

"And?"

"It nearly killed me."

Quinn felt confused. "What?"

"Why do you think Santana even found me? I didn't even know where she was after it happened, I didn't know where any of them were. Everyone was dead, everyone, and all of a sudden I remembered that you were back in Lima all alone.

"I'd been thinking about contacting you for so long, but I never had the courage. And when I thought I'd lost the chance forever, I didn't care what happened to me. It took me a week to leave my apartment building, and by then it was already dangerous out there. There were so many bodies everywhere, slumped over in cars …

"I got taken by these thugs when I left the building. They were already living lawlessly and I was just some random piece of meat." Quinn felt her heart boil over with anger at this, fill with sadness, but Rachel continued, "Santana had started to pull survivors together and was scouting out the building I was in. When she finally found me, she couldn't believe it was actually me since we'd lost contact the year I made it on Broadway. I thought somehow if I was seeing her, then … well I guess I thought maybe you'd be somewhere that I could find you.

"So I left one night, started to leave the city. Santana had caught me on the outskirts the next day, sick from dehydration and exposure. Something about the environment now, and I didn't know anything about staying alive. I kept telling her I was going to find you. I was sick for a week, sick with something, and eventually it went away. It was all right then because I figured I was smarter this time. I packed up, but Santana wouldn't let me leave. For the next couple weeks I tried to escape nearly every night."

Quinn couldn't believe her ears. All the days that Quinn had been traveling, nearly mirroring Rachel's attempts to escape, the diva had been pushing toward her as well.

"When you arrived," Rachel seemed lost in the story, in the memory, "I'd finally given up, finally stopped trying to escape. I'd given up on getting to you. I don't know why it was so … devastating. I just … we did it all wrong in high school, got everything wrong and I felt like I had to fix it and never got the chance." The brunette had tears in her eyes, her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at the flickering candle at their feet. "And then you showed up, like some … walking miracle, like a ghost."

What had been pushing them together? Quinn was a sharpened sword, a cold heart. All through high school that's what she'd been — now she was just a much more mature version of that self. The end of the world ensured that she was as cold as steel, or she tried to be. Yet here was all the warmth of humanity sitting beside her, illuminated by candle-light like some vision of Mother Theresa, some angel come to show Quinn how to not only survive, but to live again. She drew in breath through her teeth, half-expectant of Rachel's continued monologue.

"I felt … so many things," Rachel shook her head minutely, and her full lips had broken into a tearful smile. Quinn remembered the way Rachel looked when she realized it was her old high school enemy who had walked into the kitchen, walked out of the land of the dead into the land of the living. "Relieved, scared, happy … " It was at this point Rachel seemed to lose her train of thought, seemed to lose the purpose of her speech. She went silent for a long few minutes, closed her eyes. Quinn waited. "I am petrified to watch you die, to watch you leave this building knowing you may never come back."

Quinn wanted to ask 'why me?' The words were heavy on her tongue and she saw the way Rachel's brows were knitted together in concentration, the way she bit her bottom lip as if to keep more words or perhaps the beginnings of sobs from coming out. The blonde could not find her voice. Would she care as much if Rachel walked out that door? If the roles were reversed? She imagined she must have looked like hell the day she'd returned. She was a scorched soul, a weapon forged from the rawness of survival.

"It started before that," Rachel breathed. "I just never found the courage in high school. To make things right between us, to be honest. I just wanted to be … " she did not finish that sentence. She glanced over at Quinn finally, brown eyes large and shining in the dark. Quinn felt a tightness in her chest at the intense way in which Rachel watched her.

"You wanted to be what, Rachel?" Quinn whispered, felt the beginnings of a nervous flutter deep down. She knew she was petrified of the answer.

Rachel shook her head, refused to answer. Those deep brown eyes, which Quinn had grown to crave, were cast at the floor again. "It doesn't matter," it was so dismissive. Rachel was denying herself something. "I just don't want you to go. What if you don't come back?"

Hazel eyes stared at the flame between their feet. "I will."

"You can't promise that."

Quinn couldn't promise that. In fact, she really didn't know why it mattered so damn much. She told herself it mattered to Rachel, but really … the thought of Rachel waiting here for her. It was the warmest feeling in the world. It flowered like the sunrises used to before the world ended, spread all the way to Quinn's fingertips. "Okay, I can't," she spoke quietly. Between them, the words were hushed and intimate though they were too scared to look at each other for fear they would only remember the sight of one another's saddest expressions when Quinn left. "I just … I know the land. I traveled through it to get here," to Rachel, but Quinn could not tell her that, "so I can be the one to lead them somewhere safe. Somewhere … a place we can all start over."

"There is no starting over. The world is still ending." A surprisingly pessimistic statement coming from Rachel.

Quinn sighed. She shifted on the cot, took Rachel by the shoulders and forced the brunette's gaze to match her own. "Rachel, just because I leave it doesn't mean I won't come back." The blonde squeezed Rachel's shoulders, guided her hands down those small arms. The warmth of them radiated, and Quinn thought how marvelous Rachel's skin would still be so soft.

Rachel looked as if she were going to cry, nodded quietly.

Quinn relented when Rachel embraced her, buried herself into Quinn's lean arms. The ferocity with which Rachel clung to her quite literally took Quinn's breath from her. She wrapped her arms around Rachel in return and rocked the brunette simply.

"You must come back," Rachel urged softly against Quinn's collarbone.

When Quinn closed her eyes, she could remember it all. The looks they shared in high school, the way Rachel would look at her so eagerly every time they spoke, the duet they'd shared and how the air was electric between them after that.

—-

"Rachel!" Quinn dashed after Rachel down the empty hallway. The diva had run out of the choir room after their I Feel Pretty/Unpretty mash-up, face reddened with tears. "Hey! Berry! Jesus Christ, Rachel, stop!" She'd gripped Rachel's shoulder, only to be met with Rachel flying into her arms and clinging for dear life.

The blonde had never heard someone cry so hard. Rachel cried against her for a good twenty minutes before she convinced the diva to at least let her take her into the bathroom so she could wash her face. Rachel had been too emotional to do anything but stand there. Quinn had delicately cupped warm water in her hands until they were damp, and gently washed the redness from Rachel's face, minding the bandage across the bridge of her nose. The blonde marveled at how soft Rachel's skin was, how warm, and felt surprise at the way Rachel closed her eyes and let Quinn ever so gently wash the mark of each tear from her face. Quinn had never been so gentle with anyone in her life. Rachel, at one point, opened her eyes and watched Quinn's reverent gaze as she dabbed warm water from her face.

"Better?"

Rachel nodded. Quinn felt that gaze bearing into her, pressing inside her heart. The brunette hesitated, stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist. The ex-Cheerio delicately stroked Rachel's hair, and thought how nice it felt to lock herself in an embrace.

—-

A ghost of their old selves lingered in Quinn's mind, and she found herself stroking Rachel's hair in much the same way she had a lifetime ago. Even back then, the brunette had been so desiring of Quinn's affections. Maybe it wasn't the end of the world making Rachel cling to Quinn in such a matter. Maybe it was something else entirely.

"Remember that duet we sang?" The blonde was the first to speak, her voice soft. She could feel her lips so near Rachel's ear, could tell it caused Rachel's fingers to curl tighter into her shirt. A whispered 'yes' breezed near Quinn's collarbone. "You were really distraught after that, but you never told me why."

Rachel didn't pull away, at least not very much. Her fingers had begun to stroke Quinn's shoulder blades, move along the curve of them. "For the first time since I'd known you, you'd looked at me as if I was beautiful. And I felt like you were telling me you wanted me to be exactly the person I was."

"And that was bad?"

Rachel pulled away, aghast. At least that had gotten her out of her emotional state, "No! I felt so happy I didn't know how to react. I didn't know how I could ever … have considered changing myself. I never expected you to be the person who told me to keep being myself. And then you chased after me. I didn't think you would."

Maybe she'd been chasing after her all this time. Maybe that's why she was here, now. Quinn felt like just perhaps she'd been chasing Rachel all this time, in small ways. "You were — are — beautiful, Rach," Quinn found herself speaking before she could really weigh what she was saying. "And you didn't care what people thought about you, you had faith in yourself. Something I could've never had. It took the apocalypse to give me faith in myself," she explained this as if she had always known, but the truth is she was just realizing it.

Rachel was blushing, but Quinn didn't ask why. It was at this point Quinn realized how close they were sitting, how near their faces.

"Have faith in me too, okay, Berry? I have to help Velma and the team scout out land, or we'll run out of food. Things will get bad very fast," back to point A, far from the past. Back to reality.

"Rachel," Rachel pressed softly, toyed with the hem of Quinn's sleeve. "I like it better when you call me Rachel." Her voice was quiet, timid.

The blonde smiled, stroked some brown hair behind the shorter girl's ear. "Rachel." It was soft, some might have even called it loving, the way the name flowed between Quinn's lips. The name was like a prayer, a thank you, maybe even a song. The blonde caught Rachel's hand as it toyed with her sleeve and held it still, soaking up every bit of warmth. Rachel watched her with shining, reverent eyes.

As she was falling asleep later that night, Rachel sleeping soundly just nearby, Quinn replayed each and every sensation of embracing the brunette. She tried to capture the memory of it so she'd fight that much harder to return.

Day 75

As Quinn laced up her boots and got ready to join the scouting party, she heard Rachel's voice in her head. From long ago, singing the song she'd written a lifetime ago, "Get It Right." Back then, Quinn had felt her entire being humming with recognition at the sound of that voice. She remembered being bothered that Rachel had continued to foil the plans she had. The blonde had never wanted Finn for herself — she'd just been trying to keep him away from Rachel. Rachel had deserved a better life than Finn would ever give her.

The blonde wasn't sure why thoughts of the past had been leaking in lately. It had quite literally been years since they all graduated high school and moved on with their lives. In the back of her mind, Quinn was beginning to realize she'd never fully let Rachel go.

She must have been humming, because Rachel's voice greeted her, "Is that my song?"

Quinn felt caught, and glanced up. She tried to play it off and placed her Glock into its holster. Buttoning up the lightweight protective vest and gathering her other things, she merely arched an eyebrow, "Spying on me?"

Rachel shook her head. "I … uhm … for you." Timidly, Rachel stepped forward and her fingers brushed over Quinn's guided them open. Quinn felt her insides quiver at the contact of fingertips, and the very light weight of something in her hand. "Your battery is dead, or at least it was when I checked it. So I managed to replace it with the help of Apollo. He's really very good with electronics even though he's sequestered to kitchen duty."

It was Quinn's iPod, ready to go. Though she wouldn't be able to use it too often, it would be nice to fall asleep to the songs she had on there. It was a collection of music from various genres, but in one hidden playlist, was a mix of Rachel Berry originals. They'd all been released during Rachel's tour on Broadway, and there were some nights Quinn would listen to the songs with her eyes closed, trying to imagine Rachel's life. The blonde now feared that her sense of comfort and normalcy would be dangerous for life in this unfriendly planet. Rachel was staring at the floor, and just about to turn around, when Quinn spoke.

"Thank you," Quinn breathed. "You don't know how much I miss listening to music," she admitted, tucking the iPod carefully inside her vest.

Rachel smiled, nodded, "I do." They met gazes. Rachel's brows knitted, and her feminine fingers found Quinn's for a second, stared at their touching fingertips. It felt like electricity. "Please return safely," Rachel refused to look at Quinn. The blonde could figure out why — Rachel was too afraid to watch Quinn go. "Take care of Brittany, too."

Quinn only nodded. She absorbed these last few moments of normalcy, felt Rachel's fingertips brushing over her own. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, then stepped forward. Rachel's hesitancy to say goodbye be damned — Quinn wanted to do this the right way. The blonde wrapped her arms tightly around Rachel, almost enough to lift her off the ground, and hugged her. Rachel's embraces were renewing, warming. Hazel eyes closed as she breathed in the phantom scent of vanilla and lilacs. Always something different, always something heavenly.

Rachel seemed surprised at the sudden embrace, because her arms hesitated at Quinn's side before the blonde felt fingers clutching almost painfully at her shoulders.

"I don't understand you," Quinn admitted, "maybe I'm dumber than I look."

"Maybe," Rachel whispered.

Quinn suddenly felt like crying. She didn't want to leave Rachel. The brunette didn't help.

"Please don't go," she pleaded one last time.

Quinn had to, and she did. She reluctantly let Rachel go, and felt Rachel clinging fiercely to her hand until the very last second. She watched Rachel's face duck into her hands, and didn't have to be within earshot to know that Rachel was crying.

"Don't worry, it's not goodbye," Brittany assured her quietly, and Quinn felt the taller girl join her side as they followed the scouting team out of the building. "I'll make sure of it."

"Me too," Jupiter grinned his bright smile, and nudged Quinn.

It did not lift the heaviness from her heart. As they made their way out of the building and prepared to face a dangerous world, Quinn steeled herself and prayed to whatever gods still existed that this was not the last day she would see Rachel Berry.

Rachel's death-grip on her shoulders had lingered like a ghost, even after base lay miles behind them in darkness.

Day 76

It was dark, the further they got out in the city. The growth of flora was nearly unbelievable. Buildings were all but engulfed, some trunks spotted with what appeared to be car fenders and stop signs, as if they were already embedded, consumed by nature. The city was ominous in the dark, but Velma had insisted on making good time. Luckily they were all trained and armed to some extent.

Quinn's expertise came in handy. While traveling she had memorized landmarks, her mind a veritable world map of the area she had traveled through. The blonde guided them to the very outskirts of the city and as they began to set up camp (no fires, it would expose them), she examined the area just to double-check whether or not they had made it to the destination she and Velma had plotted out.

Brittany startled her a little bit as the taller girl placed a hand on her shoulder, "Hey."

"Hi," it was a soft exchange, but as they met eyes and Quinn squeezed Brittany's hand, it was a mutual understanding that they found comfort in one another's presence. They had both left loved ones behind at base, and wanted to go back to them. No matter how they desired such a thing, they had work to do.

"Tired," Brittany commented simply.

"Me too."

Tired of fighting for survival. Tired of a world that no longer considered them a natural organism. Yet this was their lot, and bear it they would.

Quinn didn't have to take watch that night, and she was glad for it. With only one ear-bud in, she listened to Rachel's voice on her iPod. The other ear listened for intruders, Glock pressing into her hip, a rude reminder of the world they lived in now.

Day 80

Exhaustion had overtaken much of the team. They moved less each day, but luckily for them they had arrived within a five mile radius of the second location Quinn thought they might be able to settle. At night they would gather around the fire, eat dry bread, and talk about what they imagined their food was. Now that they were out of city limits, they could risk having a fire. Bandits were scarce out here; humans tended to gather where they thought there would have been more people. Rural country was ghostlike, now a network of tree-roots, swampland, and higher ground overrun by once-tame livestock.

"Vegan cookies," Quinn commented. "I'm imagining this is a vegan cookie." She smiled as Jupiter recoiled.

"Steak. A big steak."

Quinn laughed ever so softly. "You've never had a vegan cookie made by Rachel Berry," she grinned. The first real smile in a few days. She'd been thinking about Rachel a lot. The gritty existence they shared was lightened by these moments.

Outside the reach of firelight, ghostly howls serenaded the group. "They are really good, actually. You can't even tell they're not real," Brittany commented.

Again, Quinn laughed. Her hazel eyes shined.

It was easier that night, while she was sitting on watch. She and Jupiter sat in silence, back to back, eyes scanning the strange landscape and searching for any sign of trouble. As Quinn dug her heel into the tree root on which they sat, perched like mice, she felt herself evolving in spirit. It was possible, she thought, to be a tool of survival and somehow still be happy.

They might eventually begin to enjoy the world the way it was, perhaps in some distant future. For now, she just wanted to find a location and hurry back to the city, where one Rachel Berry was waiting for her.

Day 81

They canvassed the land in teams. Quinn knelt down and felt the soil, the strange spongy texture of it, and glanced around. She and Jupiter were amid the protection of a natural band-shell of rock, land, and root. It was large enough to house smaller structures — perhaps 3 to a structure — with land to spare. They didn't know what kinds of foods could be grown, but on their way to this section, she and Jupiter had spotted a herd of feral cows. Rural New York had not failed them.

The sun was hot; it burned against Quinn's back through the darkness of polluted clouds — but one thing Quinn noticed was that the clouds were not nearly as discolored as they were nearly 40 days ago. The environment was adjusting, maintaining a state of homeostasis.

"I think this is it," she spoke from the height of a tree branch, and she climbed down carefully, hitching a hook into the trunk of the tree. It was about a 30-foot fall, and she didn't feel like breaking her back when they'd just found a suitable environment in which to settle. "I think we found it."

Jupiter's smile announced his agreement.

Quinn called on the walkie; two miles on each side were the other teams, also searching the land. No one had called in yet. "Tubbers to Duckie. Over."

"Duckie here. Over."

"You'll be happy to know," Quinn smiled at the sound of Brittany's voice, "we found a home. Over."

Velma's voice answered this time, "I think I speak for all of us when I say 'hell yes.'" Brittany chimed, "Over." The girl enjoyed the military procedures for calling one another over the walkies. Quinn chuckled.

She'd almost forgot what it felt like to have hope for the future.

Day 84

It seemed to take them much less time to get within city limits. They had suffered no casualty, but even on the heels of celebration they ran into trouble the moment they hit Times Square. They knew the city like the back of their hand, but their joy made them careless.

A bandit in black aimed from some collapsed scaffolding, and Quinn didn't feel the bullet. It hit her in the back of the calf, just missing her hamstring, and her leg gave out before she did. It wasn't until her blood colored the ash that she realized she'd been shot.

The blonde wheeled around from her position on the ground, aimed her Glock, and fired. The bullet missed her target and gave her enough time to realize that she was aiming at a human being. Just as Jupiter had warned, nothing could prepare her for taking the life of a person. A second shot fired, from where Quinn did not know. She had hesitated a second too long, the kickback jarring her shoulder hard.

Luckily, the shot had come from beside her. Brittany had taken aim at the bandit and fired, successfully eliminated him. Simultaneously Quinn felt everything slow down. Behind her, someone brought down the butt of a gun against her shoulder. Quinn cried out in surprise, but this time she did not hesitate.

On a bum leg, she stood, aimed, and fired. The bullet caught the bandit by surprise, barreled through the center of his chest; her attacker fell and Quinn watched as the life slipped from his eyes. It horrified her.

There was no time to linger on the horror of it. Quinn aimed another shot at Brittany's attacker. Each shot became more efficient and horrified her a little less.

Aside from Quinn's calf, there were no casualties. They were, however, much more careful and militant. The joy of finding a place for settlement was replaced with the reality of danger, the primordial edge of fear silencing their false-comforts.

Day 87

Quinn was eager to get to base. They were only a half-day's walk from base and everyone was tired. The momentary renewal of energy from finding a place to start fresh didn't last them long. The team had started out early that morning, spread out like ants among the cracks. They were silent, quick, and efficient in covering the area and moving securely through it.

Arriving at base was a little dreamlike. Quinn was limping as they came to the main floor, and everyone split off into sleeping quarters at the late hour. Only a few people were scattered around the fires, waiting for the arrival of the scouting party. Quinn's muscles ached, her wound hurt, and she was the last to come into sight. The pack on her back was heavier than she remembered it, and she dropped it to the floor next to one of the fires. Brittany had already found Santana and was sitting next to her at the fire, her equipment already discarded to the side.

Quinn was in the midst of setting her protective vest down next to her pack when she heard the pattering of hurried feet. Rachel flew out of nowhere, and Quinn almost fell over as the weight of Rachel flew into her arms. The brunette's arms locked securely around Quinn's neck, the taller girl forgot momentarily about the shooting pains going up her right calf from the bullet wound. She emitted no sound, only breathed Rachel in.

"I missed you. I was starting to get worried. It's been over a week," Rachel was quivering in the taller girl's arms.

Quinn couldn't speak. Her fingers dug into Rachel's waist, held fast to her. "God," was all she could breathe out. She was starting to believe in miracles.

Rachel didn't ask if they found a settlement, if anyone else had failed to make it back. She didn't say anything at all after her initial tumbling of words. She only hugged herself closer to Quinn.

The blonde felt hot tears burning her own eyes and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Rach?"

After moments of a tight, intimate embrace, Rachel responded, "Hmm?"

"Can you get down? I'm wounded," Quinn breathed as a sharp pain traveled all the way up through her thigh.

"Quinn!" Rachel's tone was almost accusatory but she immediately looked Quinn over with concern knitting her brows. It was not an obvious wound, but Quinn was standing much more gingerly on her right foot.

"Right calf. Bullet wound, in the back."

"Has it been cleaned? Never mind. Come on." Rachel looped an arm around Quinn from the right side and supported her weight. Even in the harsh reality of their world, Rachel was still the same person Quinn had always known.

Day 88

It took Quinn a day to get used to being back at base. Warm food in her belly, she was sitting on her cot re-reading her survival manual when she felt the presence of another person near her. Rachel's cot was pushed up inches closer to her own, and Quinn had a sneaking suspicion that Rachel had been sleeping not in her own cot but in Quinn's while they'd been gone. Rachel's cot was stiff, but the fabric of Quinn's was still well-worn the previous night, as if someone had been sleeping in it.

It comforted Quinn to know that someone had been awaiting her return. It was Rachel standing next to her now.

"You're leering," Quinn smirked softly. Strangely, she had not been hardened by the 12 day journey. She'd been softened, somehow made more human than before. Quinn had killed three people on their return to the city, but somehow she was still human. This was a fact she cherished. Their lost lives were in the recesses of her mind, but she would not tell Rachel what she'd had to do to survive. She also did not tell Rachel that she'd nearly been shot dead herself, if it had not been for Brittany. The blonde looked over with an amused grin on her face.

Rachel only responded with a quiet smile, pushed her brown hair behind her ear. "How's your leg?"

"Better. Sore, but better."

Rachel sat next to her, stared for a moment at Quinn's calf, and then searched the blonde's face for something. Quinn couldn't tell what.

She was surprised to feel the warmth of the shorter girl's fingers lacing between her own. Quietly, Rachel rested her head on Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn's smile grew, and she sat there, holding Rachel's hand. Post-apocalypse or not, there were still small pleasures in the world.

Day 89

Buzz had gone around base that they would be leaving within a week, all of them, in order to make it to the new settlement that had been found. There would be much preparation to do, but Santana had declared a day of rest for everyone. Some people played dice in the corners of the buildings, others cards, and Quinn was glad to see that the two groups had begun to mix while they'd been away. There didn't seem to be any open hostilities, which had been Santana's main concern before they'd left.

Quinn walked around, limping slightly, watching some people play games. Jupiter tried to convince her to play a game of chess, but she'd laughed and declined. She'd heard he was the best on the base, and she wasn't about to put her wits against him.

Rachel hadn't been anywhere to be found that morning when Quinn awoke, though she'd fallen asleep after pushing her cot directly next to Rachel's. Listening to Rachel's breathing had been calming enough to lull Quinn into a deep sleep — and for the first time, pleasant dreams. Though a nightmare or two had been sprinkled in there — men covered in blood, demanding revenge.

Quinn did not want to be a bringer of death. She only wanted to live.

She'd been going in between states of contentment and sadness throughout the day. Though she'd asked Apollo where Rachel was, he had only shrugged his shoulders and continued peppering the meat slopped across the counter.

It was not until later that she found Rachel. Or rather, Rachel found her knelt beside her cot. Quinn had been fishing for a cigarette and Rachel cleared her throat.

"If you're looking for your stash, you won't find them," always the air of supremacy. Quinn sighed in response to the news.

"Rachel, you can't keep taking them because you think — " Quinn stood, turned around, and was struck speechless.

Rachel was dressed in, well, a dress. It was simple and black. "It's kind of stupid, I know. It's not like I can ever wear it. It's from … before," Rachel's eyes cast themselves to the ground and Quinn only gaped. "I just figured it's my last chance to wear it. It took me a while to find it. Santana had it in storage with some of her stuff."

Dark brown hair spilled in waves over Rachel's shoulders, black flats complimenting the dress. A white ribbon was tied around her waist, accentuating the small curve of her hips. "You look," Quinn had no words, "wow." She felt about as stupid as Finn Hudson used to look.

Rachel blushed under the attention, and she took a breath. "It's not stupid?"

"Not at all."

Rachel looked beautiful. Quinn couldn't take her eyes off her. It was almost as if they were in high school again — only for a second, because Quinn was well-aware they were adults now and fighting for survival every day. "Good," Rachel smiled with a secret knowing, and gently opened her hand. "Come with me?"

Quinn nodded simply, trailed along behind Rachel with the warmth of their hands laced together.

"Since we both have time to relax today, I just … wanted to spend time with you," Rachel murmured softly. Somewhere in another corner of the building, Quinn saw that Rachel had spent all day setting up a private area for them. She'd even set some of the privacy screens around, as if to sequester them. "Talk to you, if you'll listen."

Quinn nodded, "Did you do all of this?"

"I know it's … a little ridiculous. The world's falling apart and I'm still trying to chase these little fantasies," Rachel motioned to the chair and table. A small meal was set out for them, and an empty vase - there were really no flowers to pick. "I just wanted us to have something normal for a day, before we leave here."

It was a little silly, but at the very same time, Quinn couldn't help but be amazed at Rachel's capability of creating a very human world out of a world that was very inhuman these days. The blonde touched the top of the table, smiled a little privately, "I think it's wonderful. Why just us?"

Rachel seemed to shift uncomfortably at this question. "We've been … dancing around something for a very long time, Quinn. Even before all this," she indicated the world outside the window, a world overtaken and void of human life but very alive.

Fear and anticipation built up in Quinn's system now began to flutter in her stomach. She sat down slowly, looked at Rachel as she approached.

"And I don't want something to happen to me, or you, without … you knowing." Rachel's voice had softened so that Quinn gulped nervously.

Her face flushed hot, she could think of nothing to say, "You really do look nice."

Rachel laughed softly; it was that sweet, chiming sound, and it put Quinn at ease. She reached her hands up, touched Quinn's face.

"I'm nervous."

"I've loved you for so long," Rachel whispered the words, and Quinn almost felt she was dreaming them. That was it. The confession. The thing they had never said. "We never got it right, but we can, I think."

Strangely, Quinn didn't feel speechless or motionless like she thought she might. Part of her expected this moment to come. She reached up, grasped the hand touching her face, and pressed Rachel's palm to her lips. She would not let thought ruin this. She would not let her worries ruin this moment. This moment was theirs. She kissed the palm again and stood, without any hesitation, she captured Rachel's lips for the first time, felt them part against her own. Quinn's knees almost gave out when Rachel gripped the back of her neck and pulled her deeper into the kiss, whimpering out her long-stifled desperation. After all, it had come to this one moment. Tears in her eyes, Quinn's only thought was 'finally' as the sweet insistence of Rachel's lips collided with her own.