A/N: Here's another chapter just for you all! Hope you all enjoy!
Previously…
Santana continues watching her courageous son and begins to see a little of Quinn's curiosity in him. She thinks to herself, "Maybe he can really have a childhood in this new world. He still sees the beauty in things and not just the dark and ugly-."
BANG!
In an instant, a bullet pierces right through the deer and unfortunately, through Lucas too. Simultaneously, both Lucas and the deer fall to the ground.
"no..no..No..NO!" Santana screams as she runs to the motionless body of her son. "Louie? Baby boy? No. No. Please, my love, wake up." Santana pleads through tears, shaking her son's chest. "Mami's here, mi amor. Please, wake up."
Finn pulls out his gun and steps in front of the mother and son, desperate to find who shot the bullet. "Show yourself! NOW!" Finn's voice trembles with pain and especially anger.
A chubby middle-aged man wearing a camouflage jacket emerges from a bush, holding his sniper in disbelief of what he had done. "I am so, so sorry. I didn't see him. I swear," he stammers, overwhelmed with guilt.
"You son of a bitch! Maldito hijo de su puta!" Santana cries out, cradling her son's limp body and brushing his hair away from his peaceful face.
"We have a doctor! Come, please follow me." the man offers desperately.
"A doctor?.." Santana's voice trembles as she gazes at her son. She slowly lifts him up, her eyes now looking at the man burning with anger, "Where?!"
As Santana carries her wounded child across the long farm fields, the weight of her son's limp body grows heavier and heavier with each step. Fear and desperation pulse through her veins, driving her forward with an urgency born of maternal instinct, knowing that every second is crucial.
Sweat begins to drip down from Santana's forehead as she struggles to maintain her grip on Lucas, her muscles screaming in protest with every movement. With each passing moment, the distance to the farm feels impossibly far, but she refuses to give up.
Glancing back at the struggling man who shot her son and Finn, who urged him forward, Santana's voice rings out in desperation, "How far?! How far?!"
"About a half mile, that way." the man gasps, his breath ragged, "Talk to Hershel, he'll help your boy."
Santana quickens her pace. Her heart starts pounding in her chest as she approaches the farmhouse. A young girl seated on the patio bench catches sight of Santana and calls out, "Dad?"
An old man emerges from the house, his eyes meeting Santana's with a mix of concern and urgency. "Was he bit?" he shouts.
"Shot. By your man." Santana cries, struggling to catch her breath. "He said to find Hershel, is that you?" Hershel nods.
"Here, let's get him inside. Patricia, I need my full kit." Hershel directs, ushering Santana into the house.
"Please help my baby boy!" Santana pleads.
"Maggie? I need painkillers- grab everything. I need clean sheets, towels, alcohol, and IV fluids now." Hershel commands his daughter, "In here. Lay him down." he says looking at Santana.
The weight of Luca's limp body in her arms is not just physical but a crushing burden on Santana's soul. She follows Hershel's instructions and gently lays Lucas down. "Pillowcase," Hershel instructed, but Santana wasn't there. Her mind races and grapples with a whirlwind of emotions.
The guilt gnaws at her, a relentless beast clawing at her conscience, tormenting her with thoughts of what she could have done differently to prevent all this. Santana replays every moment leading up to the gunshot, each memory being etched in agonizing detail, a painful reminder of her failure to protect her son.
"Pillowcase." Hershel's voice cuts through the haze of Santana's thoughts, snapping her back to the present with a jolt.
"Is he alive?" Santana's voice is barely a whisper, her eyes fixed on Lucas, and her heart pounding with dread, bracing for the answer.
"Pillowcase, quick." Hershel repeats, urgency lacing his words. Her trembling hands fumble for the pillow as she struggles to regain her composure, "Fold it. Make a pad and put pressure on the wound."
"Is he alive?" Santana asks once more, her desperation palpable as she awaits Hershel's verdict. Maggie, Hershel's daughter, hands him a stethoscope, and he places it on the young boy's chest.
"Everyone quiet," Hershel commands, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. Santana holds her breath and locks eyes on Lucas.
"I got a heartbeat." Hershel's words hang in my the air, a lifeline in the darkness, leaving Santana speechless with relief and gratitude. "It's faint, but it's there."
In that fleeting moment, amidst the chaos and despair, hope flickers to life within Santana's chest- a tiny flame in pure darkness, illuminating the possibility that Lucas survives.
"I got it, step back." Patricia, an older blonde woman interjects, taking over and applying more pressure to the wound.
"Maggie, I need an IV." Hershel instructs, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. He's a professional. Maggie turns to Santana, her eyes soft with empathy, as she gently urges Santana to step aside, "Please, we need some space."
Hershel's attention turns to Santana, his gaze gentle yet firm as he asks for her name. "Your name?" he repeats, drawing Santana out of her daze once again.
"S-San-Santana. I'm-I'm-I'm Santana Lopez." she stammers, her voice trembling with shock.
"Santana, we're going to do everything we can, okay? But you need to give us some room." Hershel reassures her in a soothing tone. Santana slowly steps back and out of the room, her mind still reeling from the events unfolding before her.
Lucas was shot.
She clung to Hershel's promise like a lifeline, desperately grasping onto the flicker of hope that Lucas, against all odds, might just make it out of this. From Hershel's living room window, Santana's heart twisted as she watched Finn darting across the fields with the man who had shattered her world. Stepping onto the porch, she faced Finn and the man, her spirit weighing down by an unbearable burden of grief.
"I-Is he alive? Is he… still alive?" the man's voice trembled with the same anguish. Santana remained silent, her eyes fixed on the long and beautiful fields, unable to bear the pain reflected in Finn's gaze. As she wipes the sweat from her forehead, her trembling hand accidently smears Lucas' blood across her face. Finn, with his gentle yet firm touch, set down his bag and pulled out a towel. He draws closer to Santana and wipes the blood off of her, his heart aching at the sight of the Latina's silent suffering.
As Finn cleansed her face, Santana's tears began to overflow and threaten to consume her. He placed the towel in her hands, silently urging her to wipe them off, but Santana's gaze was now fixed on the stain, a vivid reminder of the nightmare she couldn't escape. With a gut-wrenching sob, she flung the towel aside and grabbed Finn's hand, leading him inside and to the room where Lucas laid.
At the sight of her precious son, so pale and fragile, Santana broke, her heart breaking into a million pieces. She buried her face in Finn's chest, overcome with grief as she quietly sobbed at the state of her once, beautiful and healthy baby boy.
Hershel looked up at Finn, who held Santana in his arms, and asked, "Do you know his blood type?"
"San?" Finn's voice was gentle as he addressed the tear-stained Latina.
"A-Positive. Just like mine."
"That's fortunate. Don't wander far, I'm gonna need you." Hershel's gaze shifted to the defeated Santana, "Otis, what happened?" He directed his question to the man standing nearby.
Otis. That name, the name of this awful excuse of a man who shot her son. Santana thought in her head.
"I was tracking a buck and the bullet went through. It went clean through." Otis said, completely shocked.
"The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life, but it did not go through cleanly." Hershel remarked, as he assessed the wound, "It broke up into pieces. I'm counting maybe six."
Otis moved closer to the older blonde, presumably his wife, and whispered, "Patty, I never saw him. Not until he was on the ground." he explains heartbrokenly.
"Quinn. Quinn doesn't know." Santana's voice cracked with anguish.
"No. No she doesn't-" Finn's voice was barely audible, filled with sympathy for Santana's pain.
"M-my wife doesn't know. She doesn't know." Santana repeated, her voice breaking once more as she broke down in tears again.
Back in the forest..
"Are you still worrying about it?" Rachel's voice cut through the tension, her gaze settling on Quinn's troubled expression.
"It was a gunshot." Quinn responded, her voice tight with concern.
"We all heard it." Tina chimed in.
"Why one? Why just one gunshot?"
"Maybe they took down a walker." Mike offered, attempting to ease the tension.
"You know Santana wouldn't risk a gunshot to put down one walker, or Finn. They'd do it quietly." Quinn countered, her worry deepening even more.
"Shouldn't they have caught up with us by now?" Brittany's voice wavered with growing anxiety.
"There's nothing we can do about it, anyway. We can't run around these woods chasing echoes." Daryl interjected, his voice steady and firm.
"So, what do we do?" Tina questioned
"Same as what we've been doing. Find Sophia and work our way back to the highway. I'm sure they'll find us back at the RV." Daryl reassures
The group resumed their journey back, but Tina paused, walking over to where Kurt and Blaine stood, broken.
"I'm sorry for what you're both going through." Tina offered, her voice heavy with empathy.
"Thank you. The thought of her, out here by herself- It's not knowing that's killing me." Blaine admitted, his pain very visible.
"We are all hoping and praying with you guys." Mike added, extending a comforting hug.
"I'll tell you what it's worth- not a damn thing." Daryl's words cut through the air, his frustration showing, "It's a waste of time, all this hoping and praying. You know why? Because we are going to find that little girl and she's going to be just fine."
Back at the farm..
Finn and Santana sat in the "waiting room", the memory of what had happened to the young boy still fresh in their minds.
"Why did I let him come with us?" Santana's voice trembled with guilt, "I should have sent him with Quinn. It was safer."
"You know, if you start that, you will never stop blaming yourself. It's not even your fault. It just happened. You need to move on and think about what is happening now. Not how you could have prevented this." Finn's words carried a note of gentleness.
Santana looked at him with devastated eyes, "A little girl goes missing, you look for her. That simple. We were going to head back and start fresh tomorrow, but I couldn't fucking stop." she cried out, "And now Lucas got shot because of me. It should be me in there, not him!"
"You've been there, San, remember?" Finn's laughter was tinged with sorrow, "And you pulled through. And so will he."
"Is that why I got out of that hospital?" Santana's voice wavered with bitterness, "Found my family for it to end here, like this? This kind of s-sick joke?" she spat out. "A little girl goes missing, you look for her. It's plain and simple-"
"Santana?" Maggie's urgent interruption shatters the tense silence, drawing Santana's attention. "We need you, now." Santana stood up slowly, her heart pounding with dread as she prepared herself for what awaited her in the other room.
As soon as she stepped into the room, she was assaulted by the cries and screams of her son. Her eyes found Lucas, writhing in pain, and she felt her own heart shatter into a million pieces.
"He needs blood," Hershel's voice cuts through the chaos, his tone urgent as he struggles to extract the bullet fragment from Lucas's wound. "You, hold him down," he directed at Finn.
"Mami!" Lucas's cries tore at Santana's soul, each scream sending a dagger to her heart.
Luca's cries grew louder and more desperate as Hershel struggled to remove the stubborn bullet fragment, "MAMI!" he screamed, his voice filled with agony.
"STOP, YOU'RE KILLING HIM." Santana's voice rang out, her own pain echoing in the room.
"Santana, do you want him to live?!" Hershel's voice was strained, the urgency in his tone matching the intensity of Lucas's screams.
Patricia, Hershel's assistant, approached Santana, her voice urgent, "He needs blood. Now."
"Do it now!" Finn yells out, his voice in a desperate plea, urging Santana to comply. Patricia quickly sticks the needle in Santana's arm and starts drawing blood, sending it straight to Lucas.
The cries had stopped. Just silence.
Santana looked back at Lucas, her heart stopping in her chest as she realized that he wasn't crying anymore. In fact, he wasn't moving at all.
No. no. no
"Wait, wait–" Finn's voice cracked with emotion as he looked at Hershel, then at the motionless Lucas, scared out of his mind.
"He just passed out." Hershel said calmly, finally managing to extract the stubborn bullet fragment, "One down… Five to go."
After an hour or so…
Hershel decided it would be best to take a break and let Lucas slowly recover, but will soon resume his efforts with the next bullet fragment. He carefully monitored Lucas's blood pressure to ensure accuracy.
"Pressure is stable, for now." Hershel reported.
"Quinn needs to be here. She doesn't even know what's going on." Santana exclaimed, rubbing her head in disbelief at the thought that her wife remained unaware of their son's condition, "I got-I gotta go find her. I need to bring her back."
"You can't do that." Hershel interjected softly
"She's his mother!" Santana cried out, "She needs to know what has happened. She needs to know that her son is lying here, shot."
"And he's going to need more blood." Hershel responded, now turning his gaze to Finn, "She can't go more than 50 feet from this bed."
Finn nodded in agreement, noticing Santana's attempt to walk out, only to stumble. She had lost too much strength and blood for her body to bear. Finn supported her, allowing her to rest her weight on him, and guided her to the living room where Maggie and Otis waited patiently for any news.
"He's stable for now." Finn informed them, receiving a sigh of relief from the two.
"Quinn has to be here, Finn. She has to know." Santana repeated desperately.
"Okay, I get that. I'm going to handle it, okay? But you have to handle your end." Finn replied seriously.
"M-my end?" Santana softly said, confused.
"Your end is being here, for your son. If something happened to him and you weren't here… If-if he slipped away while you were gone, you would never forgive yourself for that. Neither would Quinn." Finn reasoned.
"You're right." Santana admitted, imagining the guilt she would carry if she were absent during such a dreadful moment.
"When was I ever wrong?" Finn chuckled softly, "You know… when you were in that hospital– you should've seen Quinn. The strength of that woman is unbelievable. That's what you have to have right now. Lucas needs that from you."
Santana looked down at her hands, fiddling with her ring.
"You've got the hard part San. You just leave the rest to me, okay?"
Their conversation was interrupted by Hershel's entrance into the living room.
"He's out of danger for the moment, but I need to remove the remaining fragments." Hershel announced, his voice heavy with concern.
"How?" Santana's voice wavered as memories of Lucas's screams played back in her mind, "You saw how he was."
"I know, and that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others." Hershel explained, defeated, "But, there's more…"
"How can there be more?" Santana's voice barely above a whisper, disbelief now coloring her words.
"His belly is distended and his pressure is dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. I believe a fragment must have nicked a blood vessel, so I have to open him up and stitch the bleeder." Hershel detailed.
Santana couldn't believe what she was hearing. It all felt like a nightmare.
"He can't move while I'm in there. I mean, at all." Hershel continued, "If he reacts the same as before, I can sever an artery and he'll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I need to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. It's the same bad results."
"Fuck." Santana whispered
"What will it take?" Finn interjected, his voice determined.
"You need a respirator. What else?" Otis chimed in.
"The tube that goes with it. Extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures." Hershel added
"If you have all that, you could save him?" Finn questioned.
"If I had all that, I could try." Hershel corrected.
"The nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago." Otis informed them, but then a spark of hope glimmered in his eyes. "The high school."
"That's what I was thinking. They had a medical shelter there." Hershel explains. "They would have everything we need."
"The place was overrun the last time I saw it. Maybe it's better now." Otis suggested optimistically.
"I say, leave the rest to me." Finn declared
"I hate you going alone." Santana protested weakly.
"I'll be alright San. Doc, why don't you give me a list, draw me a map too, if you can." Finn suggested
"You won't need a map, I'll take you there." Otis offered
"I'll be alright. Are you sure about this?" Finn questioned Otis.
"I made you guys stuck in this position. It's the least I can do. And do you even know what any of the stuff he's talking about looks like?" Otis countered.
"Come to think about it, no." Finn admitted.
"I was an EMT before all this. I'll go set up the truck." Otis says, but Santana stopped him.
"Thank you." she whispered
"Wait till your boy is up and around, then we'll talk." Otis replied before leaving to gather supplies.
"Where is she? Your wife?" Maggie asked Santana, her voice carrying a sense of importance as she contemplated her own plan.
Back in the forest…
"I think we should call it. Let's head back." Daryl suggested, breaking the quietness among the group.
"Will we pick it up again tomorrow?" Kurt asks, seeking confirmation
"Yeah, we'll find her tomorrow." Daryl affirmed.
The group began to make their way back, but Tina paused, captivated by the blooming flowers, and picked one up. When she looked up, however, the group was gone.
"Hello?" Tina called out, unaware of the walker creeping up behind her.
Screams pierced the air as Tina fought the walker. She reached for her knife and stabs the walker in the chest, but it persisted.
Mike looked around the group and saw that his girlfriend was missing. "Tina?" Mike called out desperately. The group halted, attempting to locate Tina by her cries.
"NO!" Tina yelled as the walker lunged at her, but just as it was about to bite her, a figure on a horse swooped in, and knocked the walker away.
"Quinn? Quinn Lopez?" Maggie questions, looking at the brunette girl on the ground. The rest of the group had finally arrived, witnessing Maggie's presence.
"I'm Quinn." Quinn corrected, stepping forward.
"Santana sent me. You need to come now." Maggie urged.
"What?" Quinn was stunned at the mention of her wife's name.
"There's been an accident. Lucas has been shot. He is still alive, but you have to come now." Maggie delivered the shocking news.
Quinn stood frozen, processing the devastating news of her baby boy.
L-Lucas..Lucas was shot?
"Santana needs you. Just come!" Maggie insisted, understanding the urgency.
"Whoa, whoa! We don't know this girl." Puck interjected, "You can't get on that horse Quinn."
"Santana said that you had others on the highway, that big traffic jam?" Maggie questioned, revealing that she knew Santana, "Head to Fairburn road, two miles down that is where our farm is at. You'll see the mailbox 'Greene'.
Back at the farm…
It had been a while since Finn and Otis left to retrieve the medical supplies that could save Lucas' life. Santana took a seat on the porch bench, gazing out at Hershel's serene land and fields. Hershel then joined Satnana, standing beside her.
"This place is beautiful." Santana remarked, her gaze drifting from Hershel to the fields.
"It's been in my family for 150 years." Hershel shared
"I can't believe how serene it is. How untouched." Santana said astonished.
"It wasn't completely unscathed. We lost friends and neighbors. This epidemic took my wife and stepson." Hershel revealed softly.
"I'm so sorry."
"My daughters were spared and I'm grateful to God for that. These people here, we only have each other left. We just hope to ride it out until there's a cure."
"We were at the CDC…" Santana began, "It's gone now. There is no cure."
"I don't believe it. When AIDS came along, everybody panicked." Hershel countered optimistically.
"This is a whole other thing."
"That's what we always say, but it's not true. Mankind can bounce back. Nature is just correcting itself and restoring some needed balance." Hershel offered a glimmer of hope, something he has been doing a lot of recently.
"I wish I could believe that." Santana confessed softly.
From a distance, Santana and Hershel watched as Maggies approached the farm, Quinn riding alongside her. Santana's heart lurched in her chest, a heavy burden of guilt weighing her down. She knew she had to face Quinn, and had to tell her the devastating truth about their son, but every step felt like an eternity.
As Maggie and Quinn drew nearer, Santana struggled to gather the strength to face her wife. She felt her legs grow weak and her body trembling with guilt. Every fiber of Santana's being screamed in anguish. Tears stung her eyes as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation.
"Quinn," Santana breathed her name, her voice thick with emotion as she walked closer to her for a tight embrace.
Quinn's eyes met Santana's, and in an instant, the floodgates of grief burst open. She choked with fear and anguish as she looked at Santana's blood-stained uniform, with eyes wide with terror. Tears streamed down Quinn's face as she raced to Santana's side, her heart shattering into a million irreparable pieces.
Santana's heart broke at the sight of her, her own eyes brimming with tears as she struggled to find the words to tell her the devastating truth. But even as Santana sought comfort in Quinn's arms, the guilt gnawed at her. She couldn't shake the feeling that her son's injury was all her fault, she had failed him as a mother.
Their tears mingled, a silent testament to the depth of their shared sorrow. In that moment, Santana wished she could turn back time and undo the event that had led to this tragic outcome. But Quinn began to pull away, her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty, Santana knew there was no going back. With a heavy heart, she watched as Quinn reached for her hand, silently signaling her toward the house, and preparing them for the heartbreak that awaited inside.
As Quinn stepped into the room, her heart shattered into pieces at the sight of Lucas lying in the bed. Her once vibrant baby boy now appears more fragile, helpless, and vulnerable. Every fiber of her being screamed in anguish as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of his suffering.
Beside her, Santana's silent tears mirrored the flood of emotions raging within Quinn. With a heavy heart, Santana kissed the side of Quinn's head, offering what little comfort she could in the face of overwhelming despair. But for Quinn, the need to be closer to her son was uncontrollable.
Their steps faltered as they approached Lucas's bedside together. The sight of him, so small and defenseless, and the wound that served as a painful reminder of the violence that had shattered their family, threatened to break Quinn completely.
Tears blurred her vision as she reached out a trembling hand to stroke Lucas's curly brown hair. But as she gazed at his pale and still face, her heart clenched with a sorrow that threatened to consume her whole. In that moment, Quinn laid down beside her son and felt utterly powerless, wanting to take away all his pain, but didn't know where to begin.
Tears streamed down Quinn's face, her voice trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. "My baby boy." she choked out. But the sight of her son lying there, so still and fragile, was almost too much to bear. "Baby boy. My sweet baby boy," she whispered, her voice crackling with emotion.
Beside her, Santana stood witness to Quinn's agony, her own heart aching with a pain so profound it felt suffocating. Guilt clawed at Santana's insides, a relentless reminder of her failure to protect their son. Each sob from Quinn felt like a stab to Santana's soul, a haunting sound of her own inadequacy of being a mother.
Quinn's finger lingered on Lucas cheek, tracing the outline of his face as if she was trying to imprint every detail in her memory. "I'm here, baby boy," Quinn murmured, her voice thick with emotion as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, "You're going to be okay, my love. You are going to be just fine."
Quinn held out her hand to Santana, who took it without hesitation. "We are going to make you okay.'' Quinn whispered, her voice trembling with determination. Santana knelt beside her, hanging her head in defeat, clinging to her wife as they faced uncertainty ahead.
In that moment, Santana knew that there were no words that could erase Quinn's pain, no gestures grand enough to heal their shattered hearts. But together, they would weather this storm and draw strength from each other as they navigate the hard journey ahead. For Lucas's sake, and for their own, they would find a way to get past this, one tear-stained step at a time.