Title: Four

Author: animatedbrowneyes

Pairings: Quinn/Rachel, Santana/Brittany, Tina/Artie, Will/Emma

Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, nor do I own "I Am Number Four".

Sorry for the wait. This will be the last chapter of 'Four'. Thanks for being patient with me!

"Come on, Finn!" Mike yelled.

Rattled, Finn hesitated for just a second before he was sprinting after the forms of Quinn, Six, and Mike, Leroy's bag clutched to his chest. Finn sped up, sneakers slipping and sliding on the hill toward the school, hoping that he wouldn't trip. The gym roof crumbled from within not a moment ago—pulling that monster and Rachel down with it—and Quinn was already running for the razed building, disregarding the warnings of her friends. Finn wouldn't deny his own instinct to run, too. Rachel had saved them all and was probably...no, he couldn't think of it that way.

It was strange to think back to where this all began. Rachel slipping into the current of students but not remaining invisible for long—Quinn's piqued interest in the girl had caused ripples amongst their classmates—and how she became Finn's enemy for such stupid reasons that he could now admit to rationalizing. He only felt shame and chagrin, recalling his sneers and petty insults and staged Halloween jump with Karofsky and Azimio and the other guys on the football team. Rachel had done nothing but adore Quinn and in his jealousy, Finn could not see how happy she made Quinn, more than he ever could or had. He still loved her, yes, very much, but it was nothing, nothing but a trifle affection compared to what Rachel's eyes displayed for his ex-girlfriend. It was like Quinn was the sun or something and Rachel was an orbiting, adoring planet, doomed to be entranced by the light until the end of her days. Finn could never achieve that. Quinn wasn't his and never was. Only now had he started to accept that and his actions seemed worse than before. Hopefully, he could apologize for everything he had done to Rachel before it was too late.

Finn reached the rubble and stepped over a pulverized locker in his pursuit of the others. He had to stop, though, at the sight of the gym.

It was a disaster zone. Finn could barely recognize it. Chunks of concrete littered the floor in every direction, dozens upon dozens, twisted pipes sticking out in various places where they had been ripped from their places. Slabs of bricks were scattered as far as the eye could see, hiding the lines designed for basketball. One of the hoops adorned on the walls dangled by a very taut string, the backboard cracked right down the middle.

He picked up on a peculiar noise, almost a prickling of the musty air itself. Was that the electric sockets reacting to the storm above?

Bizzarely, Finn wanted to laugh. Principal Figgins would go crazy once he walked to the school, come Monday morning.

He shook his head, forcing himself to concentrate as his mood returned to solemnity again. Nothing was amusing about this situation.

He registered the actions of Quinn, Six, and Mike. They were sifting desperately through the piles of debris, calling Rachel's name over the crashing of thunder and endless monsoon. Finn slung the backpack over his shoulders in one quick movement and scurried over to help. His palms soon became scratched and marked up with gashes, but he persisted, searching and searching without a word. Rachel needed as much aid as possible.

He noted the arrival of the club and Mr. Schue, but they weren't standing idle and confused; they started to rummage through wreckage too.

The search continued more frantic than before. Finn felt a ripple of discomfort flash up his spine when lifting a wedge of plaster, but persevered.

Finn lowered the segment of stone to the floor and flung several bricks aside, but his investigation was not in vain this time. A foot was exposed.

"Here!" He bellowed as loud as he could. There was a scramble and everyone was running to him now, waterlogged and covered in slimy dust.

Puck was the first one to reach him and the two rushed into action, lifting pieces of rubble with upmost care, the process more delicate than before. Mike and Quinn and Six were closest to the working football players, searching harder and faster than anyone else, fingers bloodied and blemished. Six didn't dare use his Legacies, too tired to try. The others converged behind them, making room for Finn and Puck to deposit debris.

A pair of legs appeared. Then a waist. A torso. Shoulders. A neck. Finally, at long last, Rachel was completely uncovered.

Finn felt a hiss slip through his teeth at the revealed image as a gasp escaped Quinn's mouth. Rachel's body was ceaselessly pockmarked with lacerations. Bruises colored her skin in black and blue patches. Blood was congregated on her stomach, staining her shirt in a crimson smudge.

Six maneuvered past Quinn and Mike and lowered his ear near an unconscious Rachel's lips, listening as he rested a finger near her throat.

"There's a pulse," he breathed out, earning a collective sigh of relief. "Where's the Chest?"

"Finn has it," Mike answered. Finn surrendered the bag without waiting to be asked, and Mike rifled through it quickly, retrieving the box.

Six looked grim as he accepted the Chest from Mike, studying the lock with resignation.

"What is it?" Quinn asked from her position beside Rachel, clasping one of her girlfriend's hands in her own, desperation prominent.

"Only the Loric that it was created for can open it and the Cêpan, working together as one. Since he's dead, only Rachel can do it from now on," Six explained quietly. "I need to wake her up to access the tool that will heal her."

"She's too hurt, and there isn't time," Mike urged amongst agreement from the club. "Someone has to be coming for us and we'll be caught."

"We can't wait to do it," Six snapped back, green eyes burning with rage. "She'll die."

Elphaba growled.

Mike looked disapproving but said nothing more. He had no counterargument. Six returned his attention to Rachel, being as gentle as he could. At first, there was no response. Rachel didn't move nor make a noise of recognition, and her time was ticking. Finn watched Six look more panicked.

"Four, come on," he murmured a few times, unnerved. Thunder boomed loudly over the destroyed building and small group, but it was ignored.

"Rachel, wake up," Quinn pleaded, voice cracking. "Wake up, please. For me, come back..."

She was dreaming. She had to be.

No, it wasn't a dream...it was a memory of One's. Isaac, the Number that died in Malaysia.

His feet barely touched the ground as he fled the Mogadorians, but his flight through the Bornean forest was useless. Through his eyes, she was him as he chanced a glance backwards, watching Mogadorians swarm on the place he called home with his Cépan, Silas. Fear radiated like a tornado in One's heart and utter despair nearly overpowered him. Rachel listened to his thoughts. He repeatedly cursed his own ignorance, as if regret could save him. It could not, she knew. He was stabbed through the gut within a minute, all because he could not focus on his escape.

The memory vanished into the recesses of Rachel's mind, Mogadorian laughter fading into nothingness.

Perhaps that had been their trouble all along. Loyalty. All Cépans on Earth had sacrificed themselves and still, three Numbers were dead.

The same happened to hers. And such a thing could happen to the delicate humans that remained in her trust, if she continued to stay in Lima.

Although, she did know that already.

Somewhere in her musings, Rachel felt a headache coming on. The ache increased exponentially. She felt as if her skull was tearing itself in half.

There was a fluttering in front of her face, almost like a camera flash. Quinn's voice reached her ears, sounding broken, and a brief second of a downpour was recognized on her skin, the rain as cold as ice. Six's gaze on her, too, was the one thing she managed to see but after that, she could only comprehend agony and absolutely nothing else. It began at the fingertips of her right hand, crawling up her arm like some terrible insect with pincers like needles, pricking her flesh with blades of hot steel. The pain expanded without warning, slinking from her shoulders to her neck, undulating more rapidly than she could adjust to. She was sure she would go blind and deaf and dumb if she wasn't already unconscious.

She could not get away from it. Paralyzed and unaware of her surroundings, Rachel was trapped in a fog, accompanied only by a smarting ache.

What caused it?

She struggled to remember something. What was she doing prior to blacking out? Something important, because why else would she be so hurt?

Four?

Rachel ceased her attempts to recall what caused her pain, because it was ebbing away. Slowly, it lessened until her only lament was this oblivion.

Whose voice was that?

Four, wake up.

Hmm, someone familiar. Someone who knew her Loric identity. Someone who seemed to be able to speak to her in this blackness—Elphaba!

Memories slammed into her head, the images blurring together in a mess of moments. Leroy's corpse on the floor, disintegrating into a pile of sand and the sting of tears in her eyes, watching her companion of ten years die from a sword wound to the chest. The roof collapsing and the descent into McKinley's gym. The floor when she was on fire. The Mogadorian beast, screaming on the roof. The swing of a punch that sent a Mogadorian soaring into a wall. Closing her fingers into a fist, power radiating from her knuckles, making her opponents choke to death and actually liking it.

That must be it. The battle on the school roof had knocked her out and the falling rubble had to be the source of the damage to her body.

Oh, how much that had hurt...

She concentrated on the voice. Elphaba. Minutes before her blacking out, Rachel realized her last Legacy, at long last—animal telepathy.

But how to reach out and reply? She couldn't speak or move or end this unconsciousness. She didn't even know where she was. Or her friends.

I'm right here, Rachel.

Elphaba? She tried, and sensed something tangibly akin to agreement. Where am I?

Somewhere safe, Elphaba answered. Everyone's waiting for you to wake up.

Is Quinn okay?

She is. But she's very worried about you. It's been three days since the accident and you haven't moved a muscle.

Three days? Where are we?

Mike's cousin's house. They're away on vacation but he found the hide-a-key. Six is here as well. He paces for hours at a time.

Rachel paused, absorbing this news. Three days of a coma and everyone was holed up a long way from Lima, it seemed. Well, she couldn't go back there now. Here had to be her farewell to her teammates and her girlfriend. Maybe Mike too if he wasn't feeling stubborn. It was too dangerous. Following Six was her only option to protect everyone. She had to find the other Numbers, like Leroy said to do. Her human friends weren't durable enough for that. They weren't durable enough for this war. It wasn't theirs to get involved in and Rachel had to shut them out eventually.

Goodbyes were a long time coming but would be hard. Especially to Quinn. Leaving someone so special behind made Rachel want to cry.

Elphaba spoke again after a minute.

Six says you won't have to leave just yet. Regardless of your recovery, he knows the Mogadorians won't contact each other for awhile.

How can I wake up? Rachel asked. I want to see Quinn.

I can't bring you out of this. It's out of my power. An emergence from this sleep is up to you.

Left alone again as Elphaba's presence slunk further away until it was gone completely, Rachel returned her attention on feeling her limbs. She could feel all her fingers and toes but hadn't thought to rouse them in fear of prompting more horrible pain. No longer in such awful torture, she tried moving the digits of her left hand and to her enormous relief, felt the joints obeying. She tried her feet and managed to make her toes wiggle a little before stopping. Emboldened with her progress, she switched agendas. Now that she could move, she wanted to know where she was.

Rachel moved her hand, perceiving fabric under her fingertips. No, not fabric, more of a flatter kind, thinner...a sheet, she realized. A bed sheet.

Progress was slow but after some time, she discerned a blanket wrapped around her and a heartbeat near her spine, thrumming steadily.

Rachel wondered who it belonged to.

When she felt the lightest of touches along her arm, as if hesitant to be doing so, she knew it was Quinn. No one else would be so gentle.

Opening her eyes was a struggle on its own and took a lot of effort, but Rachel persisted until she could distinguish a shadowy room and the bed below her rather than the deep, unfathomable blackness of her mind. She blinked several times, more than happy to have her sight restored.

Quinn seemed to know she was awake. The arm draped on her hip pulled her closer across the bed as she felt and heard a whisper near her ear.

"Rachel?"

A sob escaped her before she knew why and suddenly, tears were distorting her vision and she was shaking uncontrollably. Quinn only moved closer, murmuring soothing words. Rachel cried for many reasons, having since held everything in for a long time. For losing Leroy. For Quinn and Mike, because she would be leaving them within a week or so. For her fellow Numbers and their unjust ends. For her Loric brethren, slaughtered and their precious culture dwindled to almost nothing. And for herself, for receiving such a rotten lot in life and being stuck with the consequences.

"Sorry," she mumbled when she'd calmed down a bit. Exhausted, she rolled over until she was facing Quinn. Hazel eyes studied her carefully.

"I think you've earned it."

Rachel nodded.

"You scared me for a minute there," Quinn admitted quietly when they had just been looking at each other. "I thought the fall killed you."

Rachel didn't comment on the immobilizing relief in Quinn's eyes, the terror of Rachel's supposed death still present.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," the brunette joked feebly, disregarding the obvious lucky scrape she had. Quinn laughed.

"I guess not."

"How's everyone doing?" Rachel inquired, twirling a strand of Quinn's hair around her finger that was splayed on the pillow they shared.

"Fine," Quinn replied with a sigh, looking like she hadn't slept in days. "Asking a lot of questions and Mike's stuck handling them all."

"I owe him a lot," Rachel mused. Mike Chang had truly become her most loyal friend if Quinn wasn't considered.

"No more than he owes you," Quinn countered. "You gave him the friend he needed and a push out of his shell."

"That's not much."

"Not to you."

Rachel left it at that, not challenging her on it, and was silent for a moment.

"You have to know that—"

"You'll be leaving?" The blonde prompted, looking so sad that Rachel could've sworn something snapped inside. "Yeah, I figured as much."

"I don't want you to get hurt," Rachel explained unhappily, willing Quinn to understand. "Otherwise, I would stay as long as you wanted me to."

"When do you think it'll be over?" Quinn asked after a beat, toying with a string of the sheet, avoiding her gaze.

Rachel shook her head.

"I don't know. They outnumber us ten-to-one. Maybe more. I don't have a clue on how we'll protect everyone. Six versus thousands? Impossible."

"Won't your Legacies help you?" Quinn queried.

"Not much," Rachel sighed. "I can't use them too often; they drain energy if I keep using them so much."

"Oh."

"What time is it?" Rachel wondered when they were quiet again, lying down in companionable silence.

"Three thirty, I think. Everyone's downstairs...we might as well go and show them you're okay."

Resigned, Rachel agreed.

Mike yanked her into a hug as soon as her feet had left the bottom step and she returned it as closely as she could, distracted by both the obvious fatigue under Mike's eyes and the form of Six in the background, watching her out of the corner of his eye. The glee club and Mr. Schuester were littered all over this living room, looking sleepy and concerned but relieved at her well being. How they fled Lima without being spotted was a mystery, but Rachel supposed that she would find out eventually. She found a seat beside Puck as Six meandered toward the middle of the room.

"I've been looking for traces of the others while you were out," he began, letting a globe of glass levitate from his open palm. All occupants within the room watched the globe darken a bit, filling the core with shades of green and blue as it hovered, until it resembled a model Earth.

Rachel studied the floating sphere, dimly wondering if Leroy had owned one. Probably. Locked away in the Chest but not for her eyes yet.

Now I can see it all I like, Rachel thought. Pushing her bitterness away, she focused on Six's words.

"Before I found you, I searched for anyone all over the place, ever since my Cêpan was killed. I managed to find little clues here and there, forgotten trinkets that I could sense belonged to the other Numbers. They didn't leave anything but did allow me to follow their paths," Six went on, pointing to a light trail winding across the glass surface. More lines appeared in various colors, crisscrossing over the 'world', demonstrating the wanderings of her kind. "But I could never catch up to them in time. They had left already and I was forced to square one again and again."

"Until Rachel," Mike interjected, fixating on the globe while the assembled humans watched it rotate in fascination. Six nodded.

"You were the exception," the boy noted, sounding amused. "Happening upon you was the easiest breakthrough I'd ever gotten."

"Figures," Rachel grumbled, petulant. Quinn's lips twitched.

"Anyway," Six continued, directing the globe with a flick of his finger to float to a delighted Brittany's outstretched hands as he retrieved a map from his backpack and unrolled it, spreading it across the coffee table, "we need to locate the other four Numbers and organize a strategy."

"There's a list of where some of them are," Rachel volunteered, recalling the scribbles she kept from the Westerville incident. "Seven was trailed in Spain...and Nine was on the run in South America on the last report. I've been seeing flashes of what Seven sees every one and awhile, too."

Six looked up from his map, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "But that doesn't make sense. Our memories come from the dead Numbers only, sharing their experiences through our connection to Lorien's magic."

"I know. But maybe Seven's trying to get a message out," Rachel elaborated. "I'm the one under fire. Maybe he or she wants me to find them."

"Have you seen their Cêpan? Are they on the run?"

"I don't know."

"They should be your first goal," Quinn recommended suddenly, drawing attention from everyone else in the room. "It's your best lead so far."

"Is there a way to find the others?" Mr. Schuester spoke up for the first time. "Like...with your powers?"

Rachel hid her astonishment only by redirecting her gaze to Six. She was more than aware that her collection of human acquaintances had been thrust into this secret without having time to think about it or the chance to escape it, but seeing them with inquisitive looks on their faces but no trace of deceit was unendingly comforting. They wouldn't tell anyone. They'd keep her abilities and heritage under wraps, that much she could tell.

"Not that we know of yet," Rachel answered when Six didn't.

"Spain it is," Six conceded, making a decisive X on his map. Rachel nodded.

"When are we leaving?" He asked. "There won't be a contact between each Mogadorian unit for at least another week."

There was a heavy, oppressive silence, one where eyes seemed to fix on Rachel and Quinn, sitting side by side on the couch and not looking at each other. Even Six was watching, as if deliberating whether or not he should prompt her again. Quinn looked sad but was silent as Rachel bit her lip, hands clasped in her lap. This was it—the real confirmation of her parting, the deadline looming overhead that would just make time quicken. Sure, she knew she would have to leave at some point, but that was with Leroy and under his guidance. Now that he was gone, it was up to her.

Her time in Lima felt like minutes rather than months, the longer she sat on that couch, contemplating the day she would need to walk away from it. How could she leave it all behind? She had a girlfriend, friends, a competition to worry about, homework to do...everything normal that she had been denied for ten stressful years. Lima was everything she wanted most—being normal. Being a human and adopting ignorance.

A funny voice in her head sounding a lot like Mike reminded her that this choice wasn't easy (followed by some slogan from a comic book) but necessary. She could not bury her head in the sand and avoid the war of her species. Her fellows were in trouble and being hunted and just because she was in safety at the moment did not mean she could abandon them. There were six Numbers left in the universe and however many Cêpans had survived. The future of Lorien's culture was on their shoulders and staying in Lima, no matter how tempting it was, was not an option.

More Mogadorians would come. She knew that much. This town was not a stronghold and her presence would just bring more danger to it.

"A few more days," she replied at last. "So I can say my goodbyes."

"All right," Six remarked when no one spoke, rolling up his map. "We'll start training in the meantime."

Mike ordered several pizzas for the group's dinner and mentioned a mall nearby for shopping, to everyone's relief. Fortunately, he and Quinn had the foresight to insist on the retrieval of Rachel's supplies from her home with Leroy before they had fled Lima (documents, identifications, money, etc.) so she and Six had full clearance to leave when they were ready, already equipped with both of their clothes, Chests, and Loric weaponry.

Rachel and Quinn occupied the bedroom she had woken up in earlier. Quinn's arms around Rachel seemed tighter than before, but neither minded.

Six knocked on the door the following morning and once dressed in sweats, Rachel went outside into the backyard as he had requested.

Everyone else sat on lawn chairs to watch the spectacle, eating their breakfast. Disregarding her own hunger, Rachel faced Six.

"Let's work on our telekinesis," he announced with a gesture to their audience. "And here are our practice dummies."

"What?" Mercedes yelped. Six rolled his eyes.

"Not you."

Bundled up in old knee pads, elbow pads, and bicycle helmets, Mike and Quinn trotted out into the yard, trying desperately not to laugh.

Rachel cracked a grin.

"You have more practice than I do, Four," Six admitted, finally acknowledging a weakness. "So you'll have to teach me."

"Great," Rachel smiled.

Their first day of training was spent entirely on improving his ability. The yard was secluded by woods, so they were not seen.

Elphaba Brice loped around excitedly, riled up into action, until she was restrained and distracted by Brittany, Artie, and Matt with a tennis ball.

Because Six relied so much on his swordplay, elemental manipulation, and invisibility, he had let his telekinesis slide a little. Rachel instructed him on different ways to swing his arms or his hands, levitating Mike into the air to hang like a puppet as a demonstration. Weight and size were big factors to the amount of power behind his movements, so he would need to judge on how much he would require every time he was confronted.

Six tried hard but made a lot of progress. Rachel was pleased.

Day Two was dedicated to Rachel's grown of skills in hand to hand combat. Sloppy, Six said with a frown. You need to be quicker, faster, better.

She went to sleep aching and exhausted long after the sun had set, sore from bruises and scrapes. Leroy's training seemed lax compared to this.

"Swing like this," Six advised on the third day, brandishing Leroy's old sword and handing it back. "You'll be swifter on your feet."

The Lorics sparred and brawled for an immeasurable amount of time on their fourth day of training, both evenly matched in strength and speed, until forced to concede it as a tie, unable to defeat each other with weapons, Legacies, or fighting. Rachel felt more energized after every session, appreciating the work that she was doing. It made her feel strong. She wasn't invincible but was a formidable enemy. Pity the Mogadorians that find you two, Mike had declared at the top of his voice, earning agreeable cheers and grins. It was true. She and Six were impressive warriors.

Rachel did feel powerful but was sad in equal degree as practice days wore on and on, due to the time of her departure nearing. It was a noticeable effect amongst her friends as they wrangled incessantly with their parents on their phones, delaying their returns to Lima. How they managed it puzzled Rachel but she didn't bother asking. They stayed for her and that was all she cared about. Even Finn argued with his mother about it.

Surprising her further was his apology, expression sincere to boot.

"Um...I hope you can forgive me, Rachel," he mumbled, scuffing his sneaker on the grass. "I really am sorry for being a dick."

"Thank you," she replied, peering up at him curiously, wondering what brought this on. He had already proved himself when he helped her and Leroy get into McKinley and kept the club safe from harm. "Maybe we can, uh...be friends?"

They eyed each other before breaking into identical, sheepish grins.

"Nah," Finn chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with only a little awkwardness. "How's teammates?"

"Teammates," Rachel agreed, eyes twinkling.

"You'll come back, won't you?" Finn asked after a minute, sidling a glance at her as she stretched, readying for a session with Six. "Back to Lima?"

"I don't know," she answered guiltily. "I hope so, but I'm not too sure."

"She really loves you," Finn persisted, under his breath with a wary look at the chatting group ahead. "I think you should tell her this, too."

"I don't want to hurt her, Finn," Rachel sighed. "Getting her hopes up and all...I don't want to keep her waiting. That's not fair."

"You know she'll wait. That's just who she is."

"I know. That's what I'm afraid of."

Finally, it was the night before Rachel and Six would depart.

The spirit of the group noticeably dimmed and it lingered like a storm cloud, darkening their moods in turn. Rachel caught herself checking her watch as the afternoon faded quickly into evening, all too aware of how much time was left. She and Six would leave early in the morning while everyone was asleep, so farewells would occur before bedtime. Brittany hugged her frequently but said nothing, too sad to verbalize her thoughts, Artie and Matt sought her out for a fist-bump, Mr. Schue smiled awkwardly but was honest in his words of good luck, Santana slung an arm over her shoulder and squeezed a bit, Mercedes and Kurt mumbled thank-you's, Tina beamed and insisted she return as soon as possible, Puck smiled without a smirk and hugged her, and Finn gave her a little salute and a lift of his lips. Mike, surprisingly, didn't say much and seemed distracted.

Rachel changed into pajamas and joined Quinn under the covers of their bed, more than happy to receive and prolong the blonde's welcoming kiss. They hadn't done that for awhile, Rachel realized. She had been more focused on her training with Six than spending time with her girlfriend.

"Are you nervous?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah," Rachel replied. "It's the first time I'm venturing off into the unknown without Leroy and without a set place in mind."

"But now you have Six and Elphaba," Quinn pointed out. "You aren't alone."

"True."

"I'll miss you," Quinn murmured. Rachel looked at her in concern, feeling an ache begin in her heart. This would be the hardest goodbye of them all. That she knew for certain. How could she part with her soulmate and not cry buckets over it? Besides that, she didn't even know if she could make it back. The war between the Lorics and Mogadorians had a very likely ending to it and it was not favorable to Earth in any way. Coming back to Quinn would be difficult if not impossible and Rachel didn't know how to break that to Quinn without incurring her girlfriend's frustration.

"I'll miss you too," Rachel told her, unable to hide the sadness in her tone. "But I'll write to you."

"Write to me?" Quinn repeated, amused.

"That's the least trackable way," Rachel explained. "The Mogadorians monitor things electronically, so a simple letter won't be recognizable."

"How romantic," Quinn teased. Rachel grinned.

"I'll send you postcards from wherever we go," she promised. Quinn's eyes lit up.

"Like Paris?"

Remembering that brief, absurd moment of believing she could escape this war during lunch with Mike the other day, Rachel nodded.

"Take my camera," Quinn proposed brightly. "There's one in my purse. Take as many pictures as you can and develop them when you get back."

"I will," Rachel vowed, feeling somehow worse than before. The threat of failure still lingered and succeeding was doubtful, almost a miracle.

Quinn, ever observant, caught the downturn of Rachel's mood and pulled her into a kiss, tracing a thumb along Rachel's cheek.

"I don't want you to leave me, though," Quinn admitted ruefully as she drew away. "It'll be really weird not seeing you all the time."

"I don't want to leave," Rachel murmured. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah...all superheroes have to save the day...you're no different," Quinn laughed, but it was troubled and weak. "I should stop listening to Mike."

"I wish I could stay," Rachel whispered, voice hoarse. "We could go to college together, move in...leave Lima and travel the world..."

"We will," Quinn whispered back, eyes shining with tears in the darkness. "We'll go everywhere and anywhere, okay?"

"Okay."

Quinn kissed her then, like the world was ending and they had only a short amount of time left to live. It was sort of like that, Rachel supposed. They only had a night left to live as they had since September. All these months of being together would end tomorrow, concluding a term of something Rachel had never had before. This 'world' of safety and seclusion from her problems could not last and this kiss was a reminder of that, a relic or keepsake of her life in Ohio. It was a sad thing but not entirely despondent. She could return and would try as hard as she could to do so. She kissed back, harder this time when as their lips met again after a moment of sharing harsh breaths, hoping to somehow convey that to Quinn.

She leaned back a fraction when Quinn's fingers pulled at her shirt, searching the blonde's face for her thoughts.

However, Quinn spoke first.

"I want this," she said, words making Rachel's limbs feel like they'd turned into jelly. "I want you, before you have to leave."

"I've never—" Rachel blurted out nervously. "I've never, um, done...that and I don't know how to, uh...?"

"I've only done it once and that got me pregnant," Quinn countered with a grin, and Rachel burst out laughing, anxiety dissipating a bit.

Quinn cradled Rachel's face with her hands, smiling, but eyes still dark and wild and excited. "I want you, Rachel. That's enough for me."

"Okay," Rachel breathed.

The buzzing of her watch was like a slap in the face in the morning and Rachel stirred irritably, turning off the alarm as she sat up, holding the sheet up to her body. Quinn was still sleeping when she rose to get dressed, collecting her clothes into a backpack and closing the zipper. She felt tired and would dislike that on the road, but she wouldn't take back last night for anything. It was way too cruel to leave without another goodbye from Quinn, so Rachel meandered to the bed and kissed her awake, delighting in the pleased groan that Quinn let out when Rachel drew back.

"Almost time to go," she whispered, and Quinn took the hint, pulling on what clothes she could find and dragging a brush through her hair.

"Hey, look, a hickey," she snickered, studying her neck in the mirror with a smirk. Rachel blushed.

They went downstairs, hands linked, and walked outside to the driveway, where Leroy's truck, Elphaba, and Six, sitting on a motorcycle, waited.

Rachel turned her back on them and pulled Quinn into a kiss, not wanting to let go just yet. When Six made a show of clearing his throat, she stepped back an inch, exchanging an eye roll with Quinn.

"I can't call until we're out of town," Rachel informed her. "Pay phones are harder to trace but I can do that every once and awhile."

"I'll be waiting."

Rachel nodded, wavering a bit, but Quinn smiled without sadness and squeezed her hand, motioning for her to go.

"Hey!" A voice shouted before she could take a step. "Hold up, Rach!"

She turned around, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as Mike and Finn trotted out from the house. Her best friend got to her first.

"Don't leave without me," he panted, bag dropping to the ground as he rested his hands on his knees. "I have to go too."

"What?" Rachel demanded. "You're staying here, Mike."

"I am not," Mike insisted stubbornly, straightening up. "This adventure has more than enough room for the Changster."

Six snorted.

"You'll get hurt," Rachel warned.

"So? I even called my mom and concocted this big lie about earning a GED at different school. Anyway, she bought it! So, where am I sitting?"

"Fine," Rachel growled. Six coughed.

"If you slow us down, Twinkletoes," he called haughtily from his motorcycle, adjusting his sunglasses to scowl at Mike, "I'll kill you myself."

Mike rolled his eyes, scooped up his backpack, and stomped to Leroy's truck, sitting in the cab beside Elphaba. Quinn and Finn looked amused.

"I should go," Rachel sighed after a beat, wistful.

"Keep us posted on where you go," Quinn requested as Finn nodded. "If you can."

"Okay," Rachel replied, taking a step back. The moment stretched, as if the connection between them was severing and tautening, but Rachel gave Quinn one more look and turned around, and the bond splintered and broke—she was really leaving. Finn wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist without intent and she leaned into his shoulder, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. Rachel climbed into Leroy's truck and started the engine.

"She'll be back, won't she?" The blonde asked, as the motorcycle zoomed off to the road, the truck trailing behind in its wake.

"Totally," Finn answered with a comforting squeeze of her shoulders. "Come on, I'll make us some pancakes."

Rachel watched them in the rearview mirror, but she didn't feel sad.

Earlier, she had wondered if running from the Mogadorians and losing Leroy would've been easier if she had not come to Lima in the first place and not made these friends, nor met Quinn. She wondered if her life would've been less hard to leave, if things wouldn't feel so final and difficult to let go of. But as Six led her to an open highway and Mike flicked a page of the comic book in his hands, presence more welcome than she realized, she knew that was no better. She wanted to remember the good times in Ohio. She wanted to have loved and lost instead of never loving at all. Having memories to cherish—especially if she did not survive this war—was ideal, rather than leaving with Six and having no one to come back to.

She would come back. This wasn't an end to something. It was a new beginning, a fresh start. A new chapter, ready to be explored.

"Spain, here we come," Mike murmured under his breath as Elphaba barked, and Rachel grinned.

"Schuester!" Figgins called, beckoning the Spanish teacher and his students over from their seats to the podium.

The glee club and Mr. Schuester had discreetly slipped back into town after Rachel had left and compiled their alibis, hoping that the police force wouldn't question them on what had happened to McKinley or about their absence of almost eight days. The school was wrecked and looked a lot worse in the daylight, and Figgins was predictably apoplectic when he saw it. It was a miracle on its own that no one had approached the building when it was actually being pummeled from the inside out by the battle within, but they guessed that the storm and thunder concealed most of the racket the Mogadorians and their monster had created.

Because the school was half-destroyed, classes had been canceled until further notice. The town was crammed into a meeting organized by the mayor himself.

Unfortunately, the blame was placed on Leroy and Rachel, for lack of suspects and the evidence stacked against them, time and time again. Quinn patiently ignored the stares of her family as this news was revealed. Her girlfriend was being made into a scapegoat but she didn't care—she and the others knew the truth. A warrant was fashioned for their arrest (Mr. Karofsky was beside himself with delight) and the mayor moved on to the next order of business.

By a grand stroke of luck, McKinley would not need a rise in taxes to be rebuilt. A donation from an anonymous benefactor solved that problem.

"The donation has a specific request," Figgins announced into the microphone, expression irritable. "They wrote, as follows, that the McKinley High glee club must remain in action, to spread joy and continue to be as open and welcoming as it has always been to students new and old alike."

Quinn exchanged looks of disbelief and elation with her friends, staring at the letter in Figgins' hands. Rachel's abrupt departure had disqualified them from Regionals and disbanded them as a group for good this time, but they still gathered together often, more out of habit than anything.

"Did they say anything else?" Mr. Schuester asked curiously.

"Only a piece of paper, addressed to you all," the principal answered, tossing it to Mr. Schue and dismissing him and his students with a wave.

They wandered outside and huddled close to listen as Mr. Schuester began to read it aloud.

"'Make sure you find a suitable replacement for me. Someone with a good voice. I'd hate for New Directions to embarrass themselves at Sectionals in the fall. I'll be in touch'," Mr. Schue recited, as grins materialized in recognition. He held up the paper for all to see, pointing to the signature line. Instead of the curvy, almost scrawled handwriting they were expecting, it was a strange symbol of overlapping broad circles—Rachel's Loric name.

"Classy," Santana snorted.

"Let's go practice, then," Mr. Schuester decided, earning cheers. "We can't get sloppy and disappoint our anonymous sponsor, can we?"

"You guys go, I'll catch up," Puck remarked, waving them off, and waited until he was alone before raising his phone to his ear with a smirk.

"Nice one, Rach."

"I thought so," was the amused reply. "I am a lot richer than most countries in the world put together."

"Ever gonna send some of that down Puckzilla's alley?"

"Maybe for a Christmas gift."

"I'm Jewish," he protested indignantly. "And I thought you were too, for a long time."

"I'll be an honorary Jew," she teased. Puck laughed.

"Come back soon, you hear?" He requested, walking a ways down the sidewalk.

"I will. Keep an eye on Quinn for me, will you?"

"No problem. I'll guard her from Finn with a baseball bat if I have to."

"Something tells me that won't be necessary," Rachel mused, thinking of Finn's honesty, "but thank you."

"Gotcha. Well, send us one of those postcards, Berry. I know I want one."

"Will do, Noah."

Puck hung up and turned to follow the figures of his friends, whistling tunelessly under his breath.

Rachel stowed her phone on the seat and slid on a pair of sunglasses, eyes fixed on the horizon and Six on his motorcycle.

Lima would wait for her and for the first time in her life, she had a place to return to.

Thanks for reading this! I will do a sequel but I have no idea when that will be. Anyway, thanks again for sticking around so long!