Title: Two Kisses, One Coronation

[ladydreamer]

Series: No Day But Today
Title: Two Kisses, One Coronation
Pairings: Klaine, Rafe/Nick, Van/Finn
Includes: violence, zombies, bad sci fi, past mpreg
Rating: PG-13, language/violence
Summary: The refugees grieve, Mike leads the runners out for much needed supplies, and the survivors vote on their new leader.
Author’s Note: The scene in which everyone argues about everything was redundant and kind of boring, so I chopped it up into pieces, and touch on it throughout each person’s part. We’ll start jumping forward in time after this.



Some went hesitantly. Others shot right up. But in the end, every hand had raised into the air.

Van

The stench after four days was enough to make Van want to curl up in the basement with a blanket over her head. But this was something she had to do. It couldn’t wait any longer, and the impetus was only tangentially related to the rotting bodies. She tightened the small scarf she’d tied around her mouth and nose and lifted the front half of Brittany’s floral sheet-swaddled body. Myra appeared in the courtyard and moved towards Brittany’s feet.

“I can handle it,” Van said tersely.

“C’mon. You shouldn’t be doing that in your condition.” Myra crouched down by Brittany.

“Finn will be here, soon. Anyway, I don’t need to be coddled. I’m barely pregnant.” Van set Brittany down and eyed Myra fiercely. “And I’m stronger than I look.”

Myra rolled her eyes. “Just let me help you haul this thing.”

“It’s not a thing. It’s a friend.”

“Whatever. How about we get her in the dirt before her skin starts falling off.”

Van’s eyes narrowed into slits, and she slowly sucked in her cheeks. “You’re not making it hard to hope you’re the next to go.”

“Those of you who have never really experienced the wasteland don’t know,” Van spoke up. “However secure we think our location is, we have to stay on the move if we want to survive.”

“And is part of your best survival plan to get knocked up?” Deirdre snapped.

Van blinked in surprise at the woman, who had to Van’s remembrance had only ever spoken to her about Pippa’s baby clothes. Finn wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“What, you people get to carry on like a greeting card family, while the rest of us slave to support your mistakes?” Joseph’s widow Erica added bitterly.

“That’s a little unfair, Erica,” Burt scolded. “Condoms break, y’know. They slide off. Nothing’s perfect protection, and it never was.”

“This is like an oligarchy here, and all of us have to protect you with our lives,” Deirdre said. “If I’d been the one, or Erica or Myra-”

Myra frowned at the thought.

“-there would be no question about whether we got a choice whether to keep it or not.”

“That’s not how it is!” Finn argued.

“I’m not eager to live in a community where we force pregnancies or abortions,” Kurt interjected, with Blaine curled around him from behind, helping him sit up and nodding along. “Y’know, maybe that’s just me. I don’t really see see how it’s anyone else’s business.”

“I get the civil liberties thing, and I don’t plan on spontaneously impregnating myself, but we can’t afford to lose all our resources just because someone couldn’t keep their legs closed,” Myra argued.

Van turned from Myra and started arranging the pile of paper flowers around the graves and along the poles that some of the guys had put up before driving out.

Brittany would have wanted her funeral to be pretty.

“Don’t touch her!”

Van turned just in time to see Myra bolting for the houses. Santana stopped at the bodies and watched Myra go, then looked down. A thin line appeared in her brow as she studied the bodies. Her interest turned to panic and she dropped down, pawing at the linens.

Van moved to her side quickly, touching her shoulder. Santana looked up at Van with such ferocity that Van felt the urge to bolt for the houses herself.

Instead, she led Santana toward the holes dug by Finn and Forest that morning. “She’s over here.”

Santana looked down at Brittany, then moved to her side and began petting over the sheet. Her eyes searched, and she reached for the edge of the sheet folded over Brittany’s head.

Van covered her hands. “She’s not there anymore, honey. It’s been four days. You cannot let yourself look at her now.”

“I can if I want to,” Santana snapped.

“You are not five years old,” Van scolded. The tone of her voice surprised her, and Santana as well, who stared at her in disbelief. “What memories do you really want to keep? Because if you look at her now, that’s all you’ll be able to see. Don’t you want to hold onto your good memories with her? When she looked like herself?”

“She wasn’t herself when I last saw her!” Santana snarled.

“I’m sure it was better than this.” Van pulled her closer. “Please. Spare yourself this much. Okay? You don’t have to do this one. Just let us take care of her, and let her go.”

“I loved her so much. Not everyone got us. They didn’t understand...” Santana bowed her head. “Everyone thought she was just this ditzy blond. Y’know. Stupid. Or just vapid or silly, but... they didn’t get the wonderful, bright parts about her. How funny she was, and how sweet. She was the best dancer I’ve ever seen. Her body spoke through her movements.”

“In an hour, everyone’s going to be remembering her. You can say anything you want. You can tell them all what she was really like.” Van brought the girl to her chest and rubbed her back.

“Are you people serious? All the experience you have is being boring middle class white people. Some of you were useless out there, and you’d be dead if Papa Hummel hadn’t rounded us all and created a community of people to protect each other.” Santana shook her head. “I swear, the moment I can, I’m leaving you idiots.”

“No, Santana!” Saffire protested. Forest rubbed the girl’s shoulders and frowned deeply.

“I want to be the one who puts her down there,” Santana said.

With a nod, Van went to Brittany’s body again. Santana cradled her head, then lifted. Together, they lowered her into the ground. Santana scooted to the edge of the grave and dangled her feet over.

“I want to sing for her at the funeral. But I don’t think I can,” Santana admitted after a long silence. “I don’t want everyone staring at me.”

She looked up at the flowers. “Is Kurt okay with his wedding flowers doubling for the funeral?”

“It was his idea. He wanted everyone to remember how hard she worked on the ceremony.” Van settled next to her. “You know, the goodness and love she sent out into the world is still there. Even if people don’t quite realize it yet.”

Santana nodded slowly, her eyes still cast down.

“I know it’s not the same, but... I wasn’t sure I’d survive Jonah dying. Forget the walkers. Forget those men in Pennsylvania who hunted me for food. Forget the freaks, and weirdos, and rapists, and starvation, and exposure. When he went limp in my arms, I...” Van shook her head. It had been a while since she’d spoken about her boy, even with Finn. “I could barely make myself breathe. My insides hurt so much that I thought someone had shot me, blown a hole right through me. Literally. Not a metaphor. I thought I would expire right after him. It hurt that much.”

Santana looked up.

“It felt like a cruel joke, that I just kept on living. My world was over, but for some reason, my stupid heart kept on beating, and my traitor lungs kept taking in air. The sun kept coming up. I just couldn’t figure out why.”

“And you’re going to tell me how you got your groove back and learned to love life again?” Santana drawled.

“Hell no.” Van leaned back on her palms and looked up at the sun, which had sneakily crept high up into the sky. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

Santana chuckled and bounced her legs against the dirt.

“I feel like a bad mom,” Van admitted. “Life moves so fast now. I should still be grieving, and it’s not like I don’t think about him all the time. He’s still with me. I just have so many other things taking up space inside me... I can’t stop moving.”

“Why?”

“At first, I think it was just, I don’t know. Instinct. The drive to find your loved ones still alive. At some point, it was just this deranged habit. But right now?” Van closed her eyes and thought of Finn’s arms around her, and their child inside her. “I think... it’s because people are depending on me.”

“Huh.” Santana pulled one leg up, propped the arch of her foot against the side of the grave, and hugged her knee. “You look like a corpse bandit in that thing.”

Van sucked in her lips, suppressing a laugh. She replied, dryly, “It’s hard to be out in the courtyard without barfing kidneys at people... We might need to burn some incense out here until we hit the road.”

Santana snaked her hand around to take Van’s hand. “And you’re okay? Right? I mean, I don’t care, I just-”

“I’m fine. Do you think people didn’t talk the last time I was pregnant?” Van leaned toward her and smirked. “All the girls gaggled together at lunch talking about which teachers they thought were screwing me to the wall. I think they came up with Mr. Richards the band teacher, Mr. Katz in science, Culver in algebra, Senor Goldberg Spanish... even Mr. Barry who they called Barry Fairy, for a reason. I’m used to people thinking I’m a slut.”

“That sucks.”

Van shrugged. “I did actually spend a lot of time with Mr. Barry. He was my favorite. I was in detention all the time, and we hung around and sang Floyd and the Beatles and the Stones all the time.”

She caught Santana’s eye. “I was a mouthy brat when I was a tweenie.”

“Don’t listen to those bitches,” Santana spat fiercely. “And Myra and Erica are such a fucking cunts. Why does the only other lesbian around here have to be such a fucking cunt?”

“Luck of the draw,” Van mused. “The people left are all so awful. The others probably all went off to an island somewhere.”

Santana suddenly threw her head back and laughed. “They went to Lesbos!”

Van’s brows raised and soon she started to laugh as well. It was gruesome, and inappropriate, cracking up over Brittany’s grave like this. By the time Santana caught herself, there were tears rolling down her cheeks, but it was impossible to tell if they were from amusement or grief.

“If any of those bitches try to mess with you,” Santana said when she caught her breath, “Auntie Tana will wring ‘em out to dry. And I’m including Derek and any of those guy bitches, too. They’re the cattiest fucks I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, it helps my situation to have the King of Walkerland on our side.” Van squeezed her hand. “Does that mean you’re staying?”

“I can’t stand you,” Santana spat in Deirdre and Erica’s direction. “Any of you. You’re all so self-important idiots! Sucking off the teats of people who are stronger and better trained, and then you have the balls to say the people who got you out of this mess aren’t good enough? Think about what we’ve all lost before you start talking down to the people who are out there kicking ass and giving their lives for you!”

“I... I don’t know. I really don’t.” Santana looked back down into the grave. “Britt would’ve been so excited about another baby. So excited.”

Van watched Santana as she rambled on about Brittany, how they met, their best times together, Brittany’s fondness for cats... Her words grew from wobbly and weak to proud and fierce. She wiped her eyes every so often, and stared down at Brittany’s body in the grave.

When her voice started to trail off, Van rose, and held out her hand. Santana stood and looked into Van’s eyes. Her hand moved to Van’s cheek and she bent over and pressed her lips against the other cheek. One lip touched flesh, and the other scarf. The two young women held one another in the courtyard, until Finn showed up to help place the other bodies in their graves.

Mike

“So let’s all just try to stop being a swarm of judgy-bees, and focus on the more pressing problems that we have. Our biggest enemy right now isn’t walkers or even violent lunatics. It’s infection.”

The stern, high timbre echoed in Mike’s ears as he sat in the back of the tank, bouncing along with the bumps in the road. Tianna slumped over on her knees. Her breaths came slowly, and the crease in her brow said everything. Her big brother was recovering from serious trauma, her little brother was going off the rails, and she was in riding in the same tank she’d ridden on the way to their town, surrounded by brutes threatening her bodily integrity, and her life.

Mike watched her face and rubbed a hand over his mouth. He’d felt numb since the attack. Tina thought he really should be back at the town, participating in the grim preparations for the funerals. He really couldn’t be there, though. He couldn’t attend another funeral, even his mother’s.

Especially not his mother’s.

Maybe no one would understand that, but he knew inside that she would be proud of him for protecting their community as best he could. He just needed to grieve the loss of his family in his own way.

“So there’s this gold mine of supplies?” Nick said from the front seat. “Totally unguarded? Why the hell would you leave?”

“We were starving.” Tianna shrugged. “The creepers ate everything worth hunting nearby, and the closest city was picked clean... Don’t get me wrong.” She moved her fingers over the bandages on her hand. “Joining the Wastelanders was intensely stupid. But if they didn’t go back to the base to raid it, there’s probably more than just medicine there to take.”

“Probably?” Nick encouraged.

“When they had Twink and I tied up, the men started talking. They had an idea of where our base was, as well as some other settlements further west. So the place might already be looted.” She shrugged again, apologetically. “But I don’t think they’d find the meds. They were down in the lab, and the Wastelanders didn’t know they were there. Didn’t even ask about that.”

“Stupid,” Mike said. He continued to stare a the floor of the tank. “Guns aren’t even the best weapon you can have. They’re not even the first thing I’d hunt for, if I were on my own.”

“No. Water. Clean water first,” Tianna said. “That’s what you need most of all. You never think about how important water is, until you don’t have it, and your body is collapsing from the need of it.”

“Ditto with antibiotics,” Nick muttered.

After they’d returned from Operation “Get the Walkers off Our Damn Lawn” (as Rafe and Nick had referred to it), everyone had gathered in the sick house for a fight that had lasted for hours. At the end of it, the runners were out on their mission, grateful for an option that didn’t involve mounting a full attack on a walker-ridden and probably already stripped hospital.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Andre said. The tank started to slow. “So um... There are a lot of walkers around here.”

Nick sat up straighter, and Mike jerked up to see out the windows. A light blue mist hung around the air, obscuring their view.

“There was a group milling around the front of the base, but they were never that thick.” Tianna sat up and reached for a gun. “We can probably backtrack and sneak in through the back entrance.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Nick said. “They’re dead... er.”

Mike gripped the seat as the view out the window became clearer. Corpses were strewn everywhere. Not in piles, like they were stacked, but haphazardly. As though they’d just fallen down. “Maybe they’re lurkers. Incapacitated and waiting for easy prey? I saw a lot of those during our last supply run. The ones that made it out of the deep freeze are giving in to rot.”

“Gross,” Tianna said. “But good for us.”

Andre slowed the vehicle and narrowed his eyes. “No. They’re dead.”

“It looks like their brains exploded out of their ears,” Mike muttered.

“They- what?” Tianna pushed her way toward the front and leaned on Mike’s shoulder. “Ohh...”

“That’s not a good noise.”

The three men eyed her.

Tianna said nothing. She continued to stare out the window as they continued onward. They spotted the tanks at the same time. Wastelanders had come... and were still there.

Andre hit the breaks.

“Shit,” Nick said. “Um. Let’s just back away slowly?”

“They’re psycho-fucks from the Army of the Dumb,” Andre said. “But they’ll notice us backing up!”

Mike felt his body go still. Probably because the bodies there, littered on the ground, with the walkers, were fresh and human, but just as dead, with even more blood spilling out their ears.

“They’re not going to notice anything,” Mike said. “Whatever got the walkers got them, too.”

Tianna covered her mouth with her fingers and sat back on her heels.

“What the hell happened to them?” Nick rubbed his hand over his forehead. “We-we gotta get out of here. If Kurt isn’t lurking around here, I don’t want to know what would take out all those walkers and Wastelanders.”

“It’s the chemical gas,” Tianna said.

Mike looked at her seriously. Andre and Nick turned around.

“There’s a lab in the base. I was working on a gas that we could release to get rid of the walkers,” Tianna peeped.

“It looks like it works!” Andre yelled.

“How do you know it’s yours?” Mike asked.

“The blue... I wanted anyone coming through an area where it had been released to be able to see that it was still active as a warning.” Tianna looked around at them. “We can’t go out there without gas masks. It would only take minutes for the brain damage to kill us.”

“Well, thank Jesus we didn’t have the sun roof open!” Nick said.

“What the fuck do we do now?” Andre asked slowly.

Mike pressed his lips together and scanned around the car. “The gas doesn’t seem to be getting in the tank. It got them because they went out. You think there’ll be gas masks in the base?”

“I’m sure there will be, but we won’t be able to drive past the cars blocking the gate,” Tianna said.

“How long does it take to make your brain go boom?” Nick asked. He craned his head to the side, looking at their fallen enemies critically.

“I have no idea,” Tianna admitted. “I wasn’t able to test it on humans... and I never intended to. On walkers, it only takes a few seconds, but their tissues are already partially broken down.”

“So. We have to pull out of here and find some gas masks,” Mike said.

“Where?” Andre turned around again.

“Or I could run in there and get them,” Nick said.

“Oh, shut up,” Andre snapped.

“I can hold my breath for four minutes. I was on the swim team!”

“It’ll feel different when you’re scaling those cars,” Mike said. “You’ll lose it before you even get in.”

“No, I won’t!” Nick looked out again. “It’s not like anyone’ll be in my way. Just tell me where the masks are-”

“Are you dying to die?” Mike exploded. “We can get some masks and come back.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Right. How long are we going to search for gas masks? How far will the gas spread before then? How many of our people are gonna die of infection while waiting for us to finish the new mission to get the stuff to make it safe to finish this mission for antibiotics?”

The three of them went quiet.

Blood pounded in Mike’s ears. “I’m in charge of this mission. I’ll go.”

“No, lurch. You’ll take up more oxygen with your giant body,” Nick said. “And I’m not letting Blaine’s sister go. Not even if she wasn’t apparently some kind of mad scientist.”

Silence, again.

”Please, come back,” Tina whispered, holding him tight like she always did before he went out on a run.

“With everything you could ever need,” he replied.

“Don’t get me wrong. We need those antibiotics soon... but...” Tina pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “Come back. Just come back.”

There was a good chance that if Nick went out there, even if he got to the masks, he might not make it. But Mike knew the clock was ticking. They’d already lost so many good people.

Andre started turning the wheel. “Let’s just see how close I can get to the front... and then we’ll talk.”

Burt

“We were talking,” Mike spoke up. He waited for Kurt to give him a nod. “Yeah, um... we’re all willing to risk running a hospital. Infection’s a big deal, and I know this is part of the ‘oligarchy,’ or whatever, but I’m still want to try to find Burt some heart medication.”

Burt leaned over on his knees and folded his hands. “I appreciate that, but we need antibiotics, painkillers, and sterile gauze, first. This community needs their able-bodied.”

“We’ve lost enough people already,” Mike said. “Mom would have wanted me to try.”

There were power politics everywhere. No escaping that. Burt had realized very quickly that his confidence and experience as a businessman and community leader would only go so far once his health started to deteriorate.

He had hoped, though, that it wouldn’t happen quite so soon. He took Carol’s hand and leaned on her as she guided him out to the courtyard. Those remaining had gathered around five graves, with Santana, Erica, and Davan standing up front. Mike should have been there, but that boy would not be moved in his decision, and Burt had no place tellin’ anyone how to grieve. In the boy’s place, Forest went up to the front and took off his hat.

He and Tamara had grown close.

”It’s not for me. You really think they’d be interested in an old black man to lead them?”

“Better than this old, sick white man,” Burt replied.

“I don’t want it. All my decisions are Saffire. I can’t keep my head on the whole group the way you have. I don’t want to have to.”

“And you think he can? With his daughter?”

“At her age, I think having the group around and intact is the best thing for her. Same for Saff, but he’s less stubborn than us old men. The young’uns have always listened to other voices when they had the time.” Forest shook his head. “You built the way for ‘em. I’ll give ‘em every ounce of support I’ve got. Let’s face it. I’ll be in your boat, sooner or later.”

“Maybe. But Saffire’s not next in line for the throne.”

As Kurt came limping out, a few heads turned. Blaine was at his side, his arm around Kurt’s back in a gesture that read more as affection than necessity. Though it was, still. Kurt still had tight bandages around his thigh and shoulder, and his face wore the pallor of someone on the mend. If he had to run, his strength might not hold out.

But Burt believed that it would. It had so far.

The two young men reached the front. Kurt didn’t sit. He leaned against Blaine, but didn’t rest, and he looked out at the crowd and began to speak. His voice was its usual high timbre, but calm, and determined. Heads started to nod to his words. Tears fell.

Burt watched his son’s shoulders holding firm under the burden of what he had undertaken.

When Kurt looked back to the others standing by the graves, each in turn said a few words about their lost loved ones. Forest, of course, spoke on behalf of Tamara and Kate (though hardly anyone knew Kate very well). Davan spoke for Oscar, who they’d lost to his injuries two days after the attack, and Erica spoke, bitterly, for her husband.

When it was her turn, Santana stood there, eyeing the crowd as though she wanted nothing more than to take one of the Wastelanders’ rifles and shoot up the joint. Burt more and more wished they’d stolen a shrink or two when they’d done the skedaddle out of Toronto.

As the crowd started to mill, Kurt left Blaine’s side and stumbled on his bad leg.

Santana swooped in to catch him.

“Thanks for the lift,” Kurt joked.

Santana stared at him. Then her eyes flickered up to Blaine’s face. It was still marred by purple and yellow bruises. “I... uh...”

Kurt put his arm around her shoulders and took her hand.

“We do things a little differently. I think all of you guessed that when we lost Juni,” Kurt said, still watching Santana seriously.

Santana nodded. She began to sing... but the words caught in her throat and she dipped her head, covering her face as she hid from the crowd. Van slipped through the others and moved to her other side.

“For yo-ou,” Van sang. “There will be no more crying.”

“For you, the sun will be shining,” Kurt added.

Blaine joined in harmony, “And I feel that when I’m with you, it’s alright. I know it’s right.”

The three of them sang together, their voices clear over the silence that pervaded the courtyard, broken only by the occasional sob. Santana curled towards Kurt, her face burrowed into her shoulder, even as she supported his weight.

Van’s hand rubbed her back, and as the song came to a close, the people in the crowd were bowing their heads along with those publicly mourning up front.

Kurt’s lips were close to her ear as he spoke. Burt could only make out the words, “love you.”

Then Kurt’s eyes went to Blaine, who lifted his head with a nod.

“Now we’d like for anyone who has good memories of our fallen to come forward. Offer us a few moments of joy before we cover them with earth and pray that they keep what dignity they have left,” Blaine said solemnly.

Rafe spoke up immediately. He had a funny story for everyone. Even Kate. But he saved his last words to tell everyone about moments with Brittany, cutting her hair, talking with her about fairytales, and naming Butter Noodles over a fateful and disastrous attempt by the two of them to make dinner for the watchdogs when Kurt had been sick.

“I love that stupid cat,” he admitted.

Laughter rose through the group. Burt covered his mouth, smiling slightly. Stories came from different sides of the group, sharing their memories of the dead, trying to find a new way for them to live on.

When it seemed as though no one had any stories left, and Kurt and Blaine were moving to close the ceremony, Burt spoke up.

“When I first met Brittany, I didn’t know what to make of the girl. She was in my boy’s room. Makin’ out with him on the couch.”

Laughter came again.

“I told him to use protection, and she said something like... ‘You mean a burglar alarm?’”

This time, Santana looked up, a brow raised and her lips curving slightly. Yeah, that was her girl, alright. Only ever half-paying attention. Drifting along in the world she preferred to be in.

“We’ve all got funny stories about Britt. She was a funny gal. Probably unintentionally half the time, and intentionally more than people gave her credit for.” Burt breathed in and out slowly. “But after blowin’ off my son real unintentionally and on my way out to go spend ‘man time’ with Finn, she drifted by. Like a tumbleweed. And she told me, ‘Even unicorns get tired of their horns sometimes, even though that’s what makes them strong and special, because ordinary horses only want to play with each other.’”

He waited for a moment as the crowd stared blankly. “Yeah, my reaction, too. Until she mentioned Kurt was in the auditorium, practicing. I called off subs with Finn, and went to the auditorium, and there my son was, belting out this amazing, angry song.” He tugged on his ball cap. “The girl knew a thing or two. Her world was just different, but it was worth it to listen to her once and a while. As much as she was clueless, much like all the rest of us, she had her own wisdom, and a lot of kindness. And she was fierce as hell.”

He looked out over the group. They had gone silent, but were standing closer together.

“We’re all gonna miss you, Brittany.”

Nick

”I’ll pay your respects,” Rafe offered. “If you want.”

“I don’t know. I think I’d rather just see Brittany one more time.” Nick drew in a deep breath, then let one out, and took Rafe’s hand, sitting by his side. “I was thinking, you and me, we should stick close to Blaine and Kurt. Maybe join them in one of the tanks.”

“You think they’ll take one of them? Kurt probably wants to be able see the frontlines, when we start to move.”

“Yeah, maybe. But he’s hurt, and they have to protect the baby. Put that tank on the inside, protect them... and he can still pop up through the roof and nail walkers from about 60 yards.” Nick leaned into him. “Think about it.”

Rafe’s thin, pink lips curved, and in a moment of uncharacteristic, unfiltered affection, he leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against Nick’s cheek.

It made Nick’s heart pound, trilled with the prospect of having someone by his side.

“You just don’t want me somewhere I’d have to run,” Rafe chided.

“I really don’t.”

The pressure in Nick’s chest was starting to build. Andre had knocked a few cars out of the way to give Nick a fighting chance. Mike had argued again, halfheartedly, for him to stay. But when that nonsense was done, Mike and Tianna climbed up into the front and Andre hit a button that put a shield between the front and the back of the tank. Nick had taken a deep breath, then opened the doors and sprung out.

Nick ran.

He’d only had to scale one car, then bound across the tops of the others. It was faster, and gave him a running start when he made it to the gate. It was slightly cracked, so he prepared himself for the possibility that someone might be in there...

And there was. Not that he had time to think about it, but he spotted an old man by the gate, slumped against the doors with blood and some pinkish-beige tissue oozing out his ears.

The sight brought the memory of Jeff’s slick insides spilling out of him.

Nick bolted toward the left, where Tianna had indicated the room with the gas masks would be. He was only halfway across the courtyard, and already his throat was burning, his face felt numb, and his eyes watered painfully. His body screamed for air, and tried to force him to take a breath, but such a revolt would leave him dead on the ground.

Every wrong door was lost seconds, every step brought him closer to a lung-full of blue brain-exploding death. He couldn’t have been out of the car more than a minute, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up.

Rafe sawed off his whole fucking leg and dragged himself to safety! Nick shouted in his mind. You can make it a few more feet!

When he flung open a door and his eyes lit on the cage behind the desk with gas masks, Nick felt the urge to do a hitch kick... but he didn’t have the energy or the audience. Instead, he lunged for them, grabbed the first one he could get his fingers on, and pulled it over his face.

As he forcefully drew in his first breath, Nick slumped over the desk, letting his head fall limp. He really hadn’t been sure he would be able to do this, but coming back empty-handed wasn’t an option. Not with so many people depending on them. He blinked several times, willing the irritation in his eyes to go away and sucking in the cleared air. For a moment he was afraid that the mask wouldn’t be able to deal with this crazy destructo-gas that Tianna had come up with, but he figured he would be choking and dying by now if it weren’t.

He opened the cage all the way and looked at the masks available. There were seven. He could bring three back, and together they could strip the place dry. No need to let those extra Wastelander tanks go to waste. Not when they could haul back as much medicine as this place had, and not when they could use the extra space in the tanks to let their injured ride easy.

He hopped out of the office feeling super smug. He couldn’t wait to ham this story up for Rafe. True, maybe Nick hadn’t been an Alpha gay before, but if two people clicked, and liked one another, maybe even loved one another, why let anything as dumb as gender get in the way? Nick knew Rafe’s perspective on that was a little different; he’d been pegged as gay all of his life, even before he was old enough to really understand what people were reacting to. But since they were both guys, it didn’t make a damn difference, and it just lightened Nick’s heart to know he had such a great person to come home to.

His vision blurred just slightly as Nick made it back out into the open. He jerked his head around for a moment. He’d thought he’d seen something, but as he stared at the open area around him, there was life nowhere. Had he imagined it? Expected to see something?

He moved more quickly. He was starting to feel dizzy, and that worried him. An annoying sound seemed to come from above. Not a bell, and not a whine, but something constant and grating. What if the masks didn’t filter out enough? What if...?

Nick slammed into a car. He shook his head and decided against the heroic leap over them. He slunk his way through, grip tightly on the masks, steadying himself against the cars. He stumbled back towards the open, waiting doors of the tank.

When he hit his target, falling into rather than climbing into the back of the tanks, he let himself go. His head shook vigorously, but he could hear the others around him, murmuring nonsense strings of words. Every so often, he though he could piece part of it together, but it was all muffled. Like he was underwater.

“...the gas...?” Mike asked.

Nick’s brain seemed to fill up with lead, and his head fell back against the floor. When it hit the floor again, he realized his body was seizing, and then as hands pressed against his quaking body, blackness spilled over everything.

Kurt

The room exploded in the whole mess of arguments.

“So who do you dumbfucks suggest as our leader?” Andre bellowed.

The room went quiet. He crossed his arms and waited.

“How about you?” Derek suggested.

There were a few nods, but Andre pursed his lips and shook his head.

“No way. I was a soldier once, but I’m no leader.”

Kurt leaned on a stick and made his way out to the wall. It was slow going, but like anything in this world, there was sacrifice. A trade-off. His energy for the day would go to something much more important. He began to scale the stairs slowly, the cool air ruffling through his shaggy, chestnut hair. The weather was changing fast.

David shook his head. “More than anything else, I don’t want turn into one of those monsters. And I’m not talking about the walkers.”

“Official, this time. Before you let Burt and me rise to the front because you didn’t know what to do, and we had action to take,” Forest said. “Now, let’s make it official. Who do you want to be responsible?”

By the time he’d reached the top, he knew that Santana had heard him wheezing on the way up. Maybe he should have brought Blaine. Though there was a chilliness between them lately, and he wasn’t sure why.

“It’s getting dark,” Kurt said quietly as he approached.

“That’s why you need someone on the wall, right? Look out for walkers? And our guys comin’ back?” She leaned over onto her forearms, crossbow in one hand as she scanned the horizon.

“True. But it’s someone else’s turn. The guys and Tianna might not be back for a while.”

Santana nodded once. Kurt limped to her side.

“I want you to stay,” he said firmly.

“Is that so, your Highness?” she replied with a sneer that didn’t quite stick.

Kurt took her fingers.

“It’s not politically correct, but I want a queer in charge,” Andre said bluntly. “I served with gay guys, y’know. It’s a fact. He’s lived in an unfair world all his life, and he’s still got empathy in him to protect our rights, and he’s not too proud to ask his daddy, or Forest, or me, or his husband, or Mike, or any of the girls who know medicine, what they think. That’s who I want in charge. Not some violent ass like me.”

“That’s so.” Kurt tilted his head to the side and watched her face, still lined in grief. This was going to take some time. He was a little amazed that she’d come so far, so quickly. “It’s dangerous out there alone. More dangerous, when you don’t exactly want to be alive.”

She faced him slowly, and her eyes turned on him a glare made of loss and ire.

“You’ll die out there, because you want to.”

“I’m not going to die.”

“Then stay?” Kurt waited a moment for her to say something, anything. “If you can’t bear to be around anyone, we can have you leading the pack as a scout. You’re very quick on your feet. I trust you.”

“But not enough to leave me the fuck alone,” she spat. Santana looked at the ground then, and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s o-”

“I’m sorry for what I did to Blaine. I’m sorry I keep attacking you.”

Kurt’s heart thudded so forcefully at the mention of Blaine that it felt like the organ might knock him over with its vigor. “Santana.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself,” she insisted. “You can stop worrying.” Lines creased in the sides of her eyes. “There are still people here I want to protect.”

Kurt nodded slowly. “Good. That... That kind of helps... Van? And Saff?”

“Yeah.” She looked back at the setting sun, then turned to Kurt, and kissed his lips gently.

Kurt’s body stilled. The affection held him fast in place.

“And you,” Santana said. “And your little girl. She’s gonna be a hellcat. I can tell.”

“She’ll have the best survivors as her teachers,” Kurt murmured. Though he didn’t like to think of what Pippa would face, growing up in this world.

“I’ll help you back down.” It was as much an order as an offer. She slipped her arm around his back and moved with him back to the stairs. “How’s it feel?”

“I’m used to it.” Kurt took in a deep breath and let his weight fall to her. Santana was stronger than she looked. “Pain doesn’t phase me much anymore.”

“No, dummy. Not your gunshot wounds.” Her eyes set upon him, all darkness and searching. “Being in charge.”

Some went hesitantly. Others shot right up. But in the end, every hand had raised into the air.

Kurt looked around the sick house. Somehow, he was still in disbelief. Even if Andre had been calling him ‘boss’ for a week. Even if more and more decisions fell to him. Even if this vote had been building, the longer they argued about things both trifling and critical.

He was the leader.

“I’m still setting into that one.” His own voice sounded a bit alien to him. It was like he’d become a new person over night. But everyone had apparently seen this person for a long time. Long enough to feel oppressed by his dominance, which was a bizarre thing to think about. Kurt looked up at the sky and shook his head. “I’ve never thought of myself as a leader. I never was, not back in the world you and I lived in. In Ohio, I was just another voice in the chorus.”

“Oh, bull. I remember all those times you called the club aside when Schue wasn’t looking, giving us advice on what to do about Rachel, how to avoid harassment from the yearbook photos, when to hold interventions, or sing songs for people who were down on their luck. You can do this.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe nothing. Those morons finally realize that you and Blainers saved their lives.” Santana stopped, staring at the grave site where the paper flowers had wilted from the afternoon rain. “Where are we going to go?”

Kurt raised his brows and shrugged his shoulders all at once. “That I do know. I’m sure of it. It’s the only place for us.”

He took a breath. “We’ll leave as soon as the boys get back. Tina and David can treat on the road.”

“Yeah, but...” Santana’s arm circled around his. “Where?”

“I know where we’re going,” Kurt promised. “I’m just not sure it exists yet.”

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