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Series: No Day But Today
Title: Safftana
Pairs: background Kurt/Blaine, Nick/Rafe
Word Count: 4337~
Includes: Zombies somewhere out there, mpreg
Summary: Santana adjusts to her new role in the group. Saffire watches and worries.
AN: At least I got one part done over the break. The last of these pondery road parts, I think. Back to action in the next section.
The wind lifted the stray strands of hair escaping from the mess of braids on the top of Santana’s hair. The motorcycle hummed pleasantly underneath her. (Properly fitted with a muffler by one Burt Hummel to keep the noise to a modest growl.) The gas mask pressed tight against her face. Her bones tingled, aware that every living soul she knew was riding behind her, depending on her.
Santana felt free. She felt fierce.
She was a dyke on a bike.
”Think you can turn the heat you gave me on those things?” Blaine asked.
Santana looked up from where she was tossing a bag into one of the middle tanks they were reserving for the injured, old, and infantile. Then? The horizon. The shuffling.
“Shit.” Santana met Blaine’s eye. Then he looked back to the group behind them. Finn was carrying a limp-bodied Nick into one of the tanks. Burt was cradling Pippa with a doting grin. Saffire dawdled, unnoticed, by the wall of the town. Kurt limped forward, leaning on a cane, with Rafe hobbling at his side. Van leaned against one of the frontrunner cars, rubbing her middle and catching her breath.
Santana picked up a crossbow and a pickaxe, shaking her head. “Dead things don’t know what they’ve stumbled their asses onto.”
Darkness glinted in Blaine’s eyes, and he led the way to the approaching herd.
There had been blood, splatter. Her arms had moved as free as if she’d been dancing. Their anger unleashed, Santana and Blaine were a terror of their own.
And Santana loved that.
She kept her eyes sharp and her head clear. She was a bit ahead of the group. That was her job. Her life. To spot dangers ahead and to send back warnings. Tianna, little Blainers’ even littler big sister, had insisted that Santana wear a gas mask... just in case. Not that Santana minded. With the mask, the black leather jacket, the weapons tied to her chest and bound to her legs and slung across her back, and the braids Saff had woven into her hair, she looked absolutely dreadful. It was funny how she relished that, when her power had once come from people draw in by her beauty.
She sped forward. Horror on wheels.
Santana slowed when the walkie talkie came to life, then stopped to wait for the others to trade out drivers and shuffle people around. She scanned the area around her. The chill had gone from the air. Often, she’d had to slow to pound out a few walkers with her crossbow. No point in letting them collect into a herd.
Something moved by the trees and she whipped her bow into the air. Though not as good a shot as Kurt, or as good at flinging herself through the air as Brittany had been, Santana was really better with melee. She wasn’t going to try that without someone at her back, however. Leaving them blind to the road ahead wasn’t an option.
The figure staggered forward. Her eyes flickered over the familiar motion, and seconds later, her arrow sunk into its eye rotted out socket.
Bossman Kurt would be proud. Her lips curved, wickedly, and she repositioned her bow and waited for the others to signal the go-ahead.
***
Santana’s bike circled around the camp once before slowing to a stop. She looked out over the circled cars, the people milling around.
So exposed.
In the middle of the circle, sitting with Pippa in his arms, Burt Hummel. Her cries triggered alarm in Santana’s heart. They had guards posted around the camp, but still. The sound carried. And there were sounds the walkers responded to more readily: gunfire, cars, and human voices.
She entered the camp, cautious. To her amusement, there were those who eyed her in a similar way, and kept their distance. She was fine with that. Others smiled at her as they moved around the camp. Van, who was cooking over a small fire, gave her a wave.
Santana felt her lips curve, involuntarily.
“No, no, ah!”
Her head whipped around to see Nick wriggle out of Rafe’s grasp and bolt across the dirt with his hands over his face.
“Honey! Wait!”
Nick stumbled and fell to the ground. No wonder, since he had been covering his eyes, but she’d seen him stumble before. His coordination was off by more than a little. Santana moved to his side and touched his shoulder.
“Hey. Auntie ‘Tana got you a gift while she was out. Do you wanna see?”
“No.” Nick curled forward.
Santana’s palm spread over his back, and she rubbed a broad circle. Then she reached into her pack and pulled out a pair of sleek, black wrap around sunglasses, with violet lenses. “It’s okay. It’s bright out here, I know. And you’re just too cool for all this, huh? You Warblers.”
Nick looked up through slitted lids, wincing as his head lifted and his eyes caught the sun. Santana slipped the shades over his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, but his head sagged a little.
“Long trip in that tank, huh?” She smiled. She took Nick’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to Rafe. I think you scared him.”
“I’m not scary. You’re scary... ow.” Nick rose with her, then looked down at his legs. The fabric over his left knee had grown wet and dark.
“You got me, Nicolai. I’m scary.” Santana winked at him and stayed close. “Think you busted your knee a little when you fell.”
“Yeah.”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
Nick stopped for a moment, then held the side of his head. She lead him back to Rafe, who had grabbed his cane and come stumbling their way. Rafe met her eye, then reached for Nick.
“I hurt my knee,” Nick muttered.
Rafe put his hand around the back of Nick’s neck and kissed his forehead. “Well, we’ll go let Tina look at it, huh?”
“His head’s hurting again,” Santana said. She combed her fingers through Nick’s hair.
“Thank you for getting him the sunglasses.” Rafe had never sounded so sincere about anything.
Except maybe at Brittany’s funeral. But even then, there had been jokes, fond ones of course, but jokes nonetheless, layered in for the benefit of those listening and mourning. At the moment, Rafe was not at his most audience aware. There was only one audience member he cared to play for.
Her chest ached, watching them. Their heads dipped together, and Rafe kissed Nick’s nose.
”I think my cat is reading my diary,” Brittany murmured.
Santana frowned and tilted her head. It took her a moment to respond, but then, “Nosy bastard.”
“He is!”
“You should steal his diary and read it right back.”
Brittany nodded seriously. “I have to find it...”
“I thought I could run,” Nick murmured.
“We can practice walking together. I’m not so good, either,” Rafe said fondly. “Don’t worry. Just don’t. Nothing is insurmountable.”
As Santana walked alongside them, she spotted David standing by himself, eyes following them. He looked away, glaring daggers at Blaine’s sister, who was, in turn, scowling at her older brother as she changed his bandages and giving him short, serious commands to behave himself.
Santana had stopped wanting to put a bullet in Cooper (at least when his mouth was closed), but it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would blame Tianna for their group’s troubles. Rafe sure didn’t. Tianna might have created the gas, but she wasn’t the moron to had set it off outside the lab. That had to be the old guy they left behind, who had panicked when the Wastelanders showed up. Then his brain went kerplewie along with everything else’s.
And almost Nick’s.
Nick didn’t blame her. But it wasn’t like he realized most of the time why his last clear memory came from months ago. Though, the fact that he could remember anything clearly at all now was an anodyne to all who cared about him.
Santana took Nick’s arm as they sat him down on the open back hatch of Tina’s tank. The “med-tank.” But Tina was nowhere in sight, and Tianna came over after a moment with bandages in hand.
Her eyes moved over Nick’s face, shining just slightly. Then she gave him a warm smile and rolled up his pant leg to see to his knee. Her small hands moved tenderly, slowly. Nick winced, but didn’t complain or seem overly distressed by the pain, and yet she was so, so careful.
Inattentive to the woman patching up his knee, Nick laughed suddenly as Rafe took his hand, then turned his head and nuzzled their noses together.
“Hey, sweetie,” Rafe said, pleasantly surprised.
Nick bit his lip, then pressed his lips to Rafe’s in a quick, tender peck. Their eyes met, and Rafe’s seemed to get a bit misty. Tianna pulled Nick’s pant leg down and looked at them briefly. Santana made a shooing motion with her hand. Tianna touched her lips, smiled a little, then left quietly. Nick’s hand cupped Rafe’s face, and he grinned dopily.
Santana touched Rafe’s shoulder, then also left the lovebirds to themselves.
***
Santana looked so scary now, Saffire thought. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to be just like her, if she grew up.
The first night that Saffire had joined the others for dinner in the refugee housing, due to her dad being out looking for Blaine, Santana had stuck close to Brittany, for the most part. Made a few coarse jokes, which Mama Chang had given her scolding looks for. The group chatted back and forth so easily. They were like a big family. Everyone knew each other, and that was strange, because for the last year, it had been a world of strangers and cannibals.
After dinner, she’d headed upstairs to bed, her heart pounding in her ears, overrun with worry for her dad, for Kurt and the little baby, even for Blaine.
Life had trickled on, and once they’d put their survivor town together, once Juni had died, Saffire continued to be something of an outsider among the group. She was the only kid among adults, and unlike Juni (maybe because of Juni), no one was letting her into the inner sphere of adulthood. She stuck close to Kurt and Blaine, and babysat, and hung out with Brittany when she seemed focused enough to play with her and teach her moves, and then somehow, slowly, Santana became like her sister.
“It’s okay,” Santana whispered, her lips twitching with mischief.
“Nothin’s okay,” she’d replied.
“You’re scared he won’t come back, but he will. I promise.” Santana’s slim, soft fingers trailed across her temple. “I’m a Blacktina. You stick with me.”
“What’s, um. What’s a black Tina?”
“Mom was black. Dad latino. I won’t let anyone leave you behind. If shit goes down, you stick near me and Brittany.”
“I didn’t think anyone would leave me because I’m black...”
“No, nobody here would. But it’s hard to tell who to trust, right?”
She took Saffire’s hand and led her into the house to wait for Brittany to return.
Back when they’d first met, Santana was slender and soft, wearing worn but on trend clothing. Now, with her goggles pulled back and her braids bouncing against her shoulders, guns strapped to her thighs and crossbow on her back... Saffire shivered.
Santana settled next to Van, who had just passed out some food to the people awake and unoccupied, and began rubbing her shoulders. Their voices mingled softly, sweet tones floating through the quiet air. The group was vulnerable when they were stopped. Even if they had people on the perimeter all the time.
Santana’s hand touched Van’s stomach. It was poking out already. Saff had seen it, when it wasn’t hidden by clothes, when Finn pulled her shirt up, pulled her tiny body to him and gave her little belly a kiss. Van was strong in her way, but she seemed so much smaller next to Finn, even as her belly got bigger.
“-not too bad. It’s a little strange, being on the sidelines. But our set-up means I can still help, at least in a different way. It’s funny, though, since when Kurt was doing this, he was the heavy when it came to fighting. I’m popping up through rooftops and picking them off from afar.”
“Yeah.” Santana curled her fingers around Van’s. “And Kurt ended up hospitalized. Since most of the hospitals are overrun by walkers, try not to be a burden, huh?”
Van chuckled.
“Just put up on some fuzzy slippers and sit back. None of us need to mourn anyone else.”
“I don’t plan on needing mourning.” Van’s hand settled on her middle. “Imagine Finn trying to be a father alone?”
Santana’s arm draped around her shoulders. “He’s got a lot of people rooting for him, and Kurt would do everything to make sure the kid was okay. I mean, he’s already feeding the one. And we’d all love the crap outta the little brat. But it wouldn’t be right. Life would get harder without you around, and since it’s not a picnic right now, do us a favor and survive.”
Van’s head rested on Santana’s shoulder. Then her head turned slightly and she whispered something.
“Yeah, I know. She always...” Santana turned her head and looked right at Saffire. “Haay, girl. C’mon over. I don’t get to spend as much time with you guys as I used to.”
Saffire hesitated. She hadn’t been hiding. Just standing there, watching. Like she did almost every day. Tentatively, she took a few steps towards them, then broke into a run until she jerked to a stop at Santana’s side.
Santana’s other arm went around her, pulling her close. “How’s the trip going, galfriend?”
“Okay. We’re trying to get Nick to remember more stuff. And to get Pippa to sleep, because she doesn’t like traveling. And Kurt and Blaine are writing a song.” Saffire rested her head against Santana’s side. She smelled like sweat, and blood, and a sort of sweet scent that was almost like berries and flowers and maybe a caramel latte. It clung to Saffire’s clothes whenever she was near Santana. And she liked it.
Santana’s hand, once soft, now calloused and proud, rubbed over Saffire’s shoulder and she leaned over to kiss her hair.
Saffire’s eyes lifted as Mike leapt over the ring of cars and headed for Kurt in the middle of the camp. Santana petted Saffire’s head once more and quickly moved to join them. Saffire drifted towards them, but they almost immediately scattered apart, with Kurt hobbling back to the car, and Mike leading Santana, David and a few others back out to the perimeter.
Van’s small hands touched Saffire’s shoulders. “C’mon, we need to be on the move.”
“What’s happening? Why did they leave? Santana’s tired from the road, too. She should come with us!”
Van moved her back toward the cars, and in minutes the camp was mobile and on the road, and Saffire had her nose pressed against the window. But she couldn’t see where their fighters had gone.
***
“Hey there, little girl.”
Saffire turned to see her father. Hair gone mostly to gray, gun by his side. He was wearing the long leather trench with the shin-guards.
“I saw Van poke up top t’help pick off the part of the herd. That was you drivin’, huh? You come a long way, girl.” His hand touched her, and her chest felt like it was swelling up. “Speak.”
“I c’n reach the pedals better now.” She searched his face a little anxiously. “Were you with the guard today? Did you...?”
“Naw, I was popping up outta the car, just the same. Kurt’s got me in one of the trailin’ cars, watchin’ our behinds.”
“I wish I could stay with you there,” she muttered.
“No good. I want you in the middle cars. Stick with Kurt and Blaine-”
“I’m not a baby!” Saffire protested. “I’m thirteen now! I can fight just like anybody else!” His hand touched her cheek. “Saff.”
“And I’m not broken, either. You don’t have to keep me with the babies and the people who can’t take care of themselves, because I can.”
“But you shouldn’t have to. I want you to stay safe. I want you to stay normal.” His hand moved around her back, then rubbed her shoulders as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I can give this to ya, right now. With Kurt and Blaine and Burt in charge, I can give ya this. Let me. ‘Cause I dunno how long you’ll be allowed it.”
Saffire dipped her head into her father’s chest.
“We shoulda done for little Juni. No matter how useful she was. We shoulda protected her more.”
“That wouldn’t happen. I’d be careful... I could... I could go with Santana. I could be her backup.”
His hands squeezed her shoulders. “It’s awful dangerous what she’s doin’ out there. Keepin’ an extra eye on you might make it hard for her to get outta a tight spot, if she had to. Best let her mind her own back for now.”
Saffire’s lips bowed downward. “I don’t want ‘er to go. I don’t want her out there. An’ I don’t want you on the back cars or runnin’ around with the guard.”
“I know. I know, hon.”
She flung her arms around him and shuddered. There were nights when she wished it was over, and she was alone already. And then it made her scared to even think that. If she thought it, she didn’t want to make it happen.
“Baby girl, we can’t stop fightin’. We can’t. And everything I got is goin’ to protecting you. Santana, too. She cares about you.”
“Yeah. But she’ll still die if she gets overrun up there!”
Her father lowered down and wiped tears from her cheeks. “We all can die, princess. Every last one of us can, no matter how many weapons, or how hot we think our shit is.”
Saffire let out a sob, and clung harder.
“Together, we make it less likely, huh?” Forest rubbed his hand between her shoulder blades. “We’re all playin’ parts to make that not happen, an’ right now we need you on the inside.”
“They do not. They don’t need me. I’m just the kid that hangs around all the time.”
“I need you safe,” he said sharply. “Santana could use a human connection, y’know. You realize that, huh? Everyone needs someone t’hold onto. An’ Kurt. Blaine. Kurt needs an extra set o’hands for that kid. He’s exhausted, y’know.”
Saffire sniffed, then nodded. “Yeah. It’s been tough on the road... I just miss you. I hate being separated from you. What if something happens?”
“If somethin’ happens, you know who you c’n go to t’be safe. I ain’t gonna say nothin’ will. It might. But if it does, you stick close to the people who care ‘about you. Then maybe they’ll let ya run around on the fringes of the group. Doubt it, though. We all want you an’ Pippa to get the chance to grow up.”
“How come no one’s worried about Kurt havin’ the chance to grow up? He’s only four years older than me. Tina, too. Blaine and Nick are only five. They’re not that much older.”
Forest’s brows raised. “Okay. Point.”
Saffire rolled her eyes as he pinched her cheek.
“Let’s getcha those four years. Then we’ll talk about you blazin’ around on a motorbike shootin’ up walkers.”
***
Sleep was occasionally necessary. Even for a terrifying motorcycle-riding hellbitch. Santana stared up at the roof of the tank with her arm draped over her forehead. Her thoughts weren’t on sleep. They drifted to the bite Mike had taken the day before dealing with the strays that had collected on their tails. He wasn’t showing any symptoms, but it was the first real test of their immunity. Her thoughts were on Van. These days any pregnancy was “high risk.” Her thoughts were on Nick, who murmured restlessly beside them. Her thoughts were on Andre taking the front watch. He had better not fuck up her bike.
At least the herd hadn’t been big enough to force a detour. They’d already been derailed once by major roads being destroyed, by what looked like a bomb being dropped. Because that had worked so well in Toronto. Lord save them from well intentioned outsiders.
Familiar hands, strong and delicate, touched her shoulders and moved over her tense muscles. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself hear a voice, sweet and detached from the world:
“Sleep, sleep. I’ll take care of you. Like I promised.”
But that was not the voice speaking to her. The voice was still as distinctive as ever, but now, it was undergirded with sheer tenacity. Kurt was growing up before their eyes and ears. Maybe being the boss of everything had something to do with it. Or being lucky to have lived just long enough for that puberty thing to take hold.
“Andre can handle this,” was what Kurt had actually said. Though the tone beneath the words... They spoke the way that Brittany’s would have. They’d never been friends, her and Kurt. Not really. She’d pushed him away too hard. But now, with pretense and high school politics stripped away...
He was one of those people she couldn’t live without.
“Have you slept?” she asked peevishly.
“No,” he replied. His fingers moved to her temples. “We’re on the alert, still. I have to be ready in case Andre or Myra give us word that someone is at our back... or there is danger ahead.”
“That’s not exactly a lullaby.” She opened one eye at him.
He smiled lopsidedly.
Saffire slipped up to her side, snuggling in quietly like a pushy cat, and rested her head against Santana’s chest. Santana closed her eyes again and petted Saffire gently. The warmth of her small body was comforting.
“Sleep, okay?” Saffire’s voice pleaded.
“Tryin’.”
Kurt’s strong hands massaged her shoulders for a moment longer before disappearing. Then she heard him talking over the walkie:
“All clear on this end.”
“Thanks, Andre. Looks like we might have a quiet night for once. Keep us updated?”
“No problem, bossman.”
Santana reached behind her. After a moment, Kurt’s hand touched hers. He hesitated for another moment, and Santana looked back to see him giving his sleeping husband and child a kiss. Then he came over to her, on her other side, and laid down.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to babysit me. You should be with Blaine,” Santana instructed.
“I don’t want to disturb him trying to get to sleep,” Kurt murmured. “Besides, it’s easier to relax when there are people near you. You know that you’re safe, and you’ll need that, if you want to get back on the road, anytime soon.”
Santana leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Go. I’ve got my little Saffy here.”
“Yep!” Saffire’s muffled voice asserted. The girl didn’t open her eyes, or even move.
Kurt looked between them, and then returned to Blaine’s side, wrapping around him. Blaine woke briefly, muttering nonsense, but fell right back asleep and laid his head against Kurt’s shoulder.
It was funny, with her hair down, her weapons set aside, and this girl curled into her... Santana rolled over on her side, trying to make her busy mind slow down.
”Oh my GOD, Lupe, get OUT!” Santana threw a hairbrush at her pesky little sister peeking her head in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Her big brown eyes remained fixed on the bed.
“Scissoring!” Brittany said cheerfully.
“We were going to...” Santana leapt up wearing only her underwear, grabbed her sister by the arm, and tossed her into the hallway. “Stay the fuck out of my room, rodent!”
A noise escaped Santana’s throat. Her arm curled more tightly around Saffire.
“It’s okay,” Saffire whispered. She snuggled into Santana’s body.
“Thanks for the sleepover. Don’t want me getting scared of the dark.”
Saffire giggled.
“I mean it. I know I’m a bitch. But thanks for the company.”
“You’re never like that with me,” Saffire protested.
“Hope not.” Santana sighed. “Go to sleep.”
Haunted was probably the best word for how Santana felt when she left herself alone with her thoughts. Haunted, helpless. But by day, she was a warrior who kept the warm bodies of those she loved safe. She wasn’t sure she could reconcile that with being with those people, but being a sister or a friend wasn’t too far from what she knew from before. She could fold it in. Maybe be better at it this time. Being a front runner for the group, taking those lives in her hands, it made her feel like she could do anything. Maybe she couldn’t... but she would take that feeling right back out there onto the road where it made them all strong.
And in here? She would sleep with her sister by her side.
Title: Safftana
Pairs: background Kurt/Blaine, Nick/Rafe
Word Count: 4337~
Includes: Zombies somewhere out there, mpreg
Summary: Santana adjusts to her new role in the group. Saffire watches and worries.
AN: At least I got one part done over the break. The last of these pondery road parts, I think. Back to action in the next section.
The wind lifted the stray strands of hair escaping from the mess of braids on the top of Santana’s hair. The motorcycle hummed pleasantly underneath her. (Properly fitted with a muffler by one Burt Hummel to keep the noise to a modest growl.) The gas mask pressed tight against her face. Her bones tingled, aware that every living soul she knew was riding behind her, depending on her.
Santana felt free. She felt fierce.
She was a dyke on a bike.
”Think you can turn the heat you gave me on those things?” Blaine asked.
Santana looked up from where she was tossing a bag into one of the middle tanks they were reserving for the injured, old, and infantile. Then? The horizon. The shuffling.
“Shit.” Santana met Blaine’s eye. Then he looked back to the group behind them. Finn was carrying a limp-bodied Nick into one of the tanks. Burt was cradling Pippa with a doting grin. Saffire dawdled, unnoticed, by the wall of the town. Kurt limped forward, leaning on a cane, with Rafe hobbling at his side. Van leaned against one of the frontrunner cars, rubbing her middle and catching her breath.
Santana picked up a crossbow and a pickaxe, shaking her head. “Dead things don’t know what they’ve stumbled their asses onto.”
Darkness glinted in Blaine’s eyes, and he led the way to the approaching herd.
There had been blood, splatter. Her arms had moved as free as if she’d been dancing. Their anger unleashed, Santana and Blaine were a terror of their own.
And Santana loved that.
She kept her eyes sharp and her head clear. She was a bit ahead of the group. That was her job. Her life. To spot dangers ahead and to send back warnings. Tianna, little Blainers’ even littler big sister, had insisted that Santana wear a gas mask... just in case. Not that Santana minded. With the mask, the black leather jacket, the weapons tied to her chest and bound to her legs and slung across her back, and the braids Saff had woven into her hair, she looked absolutely dreadful. It was funny how she relished that, when her power had once come from people draw in by her beauty.
She sped forward. Horror on wheels.
Santana slowed when the walkie talkie came to life, then stopped to wait for the others to trade out drivers and shuffle people around. She scanned the area around her. The chill had gone from the air. Often, she’d had to slow to pound out a few walkers with her crossbow. No point in letting them collect into a herd.
Something moved by the trees and she whipped her bow into the air. Though not as good a shot as Kurt, or as good at flinging herself through the air as Brittany had been, Santana was really better with melee. She wasn’t going to try that without someone at her back, however. Leaving them blind to the road ahead wasn’t an option.
The figure staggered forward. Her eyes flickered over the familiar motion, and seconds later, her arrow sunk into its eye rotted out socket.
Bossman Kurt would be proud. Her lips curved, wickedly, and she repositioned her bow and waited for the others to signal the go-ahead.
Santana’s bike circled around the camp once before slowing to a stop. She looked out over the circled cars, the people milling around.
So exposed.
In the middle of the circle, sitting with Pippa in his arms, Burt Hummel. Her cries triggered alarm in Santana’s heart. They had guards posted around the camp, but still. The sound carried. And there were sounds the walkers responded to more readily: gunfire, cars, and human voices.
She entered the camp, cautious. To her amusement, there were those who eyed her in a similar way, and kept their distance. She was fine with that. Others smiled at her as they moved around the camp. Van, who was cooking over a small fire, gave her a wave.
Santana felt her lips curve, involuntarily.
“No, no, ah!”
Her head whipped around to see Nick wriggle out of Rafe’s grasp and bolt across the dirt with his hands over his face.
“Honey! Wait!”
Nick stumbled and fell to the ground. No wonder, since he had been covering his eyes, but she’d seen him stumble before. His coordination was off by more than a little. Santana moved to his side and touched his shoulder.
“Hey. Auntie ‘Tana got you a gift while she was out. Do you wanna see?”
“No.” Nick curled forward.
Santana’s palm spread over his back, and she rubbed a broad circle. Then she reached into her pack and pulled out a pair of sleek, black wrap around sunglasses, with violet lenses. “It’s okay. It’s bright out here, I know. And you’re just too cool for all this, huh? You Warblers.”
Nick looked up through slitted lids, wincing as his head lifted and his eyes caught the sun. Santana slipped the shades over his eyes. His shoulders relaxed, but his head sagged a little.
“Long trip in that tank, huh?” She smiled. She took Nick’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to Rafe. I think you scared him.”
“I’m not scary. You’re scary... ow.” Nick rose with her, then looked down at his legs. The fabric over his left knee had grown wet and dark.
“You got me, Nicolai. I’m scary.” Santana winked at him and stayed close. “Think you busted your knee a little when you fell.”
“Yeah.”
“Does it hurt a lot?”
Nick stopped for a moment, then held the side of his head. She lead him back to Rafe, who had grabbed his cane and come stumbling their way. Rafe met her eye, then reached for Nick.
“I hurt my knee,” Nick muttered.
Rafe put his hand around the back of Nick’s neck and kissed his forehead. “Well, we’ll go let Tina look at it, huh?”
“His head’s hurting again,” Santana said. She combed her fingers through Nick’s hair.
“Thank you for getting him the sunglasses.” Rafe had never sounded so sincere about anything.
Except maybe at Brittany’s funeral. But even then, there had been jokes, fond ones of course, but jokes nonetheless, layered in for the benefit of those listening and mourning. At the moment, Rafe was not at his most audience aware. There was only one audience member he cared to play for.
Her chest ached, watching them. Their heads dipped together, and Rafe kissed Nick’s nose.
”I think my cat is reading my diary,” Brittany murmured.
Santana frowned and tilted her head. It took her a moment to respond, but then, “Nosy bastard.”
“He is!”
“You should steal his diary and read it right back.”
Brittany nodded seriously. “I have to find it...”
“I thought I could run,” Nick murmured.
“We can practice walking together. I’m not so good, either,” Rafe said fondly. “Don’t worry. Just don’t. Nothing is insurmountable.”
As Santana walked alongside them, she spotted David standing by himself, eyes following them. He looked away, glaring daggers at Blaine’s sister, who was, in turn, scowling at her older brother as she changed his bandages and giving him short, serious commands to behave himself.
Santana had stopped wanting to put a bullet in Cooper (at least when his mouth was closed), but it hadn’t occurred to her that anyone would blame Tianna for their group’s troubles. Rafe sure didn’t. Tianna might have created the gas, but she wasn’t the moron to had set it off outside the lab. That had to be the old guy they left behind, who had panicked when the Wastelanders showed up. Then his brain went kerplewie along with everything else’s.
And almost Nick’s.
Nick didn’t blame her. But it wasn’t like he realized most of the time why his last clear memory came from months ago. Though, the fact that he could remember anything clearly at all now was an anodyne to all who cared about him.
Santana took Nick’s arm as they sat him down on the open back hatch of Tina’s tank. The “med-tank.” But Tina was nowhere in sight, and Tianna came over after a moment with bandages in hand.
Her eyes moved over Nick’s face, shining just slightly. Then she gave him a warm smile and rolled up his pant leg to see to his knee. Her small hands moved tenderly, slowly. Nick winced, but didn’t complain or seem overly distressed by the pain, and yet she was so, so careful.
Inattentive to the woman patching up his knee, Nick laughed suddenly as Rafe took his hand, then turned his head and nuzzled their noses together.
“Hey, sweetie,” Rafe said, pleasantly surprised.
Nick bit his lip, then pressed his lips to Rafe’s in a quick, tender peck. Their eyes met, and Rafe’s seemed to get a bit misty. Tianna pulled Nick’s pant leg down and looked at them briefly. Santana made a shooing motion with her hand. Tianna touched her lips, smiled a little, then left quietly. Nick’s hand cupped Rafe’s face, and he grinned dopily.
Santana touched Rafe’s shoulder, then also left the lovebirds to themselves.
Santana looked so scary now, Saffire thought. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t want to be just like her, if she grew up.
The first night that Saffire had joined the others for dinner in the refugee housing, due to her dad being out looking for Blaine, Santana had stuck close to Brittany, for the most part. Made a few coarse jokes, which Mama Chang had given her scolding looks for. The group chatted back and forth so easily. They were like a big family. Everyone knew each other, and that was strange, because for the last year, it had been a world of strangers and cannibals.
After dinner, she’d headed upstairs to bed, her heart pounding in her ears, overrun with worry for her dad, for Kurt and the little baby, even for Blaine.
Life had trickled on, and once they’d put their survivor town together, once Juni had died, Saffire continued to be something of an outsider among the group. She was the only kid among adults, and unlike Juni (maybe because of Juni), no one was letting her into the inner sphere of adulthood. She stuck close to Kurt and Blaine, and babysat, and hung out with Brittany when she seemed focused enough to play with her and teach her moves, and then somehow, slowly, Santana became like her sister.
“It’s okay,” Santana whispered, her lips twitching with mischief.
“Nothin’s okay,” she’d replied.
“You’re scared he won’t come back, but he will. I promise.” Santana’s slim, soft fingers trailed across her temple. “I’m a Blacktina. You stick with me.”
“What’s, um. What’s a black Tina?”
“Mom was black. Dad latino. I won’t let anyone leave you behind. If shit goes down, you stick near me and Brittany.”
“I didn’t think anyone would leave me because I’m black...”
“No, nobody here would. But it’s hard to tell who to trust, right?”
She took Saffire’s hand and led her into the house to wait for Brittany to return.
Back when they’d first met, Santana was slender and soft, wearing worn but on trend clothing. Now, with her goggles pulled back and her braids bouncing against her shoulders, guns strapped to her thighs and crossbow on her back... Saffire shivered.
Santana settled next to Van, who had just passed out some food to the people awake and unoccupied, and began rubbing her shoulders. Their voices mingled softly, sweet tones floating through the quiet air. The group was vulnerable when they were stopped. Even if they had people on the perimeter all the time.
Santana’s hand touched Van’s stomach. It was poking out already. Saff had seen it, when it wasn’t hidden by clothes, when Finn pulled her shirt up, pulled her tiny body to him and gave her little belly a kiss. Van was strong in her way, but she seemed so much smaller next to Finn, even as her belly got bigger.
“-not too bad. It’s a little strange, being on the sidelines. But our set-up means I can still help, at least in a different way. It’s funny, though, since when Kurt was doing this, he was the heavy when it came to fighting. I’m popping up through rooftops and picking them off from afar.”
“Yeah.” Santana curled her fingers around Van’s. “And Kurt ended up hospitalized. Since most of the hospitals are overrun by walkers, try not to be a burden, huh?”
Van chuckled.
“Just put up on some fuzzy slippers and sit back. None of us need to mourn anyone else.”
“I don’t plan on needing mourning.” Van’s hand settled on her middle. “Imagine Finn trying to be a father alone?”
Santana’s arm draped around her shoulders. “He’s got a lot of people rooting for him, and Kurt would do everything to make sure the kid was okay. I mean, he’s already feeding the one. And we’d all love the crap outta the little brat. But it wouldn’t be right. Life would get harder without you around, and since it’s not a picnic right now, do us a favor and survive.”
Van’s head rested on Santana’s shoulder. Then her head turned slightly and she whispered something.
“Yeah, I know. She always...” Santana turned her head and looked right at Saffire. “Haay, girl. C’mon over. I don’t get to spend as much time with you guys as I used to.”
Saffire hesitated. She hadn’t been hiding. Just standing there, watching. Like she did almost every day. Tentatively, she took a few steps towards them, then broke into a run until she jerked to a stop at Santana’s side.
Santana’s other arm went around her, pulling her close. “How’s the trip going, galfriend?”
“Okay. We’re trying to get Nick to remember more stuff. And to get Pippa to sleep, because she doesn’t like traveling. And Kurt and Blaine are writing a song.” Saffire rested her head against Santana’s side. She smelled like sweat, and blood, and a sort of sweet scent that was almost like berries and flowers and maybe a caramel latte. It clung to Saffire’s clothes whenever she was near Santana. And she liked it.
Santana’s hand, once soft, now calloused and proud, rubbed over Saffire’s shoulder and she leaned over to kiss her hair.
Saffire’s eyes lifted as Mike leapt over the ring of cars and headed for Kurt in the middle of the camp. Santana petted Saffire’s head once more and quickly moved to join them. Saffire drifted towards them, but they almost immediately scattered apart, with Kurt hobbling back to the car, and Mike leading Santana, David and a few others back out to the perimeter.
Van’s small hands touched Saffire’s shoulders. “C’mon, we need to be on the move.”
“What’s happening? Why did they leave? Santana’s tired from the road, too. She should come with us!”
Van moved her back toward the cars, and in minutes the camp was mobile and on the road, and Saffire had her nose pressed against the window. But she couldn’t see where their fighters had gone.
“Hey there, little girl.”
Saffire turned to see her father. Hair gone mostly to gray, gun by his side. He was wearing the long leather trench with the shin-guards.
“I saw Van poke up top t’help pick off the part of the herd. That was you drivin’, huh? You come a long way, girl.” His hand touched her, and her chest felt like it was swelling up. “Speak.”
“I c’n reach the pedals better now.” She searched his face a little anxiously. “Were you with the guard today? Did you...?”
“Naw, I was popping up outta the car, just the same. Kurt’s got me in one of the trailin’ cars, watchin’ our behinds.”
“I wish I could stay with you there,” she muttered.
“No good. I want you in the middle cars. Stick with Kurt and Blaine-”
“I’m not a baby!” Saffire protested. “I’m thirteen now! I can fight just like anybody else!” His hand touched her cheek. “Saff.”
“And I’m not broken, either. You don’t have to keep me with the babies and the people who can’t take care of themselves, because I can.”
“But you shouldn’t have to. I want you to stay safe. I want you to stay normal.” His hand moved around her back, then rubbed her shoulders as he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I can give this to ya, right now. With Kurt and Blaine and Burt in charge, I can give ya this. Let me. ‘Cause I dunno how long you’ll be allowed it.”
Saffire dipped her head into her father’s chest.
“We shoulda done for little Juni. No matter how useful she was. We shoulda protected her more.”
“That wouldn’t happen. I’d be careful... I could... I could go with Santana. I could be her backup.”
His hands squeezed her shoulders. “It’s awful dangerous what she’s doin’ out there. Keepin’ an extra eye on you might make it hard for her to get outta a tight spot, if she had to. Best let her mind her own back for now.”
Saffire’s lips bowed downward. “I don’t want ‘er to go. I don’t want her out there. An’ I don’t want you on the back cars or runnin’ around with the guard.”
“I know. I know, hon.”
She flung her arms around him and shuddered. There were nights when she wished it was over, and she was alone already. And then it made her scared to even think that. If she thought it, she didn’t want to make it happen.
“Baby girl, we can’t stop fightin’. We can’t. And everything I got is goin’ to protecting you. Santana, too. She cares about you.”
“Yeah. But she’ll still die if she gets overrun up there!”
Her father lowered down and wiped tears from her cheeks. “We all can die, princess. Every last one of us can, no matter how many weapons, or how hot we think our shit is.”
Saffire let out a sob, and clung harder.
“Together, we make it less likely, huh?” Forest rubbed his hand between her shoulder blades. “We’re all playin’ parts to make that not happen, an’ right now we need you on the inside.”
“They do not. They don’t need me. I’m just the kid that hangs around all the time.”
“I need you safe,” he said sharply. “Santana could use a human connection, y’know. You realize that, huh? Everyone needs someone t’hold onto. An’ Kurt. Blaine. Kurt needs an extra set o’hands for that kid. He’s exhausted, y’know.”
Saffire sniffed, then nodded. “Yeah. It’s been tough on the road... I just miss you. I hate being separated from you. What if something happens?”
“If somethin’ happens, you know who you c’n go to t’be safe. I ain’t gonna say nothin’ will. It might. But if it does, you stick close to the people who care ‘about you. Then maybe they’ll let ya run around on the fringes of the group. Doubt it, though. We all want you an’ Pippa to get the chance to grow up.”
“How come no one’s worried about Kurt havin’ the chance to grow up? He’s only four years older than me. Tina, too. Blaine and Nick are only five. They’re not that much older.”
Forest’s brows raised. “Okay. Point.”
Saffire rolled her eyes as he pinched her cheek.
“Let’s getcha those four years. Then we’ll talk about you blazin’ around on a motorbike shootin’ up walkers.”
Sleep was occasionally necessary. Even for a terrifying motorcycle-riding hellbitch. Santana stared up at the roof of the tank with her arm draped over her forehead. Her thoughts weren’t on sleep. They drifted to the bite Mike had taken the day before dealing with the strays that had collected on their tails. He wasn’t showing any symptoms, but it was the first real test of their immunity. Her thoughts were on Van. These days any pregnancy was “high risk.” Her thoughts were on Nick, who murmured restlessly beside them. Her thoughts were on Andre taking the front watch. He had better not fuck up her bike.
At least the herd hadn’t been big enough to force a detour. They’d already been derailed once by major roads being destroyed, by what looked like a bomb being dropped. Because that had worked so well in Toronto. Lord save them from well intentioned outsiders.
Familiar hands, strong and delicate, touched her shoulders and moved over her tense muscles. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself hear a voice, sweet and detached from the world:
“Sleep, sleep. I’ll take care of you. Like I promised.”
But that was not the voice speaking to her. The voice was still as distinctive as ever, but now, it was undergirded with sheer tenacity. Kurt was growing up before their eyes and ears. Maybe being the boss of everything had something to do with it. Or being lucky to have lived just long enough for that puberty thing to take hold.
“Andre can handle this,” was what Kurt had actually said. Though the tone beneath the words... They spoke the way that Brittany’s would have. They’d never been friends, her and Kurt. Not really. She’d pushed him away too hard. But now, with pretense and high school politics stripped away...
He was one of those people she couldn’t live without.
“Have you slept?” she asked peevishly.
“No,” he replied. His fingers moved to her temples. “We’re on the alert, still. I have to be ready in case Andre or Myra give us word that someone is at our back... or there is danger ahead.”
“That’s not exactly a lullaby.” She opened one eye at him.
He smiled lopsidedly.
Saffire slipped up to her side, snuggling in quietly like a pushy cat, and rested her head against Santana’s chest. Santana closed her eyes again and petted Saffire gently. The warmth of her small body was comforting.
“Sleep, okay?” Saffire’s voice pleaded.
“Tryin’.”
Kurt’s strong hands massaged her shoulders for a moment longer before disappearing. Then she heard him talking over the walkie:
“All clear on this end.”
“Thanks, Andre. Looks like we might have a quiet night for once. Keep us updated?”
“No problem, bossman.”
Santana reached behind her. After a moment, Kurt’s hand touched hers. He hesitated for another moment, and Santana looked back to see him giving his sleeping husband and child a kiss. Then he came over to her, on her other side, and laid down.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to babysit me. You should be with Blaine,” Santana instructed.
“I don’t want to disturb him trying to get to sleep,” Kurt murmured. “Besides, it’s easier to relax when there are people near you. You know that you’re safe, and you’ll need that, if you want to get back on the road, anytime soon.”
Santana leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Go. I’ve got my little Saffy here.”
“Yep!” Saffire’s muffled voice asserted. The girl didn’t open her eyes, or even move.
Kurt looked between them, and then returned to Blaine’s side, wrapping around him. Blaine woke briefly, muttering nonsense, but fell right back asleep and laid his head against Kurt’s shoulder.
It was funny, with her hair down, her weapons set aside, and this girl curled into her... Santana rolled over on her side, trying to make her busy mind slow down.
”Oh my GOD, Lupe, get OUT!” Santana threw a hairbrush at her pesky little sister peeking her head in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” Her big brown eyes remained fixed on the bed.
“Scissoring!” Brittany said cheerfully.
“We were going to...” Santana leapt up wearing only her underwear, grabbed her sister by the arm, and tossed her into the hallway. “Stay the fuck out of my room, rodent!”
A noise escaped Santana’s throat. Her arm curled more tightly around Saffire.
“It’s okay,” Saffire whispered. She snuggled into Santana’s body.
“Thanks for the sleepover. Don’t want me getting scared of the dark.”
Saffire giggled.
“I mean it. I know I’m a bitch. But thanks for the company.”
“You’re never like that with me,” Saffire protested.
“Hope not.” Santana sighed. “Go to sleep.”
Haunted was probably the best word for how Santana felt when she left herself alone with her thoughts. Haunted, helpless. But by day, she was a warrior who kept the warm bodies of those she loved safe. She wasn’t sure she could reconcile that with being with those people, but being a sister or a friend wasn’t too far from what she knew from before. She could fold it in. Maybe be better at it this time. Being a front runner for the group, taking those lives in her hands, it made her feel like she could do anything. Maybe she couldn’t... but she would take that feeling right back out there onto the road where it made them all strong.
And in here? She would sleep with her sister by her side.
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Date: 2012-11-25 04:04 am (UTC)From:I'm always so happy when I see more of this story. The way you keep the characters in-character for the totally extreme situation is just wonderful, and I also love the way you keep the plot together.
no subject
Date: 2012-11-25 04:54 am (UTC)From: