"Please! Please," Blaine begged, desperately, his eyes pooling with unshed tears. "I need to see him!"

"Not a chance," Quinn snarled, bearing her teeth. She looked crazy. Her shirt had a sleeve completely torn off, her hair was matted and dirty, and she had a wild look in her eyes. Her eyes were heavily outlined in black bags, proof that she had not slept a wink since they got stranded on this godforsaken island. Blaine swallowed uneasily, sensing her instability. Quinn stared him down, smiling. Try me, she thought.

"Quinn, that's enough," a woman's voice said. Blaine looked in the direction the voice came from and saw the bitchy Latino. Savannah?

"Santana," Quinn said, the word tumbling uneasily out of her mouth. Oh, Santana, right, whatever, Blaine thought.

They were standing by a small cave in the clearing. Laying on a haphazardly made bed of clothes was Kurt, dozing peacefully inside the cool cave. It was noon the day after they had found Karofsky barely breathing in this same clearing. Blaine didn't know much about medicine but he figured Kurt was probably due to wake up anytime now. Blaine desperately wanted the first face Kurt saw to be his and not a pesky vocalist questioning him about what was probably the worst experience of his life.

"You should let this Loverboy see Lady," Santana said smoothly. Quinn scrunched up her face.

"No," Quinn said, guarding the entrance to the cave. "S-Santana, we don't know who we can trust, and all of these vermin are running around everywhere, eating next to us, sleeping next to us, I-I don't know who will be next. There are still some people we don't know where they are, Artie was never found, Finn went missing, I-I," Quinn dropped down to her knees clutching her head in her hands, pulling at her hair roughly. She was about to go into full mental breakdown mode.

"Knock that shit off," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "We should go take a dip in the pool together, work on our tan, hell we can even get some lady kisses on if it makes you feel better." Quinn stopped shaking momentarily, looking up at Santana.

"As if I would want to be seen anywhere near you," Quinn sneered, eyeing Santana up and down. Santana's clothes were the most ragged out of everyone. Quinn remembered looking at Santana when they boarded the plane wondering if Santana was trying to win an award for skankiest outfit. Her tight crop-top and high-waisted shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. The remains of her clothes were holding onto her frame as if by the threads, her matching black bra and panty set completely visible through the tears. "You know there are plenty of clothes now that we have recovered some of the luggage."

"Listen here Bitch, it's called Planewreck-Chic, and Brittany and I are bringin' it back," Santana snapped. "Come on, girl, we're getting in the water and washing up." With that Santana grabbed Quinn's wrist and dragged her towards the pool of water the waterfall was emptying into. Blaine took the opportunity and snuck in the cave to see Kurt.

"You need to settle down," Santana said, slipping out of her tattered clothing revealing all of her bronze body. Quinn shook her head, her hands returning to pull at her own hair in her despair. "As if that will solve any of your problems," Santana said while slapping Quinn's hands out of the way. Santana gently pulled Quinn's shirt over her head, and wrapped her hands around Quinn, holding her body close. "Everything is okay," Santana purred, desperate to calm Quinn down the only way she knew how.

Santana's hands ghosted up Quinn's back and unhooked her bra. Santana felt Quinn's hot tears on her shoulder as she slipped Quinn's bra down, and left it forgotten on the floor. She unbuckled Quinn's shorts and pushed them, along with her panties, down Quinn's quivering thighs. She slowly backed them into the pool of water, shallow at first, until they water had risen to their naked breasts.

"I-I did it," Quinn said, tears dripping down her face. Santana got a bar of soap she had stashed on the rocks that she had previously found in the wreckage. She started to lather the soap up and run her hands on Quinn's tense back, massaging her.

"You did what? Had a mental breakdown?" Santana purred, her hands expertly working out knots and feeling Quinn melt into her touch. "Quinn, we stick together. Shit has gotten complicated, but it started with me, you, and B, and we will get through this together." Quinn sighed as Santana's hands predictably worked their way around to her chest. Santana sealed herself up against Quinn's back, her soapy hands moving to Quinn's breasts. Electricity shot through Quinn as Santana's hands pinched her sensitive pink nipples.

"Not so rough," Quinn sighed, her head falling backwards and resting in the crook between Santana's neck and shoulder.

"Baby, it's the only way I know," Santana said, giving Quinn's nipples another pinch. Quinn immediately felt her body heating up, and welcomed the feeling. She relished it, in fact. She had not felt anything but emptiness since she saw Rachel's cold, dead, body. She forced the thoughts from her mind and instead allowed herself to be swept away with what Santana's magic hands were doing to her body.

Santana grabbed Quinn's hair and pushed, Quinn's body jerking forward unexpectedly. Quinn caught herself with her hands on the rocks, groaning at the roughness. Santana put her hands on the small of Quinn's back, pushing her into a more bent-over position.

"I wish I had a toy, I would love to fuck you like this," Santana murmured, grinding herself against Quinn's ass. She gave it a hard, wet slap, enjoying how it stung Quinn red. "I would give it to you hard and rough, like my first time. Who knows, maybe that's why I'm so goddamn fucked up," Santana let the words tumble out of her mouth as she snaked her hands over Quinn's ass and lower, between her legs. She roughly forced two fingers into Quinn's tight hole, fucking her with her hand hard and fast from behind. Santana sighed, feeling each small bump and ridge inside Quinn's heat.

"Oh, hard," Quinn mumbled, her face buried into her hands as she desperately gripped on the rocks. Santana's fingers hurt slightly, going in so hard and fast, but the little bundles of nerves she kept hitting felt oh so good. Santana snuck her hand that wasn't burying itself inside Quinn around Quinn's front and started rubbing her clit in rhythm with the thrusts of her fingers.

"You don't know how bad my first time hurt me," Santana said, burying her face into the back of Quinn's neck, licking and nipping. She gave a particularly hard thrust earning a wince of pain from Quinn. "Oh, I begged them to stop. He grabbed me from behind and fucked me just like this. Just like I'm doing to you. Only I'm such a scag I didn't fight back. I just went limp and did nothing." Quinn whimpered, her mind going blank, unable to process the words that were tumbling out of Santana's mouth at a rushed pace. Her abdominal muscles tightened the harder Santana fucked her with her two fingers, expertly rubbing her clit in succession.

"I-I love you," Quinn said without thinking. She knew she didn't mean it, half the time she couldn't stand the Latino slut from the 'wrong side of the tracks'. After days of emptiness filling her body she longed for Santana's fingers. After days of feeling nothing there was not a thing she desired more than this hot, hot heat erupting from her body. Santana was making her feel things she never thought possible, mindblowing things.

"I know you do," Santana breathed without missing a beat. "I thought I loved him too, but that shit ended when he fucking raped me, and you know what, I'm sure I could have forgiven him if he didn't bring along his fucking friends to join in on the fun." Santana added a third finger, completely filling Quinn up beyond what she thought possible. The stretching sensation that came along with the friction of Santana's fingers was almost enough to push her over the edge. Slick with water and soap, Santana's other hand kept working at her clit, rubbing faster and faster still.

"S-S-" Quinn tried to work out before her stomach tensed up tighter than it had before, pleasure erupting from between her legs. Her hot walls clamped down on Santana's three fingers, squeezing them impossibly close together. "A-Ahh," she moaned, Santana giving her a few more sharp thrusts through her orgasm. Quinn sighed, craning her neck to get a look at Santana's face, a mask void of emotion. Santana pulled out her fingers quickly, and grabbed the bar of soap. She lathered it up and started washing Quinn's hair as if nothing had happened.

Kurt sat up as Blaine walked into the cave, a distant smile on his face. Blaine's thick eyebrows perked up in surprise.

"You're awake," he said, turning around to make sure Kurt's crazy teammates were gone. They were. Kurt nodded, his hands going up to his hair, immediately working on grooming it and getting out whatever tangles he could with his fingers.

"I woke up about an hour ago, but I pretended to sleep, I think Quinn lost her mind," Kurt said, straightening out his clothes. "She kept talking to herself and pacing around." Blaine nodded.

"Uh, yeah, I think she did too. Listen, Kurt, sorry, I didn't want to have to ask you this right away but did you get a good look at the guy who, you know, hurt your teammate?" Kurt's eyebrows shot up.

"Hurt?" He asked slowly, processing this new information. "You mean he's not dead?" Blaine nodded, helping Kurt stand up. Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good... Who, who was it?" Kurt asked, peering at Blaine from behind his long lashes, fear evident on his face.

"Someone named David Karofsky, he is still unconscious, but seems stable," Blaine said carefully, his hands clutching Kurt's elbows tightly in case Kurt's legs gave out on him or something. Kurt breathed out a sigh of relief, then stopped himself.

"I, I don't mean that I'm relieved, it's just," Kurt stammered out nervously, a flush rising to his cheeks. Blaine smiled, and put his hand on Kurt's cheek lovingly.

"No, I understand. You're happy it's not someone close to you, and that makes you feel terrible on the inside. I know, I, I feel the same way, and I hate it." Kurt nodded slowly, Blaine completely summing up his raging, confusing feelings in one sentence. "Look, Kurt, I understand if you don't want to go but a bunch of us are getting together and trying to find the front of the plane. That's where the black box is. We're going to go try to activate it. We've been here too long, something must have gone wrong and it didn't send out the ping." Kurt nodded.

"I'd like to come too," Kurt said, nodding. He wanted to be an asset and help his friends. He didn't want to be some weakling everyone had to protect. He wanted to show Blaine how strong he was. Blaine nodded, valuing Kurt's bravery and selflessness. He had spoken to Santana about what had happened the previous night and was floored at how Kurt stood up to the attacker so selflessly.

"There was something else, I don't know how much you remember from before you passed out but Santana had tackled that man. Do you remember this happening?" Kurt shook his head no. His memories were so fuzzy, he remembered everything pretty clearly until Santana charged at the man. "That's understandable, you were in shock. But she managed two things. One, she got the knife from him that he used to stab David and presumably, uh, well," Blaine didn't want to bring up Kurt's slain teammate.

"I-I know what you mean," Kurt said, knowing that Blaine meant the knife that killed Rachel. "What else did she do?" Blaine wet his lips quickly in a way Kurt was embarrassed to admit he found tantalizing.

"She ripped out some of his hair. It was brown. That, that narrows it down, you know, who, who did this has to have brown hair." Blaine and Kurt silently stepped out of the cave and walked on the clearing. Kurt's legs were stiff at first but they felt better the more he moved them. Although it terrified him to the bone it really did narrow down who could have done this. It couldn't have been anyone who had charged onto the clearing because of the guttural sounds David had been letting out as he fought for his life.

"Who is still missing?" Kurt asked, looking at all the survivors scattered around the clearing. Blaine was expecting this question, because it was the first on everyone's lips last night. It had been a very gutwrenching night, the roll call to see who was here, who had been found dead, who who's fate was yet to be determined.

"There are a handful of members from each choir not here. Kurt, you and I, we were lucky. It seems a lot of people, when they woke up after the crash, they were surrounded by their dead teammates. We're lucky we were in the back of the plane, I heard it was the safest," Blaine's heart was racing as he relived the horrors of the crash again, remembering the mangled bodies he had found before Kurt woke up. His only calming thought was that he was able to shield Kurt from seeing that.

"Hey, hey," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around Blaine. Blaine found Kurt's touch very soothing. "It's alright," Kurt's sweet voice was enough to draw Blaine back from the dark corners his mind was scurrying off to.

"Right," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's cheek. "None of my Warblers are missing. We are all either here or confirmed dead. Oral Intensity has two missing members who have not been found dead, but they are both blonde females. Vocal Adrenaline has five missing members, three males and two females with long hair. Jesse St. James is the only brunette male missing. New Directions," Blaine peppered Kurt's face with a few kisses before continuing. His lips are so soft, Kurt thought. "There are three members unaccounted for. All brunette males. Your teacher, Finn, and Artie."

Kurt's mind raced as he melted into Blaine's touch. It had to be one of those four.. He scrunched his eyebrows together.

"No, it couldn't have been Artie, he's wheelchair bound... And Finn, he just couldn't, I refuse to believe it... and Jesse loved Rachel... and Mr. Schue, there's just no way..." Tears leaked out of his eyes as Blaine held him. Blaine sighed. He knew there would be a lot of denial. He was willing to help Kurt work though it. Facts are facts though and he had seen many of the bodies himself. It had to be one of those four. Blaine kept his thoughts to himself though and just held Kurt as the waves of pain and fear washed over him.

"Are you all aware of what we're going to do, faggots?" Puck asked loudly, standing on top of the large rocks surrounding the pool of water. He held up a large makeshift torch into the night. The flame casted ominous shadows on his face. His harsh words made a few Warblers jump and look to Blaine nervously but Kurt just rolled his eyes. He was so used to this crap. "Sorry Kurt," Puck said, then smiled. "Psych!" He jumped down from the rocks, landing on his feet with a thud.

"We are going to find that New Directions asshole who did this before he picks us off one by one," a voice in the crowd of vocalists said.

"Watch it," Puck growled, glaring in the general direction of the voice. Whoever spoke seemed to have lost their nerve, assumably after remembering Puck was the man who attacked a shark head on for no realize other than his girlfriend wanted a snack. "We will not separate. A few scouts have gone ahead and when they came back they said about three miles ahead of this clearing they found some wreckage and mowed down trees, probably from the front of the plane. We are going to assume our missing members are up there now waiting for us and just too fucking retarded to figure out how to work black box. From what some guy with a stupid face said we need to submerge the box in water because whoever made that thing is too STUPID to realize that some people crash on a fucking DESERTED ISLAND!" He huffed out and everyone who was crowded around him were silent, staring at the crazy man. "WE ARE OFF INTO THE NIGHT!" Puck hollered, marching into the thicket beyond the clearing.

Everyone grabbed one of the sticks with t-shirts wrapped on them and dipped them into the fire. This would make it that much easier to stick together and not lose each other in the dense forest. Puck had decided to go at night when the murderer in the forest was hopefully sleeping. Kurt doubted this, but it was a good thought anyways. Kurt thought it was completely ridiculous thinking about how loud Puck was already being and they weren't even in the forest yet. At least this would probably keep the crazy murderer at bay, Kurt decided with a sigh as he held Blaine's free hand with his own and slipped through the trees into the forest.

Things were surprisingly calm in the forest. Puck was loud as hell, but that gave everyone a sense of security. What one man was crazy enough to try to fight off a whole group of people? The trees were already thinning out and Kurt was able to walk hand in hand with Blaine. He looked at Blaine with a smile, feeling optimistic.

Mike was worried about Artie. Of course he was worried about Artie. The things Tina had accused him of were so not true. He felt his headache come back in full force remembering the fight he had with Tina. She was even angrier with him when he jumped on the idea of going on past the safety of the clearing to try and find the front of the plane. He did not understand women.

"No! I am so not going to Asian Couple's Therapy when we get back home!" Tina had yelled, stomping a foot on the ground. "You don't care about Artie! He can't defend himself his legs do not work Mike. What?! Are you HAPPY he's probably dead? No more competition for you! Things are looking good for you. It must be nice to be named Mike Chang!" Tina is upset, Tina is upset, Mike kept telling himself. He was trying so hard to keep his emotions in check. He looked at her, trying to remember how much he loved her. Things were just so much easier without all this crazy crap going on in his life. He rolled his eyes, the inconsistency coming out of her mouth giving him a headache.

"What?! No! You are not going to try and find Artie and them! It's too dangerous! You don't care about me Mike Chang! The only one you care about is Artie!" Tina yelled at him when he told her Puck had formed a sort of expedition. Mike's mouth gaped open at her, trying to understand this woman.

A sharp crack and Mike fell on his butt, his torch going out. He had walked right into a low-hanging branch while his mind was still back in the clearing. He realized how far ahead of him everyone else had gotten and cursed himself. Why was Tina doing this to him? He loved her and now she was treating him like garbage. He just didn't understand.

Someone walked into Mike from behind, obviously not seeing him on the ground.

"Ouch, hey dude," Mike said, rubbing his hurt back. "Sorry, I fell back and my torch went out man. Hey, where's your torch?" Wait a second you are supposed to be miss- Mike's eyes went wide with realization but he never finished that thought, or had a chance to call out to the others. He doubted they would have been able to hear him anyway, they were advancing at such a quick pace, and Puck was shouting out something, he was so loud. The man hit Mike across the head with his torch, knocking him completely unconscious.

"This'll do it," Puck said. He kicked a large piece of shrapnel from the plane. "Ow, fuck," he said. That was harder than he thought. "Troops, we have arrived. Let's try to find the others." The chunks of metal were massive. Kurt thought the plane was huge when they boarded it, but standing here, hand-in-hand with Blaine, he looked up at the wreckage in disbelief. They were on a sandy shore, seemingly the completely other side of the island. "Guys! All of you! Hey!" Puck started screaming, calling out for the others. It was daybreak and although the situation was grim, Kurt couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful sunrise on the ocean.

There were no sign of others anywhere on the beach. Everyone's once chipper mood was worn away as they finally came across the massive nose of the plane. There was a raft-like appendage coming out of one of the emergency doors, with handholds for climbing up it like a ladder. Blaine perked up a little at the sight of this. It's possible it automatically inflated on impact, but maybe the others were safely still on the plane, maybe-

"Hey! Hey you guys!" Mr. Schue said, poking his head out from the exit of the plane. There were screams of excitement, and Kurt felt like his heart was soaring at the sight of his teacher. "Please come up here!"

The twenty or so vocalists fought their way up the raft/ladder, everyone trying to get up the first. Kurt and Blaine waited back from the violence at the plane, waiting for some of the excitement to die down while they held each other, beaming.

"I'm so happy," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine. Blaine smiled right back, pressing his lips to Kurt's.

Mr. Schue had a look of pure bliss on his face as he embraced each teenager. He hadn't slept. He hardly ate. The only thing he could focus on was getting each one of his kids safe. Sadly, he hadn't been able to explore the island much. Artie's chair was destroyed in the wreckage, and he had found Finn barely conscious the one time he ventured out trying to find more survivors. Finn was fine, but had several stab wounds on his body. Luckily they had found the black box and activated it several hours ago.

"Help should be arriving any hour now guys," Mr. Schue said, his eyes brimming with tears. "Where are the rest of my kids?"

"Most of them are waiting back," Puck said, wiping away a manly tear. "We left a couple of guys to guard the babes, back in a clearing," his face scrunched as Mr. Schue hugged him, and Puck let out a very masculine noise of relief. He was not crying. He was not a pussy. This was pure testosterone running down his face.

"Why do they need guarded?" Mr. Schue asked, letting Puck go, who was sniffling.

"Mr. Schue, you, you don't know," Sam began when there was a piercing scream from outside the plane.

Kurt screamed again at the top of his lungs, bucking wildly trying to knock off his attacker. Puck rocketed out of the plane at the noise, his eyes wide.

"Finn, Artie, Schue," Puck screamed, running out of the exit of the plane. "It has to be, AHHHH!" Puck screamed as he rocketed to the earth, forgetting how high up they were. He hit the yellow inflated ladder which stopped most of his impact. He tumbled off of the ladder and onto the sand, knocked out cold.

Blaine lunged and tackled Jesse, trying to force him off of Kurt. Once Jesse was mostly off of Kurt, Kurt aimed a good kick right for Jesse's stomach. Yeah, take that bitch, they didn't make me the football team's kicker for nothing, Kurt thought with a smile as Jesse spit out blood.

Blaine pinned Jesse on the ground while the other vocalists ran up to their aide.

"I didn't mean to!" Jesse screamed wildly, his eyes bloodshot. His brown hair was crazy, his face was dirty with mud and dried blood. "She was fucking him! Rachel wouldn't touch me and I saw her under him moaning like a whore, I didn't mean to and then that bastard David saw," Jesse screamed until he was hoarse, his voice coming out roughly through his sore throat. "It wasn't my fault," he screamed again, one last time shaking with sobs, before everyone looked into the distance at the sound of helicopters.