Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I have the desire to own, that god awful television show called Glee.

A/N: Hello! College, my fellow readers, is fucking done! And while the real life is looming and gloomy, I finally have the time to fucking write again! Everything is being worked on right now, from The Dark Mark to a Vampire!Faberry prequel. But since it is in the midst of Faberry Week, I had just the story for the assassin prompt and decided to participate for the first time in three years or however long it's been.

This story was originally written for a Detective Fiction class I took a couple of quarters ago. It was thought of to be a Faberry piece, changed to a regular fiction piece for my final, and I finally had the motivation to change it back to how it was originally going to be. I'm always nervous about posting new stories, and this is the first story rated T, and pretty different from what I've written before, but I like it.

Hopefully, you guys like it as well. Read, Ponder, Enjoy.

The outline of Conluvian loomed straight in the distance as the old Cadillac Deville sputtered and jerked down the family laden streets of Portum. Mothers and fathers laughed joyously with each other as their children ran in wild packs. The driver honked loudly as a couple of runts ran unexpectedly in front of the car and he cranked down his window to stick up a middle finger in their chubby little faces.

"Gob dambed kids!" he shouted and Quinn and Rachel watched the smiles drop from the faces of the Portum residence as this overweight, bloody faced Italian cursed out a couple of young kids. He brought the red splattered hanky back up to his nose and sped away as fast as the broken down car could go, still grumbling angrily. It wasn't long until they reached the border of Conluvian and a couple of cop cars were waiting on the street corner for the first criminal to make a wrong move once they stepped foot in their city.

They knew better than to flash their badges in The Con without the entire station to back them up.

The windows were rolled up and the doors were locked as they crept through the back alleys of East Conluvian, enemy territory for the Lopez lackey driving the car. Only a couple of kids spotted them, watching with suspicious eyes and the Fat Man knew better than to yell at them if he didn't want to die a sad death that rivaled his pathetic life. Quinn heard him sigh in relief when they rolled into the bright and clean streets of North Conluvian where all of the pedestrians outside seemed to be walking on eggshells, constantly looking behind their shoulder as they scurried to their next destination. The Fat Man drove up to the front gate of the expansive white mansion right in the middle of the territory and rolled down his window for the security guard who let them in with a smirk.

"That's a great look for you, Paulo."

"Fuck offb," he grumbled and drove down the long driveway, leaving the security guard laughing loudly in his booth. He pulled up to the towering front doors and shut off the car, motioning for Quinn and Rachel to follow him with a grunt. They barely had time to truly admire the entrance hall before Paulo was leading them quickly through the maze of hallways, past the rest of the Lopez henchmen that stared and chuckled after them. They came to a stop in front of an engraved oak door and the Fat Man knocked loudly three times, shifting on his feet and wiping at his nose.

"Come in," called a deep, commanding voice.

They entered and Paulo kept his face directed to the floor as he led the women to the graying man sitting behind the large desk, immaculately dressed in an expensive suit with an air of dangerous royalty permeating from him. The man narrowed his eyes at Paulo's swollen, bloody nose and shook his head.

"For God's sake, go clean yourself up and go wait by the car," he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand, his lip curling in disgust and Fat Man quickly waddled out of the office, shutting the door behind him. "That worthless sack," he snarled and pulled a cigarette from the metal case on the desk that had the Lopez family emblem of a shield with a panther's paw print on the face and lighting it with the all black Zippo. "I sincerely hope there was a good reason you bloodied his nose like that."

"He broke into my home," Quinn answered monotonously, declining the cigarette that was offered to her. "He startled my partner."

The man rolled his eyes at the driver and sat back in his seat.

"Then I would like to apologize for Paulo's lack of manners. Personally, I would've done a lot worse."

Quinn shrugged. "He said you would have a job for us."

The man nodded, blowing the smoke out of his nose and ashing it in the glass ashtray. His eyes dropped to the back of Quinn's hand where the maple leaf scar she got in car accident resided. It was the only thing, because of her every changing hair, that identified her as the infamous assassin-for-hire and she's considered wearing gloves, but that would just cause people to pay more attention to her face. "Do you have a name, drifter?"

"Mary," Quinn answered as she took a look around the dim and expensive office, filled with a marble fireplace, mounted portraits of what had to be Lopez ancestors, and six filled bookcases symmetrically surrounding them. Her lips quirked up as she watched Rachel idly run her finger along the book's spines. The girl always loved to read. "Mary North, sir."

"And your partner?"

She turned her eyes back to the man and shook her head. "She doesn't have a name."

The man rose an eyebrow at the answer, but waved it off with a small chuckle. He supposed assassins had no use for names, anyway.

"Well, Ms. North, I am Raúl Lopez and I welcome you into North Conluvian with hopes that you will do me this favor. My family has ruled here for generations; it is what has always come first and right now one of my own has been very hurt," he stubbed out the half of the cigarette he had left. "Not physically, mind you. Trust me, if that were the case I would be dealing with this myself. No, from what I could gather one of my only daughter's dear friends had been murdered recently. She hasn't been the same since; she's cried every day, she won't talk to any of us, I haven't seen her eat once." Raúl paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his temper. When he looked back at Quinn, the storm in his eyes had calmed very slightly, but were glistening in the light of the office. "I want whoever is responsible for this. She is my world and it breaks my heart to see her like this."

Quinn nodded once in understanding. "Would you like me to bring them in alive or would you just want to see their body?"

Raúl chuckled at her assertiveness. "I'll tell you what, you bring in his body, I'll give you forty-five grand. You bring him in alive, I'll make it an even fifty."

The drifter stared at him in subtle surprise and even Rachel had paused to glace at him in her peripherals. That was more money than they've ever been offered for a single, simple job like this. "I mean no offense, but that seems like an awful lot of money to offer for your daughter's friend's killer."

Raúl simply shook his head. "I have reason to think this was more than just a random murder. I placed a hit on Gerben's, one of the Pierce's more successful restaurants in their pathetic excuse of a territory, the Eastern asshole of the great Conluvian. I'm firm in my belief that this is just the beginning of their retaliation and I plan to put a stop to it before they decide to make it even more personal. They made the mistake of starting with my daughter."

Quinn watched the vein pump angrily in Raúl's forehead and nodded. She stood up and held out her hand. "I understand. Consider it done."

Raúl shook her hand and held on tight as he stared deep into her eyes, making Rachel take a few steps forward in caution. "I know of your work, drifter, and I know of your history with the authorities. The Berrys in WestCon have recommended you with great praises and I know you've even worked for those Pierce scum, but I don't judge. Everyone has to make a living and I respect you for not discriminating. I know that you are efficient and clean with your jobs and that's exactly the type of worker I feel comfortable offering so much money to. I know you won't let me down."

Quinn was able to force a tight smile and was about to say goodbye when the door opened behind them. A young man who couldn't be older than twenty-five stuck his head in and looked startled.

"Sorry, dad," he said quietly. A nervous man in a rumpled suit peeked inside from behind his shoulder. "I thought the meeting was over already."

"We've just finished. You can come in," Raúl said and turned back to Quinn. "This is my son, Marco. He's going to grow up to be a fantastic leader. Marco, this is Ms. North and her partner. They've agreed to work with us for this case. Ms. North, Paulo is waiting for you out front to take you back to your home. Please, feel free to call me if there are any complications."

Quinn nodded and gave Marco a passing glance, noticing a curious look of jealously in his eyes. She had a shadow of an idea about why that could be, but either way she had to fight the urge to turn around and smirk in his face. She already didn't like the kid. She barely paid the other man any attention, but he seemed to be avoiding their eyes anyway. The drifter let the door fall closed with a click behind Rachel and shoved her hands in her jacket pockets as they roamed aimlessly down the halls, turning corners on instinct and not in any rush to have to spend any more time with the Fat Man. They came up to a room, lit only by the flickering of a fireplace and a long shadow leaked out into the hallway. They stood in the doorway and found a woman staring unblinkingly into the roaring flames, her cheeks shining in the light, her hand clutching tightly at her necklace.

"Yes?"

Quinn almost winced at the quiet, scratchy voice and took a step forward into the room with Rachel stepping into the cover of an elongated shadow. "I'm sorry, we seem to be lost. We'll just find our way – "

"Are you the drifter?"

Quinn arched an eyebrow and stepped even closer to catch her words. "Yes, I am. Are you the daughter?"

There was a small nod and her unkempt hair swayed lifelessly by her shoulders.

"Santana," she introduced herself, still keeping her eyes on the fire. "Do you have a name?"

Quinn took a moment to walk forward until she stood just a few feet behind her.

"No," she told her with a small smile. "But you can call me Mary for now."

Santana nodded and there was an awkward moment of silence the followed that. Quinn cleared her throat as she eyed the death grip she had on her necklace.

"I'm sorry about your loss."

Her hand clenched until her tan knuckles began to pale and she shut her eyes, her face close to crumpling. Santana was able to regain control, but a couple of tears escaped down her cheeks. A simmering fury resided in those dark, heartbroken orbs.

"Daddy didn't even know who she was," she whispered, spitting out the word 'Daddy' like it was shit in her mouth. "I don't care what he's paying you, she mattered to me, so you come to me when you find out whoever did this to her and I will be the one to take care of them. And I want them alive so I can look them in the eyes when I shoot them in the face."

Quinn processed these words and knew that the woman who died was more than just a dear friend. She was important enough to almost completely break the strong and almost intimidating woman in front of her. Raúl must be blind not to have figured that much out before. She looked over her shoulder at Rachel who met her eyes with a frown and Quinn shook her head.

Or maybe it was just easy for her to understand.

She stepped forward until she stood side by side with Santana.

"He's paying me fifty grand to bring the killer in alive," she informed her and could see her nod in her peripherals. "I don't expect that much for this job. He's convinced this was all retaliation."

Santana scoffed and her lips almost curled into a scowl.

"I'm sick to death of this war. It's ruining all of our lives," she seethed and shook her head. "It's not good for business and it's not good for our fucking sanity. And her death," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, closing her eyes a gather her bearings. When she spoke again, it was slow and careful, "I hope that if her death accomplishes anything, it serves as a way to end this petty war between my father and the Pierces."

Quinn stayed quiet and dropped her eyes to her feet. She didn't know how to respond to that. Having done enough business all around Conluvian, she was very aware of the war that really encircled the whole town, but was really heated between (and probably started with) the NorCon and EastCon territories. There was a lot of money to come from this animosity, but she felt sympathy for this young woman even though half of her was still denying such feelings. So, instead of saying anything she just nodded and turned away, walking leisurely back to the hallway with a motion for Rachel to follow her. They've kept the Fat Man waiting long enough, anyway. Santana's voice stopped them when they reached the threshold.

"The name 'Mary' doesn't fit you," she said quietly and Quinn felt her lips curl into a tiny smile. "So, thank you, drifter."

Quinn gave a small, singular chuckle and walked out, making their way to the front where a cleaner, but still broken-nosed Paulo was waiting for them with a permanent scowl.

After getting dropped off back at their apartment building in Portum, they immediately got into Quinn's old taxi that she never gave back to the company (she's pretty much earned it, anyway) and they drove back to Conluvian, smiling directly at the people who tried to wave her down. There was no need for the back alleys as she parked outside of a small sandwich place just across the street of an old mansion, entangled in gripping vines that sprouted small white flowers. Quinn and Rachel stepped out of the taxi and curiously observed the line of people, some even crying, that stared anxiously at the Pierce residence. There was a line of black cars all along the driveway and that annoying pang of sympathy echoed in her heart. The large Pierce family had already begun to file into the mansion when Rachel turned to the man – Sam, according to his banker's nametag – standing next to her.

"What happened?" she asked quietly for the sake of the people who were mourning.

Sam glanced at her incredulously, but turned back to the mansion like he was waiting for something specific to happen. "You don't know?"

"We've been out of town."

He hummed and crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the street sign. "Brittany Pierce was murdered a few days ago. On NorCon territory, no less." He shook his head sadly, "Nobody understands it."

Quinn and Rachel turned to the mansion when a still went over the crowd and there, on the large porch steps stood a man, blankly watching a distraught woman be led into the mansion. Another man, who Quinn knew to be Eduard Pierce, the head of the Pierce family that, unlike Raúl of NorCon, was cherished and respected by his people, stepped up to the emotionless man . Eduard touched him on his shoulder and everyone could see the man's face crumple in tears before he rushed into the mansion. By that time, most of the people had turned to continue on with their day and Rachel turned to Sam before he could leave.

"Do you know of any plans for revenge on NorCon?"

He scoffed as he straightened out his jacket.

"We're still waiting for their answer to the attack on Gerben's."

He left with a wave behind his back and the two women turned back to watch Eduard walk out of the mansion gates and to the family bar just across the street, around the corner from where they stood. None of the stragglers that were left watching him seemed to want to follow him in and were walking in opposite directions, so Quinn waited a few more seconds before following Eduard, Rachel only a few steps behind. The bar was comfy, a lounge really, and Eduard was sat back in a darkened corner. Quinn stepped up with the waiter who placed a drink in front Eduard with a sympathetic smile.

"Your money is, of course, not good here, Mr. Pierce."

Eduard gave a strained smile to the young man and caught the eyes of Quinn and Rachel over his shoulder. The waiter left and Eduard motioned for the drifter to sit down. Rachel opted to stand behind Quinn's chair.

"Miss Katrina," he said hoarsely and nodded at Rachel, again nameless, in greeting. "I haven't seen you two for a while. You've changed your hair."

Quinn chuckled and ran her hand through her long blonde locks, remembering the short pink style she had when she did her last job for him a year ago. "We were driving through town and heard what happened. We just wanted to offer our condolences; we remember her being a very sweet girl."

Eduard gave a choked up chuckle and took a long sip from his beer. He sighed as he placed the glass down and fixed Quinn with a steely gaze. He shook his head.

"I have no job for either of you, drifter," he whispered. "I believe I already know who murdered my beloved Brittany and if I am right, I nor any of my people will have to lift a finger. That, my friend, is a fight reserved for someone else."

Quinn watched him drink the rest of his beer and stood up from the booth, shoving her hands in her coat pocket. She turned on her heel to leave and Eduard called out to them.

"You'd be wise not to get involved, drifter. The both of you."

Quinn was out of the bar with a parting nod and got back in her taxi. She drove them back up to North Conluvian with the intention to speak with Santana about her relationship with Brittany Pierce, but slowed to a stop when a man in a tattered old suit tried to flag her down. She held up her hand and slowed to a stop just a few feet away to get a good look at his face; it was the man from the meeting that came into the office with Marco. She hummed and turned to a slightly smirking Rachel.

"Baby," she said quietly.

"Hmm?" Rachel watched Quinn grab her old baseball cap and driving gloves from the glove compartment.

"Can you follow me?"

Rachel arched an eyebrow, but nodded and opened the passenger door with a smile. "Of course."

Quinn reached for her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles and winked at her with a smirk.

"Be careful, love," she said, placing her large aviators over her eyes.

"My, such a charmer," she chirped loudly with a blush and a big show smile as she got out of the car and almost ran right into the man. "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry."

"N-No," the man said nervously and moved to quickly to open the back door of the cab. "It's my fault, really. I'm sorry."

"This place is full of gentlemen," Rachel chuckled as the man shut his door. She closed her own and bent down to look at Quinn through the open window. "I have your card. I'll be sure to call you any time I need a ride."

"I look forward to it," Quinn flirted back and watched Rachel walk away with an extra sway to her hips until she turned the corner. She chuckled with a shake of her head and glanced at the man through the rear view mirror. "Where to?"

He rolled his eyes. "God, just get me the hell out of here."

Quinn smiled and made a U-turn, catching a glimpse of Rachel getting into another taxi down the street. "Is Portum fine, then?"

"Yeah," the man mumbled as he glanced over his shoulder. "Sure."

The ride out of NorCon and through EastCon was silent and after the third glance over the shoulder, Quinn forced out another chuckle. "Should I be worried?"

The man jumped and turned back to her. "What?"

"Sorry, but you just keep looking over your shoulder," Quinn shrugged and smirked out at the road. "I feel like someone should be following me."

"Oh-oh no," the man stuttered and actually let out a small laugh. "I'm just getting my last good look at Conluvian. I'm so sick of the bullshit that happens in that town."

"Ah," the drifter said, taking him around the long way to give him more time to loosen his tongue. "What part of Conluvian are you from, if you don't mind me asking?"

"NorCon," he mumbled, "My family's been working there for decades. Times were a lot better when it was Ricardo Lopez that was running the place. With Raúl it seems like that town is on the brink of a break down."

"Yeah I heard about the shooting that happened there," Quinn said and shook her head. "I heard quite a few people died."

"Quite a few, my ass," the man snorted. "That was Marco's ungodly mess. Guy doesn't know the meaning of a clean kill. He had one bounty and it was the guy who stole the rocks from his father, but he goes and shoots up the whole street. Now no one wants to walk around NorCon for fear they're gonna get shot in the back by their own fucking 'leaders'."

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows. "That doesn't seem . . . smart."

"Yes, well, like father like son," the man said and his eyes widened. "Oh! And you won't believe who was one of the victims. Brittany Pierce, the fucking niece of the Pierce family. God knows why she was on enemy territory, but I want to be as far away as possible when they get their payback."

They talked a little more and Quinn pulled to a stop outside of a bar in the middle of Portum. She turned to the man, whose name she found was Noah Puckerman. "I heard some rumors about Santana – "

Noah's eyes widened, excited to share. "Oh, wasn't she a happy broad. Of course, this was before the death of her friend, but the biggest rumor was that she found another boy toy."

"Boy toy, huh?"

"One of many," he said as he grabbed his briefcase and placed his hand on the door handle. "I hear it was a Pierce boy and, better yet, I heard they had gotten hitched about a month ago." He grinned. "Now isn't that the juiciest piece of Shakespearian bullshit you've ever heard of in your life?"

Puckerman exited the car with a laugh, throwing a wad of cash at her that he didn't even bother to count. Quinn stayed and waited for him to enter the bar before driving forward and turning the corner, stopping in front of Rachel just a little ways down the street. The brunette smiled and entered on the passenger side, leaning over to peck Quinn's lips.

"Did you get your answers?"

The blonde smirked and threw the glove, glasses and hat into the back seat before taking them back toward The Con. "Indeed, I did."

The guy at the front gate let them in with a nod and she parked her beat up yellow taxi in the driveway. Rachel handed her her favorite pirtol – fondly named Lucy – and she put it in her pants behind her back before they exited the car. The Lopez henchmen standing around hardly gave them a glance as they walked towards Raúl's office when Quinn heard a familiar voice. They followed it to the room she had found Santana in earlier and found Marco sitting on the couch surrounded by more lackeys. Quinn stepped forward and Marco turned to her with a raised eyebrow and a barely contained scowl.

"What the fuck do you want, drifter?" he sneered before snickering at the name. "Who would've thought the famed 'Drifters of Conluvian' were just a couple of fucking girls?"

Quinn pulled Lucy from behind her back and pressed the muzzle to Marco's temple. She really didn't like this kid. She noticed with a smirk that some of the Lopezes hanging around in the room were turning their backs and leaving while three or four of them seemed to be anxiously awaiting orders from the Lopez heir. Quinn reached over to expose the gun strapped to Marco's chest and chuckled.

"I want to shoot you, so I almost hope that you grab for it, but I promised a lady that I wouldn't."

"Wh-what the fuck do you think you're doing, bitch?!" he sputtered indignantly, his eyes shifting to his lackeys who still seemed at a loss. "Do you know who the fuck you're dealing with?!"

"I'm dealing with the man I'm getting paid to capture dead or alive," Quinn answer softly, emotionlessly. "By your father, by your own fucking sister. All because you couldn't just stick to the job you were ordered to do. You got careless – "

The smallest shuffle against the carpet behind them caused Rachel to turn around and put a bullet between the eyes of the henchman that was reaching for his gun, catching Quinn and Marco by surprise. With an angry scowl, Quinn turned and shot Marco in the right shoulder, putting the muzzle to his head and pushing him back before he could curl around his injured limb.

"Ah, you fucking bitch!" he screamed in agony, his face red and cheeks chining with rushing tears. "You fucking – fucking bitch – "

"If anyone else interrupts, I'm going to shoot you in the fucking face," she growled, placing her hand on his injured shoulder and squeezing, causing him to cry out again. She leaned forward to get into his face. "But call me thatone more time and I will shoot your fucking knees and make you crawl to your father's chambers as the only bitch here."

She eyed the rest of the Lopezes, cocking the gun's hammer when one of them tentatively put his hand on his weapon. Marco whined in pain, leaning back to get the cold steel off of his forehead.

"God fucking damn it, put your Goddamn guns away!" he shouted with his eyes closed. Quinn eyed him with disdain and shook her head. She stood up, letting go of his shoulder and grabbing his white handkerchief out of his coat pocket.

"Why did you have to go and kill all those people on the street, Marco?"

Marco breathed deeply, trying to get over the pain. He blearily opened his eyes and grimaced.

"I don't like witnesses."

Quinn sighed and dropped her gun to her side. She reached over to Marco's injured arm and pulled him to his feet, reveling in the pained cry that caused.

"Take me to your father," she told him, letting Rachel guide him with a gun to his back as she soaked the handkerchief in the ice bucket on the table so she could wipe her hands clean of that little pricks blood. "Someone go get Santana and tell her to meet us in Raúl's."

She heard the shuffling of feet as she cleaned her fingers and followed Rachel and Marco slowly to Raul's. When they entered, Raúl was already standing up with his gun in his hand and Quinn almost smirked when Marco flinched and closed his eyes.

"Mr. Lopez, I just told your son that if someone else threatens me or my partner, I was going to shoot him in the face," she pushed Marco into a seat in front of his father's desk. "I'd hate for you to be the cause of your son dying like that."

Raúl seemed to hesitate, but the blood gushing around his son's fingers caused him to drop his gun in his drawer and slam it shut. "Fine. Now, just tell me what the hell you think you're doing."

"I'm doing the job you were going to pay me fifty grand to do," Quinn answered as if it were all so simple. "I found the man who hurt your daughter."

Raúl and Marco shared confused looks and the former shook his head in the negative. "No, I don – "

"Do you know the messy job your son did a few days ago for the man who stole the drugs from your family?"

Raúl pursed his lips and cut his eyes to Marco, who turned away sheepishly. "I heard, and I already punished him for his carelessness accordingly. But he got the job done, that's all that mattered."

Quinn nodded and sat down in the chair next to Marco, tossing the bloody rag onto his desk and pulling out Lucy again. Rachel went to stand behind her, a small hand on her shoulder.

"Well then, allow me to tell you two a love story," she said, crossing one leg over the other. "There was a once a princess of a very powerful and ruthless clan who had many suitors, but just couldn't keep one. Then she finds another beautiful princess, but she's the heir of the rival town; a real Romeo/Juliet syndrome. Anyway, they find a way to be together, and maybe it wasn't too secret, but she was able to fool her simpleton family members and marry the love of her life." Quinn watched the recognition flash in their eyes and she held back a grin, reaching up to place a hand on the tan one squeezing her shoulder. "Then, a month after bliss, when the wife is going to meet her bride on her territory, she and a handful of others are caught in a crossfire between a trigger happy prick and a defenseless junkie. And the widowed wife is left to live her life in despair because her fucked up brother doesn't know how to do a job – "

"Bullshit!" Marco sputtered, his complexion paling. "That-that's a fucking lie! She knows better – Santana knows better than to associate herself with those pigs, especially that Pierce whore – !"

A click and a boom happened so fast that it wasn't until Marco's body slid to the floor that Raúl realized a gun had gone off. Raúl stared up at his daughter with wide, shining eyes and she stared at him with dark empty coals, the gun hanging by her side, a wedding ring shinning against her chest.

"Ma-Mary –" Raúl stuttered, unable to take his eyes off of his daughter. Quinn shook her head.

"My name," she said quietly and stood up from the table, grabbing Rachel's hand, "is Quinn Fabray, originally of South Conluvian. My partner, whose fathers were the ones who recommended me, is Rachel Berry of West Conluvian and I'm sorry, but I'm sure you'll understand, seeing as how the Berrys and Fabrays were at war for years, that our sympathies are reserved only and heavily for your daughter. And if there's one thing that we hate more than having our time wasted, it's ending up right back where we started." She holstered her gun and turned to walk towards the door with an arm comfortably over Rachel's shoulder. "Eduard was right; We've got no business here."

They made it to the door and turned around when Santana called Quinn's name.

"Your money is in the envelope on my dresser," she whispered to her emotionlessly. She nodded. "You may leave."

She pressed the gun to her dumbfounded father's head and Quinn left to find Santana's room. The blonde smiled and turned to capture Rachel's lips.

"Mmm," she moaned when they separated. "I love you."

Rachel giggled and reached up to lace her fingers with the hand over her shoulder. "I love you, too, beautiful."

Quinn chuckled as they strolled lazily past the Lopez henchmen that seemed to be waiting along the hallway. "How about I take you out to a fancy and extremely expensive date tonight to celebrate a successful job?"

Rachel leaned her head on her wife's shoulder and sighed with a loving smile on her face.

"I think that sounds wonderful."

They weren't even all the way down the hall when the second gunshot went off and Raúl's body fell to the floor with a dull thump.

A/N: I'm not a super Brittana fan per say, but I'm really sorry for killing Brittany. I like her a lot.

Well, that was pretty much my final at the end of the year, and I never got a grade for it so I have no idea how good it really was. I also hated that class with a fiery, burning passion so I never wanted to ask the TA what I got. It reminded me why I decided to major in Art; writing papers and reading for class is not my definition of fun.

So, I've basically just turned in my final to you, fellow readers, with hope for some feedback that I've been waiting five months for.

Peace be your journey.