Glee Run to You

Chapter 1

Ghosts of the Past

Sometimes, archaic nature annoys me. If you saw this before, I am sorry. Anyway, you are seeing this has nothing to do with Glee. You are wrong, sort of. This is the continuation of the story line started at the end of Rain. Here is what happens. Quinn leaves after the transference and notices Jen wandering around the parking lot analyzing the rain. They talk and Jen notices Quinn's sad and feels sorry. She asks if they is anything she can do. Quinn asks for an new life: her boyfriend back, not to be pregnant and restoration of her friendship with Rachel.

Jen says she thinks she can do that and will call her later, giving her her number which is a Denver area code. She does call later and they talk. Quinn records the video and goes to sleep.

So what did Jen do? She went back two years and had the financial that Principal Figgins moans about get worse. Figgins tells Coach Tanaka that he is firing him then he snaps and kills several faculity members before killing himself. Brain Ryan closes the school in early 2008 and the student are dispersed amongst the two other schools in the Lima Metro area. So Quinn and Rachel who attend the same middle school in Lima together are BFFs don't ever go to the tryout for 2008-2009 freshman class cheerleading that Sue holds (you saw 2010-2011 at the beginning of Audition) and Rachel bailing on Quinn because Sue insulted her. Instead they went to Forest Hills.

So why the name change? Because here I can do what I want, but if I want this to be a publishable book. Hense the name changes, I made it easy to follow. If you watch the show you should see who is who.

This brings me to the final part of this: I want your help. Tell me how you think it would be better, give me your ideas. If you have an opinion let me know and back it up with show. I have every episode. I want you to enjoy this and hopefully at the end you can have a better book that that Glee: the beginnings on which was bad (no continuity, obvious mistakes that showed it couldn't happen prior to the pilot, getting a main character name wrong) 2 final things. The published work won't have this. And it won't have the songs either. You get both.

"It's finished. Now let's see if she can fulfill the task to keep it," the short lady with the lemony platinum hair mused aloud softly as a halo of sparks died around her. "Otherwise, all of this," she glanced around the room, "will be gone in the space of months. And a child will be here in 8." With that, she briskly left, shutting the door.

The sunlight trickled in softly, filling the princess's room with a golden light. While she really wasn't a princess, the room was decorated like one. Buttercream and salmon, coral and apricot celebrated. They lied on the floor, hung on walls and relaxed as bedding. Beside the window bedecked in Princeton orange drapes rested a satinwood vanity complete with tiffany lamp. Next to it, upon the wall was a full length mirror. The remained length of wall was consumed by a Waddell® display trophy case filled with a far mix of dance and cheerleading trophies. A lone music trophy sat on the back hidden behind a tall NCA Nationals trophy for 2009.

On the other buttercream wall was the private bathroom and walk in closet. Flush with the doorway sat a satinwood highboy dresser with a loose ornate handle half way down. Various family pictures rest on top. Two steps away dwelled a disheveled satinwood desk. In amongst the scattered homework, books and Slurpee® cups of pens rested a golden laptop blinking softly, still closed. A printer was beside it. A short distance away was the nightstand. Across the room from it, was a 32 LCD TV mounted to the wall next to the currently closed bedroom door.

In the center of the room stood a queen-sized satinwood four poster bed layered in pinks, corals and cream comforters, pillows and sheets bearing unicorns and clouds. Wrapped up in the center, still dreaming laid the princess who wasn't. Straight, honey blonde hair rested across an oval face as she rolled over. Groggily opening hazel eyes, she rubbed them and her button nose trying to wake up. Small, delicately pink lips pursed as she wet them, finally setting up.

Awake, she frowned, confused. _This isn't right. Something is off, _she thought as she pushed herself out of the bed. She stood in front of the mirror, examining herself. Small bust, check. Flat six-pack abs, check. Round, curvy waist and hips check. Tight, taut thighs and calves check. Lacy maroon boy shorts said she hadn't changed. The lack of any other garment agreed. She was pink in the right spots. Her fingers and toes were still painted peach.

A chirp echoed. Looking toward her laptop, she saw the soft blinking. _Why is it still on? I always turn it off._ Stretching briefly, the laptop chirped again. She trotted around the bed, and stood before the desk. Opening the laptop, she saw a video of herself in the buttercream dress. _That was the dress I wore to the transference ceremony. Did I take the laptop with me? No. So this must have been before I changed for the party. _ Rubbing her temple, she jabbed the play button.

"I am taping this now, because if I didn't you would mess things up. You would undo everything. I want a chance to have this. I want the balance to tilt back to me; who is you." She paused, grabbing her Marc by Marc Jacobs® Pretty Nylon 'Little Tate' Tote, withdrawing a gold box clutch. From it she pulled he salmon colored driver's license, holding it vertically for about 30 seconds. Then everything vanished back into the tote. "That was so you know it's me. This isn't a fake or a manip. If I didn't do this, you would freak out. You would then ask too many questions; especially about 'ghost town'."

_Ghost town? _A blurry image floated up, dismissed as quickly as it was born. "You would also say things you can't anymore." She smiled.

"I would," she mused aloud. Seven A.M. flashed on the display. Glancing at the cheerleading calendar tacked to the wall above the desk, she noticed it was Saturday. Her video version had remained silent, looking at something off screen. She faced the screen speaking again, her face serious.

"Ground rules for this," she said wistfully. "First go get your tote, its lying next to the desk and hold up your license next to mine." Video-her held the license up again. Pause got stabbed. She leaned over and pulled the gold box clutch out and got her license. It was her face. It was salmon and vertical, attesting that she was a legal driver under 21.

Holding the license up with her left hand, she stabbed play again. "Read the name on yours."

She stared at her name yet it wasn't her name. It said Gwen Breton. The screen showed her name. In fact the licenses were perfect other than that.

"Gwen Breton is your name. Don't say the other name again. I am all that is left of her. If you do, it will be blamed on the fall." Video Gwen put her license away. Pause got stabbed as Gwen returned hers to the clutch. The clutch was dropped back into the bag. She tapped play.

"This applies to everyone save our parents. Our boyfriend is Winston Eire; nickname: Winn." An image of a guy she knew well. Triangular face, wavy auburn locks, chocolate brown eyes, broad nose. Tight and tall but not overly muscled. He wore a red letterman jacket in the photo, flashing his characteristic dopey smile. "Oh and I need to tell you this before I forget, you are not pregnant!" She jabbed pause with a thwack. Hands slid over her abs as joy spread across her face. _Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, God. I'm not going to get fat or ruin my college chances or be trapped here. No more wine coolers, period! _Play was tagged.

"Yes. This is the single best news. Your partner in that," an image of a square faced, ebony stubbled tough guy stared back. His brown eyes twinkled in amusement. A sharp nose and thick, small lips twisted in a smirk rounded out the image. "Your partner in that is Tom Istan." The video voice went silent as Gwen blinked at the image. _That's—_She placed hand over her mouth as the recognition flashed. _It's as if my world is inside out._

Video Gwen appeared on the screen again. "We both know who he is. The question is why the different name?"

Gwen nodded as Video Gwen smiled. "We got what we asked for. Think about yesterday; the rain, the presentation, the transference, the meal. Didn't we ask her for everything to be different? We wanted to free of this pregnancy, our boyfriend and best friend back. Well, the request was granted. It will probably make more sense to you than to me. And even the meeting with Ke$ha was repaired." The camera panned to an empty spot on the wall beside her. Gwen instinctly looked up and saw an autographed poster with her name on it. _If that's me what happened to—_

"You looked at the poster. No you didn't steal anything." Suddenly Video Gwen was replaced with an image of a young brunette with an oval face and chocolate brown eyes to match layered shoulder length chocolate hair. A slightly crooked Jewish nose and full pink lips told her exactly who it was; my erstwhile best friend. It brought up mixed emotions. Two days ago, it was anger, distaste, frustration and sadness. Now the sadness remained along with hope and concern. "She still has it," Video Gwen said removing the image. "She was fun until she got spooked at Cheerleader tryouts summer leading to freshman year. So you abandoned her. And you rose and she fell. Now, you have what you wanted. She didn't bail. Neither of you are captain but you are both popular." Video Gwen flashed an incredulous look. "Sarah Darri, daughter of one dad, Tad and one mom, Shelly. She's been your one true—" Video Gwen paused, looked off camera, her face one of disbelief and a little disgust. "I can't read that. It's not true," she said to someone off camera.

A voice, high in timber and lilting, replied. "Not to you. You kept turning the knife. But I fixed that. And until two weeks ago it was true."

"Two weeks?" Video Gwen asked, curious.

"Finish the video," the voice ordered.

"Fine!" she retorted. Turning back to the camera, Video Gwen sighed deeply. "We are friends. Best friends. And three weeks ago we both got signed to a record deal that will happen this coming summer due to the endless amount of YouTube videos we've made…" She paused and stood. "I'm not reading this script anymore. So here it is. After you two got the contract you went to a party. You got drunk and slept with Tom who happened to be Sarah's boyfriend at the time. There was a pregnancy scare which revealed what happened. Sarah feels betrayed, used and currently wants you miserable. And that's how it's been. You have to fix this. Otherwise, at the end of this school year, it will revert back to this morning without any of this. It will simply be another day." Video Gwen held this dispassionate look, one Gwen knew well as she sat back down. "She was our only real friend, such as she is," she said with a gentle shake of the head as she remembered 8th grade.

"Finally, you go to Forest Hills. The school I went to yesterday is gone; closed by the Lima Metro school board in that self-same summer. Practice is at 9 at the CheerHouse behind Booker Field. Oh, one important point," she sighed, displeased. "Sarah has to genuinely apologize for her share of the issue. She isn't guiltless. As we both know her, that's going to be a miracle, right? I know this sounds impossible, yet I have been assured if we do achieve the objectives this will stick. I did the hard part. It's up to you to decide to keep it or abandon it. Dad always said, 'Beware the unintended consequences for they can change the biggest gift into an albatross. I don't know what those are yet, but you will." Video Gwen smiled. Gwen nodded. "That's all there is, so go get dressed and see what we have gained. See if Jennifer really did give us what we asked." With that the image froze then vanished. Looking around, Gwen noticed one poster beside the TV, a poster of the Beyoncé tour signed by the dancers. _What have I done? Hopefully I made things better._

After a shower and donning of ivory lace boy shorts and bralette, she opened the closet to find her practice sweats. _At least this hasn't changed. I love my Anthropologie®, Forever 21® and J Crew®, _she mused as she walked in. Near the front, hanging in its plastic sack, was a brand new Forest Hills High Wolverettes cheerleading shell and pleated skirt. The black and golden spandex and polyester shell top held a star over the bust. Superimposed on the star was a black bear paw print. Under the star was the Wolverette stencil. The top stopped at her midriff leaving her abs exposed. The multi-pleat skirt was gold with black piping and came down to mid-calf. _Crunchy toast,_ she chuckled to herself. It was an all-star uniform worn only by those squads who had earned it. She remembered watching that competition on ESPN 8® then throwing socks at the TV, angry that her erstwhile BF won, even though she wasn't her friend then. That led to her getting drunk at a party, and her failed meeting with Ke$ha. _I guess that never happened. I guess I was there. _

Rubbing her forehead, she noticed the winter and non-all-star midriff covered uniforms beside it. Her practice sweats, which weren't really sweats, followed it. Grabbing the crossover gold V front ebony short and pulling it on, she caught sight of her old, worn cheerleading uniform. Having worn it Thursday, it surprised her to still be there in this 'new' life.

The cranberry and snow polyester shell had ebony piping around her neck and across the top of her bust, enclosing an ebony triangle bordered in cranberry. A cranberry bar ran above the snow bordered cranberry high school letters. The first two letters were the initials of the first U.S. president of the 20th century. Beneath the lettering was a thick band of cranberry bordered in ebony. The sides were snow colored. The pleated skirt was cranberry with an ebony edge piping.

Beside it hung her well-worn maroon practice shirt of 400 thread Egyptian cotton and practice shorts, black this time. Grabbing the shirt, she pulled it on a second to remember. Turning back, she saw a note pinned to the shell. "This is a totem of remembrance to show that the past you remember did exist. It was real, just as this is real now. You should begin remembering the new past as you encounter it. You won't lose any old memories. Understand this." Beside it was a newspaper clipping of the shooting in '08. _There wasn't a shooting in the school._

Crumpling the note, she tossed it to the floor. It bounced off the black duffle with the gold star and Gwen Breton across it. She frowned then noticed her old duffle. Worn out maroon with QF in sharpie on the white ends, it had the name of the General Mills® oat-based, ready-to-eat cold cereal emblazoned on its sides. _A team that supposedly didn't exist anymore but did just last Thursday._

Grabbing her black duffel, her frown set deeper. "Time to end this charade. No one can rewrite two years of history and let only me remember. Not possible."

She parked the car in the empty parking lot. Other than silence of the weekend and the obvious loose paper blowing in the breeze, the school looked no different than it did Thursday. It still had the same faded parking lines and cracked curbs. The signs for the facility were still up and worn by sun and time. Everything was where it was supposed to be, just like she left it. Yet it was a lie. Shutting the door, an old piece of cheerleading team stationary stuck to the cherry Ford Focus®. Peeling it off, she saw that the trees weren't pruned. The grass was overgrown and unkempt. The dumpster that was the bane of the social misfits, gone. The building itself had seen better days. Yet, its tan tone still looked she remembered, even if it was from the windowless back.

Walking down the sidewalk across the building to the front, she scanned the area. Silence gripped her as the smell of loss filled her nostrils. Shaking it off, she spied an errant piece of police tape as she turned the corner. A massive eight foot chain link fence slammed into her, causing her to stagger back. It was mounted into the building on one end and ran the length of front to the other corner and turned. It sat back past the concrete steps, past the curb into the street itself.

Following the fence around, she came to a door in line with the forest green front doors which were boarded up with weathered grey wood tagged with red 'ghost town' and a pitchfork. A poor drawing of the something person like also adorned the door. The gate door was locked with a huge coiled chain. Nothing else, just fist sized, flat steel chain links pitted with age.

Staring through and up, the disbelief covered her face. The windows of the first and second floor were boarded up all over the building. The hatchwork domed light fixtures were gone. The delicate forking along the roof was gone as well. The only thing that even suggested what it once was still hung above the front doors. Below the name was the address; 1854. A sign warned about trespassing hung fitfully off the plywood, nailed in haste. The same sign was zip-tied to the fence gate as well. All along the edges, trash and other debris accumulated.

_It's so wrong. I'm dreaming. No, not a dream. It's a nightmare. _ The sharp sound of a slap rung in the lazy air as she tried to wake up. She winced when nothing changed but the blossoming redness in her cheek. Glancing around, she grimaced. _I've had enough of this lie. _"I reject this lie! I am dreaming and this is a lie," She announced to the emptiness as she climbed the fence. Scaling it down rapidly, she sprung into a squat, watching for anything suspicious. An old crowbar rusting in the weeds along with a zipped toolbag resting on its side called to her. Scooping up the crowbar, she toed the bag over and saw it had been their awhile.

The chain came free easy when she pulled it with crowbar. The gate creaked open; the chain now hanging like tinsel on the two sides. She shook her head and approached the front doors. "You lie and do not the truth!" She shouted as reached up to pull open the doors. However, the doors were ajar. The chain that was on the door handles was not rusted and sat in a pile on the concrete stoop beside one door. No lock there either. _Strange, where are all the locks? None of this makes sense. Horrid Nightmare! _

Pulling the doors open with a rumbling sonorous creak, sunlight streamed onto the billboard holding two year old notices spotted with dirt and dust. Her blond hair fluttered as she strolled in, a cloud of dirt cloaking her as she moved. Yet turning either way she walked into abject darkness. Slashes of light stabbed the floor in the distance. Still it black either way. Growling, she threw the bar down with a clank and stormed back to the overturned tool bag. Amongst the rusted tools was a faraday flashlight which appeared to still work. _This won't cut it. Why am I still here? Because I am not accepting this dream is real. It's not. _

Fifteen minutes later, she dropped it on the concrete steps as she dragged herself back up. Numerous wood boards laid on the grass dropped in front of the window it came from. _Whoever did it did a horrid job. I got them down easily. _ The right hall was now filled with fitful light when she closed the front doors. Sweat dripped from forehead and bronze hair as she slowly walked down the empty red and white tiled hall. _I refuse to believe the school is dead. _ The flashlight pierced the dark in jagged beams revealing silent water fountains, open doors and papers scattered on the floor.

The maroon and cream tiled hallway glistened under a layer of dust. Gaping red lockers hung lockless. Old posters hung morose. Then the trophy case lit up as the beam crossed it. Above it, the school's name was spelled out in dirty tan letters still bolted to the walls. Some were chipped by obvious prying attempts. Others were cracked. Yet all remained. Not true about the case, though. The formerly flush doors sat open. Dusty emptiness and her messy reflection stared back. Except it totally empty. A lone trophy and plaque remained. _Odd, who would leave a trophy behind? And where do school trophies go when a school dies? NO! This school isn't dead. This is a lie! _ "You ARE LYING!" Gwen shouted, letting her rage echo in the dank hall.

Approaching the case, she realized what the trophy was. The plate on the trophy read, '1993 Show Choir National Champions'. A deep frown set. Rubbing her eyes, she stared at the plaque. Ms. Adler, the jowly round faced older lady with curly red hair. It had her passing date of 1997 and an uplifting quote similar to her favorite: 'Cheer is an effervescent wellspring of joy. Open yourself to it.' She remembered being taught earlier this year about her and how she led everyone to victory in 1993.

Tears began rolling down. Rubbing her arm swiftly across her face, she sniffed. On the floor, crumpled and dusty rested a duffel with a 1 scrawled on its side. It was empty, and as she turned it over, a flash of inspiration brightened her sight. The trophy barely fit into the duffel but the plaque went easily. _I'll put you back Monday. You don't deserve this lie._

One place left to go. _The one I came to see; the cheerleading coach's office. _Her mind held memories of her freshman year trying out. How she in her tight cropped blond mop and crow's feet would spew venom at everyone. How her performance caused faint praise. How her BFF totally bailed on her then, refusing to tolerate the rage. And the slushies' began for her then. _I should have stopped them. I should have been a better friend. I wanted to be popular and I thought you wanted it too. It would have been so much better had you stayed. We could have ruled this school._

The silence and darkness threatened to unnerve her, the deeper she went. Now beyond the point where she pulled off the boards, she crept closer to the cheerleading office in the back wing of the building. "I am not moved by what I see, only what I believe." Gwen repeated this softly to herself as the beam bounced from wall to floor until she found the wide open door pouring sunlight into the hall. The brightness caused her to squint and stumble. She caught herself but the beam landed on the front page of the Lima News. The headline announced 'Nationally known Cheerleading coach murdered in Football coach psychotic rampage.' Repeating the phrase aloud, she stood up. Walking into the room, she halted, stunned.

Everything was still there. The Stairmaster®, the desk with name placard and cranberry stationary covering it, even the wall of trophies in the trophy case were still there. TV in the corner. Cranberry chairs with the 4 initials of the school on them, file cabinet still there. The overflowing billboard of notes and pictures of a highly successful cheerleading coach remained. The leather chair was facing the wall. Reaching out to turn it, she noticed someone in it. A scream echoed as she sprang back; the bag clenched in her other hand.

"You were right. You did come," Jen said as she rotated around to face Gwen. "I actually didn't believe you. It's nice to be surprised." Flaxen strands of hair were whisked away by a small hand with unpainted nails. Her small lips, a bold pink, pursed in thought as her jade eyes regarded her. "This is dangerous. You're on private property, stealing? Wearing the school colors, no less. Those were memories not fashion accessories."

Jen's broad button nose wrinkled when Gwen frowned. "Why are you doing this? This dream." The words sliced like a razor across meat.

"You asked me too. Ideas have consequences," Jen bit back, fire radiating in her eyes. "A change that big is a new life. So that necessitated new names, new paths, a second chance. One you have yet to see." She hissed. Waving her hand, she stared at Gwen. "I warned you, the results wouldn't be entirely to your liking. There was to be a sacrifice. Some lives are like a sweater. Pull the loose string and it all unravels." Jen rose, as tall as Gwen, leaned over the desk. "Others are like a mirror. HK Milken. A teacher became an accountant. It stays whole even if shattered. Others are a sponge and won't ever break. But they get larger when filled. Your BFF is what she always wanted. And you gave it to her. You had to sacrifice this to do it." Jen waved her hand before she sat back down. Gwen stepped closer unable to read her face in the morning light.

"This is a dream."

"Is it?" Jen retorted, harshly. "Have you awakened yet?"

"No," Gwen fired back.

"Then I can wake you," she stood again. She held out a bill pill. With a twisted smile, she said, "You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe." She paused staring the flat face of Gwen. "Matrix, cute," she remarked.

"Yes, but true. You will wake. You will wake pregnant and without your boyfriend. You will be kicked off the team. Your BFF will eventually eclipse you and you will even lose your bedroom. Nothing will be the same and it will be all downhill for a long while." Gwen shook her head, holding back the tears. "You want to be an outcast, friendless and alone?" Jen asked softness in her voice.

"I have my parents," Gwen remarked hesitantly.

"Really? When your father finds out, what will happen?" Jen asked as if the question had been broached and answered already.

An angry sigh fell from Gwen. "I don't know. I'm afraid he would kick me out."

Jen shook her head. "I am sorry you are upset by this." She spread her arms out. "But we went over this. This is for the best. You get what you want without preventing you BFF from fulfilling her dreams. Although I also told you that undoing 2 years of hostility could have serious consequences. This was one of them."

"Jen, you said Ra—Sarah would be my best friend again. And I did expect a change of family or a different school. Not this! This is the best part of me!" She slumped into dusty maroon chair, frustrated. It was then her eyes grew in horror at something that had been highlighted in the feeble sunlight. Blood spatter and white matter on the trophy case. Covering her mouth with her hands, she stared, weeping.

"Change it back!" She growled. "Change it back!" the scream echoed into the hallway. Jen rose, leaning over the desk, compassion and disgust on her face.

"You didn't kill her," she whispered. "He did. He was unstable and snapped. Was going to anyway. If you return to your old life, he will break down at the end of the school year anyway and commit suicide. You remember differently because an event prevented this path."

Gwen stared hard at her, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. "You lied. You're a demon, a djinn, an evil bitch who loves this misery. I should have never asked this. Now change it back!"

Jen turned away, fury in her eyes. A heavy breath huffed into the dismal silence. Walking to the doorway, she pointed to the mechanical clock still running on the ceiling. "It's 8:30. Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?" she said in soft, measured tones.

"You broke my life." Gwen said darkly. "I wanted Ra—Sarah as my bestie. That was all. Look at this!" She swiped the other chair, and wiped away the dust. "You wanted to do this."

Jen walked over to her, jerking her from the chair. Gwen staggered up, stepping away. "You are being a little bitch about this. You want it back? Ok. I don't work for free. This is reality we are talking about. You can have the pregnancy and the boyfriend who will dump you. You can have the BFF who believes you were never a real friend and will only associate with you on holidays. You can have the father of the child who will eventually end up in juvenile hall for stealing an atm because you crushed his soul. You will work it off in the manner of my choosing."

Fear dissipated the anger as Gwen looked for a means of escape. "No wait," she said dejected. "I'm sorry."

Yet the anger didn't vanish from Jen's eyes even as her face calmed. "If you ever blaspheme again, you will regret it. However, it won't change back unless you fail at your task. And I know you hate to fail because you told me. You wanted Sarah to be your BFF? She is. She's wondering where you are and why you haven't got her message. You wanted to be free again? You are. You wanted a boyfriend? You'll have to work for him. I can't make that. No one can. Besides, you begged me when I came to investigate the healing rain. I did what I could. More than I should have." She blew out a breath. "If you truly want your old life you will get it back. And if you truly want this one you will keep it. But you will have to repair the breach created when you slept with Tom, which couldn't be changed regardless of his name."

Gwen brushed herself off. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that streamed in. Staring blankly at Jen she repeated her sorrow.

Jen exhaled, crinkling her nose. "I forgive you. Understand that sometimes you can't undo things. They happen for a reason. You got a rare chance. And rather than thinking about what you lost, embrace what you gained. Praise the Lord for it. And I suggest you leave the back way. It's unlocked. Otherwise you will be answering questions from detectives. They don't like trespassers." And she walked out towards the now open back door. The light filled the old red and white halls again as Gwen ran after her, carrying the duffle. Once out into the sunlight, Jen looked at her amused. This won't be easy. And I do believe you might learn something. However, you won't see me again unless it's an emergency." And with that she sauntered off through a separation in the fences.

Gwen ran to her car, tossed the duffel in the back and drove out. Looking at the rear view mirror, she saw the police car turn in. _Why did I ever deal with an angel?_

Jen stood at the edge of the parking lot hidden in the tree line as the cop car shot inside. "She thinks this is bad?" she mused aloud. Unsnapping a smartphone sized tablet from her belt, she pulled up a hexadecimal location and queued it. "I'm no angel. I'm just a traveller. A master of the travellers but still a traveller. And we are far from being done. You will learn from this, Q. You will learn. 'Change it now'," she shook her head. The distaste remained as she tapped a spot on the tablet. A ball of watery cobalt light surrounded her before vanishing.


End file.

Glee, Drama, Romance