A/N I, like many others, was pretty upset that we didn't get to see Santana's reaction to the events involving Dave during On My Way. So I wrote this.
David Karofsky stared at the robust red-headed woman as she stared silently back at him. She was sitting in the seat against the wall and she leaned forward a bit with a thoughtful look.
Her name was Mrs. Horton, and he was supposed to talk to her. When he'd said he didn't want to she'd simply said "Alright," and taken her seat. They'd been just looking at each other for about thirty minutes now. He got the distinct feeling she was waiting for him to burst into tears and pour his heart out to her.
It wasn't that he didn't want to talk. Dave had been wanting to talk to someone for some time now, but it couldn't be just anyone. It had to be someone that mattered. Someone who would understand. And Mrs. Horton – staring at him through pink frames, hands folded on her denim skirt – wasn't the person.
As they sat and stared, David became aware of a sound coming from the hallways. A distant, echoing, sharp clicking. It was striking against the soft buzzing and rhythmic beeping constantly heard here, but he tried to ignore the new sound. This became harder as the clicks picked up pace and volume, coming closer and closer to him. He finally broke eye contact with Mrs. Horton.
His eyes fell upon the door just in time to see Santana Lopez march through it as if she were leading an army to conquer the hospital. He didn't have to wonder what the clicking had been for long; her short-heeled black pumps were the clear culprit.
Abruptly, he realized she was shaking. He met her eyes now and was taken aback by what he saw. Fury and anguish were waging war there, and it was more emotion than he'd ever seen her express in regards to him. It didn't make any sense. Dave hadn't even spoken to Santana since Prom night, not really. There had been a few texts between them in the following weeks – are you okay; what's up; are you ever coming back? – but they had become scarce and eventually stopped.
"I'm sorry dear, no visitors right now," Mrs. Horton said calmly as her eyes swept over the new arrival. "You should come back in a few hours or so."
Santana disregarded the words completely and finally moved, rather quickly, up to his bedside. She barely hesitated before drawing her hand back and – with more force than Dave imagined her possessing – slapped him across the face with a loud smack. "How dare you," she demanded, her voice cracking over the words. "How could you just-"
"Excuse me!" Mrs. Horton had gotten to her feet and was trying to look imposing. She might have succeeded if anyone had been looking at her. "Young lady, I think you need to go before I call hospital security."
"It's okay," Dave said quickly, even as he touched his fingers gingerly to the stinging skin of his face.
As his hoarse, quiet voice had rasped out the words, he watched Santana's pain overpower her anger. Her face scrunched up – just a little bit at first – and her eyes began to shine with the makings of tears. Her voice was more desperate than demanding now. "I'm so sorry."
He shook his head as she half-fell over the side of the bed into his waiting arms. An awkward embrace, but neither cared. "For what? You didn't do anything."
"I didn't," she began. Her words were muffled by David's shoulder and he could feel tears accumulating on his neck. "I should've been there for you."
"Shut up," David ordered insistently. He tightened one arm around her waist and brought his other hand up to her head, clutching her like she was the thread he was hanging by. He was vaguely aware of Mrs. Horton slipping through the door to wait outside. "It wasn't your responsibility to take care of me."
She pulled back just enough to look at him – his hand slid down to rest on her cheek as she moved – and her voice began shaking again. "It had to be someone's, and it damn well should've been mine. I could've done something to- I should've been there." She looked at him silently for a moment before taking a deep breath. She stood up out of his arms, straightening her crumpled shirt and rubbing tears from her cheeks. "But, um," she swallowed hard and met his eyes again. "I'm here now."
"Tana…" He didn't know what to say, he just kept staring at her.
She reached out a hand and grasped his tightly, her voice earnest. "Can we be best friends again?"
He sighed in disbelief and smiled before he realized it. "I-"
"No," she interrupted, "Actually I'm not giving you a vote. We are best friends. Your decision making has been real shit lately."
He let out a weak half-laugh and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Maybe I'll let you make my choices for awhile."
She smiled, wiping another tear from her cheek with her free hand. "Yeah." She looked around to the chair by the wall and then back to Dave. "I've got some time, I could stay if you want to talk or-"
"Yeah," he said with a quick nod. "That'd be great."