(Taking another page from gleerant on tumblr's future!Sugar verse... Roch n JJ aka themostrandomfandom rock.)
Brittany felt her eyes from the doorway long before she said anything. Again, Brittany waited, kneeling by her invention.
"Teach me," said Santana.
Brittany looked around at her, tired.
"Teach me to use your infernal machine."
Brittany's breath caught. She froze, gaping, no light in her eyes. The awful frowny-face.
"Baby baby baby no, I'm sorry! I just have all these feelings-"
"My feelings are as strong as yours, San. I've said I'm sorry. I'll be sorry the rest of my life, or until we get her back. I'm sorry."
"Britt—"
"It's not fair. It's never fair. But if you look at the big picture, the hand we were dealt has been phenomenal. We got us. We got this. We got the kids. I wouldn't trade any of that. But I have to get her back." She turned back to the time machine.
"How can I help?"
"I don't know... I don't have the words to teach you how."
"Then show me."
"I'm still working on it. I just have to feel my way. Nobody has words for this. They haven't been invented yet."
"Babe. Brittany. Please look at me." Santana crossed the room, closer to the device than she'd been since their daughter disappeared. She knelt by her wife. "Please, Baby, please," she quoted from one of their favorite children's books. Brittany pulled her head out of the locker.
"Please be careful with it."
"I'm going to get her back," said Brittany.
"We are," said Santana. "We. Are." Then, "What's that smell?"
"Dude," said Brittany.
"Exactly, middle-school-dude-smell." She looked toward the doorway. "Charlie, come on in here. I can smell you."
He entered the room sheepishly. "It's Charles, Mom. Please."
"What… 'cologne'… are you wearing?"
"It's what her boyfriend wears. It was always on her after they went out." He scratched his head. "I thought it might help."
Brittany looked up again.
Santana said, "Let's wait until you're in middle school for Axe, shall we? It's perverse on a first grader."
"San, he's right."
Santana wrinkled her nose, then tipped her head doubtfully.
Charles went to his Mom and crawled into her lap.
"Okay, I think I'm allergic or something. You're going to have to wash that off."
"Mom. We need a route to her… like a paper cup and string telephone. We need a string."
"I always meant to do that with you."
"Mama did… And we need something else."
Brittany nodded. "Magic," she said.
