Hold me without touch, keep me without chains

Author note: This takes place a few months after "The Quarterback." This story deals with depression, eating disorders, and has triggering material, and as a fair warning up front, it is Brittana most of the way through but there is some Fabrittana eventually. Mostly canon up to Quarterback with a few slight head canons/alterations.

Several times in Brittany's life that a few months I had changed everything. The summer before freshman year she had just been this young girl and then all of a sudden a few months later she was hanging out with the head cheerleader and getting looked at like she was the hottest thing any of the boys have ever seen. She had been best friends with Santana and then all of a sudden a few months later they were doing things to each other that she couldn't describe it because they felt better than she had ever experienced before. But Santana had been hurting, barely able to look at her… and then a few months later they were dating.

A few months ago she was in Lima, she was Sam's girlfriend, she was stuck. Then MIT happened and Santana and she held hands as they walked off the stage together and she broke up with Sam. She did a semester at MIT and while her grades were the highest they ever were, she just couldn't do it. It was too much pressure, too many eyes constantly on her, expecting so much, and she received so little pleasure or satisfaction from it in return. It was nothing like the admiration she received for her dancing, because of the hunger for more, always more, that came with it. It didn't take more than a few more months before she dropped out of MIT, managing instead to get into Bachelor of Fine Arts in Dance program for the Tisch School of the Arts at NYU.

A few months ago, Finn had been alive, and everyone she had known from Glee seemed to be piecing their lives together for the better, starting to make their way into adulthood and successful futures. But now Finn was dead, and Brittany could barely think of any of her old friends without feeling unbearably sad, let alone keep in contact with them. A few months ago, she had been unable to bring herself to even call anyone, let alone go to Finn's funeral or memorial…but now she was on her way to New York City, with every intention of seeing Santana for the first time since regionals.

All her hopes are riding right now on this; it's the only plan she has bothered to make, not because she is so confident that it will work, but because it's the only option she can allow herself to have. Santana has to let her into her apartment, into her life. Santana has to forgive her, to understand how it was possible for Brittany to have kept her silence for so long, even when she knew Santana probably wanted to speak with her and see her the most. Santana has to, because if she doesn't, Brittany doesn't know what she will do next.

Brittany's possessions right now were in two bags; everything else from MIT was sent back to Lima, to her parents' house, where it could stay until she needed it. She got in a cab and told the driver the address, then, sitting back, took a breath as she moved closer and closer to the woman she needed in her life again.

It seemed much too soon for her to really be prepared as the cab pulled in front of the correct apartment. All that was left after she had paid was to haul her bags up the short flight of steps, face the door, take one last steadying breath, and knock.

88

Santana Lopez has given up.

It's not something she would ever say aloud to another soul, and she has a difficult time even admitting it to herself, inside her own darkest thoughts. But she knows it's true, deep down, and it is affecting her to her core. She has given up, and honestly, she couldn't care less what happens to her or in her life anymore.

She never would have thought, a few months before, that Finn freaking Hudson not being in her life could affect her so strongly. Honestly, she rarely thought about Finn at all, other than when Rachel had to yammer on about him, and when she did, it was with a strangely affectionate irritation. But Finn's death had shattered her world and her world view, more than she would have thought possible, and ever since her life had seemed meaningless, even a burden.

She knew she had loved Finn, even if she never exactly said as much, and even if he was a huge, lumpy dumbass who could rarely relate to her without sticking his oversized foot directly in his usually hanging open mouth. But she had never realized that to suddenly not have him there, a phone call or car ride away, to know that he was gone, forever, would hurt so much and with such intensity. He had been family, even if he could sometimes infuriate the hell out of her, and it was hell to have him gone.

It was almost worst, watching everyone else around her hurting just as badly. It made her realize with a sudden clarity she had never before possessed that anything, absolutely anything or anyone, could be taken from her at any time, no matter how much she didn't want it, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could lose her car or her job or her home or her health, she could lose anyone and everyone that she loved, and she couldn't prevent it. Having things, loving people, having a hope or a plan, she realized with sudden desperate despair, was completely pointless, because it would hurt all the more when she lost them than if she didn't have them at all.

She had lost so much in her life already. She had lost her feelings of safety and security on a national basis, now that everyone knew, even before she knew who they were, that she was a gay ex cheerleader, that they could hate her at a glance alone. She had lost her abuela's love, she had lost her scholarship and her certainty of her dreams, she had lost Finn, and now, she was sure, with two conspicuously absent spots at Finn's memorial, she had lost Brittany and Quinn. If they couldn't be there for her even then, knowing her like they did and how badly she would need them, then they would never be there for her again at all. And that somehow hurt every bit as badly as Finn.

She made up her mind, then and there, the moment Finn's jacket disappeared from her possession, that she would never let herself lose anything or anyone again. She would never let anything good into her life to risk. She would keep herself from success, keep herself from any kind of loving relationship at all, and that way she could never hurt so much again.

So Santana continued to wait tables, but she refused to sing, even when requested to; it would be something she could possibly enjoy, and music was no longer a comfort or a joy, but a source of pain. She did everything she could to avoid Rachel in their apartment, to push aside the rare question. She was there for her, when Rachel showed emotion, but the moment the other girl wasn't looking, she retreated to her room with a bottle and cried into her pillow until she fell asleep. When Kurt moved back to Lima, wanting to support his father and Carol in their time of grief, she was happy, because it was one less person to push her to open up.

But it wasn't easy. As hard as she tried not to feel, she had never naturally been a person to be able to stop, as hard as she tried to bottle it up. So she had to find a release, and there was only one way she could think of to try to cope. Every night, as soon as she was off shift, Santana went out, losing herself and her fears in shot after shot, drink after drink, until she was finally able to pick off the first warm body who gave her a smile. In drunken haze, she could forget her feelings, forget everything about physical touch, and each time she hoped it would be enough.

Never mind that she woke up most mornings with her face swollen and sticky from tears, that she was forgetting to eat and had no appetite when she did remember. Never mind that she hated herself more fiercely than she could recall feeling in some time, even as she tried to feel nothing at all.

It was a typical morning, the day that Brittany came back into her life. She was hungover, aching all over, half asleep on the couch because she had been too drunk to get herself to her bed in Kurt's old bedroom. When she heard the doorbell ring she ignored it, calling out a slurred order to go away. No way in hell was she dealing with the world right now.

88

Brittany knocked again. She didn't want to tell who she was yet in case her ex girlfriend or half way friend decided not to let her in. If they didn't let her in and let her stay she had nowhere else to go, and for the first time, the weight of her lack of a back-up plan began to settle over her. She felt a little panic well up as she knocked on the door a little more firmly.

Santana growled aloud, half rolling over, and almost fell off the couch. Newly irritated, she called out more loudly.

"I'm not home, already!"

"Santana?" Brittany called from the other side of the door. "Santana, it's me, Brittany. Let me in. It's the middle of December and it's freezing out here," she called, wanting to try to get the door open. She knew that tone and that was not a good one.

Even in her sprawled, limp position on the couch, Santana froze. She wanted to deny to herself that she recognized Brittany's voice, but of course, she would recognize it anywhere, no matter what distractions. She shook her head, trying to convince herself it was a dream, or some sort of hungover delusion. Or...

"Rachel Fucking Berry if you're trying out that stupid ventriloquist impersonal shit Sam does, your ass is gonna be bearing footprints pretty soon."

"When we were 14 years old you gave me a friendship bracelet," Brittany called out, wanting to prove it was her and not Rachel or Sam or anyone else. "When we became official girlfriends we stopped wearing them. We started to wear rings on our right middle fingers instead. Because we were more than friends. We wanted more than friendship."

Santana felt like her heart just stopped. She swallowed hard, feeling it stick in her throat, and tried to curl up into a ball on the couch. Already her eyes stung hotly, and she couldn't seem to come up with any words. She shook her head, denying to herself what she had just heard, and then almost whispered, "Go away."

She couldn't take this, not now. Not after all these months. There is no way she could just let her in, to do whatever it is she wanted, all over again. If Brittany wasn't there two months ago, or the months before that...no. just no.

"Santana, I am freezing my ass off out here. Please just let me in. I want to see you, I need to talk to you."

Brittany hated this. She hated there was a door between them, but she hated more there was now a wall between them consisting of more than simple construction- a wall partly built by her own decisions.

"Santana I am asking you to open the door, please?"

She closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from breaking down. She didn't like the anger she heard in her voice before and the tone she used once she was sure it was her was somehow worse.

Santana couldn't take hearing Brittany's voice. She couldn't stand knowing she was on the other side of the door, so close, after being so far in every way for so long. Why was she here now? Why was she coming to her now, when Santana had finally sort of succeeded in pushing her out of her thoughts? And why was it that even now, hearing Brittany sounding upset or hurt still affected her so badly?

Santana squeezed her eyes shut even more tightly, trying to force back unwanted tears, before she finally got to her feet with a groan that was almost a whimper. She staggered to the door, thrusting it open, and then hurriedly turned away, not wanting to see Brittany longer than she had to. She couldn't stand to look her straight on.

"What."

Brittany didn't even think about it; she couldn't resist. The moment Santana was in front of her, she stepped forward and wrapped Santana up in her arms from behind her. She held her for a moment, her face pressed to Santana's neck, before she spoke.

"I transferred from MIT to NYU. I am going to dance instead of do math. I can't live the life other people want me to. I'm dancer. I need to move and to express myself that way. I need that part of my life back, and I need a place to live. I can afford $1200 a month on rent. I am hoping I can move in here."

The moment Brittany's arms wrapped around her, Santana's heart started to race, panic flooding every muscle. She couldn't be held by her and continue to function. She couldn't smell her so close to her, listen to her voice near her ear, and still maintain even a little bit of composure. She couldn't do this, none of this made sense, she couldn't handle it, so she twisted herself violently, trying to force her to let go.

"Oh, so I'm the fallback. Your plans don't work out, and you think you can always come back to old reliable? What, your husband won't let you share his twin bed anymore?"

Brittany felt a sting at the mention of the fake wedding. She didn't really want Santana to know about that.

"You know Sam and I broke up." She dropped her arms to her sides to let Santana free. "And you know how much dancing means to me. You know it's the place where people don't call me stupid. I can't keep being their math monkey. I need to get back the important things in my life. Dancing and you."

Santana backed away from her, as far as the room will allow. She kept her back to her, her arms protectively crossing over her chest as she shook her head, refusing to look over towards her. Her entire face burned, and her voice comes out tautly, almost mean as she answered.

"Right. I'm so damn important to you."

"You were the one that broke up with me, remember?" Brittany said softly. "You are the most important person in my life. I tried to make someone else more important for a while and look what happened. I don't like it when we're not at least best friends. I don't like it when we're not together. I hated Boston because you weren't there. And I don't know if I can do New York without you. I'm asking for us to be us again. The dynamic two shot."

Santana could feel her hands starting to shake, her legs growing weak, and as the trembling began to spread up her arms to her shoulders, she made her hands into fists, clinching her jaw to suppress the cry that wanted to escape. She couldn't hear this. She couldn't let herself even try to believe, and she didn't want to. She couldn't afford to feel anything soft, anything like love or hope, not anymore. She shook her head, slowly at first, then harder, her messy hair flying out. Not trusting herself to speak aloud, she walked with slightly unsteady gait towards her curtained off area of the apartment.

Brittany took a breath, moving to shut the front door before moving her bags by the couch. At least Santana didn't throw her out. She didn't know what to do, so she headed to the kitchen. She did what she always did when she was upset, beginning to clean. She made sure to be quiet, not wanting to upset Santana more than she had. As she cleaned everything she could get her hands on, she felt guilt build in her chest. She hadn't been there for Santana, her own sadness crushing her. And now maybe Santana just didn't want her anymore. She shook her head, fighting to keep the same faith that had been tested with Santana before.

Once the kitchen was clean she made a grilled cheese for Santana and one for herself. She heated some tomato soup, doctoring it a little before she put some in a bowl for them to share. She grabbed two waters and headed toward Santana's area, hoping not to be assaulted when she got there.

Assault was not at all on Santana's mind. Actually, she was simply trying with increasing desperation to hold herself together. Between the hangover-induced throbbing in her temples, aching of her muscles, and dry mouth, and her emotionally induced confusing, anger, and nearly frantically denied sadness, she couldn't seem to decide what to do or how to respond, and the only way she could have a prayer of holding herself together was by being alone. Even then she found herself melting onto her bed, face down, her back shaking with the tears she was still trying with all she had to hold back. Why the hell was this happening?

Brittany passed though the curtain and into Santana's space. She felt nervous being in her inner space without permission, but she pressed on.

"I made us some lunch. Grilled cheese. No bacon since you didn't have any. I thought about putting a ketchup smiley face like you like, but I don't think either of us feels very smiley today," she said softly as she walked toward the bed. She felt her voice shake a little but tried to keep herself from admitting how hard this was. "I don't have anywhere else to go so if you are going to kick me out do it before dark, ok?"

Santana didn't respond to her aloud. She couldn't respond. She could still feel the slight shaking moving through her body, her heart beating hard against the comforter, her breath raspy even to her own ears. She ignored her, hoping that if she played dead, maybe Brittany would go away. But this was Brittany, and Santana knew the chances of that...or so she thought she had. She would have thought the chances of them not talking, all these months, of Brittany not being there on instinct the moment she needed her most, would be beyond zero too.

Brittany put the food down on Santana's bedside table.

"I didn't go to you when you needed me. And if you're upset about that then you have every right to be. I couldn't go back to that high school again. I planned on going back but I couldn't get on the plane. I should have sucked it up for you because you needed someone. I should have been stronger for you but I just wasn't." She reached out to play with a bit of Santana's hair. "You haven't been taking care of yourself and I wasn't there to make sure you were ok. Blame me for that. Hate me for that. But I am here now and I'm not going away."

Santana knew she should reach her hand out and shove Brittany's hand off her. She should tell her to go away, to get out of her room. She should tell her to leave her alone, that she doesn't want her anymore. That nothing matters, not her words, not her apologies, and not her stupid little touches. But when she opened her mouth, none of this comes out. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, swallowing repeatedly against the lump steadily rising in her throat. Finally she forced out, "Stop. You can't do this. Just stop."

"It's been eight months, Santana. I can't not be in your life anymore. I can't not have you in mine." Brittany sat down on the side of the bed, her hand stroking though her hair. "I don't know who I am anymore without you. Everything is just too loud and confusing and fast. I need my best friend back. Even if you don't want to be my girlfriend anymore. Even if you don't want me to belong to you. I need you back at least as my best friend," Brittany kept her voice soft even as she pleaded.

"Stop it," Santana repeated, and this time she could hear the cracking in her voice, the near pleading tearfulness. "Stop talking...stop."

She mashed her face harder into the comforter, feeling her nose stuff up and threatening to run with her fight to hold back tears. She didn't move away from Brittany's hand, however; she felt powerless to try. It was as though its stroking had hypnotized her, holding her where she was.

Brittany kicked her shoes off, moving to lay down. She was behind Santana so it didn't take much to move to spoon her. She didn't say anything as she fit her body against Santana's back with only the comforter to keep them apart. She moved an arm around her waist, nuzzling her neck though her hair.

"I love you," she whispered as softly as she could.

This was not fair. This was so not fair. Brittany knew that there was no way she could ignore this or resist...she knew this. She was playing dirty, forcing her to give in, and Santana should be pissed off. But she couldn't feel anger. She couldn't feel anything but fear.

The tightness around her heart seemed to puncture then, and Santana started to cry, quietly at first, then with growing intensity. She moved her hands to cover her face, sobbing from behind them, "Leave me alone. Go away. I said to go away...why don't you listen to me, I said go away."

Brittany felt a shudder run through her as Santana started to sob and tell her to go away. She felt like her heart was being slowly ripped out of her chest.

"I can't leave you again. It hurt so much when you broke up with me. I am finally in the same city as you are. I'm finally holding you again. How can I just walk away from that? Aren't we soulmates? Isn't that what we always said?"

"I need you to go. Go, go, go, please go, please stop, please go, just go...please, just GO," Santana pleaded, her words difficult to understand through her tears. She tightened her hands over her face, still doing everything she could to keep Brittany from seeing her face.

Brittany didn't know what to do. Never before had Santana pushed her so hard to walk away. Everything in her gut was telling her not to leave. Everything she knew about Santana was telling her to stay.

"If you want me to leave for good then you look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me in your life anymore. You look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me anymore."

She hoped more than anything Santana wouldn't be able to do it.

Santana couldn't. Not even if she wanted to, not if her continued existence depended on it. Santana couldn't even make herself form the words on her lips with her palms pressed against them, let alone turn around and look Brittany in the face while speaking them aloud. It wasn't possible, and the increased trembling of her frame and her lack of response spoke this even if her words didn't.

"I am never leaving you again. Never ever."

Brittany brought her arms around Santana more firmly. Santana's body had betrayed her words; she had learned early on that Santana's body gave away more than her words ever would.

"I've got you Santana. I've got you and I will never let you go."

She nuzzled her neck, trying not to notice how thin her frame felt. One thing at a time. One thing.

Every word, every squeeze of her body, every nuzzle and every breath against her skin felt like a hammer knocking down more and more of the walls she had fought to keep up around her heart. Santana gave in entirely to her tears, letting her body go limp with them, her fingers relaxing over her face as she stopped fighting. Brittany felt the shift as Santana started to let the tensing in her body go. She closed her eyes, just staying with Santana and trying to get her to a state of calm. They needed to talk about everything but right now she knew Santana, and they just needed to hold each other and breathe. They had been underwater for months. Now it was time to take those first merciful breathes together.

"I used to lay in bed alone and hug Lord Tubbington, and I would sing "Valerie" to myself," Brittany told her softly into her ear. "I would close my eyes and think of you on that stage all dressed up. You did so well. Lord Tubbington didn't like the singing so much, though. I have a few new scars now that will always remind me of you, and I don't mind it at all."

Santana still wasn't at a talking stage. She was at a gulping for breath, trying not to drown in her own bodily fluids stage. She couldn't return Brittany's embrace or even maintain enough control of her limbs to cover her hands with hers, but she did lean back into her, letting herself be held. Brittany just rubbed Santana's back with one hand while the other held her a little tighter.

"Breathe for me, Santana. I need you to breathe nice and slow. I know it hurts right now. Quinn had to hold me last week when I was crying so bad I burst a blood vessel in my eye. It was pretty gross, it looked like when we were zombies for homecoming, only not so sexy. But I need you to try for me. Just try to breathe."

Hearing that Brittany was so upset she burst blood vessels crying definitely wasn't doing much to soothe her. Santana tried, but it was slow going, and when she eventually started to do better, it was because Brittany's heartbeat against her back eventually started to regulate her own.

Brittany breathed slowly, trying to show Santana a pattern to follow. She let Santana just lay there, trying not to do anything but love her. She did, as a friend and as more than a friend. Brittany always knew the only person who could be called her soulmate was Santana.

When Santana started to calm, eventually just lying, breathing, in Brittany's arms, she hurt all over, as though she had endured a beating. She closed her eyes, releasing a slow sigh aloud.

Brittany was scared to say something. She just traced up and down Santana's middle with the tips of her fingers. She had no idea of her touch still explained all the things she couldn't say to Santana but she hoped it did. She hoped her touch was still as comforting and supportive as it had always been.

"Hi."

Another long sigh escaped Santana, and she swallowed, keeping her eyes closed. She whispered her response, her voice scratchy and dry.

"Hi."

Brittany nuzzled the back of her neck. "I have seen what my life looks like without you in it. Without your presence affecting everything else in my life. I don't like it. I don't like it at all. And I think maybe you don't like me not affecting everything in your life too. You need me and I need you and that's just a fact. Forever."

The truth is that Brittany always has affected everything in Santana's life. As much as she didn't want her to, as hard as she tried to push any thoughts of her aside, she was always there, even when she wasn't physically there at all. Santana still had few words for her; she was too exhausted to try. But she gave a faint nod in response, letting this speak.

"That's all I needed," Brittany whispered as she nuzzled the back of Santana's neck. Knowing that Santana at least agreed with that gave Brittany the confidence to feel a right to be back in Santana's bed. She pushed herself a little closer, her hand slipping under the shirt. "Take a nap, honey. After you wake up we'll get you a warm bath and then we'll talk. You need to rest first."

As exhausted as she was, Santana thought it would be impossible for her to sleep. Not when she hurt so much, physically and emotionally. Not with Brittany there, touching her, holding her, after all this time. Not with so much to think about and try to piece together in her mind. But with Brittany's soothing warmth against her, she found herself drifting off after less than ten minutes, falling into a deep sleep.

Brittany didn't sleep while Santana did. She laid there, wrapped up in the only person she ever truly fell in love with, and hoped that maybe that love could still end up saving them both. She felt Santana's frame and knew she couldn't have been eating well if she was this thin. It brought her back to high school, and the fear rose in her chest. But that was a conversation for another moment. After a while she just started trying to form a plan, needing to support the one she loved.

88