CHAPTER TWO

You let your fingers rest on the wooden door in front of you before you took a deep breath, plastered a fake smile on your face, knocked lightly and yanked the door open, finding it hard to walk and balance a cup and saucer at the same time. "Sorry it took so long," you muttered, not looking Santana in the eye. "I got lost on the way to the kitchen again."

You had been in that house for an hour and a half and you needed to leave. Badly. You must have fetched four cups of tea for Santana in that time, but she hasn't looked at you or spoken to you since the first moment you met. She just hummed when you asked her if she wanted more tea, and whenever you brought it to her she humphed as a thank you, acknowledging your presence each time, but only barely. It was beginning to annoy you, but you didn't want to be irritable on your first day, so you kept your mouth shut and continued working.

This time it was different though, because when you spun on your heel and started to walk out the door, you heard a small voice from behind you. "I asked for no sugar this time. I can see it swirling around in the bottom of the cup."

You turned around to see Santana looking directly at you, her face stoic and her eyes emotionless. "Would you like me to make you another?" you sighed, leaning against the door frame.

Santana tore herself away from your gaze, forcing herself to look directly into the steaming cup of berry tea in her hands. You learned in the past hour that although Santana spent pretty much all of her time in bed or the living room, she could move her arms and legs, albeit very slowly. Her left arm slowly bent and she brought the cup up to her lips and sipped. "It's fine," she finally decided. She glanced back up at you. You must have looked uncertain because her eyes softened slightly, but the rest of her face didn't change. "It's fine."

You smiled weakly at her, and of course it wasn't returned, and you fled from the room, exhaling loudly.

In the time you had been in 4 Manor Avenue, you had been inside four rooms; Mr Lopez's office, Santana's room, the kitchen and one of the living rooms. You were astonished that they had more than one, but it was the last thing on your mind at that point. You made your way into the living room you were familiar with and threw yourself onto the spotless white sofa, not bothering to take your shoes off, sprawled across it and rubbed your eyes.

"Stains don't come out of that, you know."

Your eyes sprung open and you saw a woman standing in front of you, her eyes trained on your shoes. She looked to be the same age as Mr Lopez, maybe even more worn out looking. She wore a casual, summer dress, even though it was fall, and a cross around her neck. "I'm sorry, ma'am," you apologised, sitting up and planting your feet on the floor. You could feel your face burning up, and you wouldn't have been surprised if a blush was extremely noticeable.

If it was, this woman didn't let it on. "I'm Maribel Lopez, Santana's mother," she told you, stepping forward and reaching a hand out to you. You shook it and forced a smile. "You must be the new nurse my husband was telling me about."

"I'm Brittany," you told her, stepping backwards for some unknown reason. "I only started this morning."

Sympathy flashed across Maribel's face, and held her hands on her stomach lightly. She then leaned forward, as if to tell you a secret. "The first few weeks with her are the hardest, you know," she whispered, her eyes trained on yours. "All of the nurses have said that. Once Santana has warmed up to you a little, she'll be less difficult."

Your first response was to shake your head. "She hasn't done anything too… extreme yet. She's just been a little quiet." A little was an understatement but you felt it was best not to add that in.

Maribel smiled at you sadly, like she pitied you. "Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you." She averted her gaze, favouring the carpet instead of your eyes. "Santana lost a lot of her spirit after she got sick, but her sharp tongue remained in tact, that's for sure."

You were a little bit lost for words. You couldn't quite put a finger on as to why this was one of the most uncomfortable conversations of your life, but it certainly was up there. "I, uh, better check on Santana."

"Of course," Maribel replied, giving you a thin lipped smile. "Just to let you know, Mr Lopez and I work everyday, and we'll be gone from late morning to late evening."

You smiled in response, before beginning to set off down to Santana's room.

"One more thing." You turned to see Ms Lopez still standing in the same spot in the living room. "Make sure you check her temperature every now and again. She's very prone to infection and she finds it difficult to tell whether she's feeling hot or cold."

You nodded your head in thanks to Santana's mother, and quickly darted out of the room, praying to whoever or whatever was looking out for you that you could actually remember the way to Santana's room. Panic clouded your vision, as you thought about how if you couldn't even remember simple directions to a room that you'd be spending a lot of time coming and going from, that this job wasn't going to last long.

After a few twists and turns, you found yourself outside the familiar door to her bedroom. You could tell the difference between the door to Santana's room and all the others, because there was the faint marks left by stickers on them; she probably had stickers on her door as a kid, and then peeled them off as she got older, you reasoned.

The door was slightly ajar, and you bent and leaned forward so you could carefully put your eye to the slit. Santana was still sitting up in bed, but only this time she was reading a book. Her hands trembled slightly as she held it, shaking under the weight and pressure. As she slowly raised her left hand to turn the page, you could see the pain and utter misery written on her face, and you don't think you've ever felt so sorry for someone in your whole life. You decided she probably wanted to be alone, so you ducked your head and headed down the hallway quietly, so she wouldn't notice your presence.

Because you had been so busy in the past two hours, you hadn't taken much time to look around the house you were in. You didn't even notice the abundance of photos all over the walls and tables. A photo of teenage Santana with two of her friends caught your eye, and once you got closer you gasped in shock.

Because wow.

You were stunned at the difference in how she looked. Firstly, she was grinning from ear to ear in the picture, which caused you to frown deeply, as you didn't think she had smiled once in the whole two hours you had been there. Secondly, her hair had so much volume and her skin was utterly flawless; you honestly wouldn't have believed the girl in the photo was the same girl in the bed a few doors down from you. And lastly, she actually looked happy. Her body language was completely different, and her eyes were bright and full of joy and fun. You mentally compared the picture to the girl you know now, and you almost cried. The girl you just met seemed hopeless, the light drained from her eyes, her face emotionless. No wonder she didn't want to leave her house; she felt there was nothing to leave the house for.

Seeing that photo gave you the confidence to spin on your heel and march back down to Santana's room, swinging the door open without a second thought. The door banged rather loudly on the wall adjacent to it, and Santana's head snapped towards you, and her book fell out of her hands. "Can I help you?" she asked, a little bit of bite behind her words.

"I was just coming to ask if you wanted tea," you replied, keeping your chin up high in the air, looking down at her through your eyelashes.

Santana studied your face for a second, before her eyes turned dark in irritation. Her facial expression changed and you could tell that what was about to come next wouldn't be pretty. "I want you to listen to these words very carefully, because it doesn't seem like you understand things very easily." You winced; you hadn't even spent a whole shift with her yet and she had already picked up that you weren't the smartest person going. That probably had something do with the fact that you got lost each time you tried getting from the kitchen to her room. "You were given this buzzer for a reason." She gestured to the small device that was clipped onto the side of your jeans. "Don't come into my room without knocking in future, I could be getting my tube fit in, or something even worse." She gestured towards the bottles of Jevity on her desk. "Is that clear, Blondie?"

You were stunned into silence, the feeling of defeat taking over you as you realised how much Santana's words stung you. You found that the only thing you could do was nod, and Santana seemed satisfied with your reaction, because she stopped looking at you and went back to working on picking her book back up, as if nothing happened at all. You retreated out of the room silently, now having a deeper understanding of what Maribel told you earlier.

The doorbell ringing interrupted your thoughts, and you, desperate for a distraction from your embarrassment and genuine upset, raced to the front door, unlocking it quickly before opening it.

"Oh, hi," the woman said, widening her eyes and smiling briefly at you before taking off her jacket and hanging it over the banister. She was a bit shorter than you and very attractive, with shoulder length blonde hair. "Are you a new nurse?"

You nodded. "I'm Brittany Pierce," you said, sticking out your hand. "I only started this morning."

She shot you the same type of smile Mrs Lopez gave you earlier. "Have you already been warned about the wrath of Santana?"

"I've experienced it, actually," you chuckled, trying to act nonchalant about it, when in reality it actually had an effect on you. "She told me I should never enter her room without knocking, insulted my intelligence and called me Blondie all in one breath."

The woman grimaced, and started to walk towards the kitchen, with you following close behind her. "You entered her room without knocking first? That's, like, Santana's ultimate pet peeve."

"Noted." You watched as she began to take a packet of bread out of the press and unwrap it. "Are you one of Santana's other nurses?"

"Oh, I'm sorry." The woman paused in cutting slices of bread up to look up at you. "I never even told you my name. I'm Quinn Fabray, and yes, I'm Santana's speech therapist."

You frowned. "Why does Santana need a speech therapist? Her speech seemed fine to me."

"Well," Quinn started, fetching some ham, lettuce and tomatoes out of the fridge. "That's because she has me. Because Santana doesn't eat, she's not exercising her throat and mouth muscles, and over time, to put it simply, her throat muscles will get lazy and weak, and her speech will get increasingly worse, to the point where it would take her a full minute to make any sort of noise."

"Is this common?" you asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

Quinn shrugged. "It is in people who aren't exercising the muscles around their larynx enough. I have four house call patients, and I see people in hospitals, also."

"Could you cure anyone, even if it gets really bad?"

"No," Quinn told you, shaking her head. "If it gets to the point that the person can only make grunts every ten seconds, it's probably too late. Santana's parents were wise and knew Santana's speech would be an issue from the moment she lost her appetite."

You let your shoulders slump and your chest deflate. Talking to Quinn made you feel inadequate. "You know so much about how to help Santana. That's really impressive."

"I've been here for a few years now," Quinn said modestly. "I know the ropes. What brought you to 4 Manor Avenue, Brittany Pierce?"

You shrugged, self conscious. "All I'm really here to do is bring her some liquids," you admitted sheepishly. "I have no real qualifications to help her. And right now, I'm still trying to find my way around the house and trying to learn how to deal with Santana."

"She can be a handful, alright," Quinn laughed, moving to the fridge to take out a bottle of Sprite, before pouring it into a cup. "Most of her nurses couldn't even handle a month with her, she's that bad."

You cocked your head to the side. "Did she not give you the same treatment?"

"Oh, she did," Quinn smirked, putting down the bottle of Sprite and placing a slice of bread on a now finished BLT. "Still does, actually. But, I can take it, I'm tough skinned. Maybe that's why her and I get on so well. Over time, her 'attacks' won't be attacks anymore, it's just the way she is. The more she does it, the more comfortable she feels around you." She took a bite of her sandwich, and you felt stupidly envious, wondering how long it would take for you to be that comfortable in 4 Manor Avenue that you'd be making food for yourself.

Quinn moved towards you and handed you the cup of Sprite. "Here, bring that to Santana, it's her favourite." She whispered it as if it was a secret, and you laughed, remembering to store that information away for safe keeping.

"Thanks for that tip."

"It's no problem. I better come with you so you remember to knock this time." Quinn winked at you and you flushed, feeling stupid as you followed her down the hall to Santana's room.

Quinn tapped her knuckles on the bedroom door before opening it slightly with a wide smile. "How's my favourite patient?"

Santana looked up, and let a wide smile take over her face once she saw Quinn peering in. "Well, Fabgay, you finally showed. You're at least twenty minutes late this time. Hot date from last night refused to leave this morning?"

"I was just getting aquatinted with your new nurse here." She gestured towards you, and immediately Santana's smile dropped at the mention of you. Feeling nervous by the two pairs of eyes on you, you thrust the glass of Sprite in front of Santana's face, mentally face-palming straight after.

Santana and Quinn looked at each other, and Quinn burst out laughing while Santana watched you curiously, her eyes completely glazed over with childlike wonder. "She got that for you," Quinn giggled, eying you. "Right, Brittany?"

"Yeah," you said, nodding hesitantly. You were cringing at yourself internally, and really wanted nothing more just to get out of there, so you began to walk backwards slowly. You wished they would just stop looking at you; you really didn't need a reminder that you were the most awkward person in existence, you were already aware of that.

Quinn smiled at you as Santana continued to look at you curiously, before reaching out slowly and taking the glass from you. "Thanks for the drink," she muttered, before turning her attention to Quinn.

You took that as your cue to leave so you stepped outside and shut the door behind you, exhaling a breath you didn't even know you were holding. You could still hear the muttered voices of Quinn and Santana faintly through the wood.

"What do you make of her?"

You registered Santana pausing as she searched for an answer. "She's… definitely quirky, I'll give her that much."

You heard Quinn make a point of lowering her voice, as if she knew you were outside listening. "I think she's a little bit sensitive, go easy on her."

Santana didn't reply after that, so you just slinked down the hallway, and sat in the living room on your own, just waiting to be called.


Quinn left half an hour ago and you still weren't called to Santana's room, so you had spent the last while just lying on the couch in the living room, your feet hanging over one of the arms. You felt a little bit worried, but you really weren't complaining; you were beginning to get the feeling you and Santana would never have the relationship her and Quinn had, where the insults and mocking were only just banter and fun between people who were friends. You accepted right there in that moment that you and Santana would never be friends; you were just too different.

The feeling of the buzzer vibrating against your hip broke you from the thoughts swirling around in your mind, and you practically sprinted down the hallway to Santana's room, quickly remembering to knock quickly first before opening it.

Santana gave you an amused look. "You don't have to knock if I actually call for you, Blondie. That means I'm expecting you."

You nodded dumbly and walked over to the side of Santana's bed. "What can I do for you?"

Santana pointed weakly to the folded up wheelchair in the far corner of the room. "Could you set that up and lift me onto it, please?"

Your eyes widened but you complied anyway, rushing over to set up the chair, feeling Santana's eyes burning the back of your head, which made you mess up a lot in trying to open it up. You could hear Santana's huffs of impatience behind you, so when you actually did set it up, you were relieved as hell. You dragged the chair over to the right side of Santana's bed and whipped the duvet off of her. You let yourself smile a little when you saw that Santana's pyjamas had small sheep all over the shirt.

Santana rolled her eyes at you. "Stop judging and get lifting me."

"I wasn't judging," you told her honestly, pulling her around so she was sitting up facing you. "I like 'em." You didn't exactly know how to lift a grown woman, so you felt even more awkward than usual because it was Santana. You locked your arms around her lower back and pulled her up in the air, your face practically buried in her neck and hair. You spun around and just as you did that, you lost your footing, and dropped Santana onto the floor where she hit her head and shoulder off the bedside table.

"Fucking ow," she yelped, moving slowly to sit properly on the ground, her eyes scrunching up and her face contorted with agony. She planted her palms on the carpet and tried to move herself up onto her feet, but her arms wobbled beneath her and she collapsed back down onto the ground, letting out a desperate sigh of defeat.

"I'm so sorry," you gasped, reaching down to help her, mentally slapping yourself over and over in your head. Panic thundered in your ears, and you were thinking about all the ways you could mess this up further.

Santana put up a hand to stop you, her eyes closed in humiliation and irritation. "Don't." You sheepishly retreated, and when the doorbell rang suddenly, both your and Santana's heads snapped towards her bedroom door.

"Go get it," Santana ordered, her voice weak and pained. "It's probably Kurt."

You didn't stop to look at her as you darted out of the room and down the hallway, desperately trying not to do anything that would increase your chances of getting fired any further. You reached the door and pulled it open, the man on the other side, slim and slightly taller than you, looking at you, slightly puzzled. "Hi," he said, reaching his hand out to you. "I'm Kurt."

"No time," you panted, ignoring his outstretched hand. "Santana's had an accident."

Kurt's eyes bulged out of his head, before shrugging his coat off and letting it fall to the ground, running down the hall, with you a step behind him. He entered the room without knocking and glided over to Santana, reaching under her arms to pull her into her chair. Her hair was all over the place and she looked exhausted. "Thanks, Kurt," she breathed.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked calmly, grabbing the handles of her wheelchair to tilt her so she could look at both of you. "What hurts?"

"Just my head and shoulder, a little. I'll be fine."

Kurt looked uncertain. "Do you feel dizzy? Is that why you fell?" He put his hand on her forehead, presumably to check for a fever.

Santana shook her head.

"What happened?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Santana's eyes flickered to you. "She was carrying me to my chair and she dropped me."

Your gaze shifted to the floor, unable to look either of them in the eye. The atmosphere in the room was so uncomfortable.

"Are you a new nurse?" Kurt asked, and you lifted your eyes and nodded, still not making eye contact. He smiled at you comfortingly. "Well, come with me while I get my bag, I left it by the door."

You found yourself nodding again, and then you looked to Santana. "Do you need anything else?" You were trying to make it seem like a small deal, when in fact you might have just ruined your first proper job.

Santana's hands gripped the arms of her wheelchair in anger, her lips lifting up in disgust and contempt. "No, thank you. You've done enough damage today already."

You recoiled at the acid in her tone, and felt tears begin to sting the backs of your eyes, so you just backed slowly out of the room, seeing the disapproving look Kurt shot Santana's way as he followed you.

"Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You instinctively went to move away, but Kurt clutched onto your shoulder. "Don't worry about it. She's fine, she'll forget about it."

You sniffed, walking slowly alongside Kurt. "I doubt it. I have a feeling she'll remember everything I do wrong. I always do something wrong. It's like, in my nature, or something."

"I'm sure it'll all be forgotten about tomorrow."

You sighed heavily, stopping in your tracks and dropping your head into your hands. "Maybe I should just quit so Santana could have a proper nurse who doesn't almost kill her."

"Don't talk like that," Kurt said softly, tightening his arm around you. "I'm sure you're a great nurse. Really."

"No," you replied, shaking your head vigorously. Your breathing was starting to get ragged and deep. Not a good sign. "Santana needs someone better than me. All I'm good for is bringing her drinks and getting snapped at."

Kurt's brow furrowed in confusion, before shaking his head to clear his head. "How about you give it a week, okay? See how the next week goes, and if each day is as disastrous as this, you can consider quitting. Deal?"

You narrowed your eyes at him a little. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I'm nice to everyone," he told you, his eyes widening slightly but softening almost immediately afterwards, almost as if it hit him why you said that.

You sighed again, trying to give him a smile, your shoulders slumping in defeat. You weren't bothered to try and explain to him that you weren't exactly used to people being nice to you. Tina and Mike liked you, and you were sure Dave thought you were okay, but that's really it. You associated meeting new people with fear and discomfort. "Sorry," you whispered, your voice lowering.

Kurt's lips thinned in sympathy, before smiling widely at you. "Let's just start over and forget about it. Santana won't be thinking about it tomorrow. Stop being mopey."

You were about to protest, but you didn't see the point. This man seemed as stubborn as Santana probably was. "Okay."

"Great." Kurt reached his hand out. "I'm Kurt Hummel."

You took it reluctantly. "Brittany Pierce."

Kurt started towards his bag and coat which were lying by the front door, and you just awkwardly followed him. "What brought you to this neck of the woods?"

You gave him a blank look. "I'm pretty sure the closest forest is like, eight miles away."

Kurt looked up at you curiously, before bursting into a fit of giggles. "You're a treasure, Brittany. I meant, what brought you here to work for Mr Lopez?"

"I saw an ad in the newspaper," you explained, feeling very weary and self conscious for the millionth time that day. "I'm only a barista in Starbucks but I thought I had nothing to lose. I went for the interview, and I guess I did a good job, cos they hired me."

Kurt's eyes bulged. "Damn. And I went through seven years of medical school for this job." He picked up his jacket and placed it on the coat rack, and this is the first time you've actually seen someone use that for their coat, instead of the banister. "So, Brittany," he started, bending forward to pick up his bag and holding it loosely in his hand as he looked at you. "How has your first day been?" His eyes widened when he realised what he said. "I mean, before the whole incident."

You smiled a tiny bit. "Would you be surprised if I told you it was going well before I dropped her?"

"I would."

"Well, it wasn't," you replied, and Kurt snorted in response. "I think she might hate me?"

Kurt waved you off. "No need to worry. Santana treats everyone like this at first. After a while, you become immune to her digs." He gave you a serious look. "You may not want to enter Santana's room for the next thirty minutes. The stuff I'll be doing for her is pretty gross." He started off down the hallway. "Nice meeting you, Nurse Brittany."

You nodded sadly, watching Kurt retreat down the hallway towards the scariest room in the house.


"She hates me."

You heard Tina scoff slightly on the other end of the phone. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you."

"She definitely does." You sat up a little bit in bed and pulled your duvet up a little, so it was up to your neck. "God, you should have seen her face, Tina. If looks could kill, I'd be a goner."

"I'm sure you're just being dramatic," she replied, trying to comfort you in her own way. "I bet when you walk into her room tomorrow morning, it'll be like nothing ever happened."

You shook your head lightly. "This girl doesn't seem like she forgets anything. The sound of her voice when she told me I had 'done enough damage', it was so scary, Tina, seriously, like I can't even describe it."

There was a small pause on the other line, before you heard her clear her throat. "Okay, this is what you're going to do: you will go into work tomorrow morning as if you didn't drop a very sick woman and injure her-"

"Thanks for that." you mumbled, leaning over to your bedside locker so you could pick up your glass of water, careful not to disturb your cat, Lord Tubbington, who was curled up on your chest, snoring loudly.

"-you'll just treat her as you would have if that didn't happen," Tina continued. "And I bet after your shift tomorrow, it'll be the last thing on her mind, Britt. Honestly."

You took a sip of your water, shrugging with one shoulder. "I don't know if this job is for me, to be honest."

"Oh, honey," Tina laughed. "This job pays amazingly. If I were you, I wouldn't be worrying about Santana, and I'd be thinking more about all the cash I'd be rolling in. How long did you work today?"

"Six hours." Six, agonising hours.

"Then just think of today as six hundred dollars well earned. Fuck Santana and her insults, I'd love to be paid six hundred a day just to make tea and take a few verbal smackdowns."

You raised an eyebrow. You supposed Tina had a point; if Santana wanted to insult you, she could do so as much as she liked, but at the end of the day, you'd be walking home six hundred dollars richer. And, although dropping Santana was pretty horrendous and embarrassing, it happened, and there was nothing you could do to change that.

"I gotta go, Britt, Mike rented Love, Actually for us to watch tonight. Do you wanna join us?"

You glanced down at yourself, all covered up in your duvet with your cat on your chest. "I think I better stay at home tonight. Lord Tubbington's sleeping on me and you know that he doesn't talk to me for two to three days if I interrupt his naps."

"Oh, I do," Tina chucked. "Sleep well, Britt."

Once you hung up, you threw your phone to the end of the bed, before sighing heavily and looking up at your ceiling. You had no idea what you even had to get up for in the mornings; you had two friends that you seldom saw, no significant other, you lived alone, the woman you were nursing basically despised you and you only had a cat for company in the evenings.

You glanced at Lord Tubbington, who purred loudly in his sleep. "At least I got you, Tubbs," you whispered, scratching the back of his ear. There were a lot of thoughts buzzing around in your head but one of them was louder than the rest; you had no idea how you were going to face Santana in the morning.


A/N: My apologies for my month-long absence but until July or so I'll be super busy, so I may get to update once a month if I'm lucky.

Also, thought this is worth mentioning; this story is loosely based on the book Me Before You, by Jojo Moyes, although I will be putting my own spin on it. It's an incredibly beautiful book and I would 100% recommend you to read it.

I also decided to write Quinn in as one of Santana's nurses, because there's nothing more fun to read than a good Quinntana friendship.

You should expect the next update to be in January/early February, but don't hold me to my word.

See you next time!

-JB