A/N (Kinda lengthy) Hey you guys. I'm back, lol got a bit busy with school, but hopefully it wasn't too long. I didn't really plan this story per say and I got off track and I'm so new to writing I let it lead me away from my original thoughts. So I planned ahead this time and don't worry. Badass criminal Brittany is on her way, I had to tweak everything because last chapter I couldn't resist sweet Brittany which sorta screwed up everything XD and now the story is going to be more bizarre than it already was going to be. And it was going to be ssssuper bizarre, I know I'm wayyyyyyy in over my head with this story but I just want to try. I don't know anything about what I'm talking about like DNA or autism. I just had some crazy ideas about things I wonder about and….I want to create a unique plot, which is rare nowadays. Anyways, I hope it comes out well, but if it doesn't I'm sorry and tell me how I can make it better.
Enough with my rambling. On with the story.
Previously:
The haziness that clouded her brain made her wonder if she would remember any of this tomorrow, all she knew is, she has probably gotten herself into something way more complicated by allowing Brittany S. Pierce, to take her to her home.
And with that last thought, Santana drifted away, blissfully unaware of the impact this event would cause.
Her parents had known she was autistic since she was 2.
Brittany's eyes never meet anyone else's; not since she been around 4 months. They just stared at seemingly random spots on people's body like their neck or their legs when she was being talked to. She was a happy baby and learned to crawl and walk around the same time as any other baby, but certain things she did worried her parents.
Being the first born, the amateur parents didn't know that it wasn't normal for Brittany to only repeat animal sounds. Passing off their baby's habit of talking solely with animal sounds as late blooming, Julia and David went along with it. They knew that a meow meant 'yes' and a bark meant 'no' and when she made those sounds they responded accordingly. Family and friends always questioned when she would grow out of it and they always responded. "Soon. It's just a phase." pointedly ignoring the bewildered glances and whispers when they went out.
After a few months past her 2nd birthday, Brittany's family began to worry. Viola, Brittany grandmother, told Julia in a stern voice during their spring vacation to Belgium.
"Neem mijn kleindochter om in te checken. Iedereen maakt zich zorgen."
- Take my granddaughter to get checked. Everyone's worried.-
Julia attempted to reason with her mother but Viola wouldn't take no or later for an answer. She'd already scheduled a doctor's appointment right there in Belgium. Julia and David were both anxious for the appointment. Honestly, they'd been avoiding coming to find out if their child's behavior was normal or not; they were afraid that the news they'd receive would devastate them, but they knew it wouldn't be healthy for their daughter to continue without help.
Going into the doctor's office, David held onto Brittany tightly. Finding a seat in the plush waiting room, he put Brittany down and watches as his wife signed them in. He knew a bit of Dutch, but wasn't fluent so he knew he wasn't going to be the main communicator here like he usually would. Looking away he looks down at his baby, her blonde pigtails bobbing as she ran to the playing area. Another blonde girl was there and she had big stunning hazel eyes, Brittany usually didn't like playing with other kids and David was surprised when she sat down right next to the girl and grabbed a block.
The two girls interacted and a smile spread over David's face. "Maybe our baby is okay", he thought. Julia, who'd just finished talking to the receptionists, sat next to him. Resting her head on his shoulder, and looping her arm through his, she sighed.
After a moment of hearing both the toddler's giggles and seeing Brittany building with the other girl, she whispered.
"I'm sure it'll be fine." Patting her husband's knee.
"Pierce?" Raising both of their hands, Brittany's parents rose and went to the doctor. An older man with a grey suit and matching grey hair shook their hands, introducing himself. In accented English he says, "Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Hasselbring." He looks around for a moment and then to his clipboard. "Is Brittany here with you today?"
"Yes." David replies, gesturing with his hand to his daughter who was now curiously looking in their direction. Squatting, he holds his hand out, "C'mere. Say bye to your friend."
With a pout, the little girl puts down her block and waves at her playmate. The hazel eyed girl waves back and goes to her mother. The girl's mother waves at Julia with a smile and gives a wave to Brittany too. Running to David, Brittany holds his hand. Standing, David introduces his daughter. "This is Brittany. Brittany, this is Dr. Hasselbring. Can you say 'hi'?"
Blue eyes stared at the doctor before a small yip escapes her mouth. Julia and David share a look before apologizing. "We're sorry."
"It's fine." The doctor responds. "It's a pleasure, Brittany", patting her head he turns on his heel and leads them to his office. Following close behind, Julia speaks up. "Did my mother already tell you what this appointment is about?" Entering the room, he closes the door and insists for them to sit down while taking his own seat.
After all is situated, Brittany in David's lap, does he respond. "Yes and if you don't mind, I'd like you to tell me more about her behaviors, even if you think they are normal." Taking out a notepad he gives an encouraging smile.
Bouncing his leg up and down David starts. "Well, she hasn't said any….words, per say. Except for her name and the alphabet; she never says the ending part. Um… she usually only makes animal noises or uses nonsense words. She likes running and listening to music, that mostly what she does all day. Sometimes when we lay her down to sleep, she'll scream and scream and scream and won't stop until we sing Old McDonald Had a Farm."
"It's not every night she does that, though." Julia interrupts. Writing, Dr. Hasselbring nods. "Also she seems bothered by her tears, whenever she cries she puts something over her face. A couple times she's taken off her shirt and covered her face with it or puts her hands over her eyes to prevent them from rolling down her face. It really seems to bother her."
Dr. Hasselbring nods and stops writing. "Does this happen during bath time as well? Not wanting water on her face?"
"Yes." David answers bouncing Brittany in his lap. She's restlessly squirming and its obvious David wants to let her down.
"You can put her down. I don't have anything she could mess up in here. It's fine."
"Okay." Letting go of Brittany, David bites his lip. Once on her feet, Brittany runs to her mother.
As David lists more things Brittany does, Julia smiles at her daughter. Giggling, Brittany smiles back her few teeth showing. Julia goes to pick her up but she moves away.
"Hey." Julia plays along. "Come back here." Reaching out for her, Brittany moves out of her reach again, putting a hand over her mouth, full out laughing.
Julia splits her attention between the conversation between her husband and the doctor and Brittany. Slowly, Brittany inches forward and circles around the chair Julia is in. She starts slow, but soon she's running around the chair. When Julia attempts to grab her, Brittany changes directions.
Hearing the doctor say something to her, Julia stops playing and looks to him. "Excuse me?"
"I said, 'Can you see if maybe she'll recite the alphabet right now?"
"Oh yes. She loves singing the alphabet. Brittany. Brittany."
Stopping and looking at her mother the panting girl, makes a small noise in the back of her throat.
Julia takes her by the shoulders and puts her in her lap. Looking down at her shirt, Brittany rests her head on her mother's chest. The doctor observes the exchange.
Looking at her face, Julia pats her leg. "Do you want to do the alphabet?"
At the word alphabet, her little blonde head shoots up. "Meow. Meow."
"Go ahead." Sitting up, Brittany begins clapping her hands.
"A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z"
"Yay." Her parents clap and cheer. Joining in the doctor, claps and cheers along.
"That's pretty impressive. She really knows each letter." Still clapping, Brittany beams. Chuckling, the grey haired man jots down another note in his book.
Resting her head back on her mother's chest, Brittany lets out a yawn. Patting her back, Julia looks at the doctor's notebook.
"She can also do it backwards, you know." Abruptly the doctor's hand stops moving.
"Come again?" he asks, looking from David to Julia.
Apprehensively she repeats,"…she can say the alphabet backwards."
For a little, no one makes a sound as the doctor stares down at his notebook. "That's…interesting. Did you teach her that?"
"No. She just kind of started saying it on her own."
"Do you thi-"
The doctor is interrupted by his receptionists. "Times up." She says pertly before leaving just as quickly as she came. Closing his notebook, the older man stands.
"..Well, it was a pleasure to meet you." Walking to the door, he stops with his hand on the handle. Turning to face the family he adds. "And please don't forget to make another appointment."
"Okay. Um..." Julia carrying a sleeping Brittany walks through the threshold. "Doctor I know its really soon to ask this, but do you think our daughter is..sick?"
David, who was behind her, nodded.
"Well, it is pretty soon to say, but I wouldn't say she is sick, but she is certainly special." Dr. Hasselbring responds.
"Is there anything we can do?" They ask in sync.
"Well, just meet with me once every two week and we'll figure out the best plan of action."
After shaking hands, the couple exited just as clueless and they'd entered, but a small glimmer of hope was ignited within them.
-16 years later-
"She said she doesn't want to live in the hospital anymore." Julia repeats.
"…We can't let her leave, Ms. Pierce. You know that. It's not her decision." The man behind the counter asserted
"She's 18! Legally it is." The blonde woman argues. "Calm down, honey." Her also blonde husband cautioned. Turning to David, Julia frowns.
"No, they are trying to handicap my daughter. How are you so calm about this?" David bites his lip as his wife throws her hands up exasperated. Before she can finish her rant, the nurse adds.
"Ma'am, no disrespect, but we don't see that your daughter is fit to make such decisions for herself." Narrowing her eyes, Julia protested.
"That is absolutely untrue. What brought you to that conclusion?"
"Well, as you know, Brittany speaks very little English. Whether by choice or not, she can't "speak" for herself."
After staring at the man, shaking her head, Julia walks off, muttering in Dutch. David left alone questions the man. "Can't she just write?"
Looking around the lobby, the nurse peels his eyes. "Has Dr. Schuster not told you anything?" he whispers.
"What do you mean? He gives us updates on Brittany daily. We know what she's achieved as well as most of the world, that's why my wife and I are protesting the containment of our daughter."
The man looks around his area then waves his hand at David. Slowly maneuvering around the lobby he enters behind the counter and looks at the man.
"Sir. Your daughter's decision making skills are severely incorrect. If left alone she makes several life-threatening mistakes that if she weren't watched over would cost her her life." Opening his mouth, David plans to rebuttal but the nurse holds up a hand. Reaching behind him he grabs a file.
"Read this."
Twisting his mouth, David snatches his reading glasses from his pocket and puts them on. The file is labeled with his daughter's name. Opening the file he begins to read.
Today at 7:00 a.m., Brittany and 4 others attempted to escape the facility. Subjects: Noah Puckerman (pathological liar and creator of Poolclear), Lucy/Charlie/Quinn Fabray (first known triple personality disorder and world renowned thief), Artie Abrams (bipolar, obsessed with limb regeneration and biological reconstruction) and Mercedes Jones (mentally unstable brain scientist and overall body surgeon). By now all four of her companions are aware of the inner workings of Brittany S. Pierce, the first known biology savant; better than the doctor's themselves. When Mercedes was asked how she communicates with Brittany, she responded. "Give me some tater tots and I'll spill." After given tater tots she admits. "I talk to her; you just have to get on her wavelength. Y'all have no idea how they brain really works. Get out of my face."
The staff can hardly get information from Brittany most information comes indirectly.
10/1/10-Mercedes is overheard on the monitor talking to Arthur Abrams during dinner.
Subject shared: "…She described them as all-consuming and spellbindingly intense thoughts, beyond anything they could imagine. It was something no one would be able to fathom without experiencing it, just like Brittany wasn't able to fathom actually controlling her thoughts like a normal person could."
"Her thoughts surrounded mythology, cats, biology and fantasy, that's all her mind would allow her to grasp and to learn about. It seems all thoughts of anything else are generally ignored."
"How do you know?" Noah chimes.
Retelling an event, Mercedes tells him.
"Well I went to let her know, we'd executed her plan and were ready for escape but when I came to her she was watching one of her interviews that she'd done with her parents on Oprah. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to only be listening to it. You guys know she likes to do that because that's the only ways she hears her parent's voices anymore. But anyways when I walked in, she turned and looked me in my eyes." Gasps came from the monitor. "That's how I knew she'd tested our drug." "I don't think she's ever noticed my face because she started screaming as soon as she saw it. She couldn't seem to look away. I had to go to her and repeat, "Brittany, I won't hurt you. Its Mercedes." followed by a light tap on her arm."
Answering an unheard question, Mercedes went on to say during one of their early morning meetings, Brittany had written to her that of the things her brain likes are rhythms and finding patterns and codes. Mostly in music or transcripts of certain characteristics held in chromosomes and DNA strands. She said it was easy for her to remember because it was like for each genome she literally saw how each one played to creating the creature she was studying. She'd told Mercedes just as a normal person recognizes faces, she could recognize genomes. She couldn't forget where a certain acid was because looking at the paper it was embedded in her mind; faces moved too much but the letters, they all stayed the same.
After spending time around her the 4 said they noticed that she wasn't unreachable, just very different. Lucy says all she wants to do is learn, categorize, and execute new knowledge, relevant to what interests her. She knows of the sickness and illnesses present in the world, she wants to help and she can't when you trap her here.
David looks up from the file at the nurse, knowing what he he needed bring up a chair for the aged man to sit in. With a shaky hand, Brittany's father pulls the chair to him and sits. Emotions at all of this new information taking away his strength. Going back into the file he turns a new page.
Doctor Schuester and all the nurses always have to pry to pens from Brittany when its class time and the blonde goes stock still every time. –Instead of studying the English we give her. She yells and thrashes about until we give her full genome layout. – Very difficult to get her to speak. –During visits to animal shelter or zoo, hides around building and acts as if its tag when staff tries to keep her under control.
9/28/10 –In Brittany's area- Artie wheels to Puck carefully, looking around suspiciously.
"They just found out she has anger problems from the facility."
Turning around Noah scoffs, "What do they think would happen? They never let her draw the unicorns and other "mythical" creatures she drew and she really hates when people stop her from creating and making creatures that she knows can be genetically created. Just like they tried to stop each and every one of us from what we do."
He had said it barely above a breath but the blonde appeared to have heard and her hands drew up into fists.
"… because she fights the nurses when they try to stop her from writing chromosomal sequences for a unicorn or a Pegasus and try to force her to learn how to talk."
Julia returns from outside where she talks to her youngest daughter, searching the lobby she comes to the window. "David?" Looking to the nurse in confusion, he tells her that he gave her husband a file to read. Turning the page, David reads on, oblivious to the conversation being held about him.
Lucy Fabray's Diary: Brittany, free of her autism has experienced normalcy. Yet her mind is telling her that reality is, in fact, not real. Only what goes on inside her brain and her thoughts were what's real to her, before. It was like a switch when she took it. It was a miracle, there has to be a way to share this with the world. Though she's picked up being with her autism well, Its still confusing to her and making part of her reject "reality's" existence. We've set a date for breaking out of here and I just hope she doesn't relapse. They'll never find her where we've hidden her.
Charlie's Diary: Brittany doesn't understand eye contact in the state she's in, body language is what she understands. It never lies and it can't deceive you like eyes can. She sees no point in looking at someone's eyes when they're other body parts that are more telling than eyes will ever be to her. She doesn't understand emotion and she can't recognize it in people's faces. It's something she had to learn once the drug she created brought her out of her autistic perspective of everything. But she can tell when someone is nervous from their breathing patterns so she looks at their chest and with the concentration she has within her state, she can even focus to see the pulse in someone's neck and wrist. The number of times someone swallows can indicate mood, because she knows the average amount of times saliva is produced enough to stimulate swallowing and she also knows that when people want things they salivate more which causes more swallowing. How many wrinkles are in someone's forehead can indicate how upset they are or how confused. It's the basic rules of muscle and skin tension and how they correlate. Legs can indicate many things like which way a person will go, if they are cold, or if they are uncomfortable or when they are going to move. All this information she's taught me is so valuable, especially when I'm gonna be out selling our product when we get out of here. Some of the sickest and most dangerous people are about in the market and I've got to know how to read them and get our drug spread about.
By now Quinn, Mercedes, Noah, and Artie all know the inner working of Brittany's brain as much as they mentally can. From reading each of their mandatory journals, Dr. Holiday gathered that Brittany most commonly describes being in her autistic mind state is being lost. Lost within your thoughts and they are all mixed up, but it all has to do with something, something that your mind chooses. She said it was like your brain worked on its own and you were just along for the ride. It chose what it wanted to take in and what it didn't, it set your priorities for you and thinking was above everything else voluntary. It took what you liked and put it at the highest level of body function, your brain tells you that only your thoughts are real and nothing else mattered.
During Brittany's Evaluation Session she'd said (written): her mind was her best friend; it was like it talked to her. And the thoughts, she explained, were so vivid and alive. She wrote "When I first came to… it was like everything was fake, because my thoughts were all I knew."
They were as wild as she could imagine and her imagination was endless. Her thoughts were all consuming and tricked her into thinking all of her senses were literally experiencing what she was thinking and conjuring in her head. Thinking was her hobby and it was her life. It is unfathomable to normal functioning people, but it was as if her brain restricted her from using it completely and it regulated itself without her personal input. Part of her was detached from the world and only paid a small amount of attention to the outside world and it was solely to add to her collection of information that she stored in her head to create even better and more brilliant thoughts, the other part of her was lost within her mind, organizing idea and putting them together to solve questions. She knew said words for what she wanted to know, like chromosome, acid, protein, and her brain paid attention to patterns because biological patterns is what she was interested in or obsessed with. Therefore any pattern was latched onto by her brain, if it was relevant or not depended on the judging part of her brain, which decided if something, was worth storing or discardable. Music had patterns and her mind liked how it was unpredictable yet predictable and it gave her insight on how the body changes. Just like a beat slows down or speeds up and it reminds her of the human heart and she relates music with bodily reactions and whenever there was a beat it brought her a fraction out of the never-ending oasis of her thoughts and closer to the surface and that is way to get her attention is creating a beat that she finds relatable.
Turning the last page he reads.
Brittany has been missing since September 28, 2010.
"Is this what they meant by unavailable?" He thinks overcome with anger. Not able to read anymore, David stormed out of the office. Grabbing his wife by the arm, he walks out of the building. Faint calls from the nurse reach his ears.
"Call our lawyer." Julia takes out her phone and dials the number, going to their car she inquires.
"Where is our baby? Is she alright?"
David starts the car and after his wife both get in, he peels out of the driveway.
"I don't know but I'm going to find out."
-Two Years Later-
Startled awake by the sound of a crash, Santana sits up feeling as though she had just emerged from underwater. Sitting up abruptly and bringing her right hand to her chest the officer gasps in deep gulps of air; the loud echo of her wheezing the only sound in the room she rests in.
Coughing and pulling at her collar, her eyes flint around only to find pitch black darkness. Squeezing her eyes back shut, Santana swallows noticing for the first time how dry her throat is. Only after Santana calms herself from the momentary feeling of suffocation with a deep breath does she open her eyes again.
..Still nothing. Am I blind?
The first thing that returned to her was her sense of smell, she was oddly numb but even though the air was stiflingly thick with smells, wrinkling her nose, she could identify many of them.
Most prominently, there was the unmistakable smell of chemicals. If you've ever been around a commercial laboratory project or spilled a lot of cleaning supplies, you know the smell. It was thick, heavy, choking. Next there was the smell of fruits, her stomach seized with nausea.
Where...am I? What going on?
Santana had no sense of time. Had it been five minutes since her capture? Five hours? Five days? The physical darkness around the small officer, the lack of light, kept her from knowing anything substantial so far, but she was desperate to know where she was.
Solemnly, she wondered how long it took to die under these circumstances. She was petrified, cold, and her stomach felt empty. She had always been scared of the dark. Her mom left her alone all time to go to the diner when the light bill wasn't paid. It didn't help the Latina had no idea where she was and she couldn't see anything. Feeling her heart begin to start pumping faster and her training kick in, she starts gathering information. Putting the hand not at her chest on the surface beneath her, she runs her palm along it away from her until she meet an edge. Pressing her lips together, she quickly draws her hand away.
Am I…how high up am I? Am I alone?
Her brain's functioning was sluggish at best but her hearing seemed extra sharp. The rustling of the light cover caused her to grit her teeth at the way it grated on her eardrums. Involuntarily she moved her eyes around.
The darkness is really starting to bother me. Bringing her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on the rough starch on her knee, she knew she wouldn't be able to find out as long as she had no source of light. Taking her hand from her chest she lays it tentatively on the thin crumpled blanket in her lap and stares down at it. Hoping to see, at least the outline, but she couldn't. Flexing the numb hand, she felt a hard texture preventing her from making a fist.
Feeling her breath speed up, she brings her left hand to whatever is on her right and drags her fingertips along the texture. She feels the defined roughness of a cast encompassing her wrist and the back of her palm, the soft inside rubbing against the skin there. Small tan fingertips flicker nervously along her arms, feeling her assortment of patches and pockets on her uniform. Checking for any additional damage that has been mysteriously tended to and lets confusion set in. Her face felt stiff like she had been crying, eyes heavy and lips swollen. Feeling something on her forehead, quickly she casts away the fabric of the cover with her uninjured hand but winces when a sharp pinch accompanies the movement along with two sounds that seem to ring her ears. The first sound was the rip of tape and the second was wheels moving across the floor. Moving her fingers to her other wrist; Santana feels a small tube protruding from a piece of tape on her inner arm. Swinging her legs over the platform, she bites her dry lip as she notes that besides feeling extremely wrinkled her uniform was missing its utility belt.
For a long while, Santana sat still, bits and pieces from last night trickling into her consciousness. She knew roaming around without anything previous to go on would threaten her life even more; enough of last night revealed that she was probably brought here by Brittany.
Brittany. At the name, Santana remembered her intense shimmering blue eyes first. The ones that seemed to haunt her from when she first saw them in her car. Next she remembered the criminal's weird behaviors. Talking to cars and animals, not being able to tell time…not killing her, giving an officer her full name, taking her to her home….well apparently that was a trap. Or not…maybe this is her house. Lastly andbitterly, Santana remembers how she'd had her uncharacteristic break down. It made no sense to her; the only reason she had to defend her actions was that she felt so overwhelmed with everything. It was like Brittany made her feel that, but that was part of her plan obviously. Who knows what type of things she's done to her already. There no way Santana would have done that if she was in her right mind. Squinting she understands that when she was out from hitting her head, the drug lord could have given her something. For the first time, the Latina noticed how twisted her behavior regarding the girl had been from the moment she'd gotten close to her, lifting her head she became conscience that it's the most relevant information Santana had.
Escape.
She was too scared to move, though. From all those spy and police movies Quinn had her watch, she knew it couldn't mean anything good to be trapped in the dark. During that time of thought, the Latina's shallow breath and heartbeat all she could hear, sitting in silence started to make her feel like something was going to happen, she stared ahead of her, hoping to see something. The frightened Latina did that until she felt fearfully compelled to break the silence, parting her lips she takes a breath to speak.
Thump.
She stares out at the darkness before her. Heart rate spiking.
"Hello?" Santana's voice cut through the darkness. "Is anyone in here?"
Blinking her eyes Santana goes silent; listening for any sound that could indicate someone is with her.
Thump.
"W-who's there?"
Tilting her head in the direction of the noise, she scrambles to stand up. Putting her hand down and Santana feels all around her, touching the edge. Nervously relaxing her legs, the backs of her boots hit what supporting the surface she was laying on. The metallic clang reminded her of a file cabinet. Running her boot along the metal, handles dug into her calves and the back of her knee.
Santana swings her feet over, having to blindly drop down she inches until her behind to the edge; running her tongue over her lip, Santana stretches her legs down to reach attempt to reach the floor. Holding on tightly to the ledge, she lowers herself and is relieved when her boots touch the ground. Settling herself on the floor, Santana turns around and puts her hands on the drawers of the desk. Blindly she grabs at handles and jerks at them, but none will budge. Standing she puts a hand on the desk for a reference point and holds her casted hand out, walking around the desk. The room was bigger than she thought, letting go of the desk, she shuffles away from it until her outstretched hand meets a wall. Hearing wheels again, she whips her head in the direction of the sound. Her senses of touch and hearing were both heightened incredibly and she flinched as she felt a something brush her arm. Screaming Santana captures what brushed her arm and snatches it away from her; ripping out a few hairs from her scalp.
My hair is down?
Hissing, she releases her deathgrip on her hair and continues shuffling along touching the walls, in hopes of finding a door.
Stopping, Santana feels an edge and a gap in the wall. Holding her breath, she runs her hand across the gap and gasps when cold glass meets her fingers. Moving her arm across the entire span of the window, she reasons it's a very large window. With knowledge of the large window in front of her, she feels her first dose of adrenaline hit her. Standing to her feet, she tugs the tube from her arm to a drip near the window. Narrowing her eyes, she contemplates ripping it out now that she isn't too sure she's in a hospital. Walking closer to the big window, she wraps two fingers around the tube and begins to pull it like a rope until the drip stand rolled in her direction.
Once it was in front of her, she reached for the bag, holding it in her palm.
..what the hell, the liquid is hot…
Puzzled, Santana frowned. Beginning to get frightened, she peeled the tape from her arm and took the needle out of her vein, breath coming out faster. Pushing the rolling stand from her, she puts her good hand on her forehead.
Her heart catches in her throat as she rotates in the direction of the source. Tilting her head she realizes it's a coming from the window. Striding up to the reflective surface, she holds her hand up to it. Leaning closer to try to see beyond the mirror or window, making her fist to hopefully break or bang on the glass, she hears a noise from beyond the cool glass. Dropping her fist, she hears it again.
People talking.
Turning curiously, Santana notices a single voice sounding out. In the blink of an eye, Santana was frozen and was pressing her ear to the wall beside the glass. After a minute passed of hearing nothing, she bites her lip, holding in a sob.
Am I going crazy? She cried internally.
Santana's face was nearly plastered to the wall before she could make out more sound. She probably should have been scared, but she needed to hear what was being said to know if the people talking would help or harm her. She didn't want to risk being seen through a 2 sided mirror so she strained to hear any words that might tell her if she's better off escaping by herself than asking for help. Sniffling the Latina prays that she'll hear something substantial soon.
After an hour passes, she is feeling stiff from standing so still, but when noises are there again she listens attentively with new vigor to the barest of sounds and through all the additional chatter one word is recognizable through the thick wall.
"Dispose."
….they're gonna kill me.
"No. No. NO. Please." She screeched, a sob escaping her.
"..Awake." "Turn on the light."
Tears of anguish trailed down Santana's face as she began to cry but the officer couldn't cry hard. I think they heard me..I let myself get too vulnerable and that's what got me in this awful situation.
Waiting with bated breath for something to happen, she prepares to fight, negotiate, or beg. Whatever it took to stay alive.
To Santana's surprise, a florescent light in the corner of the ceiling began to flicker on, followed by a row of lights similar to it all lighting until the whole room was awash in bright white light. Shielding her eyes, the Latina looked around her.
The room looked how she pictured it: empty save for a desk in the middle, a cup was on the floor near it and Santana thinks it was the source of the sound that woke her up.
Everything was white, the desk, the floor, and the walls were, and even the door on the wall opposite of her was white. The only thing of a different color was the window she was currently next to. Standing up she looks down at herself, looking over her hands and legs. She lets out a slightly relieved breath, swallowing hard; the Latina begins walking to the door. Sprinting to it, she looks at the window she was near. Not wanting to be seen she turns away. The now suddenly sweating officer pulls at the doorknob. "Please please please please." She whimpered, putting her both hands on the door, she pushed.
The door wouldn't budge. With a quick glance at the window, she backs up then runs into the door, shoulder checking it. In response the small woman, rebounds onto the floor and goes to her next option. She knew people were on the other side of that window, but she was trying to escape as stealthily as she could, taking off her shoe she stands up and brings the heavy boot heel down on the doorknob, hoping to break it or make it loose. Diligently she continues for what seems like a few minutes before she drops to her knees, panting. Sitting with her back to the wall, thinking of another plan she expects someone to come storming in. Maybe when they open the door, she can go all Lima Heights on them and escape. For the next few minutes, she bangs her shoe on the wall. A small bang resounds from the impact and frustrated, she grabs it and repeats it over and over. Letting out a blood curdling scream Santana looks in the direction of the large window; caught between wanting to get caught and wanting to remain hidden in her attempts to bust out of the room.
10 minutes later, her arm is tired and nothing has happened.
I guess I can hear them and they can see me, but I can't see them and they can't hear me.
Dropping her head dejectedly, the officer drops her shoe and notices something in the corner next to the door. Gasping, she walks to the "iv" stand that she'd pushed and intends to the read find out what was in the bag on the carrier.
The bag read. "Influence- Phy AB-XXX"
Influence?...I've never heard of that? What do they have in my bloodstream?
Brown eyes watered once again. How dare they? Narrowing her eyes at the window, she goes back to grabs her shoe and stomps towards it.
This is my last hope.
Lifting the boot high over her head, she strikes the window with all the strength she can muster and after, there had been an instant of complete, unsettling quiet, no noise of any sort came from the wall. Determined Santana presses her ear next to the cool glass. Immediately the sounds of typing from a keyboard, paper pages turning, and hushed conversations meet her ears.
Cocking her head, she looks from side to side but it's much too opaque to see through, straining she attempts to catch the gist of what's being said, but it's too low for her to hear yet everything sounds slow and oddly crisp to her ears. Inching even closer, she cocks her head and puts her ear directly on the glass. Barely holding in her gasp, she stares ahead of her, listening intently.
Instantly she can hear better without the barrier of the wall and Santana quietly eavesdrops on the people all talking…no arguing before her.
There are several voices and strangely she feels as though she recognizes them from somewhere. Squeezing her eyes shut once more to concentrate, a memory of her beside a car hearing bits of conversation filters into her mind and when her eyes snap open. The situation is a lot clearer and a lot more dangerous. These are the people from Burt's shop?...if this is an observatory, shouldn't they be where I am? Sliding down the wall, Santana hides as best she could while listening as her situation finally comes together. Facing the passcode door on the opposite side of the room, the officer now listens even more diligently knowing her life might be on the line. Santana listened in on the conversation but didn't know what went on behind the glass. Voices slowly began to rise in volume and at last, the gist of what went on was revealed to the isolated Latina.
What's going on? ..more importantly do they know I'm here?
"Have you lost your fucking mind, Britt? Why are you acting like this? What happened last night?" she said.
Eyes widening, Santana shifted at the name. She knew who Brittany was, she remembered reading about her…and seeing her picture.
"I told you I don't know what happened, Quinn. I don't remember. Why do I have to keep repeating it?"
She instantly matched the voice to the criminal, the one she was assigned to. Though unlike yesterday, thinly veiled anger was apparent in her tone, fidgeting Santana felt an unknown emotion at the knowledge of her anger. Dread filled her being for a reason she had yet to realize.
"Because it doesn't make any sense, that's why!" a husky feminine voice gritted.
Brittany mumbled. "Everything makes sense." What does she mean? Santana thought to herself.
"Artie…please. Do something. That officer is tearing up our new Interrogation room!" Husky pleaded after a brief moment of silence. Santana drops her eyes down.
So they did notice me.
"That doesn't matter right now, plus we can just kill her later. She's obviously the reason why Brittany is trippin'. Where is she now anyways?" A deep voice responds, clenching her jaw Santana grips her boot tighter.
These people really are sick, what do they mean I'm the reason? I don't know anyone.
" Puck…please shut up. Brittany,..what do you remember then?" A slightly nasally masculine voice chimes in.
…Puck? This is the second time I've heard that….It couldn't be MY Puck, could it? He's on the force.
..man's name is Artie. The sound of typing stops and Santana hears the response better with less noise.
"No one is dying until proven guilty and the last thing I remember.." Brittany pauses, "is being at Burt's and running downstairs because the tv-thingy you guys told me to watch had no image on it from the camera and after that I can't remember anything else."
"So you don't remember the hot chick in the observatory that tried to disable you?" The different masculine voice questioned.
The unmistakable smack of flesh being hit followed by the same voice muttering in pain sounded after the question.
"You're lucky you throw good parties and help with the chemistry of our project, because if you didn't I would have killed you a long time ago."
"Yeah right, Quinnie, like you can defeat Puckasaurus. Just because Charlie's good in the streets doesn't mean you are."
"Fuck you, Noah."
Oh my god….its is my Puck. How is he involved in this? First Burt, now him?
"Guys please." Artie cuts in.
A deep sigh comes from the wall. "Mercedes, you have to talk to her." Pause "I-I don't understand what's going on, She's…she's acting like…" Husky says.
"I know, but that's impossible, Q. The last time that happened without her being induced was two years ago. There has to be another reason why." A sassy voice responds.
…why do they keep saying induced, is someone pregnant? This is getting too weird.
Santana thinks, trying to connect clues as best as she can.
"If there's one thing Brittany's always said, it's that nothing is impossible. I just can't believe it may be what I think it is." Quinn replies.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we need to run some tests on her." Artie whispers.
"Its getting worse, its like we aren't even here to her."
"That fast? She was just talking to us." Puck comments.
"Yeah, ever since this morning after she came out of there…it's been like…before."
"What is she writing?" "I don't know."
"…it-it's a drawing of some sort."
Tentatively the 3rd female voice, known as Mercedes asks if she can see her drawing.
"Why would she be drawing during this? She only does that when we induce her…" Artie says.
….induce…..like force?
"Brittany said she has to draw in order to relieve the pressure on brain." Mercedes responds. Hesitantly she adds, "It doesn't always have to mean that. I'm gonna check her out."
At this point, the Latina is very lost as to what's happening, but the feeling of dread feels heavier and heavier as the voices sound more and more morose and silences are more often reaching Santana's ear than noise.
The pieces of last night are coming together and fear is the only feeling Santana is capable of at this point. With all the unwillingness to say what exactly they think is happening to Brittany and overall weird atmosphere, Santana begins to feel the weight of this situation cracking her attempt to remain calm.
Now, the only sound coming from beyond the glass is the scribble of a pen. Santana notices she hadn't heard Brittany's voice for around 30 minutes and presses harder against the glass to ensure no missed sounds. Eerily as soon as she got closer the scribble immediately stopped, thinking they'd heard her she freezes, seizing even to breath.
A long moment passes, and a small noise keening yelp startles Santana.
Are they torturing something in there?...
"A-a-artie. Come look at this." Mercedes whispers lowly. A giggle escapes out of Brittany's mouth as a wheel squeaks. "Dolphin."
A pause.
"Oh my god. Quinn, please tell me we aren't seeing this." Arties voice rose a few octaves.
Santana moves further behind the wall, sensing all this tension is building and going to end with her. "We have to immediately go to the lab. Pack up everything! She is in the process of a serious relapse! Mercedes, get her to stay with us, please." Quinn barks.
"The only way this could have happened is if something reversed her biochemistry. It…doesn't make any sense. By now our drug has to be flawless."
"What is the formula for the antidote for her condition?"
Looking up, he begins to recite a formula. "Well I don't have the paper but it has to be the perfect balance of proteins, bases, blood type, chromosomal sequence, and processes. Basically the perfect reverse genome of Brittany now altered DNA."
"How the hell would anyone know that but us?"
"Maybe they found our old journals? You guys know I hide them as best as I could."
"Why didn't you just burn 'em? That's what I would have done."
"There is still information we need in some of them, idiot."
"Guys, enough. Just pack up everything and bring the spare wheelchair." Shuffling is heard along with bickering between the male and the female.
The silence is broken when Artie asks. "It's transferred through proximity, isn't it?"
"….yes."
"Well, we only let her out of our sight to fix her ride…so that means the only person that's touched her is.."
At the same time they both say. "The Officer."
"Have Charlie go get her."
Freezing, Santana gets stock still. Me...?
"Got the chair." An out of breath voice announces.
"Thanks, Puck. Put her in it and take her to the van as quick as you can, she's going to need immediate resuscitation in the gas chamber. Once she's in her correct mind and finds out what's happened to her, please make sure she doesn't explode the officer before we can question her. We won't be able to make it to our appointment today nor will we be able to disperse our newest batch to those soldiers in Iraq. She's going to be devastated."
"Roger that."
"Hey, Charlie." "You rang?" "Go get Ms. Lopez. We need answers and you know how to make her talk."
"Okay."
Footsteps increase in volume as "Charlie" comes closer.
Standing up, she turns towards the door. Running to the desk they had her on, she climbs ontop and holds her boot over her head.
Her heart is beating faster than it ever has.
A few beeps sound then the doorknob turns and she feels a strange sense of Déjà vu from when she'd first gotten into this mess.
Not knowing what to expect, the door swings open and in all her glory. Charlie Fabray stands in the threshold.
A shock of pink hair atop a doll-esque but nonchalant face burns into Santana's eyes on the backdrop of white. A piercing shines on one nostril and the woman's lips are almost the same shade as her hair. She's wearing all black; a leather coat with chains is over a cut off shirt. Hole-y jeans and boots complete the outfit. Handcuffs loop her belt hoops and right above her pocket was….her gun?
Feeling her face contort, she digs her nails into her boot. Calmly, hazel eyes roam over her, starting from her one socked and one booted feet to her wrinkled uniform. Then stopping on the boot in her hands, a smirk crosses her face. Landing on the brown eyed girl's bewildered face; she walks into the room, closing the door behind her. For the first time, Santana notices the girl dragging a chair into the room. Keeping her eyes on the girl as she gets closer and closer, Santana recognizes her earrings in the girl's ears and her sunglasses hanging out of the pocket of her jacket.
Becoming enraged Santana puffs out her quick breaths through her nose, turning to keep her eyes on her as the pinkette puts the chair in front of her. Charlie seemed to know all the things the officer was discovering and let her. Backing away after situating the chair, Charlie crosses her arms.
"Put your shoe on and have a seat." Jerking her head back at the girl's tone, she stands still not knowing what to do. She really wanted to bash the smirk off the girl's face, but she knew she was in no position to do so, so she stayed still, awkwardly holding her boot.
The smirk falls from the girl's face and Santana feels a bit of terror sink into her as the girl suddenly yells.
"Sit the fuck down." Looking down at the chair, Santana gets down and turns the seat so she's facing the girl. Sitting down stiffly, she slides on her shoe and looks at the girl.
"Thank you. Now, I only have time to ask you a few questions before we got to the lab, but I want to let you know a few things." Staring, Santana gulped.
Holding up a painted and ringed finger the girl states, "First, we're all onto you, so playing the innocent card, isn't going to work. Second, you will answer all the questions I ask to the best of your ability because if you don't, me and two close friends of mine have some stuff that will blow your mind…literally and slowly, so if you don't want to experience the unimaginable pain of your brain melting, I'd just cooperate. Last, whatever you did to Brittany will be fixed and to be nice, I'll keep her away from you when she comes to…if you cooperate, I don't think you understand what you've really done, probably just taking orders but this stunt you pulled just landed you in a world of trouble. Do you understand, Santana?"
At her first name, the officer looks down. "Yeah."
"Good." Charlie walks to the desks and sits on top of it. Leaning with her hands on either side of her legs, she glares down at Santana. "Who sent you?"
Looking down at her cast, Santana admits. "My lieutenant sent me. His name is Louis Binker."
Without looking up she chokes, "Please don't kill him, he gets his orders from Sylvester."
"Sue Sylvester?" She spits. Glancing up, Santana nods.
"How the hell did you know where we were?"
"He just told me he got an anonymous lead. I-I really don't know."
"So you're really trying to sell me the amateur cop story?" Chuckling Charlie kicks Santana's chair to face her. "Look me in the eye."
Jumping, Santana furrows her eyebrows. "Yes...It's true." Looking in the girl's eyes she nods again.
The girl inspected her expression. "What did you give her?"
Santana stammers. "Nothing. I don't know what you mean."
Rolling her eyes the girl, reaches into her pocket and takes out a small black pill. Standing to her feet once again she holds it in front of Santana nose. "Listen, I'm not playing games. You have three seconds."
Sputtering and choking back sobs, Santana glances from the pill to her.
"Nothing. I swear. I don't know what you're talking about."
Ignoring her the girl, begins to count down.
"3."
"I swear. Please, believe me."
"2."
"…..I haven't given her anything."
"1." Knowing she had to lie to save her life. Santana breaks down.
"Fine…I-I'll tell you, but I'll have to write it down..Its too long to tell."
Stuffing the baggie into her pocket, Charlie opens her mouth to talk but a man in a wheelchair rolls by and calls. "In the van…now." Then rolls away, but not without casting a deep glare at Santana.
Grabbing the Latina by the back of her uniform, Charlie pulls her up and takes her to the door.
"We'll continue this, later."
Just like that, Santana was being led to another mysterious place in the hands of a criminal whom holds her life in their hands, once again.
Okie Dokie. I re-wrote this entire chapter like 6 times. Sorry for the long wait. I hope this made sense and everyone catches a gist of whats going on. Please comment. Tell me if you hated it or liked it or if something could be improved. I love constructive criticism. Don't be scured. :P Thanks to all who reviews on my first 2 chapters. I'll try to reply to all.