Okay so it's finally time to start getting to the good stuff! In this chapter I'm finally introducing Archie which reflects deeply on Santana. I hope I've done it justice. I'm also getting very close to introducing Rachel! So thank-you for your patience. It all means a lot.
Love receiving reviews ect! Really helps motivate me to update faster.
Not sure this is exactly how I wanted this chapter to be, but I hope you enjoy regardless. Please let me know if there anything you think needs changing!
/#/#/#/#
Two weeks later...
/#/#/#/#
Sara Walsh sat sideways with her legs curled underneath her in the large chair next to the bed, leaning over and gently running her fingers through her sleeping fosters son's hair before removing it to quickly wipe away a silent, stray tear with the sleeve of her oversized sweater. She then tucked her hand under her chin and her other arm around her body as she melded back into the seat in her exhaustion. But her eyes stayed alert, searching over Archie's features. He was starting to look more like the photo of his father every day.
Santana was just outside the door helping her boss, an experienced older doctor named Edward Lowndes, answer all the tough questions Jason Walsh needed answers too. Sara and Jason had been Archie's guardians for the past year, ever since his mother had passed away. The foster agency hadn't been able to get in contact with his father who was on duty overseas. It was just four months later that Archie was diagnosed with Leukaemia and now, Santana stood there, completely numb, as she realised the fatal truth that he was losing the fight. She tried to keep herself from instinctively fearing that he couldn't fight any longer, seeing Quinn's arched eyebrow in her mind as a sign of how ridiculous she was being even entertaining the thought. But still, he seemed to be becoming weaker with every day that passed.
Just then Archie's IV pump began rhythmically beeping, indicating the bag of fluids was empty. After settling herself from the shock of the harsh noise cutting through the silence of the early morning hour, Sara quickly reached over and pressed the silence button the nurse had shown her then the call button itself.
"Can I help you?" A grainy voice asked through the intercom.
"His IV is beeping." She answered calmly, returning her hand to the lightly stirring child's hair. Like her biological child Summer, it was the trick to getting him to sleep. All it took was a little reassurance that she was still there and they drifted off into a peaceful place.
"The nurse will be right in."
"Thank you."
Sara smiled lightly as Archie rolled onto his side facing her to get more comfortable but fell right back to sleep. She brushed his short hair away from his forehead, tight curls beginning to grow from where he hadn't had his hair cut recently, and then she trailed the back of her fingers over his cheek before retracting it completely. He was going to be okay.
"Sara?"
Instantly, Santana appeared through the door, the coat of her white and blue uniform catching in the breeze with the forceful purpose of her walk.
The older blonde woman turned to look over her right shoulder to see Santana, her son's paediatrician, in the doorway behind her. There was no hesitation before she was up and nervously folding her arms around her waist, her eyes prying on Santana's concerned expression. Then her eyes settled on her husband who entered just after and there was no reluctance as she crashed into his arms. Nothing had a chance to register with her. Not what her husband was wearing, the concern in his eyes, the look on his face. Nothing. All Sara cared about was feeling his warm, comforting embrace. Turns out she needed that physical reassurance as well.
Jason stumbled back a step from the impact but revelled in the crushing embrace, pulling the smaller woman even closer with an arm around her shoulder and the other hand lacing into the pale blonde tresses that wafted their scent into his nose. His eyes screwed shut as he fought to keep from trembling and after a few seconds of no movement, the blonde shifted her head, turning it into her husband's neck and kissing it lightly. She opened her mouth to speak but it came out a soft, chocking half-sob.
Santana instantly screwed her own eyes shut, willing the untimely flow of tears to back off. Santana just held still for what seemed like an hour but her eyes opened and shifted to the reason she was there. "What symptoms was he displaying at home?" she asked, walking over to the fragile blonde boy lying peacefully unaware of the panic surrounding him.
Sara reluctantly loosened her grip and backed up, keeping hold of Jason's hand as they stepped closer to their sleeping child. Jason took the seat where Sara had been and began mimicking the motions in his hair with his free hand. The blonde smiled weakly, feeling stronger now that she wasn't alone anymore.
Sara moved close as Jason reclined in the chair, so she could on his lap. "I don't know..." She whined at the recollection. "The whole thing started out with what everyone thought was just a stomach bug he might have picked up from another kid at that damn park I was so insistent about living near." Jason heard the tinge of guilt in her voice and pulled her to lean against his shoulder, kissing her temple in a show of support. "But you know how he is with talking. All he would say is 'Mama, it hurts'. I kept him home from nursery after he started crying but he seemed content lying on the couch and watching TV. I made him some lunch but when I went to check on him after a bit he was burning up and covered in sweat, then he started to throw up and he was crying, asking for you…" she pointed to Santana. "He was asking for the 'magical medicine' you have that tends to make him feel better."
Santana nodded her head, reaching out to place her index and forefinger on his wrist, feeling for the regularity of his pulse. She wanted nothing more than to scoop him up in her arms and hold him, tell him she was there and everything was going to be okay but he looked so peaceful. "So what happened next, Sara? Did you bring him straight here?"
Sara sat up and cradled her head in her hands, trying desperately to keep herself from crying now. Jason ran a soothing hand down his wife's back, trying to calm her. He hated seeing his wife this stressed, but it seemed like a permanent state of emotion for the time being.
"The doctor's office was closed." Sara continued, removing her hands to look over their son. "So I gave him some medicine to break the fever but then he started getting sick. I just felt so bad for him. He just kept crying and wanting me to hold him. I was going to call Jason for some suggestions but I decided the emergency room would be better. That way nothing was missed, you know?"
"Of course. You've done the right thing bringing him here." Santana said, gently removing her fingers from Archie's wrist, studying his serene expression. She had to pinpoint whether this was a fever or something linked with his treatment for Leukaemia.
"Yeah." Jason nodded, proud of his wife for remaining level headed throughout the whole thing. Thinking back on the nervous wreck the woman had been right after his diagnosis, it truly was an amazing transformation. He looked to Santana. "And so will he need surgery? Or chemotherapy? Bone marrow?"
Santana paused. "He's going to need stronger treatment. That's something we unfortunately can't avoid…" Jason nodded his head in silent understanding and Sara kept her eyes focused on her husband's hand entwined in hers. "I need to go over some questions with you. Is that okay?"
"Of course." Jason said, keeping his voice even to calm his wife. Sara swallowed down the last bit of her threatening tears and nodded her head as well.
"Ah. Just in time I see." A nurse stated softly with a smile as she entered the room to hang another bag of fluids, meeting both Santana and Jason's eyes briefly. She turned to Santana, pulling her aside to whisper in her ear. "Doctor Lowndes asked me to inform you that he is first up for surgery this morning, so we will be wheeling him down stairs in about an hour."
Santana nodded affirmatively, grateful his surgery was to be soon. "I just need to finish some notes and then you can start prepping. I'll call you in."
The nurse exited quietly, leaving Santana to deal with the emotionally drained parents. She turned back to Jason, addressing him instead of Sara. "I just need you to answer the following questions and then the nurse will begin to prep him for surgery. The surgery we discussed last week is going to be pushed forward. We can't afford to waste any time."
Sara looked up, meeting Santana's warm, considerate eyes with tear, stained ones. "Okay-"
"Honey, I'll answer them." Jason whispered, gently stroking Sara's hair, pulling her back against his chest. The blonde didn't resist, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. Santana stood opposite; beside Archie as she double checked that the right amount of fluids had been registered. She studied her clipboard, making a quick note.
"This is not going to be anything too pressing, but the answers are very important," She informed Jason. "It would be helpful if the answers could be as accurate as possible." He nodded, running his hand over the dark stubble growing on his defined jaw. "Did he have a fever before you brought him in?"
"Yes." He stated affirmatively. Santana moved on, scanning the next question.
"Any signs of shortness of breath? Fatigue?"
"Yes, especially when required to walk upstairs."
"Okay, did he struggle before when he was required to walk upstairs?"
"No, he used to love trying to climb up them. Now he does everything possible to avoid doing so."
Now it was Santana's turn to nod as she made quick, shorthanded notes on her clipboard. It was three o'clock in the morning and her eyes were strained from a mixture of tiredness and emotional fatigue but nothing could make her go home when it concerned young children like Archie battling something so fierce and unforgiving. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway.
"Any signal's that he is suffering from any joint or bone pains?"
"Yes. Often."
"I can also tell he's lost colour in his skin and is bruising easily." She observed, running a gentle hand over his forehead. He was so innocent. A large purple bruise was situated on the right side of his forehead and a tiny, darker bruise lingered on his arm. Of course, bruises were normal for young children, but these spoke a very different story to anything that could be considered ordinary. "Any painless lumps on the neck, underarm, groin or stomach?"
"Yes." Jason said, his eyes sombre as he looked over at Archie's lifeless body. They'd discovered the lumps just a week beforehand and Santana had diagnosed that the cancer had progressed. It was a bitter pill to swallow for everyone in the room.
Santana inhaled deeply, kneeling down slightly to Archie's level. She observed the gentle flush across his sculptured cheeks and long, thick eyelashes that curled upwards, his pink lips slightly parted as he breathed in soft, shaky breaths. "I think I have everything I need to know. His surgery will be the first one this morning at eight am."
"That soon?" Sara asked sitting up and grabbing her phone to start calling her family. Making a mental list of who needed to be called first.
"Well the surgery team is already in for an emergency that came in last night so they are looking to get him down a little bit sooner than scheduled." She informed them. Jason nodded in response as his thoughts drifted while Sara stood up and moved out of the room to talk on the phone. "Did you have any questions? I know you were last to get here."
Jason sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees but his eyes were glued to Archie. "This is a pretty routine surgery, right?" He knew the answer, having spent endless nights researching, but he still felt the need to be reassured. He was also hoping it would help give him a boost in energy to help protect his wife from further upset.
Santana cleared her throat as the thought of it all seemed to be another pound of weight pushing down on her.
"Pretty much. There are always risks involved with any type of surgery but I assure you he is in good hands. This is high risk, but it's the best thing we can do." She replied, finishing with the bag of fluids and turning her full attention to the concerned man. "He'll be okay." Jason looked up to her, unsure whether he had full faith in her words. "I mean, he's still got a lot more strength than usual for cases like this. I have a lot of faith that he will carry on fighting with all the love and care he's receiving." She motioned to Jason with one hand and to the door Sara had exited through with the other. "He's a very happy, bright little boy."
Jason's eyes softened, the concern melting fractionally. Santana pulled Archie's blanket around him. "We don't want him to get a chill. We need to maintain a steady temperature." She informed Jason, who from the other side of the bed tucked the blanket around Archie's tiny, curled up body.
"Daddy?"
In one fluid movement Jason slid from the chair to the side of Archie's bed and fresh tears welled up in Santana's eyes which she tried to hide as Jason stared down at his foster-son. "Hey, son. How are you feeling?"
He gave a soft smile as Archie rolled on to his back and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, never really giving him an answer. "Where's Mama?"
"She's right outside." He said softly before turning to the door. His wife was busy pacing back and forwards on the phone, so Santana stepped forward instead needing to quickly adjust the tape holding in the I.V needle.
"Are you feeling better, Archie?" She asked softly and he nodded his head, instantly recognising the brunette doctor gently adjusting the tape over his wrist.
"Can I go home now?"
Jason watched the interactions, thinking back to all those nights Santana had generously given up her much deserved sleep in order to care for Archie and support their family unit. Seeing Archie's immediate sense of trust in her made Jason instantly grateful they'd been blessed with such a caring, devoted paediatrician. "No, Sweety. The medicine is making you feel better right now but if you go home you'll feel sick again. Do you remember what your mummy told you last night? About what the doctor is going to do?"
He didn't say anything this time, instead he just looked down as he played with the blanket between his fingers. Santana could see he was scared. "Are you going to get a cool scar to show off to Summer?" She asked with a wide smile as he looked up to her. "I have one. In fact, I got mine a very similar way when I was just a little older than you." He looked up to her, waiting for her to continue. She'd actually gotten it through having her appendix removed which wasn't at all similar, but Archie didn't need to know that. They were actually going to be removing his spleen, a very dangerous thing to do in someone so young. The reason behind their decision was because blood cells had accumulated in his spleen, causing it to swell and displace other organs in the abdomen. She stood up and lifted the bottom of her shirt slightly, exposing part of her stomach. She took a second to search for the faded scar then pointed to it. "See. Right there."
He looked at it and then to the standing doctor, almost studying her. "Was it scary?"
She smiled softer and sat back down. "It was a little. I didn't know who all the people were and what they were doing, but you know what? I was just lying in bed with the doctor and nurses around me one second, and then the next I was back in my room with my own mummy and daddy the next. Just like that." She said snapping her fingers. "It was over and I didn't remember a thing."
"You don't remember?"
She shook her head and smiled, trying to help him with his reservations and fears while hiding her own. "There's nothing to remember. You see this?" She asked pointing to the IV that was in his arm, wrapped nicely in clean white bandage and he nodded. "They give you a medicine through it that makes you go to sleep. And when you wake up, it's all over."
He looked to Jason with bright eyes and he nodded his head. "Really." His tone was assuring and Archie immediately smiled. It was weak and Santana could tell it required effort, but it was the first time she'd seen that smile in so long that it didn't matter. It seemed as though Jason felt the same as he reached out and wrapped Archie's petite hand in his strong, manly hand.
"Then we can go home?"
Both of them laughed and Jason answered. "We might have to stay one more night or so but yes. Then after that we can go home and you can show off to Summer that you have a cool scar."
"Think you can handle that?" Santana asked ruffling his hair and gaining a smile from the boy as he nodded his head. "Good. But no more after that." She smiled, her eyes meeting Jason's in a charged stare. His eyes were shining happily as he revelled in the few moments of happiness, knowing that the bad wasn't over yet, but that whilst Archie was smiling, everything was okay.
Santana's smile didn't match the emotion in her eyes, confirming that Jason's fears were rational and that yes, there still would be more surgeries and treatments to come, but in the moment, they just had to embrace the positives.
Jason looked down at Archie, holding his perfect hand in his own. "No more." He whispered.
/#/#/#/#/
Quinn scowled into the mirror, frustrated with herself as she brushed her hair – it just wouldn't behave. She was also partly frustrated for another reason. The young interviewer whose position Quinn was on trial for had fallen ill on her last day and Quinn was now subjected to the ordeal of interviewing a big name in the industry of music all by herself. She should have been working from home that morning, editing an interview her and Kristen – the young interviewer who had been teaching her that week- had done yesterday so that it was able to be published. Yet, here she was trying to brush her hair into submission.
"I must not sleep with my hair wet. I must not sleep with my hair wet. I must not –" she began reciting this mantra several times as she began to once more attempt to bring her hair under control with the brush.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation and gazed at the pale, blonde-haired woman with big, hazel eyes that were framed with thick, dark eyelashes and gave up. She quickly decided that her only option was to restrain her wayward hair in a neat, preppy ponytail and hope that she looked semi-presentable. She'd learnt a lot during her week-long trail with Fashion House and one of those things was that image and presentation was just as important as anything else in that company, and second to that, an independent mind was valued although not always embraced.
Finishing up her half-hearted prepping, she gathered a small collection of magazines and placed them in her handbag. She then collected the notes she'd taken the previous day whilst sitting in on Kristen's interview with a famous presenter who presented MTV and was in line to present the Brit awards, and she placed them in her bag too, hoping she'd get some time to finish editing them.
Before she knew it, she was hopping into a cab as she set of on her usual route towards the building that housed Fashion House's many employees. It was quarter to nine when she finally arrived and she hastily made her way up Owen Martin's quarters of the large company. The buildings itself was thirty-floors high, all curved glass and steel, an architect's fantasy with Fashion House written discreetly in frosted glass on every set of double doors.
Quinn looked at her watch as she approached the twenty-second floor, relieved to find she wasn't late as she walked into the enormous- and frankly quite intimidating- glass, steel and white sandstone lobby. There were flashes of inviting reds and welcoming burgundies placed sparingly around the lobby in the form of flowers, or pillows on the large, white, armchairs.
Behind the solid, sandstone desk, a very attractive, very well groomed assistant in her early twenties smiled pleasantly at Quinn before returning her attention back to the Apple Mac in front of her. Quinn began to head in the direction of a small collection of studios before changing her mind, remembering that Owen Martin, her boss for the week, had requested to see her that morning before her last day on trial. She headed towards the ridiculously large desk that stretched round in a semi-circle, following the natural curve of the building and stopped just in front of the assistant. The whole lobby was pretty bare, since it was only Quinn and the other woman there, the other three assistant's not in yet, and the rest of the building still quiet, waiting for the other employees to arrive.
The assistant peered over her Mac, waiting for Quinn to tell her what she was waiting for. Quinn cleared her throat, before stepping closer. "I need to see Owen Martins. Is he in yet?"
"Excuse me one moment, Miss Fabray." The assistant said, arching one eyebrow as she searched through the list of employee's who had already signed in. Quinn leaned slightly over the desk, seeing her name written on a pink post-it note. The assistant cocked her head to one side, following her glance. "Ah, here." She said, unsticking the note and holding it out to Quinn. The note was written in the charming boss's boyish script. "It's for you."
Quinn took the note, thanking the assistant as she did so.
Could you please get Quinn Fabray of the editing department to come to my office as soon as possible please? I will not be in my usual office. See me in conference room 2b.
It was short, factual and to the point and Quinn instantly turned back towards the elevator to be whisked onto the twenty-third floor. The doors slid open to reveal yet another large lobby, all steel, glass and sandstone once again. She was confronted by another blonde assistant, this time dressed impeccably in a red blouse and black pencil skirt who rose to greet Quinn. She'd obviously received one of Owen's post-it-notes as well.
"Hello, have you got another post-it-note for me?" Quinn asked, weaving her way through sparsely placed armchairs towards the large desk. The assistant immediately grinned, scrunching up the note and chucking it into the trash.
"Yeah. We all have." She sighed, pointing to the other two assistants who were buried in their Macs. "I'm guessing you already know?"
"Yeah." Quinn smiled, drumming her fingers on the desk. "Can I go straight in?"
"Hold on, I'll just check. Take a seat." She pointed towards a seated area of white armchairs with an array of cushions just like the lobby on the floor below.
"Thank-you." She nodded, smoothing down her hair and adjusting her bag on her arm before retreating to the large armchair by the window. As she sat down, she looked out over the city through the massive white window. It made her feel small and insignificant and there was something comforting in that. She was a massive believer that there were times in life when it was important to feel that way. To look at all of those lights, all of those people. There were literally millions of them within a few blocks radius and yet she would never meet most of them. And they would never meet her. They would never judge her. That view seemed to be a way to remind herself that she was just a tiny part in the world that keeps going, whether she wanted it to or not.
She could imagine trying to explain something like that to someone like Rachel. The response would probably be 'And why would you want to feel like that?'
Rachel wasn't the sort of person who could think of any reason to want to feel so miniscule in the world, but to Quinn it was important.
There were days when she felt like she had so much pressure on her shoulders that if she didn't do things right or well enough, the world was going to stop and point at her, telling her how much she screwed up. But then she'd see something like the city at night and realize that there is just so much more going on in the world that if she let one person down, there were countless more that she could be making proud or who won't ever judge her. The world wasn't going to end if she messed up because there would always be chances to try again.
"Mr. Martin will see you now, Miss Fabray. Please go through."
Just then a large, frosted door opened and Owen Martin appeared. He turned to smile at Quinn, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good morning, ladies." He said, leaning out the door. The assistant's all smiled at him saying their good mornings as Quinn got up and walked towards him, taking his extended hand into her own.
"Come in," he smiled, shaking her hand and then leading her into the conference room. He walked behind his desk, taking a seat in a large, black leather chair. "Please, take a seat." He offered, waving for Quinn to sit down on an L-shaped red leather sofa.
The room was far too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there was a large, modern, dark wood desk that six people could easily use as a table comfortably. It matched the coffee table by the sofa. Everything else in the room was white, apart from the soft grey carpet. On the furthest wall was a large collection of black and white photos, which displayed together were breath-taking. Quinn wished she could take photos as powerful as those beauty shots all unique in some sense.
"A Paris photographer. Javier." Said Owen when he caught Quinn's gaze.
"They're amazing. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary." Quinn murmured, distracted by both the photos and Owen's watchful gaze. Owen cocked his head to one side and regarded her intently.
"I couldn't agree more, Miss Fabray." He replied his voice soft, and for some inexplicable reason Quinn found herself blushing.
She sank into the leather sofa when he motioned towards it, crossing her legs carefully.
"Let's make this quick." He said, reclining in his chair. His face was calm and patient and he seemed to be intensely watching every move Quinn made. Quinn nodded, smiling lightly as she folded her hands over her lap. "With Kristen's absence today, a lot will be required of you." Quinn bit her lip, levelling her eyes with his piercing blue ones. He didn't seem too worry about leaving her to carry out Kristen's work. "You've shown over this last week that you are more than capable of keeping up with Kristen's work. It's a shame this week has come to an end so quickly."
He leaned forward resting his strong hands on the desk, his expression suddenly severely serious. Quinn's breath caught in her throat and she struggled to swallow, hotting up under his stare. "Business is all about people, Miss Fabray, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He paused and readjusted his eyes to Quinn's as if to make sure she was listening. She licked her lips, feeling her mouth going dry. He continued. "My belief is that to achieve success in any scheme you must know it inside out, know every detail, and I work very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good, solid idea and the people it involves. The bottom line is, it's always down to good people…I believe you're one of them."
Quinn allowed a light smile to grace her lips, grateful for the compliment, but anxious about what he was about to say next. He looked on gravely, no break in his serious tone. "If after today's interview I am still as impressed with you as I am now, then the position is yours. If you wish to accept of course?"
"I would love too." Quinn replied, nervously biting down on her bottom lip.
"This all depends on how you perform today." Quinn nodded. "Kristen has left all the questions that need answering on your desk. You need to research the client and then assure you obtain the answers we're searching for. Don't forget, this isn't just any magazine. This is Fashion House. I'm looking for something more…personal…something with emotion. Stay on top of your game and you won't have a problem." He winked, suddenly letting his guard down a little and allowing his smile to return.
Quinn smiled widely, nodding. "I will do my very best." She promised, about to excuse herself. Owen held up his hand, silently telling her to stay put. She sat back down, folding her hands back on her lap.
"Have you had a chance to edit the interview Kristen did yesterday?"
"No. I was meant to be doing that this morning." Quinn said, dropping her brow in worry. "I can have it on your desk by tonight?" she offered, running her fingers through her hair.
"That would be perfect." Owen approved with one sharp nod of his head. He paused, before rising to his feet, straightening his crisp white shirt and black tie. Quinn followed suit. "Good luck today." He smiled with a trace of humour in his voice. Quinn looked at him, and he held her gaze steadily, impassive.
"Thank-you." I'll need it. She smiled, reaching out to shake his hand, but then she remembered something important and sort-of vital if she was going to be able to research and be prepared for her upcoming interview. "Would it be possible for you to tell me who it is exactly that I'll be interviewing today?"
He smirked, dropping her hand. "I had a feeling you might ask." He smiled. She narrowed her eyes slightly, feeling as though he was teasing her. His smirk only deepened before he regained his professionalism. "It's a Broadway performer…Rachel Berry to be exact. Research her."