Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Glee and RIB. I only own the plot.
As promised here is the second part of the last chapter. These two chapters were super hard and emotionally difficult to write, as I wanted to give as accurate a potrayal as possible. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. I appreciate any and all feedback. If you have any questions about anything that you want to clarify you can always PM me on here or find me on Tumblr at lifeloveinsanity28. This chapter is much less triggering than the previous chapter, so for this chapter there are no trigger warnings.
Carole Hummel broke nearly every speed limit while driving her son and Noah the five miles across town to Noah's house, stopping short of running red lights, noticing not for the first time that they seemed to hit every red light in their rush. She had seen the terror in Noah's eyes, when Finn had brought him downstairs after he had received the phone call from his sister, saw the way he paced and his hands shook, how pale his face had become with whatever his sister had told him, choosing then to drive him to his house, not wanting to allow the clearly upset boy to drive himself.
Noah had been a near constant presence in their home since he and Finn were much younger, having met when they were placed on the same baseball team. And while she had seen Noah angry, had seen him joking and playful, she had never seen him like this. She had never seen him nearly hysterical, even as he sat silently, stone faced in the backseat of her car, she could see the way his eyes darted around frantically, the way he clenched his jaw every so often, could hear the soft rythmic thumping of his hands tapping against his jean clad thighs repeatedly.
Noah could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, causing his heart beat to pick up, and making him to shift impatiently in the backseat of Carole Hummel's car, forcing himself to take measured breaths in through his nose as he had been taught, clenching his jaw so tightly that his teeth ached, because all he wanted to do was scream at Carole, to tell her to drive faster, his thoughts racing as images of blood, of his siblings' broken bodies, fearful eyes and pale faces, rushed through his mind, causing his stomach to clench painfully. His anxiety only growing as he heard the sirens, saw the red and blue lights flashing against the darkened houses when they pulled down the street.
Carole had barely pulled to a stop when Noah was bursting from the car, taking in the swarm of people on the front lawn, officers in blue uniforms stringing bright yellow crime scene tape at the border of their yard and the street, his eyes falling on a large white van with the words crime scene unit parked along the curb in front of his neighbor's home. His eyes darting around frantically in an attempt to locate his siblings, trying to drown out the noise of the chaos around him, in an attempt to listen for their voices, and that's when he heard it, a small voice screaming from the back of one of the ambulances in front of his house. He knew he was hearing Rachel's voice, Rachel's screams as he allowed his legs to carry him in the direction of her cries.
He found Rachel on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance, screaming and fighting against the paramedics who were trying to work on her to no avail. He saw Mrs. Pierce beside her trying to soothe Rachel by running gentle hands through Rachel's hair, whispering soothingly to the small girl as Rachel continued to scream for him, for Santana, for Quinn, for their mom, the sounds of her screams raw and painful. Noah didn't even think as he climbed into the back of the ambulance, the paramedic's scolding ending Rachel's screaming for a beat as her attention turned to him.
He watched her face crumple, the sounds of her wailing his name so pain filled that Noah's heart clenched in his chest as he pulled her into his arms, once again being scolded and choosing to ignore it as he pulled her into his arms, running his hands through her hair awkwardly as he held her, unused to comforting his younger siblings, that job falling to Santana more often then not. But then he had seen Rachel, who looked so tiny in the center of the stretcher, her eyes so terrified that all he had wanted to do was hold her. He felt anger coursing through his veins as he wondered just what had happened to cause Rachel to be so terrified, to be hurt enough to need medical attention. He watched as Mrs. Pierce climbed from the ambulance, speaking lowly to Mrs. Hummel and Finn just outside the doors, leaving Noah alone with Rachel in the back of the ambulance. It was only when he and Rachel were left alone in the back of the ambulance that he noticed Blaine sitting on the bench to in front of him, a blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders, as he swung his legs, staring at his feet as they moved in front of him.
"Blaine." Noah murmured, Rachel's wails having quieted to body shaking sobs. Blaine's head snapped up at the sound of Noah's voice, a look of relief crossing his face briefly, before his face crumpled in nearly the same way that Rachel's had. Tears silently falling down his cheeks, as his body trembled, Noah motioning for Blaine to join himself and Rachel on the stretcher. Blaine doing as instructed climbed up onto the stretcher resting his knees on the mattress so that he was kneeling and at the perfect height to bury his face in Noah's shoulder, arms coming up to wind around Noah's neck as he fell against his older brother. Noah kept one armed wrapped around Rachel, as the other came up to encircle Blaine as he pulled both of them tighter against him.
He found that he was fighting the urge to ask his terrified siblings numerous question. His confusion of the situation was causing his frustration to grow, confusion as to how or why Rachel was hurt, or why his siblings were so terrified that they could do little more than sob and tremble in his arms. He also wanted to know where Santana and Quinn were, his heart skipping a beat as his thoughts settled on them, fear causing the blood to freeze in his veins at the thought that they could be hurt, and scared and alone, somewhere in their house or in one of the other ambulances.
Blaine pulled away from Noah once his tears had stopped, rubbing at his face and sniffling, as he twisted to sit on the edge of the cot, the weight of Noah's arm remaining around his shoulders. Blaine wound one of his own arms around Noah's, clutching it tightly as he brought the middle and ring finger on his other hand into his mouth, sucking on them slightly. Noah's eyebrows raised in concern and confusion at his younger brother's actions, the sound of Blaine sucking on his fingers mixing with Rachel's hiccuped sobs. Noah hadn't seen Blaine suck on his fingers in a long time; the habit was one that the little boy had broken himself when he was five and had been teased at school for it; Noah found his concern only grew as he watched his younger brother soothe himself.
"Noah," Rachel said her voice quivering and muffled by the fabric of his shirt from where it rested on his chest, the pounding in her head resuming anew as the adrenaline drained from her body, leaving her feeling nauseous and weak, making it difficult to keep her eyes open. Blackness was pulling at the edges of her vision as it threatened to swallow her, the safety and comfort she felt in Noah's arms only making it harder to fight the sleep that wanted to overtake, "I'm scared and my head hurts."
"Shh, Rachel, you're okay, I've got you. Can I tell you two a secret?" Noah asked in an attempt to distract the younger children, feeling Rachel nod against him, Blaine's dark eyes searching his face as he nodded as well, "I'm scared too. I'm scared because you're hurt and Blaine is scared and I don't know what happened, and I don't know where Santana and Quinn are. It's okay to be scared, but I'm here now, and the police are out there and no one is going to hurt you now, either of you."
Noah knew instinctively that either Hiram or Shelby had hurt them, his jaw clenching tightly against the rage that threatened to overpower him, struggling to keep his emotions in check not wanting to frighten them any more than they already were. He felt Blaine tug at his arm, as he gestured outside of the ambulance, not taking his fingers out of his mouth, "Dude, I don't know what you are trying to tell me unless you take your fingers out of your mouth." Blaine just rolled his eyes, his gestures becoming larger and more agitated as he tried to make his brother understand without taking his fingers from his mouth.
"Santana and Quinn are up by the house. That's what he is trying to tell you." Rachel whispered looking up at him, and it was then that he saw just how pale she was, how her eyebrows were drawn together in pain, the low light of the ambulance causing her to wince and squint her eyes. Noah rolled his eyes at Rachel. He remembered Rachel and Blaine's completely ridiculous and annoying twin shit from when they were younger. The two youngest had always been able to speak for each other, through some sort of creepy twin mind meld thing and since Rachel pretty much never stopped talking, she had constantly spoken for Blaine when the twins were younger much to the family's never ending frustration. Blaine hadn't found his voice and started really speaking for himself until he and Rachel were seperated in kindergarten.
"Okay, I am going to go find them, but Mrs. Pierce and Finn's mom are going to stay here with you while Rachel gets checked out," Noah told them. Rachel began shaking her head furiously, ignoring the pain that spiked through it with each shake, dizziness threatening to overwhelm her and send her into unconciousness, "Rachel, you have to let them help you, they can make you feel better, I promise, and I will be right back."
Rachel relented then, sliding off of Noah's lap as he moved to stand, laying back against the cot, her eyes closing with pain that the shift in position caused. Noah leaning down and ruffling Blaine's hair as he ducked his head to keep from hitting it on the roof of the ambulance as climbed down from it. He nodded to Mrs. Pierce, Mrs. Hummel and Finn where they stood a few feet away, exchanging a few words with them as he requested that they stay with Rachel and Blaine, before crossing over to the crime scene tape and pulling it up in an attempt to duck underneath it, before being stopped by a large hand clamping down on his upper arm, resisting the urge to strike at whoever had grabbed him.
"Son, you can't come in here." A deep voice rumbled from above him and Noah straightened up to see that a burly officer was standing over him, the man's hands resting on his utility belt where his gun and other necessary weapons were, drawing himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate the boy, who did nothing more than scoff attempting to once again cross the barrier, "Son."
"This is my house," Noah spat, "My sisters are in there, I need to see them." He could feel the hysteria creeping into his consciousness, the fear turning to anger as it curdled in his blood, once again ignoring the officer.
"Son, I am warning you." The officer stated again, stepping closer to Noah, until they were toe to toe, Noah scanned the lawn and saw Quinn sitting against the base of the large oak tree that sat on the right hand side of the yard. The tree had been the best climbing tree when they were younger, until Quinn had fallen out of it when they were ten and broken her arm in two places, and Noah was unsurprised that she had sought out the familiarity of her favorite spot in their yard in the midst of the chaos that surrounded her.
"Please, sir," Noah plead, lowering his head, and casting his to the ground in a show of submissiveness. He knew just how useless he would be to his siblings if he got himself into trouble by arguing with the officer, "I need to see them, one of them is right there." Noah gestured in Quinn's direction with one hand and the officer turned to see the young girl sitting under the tree, knees pulled against her, before nodding and lifting the crime scene tape so Noah could duck under it. Noah nearly jogged to where Quinn was sitting, dropping to his knees in front of her, unintentionally startling her, as searched her face, her body for any sign of injury but saw none. He breathed a brief sigh of relief, but then he saw the empty, hollow expression in her eyes, her face sallow, giving her a wraith like appearance.
"Quinn," Noah said, reaching out to cup her cheek, Quinn not responding to his touch or the sound of her name, the haunted look remaining in her eyes that were staring off into the distance, her face remaining expressionless, her jaw clenched tightly, as he spoke her name again louder this time, and Quinn's eyes focused and met his.
"Noah." She breathed out in relief, her posture relaxing slightly as she looked at him, "When did you get here?"
"A few minutes ago," Noah told her, Quinn nodding, her gaze once again shifting away from his, "Quinn, I need you to stay with me, okay?" He was trying to bring her back into this moment, to prevent her from once again retreating into her mind, something he had seen her do many times when she was feeling overwhelmed or scared.
"Are you hurt?" He asked and was rewarded with a shake of a blonde head, even if her gaze had drifted elsewhere.
"Where are mom and Hiram?" He questioned watching as Quinn's spine stiffened, her posture once again becoming erect, her breathing stilling so much it was almost imperceptiable, "Quinn?" He repeated receiving no response, the haunted look returning to her eyes once again. He attempted to call her attention back to him by repeating her name a few more times, but she remained motionless, expressionless.
He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to bring Quinn back from where ever she had retreated, it had never been something that he had to do. He couldn't help the guilt and self loathing that overcame him at that moment, at how helpless he was to do anything because he hadn't been there for her, for any of them in a long time. Quinn had always been harder for him to read, harder for him to understand. Understanding Santana was easy for him because they were so similar and with Rachel and Blaine it was easy because they were so young and more open than any of their older siblings had ever been, but he had never been able to understand Quinn, and as much as it pained him he had always kept her at a distance because of this, because he didn't know how to talk to her, he didn't know how to comfort her and he could never figure out what she was thinking.
Noah saw a flash of blonde hair from the left hand corner of the yard, glancing up to see Brittany pacing near the side of the house, knowing that where Brittany was so was Santana. He tried one last time to get Quinn's attention to no avail. He sighed as he climbed to his feet, running his hand over her hair feeling wholly inadequate in his attempt at comfort as she remained motionless, not even watching as he walked away from her to where Brittany stood.
"Britt?" Noah questioned once he reached her side, squinting into the shadows on the side of the house, in an attempt to locate Santana, his eyes settling on the small figure legs splayed out in front of her from where she sat on the grass, head resting against the wall of the house.
"Noah, thank god." Brittany said, relief evident in her voice, causing Noah to offer her a lopsided smirk, as she threw her arms around him, his own arms coming up to squeeze her gently.
"Britt, what happened?" He asked when she pulled away and watched as she craned her head to look behind her. He knew that she was searching Santana's form, for any indication that the other girl was listening to them before taking his hand and pulling him a few feet away so that Santana was no longer in ear shot.
"I-I don't know, she won't tell me, none of them will tell me. I..I don't think Blaine and Rachel really know what happened though. But it's something bad, Noah, something really bad." Brittany explained her blue eyes pooling with tears, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing as she remembered the sound of Quinn's scream when she saw whatever had happened inside the house, her scream so horrible that Brittany's stomach had twisted violently and painfully, wanting nothing more than to cover her ears and block it out, barely having time to think before Santana was shoving Quinn into her arms and disappearing back upstairs.
"Is she-" Noah questioned, nodding his head in Santana's direction, not able to finish his question, watching as Brittany's eyes softened at the concern in his voice.
"She's not hurt," Brittany reassured him, "But she's scared. I've never seen her like this, Noah, she's...she's..." She trailed off because she didn't know how to describe what Santana was or if there was even a word for it, other than hysterical. Brittany had stayed on the side of the house with Santana after she had finished vomiting, seeing the wild look in her eyes as she pulled her pants and shoes off, screaming at Brittany that she needed the blood of when Brittany tried to stop her. Brittany had watched helplessly as Santana had turned the hose on then, scrubbing at the red splotches on her legs where the blood had soaked through her pants and dried on her skin, relenting and holding the hose for Santana as she had scrubbed at her hands, her eyes wild and haunted. After Santana had seemed satisfied with the job she had done, and her skin was rubbed raw in some places she had slid down the wall of the house and that was where she remained. Noah seemed to understand what Brittany wasn't saying, nodding as he thanked her for taking care of Santana, and asked her to help Quinn, to bring her over to the ambulance to have her looked at, telling Brittany that she was in shock or something.
As he rounded the corner of the house, he found Santana trembling and shivering from her position against the wall of the house, her head leaned back against the wall, eyes cast heavenward as if she was searching for some sort of answer among the stars. He was surprised that she was clad in only a shirt, averting his eyes from her bare legs and socked feet as he located her shoes and pants thrown haphazardly in the grass on the side of his house. He didn't alert Santana to his presence as he dug through the pockets of her pants, noticing the dark smears of blood that stained both articles of clothing, flinging them to the ground as if they had burned them when he found her keys. Santana continued to remain unaware of his presence as she stared up at the night sky, barely blinking. He was able to locate her duffel bag in the trunk of her car, digging through it as he pulled out a pair of her red sweatpants, surprised when he was also able to find her a spare pair of a white sneakers, grateful that Coach Sue was such a crazy Nazi, before he jogged back to where he left Santana.
"Santana." He called standing a few feet away from her, watching as Santana jumped,startled, barely able to stop herself from smacking her head on the brick wall behind her. Santana's eyes widened as she saw Noah standing in front of her, a pair of her red Cheerio sweatpants and her spare pair of sneakers dangling from his fingers, tears flooded her eyes as he handed them to her, turning his back on her as she pulled the sweatpants up her legs. The sweat pants clung to the spots of her skin that remained damp from the garden hose that hung a few feet away, as she shivered slightly remembering the cold water hitting her skin as she had screamed and frantically scrubbed at her skin in an attempt to get the blood off of her, her skin rubbed raw in some places where she had been too harsh, sliding on her shoes once she had pulled the sweatpants on.
"Done." She whispered, her voice raspy, from disuse as she hadn't spoken since she had slumped against the house some time ago, her throat burning and raw from vomiting and screaming with such force, so that it felt as if the words were clawing their way out of her throat. She watched as Noah crossed the lawn, sitting beside her, mirroring her position as he pulled his legs up against his body, folding his arms on top of his raised knees. Her stomach was churning as she tried to find the words to tell Noah what she needed to tell him, knowing she needed to tell him that their mother was dead, that Hiram was dead, that Rachel and Blaine had been home when it happened and she had been unable to stop Quinn from seeing their bodies, and how it was all her fault. Her stomach surged as her thoughts raced making her nauseous as she leaned away from Noah vomiting once again.
Noah's nose wrinkled with disgust as the silence was filled with the sound of Santana gagging and coughing, her body shuddering with the force of every heave. He swallowed down the bile that had risen in his own throat his sympathetic stomach kicking, taking deep breaths in through his mouth as he placed a hand on the small of her back, the material of her shirt damp with the sweat that coated her clammy skin, rubbing gentle circles onto her back to soothe her.
"They're dead." Santana whispered, when she had stopped vomiting, it was the first time she had said the words out loud and her heart began to race as the weight of the words hit her, she remained turned away from him, her cheek resting against her raised knees. Her words were nearly swallowed by the chaos that surrounded them, but Noah had heard them, his blood turning into ice in his veins as he snapped his head to stare at her, trying to force her to turn and look at him. Santana could feel Noah's gaze burning into the back of her head, but she refused to turn towards him, her eyes focused on the bush in front of her watching as it blurred as tears filled her eyes, blinking furiously to clear them from her eyes.
"I-I don't understand what you are telling me, San." Noah stammered, glancing at Santana's blood stained clothing that laid in a heap across from them, and Santana turned her head so she was facing him, her cheek remaining pressed against her knees. She locked eyes with Noah and saw fear there and sadness, emotions that she hadn't seen Noah display for years.
"He killed her, then he killed himself." Santana whispered, her voice flat and toneless, almost clinical, as it gave away none of her emotions as she spoke. Noah felt his own eyes burn with tears, that he was quick to blink away before Santana could see them.
Their mother was dead, killed by her husband, the same asshole who had put Noah in juvie when he had tried to protect her, making sure to have him charged with domestic battery for the punch Noah had thrown and landed. He had been sent away for nine months and Shelby had only visited him a handful of times, bringing Santana with her every time allowing Santana to drive the conversation. It had been Santana who had called him as much as she was allowed, putting Blaine and Rachel on the phone to talk to him. The few times he had gotten Shelby on the phone, he had been frustrated by her disinterest, at the way she had turned the situation on him when he had asked her how she could let Hiram have him arrested, let Hiram have him sent away, her only response was that he knew how Hiram was and he shouldn't have done what he did, ignoring him as he shouted at her that he had only been doing that to protect her, to keep Hiram from hurting her. She was the reason he was barely ever home after he was released from juvie, he was just so angry at her, with her, at how she had chosen Hiram over them time and time again.
Now she was dead and Noah had spent the last few years hating her for how helpless she made him feel, and she had died thinking that he hated her, unable to even remember the last conversation he had had with her, his anger with her and with Hiram keeping him away from the house as much as possible, his only interactions with her recently being the words he grunted to her when he saw her in the kitchen in the morning, or the times Santana forced him to carry Shelby to bed when she passed out on the couch.
But he remembered a time before Hiram, before Blaine and Rachel, when his mom had sung him to sleep nightly, had danced with him to standards and show tunes, Noah standing on her feet as she swept him around the living room, Santana sitting on the couch cheering and laughing at them, until Shelby had collapsed on the couch next to her, tickling Santana until she could hardly breathe. It was memories like that that made him feel like he had failed his mom, like he hadn't done enough to help her, to try and get them out of this house. He knew he was still technically a kid, but his mom had been so different before Hiram, and he had wanted that back so badly that he hadn't known how to deal with the depressed, alcoholic that had taken her place, so he distanced himself from her, but he couldn't help but wonder now if he should have fought harder, done something more.
"How?" He whispered, unable to stop a lone tear from rolling down his cheek, not able to ignore the look of shock that graced Santana's features briefly at the unexpected show of emotion from him.
"He-he stabbed her, and then he shot himself," Santana said swallowing roughly, her stomach churning once again as she recounted what had she found, "There was so much blood, Noah."
Noah saw Santana shudder at the memory, her eyes becoming unfocused once again, the same look shining in the depth of her dark eyes as he had seen in Quinn's. He scooted closer to her, pulling her against his side, as she rested her head on his chest. He could feel how cold her skin was, still damp in some places, as she shivered in his arms, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to warm her.
"Were you here? Y'know when it happened?" Noah asked, resting his head against the cool brick of the wall behind them, as he felt Santana shake her head, staring into the vast nothingness of the stars above him, wishing that they contained the answers he needed so that he didn't have to make Santana remember everything that transpired that night, not wanting to see that broken, haunted look in either of his sister's eyes.
"No-no, Rachel was here and Blaine. It's all my fault." Santana whispered giving voice to the thoughts that had been running through her mind since she had discovered the crime scene that used to be their den.
"What are you talking about?" Noah asked as he held Santana tighter against him as she trembled harder.
"I pushed her, Noah." Santana said, remembering the suitcases and duffel bags that she had seen in the living room, remembering pleading with Shelby the previous evening to leave Hiram, and for the first time in years she had listened, and that was what had gotten her killed. It was because of Santana that she and her siblings were orphans. Santana couldn't help but wonder how things would have been different if she hadn't pushed so hard, if she hadn't had Blaine and Rachel go home with Brittany, would Shelby still be alive? She had thought she would feel relief knowing that Hiram was dead, that he couldn't hurt any of them anymore but all she felt was empty, because this wasn't what she wanted, not at all. She had just wanted her mom back, had wanted her mom to be her mom again, had just wanted her mom to take them and run as far as they could away from Hiram and now they were both dead.
"I begged her to leave last night, he-he's been...he was hitting Rachel," Santana explained, feeling her brother stiffen as he drew a deep breath in through his nose, and she was no longer concerned with keeping Rachel's secret, seeing as there was no one left for Noah to hurt, "And she listened, Noah, we have been begging her to leave for years, and this time she listened. He-he must have caught her, or something. I saw the suitcases in the living room, she was going to leave, we were going to get away and now she's gone."
"Did you know?" Noah asked through gritted teeth, Santana pulled her head back just enough to look at him, to see the anger smoldering in his hazel eyes.
"Know what? That she was planning on leaving him? No." Santana told him, punctuating her statement with a furious shake of her head.
"No. Not that. That he was hurting Rachel. Did you know?" Noah asked again, holding Santana away from him by her upper arms forcing her to look at him as she shook her head.
"No, not until last night. I swear, Noah, I had no idea." Santana said her voice growing frantic as Noah's expression remained unchanged, fear coursing through her veins at the thought of Noah being angry with her for keeping it a secret from him, but after a few beats he nodded, relaxing back against the wall once again, allowing Santana to lay her head on his chest, as she once again whispered about her mother and Hiram's deaths being her fault.
"This isn't your fault, San, not at all." Noah said, staring out across the lawn watching the steady stream of people coming in and out of the house, seeing the small clutch of neighbors, clad in pajamas and slippers, standing just beyond the bright yellow crime scene tape.
"Then whose is it? I'm the one who told her to leave, I'm the one who made them go home with Brittany," Santana spat, pulling away from him and climbing to her feet, "I'm the reason she had our bags packed, I'm the reason that they had to sit on the floor of a closet that smelled like piss and vomit, while their mother was murdered and their father killed himself!"
Santana was yelling hysterically throughout her rant, Noah watching silently as she fell apart in front of him. He rushed forward and grasped her upper arms, Santana fighting against his hold, screeching at him to let her go.
"Look at me, Santana," Noah commanded forcefully, her movements stilling as her eyes met his, the broken look within them stealing his breath away and causing his heart to drop into his stomach, "This is not your fault, do you understand me? This is Hiram's fault, he did this, not you, this could never be because of you. Okay?"
Santana nodded slowly, staring into her brother's eyes, at the conviction and sincerity that shone within them, and for the first time since she had entered the house earlier that night, she felt something crumble inside of her, it happening so quickly that she didn't have the time to stop it, to throw her walls back up. The first sobbing burst from her mouth before she could stop it, and Noah pulled her into his arms, sliding to the ground with her cradled to his chest, her fists bunching the fabric of his shirt in his hands where she clutched at it, as she sobbed, the sound of her sobs so hopeless that Noah's heart ached.
"It's okay, San," He murmured in an attempt to comfort her, "We're going to be okay. We'll figure this out." And in that moment he didn't know if his words were more for her or an attempt to reassure himself, wanting nothing more than to take all of this away from her, from all of them.
"Noah? Santana?" He heard someone say from above them, Santana's tears had long since subsided, the two of them just sitting on the dew damp grass in silence. He hadn't wanted to let her go, to let this moment go, not knowing what he would have to face when he let her go but he turned to see Mrs. Hummel standing above them, "They want to take Rachel to the hospital now, Blaine too, they want to make sure he isn't hurt either."
"Blaine's fine, Hiram..he..he didn't hurt him." Santana said, shoving away from Noah as she climbed to her feet, dragging her hands over face to erase the remnants of her tears, Noah watching as her walls were erected once again, her eyes once again devoid of any emotion. Noah followed her, and climbed to his feet, reaching for her crumpled and blood stained clothes, gathering them into his arms, as Santana shot him a questioning look.
"We need to give them to the police, San." Noah explained and Santana nodded, following both Carole and Noah around the side of house, watching as Noah exchanged words with one of the crime scene technicians, gesturing to her as he spoke before handing the man her bloody clothes, Santana grateful to be rid of them, and everything that they symbolized.
"You should check on Rachel," Santana told Noah when they ducked under the crime scene tape, and Noah glanced at her curiously, "I..I can't. Not yet." She couldn't face Rachel or Blaine, not yet, because even if Noah had told her repeatedly that what happened was not her fault, it didn't make the feeling that it was go away, the guilt still gnawing at her. Noah nodded and Santana watched as he disappeared around the ambulance, Santana's eyes scanning the crowd of people gathered in the street and on the sidewalk, locating Brittany and Quinn sitting at the very end of the driveway, Quinn's head resting on Brittany's shoulder, their fingers laced together, someone having giving Quinn a blanket that was now draped over her hunched form. Santana joined them on the edge of the driveway, sitting on the opposite side of Quinn, both girls glancing in her direction, Brittany offering Santana a small sad smile, as Quinn scooted closer to Santana, Santana reaching out to take Quinn's other hand, squeezing it gently, as Quinn shifted to rest her head on Santana's shoulder, Santana tilting her own head slightly so that it rested on top of Quinn's.
Santana didn't know how long the three of them had been sitting on the cold concrete of the driveway, barely aware of the ambulance carrying Blaine and Rachel pulling away from the curb, vaguely remembering as Mrs. Pierce had told her that Mrs. Hummel, Finn and Noah were following the ambulance and would be at the hospital with the twins. Santana remembered nodding at her words, wanting to ask about herself and Quinn, what was going to happen to them, were they going to the hospital to meet Blaine and Rachel. She wanted to ask why were they still sitting here on the driveway, and ask if they would they be taken somewhere else. She felt the panic threaten to overwhelm her once again as she thought of being seperated from her siblings, terrified that by Rachel, Blaine and Noah going to the hospital they would be seperated. Brittany had leaned down in front of Santana when she heard how erratic Santana's breathing had become, soothing her and helping her breathing to return to normal, staving off the impending panic attack.
The next thing Santana became aware of was a young woman she didn't recognize with warm brown eyes and auburn hair, dressed casually in jeans, sneakers and a tee-shirt, kneeling in front of them. Santana didn't hear the woman's name, but she did hear that she was from social services and that she was there to help them.
"Are you here to take us away?" Quinn questioned the woman her voice childlike, speaking up when she saw that Santana was still struggling to form the words to ask the questions she wanted to ask, dread seeping into Quinn's bones as she studied the woman's face for any hint of deception.
"I am here to help you, to make sure you are safe." The woman told Quinn, smiling kindly at the young girl, who just nodded, her eyes once again falling to the ground.
"Make sure we're safe?" Santana questioned, scoffing, her voice harsh and angry as she glared at the woman, "That's not why you're here. You're here because our parents our dead, and you need to find somewhere to stick us, so you can say you did your job." Quinn glanced at Santana, her mouth set in a firm line as she shook her head, pleading with her eyes for Santana to shut up.
"Well yes, a part of why I am here is to make sure that we can find somewhere for you to stay, at least for the night." Santana knew then that this woman, this "social worker" had every intention of seperating them, even if it was just for the night.
"I want to go to the hospital," Santana demanded, climbing to her feet, pulling Quinn with her, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at the woman in front of her, "I want to see my brothers and sister before you stick me in some crap ass group home or wherever the hell you plan on sticking me and Quinn for the night."
"Santana." Mrs. Pierce warned, placing a hand on Santana's shoulder and squeezing softly.
"Of course, we can go to the hospital and see your siblings," The woman said, her eyes meeting Santana's, "And I have no intention of placing any of you in a group home."
"You don't?" Santana asked genuine shock lacing her voice.
"No, group homes are a last resort, especially in..." The woman's voice trailing off, Santana knowing that she was going to say "in cases like this" and just rolled her eyes, because that's what they were now, a case, "We like to explore relative placements first. Do you girls have or know of any relatives that may be equipped to allow you and your siblings to stay with them for the night?" Quinn shook her head, glancing at Santana, wanting to see if Santana was going to mention their aunt, wanting to know if Santana's pride was going to win out over her desire to keep the family together, hoping that Santana would be able to swallow her pride.
"We have an aunt," Santana said, Quinn snapping her head in Santana's direction, and Quinn could feel both the weight of Mrs. Pierce's and Brittany's gazes on her as well, "Her name is Emma. Emma Pillsbury."
"Mrs. Pillsbury's your aunt?" Santana heard Brittany wonder aloud, but Santana ignored her.
She hadn't told anyone that she and her siblings were related to the quirky guidance counselor with the bambi eyes, having decided on her first day at McKinley High, that she would go out of her way to avoid and ignore Emma as much as possible, unable to contain her surprise when she spotted the woman in the hallway on the way to her first class, their eyes locking momentarily, Santana's eyes narrowing, as Emma's had widened in surprise. Santana hadn't spoken to or heard from the woman for nearly five years, hadn't even known that she had worked at the school, surprised that Noah hadn't told her but then she remembered that Noah had only attended school at McKinley for about a month before he was arrested, and sent away for nine months. Santana had sought Emma out after school that first day, had told the woman that she didn't want Emma to speak to her or Noah, that she didn't want to have any sort of relationship with Emma, ignoring the look of hurt that flashed on Emma's face at the harshness of Santana's voice, Santana cutting off any attempt by Emma to explain herself, allowing Emma to hand her a square of paper with her phone number written on it in her perfect penmanship before she stormed away from her. She had honestly considered throwing the scrap of paper in the first garbage can she saw, but chose instead to shove it in her pocket, entering the number in her cell phone as soon as she had gotten home. She had never used it and had intended to continue not to use it, only keeping it in her phone in case of emergency.
"Do you have her number?" The woman asked pulling Santana from her thoughts as she shook her head.
"No, it's in my cell, and that's in..." Santana said trailing off as she remembered that her cell phone had been in the front pocket of her pants, the pants that Noah had given to the crime scene technicians, surprised when she saw Brittany holding it out to her, offering the other girl a grateful smile, "Should I...do you..should I call her now?"
Santana could feel the nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach, fearful of what would happen if Emma refused to take them in. She was terrified of the rejection that she almost knew would come. She had been so horrible to Emma the one time that Emma had tried to speak to her, to explain herself and then had spent the following two years ignoring her existence, ducking into the bathrooms when she was sent out of class to see the guidance counselor, grateful that her teachers had never seemed to follow up with Emma to see if she had actually seen Santana. Emma didn't owe Santana or her siblings anything, just because shared blood ran through their veins didn't mean that she would accept them, not when she had no reason to, no reason beyond the fact that they were her sister's children, no matter how incredibly close Santana and Noah had been with her before she had stopped contacting them, none of these things were reason enough to allow them into her home.
"Why don't we call her on our way to the hospital okay? We can ask her to meet us there." The woman said then, and Santana saw the white van with the word Medical Examiner printed in black block lettering on the side of it pull up to the curb, knowing that she was in a hurry to get them away from the house before they brought the bodies of Shelby and Hiram out in the black body bags that Santana had seen on TV numerous times, the hair on arms stood up as a shudder traveled up her spine, picturing them zipping her mother's body up into one of those bags.
Mrs. Pierce came to stand beside the auburn haired woman, blocking the large van from Santana's sight, having done that when she saw that both Santana and Quinn had suddenly stood stock still, eyes wide and blinking slowly as they stared at the van that had pulled up to the curb.
"Britt, can you drive my car to the hospital?" Santana asked, not wanting to leave her car at the house, not sure when she would be able to come back for it and needing the security of knowing that she had her own transportation. She had worked hard to gather enough money to pay for that car, even if it was an old, rusted Toyota Corolla with way too many miles on it, it was hers, purchased by her from Burt Hummel, and she was still making small installment payments on the car,it was one of the only possessions she had that she could bring with her.
"Santana, it's part of the crime scene. Brittany can't drive it to the hospital." Mrs. Pierce explained.
"Then can we at least see if we can get the duffel bags in my trunk and mine and Quinn's book bags out of it?" Santana asked and Mrs. Pierce nodded as she walked over to speak with one of the officers. Santana was embarrassed to admit this out loud to Mrs. Pierce or the social worker, having already had enough of her family secrets spilled that night, but she had kept a duffel bag for herself and each of her siblings in the trunk of her car for at least year just in case she needed to set up alternate sleeping arrangements for them unexpectedly, rotating the clothes out every so often, which she had just done a week ago.
She ended up having to explain this to them anyways when the officer refused to allow them to remove anything from the car without knowing what it was first, Santana turned and saw the social worker speaking with one of the men that had gotten of the Medical Examiner's van, no doubt requesting that they wait to remove Shelby and Hiram's bodies from the house until she was able to leave with Santana and Quinn. Mrs. Pierce and Brittany rejoined Santana and Quinn their arms weighted down with the amount of things they had gathered from Santana's car, both girls relieving them of their Cheerios duffels and book bags.
The social worker explained to Quinn and Santana that they would ride with her to the hospital, and that Brittany and Mrs. Pierce would follow in their own car, neither Quinn or Santana protesting these arrangements, Brittany hugging both girls tightly and unexpectedly before following her mom to their car.
"Do you think she'll take us?" Quinn asked softly once they were in the car, trying to sound nonchalant but Santana could hear the worry hidden under her forced nonchalance.
"I don't know. I hope so." Santana said truthfully, watching as Quinn sighed and slumped back against the car.
"I think she will." Quinn stated matter of fact, turning to rest her head against the window, Santana mirroring her position, as she fiddled with the phone that she was holding in her lap, scrolling through her contacts until Emma's name was highlighted, tears blurring her vision as she wondered what would happen to them if Emma did say no.
"I hope you're right." Santana sighed, as she allowed her eyes to close out of sheer exhaustion, her face pressed against the cool glass of the window, the gentle motion of the car as it moved through the familiar streets serving to soothe some of her anxiety. She felt Quinn's hand on hers, where it rested on the seat in between them, glancing at Quinn out of the corner of her eye, seeing that Quinn had her head resting against the window as well, as Santana turned her hand over, threading their fingers together and holding tight.
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