a/n: Somebody asked how old Brittany is - she told Schue in chapter 1 that she's 25 :)
Chapter Four
Gentle fingers running through my hair made me open my eyes. It wasn't a strain, the way it usually was, even though everything was so bright. I was too content to question it. My head was in somebody's lap and she was looking down at me. I recognized her curly, gray head and pale eyes that crinkled at the corners.
"Grandma?"
She smiled wider, completely serene, but she didn't say anything – she just kept stroking my hair. It was so soothing that I wanted to close my eyes again, but I also didn't want to stop looking at her.
"Where've you been?" I murmured.
"Right here, Honey," she told me. Her voice was stronger than the last time I had heard it. She'd been so frail, then.
"Where are we?" I tried to sit up but I couldn't move anything below my neck, so I settled for turning my head as much as I could. All I could see was grass and an off-white sky. I knew we weren't sitting directly on the ground but I wasn't sure how that was possible. Whatever was underneath us was soft and moldable.
Grandma hadn't answered my question, so I asked another one. "Are Mom and Dad here, too?"
She gave me a slow, gentle nod. "Yeah. They're here."
"What about Grandpa?"
She nodded again and I swallowed thickly.
"Jess isn't here, is she?" I asked her.
Grandma moved her hand from my hair to my cheek and ran the backs of her fingers softly over my skin. I leaned into the contact. "We haven't seen her," she told me.
"I've lost her, Grandma," I admitted, "I don't know where she is."
For the first time, her smile faded. "I know."
Something cold and wet hit me on the forehead and it made me look away from her face. The sky had opened up and drops of water were now falling around us with increasing regularity. There was a continuous thumping sound that echoed in the distance and I wasn't sure if it had been there the whole time or not.
"I wanna stay with you, Grandma," I told her.
She didn't say anything back to me, but she did lean down and place a lingering kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes and then my ears were filled with a static ringing.
I was startled awake but it took me a few seconds to realize why. Whoever was pounding at my front door was relentless and I was kind of angry at first about having the only good night's sleep I'd had in weeks cut short.
The feeling quickly dissipated when I looked at my phone and realized it was already after eleven. "Crap," I mumbled. I tried to ignore the way the rain hammered at the window; it always made me feel cold. I rubbed at my eyes with my fists and then trudged out of my bedroom.
The house was empty and I figured Sam must have already been at work, but whether he had gone from our house or his girlfriend's place, I still wasn't sure. As I made my way downstairs the pounding got louder and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and pointer finger to try to stave off the inevitable headache. I unlocked the front door and opened it to find Detective Lopez – Santana – staring back at me. She was sopping wet and scowling.
"What the fuck, Brittany?" she yelled, and then she pushed past me into the house.
I stared, dumbstruck, out at my slightly overgrown front lawn for a few seconds before I closed the door again, and then I followed Santana into the kitchen. I wasn't sure why she was out there and I don't think she was either; she was just pacing aimlessly.
She dumped her purse on top of the dinner table and then put her hands on her hips. If I had have known her better, her anger might have been comical.
"So, this guy named Blaine Anderson came down to the station this morning. Said you held him up at gun point last night?"
My heart skipped a beat and I looked down at my bare feet. "Shit," I whispered.
"Shit in-fucking-deed," Santana retorted, "What the hell were you thinking?"
I shook my head. "I- I don't know," I stammered.
She huffed out a frustrated breath and I saw her cross her arms over her chest out of the corner of my eye. "You are really fucking lucky I happened to be behind the front desk when he came in, you know that? Jesus Christ."
My cheeks burned and I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I hadn't been made to feel so ashamed of doing something wrong in a long time.
"Am I… in trouble?" I mumbled.
Her voice a lost a tiny little bit of its edge when she answered. "No," she sighed, "I don't think so... I took him into one of the interview rooms as soon as I realized he was talking about you. I think Karofsky's the only other person who heard and I told him I'd take care of it."
The pressure around my chest eased off a little. I wasn't sure who Karofsky was but I assumed he was just another cop. "How'd you know he was talking about me?" I almost whispered. The night before felt like kind of a blur, but I was sure I hadn't told Blaine who I was.
"Tall, blonde girl demanding information about a Jessica Pierce… I kinda put two and two together," she replied.
I nodded and looked up at her, but she was still scowling so I didn't say anything. After a few seconds her shoulders drooped and she reached for her purse. She pulled out a thin, brown file folder and looked down at it for a moment before speaking. "I had to take a statement from him," she informed me, "Do whatever you want with it." She handed it to me and I felt my eyes go wide for a second.
"Uh… thanks," I stammered. I opened it up because I was nervous and I wanted to be doing something with my hands, but all I found inside was a blank piece of paper with a really bad drawing of a cat on it. It took a few seconds for my brain to catch up to my eyes but when it did I felt my lips pull upward at the corners.
"Don't you dare fucking smile," Santana warned me. I sucked my lips into my mouth and nodded. "Where is it?" she asked.
"Where's what?"
She rolled her eyes at me. "The gun."
"Oh… uh, it's in my purse."
"Go get it," she ordered.
"Yeah… okay… sure." I nodded quickly and closed the file folder before setting it down on the table. I found my purse on the couch in the living room and retrieved the gun before returning to the kitchen, holding it away from my body like it was about to explode.
"Jesus, Brittany. A Glock?" Santana looked exasperated with me and my cheeks burned again.
I shrugged and handed the gun over to her. I didn't even know that was what it was called until she said it. "There's no bullets in it," I assured her as she pressed a button on the side that made the magazine pop out. She caught it halfway and peered inside for a second, I guess to make sure it really wasn't loaded, before pushing it back in.
"You lied to me," she muttered.
"Huh?" My brow furrowed. I was completely positive it wasn't loaded.
"You told me you didn't have a gun," she clarified.
"Oh," I shook my head as I remembered our conversation in her car, "No… I told you I'd never fired a gun. That's the truth." I tentatively went and stood nearer to her and leaned my butt against the table so that we were almost facing each other.
"Do you know how it feels to have a gun pointed at you?" she asked quietly. She held my eyes as she spoke and it made me gulp.
"No," I whispered and shook my head. She didn't say anything back and I didn't like the silence, so I spoke again, "Has anyone ever pointed one at you?" I asked.
She paused for a moment and then sighed. "Yeah," she admitted.
"So, what does it feel like?" I knew it was a stupid question as soon as the words had left my lips.
Santana shrugged and then glanced down at the gun in her hand. She ran her pointer finger gently around the tip for a second and then bit her bottom lip before looking at me again. "Well… we wear bullet-proof vests and stuff, so it really depends," she said quietly. "Like, if somebody pointed it here…" She lifted the gun and pointed it at me, pushing the end of it against the center of my chest. I could feel the temperature of the plastic through my tank top and suddenly I was very conscious of the fact that I was only wearing my pajamas, "It's not so bad," she finished.
I swallowed thickly and nodded, but she wasn't done. She dragged the tip of the gun in a delicate, downward motion from my chest to my bellybutton. The muscles in my stomach tightened and I found myself having to take deeper breaths just to get the same amount of oxygen into my lungs. "Here's okay too," she murmured as she pressed the end of the gun firmly between my hips.
"M… 'k-kay," was all I managed to stammer back. What was she doing?
Santana leaned closer, using her free hand to support her weight on the table behind me. Her knees and her thighs pressed into mine and my skin lit and burned like a wick as she raised the gun again. This time she pointed it at my temple and it felt especially cold against my skin. "Here's not so good, though," she whispered before sliding the barrel down my cheek towards my mouth. She pushed it between my lips, but not fully inside, and just let it rest there for a second without saying anything. My eyes were wide but she was completely placid.
When she finally took the gun away she was slow and gentle. She made the tip of it graze over my bottom lip and my eyes drifted closed for a moment of their own accord. It made my breath shake.
"But that's all bullshit, really," Santana said flatly. She set the gun down on the table and then she was leaning with her hands on either side of me. Her face was so very close to mine. "It's always terrifying… guns are terrifying… and you're not stupid, Brittany, so what the fuck are you doing with one?"
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. My heart was still jackhammering inside my chest and I was positive she couldn't be that close to me without being able to hear it. "I-It's not mine," I stuttered, "It's my ex's. He left it here and just never came back for it after we broke up. I swear, I don't even know how to use it."
Santana closed her eyes for a second. "So, you don't have a permit for it?"
I slowly shook my head. "I guess not."
"All right," she huffed and then she finally pushed away from me. All the heat in the room seemed to leave with her and my lungs filled with air. "I'm gonna take it, okay?" She waved the gun at me for a second before dumping it in her purse.
"Okay," I nodded. I was happy for her to take it if it meant she was going to stop being mad.
She turned back to me and ran her hand through her wet hair. Her cheeks were pinker than usual and she looked a little frazzled. "Promise me you won't do anything like that again, okay?" she pleaded. Her expression softened and I nodded.
"I promise," I told her - and I meant it.
We were quiet for a moment after that. Santana seemed to be taking in her surroundings for the first time since she came in and it suddenly occurred to me that she hadn't been inside my house before.
"This looks like my Abuela's kitchen," she mumbled, mostly to herself.
"I told you it was my Grandma's place," I replied. She looked at me and I tried to smile.
"You've kept it the same?" she asked.
"We have our own stuff in the bedrooms, but I didn't wanna change too much." I shrugged. "It's still her house."
Santana swallowed and nodded, and then something behind me seemed to catch her attention. "Is that Jessica?"
I turned around and saw the picture on the refrigerator door that she must have been referring to. It was one of me and Jess and Sam at Cedar Point last year. "Yeah," I answered.
She stepped past me and untrapped it from behind a fridge magnet. "Can I hold onto this?" she asked as she turned to face me again.
"Sure," I nodded.
She looked at me for a second. Her forehead was creased and I knew she wanted to say something else so I waited. "D'you think I could take a look in your sister's room while I'm here?" she asked me.
"Yeah… do whatever you need to," I agreed.
"Thanks," she mumbled. I watched her as she put the photograph in her purse and then took off her coat and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. She was wearing a gray waistcoat over the top of her blouse and her gun holster on top of that. I gulped and had to look down at my feet.
I wasn't sure I'd ever look at a gun the same way again.
I turned and walked out of the kitchen and glanced quickly over my shoulder to make sure she was following. We went upstairs and into Jessica's room and it was cold from not being lived in - much colder than I expected it to be. There was a thin layer of dust on everything and I shivered.
"Do you not come in here?" Santana asked me and I shook my head in response.
"Not really."
She made a beeline for the empty closet first. The door creaked as she opened it and when she saw there was nothing inside she pushed it shut again. "Was it just her clothes that were gone?" she asked me as she turned around. Her eyes roamed over the walls and I knew it was because there was hardly any wallpaper showing. It was covered in post-its and study aids that I had never been able to make any sense out of.
"Uh-huh," I replied, "And her purse."
I started playing with the hem of my tank top as Santana made her way over to my sister's brown dresser. She ran her finger delicately over the surface, scooping up some of the dust, before opening the top drawer. I knew that it was empty too and she quickly pushed it back in.
It startled me a little when she suddenly dropped down onto the floor like she was going to do press-ups. She laid flat on her stomach and pressed her cheek to the floorboards so that she could look under the bed. "Your sister has a lot of books," she mumbled.
"I think they're her notebooks from school. I found her diary under there, too," I told her.
She got to her knees and then stood up again. "Did you read it?" she asked as she brushed some dust off of her pants.
"Of course not," I replied.
"D'you think I could take a look at it?"
I nodded. "Sure. I'll go get it."
I left her where she was while I went to find it. I had left it on the dresser in my bedroom and as soon as I'd retrieved it I opened it up to make sure the note was still inside.
Santana was perched on the edge of the bed when I went back into Jessica's room. "Is that your room across the hall?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," I nodded, "It used to be my Grandma's."
"And where does your roommate sleep?"
"His room's downstairs," I answered and then I dropped down next to her on the bed and handed her the diary. "I have the note, too," I told her. She opened it up and I laid the note out flat over the page for her. "See, the handwriting's different, right?"
She bit her lip as she looked down at it but it took her a moment to say anything. "I can't really tell just by looking at it. I'm sorry."
My heart sank a little and I swallowed thickly. "Okay," I whispered.
She glanced at me and her forehead creased. "But, uh… I know some people who know more about this kinda stuff than I do. I could have them take a look at it?"
My lips quirked up a little at the corners. "Really?"
"Yeah." She nodded and gave me a sympathetic smile before looking back down at the book. "Can I read this?" she asked. She must have sensed my trepidation because she was quick to continue. "Just the last few pages," she assured me, "I wanna see if she mentions that guy from the bar."
I paused for a moment, but then nodded. "Whatever you need," I echoed my earlier sentiment.
She flipped to the last few pages as soon as I had given her permission and I watched the side of her face as she read. After a minute or so of silence, I leaned into her and rested my head on her shoulder. She stiffened a little but she didn't say anything and even though I knew it was inappropriate, it had taken every ounce of restraint I had not to do it sooner. She smelled like rain and apple blossom and it made me want to close my eyes.
It took a little while, but after she had finished reading she closed the book and huffed out a breath. "Anything helpful?" I asked, hopeful.
I felt her gently shake her head. "Not really. But I can still take it and get it looked at for you," she told me. I knew she was trying to make me focus only on positive things and it made me like her even more.
"You're so nice," I whispered. I had been thinking it but I hadn't meant to say it out loud. I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed or not.
Santana didn't say anything back but she shifted and forced me to lift my head off of her shoulder. She turned a little so that her knees brushed against mine and then she hugged the diary against her chest like a shield.
"Brittany… don't take this the wrong way, okay?" she said to me. I nodded, even though the way she spoke made me nervous. "I'm still gonna help you if that's what you want, but I just wanna know that you're sure."
My brow furrowed. "Sure about what?"
She bit her lip and hesitated for a second before answering. "That your sister really didn't just decide to leave."
My stomach flipped, and not in a good way. "She didn't," I told her.
"You can't know that," she responded. The look she gave me was sympathetic but it didn't make me feel any better.
"But, you've seen her room now. You know how hard she worked," I said, "Why would she just leave all this behind?"
Santana raised her eyebrows a little. "I think you just answered your own question," she told me.
I frowned at her. "What're you talking about?"
"Maybe school and all that hard work was too much for her," she explained.
"No," I shook my head, "she would've told me if she was struggling."
"Not if she didn't wanna disappoint you," she argued.
My fists clenched and my heart started thumping erratically inside my chest. "She knows she could never disappoint me," I assured her, "And where would she even go, anyway? We don't have anybody else. It's just me and her. We would never leave each other - not ever." I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. "Please don't do this," I whispered. The thought of Santana giving up on me was not one I wanted to entertain.
"Brittany," she sighed. I felt her fingers wrap around my wrist before she pulled my hand away from my face and made me look at her. "Look, I know you think your sister would never just leave-"
"She wouldn't," I cut in.
"Okay…" she nodded, "But you only think that because we hold other people to our own standards. That's why it hurts so much when they do shitty things – and believe me, people do some really shitty things to each other. I see it every, single day. Whatever you tell me, I'll believe you, Brittany. I promise. I just want to know that you're sure… that you're not just clutching at straws because you don't wanna believe your sister could do something like this."
She held my eyes for a moment and then I had to look down at the floor. "Don't you think if I had a choice, I would rather she left because she wanted to?"
I looked back at her and she frowned at me for a second before slowly nodding. "Okay," she whispered.
"I know you're not supposed to be helping me," I mumbled, "If you're having second thoughts-"
"I'm not," she cut me off. "Look, just… forget I said anything, okay?" She stood up swiftly and started brushing invisible dirt from her clothes with the hand that wasn't still cradling Jessica's diary.
"If the wrong person found out about this… how much trouble would you be in?" I asked her.
I don't think she had been expecting the question because she paused for a second before answering. "I dunno… if somebody found out about me falsifying that report this morning, I'd be fired and probably prosecuted."
I gulped and looked down at my feet. "I don't want you getting in trouble because of me," I mumbled.
"Well," she huffed, and then to my surprise she crouched down in front of me. Her lips twitched up a little at the corners before she continued, "If my superiors got wind of me visiting Carl Howell yesterday after my sergeant told me explicitly not to, I'd have my ass handed to me. I break plenty of rules without your help so I wouldn't worry about it, okay?"
I couldn't bring myself to disagree with her, even though I wanted to. It was selfish, but getting Jessica back trumped everything else. I was willing to let Santana risk her career.
I was sure then, that I had changed a little bit, and I wondered briefly if I would ever be able to change back.
When I didn't say anything back to her, Santana stood upright again and exhaled heavily. "I need to get back to work," she told me, "But… can I please get your permission to read this cover to cover?" She waved the diary in front of me and I had to look down at my feet.
"If that's what you need to do," I mumbled. It didn't feel right, giving her permission to invade my sister's privacy like that, but I knew it would have been stupid to refuse.
"I need to know her better if we're gonna get anywhere," she explained.
"Okay," I nodded. I looked back up and we quietly kept eye contact for a moment before she averted her gaze and started walking out of the room. I had to force myself to get up and follow her.
When we got downstairs she went into the kitchen and slipped Jessica's diary into her purse before picking up her coat. She gave me a long, hard stare while she put it back on, and then she pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and pointer finger. Her expression was unreadable and I had no idea what I was supposed to say.
After a few long, uncomfortable seconds she seemed to deflate and her hand flopped back down to her side. "What happened this morning…" she said, "…I can't cover for you like that again."
"I know," I almost whispered. I looked down at my feet and we were quiet again until she seemed to decide that we'd said enough to one another.
When she brushed past me, my heart sank a little.
I opened the front door for her when we got there and my heart jolted when I found Sam hunched over and fumbling with his keys on the other side. He froze and squinted up at me past the droplets of water that were falling from his hair and into his eyes. "Britt? …I thought you were at work?"
I shook my head. "I covered for Marley yesterday so I got today off instead, remember?"
His cheeks pinked a little. "Right," he mumbled.
"How come you're not at work?" I asked him.
"Uh… they sent me home," he told me, "I'm sick."
I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his wrist so I could pull him inside. "Then get out of the rain, silly."
Santana stepped back to let him past and I automatically closed the door behind him before remembering that she was just about to leave. I think she had temporarily forgotten, too, because her eyes were fixed on Sam. He gazed back at her as he combed his fingers through his hair and the way it stood on end made him look like a wet, fluffy cat.
"Um… This is Detective Lopez," I told him
"Oh," he replied. His face fell ever-so-slightly as he glanced between us. "So, she's making house-calls, now?" he muttered before his eyes finally settled on me.
"Sam…" I frowned at him but I didn't know what else to say.
Santana paled a little and then shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Is there a problem?" she asked. I really wouldn't have enjoyed being on the receiving end of the look she was giving him.
I was quick to shake my head in response but Sam answered before I could. "Nope. No problem." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet.
"Santana's helping us find Jess. Like I told you, remember?"
"Yeah," he huffed without looking up, "I remember."
We lapsed into silence for a few moments after that before Santana sighed a heavy breath and stepped towards the door again. "I really need to get back to work," she mumbled.
She jerked the door open and stepped outside and I followed her out onto the front porch. I think she would have kept walking if I hadn't have put my hand on her shoulder and turned her around. She hitched her purse back up where the strap was slipping off of her shoulder and looked down at the ground instead of at me.
Not for the first time, I wasn't sure what I wanted to say to her. I just didn't want her to leave like that. I was afraid she might not come back.
Before giving myself a chance to realize it probably wasn't such a good idea, I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around Santana's shoulders. She stayed stock still and she didn't hug me back, but she didn't push me away either.
I couldn't bring myself to look at her when I drew back, so I just turned around and went back inside the house. I shivered a little as I closed the door behind me. The front porch was somewhat sheltered but there were still a few drops of rain on the front of my pajamas and it was enough to make my skin prickle with goose bumps.
I found Sam in the kitchen. He was perched on the edge of the dining table and he deliberately avoided eye contact with me as I entered the room. "What was that?" I asked him.
"What?" He rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand and still didn't look at me. I could see his cheeks turning pink and I knew he was only pretending not to know what I was talking about.
"She's helping us and you were really rude to her."
Sam huffed out a breath and shook his head. "I really don't see how feeding your paranoia is helping us."
I bristled at that and my bottom lip quivered before I spoke. "You… think I'm paranoid?" I stammered.
Sam let himself look up at me. His expression softened. "No… I didn't mean it like that. I just… don't think it's right, what she's doing – stuff like ambushing you at work and telling you to go talk to Brody. It's not fair. She's giving you false hope," he explained.
"False hope?" I echoed. "You were the one who promised me we'd find her."
"And I meant that," he retorted. He got off of the table and stepped towards me, "I really do believe she'll come back to us, Britt… when she's ready." My chest tightened and I had to look away from him. It was the closest he had come to outright admitting that he didn't believe me. "Look," he mumbled, "I'm really tired. Maybe we shouldn't talk about this right now?"
I slowly nodded in agreement, but I didn't say anything back. And he did look tired. His eyes were pink and sunken and his skin was paler than usual. Things were taking their toll on him, too, and I think deep down if I could have convinced myself, the way he had, that Jessica was safe somewhere I would have done it whether it was true or not. I couldn't blame him for wanting to believe something that wasn't so bad over something that was awful.
He closed the space between us and kissed my forehead before brushing past me and out of the room.
