A/N: Once again, you all prove to be the most generous and engaging readers. Thank you for your input, questions, and flails. You squee like no others :) You always make me smile! Big love to my beta slayhue for putting up with me. Big, wet, possibly sloppy kisses to all of you fabulous readers!
CHAPTER 5
September 1943
The days became cooler and shorter as Summer turned into Fall. Four months, three birthdays and two more bets - all won by Brittany - passed. The logging crew worked like veterans now, and Brittany watched them with pride as they fired up their chainsaws and cut timber like any other seasoned logger. Their bodies changed, more than their attitudes, from the first week on the job. They still bickered from time to time. They were friendly with each other, but Brittany wouldn't necessarily call them all good friends. Mercedes lost nearly 25 pounds over the summer. Kurt had to stop taking in her pants and find her new ones. Rachel, Quinn, Tina and Santana all gained muscle. Brittany noticed just a week ago, how Santana's shoulders and arms dipped and swelled with strong, defined muscle. Using a 30 pound chainsaw all day would do that. She also noticed her butt looked better, which Brittany didn't think was possible.
Santana rarely felt the need to escape to the rooftop at night. Long days of hard work silenced most worried thoughts in her mind at night, as her body succumbed to sleep. By the end of the summer she felt more at home with the other women, in the woods, in the bunkhouse. Rachel grew on her, though she remained annoying. They found a common love of music, and with Mercedes, they often led the crew in song around the fire. Quinn remained polite, yet distant. She reminded Santana of her old neighbor's cat that never came for pets. The cat would just sit nearby, feigning interest, but ever watchful. They regularly helped each other out on the job, as did everyone. If they didn't, they learned quickly that Brittany would be in their faces and in their ears with swearing and threats of outhouse duty or her boot up their ass. Perhaps it's when Santana bested Quinn on the log roll bet and knocked her off the log and into the river - on Quinn's birthday no less - that set Quinn's jaw against Santana. It seemed from day one, or day thirty, Quinn was more interested in keeping an eye on her, than becoming friends.
Alex Pierce arrived every Friday with the week's papers. Santana was eager for news, once she learned her father was in Italy, with the 45th Infantry Division as a combat medic. She knew he was disappointed he wasn't assigned as a doctor in the field hospital, even if he never said. The boys called him "Doc", no matter what his rank, when he tended to them at the front. He wrote about that with pride, and kept the letters bright and hopeful. His letters were in stark contrast to news coming out of Italy. It was fierce battles and slow pushes from Sicily then to the Italian mainland. Santana wrote to him about her work and life at Pierce Lumber. She told him about Rachel and her impromptu monologues and theater song outbursts. She told him how Marley shared cooking duties with Tina and Mercedes on the weekends. How Blaine and Kurt would take Quinn and Rachel into town to shop. How Burt looked over all of them, as if they were his own kin.
She wrote to him about Brittany. How she became a good friend. How Brittany taught her how to swing an axe and how to climb a tree. She told him how Brittany was patient and kind and never treated her as less than anyone else. Sometimes she felt Brittany treated her better.
Santana didn't write in detail about Brittany in her letters. She didn't tell her father about the talks on the roof or the common bathing. How Santana chanced more peeks in the shower, that created a thrill and a pang of guilt at the same time. Or how Brittany's smile would enter her dreams in the middle of the night. She didn't talk about the care Brittany took to make sure Santana was comfortable. The ironic thing was, the more Brittany doted on Santana, the more uncomfortable Santana became. It was the discomfort of warm flush and ticklish nerves. All expressed in blushed cheeks and shy eye contact. It was just how Brittany looked at her, that set Santana off-kilter. Those oh so blue eyes saw something in Santana and Santana felt it. But couldn't for the life of her figure out what Brittany saw. She also didn't dare ask. It was scary to think about. So Santana pushed those thoughts away. Yet Santana sought out that happy, scary, uncomfortable feeling as often as she could. And secretly delighted when Brittany was just as often seeking her out, wanting to spend time with her, and only her. It felt delightfully covert. Something she never wanted to share. For Santana, talking to anyone about Brittany felt like telling secrets.
Brittany always seemed to be with her at the fire ring, when all the others had retired for the night. It turned into a weekly ritual. Every Friday night, they were left alone to watch the fire die to orange embers. Brittany would bring two beers and always offer Santana one. Santana always declined. They talked about the war, news of friends lost, their childhoods, the logging crew. It never got too personal. Santana wouldn't allow it. Somehow in her silence when Brittany asked something a little too close, a little too personal, a little too much about feelings, Santana would shut down the conversation. It frustrated Brittany to no end, but it never stopped her from trying. She came back to the fire ring week after week, and Santana would wait for her there.
The women, Burt, Kurt and Blaine drove to the mill office every Saturday for their pay. They hadn't seen Karofsky and Puck's crew for a month, but this day, the men walked in just as Alex Pierce praised the women.
"You ladies are doing a great job. Your crew is half the size of our long loggers, yet your producing half of what they cut. In just three months! I'm very impressed," Alex commended.
"Burt and Brittany, Kurt and Blaine should get the credit Mr. Pierce. They're great teachers," Rachel replied.
"You all get the credit. Because of all of you, we'll make our quota again this month," Alex said with a smile.
The women signed the account book for their pay. Everyone picked up their checks except Tina, Mercedes and Santana. Mr. Pierce set their money aside in his safe.
Brittany leaned into Santana's ear. "I thought Burt dropped you off at the bank last month to open an account?"
Santana shook her head. "Decided against it. So I joined him at the general store to put in the order for Mercedes' new pants."
"Why?" Brittany whispered.
Santana shrugged her off.
The women walked out with Burt, Kurt and Blaine and talked about their plans for that afternoon. Karofsky, Puck and two other men followed them to the mill yard.
"Sounds like you got your pop snowed Brat," Karofsky mocked.
Brittany set her jaw and turned to meet him. "Snowed? Please David, get your fat head out of your ass. Pop's looking at the numbers, and guess what? The numbers add up to my crew doing as much work or more per person than yours," Brittany said with a smug smirk.
"Bullshit," Karofsky scoffed.
Brittany raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Wanna bet?"
"Brittany..." Burt whispered.
Brittany turned and gave him a wink.
"I'm tired of taking all Burt's money. I think it's about time we take some of yours," Brittany said to Karofsky. "Your quota, cut in half. We make it, it's a day's wages from each of you if we win," Brittany offered.
"Two days wages from you when you don't make it and we win, so all my guys get some," Karofsky replied.
Brittany looked over at her crew. Burt had his hand covering his face. Kurt and Blaine looked at eachother then nodded firmly to Brittany. Brittany looked to Rachel, Quinn, Tina, Mercedes, and Santana. Rachel and Quinn grinned immediately. Mercedes looked at Karofsky, narrowed her eyes and gave Brittany the nod as did Tina. When Brittany's eyes met Santana's, she saw they were full of mischief and bravado. Santana eyed Karofsky, then turned her gaze to Brittany. "Definitely," Santana replied.
"You got a deal David. Though, you sure those boys of yours will want to part with their money? I know they're spending most of it at the bar. That's less whiskey to drink," Brittany suggested.
"Never going to happen Brat. No way I'm having two girls, two pansies, a gimp, a nigger, a spic, a jap, and especially you, top me," Karofsky sneered.
Burt and his clenched fists took a step toward Karofsky.
"I wouldn't mind a girl topping me," Puck said, as he waggled his eyebrows at Rachel and Quinn.
They both turned their noses up at him.
Brittany took two steps, grabbed Karofsky's ear and yanked his head to her level.
"Ow! Fuck! Let me go!" Karofsky yelped.
Brittany's free hand grabbed Karofsky's other ear. She quietly hissed in his ear.
"You disrespect my crew again, I will string you up by your pea-sized balls and leave you for the fucking mountain lions, you sack of shit. Their names are Rachel, Quinn, Santana, Mercedes, Tina, Burt, Kurt and Blaine. Commit them to memory, you ignorant asshole, because they will be the ones taking your fucking money," Brittany threatened and released him with a shove.
Karofsky left with Puck and the other two men, rubbing his ears in a huff.
"I'm going to go talk to Alex. You head back to camp. I'll be along with the truck to give you lift the rest of the way," Burt instructed and walked back to the office.
Brittany, Kurt and Blaine led the group back into the woods. Brittany hung back to walk with Santana.
"So what happened at the bank?" Brittany asked quietly.
Santana looked ahead and pursed her lips.
"Nothing," she replied.
"I don't believe you," Brittany argued.
Santana shrugged and walked ahead to join Mercedes.
Burt picked up the logging crew a mile up river. They all piled in the back, and Burt motioned for Brittany to sit up front with him.
"I looked at the numbers," Burt began. "For us to win the bet, we have to add 10 more trees a day to our quota for the next 20 days."
"That's only a little more than one tree a person. We got this Burt," Brittany smiled.
"The crew is already working long days, and they're working fast as it is," Burt frowned.
"We can work some on Saturdays. We did that in June to make that quota," Brittany reminded.
Burt nodded. "You think they want to win the bet that much?"
"I know they do. You weren't there when Karofsky met them on their first day in the office. He was the same asshole he was today. They're going to love taking his money," Brittany assured him.
The afternoon was spent playing cards and getting ready for Mercedes' birthday party. Marley baked the cake. Tina cooked the dinner. The rest of the women and Kurt and Blaine strategized how they would win the bet against Karofsky's crew.
"He's such an ass," Quinn said as she stubbed out her cigarette.
"Vile is more like it," Rachel added.
"Why isn't he over there fighting with the rest of our boys?" Mercedes asked.
"Shit knees," Brittany replied. "He couldn't pass training. Too much marching and running."
"Is that why he's so angry every time we see him?" Santana asked.
"He's always been like that," Kurt answered. "Known him...three years? Has it been three years Brittany?"
Brittany nodded.
"He's been a bully for that long at least," Blaine added.
"You've put up with that name-calling all those years? I'm so sorry," Rachel said, and put her hand on top of Kurt's.
"You know what they say, 'Sticks and stones may break your bones...'" Kurt said in a sing song voice.
"But words can break your heart," Santana whispered under her breath.
Only Kurt and Brittany, who flanked Santana on either side of the kitchen table heard her. Kurt patted her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic smile. Brittany's hand slid to Santana's knee and she gave it a squeeze. Santana's breath hitched at the touch of Brittany's warm hand. She was having these little "thrill" moments around Brittany more and more often. It unnerved her immediately after it excited her. She excused herself from the table and walked toward the river.
Santana wasn't back when dinner was ready. Brittany went to find her. Tina promised to save them plates. Brittany walked down to the river and found Santana sitting on a flat rock, looking out across the river.
"Dinner's ready," Brittany announced quietly.
Santana turned to her with a weak smile and nodded. "I'll be up in a bit."
"Tina's saving us plates. No rush," Brittany said as she sat down and joined Santana. "You get called names a lot?" Brittany asked.
"Most of my life," Santana replied matter-of-factly.
"Like what Karofsky called you?" Brittany broached.
"Oh that one's old news," Santana chuckled.
"Still isn't right," Brittany lamented.
Santana shrugged. "It is what it is."
They sat in silence for a minute.
"I don't like it when others get called names. I can take it, but..." Santana's voice faded.
"But what?" Brittany asked.
"I don't know. It just really got under my skin when Karofsky started shooting his mouth off at our crew," Santana said, her jaw clenched remembering the moment.
"Our crew," Brittany smiled. "It's good to hear you say that," she said with a nudge to Santana's shoulder.
Santana shoved back playfully.
"What..um...what Karofsky said...about Kurt and Blaine. What he called them..." Santana hedged.
Brittany nodded and waited for the question. Santana worked her way up to it.
"Is that why they came to work on your crew? Because he was giving them a hard time?"
"Yeah, David and a bunch of the other guys just harassed the shit out of Kurt and Blaine. They got beat up and bullied all day, everyday. They stood up for themselves, but eventually it got too much. Actually, I think it got too much for them a long time ago, but they never had a choice. They didn't have anywhere else to go for work, so they stayed and put up with it. So when Burt and I started this crew, they volunteered immediately," Brittany explained.
"I'm glad they did," Santana replied.
"Me too."
"Is it true? What he said?" Santana asked in a whisper.
"What do you think?" Brittany asked in return.
"I...I don't know. I've never met a..a homosexual before," Santana replied like she spoke of a leper.
Brittany chuckled. "Jesus Santana, you talk like they're murderers or something. I'm sure you've met some before. They're just not going to go around talking about it and holding hands."
"But it's a sickness. They need treatment. My father's medical books talk about therapy and..."
"Since when is love a sickness?" Brittany interjected.
Santana shut her mouth and sat quietly, and thought about what Brittany said.
"So they are?" Santana asked.
"Not my place to say," Brittany replied. "But you think about it. You eat with them and work all day with them. They seem sick to you?"
"Well, no, but..."
"But nothing. That's all you need to know," Brittany replied and got up. "Come on, our dinner's cold and we have to get Mercedes good and drunk tonight." Brittany said, holding out her hand.
Santana took the helping hand up and Brittany laced her fingers through Santana's as they walked back to camp. Santana looked down at their hands and smiled. The warmth of that smile spread to her chest, then down to her stomach, and nagged her. Her palms perspired. Or was that Brittany's sweaty hand? As they neared the clearing of camp, Santana pulled her hand away and wiped her clammy palm on her hip. She smiled quickly as she approached the group and sat back down next to Kurt.
Mercedes birthday party quickly turned raucous. Too many beers and not enough restraint led Quinn to beat everyone at poker and Rachel to promptly ruined the cards by spilling her beer on the deck. Mercedes gave Tina an impromptu piggy back ride that resulted the pair ending up on the ground in fits of giggles. Brittany played jacks with Marley near the fire pit and Marley won every game. Santana watched them laugh and play from her seat next to Kurt and Blaine. When Kurt and Blaine started to sing Fred Astaire's "Top Hat", all the individual hijinx ended and Rachel and Santana joined in to sing. Quinn, Brittany, Tina and Mercedes jumped up and danced in the clearing; a drunken sloppy, yet admirable effort at tap dancing on dirt and pine needles. Blaine, Kurt and Santana helped them along by smacking their hands in time on the tables. Quinn, Mercedes and Tina finished the song tripped up and hanging off each other. Brittany stood, smiling and winded, with her hands on her hips. Santana couldn't help but smile at Brittany backlit by the fire, as she blew a strand of hair out of face and giggled at Tina helping a very drunk Mercedes toward the bunkhouse. Rachel followed to help.
"I'm done," Quinn announced as she flopped down next to Santana, breaking Santana out of her Brittany gaze.
"You had a full night," Santana laughed, as Quinn's head lolled to one side.
"I beat you in poker," Quinn slurred.
"Yes, yes you did. Fair and square," Santana smiled.
Quinn nodded, and looked at the bunkhouse with a squint. "I thought it was closer."
"The beer makes it look farther. You'll be fine. Steady steps," Santana encouraged, giving Quinn a hand as she stood up.
Santana watched as Quinn took a few steps, wavered, then continued her walk to the bunkhouse.
"I won't wait up for you," Quinn called over her shoulder, and loosely waved her arm in Santana's direction.
Santana looked over at Kurt and Blaine. Kurt slept on Blaine's shoulder and smiled.
"I'm going to get him to bed," Blaine said.
He got Kurt up, and half carried, half walked him to their cabin. Santana watched them leave then turned her glance back to Brittany who still stood by the fire, watching her.
"Hey," Brittany said, her voice gravelly with beer and cigarettes and singing.
"Hey," Santana said with a soft smile.
"You tired too?" Brittany asked.
"No. You?"
Brittany shook her head and held out two beer bottles.
"Where were you hiding those?" Santana asked, as she got up to join Brittany by the fire.
Brittany just smiled and shrugged. She offered Santana a beer like always, but to her surprise, Santana took it and sat down next to her at the fire. Brittany raised her eyebrows in question.
"What?" Santana asked with a knowing smile.
"Nothing," Brittany replied, as she sipped her beer.
"Was a good night," Santana sighed.
Brittany nodded.
"Good crew," Santana continued.
"Good friends," Brittany added.
Santana smiled and tapped her beer bottle to Brittany's. "To good friends."
Brittany sipped her beer and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered Santana one. They sat and drank and smoked for a few minutes in silence. They both just stared into the fire.
"Want to tell me about the bank now?" Brittany quietly asked.
"Not really," Santana sighed.
"But we're friends. Good friends. That's what friends do, you know. Tell each other things, even if it's hard," Brittany replied.
Santana looked at Brittany and her sympathetic face. Santana took another drag of her cigarette and a swig of beer.
"They wouldn't let me open an account," Santana confessed.
"Why not?" Brittany asked.
Santana looked at Brittany then gestured to her own face and body.
"I doubt Mr. Henderson would deny you an account for being too pretty," Brittany teased.
"Brittany..." Santana said with disappointment at her ill timed compliment.
"Sorry," Brittany replied with an apologetic smile. "So Henderson was an asshole and didn't want to open an account for you, 'cause your skin is a few shades browner than mine."
"Pretty much, yes," Santana replied.
"What did he say?" Brittany pressed.
"That I needed a male relative to co-sign for me," Santana replied.
"But he knows you all aren't from around here," Brittany argued.
Santana gave her a knowing look.
"Oh," Brittany sighed, then gritted her teeth.
"Fuck him," Brittany said as she flicked her cigarette butt into the fire. "Your money is as green as anybody's."
"It's fine. Your father is keeping my pay in his safe, and he's wiring money to Tina and Mercedes' families for them as well," Santana explained.
"Pop should threaten to take his business elsewhere, the way Henderson treated you," Brittany complained.
"Is there another bank in town?" Santana asked, knowing the answer.
Brittany paused then sighed. "No," she grumbled.
"So he works around it. Which helps us, so leave it. Okay?" Santana asked, turning her head to catch Brittany's eye.
"Okay?" Santana repeated.
Brittany looked over and her frown turned into a half smile. "Yeah, yeah. Okay."
Brittany got up and walked to the kitchen cabin. She returned with two more beers. Santana took the offered beer with a smile. They sat in silence for minutes more. Brittany poked at the dying fire with a stick.
"So why did you decide to drink tonight?" Brittany asked.
Santana shrugged. "I figured one or two beers couldn't hurt."
"Have they hurt before?" Brittany asked.
Santana shook her head. "Sort of. No, not really."
"What's the most embarrassing thing you did when you drank?" Brittany asked.
Santana thought about it. She hadn't done anything while she drank. It was the thoughts that entered her head when her mind was loose with alcohol.
"You?" Santana asked.
Brittany paused. She inhaled deeply, and let out a long breath. She took a few gulps of her beer.
"I was 16. Just a couple months before they closed the school, and me and some friends were playing Spin the Bottle. You know that game?"
Santana nodded. "Never played, but yes, I know it," she said with a smile.
"It was my first time. My first spin, I had to kiss this boy with the worst breath," Brittany recalled, scrunching up her nose.
Santana stuck out her tongue in a playful grimace.
"Then the quarterback of the football team spun and it landed on me. I had such a crush on him, but he shoved his tongue in my mouth. It was awful," Brittany laughed. "That crush was done then and there."
"I bet," Santana chuckled. "That all sounds quite embarrassing."
"That's not the embarrassing part," Brittany replied quietly.
Brittany took several more gulps of her beer.
"I spun the bottle again, and it landed on the girl next to me."
"So you spun again," Santana replied, waiting for Brittany to continue the story.
Brittany shook her head. "I didn't know you could skip. Before anyone could say anything, I kissed her."
"On the lips?" Santana asked in a shocked whisper.
Brittany nodded. They sat in silence for a minute. Brittany nervously, waiting for Santana's reply. Santana took several sips of her beer.
"What was it like?" Santana asked with honest curiosity.
"Soft. Sweet. Just..." Brittany confessed quietly. Wistfully. "She was so embarrassed, she immediately left the party. I ran after her to apologize, but she wouldn't talk to me. The next day, it was all over school. How I kissed a girl. How I was too stupid to know better. How I liked kissing her more than the boys. I lost all my friends after that. No one would talk to me. Not one of them. It was all whispers and gossip and just...just mean. The one good thing about school closing down. I didn't have to go through that everyday anymore."
"Britt...I'm so sorry," Santana said.
She put her hand on Brittany's shoulder. She rubbed her thumb lightly over the swell of her shoulder where it met her arm. Santana slid her hand off Brittany and took a few swallows of her beer and took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I've thought about it before," Santana said cryptically as she stared at the fire.
"What?" Brittany asked.
Santana didn't answer. She just looked at her and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"Ohhh!" Brittany replied as she realized what Santana was referring to. "Really? When?" Brittany whispered with more hope in her voice than she meant to convey.
"Sitting around the bonfire on the beach back home. I had a few beers. I was tipsy. One of the guys brought his new girlfriend around to join us," Santana explained.
Santana took another gulp of beer and lit another cigarette. Brittany impatiently waited for Santana to continue.
"She was...she was beautiful," Santana said with a nervous chuckle. "And I. I don't know what happened. But it just popped in my head, you know? I just really wanted to know what it would be like...to...to kiss her," she whispered her confession.
Santana didn't look at Brittany, but she could feel her eyes on her. The confession was a relief and a source of new anxiety. She quickly amended her statement.
"I know it was the alcohol. Makes you think crazy things," she said, again with a nervous chuckle.
Brittany stared at Santana in attempt to will her to look her way, but Santana was nothing if not stubborn.
"It relaxes you. It loosens you. It can make you happy. It can make you sad," Brittany explained. "Alcohol doesn't make you crazy, and you know it." Brittany gently countered.
Santana bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes with a sense of sad resignation.
"You're not crazy to wonder," Brittany whispered. "It's not crazy at all."
Brittany reached out and tucked a stray hair over Santana's ear. Santana sank into her hand then straightened up.
"I should go to bed," Santana said as she stood. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Brittany said with disappointment as Santana left.
That night Santana woke up from a disturbingly wonderful dream. She sat up and tried to calm herself. Her heart beat like a hummingbird's wings. Her lips tingled. How could they? It was only a dream. But every physical sensation of warmth and flutters and happiness and excitement and contentedness and bliss lingered still. Santana fell asleep thinking about Kurt and Blaine and what Brittany had said by the fire. She thought about what she knew of homosexuals, and had to admit, she knew nothing. Nothing beyond the words "unnatural" and "sin" and "illness". But then Brittany's words crept into her head. Love. Relaxed. Wonder. Not crazy. Santana only knew the love of her father, and that felt nothing like what she woke up feeling from that dream. She felt affection for her crew mates. She felt protective of them, especially now in light of Karofsky's name-calling. She felt that for Brittany as well, but she had not dreamed of Mercedes or Tina or Rachel or Quinn as she dreamed of Brittany that night. Santana replayed in her head, all the lovely compliments Brittany spoke to her over the past four months. The feeling of her hands on Santana's hips and arms and the touch of her fingers through her hair. It was all painfully wonderful, and Santana was at a loss as to what to do about it.
One week into the quota competition with the long loggers, Brittany and Burt's crew kept a steady, fast pace, and logged the extra timber they needed. With a week to go, Blaine and Kurt started their shift early, to insure they'd have not only half the long loggers' quota, but a little more as a buffer.
Santana had just bussed her breakfast plates when Kurt came running into the camp.
"Get the doctor!" he gasped.
Burt got up and rushed to the truck.
"What happened?" Brittany asked.
"A chunk of wood kicked up and hit his eye. His fingers. They're gone. There's blood, and..." Kurt said, ashen and out of breath.
Rachel got up and put her arm around his shoulder.
"Where is he now?" Quinn asked.
"Still out there. I told him not to move. That I'd get help," Kurt wheezed.
Santana got up and went to the kitchen.
"Marley, I need the med kit," Santana demanded.
Marley pulled it from a shelf. Santana opened it and checked the gauze, tape and scissors. She rifled through the box some more and huffed.
"I need..." Santana said to herself as she scanned the contents of the kitchen.
She spied a set of measuring spoons hung up near the stove.
"Give me the tablespoon," Santana commanded.
Marley swiftly unlinked it from its ring and handed it to Santana. Santana thumbed over it in her hand.
"That'll do," she said and threw it in the box.
Marley looked at her confused, but Santana just turned around and left. Santana found Brittany and Rachel soothing Kurt out at the kitchen table.
"Let's go," Santana said, medical kit in hand.
Brittany instructed the others to start work, then followed Kurt and Santana into the woods to find Blaine.
"You should go too Brittany," Santana said.
"You don't want me to come?" Brittany asked, a little hurt in her voice.
"Burt's gone for the doctor, we've lost Blaine for the day. Probably more. You won't have me or Kurt for a while, and I'm not giving Karofsky one cent of my money. Are you?" Santana explained.
Brittany sighed and shook her head.
"Then go. We'll meet up with you later," Santana offered, and they parted ways.
Kurt lead Santana into the forest and eventually to Blaine, who they found sitting on a log, his left hand gripped by his right, wrapped in his torn left work shirt sleeve. Dried blood caked his cheek. He sat slumped over and quiet.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Kurt whispered to Santana as they approached Blaine.
Santana pursed her lips and nodded. "I know enough."
Santana knelt down in front of Blaine and gently removed his right hand from his injured left and unwrapped the bandage.
"Jesus," she whispered as she saw his pinky and ring finger missing at the second knuckle.
She wrapped tape tightly around his fingers just below the amputations.
"Sulfa Kurt," she instructed, with her hand held out.
Kurt rifled through the medical kit and found packets marked "Sulfanilamide".
Santana poured the powder on the stubs of Blaine's fingers, wrapped them with clean gauze and taped them together.
"Hold this above your head," Santana instructed.
Blaine weakly raised his hand. Kurt reached out and held it up for him. Santana gave him a quick nod of thanks.
Santana next drew her attention to his eye. She hissed and grimaced at the damage. A tiny splinter of wood pierced his eyelid.
"Keep your eyes closed," Santana instructed, and Blaine obeyed. "Is the wood scratching your eye?" Santana asked.
Blaine nodded, "I think it's stuck in it."
"Okay. Burt went to get the doctor. I'm going bandage your eyes," Santana explained.
"Both?" Kurt asked.
Santana nodded. "If they're both bandaged, you don't move your eyes as much. And the last thing we need is Blaine moving his left eye."
Santana took out the tablespoon and placed it over Blaine's injured eye.
"It's not pressing on the splinter is it?" Santana asked.
"No," Blaine answered.
Kurt handed Santana the tape and she secured the tablespoon to Blaine's face. Kurt handed her the gauze and she wadded up a pad for his right eye, then wrapped a few bands of gauze around his head.
"I can't see a thing," Blaine complained.
"That's the point," Santana replied dryly, and patted him on the knee. "Come on, let's get you back to camp," Santana said, as she and Kurt helped Blaine to his feet.
Santana and Kurt lead Blaine back to camp, just as Burt drove up with the town doctor.
"He'll need to go to the hospital," Santana suggested.
The doctor looked at the state of Blaine's bandages and turned to Kurt.
"Nice job on the dressing," he praised.
"Don't thank me, she did it," he said, pointing to Santana.
The doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Pinky and ring finger amputated at the middle knuckle. Wood splinter pierced his eye and is scratching his cornea," Santana explained. "Tourniquet and sulfa applied to his hand."
The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, nodded and led Blaine to Burt's idling truck. They quickly disappeared down the logging road and out of sight. Kurt leaned on Santana, his face pale. Santana looped her arm around his back and helped him to the kitchen benches.
"Marley! Juice please!" Santana called.
Marley arrived with a jug of apple juice and a tin cup. Santana poured a cupful and put it to Kurt's lips.
"Drink this. You'll feel better," Santana encouraged. "Don't faint on me Kurt."
"I won't. I'm not. I don't think," Kurt said after a few gulps of juice. "Sorry, I just...a little overwhelmed."
"And scared," Santana added.
Kurt looked at her and pulled his lips into his mouth.
"It's okay to be scared Kurt. He's your, your best friend, right?" Santana comforted.
Kurt nodded and gave her a tight lipped smile. "The best of best friends," he replied.
"Well he'll be in good hands at the hospital. Burt will make sure of that. He'll be back and good as new before you know it," she reassured.
"Minus some fingers and probably an eye," Kurt complained.
"He can swing an axe and use a chainsaw without those two fingers," Santana replied.
"And his eyesight?" Kurt asked.
"He'll adjust," Santana explained. "It'll take time, but he'll adjust. Our bodies are pretty amazing. They can work around a lot of obstacles."
"Thank you Santana. I wouldn't have known what to do," Kurt confessed.
"Good thing I paid attention to my father while I could," Santana smiled. "Come on, let's get back to work, or we'll be dealing with Karofsky winning in a week."
"That's an injury almost worse than Blaine's," Kurt grumbled.
"Exactly," Santana said and pulled him up from the bench.
"IF YOU SO MUCH AS THINK ABOUT TAKING YOUR SAFETY GLASSES OFF WHILE YOU'RE STILL IN THIS WORK SITE, SO HELP ME TO FUCKING GOD I WILL FUCKING STICK YOU IN THE EYE MYSELF! ARE WE CLEAR?" Brittany yelled.
Everyone nodded and focused on their work.
"I think they're clear all the way up in Canada, Brittany," Santana said as she returned to the logging crew.
"How's Blaine?" Brittany asked.
"At the hospital. He's down two fingers and he's probably blind in one eye," Santana replied. "Well, half of two fingers. So one finger all together I guess."
"That's not funny Santana," Brittany frowned.
"You deal with Blaine's accident by yelling at them. I'll deal with bandaging chewed up bloody stumps of fingers my way. Fair enough?" Santana answered and walked away.
An hour passed and while the girls took a short break, Brittany went looking for Santana. Brittany found her, hidden behind an old fallen tree, wiping her face. Santana had vomited her breakfast.
"What happened?" Brittany asked.
She placed her hand on Santana's back.
"Adrenaline happened," Santana dismissed.
"I don't understand?" Brittany replied.
"My body was so stressed dealing with Blaine. Stressed to get the job done. Stressed to stay calm. It all kind of backs up and, well, overwhelms me. Losing my breakfast is the result I'm afraid," Santana explained as she leaned against the tree.
"You were scared?" Brittany asked in disbelief.
"Of course I was scared," Santana said with a chuckled.
"But you knew what you were doing," Brittany reasoned.
"Sort of, yeah. Doesn't mean it's not scary though. I'm calm in the moment, but then once whatever scary thing happened is done, it all comes rushing out, my legs turn to jelly and I throw up," Santana admitted.
"You don't have to hold it in all the time," Brittany replied.
"But if I let it all out, I'm afraid I won't know how to stop it," Santana replied.
"You don't have to," Brittany reasoned.
They worked 12 hour days and all Saturday to meet their goal. Blaine returned three days later with a bandaged, swollen hand and a patch over his left eye. Brittany started with the pirate jokes, and by the end of the week, all the girls were threatening to get Blaine a parrot.
Even without Blaine, they cut just over half of the long loggers' quota for September. On October 1st, Burt, Brittany and Kurt walked into the mill office and handed over their count to Alex Pierce. Puck and a few other men milled around inside the office.
"You beat your quota by 25%," Alex said as he looked over the paperwork. "Even without Blaine. Those women are something else, eh Burt?"
"Work harder than any crew I've known," Burt said with pride.
Brittany looked over at Puck with a smug smile. Puck grimaced. She gestured for him to follow her outside.
"Where's Karofsky?" Brittany asked Puck as they walked through the mill yard.
"Not feeling well," Puck replied with an eye roll.
"Uh huh. David was dumb enough to bet half your quota, not half of what you actually cut. He could only hope we didn't make it. He couldn't do anything about it." Brittany replied with a smirk. "He's got a case of sore loser."
"He's gonna. When I come back without the money, he's going to lose his mind. And I may be sore, along with most of the boys, handing you this money," Puck said as he pulled a thick envelope out of his back pocket. "But I can admit when I'm beat."
Brittany took the envelope and slipped it in her back pocket without opening it.
"Not gonna count it?" Puck asked.
"You know me better than that Puck. And I know you better than that. It ain't short," Brittany replied.
"So what you gals going to do with all that money?" Puck asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"It's up to them," Brittany said with a shrug. "Whatever it is, we're not telling you," she smiled.
"You're a tease Brittany Pierce," Puck called after her as she walked away.
"And you wouldn't have it any other way Noah Puckerman!" Brittany replied over her shoulder.
That night they celebrated their win with beer and singing and dancing. The night was filled with bravado and self congratulations on a well-won bet. As the evening wore on, Quinn, Mercedes, Tina and Rachel sang big band numbers as Blaine and Kurt, Brittany and Santana danced near the fire. Santana was giddy with the triumph over Karofsky and plain joyful dancing with Brittany. Brittany swept Santana up in a jitter bug, and spun her until she was dizzy. Santana could not ignore how Brittany made her feel. Every time she was near Brittany, she felt warm. Soft. Restless. Content.
Santana couldn't remember the last time she felt as happy. Nearly five months ago, she thought she was sentenced to a damp, wooded prison. Instead, she started to realize it was a place where she was free from judgement, free from that world and free to start being herself. Santana began to feel the contentment of a life found and the excitement of finding out what that life would be. It felt like a great new adventure.