A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back so soon, weird right?!
I actually had this chapter done the day after I published the last but I wanted to make sure it was good and reviewed.
This chapter is slightly edgy, so warning if you're affected in any way by violence. It also contains a lot of Santana POV. I wanted to make sure that we all got a little more inside her story. Let me know if you guys like it, it's different. Also, sorry for no Brittana interaction. I just realized this chapter has no Brittana in it...opps.
Ohhh and I added a tiny cross-over in there. I couldn't help myself! Let me know if you guys like it!
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or any of its characters.
It was dark. It was dry. Space became a privilege and was only gained by the loss of another. Hunger, exhaustion, and infection plagued the soldiers as they sat on the dirt floor and stared into the darkness.
Santana sat next to Puckerman and they held hands. They weren't sure how long they had been here, but it had felt like an eternity. She squeezed his hand as she squeezed Brittany's picture in her other hand. "Lopez, you alright?"
"I'm fucking peachy, Puckerman." She dropped his hand and gripped the picture to her chest. It was her only possession.
"Keep it together, Lopez. You're not the only one that has a family here." All the other men grunted and gave verbal agreement.
She was about to defend herself when the large door creaked open and a bright light shone in. All the soldiers covered their eyes, trying to quickly adjust to the new brightness. Santana peered up, eyes barely open, and saw the mess around her.
There was no bathroom, no bucket, so the men and herself had gone wherever someone wasn't. And since the last time she had seen, the men around her looked deplorable. Weight loss and malnutrition were prominent. She took a brief few seconds and stared down at the picture in her hands. The face of the person she loved more than anything stared back at her with a heartwarming smile. She was grateful that she had decided to put the picture in her upper chest pocket before they left camp.
There was a loud bang and once again Santana clinched the picture to her chest and buried her head in her knees. She tried to be invisible.
The sound of boots crunched in the sand as the men with machine guns and machetes entered the bunker. Santana felt Puck tense beside her, but didn't move. She didn't dare look up.
"We are here to move you to a new location. Your full cooperation is desired. If you do not cooperate, we will kill you." The voice came from the man standing right in front of Santana. "Please stand up and lock your fingers behind your head." Santana felt the men on either side of her begin to stir and she finally sat back and tried to swiftly place the picture back in her pocket.
Her actions, however swift she might have thought, did not go unnoticed. The man closest to her grabbed her arm and threw it against the wall, pinning her to the stone. The photo fell, like a feather, to the ground. He reached for her other hand and pushed it against the wall. Santana closed her eyes and sucked in her lips to keep from screaming. His face was right in front of hers; his heavy breath hitting her face.
The man pushed against her roughly and then pushed off of her. She fell to the ground, clutching her wrists in pain. He bent down dramatically and held the picture up so he could see it. Santana peered up at him and watched as his solid, stone cold glance turned into a sexually motivated grin. Her insides felt like they were twisting uncontrollably as he started laughing and moving to show the other men. They all, one by one, obtained the same change in facial expression and chuckled along with their leader.
He squatted in front of Santana with one hand next to her head, bracing himself against the wall. "Who is this?" His accent seemed to thicken. When Santana made eye contact and didn't answer he slapped the back of her head and shoved the picture closer to her face. "Who is this?" He asked louder and with more anger.
"My friend…" Santana whispered just loud enough for him to hear and looked at the floor. He looked at her in disbelief and slapped her again.
"You have one more chance to tell me who this is in this picture." He paused and reached for the gun on his hip. "Are you truly going to make yourself suffer more over the bitch in this picture?"
Santana knew that if she told the truth about who Brittany was, she would be killed on the spot. The relationship that she and Brittany had was not one that these people accepted. She had to keep Brittany safe. "She's just a friend." She said her final answer with what little confidence she had left and gave him a harsh look.
He grabbed her by the collar and stood her up. Gun in his hand, he put her in a chokehold and held her against his body. She saw Puckerman square his shoulders and tighten his jaw.
She felt the hot metal press against her temple and gulped in fear.
Santana sat up, dripping with sweat and cried out. Tears fell from her eyes and she pressed the heels of her hands to her face. She hugged her knees to her chest and tried to push out the flashback she had just relived.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table; 5:00AM. She sighed and pushed some hair out of her face and then slid herself out of bed and got dressed. It wouldn't be long before her usual nursing staff came in and took her vitals. She needed to make sure her blood pressure wasn't too high. They had been telling her that if things kept getting better, she would be able to go home soon. So without risking the chance of staying in the hospital any longer than she had to, Santana hadn't been telling Dr. Hughes about her nightmares or visions.
Two hours later, she was in the rehab room with her physical therapist working on her legs. She had always been able to do the tasks she was being given. It was discouraging to her that she could no longer do them with such ease. She tired quickly and Roan helped her sit in a chair that was close by. He grabbed her a bottle of water from the cooler and opened it for her. "Thank you."
"Of course, Ms. Lopez." He squatted in front of her and took her pulse. "Your heart rate is a little higher than usual. Did you sleep okay last night?"
Santana's tongue formed the word no, but she murmured out "Yeah" instead.
Roan looked at her with a serious expression. "Physical rehabilitation is only part of your recovery."
"I'm fine." He shook his head and grabbed her hand.
"I was the same way when I came back from my accident." He knocked his knuckles on the plastic that had become his leg and gave her a sad look. "I learned to walk quickly. As soon as I could, I walked myself straight to the ledge of the overpass and was ready to let myself become a smashed bug on someone's windshield." Santana felt the slightest bit uncomfortable, but she determined it to be the feeling of guilt. "I finally got help. I finally began to understand. You need to utilize this opportunity to get help. I know it's a pride thing, but if you don't keep yourself in check, you'll be standing where I was."
Santana had never considered ending her own life. She had always felt the tug of home too much to want to not get back. Her hope had never faded when it came to the ones she loved.
Roan stood up and went to set up her next exercise. "Roan, what stopped you?"
"The wind. It was a still night. I stepped on the edge and the wind gusted. The world was telling me to stay. The next day I met my wife and now I have three beautiful kids." She smiled at him and nodded.
He once again helped her to her feet and they began the next set of exercises.
XXXXXXXXXXX
Brittany stretched as she walked down her driveway and prepared to go for her morning run. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she saw Rachel Berry power walking down the street with some woman she assumed was new to the neighborhood. They slowed to a stop in front of her and took a deep breath.
"Brittany! How are you?" Rachel looked at the other woman with a bright smile and then right back at Brittany. Brittany smirked as she saw the blonde woman's reaction. This girl wasn't buying anything Rachel was selling; it reminded her of Santana.
"I'm doing well, Rachel. Who's this?" Rachel beamed at the chance to introduce who she seemed to think was her new best friend.
"Brittany Pierce, this is Clarke Griffin. Clarke, this is Brittany." They briefly shook hands and smiled at each other. "Clarke and her fiancé just moved here from California."
"Wait, you're the Brittany Pierce." Brittany internally cursed herself. This wasn't the first time where someone only knew her for the things that had happened to her fiancé. "You're the town's famous dancer. I went by your studio the other day and talked to some guy named Mike about taking a hip-hop class once a week." Brittany sighed in relief and eagerly nodded at her.
"Yeah totally. You should totally do it." She was trying to break through her awkwardness when Rachel piped in.
"I have to get back home. Emma is waking up." She showed her phone to them and they watched as little Emma stirred in her bed. "I don't know what I would do without modern technology. Anyway, I'll catch both of you later." She waved behind her head as she power walked away.
When she was out of earshot, Clarke sighed. "She takes the welcome wagon to another level."
"She's the welcome train. She has good intentions, she just always goes overboard with everything. You'll get used to it." Clarke chuckled and sincerely hoped Brittany was speaking the truth. "My fiancé hated her. She never even made eye contact with her."
"Why is that?" Clarke pressed her lips in curiosity.
"You'd have to know her. She has no patience for people like Rachel Berry." Clarke still looked confused.
"Has or had?" So Clarke didn't know who Santana was.
"It's a long story."
"Well, I live just around the corner. You should come over and hang out some time. Lexa would love to meet you." Brittany nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds nice." They waved to each other again as Clarke walked in the opposite direction. Brittany turned and faced the other side of the street and started jogging.
She was excited to have met someone like Clarke. Someone who hadn't known them before all this happened. Someone who wouldn't judge Brittany for the way she felt, but might try to sympathize and offer suggestion instead.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Master Sgt. Lopez, I'm glad to see that you're doing well." Santana rolled her eyes at the man in the fancy suit that was sitting across from her. He cleared his throat nervously and slid a paper across the table so she could see it. "This is the settlement the U.S government would like to offer you. All is negotiable but I think you'll be very pleased with this arrangement."
Santana slowly grabbed the sheet and held it in front of her to read it. She would never have to work again. And her family could have the best of everything. The lawyer saw the shock on her face and leaned forward. "And all you have to do is tell me, on record, what happened to Sgt. Justin Ferrell."
Santana swallowed hard and felt a wave of guilt run through her body. She tried to speak but no words came to her. "Our reports on all deaths are complete except for his. No other witness to his death will testify to how he was killed. You'll have a settlement either way, but this one is much nicer."
Her brain shut down and she felt lightheaded. She braced her elbows on the table and tried to come up with an answer. He could be tricking her to get a false truth for comparison. But if he was being honest and no one else had testified, her fellow brothers had been protecting her. It was a gamble but she finally came to a decision.
"They killed him. They shot him." She avoided eye contact and stared at her intertwined fingers. Seeing what had actually happened in the back of her mind was taking her consciousness from what was right in front of her.
"I need more than that Sgt. Lopez." She suddenly grew angry and looked up to see him giving her a judgmental stare.
"Why do you need to know more than the fact that he's dead? He's not coming back. Nothing about what happened can be changed." She felt the frustration and anger fill from her head to her feet and she stood up. "Fuck you and your fucking deal. I don't want the goddamn money." She threw the paper at him. "I'd trade it all to have him alive and with his family. I'd trade anything to go back to before all this happened."
"I can see that you're upset, Sgt. Lopez. Please just" Santana slammed her hand down on the table and cut him off.
"I've been discharged you mindless, hypocritical moron. I'm nothing anymore. I'm not Master Sgt. Santana Lopez, Company Echo's head medic. I'm Santana Lopez, a fucked up veteran that everyone feels sorry for."
Dr. Hughes burst through the door and looked at her sternly. "Is everything okay, Mr. Kane?"
The lawyer stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. He shoved his papers in his briefcase and then tried to stand tall. "I'll be back another time to get Ms. Lopez's signature. She's still a bit…temperamental." He nodded to Dr. Hughes as he exited the room.
Santana squared her shoulders as the door shut and felt her whole body tense with anger. She wasn't mentally there and as Dr. Hughes touched her arm, he bared the consequence of it. She pulled back and hooked him in the jaw with all her might. He fell backwards and hit his head on the door. He rolled over and grabbed his head in pain.
Santana let out a burly yell and hit the wall with all her strength. She felt a sharp pain in her hand and then all went black and she fell to the floor.
XXXXXXXXXXX
"The doctor said that if she keeps making progress like she is, she'll get to come home soon. She's been working really hard with her physical therapy and her counseling. Dr. Hughes said it's almost too good to be true." Brittany sipped her tea and waited for her best friend to respond.
"You don't seem so enthused" Quinn set her cup down on the table and crossed her arms. Brittany didn't reply and stared at the table top. She bit her bottom lip as she tried to hone the emotions she was feeling. Quinn just waited patiently for her to respond.
"I'm scared." Her best friend gave her a concerned look. "The other day when I took Jacob to the hospital to see her, we all went outside so Jacob could play on the playground. I thought it would give us a chance to talk. She just stared the whole time. She wasn't there. And when I tried to hold her hand she snapped." Brittany was almost reduced to tears. "Santana wasn't there. It took her so long to come back to me."
Quinn moved a hand over Brittany's and tried to comfort her. "She's working at it though. It's going to take a while for her to get anywhere near better."
Brittany was going to reply but felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She pulled it out and answered as soon as she saw who was calling. "Hello…Yes this is she." Brittany's face pulled downwards and she started to tear up. "I'll be right there." She finished in a chocked voice and then stood up to leave. Quinn looked at her curiously and she wiped the tears from under her eyes. "Santana had a relapse and fractured her hand."
Quinn grabbed both their bags, led Brittany to her car, and drove them both to the hospital.
XXXXXXXXXXX
A couple of weeks after her setback, Santana had been transferred to different doctors and to a new area of the hospital. Dr. Hughes had told her that he couldn't risk becoming a trigger, for her sake and his own. She tried not to care, but somehow the man had gotten under her skin. She felt his absence every time she saw her new doctors.
Brittany's visits had become a lot more limited. They were only allowed to visit for two hours every other day. Brittany, in Santana's opinion, didn't seem coherently bothered by this new rule. But in her defense, Santana knew that she had work and Jacob to take care of. Still, it hurt Santana in the slightest that Brittany didn't seem to want to spend more time with her. They had been separated for five years with no source of communication.
Santana pushed the thought aside as she got out of her bed and walked into the hallway. She saw Puckerman sitting in a chair towards the end of the hallway. She was glad they had given him another chance instead of taking him to the psych ward. She approached him carefully and sat in the chair next to him. He smelled like baby powder and medicine.
"I'm glad to see you're back, Puckerman. I kinda missed you." She gave him a lighthearted glance but he wouldn't look in her direction. She had expected some kind of joke or pun but was disappointed to not receive one. "Puck, are you okay?"
He shook his head from side to side in the smallest arc. His face was placid. Santana couldn't read it but she could tell from his body language that his mind was focused on something very far from the here and now. He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes a few times, coming back into reality. "I was thinking about you and what you did. The lawyer just asked me about it."
Santana sunk into her chair and stressfully grabbed the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. She felt the guilt, hatred, and sadness creep through her veins and she drifted as she was overtaken by the memory.
"Here is what I want you to do." He pushed her against the ground and she fell. She tried to get up and he kicked her in the stomach with all his might. Santana felt a rib crack and she gasped for air as she almost passed out. The pain shot through her entire body like a bullet. He finally grabbed her by the back of her shirt and pulled her up. She held her side as tightly as possible and tried to even her breathing.
The leader reached into his ankle holster and pulled out another hand gun. He flipped the safety off and handed it to Santana, pressing it hard against her chest. She was reluctant to take it, but didn't want to risk getting hit again. She held the gun with one hand and pressed her side with the other. She recognized two options that this sadistic man was presenting her. She could kill herself in lieu of someone else's life, or she could kill someone else for the sake of her own life. He seemed to know what she was thinking.
"Shoot him." His finger pointed at the solider that had been situated across from her. She immediately shook her head. She could never kill someone, especially not someone she knew. Not someone who was with her while they were trying to fight for their country. She couldn't kill a fellow brother. "You either shoot him or I kill everyone in here and save you for last." He whispered the last bit in her ear and she cringed.
Her brain began to take over and she no longer pondered the right and wrong of the situation. She saw life and death before her. The gun seemed to get heavier and the pain in her side lessened. Before she knew it her finger was actively on the trigger and she saw her target in the sights of the handgun. She paused before she squeezed the trigger. This moment would bury her for the rest of her life. She would never get over doing what she was.
"Santana." Puck called out in a serious and concerting voice. He was begging her not to do it. He was, however, quickly reprimanded and was met in the face with the butt of an assault rifle. She watched her friend cripple in pain. His nose was definitely broken and blood gushed faster than he could spit it out. She watched him pass out and hoped that he didn't choke before she could help him.
"Shoot him. You'll save everyone else. He's almost dead anyway." Santana took a second to do a visual evaluation of the solider. He was weak looking, they all were. But she noticed the immense amount of blood on his fatigues. She looked further and saw that he had been shot in the area above his knee. Infection was most prominently setting in and Santana knew that the wound was contributing to the smell of the enclosed space.
Self-reasoning wasn't helping. Santana lowered the gun and dropped it on the ground. "There is no justification of this act. I'm not going to shoot anyone."
The man's face turned from semi-entertained to utter rage in milliseconds. He swung his rifle around and clipped one round into the person closest to him. She cried out as she watched Private Monroe slump over and bleed out. He pointed his gun at the next person and she yelled out to him. "Stop."
"What, you don't want me to shoot your friend?" He tapped the gun to Puck's unconscious head and put his finger readily on the trigger.
"Don't, please." Santana was in tears as she battled with the biggest dilemma life could ever offer.
"Pick up the gun then. And shoot him." The gun was pressed harder against Puck's head and he stirred in response. He barely opened his eyes, but when he did he shut them back tight and tensed his body.
Santana leaned over slowly and picked up the gun. Her side was numb by this point from adrenaline. The solider never spoke against what was to be done to him. He sat, silently, waiting for them to make up their minds. He seemed halfway conscious when Santana finally pointed the gun at him. He gave her a nod and then relaxed his body.
"Santana…" Puck put his hand on her shoulder and shook her slightly. She was pulled back into reality and quickly stood up in fear. Puck showed his palms and tried to comfort her. "You're okay."
"I did it for you! You're the reason I'm so fucked up. It's your fault." She started crying and Puck stood up and wrapped her in a hug. She fought him for a brief second but then relaxed and wept into his shirt.
A nurse came over to see what was wrong but Puck quickly told her to "Fuck off". She backed away and went back to her desk area and dialed the phone. A minute later, Dr. Martin was strutting down the hall towards them. Puck saw her and slowly peeled Santana off of him.
"Mr. Puckerman. Ms. Lopez. I heard there was a conflict. Care to tell me what happened?" They both looked at each other like they couldn't understand what she was saying.
"I have therapy in a few." Puck bluntly stated as he picked up his hoodie from the back on the chair he was sitting at earlier.
Dr. Martin nodded in understanding and then shifted her gaze towards Santana. "Ms. Lopez."
"I have a visitor coming." Santana wasn't telling a lie. Today was a visiting day, but she also hadn't spoken with Brittany to know whether she was coming or not.
"I just talked to your visitors before I was called down here. I was about to come get you when I got the call. They're waiting for you in the cafeteria." Santana cocked her head to the side in misunderstanding. Brittany and Jacob never had to go to the cafeteria for a visit. "I'll take you down there. And after your visit we'll talk about what happened between you and Mr. Puckerman."
Santana nodded once and followed Dr. Martin as she led them down a series of hallways. They arrived at the cafeteria moments later. It was crowded and smelled like a middle school lunch room. Dr. Martin started walking around the skirt of the crowd and Santana nervously followed.
Her head turned in every direction to try to spot Brittany and her son, but she couldn't find them. Santana quickly became anxious. Dr. Martin stopped a few feet away from a table towards the back of the huge room and turned to face Santana. "They're at that table. If you need anything I'll be right here." She gestured her hand in the direction of the two people sitting at the table and Santana slowly began to walk their way.
Their backs were to her, but she could tell the two were a man and woman of slightly older age. Their hair was in the process of turning gray.
But as Santana rounded the corner, her heart sunk and her jaw seemed to drop to the floor. They both stood up and had smiles plastered widely across their faces. Santana swallowed hard. "Santana…" They both said in unison disbelief. They stared at her for a while, waiting on her to speak or move. In time, the foreign words finally came to her mouth.
"Mom…Dad…"
Annnnd cliffhanger! Sorry not sorry.
Let me know what you guys thought of this chapter, I'm anxious to know!
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Thank you for reading! Peace 'til next time