AN: I feel weird being all "hey guys, let's be cheery," when I'm about to depress everyone. Anyway, this chapter is a lot of history and it further explains Santana's situation. I was going to have this be two parts b/c I want to get to the true Pezberry moments, but it would've taken too long and I can't let myself rush it. They'll be together in the next chapter for sure!
Also, thank you times a million for all of the alerts, favorites, and reviews! The last chapter had the most reviews I've ever gotten, so I was like *yay* Thnx again!
Chapter 7 – A Good Heart
"Are you sure you're alright?"
While narrowing her eyes and drawing her lips into a sneer, Santana practically glared through the bartender that had been heckling her, with an empty, glazed expression. "I'm wonderful…and I don't need some bartender moonlighting as a therapist bothering me," she said slowly, looking menacing as she peered up through her eyelashes with her head lowered. It hadn't been hard for her to burn time by downing drinks that she couldn't even remember the names of, because it hadn't been hard to come across a shack-like bar perched at the corner of a cornfield. In a state so boring there were only two things to do on a Saturday night – drink or have sex.
"Well, you're definitely drunk," the man replied with some distaste. He had been in the presence of all sorts of people under the influence, but the brunette in front of him was the most reckless and seductively toxic he had seen in a while. Dressed in an indecent black cocktail dress that did not complement her loose, mussed hair and split lip, she still somehow managed to charm her way into having most of her drinks bought for her by the local frequenters. He had watched her sit on the laps of several different men who were just as pleasantly aroused by her as they were afraid of her seemingly wild nature. "I just hope that wonderful includes you having a ride home and some stitches in the near future."
"Shit," Santana mumbled, touching her top lip and finding her fingertips stained with traces of blood again. The bartender offered her a few napkins and she snatched at them with an unsteady hand, snapping, "Give me that…and another shot too."
"Sorry, but I don't think so," he answered automatically and waited for the tirade that he normally received after cutting someone off.
"Fine," Santana said simply, thoroughly surprisingly the other bar goers who had been watching her make a fool of herself. With impaired movements, she nearly fell down from the barstool that it had taken her long enough just to get into. Then, she began wavering towards the door, napkins still in hand and pressed to her mouth without a care.
A scoff of disbelief passed the bartender's lips before he grabbed the bag she had left on the bar and held it aloft. "Miss! Your purse!"
As if she had had a sudden afterthought, Santana stopped, paused as she was distracted by a neon tube sign, and then stomped back to where she had been. She took the purse from his hand and set it back down on the bar to find her car keys and once she had them she shoved the purse, making it and a freshly poured glass of water shatter to the floor at the bartender's feet.
"You bitch," he spat under his breath, giving the bag a kick due to frustration.
Falling back into her messy saunter, Santana turned to leave again and called over her shoulder, "You can keep that!"
"Should we call someone for her?" another man sitting at the bar asked, his eyes still focused on swaying hips. The woman who sat beside him – presumably his wife – wasn't so amused with his staring, but she overlooked it and felt more empathy than annoyance for the object of his lust.
Kneeling down to clean up the broken glass, the bartender hissed, "She can fall into a ditch for all I care…"
~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~
By the time Santana had reached the bridge again it was far past dusk and something humorous was happening in her mind. She couldn't really place what that something was, but as she let her fingertips trail over the metal railing she was smirking and occasionally giggling to herself.
"Cheerio time!" she said aloud in a sing-song voice when she stopped in front of one of the square columns of cement that anchored the railings. The column came to shoulder height and all she could think about was how easily she would be able to scale the railing and sit on top of it. She worked poles and had been trained in cheerleading and gymnastics by the strictest coach to ever coach; drunk or not, it would be nothing.
After placing one foot on the lowest rung of the railing, she realized that the unnecessary heels she had put on – just in case she had had to confront Rachel and fabricate a lie about being a waitress or something – weren't going to help her climb anything. "Stupid thing," she mumbled to one shoe and then the other as she took them off and set them atop the column. "Goin' out in style…"
If she hadn't been in the dark and in such a state, the acrobatic feat would have been a bit more challenging just based on fear alone. But the alcohol combined with not really being able to see the water below gave her the nonchalance to go through with it and sneer in triumph when her legs were finally kicking over the edge. Though when she leaned over to try to find the shimmering surface of the water the dizziness that she had been pushing down overcame her and she clutched at the cement for balance.
"Jesus Christ," she whispered into the darkness. She could handle throwing herself off the bridge, but nearly falling off due to loss of balance was sobering. Sitting still for a moment, she absentmindedly smoothed her fingers along the patent leather heels that she now held in her lap. Then, an idea came to mind and soon one of the shoes was held in her hand and extended outward.
When it hit the water Santana was not aware of it because she couldn't see it and she couldn't hear over the whirr of the water either. But a body makes a bigger splash, she thought to herself with a maniacal smile, before gingerly tossing the other shoe and swinging her feet.
Once her shoes had been disposed of she realized that there wasn't much to focus on beyond the jumbled thoughts in her foggy brain. The unmanageable things that had been assaulting her mind as she had filled the bathtub for her and Olivia started to surface and she pressed a hand over her eyes. She wasn't allowed to think and especially not about Olivia.
But Olivia was her only accomplishment in life and soon she couldn't keep herself from reflecting on that relatively short, yet pitiful life. It didn't matter how hard her parents had pushed her to be an honor roll student or a cheerleader or the perfect daughter because she had never done any of those things for herself. And while technically having Olivia had been anything but her choice, at least she could hold onto the fact that she had brought her into the world and cared for her on her own.
"Mami…" Santana spoke into her cell phone in a shaky voice. "This is the third voicemail I've left you…it's been a couple hours since my water broke and I really wish you would call me back. I-I need…I would just really appreciate it if you came up to the hospital to be with me. Thanks, bye…"
"Did you get through to her?" Linda, Dave's mother, asked as she reentered the hospital suite carrying a white Styrofoam cup filled with ice chips.
Santana stared down at the IV in the back of her left hand and she couldn't help but tear up. She didn't want to cry, but in the past eight months and three weeks it really hadn't been in her power. "No, she won't answer."
"It's okay, honey," Linda reassured, sitting at the edge of the uncomfortable bed and taking her daughter-in-law's hand. "I'm sure she'll get here as soon as she can. Don't get yourself all upset now, you'll be worn out before the real excitement even begins." She gave an encouraging smile, but Santana decided to conserve her energy by not smiling back or even acknowledging it. Then, the door opened again to reveal Dave, and his father trailing behind.
Dave smiled warmly and Santana was suddenly in too much pain to care about whether it was real or fake. "I got here as fast as I could, babe," he said in a quiet tone, taking his mother's place beside his wife. With the hands that Santana hated feeling on her skin, he brushed loose strands of hair back into her high ponytail and then leaned down to kiss her dewy forehead. "You're doing so good, Santana, I'm so proud of you. Our baby girl will be here soo –"
"Shut up, Dave!" Santana screamed abruptly as she slapped the hands away from her face, making the other three people in the room jump in surprise. "Just shut up and don't touch me!" she demanded, her face twisting with her overloaded emotions.
Linda set down the cup that she was holding and went to Santana's other side, patting her shoulder tenderly as she wept. "David is just trying to help, Santana. I know you don't feel well, but it'll be a lot easier if you let him help you through this."
Letting Dave hold her hand as she pushed and sweated and cried did nothing to ease her pain, but she did feel some sort of relief in being able to yell at him and release some of the anger she had been harboring. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that he was alright with the arrangement they had come to, but she was distracted from that when the head nurse went to place her swaddled daughter in Dave's open arms.
"Just give her to me!" Santana spat, not wanting him to be the first thing that her baby had to see. The nurse paused in her actions and then laughed, as did the rest of the occupants of the room. They thought it was adorable, they thought that the fierce demand was coming from a hormone crazed young mother when it was actually coming from an upset teenager who had been victimized.
"Here you go," the nurse said in a too happy tone, leaning down to hand the bundle off. Santana reached for it automatically, never minding the fact that she had never even held an infant before. The baby fussed from the slight jostle of being transferred into another set of arms, but once settled against Santana's chest the cries quickly quieted. "She knows her mommy," the nurse finished with before stepping back and busying herself with cleaning up the room.
Santana was suddenly in her own world and nothing existed outside of her and her newborn. "You look like me," she whispered as she scrutinized every feature of the tiny face, from the bleary deep brown eyes to the pink pouty lips. And then she was smiling, something she didn't think she was ever going to be able to bring herself to do again. Dave had taken so much from her and he had made so many of her nightmares come true, but at least he had had no real control over what their daughter looked like and the odds had been in her favor.
"She's beautiful, Santana…"
She didn't even know who had said it, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that it was true. "Yeah," she smiled through happy tears, probably the first ones she had ever shed in her life. Slowly, because she was afraid of causing any little bit of distress, she touched her lips to her daughter's forehead and felt better about herself than she ever had. All the pain she had gone through to find herself in that moment didn't seem so great anymore. "Yeah, she is…"
The relief that she had felt in that moment had only been temporary though, something made obvious by the fact that she was now perched high atop a bridge with a great drop between reality and true peace. Having a baby had dulled her senses for a while but to her, there was nothing short of a fatal act that could fix everything she had been through. A baby didn't really mask the fact that her mother hadn't bothered to show at the hospital for its birth or to even meet it until weeks afterwards. Watching that baby grow into a toddler didn't wipe away all of her fears and insecurities either.
"Even though this is mostly for you, this is like the best divorce present I could ever give myself. I mean, they're going to make you look gorgeous when they heal, but how awesome is it that I get to fuck your dad's credit before he takes my name off of his accounts?"
"Hurry…" Santana half whined, half groaned as she swayed slightly on her feet. Her hand was just barely pressed to her chest, but she felt that she had to keep it there lest her new breast implants should try to break free of the skin that was their confinement. It was painful, the worst pain she had ever felt and if she wasn't partially drugged she would have been slapping her mother for taking so long with placing her pillows on the living room couch. Santana would have also been telling her that there would have been no need for a divorce present if she hadn't fucked all of her now ex-husband's rich colleagues like she was doing his credit.
"Yeah, yeah…I'm trying," her mother said, fluffing one of the pillows. "There, lay down," she finished and then moved to walk toward the kitchen.
"Wait, I need –" Santana paused and squinted her eyes shut; it hurt to speak, it hurt to breathe, it practically hurt to think. She knew what she needed. She needed to put out her hand and have her mother help her sit so that she didn't hurt herself even worse, but that would hurt in itself. And she hated being weak. "Just…help me."
With her usual selfish obliviousness, the older woman tossed her head a bit and huffed, "Do you want the pain pills or not?"
"Yeah, but I –"
"Well then, let me go get them for you. Christ, don't start freaking out on me…" She was disappearing into the kitchen after that, leaving Santana to clench her teeth, take care of herself and wish that she had enough energy to show her mother what freaking out looked like. A few minutes later she was back and carrying a mostly empty water bottle and a translucent orange bottle that rattled in time with her steps.
"Got 'em," she said, her voice sounding more enthusiastic than it should have been about her daughter being in pain and having to take prescription narcotics. "How many do you want?"
"One? I don't know," Santana gritted out as she finally got her legs situated on the couch and laid back to begin concentrating on breathing in the least painful way possible. There was no least painful way to do anything though and before she had even realized it was going to happen, there were rivulets of tears running down her temples.
In no hurry at all, her mother fumbled against the childproof top of the medication bottle. "Does it hurt a lot?" she asked stupidly.
Santana knew her mother basically had the mentality of a child and a body that looked like sin, but she had never seemed so completely dumb before. "Yes," she breathed and then bit into her bottom lip. "Just one, give me one."
"One Vicodin for you…" She dropped a single white pill into Santana's hand and then shook some more out into her own. "And two for me."
After somewhat of a struggle, Santana managed to crane her neck enough to place the pill in her mouth and raise the water bottle to her lips. It took several sips of the lukewarm water to wash down the pill before she dropped the bottle off the side of the couch, not caring if the little that remained spilled on the carpeting. It wouldn't be the worst abuse their tiny Lima Heights Adjacent apartment had suffered.
"Too bad they didn't give you a prescription for Percocet too," her mother commented with nonchalance after having dry swallowed two of the pills, something she obviously had practice in doing. "That could've been fun. Oh well, this is good enough…men are gonna want to be all over you after this is done."
Santana ignored her and closed her eyes, and began to imagine how much better her life was going to be when she woke up. All the guys at school would want to sleep with her even more than they already did and she was going to give them what they wanted. She was going to have an awesome reputation, straight A's, a top spot on the cheerleading squad and the perfect body. She was going to be perfect, without a doubt. There wouldn't be any more soft kisses shared with Brittany if she didn't have the time to be with her. She wouldn't have to worry about her attraction to girls if she kept her bed filled with guys. She wouldn't have to worry about anything she didn't want to, she would just be perfect.
So many thoughts of the perfection that had slowly degraded into failure were bombarding her that she began to forget why she had brought herself to the bridge. She was supposed to be making the pain go away, but what if it didn't work? What if life continued to be just as cruel and tricky as it had always been and the fall didn't kill her? She was becoming too scared to take the gamble, but she was even more fearful of turning back. Maybe she just needed something more affective and certain, like deeply slit wrists or a handful of the pills she had taken after her surgery.
Santana pressed the heels of her hands more harshly against her eyes as she thought back to the last time she could remember spending so much time with her mother. And it wasn't as if she could really remember it, she only knew that they had spent that afternoon together because when she had woken from her drug induced sleep her mother had still been passed out right beside her. And even though Santana had tried to numb herself to her parents' disinterest at a young age, she still found herself wondering if either of her parents would mourn – or even notice – her death.
Success. She had done it, she had been accepted into every college she had applied to and her ticket out of Lima, Ohio was practically in her hands. But first, she had to get out of Lima Heights Adjacent and to her father's house. It was an unfortunate half hour walk without a car but with the four letters in her hand and the notion that she was finally going to make her father proud, it seemed to pass quickly.
"Santana…"Dr. Lopez said with evident displeasure after opening the door to find his daughter. "I wasn't expecting to see you. I just sent your mother her child support check a few days ago."
The not so warm welcome threw her off a bit, but she was proud of herself and kept her head high and smiled anyway. It wasn't unfamiliar behavior coming from her father. "No, I came by to show you something…"
After being pinned with a skeptical expression, Santana was led through the stately house she used to live in and sat down at the imposing dining room table. "Well, get on with it," Dr. Lopez urged with his usual disinterest, waving his hand to hurry the process along. "What good news do you have for me this time?" His tone of voice made it obvious that he didn't believe that any good was really going to come from the impending conversation.
Santana lowered her head, tried to remember the words she had wanted to say and studied the plain white envelope she had transferred the letters to. She had chosen to take the letters from their original envelopes marked with the school crests to make it more of a surprise. With hands that were almost trembling with nervousness and excitement she removed the folded papers and set them in front of her father, smiling at him hopefully.
He looked over the top paper without emotion and then picked up the pile to rifle through the rest. Still, he showed no emotion, but Santana could sense something in the way that his eyes focused just a bit harder. "What's all this?" he asked, setting them back down.
Santana didn't mean to wince but she did. She knew that it was in her father's nature to continually put her down or downplay her achievements, but she had been accepted into four of the best schools on the East coast, surely the trend couldn't continue.
"I got into all of them…because of my grades and going to Nationals with the Cheerios and the Glee club," Santana said quietly, now focusing on the table top to keep her wavering resolve from crumbling completely. It made her feel spiteful to be able to say that the very extracurricular activities that her father had labeled as "silly and useless" were the exact qualities that had set her apart from other applicants. But it also made her conscious of his hate for them as well. "I thought that…that maybe we could go visit one or two schools this summer and then I can choose where I want to start my pre-med degree. I want to become a doctor…like you."
The atmosphere in the room changed with her father's sudden shift in mood and Santana flinched when he shoved the papers back towards her. "You think I'm just going to take you on a tour of the East coast so that you can play doctor?" he asked cynically, his voice raising as it was commonly known to do. "Did your slutty mother put you up to this?"
"No…no, she didn't," Santana replied faintly. But being completely blindsided, she didn't really know what else to say. "I…but that's what I want to go to college for."
"And who's going to pay for it? Hmm?" Dr. Lopez basically taunted as he folded his hands over the table and waited for an answer that would satisfy his terms.
"I guess…I guess I don't know, not yet anyway. I mean, I got a few scholarships and I just thought –"
"You're not going to be a doctor, Santana," he told her. When in doubt, Dr. Lopez got rid of the doubt and replaced it with his word and his word had always been law. "It would cost way too much money and you would never make it to med school, let alone actually get through it."
Santana shook her head in agreement like she knew she was supposed to do and slid the papers into her lap as discreetly as she could. "Oh…" she murmured simply, hoping that the subtle tremor in her voice went unnoticed. She wanted to cry, but it would only make the situation worse; her father most definitely did not tolerate crying.
"Go to community college if you really want to do something," Dr. Lopez offered and then handed her the envelope that accompanied her letters. "That suits you better."
Standing up before he had the chance to see the shimmer in her eyes, Santana turned from him to leave. "'Kay, m-maybe I'll look into that instead…thanks, papi."
"Good and you're welcome. Now, you better go. I have work to do and you should probably get home so that you don't have to walk in the dark…"
By the time she had made it back to LHA the letters in her hand felt too heavy and made it difficult to continue walking, whereas before they had propelled her forward. But when they were torn from her hand it was still instinct to want to get them back.
"Come on," she pleaded, blinking away tears and tossing her head. "Just give them back."
"What's your problem? Why you cryin'?" an older boy asked in an amused tone, holding her letters out of reach. With him were four other guys, all of them ranging from teens all the way to mid-twenties.
"It's not important." Santana dealt with the same neighborhood delinquents every day. Each afternoon when she walked home from school they gestured and whistled at her, and yelled out obscenities and propositions. It was within good reason though – she had had sex with most of them, some of them multiple times.
"These papers look pretty important," he commented as he looked them over. "Columbia University? Georgetown? That's pretty fancy…you must think you're something special. You think that?"
"No," Santana said automatically, biting into her bottom lip to keep her chin from quivering.
"What was that?" He shoved at her shoulder, making her stumbled back on the pavement to keep her footing. "You think you're better than us, huh?"
"No…"
"Good, because you're not!" He had her wrist in his hand in the next moment, marching her towards the nearest badly done, graffiti covered dumpster that was initialed with the letters LHA. "You're exactly where you belong," he said cruelly, holding the papers aloft and then dropping them in.
Santana watched them fall into place with the rest of the trash. Forgetting all of her dreams just because her father and some guys whose names she couldn't remember had told her to. But it didn't matter, it seemed she would always be trying to please those who didn't matter.
~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~
As Dave put his truck into park in his driveway and took a deep breath, he knew he had gone too far. He knew he shouldn't have done what he had, especially not in front of Olivia and he was prepared to spend the rest of the evening picking up Santana's pieces. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time.
"Santana?"
"What?" an emotionless voice asked back as Dave hesitantly entered the bedroom they shared.
"Where's Olivia?"
"Asleep in her crib...somehow…"
"I didn't mean it, you just pissed me off talking about money and…other things…" he said quietly, walking around to the other side of the bed. He hoped that he wouldn't see anything too gruesome; sometimes he couldn't remember the things he did when he was in a black out fury.
Santana, with blood still crusted inside her nostrils lied on her side with a hand beneath her cheek. "You just railed me over the kitchen table," she said in a soft, bland voice. "It felt like you meant it…or maybe I should say it still feels like you meant it."
Guilty of exactly what she had said, Dave looked around the room to avoid her empty eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know…do you want to take me to the hospital to find out? It hasn't exactly been six weeks…"
"I didn't mean to be that rough, I swear," he said rapidly, the sudden alarm evident in his voice. "Seriously, are you okay?"
Santana ignored the question in favor of one of her own. "I was begging you to stop, so what exactly did you mean to do?"
"I-I don't know, I –"
"Just because you didn't mean it that doesn't just make it stop hurting," she whispered, staring across the room at nothing.
"Well…can I get you anything?" Dave asked somewhat lamely, not knowing what else to say in the face of what he had done. "Like some ice or something?"
After making eye contact and holding it just long enough to realize that Dave was really as stupid as he seemed, Santana bit her tongue and rolled over onto her other side. "I'm fine, I'll get over it…"
Yeah, she'll be okay. She's fine, Dave told himself as he opened the door. She's gotten over it any other time, it's not that big of a deal. Flipping on the light, he blanched slightly at what he saw. Blood was still on the floor, smeared around from where they had been struggling in it and Santana's hair had swept it up. There was a handprint on the wall he had pushed her against and a few on the floor as well.
"Damn…" he breathed out, strategically stepping over the mess and following the traces of blood to where they ended at the sink faucets. That meant that Santana had been well enough to clean herself up on her own and he took that as a good sign for his sake.
He made his way to their bedroom, finding that most of the lights were off. But that didn't mean anything. He figured that Santana was just asleep in their bed because that's what she usually did after they fought. But when he reached their bedroom and found it empty, Dave felt a nervous sweat begin to break out along his hairline. His cell phone was in his hand in the next instant and he was suddenly hyperaware of what the consequences would be if Santana was doing what he thought she was doing.
~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~
"When it rains it pours…"
Rachel, who was seated beside a hospital bed in an ER exam room, lifted her head from where it was resting in her hand and looked at her father with little to no amusement. "Please don't make jokes right now," she quietly requested. She put her forehead back in her hand, but soon realized that it didn't ease any of her restlessness and she decided to watch over the sleeping little girl on the bed instead.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound insensitive," Leroy said from where he was seated closer to the door. After Olivia had continued to be sick even after napping in Rachel's bed, they had all come to the mutual conclusion that it would be best to bring her to the emergency room considering what she had revealed to Rachel. Hiram had stayed behind and periodically updated them on Santana's failure to return to their home. "I just can't believe this is happening. How did we go from a quiet Saturday night at home, to this? I just hope she's okay."
"You and I both." Playing with a tendril of Olivia's hair because she just couldn't help but want to comfort her, Rachel loosely wrapped it around her finger and then slid it behind her ear. "I don't even know what to think…I should have known sooner. She was so distant, she didn't tell me anything about her life…I should have known but I was too busy going on about myself to notice."
"Something tells me that she was fine with you not knowing anything," Leroy accurately pointed out.
Putting her head down again, Rachel dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a fingertip. "You're probably right, I just hope she realizes what she's doing and decides to come back. How could she leave her daughter like this?" she asked her father, shaking her head in disbelief. She wasn't a parent herself, so she could only imagine what it would take to do what Santana had done.
Leroy sighed and shook his head too, not wanting to think about what would drive a woman to such lengths. "I'm sure the reason why she left would explain how she could do it. She's battling something bigger than the pain of leaving her child…otherwise she wouldn't have done it."
Rachel nodded but remained quiet. In her head, she was trying to crack a mystery that she didn't have nearly enough clues to solve. But at the same time she didn't want to solve it, she didn't want to know the truth about what Santana was and had been going through.
"You know that if she doesn't call you back or come back by tomorrow morning we have to call the police, right?"
The question broke Rachel's concentration and she ran a knuckle beneath her eyelashes to clear away the wetness again. She just wished that Santana would call her or text her or anything to let her know she was alright. "I know," she said, her voice catching as she looked at Olivia once more. "I just don't want her to go back to Dave if what she said is true…"
"He's her father," Leroy gently reminded. He didn't want it to be any truer than his daughter did. "And without Santana there's really nothing we can do. She'll be in his custody no matter what, unless there's a way to prove that he's an unfit parent."
"How do I do that?" Rachel automatically asked, an unnerving type of determination giving an edge to her tone.
"Rachel, honey, you can't just –"
A knock on the slightly ajar door both interrupted the conversation and startled Olivia awake. "Mami?" she questioned uncertainly after waking up in yet another unfamiliar place.
Rachel's heart slivered into a million pieces but she stood and helped Olivia to sit up on the bed anyway. "Mom's at work, remember? Are you feeling okay?"
The onslaught of questions seemed to be too much for her and Olivia chose to retain the silence she had adopted before leaving the Berry household for the hospital. The younger looking male doctor who had just entered and was shaking hands with Leroy caught her attention instead and she eyed him closely, keeping herself aware of the distance between him and the bed she sat on.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Reese. Sorry to have kept you waiting, I had to run down from a code on the cardiac floor," he said as he held out his hand, but this time to Rachel. He wore a friendly smile despite the late hour and the assumption that he had probably been working around the clock.
Rachel took his hand in hers and in a split second her mind replayed the scenarios in which she had shaken a thousand other hands in the name of her career and show business. None seemed as important as creating this small alliance for Olivia's wellbeing. "I'm Ra –"
"Rachel Berry," the doctor finished for her, something that constantly irked her. "I took a friend of mine to one of your shows during a trip to New York, it was wonderful. All due to you, no doubt."
"Thank you," Rachel replied back as graciously as she could while wanting to inform the man that she knew 'a friend' meant a woman and that he was doing a poor job at attempting to flirt. She had already been pushed to the edge for reasons outside of he and his ego and she would have hated to have to give him a taste of diva. "But as much as I appreciate your praise, I would appreciate it even more if we could focus on her," she finished, gesturing to Olivia.
"Oh, of course," he recovered quickly and moved to the countertop to flip through the chart he had been given by a nurse and then washed his hands at the sink. Next came the stethoscope and he pulled it from around his neck and put the ear buds in place as he approached. "So…what seems to be the problem tonight, little Miss Olivia?"
Olivia seemed alarmed to hear an unknown person call her by name and she immediately looked to Rachel for guidance, fear already showing in her eyes.
"She um…she's been vomiting off and on for the past few hours," Rachel began to fill in, being careful not to reveal too much. As far as she knew Olivia hadn't been physically harmed in any way by her father, her current condition could probably be easily dismissed as nerves and stress. One couldn't be too cautious though and such was the cause for the visit to the ER. But Rachel didn't want to complicate the situation further by involving anyone that wasn't absolutely necessary. Maybe it was poor judgment on her part or maybe it was good, all she knew was that she didn't want to create a situation for Santana that would be direr than the current one. Not yet anyway.
"From what the nurse charted she's not running a fever," the doctor noted and continued to make his way to Olivia to listen to her breathing and heartbeat. She shied away though just as expected and glared with an intensity that was purely Santana; it made a knot form in Rachel's throat.
"Can you let him listen to your heart, Livy?" Rachel asked softly. She reached out to run a calming hand over the little girl's back and was secretly thrilled when it wasn't shrugged off.
"No…"
While he had been watching from the background before, Leroy stood and gave a piece of advice that he had acquired from years of parenting. "Listen to Rachel's first and then she'll see that it's not so bad." Olivia watched all of the adults with a curious expression, Dr. Reese smiled a bit too eagerly and Rachel decided that she would let the man invade her personal space if it meant making Olivia feel safe.
"Go ahead," Rachel advised, placing her hands on her hips and giving Olivia a smile.
It took all of twenty seconds for Dr. Reese to finish his task and then announce in a cheesy manner, "You, Rachel Berry, are the possessor of a good heart." But she didn't need to be told that fact. By ignoring him and seeing Olivia alight with just a bit of a smile just because she had done something trivial, it silently confirmed the fact in a much better way.
"Let's hear yours now, okay?" Rachel said, making sure to nod her head encouragingly.
Olivia agreed and with Rachel's hand holding hers she even allowed the doctor to check her pulse and her ears, nose and throat without reluctance.
"Well, it's obvious that there's nothing seriously wrong," Dr. Reese announced after his short observation. Both Rachel and Leroy shot each other glances of relief at his words and then carried on as casually as they had been. "It could just be a touch of stomach flu or you know, kids will be kids, they like to give us adults mysteries that we're powerless to solve. The only thing to worry about now is dehydration, but she'll be alright. Just keep giving her fluids and I'll give you some popsicles to take home and she can munch on those too."
"Thank you, Doctor…and um…" Rachel paused to take a few steps and pointed towards the door. "Do you think you and I could speak privately for a moment?"
Once Olivia had been assured that she would be fine in Leroy's care, the two left the exam room in favor of the hallway that was quiet and mostly empty at the late hour.
"What can I do for you?" Dr. Reese asked politely. He had realized somewhere between listening to the local celebrity's heartbeat and leaving the room that his flattery and flirting would get him nowhere. Currently, Rachel was wholly unconcerned with her own success and fame like he had expected her to be.
Rachel looked up and down the hallway just to be sure that there was no one to eavesdrop. There was a lone nurse seated at a computer at a desk some distance away, but the white styrofoam cup she was sipping from and the game of solitaire on the screen were the only two things holding her attention.
"I wanted to ask you about…someone…that used to work at this hospital and that I'm hoping still does," she eventually admitted, though she was still watching the bored nurse at her station. Rachel knew she had always been somewhat of an amateur sleuth, but it had only ever been to outdo Vocal Adrenaline when it came to competitions or something of the like. She was walking a finer line now and she hoped that her questioning wouldn't come back to bite her or Santana. "He was a doctor here. I'm not sure if he was a surgeon or anything like that…I don't even know his first name, but I know that he worked here and –"
"Just tell me the last name and I'll try to be as helpful as possible," the man in front of her interrupted softly, refocusing her attention and realizing that something seemed to be wrong.
"Lopez…"
"Lopez," he repeated thoughtfully. It took a few seconds, but eventually the name started to sound familiar. "Yes, there was a Dr. Lopez that worked here during my first year here."
Rachel felt herself hit a figurative brick wall. "So, he used to work here but he doesn't anymore?"
Dr. Reese shook his head and then thought a bit more. "No, actually he left not long after that…that was probably five or six years ago. I can't say I know all the details, but I overheard some nurses say that he moved to Florida…something about being closer to his family in Puerto Rico."
Five or six years ago was within the time frame of she and Santana's class graduating and Santana becoming pregnant with Olivia. Needless to say, Rachel was shocked for the umpteenth time that night. Santana's father had moved away during what was probably the most critical time in her life.
"Does that help at all?" Dr. Reese said, pulling Rachel from her own thoughts once again.
"No…well, yes, thank you. It helped somewhat," Rachel said slowly. The information hadn't helped in her mission to in return help Santana, but it had helped to possibly explain just a little of why Santana was the way she was.
"You're welcome, then." He tugged at his stethoscope a bit and then placed his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, not knowing what else to do for the woman in front of him. "I'm going to go get those popsicles for Olivia now, I'm sure she'll want to go home and rest after all of this…"
Rachel could only nod in agreement and let her lower back slump into the handrail on the wall as he walked away. Finding Santana's father had been her only idea of trying to get more answers, but now more than ever she felt truly hopeless.
~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~
After sharing two popsicles and just staring at each other while lying in bed, Olivia had fallen asleep with her lips stained blue and Rachel continued to stare at the ceiling. It was past midnight and she was exhausted and despite her fathers urging her to get some sleep to face what would come in the morning, there was no way she could shut her brain down.
Taking her cell phone from the nightstand, she checked it for probably the fiftieth time in the past hour. She had traced Santana's cell phone number from the caller ID of her fathers' house phone and since she had called to leave multiple voicemails, she knew that Santana could have redialed her if she wanted to. But judging from the lack of missed calls and text messages it was apparent that she didn't want to.
Suddenly, an idea came to mind. Maybe if Santana was reminded of what she was missing it would serve as a wakeup call. After activating the camera on her phone, Rachel angled it toward Olivia's peaceful face where it rested on her shoulder and snapped a picture. Then, she thought out a message to go with the image before sending it.
Wherever you are, whatever is going on right now, you can come back from it, Santana. I'll help you and we can make it right together. Just please come back, she needs you…
~S~R~S~R~S~R~S~R~
The early summer breeze made Santana's face feel cold as it met warm tears and no matter how many times she used her palms to wipe away the sensation it still came back. No matter how many times she tried to rise above the negative in her life, it would always come back.
"What did I do wrong?"
She asked the question out loud despite there being no one within miles to hear her voice, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Her parents had never listened, she had never had a best friend besides the one she had stupidly fallen in love with and the rest of her peers and teachers regarded her as an inhuman creature devoid of emotions. The last time she had put her feelings into words it had been at the insistence of some zany substitute teacher for that one best friend and it had gotten her nowhere. And after that incident she had learned that her feelings weren't and never were going to be important and she hadn't bothered to voice them again.
Knowing that she wasn't going to get an answer to such a pointless question, Santana gripped the rough concrete on either side of her legs and bent forward to stare into the blackness below. I have to do it. Maybe I won't feel anything, but even if I do…it'll feel better than this…
A vibration suddenly began to pulse against her chest and a vicious groan tore from her throat at what it meant and what it made her think of. Having her cell phone tucked in her cleavage was something that she did out of habit. It was where she kept it when Olivia was at home with a babysitter because she always wanted to be there if her daughter needed her. That remembrance set more tears falling and even though she should have pitched the phone into the water below, she pulled it out and opened it anyway. She had a good idea of who would be leaving her texts and she knew it would give her more drive to go through with her plan.
1 New Text Message
Dave
Sun, June 5 12:26am
Where r u and O? - DPK
Santana read the text and marveled at how tame it was, but when it buzzed in her hand with another message and then once more before she had the chance to open it, she could tell that Dave was panicking. She had never been brave enough to disappear after one of their incidents and she could only imagine what sort of scenarios were going through his head.
U better answer me. where the fuck r u? If u tell any1… - DPK
Nvm idc if u tell anyone…Im still gonna beat ur pretty face in when u get here so b ready - DPK
Despite the last message, Santana closed the phone calmly and sat motionless and just breathed. Rachel wouldn't turn me away if I told her.
That thought consumed her for a moment and with some confusion she tried to find the reason why she would suddenly want to back down. Her phone buzzed in her hand again, but she had no energy to react to Dave's threats until she saw what the message actually held – a picture. But not just any picture, a picture of Olivia with her mouth stained blue as she slept with her forehead tucked against what could only be Rachel's dark hair. And just the side of Rachel's face was visible too and although it was indirectly, Santana could still see the traces of running mascara left over on the side of her cheek. Rachel Berry was holding her baby and crying over her. She didn't care to read the words that came along with the picture because suddenly she had found her breaking point.
Don't be mad at me, there's Pezberry hugs in the next chapter! Thanks for reading!
