Looks like this story is turning out to have more chapters than I thought! I originally anticipated it only being 8 but this is definitely not the last update. I'm trying to be good about posting, but there may be some delays coming up since I'm in the midst of applying for jobs and getting ready to face the real world. But for now, I hope you like this chapter. And as always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!
...
"Kiss ass," Santana muttered to Puck as they watched Agent Finn Hudson banter with the lieutenant. "I fucking hate that guy."
"Me too. And it's only been two hours."
After trying to deny that it would actually ever happen, Monday morning finally rolled around and Agent Finn Hudson showed up the station at 8 AM sharp. Almost immediately, Puck and Santana began bring him up to date on every detail of the case.
It was going to be a long day since the piles of evidence belonging to the Sniper case could be stacked in two columns that would practically reach the ceiling. It didn't help that Puck and Santana found that they had to go at a pace slower than they'd like to make sure Finn comprehended everything. He constantly had questions, and most of which were already answered. In order to keep their sanity, they took a break every hour.
"Here he comes," Puck whispered just as the Finn opened the door to the conference room.
"Hello again, detectives!" he greeted over-enthusiastically, just enough to annoy the living hell out of Santana. No one should be that excited that early, yet the two would eventually learn that Finn was always this chipper and oblivious in the morning.
"Hudson," Puck responded, acknowledging the agent for both himself and Santana, since she rarely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary.
"Listen, I know we're on a schedule, but I was just talking with the lieutenant and I came up with a great idea. You know the incident that happened a while back where you guys almost caught the Sniper at that old motel? I believe you were shot, correct?" he said, directing his question to Santana.
Since they had just gone over that part of the case before the break, she nodded and Finn continued.
"Well, it would make sense for him to be staying at a similar type of place now. Like another old hotel or motel or something like that. Except, assuming that he's learned from his mistakes, he probably doesn't stay at one place for too long. So my idea is, we should send the Sniper's description and whereabouts out to the mangers of those types of places that are located in the surrounding area of where we almost caught him at last time."
"First off, Hudson, there is no 'we' in that statement," Santana snapped. "You had nothing to do with that - Puck and I ran that operation. Secondly, I hate to break it to you, but we came up with that great idea already. Our team has been keeping tabs on similar motels for months now."
"Oh," Finn said, confused as to how anyone else could possibly have the same idea as him.
"Yep," Puck chimed in, taking over. "We gave the mangers a physical description and also told them to look for odd check-in patterns. Assuming the Sniper only stays at one location for a couple nights at a time, he may be returning to the same places on a monthly basis."
"Dang. You guys are good."
"We know," Santana said with as much attitude as possible. "Puck, see if you can squeeze anymore great ideas out of our new friend. I'm going to get more coffee."
...
After a month of Agent Hudson joining the department, things with the case were exactly the same. However, Santana would tell you that they was much worse due to the fact that Hudson set her teeth on edge on a daily basis. She couldn't even stand looking at the guy.
The only good news was that the Sniper was still inactive; he hadn't contacted anyone in the department or committed a crime since victim 16, which occurred right before Santana and Brittany had their first date.
As an attempt to escape Finn and the office, Santana started a routine of locking herself in her apartment for one day a week with all the latest evidence and leads. She and Brittany began calling those days, "lock down days," and it gave Santana a chance to clear her head and focus on the evidence without Finn annoying her or Puck throwing out his crazy theories.
The first half of lock down days were usually productive, but as the hours passed, Santana would find herself getting distracted way too easily. A picture of her and Brittany on her desk would catch her eye and before she knew it, she was daydreaming for twenty minutes. It was crazy how the blonde could distract her when she wasn't even there.
Santana had learned to plan her lock downs according to the dancer's work schedule because it was nearly impossible to focus with Brittany next to her. It wasn't that Brittany intentionally tried to distract her (because when that happened, Santana was useless). It was just that everything about the girl pulled Santana in. Like the way she stirred in her sleep, or how Santana'd catch her smiling at the book she was reading, or the way her laughter could carry from room to room.
...
This particular lock down day, Santana had barely started working but she was already having a harder time than usual focusing. Maybe it was because she and Puck were hosting a big debriefing meeting the next day with the whole department. They had been prepared for a few days now, but Santana was paranoid about details and she wanted to make sure everything was just right.
At 9:10 AM, she was almost happy to snap out of her daze when her phone started ringing. When she saw it was from a number she didn't recognize, she decided to let it go to voicemail. If it was really important, they'd leave a message and she could call back.
Just as she picked up a document about victim 16 on her desk, her phone buzzed again from the same number.
"Miss Lopez?"
"Yeah?" Santana's annoyance was audible.
"My name is Dr. Robbins, I'm an attending here at Northwestern."
"Okay..."
"Brittany told us to call you - "
"What?" Santana interrupted. "Brittany? Is she okay?"
"She's stable now. She was in an accident..."
"An accident?" she practically yelled.
"Yes, an accident. A hit and run, I think. She was on her bike..."
"Jesus fucking Christ, is she okay?" Santana spit out as she stood up from her desk and attempted to gather her shoes and jacket.
"Yes, Miss Lopez, if you'd let me finish. She's stable now but she's asking for you. You should get down here."
"Of course, okay. Thanks."
Panicked, Santana hung up the phone and frantically searched for her keys. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her together as she grabbed her purse and flew out the door.
...
The drive to the hospital was a blur, and Santana spent most of that time cursing that god-forsaken bike. A couple weeks ago, Brittany decided she was going to start riding her bike to work again like she used to, instead of letting Sam and his people take her. Santana preferred that she go with Sam, but after a long discussion, the blonde convinced her it would be fine. She insisted that she liked the fresh air, and that the studio wasn't that far, anyway.
"Hi, um, I'm looking for Brittany Pierce, could you tell me what room she's in?" Santana said to the woman at the front desk, a little out of breath from running in from her car.
"Sure, ma'am. One second."
Unconsciously, Santana began strumming her fingers against the counter; she only realized she was doing so when the woman glared at her.
"Oh, sorry."
The nurse shook her head before saying, "324."
"Thanks," Santana said quickly as she took off down the hallway to find the elevator.
...
When Santana arrived at the door, a doctor was standing in the hallway reviewing some charts.
"Excuse me, are you Brittany's doctor?"
"Yes," the woman said, extending her hand. "I'm Dr. Torres, you must be Santana."
"That's right," she confirmed, peering over the doctor's shoulder to see if she could spot Brittany.
"Glad you're here. The worst is over but, as you'll see when you go in there, she's pretty banged up. We have already helped her file a police report, but it looks like it was a hit and run. It wasn't her fault, she was obeying traffic signs."
Santana nodded but wasn't surprised. "What about her injuries?"
"She was unconscious at the scene but woke up in the ambulance on the way here. She suffered a concussion, but besides that, her injuries are about what you would expect for a hit and run when the pedestrian is on a bike. Her right leg is broken and she tore a few ligaments around her knee. She dislocated her shoulder and broke her left wrist as well."
Reading the look of deep concern on Santana's face, Dr. Torres continued, "But overall, it's nothing too serious, it all should heal with time."
"Did she tell you she's a dancer?"
"She did. With physical therapy and what not, she should be able to get back to dancing within the next couple of months. It all depends on how her leg heals."
"Alright. Thanks, doctor."
"Sure. Why don't you head in there, she's been asking for you for a while now."
Santana opened the door slowly to see Brittany in a state she could never imagine. Quickly, she rushed to the blonde's side - bruises covered her arms, her right leg was elevated in a cast, and there were cuts and scrapes scattered on her face.
"Hey," Santana said in a hushed whisper, her eyes still scanning her girlfriend in the bed.
"Hi, you," Brittany replied with a weak, straining smile.
"Are you okay? What happened?"
"I'm fine, San. I'm just glad you're here."
"You're obviously not fine," she said, trying to keep her voice from rising. "What happened? Who did this to you?"
"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "They left."
Santana pulled the chair that was against the wall closer to the bed and sat down. She took the blonde's cast-free hand with both of hers and held it tight.
"God, I'm so sorry," Santana practically whispered as her eyes began to get misty.
"It's not your fault, San."
"I should've been there, I...I'm supposed to protect you," she continued.
"Santana," Brittany insisted, breaking their hands so she could touch the brunette's cheek, "This is not your fault."
"I...I should've given you a ride. Sam should've given you a ride. He should always give you a ride. You shouldn't have to ride that fucking bike to work," Santana said, almost to herself, shaking her head.
"Hey. I like that bike," Brittany pouted playfully.
"Britt, this is serious. You're not going to be able to dance for months."
"I know," the blonde replied, her voice matching Santana's stern face.
"So why aren't you freaking out?"
Brittany paused for a moment before answering, "I think you're doing enough freaking out for the both of us."
"I guess I am. I'm sorry...I'm just not good with this kind of thing."
"I know. It's okay."
Santana sighed deeply and began stroking her thumb over Brittany's knuckles.
"Will you come give me a kiss now?" the blonde said, licking her lips. "I've been waiting for one since you got here."
"Of course, baby."
...
Just to be safe, Brittany's doctors decided to keep her overnight to watch her concussion. Santana stayed by her side for most of the day, only excusing herself a couple of times to make calls to the station. She told Sam about the hit and run, and he promised to head up the investigation personally and keep her updated.
Santana did whatever she could to keep Brittany comfortable. Due to the painkillers, the blonde was pretty out of it for a majority of the day. After dinner, she fell asleep, leaving Santana alone with her thoughts.
Sitting on a chair next to Brittany's bed, Santana watched the 6 o'clock news where her girlfriend was the main story. She listened as the reporter explained how the police had no leads, and that the victim refused an interview - both of which Santana had already known.
Feeling uneasy, she turned off the TV and grabbed her phone and saw a text from Puck.
- You okay? How's Britt?
- Fine. Sleeping now. Do you think this could have been him?
- What? The Sniper? This hit and run? No way. Just a coincidence, Lopez. Don't think too far into it.
- You know that's pretty much impossible, right?
- I know. I just talked to Sam, though. They'll find the guy so you can rest easy.
- Hopefully. Thanks, Puck.
- Of course. Give Britt a kiss for me when she wakes up. ;)
- Perv.
...
After a while, Brittany was still sound asleep so Santana turned the TV back to find that one of her favorite crime shows was on. She didn't make it through the show, though. Exhausted from the stressful day, she passed out before it ended.
Hours later, the blonde woke up in a clouded haze. It took her a minute to grasp her surroundings, but even then she still felt out of it.
"San?"
Brittany repeated herself again before Santana woke up, a little startled. She stood up and sat on the side of the bed.
"Yeah, baby?"
"What time is it? How long have I been out?"
"It's, um...," Santana reached for her phone in her pocket. "It's a little after 2 in the morning. You've been sleeping since after dinner."
"You stayed?"
"Of course I stayed," she said, taking Brittany's hand.
"But what about your meeting in the morning?"
"Don't worry about that, Puck's got me covered. Besides, I have more important places to be."
Brittany opened her mouth to refute - normally she wouldn't let her girlfriend miss any work because of her - but then decided against it. Her head was pounding, and Santana was pretty irresistible when she was worried.
"Come here," the blonde said, moving over as much as she could manage so Santana could fit on the bed with her.
"No, it's okay, I'm fine. I want you to be comfortable."
"You're cute. But I'm most comfortable with you. Come here."
Santana thought about staying put, but then saw the look on Brittany's face and knew the blonde would get her way. So carefully, Santana slipped into bed next to her.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Brittany teased.
"I love you," Santana said with a smirk. "Even though you're a goofball."
"I love you, too," the dancer beamed, and for a minute, she forgot about the pain that had been consuming her for most of the day.
...
In a wheelchair, Brittany was sent home the next day. Since she was not physically capable of living on her own, her doctors agreed it would be best if she stayed at Santana's for a while. At least until her wrist healed so then she could just use crutches.
Sam picked the girls up from the hospital and took them back to the apartment where he helped Brittany into bed where she'd have to stay for the next few days. After lunch, Brittany took a nap and Santana took the opportunity to press Sam for every detail she could about the hit and run.
There were no suspects or leads, and unfortunately the camera that was set up at the intersection of the accident was down for maintenance that morning. Sam assured her that the team was doing everything in their power to solve the case, but at the moment, all they knew was that they believed the suspect's vehicle to be a van or a truck based off the severity of Brittany's injuries.
When Brittany woke up, it was time for her next round of pain medication before Mike stopped by to visit. She then spent the next hour or so filling him in on what was currently going on in her different classes since he would have to cover for her until she was back on her feet. Brittany even offered that they hire their friend Blaine to do some part time work since she probably wouldn't be able to teach again for a couple of months.
Because of Brittany's status, even the tiniest bit of activity exhausted her. When Mike left, Sam cooked the girls dinner and served it to them in bed. Just like a five star restaurant, Santana had commented. Brittany only ate half her plate, and after, she passed out cold from her meds.
...
The next morning, it seemed as though their roles were reversed. Santana woke up around 8 AM without complaint and made breakfast. After googling the best recipe for pancakes, she set out to impress her girl.
When Brittany woke up around 10, Santana brought her pancakes, fruit, and tea in bed.
"This can't be real," the blonde joked as Santana approached with the extravagant meal on a tray.
"Oh, it's real, baby."
Santana watched with pride as Brittany scarfed down the breakfast. It had been the first meal she finished in its entirety since the accident.
"What, you're not going to save any for me?" Santana said as she watched the dancer take a bite out of the last pancake.
"Nope. All mine," Brittany smirked with her mouth full.
"Fair enough. But as soon as you're outta this bed you're back to cooking. That was the most stressful hour I've ever spent in the kitchen."
"I'm sure it was," the blonde rolled her eyes and smiled. "And guess what. You get to clean up, too."
Santana sighed sarcastically before kissing Brittany's forehead and taking the tray back to the kitchen. When she returned to bed, her girlfriend had turned on the TV and was now watching The Price is Right.
"Hey...I, um," the brunette stumbled slowly, unsure if now was the right time to start this conversation. "I was, ya know, thinking..."
"You are adorable when you're nervous," Brittany interrupted, completely entertained as she watched Santana figure out her sentence in her head. "Just spit it out, babe."
"I think you should...well, I want you to move in."
"You mean until I get back on my feet?" Brittany asked, motioning to her casts.
"No, I mean even after that."
"Really?" a grin grew wide on the blonde's face.
Santana nodded before officially asking, "Do you want to move in with me?"
When an answer didn't come right away, the brunette took that as a bad sign and began fumbling over an explanation.
"I know it may seem early, but I don't know...I can't explain it. Things with us have been going so great. Everything is just better with you. The nights you're not here, I don't sleep well anymore. I want you closer all the time."
Brittany looked at Santana long and hard, committing to memory the words she had just said.
"Okay," she finally replied. "I'll move in with you."
"Yeah? Just like that?"
"Mhmm. Just like that," she smiled and wrinkled her nose a little. "I've actually been waiting for you to ask me."
"Really?"
"Yep," Brittany leaned in and kissed Santana on the lips, pulling her closer before breaking away. "Took ya long enough."
