a/n: Thank you for all the nice messages and reviews. Hope you like the chapter! :)


Chapter Eight

It's not exactly a secret that Cincinnati can be a difficult place to live sometimes, just like a lot of cities. I'd been here my whole life without giving that fact much thought because I'd never needed to. And then the place swallowed my sister whole.

For the first time I realized how small we really were.

There was a park with a playground about three miles from my Grandma's house where she used to take us to play when we were little. Jessica and I had named it the Choo Choo Park because the railroad tracks ran right past it, but I don't think it was really called that.

It was like purgatory, because on the one hand it was green and pretty and full of wildlife. It was nature, and you almost couldn't tell you were in the city… almost… because you could still hear the traffic, and the fresh air was only faintly layered on top of the lingering smell of fumes from the old gasworks down the street.

And when you played there, you were just kind of suspended between the two.

I was sat on a bench just behind the chain link fence that separated the play area from the rest of the park. It wasn't raining for change, although it had been earlier and the clouds above my head looked black and fit to burst again. There were a couple of families taking advantage of what I was sure would only be a brief dry spell, as well as an elderly man walking his dog out in the field.

There was also a young woman and a little boy whom I hadn't been able to take my eyes off of for the longest time. The boy can't have been more than three and they didn't look much alike at first glance, but when he smiled I could tell they were mother and son.

As they played, they dipped in and out of being silhouetted by the air around them, and what I would usually have described as gray looked more like their own personal silver lining. I felt the first spot of drizzle just as the Mom scooped the little boy up in her arms and then propped his legs over her hips. She kissed his face and supported his weight as he leaned back and the look they exchanged made me feel like an intruder

There was something about walking in on that kind of love that made me feel so tiny. Like the park could swallow me up just like the city had done my sister.

I suddenly felt uneasy, and as I got up off of the bench and headed toward home, it started to rain again.

/

My Grandma made it a point to teach Jessica and I how to cook when we were younger. Jess was never really that into it because she didn't like anything she wasn't good at right away, but it became one of my favorite things to do. Making stuff was fun… and making stuff that you could eat afterwards was even better.

I'd gotten a little slack on the cooking front lately, for obvious reasons, but after my park excursion failed to take my mind off things the way I'd hoped it would, I decided to get back in the kitchen.

I wasn't making anything fancy, just a lasagne. I was really hoping that Sam would come home from work while it was still in the oven, because walking into a house where somebody was cooking something delicious was one of the best things ever.

But it was almost ready and there was no sign of him, so I gave him a call. It took him longer than usual to pick up and I assumed it was probably because he was driving.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hey, you almost home?"

There was a momentary pause before he answered. "Uh… no. I'm staying with Mercedes tonight, remember?"

My brow furrowed. "You are?" I asked.

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you?"

I shook my head, even though he couldn't see me. "No," I replied.

"Oh…" he mumbled, "Sorry." He just breathed for a moment, but when I didn't say anything in response he spoke again. "Is everything okay? Did you need the car or something?"

I glanced back toward the oven for a moment, and then shrugged. "No, I just… It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"Uh-huh," he replied. "I can come by after work and take you to Chang's if you want?"

"Sure," I agreed, nodding.

"It's a date," he said, "See ya tomorrow." The line went dead before I could even say goodbye, and I set the phone down on the dining table, a little crestfallen.

The last thing I wanted to do was eat lasagne by myself. I didn't want to do anything by myself, but being around people didn't seem all that appealing either. I just wanted to eat dinner with Sam and not talk, but also not be alone.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. It was times like this, when I was at a loss for what to do with myself, that I ended up doing things that maybe I shouldn't. I wanted so badly to be done with that… but I found myself reaching for my phone again in a matter of seconds.

I had just got to the M section in my contacts when there was a sharp knock at the front door. I scrunched my forehead up because I wasn't expecting anybody and I knew Sam couldn't have gotten home that quickly if he'd changed his mind.

I tossed the phone back on the table before heading out of the kitchen and towards the front door. When I opened it, it felt like something had started flittering around inside my chest. And at the same time, I wondered how it was possible that it hadn't even been raining a few hours ago.

Santana was soaked through, her shoulders hunched, and still shivering in spite of the shelter the front porch provided. "Hey," I breathed.

Her lips pulled up at the corners. "Hey," she said back a little timidly.

I stepped aside and held my arm out behind me. "Come on in," I told her. She did as I said, stepping across the threshold and combing her fingers through her wet hair as I closed the door behind her. "I didn't know you were coming over," I stated.

"Yeah… actually, I just came by to give you something," she mumbled. She stuffed her hand into her purse and rooted around inside it for a few seconds before pulling out a creased-up white pamphlet. She held it towards me and I took it hesitantly, frowning when I read what it said on the front. "I was thinking about some of the things you've told me, and… I found this," she said.

"Bereavement support group?" I muttered, indignant. "My sister's not dead."

"No!" Santana's eyes widened and she shook her head. "No, I know. It's just… what you're going through right now is similar to grief. And…" She huffed out a breath and started toying nervously with her coat sleeve. "And you have lost people, and I just think this could maybe help you. That's all."

I didn't say anything for a moment, and my eyes kept on flicking between Santana's face and the piece of paper in my hands. I hadn't even considered anything like this. Talking to strangers wouldn't make people come back.

"I…" I shook my head and cleared my throat. "What would I do there?" I asked.

Santana shrugged. "Just talk… and listen. Meet other people who might have a chance of understanding how you feel." I gulped and nodded in response, looking back down at the pamphlet. "Look, I know it sounds lame," Santana continued, "And you don't have to go. It's just an idea."

I slowly nodded before glancing back up at her. "If I went, would you come with me?" I asked, barely above a whisper.

Santana raised her eyebrows at me, but the action seemed to be involuntary. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and then finally, after a few seconds, she gave me a resolute nod. "Of course," she agreed.

"Okay," I huffed, "Can I think about it?"

She nodded again. "Sure."

We lapsed into silence for a few seconds and Santana gave me a strained, tight-lipped smile. She shoved her hand into her pocket and let out a heavy breath. "I should probably go," she told me. I nodded in response and she stepped toward the door again. She had creaked it halfway open before the thought occurred to me.

"Santana," I blurted. She paused and looked at me. "Um…" My hands felt too empty so I started playing with the hem of my shirt. "Do you… maybe wanna stay for dinner? Sam just bailed on me and now I have too much."

She frowned adorably at me. "Dinner?"

I bobbed my head up and down, and Santana's eyes darted around the room a couple of times before settling back on my face. She glanced down at her watch and then shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. "Sure," she nodded, "I can stay for dinner."

I smiled in relief and Santana pushed the door shut before I led her out into the kitchen.

/

"You like lasagne, right?" I asked. Santana nodded in response and I set a plateful down on the table in front of her. I poured us each a glass of cranberry juice because it was all I had and Santana didn't start eating until I had joined her.

"This is really good," she mumbled.

I smiled at that. "Thanks."

We ate quietly for a little while, and just listened to the rain still pounding against the window. I started to get a little self-conscious about where I had chosen to sit, adjacent to Santana rather than opposite her. I felt like maybe I was too close. I just always found having somebody directly in front of me while I was eating kind of distracting.

"Were you on your way home from work?" I asked her.

Santana shook her head and finished chewing before she answered. "To, actually," she corrected. "I'm working nights all week, but I've got paperwork to finish so I figured I'd try to get there a little early."

I nodded my head up and down. "How was last night?" I asked. "I hope you didn't still feel icky."

Her lips twitched upwards and she shrugged. "It's okay. I slept through most of today so I'm all better now," she told me.

I nodded. "That's good," I almost whispered.

"Did you get a chance to talk to your neighbors, yet?" she asked me.

I cleared my throat and reluctantly told her, "Yes," before taking another bite of food.

"Any luck?"

I slowly shook my head. "None of 'em saw anything," I mumbled.

Santana bobbed her head and then we lapsed into a horrible silence. I heard her huff out a breath after a few moments as she turned her attention toward the window above the sink. Her hand kept a loose, distracted grip on her fork. "Fucking rain, huh?" she muttered.

I was grateful for the change in topic and I nodded. It was strange to think that only last summer I had spent entire days at the beach with Matt before returning home in the evenings with sand in my pockets and the sun baked so deeply into my skin that it warmed my blood. That all felt so far away now.

"I went for a walk when it stopped this afternoon," I said, "It was nice."

Santana's head whipped round and she frowned at me. "It stopped?"

"Uh-huh," I confirmed.

"You're fucking kidding me," she muttered, "While I was asleep?" Her frown deepened and I tried to give her a consolatory smile.

"It was only for like, an hour," I told her with a shrug.

She bobbed her head up and down and then looked down at her plate as she pushed her food around with her fork. "I only woke up a couple hours ago," she admitted, "I always feel like I'm missing out on things when I work nights."

I couldn't help but breathe a soft laugh at that. "It was just some dry weather," I said before taking another bite of my lasagne.

"I know," she sighed, "I just really hate the rain." She rolled her eyes at herself.

"Yeah, Sam's the same," I told her.

Santana slowly looked back up at me and then pinched her lips together for a second. "How come he bailed on you?" she asked.

"We just got our wires crossed," I explained, "I didn't know he was staying over with his girlfriend tonight."

"Right." She nodded. "Does he stay there a lot?"

I shrugged. "A few times a week. Or maybe more than that recently."

Santana chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, her eyes studying my face. When she spoke again, her words were muted and hesitant. "That seems a little… weird," she mumbled.

I shrugged and looked down at my plate. "It's not like I've been much fun to be around lately," I said.

"And you think that excuses him from being a decent friend?"

I just shrugged again in response, because I didn't think that at all. But I also didn't know why it was so much easier to be around somebody who was happy and not hurting. It didn't seem fair, but that wasn't Sam's fault.

"I don't think I'm handling all this very well," I murmured just as Santana took another bite of food.

She frowned and covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke. "What d'you mean?" she slurred.

I shook my head because I wasn't really sure. "I don't know," I whispered.

She kept looking at me with a mixture of confusion and sympathy as she finished chewing, and then she took a sip of her cranberry juice. "I think you're doing okay," she told me.

I raised my eyebrows, skeptical. "You do?"

She nodded in response and then she chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments. She seemed to be mulling something over in her head. "I remember this one time when I was younger," she said softly, "I asked my Dad how it was possible to survive in a world like this and still be a good person who does the right thing." She took another sip of her drink before setting her glass down and then she huffed out a breath. "He told me you couldn't." Santana shook her head and my brow furrowed.

"I don't think I understand," I mumbled.

She shrugged at me. "Up until a couple weeks ago, I sort of believed that was true. But then I met you and even after everything, you're still sweet. So, like I said… I think you're doing okay."

I felt my throat tighten and I had to look away for a second. I think she was a little embarrassed about having said it, or maybe just unsure that it was all right, because when I glanced back at her she had her eyes fixed downwards again as she pushed her lasagne around her plate.

"D'you ever talk to anybody about things?" she asked me. She set her fork down resolutely and folded her hands together on the table top. I didn't understand why having her undivided attention like that made me feel so good, but it did. Even if I wasn't quite sure what she was asking.

"What things?" I scrunched up my forehead.

"What happened when you were little," she answered, "With your parents."

My heart rate picked up and I slowly shook my head. "No," I mumbled, "Not in a while."

"How come?" she asked.

I shrugged at her. "I don't really remember it."

"You don't remember anything?"

I frowned for a moment and then shook my head again. "Not really. Just bits and pieces," I told her, "I mean, I remember being in the car right before it happened. I was reading Harry Potter, the first one. And then I just remember waking up in hospital. I had to stay there for almost a month and they didn't tell me about my parents 'til the day before I went home."

Santana's lips parted in a silent gasp. "They waited that long to tell you?" she said.

I nodded. "I think they just wanted me to concentrate on getting better. But it was kinda dumb, I guess, 'cause I just kept asking my Grandma why I couldn't see 'em. It was confusing. And I wasn't even allowed to see Jess because she knew."

Santana gulped audibly and her lips turned down at the corners. "I'm… so sorry, Brittany," she almost whispered.

I shrugged. "I was okay. You know, after a while? But Jess had nightmares for years. She's never really talked about it but I know she saw stuff."

Santana gave me a gentle nod.

"I mean, this place has three bedrooms but we shared right up until I moved out 'cause she couldn't sleep by herself. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and she'd be in bed with me." I shook my head. "I didn't know how to make her stop hurting."

I looked down at my plate and dropped my fork. I suddenly wasn't very hungry anymore. And then I felt Santana put her hand on my wrist and my chest tightened and my stomach clenched. It felt like something was trying to squeeze out of my body and I was involuntarily holding it in.

"It's not your job to protect her," she said.

I gasped out a laugh. It was a nervous, knee-jerk reaction and I shook my head at myself. "Then whose job is it?" I retorted.

Santana didn't say anything back and I couldn't stand the silence so I stood. Neither of us had finished eating but I picked up my plate, regardless, and then I walked over to the counter and dumped it in the sink. I felt Santana behind me just a moment later. She put her hand on my arm as I turned around but I didn't want her to look at my face, so I put my head on her shoulder – the way I'd wanted to the first night we met after she found me sitting on that bench.

It took her a few seconds to wrap her arms around me, but when she did I felt my eyes sting with tears. I didn't understand how I had gone over a month without crying before and now I had done it twice in as many days. It didn't make any sense.

I sniffled a little and after a few moments I felt Santana pushing me back softly with her hands on my shoulders. She gave me a tiny, strained smile and then she wiped a few tears off of my cheeks with the sleeve of her blazer.

It was the gentlest anybody had been with me in a long time.

When she was done she let her hands rest on my shoulders again and held my eyes. "I can't make you any promises," she told me quietly, "I wish I could, but I can't. All I can do is give you my word that I won't stop trying."

I don't think I had ever met anybody as fiery and quick-tempered as her who was also capable of such sweetness. It was the kind of thing that I wasn't exactly surprised by, but that I knew other people would be if they got to see it. I might not have known her that well but I knew that, and even though I was so sad it made my heart feel like it was about to burst with affection for her.

She kept my eyes, determined. She kept them until I leaned forwards and pushed my lips into hers. And then she stiffened, but she didn't draw back, and I just held her bottom lip between mine for a few seconds. It was so warm and soft and I couldn't imagine anything nicer to have my lips pressed up against.

When I pulled back, Santana's eyes were wide and her grip on my shoulders had tightened. My bottom lip quivered as I waited for her to say something – to tell me if that was okay, or if it wasn't.

My stomach bottomed out at the thought.

She moved her eyes around the room more than once before they settled back on my face. And she licked her lips before she spoke. "What was that for?" she whispered.

I gave her a soft shrug. "I just… like you," I mumbled. Santana nodded slowly and I watched her throat move as she gulped, but she didn't respond. My belly started to tremble. "I… I'm sorry," I stammered, "I-"

I didn't get to finish because she cut me off by fitting her lips over mine. My stomach flipped and my eyes drifted closed and Santana moved her hands from my shoulders to hold onto my face. A tiny, muted whimper escaped my mouth, "Mm," and then Santana parted her lips and tilted my head so that she could guide me as she changed the kiss.

I held onto her arms as she pulled my bottom lip between hers and then when I felt her tongue lick into my mouth I moved them to clutch at her blazer. She gasped against my lips as I tugged her closer to me and we stumbled back a little until she was pressing me into the counter. Our tongues pushed together and it jolted right through the middle of me. I had to clench my thighs.

Her body against mine felt both deeply warm like burning coals and electric like a storm. I shivered as she slid one of her hands from my cheek to weave through my hair. And then we kept up our rhythm, our tongues brushing together and her lips sliding over mine like ripples in a pond. Again and again and again.

She kissed me completely breathless, until the backs of my knees tingled with the strain of supporting my weight. When she pulled back she held firmly onto my face as our chests heaved together. My eyes were still damp and a little sore and it took me a few seconds to open them, overwrought with dizziness.

Santana's lips shook and her thumbs stroked over my cheeks. It made me clutch tighter at her blazer. "I have to go to work," she whispered with hooded eyes.

I was slow to nod. "Okay," I said back.

She didn't move, and after a few seconds she tilted her face upwards, pressing her mouth back against mine. She took first my top lip between hers, and then the bottom before sliding her tongue over mine again. I whimpered as she pulled away.

"I really do have to go," she gasped. Her voice cracked a little and seemed to have moved into a higher octave.

"Okay," I repeated. Her grip on my face got firmer still, and I curled into her touch, moving my hands so that my arms could encircle her waist. I never wanted to move again.

Santana pressed her forehead briefly against mine and when she finally backed away from me she left nothing but a strange chill wrapped around a dwindling heat. I watched her as she grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and tugged it on, wishing she could just stay a little longer.

Most of the color seemed to have drained from her face and when she was done, she wouldn't meet my eyes. She just ran her fingers through her still-damp hair and looked down at her feet as I toyed with the hem of my shirt.

"Thank you for dinner," she said, her tone now almost professionally cordial.

"You're welcome," I replied, barely above a whisper.

She took a couple of steps backwards towards the door but my feet seemed to be rooted to the spot. "I'll see you soon," she told me, and then she turned on her heels and left.