I know it's been a long time, sorry! I finally got myself a job, which doesn't leave time for much else, but I will try my best to update. Sorry this is short, kind of a filler chapter. Please review!

"You will obey the commanding officer!" A stern voice yelled in her ear, covering her in a fine spray of saliva. Santana shuddered from where she lay on the floor, held down by a number of young soldiers.

This is so not how this day was supposed to go, thought Santana, hearing Brittany's frightened sniffles from somewhere above her.

"Do you understand?" The voice demanded, and Santana fought the urge to hurl at the smell from his breath. The day had gone downhill rapidly.


EARLIER THAT DAY

They shuffled towards the exit like sheep headed for slaughter, save for the massive grins present on each face.

Brittany stood halfway down the line, holding Ellie's tiny fist in one hand and their bags in the other. Santana waited behind her, holding onto Lord Tubbington, who had not been amused to find himself on a floating contraption surrounded by water. He'd disliked it more when security had informed the girls that he was a health hazard and must be confined to a separate room in storage at all times. Now he peered out of his bag warily, letting out a disgruntled meow every now and then.

"Shh," Santana told him, scratching him behind his ears. "You'll be back on dry land soon enough, be patient Tubbs."

Brittany glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the affectionate words coming from the former bitchy cheerleader.

Santana saw her smile and frowned. "What?" She asked, defensively.

Brittany just shook her head and continued to follow the queue stepping from the ship onto the shore.

It was a little after 9.30, and after a lot of fussing and organising, the American survivors were finally being escorted into England. It had been a long time since they had had the full assurance of safety; being able to move without constantly checking over shoulders for danger, and some looked a little lost.

Brittany's legs wobbled as she stepped onto the pavement, and she stopped momentarily. Feeling Santana's comforting hand on the small of her back, she inhaled deeply and smelt the crisp winter air before moving out of the way of those behind her.

Ellie tugged free of her sister's hand and bounded ahead with her friend excitedly.

"Ellie!" Brittany's voice was shrill, betraying her nerves.

"She'll be fine, Britt." Santana grinned at her. "We are safe here! And free!"

Her words were cut short by a sound coming from a loudspeaker, ordering them to enter a fenced facility by the dock where their ship had moored. They obeyed, assuming they would be spoken to briefly before being assigned a location to live.

Santana frowned as the gate was locked and chained behind them and soldiers began to usher them into a building.

"What's going on?" She asked one of them, gripping Brittany's hand.

"Keep moving, ma'am," the woman replied, ushering her forwards.

Santana was carried along with the crowd before she could protest.

"What's up, San?" Brittany asked her, squeezing the hand she held. Her face was scrunched up in confusion.

"I'm not sure. This just feels weird."

They followed the others inside a great hall. The walls were bleak and bare, and they shivered at the chill. A man with a neatly kept moustache stood in front of them, flanked on either side by a line of stern faced soldiers. He waited for the chatter to silence and then stepped up onto a small platform.

"Welcome to England," he began.

Santana's eyes narrowed. He sounded anything but welcoming. Maybe it was just the accent, but she sensed there was a bombshell coming.

"We are near Plymouth, in the west." He droned, causing several to roll their eyes. "You are the first to be rescued from any of the infected continents, although we hope to find more. Due to the nature of this situation, all of you will have to undertake quarantine here in a selected building, after which you will be moved to another part of the base. You will be assigned jobs, but you must remain on base at all times."

"Wait, what?" Santana exclaimed. "You rescued us from one prison, only to put us in another?"

Moustache man stared at her with cold eyes. "You will do as you are told."

Brittany squirmed beside her and tugged at her sleeve as the other survivors started to mutter amongst themselves.

"Oh hell no!" Santana ignored Brittany's silent plea for her to be quiet. "We deserve to be free, we didn't come here to be slaves!"

The man turned to the soldiers and began to give orders to take them away, but Santana strode forwards in protest.

"We won't do this!" She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him round to face her.

Suddenly she was on the ground, inhaling a load of dust from the dirty floor.

"You will obey the commanding officer!" A voice yelled. She was held down by four men, who were pressing her face onto the stone floor.

Santana was dragged back to a time early in her life when she found herself in the same position in a park near her house. She was seven years old and had been left to her own devices once again as her parents were at work. Having evaded the woman looking after her, she'd caught up with the older kids. She idolised them, never catching the sly looks or nasty words. Until one day, when they had decided to demonstrate their superiority by beating her into the ground. She had ran until her little legs could take her no further, and in the privacy of the forest behind her neighbourhood she had sworn to never show weakness. It was that day that the once sweet, innocent Santana had been masked, replaced by a seemingly cold hearted, unforgiving one. That is of course, until Brittany came along.

"Do you understand me?" The voice of a soldier broke through her daydream. She shrugged him off and clambered back to her feet, glaring defiantly.

"I understand," she replied coolly. "But I want to know what is going on."

The soldier opened his mouth to reprimand her but the man in charge silenced him. "Very well," he said, looking her up and down. "Complete your quarantine, then we will talk."

He left the hall and Santana dropped the hard exterior, turning to face her anxious girlfriend.

"Are you okay, San?" Brittany asked worriedly, wiping the dirt from the Latina's cheeks.

Santana glanced around to make sure their fellow Americans had gone back to their own business, before catching Brittany's hand in her own and squeezing it. "I'm fine, but I don't trust them. Something is going on, Britt. I know it. I won't let them control us; I won't allow it."

Brittany regarded her sadly. "You're okay," she murmured softly.

Santana met her eyes, blinking away the tears. "I know," she replied. Brittany was the only person who knew about what made her who she was. She was the only one she trusted not to use it to hurt her.

"I'll always be here, Santana." Brittany wrapped her up in her arms.

Santana relaxed in the embrace. She loved it when Brittany took on the role of protector. It made her feel like nothing could ever hurt her. "Me too," she whispered.