AN: First off, I want to give a special thanks to Sneebot, AngentNote and Kawaikisa for their reviews on Chapter 9. I appreciate the input and the time that you've taken to really write to me how you feel about the story and what I'm doing with the characters.

Secondly, I know this chapter took a little longer than it usually does but I'm trying to take my time and really develop this story. Honestly, I'd only worked out to the part where Santana tells Will and Emma everything. Now I want to go slow and do things right.

Also, I have a new story that I'm working on. You should totally go read it. It's Brittana, Halloween inspired called "Phone Calls and Fright Nights" /shameless promotion. Anyway, enjoy this chapter and review, please!

Chapter 10 | This Is Where We Are

Apparently they had a guest room. When Ms. Pillsbury had showed it to me I wasn't surprised that it was spotless and screamed wholesome. Everything was pastel colored and looked like a sweater she would wear. It was nice though, it wasn't outside and it was mine.

At least for now.

I put my bag on the bed and didn't know what to do. Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury were still standing in the doorway. They were just as unsure as I was. The only difference was I didn't have the energy to really make much of an interaction. The silence dragged on.

"Well," Ms. Pillsbury said slowly, dragging the word out a bit. I guess she was nervous. I don't know why though, I was the one that should be nervous. These people were giving me a temporary home. I couldn't mess this up, like, for real. I had to keep it together which was something I wasn't good at at all, especially now. "Do you want me to wash your clothes?"

I shook my head and sat on the edge of the bed. I heard Mr. Schue clear his throat and then he left. He felt awkward, we all did. I didn't blame him.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, Santana." She said it quietly, as if resigned to the fact I wasn't saying anything else to her. I wanted to though. I wanted to tell her how much this meant to me. How it made me feel like I wasn't this huge joke.

"Thank you," I said it quickly. I felt like if I waited the words would burn my tongue on their way out.

She smiled at me and nodded her head slightly. I appreciated that more than I would have a huge speech about how it was the right thing to do. I didn't need a lecture. I needed time alone. Time alone not outside on concrete.

The bedroom door was open. I wanted to shut it. Lock myself in here and just breath. I had been around people all day. I had been telling people things I had never wanted to tell. I felt raw, exposed, torn up. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair.

The crazy part was I felt better. I felt taken care of and it was a feeling I sorely needed. Something inside of me was still terrified and determined to hold onto my last secret. I couldn't lay myself out on a table for the others to see, examine, comment on. I couldn't.

Sure, I told them I was a lesbian, told them I was in love with Brittany, told them I got kicked out and lived outside but I hadn't told them everything. I still had Mark.

I felt like the room disappeared around me. It was just me and I closed my eyes shut, willing the fear away. No one could ever know.

Baked chicken, a salad, mashed potatoes. They actually cooked dinner together. I could hear their laughter echoing through the apartment and then they're whispers to try to silence the other. They didn't want to disturb me. Something in my heart had fluttered. Gratitude for them, I think. I had been so deprived of anything that the tiniest things were going a long way.

It was a really good dinner. My first real meal in a long time.

We were sitting at the table, like a family. I couldn't even remember the last time my family was all home at the same time to have a meal together. It was simple, lame really. I loved every second of it.

"Enjoy," Ms. Pillsbury said, smiling at Will and then at me.

I didn't feel right eating. There was something so intimate about the interaction that made me nervous. It made me feel like I was intruding, like I didn't belong. I picked up my fork but didn't eat. I stared at my plate, just watching it.

"Santana," it was Mr. Schue. "It's okay."

"It's just so much," I said quietly, voice cracking. I was exhausted and so was every part of me. It wasn't so much, the food on my plate was perfectly portioned. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

There was a silence. I kept my head down. "We know. But I promise it will be okay."

It was really all I needed to hear. I looked up and we locked eyes. I looked back to my food and scooped some potatoes onto my fork. Heaven. It was pure fucking heaven. They melted in my mouth and I felt instantly better. As I ate more my body felt warm, comforted, relaxed.

They talked about their day, the weather, plans for the week, very casual things. I felt that feeling of intrusion again. Were they keeping the conversation shallow because I was there? Or were they just that boring? I looked at my half eaten plate and felt stuffed. I set my fork down.

"Good?" It was Ms. Pillsbury.

"Yeah," I said looking up at her again. "I'm just so...full. Already."

"Well, from what you've told us you haven't really had much to eat this week." She said it gently, as if speaking in a normal tone of voice would make me shatter. I hated the fact that she saw me as weak but was secretly grateful. I wasn't reading for people to allude to what had happened to me. I was still trying to deal with it myself.

"Yeah," I said lamely. I didn't have a response. "But it tastes really good."

I wasn't sure how to have a conversation with them and I knew they felt the same. We lapsed into silence.

"Well," Ms. Pillsbury began and then paused. "I hope you like your room."

I nodded and pushed some food around on my plate. "Anything's better than the bleachers." I said it so quietly I wasn't sure if they heard me.

They picked up a conversation again and I felt relieved. It took so much energy to do the simplest of things, especially hold a conversation. I didn't want to talk anyway. I had talked enough for the day. All I wanted to do was work on homework and then go to bed.

"I'll take it if you're done?" I looked up. Mr. Schue was standing above me his plate in hand. Ms. Pillsbury already in the kitchen.

"Oh," I said surprised. Something inside of me squirmed uncomfortably. He was so close to me. Too close. "Thanks, yeah." I said it too quickly and jumped out of my chair and took a step back. It was too close.

His eyebrows furrowed and I knew he was trying so hard to figure out what was wrong. I didn't need comfort from him right now. I didn't need comfort from anyone who was a him. He picked up the plate and turned to the kitchen. When he was gone I felt guilty. "Thanks," I said a little louder, hoping her heard.

I stood in the dining room and sighed. Homework. Go do homework. Go do something.

There wasn't a desk in the guest bedroom, but why would there be? I was glad there wasn't though. I didn't want to be left alone in the room again. Too many thoughts were swirling in my head just waiting to slosh over the edge and become reality. I couldn't deal with them right now. The sounds of Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury doing dishes together was comforting. They were so functional. It made me jealous.

I was so appreciative of all they were doing for me even if I didn't show it that well. I just couldn't help but feel this slight bitter twinge every time they were so accepting of me or did something together. How is it they could treat me like a family after a few hours and my own parents had eighteen years under their belt and they discarded me so easily?

Just do homework.

Right.

The table was now clear. I put my books on the table and sat down. I stared at the notebook and textbook in front of me but didn't move.

This was my life.

And it hit me. Like waves crashing so roughly against the rocks. I crumbled underneath them. I was homeless. But I had Will and Emma. Could I call them that? For how long? I wasn't the easiest person to get along with. But it was something. It was nothing. I was nothing.

My chest ached and I felt it, the panic. It spread through me like poison. I felt it in my veins and in my mind. I stood up, pushing the chair back abruptly. It scraped against the floor and I winced. The sound was so loud. Everything was so loud. That thudding. But it was just my heart in my chest, in my ears. I wanted to scream. I felt dread. Wave of dread and I was much more easily hurt than rocks.

I crumbled.

My knees ached. A hand flew to my chest and I groped at the clothing there. I was breathing hard, too hard and I felt light headed. "Oh g-god," I choked out. I couldn't breath right and the room was spinning or I was.

"Will!" The voice was shrill and close to me. It snapped something inside of me and I realized I couldn't see, things were dark. There was a soft hand on my face brushing away tears. I hadn't remembered crying and now that I acknowledged it I felt like my face was on fire and so was the rest of my body.

Ms. Pillsbury was right beside me, kneeling next to me. "Santana, look at me."

I realized then I had my eyes shut tight. I opened them and looked at her, my vision was blurred with unwanted tears and my body was shaking from the erratic breaths I was taking. I couldn't find a steady rhythm. I laughed at myself. I was so stupid. My eyes had been shut.

The laugh made her eyes widen. I was scaring her.

"I-I'm so s-sorry," I choked out in between the breaths. As soon as I said them I wished that I hadn't. I felt floodgates open and I knew I wouldn't be able to quell this thing inside of me. The waves raged on, growing bigger. I collapsed in on myself and buried my face in my hands.

"I know I'm wrong." I was almost yelling. I couldn't control my voice though. I couldn't control anything. The shaking, the crying, the breathing. I was completely gone. I had nothing to hold onto.

"Shhh," I don't know who said them. But I felt arms encircle me and pull me firmly to a body. Ms. Pillsbury. She pulled me close to her and instinctively I grabbed ahold of her. I sobbed into her shoulder, hanging on tight, hoping she never let go of me.

I hated myself in that moment. I hated myself for what I was putting everyone through. For the lying, for Mark, for Brittany, for who I was. What I had become. I would never be the same again.

"You don't have anything to be nervous about," Ms. Pillsbury said as she parked her car. She and Mr. Schue drove separately considering he had to stay after school almost every day. I had opted to ride with her. My aversion to men was becoming more and more prominent.

"I'm fine," I lied easily. My heart was pounding. I was nervous. Beyond nervous. I couldn't go in there and let them look at me like I was some type of psycho and now that I was living with Mr. and Ms. Perfect I couldn't even skip a class or they'd hear about it.

We walked in together. I had left my duffel bag at the apartment. It felt odd carrying just books. Just what I needed for school and not everything I needed to survive on my back, or shoulder, more accurately. It was still early and not many people had arrived, or teachers for that matter. I walked in with the two of them and we said our goodbyes, each going to their respective offices.

I was left standing there in the hallway unsure of what to do. I knew that neither of them would have minded if I went and spent the time until the first bell with them but I couldn't ask that much of them. I couldn't reach out to them. I sighed. Library it was.

When the warning bell rang I entered the classroom. There were a few students in there already but the teacher wasn't. Good, I couldn't handle talking to her one on one again anyway. I pulled the papers out of the textbook I had been working on and put them on her desk. I was caught up in English and Spanish now I had to focus on my other classes. They were lame, really. I mean, Glee was easy. I would be fine in there, even though I was pretty sure I was going to be forced backed into the stupidly named 'Booty Camp' once I got myself pulled back together. I also had a filler computer class I would need to make up work for and then Math, my hardest class. My last class was a free period where I was supposed to be a TA for someone, I had forgotten who and it's not like they really even cared what seniors did.

I sat out my desk and pulled out a pen and opened my notebook and textbook. I was ready. This is something I could handle. Take notes, do work, concentrate.

The teacher entered and shut the door. "I hope you all are ready for a class discussion." Some people groaned. I did too. I had read the story, but I didn't want to talk about it.

She stood by her desk and looked down at my papers. My heart started pounding. I really hated it when teachers acknowledged my work or said something about it in front of the class.

"Alright, Mr. Simmons, tell me, what was your favorite part of the story?"

I sighed. I could definitely handle this.

English had been fine, more than fine. I was fine. She hadn't called on me and I had taken notes of the discussion. I knew there was an essay coming up. But now for the hard part. Glee club.

It felt like it had been eons since I was last in the classroom. I didn't want to see any of them. I didn't want them all looking at me and feeling sorry for me or asking questions. I just wanted to go hide in my corner of the library.

My feet propelled me forward. I felt cold, nervous. My hands shook from just the idea of having to face them. When I turned down the hall I heard noise from the choir room. People were there. I was screwed. I swallowed and tried to stop my feet but they moved forward.

I walked in and stopped just inside the doorway. They all turn to look at me. Every single one of them. Mr. Schue wasn't there yet.

I felt heat rise to my face and panic settle in my chest. I wanted to run, scream. I wanted to yell at all of them to stop looking at me. My hands shook and I clinched them into fists. I had to get out of there.

"Santana," Rachel said gently. She didn't get to feel sorry for me. "How're you feeling?"

I opened my mouth and realized that was a mistake. I was going to yell again. This was her fault. It was her fault people knew. Her fault they were all looking at me like I was a bomb that could detonate at any moment. I needed to get out of the room which had become stiflingly hot.

I took a step backwards.

Then I felt it. A cool hand on mine. It asked for my fists to release and I did. Slender fingers linked into mine and I looked up into sparkling blue eyes. They brought me down. They pulled me back to reality and I felt the panic wash away, replaced by her, by Brittany.

I sighed heavily and looked back down. I could feel her smiling. This was all she wanted, to be with me. Even when I was like this.

I hated myself.

We walked, hand in hand to our seats in the back row and sat together. Everyone was talking amongst themselves. No one was looking at me.

"Thanks," I whispered to her, not letting her hand go. I knew I shouldn't hold on. I knew that she deserved better than me and I knew I hadn't deserved this.

"San," she whispered to me softly. It was more than I could take. Her voice was so sweet my heart melted for her. "You're safe here." I met her eyes and she smiled at me. I just watched her face for a moment.

Mr. Schue walked in and clapped his hands, everyone turned their attention to him, even Brittany. I just watched her. I missed her so much that my heart ached for her. I wanted to touch her. Crawl into her lap and just meld our bodies together like we used to. So effortlessly.

The rest of the day went by fine. I went to all of my classes. I talked to my teachers and they were all very receptive to the idea of me making up work. I had a feeling Ms. Pillsbury had talked to them. I turned in what work I had and during my 'free period' I went to the library to catch up.

It was actually really nice. I didn't have Brittany in any of my other classes so I wasn't distracted. It was just me and my thoughts. It was exactly what I needed. I was able to concentrate, to focus. Doing more than one thing at a time just felt like too much.

My only issue was with my math teacher who grunted at me when I handed him made up work.

It was the end of class. Students were rushing out, eager to rid themselves of school for the day. I had Glee rehearsal for a new piece in half an hour, I was in no hurry. I approached his desk slowly. I wasn't intimidated by him I just didn't have the energy to have a confrontation.

"Mr. Smith," I said. He looked up from his desk and sighed in exasperation.

"What?"

"I just, I have these worksheets and I wanted to let you know I'm going to bring you the rest tomorrow, if that's okay." I said it a little too quickly. I wasn't intimidated by teachers, especially this one. But something had changed in me. Something I couldn't quite understand.

I was becoming very aware of the fact that the classroom was slowly emptying and I was alone with this man. My hands clenched at my side.

"Right, well, just get it together." He stood up from his desk and I took a step back and hit a desk which only caused me to jump. I felt my face drain and fear set in. I needed to get out of the room. It was empty, just me and the teacher.

"What?" He said gruffly looking at me like I was crazy.

I stared at him, wide eyed, turned quickly and walked out of the room. When I was out of sight I broke into a run. There weren't that many people left and they were all heading away from me anyway. I ran and ducked into the bathroom closest to the auditorium. I was on the opposite side of the school where the main population was exiting.

I rushed to the stalls and pushed open all of them. Empty. I was alone.

I went to the sinks and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked washed out, like I was sick. I gripped the counter and tried to breath evenly. I felt it building. The panic. What was I thinking? Why was this happening to me? I couldn't be this unstable. I had a place to stay, I was eating right, I was getting back on track but I was still panicking.

I knew why. I could feel it. I could feel him. A hand went to the fading bruise on my face. I inhaled deeply.

It was like he was there. I felt him on me. Rough hands running all over my body, squeezing at my chest, my thighs, taking what I didn't want to give.

I closed my eyes but he was brighter in my head. It was like I was watching him shove me against the wall. But I didn't go black, they rushed back to me, what I had made myself forget. His hand moving up my thigh, his other arm pinning my hands above my head, his weight on me, pressing me down, forcing out air and forcing in the smell of Mark.

His hands were on me. They were on me again and I couldn't get away.

I felt cold and my body was shivering. My legs were cold. What?

I was alone. No one could rescue me. There was no one to get him out of my head, out of my heart. He was burned into me and I was alone in my battle against him.

I forced my eyes open. He wasn't here, it was just me, fallen onto the bathroom floor. The cold tile was causing me to shake, not the cold concrete of that godforsaken alleyway. I tried to get my breathing under control but I couldn't. I felt fear swallowing me and I didn't have anyway to fight it. It was just me.

"Santana?"

I looked up, still struggling for breath, eyes brimming with tears. I didn't want anyone to see me like this, especially like this.

Brittany. Of course it would be her. I looked down and tried to shut the world out. I didn't want her to see me like this again. I couldn't. As soon as she got involved again I would need her. I would need to have her with me again and she didn't deserve that from me.

She was on the floor beside me, pulling her close. I pushed her away. She sat and just pet the back of my head while I fought my demons. It was like she had done so many times before. No one ever knew what to do with weak Santana except Brittany.

"San, come on." She whispered.

"I'm f-fine." I breathed out.

We stayed on the floor for a good ten minutes. And I started to come down. My breathing returned to normal, my tears stopped, the shaking ceased. I was just exhausted, sitting on the bathroom floor in my high school, wishing the girl sitting beside me would leave me alone to recover in peace. I knew she wouldn't.

"What are you doing here?"

"They sent me to look for you," she simply. She pulled out her phone and texted someone. I frowned. I wanted her to pay attention to me.

"Who sent you?"

"Glee," she said looking back up at me. "We were worried. Mr. Schue was real worried. I came to find you."

Her phone buzzed. She smiled and replied. I wanted to snatch her phone away.

"Well, I'm fine now." I said it with more bitterness than I had intended. But something about her texting someone while I was this needy bothered me, even if I knew that I didn't deserve her full attention. I craved it, though.

"Yeah?" She said it gently, stung by my words.

I grabbed the counter and pulled myself up on unsteady legs. My head was pounding. I ran some water and splashed a handful over my face. "Yeah," I replied looking at her. My mind was screaming to just fall into her arms. I knew she would hug me back. I knew she would kiss me back if I kissed her, but I couldn't.

"Who are you texting?" I didn't mean to sound as bitter as I did, but what if it had been Artie?

"Puck." She smiled at me. She was happy.

"Wait, why?" Puck? Puck? Artie, I understood, but fucking Puck?

"Well," she bit her lip and was bouncing on her heels. "He was talking to Mr. Schue for me, because I don't have Mr. Schue's number and I don't think he knows how to text. But I wanted to take you home, to Mr. Schue's and Puck was asking if it was okay for us to miss rehearsal. I told him you weren't feeling well."

"Oh," I said, genuinely surprised. She was happy because she got to take me home.

"Now," she said in a more serious voice. She put her hand on my arm and stepped closer to me. "Are you okay, Santana?"

My heart pounded like it did when we had first kissed. I needed her. I felt it deep down to the center of my being where Mark would never reach. I needed her and wanted her and couldn't stand the fact that everything that had happened had taken away the one thing in my life I cared about no matter what and who cared about me unconditionally.

"No," I said softly, resisting the urge to burst into tears right there.

I moved forward and kissed her softly on the lips. "No, Brittany, I'm not." She kissed me back and we broke apart. I wrapped my arms around her neck and she wrapped hers around my waist and we stayed like that for what felt like seconds, but I knew was a few minutes. Time with Brittany worked differently.

"I'm going to take you home, okay?"

I knew it wasn't fair. I knew it wasn't right of me to kiss her and need her and ask so much of her but I didn't have anything else. It was all I knew to do.

"You're too good to me and I don't deserve it Brittany."

She pulled away from me and looked at me, confused. She brushed a stray hair behind my ear and let her hand linger on my face. My eyes closed at the touch.

"You're my best friend, Santana. I love you so much and you need me right now. You totally deserve it. You deserve me." Her words hit me hard. Brittany was never stupid. People just never listened to her the way you had to. She saw things differently but she always knew what I was talking about, even now.

I knew she meant what she said, but deep down, I knew she was wrong.

Brittany walked me to the door and hugged me tight. I opened it slowly, unsure if I was allowed to do that. Should I knock? I stood in the frame awkwardly. I wanted to invite her in but I knew that if she went to my room with me I would want more from her. To feel her.

I opened my mouth unsure of what to say.

"It's okay," she said, sensing my hesitation. "I'm always here." She leaned forward and kissed me gently. It was just enough comfort to make me crave more. I kissed her back, with too much enthusiasm and I felt her smile into the kiss.

"Sorry," I said when we pulled apart.

"Santana," she said taking a deep breath.

"Look, I know, I'm being really unfair." I didn't need another talk about us from her now.

"No, listen," she said sternly. I looked up into her eyes. Her perfect blue eyes that I wanted to bathe in. "I want you to know that I know things are hard, but I'm still here, even after...everything."

"I know I'm just sorry about everything." There was so much to say. So much both of us needed to say to each other, to make the other understand. I could see it in Brittany's eyes.

"Santana?" The voice was Ms. Pillsbury's coming from inside the apartment.

I sighed. I knew I wasn't going to get to talk to her today. I heard footsteps and pushed the door open completely.

"Oh, Brittany," Ms. Pillsbury said brightly. "Would you like to come in?"

"Nah, thanks though. I gotta get home and talk to my cat." I smiled, knowing Brittany literally meant talk to her cat. Lord Tubbington was her confidant. She was going to talk to him about me. That made me feel good. She was still talking about me, at least. "I'll talk to you later, San."

She pulled me into another hug and I inhaled deeply taking in her scent greedily. I needed as much of her as I could get. We pulled apart, our faces close. I was very aware of Ms. Pillsbury standing there. It felt like having a parent watch you get home from your first date.

Brittany smiled and pecked my cheek chastely. A friend kiss. She was gone from my arms and down the hall. I felt cold and empty without her.

We walked back into the apartment in silence. I sat on a couch in the living room and tried to pull myself back together. Ms. Pillsbury sat opposite me.

"Will called," she began. I cut her off.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know if I should just come in or knock and I didn't mean to come home early and..." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say. Bother her? It sounded so weak.

"Santana," Ms. Pillsbury said firmly. I looked up at her. "This is your home now. You can come on in, you can eat what you like, just try to be as clean as possible and keep your school work in order. Also, nine o'clock curfew."

My face contorted without my consent.

"Nine o'clock is late enough on a week night and on the weekend, we'll talk. But that's not what this is about. Will called me and said you were coming home early. He said they couldn't find you for rehearsal and that Brittany found you on the bathroom floor shaking."

I looked away from her and felt hot.

"Were you having a panic attack?"

She knew I was. She also knew I had no reason to, unless I wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Santana, you can tell me anything. I won't think any less of you. I just need to know that you're okay."

No one could ever know what Mark had done to me.

I cleared my throat. "I'm fine. I'm going to go do homework, if that's okay." I stood up quickly.

She looked at me for a long time, searching for something. "That's fine."

I walked away from her but stopped before I left the room. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me. I promise."

I left before she could say anything. I shut the door and fell onto my bed and cried until I fell asleep.

AN: I know it's been a while but life has been crazy. I've been spending all of my free time in the hospital with my best friend. He's having a really hard time right now with a family crisis. But I've been typing while I'm with him. He draws, I write. I've been trying to get him to draw some Brittana awesome for this story. He's really good and hopefully he will. Anyway. I really appreciate the reviews/favorites/alerts I've gotten for this story. You guys are totally awesome! I'll update as soon as I can!