Disclaimer: Don't own Glee or any other references
Thanks to my awesome beta Dsachao for this!
"My sister was raped."
Santana flinches at the blunt statement.
"We took it to court, but he was a successful, powerful doctor and she was nothing but a young girl who was classified at the time as mentally unstable, because she was still traumatised over mom's death. He got people to threaten her to make her step out and say that everything had been a lie. He got away scott free. He went on to become even richer, went to all these balls and bought the best things that life could bring. We took Abigail back home to Lima where she was bullied, mocked and looked down on by everyone and their dogs. He twisted the press and had them say that she was liar and an attention seeker."
"Two months ago, I came home and found her in the bath with her wrists cut. She died before I even got home."
Santana feels conflicted between moving to comfort Brittany eye and asking her why she is telling her this. But Brittany has a foreign, hard glint in her eyes that makes her look dangerous. Brittany looks dangerous.
Santana chooses to remain silent.
"Dad struggled to accept mom's death and when Abigail committed suicide as well, it was just too much for him to handle. He turned to drinking everything away and I never really saw him much anymore. There was this one time, though. He had really bad alcohol poisoning and needed surgery. He needed a liver."
Brittany frowns, eyes glazed over like she's living the memory again in her mind. "They turned him down, saying there were other people who needed surgery and needed that liver more than he did. Within two days, he died too."
"The phone you have called is currently switched off, please –"
"Oh for goodness sake, the one time that I actually need to contact you, you have your phone off," Quinn mumbles while pacing circles around Mike's desk as he talks on the phone to someone else.
"Okay, thanks just call me if there's been an update." Mike puts down the phone.
"So do they know who that car belonged to, then? Where is it now?"
He tries to place a hand comfortingly on her shoulder but she simply ignores him and continues to speed around the table.
"Quinn calm down, you being so all over the place isn't going to help."
She stops her frantic walking immediately.
"Calm down?" she snaps back. "Princess Charming is at this very moment somewhere with my sister and you're telling me to calm down?"
Mike's flinch cuts through her blind frustration. She sighs, gripping the cellphone in her hand tightly.
"I'm sorry Mikey I didn't mean to shout at you."
He shakes his head forgivingly.
"It's all right, Santana's a good friend of mine too and trust me, I'm terrified as well. But right now, what we need to do is focus and be professional, no matter how difficult it is to ignore the urge to run out and waste time by pointlessly going around the streets."
She takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting up to ten and returning back to zero for good measure before releasing the air from her lungs, slightly less hysterical than she was before.
"Okay, I get it," Quinn shakily moves back to sit down on the chair next to Mike. "So what did they say about the car?"
Mike shakes his head regretfully.
"The number plate was checked but apparently the car belongs to the latest victim and they'll inform us if they track it down."
Quinn sinks into her seat a little, groaning before sitting up straight abruptly.
"My god, the victim, of course, how could I have forgotten."
She frantically starts to ruffle through all the files, tucked away neatly on the desk.
"Quinn…?"
She takes out one particular folder and flicks through the pages, trailing her finger down the names and contact details of people.
"That friend of Jessie – Kayla – she saw Jessie with another girl in a hotel. I'm willing to bet that the girl was Brittany, so she'll be able to tell us which hotel she's staying at, at least."
Quinn points to the stack of photos in the corner of the desk. "Go through that and look out for any photos of Brittany."
"Hey, I'm sorry to hear about your family – is this why you moved away from your hometown?"
Brittany shrugs, confusing Santana by her nonchalant actions, as if she's beyond fazed by the tragic memories of her family.
"Yeah I guess so. You know, I've always loved watching Superman and I suppose that's what I'm trying to do here – to fly and preserve justice."
Santana tilts her head.
"Okay," she drawls slowly, "what exactly do you mean though?"
Brittany looks away sadly, eyes tracing the way Santana is fiddling anxiously with that pendant she had bought her on the very first day.
"You don't want to know."
Santana flings her legs off the side of the bed, feet planted firmly on the carpet and hands gripping the crumpled comforter she was sitting on.
"Stop saying that, please. You like me and I like you – isn't that enough?"
The blonde shakes her head, again.
"You wouldn't like me after you hear the truth."
Santana rises and approaches Brittany slowly, preparing to move swiftly if Brittany bolted. Having reached her, Santana kneels down to pry open Brittany's hands from their firm grip on the back of the chair. Santana kisses both of the blonde's palms before resting their linked hands on Brittany's lap.
"I get that you've gone through a lot with your family and stuff but you can trust me Brittany. You don't have to push me away. I'm here for you."
"I can trust you, I know that, but it's just…" Brittany squeezes their hands tightly. "You really, really shouldn't trust me." Santana blinks perplexed.
"You keep saying things like that but I just don't get it-"
"So don't try to get it."
"Hello?"
"Kayla?"
"Oh, hi, Dianna?"
"No, this is Agent Fabray."
"Oh right sorry, you sound a lot like… anyway, what's up? Have you-" Quinn could hear the sound of swallowing, "Have you solved the case yet?"
"I can assure you that we are very, very close – we need your help."
She can hear shuffling through the receiver as she watches Mike sieve through the large pile of photos spread out on the desk.
"Okay, cool, anything."
Quinn reaches into her jacket to pull out her trusty notepad and pen.
"Right, now you've mentioned before that you saw Jessie with another girl. Do you remember what this girl looks like?" Quinn twirls her pen impatiently, eyes flicking her between Mike's swift motions and the ticking of the hand on the clock.
"Yeah definitely – she was like, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four and really, like really pretty. You know, she had the whole tall blonde with baby-blues thing going on."
"Did Jessie ever tell you her name?"
"Yeah, it was like, oh god what was it… like Bethany? No…Briony…?" Quinn's chest constricts as Kayla mumbles to herself.
"Brittany?"
The sound of Kayla clicking her fingers stabs at Quinn.
"Yes! Brittany – that was it."
Quinn closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, holding it for a few seconds before letting out a shaky breath.
"Okay, so did Jessie tell you anything else, maybe a room number?"
"No, that was it. If anything, she made me promise her I would never bring the topic up or talk about it."
Mike taps Quinn on the shoulder, causing her to look up and see him holding up two photos grimly.
"I can't believe we missed it."
She doesn't recognise the background of the first photo but Brittany is right in the centre, hair tied up in a high ponytail and sticking her tongue out playfully. The second one was clearly taken in the same place but this time the main focus is of Brittany and Jessie, kissing.
Quinn can't help her heart from sinking. A small part of her is recalling how she had bonded with the happy-go-lucky blonde less than a day ago and she'd been holding out on the belief that the newspaper article was unrelated and that even the name could just be a coincidence: there are a lot of 'Brittany's out there. But with this clear photo in front of her, everything is adding up too well and too quickly for Quinn to deny.
"And the hotel?"
Quinn clears her throat, a useless attempt to clear the lump in her throat.
"What was the name?"
"Why would you even say that? I'm trying to deal with this calmly but you're not making it easy for me."
Santana hesitates, the question swarming in her head.
"Are you cheating on me?"
Brittany blinks and opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Santana feels a wave of crushing disappointment surge through her; it overspills as tears trailing down her cheeks.
"San…"
"No," she sniffs loudly and tries to breathe evenly through her mouth.
"It's… okay. I don't- I don't care, all right? I don't want to share you and fuck knows I'm shit at sharing anything, but –"
Santana shrugs genuinely, a feeble smile playing at her lips.
"But I'm willing to try new things – with you. I mean… who is it? No, don't tell me, I just don't… I just. I…really like you Brittany and I don't think you understand how much."
"You shouldn't."
Santana reaches up to press a finger against Brittany's lips to stop her.
"But I do. Even if you sat there and told me that you actually have seven kids back at home or that you're a serial killer or a 67-year-old who has plastic surgery every other day – I will still be here for you. I'm not afraid, do you understand me now?"
Quinn and Mike all but run across the lobby and to the reception area. Their back-up is waiting outside in five police cars, sirens off, but lights on. They didn't want to spook her now.
"Hello, how may I help-"
"FBI," Quinn simultaneously flashes her badge with Mike at the stunned receptionist. "We need to know which room Brittany Pierce is staying in and the cardkey."
"One moment please." Quinn drums her fingers across the marble desk apprehensively while the woman behind the counter types in various things and clicks around on the system. "I'm afraid we don't have anyone staying with us under this name." The drumming stops.
"What? Did you check properly? Brittany, not like Britney Spears, but spelt with double 't' then 'any'."
"Oh right, sorry one more second please."
If it weren't for Mike's reassuring hand on her shoulder, Quinn would have pulled out her gun and blown this woman's brains all over the place.
"Ah yes, Brittany Pierce – room number 184. It's on the eighth floor."
The woman stands up and hands over the cardkey to Quinn, "You go up by those elevators there, then once on the eighth floor, turn left and go down to the end. Here, don't turn left again, but turn right and then another left. The room is at the very end of the corridor to your left, next to the fire exit."
"Right."
Quinn doesn't have a single hope of remembering those directions but she prays that Mike understood her.
"Radio the others. We're going up."
Brittany stares at Santana for a good minute. Despite the slight unease and the cramps in her legs from crouching for so long, Santana doesn't flinch or look away, she allows Brittany to search her eyes for whatever it is that she's looking for.
"You mean that?"
If it hadn't been for the complete silence, Santana would have missed the soft, quiet question.
"Yes."
Brittany smiles gently and helps Santana to stand again, guiding her back to sit down on the foot of the large bed. She speaks quietly.
"She smoked – a lot."
Brittany swivels back to the desk; she opens a drawer and takes out a DSLR camera.
"I tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn't listen to me."
"Your mom must have been-" Brittany shakes her head as she puts the straps of the camera around her neck and turns back around.
"The next one wasn't really her own fault – it was her dad's. Everyone thinks that people like him are so much better than the rest of us, just because of what he does for a living. It was personal and he knew it too. I made sure to leave him a souvenir as some advice, a pointer I suppose, to never let him forget that he's just the same as all of us."
Santana tilts her head confused.
"Wait what? Who are you talking about?"
The blonde ignores her and switches on the camera, half perched on the table as she slowly goes through the photos.
"The one after was personal too. She was the one who didn't take care of mom properly and ultimately killed her. I was just returning the favor."
Santana shivers, but the room is warm. The eerie calmness that Brittany is radiating is beginning to scare her.
"Britt, I'm not following."
The blonde simply smiles, eyes deep and flat, at Santana and moves to sit on the table properly, legs swinging in the air.
"She said she wanted to be a doctor, but they're not good people. Do you see it now? None of them were good people. I tried to convince her but she persisted. I knew she had a boyfriend, I'm really observant see," Brittany taps her temple, "but I pretended I didn't know and she continued on like nothing was wrong, like the liar she was. So I suppose, she was suited to be one of them – but I guess I never gave her the chance."
Brittany fiddles with the buttons on the camera.
"What…" Santana frowns, utterly baffled and uncomfortable. Something that she can't quite put her finger on. It's making her feel uneasy and her instincts are screaming at her to get the hell out of that room. Being the stubborn person that she is, Santana disregards the flashing warnings in her brain and follows her heart instead, who refuses to leave Brittany on her own.
"It was supposed to be you next."
The words slice across the room.
Brittany suddenly looks up at Santana, a flash of menace in her eyes before they soften into adoration.
"You were meant to be the surgeon who didn't care, didn't want relationships and was a self-centred bitch."
At any other time, Santana would have cracked a joke, but she remains silent, as Brittany carries on.
"It was supposed to be simple – the same steps just like all the others. Buy them some jewellery – bracelet or earrings or necklaces, tell them it matches their eyes if it was cheap – go on a few dates to try and persuade them to change and make some sort of difference to them. They don't really want to change, realise that they there's no hope for them, finish it off and move on."
Santana touches the necklace instinctively, about to tear it off when Brittany laughs quietly and shakes her head.
"But you're everything that I didn't expect you to be. You're a real family girl who genuinely enjoys your job and isn't in it just for the money. You act like a bitch but you have a heart – the biggest and warmest – and you love Quinn and Tina, Ma and Ba, and everyone else including me. I didn't actually expect you to fall for me… just like I didn't expect to fall for you."
Brittany moves to her feet, stepping closer to Santana.
"And this is exactly why we shouldn't be together. Because you turned out to be someone I didn't think you'd be and I'm not the person you think I am."
Brittany stops when she stands between Santana's legs. She bends down into a kneeling position much like the one Santana was in earlier and removes the camera from around her neck. Brittany turns it and encourages Santana to take it from her. With shaky hands, Santana complies and looks at the screen.
It's a woman sleeping peacefully on a large soft bed that Santana recognises, sickly, is the one that she's sitting on right now. Fighting the urge to move away from the bed, Santana swallows and looks closer at the woman. She's vaguely familiar; Santana had seen her a few times over the years at the hospital – it's Sara Carmen Castillo. Santana accidentally drops the camera but Brittany catches it for her straight away. They gaze at each other, Santana full of racing heart and puzzle pieces clicking together while Brittany kneels, hands offering the camera with a dispassionate, determined expression. Unable to speak, Santana shakes her head vigorously but Brittany persists, pushing the camera at her. Reluctantly, Santana takes it and presses to the next photo. The next two have two different women; both looking a bit younger than the first but the background and the relaxed, easy expressions were exactly the same. Santana clicks the next one and her stomach drops – it's the same girl she had met at the Thai place. She stares transfixed on her peaceful, slumbering state, thumb hovering over the next button but unable to press it.
"Go on."
Santana jumps slightly, having almost forgotten that Brittany is still right in front of her with her arms resting casually across Santana's lap. It hasn't quite registered in Santana's mind that Brittany was, no is, a killer. Looking at her now, wide-eyed and just so normal, pulls at Santana's heart.
"I can't."
Her voice is croakier than she expected. No tears had fallen yet but they start to gather in her eyes, blurring her vision a little.
"You can."
Brittany lifts her hand to cover Santana's one. She gently pushes down Santana's thumb with her own to switch to the next photo.
Santana rips her disbelieving eyes away from the blonde and back to the screen, only to come face to face with the exact same photo as all the rest. But the main focus is herself, lying serenely in the sea of plush pillows and comforters.
"Are you… are you going to…?"
The first tear falls, plummeting down and splashing onto the camera screen. Santana always believed that being faced with the end, she would go kicking and screaming, refusing to lie down and allow the inevitable to happen. However, as she sits there, numb with the weight of her understanding, it just crushes every survival instinct she's ever had.
"No wait, Santana, look."
She has to force herself to blink repeatedly to see through the tears. Brittany moves her thumb to the button with a little dustbin on top of it. She clicks it and a little message asking to go through with discarding the photo pops up. Brittany presses the button again and just like that, the photo of Santana is gone.
"What are you…?"
Brittany takes the camera back and turns it off before throwing it somewhere further onto the bed.
"It means that you've proved me wrong," Brittany reaches out to hold Santana's hand tenderly, ignoring her sweaty palms.
"You're different and you're special. It means that because of you, I understand now how wrong I've been and I feel sorry. I've never felt sorry before. For you, I'll stop what I've been doing and we can leave or we can stay in this city if you want to. Anything you want. As long as you're with me, because I love you Santana."
Before Santana can even blink, the door is clicked open before it's slammed against the wall by a powerful kick from Mike. In that split-second when Quinn and Mike are still in the doorway and Brittany is still on her knees, pleading right in front her, Santana wants Brittany to run, fly out the window, whip out a gun, do anything that can get her away from the inevitable outcome. But Brittany remains still, eyes begging for forgiveness and warm hands cradling her own softly. The moment passes, but Brittany stays unfazed as Mike and Quinn barge in, shouting, and point their guns at her.
"Step away from her immediately!"
Brittany ignores Mike's command and leans in to kiss Santana once, ignoring Quinn's warning; so lightly that it steals Santana's breath, before she unhurriedly rises into a standing position, eyes never once leaving Santana's.
"Brittany Pierce, you are under arrest for the suspicion of five murders. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court…"
The rest of Quinn's Miranda Rights blurs into the background, the echo of the handcuffs clasping onto a passive Brittany ringing in her ears. Santana knows, without a doubt, that from the intensity of Brittany's staring, those blue eyes will haunt every dream and nightmare she will ever, ever have.
4 years later...
Monday, 8.00 PM
Quinn throws down a stack of magazines onto the coffee table, but Puck doesn't even jump, his eyes glued to the TV screen as his hands push various buttons on the controller, causing a little football player to dodge around another player and pass to his teammate. Quinn takes a seat next to him on the couch and rummages through the stack to pull out a list of names, all annotated with arrows and asterisks.
"Okay, do you think your Uncle Gil will mind sitting next to Daniel? I know they had a small argument a while back, but they've probably gotten over it right?"
"Yeah totally," Puck answers offhandedly, eyes flicking to the countdown in the corner and the score before frowning a little and making his player sprint a little faster.
"That's what I thought."
Quinn nods and turns to another sheet of paper that has names littered around circles, "We're going to have to put them nearer to the back – I can't remember speaking to either of them for ages anyways."
"Mm, sounds fine."
Puck leans forward a little, preparing to dive for a touchdown.
"What about Agent Jones? Does he go with your colleagues or mine?"
"Whatever you want."
Just before he can score, a defender emerges out of nowhere and takes him down. Puck groans quietly, head whacking against the back of the couch as the final whistle blows.
"I think he knows mine better." Quinn adds his name around a table, "And there's this other problem, do you think we can get away with-"
"Look babe."
Puck quits back to the main screen before putting his controller down and pulling his fiancé closer to wrap his arms around her.
"Just go with whatever you want. Personally, I'm just waiting for the honeymoon part."
He smirks and presses a kiss against her neck, but Quinn rolls her eyes, slapping his thigh lightly.
"Stop it, the wedding is just around the corner and we still have to-"
"It's half a year away."
"Like I said, it's just around the corner." Quinn frowns at him and places his wondering hands back into his own lap, "And we still have so much to arrange – which guest goes where and which bouquet to use, are kids coming too and is the cake within our budget because I think three tiers is –"
Puck rolls his eyes and kisses her quiet effectively.
"Go with whatever you want, as long as you're there and I'm there then its good enough for me."
He gives her a smitten smile, which Quinn returns, but before he can lean in to kiss her again, music starts playing in Quinn's handbag on the floor.
The blonde disentangles herself and pulls out her ringing phone, glancing at the caller ID.
"It's Santana."
Puck nods and grabs the controller again as Quinn picks up.
"Hello?"
"Hey, have you seen my leather jacket? You know the one with the gold zips. I've been looking for it everywhere but it's not in my room."
"Oh," Quinn laughs lightly, leaning back into the couch as Puck starts up another game, "That's in my closet."
"God you're always stealing my stuff."
"Tough," Quinn shrugs.
"Keep it then."
"It's your favorite," Quinn raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah well, you'll need something to remind you of me when I'm gone."
There's a brief silence between the two girls.
"Your flight is on Friday, right?"
"Uh huh, going straight to the airport."
"Okay." Quinn bites her lip, "Look Santana, I'm really sorry for about being the one, you know, to put the cuffs on her…."
She can hear Santana scoff through the receiver.
"For fuck's sake Q, when are you going to let that go? It's been 4 years and I've never held that against you. Just need the change of scenery – too much stuff here, you know?"
"I know, it's just-"
"Save it sister. Besides, you already more than made up for it by putting that bastard Anderson away for what he did to Abigail."
Quinn remains silent, knowing that Santana will only get annoyed if she expresses the fact that she still feels guilty, as if she's the reason that Santana is leaving.
"So you're still coming to the dinner on Thursday right?"
"Duh, Ba says he's making all of my favorite dishes."
"Good."
"Yeah."
Quinn's eyes fall on the guest list on her lap, "Oh and by the way, I don't care if you come with British accents and wearing wigs, but you have to make it to my wedding – do I make myself clear?"
"Dear god, that's forever away."
"Santana…"
Quinn frowns, her voice dropping threateningly.
"Puh-lease, do you think I'll miss all the free alcohol there'll be?"
"Glad to know where your priorities lie," Quinn laughs.
"And don't you forget it. Hey, I have to get packing so if you don't hear me from later, I'll see you on Thursday okay?"
"Oh all right, we'll see you then."
"And just so you know, I'm taking your blue cardigan on the back of your chair."
"That's my favorite," Quinn raises an eyebrow, but she can practically feel Santana's smirk.
"I know."
Tuesday, 7.00 AM
Santana groans when the persistent door bell doesn't stop ringing. After five minutes, the constant buzz doesn't falter so Santana has to force herself into an upright position, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she stumbles out of her room.
"I'm coming for god's sake, keep it in your pants!"
She takes a peek at the clock and sighs at how early it is – in the past, it was always Quinn who answered doors since her room was closest and she's the early riser of the three of them. Now that Quinn's moved out and Tina practically lives over at Mike's, Santana is forced to answer doors herself.
"Santana!"
Wai Po grins at her and instantly, Santana's frustration and fatigue evaporates.
"Morning Wai Po."
She moves aside to allow the older woman in, before closing the door and giving her a tight hug, suddenly aware of the huge back pack Wai Po has on.
"I made congee this morning." Wai Po makes her way to the dining table and takes off her back pack, opening it up to pull out a white container. "I put extra spring onions in it, just how you like it."
"Aww, thanks."
Santana grins and grabs two bowls and two spoons from the cupboards in the kitchen area.
"Also, it's very cold in England so I brought you this." Wai Po pulls out a dark green fleece jacket, "It will keep you warm."
Santana's footsteps falter and she almost trips into the table.
"Thanks, it's lovely."
She blinks twice and takes in a deep breath to calm herself, before starting to scoop out their breakfast into the bowls.
"I'm not done yet." Wai Po continues to pull a scarf from her rucksack. It's dark green and has an embroidered 'S' on one end. "I made it last week – it's very long so you can wrap them around a few times to keep warm."
To prove her point, Wai Po reaches up and secures it around Santana's neck, pulling her hair out afterwards so it isn't trapped underneath the scarf.
"Oh." Santana blinks once.
"There, such a pretty girl."
"Wai Po, I –" Santana can speak no more as she chokes on her sobs, tears falling and splattering onto the table.
"Silly girl, you're crying. Come here."
Wai Po opens her arms and Santana couldn't have flung herself into the embrace any quicker, bawling uncontrollably into Wai Po's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I'm leaving you."
Wai Po simply shakes her head and strokes her granddaughter's back soothingly as a single tear treks down her own face.
"No you're not, just because you're moving away doesn't mean you're leaving." She quickly wipes away her own tear before pulling back and smiling at the still snivelling Latina in her arms. "You're not trying to get rid of me are you?"
"No! Never. I would never do that."
Santana shakes her head vigorously, forcing herself to breathe slower.
"Exactly, so it's alright."
Wai Po helps Santana to sit down in one of the chairs, immediately sitting in the one beside her.
"But sometimes it just feels like I'm abandoning you, Ma, Ba and everyone else for no reason."
Santana hiccups as Wai Po pats her head affectionately.
"You still love her?"
"I always will," Santana looks up and despite the redness in her eyes Wai Po can see her sincerity.
"Then this isn't for no reason, silly. Back when I was young, I had an arranged marriage to this old, rich man, but your Wai Gung and I ran away and we came to America to be together – that wasn't for no reason either. You, at least, are not running away: you have a reason and I can see no better one to do something like this."
"You have no idea how much I'll miss you Wai Po."
"Trust me, I'll know exactly how you're feeling," Wai Po smiles weakly and hands her the backpack. "There's another set in there, its pink." Santana nods, understanding what isn't being said.
"And I don't mind waking up much earlier to speak to you every day."
Santana places a hand on top of Wai Po's, squeezing it gently.
"I'd like that a lot."
Wednesday, 7.00 PM
1 new message: Santana
Hey I'm getting some paperwork signed and stuff so I can't pick up right now. What's up?
1 new message: Tina
Oh okay, ba asks do you want kai-lan or choy-sum tomorrow? x
1 new message: Santana
Oooh kai lan sounds great :)
1 new message: Tina
K I'll tell him :) hows it going over there? x
1 new message: Santana
Ok these dicks are being slow : is Mike coming over tomorrow too?
1 new message: Tina
Definitely, everyone will be home x
1 new message: Santana
Good + have to say he's a keeper you know
1 new message: Tina
I know :) Btw brought you a multi-region dvd player earlier, give it to you tomorrow x
1 new message: Santana
That's awesome thanks :) Gonna miss going to work every day with u
1 new message: Tina
Don't mention it + same :( you found a job over there? x
1 new message: Santana
Ya this hospital like 15 mins away so it's all good
1 new message: Santana
Oh forgot to add has that 4 eyes wheels called you recently?
1 new message: Tina
Yeah he did actually :/ he was crying then kept apologising – why? How did you know? X
1 new message: Santana
Oh you know I have my ways ;) anyways gtg think they've caught me texting. See you tomorrow then yeah? Byaaa
1 new message: Tina
Lol it's like high school all over again :) and ok see you x
Sunday, 5.00 AM
HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOR PRINCESS CHARMING
50¢ Sunday News April 24 2015
Four years ago, the serial killer dubbed 'Prince Charming' caused terror in the streets of New York City. Young women disappeared, only to be found dead a few days later, dressed immaculately, with flawless hair and make-up in a deserted back-alley. In the end, the killer was caught and revealed to be one Brittany S. Pierce. The killer was in fact, Princess Charming. Pierce was given a ten-year sentence, which was eventually reduced to four for good behaviour and for pleading guilty to all charges. She was released earlier this week. For protection, her identity has been changed, but the current whereabouts of the Princess are unknown.
Friday, 10.00 AM
Santana leans against the hood of the car, humming a tune she heard earlier on the radio while driving. Her head flies up when a buzzer goes off in the building in front of her. Her hands tighten around a Styrofoam cup as she watches the guards unlock the gate for a slim, blonde girl to exit. Santana raises a hand when she sees her and the blonde makes a beeline for her.
"Hey," Santana kisses her lightly once before holding out the cup, "Gingerbread latte?"
"Perfect," Brittany takes the cup and sips at it, savoring the taste.
"Shall we?" Santana gestures at the car. She opens the passenger door for Brittany, pretending not to notice how thin the blonde's shoulders are, before hopping into the driver's seat herself.
"I've been practising my British accent – you want to hear?"
"Love to."
Santana smiles and turns on the engine, pulling out of the vacant parking lot as Brittany clears her throat.
"Oh bollocks, the cheeky bugger cocked everything up by just sitting on his bum all day!"
"Good accent, but I have no idea what you just said," Santana laughs and looks over at Brittany – she has bags under her eyes and a light scar at her jaw line that Santana hasn't seen before and her face is drawn, but despite the fatigue, her expression is one of bright excitement.
"You'll get used to it." Brittany smiles before sipping at her drink, "Oh, did you bring –"
"Yep, it's in here." Santana taps at the glove box in front of Brittany. "Have you –"
"Not yet, I'll do it before we get on the plane. Do I really have to –"
"We've gone over this – it's for the best." Santana reaches out to intertwine their hands on Brittany's lap.
"I won't remember it," Brittany pouts, "And I won't know if someone is actually speaking to me."
"You'll get used to it."
Out of the corner of her eye, Santana watches Brittany sigh and clutch her drink tightly with her spare hand as an attempt to soak up the warmth the cup is radiating off.
"Are you cold?"
Keeping one eye on the road ahead, Santana reaches back with one hand and blindly feels around before she comes into contact with a backpack. Making sure the car is straight; she pulls at the strap and lifts it to Brittany's lap.
"What are you doing?"
"Open it up."
Brittany carefully places her drink in the cup holder before complying. Pulling back the zip, she sees a bright pink scarf and a matching jacket inside.
"Is that…?"
"Yeah," Santana nods, "Wai Po spent a whole week making them for us."
It takes Brittany a moment to recollect herself before she yanks out the pink scarf and wraps it around her neck a few times. She closes her eyes as she nuzzles her nose into it, inhaling the scent of love and home.
"It's wonderful."
Santana lifts their joined hands to kiss the back of Brittany's. "Get some rest; I'll wake you when we get to the airport."
"Okay – hey San?"
"Mm?"
Santana glances over at Brittany, whose eyes are already heavy with sleep and hazy with dreams for the future.
"Just you and me, right?"
"Just you and me Britt."
"Cool."
Brittany squeezes Santana hand tightly and keeps hold of it in her lap, before curling her long limbs into a more comfortable position.
"Can't wait."
And there we finally have the ending! Firstly, much thanks for sticking through with this whole fic and even more thanks for commenting and letting me in on your thoughts and feelings. If there are any questions still, do send a message - I'd be more than happy to try and answer. Also like I shamelessly tried to promote in the last chapter, if you're interested in any of my upcoming fics, please check my profile to see what other stories I have done/ will come soon. Again, thanks for reading and hopefully, you'll here from me soon! :)