Santana's POV:
Mondays sucked. I worked on my own schedule, and yet I still couldn't manage to shake the Monday blues every week. That Monday after the Rachel Berry Engagement Extravaganza Brunch was particularly bad, with back to back meetings scheduled from 6am until mid-afternoon, since I couldn't plan them for later in the day, in case it got dark early. When I finally came back into the apartment, all I wanted was a bath, some lunch and some Brittany.
When I walked in, I realized that was definitely not going to happen. Sitting on the couch with Britt was my oldest rival, Quinn Fabray. We had our share of ups and downs over the years, and we were definitely at a down point. I'd had a bad night with a bottle of tequila a year earlier, and never showed for Quinn's wedding to her 46 year old account, named (I swear) Archibald in freaking lame-ass Westchester. Okay, that was bad, but I probably didn't make things much better when I told her that it was okay, I'd catch her next two weddings. Needless to say, she hadn't called me since.
"Fabray, what are you doing here?" Then I noticed that Brittany had obviously been crying. "What did you do to Britt? Do I need to remind you that I'm not afraid to slap you."
"She didn't do anything, I called her." Britt said softly. "I needed her help."
"Her help?"
Britt looked up at me with her baby blues and I could see deep fear brewing inside. Instinctively, I went to her side, cupping her cheek in my hand. She pulled away slightly and that's when I got really scared.
"What is going on?"
"Santana, maybe you should-" Quinn started.
"Shut it Quinn. I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Britt. Babe, what's going on?"
"I am..." She hesitated, crying again. "I'm pregnant."
Immediately, I recoiled like I had been slapped, and jumped to my feet. Brittany braced herself for me to inflict some kind of physical damage on her. Uncontrollable agony started crashing over me in waves and I couldn't see straight. Quinn was lucky she was as far away as she was, because I probably would have hit her just to release some of the torment from my body. Brittany was pregnant, the world was a totally different place than it was forty-five seconds earlier.
"What. The. Actual. Fuck." I spat. "Tell me you're fucking kidding me right now."
"Santana." Quinn tried.
"Quinn, you do not want to fuck with me right now. Do. Not. Speak."
"I didn't know...I never would have...I just...I don't know what to say." Brittany wasn't even making sense, and was literally gasping for breath between words.
"You're how pregnant and you didn't know? And you never would have what, Brittany? Been ending things in the car with Sam that night? Never would have come back to me? Made me world feel like it made sense again just to rip all that out from under me?" I was actually shrieking, Snix style. "This is so completely fucked up, I don't even know what to say to you. I've been living with you for six weeks, and you've been pregnant and you DIDN'T KNOW? God, you're so..."
"Santana..." Quinn stopped me before I could say the word that Brittany hated so much.
"Fabray, shut the fuck up or I will fucking kill you right here, right now." I hissed. "Guess what Britt, I have good news for you, you don't need to figure out what else to say to me, because I'm leaving."
Shoving Quinn hard on the way, I ran out the door and slammed it behind me. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this, I told myself. Never in a million years should I have gotten back involved with her, I knew this would never end pretty. Pregnant. She was fucking pregnant. As soon as I was out on the sidewalk, I threw up bitter bile. Panicking, I started calling Rachel repeatedly, not knowing what else to do. There was no answer and I could feel myself getting sick again.
Calm yourself down! My brain was screaming at me, but I only knew one way how. No, I wouldn't do it, I couldn't let myself spiral. Instead, I started walking, it was the only thing I could force myself to do. Almost two hours, thirty-six cigarettes, twenty-three unanswered calls to Rachel, twelve missed calls from Brittany and three nasty texts from Quinn later, I was standing at Finn and Rachel's stoop pounding on the door.
"I just walked over a fucking bridge to get here!" I yelled at no one, while a yuppie couple with their French bulldog stared at me from the sidewalk.
There was no one home, obviously, and worse, I had keys the keys to get in, but they were buried somewhere in my dresser back in Manhattan. There were very few coherent thoughts passing in between all of the rage in my head, and I sank down on the stoop crying until I knew exactly what I needed.
Brittany's POV:
There were only two other days in my life that ranked higher on the "worst day ever" scale than this one. Number one, the day that Santana was attacked, number two, the day that Sam died. So number three was this, the day I found out I was pregnant with my dead ex-boyfriend's baby and my damaged, alcoholic girlfriend hit my friend and then disappeared. It was bad, really bad.
Everyone thinks I'm stupid, but I'm really not as dumb as they think. I can tell you the exact date that I got pregnant, because that it was the only time in the weeks leading up to Sam's death that I had slept with him. But then I came to New York, heartbroken that this man I loved, though not in the way he loved me, had died minutes after I broke up with him. I came for her, there was never another person for me. Santana was my person. That was my concern in my new city, I hadn't even had time to consider that I might be pregnant.
So that brings me to the past weekend. I knew something was off with my body, I was exhausted, I put on weight despite dancing for hours every day, and I hadn't had my period since before Thanksgiving. I didn't want to tell Santana, not until I knew for sure, because I knew she would leave. We promised not to do it anymore, but sometimes we run when things get too hard. I called Quinn, she's the only friend I have that is not automatically team Santana, and she came with me to the doctor. Obviously, the test was positive.
"Brittany, your phone!" Quinn screamed, breaking me out of my thoughts. "It's Rachel!"
"Hello!" I screamed into the phone. "Did you get my messages?" "No, I didn't listen to anything. What the hell is going on? I have seventy-two missed calls and they are all from you and Santana. Now she isn't picking up the phone, so I'm calling you."
"She isn't with you?" I asked, my heart sinking.
"Where are you?"
"I'm at the theater Brittany. Is she okay? Can you please give me some answers here?"
"She's not okay, she hates me right now and may have left for good. Listen, I can't even get into the story right now, because you need to leave the theater and find her! God, I thought she went to your house. I don't even know where to start looking."
"Don't go anywhere. Stay in the apartment in case she comes back. It's almost dark..." She says, not bothering to finish. "I'll call Finn right now."
She hung up and I buried my head in my hands. I had already known Santana wasn't with Rachel, and I knew exactly what she was doing, that just confirmed it. Scary drunk Santana flashed into my mind, and I dialed her number, again. Straight to voicemail, again. I'd known her for well over a decade, she wasn't going to talk to me until she was ready, and ready might never come again.
Santana's POV:
"Hi, I'm Santana and I'm an alcoholic." I told the group of strangers in the school gym. "I haven't had a drink in thirty-nine days. Today I found out my girlfriend is pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's baby, and I really want a fucking drink."
It wasn't where I had intended to go when I left Rachel's stoop, but I found myself looking up a meeting schedule on my iPhone. For the first time, I was standing in front of people who didn't know me and admitting I had a problem. That definitely wasn't what I had planned, but some miraculous rational thought told me it was much better than waking up in a thick tequila haze.
It would be dark soon, I knew that, and I was terrified of ending up standing outside of Rachel's, waiting for someone to get home. My mind went to the dark place, I knew bad things could happen, especially when no one knew where you were. Been there, learned that lesson, but there was a strange feeling of safety in a room filled with people like me. A grandmotherly looking older woman put her hand on my shoulder and I was surprised that it comforted me.
"You're very young." She said softly. "And so very strong to come here. Remember that, you will need it on the journey you have ahead of you."
I breathed deeply, drawing in the strength of the people around me. Everyone has has a past, just as everyone has a future. I was at a crossroads, trying to determine what would come in the days that followed. My head ached from the cigarettes and the crying, so I closed my eyes and prayed with the others in the room.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.