Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Author's Note(s): Ahoy-hoy, my good fellows. Ack, once again, thank you all so much for reading and to those who reviewed. You're too good to me.

I thought I'd try something a bit different with this chapter and attempt to write from Brittany's point of view for a scene. So yeah, that means a little bit of switching for this chapter. If it gets too confusing, please let me know and I'll refrain in the future!

Anywho, I hope you enjoy Chapter 10.

Put On a Happy Face
Chapter 10

Brittany couldn't sleep.

She replayed the night's events in her head for the hundredth time and still came up with nothing. Brittany knew that she could be a little dense sometimes. It occasionally took her a little longer to figure things out than it might do somebody like Rachel, for example; but she was usually really good at figuring Santana out. It was like…her niche or something. Ever since they were little when most of the kids were too scared to go near the aggressive and caustic child, Brittany had been able to worm her way through the cracks and knew exactly what to do when she got there.

Something was wrong…like, really wrong though, and Brittany for the life of her couldn't think what it was.

Santana hadn't acted out like that in a really, really long time; and she certainly hadn't tried to hit anyone in the last decade. Well…not sober, anyway. It didn't really count when she was drunk, right?

Maybe Brittany was just out of practice. She was used to grown-up, awesome-mom Santana, so the return of the petulant, violence-is-the-answer Santana was a bit of a surprise. Had this happened while she'd been gone or was it new? Maybe she should have tried harder to understand?

It was just so irresponsible of her. Fairly soon after Brittany had given birth, it had been clear that Santana was going to be the responsible parent whereas she was going to be the fun parent that Callie could go to when she wanted to ask for things she knew Santana would never allow. Of course, Brittany wouldn't allow them either. Callie just had a bizarre notion that Brittany would be more receptive to her outlandish and childish desires. But she was straying off track again; the point was that Santana was supposed to be the smart one who knew better.

Who the hell starts a fight at a parent-teacher conference? Nobody is who. Except Santana, apparently. It just made absolutely no sense.

Brittany shivered a little against the cool night air. It was pretty cold outside and the bed was really big. Had Santana really slept in this alone for more than two weeks? It kind of looked like it was going to rain soon too. Just what she needed to top off a super day.

She rolled over and glanced at the digital clock, where it read 03:27 in offensively bright, red numbers. Santana was still downstairs.

An unexpected wave of sadness washed over her. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get to sleep until she knew that Santana was okay. Besides, Brittany had slept alone for almost two months. She wasn't going to do it now when she had the option not to.

With a small whine of protest against the cold, Brittany threw off her duvet and dragged herself out of bed. Damn her wife for being so stubborn.

She crept down the stairs, so as not to wake Callie, and then paused at the open doorway of the sitting room. Santana was curled into a ball in the armchair, sleeping soundly. Brittany frowned and moved quietly to sit on the couch. To wake her up or not to wake her up… Even if Brittany hadn't wanted to talk to her, Santana was going to have some awful backache in the morning if she didn't wake her.

Before Brittany could decide either way, Santana let out a small whimper and visibly shuddered. All thoughts of being mad fled from Brittany's mind as Santana pulled herself into a tighter ball and tried to press herself even further into the chair; as though it would somehow protect her.

Brittany felt her heart break just a little bit as Santana emitted another soft cry.

"No," she mumbled, her face pressed into a cushion. "Don't…I don't want…" Her voice trailed away into an unhappy squeak.

Unable to control herself any longer, Brittany slid onto the floor and knelt in front of Santana's quivering form.

"San," she whispered tenderly. "Wake up."

Santana mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, but otherwise didn't respond. Brittany hesitantly laid a gentle hand on Santana's shoulder and shook her.

"Santana," she said, louder than before. "Wake up."

The reaction was instantaneous. Santana leapt up in fright, knocking Brittany's hand forcefully away from her, and fell backwards over the arm of her chair and onto the floor with a loud thud.

"Oh God," Brittany exclaimed, practically crawling around the chair to reach her wife. "Santana?"

Santana's breaths were coming out in short, sharp gasps and she stared at Brittany anxiously.

"It's just me," said Brittany frantically. "Santana?"

For about a minute the two just stared at each other; then the panic in Santana's eyes started to abate. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she let out a pained groan.

"What the hell is going on?" Santana croaked. She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck.

Brittany frowned. "Don't you remember?"

Confusion clouded Santana's face and she closed her eyes. Brittany reached out cautiously and took one of Santana's shaking hands in her own.

"Yeah," she said finally. "I remember."

A sigh of relief escaped from Brittany's lips and an awkward silence descended upon the two. Brittany opened and closed her mouth several times before settling finally on rising to her feet and holding out a hand to Santana. She took it and Brittany pulled her up and steered her to the couch where they both sat down.

"Are you okay, San?" Brittany asked in a soft voice so as not to startle her again.

Santana let out a slow blow of air and nodded her head. It hurt, Brittany thought idly, to be lied to by the person you trusted the most. Santana seemed to sense the way Brittany was feeling because she looked up at her guiltily.

"I'm really sorry," said Santana.

"I know you are," Brittany replied reluctantly.

"Please don't make me talk about it," Santana begged. She looked so vulnerable that Brittany couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"I won't make you talk about the dream," said Brittany. Santana flinched. "But I do want you to tell me what happened in the gym before."

Santana looked at her pleadingly, but Brittany wasn't going to back down this time. She held her gaze and was intensely gratified when Santana was the first to look away. Then she felt a little guilty, because this really wasn't a competition.

"I just…"

"Santana."

"I think…I think he hits her," said Santana quietly. Brittany frowned.

"Who do you mean?" she asked.

Santana hesitated. "That…guy. Rains. I think he hits the girl. Christina, her name is. I've thought it for a couple of weeks now. She just…always seems to be hurt." Her eyes were glassy and her shoulders were slumped forward. Brittany couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this helpless.

"Are you sure?" asked Brittany.

With a shake of her head, Santana sniffed and Brittany wrapped one of her arms around her and pulled her closer.

"Yes. No. I don't know," she mumbled into Brittany's shoulder. "I wasn't sure at first, but as soon as I saw him I knew."

"And you thought 'hmm, let's provoke this violent, angry man'?" said Brittany, though there was no emotion behind her voice. She was just stating a fact.

"I thought he'd be deterred by the million other people in the room," Santana admitted. "Well no…I didn't. I wasn't thinking at all…I just got so angry."

"Okay," said Brittany sadly. "I get it. You don't have to explain anymore."

Santana looked up and Brittany couldn't help but smile a little at the love in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you," said Santana. "I just…get like this sometimes. I know it's no excuse." Brittany knew that, of course; Santana had always been incredibly volatile.

"That's okay," Brittany replied. "I'm sorry I wasn't more understanding. I know you wouldn't do something that stupid without a reason."

Santana snuggled into Brittany's side let out a little sigh of relief. Brittany relished in the knowledge that she was the only person in the world who could make Santana feel safe in this way.

"I love you, Brittany," said Santana under her breath. "Can we please go to bed now?"

"Yeah," said Brittany wearily. "I'm sleepy."

They both rose to their feet and Santana shot her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Brittany smiled back and latched onto her hand. As they went upstairs to bed, Brittany couldn't help but feel like this was far from over. She didn't think she'd be getting any sleep that night at all.

At half past seven, Santana's alarm began to ring. She resisted a groan of complaint and reached over to switch it off. Do not want, she thought tiredly.

"How is it already time to get up?" Brittany mumbled into the back of her neck.

"Time for me to get up," Santana corrected. "You can stay in bed."

The lack of response let Santana know that Brittany obviously thought this was a very good idea. It was only fair really; it was, after all, Santana's fault that she hadn't slept all night. Though they may not have been particularly restful, at least Santana had managed a few hours before she'd fallen off that chair.

"Don't go in today," said Brittany, after a few more minutes of lying in silence.

"I have to," Santana replied instinctively.

"No you don't," said Brittany. "Call in sick."

Santana sighed deeply. "I wish I could, but Figgins will know I'm lying."

"So what?" said Brittany stubbornly. "He's going to tell you off, you know."

"Yeah," said Santana. "I know. The guy probably wet himself when he found out what happened."

"So don't go in then," Brittany repeated.

"Brittany, I can't take the day off just because I'm a bit tired," said Santana, pulling herself from Brittany's grasp and forcing herself into a sitting position at the end of the bed.

"I don't want you to leave," said Brittany mournfully. Santana looked into Brittany's sorrowful eyes and felt a sharp tug at her heart. "Please stay."

"I can't," said Santana, her eyes dropping downwards. "I need to make sure Christina's okay."

It was only after she and Brittany talked last night that Santana had realised exactly how reckless her actions had been. Not only had she put herself in danger, but she had angered who she suspected was a violent man and then left him to drunkenly go home with his fifteen year old daughter. She knew how people like that's mind worked, and if she was right then it was going to be her Cheerio that was going to suffer the consequences of her little outburst. If Christina wasn't okay then Santana didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself. It would be her fault if the cheerleader was hurt.

"You shouldn't go," Brittany persisted.

"Why not?"

"Because…" Brittany hesitated. "I just…have a bad feeling. I want you to stay here."

"A bad feeling," Santana repeated sceptically. She stood up and wandered over to the wardrobe to find something to wear for the day. When she looked back at Brittany, the woman was wearing a painfully wounded expression. "Sorry, Britt…I didn't mean–"

"Yeah, okay," Brittany interrupted. Santana flinched a little at her harsh tone.

"I just–"

"Forget it," said Brittany. "We'll talk about it later."

Unhappily, Santana didn't reply, and instead focussed her full attention on getting ready for what was undoubtedly going be a wonderful day.

By Friday morning, news of what had happened at parents' night had spread like wildfire throughout the entire school. Naturally, the story had grown into the realms of complete impossibility, but nobody really seemed to care. Santana had heard two versions by lunch time; one being that Rains had come at her with a knife and she'd fearlessly fought back to the point where he was currently in the intensive care unit of the hospital. The second version was much less complimentary and basically involved Santana randomly hulking out at the end of the night and attacking an innocent bystander for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Obviously, most of the students preferred to believe the second tale due to it being far more entertaining.

Summons to the principle's office had arrived fairly early in the morning. The student that had been sent to get her looked like he was about to wet himself when Santana looked at him furiously. She pursed her lips and nodded at him tersely; he fled the room in terror.

Figgins was predictably useless. His first course of action was to talk down to Santana like she was some kind of naughty child and explain to her why what she had done was wrong. Thankfully, her scowl deterred him from that pretty quickly and he resorted to the yelling she had been expecting from the beginning. It hadn't taken her long to lose her temper and accuse him of wanting her to be attacked. It was ridiculous, and she knew it, but if she hadn't hit him then that was what would have happened. Eventually, she had stormed out of the room with a terrified Figgins in her wake.

When she got back to her office, Will was there waiting for her with a concerned expression on his face. She frowned at him and sat down.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?" he asked when he realised she wasn't going to volunteer any information.

"Some dude tried to punch me, so I stopped him," said Santana scathingly. "I really don't know why I'm being made out as the bad guy here."

His expression remaining constant, Will nodded slowly. "Okay then," he said. "I need to get to class, but if you want to talk about it then you know where to find me."

"Yeah, like that'll happen," Santana muttered under her breath as Will left the office. Why did she feel like she was being harassed?

Lunchtime came and went; Santana didn't leave her office. She briefly wondered if the Cheerios had waited for her the entire time or if they'd left when she didn't show up to practice. She found herself caring very little though. She'd go and check on Christina later.

Not that she would have admitted it to her friends, but Dianne was becoming increasingly nervous as she made her way to Lopez's office. She really didn't want to be the one to have to do this; but she was the leader and it was her job.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," said Lopez.

Dianne pushed the door open and moved to sit down in the chair in front of Lopez's desk. She looked up at her incredibly vexed looking coach and almost flinched.

"Is there something I can help you with, Apple?" said Lopez. She sounded tired.

"Er, yeah, Coach," said Dianne, trying to keep the uneasiness out of her voice. "I was wondering if we still have practice after school?"

Lopez scowled. "Of course we do."

Dianne nodded. "Okay, I just wanted to check."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Dianne wasn't quite sure what to say, but she somehow felt like it wasn't the time to leave. Lopez cleared her throat loudly and glanced to the corner of the room awkwardly.

"Have you…" she said, then she paused. "Is Rains around?"

Dianne was surprised. She'd have thought that Christina would be the last person that Lopez would want to talk to. Unlike the majority of the school, she had actually been in the room during the incident. In fact, her father had been one of the people to drag the man back after Lopez had winded him. She'd seen Christina's dad clearly try to punch the woman, which really was often something that Dianne would like to do herself if she were honest, but it had, in reality, been kind of scary.

"I've seen her," Dianne admitted, "But she hasn't said much to anyone."

"Right…" said Lopez uncomfortably. "Next time you see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"I will, coach," said Dianne, rising to her feet. "See you later."

At the end of school, Santana realised she could no longer hide away in her office. Not that that was what she'd been doing. She just had a lot of paperwork to do. So, not wanting to miss a second practice, she made her way quickly down to the field.

The Cheerios were there waiting for her, of course, but she felt oddly on edge. Her eyes immediately found Christina, but she was staring at the floor and refused to look up. Before Santana could instruct them to start their usual warm-up routine, the small patter of feet caught her attention. She turned around just in time to see Callie draw level with her and throw her arms around Santana's legs. It took all of her self-control not to jump.

"Mama," said Callie quietly. "You left before I got up."

Santana rested her hand on the girl's head and then looked up at the Cheerios.

"Sanders," she said with an effort to keep her voice even. "Warm-up. Go."

The Cheerios immediately launched into their stretches and Santana bent down to scoop up Callie in her arms and then carried her over to where Brittany sat with a small smile on her face.

"Sorry I left so early this morning, sweetie" said Santana to the girl. "I didn't want to wake you."

Callie arms tightened around Santana's neck. "Okay, Mama."

"I promise I won't do it again," said Santana earnestly.

"Good," said Callie.

Santana sat down next to Brittany and observed the Cheerios begin their run around the track for a moment.

"How are you feeling?" asked Brittany in a low voice.

"I'm okay," said Santana, unconsciously holding Callie a little tighter. "How about you?" she then asked anxiously.

"Tired," said Brittany. "But I'm okay. We spent the day with my mom and dad."

"That's good," said Santana. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," said Callie, suddenly brightening up and taking her face from Santana's shoulder. "We watched the Aristocats!"

"We did," Brittany confirmed with a grin.

"I like the mouse," said Callie with a definitive nod.

"I like the geese," said Brittany, sounding just as serious about the subject as their daughter, "But the mouse was good too."

"The mouse was so much cooler," Callie argued. "Granddad said so too so it must be right."

Brittany pulled a face. "Yeah well…he's old so it doesn't count."

With a giggle, Callie shook her head. "You're old too."

"Oi!" said Brittany indignantly. "Watch it, you, or there'll be no ice cream tonight."

Callie pouted; a trick she'd learnt from Brittany.

"Well," said Santana with a short laugh, "As riveting as this conversation is, I needs to go and coach me some Cheerios."

"Okay, Mama," said Callie, sliding down from Santana's lap and then sitting herself on the other side of Brittany.

Santana stood and Brittany shot her a wan smile.

"Thanks for coming," said Santana softly.

"Any time, San," Brittany replied.

As Santana meandered back over to the Cheerios, she realised that she had a lot of apologising to do later. There had been absolutely no need for her to take out her frustration on Brittany.

The Cheerios began work on their new routine, and nobody noticed that they were being watched.

Author's Note(s): Thank you for reading :-)