Chapter 9
A/N – Ok, so last chapter, lots went on. Perhaps I should have posted a warning, my apologies. Without giving away too much, I have a plan! Relax folks. If you haven't noticed from all of my other stories, I tend to like a happy ending one way or another so give me a chance to sort things out for our favorite gals. Those of you who've stuck around, thanks! Once again, I have no beta, so all mistakes are mine.
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"Here, put her down here." Santana hissed as they found a spot deep enough inside the catacombs and away from the chaos in the city that they felt it was safe to stop.
She and Quinn were struggling to catch their breath as they had run deep inside the underground tunnels splitting the weight of the other blonde's unconscious form. Brittany had gone limp shortly after entering the underground tombs.
They gently deposited Brittany onto a knee high tomb, both slumping as they struggled to draw breath. Santana dropped to her knees and with a trembling hand, she brushed the blonde's matted hair away from her brow.
Brittany moaned and shifted slightly, her eyes fluttering open. Santana clenched her jaw at the bruises already forming and at the blood dried on her face from the beating the German officer gave her.
"…saved me…you promised…" The blonde mumbled, with a soft smile, before drifting off into unconsciousness once again.
Santana's lip began to tremble as her mind involuntarily drifted back to the scene she had found in Brittany's hotel room. The Officer had pinned her to the bed and was apparently in the process of raping her…the very thing the brunette had most wanted to save her lover from.
Quinn reached and gripped her friend's shoulder, shaking her slightly, hoping to break her from her thoughts. Santana met her hazel gaze and felt tears pooling. Quinn sighed and pushed Brittany's uniform top to the side to get a better look at her stab wound.
"Should I-should I pull it out?" The blonde whispered, eyeing the shard of glass imbedded in the younger woman's belly. The makeshift handle had been broken off, leaving only a small piece of the glass visible. Blood continued to trickle down the blonde's sides from the wound.
"I don't know!" Santana hissed in return. "I'm not a doctor…I'm not even a nurse, I'm a fucking prostitute! How should I know?"
Quinn flinched at the brunette's tone. Santana sighed, immediately feeling guilty for snapping. "I'm sorry." She said softly. "I'm sorry. I just…she's…"
"I know." Quinn whispered. "I know Santana…your hand looks bad, we should wrap it."
Santana dropped her gaze to the gash in her own palm. She only then registered the sting from the cut. With a shrug, the brunette ripped a portion of her already torn clothing and tied it tightly around her hand to help cover the wound and stop the bleeding.
"Well, come on." Santana said softly. "We should at least try to find our way out of here. Brittany said the tunnels lead to the country. Maybe it'll be safe outside of the city."
Quinn nodded and tried to smile encouragingly. She reached then for one of Brittany's arms, gently trying to pull the unconscious woman to an upright position. Santana reached for her other arm and together, the two pulled Brittany off of the tomb and each with one of the blonde's arms draped over their shoulders, slowly proceeded deeper into the catacombs.
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After what seemed like days of trekking through damp, cold tunnels, both women squinted as the light of day finally glared before them. They were covered in dirt and sweat when they finally found the entrance to the catacombs.
Santana could have cried for joy at seeing sunlight had it not been for the continued dead weight of Brittany who had still not regained consciousness. The blonde's wound appeared to have stopped bleeding but the glass was still protruding, angry and jagged.
She and Quinn eased Brittany to the ground and slumped next to her in the grass. They even heard birds chirping off in the distance, something they hadn't heard in months in Warsaw.
Quinn cried out in relief and crawled to the creek running past the entrance. She quickly splashed the cold refreshing water over her face, lapping it in all the while. Santana scooted closer as well, cupping as much water into her hands as she could and slipping back to Brittany, gently trying to spoon the water into the unconscious woman's mouth.
The majority of the water just rolled down the side of Brittany's cheeks but she swallowed slightly with a moan and Santana hoped that some of the liquid served to hydrate the woman. Brittany had grown pale and her brow was dotted with sweat. Whether it was from blood loss or infection, Santana wasn't certain.
"What do we do no?" Quinn asked softly. "Where are we going Santana?"
The brunette cast her weary gaze from one blonde to the other. "I don't know." She whispered. "I don't know."
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The friends were wearily trudging along a winding mountain path, still supporting Brittany's weight, when they heard a wagon approaching from behind. They quickly rushed to drop and find cover behind a small batch of trees by the path before they were spotted.
They huddled quietly as a horse pulled wagon came into sight. They couldn't tell if the figure was a man or a woman but could hear the person whistling pleasantly in the afternoon sun. The three women had been on the run since the night before, nearly twelve hours and were nearing exhaustion.
"Maybe they'll help us." Santana muttered.
"What?" Quinn exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "Or maybe they'll rape and murder us."
Santana sighed. "There's only one of them Quinn. Maybe they'll have mercy…take pity on Brittany."
"Santana, I don't know."
The brunette was determined however. Between her own exhaustion and Brittany's fading condition, she was determined to take her chances. She darted out in front of the wagon, her hands extended.
"Stop, please!"
The figure pulled the horse to a stop, the animal neighing in opposition to the abrupt movement. "Whoa there, girl." The rider called. "Easy now. You alright down there?"
"Please help us." Santana cried. "My friend…she's hurt. We don't mean you any harm…we just need help."
The brunette slumped to her knees in front of the horse drawn cart, her exhaustion overtaking her.
The driver stood up from their position in the wagon and eyed the younger woman in front of them, pushing the floppy hat away from her head. "What's ailing you punkin'?"
Santana raised her hands again, hoping to display her helplessness. "My friend is hurt. She was stabbed, we're just trying to find some place safe…please…will you help us?"
Quinn shuffled closer to the path, struggling to hold Brittany. The driver of the wagon eyed them both before spitting over the side and shaking her head. "Well stuff a duck and call me a turkey, get in."
"What?" Santana muttered in confusion. "Does that mean you'll help us?"
"I said get in didn't I?" The driver exclaimed. "Load her into the back. My cottage isn't far. We'll fix her right up…all three of you."
Santana almost wept again in relief at the large woman's words. She struggled to her feet and rushed to help Quinn lift Brittany into the wagon bed. Once they were all settled into the back, the woman clicked the reigns, whistling all the while as the horse trudged on.
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A short time later they pulled to a stop in front a quaint cottage nestled into the hillside. The woman hopped from her spot and patted the horse's rump before rounding to the back of the wagon.
"Name's Shannon Bieste." She said with a nod. "Let's get her inside."
With that, the large woman reached and pulled the blonde into arms, lifting her gently from the wagon. Santana and Quinn scrambled out after them as Shannon carried the unconscious woman toward her cottage as if she weighed no more than a feather.
Shannon walked through the entrance room to the one bedroom in the back of the cottage. Brittany stirred as she was gently deposited onto the lone bed. Her blue eyes opened and she stared up at the woman as she hovered over her.
"Easy there punkin'. You're gonna be just fine. I'll fix you right up."
Santana perched next to Brittany's head as Shannon set about gathering supplies to tend to the injured woman. The brunette quirked a brow as the first thing the large woman did was start a blazing fire in the fireplace and bury her buck knife into the embers.
"Alright," Shannon said softly, "I need you two to hold her still. It's gotta be pulled out smooth."
Santana nodded and braced herself over Brittany's shoulders, holding her upper body still while Quinn grabbed the other blonde's hips. Shannon nodded to both women as she braced one hand on Brittany's belly, pulling the glass shard out as smoothly as possible with the other.
Brittany bucked and cried out in pain but Santana and Quinn held her as steady as they could. Shannon finally dropped the long, jagged glass shard onto the bedside table. Brittany whimpered again as their hostess pressed a cloth to the wound to stop the bleeding.
"Shh, hush now." The woman soothed. "Almost finished. You're fine, you're just fine. Hand me that knife out of the fire."
Quinn nodded and scrambled away quickly and reached for the knife handle, sticking out of the fireplace. Shannon took the weapon from the blonde's hand and turned back to Brittany, whose eyes widened at the sight of the knife coming closer to her skin.
"What are you doing?" Santana cried, moving to shield the blonde.
Shannon smiled sympathetically and halted her movements. "I gotta seal the wound closed. Stitching it could leave room for infection. Burning it takes care of that worry…and stops the bleeding. It's the best way."
Santana eyed the woman, looking for any sign of deceit in her eyes. She clenched her jaw and nodded at the sincerity she saw reflecting back. "Ok." She whispered. "Just do it quick."
"San? Santana?" Brittany whimpered.
"Easy Britt." Santana soothed. "It's ok, it'll be quick. This will help you, I promise."
Before either could question further, Shannon pressed the hot blade to the open wound on Brittany's abdomen. The sound of sizzling flesh met their ears and Brittany cried out in pain. Santana rushed to hold the blonde still as she tried to buck the woman away from her. Shannon held on, jaw clenched as she tried to hold the knife steady.
Finally, Brittany whimpered again and fell limp.
"Brittany?" Santana exclaimed, moving to cup the blonde's cheek, shaking her gently. "No, Brittany!"
"Easy punkin'. She's fine, just passed out." Shannon replied. "Probably best really. She's fine. Look at her, sleepin' just as easy as chamomile tea."
Quinn quirked a brow, trying to make sense of the other woman's words, but nodded to Santana in agreement. "She's ok Santana."
Santana nodded back, once again brushing Brittany's blonde hair back away from her sweaty brow. She sighed with a nod and settled down into the chair next to the small bed. Quinn and Shannon retreated to the front room to allow them some privacy.
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Santana sat keeping a constant vigil over the still sleeping blonde. The candlelight flickered as she remained perched next to Brittany, gently caressing her brow. Finally, shortly before dawn, the blonde roused. Her eyes flickered open and she blinked to clear her vision in the semi darkness.
"Britt?" Santana called softly, noticing the other woman was finally awake.
Brittany's brow furrowed as she tried to gain her bearings. "Santana…where are we?"
The brunette leaned down closer to the blonde and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "We're safe love…we're safe. Shannon, our hostess, she took us in and tended your wound. You're going to be just fine…I'm going to take care of you, I promise."
Brittany nodded and sighed, still weary from the day's events. Santana felt her bottom lip begin to tremble once again.
The blonde frowned and reached for the brunette and clutched the collar of her shirt. "San…what's…don't cry. You saved me."
Santana shook her head, tears finally leaking.
"Brittany…Britt, I'm so sorry." She cried in a hushed whisper. "I swore I wouldn't let him touch you and…I tried to get to you, I did! I'm so sorry, I didn't want that to happen to you. I didn't want any of this to happen to you but God…not that. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep him from raping you."
The blonde's brow furrowed once again, both from concern and confusion. "Santana…he didn't…he didn't rape me. He couldn't."
"What?" Santana sputtered as the blondes words registered. "But…but I saw him, he was on top of you! He was-"
"He tried." Brittany whispered. "But he couldn't…he wasn't able to…get it hard. He tried everything to get it to…even what you saw…the ramming me. That's what made him so angry…well that and the fact that I tried to cut him. He didn't like that very much either. But he didn't rape me Santana. He said…he said he would use a knife if he couldn't…and then you came…before he could. You save me."
Santana gasped and clutched the blonde's shoulders. "Are you telling me the truth? You aren't just saying that…He really didn't?"
Brittany swallowed and shook her head, gazing steadfastly up at the woman she loved. "I swear he didn't Santana. I wouldn't lie to you."
The brunette let lose a sob and gathered the younger woman up into her arms, rocking her gently as she cried.
Quinn heard the cry from the other room and expecting the worst came rushing into the bedroom. At seeing the other blonde still alive and seemingly well, she sighed in relief.
"Good God Santana, you nearly gave me a heart attack."
Shannon slipped into the room behind her and chuckled as Santana peppered the blonde's forehead with kisses in her relief. "Well aren't they as sweet as a newborn pup. What about you blondie, you got a lady friend?"
Quinn sputtered slightly and shook her head no, arms crossed tightly over herself.
"Well, how 'bout that." Shannon replied with a wink. She then sauntered back out into the front room with a chuckle.
Quinn turned and quickly closed the bedroom door back behind the retreating woman. "I think I'll stay and keep you company…"
Santana barely registered the exchange in her relief but Brittany chuckled tiredly. "Your boo seems nice." She said in a whisper.
Quinn cocked a brow wryly before shaking her head with a laugh of her own. She finally stepped closer to the pair and dropped a hand on Santana's shoulder, squeezing gently.
Santana glanced up at her friend, tears of relief in her eyes. She looked back to Brittany, who was already asleep again and stood to her feet.
The brunette turned to Quinn and quickly pulled her into her arms. The blonde froze momentarily before raising her arms and wrapping them around the smaller woman.
"Quinn…" Santana whispered. "I'm so glad you're here…I'm so glad you're safe. Did he hurt you? Did he…"
"No." Quinn rushed, squeezing Santana slightly. "No Santana, he didn't. I'm fine. Everything is going to be fine."
"It is." Santana replied. "You're fine, and Brittany too. She wasn't…he didn't…"
Quinn's brow furrowed in confusion. "But Santana, we saw him…he was-"
"I know!" The brunette exclaimed. "But he didn't. She said so. He couldn't get it hard and…she promised…she said she's fine. She promised…She's ok…She promised."
The blonde tightened her grip on Santana, and nodded. "Then she is, that's good Santana, so good. Everything is fine…we're going to be fine."
Santana nodded in return, reluctant to release her friend. "I'm so glad you're alright."
Quinn smiled, and pressed a soft kiss into her friend's dark hair. "Yeah, me too."
For the first time since the bombs began to drop on Warsaw, the blonde felt a small spark of hope blooming.
A/N – Ok, so there it is, the response to the last chapter. And yes, this was the plan all along. I didn't change anything to suit readers, this was the intended outcome. I hope it is satisfactory. Feel free to blow me up Thanks again for sticking with me!