The last chapter concludes the first part of this story. I must say that I had that planned from the beginning. It threw some of you for a loop but what's a good story without a few twists and turns and unexpected events.
This chapter continues where the last left off. Brittana is endgame.
Chapter 10
"I have to go with her." I plead. He's gotta know that. Puck has to let me go with her.
"No, actually. You are under arrest." He says to me. My eyes go wide and I try to run after the stretcher, but he holds me tight. "You are all in police custody. Everyone in this room. After the paramedics are done attending to the injured."
I try to run after the disappearing stretcher, but Puck holds onto my wrist tighter, keeping me in place. "Let me go you fucker." I yell at Puck. I don't care. I need to go with her.
Puck narrows his eyes at me. Unspoken words pass through them. He's telling me to behave. He's telling me that I have to remember where I am and who I am. He's telling me that he's just doing his job and I have to do mine. I relax in his hold once I realize this. I can't blow my cover. The police would never let a suspect go to the hospital with another suspect. And as I am just another suspect, in the eyes of everyone in the room, I will be treated like one. Puck takes out a pair of handcuff and latches them on my wrists and I face the reality of the situation. He's gonna have to treat me like one of Danny's crew, so that our cover isn't blown yet. Everyone in the room will get the same treatment, that includes me.
"Sit here and don't move." He growls at me. I don't know if it's part of the act or not. Puck plops me down in one of the folding chairs. I hang my head and try and let my senses come back to me. I play what just happened in my head over and over again.
All my mind keeps coming back to, though, is her. And if she's gonna survive.
Once the paramedics have taken out Rory, and that woman with the gunshot wound to the hand, things start to happen again. At some point someone, probably Puck, lets everyone in the room sit up, but they all have to sit on the floor with their ankles crossed.
At some point my tears stopped. I don't know when, but now my eyes itch and I can't even rub them because my hands are cuffed behind my back.
"Hudson, go with the ambulance to the hospital. Place them under arrest once they are finished being treated. If they need to stay there, let me know, and I will get some officers down there." Puck tells the man as the paramedics walk Rory out of the room. They took the unconscious woman out an the stretcher a minute or two before.
"The rest of you." Puck address the whole room now. "You will all be loaded into the police wagons and taken down to the station for questioning."
The room explodes into a chorus of dissatisfied grumbles and groans.
Puck's radio chirps and then a rough scratchy sounding voice comes across. "We got 'em." Puck raises his closed fist into the air. Some things never change. You can't take the fist pump from Puck if you tried.
"Alright. Way to go guys." He returns over the radio.
I should be happy, proud, excited, satisfied, but all I really care about right now is her. Her status. I should be happy that the undercover investigation is over and that we got Danny and Rory, our two main suspects. I should be proud that my hard work helped catch the guys. I should be excited to go back to my regular life. I should be satisfied with everything that has transpired. But, I'm not any of those things. Instead, I feel empty and my heart hurts.
An officer, that I don't recognize, brings a bag of heavy duty zip ties to Puck. They each take some and start cuffing peoples hands behind their backs.
When almost everyone is in cuffs two SWAT officers bring in Karofsky and Danny in handcuffs. The real ones, not zip tie handcuffs. They come into the meeting room from the kitchen. Karofsky has blood and dirt on his face. He must have put up a fight. Danny looks cool as a cucumber. There's not a scratch on him. His clothes are clean too. Karofsky keeps his head down as they lead him through the room and out the secret door. Danny, though, holds his head up high, like he's proud of what he's done. I see him shift his eyes around the room as he is passed through, taking in the situation.
Bastard.
"They were hiding in a shed out back." One of the officers tells Puck.
Puck nods. "Okay. Put them in separate squad cars."
Once everyone is cuffed the officers start bring the occupants of the room out of the house one by one. Puck comes over to me. "Let's go." He says. I stand and Puck grabs a hold of the handcuff on my hands. He leads me out of the building to one of the two police wagons that are sitting on the street. I hang my head and try not to look at anyone as we pass.
Puck puts me in a van with five others from the drug house. I sit there and wait for this to all be over. I look down at my shoes and try to keep my mind from running away with itself. It's not easy.
Sugar is placed into the wagon next to me. It's a small relief. That is until she speaks. "I'm sorry about Brittany." She says somberly when the officers close the door to the wagon, locking us inside.
There goes that runaway mind. I nod, but don't say anything in return. I don't think I could if I tried.
The ride to the police station isn't long, but is filled with silence. My mind is filled with thoughts of her during the ride. Emotions and regrets rise to the surface. What if I did things differently? What if I told her who I really was? I could have left out the detective part and told her my real name, real identity. She wouldn't tell Danny or anyone. I'm starting to have serious regrets about this whole thing. I wish I would have never gone undercover.
The police wagon comes to it's final stop. The back doors fly open and an officer is standing there. All eyes in the wagon are on him. "Let's go. Out." He commands. The person closest to the door stands up and steps out of the wagon. Everyone exits one by one, we are gathered up, and trotted into the police station in a single file line.
I look around once inside. Not much seems to have changed in my absence. I try not to look too obvious. If a few of the detectives and officers are looking at me I don't acknowledge them. I look to the back of the person's head in front of me as we are lead to the holding cages.
There are two large holding cages and then two smaller 'singular' holding cells at the back of the precinct. We walk past the two holding cells that are now occupied with two men. Danny in one and Karofsky in the other. An officer stands in front of each of their cells. The group that I came in with is put in one holding cage and the other group from the other police wagon goes into the other cage.
As I sit on my hard slab of concrete I watch as Puck comes in and retrieves each person from the group one at a time to bring them in to the interrogation room to be questioned. They don't return once they leave. That means one of two things. They have been arrested for their part in Danny's business or have been released back into the public.
Hours pass and the numbers dwindle down until it's only me left in the holding cage and Danny and Karofsky in their cells. I know that's how Puck would have done it. To gather as much information from the dealers and lesser people in Danny's ring as more ammunition against him before talking with Danny. I also knew he would question me towards the end. I know I will be next to be brought in and interrogated.
I have been trying to prepare myself to talk with Puck, but my mind keeps traveling back to her. My left leg bounces anxiously as I wait.
"Hey." A male voice thunders out. I snap my head up from looking at the disgusting, dirty floor. "Your turn." The officer beckons for me. I stand up and go over to the cage door. He unlocks the steel bars. "No funny business." He threatens.
I know who this officer is. Officer Thompson. He's in charge of this sort of thing, handling suspects. He's a nice guy, but you wouldn't know it from the way he handles suspects.
I don't say anything to him as Thompson takes me by the arm and leads me into the interrogation room just like he did with all the other suspects.
We enter the interrogation room. Thompson shuts the door. "It's nice to see you again, Santana." Dropping the act.
I turn to him, slowly, blinking a few times as the words sink in. That's the first time someone has used my name in months. "Yeah. Nice to see you." The words sound foreign coming out of my mouth.
"Puckerman will be in in a few minutes. He went for a pee break and a coffee. Long day 'n' all." Officer Thompson nods to me, then heads out of the room. I go over to one of the two chairs in the room and take a seat at the table.
It's several minutes before Puck comes in. When he does, he looks exhausted. His coffee steams as he sets it down on the table. He also sets a file down on the table that was under his arm. "How are you doing?" Puck asks as he sits across from me.
"I've been better." I shrug. I don't feel particularly good right now. I know I should feel better about the case moving forward and Danny being in custody, but I can't.
Puck nods absentmindedly. "Sorry for making you wait."
"I understand." A deflated sigh escapes from me.
"Alright, well, I'll fill you in on what's happened so far. We brought everyone that was in that house in for questioning. The forensics team is in there now. They gave me a call not too long ago and told me that they found a closet full of guns and that they found where Danny was hiding his drugs stash. After I am done talking with you I'm gonna question David Karofsky and then Danny. I got some information out of the people I questioned so far. We released most of them after questioning. The goal here isn't to prosecute a dozen drug dealers. We are after Danny number one and Rory number two."
"Uh-huh."
"Are you even listening?" Puck asks.
I flick my eyes to meet his. "Yeah. Go on."
"We did hold a few people though. Your friend Sugar, last name Motta. And someone named Samuel Evans. Those two seemed to be among Danny's best dealers. I don't know if we will charge them or not, but I want to hold them for more questioning. It might be nothing or they might have some vital information about Danny or something involving him."
I vaguely register that Puck has stopped talking but not much else.
"Santana?"
"W-what?" I ask, trying to focus my eyes on him.
"Is something wrong? You look a little- uh- off." Puck asks.
I shake my head. "No. Nothing's wrong. Continue."
"Okay, I have officers on guard at the hospital outside our suspect's rooms until I can question them. There are three at the hospital, I believe."
I lean forward in my seat when Puck mentions the hospital. "Do you know their conditions?" I ask.
"No, I don't. But, after I am through questioning David Karofsky and Danny I plan on going down to the hospital. I hope to question the suspects if they are healthy enough for it." He explains.
I slump back in my seat. "Oh."
"Santana, I'm gonna be really straight forward here. Is there something I should know about?"
I narrow my eyes at him.
"Perhaps about you and that woman that was shot in the chest?" His eyes hold no malice. I can see that he just wants to understand. Obviously, he saw what happened at Danny's house.
I can't lie to him. I've been doing too much of that lately. I lock eyes with him and try to tell him without words. I nod my head to answer his question.
"You know it's inappropriate to get involved with someone you are investigating during an undercover operation?" He questions with a quirked eyebrow.
"I know." I duck my head.
"Okay. So, what are you going to do now?"
I shrug. "Can I come to the hospital with you?" I ask earnestly. I know it's not the answer to the question he's asking. The only thing I want to do right now is find out what her condition is, if she survived the gunshot wound to the chest.
"I don't know Santana. How's that gonna work? I don't want you walking in there as yourself." Puck looks uncomfortable with the idea of me going to the hospital with him.
"I can stay undercover. I will behave. No one will even know that I'm there. I'll be there as your prisoner." I plead. "You can tell people whatever you want. Tell them that you needed me with you during the questioning of the other suspects. I don't care. Do whatever. Just, please, can I come to the hospital with you?" I nearly beg him.
Puck sighs. "Fine. But, I probably won't be going for several hours yet. You will go downstairs and sleep while I question Karofsky and Danny. I don't want you around while I'm questioning either of them just yet. We are going to maintain your undercover for a while longer. I haven't decided how long yet. I want to get all the information that I can first and then I will bring you in and you can reveal yourself."
"Thompson." Puck yells. The door swings open and Officer Thompson steps into the room. "Escort Santana downstairs. She is going to sleep in the barracks while I question my final suspects."
"Yes, sir." Thompson nods.
"I don't want anyone possibly seeing you just walking around the station. When I say anyone I mean Danny or David Karofsky. They need to think you are Eva still. That means you stay downstairs."
"Got it." I grumble.
"Make it look real you two." Puck tells us as we walk out the door.
Thompson grabs a rough grip on my arm. He's definitely 'making it real'. I stumble as he pushes me through the door. He leads me through the precinct and I hang me head as we walk. At the stairs, out of the view of people, Thompson lets go I my arm and I walk downstairs under my own power.
"Do you need anything?" Thompson asks kindly.
I spin around to face the man. I try to smile, but I don't know if it looks like a smile. "No, I'm good. Thanks."
"Alright. I see ya then." With that he turns around and heads back up the steps.
I search out my cot. It's not much, but it's a mattress and a blanket and pillow. It's better than sleeping in a jail cell. I sit down and kick off my sneakers. Underneath the blanket, I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling. I am somewhat tired, but can't sleep. I switch to my side to see if that helps. Many minutes pass and I switch sides so that I am facing the cement wall. Sleep won't come.
"Hey. Santana."
I scrunch up my face.
"Santana. Wake up." Puck's voice drifts into my ears. I open my eyes and he's standing above me, holding something in his hands. When did I fall asleep and what time is it now? "I'm ready to go to the hospital."
That wakes me up. I sit up and rub at my eyes with my fists. "What time is it?" It's always dark in the basement barracks, there's no sense of what time of day it is.
"Just after six." Puck reads from his wristwatch. I narrow my eyes at him. "In the morning." He adds. He holds out the object in his hands. My leather jacket. I take it from him in one aggressive pull and throw it on. I shrug and stuff my feet into my shoes before standing. "Ready?" He asks when I'm standing.
"Uh, yeah."
Puck's eyes roam over me for a few seconds before he seems to move on. He turns and starts walking. I follow him up the stairs, to the main floor, then outside. We walk over to his car and get in. Puck starts the car, the radio is blaring, he quickly turns it off.
It's starting to get light outside. The start of a new day. Yesterday is gone and today is new. It doesn't feel new though. It feels old. Today feels like yesterday. It feels like one giant, long day.
Puck drives the city blocks over to the hospital were the 'suspects' are staying at. My left leg bounces nervously in my seat. My fingers fiddling with the bottom edge of my leather jacket. Once again, during this operation, I am wearing clothes from the day before. I don't remember what happened to it, but when Puck handed me my leather jacket I didn't question him. I zipped it up tight, all the way to the top, to cover my shirt. My shirt that has splotches of her blood on it.
I don't remember much about arriving at the station yesterday, but I must have washed up in the little sink in the cage because there isn't any blood on my hands or arms. I don't remember when they took the cuffs off, either. I don't remember if anyone said anything to me. I don't remember much of anything. I don't remember going to sleep. I don't have any idea how much sleep I got. Probably not a lot. Maybe it's a good thing that I blocked out a lot of things in recent hours.
His hand on my knees startles me and I jump in my seat. Puck tries to still my bouncing leg. Tries being the key word. I just switch legs so that my right leg is bouncing anxiously instead of the left. Harder for him to reach.
"You're really worked up."
My eyes shift from his hand to out the passengers side window. I watch as the city goes by, I sit and wait. Waiting for too many things to count.
My feet are on the ground before Puck even shifts the car into park. They carry me into the hospital at a steady pace. I can hear Puck yelling behind me to stop and wait for him, but ignore his calls. I get inside and look around quickly. The reception desk is on the other side of a big waiting area. I walk over with purpose to my steps.
"How can I help you?" The nurse asks.
I'm about to ask him which room she is in when a big hand lands on my shoulder. It silences me, preventing the words I want to say from escaping my lips.
He talks instead. "Hi, I'm detective Noah Puckerman." Puck flashes his badge at the nurse or receptionist or whatever his job title is. The man is dressed in nurse scrubs, so I assume a nurse. "There are three patients here that are in police custody. Could you tell me which rooms they are in?"
"Yes." The nurse nods. "Just give me a few minutes. It's flagged here on the computer, I just have to look it up." The man hit's a bunch of keys on the keyboard, squints at the screen, writes some stuff on a post-it note, then looks away from the computer, back to Puck. The man completely ignores me. Puck still has his grubby hand on my shoulder. I try to shrug it off multiply times, but it's seems stuck.
"It looks like we have placed two of them in rooms next to each other. A man who told us his name was Rory. He had surgery to remove a bullet from his shoulder and is now is stable condition. You can talk to him. A woman by the name of Georgia is in the room next door to his. She also went to surgery and is now out. She is also in stable condition, but I don't think she's awake yet. They are in rooms 302 and 303. That's on the third floor. There is an officer guarding each of their rooms, but I'm sure you knew that." The nurse holds the post-it in front of him as he relays the information.
Puck nods. "I did. Thanks." He looks over to me with weary eyes.
"Oh god." My stomach turns.
"What about the third suspect?" Puck asks the nurse.
"Ah, yes." The nurse looks back to the computer and starts typing again. "It says here that the third, a woman, was in surgery all night." The nurse looks back to Puck. "I heard there where some complications."
Oh god. My fingers have a death grip on the counter of the reception desk. I don't like the way this guy is talking.
"But-" The nurse glances back at the computer screen. "-it looks like she pulled through. She is in critical condition in the ICU. She is unconscious, though, so you won't be able to speak with her anytime soon. There is an officer stationed at her door for precautionary reasons, I suppose. It's room 506, just so you know."
"Okay-" Puck says.
I take a deep breath, steal myself, and take off in a sprint down the hall. I get to the elevator and push the up arrow with my thumb. The doors don't open right away so I keep pushing the button.
"Hey, wait." Puck's voice yells down the hallway. At least, the idiot didn't use my name or even my undercover name. I can hear his feet hitting the tile floor as he approaches.
The doors open. I step inside and hit the number five. I see Puck walking hurriedly towards the elevator. He doesn't run though. I push the close door button over and over. I need to get away from him. He can't be in the elevator with me. The doors start to slowly close. Puck starts to pick up his pace, more of a jog than a walk. A small smirk comes to my lips as the doors slip shut and Puck disappears.
The ride to the fifth floor is longer than I want it to be. The elevator stops and the doors slowly open. I step out, look left and then right. There's a nurses station right there in front of me with two female nurses behind the desk.
"Can I help you?" One of them asks.
I narrow my eyes, but shake my head. I turn to look at the wall next to the elevator for directions. I can't tell them where it is that I want to go. The arrows on the wall indicate the direction that the rooms are. Right. I look to my right. About halfway down the hall I see someone standing in the hallway. He's the only person in the hall. I start walking, but everything seems hazy. I can see someone standing there in a uniform, but can't focus on their features. My eyes shift from the figure to the numbers next to the room doors. I'm a few feet away when it finally registers.
"Hudson?" That's who's standing guard at the door.
"What are you doing here?" I hear the words that he says.
I stop in front of room 506. At the window. My eyes shift around the ICU room before they focus on the body in the bed. I put a hand to the glass and look in.
She lays there in the bed. Tubes and wires from machines hooked up to her body. A ventilator breathing for her. A pale face and matted blonde hair are all that are visible. The rest of her body is covered by blankets.
She's alive.
My knees hit the floor. The tears start flowing. I bring my hands to my face.
Footstep and then a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" Finn asks in a quiet whisper.
I sob harder into my hands. Does it really look like I'm okay? I'm far from okay. This is my fault. I could have prevented this. I could have done things differently. I don't know how, but I could have gotten her out of there. Out of danger. She's clinging onto life because of me. Because of this stupid investigation.
"Uh- um- it's okay. You're gonna be okay." Finn tries to tell me.
My body shakes harder. My tears spill out of my eyes at an embarrassing rate.
She's alive.
I hear more footsteps and more words, but they aren't spoken towards me. It sounds like a female voice talking to Officer Hudson. "Is she okay? Is she a family member?"
"She'll be fine." Finn tells the woman. "I can handle it. You can go back to your station ma'am."
The footsteps walk away. A body is on the floor next to me. I glance up to see Finn sitting there with his back to the wall. He tries to give me a sympathetic smile, but it looks more like an uncomfortable grimace. I duck my head again. The tears are still falling. A hand starts rubbing up and down my arm where it wraps around my legs. Somehow, I've come to sitting on my ass.
Puck shows up some time later. I've stopped crying. With a hand from Officer Hudson I was able to stand again, but on shaky legs. My fingers grip the windowsill as I look into the room again.
I hear his boots first. Then his voice as he talks to Finn. He talks in hushed tones. I glance over at the two of them briefly. I didn't realize how close Puck was. He looking into the room with his brow pinched together. I look back into the room after a couple seconds of eyeing him.
When Puck finishes talking to Finn, he comes over next to me and stands at my right side. His hand on the small of my back makes me flinch and look over at him. He's staring at the sight inside the room.
"We should go." He says after a few seconds.
I want to argue. I narrow my eyes at him. Puck finally looks to me and wrinkles up his brow. I tell him that I don't want to leave through my eyes and a single shake of my head. He stares me down, raises an eyebrow. A challenge. I back down.
I have to look away from him. I look over his shoulder at Officer Hudson. I don't like the idea, but I agree with a nod of my head. Puck steps away from the window. I linger for a few seconds longer before turning away with a sigh and following Puck out. My eyes connect with the floor and the heels of Pucks boots as I walk behind him.
We make it out to the car and get inside. "What do you want to do now?" He asks from the driver's seat.
I shrug. I don't know what I want to do now. I want to go back in time before all of this happened. I want to tell her the things I should have. I want to prevent her from getting shot. I want to go back and stop the raid. Right now, though, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to work or think. There's only one thing I really want to do. That's be on floor five of the hospital, holding vigil outside her room.
"It's almost nine. You should get some rest. I'll drive you home." Puck speaks when I don't give him an answer.
I snap my head so fast over to him I hear something pop in my neck. "No."
"No?" Puck asks. He looks completely confused.
"I haven't been there for so long. Plus, I don't think I could rest. Either take me to my undercover apartment or back to the police station." I tell him sternly.
His face screw up even further. Worry. That's the look he has. "I don't want you at the station cuz I know you will try to do something. Work. Or whatever. And I don't want you staying at that apartment any longer."
"I'm still technically undercover, aren't I?" I point a finger in his face. Puck nods and gulps. "It's that apartment or nothing." I threaten. "Look-" I soften a little. I have to reason with him so he sees it my way. "-I have to reconnect with my old life again. I can't do that today. It's not gonna happen over night. I wasn't undercover for a week. It was months. I can't start right now anyway. I need time yet. I need to figure out what's going to happen. So for now I'm still Eva Garcia. Okay?"
Puck grumbles. "Okay." He begrudgingly agrees.
He starts the car and begins driving to the apartment. "I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. Don't come back to the station until at least tomorrow. We have moved all our suspects to the jail this morning so no one will see you there." He pulls up outside my undercover apartment.
I open the door. "Okay." I slide out of the car and slam the door shut.
"San-" I spin around so fast I get dizzy. Puck hangs over the passengers seat. The passengers window is down. By the grimace on his face I can see that Puck realizes his error. "Eva, are you gonna be okay?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "I'm fine." I growl. "Get the fuck outta here." I yell as I turn away from him and stomp over the brown winter grass. I get to the door and Puck hasn't driven away yet. I look over my shoulder and glare at him. I see him shake has head, but relents. He puts the car into gear and finally drives off.
He's not my most favorite person right now.
I trudge up the stairs to my studio apartment. I unlock the door, go inside, and go straight to the fridge. I open it up and get a beer out of the fridge. The cap pops off in my hand and I tip the bottle to my lips. I take a long drink before I lower the bottle. I look around the room. It's mostly empty. It's like no one lives here. It's a place to live. It was a place to eat, to sleep, to bide time but, it's not home.
I take my beer and go sit on the bed. I take another long drink, then slowly start taking off my shoes. It should be an easy task, but for whatever reason it's nearly impossible. I get the left one off, but the right shoelace gets a knot in it. Without undoing the knot I wrench the shoe from my heel. It hurts my ankle but whatever. I take the leather jacket off and throw it at the foot of the bed. When I look down I see the blood again. My shirt from yesterday, still covered in her blood.
With a dejected sigh, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. My hands come up to cover my face. I take in big deep breathes to try and prevent the tears from coming. After a few minutes like that I can stand again. I grab my bottle and drink the rest of it in one gulp.
I move to the kitchen and set the empty bottle on the countertop. I need to get out of these clothes. I need to get out of the smell from the last day. The bathroom is my next destination. I crank the knob that turns the shower on so it's on it's hottest setting. The clothes fly off of my body next. The shirt lands on the floor first. I cover it up with my jeans and undergarments. I don't want to see the evidence of what happened on that shirt any longer.
I step into the scalding hot water of the shower. The water stings and turns my skin red, but I could care less. I just want to drown everything out right now.
The next day when I wake up I feel like complete shit. I didn't get any real sleep. I tossed and turned the whole night. And when I did sleep, I always awoke from a nightmare. All of them involving the day before.
I get dressed and head down to the police station. It's not a route I've taken before. I've never gone from the undercover apartment to the police station or vice versa. I actually take the subway for a few stops cuz it's that far away.
I don't even know what I'm doing here. I won't to able to focus on any work, I know that for a fact. My head is all over the place. One second I'm think one thing and the next it's something else entirely.
Not to mention I feel like I got hit by a train. I didn't bother to look in a mirror this morning. I know I look like shit. That's fine. My black eye has faded considerable, but there's a faint hint of it. There are probably dark circles under my eyes. I didn't shower this morning, I scalded myself enough yesterday, so my hair is probably all frizzy. But, I don't care. I can't really find myself caring about anything right now. Not even the case.
My feet drag up the steps into the precinct. People looks at me, as I pass them, judging everything about my appearance today. I didn't bother to put proper pants, either. I have my grey sweatpants, that I wear to sleep in, on. My leather jacket covers a fresh t-shirt that I changed into this morning.
I duck my head to look at the floor to get away from their stares. I have only one destination in mind. He's not even gonna see me coming. My feet hit the floor with purpose as I approach Puckerman's desk in the middle of the precinct.
"Oh, hey, Santana." He must have seen me coming. I meet his eyes and storm up to his desk. "What's up?" He has some nerve. He's about to find out what's up.
"What's up?" I ask with a raised eyebrow and my hands on my hips. "You wanna know what's up? I'll tell you what the fuck is up. You're a little fucker, that's what's up. You and you're fucking SWAT team. Marching all over the place like you own the world."
The confused look in his eyes is totally worth it. I can feel the others in the office watching our little conversation, but I could care less.
"This is your fuckin' fault. How can you just go into a raid guns blazing? Shooting up the place as if it's a war zone." I step around his desk and stand over him as he sits in his chair. I want him to hear every single word that comes from my lips. "There were innocent people in that house. Did you care about that? No."
"Santana, what is-"
"No. Shut the fuck up." I yell in his face. "Listen to me. I don't care what you think you did. Or if it was right or wrong. There should have been a better way. You could have thought of a better way. Instead your storm troopers run in and started shooting up the place. This is your fault." My fist connects with his chest. "This is all your fault. I started blaming myself, but it's not on me, this is on you. You did this. It's your fault she got shot. It's your fault she's clinging to life in a hospital bed. You fucker." I pound my fist against his chest.
"Santana. Stop." Puck stands.
I keep going though. My fists connect with his muscular chest. "It's all your fault." I sob. The tears start falling once again.
Puck wraps his strong arms around me and pulls me into his chest. "She didn't deserve this." I cry into his shirt.
"Okay, let's go downstairs and calm down." Puck's feet start moving and he drags me along in his arms. When we reach the stairs he literally picks me up and carries me down the stairs. I wrap my arms around his neck and rub my face against his shoulder.
My back hit the softness of a mattress. The cot dips by my feet. I peek one eye open to see Puck sitting there. "Just take a few minutes to calm down. I'm not going anywhere." He pats my ankle gently.
I rub at my eyes with my hands, both to try and clear my tears and so that I don't have to look at Puck. Minutes pass and the tears slowly subside. Instead of a torrent, it's more of a drizzle.
"What's wrong?" Puck finally asks, breaking our silence. I open my eyes to peer over at him. He's waiting for a response. I can't find the words so I shake my head. "Well, why did you come storming in here like a mad lady and start wailing on me?"
"I'm sorry, Puck." I cover my face with my hand. I can't even look at him. He keeps rubbing his hand over my ankle. I can't tell if it's helping or just distracting. "I was mad. I am mad. I'm upset. Angry. Frustrated. Worried. Anxious. I think I've gone through every emotion possible in the last couple of days."
"Why? Just from what's happened since the raid? You've seen raids before. You've been in raids before. That shouldn't bother you." Puck says gently.
"No. You idiot." I sit up on the cot. The anger bubbling to the surface again. "It's the bullets and who they hit."
"This is about that girl in the hospital?" Puck asks.
I duck my head, but nod. "Yeah. Brittany. I'm worried about her."
"Hmm. I figured it had something to do with her. I knew there was something going on there just from the way you reacted, during the raid, when she got shot. Do you, like, have feelings for her? Do you love this chick?" Puck ask bluntly.
I can't look at him. I nod. "Yeah." With one word I may have just sealed my fate.
"I see. I can't say that the situation you have yourself in is a professional one. It's against protocol. I know going undercover things get difficult and complicated. And sometimes you can't help what happens or who you might get attached to and possibly develop feelings for. You want my advice?" He has a serious look on this face when I look up at him.
"It can't hurt." I shrug. He's probably gonna tell me even if I say no. He's been my friend for many years now. I trust him and appreciate his advice. Puck knows that. That's why he's gonna tell me what he thinks, no matter what. He's a good guy. I just don't really want to hear it right now. Nothing feels right today.
"Go to the hospital. Visit her."
"I don't know if I can do that." I avoid Puck's eyes again.
"Why not?" He asks earnestly.
I start picking at the bottom of my jacket. "I think I was in shock yesterday when we were there. Now that I've been there, I don't know if I can go back. It's too painful."
"Well, you'll never know unless you try. I think it will do you some good. You obviously have a strong connection with this girl. She means a lot to you. I'm sure she could use another visitor."
I doubt Brittany's had any visitors. The only people she knows are all locked up. Her parents are dead. She doesn't have any other family. I would seriously be shocked if someone went to visit her.
"What if they won't let me see her? I'm not family."
"You'll figure it out." Puck pats my knee.
"What if someone spots me?"
"Santana, stop making excuses. You can be Eva if anyone spots you, but I don't think you will have any problems. If anyone asks just tell them you are visiting a friend. Santana, you need to do this." Puck finishes with insistency.
"But the last time I was with her we got into a fight." I hang my head at the confession. I regret it so much. There's nothing I can do about it now. I wish I could go back before our fight and make sure that it didn't happen.
"Then don't let that be the last thing you shared together." Puck says solemnly.
Puck got me a ride down to the hospital with one of the officers. I grumbled at him the whole time that I was at the station. I had to wait about a half an hour for the officer. For the most part Puck ignored me. I sat at my desk and watched everyone else move about their day.
The precinct doesn't stop without me, that's very apparent. It's like they don't even need me anymore.
I have no idea who the officer is that is driving me to the hospital. That's fine with me. I don't wanna know. I have been looking out the window for the whole ride. My chauffeur turned the radio in the car on at one point, but I reached over and turned it off right away. We have been riding in silence ever since.
I'm relieved when we pull into the parking lot at the hospital. I hop out as soon as the car comes to a stop. Luckily, my buddy doesn't put up any protests. I stare up at the giant of a building. It's an important place, a place of healing and recovery, yet somewhere inside is a person that is more important than that. I walk into the hospital as calmly as my body will allow me, which isn't very calm at all. I feel like I'm gonna have a panic attack.
I don't bother stopping at the reception desk. It's the same guy that was sitting there yesterday. If he sees me he doesn't say anything. I doubt he knows who I am. Probably thinks I'm associated with Puck. And I am, but I'm not here on police business. The guy behind the desk doesn't need to know that though.
I make my way to the end of the hall, hit the up arrow for the elevator, and wait. It takes a few seconds, but the doors open and I hop in. Like yesterday, I hit the five on the board of numbers.
I lean back against the wall as the elevator ascends. I'm exhausted. I rub my hand over my face. I can feel a headache coming on, but can't do anything about it. I always get headaches when I don't get enough sleep. And I sure haven't had enough sleep in the past two days.
The elevator dings and the doors open. The nurses at the nurses station eye me like fresh meat. Except, I'm not fresh. I was here yesterday. I couldn't tell you if the two nurses that are sitting behind the desk are the same ones from yesterday or not. It doesn't matter. I try and give them my most charming smile as I step out of the elevator. I turn in the direction of Brittany's room without a second glance at the nurses. If I look like I know where I'm going they won't ask me any questions or hold me back.
I start down the hall, but don't get halfway down before the officer at the door turns to see who it is that's coming. He watches as I approach the room. But, my approach slows. My feet feel heavier and heavier with every step I take. Almost like I have cement bricks for shoes. I look down at them. They are just feet covered with the same pair of sneakers that I've worn everyday for the last couple of months. The closer I get to Brittany's room, the harder it is to breathe, too. I'm taking shallow little breaths by the time I get to the window. My vision blurs as I look inside the room. I look but don't see anything. I look but can't see the bed or the person laying in it.
"Are you here for a visit?" His voice floats into my ears.
I squint my eyes. I blink trying to clear my vision. I turn to the officer. He's blurry too. I keep blinking. What's wrong with my vision? After what feels like forever the man comes into focus. He has a concerned look on his face.
"What?" I ask, but my lips stick together. I try to wet them, but there isn't any saliva in my mouth.
"I asked if you were here to visit her." He answers my question with a kind smile.
"Mmm, yes." I nod.
"Are you okay?" He asks. I'm starting to hate that question.
"I'm fine." I lick my lips again. This time it works a little better.
"Are you family? Have you signed in with the nurses station?"
"What's with all the questions?" I answer his questions with a question of my own. I may be a little too defensive, but fuck it.
"Nothing. I just want to make sure I know who is coming and going from the room. Protocol and stuff like that. I don't mean any offense."
"Offense taken. What if I told you she is my sister?" I raise a challenging eyebrow at Mr. Junior Officer here. His name tag says Olsen. He looks like he just graduated from high school, never mind the police academy.
"I wouldn't believe you. I'd need proof." He rises to my challenge. Boy's got balls.
I point a threatening finger in the young man's face just for shits and giggles. "Listen here bucko. I'm going in that room whether you like it or not. Let's just say, for right now, that I am a dear friend of that patient in there. If you're worried about some psycho, that's not me. I don't have any weapons. You can search me if you want, but you won't find anything."
"Whatever." He drops the challenge and takes a step away from me. "Just don't cause any trouble." He waves me off.
"I won't, Officer Olsen." I smirk at him before turning to the door.
I push on the handle and the lock clicks and the door opens a little. The hospital room is dimly lit. The blinds are drawn and the light is off over the bed. The only light is the one by the door and it lights up that half of the room. I push the door open halfway and step into the doorframe.
That's when I see her. Brittany. She's lying on the bed perfectly still. The white hospital issue blanket covers her up to her shoulders. The same machines that were hooked up to her yesterday are still there today. As I take a step into the room I can hear them working. The noise that the ventilator makes as it breathes for Brittany. The heart monitor machine that beeps with Brittany's heartbeat. The rest of the room is silent. The only noises come from the machines.
I step further into the room so I can close the door behind me. The door clicks shut and everything seems so much more real now that I am sealed into the room. Before, when I was at a distance and it felt like it was an out of body experience or a bad dream. Now, it feels real. This is really happening. Brittany is really laying in this hospital bed. I am really standing in her hospital room.
Slowly, and as silently as possible, I cross the room until I am standing next to her bed. She looks so pale, so fragile, so broken. I don't know anything about her condition or what happened after she was taken out of Danny's house. All I know is that she came here and was in surgery all night. There was a complication, but I don't know what that means. Obviously, she is unconscious. Does that means she's in a coma?
I look around, unsure of what to do. I spot a chair in the corner of the room and go over to it. I drag the chair so that it's next to Brittany's bed, on her right side. When I take a seat I look over her again. Nothing's changed. Not that I expected it to. She's still the same. I let out a sigh and rest my head against the bed. Except, it's not the mattress my forehead lands on. It's Brittany's arm. I sit back and look down at the spot where my forehead just was, a thought comes to me.
I lean forward on the edge of the chair. I lift the side of the blanket up off of the bed and peek underneath. Brittany's naked white arm it right there. I drop the blanket as soon as I see it. I look up to Brittany's face to see her reaction. There is none. I look back to the blanket where her arm is. I lift the blanket up again. This time I gentle take the blanket and tuck it around her hand so that Brittany's right hand is exposed. I look to her face again to see if it's changed. It hasn't. I don't know why I think it would. I wrap my hands around hers, one on top and one underneath. I rub my thumb over the skin of the back of her hand. Brittany's hands are soft and surprisingly warm.
I stroke my thumb over her skin repeatedly and watch her face for any reaction. "Hey, Britt. It's me." I say in a soft voice. I don't clarify who the me is, but it doesn't matter. I don't know if she can hear me or not. I don't want our fight from the other day to be the last thing either of us remember. It was a stupid fight anyway.
"I don't know if you can here me, but I want to say I am sorry about that fight we had the other day. It was stupid and I shouldn't have pushed you for answers. It's your life, you can live it however you want. I just- I-" My voice cracks and as soon as it does the tears come. I take my hand, that was under Brittany's, and wipe the tears away from my eyes.
"I wish this never happened. I wish you weren't in here. Britt-" I suck up the snot that's trying to run out of my nose. "You shouldn't be in here. You should be laughing and smiling that smile of yours that I love so much. You should be telling me silly things and making me laugh along with you. I'm sorry that you are in here." I rest my forehead against my hand, on top of hers.
"I'm sorry, Britt. I should have stopped the raid. I should have stopped them from shooting you. God, I'm so sorry. Please, be okay. You have to wake up. You have to be okay. I don't think I could live with myself if you aren't. Britt, I love you. I should have said it sooner. I should have said it when I felt it. I should have told you I loved you when you told me. I love you, Britt-Britt. Please be okay."
I'm a blubbering mess, but that's okay because I finally said what I needed to say. I just hope that it's not too late.
I hear a noise. I open my eyes, but all I see is the black of my hair and the white of something else. My eyelashes stick together. My back aches too. I wiggle around to get a feel of the situation.
"Hello."
I snap back. My eyes wide in the direction of the voice. A man in a white lab coat stand at the end of a bed. My eyes scan the room. Right, the hospital.
"That didn't look like a very comfortable sleeping position." The man comments and nods his head.
I look to wear he nodded. The bed. Brittany. Her hand is exposed still and mine rests on top of it. I must have fallen asleep. "Whatever." I shrug. I turn back to face the man and get a better look at him. He has a tight-lipped smile on his face. His hands are in his coat pockets. He's a tall man with wave brown hair. Handsome. "Are you a doctor?" As the words leave my lips I know how stupid they sound.
"Yes. I'm Doctor Buchanan. I'm Brittany's doctor." He holds out his hand for me to shake. I take his hand in mine. "And you are?" He cocks his head to the side.
"I- uh- look, I know I'm not family and I shouldn't be in here. Brittany is-" I'm trying to decided what to tell the doctor. What's the lesser of two evils? "-is a good friend of mine."
"I see. Well, you are in luck Miss-?"
"Garcia. Eva Garcia." I supply. This is getting bad. I don't know how much longer I can keep this charade going.
"Ms. Garcia, I'm not one of those guys that follows all the rules. I think friends should be aloud to visit in the ICU, even if the patient is unconscious. Don't worry, I won't tattle on you." The doctor smiles reassuringly at me.
I give him my best smile. It's probably not great. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." He nods.
"What's wrong with her? I mean, why isn't she awake? Is she in a coma?"
He chuckles. "I believe that's more than one something, Ms. Garcia." I shrug. He continues. "Brittany is in a coma. There was a lot of trauma to her body and she lost a lot of blood. That's probably why she hasn't woken up yet. Brittany is on a ventilator to breathe for her. As she was shot in the chest, the bullet ripped through her left lung. We had to go in there and repair it. Luckily, it was repairable."
"The nurse at reception said there was a complication during surgery."
"Yes. There was." The doctor nods. "Your friend is a lucky one indeed. Her heart stopped while we were in there. Luckily, it was after I had repaired her lung and was just looking around for other injuries. We restarted her heart within a few seconds and everything went good after that. But, like I said, she's been through a lot of trauma."
I know I'm staring at him. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, kind of staring.
"I expect Brittany to make a full recovery, eventually. She will most likely have to go through therapy, but she's young and seems strong. She should conquer therapy, no problem. We just gotta get her to wake up now." The doctor grabs onto one of Brittany's feet and wiggles it back and forth. "Maybe you could ask her real nice to wake up for us. It's good to have family come and visit. Patients with more visitors wake up sooner."
I look over Brittany's still body again.
"Do you have anymore questions, Ms. Garcia?"
"No. Thank you, Doctor."
"You're very welcome. I hope to see you around these parts again. I have to go now. Have a good day, Ms. Garcia."
"Thanks." I mumble. My eyes glued to Brittany's face. I hear the doctor leave the room, but don't bother to even look to see him leave.
If only I could ask Brittany to wake up and she just would. I'm not naïve, I know it's not that simple. She has to be ready to wake up. She isn't Sleeping Beauty. One kiss won't wake her up. But, there has to also be some truth to Doctor Buchanan's words. More visitors means possibly waking sooner.
Brittany doesn't have any family. She doesn't really have any friends, either. That makes my decision a whole lot easier.
I stand up from the chair. My back cracks as I stretch it out. Bending at the waist, I lift her hand off the bed a few inches, I don't want to disturb her too much. I place a kiss to the back of her hand before setting it back down gently and covering it with the blanket so it doesn't get cold. I step closer to where her head rests. "I'll come see you tomorrow, Britt. I'll be here everyday until you wake up. I love you, Brittany." I lean over the railing on the bed and press my lips to her forehead. I hold them there for a few second before I pull back. There are tears in the corners of my eyes again. I wipe at them with my hands. "Bye, Britt. I'll be back tomorrow. I promise." I turn and leave before it becomes too difficult to.