A/N: I always appreciate reviews. Criticism is like my best friend when I'm writing. Thanks for those who continue to read and review.
Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. This will include lesbian sex, maybe some hetero but it's not likely. Possibly Finn bashing, I'm not entirely sure how yet, but I'll try to find a way, might even toss in some Jesse bashing.
I didn't sleep much that night. I hadn't realized I'd gotten so used to Santana's presence. Her soft even breaths weren't there to lull me to sleep. Instead of a body, her side of the bed was weighed down by its emptiness and my guilt. The little sleep I did get, fitful with dreams of the cold smack of slushies in a myriad of colors, was cut short by the brush of the door over carpet. I didn't move or speak as the absent blanket and pillow were returned but the body that belonged with them wasn't there, instead it was slouched on the corner of the bed. The room seemed to have, somehow, grown quieter as I watched the barely visible rise and fall of Santana's shoulders.
"Go back to sleep," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper.
"San," I called, finally sitting up.
"Really Rachel, I'm not in the mood," she shook her head.
"Santana, please just let me apologize," I pleaded.
"Apologize for what Rachel? Telling me the truth? You don't need to."
"But-"
"There's no buts, you told me the truth so I did the same," she didn't sound angry, just blunt. "I'm not your friend, I just work for you."
I shook my head and moved to put my hand on her shoulder; she dipped out of the touch, "You are my friend."
"It was her turn to shake her head with a humorless laugh, "Tell me you'd say the same thing if I hadn't walked into that interview, if I was just some street-rat you ran across."
"We could," I mumbled.
"But we wouldn't. You were right Rachel, you don't know anything about my past but if you did whore wouldn't be anywhere near the harshest thing you'd call me."
I watched her nervously, "Santana we're friends, I just don't want you to be mad at me."
She finally looked up to me as if gauging my sincerity "I'm not mad, we aren't supposed to be friends. I can't do my job if I'm busy playing with you."
"We can be friends without-"
"I can't protect you if I want to quit every time I get my feelings hurt," she clarified, looking vulnerable as she admitted it. "And it's going to happen if I keep letting my guard down."
I couldn't think of a response to that.
"We just can't be friends Rachel," she sighed, her shoulders slumping completely.
She didn't have anything else to say and neither did I. I laid back down, not entirely sure what else to do. I could only watch her as she became a silent statue. She did eventually move, when everyone else had woken. I just stayed in bed, pretending to sleep when anyone came in. I kept it up until dinner when I had to come out. Santana, Matt and I shared anxious glances but she led us through the trail of lies. According to us, we got home at midnight, we danced for hours, we cheered when Quinn, Finn, Mercedes, and Noah won homecoming court, and we had fun. Dad and Daddy were excited for the pictures. Aunt V was asking Santana about her performance. We avoided any awkward questions about the end of the night. That night Santana was back in our room although we didn't speak much; it was easier to sleep with her there.
Monday we stayed in the room, me watching movies while she texted. I kept expecting questions and complaints but they never came. The few time she looked to the screen it didn't last very long before was typing away at her phone again. I found myself paying more attention to her than the movies.
Tuesday we, rather, I decided to go back to the school. We mostly sat in on some of Mr. Schuester's classes. Santana and I sat in the back of the class where she said she could easily watch me. She didn't really say much after that, preferring to work on the Spanish Assignments. When I asked she followed me to the bleachers where we sat for another couple of periods. I ended up doing some Spanish 1 assignments, with minimal help from her. I was almost done when I heard heavy footsteps on the bleachers. Santana's back straightened defensively and I turned in time to see Noah forcing Finn up the steps, the latter's arm held tightly behind his back.
"Fuck dude, let me go," Finn groaned as he and Noah stopped before us.
Santana looked both of them over skeptically.
"Say it," Noah ground out, pressing the boys arm again.
"Okay, okay," he agreed, trying to twist out of Noah's grasp, "I'm sorry for trying to get you to sleep with me. I had too much punch after Puck spiked it"
An incredible guilt welled up in me at that. Santana, in no way, deserved what I'd said to her, and while I may not have been the one to throw the slushies afterwards, I might as well have been.
At that Noah let go of his arm.
"I shouldn't have," the boy glared at his friend before looking apologetically to Santana.
"Probably not the one you should be apologizing to," she mumbled under her breath. She shrugged to him, "We're good."
"Still-" he cocked his head. It got awkwardly silent before he looked to Noah, "I'll see you in glee."
The mohawked boy nodded to his friend before crashing onto the seat between us. He slipped his arm over Santana's shoulder and pulled her close, "I'm like ridiculously sorry for telling him. I didn't think he'd do that even if he was drunk. It's not like I told him you were easy or anything he's just my bro-"
"Whatever," she shook her head, "I get it, I mean, who wouldn't want to brag after tapping this?" She smirked playfully at the boy, and I felt a burning I was starting to recognize after having it pointed out to me.
His anxiety melted into a grin, "As long as you're cool. I'd have gladly gotten everyone else up here but wrangling Mercedes, Dave, and Azimio would have been a bitch, and even then they probably wouldn't be as easy to persuade to apologize."
"I can handle them," she waved him off, "Besides; knocking Quinn around would be more than enough apology for me."
He laughed, "Yeah, well, don't get yourself on anyone else's bad side."
"Me? On someone's bad side? Never," she joked, smiling up at the boy.
"What about you babe?" he asked me, slipping his arm over my shoulder now, "I didn't see much of you at homecoming."
"I had a decent night, dancing and what not," I shrugged, not exactly enjoying his company.
"That's good. You haven't been making any enemies have you?" He teased.
"Besides Quinn and her horde? No," I shook my head.
"You two have terrible judgment," he pointed out.
"But I can handle it," Santana explained, "She can't."
"Four slushies say otherwise," Noah pointed out.
"Oh yeah? And how many have you taken to the face?" She wondered.
"Let's not get into that," he dodged, laughing as he did so.
I'd have appreciated if he'd left sooner but he finished out the day with us. Mostly he joked around with Santana while I watched. Every once in a while Noah would try to get me in on the joke or game but I would just nod or smile politely. I noticed Santana glancing at me curiously every time she'd laugh too loud or get too caught up in a joke. I wanted to know why but I didn't interrupt them. Noah seemed saddened to find out we'd be leaving Friday although he was glad to walk us into glee club. Mr. Schuester gave us the congratulations for homecoming that everyone had gotten the day before. Quinn and Mercedes seemed surprised to see us but they kept that to themselves. When I looked up to Santana, after Brittany hugged her, she seemed to have noticed the other two girls as well. She kept her eyes on them, well into the meeting.
"So, did you finally get your boyfriend off of everyone else's lap or will she just take a slushie for anyone?" Quinn asked me as we headed for the door.
"Quinn I'm asking that you leave us be our last few days here," I stepped back from her, bumping into Santana.
"She's asking. I'm telling," Santana ground out and I felt her hands on my shoulders.
"Aw, now if that isn't a pretty picture," Mercedes joined in, "It's just missing a little color isn't it?"
"Quinn, just leave them alone," Sam came to our side.
"Aw Sammie, you haven't learned your lesson? Or are you still trying to mack on with the hobbit's boyfriend?" Mercedes sneered.
The boy blushed furiously but didn't stop.
Puck stood in front of us, "This is getting on my nerves. Quinn, chill, they'll be out of your hair soon enough. Mercedes, I wasn't your man to begin with so I don't know what your deal is."
"No," Quinn glared at the boy, "I won't chill." She got a dark look in her eyes before storming out.
"Hell no, this is about more than just you and Finnept," the angry girl challenged, following after Quinn.
"You guys probably shouldn't come to school tomorrow," Sam pointed out.
"I wouldn't," Noah agreed.
I was going to agree when I heard Santana's breathing behind me, "We'll be here."
Matt found out, probably from Sam and Noah, about the upset with Quinn and Mercedes. He gave the same warning to Santana and practically begged me not to go. I mentioned to Santana that we shouldn't go, that maybe she couldn't handle it. She told me she wouldn't; if I genuinely didn't want to go, then there was nothing she could do and we wouldn't. But I did want to go. I wanted to say goodbye to the friends we'd made. Noah, while haughty and crass, was almost charming in his own way. Brittany was genuinely nice, although not the sharpest tool in the shed. Sam was an all around nice guy and any negative feelings I had towards him, well, they may have had more to do with his interactions with Santana.
"I want to go," I finally concluded.
"Then we'll go," she stated, lying back on the bed.
"What about Quinn and Mercedes?" I wondered, watching her as she curled up under her blanket, her phone already before her face.
"I told you I'd protect you, Rachel, just let me do my job and you can say goodbye to everyone," she mumbled.
"Alright," I nodded.
}{
Santana was up before me that Wednesday, coffee made for the three of us. She seemed especially observant, not really focusing on me, but everyone else around us. We sat in on some of Mr. Schuester's classes and followed the boys to a couple. Noah was amazed he hadn't been getting Santana to help with his math homework and Sam was impressed with how easily she took up the book they were reading in AP English, even I'd gotten bored with it. Even between all of that, I could tell she knew what was happening around us. This was probably the first time I'd ever her scene her actually act like a bodyguard, at least how I thought one would act.
"Colombiana!" A woman barked as we started following Sam from his class on our way to glee.
Santana turned to the voice, mumbling about everyone thinking she was Colombian when she saw the tracksuit clad blonde woman.
I was giggling slightly as she did.
"Word on the street is you're skipping town," the woman stopped about a foot away from us, her hands on her hips, "And I've yet to see you at a practice."
"Yeah," she shrugged, "Didn't seem to be my thing."
"Then why haven't I seen my uniform?" The woman cocked her head, annoyance splayed across her features.
Santana scoffed, "Ask your girls, they didn't seem to care too much about the uniform when they locked it in the bathroom."
The woman looked over Santana curiously before nodding. She came forward, standing in front of Santana so she had to look up at her, "I like you. Not one of my girls would have the nerve to tell me something like that. I must say, using talents like yours for "the greater good,"" and she actually used finger quotes, "might just be a waste."
"Talents?" I wondered. The woman had never seen Santana do much more than run.
She looked to me next, "Trust me, if you look in her eyes she's made for a lot more than just babysitting you, but I must admit, you're getting your money's worth with her."
When I looked to Santana for an explanation all I saw was irritation, as if the woman said something to upset her, "I'm made to watch after her, now if you don't mind we have somewhere to be." Despite the venom in her voice she was gentle as she urged me towards the choir room. "Don't expect your uniform back," she tossed over her shoulder.
"Nobody else would do it justice," Sue called back.
I looked back over my shoulder to see the woman smirking after us. Santana led me into the choir room. Apparently Matt had told everyone that it would be our last day at school. Brittney, to her friends disdain, spent the whole meeting sitting with Santana and I. Santana kept her eyes on the other girls until the very end of the meeting. They left well before us, as soon as Mr. Schuester dismissed us. Everyone else was saying their goodbyes and making sure they got our numbers. It was nice, and I enjoyed it so much, and as I looked her over as she let Noah sling an arm over her shoulder and Sam one around her waist I could tell she did too. Brittany and Tina wanted my number and Finn requested it for Kurt so he could give it to him when he got home.
"Do you guys want the keys so you can head home? I can catch a ride with Puck," Matt offered.
"No, I wouldn't mind watching you practice," I offered smiling up to my cousin before looking to Santana, "Would you."
"I'm cool with it," she nodded, still smiling slightly.
"Alright, we'll see you on the field," he handed Santana the keys anyway before following the other boys out and to the locker room.
"So," Santana started, sounding more relaxed speaking to me than she had since Saturday night, "Think you're going to miss it all?"
I looked to her curiously; she was eyeing the door everyone had just left through wearily, "A bit. I mean, aren't you? Aside from the slushies and the cheerios it was nice."
She scoffed, "It was nice that we didn't have to deal with it every day if we didn't want to."
I nodded understandingly, "I suppose so." I shoved her playfully and teased, "But I know you're going to miss the boys and Brittany."
She shrugged, "Come on, let's get to the bleachers."
I nodded and followed her out of the room, bumping into her back when she stopped just outside. I was going to ask what happened when I followed her line of sight to see Quinn and Mercedes with large cups in hand. There was a moment I wasn't sure what to do so I looked up to Santana. Her eyes flickered between the girls as she assessed the situation and I saw her look to the opposite direction. She looked back to them and I saw her fists clench but she shook her head and pushed me in front of her. I was going to ask what we were doing as we practically power-walked to the next hallway. She pushed me forward and reached for the knob of the first door we passed. It didn't give much and I gaped at her as she pulled out the two knives I hadn't seen in quite a while. Her hands worked quickly at the lock until it gave and she urged me into the dark room before following me and pulling the door shut tightly behind us.
Her chest rose and fell quickly with agitation. There really wasn't enough space for me to move away from her so I felt each irritated breath she took for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a small blue glow rose between us and I saw her phone. She held it between us and I saw her looking around the room curiously, taking in the cleaning supplies that surrounded us. Her brows were knit together in annoyance but they relaxed as she looked down to me.
"Slushies aren't really that bad," I pointed out, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You haven't taken four to the face," she reminds.
I nodded understandingly.
"Besides, I don't think your dad would be too happy with bailing me out of jail for smashing someone's face," she scowled, trying to turn to the door without knocking anything from the shelves. A towel fell onto her head and I tugged it off gently.
"Probably not," I agreed.
She moved back to the door, pressing her ear to it carefully.
I just watched, trying not to move too much and make anything else fall. She seemed focused on what was on the other side of the door. Once again, she became a statue until she heard what she wanted to. She waved me forward and turned back, pulling me close, almost like she did at the club. "When I open the door, I'll go first, wait a minute, and if nothing happens we'll go to the bleachers. If something does happen, wait for my signal stay low, and go to the bleachers on your own, I'll catch up to you."
I nodded, although I grew nervous at that.
She pressed back to the door listening for a bit longer before she slipped her phone back into her pocket and I heard the twist of the doorknob. The fluorescent lights filtered into the small room as she stepped out of the room. She looked to the hallway we'd just come from and I assumed nothing was wrong. I waited for anything to happen or the signal she was meant to give but it didn't come, at least not how I expected. Santana turned back to me almost looking relaxed enough to wave me out when the whole slushy cup hit the side of her head. She was caught off guard by it enough that the next slushy hit her directly, coating her more thoroughly. I saw as Mercedes came forward and gripped her by her jacket.
"Did you and your girlfriend really think you'd leave without a proper goodbye?" The girl asked, tossing Santana back on the ground.
Quinn peeked into the closet, that overly sweet smile still on her face. "M, looks like we've interrupted their date."
"I figured as much," the other girl nodded, watching Santana get up, obviously in pain, "I mean boyfriend's pretty upset."
"Don't touch her," Santana growled as she got up.
"Or what?" Quinn challenged, "You're going to sleep with someone else? Or do you do anything else worth worrying about?"
Santana lunged for the blonde only to be knocked to the side by Mercedes.
Quinn came into the closet and grabbed me by my arm, tugging me out to more thoroughly see Santana picking herself up.
"Shouldn't you help your boyfriend up?" She shoved me towards Santana. I almost fell as I pulled the girl up, not worrying about the liquid melting onto me.
She pulled me to her and tried to keep the harshness out of her voice as she mumbled, "Go to the bleachers." She slipped out of her jacket and handed it to me.
"But-"
"Just go," she snapped, pushing me behind her as Mercedes came back to her.
I was worried as I backed up slightly, watching the other girls approach her. Santana certainly looked a bit more focused now. Before she'd been distracted trying to keep me out of their way but her posture was different now.
"Now, Rachel," she called as she took a familiar stance.
"She thinks she's some sort of fighter," Mercedes laughed.
"It's cute, I see what the hobbit sees in her," I heard Quinn's voice as I turned the corner making my way to the bleachers.
}{
Santana didn't come to the bleachers. In fact, she didn't even meet us at the truck. I grew anxious when Matt came to me after practice Noah in Sam in tow and looking just as worried. They said Santana called and they had to go get her, but Matt was taking me home. I watched the two boys head back into the school as Matt led me to his truck. We got home and I took up residence on the couch, waiting for any sign of Santana. Matt assured me she was fine and would be home soon. When Dad and Daddy heard about her not coming home with me they had different responses.
"I hope she's alright, why didn't you tell us those girls were bothering you?" Daddy worried.
"It didn't seem like a big deal, it wasn't much more than some senseless harassment," I shrugged it off, playing with the sticky collar of her coat.
"Senseless harassment?" Dad shouted, "Rachel, you could be the one not coming in until everyone's thoroughly panicked, if she was a real bodyguard none of this would have happened."
Matt came to her defense, "Uncle Hiram, it's not that big of a deal, Quinn and Mercedes are usually fairly harmless, and Rachel's obviously alright."
Just then we all turned to see the door open, Santana standing there in a t-shirt that was obviously too big on her. She had some sunglasses over her eyes even though it was already dark outside. I could see Sam and Noah watching her carefully from a truck, making sure she got inside alright. She lifted an arm to wave them off before pulling the door closed behind her and looking around the collected group. I couldn't help it when I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around her waist and pressing my head to her chest. She stiffened slightly and when I looked up I saw a slight grimace on her face, only made harsher by the bruising forming on the apple of her cheek and jaw and the scab on her lip. I only got to take it in for a moment before I was being pulled back from her. I watched as Dad took my place, just barely eye level with her chin but still looking menacing.
"Who do you think you are putting my daughter in danger like that?" He demanded. "She could have been hurt because we trusted her safety to some punk."
"Hiram," Daddy chastised.
"No," He tossed back, "I'm right. Rachel could have been hurt because we let her play with some child expecting her to take on an adult's job."
"Mr. Berry-" Santana started.
"No, there's no argument and no defense here," he shook his head. "And take those stupid things off," he reached to snatch the glasses from Santana's face. She tried to stop him but her reaction was slower than normal.
I couldn't contain a gasp as I saw the bruising surrounding her eye and connecting to that on her cheek.
Dad didn't have much else to say when he saw that.
"If you'd let me finish, I'd have told you, I'm sorry I had to send Rachel to the boys on her own, but I had to make sure the other girls didn't follow her. My temper may have gotten out of hand but, as you can see, she's alright," her speech was slow and any focus she showed was forced.
"Where have you been since then?" He questioned the hostility still in his voice.
She looked down and I noticed the bandages on the middle and ring fingers of her left hand, "Puck and Sam insisted I go to the hospital. I ended up doing more damage to myself than the other girls."
"We aren't paying you to go around rumbl-"
"Hiram!" Daddy chose to cut him off them; he hushed Daddy before hugging Santana, "Thank you for watching out for our little girl San. I'm sorry you had to get injured in the process." He pulled back quickly when he saw her wince at the contact.
"It's my job Mr. Berry," she smiled at Daddy although it was obviously a painful gesture. The split in her lip opened again and she hurried to wipe it away.
"Matt can you help her and Rachel to the room? Hiram and I need to go upstairs to speak." Daddy's voice sounded harsher than I was used to as I grabbed Santana's jacket.
Matt helped her to the room. He offered her assistance with anything else but she politely declined. She slipped into the bed and laid down quickly. I could only watch from the doorway until she waved me over.
"I'm out of practice," she groaned, bringing her right hand up to palm her right eye, the undamaged one.
"Is that really what you're worried about?" I asked, slight panic in my voice. I sat on the bed next to her, taking in all of the injuries.
"None, of this," she gestured to herself, "Would have been as bad if I'd been practicing."
I couldn't help but laugh as I leaned down to slip my arm over her again, nuzzling her shoulder slightly, even as she stiffened, "Why couldn't you have just come to the bleachers with me."
"They'd have followed, and I couldn't keep Quinn off of you if Mercedes was on me," she explained, relaxing and bringing her hand up to rub my back gently.
"But after," I tried.
"Slushy and blood aren't a pretty mix, Sam made me go to the hospital, and then I knew I wouldn't be able to get to my sunglasses without anybody seeing so I had to stop and buy some," she explained.
I sat up to look her over again, reaching to run my thumb gently over her cheek.
"Santana," I called.
She looked up gently, forcing her eyes to focus again, "Hmm."
"Please don't say we aren't friends," I started, hoping she wouldn't interrupt. She seemed too tired to. She didn't so I went on, "Because I know you work for me, but you don't seem like the type of person to accept bodily harm for your boss."
She cracked a smile at that and I wiped the blood away, "You're right."
I gave my own smile at that.
"You'd be surprised how much bodily harm I've actually caused to former bosses," she joked.
"Santana," I groaned, still stroking her cheek.
"But you're right," she repeated.
I nodded and laid next to her again, comfortable against her, "Are you alright?"
"Black eye, broken fingers, bruised ribs, and a split lip" she mumbled, "But I feel like I could do it all over again. God, Rachel, you should try these pills."
I chuckled slightly into her shoulder, "I'd rather not. I'm sorry all this had to happen to you."
She shook her head, letting her eyes drift shut, "'S fine. I'll be good as new in no time."
I picked at the unfamiliar shirt, "Whose is this?"
"Sam's," she mumbled, obviously tired, "Mine was sticky."
She slipped off to sleep after that, still clad in the boys t-shirt and her slightly sticky jeans. I didn't want to move away from her so I ended up sleeping on her like that, wary of her injuries. I didn't fall asleep right away; instead I examined her marked features in the light of the television. The bruise looked angry and ready to darken and swell if she didn't get ice on it. Her lip had scabbed over once more. I was curious about the bruises she'd mentioned on her ribs and how she'd broken her fingers but all of that could wait, instead I scanned the calm that had overtaken her face a few more times before I fell asleep as well.
}{
I woke up before Santana that next day. It must have been because of the drugs the doctor had given her because that never happened. I took in her features again, the bruise had definitely darkened and swollen. Her lip had as well. I leaned up on my elbow, careful not to lean too far onto her or her arm. The calm over her features was still there and I couldn't help but smile at it. I don't know what drew me forward, maybe it was how relaxed she was, but I found my lips pressed gently against hers. At first she didn't respond, her breath gently tickled my lips, but soon her lips were moving against mine. I flushed slightly and enjoyed the slight moan she elicited. I was enjoying it until her eyes fluttered open and then she gasped, pulling back quickly.
"Dios mio," she groaned as she gripped her ribs. "What're you doing?" She demanded, looking flustered as she focused back on me.
"I'm sorry, I was just-" I mumbled, dropping my gaze from her.
"Rachel, we're friends, you said you wanted to be friends. Friends don't do that. You can't do that otherwise it messes up the dynamic. You're dad already hates me, if he found out that that happened he'd fire me on the spot, if he doesn't today," she was rambling. I'd never known her to ramble. I watched as she slipped off the bed, running the fingers of her good hand through her hair nervously.
"Santana," I called, but she didn't look up.
"Fuck Rachel, you can't do that. What if Leroy finds out? And your aunt and uncle? They're going to hate me and-"
"Santana," I called again, "They aren't going to hate you." Was that really what she was worried about? It was curious to me. I gripped the hem of her shirt slightly, "Are you mad at me?"
She stopped panicking for a moment, and looked down at me, any calm that was there before was now replaced by anxiety, "No I just-"
"Are you upset that I-" I licked my lip nervously, "That I kissed you?"
She dropped the hand in her hair, and shook her head, the motion was barely visible.
I bit my lip before I stood on my toes, ready to press my lips to hers again.
"Please don't," she mumbled but didn't pull back as I pressed my lips to hers again.
I felt somewhat guilty as I kissed her, because I was leading the kiss for the moment, but as she relaxed into it guilt was replaced by the opposite of the burning that plagued me each time I saw her doing the same with somebody else; a cool relaxing encompassed me as our lips meshed slightly.
"Rachel, we're," she pulled back slightly, letting more vulnerability than I was familiar with show, "We're friends."
"I know," I nodded resting my forehead on her shoulder.
"You can't do that," she mumbled.
"I thought I was in charge," I teased slightly into her shirt.
She tensed at the small joke.
"I won't tell," I promised.
I was going to say more when someone knocked at the door. Santana jumped back and did her best to look innocent, which didn't work out very well.
"Come in," I called slightly, looking the girl over nervously, worrying that I'd gone too far.
Matt stepped in the room curiously, "Hey, I came to make sure you two were alright."
"We're fine," I assured, smiling politely at my cousin.
"Alright well, Santana, Puck's here for you, he said you talked to him about going somewhere," he sounded confused.
"Alright, thanks, can you tell him I'll be right out?" She asked, trying not to look at me.
"Totally," the boy smiled before heading out.
"You're going somewhere with Noah?" I wondered.
She nodded, "I have to go before we leave."
"Can I go with you?" I wondered.
She finally looked to me uncertainly before nodding, "You kind of have to."
"Alright," I went to her reaching to touch her cheek again, "You need to put ice on that."
She pulled away from my touch, "I'm going to go sit in the truck with Puck."
I felt my face fall at that before nodding and watching her head out.
}{
I changed into a clean t-shirt and jeans, assuring Daddy we'd be home in time to pack. Dad was still in his room. In the truck Santana had taken my advice and held an icepack to her eye. She sat in the middle seat and I slid into the passenger side while Noah pulled out. He greeted me kindly and we were off. Apparently, the trip was meant to take quite a bit of time as Noah stopped to pick up coffee for all of us, Santana making sure to remind him that I was vegan. We listened to the radio and talked about inane subjects, at least Santana and I did until I realized things were starting to look familiar.
"Where are we going?" I wondered aloud.
"Lafayette," Noah supplied.
"What's out there?" I wondered, trying to remember if I'd heard of the town before.
"San said something about- Ow!" Santana elbowed him harshly.
"I have somewhere I need to be before we leave tomorrow," she mumbled, her mood growing darker as we won't.
It didn't occur to me why the scenery seemed so familiar until I saw a church in the distance and felt Santana tense beside me. Santana's jaw was clenched tightly as she watched the church grow larger in our view. Her eyes didn't flicker from it, even as she fidgeted with her ice pack. When we parked outside of it the three of us stared in silence, especially when the radio shut off with the truck. I met Noah's eyes on one of the occasions we glanced at the tense girl between us. We were both a bit surprised when she finally moved, opting to urge Noah out of his seat so she could exit rather than speaking to me. When he got back in she leaned into the window, her eyes flitting uncertainly to me before she fixed her gaze on him.
"I'll be right back. Watch her," she instructed.
He nodded, accepting the task as if it were something serious.
She looked almost terrified up to the church before nodding to us once more and heading around the church rather than inside.
"Do you know why she's here?" I wondered as I watched her dark figure disappear.
He shook his head, "She just asked me if I knew the church. I'd been past it a few times."
I looked to him curiously, seeing that the playful and haughty boy had been replaced by someone more concerned with the girl he hardly knew.
We sat there for quite some time. Almost an hour of filling the silence with questions of Noah's plans for after high-school and mine for returning to California and we still saw no sign of the girl who'd left us sitting there. Noah volunteered to go check on her but I suggested maybe I should go; he wasn't thrilled with the proposal but after assuring him that it would be better than me staying alone in the truck he drove me closer to the church, letting me out on the side. I felt his eyes firmly on me as I turned the same corner Santana had. At first, I couldn't see her over the many headstones and statues. I approached the black fence hoping to catch any glimpse of her. All I saw was gray stone until I saw a quick dark motion, nothing more than a flit of black. I looked quickly for an open gate but when I saw none I looked again for any witnesses. I planted my feet on the base of the fence and placed my hands at the top, careful not to impale myself on any of the posts at the top but I still managed to scratch my wrist on the fence and stumble, falling into the dirt. I pulled myself up, wiping the blood on the hip of my jeans and pushing thoughts of infection to the back of my mind. I approached the spot I'd seen the motion from, uncertain of what I'd find but especially not expecting what I did.
Santana was sitting before two graves, slouched over one bent knee with the other leg casually splayed before her; looking almost as if this were the most natural environment for her. She didn't make any effort to acknowledge me; instead she remained focused on the headstones before her. I finally looked to them myself, shocked at what I saw. The first read, "Doctor Carlos Lopez: A loving husband and father." The second had a similar, "Maricel Lopez: A loving wife and mother." I thought back to the picture Aunt V has shown me and wondered if she'd gotten around to showing it to Santana.
"May I join you?" I asked, breaking the silence.
"I'd rather you didn't," she mumbled her voice retaining a tenseness her body had not, "But I suppose you might as well."
I tried not to be offended as I sat next to her with my legs crossed. The dates on the headstones told me this wasn't a recent event so I had to ask, "How old were you?"
I thought she was slipping back into her old habit again. An uncomfortable silence fell on us again before she answered quietly, "Eight."
I couldn't imagine that; losing both parents so young. I felt my own eyes watering at that thought but no tears fell. I didn't resist the urge to reach down her the hand on her leg.
She flexed her hand and tugged gently but thought better of it, leaving her hand limp in my own.
"Why didn't you come sooner? Nobody would have stopped you," I pointed out.
She shook her head and mumbled against her knee, "Not that this isn't just a wonderful experience, but I didn't want to come, especially not with you."
I bit my lip at that anxiously, finding it harder to brush her words off this time.
She sighed slightly and dropped her head onto her knee. I felt a gentle squeeze from her hand. "I don't like to be vulnerable," she admitted. She shook her head and let go of my hand, bringing hers up to palm her good eye, "I don't like that it actually bothered me when you insulted me, or that you make me nervous. Nobody," she emphasized the word, "Makes me nervous."
I blushed at that and looked down to the ground; I still felt guilty for what transpired homecoming night, but I couldn't ignore the fluttery sensation I got in my stomach when she admitted that I made her nervous.
"And they," she let her full focus fall back to the graves; she surprised me as her hand dropped to her mouth slightly, catching a small almost heartbreaking laugh, "they fucking," another laugh, "they just open up a lot of wounds I didn't exactly want to deal with."
I watched the slight hysteria she went through, smiling lightly to herself as I caught a few glimpses of the unshed tears in her eyes.
"I can almost hear her telling me off for cursing and see him snickering behind her back."
"Did Aunt V show you the yearbook?" I wondered.
She nodded, "I'd never see that picture of her before."
"You look like her," I mentioned, reaching to brush my thumb over her untouched cheek.
She pulled back from my touch, her composure slipping away for a moment, "Don't," she almost pleaded, "Just please don't do that."
I nodded mutely and pulled my hand back.
"I'd really just prefer to focus on one fucked up situation at a time," she gave that same disheartened laugh, trying to ease the offense.
I knew we'd need to talk about it at some point but for now I'd wait for her.
We sat together like that for a while. A more comfortable silence fell over us, only broken by the silent mumbling I heard from Santana. I tried listening to it but I couldn't make out the Spanish and the English was too hushed for me to garner much. I thought I heard my name a couple of times but didn't bother to ask why. It was sort of nice sitting with Santana, despite the setting and the circumstances. She was being honest when she admitted to being vulnerable here; she looked so much smaller than normal without her jacket and so withdrawn on herself. She'd pulled her knee to her chest and her other leg went around it on the ground. I sort of liked that she allowed me to see her like that, even if she could have done without my presence. I honestly wouldn't have minded sitting there all day like that but Noah eventually came back to get us. He was careful with his joking at first bat as we watched Santana draw up her walls again, taking up her lax posture and cocky attitude he became his haughty self as well. She'd taken her time to think of herself but I became her priority once more. She worried about my hand while she and Noah helped me over the fence, deciding it was best not to let me jump again. In the car she wiped some blood with her shirt.
The drive back was less tense, our joking more light-hearted. When we got back to the house Noah wouldn't let Santana and me out of the truck without finding out what time we were leaving in the morning. He assured us he'd be joining us. After he left Santana led me inside to the bathroom and washed my hand thoroughly with water and then with alcohol. She left for a moment and came back with Aunt V's first aid kit. Matt, apparently, got injured enough to become well acquainted with it.
"Let me see," she held out her own injured hand as she dug through the box.
I placed mine in hers, palm up as she dug through the kit, fumbling slightly, as she found what she needed. She sprayed some Neosporin carefully onto my palm and ignored my wince in order to place some gauze squares over the wound and began wrapping it.
"Didn't really imagine you as the fence-jumping type," she mumbled.
"Didn't imagine you as the nursing type," I countered, pulling my palm back to examine her handiwork.
"I've had my share of bumps and bruises," she smirked and waved her fingers between us, "And my dad was a doctor."
I grabbed her hand gently by the wrist and touched her fingers, "How did you even manage this?"
"Let's just say Mercedes won't be talking shit for a while."
"What did you do?" I asked, chiding apparent in my tone.
"Doesn't matter now," she shrugged.
I stood up from the toilet lid I'd been sitting on, ready to scold her further when I realize how close we were in the tight space of the bathroom. I felt my cheeks flush as I looked up to her, she wouldn't meet my eyes, if anything she looked away.
"We need to pack," she pointed out, turning away from me to reorganize to first-aid kit before snapping it shut. She took it and disappeared, returning it to wherever it came from.
I went to the room, hoping to start packing; instead I sat on the bed until Santana came back.
When she did come back she went to her suitcase, organizing her already somewhat organized bag. She pulled out her pajamas and her outfit for the next day, laying them messily on top of her suitcase.
"Santana, can we talk about this morning?" I finally blurted, tired of watching her fidget with her bag.
She stiffened as I said that but didn't otherwise respond.
"I mean, I apologize if my advances were genuinely unwelcome but that didn't seem to be the case," I flushed as I went on, dropping my eyes to my lap as I rambled, "At least, it wasn't one of the complaints you voiced."
"What do you want me to say Rachel?" Her voice was unnervingly level as she faced away from me. "That I like my job? That I like that your family treats me like I actually belong? That I'm terrified that if I get fired this will all go away?" Her shoulders remained straight as she pressed, "I like being your friend, I really do, but do you really think Hiram," she paused for a moment, "and, hell, even Leroy would think twice about firing me if they even thought there was more going on between us?"
"I'm sorry Santana I didn't think-"
"That's right," she nodded, standing up and turning to face me, looking edgy as she approached me, "You didn't think, because you don't have to think about me like that." She softened slightly as she came to me, "But that's how it's supposed to be."
"What do you mean?" I asked, nibbling my lip anxiously, unsure of what to expect.
"You're selfish because there's never been a need for you not to be," she brought her hand up to my cheek and I leaned into her touch, "I'm selfish because I've always had to be. I don't know what to do, Rachel, I really don't," she sighed, her face finally revealing more than just anxiety, "I don't know how not to be selfish, and I'm not entirely sure I want to be this time."
I moved closer, ready to press our lips together again, hoping to make her lean towards whichever direction would bring her to me.
Our lips were so close, I could almost feel them just as they'd been this morning when her hand dropped to my chest, holding me back slightly, "Just let me think, okay?"
I bit my lip slightly but nodded. Santana looked so small again, like this decision intimidated her. I wanted to talk about it further, ask what she meant about us being selfish, and why she wouldn't want to be, but I let her walk away, grabbing her clothes and leaving me to my thoughts.
