Okay, guys. Here's the next one. Surprises are in store.

Enjoy, as always.


Silence. For a short, tense moment, there was only silence.

Then, Snake started, looking panicked. "Tana. I can't be here." His voice broke like a pubescent teenager's on the last two words.

She rose from her seat at the end of the table, ever poised, and turned to the newly arrived servant, whom I had never seen before.

"Very well. Invite them into the lobby; tell them I'll be with them shortly," the servant nodded and disappeared behind the doors once again. She turned to Snake. "Go out back. Scale the willows by the lake. They should give you enough leverage to hop the fence."

Next, she glanced at me. "Can you help him gather his stuff?"

"I—why does he have to escape?" I gasped, mind reeling. "Santana, what's going on?"

"Please, Brittany. Just do it for me."

It was possibly the closest I'd ever heard her come to begging for something.

Numbly, I nodded. Snake slapped his jean-covered thighs, looking almost ready to cry. "Damn it. Fucking damn it." He kept muttering.

"Collins, stay here with the children."

"Mommy?" Timmy voiced, his tiny brow furrowed with indecision, clearly picking up on the mood of the room.

"Shh, Timmy." Ali whispered to him quickly, the only one old enough to understand that something was seriously wrong, and would need their cooperation.

"It's okay, little man." Snake knelt down so that he was eye level with my son. "I just have to… go on a short vacation, okay? I'll be back. Your mom is going to go help me pack."

Timmy nodded slowly, still not completely understanding, but no longer spooked either.

Snake rose again. "We should go." He said to me, but never looked in my direction.

Wordlessly, I followed him out of the dining room, trying to keep up with his long strides. I didn't know where we were going—he was leading me to a different part of the house I had never been before. I sped up to an almost jog to catch up with him.

"Where are we going?" I panted, falling into step with him.

"My room," he grunted. "On the third floor. The cops are in the lobby, so we can't take the main staircase—we'll have to take the back one."

"I didn't even know the house had a back staircase." I admitted.

"Yeah. Tana built all kinds of little passageways and shit through the house. You know those houses in scary movies that have like secret rooms and stuff? Yeah, that's this house."

Snake took a sharp turn and stopped in front of nearly unnoticeable door that was specifically structured to blend in with the wood paneling of the wall it was built in. He pushed in and it gave soundlessly, revealing a dimly lit, narrow staircase that would make a claustrophobic start to hyperventilate.

Snake grunted for me to get going and I stepped through the door he was holding open for me. Apparently, it was pretty heavy, because he showed a considerable amount of strain holding it open. Finally, he stepped through and let the door close behind him, leading me quickly up the staircase.

We walked for a while in silence. I wanted to talk about something, anything, but the words simply did not come.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this." Snake muttered finally, glancing back at me.

"Dragging me into what?" I asked. "Snake, what's going on? Why are you hiding from the police?"

"Why does anyone hide from the police, Britt?" he asked gruffly. "Because they've committed a crime. Because the police are after them."

Oh.

Oh.

"What did you do?" I asked, not sure that I wanted to know.

"I'm sure if you knew you wouldn't let me near your kids again." Snake quipped, stride breaking for an instant.

"…Did you murder somebody?"

"No!" Bartholomew balked, stopping completely to stare me in the eyes. "Brittany, I would never! I'm not that kind of guy."

"Well, you also didn't seem like the type of guy that would commit any crime." I shot back, an irrational anger building inside my chest.

"I would never intentionally hurt anybody. I swear on my father's grave. Hell, better yet, I swear on Santana's grave."

I never understood the meaning of swearing on somebody's grave. Didn't it require an actual grave? Or did it mean that if the person broke the swear, the person on whose grave they made it on would die?

"Then what did you do?" I asked.

Snake slumped a bit, face twisted in a hesitant wince. "Dealt drugs. Cocaine. Meth. Heroin. All the major names." He looked away from me, and then started walking again.

A part of me felt genuine surprise. Snake was the last person I would have ever pecked as doing something so illicit. He didn't even seem like the type! He was fantastic with my kids, and quick to tease Collins about his age, and loved chocolate chip pancakes in the morning. He was a goofy, caring guy whom I had grown to respect and adore.

But another part of me, a small, conceited voice in the back of my head that sounded a lot like Artie's, told me that I should have expected this from the start. The first time I met him something stroke me as being shady about him. Of course I should have known. And those two men with him...

We reached the third floor in dejected silence.

Snake's room was very orderly, and clearly used a lot. It was barely personalized but the desk in the corner was littered with stuff—candy wrappers and soda cans, an HP laptop, a Rolex watch, and a wallet. A single framed photograph curiously sat amongst the mess.

I walked to the desk and picked it up while Snake pulled out a carry on from under the bed and started stuffing his belongings inside it.

The picture was three individuals no older than thirteen. Santana was grinning at the camera like a fool, and both of her canines were missing. She looked happy, unbelievably carefree, and young. The complete opposite of herself now. Bartholomew's hair wasn't green—it was a gorgeous chestnut with tents of red and honey and his eyes were a deep, striking blue that matched the ones of the other boy in the picture, who must have been his brother. The two looked a bit alike, but one would not be able to tell they were brothers upon meeting them. The third boy was very clearly William's son, with the same thick, curly hair as his father and a charming, gorgeous smile.

"Hey, um," Snake appeared next to me, prying the picture gently from my hands. "Sorry. I'm kind of protective of this. Very dear to me." He muttered. He took the photo, glanced at it, smiled, and put it in a side pocket of the carry on.

"Can you pass me my computer?"

Wordlessly, I unplugged the HP and handed it over, watching as he put it inside the luggage. Afterwards, he straightened up, glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and plunged his hands into his pockets, slumping.

"I hope this doesn't change anything between us, Brittany." he whispered. "But if it does, then I'm sorry."

"Do you still deal?" I wanted to know.

"Yes." Snake's voice broke into an impossibly high, gravely whine.

I didn't say anything, merely glancing at the desk, where his wallet and watch still laid. I picked up both, and took a tiny step towards him, so that we were only inches apart.

"You're a good guy, Snake." I whispered, looking him in the eyes. Without hesitation, I reached up and tucked his wallet into the breast pocket of his shirt. Taking his wrist, I slid the watch on and fastened it slowly. "I won't judge you."

And then his arms were around me in a nearly crushing hug. He smelled wonderful, and not at all like any guy I've ever met. "Thank you, Britt." he whispered into my hair, before letting me go. He picked up the carry on easily with one hand.

"I'll be back," he promised me. "I don't know when. But I'll be back. Send your kids my love. Especially the little man."

And then he walked out the room. I followed him out, just in time to see him unseal the door to the secret back staircase we just came from, and disappear down the dimly lit space. The door shut behind him and he was gone.


Trent was waiting on me at the bottom of the grand staircase. When I met with him he informed me that she had ushered the cops into the living room, and they were waiting for me there. He didn't say anything about why they were there, but I had a pretty good idea of who sent them.

Trent led me to the doors and opened them for me, and I stepped inside. There were three cops, two young ones and one older one. They didn't acknowledge me when I walked in, deep in discussion with Santana about something. Probably wine.

Sewald was standing at one end of the room, near the windows, with his hands clasped in front of him and looking strangely statuesque with a hard, thin line for a mouth and an otherwise perfect nonchalant face. But his eyes were still kind and soft when they met mine, and I smiled at him briefly.

As I ventured closer to the group of police officers, she saw me out of the corner of her eye and casually broke off the conversation to turn and smile at me. The other three followed suit, and stood up almost as a group unit, taking turns to introduce themselves and shake my hand.

"Mrs. Abrams, may we please speak to you in private? We have some questions we need to ask you," the older cop said to me.

Wait. I was so confused. I thought Snake's drug dealing was why the police had showed up on Santana's doorstep. What did I have to do with drugs? Oh my god, what if they thought I was one of Snake's clients?

"Uh, I'd feel more comfortable if I stayed in here with Santana, if that's alright," I said nervously, struggling to make eye contact with the officers. I could feel my pulse beating out of my skin.

Santana must have understood the inner panic I was feeling, because she immediately sprung to my defense. "Of course it's alright, they can't make you do anything," she said with conviction.

"Hey now, no need to get defensive," one of the younger cops, who introduced himself As Finn Hudson, said, holding his hands up. "We received a call from her concerned husband who wanted us to look into her disappearance."

Immediately my emotions turned to anger. "I left him because of his destructive habits that were jeopardizing the futures of my children and had every right to do so!" I snapped at them.

I think my reaction stunned the cops. I went from being timid and shaky to a raging storm. I just couldn't believe Artie had the audacity to call the police on me.

"Ma'am, we are just here to ask you some questions about the situation. Can you please calm down and have a seat?" one of the cops said, speaking in a placating tone.

I looked to Santana to judge her reaction. She gave me a small smile and nodded her head, indicating that it was OK for me to sit down.

Wordlessly, I took a seat across from the officers, right next to Santana. I fortunately didn't have to come up with something to say first, as a policeman began talking.

"Now, what Mr. Abrams claims is that you ran away from home, taking his children away from him without his consent and refusing to speak to him to solve the altercation. Is this true?" the older cop asked me.

When he put it like that, it made it seem like I was the bad guy. However, I couldn't find anything inaccurate in what the officer said.

"Well, yeah, this is true. But I had good reason to get away from him. He gambled away our children's college fund and I needed space to cope with it," I said, growing upset again thinking about what he did to us.

"While I understand your frustration at the current situation, you still cannot withhold your children from their father, unless you decide to separate from him and then file for custody," Finn said to me.

That made me pause. I was in no way ready to go back to Artie, but was a divorce really what I wanted? I had always equated divorce with failure. I guess I would have to think long and hard about that.

Meanwhile, I knew that not letting Artie see his kids was a bit harsh, but I couldn't bear the thought of letting them be with him while being oblivious to what he did.

I had to come up with a way to buy myself time in order to collect my thoughts about the whole ordeal. I figured there wasn't going to be a way around letting Artie see his kids, though.

"What if I let Artie have the kids for a day? Then can I stay here while I sort everything out?" I asked the uniformed men, almost pleading with them.

"Ma'am I'm sorry, but just because you are no longer comfortable at your residence does not change the fact that you have taken them away from their home. As long as Mr. Abrams desires to see his children, you must return them to your house. Whether or not you choose to stay here or with your family, however, is up to you," the older one said. I really should have payed better attention to their names.

I could feel my eyes welling with tears. It wasn't fair that Artie did such a terrible thing and still got to hurt me, even after leaving him.

Santana was talking to the cops in a sharp, cool, and clinical voice, but I couldn't focus on any of the words coming out of her mouth. My head felt like it was underwater, with my vision blurry and noises sounding like faint echoes. All I could think about was that my children were being forced back with Artie, with or without me.

I noticed her looking at me expectantly. I must have missed her asking me something.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" I asked her softly, hoping she understood why I was so out of it.

She gave me another small smile, this one with sadness, maybe pity, behind it. "What would you like to do now?"

I took a shaky breath before my response. "I would like to take the kids over tomorrow myself, seeing as it is already late. I need to talk things over with my husband first, if that's alright." As much as I hated the thought of confronting Artie, completely ignoring him was probably the wrong way to go.

"Of course," the older policeman said to me. "We aren't child protection services, we just came to inform you of your legal obligations before Mr. Abram had to press charges against you for the right to see his children. If we get another call from him saying you still haven't complied, we will be forced to take direct action. Is that understood?"

"Yes, officer. It won't come to that," I promised.

With that, the three policemen stood up, as did Santana and I in response. We all shook each other's hands, and with that they left Santana's house.

It wasn't until I heard the front door shut that I let my emotions get the better of me, as I collapsed back into the sofa. I muffled my mouth with my hands and let out a yell of frustration. Sewald was at my side immediately, sitting down on the couch with me.

"Everything will be okay, Mrs. Abrams." he cooed, and instantly I felt a tiny bit better. He was such a comforting, calming presence. I could see him using his benevolent aura to calm down a fitful Santana when she was younger. A part of me wondered if he developed the skill, or if he always had it.

She came back into the room then, looking pensive and strangely nervous. Collins rose from his seat beside me so that she could sit down. Faintly I heard her ask Collins for a bottle of whiskey to be brought to us, and I almost smiled. Seems like I wasn't the only one who needed something strong right now. When Collins was gone, she turned to me.

"I'm nervous about this whole situation." she stated matter-of-factually. Of course she wouldn't like something like this. She lived to be in control, surrounded herself with servants whom she could boss around. Made her business her own. "I like to be in control." she added, as if reading my thoughts.

"Is that why you don't like to be outside? Because you can't control the things that happen to you?" I blurted, and then blushed, not knowing why I asked. She looked at me for a long time and then slowly nodded.

"I... you noticed that, huh?" she scratched her head, a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah. That night you asked me to swim, you were twitchy and kept looking around. Then when we got inside you relaxed." I said, and then almost cried. Was that only a month ago? It felt like a more significant time had passed since I was still invited to her parties, since she was still holding parties, since she was still paying me for sex, and now we weren't even having any. We were adults, now, trying to be in an adult relationship by getting to know each other slowly, and stuff.

"So much has happened in this past month." she mused, again, as if she was reading my mind.

"And I guess it's not over happening, yet." I mumbled, as the door opened and Collins came inside, carrying a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses expertly. He did his usual motions of pouring the liquid into both of the glasses, and I watched absentmindedly.

"Do you think you'll go back to him?" She asked with a hesitation I had never heard from her before.

"No. I'm completely done with him. But he's the kids' father, so I can't cut him out completely. And... I don't know how I'll get him to agree to a divorce." I rested my face inside of my hands, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden. So much had happened today. Snake was gone. I was going to have to deal with Artie again. Things with Santana and I were suddenly put on the back burner, which frustrated me because I felt like we were finally getting somewhere.

"We'll figure all of that out, Brittany." she said confidently, but gently. She rubbed my arm soothingly and I leaned into the touch. "And when we do, I want you and the kids to move into the mansion. Permanently."

The words didn't register at first. But when they did, I slowly looked up at her. I didn't know what to say in response. A part of my mind mused that I should probably say 'yes' or something of a confirmation, because she was asking me to move in with her. But my mind was gloriously blank.

"So...?" she trailed off, scratching her head again.

"I... yes, of course yes. Yes." I blurted, mouth forming words finally. She smiled at me, just like the first time we had ever met, and it completely lit up her face.

I never remembered feeling this when Artie asked us to live together. Was it just last month that I was coming home to my 'wonderful husband' after a long day of 'work'?

All my lingering cynicism was washed away when she kissed me, and I knew right then that I had fallen for her, and that had been an idiot not to have done it sooner.


Okay. So, I'm starting classes tomorrow morning, and I know that authors always tend to slow down when they're in college, and I hopefully won't be like that.

...Yeah.

So, things are coming full circle, and the next few chapters will be heavy plot. Now, I have another storyline lined up for this that I could make into a sequel, or I could just continue this one and add that story line to it. You guys can decide. Me thinks I'll make a poll, since those are useful for things like this. Soooo.. go and vote!

At least a quarter of this chapter (the entire police part) is credited to the very amazing, fabulous, and wonderful UltimateMBP, who's a life savior.