Author's Note: Hi everyone! I'm really sorry for how the last Chapter ended... it made me sad too )':
Once again, thank you all so so much for the reviews - keep em coming!(:
Without further ado...sit back, relax, and most of all... enjoy.
Thick as Thieves
Chapter 11 - The Phonecall
"… Drove off, we couldn't catch him."
"…Then again, our main concern at the time was getting her out alive, now wasn't it? We saw him go down, there was nothing we could do, might as well save the one who actually stood a chance…"
The detached voices seeped through her semi-concious mind, muffled and echoey from the tunnels of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered and she stirred, her stiff fingers twitching.
"She's waking up. I've gotta go. Check up on us again later."
She heard movement, footsteps drawing closer to her. Where was she? Lying on some mattress of sorts, it seemed - based on the cushiony, yet strangely lumpy surface pressed up against her back. Santana tried to move her hand, but her wrist felt constricted; tied up.
The horror struck her. Was she in the clutches of whoever it was that took Puck?
Puck. Puck. Oh my god, she thought, as the memories flooded back. Not Puck. Not Noah. Now, they've got her too. Let them kill me, she begged in her mind. Let me die. Because of her, Noah was gone. She fought to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt so heavy, like they were made of lead.
She thought of her life. Her Grandmother. The Vegas lights on the Strip. Quinn. Blaine. All the people she loved. Her childhood home. Hers and Quinn's café. Sebastian. Oh Sebastian. A silent tear ran down her cheek. After all they'd been through, it was over. And she took Puck down with her too. She hoped that he would forgive her. That she would have the privilege of meeting both of these incredible, brave men again in the afterlife.
"Santana?" came a soft voice, melodious and gentler than she expected.
She fought to open her eyes, because no matter how difficult it was to, she wanted to be able to look in her killer's eyes in the moment she was killed; to give Gareth Marsen a final death glare, an unspoken message of pure hatred and disgust. An accusation that would haunt him forever.
The first thing she saw was a pair of striking, bright blue eyes.
Sebastian rose from his seat and took a bow to the enthusiastic audience. He ran backstage to compose himself, and within minutes was running back to his dorm. The halls were mostly deserted, everyone in the grand auditorium (more like a theatre, really) watching the show. However, it was intermission now and people were just starting to flock out. He entered dorm 3K unnoticed and began gathering his belongings.
He had seen Quinn at the judging table. This was not good at all. Sebastian had no idea she would be here in England, let alone Sansbury Hall, of all places. He was hoping she wouldn't have recognized him from a distance on stage and with his glasses, but knew he was fooling himself. It was unmistakable. He had to move fast, before the show ended and she had a chance to question him. She would ask questions that he would be unable to answer.
Everything was packed and ready. Sebastian put on his coat and pulled a beanie low over his ears. Finally, he penned a note thanking Benji for everything he'd done for him over the past few weeks, and wishing him all the best for the future. He slipped the note under Benji's pillow together with a rather generous wad of hundred dollar bills. With one final glance, Sebastian sighed and left the room, the brass 3K flashing in the dim light as the door clicked shut.
He made his way silently through the halls he had become so accustomed to over the past month or so. Had his situation been any different, Sebastian would have loved to have been given the opportunity to study here. He made his way across the grounds to the garage; loading his bags into one of the school's land rovers (he had lifted the key of the school's elderly groundskeeper a few days previously).
Sebastian slid his hands into his pockets as he took a final look around the medieval campus, illuminated by the warm orange glow of the scattered lamp posts. His right hand closed around something in his pocket and he pulled out the small rectangular object, holding it up to the light to observe it.
Benji's harmonica. His room mate must have left it in there the last time he borrowed Sebastian's coat. Trust Benji to always bring some form of music with him wherever he went.
With an exasperated huff, Sebastian trudged back across the grounds to replace the instrument before Benji came back from the concert.
Quinn knew that face anywhere. And even if her eyes had deceived her, her ears most certainly didn't. That distinctive voice was pure and clear, and in her opinion second to only her husband's. When the boy left the stage, she rose from the judges' table as well. Muttering something about needing a bathroom, she took off down the halls to try and find the backstage exit doors. She needed to talk to Sebastian, and find out what the hell he was doing all the way in England, and a private boarding school in the outskirts of the city, no less.
Evidently Quinn had forgotten about her star status yet again, and without her bodyguards, soon found herself surrounded by a mob of screaming fans. Most were students of the school, although scattered amongst the crowd there were several visitors who were on campus to watch the talent show.
She was panicking. Cameras were clicking and people were screaming and getting far too near. Someone had stolen her scarf and the edge of her coat sleeve was ripped. She yelled for people to back off, but nobody listened.
A hand wrapped itself around her forearm and she shrieked in annoyance, beating it with her clutch and demanding she be released. Whoever was grabbing her didn't let go, instead pulling her out of the crowd. Once she was finally free of the sea of limbs, the person holding on to her dragged her away at full sprint, rounding a corner while draping a trench coat around her shoulders in an attempt to disguise her.
When they passed a flame-lit lamp, she caught a glimpse of the face hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.
Sebastian.
Eventually, they managed to shake off the screaming mob. He quietly snuck her through a door marked 3K as she compliantly followed along. Still shaken, Quinn allowed herself to be guided to the edge of a bed, where she automatically seated herself on.
Sebastian tugged off his beanie, running his hands through his hair as he breathed hard.
"Sebastian."
"Quinn."
"Seems like you have A LOT of explaining to do, Mr. Smythe."
The man looming above her on the bed recoiled slightly at the hostility in her eyes.
"Whoa." He muttered under his breath.
His face was familiar and jogged some memory buried somewhere deep within her mind. She battled through the haze and retrieved the information her brain had linked to that face. He wasn't evil, he was an ally, and he most certainly was not Gareth Marsen.
"Jeff?" She whispered.
"Hey. Thank god you're awake – I was starting to worry that Nick went overboard with the morphine."
Right on cue, said brunette entered the room.
"Santana? Hey… good to see you're awake. I'm sorry about the arm restraint – you kept fidgeting in your sleep and nearly yanked your IV out several times. We had no choice but to tie that arm down."
Now that she could see, Santana looked around her. She was lying on a double bed- the bumps below her probably random piles of clothes. The room was a mess, but look clean enough. The lights had been dimmed – for her sake, she reckoned, since even the dull lighting was burning her sore eyes. Next to the bed and connected to her left arm, which was strapped down to the bed frame with a wide Velcro band, was an intravenous drip.
She attempted to sit up, but a sharp stabbing in her chest made her bite her lip to keep from letting out a whimper of pain. Nick moved to assist her into a more comfortable upright position.
"Careful there – you fractured a rib, bruised several others and dislocated your right shoulder. I wouldn't move too much if I were you."
Santana squeezed her eyes shut as she breathed deeply for a moment, trying to adjust to the pain that seemed to be burning everywhere.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Nick kept whispering. "I'd administer more morphine but you've been out a long time and I don't think it's the best idea for you to stay under any longer."
She attempted a smile; just a little one to express her gratitude. "Water." Her parched throat managed to croak out.
From the corner of the room, an abnormally quiet Jeff sprung into action and poured some water from a kettle into a large green mug. Her placed a straw into it and silently handed the drink to her.
With some assistance from Nick, she managed to suck up the lukewarm fluid and quench her thirst. The warmth of the mug seeped through her fingers. It felt nice.
Another glass of water and mug of hot tea later, Santana felt much better. The three pills of painkillers Nick instructor her to swallow must have helped too, since the stabbing pain that accompanied every movement was beginning to diminish.
Gingerly, she cleared her throat and with a shaky voice, asked the question that had been eating away at her.
"He's gone, isn't he?"
Jeff averted his gaze, but Nick stared right into hers and nodded wordlessly. The three of them sat there in silence. Santana didn't know what to feel. Part of her wanted to shriek and bawl and swear at the world, but the greater portion just felt… numb. Lost. She's lost one of her closest friends, and it was all her fault.
Seconds passed. Minutes. Hours. She didn't know, and couldn't care enough to check. Nick and Jeff had moved around, entered the room and left again. She felt hands caress her face, tuck the sheets around her legs.
"…as in, Sebastian Sebastian? No fucking way…"
That word. That name. Something clicked in Santana. She snapped her head up and listened in on Nick's conversation on the phone. The moment he saw that she was responsive again, however, quickly muttered a goodbye to whoever it was he was speaking to and hung up.
Warily, as if treading on eggshells, he approached Santana.
"Santana? Hey. Can I get you something to eat?"
She nodded. "Then," she said "I would like you to please fill me in on whatever shit is going on right now that I am not aware of."
"Jesus, Quinn - it's a long story. I don't know how much I can tell you, I don't know how you will respond… hell, I don't even know where to begin!"
Quinn stared steadily at Sebastian pacing around the room.
"Well… the beginning sounds like a good place to start-"
"You don't get it, Quinn. Because I don't even know when it started!"
"Okay calm down, Sebastian. How about you take a seat?"
Sebastian looked at the blonde actress, taking in her calm mannerism and how she was watching him with a curious, possibly even wary look in her eyes. What he didn't see, however, was judgment. Could he trust her to not be judgmental? He sighed and ran a hand over his face, the backs of his legs finding the bed and plonking his weight down on it.
"Basically, I'm not exactly an architect. I have…other ways, of earning my means. Not all of these methods are honest, and majority, if not all, illegal. I worked solo for a couple of years just after a left college and Blaine moved to LA, but eventually I realized that that wouldn't cut it and acquired a business partner." He smirked at his choice of words. "Small scams turned into big ones and soon we were pulling corporate-leveled stints."
Quinn's eyebrows knitted together. "So what you're saying is that you're a thief?"
"You could say so, yes. Thief, conman, imposter… all the same, really. So anyway, a few months ago, we attempted out biggest assignment ever. Let's just say that something went wrong, and now there's someone out there trying to kill me. Which leads us to here, in Sansbury Hall, four hours away from the city in secluded, countryside private land. No prizes for guessing why."
"You're on the run."
"I'm on the run."
"How much does Blaine know?"
"Everything. It's probably not my place to say, but I'm pretty sure there are some things about Blaine that he hasn't told you about. Secrets that simply aren't mine to share."
Quinn nodded, processing the information she had just heard. "What about your Partner? What happened to him? Why aren't there people out to kill him, too?"
Sebastian's face fell and he gazed out the window into the darkness. "I left her. I don't think these people knew about her involvement. She didn't need to be involved. She could go on and be safe without me."
'She'? The pieces of two stories, from two people clicked together perfectly. Realisation dawned on Quinn and she let out an audible gasp. They was simply two different sides of one story. "Oh my god." She whispered. "It's you."
Sebastian was confused at Quinn's reaction to his recount. He'd prepared himself for her tuts of disapproval and rejection – the last he'd expected to see was her stunned, deer-in-headlights look. Her dumbfounded expression was almost comical- her already doll-like eyes the size of saucers and her lips parted in a perfect round 'o'.
"Quinn? Earth to Quinn Fabray…"
"It's you! It's been you all along! Oh my god. Santana's out there trying to save you and all along you've been right under our noses! This can't be happening. It's freaky!" Quinn shrieked.
"You know Santana? Santana Lopez?" Sebastian was thoroughly confused. "Talk to me, Quinn. What do you mean by she's trying to 'save me'? What the hell is going on?"
Quinn ran a shaky hand through her hair, disrupting her perfectly sculpted hairdo and leaving her blonde locks disarrayed. She took a deep breath to steady herself before facing a very puzzled looking Sebastian.
"Santana… she's…" Quinn huffed in frustration, trying to find the right words to phrase her best friend's side of the predicament. "Look, Sebastian, you staring at me for answers really isn't helping."
Not to mention, Quinn thought, that harmonica in your hands looks like it could be a very deadly weapon should you not like what you're about to hear.
Santana's eyebrows knitted together as she tried to understand the user manual in front of her.
"Damn it!" she swore, when the metal clasp on the lip clipped her flesh on the tip of her finger. Set gave up and set the pot back on the coffee maker with more force that necessary.
"Santana?" a concerned voice sounded from the lounge. There was some scrambling of movement and a dull thud followed by a muffled "oof" from whoever it was that had just tripped over the coffee table.
Jeff's blonde head appeared around the doorframe a moment later, his forehead vaguely pink.
"I'm fine," she replied "just trying to make myself a cup of coffee and your shmancy as fuck coffee machine refuses to cooperate."
Jeff chuckled light-heartedly. "You can blame Nick for all the fancy garbage around this house. I'm personally perfectly content with instant coffee granules but he insists on all this complicated, classy shit." He aligned the pot properly before pressing a few buttons and turning to face Santana. "But I do admit that this contraption in particular makes a mean cappuccino."
She smiled and Jeff grinned back. Then his face softened for a moment and Santana knew what was coming.
"How are you feeli-"
"Don't you dare ask." She scolded.
"But you were-"
"What did I say?"
Jeff grumbled before pretending to zip up his lips and toss the key over his shoulder. The gesture was so clichéd that she couldn't help but roll her eyes and smirk.
"I'm feeling much better, Jeff. Thank you. But I'm tired of you and Nick babying me around like I'm incapable of looking after myself. I appreciate everything you have done. You have no idea how grateful I am, but it's just not ME to depend on others. And after the whole thing with Puck…" She felt a lump rise in her throat as the painful thought came forefront in her mind.
Jeff nodded in understanding. Santana Lopez didn't show weakness. She was strong and independent. But still, she was fragile right now, what with having lost one of her closest friends and not knowing if the love of her life was alive or not. So he closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a tight hug, letting her tears soak through his t-shirt.
He thought back to the previous night when Nick and him had had to break the news of Puck's death to the Latina. She had been incredibly shaken, but seeing as she was probably there when the bullet found his occipital lobe, accepted the fact that he was gone relatively calmly.
What had really made her snap was when her memories had gradually returned, and she remembered Gareth Marsen's words to her over the phone. "One of the most wanted con artists of all time". He knew. Their enemy knew about Santana's secret, which also meant that he most certainly knew by now the identity of the imposter. It was only a matter of time before he found him.
Gareth Marsen had identified his next target; and his name was Sebastian Smythe.
Quinn had been right to ask Sebastian to sit down across the room, because when she finished telling her side of the story, he flung the harmonica with such force that it left a small dent in the wooden door before falling to the ground, surprisingly still in one piece.
"Jesus Christ, Sebastian, calm down!"
He was furiously pacing around the carpet and pulling at his hair in vexation.
"What the hell was she thinking? I left, so she could move on and be safe, not so she could chase after me and put herself in even more danger!" Sebastian raged, his voice at an uncomfortably high volume for such a small space. "These bastards coming after me know their work, now that she's gone ahead and gotten herself involved they would have singled her out as their target as well! Fuck!"
There was a moment of tense silence in the room as Sebastian sat on the edge of his bed with his head cradled in his hands, as if trying to hold his own thoughts together. Quinn sat across the room, her eyes transfixed on the ground as she gave him a moment to calm himself.
"She did it" she said quietly "because she loves you."
At her words, Sebastian raised his head and Quinn could see that behind the thick-framed glasses, there was pure anguish is his green eyes. Then she caught a glimpse of acceptance, and for a fraction of a second, a glimmer of hope.
"Nick, for the last time, .fine." She grumbled, pushing his hands away as he tried to feel her forehead for an indication of her temperature. "Now get your pompous med school ass away from me."
"You don't understand, Santana. You've been asleep for the better part of the last twenty four hours and refuse to keep your IV Drip in. You might be suffering from dehydration!"
"Oh for Christ's sake. I'm FINE. JEFF! Help me out here!"
Jeff laughed and filled a large glass of water, bringing to over to where Santana was seated on the couch, struggling to keep a persistent Nick away. Once his roommate was in his "Doctor mode", it was really difficult to get him to leave his 'patient' alone.
"Hey, hey Doc, you suspect dehydration, right? Well I may not be a doctor but last I checked, this good old H2O here's the right treatment."
Santana jumped at the opportunity to get him away. "Yeah! Hand it over, Jeff." She gulped down the entire glass at one go. "Ah! I'm feeling a million times better now. Thank you, Nurse Jeff."
Nick glared at the two Cheshire grins and was about to retort when his phone started ringing. He gave his roommate and houseguest a warning glance to be quiet while he went to the other room to answer the call for more privacy.
Santana and Jeff's sniggers were cut off abruptly when Nick reentered the lounge, his face drained of colour and his features tense. His arm was extended as he held out the phone to Santana.
"It's for you."
Author's Note: *Cliffhanger ending - cue evil laughter* Muahahahahaha...
(If you are confuzzled at any point, do feel free to ask. )
I have a challenge for you lovely people... can we get the number of reviews up to the nice number 100? (:
You guys are the best.