AN: Yey let's just get to it shall we, thank you for the reviews.
"Do you know that they charge extra for the freaking guacamole?" Santana asked her nose crinkled as she looked at the receipt.
Charlie smiled and handed Santana her burrito, "Double Chicken, extra cheese and salsa on the side. And I got the works with extra guacamole," Charlie said handing her a burrito. She takes a seat and relaxes, pulling off her jacket to offer to Santana who shivers. It's not that cold outside but she still has a shirt and Santana's arms are bare.
Santana puts on the jacket and neatly unwraps her burrito, and shakes her head. She didn't particularly want to eat a giant burrito, but Charlie was watching her and she sighs. It had been a long time since she had eaten anything other than vegetables. "I really just wanted a salad Charlie."
Charlie looks at Santana for a moment, "Normally I would get you a salad, but you need some meat and carbs and some cheese. You can't survive on celery and carrots Santana. You just can't. So eat your burrito that you paid for." Charlie says with a small smile and takes a bite into her own burrito, and lets out an orgasmic moan that has Santana flushing as she stares at her. "It's been like a fucking year. Maybe Holly will let me go to a nearby chipotle once a week."
Santana nibbles on her own burrito slowly and glances around, "Will you stop sounding like you're having sex with your food. People are staring!" Santana said sinking down. Honestly seeing her this happy was worth it, but at the same time those moans were doing things to her and Charlie knew it.
Charlie flashes her a smile, a bit of guacamole running down the side of her lip and she reaches for a napkin, "Sorry, it's just it's been a long time since I've had the holiness that is chipotle," Charlie admits wiping her mouth clean. She flushes embarrassed. "How's searching for the person who's clearly siphoning funds?"
"Not well," Santana admits running a hand through her hair as she takes another bite of her burrito, suddenly feeling starved. "I'm still looking at accounts," Santana said with a frown, she needed a name to give to the authorities. Because it really didn't look good for her, all that money that had been taken while she was distracted.
Charlie frowned slightly at this, "Santana you're like the smartest person I know, and no one is a craftier bitch than you are. If anyone is going to catch this person it's you. I mean think about it. You've managed to put Quinn in her place a few times and I mean you're amazing Santana, so just remember to take a breath and just figure it out. Pretend it was you, and work your way back. I mean that's what I'd do, and I'm nowhere as crafty as you are."
Santana exhales and takes a sip of her water, Charlie was right, she was a crafty bitch. She should have figured this out earlier, and it's not like she didn't have the evidence. She was dripping in evidence, now she just needed to tap into the quite possibly criminal part of her brain. People weren't that smart, so she was looking at it all wrong. She flicked her eyes to Charlie who had picked out a piece of steak and shakes her head. "I've missed you," the words tumble out and Charlie looks at Santana and smiles.
"I've missed you too, more than anyone. I mean honestly I'd rather see your face than Quinn's. If I wanted to see Quinn's face I'd look in a god damn mirror. Well not anymore, hopefully it comes out crooked and Rachel rips her a new one." Charlie said with a sigh. She didn't like being tricked and while she was glad to see Santana to hold her hand to lean against her, to remind her crappy memory that Santana wasn't some figment of her imagination but really the best thing she ever had.
Santana shook her head and it her lip as she finished her burrito and frowned ever so slightly and looked at Charlie's half eaten burrito and reaches for it and takes it much to Charlie's chagrin and takes a bite of it. She smirks and dares Charlie to take it from her. She's rewarded with an amused smile from Charlie and she wonders if this was her plan all along and she reaches over to rest her hand on Charlie's outstretched hand only to stop and look at her. Charlie nods once and she takes it. "Are you okay though? They aren't like torturing you are you? No electric shock therapy? No drugging you?"
"I have medication that they give me for anxiety but it's as needed sort of thing and I don't need it though I probably should have brought a pill along just in case, and no torture, at least most of the time. They stuck me in the wrong group at the beginning and well that didn't go well and I got labelled a problem patient but since then I haven't had an incident." Charlie says and fiddles with the napkin. "Quinn thinks that since I haven't freaked out in a while, that I'm fine. But—I don't think I am. It's just hard to talk about it sometimes."
"What's hard to talk about?" Santana asks reaching for Charlie's drink as well and taking a sip of the soda as she eyed Charlie carefully. "What can't you talk about Charlie?" Charlie looks away and Santana looks at the burrito and places it down. "Does this have to do with why you've got PTSD?"
The images flash and Charlie grips the table trying to remember everything she was taught by Holly to calm herself from having another panic attack and she forces her eyes open. Santana above everyone else, deserved to know. "I killed a person. I know I was a soldier and I had killed people before that," Charlie exhales after a moment and looks at Santana.
Santana runs her thumb along Charlie's knuckles to soothe her, seeing the distress on her face. This was a moment for her this was difficult and she needed to be there to understand. "What made this one different?"
Charlie takes a shaky breath, she needed to tell someone and there was no one on this planet she trusted more than Santana. She needed to understand, that this wouldn't just go away. "She was a six year old girl." Charlie mutters.
Santana stiffens at this but doesn't say a word, instead she gently squeezes Charlie's hand to let her know that she was listening that she was listening and not judging. But no wonder, she hadn't known if she had known. She didn't know what she needed to do but she could have helped somehow to carry the load to do something. Hell she would have dragged Charlie to a therapist and forced her to go to deal with it.
"Suicide bomber." Charlie says watching Santana's face grow hard. "I didn't want to—shoot her. I just—I didn't and the next thing my CO is screaming at me to pull the fucking trigger and I can't remember doing it. But I do, and the next thing there's an explosion and then there are people running and someone steps on an IED, another explosion. I thought I was going to die, I freaked. I didn't—I wasn't some brave soldier. I nearly pissed myself in fear. We get out and it just—everything was hell. I got out and it was just like it was hell Santana. Somehow I ended up covered in blood and like dirt and just sand. I couldn't do it—fuck I couldn't do it and when we finally made it back to base I like sobbed for hours before calling you. I didn't want you to worry, I should have told you but you were busy and I just—" Charlie's voice breaks and she looks away trying to push the thoughts out.
Santana is quiet and Charlie doesn't seem to want to look at her, there is shame on her face, there is a war of emotions on her face and she just can't even begin to pinpoint where to even begin tangling this mess. She hadn't known what to expect but Charlie telling her that it was a child, should have been enough to let her know it was bad. She doesn't even know what to say, there isn't some snarky words that would fix the issue and Charlie needed all the help that she could get. "I think," she begins slowly. "That you have a good heart, and that you're human." Santana said. "Not wanting to harm a child—that's human Charlie."
Charlie closes her eyes, logically she could make ever excuse in the world, but it didn't help it didn't stop the nightmares, it didn't make her feel better. Not thinking about it and just trying to live in the moment certainly didn't help, she just wanted to get better. To be the person that Santana needed to be. She was sick of being watched like she was an invalid. She had been fine, she had been good. She should have quit while she was ahead. "When—the audit finishes can you come visit me? Please?"
Santana blinked and squeezed Charlie's hand tightly, Charlie had never asked before but she sounded broken right now. Broken and scared and there was a haunted look on her face and Santana is quiet for a moment. "Yes. I'll come visit you as much as I can and we can continue to chat and talk on the phone whenever you need it."
"Thank you—I don't want to make you come out of your way Santana I just—you make it better. Better than anyone else," Charlie admits and squeezes Santana's hand tightly. It's enough and Charlie gets up and moves to where Santana is sitting and wraps her arms around her and she closes her eyes as Santana gently rubs her leg.
"Quinn what were you thinking, you can't surprise someone with PTSD! You're lucky all she did was break your nose! How could you even think that this was a good idea? She was a soldier she could have killed you! Are we forgetting that she held a loaded gun to Santana's head?" Rachel said, she had come out to see what Santana thought only to find that her friend hadn't showed up. She had instead found her wife with a pack of ice on her face.
"Me? I was trying to help!" Quinn said wincing. Charlie had done a number on her nose.
"Help how? She has PTSD, she's getting the best help she can and she trusted you Quinn. She did this whole thing for you, to show you that she was working on it. You can't surprise her like that—what if Santana's in danger because of what you did? What if she had lashed out at Santana? We still don't' know what triggers her." Rachel said freaking out and reaching for her phone.
"My face?" Quinn said pointing at her broken nose.
Rachel blinked and looked at her wife, "You're going to apologize to Charlie."
"She broke my nose!" Quinn snaps at Rachel.
"She has PTSD, you got lucky." Rachel said not feeling sorry for her wife. Right now she was worried about Santana and Charlie. This was a disaster and her mind was going to all the dark places.
"I was trying to help, she gets better when Santana is around and she needed that boost. You'll see she'll start getting better quicker now."
"This isn't a broken leg Quinn there is no timetable, Charlie is going at her pace, I thought you understood that. This is going to take some time and by all accounts she was doing better. Holly was going to start attempting to figure out her triggers. So she'd learn how to deal with it. What if you put her back?"
"Why is this about Charlie? My nose is broken!"
"Because this was about Charlie Quinn, this wasn't about you fixing her. You can't fix her, this isn't something you can put the pieces back because honestly it's not working every time you try. Santana's 'winning' because she's not rushing her. She's not demanding anything from her she's trying to understand. This isn't even a competition, you're her sister. Charlie tolerates you better than she tolerates Frannie and quite frankly she has openly admitted that she is more than grateful to you for introducing the two of them." Rachel said firmly and rolled her eyes. "Be grateful that I made Charlie promise to not elope with Santana so you can speak at her wedding. Though at this rate it's not going well."
"Can we at least go to the hospital?" Quinn groans and Rachel finally pats her leg gently. "Rachel! I'm the one with a broken nose!"
"I know, let's hope that your septum isn't deviated, I don't think that I could deal with you snoring. I have a very strict schedule when it comes to sleep." Rachel says and is met with a look from Quinn and she shrugs. "It'll be a shame if you stopped being the hot twin." She smiles when Quinn shoves her. It really would.
AN: Stuff going on break again.