Proud. That was how I felt when I feigned exhaustion and sent the detective away. Who does he think he is? Trying to make me snitch on my girlfriend, the nerve of the man! I do, however, feel awful as I watch the anxious and relieved faces of Quinn and Rachel as they speak to me in soft voices, assuring me that a lot has changed over the past couple of months but that I don't have to worry about it now.
I have to admit that I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I am lying in a hospital bed instead of some far off hotel in a small town. My mind continues to swirl as Quinn quietly tells me that the airline has put me on permanent leave, which I take it as her politely telling me that I've been fired. On the plus side, due to the traumatic events involving myself being abducted at an airport, I've been guaranteed full medical coverage and a pretty hefty severance pay as long as I keep all airport and airline associations from the press. No matter, I'm in love with a mob boss's daughter; money probably wasn't going to be a problem.
Jolted by the thought of my bad ass girlfriend, I try to sit up and move but my arms and legs feel numb and the lethargic sensation I feel in my muscles aren't helping either. Rachel must have noticed my internal struggle to sit up because she takes a moment to walk over and smooth back my knotty hair. She begins to talk but a creeping headache begins to form behind my eyes and I shake my head as she mumbles about something. I finally look up at her when some of the pain recedes and I focus my attention back on her face.
"Don't worry, Brittany, everything will be alright. Quinn and I will take care of you once you get discharged. We even have everything all set up for you and Lord Tubbington, whom might I add is doing so well on the kibbles for kittens' diet I put him on!"
"What? Rachel, what are you talking about? Why is Lord Tubbington on a diet? What do you mean you're going to take care of me? What's going on?"
"Brittany, please calm down. You've just awoken and I really hope you don't over exert yourself; you'll just exacerbate your injuries. As I said before, there is no need to worry. I have already set up our guest bedroom and the minute you are better we can head home together."
"Rachel, my head is hurting, I have this stupid migraine and my arms and legs feel like jello. Now, I really want you to just tell me straight out, why am I going to your guest bedroom?"
"Brittany, didn't you hear me before? You don't have your apartment anymore. You haven't been paying your rent so your landlord called us to move your stuff out. We set you up in our guest room and even moved all of Lord Tubbington's things there too. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. We can have slumber parties and I won't have to be alone when Quinn is gone and-"
"I lost my apartment?"
Rachel's alarmed face is all I need to know to confirm the truth and I begin to hyperventilate as I am suddenly overwhelmed by everything going on. I don't know where Santana is, I lost my apartment, Lord Tubbington is on a diet and I'm now about to live with Rachel and Quinn! What is going on?
"Britt, I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me? Come on, breathe. Everything is fine. You don't have to worry; once you're all set we can all go home together and focus on your recovery. Maybe Detective Puckerman will finally catch who did this to you. You're safe, Britt. You're finally back home now."
I look at Quinn incredulously before eyeing the entire room for some sort of sign or escape route I can take to avoid this craziness. What happened when I was away? My shared moments with Santana are all I can remember and I wonder if it really was just some fantastical adventure that ended abruptly. If it was, then obviously I am now paying for my negligence when I threw away my old and stable life for a dangerous yet exciting one. I can still feel the slight throb where they must've performed surgery on my head while everything just seems to have fallen into chaos ever since I stepped foot in the Lopez lair.
"You alright, B? How do you feel? Should I call someone?"
"No, Quinn I just… I need a minute alone. My head hurts something fierce and everything you're saying is confusing me."
"That's alright, B. I understand. I'm just so glad you're safe and back with us. I really missed you. I didn't know what to do when they told me you were kidnapped and then you went missing and no one could find you..."
"Quinn, what do you mean?"
"Nothing, never mind me. You must be exhausted, Britt. How about I come back tomorrow with Rachel and check up on you. I have a surprise for you and I think you're really going to love it!"
"A surprise?"
"Yup. Now rest up. If you need any help, any help at all, call the hospital staff or tell them to call me. They know how to reach me and I'll have my phone next to me all day in case something happens. Please try to get some rest, you have a long recovery period ahead of you and I can't wait until you're back to the old Brittany again."
"Yeah, me too Quinn, I can't wait..."
After the couple left I lay there on my back wondering how everything had come to pass. I was lying in a hospital bed and back in the city with no job and no home. Definitely not the worse that has happened to me but it was a weird feeling to suddenly notice the normal everyday problems of an individual again. I regained the use of my arms soon after straining to move any part of my body and was relieved to find I could still move my hands.
Avoiding the damaged part of my head, I skim over my face quickly to feel the familiar indent of a scar long healed and the stringiness of my hair from not washing it. How long have I been in the hospital? My sense of time is askew as I try to look for any indication of a date but all I can see is the generic radio clock sitting on a desk next to my table. The neon bright colors indicating midnight blink harshly back at me as I grow frustrated at my restricted walking ability. I try to move my legs once more but they don't comply and the only good news so far about them is that I can feel a tingling ache running through them as I try to shift around in my hospital bed. At least I can still feel my legs, right?
The next couple of months went by so slowly I was almost tempted to just make a run for it. But I knew better. My body needed to heal itself and forcing myself to stress through my rehabilitation would only push my progress back. After a month I was able to shuffle slowly to and fro and have thanked any deity available that I no longer need a bedpan for emergencies. Quinn and Rachel have visited me almost religiously every other day and dutifully brought reminders of my old life. Sometimes I look at Quinn and feel nostalgic about my carefree but stable job as a flight attendant but then I think about all that has happened and a tightness begins to form in my chest just thinking about Santana. Santana, my secret girlfriend whom I have yet to contact or even know how to contact.
Detective Puckerman stops by at least once a week to check up on me and I have a vague feeling that he is only sticking around to see if the notorious Santana Lopez will show up. I pray that she doesn't but a guilty part of me wishes that she would, just to whisk me away like so many times before. I stick to my story of amnesia to deflect his questions about my abduction and deny any inkling of where my girl might be. The only solace I have is that if law enforcement have no idea where Santana is then there is a slight chance she is safely hidden somewhere.
All I think about these days is Santana. Well, that and if I can hold my bladder until I crawl to the bathroom. I've already decided that once I get the okay from the doctors I will find a way to escape and look for the elusive woman. She can't be that hard to find, right? Last thing I remember is her getting shot and there was blood everywhere. I couldn't tell if it was hers or mine and I blacked out before I could find out. I did thankfully manage to hear and remember the last few words she said to me as I was blacking out. The ones I'd been longing to hear but was afraid to even voice myself. The words that I would've waited a lifetime to hear fall from her lips. Santana loves me and I didn't imagine it. Now all I have to do is find a way out of here to find out where she is.
A knock on my door has me calling out to the person on the other side before watching the tall frame of Detective Puckerman slip in with a good sized bag. The first few weeks of feigning amnesia was simple enough. Lie to the detective and just complain about being fatigued. But, over the course of the past couple of months I've gotten to know 'Puck', as he liked to be informally called, and have grown to genuinely like the man. A bit crass and perverted at times but overall a good natured and gentle man.
He tosses the bag onto my bed and pulls out a seat to sit nearby as I thank him profusely for honoring my wishes. I open the bag and smile wide as I touch upon every colored box of candy and sweet treats found in a store. My favorite Dot candies are mixed in with a few others and I rip the box open viciously before popping a few in my mouth and groaning at the sweet gummy goodness.
"Whoa, slow down there, Brittany. Don't want you to choke on one of those things, although you are in the best place in case you need medical attention. Or ya know, I can give you mouth to mouth if you like?"
"Detective Puck, if you ever tried anything like that I would shove this twinkie up into your ho ho. Capiche?"
"Roger that, Patient Pierce. Keeping my lips to myself, but you don't know what you're missing out on."
"I'm sure I don't. But thank you for the candies and sweets, Puck. That was real nice of you."
"No problem, just remember to throw the wrappers somewhere else. I don't want to get in trouble with your doctor or your friends for sneaking you some goodies."
"You're a good man Puckerman."
"And that's why I work for the good guys. Speaking of which, how are you today? You look a lot less dead since the last time I came."
"Thanks, you really know how to charm your way into a girl's heart."
"I try my best! But really, are you okay? I hate to ask again but do you remember anything at all? It's been months, Brittany… "
"I'm really sorry, Puck. I wish I could help."
"I know it's not your fault. I can't blame you for blocking out those memories either. I mean, I looked over that footage of Lopez kidnapping you and it certainly wasn't pretty. She must've kept you alive for a reason, although it looks like you took quite a beating for it. Maybe it has to do with your job as a flight attendant, was she using you to get around the world?"
"I don't know..."
"No one knows what she looks like, Brittany. Only you, you have to try and remember. Even Quinn doesn't remember although she gave me a vague description. It helps but not a lot. Please try, Brittany."
"I'm sorry, Puck. I can't. I just don't remember."
Turning away and crinkling the wrapper in my hands, I try to avoid the beseeching gaze that he sends me. I begin to fidget and I hope my nervousness isn't an indication that I am lying. I mean, I bet the man already knows that I'm keeping something back by the insistent way he asks every week. But I can't tell him. I can't tell anyone.
He lets loose a long sigh and I gently nudge a chocolate bar into his hands to appease his frustration. After silently watching him accept my offer and take a chunk off the top of the chocolate bar, I review my plans in my head. Puck won't stay appeased for long and sooner or later someone else will come along, who isn't as nice, to try and force me to give up Santana's whereabouts. Thankfully, I still have no idea where she is or how to find her but the second I can escape the confines of the hospital I will go in search of her.
I never planned to stay with Quinn and Rachel so their offer to let me stay with them fell on deaf ears, except for the part about Lord Tubbs. Still, I know he is a resourceful kitty and will somehow also escape the clutches of a health conscious Rachel.
Chatting with the detective only strengthens my resolve. He makes ready to leave but not before making a passing statement that sends a chill down my spine. I force myself to smile and give a little wave as he leaves but inside my mind is jumping all over the place. My hands instinctively reach for my knives, even though I know they are lost, so I clutch the bag of candy closer to me instead. His words linger in my mind all throughout the night and I lie awake in my bed wishing I had heard wrong.
"Try and rest, Brittany. Oh, before I forget, we recently caught someone who might know something about what happened to you. Some weasel named Jacob Ben Israel, or whatever. Hasn't said anything yet, but if I hear anything I'll let you know."
Okay, so hiding out in a closet is definitely not my idea of fun but I had no choice. I'm not especially known for my smart decisions and obviously I shouldn't be at fault if I freaked out a little after Puck's words. Shit, they have Jacob Ben Israel. That nasty little imp of a man.
I quickly grab the spare clothes Quinn left me from the closet and decide that immediate action needed to be taken. There was no doubt in my mind that Israel would squeal and then the government will have everything they need to track Santana down, along with using me as their bait. I won't have it. I won't let them use me to get to Santana. I need to get out of here.
I change quickly into the clothes and nimbly walk out into the hallway. Slowly and cautiously I listen for sounds of footsteps or the alarm as I use the wall to brace myself. Moving too fast will give me a headache and my limbs are not yet up to a hundred percent so I take my time to creep through the hospital. A slight breeze hits my cheek before I hear the sound of a door closing and I rip open the first door nearest me to find the broom closet. Closing it quickly behind me I listen as the familiar whistle of the night janitor walks by. I breathe a sigh of relief when he heads for the restroom instead of the door in front of me.
Not wasting any more time I shuffle towards the staircase, mindful of the noise my slippers are making on the linoleum floor. Quinn forgot to get me a pair of sneakers so I continue on in my standard hospital slippers until I reach the first floor. The hushed conversations of the sparse night shift medical staff prove them to be preoccupied while I take this opportunity to find my escape. I can't go through the front door without them spotting me and I can't use the emergency exits for fear of the alarm going off so I take the next best thing; an open window, in the women's restroom no less. The rectangular shaped window slats are positioned near the ceiling and I wonder how I can get up there let alone slip outside without breaking my neck. My limbs are still stiff and my body is sore from weeks of misuse as I try to loosen up and stretch, but that hurts even more as I stumble back toward the sinks and bite down on my lip at the pain shooting through my body.
Cursing my bruised body I push past the pain and crawl up slowly onto one of the sinks nearest to the window. I am sweaty and out of breath by the time I'm able to pull myself up and I now find myself face to face with the window. If I had more energy I could probably pull myself up on top of the window slat and perhaps slide out, but the way my body is malfunctioning now I can hardly climb four feet off the ground without feeling like there are razor blades in my muscles.
Stumped but unwilling to give up, I step up on top of the faucet to get a bit higher as I peek out into the night and the grassy lawn in front of the hospital. Freedom is so close, yet so far! Okay, you can do this, Brittany. Just ignore the pain. Not like you haven't experienced worse. I mean, let's face it; you are a bad ass, Brittany S. Pierce!
With that in mind I reach out to the window top and hold on tight to the handle as I take a deep breath and try to pull myself up. Bad idea. Oh my god! Horrible idea! I hold back a scream of pain out of fear of someone hearing me from the hallway. My entire body felt like it was on fire and any muscle I ever had was cramping and locking up. I stumble back and hit the mirror above the sink before leaning heavily against it; eager to sit down but afraid that I would never get up again. I can see my reflection staring back at me as I sob through my pain, my entire face a flaming red color and the thin bandage near my head already soaking in my perspiration. Fuck, that hurt like nobody's business!
I lean forward onto the mirror and try to calm my breathing so that eventually I am hiccupping and wiping my tears away. Staring into my own eyes I nod to myself as I strengthen my resolve. I breathe deeply and push the air out slowly as I continue to take a good look at myself. My skin definitely looks pallid and sickly while my pained eyes are surrounded by dark circles. My sunken cheekbones give my face a gaunt look and my hair is still as wretched. God, I looked horrible.
Feebly raising my hand to my reflection, I scratch at the face of the woman staring back at me. Everything has changed, including myself. Tracing my scar, I slide my palm all the way until I reach the bandage wrapped around my head and I grow angry at the man who gave me the mark. Santos Lopez; the bastard. The dead bastard, actually. A picture of his sneer comes up out of my memory and I slam my hand into the mirror with force regardless of the pain.
Hearing a slight scratching noise I look at my palm and then at the mirror again. What was that sound? Taking a closer look I notice that the mirror seemed to now be tilted at a weird angle. Gathering my energy I hit the mirror again and I watch in wonder as part of the glass begins to pop out. With renewed effort I grip the sides of the mirror and shift it side to side until the entire thing pops out and I place it carefully on top of the sink next to me. A small alcove is left behind and I spot a few items located in the back. Deftly pulling them out I am not surprised to find a small stash of weed with a lighter in a ziplock bag and a medium sized screw driver, which would explain the loose mirror. I guess someone really wanted a break in the hospital.
Throwing caution to the wind I immediately pull out the little rolled up blunt and lit up before taking a long lungful of the marijuana. I choke at the gritty taste to begin with but having done it a few times in the past I gradually slowed my intake and continued to puff. I wait for the effects to take hold before grabbing the screwdriver and working at the hinges of the window to my side.
If I can get the window pane unlatched then I have more room to pull myself up and out of here. Having spent enough time with Santana to be quick and efficient, I dismantle the window pane and slide it towards the ground. Not knowing if the effects of the weed will work as a natural pain killer, I breathe in and out slowly before steeling my mind and kicking off the wall to get a better leverage.
The pain is still excruciating as I lift myself up higher into the windowless hole. My plan to kick off from the alcove works and I am halfway through the window when I hear the sound of someone running down the hallway. Not wanting to waste any more time, I flip myself out the window and fall to the ground. Thankfully I land in a freshly laid out flower bed so my landing was soft as I hit the mushy soil underneath me.
It hurt like a bitch but when I hear someone crash through the bathroom door I bolt up and quickly walk out of the area. My head is a little fuzzy from the fall, and maybe the weed, but I make it to the main road and before I know it I am on the streets of the city in my hospital slippers. I stumble around at first, a little disoriented and confused until I start to notice my surroundings more. A familiar sign leads me to the closest train station and I eagerly enter the station area only to realize that I have no money on me.
Trying to get my bearings and keeping the panic at bay, I walk over to the subway and try to figure out where I need to go first. I can't head to Quinn and Rachel's place because they would send me right back to the hospital. I definitely don't have any other friends in the city I can trust so I can't go anywhere else. All places open at night require some sort of monetary purchase and I have no cash. So what am I to do? Deciding that standing alone in a train station looking at a map may not be the best idea at night, I head towards the turnstiles.
Having no other choice and deciding that this probably was the least of my transgressions over the past couple of months I crawl under the turnstile and quickly walk away to a bench to wait for a train. At least I can ride that around for hours and no one would be the wiser. Maybe I can think of where to go then. I hear the rumble of the train approaching the platform and I eagerly get up as it begins to slow to a stop and I head in through the opening doors. A few of the late night crowd are currently inside the train but pay me no mind as I sit in the corner and think.
I had nothing and no one. What am I going to do? I have no idea where Santana is and I've just escaped from a hospital. I continue my journey, moving aimlessly and transferring from train to train. I'm not sure how long I've been underground until I find myself walking up a familiar set of stairs and exiting a familiar station. I guess my body naturally took me home. Or at least where my apartment use to be, if I had one that is. Feeling nostalgic and without any sort of goal in mind I head down towards my old neighborhood. I see the sun peeking out and realize that I must've been in the subway longer than I imagined.
The same sounds and smells of the neighborhood waft towards me and my mind clears out the rest of the fuzzy feeling left behind by smoking. A few birds begin their call as the sun peeks out over the horizon and I see my building up ahead. Even with my body beginning to wake up and forcing me to realize I might've hurt myself some more in the fall, I trudge onward as I get closer and closer to my destination. I have no idea what I will do once I get to the front door, considering I have no keys and someone else is probably in my old apartment, but the sense of nostalgia is hard to ignore.
I reach the front steps and immediately drop down so I can sit, as the aches and pains of my body start to multiply. There's a good chance I bruised up my shoulder as that was the first body part to hit the ground. My legs are still stiff from not being used to traveling anymore and my entire body is full of aches, pains and sores from the commute. I probably looked like a dirty bum sitting on the sidewalk as I notice the once bleach clean hospital slippers are now tracked with dirt and blackened by the streets.
Not sure what I am waiting for, I continue to sit and wait for something to happen. Maybe somebody will come out early and let me in. I've been able to recognize at least half the tenants of the building and they all seemed nice enough. I would pay my weight in gold right now for a hot shower and a soft bed. A nice plate of greasy fried food would be great too. I'm so done with tasteless hospital food that if I see another plastic tray with my food sectioned out again I will throw it in the river.
I missed Santana. God, how I've missed her. At first I distracted myself with thinking about escaping and concocting schemes to trick my friends and the police about her whereabouts. But now that I think about it, I don't know where she is either. That scares me the most. There hasn't been a time where we've been separated for a long while without at least some assurance that we will be together soon. I don't know what to make of my feelings anymore. I'm trying really hard to keep the wild imaginings of my brain at bay, but the last image of Santana on the ground and bleeding just doesn't help.
If I could see her, hear her or even touch her then maybe I could finally feel safe and rested. All this worrying is just raising my anxiety level and I can't seem to function without my better half. She changed my life and now I don't know how I could live it without her by my side. I missed her so much and the feeling of my heart breaking every day when I don't hear from her rips away another speck of hope I have of seeing her again. I still won't entertain the notion that she might be dead somewhere, I especially refuse to think that she would not see me for this long if she had a choice. I have faith in her and with us that somehow she will find me or vice versa.
As I wallow in my self-pity I almost don't notice the steady pace of someone walking towards me. If being with Santana didn't make me hypersensitive to my surroundings then I wouldn't have realized the man heading in my direction until he was almost in my face. As it so happens I sense his approach a few feet away and look up in time to catch a steady nod he sends in my direction. It was but a glance but his familiar Asian features strike a memory and I vaguely remember him to be one of Mike's body guards. Or, more specifically, one of his men that held a gun in my face. I open my mouth to speak with him as he nears but his gaze and direction changes course quickly and he walks by me without even a hint of recognition. I question whether or not I am seeing things and my mind is so confused that I am now making things up.
Taking another look at the man walking away, I don't notice anything out of the ordinary. It looks like any other man walking around in a jacket and jeans on his way to work. Did he really look at me? I can't be sure since the last time my focus was on the weapon aimed at me and not the man behind it. All I remember was a fuzzy image of an Asian man dressed neatly in a black suit. I almost dismiss the whole encounter entirely until I watch as the man begins to roll up one of his sleeves to check his watch and the faint markings of tattoos peek out from under his sleeve.
That was all I needed to see before wobbling my way towards the man as he turns a corner and I stumble quicker to follow him. This was the first clue in weeks of anything and I wasn't about to lose it just because my body is sore. I hold onto the building walls as I quicken my pace and continue to pursue the man that might lead me to the whereabouts of my girlfriend. Turning the corner quickly I breathe heavily out of my mouth as the exertion and tired body catches up to me. I catch sight of the man as he calmly walks away from me again and I am tempted to call out to him in the street but something keeps my mouth shut and I just continue to struggle to follow him.
We walk a few blocks more and my body almost crumbles under the stress as I start to sway on my feet. We finally turn one more corner before I see him standing next to a large black car while holding the door open and staring expectantly at me. I breathe a sigh of relief as I hobble my way into the car and pass the man, whom I've secretly named the white rabbit during the time I've followed him. A few markings peek out from above his collar and I give him a nod in recognition when he bows as I step into the car. Luck isn't on my side as I look expectantly around in the car for a familiar pair of brown eyes but come up empty. Life never is that easy, is it?
When the disappointment of not seeing Santana in the car passed I realized that I was in for another silent ride as the driver and Mike's bodyguard resolutely kept their eyes straight and did not speak one word to each other or to me. I watched the streets pass by as long as I could before the lull of the car's movements rocked me to sleep until we arrived at our destination. Yet again Mike has whisked me off someplace which I've no idea where or how to get to without consulting him or someone he knows.
The car suddenly jolts to a stop and I wake up, sitting up suddenly from the back seat of the car. Looking for any sort of familiar landmarks, I realize we're now in the darker areas of the city where the inhabitants of the night life and illegal activities go on. The afternoon sun shone down on top of me as I realized that only a few hours had passed and the seedier residents of the neighborhood had yet to wake. Already accustomed to being escorted at someone's command, I follow the two men in front of me as we exit the car and walk towards a seedy looking hotel. A bit of nostalgia claws at my heart as I realize that going to nameless hotels is how Santana and I first became acquainted. I trip on a step as I remember all our times together but thankfully the man behind me holds me steady and I mumble a strangled thank you out to him before shaking off his hand and continuing forward.
A small keycard is pressed into my hands as the men point towards a door before turning around and leaving. I don't even bother getting my hopes up as I open the door and I'm not surprised to find a simple bed and bathroom with the shades drawn and no Santana in sight. Not bothering to think about anything else, I head to the bed and flop down onto the questionably white sheets before promptly falling asleep again.
The sound of the door lock being picked wakes me up from my sleep and I open my eyes to a dark room instead of the afternoon sunlight creeping under the blinds. At first I'm disoriented but my mind quickly pulls on my memory and I immediately open up my other senses to figure out who is entering my room. The door opens and I feign sleep as a strange rhythmic tap of something hitting the ground resounds around the room before a step and then a shuffle as the person quietly closes the door behind them before stepping into the room. The step and shuffle continues to follow the tap as I guess where the person is in the room.
I try to internally assess how able my body is in case I need to fight but I can still feel the soreness in my muscles and the fatigue from having too little sleep and stressing my body beyond its limits. I wait for the person to come closer before I grab the first thing off the table and chuck it at them, hoping to beat them in an element of surprise.
I must've thrown something heavy because the person immediately falls in shock and I take the opportunity to pick up the object again, which turned out to be a large bible, before jumping on top of the person and aiming to hit them with it. A large stick smacks me across the face and I am thrown off balance before I feel them push me onto my back and I struggle against their weight as the stick begins to come down on my throat and I start to choke.
Before I can scream out for help the body above me stills and I hear the stick being thrown away as familiar hands come across my face as I choke on the much needed air suddenly filling my lungs. Something tickles my memory and the distinct smell of antiseptic brings my eyes up to the person in front of me as I recognize the deep russet eyes staring down at me. I smile and begin to tear from almost choking to death and meeting my assailant again, but I can't help holding back my emotions when I feel my heart sliding back into place as I continue to stare up at the woman whose been holding it captive since we've met.
"Britt? You okay? Oh my god, I almost killed you! Please say something, oh god, please be okay..."
"Santana..."
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm right here. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Please say something, babe…"
"I found you, San. I love you too."
She chokes out a laugh before smiling down at me and shaking her head. I always did find her ridiculously beautiful when she smiled at me like that. Her dimples and scrunchy nose came soon after, complementing her lovely face while her eyes showed the kindness that her words and actions could never express.
"Jesus, Britt, yes. Yes, you found me, silly girl. God, I love you so much, so fucking much. You are one hell of a woman, but god help me if I don't love you more for it. I really hope you know that, Brittany, I love you so very much."
Yup, totally knew she did.
A/N: Happy Holidays everyone! Hope you all enjoyed doing whatever it is you like doing during the holidays. Please thank my beta killercereal for pushing this out even though she had to contend with my horrible draft. Because it is the season I thought I would update this before the year is over to show that I am still alive and will eventually finish this story. The show has become impossibly ridiculous to watch and I hope this fanfic is helping your Brittana heart. If not then I hope my next story will :)