A/N – Thank you to all the anonymous reviewers. Your support is greatly appreciated. Alright, my medical knowledge is pathetic at best so there's probably a lot of inconsistencies with regards to Brittany's injuries and the severity of her condition. Just, pretend it chalks up to reality, ok? Lol.

Chapter 14 – All Wrapped Up In Blue

Four pairs of eyes snapped onto the doctor with palpable force. Anticipation from each individual radiated off their bodies, curdling in the air until it was a tangible mass that weighed down heavily on each person's shoulders. Its presence was a terrible one, all spite and malice, teasing taut nerves and sending hearts into a tumult of erratic beats and pained pulses.

Frank felt his composure slip through his fingers like water through a sieve. Needing some semblance of decorum, he forced himself to focus on the hand that was carding soothing fingers through an oblivious Santana's thick dark mane, the action almost unconscious in nature and speaking volumes, his unashamed affection toward the girl. "My daughter?" he croaked out, hating how his voice broke in places. The immensity of the current situation was finally catching up to him and like the backlash of a snapping rubber band, it struck off against the blonde man's frazzles nerves, zipping down his veins to gnaw at his soul. His initial anger, which he had purposely hidden behind to strengthen his self-control, had fizzled out, leaving behind a congealing mess of desperation, grief and pain. Now, all he wanted was for the doctor to tell him that his little girl was going to be ok.

"My name is Dr. Adrianne Kennedy," the doctor introduced herself. "Ms. Pierce's primary physician." She was unaffected by the lack of response or acknowledge by the small party. "The patient suffers from three broken ribs and a fractured collarbone. Her left arm, wrist are also broken, and she had several contusions and lacerations resulting from the impact. Her right ankle is also sprained."

At the other end of the room, Quinn made a pained noise, a choked whimper that caught in her throat, causing Rachel to fumble quickly for the blonde's hand, squeezing tightly. Hiram reacted by moving even closer to the girls, almost as if his mere presence would shield the pair from further emotional cudgeling.

At the front of the room, Frank remained motionless, paralyzed by the doctor's words. His brain fought fanatically with each sentence, trying in vain to tease out any grain of intelligible information that would allow him a peace of mind. However, the gray matter in his skull was severely being compromised by the grave expression on the doctor's face. "There's more, isn't there?" He felt faint, almost as if gravity had escaped the room and he was floating on a suspension of helplessness and undiluted fear.

Dr. Kennedy nodded. "The patient –"

"Brittany, her name is Brittany," Quinn interjected fiercely. Rachel tightened her grip, almost crushing the blonde's fingers.

"–has a ruptured spleen causing some internal bleeding into her abdominal cavity," the doctor continued impassively. "A glass shard also sliced into her right thigh, nicking her femoral artery. The patient is lucky that it did not cut deeper but even then we had to use two bags of blood to stabilize her. As we speak, my team are moving her up to the ICU on the third floor. The next twenty-four hours are critical; we need to monitor her internal injuries and be on the lookout for infection."

"I want to see my daughter," came the quiet demand. Frank straightened to his full height and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

"Can we see her too?" Rachel piped up.

The doctor shook her head. "Family only."

Immediately, the two girls opened their mouths to protest.

"That's not fair!"

"We're her friends, we should be able to see her!"

The doctor shook her head again. "The patient needs her rest. You may see for five minutes," she addressed the last part to Frank. "The rest of you may visit her later."

Rachel deflated back onto the pillows and Quinn looked equally put out. Frank, noticing their dejected postures announced, "I'll report back to you guys."

With that, he walked out after the doctor, leaving behind, a room filled to the brim with tension that seemed to choke the very air.

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"Quinn?" Rachel looked down at the blonde, a question burning on her tongue but she had waited until her dad had left the room to call her other dad.

It was a struggle to lift her head for it felt as though her skull had been injected with lead. However, she valiantly looked up into a pair of chocolate doe-eyes that were bright with questions.

"What?"

"What was that, with Santana and Brittany's dad?" The diminutive girl fidgeted slightly under the covers, a tad uncomfortable fishing for information about someone who lay not four feet from her.

Quinn dropped her head back onto the edge of the bed, the springs in the mattress causing her head to bounce slightly before coming to a standstill. "Santana is really close to Brittany's family," came the garbled reply, the blonde's voice so muffled by the blankets that Rachel had to strain her ears to make sense of the jumble of words that Quinn was muttering. "She's always been a constant feature at their house, especially after Santana's parents finalized the divorce and her dad moved out. Her mom was always picking up extra shifts in the hospital so Santana spent a lot of her time at Brittany's house." There was a trace of bitterness to Quinn's tone, wholly detectable despite the position of Quinn's mouth. "Her mom was never around." She suddenly lifted her head again and Rachel was semi-startled to see the blonde's hazel eyes blaze with righteous fire. "Hell, she's not here now. This is her workplace; you would think that she would find a spare moment to come up to check on her grieving daughter!"

"She's two hours away at a retirement home, helping them cope with the staff shortages," Rachel supplied quietly. Santana had filled her in on her mother's whereabouts when Rachel had been over at the Latina's house, helping her with the song.

"That's no excuse," Quinn hissed. "The hospital would have notified her by now and yet San's phone is still silent. Not a text message, a phone call, nothing."

Rachel did not have an adequate reply to that. She decided to maneuver the conversation away from Santana and her strained relationship with her mother. "So, judging from Mr. Pierce's open display of affection toward Santana…" She trailed off, not knowing how to complete that question.

Quinn smiled a watery smile. "You know how Brittany can sometime be a bit…dreamy?"

Rachel laughed at the politically correct way Quinn was describing the loveable but sometimes ditzy blonde. She nodded.

"Santana and Britt's dad formed a really close bond with each other over how protective they are toward Britt. I mean, I'm protective of B too but the way those two are with Brittany, it's almost…"

"Primal?"

Quinn's brows scrunched as she flavored the word, swishing it around her taste buds in contemplation before nodding her approval. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that. Britt's dad knows he can trust San with her safety and care and as a result they got really close over the years."

"Hmm…" Rachel offered. One hand reached up to rub some tiredness from her eyes but when her knuckles came into contact with bruised skin, she gasped at the pain washed over like a splash of arctic water. "Oh wow, that is offensively excruciating," the brunette grumbled, letting her hand fall back onto the bed where it rebounded once before settling back down.

Quinn shook her head, gazing up into Rachel's face, her eyes sweeping over the discolored and swollen skin. Hues purple-black, gray-blue and yellow-green were already creeping up over Rachel's nose and down the side of her eye and cheek. It was like a mismatched patch quilt pattern had taken purchase over part of Rachel's face. "Your face looks like a palette of paint exploded onto it," the blonde said softly, though not unkindly. "What were you thinking, putting yourself in harm's way like that?" The blonde was truly mystified at Rachel's sudden show of bravery.

Rachel shrugged, coloring a little in embarrassment. "Perhaps the heat of the moment caused me to produce an act of heroism. I shall wear my shiny new injury with a sense of pride," she joked, trying to inject some humor into her voice.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "You'll definitely be wearing that injury for a while, Rachel," she deadpanned. "Thank you though," she said again after a brief pause. Sincerity rang loudly in her voice.

Rachel blushed and ducked her head. "You're most welcome."

The pair sat in uncomfortable silence, unsure of how to deal with their newfound friendship. Rachel was about to open her mouth to offer an icebreaker when a groggy moan from the other bed caused the girls to turn around.

Santana was waking up.

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Santana felt like her mouth had been stuffed with cotton, soaking up any last trace of saliva and leaving behind a desert dry hole in her face. Her head was fuzzy and it seemed alive given the odd buzzing that was taking place inside her skull. It actually felt as though a hive of bees had taken to residing in her head. The very thought made her skin crawl. Her wrists felt oddly sore and chaffed too and every muscle in her body protested each slight movement. Groaning, she sat up and dug both hands into her hair, attempting to massage away the aches.

"San?"

"Not so loud, Q," Santana whimpered. "I think I have the mother of all hangovers." She chewed at her bottom lip, eyes still squeezed shut and her brows knitted in pain.

Quinn and Rachel exchanged looks then padded over to flank either side of Santana's bed. Rachel placed a cautionary hand on one of Santana's arms. "Santana? Do you know where you are?"

"Hell?" Santana grumbled tetchily. "I must be, for you're in my space."

Rachel rolled her eyes and jerked a chin in Quinn's direction, asking her to try. Quinn took one look at Santana and decided not to beat around the bush. Instead, she went straight for the jugular. "You're in the hospital. You roughed up a whole bunch of hospital staff. You wanted to get to Brittany. She's here because a car hit her. Remember now?"

Rachel winced at the straightforward tone, then cringed and instinctively tightened her hand on Santana's arm when the girl went statue stiff under her hold. "Quinn," the tiny brunette hissed. "Bombarding her with recent events is not conducive to our health or Santana's fragile state of mind!"

Quinn huffed and sent her arms akimbo even as she stared defiantly at Rachel.

Santana's head was spinning; it call came back to her. Her singing the song. Brittany running out. Santana chasing her. The argument. The kid and the skateboard. The car accident…

"BRITTANY!"

"Oh my god, not again!" Rachel cried out. In a desperate move, she leapt on top of Santana, effectively pinning her to the bed. Then, shocking herself and Quinn, she reached down and slapped the struggling Latina hard across the face, the sound of it echoing clear across the room. "Santana Lopez! You will calm down this instant because if you don't you'll not only get yourself kicked out and possibly banned from the hospital but you'll most likely get us kicked out as well. So curb your childish antics and just CALM DOWN!"

Quinn stared, mouth hanging open at the sight of Rachel on top of Santana, screaming into her face. She didn't know what to do; the situation was so surreal that her mind was having trouble wrapping itself around it. She wrung her hands, glancing repeatedly back and forth between Santana and Rachel, eyes darting nervously from both girls' faces. The blonde was waiting for the impending eruption that would be on extremely pissed off Santana Lopez and the anticipation of such a blowout had her bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet.

The sound of a gut-wrenching sob emanating from Santana almost caused Rachel to topple off her. She slid off the crying Latina only to squeeze up to her side, pulling her into her arms. "Shh," Rachel murmured, tears filling her own eyes. The reality of Brittany's current condition came crashing back onto her and she felt the heavy weight of it press down hard on her chest. "Shh, Santana. It's going to be ok; Brittany is going to be fine. The doctor said she sustained some broken bones and they need to monitor her because she lost quite a bit of blood but she's going to be ok." Rachel did not mean to sugarcoat Brittany's condition but the way Santana had unraveled in her arms did not compel her to elucidate all the details.

Quinn snapped out of her initial shock at Santana's breakdown then hopped up on the bed on the other side of the girl and joined Rachel in hugging the Latina from behind. The sight of the pair crying set her off and together, the trio huddled tightly together on Santana's bed, each clinging to the other for comfort as they proceeded to let loose their emotions through copious amounts of tears. It was the second best alternative to begin their healing; the first would have been to see Brittany but hospital policy prevented that course of action and given their previous jaunts within the hospital, neither girl wanted to test the hospital staffs' patience anymore than they already had.

Therefore, for now, the trio sought solace within each other.

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Twenty-Four Hours Later

The last twenty-four fours, Santana conceded, had to be one of the most bizarre experiences of her life. It was hard for her to look back upon, given the sheer amount of events that had occurred. Tantrums had been thrown, tempers arose and tears were shed. Not necessarily in that order. The glee kids had been informed of Brittany's accident and they trickled in one after the other, sometimes in pairs and other times alone. Soon, every Glee member was present and accounted for, with the exception of Artie, who was visiting relatives in Cleveland. They sprouted condolences that fell onto deaf ears, offered hugs of reassurances that went about ignored then proceeded to line the hallway outside Brittany's room like some ragtag team of non-uniformed Secret Service.

Mr. Schuester himself had made an appearance, looking harried and panicked when he walked briskly down the corridor. He was swiftly followed by Quinn's mother who was at a day spa out of town; she had observed her daughter from head toe, then upon concluding that Quinn was quite alright, burst into tears and hugged a thoroughly embarrassed former head cheerleader right in front of her peers. It had taken heated reassurances for the older woman to let her go. Santana's own mother, had still failed to show. She had called though, almost asking for the Latina's permission to remain where she was then ultimately, guilting Santana into saying that it was okay that she wasn't here to support her only daughter through this grief-stricken time when she spoke about how the retirement home was in a great state of chaos.

Now, twenty-four hours had passed and Santana found herself sitting sentinel by Brittany's bedside. She had taken over for Frank, who had left to swap places with his wife, who was waiting anxiously at home with Jaime. The couple had a brief argument over the phone about whether it was a sensible idea to bring Jaime to the hospital. Granted, she was young, but this was her big sister, whom she adored relentlessly.

Turning her attention back to Brittany, Santana proceeded to map out the girl with her eyes. The blonde was pale against crisp hospital sheets, an IV drip running into one hand and a breathing tube in her nose. She was also hooked up to an EKG machine, and it beeped quietly, a monotone sound that did nothing to sooth Santana's nerves.

Santana ran a lone finger down Brittany's cheek, marveling at the softness of the blonde's skin. "Hey," she offered, her voice a low burr. "I don't know if you can hear me, B, but I want you to know that I'm here. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere." There was a double meaning to those uttered words, a carefully encrypted meaning that only few were privy to. Santana's tired eyes traced over the stark white bandage plastered across Brittany's temple, the bruises running down the side of her face, another obnoxiously white bandage on the side of her neck and the mismatched patches of discolored skin that she knew was hidden underneath that flimsy hospital gown and blanket. Then there was the cast on her arm; the doctor had said that it was a clean break and that it should heal fairly quickly but it still did nothing to comfort Santana. The wrap around the blonde's right thigh, though concealed by the blankets, seemed to burn its image through the thin layers of material under which it lay. Santana's eyes lingered over the outline of Brittany's leg, feeling that wrap mock her, reminding her just how close she could have been to losing the blonde.

Her finger continued to move, tracking invisible lines down the sleeping blonde's neck, over her uninjured collarbone and down her unbroken arm until it came to a rest at the tip of Brittany's pinky. Feeling a sob threatening to bubble up from her throat, Santana swallowed hard and blinked against tears that wanted to fall. Her breath caught however, when she felt a subtle movement beneath her hand. Incredulous eyes bounced toward Brittany's hand only to find the blonde's pinky finger twitching slightly where it lay, as if it were searching for something. Or more specifically, another pinky. Santana quickly shifted her hand to curl her own pinky finger around the blonde's almost sobbing in relief when Brittany's linked quite unconsciously with hers.

Santana squeezed Brittany's little finger as hard as she dared. Impulsively, she leaned over and dusted a soft kiss over Brittany's cheek, lips lingering over the pale but warm skin. "I love you," Santana dared breathe out. "Do you hear me, B? I love you." Crystal drops of salty tears stubbornly raced through the barriers of Santana's self control, falling down her face and clinging wetly to her eyelashes. "I love you so much it hurts, Brittany. It's like I can't breathe when you're not around and when I'm alone my heart wants to rip itself into shreds." The Latina's face was streaked with tears as she confessed what her heart had been pleading for her to say for so long. "Please, B. I love you. I'll do anything. Please, please, come back to me." Her monologue ended with a ragged sob and she let her head fall onto the bed, right next to their entwined pinkies.

Brittany did not respond. It broke Santana's heart, seeing the bubbly blonde so pale and lifeless. It was as though someone had sucked the dancer's exuberant energy right out of her, leaving behind this hollow, empty shell that was devoid of its passion for life. Santana's shoulders hitched, tremors quaking through her body and rattling her frame. Anybody walking in would have seen a brittle and broken girl hunched over the bed, beaten and defeated by life's obstacles.

However, internally, Santana held on to a last vestige of hope, of strength. Given the pinky incident, she knew Brittany was in there somewhere, fighting. And so, for the first time she could recall, Santana prayed. She prayed for forgiveness, for a miracle, for penance.

She never moved her hand from where its littlest finger was twisted securely around Brittany's.

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