Chapter Twenty-Five
Stepping out of the shower, Quinn wrapped a towel around her body and approached the fogged up mirror with caution. Wiping the glass clean with her calm, she actually took a moment to give her reflection a scrutinizing once over for the first time in days. Frowning at what she saw, she reached up to thumb the dark circles forming under her eyes that she swore weren't there before. She just hoped they didn't end up being permanent.
Quinn was happy that Santana was safe and sound. Really, she was. She would've felt absolutely awful if something had happened to her friend- at the same time, she just kind of wished Santana had waited until a decent hour to show up on her doorstep soaking wet. Sighing, Quinn shook her head to herself and turned around to change into new pajamas, the ones she'd had on when Santana arrived balled up in a sopping wet mess on the floor. Her mother would probably complain about the puddle on the carpet in the morning, but she was really too tired to care.
Twisting her dripping hair up in her towel, she turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the much colder hallway. Heading quickly down the dark corridor towards her room, she made sure to tip toe passed her mother's door as silently as she could. Judy was probably knocked out on vodka, but Quinn really didn't want to risk it. By some miracle, she managed to make it to her room with the floorboards creaking only once. She eased open her door and quietly shut it again before turning around.
She was far from pleased, or really surprised, if she were being honest with herself, to find Santana passed out flat on her back and spread across the top of the bedspread. Still in her own, very wet, clothes- including her sneakers too. The pajamas Quinn had gotten out for her still laid neatly folded, and obviously forgotten, on the dresser by the door.
Groaning and muttering quietly to herself in a harsh whisper, she decided that having to change her sheets the next day would be worth the few precious hours of sleep she might still be able to get before having to get ready for school if she let Santana off the hook. Turning off her bedroom light, she carefully made her way across the room, narrowly avoiding tripping over her own discarded sneakers and backpack from earlier.
She was beyond relieved to finally be able to get some sleep, but once she arrived safely at the edge of her bed, she made another less than ideal discovery. Somehow, as ridiculously small as she was, Santana was still managing to take up the entire bed.
Quinn was so frustrated and tired that she was afraid she might legitimately burst into tears at any second. Letting out a silent breath, she kneeled lightly on the edge of the mattress, looking Santana over and wondering where the best place to start moving her over might be, or if she should just give up and sleep on the floor. Deciding that Santana wasn't really taking up the whole bed, just most of it, she wrote off sleeping on the floor. If she could just get Santana's left arm and foot over and out of the way, then there should be plenty of room for the both of them without Quinn having to resort to shoving Santana off the bed- because, really, the floor was really cold and she was not about to sleep there if she could help it.
Gently picking up one of Santana's disgustingly muddy Converse, she moved it, ever so slowly, close to her other foot, and set it back down on the mattress top just as carefully. Santana mumbled something and turned her head to the side, face strained, and causing Quinn's heart to leap into her throat. Quinn held her breath and waited for some sort of explosive response, but it didn't come. Counting to ten, Quinn decided it was safe to keep going when Santana didn't wake up or move again.
Letting her breath out a few seconds later, Quinn inched up towards the head of the bed and took the wrist of Santana's outstretched arm between both of her hands. She'd barely lifted the limp appendage off the bed before it was violently pulled away with a strangled cry. Cue the explosive response she'd been waiting for earlier.
In the darkness, Quinn couldn't exactly see Santana, but she felt the bed bounce as her friend jerked away and sat up in one fluid motion and turned rapidly from side to side taking in little gasps of air and mumbling curses and questions under her breath.
"San-" Quinn was cut off and stopped from reaching out for Santana when she felt both of the other girl's hands press against her shoulders, shoving her roughly away and sending her rolling backwards off the bed with a yelp and a heavy thud.
Head spinning at her sudden reorientation, Quill yelled out again when the lights were suddenly flipped on without warning, leaving her painfully blinded and blinking little white dots. Squeezing her eyes shut against the intrusion, she heard Santana let out a similar noise of discomfort, followed by a second thump on the opposite side of the bed.
"Quinn!" her mother's hoarse and still sleep filled voice assaulted her ears a second later and she groaned in response. "What the hell is going on in here?" the older Fabray demanded, stomping further into her daughter's room. Hesitantly, Quinn opened her eyes to find the disapproving glare of her mother boring down at her from above, the outline of her head accented by the still painfully too bright light on the ceiling. "Well," Judy gestured across the bed, where Quinn assumed Santana still hadn't risen from, "care to explain yourself, young lady?"
Judy continued to yell as Quinn heaved herself off of the floor without even offering a hand down to help her daughter up. She yelled even louder when Quinn appeared to ignore her all together and climbed onto her disheveled bed to peer over the other side. Santana had her back pressed against the wall and her knees pulled against her chest, face pressed between them. Quinn couldn't be absolutely positive, but she assumed the violent shaking racking through her body were from only barely concealed sobs.
When Judy became fed up with being ignored, she grabbed Quinn's ankle to pull her back to the side of the bed she was standing on, but Quinn yanked herself away. Standing up and turning to face her mother brashly, Quinn grabbed her mother's sleeve and dragged her into the still dark hallway, ignoring the woman's protests and attempts to pull away until the door was firmly shut behind them, completely eclipsing them in black.
"What is she doing here?" Judy demanded coldly, yanking her arm out of her daughter's grasp, "I want her gone, this instant. Do you hear me?"
Quinn felt her eyes drift back to her door, the image of Santana curled up and clutching to herself as she sobbed burned into her brain and not likely to be forgotten any time soon. It was like looking into a distorted mirror showing her own past. While it seemed like weeks since she'd last woken up in that same position herself, she knew it'd only been a matter of days. And, every time she'd woken up in a state like that, she had always wished, so hard, that she'd be wrapped up safe in her mother's comforting arms. Logically, she wasn't sure why she craved it, she'd only been afforded such compassion on a few occasions as a child, so she wasn't really surprised when she never was. That was how she turned to Rachel.
Rachel, who had kept her grounded, and worked with her through all of those horrible memory-nightmares while her mother never took the time. Rachel had kept her sane, and it was only because of her that Quinn hadn't woken up covered in sweat and tears for the last few nights- only because of her that Quinn wasn't still exactly like Santana.
"That girl is trouble, Quinn. I swear. I told you not to go out looking for her for a reason, you know. That girl-" Judy made another disapproving noise without finishing the sentence in what most likely would've been an insult.
Just like she herself had been, Quinn knew Santana was hurting and scared, and that she had reached out to Quinn, just like Quinn had reached out to Rachel. Neither case made that much sense, she knew that, but Quinn didn't think that mattered. She wouldn't, couldn't, imagine turning a blind eye to her friend's obvious suffering just because Quinn would and had done the same to her. "Mom?" she asked.
"She was probably just out causing-"
"Mom-"
"-all sorts of trouble this time. Had everyone out and worried for no reason. I know her type, Quinn. I want her out. I don't care where she goes-"
"Mom! Enough!" Quinn snapped. Judy's eyes went so wide that Quinn could actually see them through the dark. She could also make out her mother's mouth, hanging open and moving with words she was trying to say, but not quite able to get out. "Just," Quinn's voice shook as she tried to keep it calm and low. "Just stop, ok? Santana's spending the night. She needs me right now," she begged her mother to understand, to, for once, have some form of maternal instincts in her.
"But," Judy smiled gently, trying to look sweet and caring as she reached out for her daughter's arm, "Quinny, dear-"
"If you don't like her, fine. I get it. She's difficult, whatever, but I'm not just kicking her out. It's the middle of the night," her mother didn't look swayed in the slightest, and it was all she could do not to start shouting again, just as her mother had been doing earlier. "Mother," she sighed, "Santana was held up in Brittany's house by the same psycho who took me, you know. She's not ok. She came to me for help."
Judy shook her head and tried once more. She reached towards Quinn's shoulder again, still smiling even after Quinn pulled back a second time, "but-"
"No, Mom!" she hissed, jerking out of her reach and stepping further away, her back pressing against her door. She stood as faar away from her poor excuse of a mother as she could get. "I don't care what you say about this. She's staying."
Judy just stared at her daughter for a long, hard, moment before turning on her heel in a huff and marching towards the stairs at the end of the hall. "I want her gone tomorrow," she called over her shoulder, voice high and light and aggravatingly polite. "Your sister is coming home in the afternoon. I don't need any extra anything going on while she's here."
Quinn rolled her eyes as her mother disappeared around the corner. "Why, yes of course, mother," she seethed to herself, "we wouldn't want that." She waited until she heard the front door slam shut and one of the cars start outside before turning around and heading back into her room.
Quinn slowly eased her door back open, leaning around the side and peering around her room without entering. "Hey, S?" she called.
Santana glanced back towards the door as Quinn stepped in, but didn't stop gathering her things from the floor or hastily trying to put the bed, which she'd destroyed in her tumble, back together at the same time. "I heard her," she said, voice tight, "I'm leaving. Don't worry."
"Don't be ridiculous, Santana," Quinn chided with a sharp shake of her head, shutting the door with a loud click, watching Santana to make sure she heard it.
"But," Santana failed to comprehend, and Quinn felt another stab of hatred flare up towards her mother, "your mom said-"
"I told her you were staying," Quinn made her way to the center of the room where Santana was standing uncertainly and took the keys from her friend's still cold fingers. Setting the keys wordlessly down on her bedside table, she turned back around and wrapped her hand around Santana's. Leading her back to the bed, she forced her to side down and then sat beside her. "You came here for a reason," she reminded gently, "you need to talk to somebody."
Santana's eyes dropped to the floor again and she licked her lips, "I-" her voice cracked and she paused to clear her throat, "I can't. You just wouldn't understand, ok? I'm sorry."
Her reasoning was getting old, fast, but Quinn hadn't been able to get even this much out of her before, so she chanced another push, just praying she wouldn't lose it and punch Santana straight in her stupid little face. "That's fine if you don't want to talk to me, we can just sleep," she would've laughed at the suggestions if she didn't think she'd end up crying instead- it seemed like she was never going to get to bed, "but you need to talk to someone before whatever this is all about eats you alive."
The sudden vehemence that Santana responded with was actually shocking as she tore her hand out of Quinn's grasp and jumped up, stumbling clumsily away from the bed. "No one fucking understands, Quinn! So who am I supposed to talk to?"
Quinn just blinked up at her and stared for a moment as Santana began pacing. "Brittany," she responded a single beat later. Who else would be better?
Santana's pacing halted for just a second, just long enough for her to turn in the opposite direction, giving Quinn a nice view of nothing but her back. "Brittany doesn't want to talk to me."
Quinn was honestly shocked. Santana no longer sounded angry, but pathetically sad, broken, and just as lost as Brittany had looked over the last few weeks. For a brief moment, Quinn wondered if she'd somhow misinterpreted what had been happening, but then she remembered Brittany wandering around the school without watching or even caring where she was going, and she got mad again.
She stood up and then threw her hands in the air. "Santana, don't be dense," she all but shouted, "of course she does!"
"Well, she shouldn't!" Santana spun around, her eyes full of tears and so sad that Quinn actually took a step back.
"You're being ridiculous," she tried again, "she-"
"She wasn't even there! Alright?" Santana interrupted with a shout before completely dissolving into tears, her entire body shaking. "She doesn't even know," she stopped to try and wipe her eyes, failing miserably as more tears fell. "I-I never told her what I-" Quinn didn't know what to think as a choked sob escaped Santana's lip and she crimpled to the ground, "I just can't-"
Quinn just watched her, stuck somewhere between concerned and completely confused. Santana had pulled herself into a ball again, covering the back of her head with her hands and burying her face between her knees as she gasped for breath. "Santana," Quinn reached out helplessly with her hand, stopping just short of Santana's heaving back. Sighing, she sat down beside her instead and pulled her own knees up to her chest, resting her cheek on her knees so her head was turned towards Santana. "Tell her what?" she pressed gently, only receiving a shake of the head in response. "Come on," she placed a hand on Santana's shoulder, hoping it was at least somewhat comforting, "what happened?"
The seconds stretched on into minutes of uncomfortable silence, the only sound being Santana's pitiful sniffling into the back of her hand as she desperately fought to keep more tears at bay.
"Look, Santana," Quinn withdrew her hand and shifted to better face her friend. When Santana refused to meet her gaze, she reached forward and forcibly pulled Santana's hands away from her still wet face. "I'm going to be completely honest with you for a second, ok?" she waited until Santana nodded before going on, actually pleading with her to absorb what she was about to say. "You can be as miserable as you want, you have that right. You think you can handle whatever this is by yourself? Fine. Good for you. Just great, actually. I couldn't, and Brittany isn't. Can't, or won't, she's shut down. I don't know why, but she just wants you. Haven't you seen her?" then she stopped and actually laughed out loud, ignoring the pointed look Santana gave her. It was cruel, but she needed to get her point across, "because you've had your head too far up your butt to see what's going on around you. What you're doing to people." She stopped to let it all sink in, but Santana still refused to say anything.
"She's a wreck, Santana," Quinn sighed, "she doesn't talk, doesn't smile. She won't dance, or do anything anymore, unless one of us is there to remind her. We all take turns walking her to class because, if we didn't, she would just stand out by your locker all day, waiting for you to come back. She thinks she did something wrong, and that you're mad at her, or hate her, or something like that."
"What?" that finally got Santana's attention. What Quinn had been trying to say the whole time finally sunk in and she shook her head, desperately trying not to believe it. "No. That isn't it- she should be the one who hates me!"
Quinn kept Santana's hands grasped firmly in her own when she tried to pull away, "why?"
"Because!" was the only argument she got. Santana struggled for a moment, both with Quinn's grasp around her hands and within herself. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she mumbled quietly, resigning to sit back down.
Quinn dropped Santana's hands and physically pushed them back into her lap in disgust. "You know what? I'm seriously this close to slapping you in the face right now!" she held up her thumb and forefinger to show just how close that was. There wasn't any space left between the two fingers. Santana regarded Quinn closely for a moment, trying to gauge the actual threat to her physical wellbeing, but remained silent even after she decided Quinn probably really would hit her. "Stay miserable then, I don't care," Quinn spat honestly, standing up and straightening out her pajamas, "just know that you're messing her up too."
"What are you doing?" Santana asked stupidly as Quinn turned around without another word and started to climb across the bed, pulling the corner of the blanket back.
"I'm going to sleep," Quinn snapped, laying down with her back to Santana. She made sure to leave enough for Santana to crawl in beside her, but didn't really care if she did or not any longer, "and if you're going to join me, at least take your sneakers off this time!"
It was hardly a minute later when she felt the mattress dip and Santana shuffled carefully closer to her, her breath held and body tense in preparation for Quinn to snap at her again. Quinn, however, was far too tired to care at all, and did her best to just ignore Santana. The light was still on, but she couldn't find an ounce of will to care and let her eyes flutter shut.