Author notes: Thanks everyone for the sweet comments and support :) It looks like the rude guest reviewer- particularly the triggering comments- have been removed by site before I could even figure out how to do it myself, so it's no longer a problem. To any guests who are posting as guest who were not rude or downright mean, know none of that was directed at you and I appreciate your thoughts.
With 45 minutes until show time for sectionals, Rachel was dressed and ready to go, anxiously waiting with the rest of New Directions in the auditorium as people began to sit down and the show choirs did the same.
Having been drinking tea all morning, it didn't surprise her that she needed to use the restroom, and with a hurried whisper to to tell him that she'd be back soon, Rachel left the auditorium and made her way down the hall to the nearest girl's bathroom, not noticing the figure of someone following her out, too hurried to relieve herself.
Five minutes later she was washing her hands, and with a smile Rachel straightened up to check her hair. Just then the door swung open, and the girl turned to see a girl from a rival school. They were a newer group, having just started up, and Rachel didn't recognize the girl at all. She was fairly tan, with dirty blonde hair and a smile that… unnerved the Co-Captain of the New Directions quite a bit.
"Oh, hello there," Rachel spoke. "I was just leaving. Good luck out there," she said, moving to go around the slightly taller girl. she was stopped by a hand to her chest, and suddenly pushed up against the wall. Breath hitching as she gasped in surprise, eyes narrowing, Rachel opened her mouth to speak, only for the girl to cover her mouth with her hand and press her body against Rachel's own. Then she spoke.
"You're Rachel Berry, right? Leader of the Crude Erections or whatever?" Rachel glared, but the girl kept speaking. "Heard you was gay now, like your daddies. Also heard you was ugly as fuck, but you look pretty hot."
The hand that wasn't over Rachel's mouth was suddenly gripping her thigh under her dress, hard, and Rachel shoved hard.
The girl, however, didn't move much, instead moving her other hand to grab Rachel's hair. "Oh come on, don't be that way. Not like anyone else is gonna look at you, with that beak. Come on. We got time. Promise to make it real good for you…"
Then the hand on Rachel's thigh moved up just as the girl went in for a kiss, and with every bit of her strength (which was a lot more than people expected, she knew) Rachel screamed "Get OFF ME!" as she gave another, much harder shove, finally dislodging the girl, sending her stumbling back against the stalls behind her.
Breathing hard and uneven, Rachel's eyes were wild, both in fear and anger. "Leave. Now. Or I will report you and have you banned from competing for good. I know you barely have the required member count. Your whole team will be out of the competition."
The girl, however, just smirked, stepping up to Rachel a little, and the diva pressed herself against the wall, nostrils flaring. "You think anyone would believe you? I've heard a lot about you, Rachel Berry. Total diva, drama queen, center of attention. Even heard that that hot cheerleader was bored enough to fuck you for awhile. Thank God she wised up and went for the blonde instead. The point is, everyone will just think you're looking for attention. Like always, right?"
Snorting, the other girl shrugged, heading for the door. "But whatever. You'd probably be a terrible lay anyway. Besides, I hate sloppy seconds. Feels too trashy." The door swung open, then closed, and Rachel was left alone in the bathroom.
Her heart was still hammering, the inside of her thigh burning, and she was positive there was a bruise there.
She felt… She felt dirty. All over her skin was crawling, and as she wrapped her arms around herself and slumped down against the wall, body trembling. In her anger it had been easy to just glare and take whatever the girl had been saying. But now, as she was left by herself, the feeling of the girl against her and touching her, she couldn't keep her breathing straight, and the words echoed over and over in her head.
With shaking hands, not even having time to process what she was doing, she took her phone from the small pocket on the side of the dress, and barely managed to hit the 'call' button on Santana's name.
The first time it went to voicemail, and she wondered if Santana was with Brittany. Maybe making out before the show, or even just holding pinkies, enjoying company. "Sloppy seconds" ran through her head again and again, and her shaking increased.
Deciding to try again, still dazed, on the second ring the phone picked up, and she heard Santana's voice on the other end. She couldn't speak for a moment, though, just let out a shuddering, broken up breath. Finally, "S-santana- I- Please. I just- Something happened. B—bath-bathroom. Please. I need- I- I- I need y-you."
Rachel curled further into herself, legs tight and closed.
Everything was hitting her all at once, and for the life of her she just could not get the feeling of hands on her. It wouldn't go away, and she needed Santana.
88
Santana got nervous before shows.
She never said it, and she tried her best not to show it, but to someone who knew her well, it would be obvious. She got snappier and shorter tempered, much more restless and active, wanting to pace and wave her hands and fiddle with things. She obsessed over her clothes and her hair and her makeup and her body, sure that it would never look good enough and that the second she got up there, she would forget everything. She always refused to eat more than specific items the day before a performance, sure that any deviation would make her fail.
But it always went away the moment she stepped on stage. As soon as she was performing, something took over her, and she truly, genuinely felt happy and confident as she so seldom did otherwise. She tried to tell herself this as she sat next to Brittany and the others, letting her shoulder touch Brittany's as she swung her legs restlessly, making snide comments about Lauren and Tina and the clothes of the other groups.
She noticed that Rachel was taking a long time in the bathroom and began to get irritated about that too. If the girl was in there playing with herself or something before the performance and delayed them, cute as it was, she was totally kicking her ass.
She was surprised when her cell phone rang, displaying Rachel's name. Glancing at Brittany guiltily, she excused herself and stepped apart from the others, answering Rachel in a low voice.
"What, you need a tampon or something? Because they have those vending things, you know-"
But when she heard Rachel's voice, cracking and almost sobbing over the line, she froze, fear squeezing itself around her heart. Without a word to Mr. Shue or the others she almost sprinted in the direction of the bathroom in her haste to get to her.
Rachel was alone in the bathroom, slumped down on the floor with her arms wrapped around herself, head down. Heart thudding, mouth dry, Santana dropped to her knees beside her, reaching to touch her shoulder. Something had happened, Rachel had said. Maybe she was just being over dramatic and she was freaking over sectionals…but maybe…
Automatically her eyes scanned over her body, sickened by many possibilities coming to mind, before she blurted, "Rachel, what's wrong, what happened? Rachel?"
Almost as soon as Santana was next to her, Rachel threw herself into the other girl's arms, clutching at the material of the dress top and curling into her as much as possible. Her body still trembled, and she held herself together so tightly that she looked impossible small.
Rachel didn't speak right away- she couldn't. Instead, she cried. It was a controlled, shaky cry, with choked sobbing and thin trails of tears, the salty teardrops hitting the skin of Santana's exposed clavicles due to how Rachel had placed herself against the girl. Her thighs were clenched together, and finally, after several minutes of deep, shuddering breaths and thick swallowing, the diva managed to get a few words out.
"S-some- a girl. From the- the- From another s-school," she said, taking another deep breath, trying to calm herself down and avoid a panic attack. "She-" her entire body shivered and her legs seemed to close even tighter, "she was- she got in my head."
Rachel knew, or was fairly certain, that the girl's entire purpose for the whole charade was to throw her off her game right before competition. She was positive of it, really. And even if that hadn't been the original intent, it had affected her anyway.
"T-touched me. Said- said things. A-about you. And- and me." Her fists tightened into Santana's dress, knuckles white and eyes clamped shut to stem more tears from falling. "Hands. I can't- Santana I can't- It's like her hands are s-still on me. It won't go away. Please make it go away." Another sobbed escaped then, and before Rachel could stop herself she was breaking down again, crumbling into Santana's arms.
Santana's heart was in her throat as soon as Rachel turned into her, pressing her face into her shoulder. The other girl was shaking, crying,
And all she wanted in that moment was to make her stop, to make her feel better. It didn't matter that she was wrinkling up her dress, holding onto it like she was, that she might mess up the makeup Santana had been obsessing over. It didn't even matter that they might be late getting onstage or that other people might start to wonder where they were. All that mattered was that Rachel was upset, Rachel was crying, and Rachel needed her. Someone had hurt her, and Santana had to try to make things okay.
She didn't need to hear Rachel explain to have a feeling that this wasn't just a sectionals nervous breakdown over performance. She was familiar with the sort of pain in Rachel's eyes, having been the cause of it several times herself. Someone had hurt her. Santana didn't know how or why or who, but she did know it was a someone, and she had to tense her jaw to keep from shooting out an interrogation like a machine gun, just to be able to find someone to hurt back.
Wrapping her arms around Rachel, she drew her head more closely against her shoulder, rocking her lightly as she put her lips close to her ear, trying to calm her.
"Rachel, it's okay. It's okay. Just tell me. Tell me what's wrong."
It was a few minutes before the girl could manage, and when Santana understood, heat flooded her face, and she felt herself start to shake as well, but out of rage rather than shock or fear. Someone had threatened Rachel. Someone had TOUCHED Rachel, and all she wanted then was to jump up and beat that someone within an inch of their life for even daring to try to hurt her in any way, let alone TOUCH her. But Rachel needed her. Rachel needed her, right now, and so she tried to calm down, even as her own voice shook.
"Rachel, who? Did they…where did she touch-"
But Rachel was sobbing, curling into her, and any answers would have to wait. Santana held her, stroking her hair, and tried to talk to her again.
"It's okay. I'm here, okay? It's okay."
Holding her, she kissed the top of her head, repeating what reassurances she could bring to mind. But even as she spoke to her, she was much more aware of what she felt than what she was saying.
She loved her. She loved Rachel so frigging much that being here, seeing her like this, was absolutely killing her. So much that she was controlling her own need, to go beat someone up, to be here instead for Rachel.
Santana's voice threaded through her, pushing back the vile words of the girl who had cornered her, and even as her body shook Santana's arms felt like they were grounding her. It didn't feel claustrophobic, or over-bearing, or like she needed more space. If anything, she felt like she needed to stay exactly where she was, against Santana, where it was safe,
And it hit Rachel like a freight train, in that moment, exactly how much she felt for the Cheerio. She hadn't quite been able to grasp it, just how much Santana's presence made her feel secure in herself, but now she did. Because as much as her body was internally and externally shying away from the mere idea of physical contact, being held by Santana felt like some sort of necessity. As though she'd fall apart if Santana let go.
And when Santana said that it was okay, even though it didn't feel okay, Rachel believed her— had to, really.
For several more minutes she focused on calming herself down, letting the warm body and familiar scent ease her anxiety. The bruise on her thigh still throbbed, and her skin was still crawling, but she needed to pull herself together.
At least, for the next 30 minutes, Rachel needed to get back to her feet and pretend that she hadn't been incredibly violated.
So, one hand letting go of Santana's dress only to grasp and hold tightly to the nearest hand, Rachel swallowed hard, and pulled herself together as much as she could. "I- I'll tell you after. You can't- I know you'll want to do something right away. But- We need to focus on the competition first. We have to. And- and then, after we win, I'll tell you everything." She knew Santana wasn't going to like that, but it had to be done.
If only so that the girl wouldn't have the satisfaction of winning.
"Just- Just hold my hand until we're on stage, okay? Please?" She was almost desperate for Santana to say yes. Rachel was positive that if Santana let go now, she wouldn't be able to keep some sort of composure at all. Once she was performing, she was positive she'd be able to stick it out and forget for awhile. It was the now, and the after, that worried her most. "I just… I just need you to- to not let go," she murmured, voice still thick even as her tears tried and her breathing became somewhat more regular.
Santana's impulse was to protest. She didn't want to just walk out of the bathroom, having wiped Rachel's tears and calmed her down, and pretend nothing had happened. What she wanted was to find this girl, throw her down to the ground, hit her with the heels of her own stilettos in the face, and let her know exactly what would happen when she messed with Rachel Berry on Santana's watch. She itched all over with her desire to do exactly that and KNOW it would never happen again.
But it wasn't what Rachel was asking or needing. Rachel wanted to go onstage- of course, after her psycho crazy hyper focus on sectionals all week, that would be what she wanted. Rachel wanted her to wait. Rachel wanted to win.
And she wanted her to hold her hand doing it.
Santana knew what this would mean. Holding Rachel's hand, in public, in front of the entire Glee club, would almost be as good as a signed confession. Holding Rachel's hand in front of Brittany would no doubt hurt and confuse the girl she had been sitting beside most of the evening already. Holding Rachel's hand would have multiple layers of meaning she didn't know how the outcome would be.
But Rachel was asking. Rachel needed it. And honestly, Santana needed whatever Rachel needed, to know she would be okay.
At least until she could kill this girl.
"Okay," she said quietly, squeezing her hand. "I will. I will."
Reaching behind her, she strained her arm trying to get hold of and pull out a paper towel. It was rough and not much use, but she tried to fix Rachel's makeup, wiping her tears with her thumb gently and trying to keep the worst of the damage from spreading further. With her other hand she tried to smooth down her hair.
"You'll knock them dead singing, and then I'll knock them dead, period."
Sniffling, trying to smile, lips still quivering a bit, Rachel almost broke down all over again as Santana helped fix her makeup and hair. She just nodded, not trusting herself to speak in that moment.
Then, with less than five minutes before the competition started, Rachel stood up with Santana, taking her hand again, and straightening up.
She closed her eyes, focused hard, and channeled the same sort of persona she had used countless times when she had been bullied and slushied. With a few more deep breaths, the exhales slow and sure, she pushed everything down as deep as it would go, and it was almost scary how easily she could transform herself back to Rachel 'the Diva' Berry.
But this time Rachel was positive that it was only because of Santana being with her.
Finally, "Alright. I'm ready." She opened her eyes, nodding her head again, not sure if she was saying it to Santana or herself. Reaching out, she took Santana's hand, squeezing it tightly once more. "And… Santana?" Rachel hesitated for a moment, and then spoke, "Thank you. You're… I can't do this without you." The words were quiet, but they felt so heavy to her- so full of meaning.
Had she ever said something like that before? To anyone but her dads?
She was positive that she hadn't.
She had never been able to depend on someone before, just herself. The idea that if Santana walked away now she'd break all over again terrified her, but it… Rachel knew, without a doubt, that she was falling in love with Santana Lopez. She had always known, but it had never been so clear to her until now.
"And your solo will blow them away. It will. Come on. We have a competition to slay." With that she headed for the door, holding Santana's hand tightly in her own.
Santana watched as Rachel's expression shifted, taking on the confidence and determination she was so familiar with. Watching Rachel square herself to go on, feeling the girl's hand grasped in hers, made Santana feel like she could do this too. Not just the competition, but everything. Holding Rachel's hand in front of everyone. Telling them that yes, she liked her, they were friends, but she LIKED her too, and that she was not and would not be ashamed.
Brittany. Even as she held Rachel's hand, she was thinking of Brittany, and how she would hurt…but she has to do this. She has to be honest, with herself and with Rachel and with Brittany too. And what is true is that she doesn't want to let go of her hand when Rachel needs her…or even when she just wants her.
Ever.
Time to go on. Her solo was Pink's "Nobody knows," and she was going to kick ass.
She smiled back at Rachel, then, taking a deep breath, kissed her cheek, close enough to her mouth that her lips brushed its corner. As she walked out holding her hand, head held high, she could hear the others asking where they had been, and feel Brittany's eyes on her. She gave Brittany a small smile and tried to convey with her eyes that she would talk to her, that she loved her, that she was sorry, but she said nothing, not releasing her hold on Rachel or letting their looks affect her.
Maybe she needed this too.
The rest of the competition was a blur for Rachel, less like actions occurring and more like various emotions and sensations fill her up. She felt eyes on her, but the only feeling was the one of Santana's hand in hers. And when it was finally time for them to go on, Santana;s hand slipping from hers in the last second to go on the stage, her entire focus was on the girl and her performance.
When the music died and Rachel and Finn went on for their duet, their chemistry on the stage managing to stay strong despite them no longer being together, she could feel more eyes (unwanted eyes) staring her down, undressing her and waiting for her to crack.
But she didn't crack. She sang with every bit of passion and power her voice could muster, every step exact and fluid as she let herself get lost.
And by the time the New Directions were on in their entirety, bodies moving and voices strong, the throbbing on her thigh didn't hurt quite so much.
Then it was over, the stage going dark and New Directions moving off stage to sit for the rest of the performances.
Rachel sought out Santana's hand the second they were in the wings, and, doing her best not to look at Brittany, and having to fight even harder not to look at the dirty blonde that had violated her as the girl strode past with her team, she took her seat next to the Latina, and squeezed the girl's hand again, leaning in close and whispering, "You were incredible."
Without even thinking she pecked Santana softly on the cheek, barely brushing the corner of the girl's lips, just as Santana had done earlier for her.
"Thank you so much."
88
Santana always came alive on stage.
Every time she began to move in sync with the others, their energy revving up her own, providing an electric chemistry that could always not just power her through, but keep her fully experiencing and believing every moment of every emotion of every song. She wasn't performing a prechoreographed routine or singing words she had had to memorize; she was believing it, all of it, living it as though it were spontaneous, her own will in the moment. And she was sure that everyone else was too.
Performing was magic, the one thing in her life she could see as above and beyond herself, the one thing that could raise her above it all. It made her special and beautiful as nothing else could. It made everything thing seem clear and bright and hopeful even when everything else was a disaster and failure. In performing, she could always shine.
As she sang the last words of her solo, she realized that they were no longer true, and now, it seemed clear to her which person had slashed them at last.
Nobody knows
Nobody knows the rhythm of my heart
The way I do when I'm lying in the dark
And the world is asleep
I think nobody knows
Nobody knows
Nobody knows but me
Me
As she walked off stage with the others, applause ringing in her ears, Santana felt Rachel grab her hand, her lips on her cheek, and she smiled. Someone did know.
88
The competition was over, and they had won.
As sure as Rachel had been, to actually be able to place the trophy in the choir room made it all much, much more real.
The others were celebrating in the emptying auditorium, but she had snuck out to put the trophy in its proper place, along with the sectionals trophy from last year. She looked at them both, sighing a little, but with a small smile.
Things hadn't quite hit yet- the earlier events still locked away in the corners of her mind. The rival schools had left already, thankfully, and Rachel dearly hoped she had seen the last of the girl whose name she hadn't even learned. She could find out, if she wanted to, but she didn't want to be able to put a name to the face. Besides, she was pretty sure that Santana, once Rachel told her what had happened (and she would; she had promised) would do all that for her…
Speaking of, she knew she would have to return to the others soon.
But for now, she was enjoying the peace. She would have deeply preferred Santana was with her, but she hadn't wanted to tear her away from Brittany when everyone was so focused on their win. Or, really, she didn't want to tear her away from Brittany ever.
That didn't mean, however, she didn't ache for the girl.
At some point, Santana had become her anchor- something, someone, to hold onto when her own confidence and willpower started to crack under the pressure.
And she loved her.
She could feel it. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe everything had been happening too fast. But love was the only name she could put to everything she felt for Santana.
88
They had won.
It was the first time, something Santana had deeply wanted, more than even she had realized until she was touching the trophy with her own hands. Seeing it herself, knowing that she was part of the reason they had it, that she had earned it as much as anyone else, left her smiling so widely she felt it in her cheeks, a strange lightness to her body as though it were not quite her own. It didn't matter that only her mother had come to watch her perform, at least in those few moments after the win. She had done something amazing, with everyone else, and she was proud of herself and all of them, even if she wasn't about to say it aloud to them.
For the first few minutes she had forgotten everything but joining the others in shouting in glee and jumping up and down, grabbing people's hands and hugging them, even the ones she normally didn't get along with, like Finn and Tina. Seeing Brittany nearby, she had thrown her arms around her neck and clung to her, laughing close to her ear in exhilaration of the moment. When she had broken away from Brittany, her arm still around her neck, she had looked for Rachel then, wanting to share a moment with her most of all.
But Rachel was apart from the others. Rachel wasn't there, and immediately Santana was concerned, remembering what had happened before. Was she okay? Wasn't she happy?
She had to deal now with what had happened in the bathroom, and with whoever had hurt her. And there were other things to talk about too.
Disentangling from Brittany, she hugged her again, then leaned up to kiss her cheek as she whispered, "You were awesome. Britt…we need to talk later, okay? I'll be right back."
Then she walked away, looking for Rachel.
Rachel's head jerked around when she heard the door click open, heart leaping into her throat for a moment in fear, eyes wide. But the moment she saw Santana, she calmed down, letting out a little nervous laugh as she offered the girl an apologetic smile.
"H-hi," she said softly, stepping up to Santana. "I um… Sorry, for vanishing," she continued, looking down. "There were… I was feeling a little overwhelmed."
Overwhelmed, claustrophobic, a little jumpy… A lot of things. Not to mention that, well, her first instinct had been to kiss Santana once their victory had been announced, and she was pretty sure that she couldn't do that… Not in front of everyone, and especially not with Brittany right there. It wouldn't have been fair, no matter how badly she wanted it.
"You truly were fantastic, you know… I had tears in my eyes just listening, you know?" Rachel knew she was stalling. She wasn't quite ready to recall the… whatever it had been, from earlier.
Even if she had been spending the majority of her time in the choir room thinking of how to say it without breaking down all over again.
"Yeah, about that," Santana skipped past any talk whatsoever of their win, of performing, of any of the others- that could all be said later. She stepped forward, looking Rachel in the eye and searching her expression as she spoke, looking for answers that hadn't yet come. "You told me you would tell me after what happened, Rachel. I need to know."
She waited, staying very still and holding the other girl's gaze, trying to keep herself calm regardless of whatever answer she might receive. She could already see that Rachel didn't want to talk to her, that something was different in her demeanor, and she fought the urge to just reach out for her hand to pull her close. No…she needed to know. Rachel needed to say it, and she would wait however long it took.
"What happened? Who hurt you..and…how?"
Biting her lip, already feeling the need to draw into herself as she wrapped her arms around her waist and sat down on the piano bench, legs closed, she cleared her throat, looking down at the floor. "R-right… I promised, I know." Taking a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm by assuring herself that she was safe now, Rachel spoke.
"I was… I was in the bathroom, as you know. I was just on my way back, and this girl came in… She… She was from that new team, the ones in the violet jackets. The… The dirty blonde, with the tan. Long hair, sang the solo for her team. But um… Anyway… She… She cornered me…" As Rachel continued to speak, letting the words fall, tears began to slide down her cheeks slowly. But she kept going, telling Santana as much as she could, even as her breathing started to become irregular and her hold on herself tightened.
It took her all of five minutes to get the whole story out, every word said and action done, and by the time she got out the girl's parting words, she felt like she was slipping from reality again.
"Th-then she left. And I- I called y-you," ended Rachel, eyes glazed over, another shiver traveling up her spine. She closed her eyes tightly. "I think- n-no. I know she- she did. She left a b-bruise. Where she grabbed me. On- on my thigh." It was throbbing more than ever now, no doubt due to Rachel recalling how it got there in the first place.
It had been very
Difficult for Santana to listen to Rachel. Seeing her fold herself up as small as she could, looking so obviously upset, so vulnerable, she had had to bite down on the inside of her cheeks and dig her nails into her palms to keep tears from coming to her eyes. It was HARD to look at her like that, to know that she was that sad, and not know what to do about it.
She had come to sit by Rachel as she spoke, easing herself slowly so the girl wouldn't be startled and stop talking, and as she continued to speak, Santana lightly slid her arm around her, stroking her thumb over the ball of Rachel's shoulder. She sat close, leaning into her side, showing her physical support for her as Rachel went on.
The more she said, the harder Santana's heart pounded in her chest, and the more difficult it was to continue to breathe somewhat normally. By the time she understood the gist of what had happened, her vision was literally skewed red, small orbs drifting in front of her eyes as they unfocused, staring past the wall across from them without really seeing it at all. She was seeing that girl, that girl cornering Rachel, putting her hands on her, hurting her…she was seeing her leaving Rachel there crying, thinking she had won. She saw that girl, and Rachel, felt Rachel shivering beside her even now, and she pulled away, wanting and needing to keep her hands busy, preferably against that girl's face, just to keep herself from starting to cry.
She didn't want to hear anything else, if Rachel had anything to add. She had already reached the level of her tolerance before Rachel mentioned the bruise.
Her eyes widening, Santana turned back towards her sharply she swayed slightly, lightheaded, her voice rising. "She BRUISED YOU?"
She didn't wait for Rachel's confirmation. Instead, she started back towards the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll take care of her. Right now."
Head snapping up, tears staining her cheeks, Rachel threw herself at the girl, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist tightly and burrying her face in the girl's back. "Santana no- please," she begged, voice small and vulnerable. "Please. Not- not now. I- I need you here. I just need you, okay?"
She couldn't think of what she'd do if Santana left now, besides cry a lot, and possibly have a panic attack. The idea of being left with her thoughts and memories was terrifying. She needed Santana to stay with her, and anchor her, and keep telling her that she was safe and that it was going to be okay.
"Please just take me home," Rachel whimpered, sniffling and shaking against Santana's back. "I need you to- to hold me. Please? You can- later. Anything you want later. Or something. But I really, really need to not be alone right now."
Rachel knew Santana was probably seeing red, and she had expected that, but she hoped with everything she had that Santana would understand that Rachel didn't need a white knight in this moment. What she needed was just… a security blanket, more than anything.
"Please don't leave me…"
Santana's went still automatically as Rachel threw herself at her, pinning her arms down and begging her not to go. She could hear the girl crying, feel her tears against the bare skin of her back, and she had to take several slow breaths in before she could think clearly at all.
It was hard to reign herself in from her strong urge towards vengeance and violence. It was hard, almost impossible, not to shrug Rachel off, ignore her, and do what she felt was what was most needed.
But that wasn't what Rachel thought she needed. Rachel wanted her to stay with her. Rachel wanted her here.
Exhaling, her back teeth grinding each other with her fight to stay calm, Santana turned, taking Rachel by the shoulders and prying her back from her slightly. Her heart squeezing as she saw the misery in her expression, she pushed her hair back from her face, letting one hand linger on her cheek.
"I won't. I'll take you home."
She paused, then leaned forward, giving Rachel a light, soft kiss on her cheek, then, on sudden daring, on her lips before pulling back and licking her lips as it dawned on her she wasn't actually supposed to be doing that.
"Sorry. I'll…I'll take you home."
Rachel looked up at Santana, biting her lip as the girl pulled away from the chaste kiss. She was shaking, she knew, and still scared. But during that brief kiss, it had all gone away.
Because it was hard to think about anything at all when Santana's lips were against hers.
"You- … I…" The words were there. They were right there, and if she could just say them. Express in some way how much this all meant to her, how much Santanameant to her… Maybe… Maybe some of the bad thoughts would go away again. If she could just…
"I… Santana I-" But God it was so hard… Especially when she didn't know what would happen afterwards. Would Santana freak out? Not believe her? All those options seemed stupid to think about, but they were there, and real to her. But… Not as real as Santana's hand on her cheek, or her lips against Rachel's own. Not as real as the girl's arms around her, or how Santana's hand felt so strong and sure when it held hers.
Then, in a rushed whisper, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she held her hands against her chest, both sure and unsure all at once, Rachel said softly, "I really love you…"
Four words, much less than what Rachel was typically capable of speaking. But this time…those particular words…it was enough.
Santana knew already she loved Rachel. She had known in the
Bathroom, from the time she took her hand and kept holding it all the way through the rest of the time before the performance, that she had made her choice, in her heart. She hadn't expected Rachel to say she loved her back; she knew for herself what her own truth was.
So when Rachel looked up at her, and said with uncertain sincerity that she loved her…that she REALLY loved her…it was only further confirmation of what she already knew. And yet it was everything.
Santana could count on one hand how many people in her life had told her they loved her and meant it. She could count on one hand how many people she had said the same to. And now here was one more…the one she had been waiting for, without even knowing it. The one that mattered to her right now more than any other.
She smiled, even as tears pricked behind her eyes. Somehow even with her tearstreaked face and her mess of emotion, Rachel still looked beautiful to her then. She looked…she looked like she was hers.
"I do too," she said back softly. Reaching for Rachel's hands, she covered them with hers, briefly biting her lower lip as she looked back at her. "Love you."
Still sniffling, holding onto the hands interlaced with her own with everything she had just to keep herself together, Rachel nodded quickly, swallowing and sniffling again. "Y-yeah," she squeaked, a half smile on her lips, feeling completely overwhelmed, though more in a good way now.
She was still seconds away from a meltdown, though. But at least now she didn't feel quite so heavy, and there were no words sticking in the back of her throat. "H-home now?" she asked, moving in closer to Santana, letting go of her hands only so that she could wrap her arms around the Latina's waist and hug her tightly, breathing in the girl's scent with deep, forcefully controlled breaths.
"I'd- I need to- to lay down. Want you there." Needed her there, really. Because Rachel was 100% sure that she wouldn't be able to sleep without Santana tonight. Maybe not for several nights, were she honest with herself.
And that scared her, too. But… well… Santana loved her. Her. Rachel Berry. And that… That had to mean something. Especially since Rachel loved Santana, too.
Arms around her, Santana entwined her fingers in Rachel's hair, leaning her cheek against the top of her head.
Rachel was still upset; she could tell she was trying not to cry, and it was upsetting for her to see her like this. She combed her fingers through her hair, giving her a squeeze around the shoulders as she tried to talk herself down as much as Rachel, nodding in response to the girl's request.
"Yeah. Yeah, anything you want."
And she meant it. Whatever Rachel wanted or needed, right now, she was not just willing to give it to her…she felt like she needed to. Like whatever she needed, that was exactly what Santana wanted to give.
She let Rachel hold onto her for as long as she seemed to need before wiping at her cheeks again with her finger tips, then reaching for a box of tissues near the piano and handing them to her to use if needed. When they started out of the room, Rachel's hand still in hers, Santana's phone was vibrating with texts, but she ignored them all. Other people later. Rachel now.