I do not own Glee or any of the original characters. It all belongs to Fox and RIB. Any characters you do not recognise are my own creations.

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Chapter 29

Santana lets out a guttural cry of pain as she is thrown onto a dirty bathroom floor. The shittiest part of the shitty motel room she had been forced into. She rolls over, forcing herself to remove her weight from her gunshot wound. She's bleeding again, and she feels weak. Her body feels as though it's no longer attached to her head. Sylvester's men hasn't cared about hurting her further whilst moving her from the car to here, in fact it had probably been their aim. Every ounce of her flesh feels like a steak that has been tenderized, and it had taken all of her energy just to turn over.

"Quit your whining," one of the guards snaps, kicking her in the stomach and eliciting a grunt from Santana. "Unless you'd like to be gagged," he smirks. Santana shoots him the most venom filled glare that she can muster,

"fuck you," she spits. Sylvester's guard moves quickly, and within a split second Santana is being held up against the wall, his rough hand wrapped around her slim neck. He is mere inches from her face, and his putrid breath makes Santana feel sick to her stomach.

"Is that an offer, bitch?" He stares at her, and Santana holds his gaze, there is no chance in hell she will give him satisfaction by showing any fear. His glare intensifies for a moment before he scoffs, "I know where you've been." He lets go of her neck and Santana crumples to the floor, pain radiating throughout her entire body. "What a waste," she hears him grumble to the other guard as the two men leave her alone in the disgusting bathroom.

The light is shut off and the door is slammed shut. Once again, Santana is left alone in the dark, bruised and beaten. She can hear Sylvester's men talking outside the bathroom, but she can't make out what they are saying. Santana doesn't think she wants to know, anyway. These past few days have been the longest of her entire life. She has to think hard just to even remember a time she wasn't in an extreme amount of pain. Between being chased out of her home by the authorities, shot, hunted, captured, and beaten...it's been a rough couple of weeks.

Santana can't even take comfort in her son being far away and safe, because he no longer is, and she has no idea where Quinn or Brittany is. She hopes they're safe, and she hopes they are very far away from her. Knowing Quinn, though, her wife had probably began looking for her as soon as she found out that Santana had exchanged herself for Brittany. Santana knows this, because it's exactly what she would do if it were the other way around. She wouldn't rest until she found her family. It's why she has stopped struggling and fighting, she needs to reserve whatever energy she has left.

She's dragged out of her thoughts by a loud crashing noise from somewhere close by, and she straightens up ever so slightly. Loud, muffled voices reach her eyes and Santana frowns when she realizes how panicked the voices sound. The loud gunshot makes her jump and Santana clumsily scrambles to her feet, her instincts taking over and allowing adrenaline to dull her pain. Santana's heart thumps against her rib cage as she stares at the door, her fists clenched at her sides. She can clearly make out the sounds of a scuffle in the other room, and Santana wants to be ready for whatever may happen next. This may be her only chance. Take every chance...that's what her parents had taught her. Every tiny little chance to get what you want...take it. Every time.

"Again." The short, simple order from Maribel causes Santana's shoulders to slump. She's exhausted, and her breath is coming out in short, sharp bursts that hurts her chest. Sweat drips from her body and her clothes cling to her damp body. The air is cooler now that when they started, and the night air hitting her clammy skin makes her arms erupt in goosebumps.

"I can't."

"You can," Maribel insists. Her voice contains the frustration and impatience that her child always brought out in her. The girl was always so difficult to train, and recently it has been even harder to hold Santana's attention. Maribel isn't a fool, she knows exactly why. She had watched her daughter and Quinn grow even closer than usual and while she is fine with her daughter dating someone who is a calming influence, it irritates her that Quinn has taken up so much of Santana's thoughts.

"I can't!" Santana repeats, this time raising her voice. "We've been out here for hours, mami!"

"Watch your tone, Santana," Maribel warns. "I am trying to help you. You need to be at your best, and you can alway reach that level if you listen to me. Concentrate, Santana. Watch the targets, and pull the trigger. It's not hard."

"It is hard," Santana states with gritted teeth. "The targets keep moving!" Maribel tuts and shakes her head,

"my girl, do you think people stand still in a gunfight? Do you think our rivals will hold their hands up to you and allow you to kill them before they kill you?" she questions incredulously. "No, Santana, they will not. Your father and I will not be around forever. You must learn how to shoot, and fight, and make hard decisions. You must protect yourself."

"Isn't that what the guards are for?" Santana asks in a bored tone of voice, the teenager brushing her hair out of her face with her hand.

"Santana," Maribel begins, her voice and features serious as she steps forward, "the guards are here to protect us, yes, but that does not mean we become complacent. If you are given the chance to protect yourself, you must take it. You are just as responsible for your life as the guards are. I mean it, Santana, every opportunity you are give in life, you must grab it. Whether it be life or death, or a way to make money, you must take it." Santana isn't surprised by the passionate speech, but she is surprised by the build up of tears in her mother's eyes.

"Okay, mami, I apologise," Santana murmurs. Maribel sighs heavily and looks away from her daughter, weakly attempting to hide her emotions.

"Go now, Santana. Shower and eat, we've done enough for today." Santana frowns, her mami had just contradicted herself, but she doesn't press the issue. She's fine with being let go earlier than planned. It means she can go and see Quinn. With a shrug, Santana turns and walks back towards the house, glad that she can finally shower. She stops short when her father steps out of the house, smiling when he winks at her.

"Good evening, mija," Carlos Lopez smiles tenderly. "How did your target training go?" he questions as he kisses his daughter's forehead.

"Okay, I guess," Santana shrugs.

"Practice makes perfect," Carlos tells her. "You'll get there, mija. What seemed to be the problem?"

"I'm not taking every opportunity," Santana murmurs. "I think mami is disappointed."

"She just wants you to be the best you can be," Carlos tenderly states. "Take every chance that you see, no matter how miniscule, and the better the outcome will be. Every chance, mija. Never give up, there's always an opportunity to be grabbed."

Santana is thrown backwards when the bathroom door is suddenly thrown open, her body hitting the wall with a sickening thud. She grits her teeth as she slides to the floor again and forces herself up onto her knees. This shit is getting old! Santana attempts to struggle when her face is covered, but the person who grabs her is much stronger than she is. Every muscle in her body screams as she is thrown over someone's shoulder, but she stops struggling. Whoever it is that has her, it'll at least be a fairer fight once she is back on her feet and away from Sylvester's men.

She stiffens when she feels the cool air hit her battered body, but relaxes again when she feels herself being gently placed in a car. Her instincts tell her to not fight...that she's safe. There's loud yelling and gunfire behind them as the car squeals out of the parking lot, and the thick blanket is lifted from her head. It takes her eyes a few seconds to adjust, but they widen as soon as Santana recognises the person sitting next to her.

"Shannon?" Santana gapes at her wife's aunt before looking around at the men sitting in the people carrier. She's pretty sure she recognises them. "What the hell?! How are you here? Who are they?!"

"Quinn will explain everything, Santana," Beiste tells her kindly. "You should rest. You've had a long few days, and it's not over yet."

"Michael?" Santana questions weakly.

"We'll get him."

"When?!"

"There's a rescue operation preparing to take place," Beiste murmurs. "Right now we have to keep moving away from here. The FBI are only two miles behind us, and Sylvester is even closer. There was only an opening to get you. My orders were to get you out of there."

"Who ordered you?! Quinn?" Santana demands. She wants to go back for her child, and she wants to go back for him now!

"Your father."

0-00-0

Puck can feel the eyes of the other guards on him as he slumps down into the back of the huge truck that Sam had aquired. Nobody had needed to ask about how he had gotten it, it's obvious he jacked it from some exhausted trucker that had stopped for some rest. The bloodstain in the sleeping cabin above the front seat had confirmed had hoped that the guys would be more focused on the news filtering from Beiste and Santana's father, that they would stop being so furious with him. No such luck. He can understand why they would feel angry about not being kept in the loop, but they should also understand why he couldn't tell them. Their employer had sworn him to secrecy, and doing well in this job requires their trust.

"You can't sit in the front, Brittany." Puck frowns when he hears Quinn's pissed off tone, but he doesn't look in his employer's direction just in case he accidentally makes eye contact with one of the other guards. He doesn't want to distract from the task at hand. Santana may be safe, for now, but Michael isn't. Not yet. They can be pissed at him if they want, just as long as they do their jobs properly at the same time. Karofsky, though, doesn't seem all that offended about it and that doesn't surprise Puck all that much. They've both been with the family for a long time, Karofsky understands how things work. He knows it wasn't personal; just business.

"I hope Santana kicks your ass," Puck hears Brittany grumble to Quinn as the shorter blonde urges her into the back of the truck. He smirks, knowing that Brittany's hope may actually happen. Santana isn't going to be happy about these secrets, especially since the secrets haven't gotten Michael back as of yet. "I don't know why you find that so amusing," Brittany says to Puck as she sits down opposite him. "She's not exactly going to be pleased with you either," she adds. There's no longer any real anger in her voice, though, and her eyes only show relief. It's how they all feel. Santana is safe. Half of their job is complete, and once they get Michael back, they can get to safety.

"I know," he murmurs. He glances sideways at Mike, and easily notices the sadness in his companion's dark eyes. It's unlikely they will get Tina back. Sylvester wants Michael, she has no use for Tina and she is not the type of person to let Tina walk away unscathed.

He turns his gaze to Quinn as she climbs into the back of the truck, slamming the doors closed behind her. She looks more exhausted than he has ever seen her, but there's a light in her hazel eyes that Puck hasn't seen present for weeks. Hope, relief, joy. Puck knows Quinn had lost hope, but now that Santana is okay Quinn, like all of them, just know they can get Michael back, too.

"The meeting point is an hour away," Karofsky states, breaking the newfound silence. "She'll be with us soon." Puck watches as Quinn nods and turns to face Brittany.

"Prepare yourself," he hears Quinn murmur to her. "She's badly hurt, but she'll be okay. Don't be scared, sweetheart." The anger between the two women has completely diminished now, and they join hands. The small group fall into silence, mentally preparing themselves to meet Santana, each of them trying not to think about how close they came to losing her.

0-00-0

Quinn isn't sure what she expected to see, but it's a shock to see Santana being carried by her aunt. Her wife is clearly in no fit state to carry her own weight right now, and it's the most terrifying thing Quinn has ever seen. She had witnessed Santana's vulnerable side several times in the past, but seeing her looking so broken almost breaks her heart.

She rushes forward, not caring about the presence of the guards. She doesn't care that they can see her show of affection, or the tears that stream from her hazel eyes. She only cares about seeing and touching her wife. Quinn reaches her aunt and wife and she immediately cradles Santana's face in her hands. Her eyes roam across her battered body, taking in her blood stained clothes, her bruised arms, her swollen face. Finally, her gaze lands on Santana's eyes and one look into her dark orbs causes tears to leak down her cheeks.

Relief, pain, betrayal, love, anger; the myriad of emotions that are visible makes Quinn want to look away, but she can't physically force herself to do so. Even her aunt's presence, after so many years, can't break their intense eye contact. No words are needed, and no words are able to come out anyway.

Brittany reaches them, and the younger blonde dissolves into floods of tears as she takes in Santana's weakened state. Her shaking hand gently touches Santana's cheek, Santana's silent tears dampening her skin. Santana tries to loosen herself from Beiste's arms, but her body will not allow her to.

"The guards have set up camp," Quinn murmurs as she finally turns her hazel gaze to her aunt. "They got rid of the truck, and the camp is well hidden."

"Okay," Beiste nods before turning to the men with her, jerking her head to tell them to do the same. They need to be hidden. Quinn holds Brittany's hand as they lead the arrivals into the trees towards their camp. It's a fifteen minute walk that is filled with deafening silence. Even Brittany's sniffles are no longer present, but tears still steadily flow from her blue eyes.

Brittany's mind is reeling. So much has happened, and so many secrets have been revealed. She has no idea how to feel, apart from thankful. The only thing she can understand in her confused, information overloaded haze is that Santana is safe. It had seemed impossible, but they have her back with them and she is alive. Battered and bruised, but alive. It feels like a dream, so hard to believe, but it's not. It's real, Santana is safe.

"Open the flap for me," Brittany hears Beiste say, and she realises they have reached the tents. She hadn't even noticed, she had been too lost in her confused, relieved thoughts. Brittany unzips the tent and holds it open as Quinn helps her aunt guide Santana inside, the women laying Santana down on top of Brittany's sleeping bag.

Santana lets out a whimper that breaks Brittany's heart, and she wastes no time in clambering into the tent. She lays on her side bedside Santana and gently lays her hand on her stomach, her thumb drawing soft circles onto Santana's weakened body.

"Thank you," she hears Quinn say, and the raw emotion in her voice is evident. "Thank you," Quinn repeats.

"Go on inside," is Beiste's soft response. "We can talk later, go be with her."

Quinn doesn't say anything as she slips into the tent and zips it closed. Brittany can see the tears in Quinn's eyes, and she's glad that Quinn isn't holding back. The air inside of the tent is thick with emotion, the three women unable to even voice their feelings. There's no need for anything verbal, though. They all know what the others want to say. Quinn lays down on Santana's other side, a mirror image of Brittany as she places her hand beside Brittany's on Santana's stomach.

Santana has fallen into a much needed slumber, and neither women can bear to wake her. As much as they need to clean her up and take care of her injuries, they also need to let her rest. She's been through so much recently, and they're more than content to just lay with her and soak up her presence. Their battle is only half over, but their group can't do anymore until they are rested and clear headed.

There are so many questions that need to be asked, and so many explanations to be offered. No more secrets, no more lies. They have a huge fight ahead of them, and they will run into it head first as a more connected group. They may be the underdogs this time, but that's okay. Every underdog has it's day.

Tonight, they will rest and talk. They will build up their strengh and be honest about everything. They can't rush into this fight. Michael is safe, Sylvester has no plans to harm him and that allows them some time, but he is not where he should be. He should be with his mothers.

Tomorrow, they will get him back. For now, they must take care of Santana.

To be continued... One more chapter left, and it's a big one! Please leave a review.

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