Chapter 37:
Santana's POV:
Quinn moved in a few weeks ago and things were going well so far. She'd finished her semester and her grades were good. She only had one semester left and then she could stop the flying back and forth twice a week. She'd sold her car before moving here and decided not to get a new one. I offered to buy her one and she told me no because she's stubborn. The drive isn't too long and she could make it there no problem, but her classes were 3 hours long and she'd be driving back at like 11pm and I didn't want her doing that, so a regular short flight was the best option.
She'd gotten a job in a bookstore coffee shop just like she wanted and worked about 20 hours a week, using the rest of her time to study and settle in.
We'd stuck to our separate apartment policy. It was important to her that we didn't just move right in together and even though I thought it was a little ridiculous. We were living together. She slept over every night and her stuff was finding its way up the stairs on the regular. The idea that we had two places that just happened to be connected together, didn't really seem to be sticking, but it made her feel better to use a key or to text me when she wanted to come up. So, I did the same.
I normally wasn't big on Christmas. It was a Catholic holiday that always reminded me of my abuela and since she was gone, there wasn't really much of a point to celebrating. I always bought everyone nice gifts, but never really bothered with a tree or decorations or parties unless they were obligatory, but with Quinn, things were different.
Her Christmas growing up was always the same. It was almost routine, she told me. From Thanksgiving to New Years, it was family obligation after family obligation. Her parents weren't big on getting her gifts she actually wanted so she got a lot of prissy little dresses and jewelry instead of toys and things she was interested in. When she was finally on her own, she couldn't afford to do it up right, so this year, I was determined to make a new tradition with her. We would have a great Christmas together this year. We'd make our own little dysfunctional family.
Quinn walked in the front door. She was talking on the phone so I didn't say anything. I was standing in her living room waiting for her to notice me as she walked past me and entered her bedroom that she rarely slept in. I could hear part of her conversation until she was too far away and what I heard was the word, Shelby. She finally emerged from her room. She was wearing her pajamas and had changed out of her cute barista uniform complete with visor. She had her phone in her hand.
"Um…" I started.
"Oh shit, San! You scared me!" She clutched her hand to her chest.
"Sorry. I've been here waiting for you to show you this." I motioned behind me to the Christmas tree I'd decorated or really that I had decorated by people I paid to follow my directions.
"San, it's nice." She told me.
"Nice?" That wasn't the reaction I was hoping for.
"I'm sorry. I'm just a little distracted. It's beautiful. I was going to pick one up tomorrow. I know you're not really into Christmas."
"I am now." I told her and walked toward her. She sat on her sofa so I sat down next to her. "I overheard part of that, you know?" I reached out and took her hand.
"I'm sorry. Stuff is still going on back there and I don't know how much you want to know about." She told me.
"Quinn, I have a lawyer, manager, agent, publicist, therapist and Kurt. You think I'm not all up in what's going on with Serial Shelby?" I smiled at her.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because we're trying to move on from that. Whatever's going on back there, I'll do what I have to do. If I have to testify, I will, but other than that, I don't want anything to do with it."
"So you already know?" She asked.
"I know she's trying to get off by saying she's insane and I can't exactly disagree with her on that."
"Well, it didn't work."
"Oh." I thought about it for a second and she let me have that moment in shared silence. "Is that good or bad?"
"It means there will probably be a trial, which means you and I will most likely have to testify." She rested her head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, San."
"Why are you sorry? You didn't kidnap me. You didn't murder women because they were more famous than you could ever be."
"Um… thanks?" She lifted her head to look up at me. "This really is nice. Thank you." She looked over at the tree. Her eyes narrowed in on something. "Hey, there's a gift under there."
"Well, Christmas is the time for gifts, right? And Jesus. I think."
"Is it for me?" She smiled at me.
"Wow! Tis the season for giving, Q and you're all about the getting." I jested.
"Yes, that's me. I'm only about receiving. I never return any favors." She slid on top of my lap.
"It is for you, yes."
"It looks like jewelry." She said of the small box I'd wrapped just before she got home. "Is it?"
"You'll find out Christmas morning."
I leaned in and kissed her neck.
"I haven't gotten anything for you yet." She confessed.
"I'll just take you on Christmas morning then. Several times. Maybe once over there and once over there. Oh and twice over there." I pointed around the room at the various places we could get it on.
"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I don't have a lot of expendable income at the moment."
I looked up at her.
"Quinn, I don't need anything and if I did, I'd buy it for myself. I just want you and I to have a good holiday together." I remembered something. "Oh and if you're up for it, I'd like to take you to a New Year's party and by take, I mean, I have to perform at Dick Clark's Rocking Eve and I want you to come with me, watch me perform, do the interview thing and then kiss me at midnight."
She giggled.
"Sounds good."
"And now that you love me more than ever because I was an awesome girlfriend and got this tree and decorated it and-"
"What do you want, San?" She was onto me.
"You know I've been dealing with a million interview requests since Bev died and more since I was taken like Liam Neeson's daughter and more because you and I are together and people are fascinated by who I'm dating for some reason."
"Just ask." She sat back, still on my lap, but not really in a 'Santana's getting sex' kind of way.
"Kurt thought it might be a good idea if you and I sit for an interview together. We'll review the questions before and you don't have to answer anything you don't want to answer and you don't have to do it at all. You can say no. It's just that there's info out there about you and about us and some of it is accurate, but most of it is not. People still think I was cheating on Bev with you, for example. I just thought it would be good to clear-"
"It's okay."
I squinted at her.
"It is?"
She climbed off of me and sat next to me instead.
"Don't get me wrong. I never really thought people would want to interview me about anything. I'm not that interesting, but I knew what I was getting into with you. This is a part of your life. If you and Kurt think it's a good idea to just get it out of the way, then maybe it is. Let's just do it and maybe that's the last one I'll have to give."
"Well, I can't promise you that." I told her. "You're smart and articulate and hot. The camera is going to fucking love you."
She laughed.
"I'll do it, but let's not make a habit out of it, okay?" She asked.
"Yeah, that's okay." I replied and rested my head on top of her head. "Q, I'm going back to therapy tomorrow."
She lifted her head again.
"Oh."
"It's just been a while. I didn't go after what happened and I feel like I need a check in."
"I don't really know what to say. I mean, are you okay?"
I smiled at her.
"I'm good. It's just I feel like I need to talk about it to someone who wasn't a part of it. Even Kurt and Blaine were involved because they knew Bev and me. Pillsbury just sits there and lets me talk for a while before she starts yapping back."
"Okay. Well, I'm glad you're going then."
"Me too." We sat there in silence for a moment. "So, can we resume that sexy pose you were doing on top of me a minute ago?"
She laughed like I was kidding.
The next morning, I sat in Pillsbury's office staring at the floor while she tried to remove something from underneath her fingernail.
"Okay, sorry Santana. That was bothering me." She admitted and then took her pen in hand. "Are you ready?"
"Um… yeah. I've been ready."
"So, where would you like to start?"
"The beginning, I guess." I was less resistant this time. Pillsbury had earned her street cred. She'd been right about me needing to get some closure with Bev and she was right about how to handle things with Quinn. I had to give that to her even though it kind of killed me.
"What's the beginning to you?"
"Since I was last here." I had a lot to catch her up on. I started with how we got back together and left out the sexy parts. When I got to the part where I went to visit and was taken from my car, I paused.
"You okay to continue?" She asked.
"I remember being so excited." I started. "I couldn't wait to see Quinn. It felt like every moment we were apart was the worst moment of my life. Like a part of me was missing when she wasn't around. I wanted to get her flowers, but I didn't know where a florist was or even if that crappy town had one so I searched for one on my phone and that's when she knocked on my window."
"Shelby?"
"Yes. She must have been following me or maybe she just camped out new Quinn's. I don't know. I rolled down my window like a stupid fuck and she pointed a gun at me, told me to shut up, stuck me in some car and off we went. The blindfold came before we pulled out, I guess. She didn't want me to know where we were going, which doesn't really make sense if you think about it because I wouldn't know where we were going. I'm not from that damn town. I guess she was a pro at killing, but an amateur at kidnapping people."
"What did it feel like?"
"Scary, obviously." I didn't mean for that to come out in that short tone. "Sorry, it's my instinct to be mean to you."
She smiled.
"Just go on."
"I was terrified. I saw what she did firsthand. I heard from Quinn about what she did to the others and I'd even caught a few glances on some on the crime scene photos she brought home."
"What happened when you got out of the car?"
"She had already bound me so she just dragged me through grass for a while. It felt really tall. I remember thinking that it was scratching my legs, but trying to just focus on listening to anything I could hear that might help people find me. I've watched a lot of movies, I guess."
"Where did she take you?"
"Into a school. She started talking then. She was basically silent in the car. I thought it was eerie then, but as soon as she opened her trap and started rambling about how she used to own this place because she was popular and talented and everyone thought she was going to like blow up or something, I begged for the silence back." I took a deep breath. "When she sat me in the chair and checked to make sure I was tied up tight, that's when I really started to worry."
"Why then?"
"Because in the car, with a blindfold on, there was always a chance someone could see us. Even walking into the building, I didn't know it was so deserted because I couldn't see, but I thought maybe someone could see us and would call the cops or try to stop us."
"And once you were inside?"
"It all changed. I realized we were definitely alone and that could be the end. I figured if she took my blindfold off that was definitely the end of me."
"Why?"
"Because I could identify her then. I was actually grateful that the thing stayed on as strange as that sounds."
"I don't think it sounds strange." She took a note. "What were you thinking during this time?"
I hesitated before answering.
"If heaven and hell do exist, I wasn't sure where I was going." I looked at her and she had a confused look on her face. "What? It's an honest question. I don't know how it all works up there or down there." I pointed up and down referencing heaven and hell. "Some people think I'm just going down because I'm gay. Others would say I'm going there because I'm harsh, but whatever."
"Did you come to a conclusion sitting there?"
"Not really. I started thinking about Quinn instead." I replied honestly.
"And what did you think about Quinn?"
"That she would think it was her fault. She would blame herself for what happened and it wasn't her fault and I just wished I could tell her that and actually get it through that thick skull."
"Did that make you angry?"
"It made me angry that the whole thing was happening, yeah, but it mostly pissed me off that I wouldn't get to say goodbye to her. At least then, she'd have some kind of closure. I didn't want her to have to go through what I did with Bev. I kept worrying that she'd be the one to find me and that would have destroyed her."
"Did thinking about Quinn help?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did it distract you from thinking about what was happening to you or what could happen?"
I stopped to think for a moment.
"Yeah, I guess. I wasn't thinking about it like that though. It was like I was worried more for her than I was for me." I sighed. "My whole life is that girl now and I fucking love it." I shook my head.
"So that's a good thing?" Pillsbury asked.
"I've never cared about someone so much. I've always been pretty selfish that way, I guess, but with her, it's different and all I wanted to do was protect her somehow and it killed me-" I stopped myself. "Bad choice of words. It was hard knowing I couldn't do anything."
"What happened when you were rescued?"
"Quinn saved me." I said with a smile. "She's brilliant. She's the one that put it all together. Even the FBI couldn't figure it out, but my girl could. She stormed in with backup and everything and put that bitch down quick. I wish I could have actually seen it."
"You wish you could have seen her put Shelby down?"
"Yeah, she deserved it." I announced.
"Who deserved it? Quinn or Shelby?"
That was an interesting question.
"Both, I guess. Quinn deserved to take her down and put an end to this whole thing. It was a part of her life for a long time. Shelby deserved worse than she got, in my opinion, but Quinn's not a killer so she just gave her a flesh wound so Shelby could rot in prison."
"So you would have had Quinn kill Shelby?"
"What? No! Why would I want that? I wouldn't want Quinn to have to kill someone."
"Okay." She took a note.
"How have you been since this happened?"
"Good, I guess."
"Explain."
"I have nightmares every now and then. Nothing major. Just kind of wakes me up for a minute and then I go back to sleep."
"What's happening in the nightmares?"
"I'm in the chair again with the blindfold on and she's got the knife at my neck." I confessed.
"What happens then?" She took another note.
"She presses it down and it feels like she's going to do it. It feels real." I gulped. "Then, I wake up."
"How often do you have these?"
"I've had a few of them since it happened. Not many."
She took another note and set her pen down.
"That's pretty normal, Santana. I'd say you're dealing with this really well considering everything that happened."
"Hey, how about that? I'm dealing with something well." I replied sarcastically.
"What happens now? With Shelby?"
"I don't know. She's definitely crazy, but she's trying to get out of what she did by saying that and I just…" I faded. "I just hope she gets locked up forever."
"In prison or in a facility where she can get help?"
I rolled my eyes and stared down at my nails, which had chipped earlier.
"Please, there is no helping that unbalanced hag."
"How are you and Quinn doing with all this?"
"Quinn's here now."
"Really?"
"She moved in. Well, she sort of moved in. She lives downstairs and I live upstairs because that distinction matters to her, but we basically live together and it's going well so far."
"It's interesting." Pillsbury clasped her hands together in her lap.
"What is?"
"How your tone and body language change when you start talking about Quinn now."
"Well, she's my girlfriend and Shelby is a serial killer, so I hope my tone is at least slightly different when I talk about them."
"I guess you're right, but it seems as if you're more grounded now about the two of you."
"I am, yeah. I feel like we're in a good place right now." I squinted my eyes at her for a moment. I was trying to talk myself out of what I was about to do. "Look, this is weird and I don't know if I should so feel free to tell me if I shouldn't, but I know you've got like no family here and I am trying this new thing where I'm nice just because and I'm having a Christmas party at my place and I'm inviting people I like and others that I tolerate. If you're interested, consider this an invite. I don't do evites and paper invitations are too old school for my taste."
"Oh, well…"
"Look, don't feel obligated, but don't just say no because I'm your patient either. Maybe you could consider this an exercise or something."
"Santana, I appreciate the offer, but I don't really do well at parties. Too many cups without coasters and food that everyone is touching."
I leaned forward.
"That's the exercise part." I paused. "Look, you've got issues. I don't think you can deny that. I'm working through some of my old ones and feeling pretty good about them while I start tackling the new ones. You come to the party and try to deal with your shit and I'll introduce you to people as a friend except I'll tell Quinn who you really are to me and you two can meet."
"Well…"
"Say well one more time and the invite disappears like Britney Spears' sanity in 2007."
"Okay."
"Good. I'll give your assistant the info on my way out."
"Okay."
I stood.
"I'm feeling pretty good actually. This was good, but I don't know if I need to keep coming back."
"Oh, we-." She started and I glared. "That's good."
"Santana Lopez, 1. Mental health, 0." I told mostly myself.
"Santana, how did you know I didn't have family in the area?" She asked. "We've never talked about my family."
"You said you were from Ohio when we first started this. I mean, I was only partly listening because I thought therapy was supposed to be about the patient and you were talking about yourself, but then in another session, you brought up your weird marriage that isn't really a marriage biblically speaking and how lonely it is without him and I put two and two together."
"Wow! I guess having a detective girlfriend has made you better at deduction."
I stopped to think about that for a moment before grabbing my purse and preparing to walk out the door.
"I think having a girlfriend has just made me a person who actually cares enough to listen."
I walked out of the session feeling reinvigorated. I'd probably still check in with Pillsbury every now and then when I get stressed about work or something, but I no longer felt like I needed someone to talk about my problems with weekly or just have someone to act as my punching bag because I felt bad about myself or my decisions. I had a stop to make on the way home though to help with the moving on part. Bev's grave was still covered with flowers when I stopped by. I left my own on the pile and sat in the semi-damp grass for a while silently telling her everything I wish I could be saying to her face. I told her about Quinn and how much I love her and I how I can't imagine my life without her and how much I think Bev would like her. I laughed a little when I told her stories of silly things Quinn or I had done. I cried a little at the thought that she'd never have a chance to find her "one" like I had managed to do somehow. I stood and rested my hand on her tombstone for moment before nodding with a smile and walking back toward the waiting car, which would take me home to the woman I loved.