Your eyebrows furrow in a deep frown when you realise where you are. You hadn't even noticed you were walking for so long. It took you around 20 minutes to get here by car yesterday, so by foot it must have taken you at least double of that time, and you are not an extremely fast-walker anyway. You sigh, taking in the sight in front of you. The main door is well lit, but the rest of your surroundings, not so much. There is the small parking lot where you parked yesterday, which is actually only illuminated by the own neon lights that announce the name of the hospital, and the sidewalk where you are standing right now, lit by some dim street lights. There is almost no traffic since it's almost midnight - you had to check your watch - and the crisp air playing with your hair is kind of chilly, but it doesn't bother you at all.
Slowly you move under one of the street lights and take a seat on the edge of the sidewalk. This might be a safe neighbourhood, having an emergency room just by your side and all, but you know that sitting down in a dark road is never a good idea. You fish in your pockets looking for your cigarettes. You are trying to quit, but the last few weeks have been really stressful and this sudden turn of events is not making it any easier. Once you have lit one, you take a deep drag and push the smoke out of your nose slowly. That's a bad habit you picked up when you were a teenager, it was fun back then because you said you looked like a bull doing that, but nowadays it actually relaxes you more. That's how tricky the brain can be.
Finally you take out your phone and decide to make the call, hoping that your friend is still awake.
"It was about time." She says once she picks the phone up after three tones.
"Yeah, whatever." You answer. You are really not in the mood for her sass. "How's the hubby?" You ask politely. Quinn had married her high school sweetheart, Finn Hudson. You always thought she was way out of his league, she could have done anything that she wanted, she could have gotten out of the shit hole of a town that Lima is, but she decided she was in love. You were no one to tell her otherwise; her happiness was always your happiness.
"Fine. He is fine. Still coaching McKinley's football team." Well, yeah, you guessed that already. You talked four months ago, not four years. You imagined he hadn't quit his beloved job in that small amount of time. "Actually, there is something I need to tell you. But you first. What is all this nonsense about Pierce?"
"Why didn't you know she was here? What happened between the two of you?" You ask. You need to know.
"We had a fight. A big one." She relents, but doesn't elaborate on her answer. Before you can ask further, she keeps talking. "You are not going to believe me, but it was actually your Abuela who told me about her."
"My ab-whatthefuck?" You breathe out, almost choking on your cigarette smoke. This is getting too complicated, and you really don't know if you want to know the rest. Your parents died long time ago; you knew your grandmother was still alive, but she hasn't talked to you since you told her you were gay, around 20 years ago, so you really have no idea how she had ended up being included in this mess.
"Brittany and I..." She starts, and you hear her sigh tiredly. "Look, I know I sided with her when you broke up with her, you really broke her heart and it was so damn sad to see her like that... I tried to be her friend, but she kept taking wrong decision after wrong decision, and she wasn't letting anyone help. Around five years ago, maybe more, I was fed up already, and she drunkenly tried to kiss Finn. Looking at it now, it was really hilarious because she kept calling him Santana..." She stifles a laugh and your only reaction is to roll your eyes. That thing is so Brittany. "But at that moment I just had enough. The next morning, once she was sober, I kind of called her a cheap whore and we haven't talked since."
"Well. Turns out she just had a pretty serious car accident and she has me listed as her emergency contact." You tell her, shrugging even if Quinn can't see you, as you throw your cigarette's butt somewhere into the darkness. "She is in a coma. Actually, I need your help. I already have too much on my plate, and you know I haven't kept anyone's phone number but yours. Can you find her parents? Tell them her condition? Find her boyfriend, or husband or whatever? I don't know, anyone who might want to visit her..." You ask her with a sigh. You really don't have the energy for any of this.
"Sure. I'll get to it first thing in the morning, don't worry. I got you." She says, and it is in that moment when you remember why she is your best friend.
"Thanks." You acknowledge. "You were to tell me something. Don't tell me you are pregnant." You say with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. But the silence that follows your laughter makes you arch an eyebrow.
"Actually..." She starts. "I am. I am expecting a baby." She says and you can feel the happiness in her voice.
"Wow, that's amazing, Q." You try to sound just as happy as she is, but you have to say you have your doubts. As I said before, you never thought Frankenteen was the right man for her.
"Do you want to talk about your Abuela?" She asks and you cringe.
"No. I actually have to go. Thank you and congratulations. I'll call you soon." You say hurriedly and almost before she can even say goodbye you hang your phone.
You light up another cigarette. You know you are chain-smoking but at this point you don't even care. You know you should be heading back home, especially since you have a pretty long walk back, but you can't seem to get yourself to get up from the floor. You kind of want to cry, but the whirlwind of emotions you are feeling right now is blocking your tears away.
"Hey, sweet-cheeks." You hear behind you and you almost groan out loud. You have nothing against Dr. Holiday, but you are not sure you can handle anything else tonight. "What are you doing out here?" She asks and all your answer is rising your hand to show her your cigarette, not even looking at her. You hope that would be enough for her to leave you alone, but apparently it isn't, because she sits down right next you and you hear the sound of a lighter. Apparently she decided to smoke too.
"Brittany is fine." She says. You still don't look at her. "Well, as fine as she can be after going through three surgeries in a row. But she is a fighter. Most people couldn't handle that much of stress we've put her through and yet there she is. Perfectly fine. We are sure she will be waking up soon." She adds and you feel her eyes on you. You kind of want to simply ignore her, but you slowly nod, still not looking at her, in acknowledge.
"Visiting hours are obviously over by now, but I could sneak you in if you want to see her." she offers, and you finally look at her, shaking your head.
"No. It's fine. I'm fine." You answer with a shrug.
"You came all the way here, though." She points out offering you a kind smile and you sigh. This mess is already costing you living years of your life. You are sure you have aged 20 years in two days. You also are a little bit dramatic.
"Okay, fine." You relent getting up, waiting for her to do the same and follow her lead.
Once you are by her room's door, Holly puts a motherly hand over your shoulder and you look at her.
"She will be fine, Santana. As I said, she is a fighter." She assures you, and you nod once. "Okay, go in now, I can only guarantee you half an hour." She mutters as if she was a kid about to do some mischief.
You get in the room slowly, and oddly enough, the machinery's sound instantly calms you down. Brittany's heart beats steadily, and she is still connected to a breather, but she looks kind of better. She has more bandages around her now, a cast on her arm and leg, but she is clean and she doesn't look so pale, so dead.
You take a seat beside her again, and take her good hand into yours, she even feels warmer.
"Britt..." you mumble, just like yesterday. You read somewhere once that people in a coma can actually hear you if you talk to them. You are not sure if you believe it, but it's the only thing you can hang on to right now.
"Brittany Susan Pierce, you better wake up." You say coldly, not entirely sure where this sudden anger burst is coming from. "You have to wake up. You hear me, you damn idiot? You need to wake up. I need you to wake up..." You say and the floodgates of your tears instantly open. Suddenly you are sobbing uncontrollably and you don't know how to stop.
