Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 16)
You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between what I thought
And what I said…
You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
When it's over you'll start
You're my head
You're my heart…
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day
You can't choose what stays and what fades away…
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say…
Through the crowd, I was crying out
And in your place there were a thousand other faces
I was disappearing in plain sight
Heaven help me, I need to make it right…
You want a revelation,
You wanna get it right
But, it's a conversation,
I just can't have tonight
You want a revelation
Some kind of resolution
You want a revelation…
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away…
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say…
Would you leave me,
If I told you what I've done?
And would you need me,
If I told you what I've become?
'cause it's so easy,
To say it to a crowd
But it's so hard, my love,
To say it to you out loud…
No light, no light in your bright blue eyes
I never knew daylight could be so violent
A revelation in the light of day,
You can't choose what stays and what fades away…
And I'd do anything to make you stay
No light, no light
No light
Tell me what you want me to say….
(No Light, No Light ~ Florence + the Machine)
Monday, October 10, 2022
8:38 PM
"Santana!" Brittany banged on the door.
There was no response from inside the small bathroom.
"Santana…why would you say that?" she asked loudly in frustration, "To me of all people?"
Silence was the only answer.
Determined to get an explanation, Brittany banged again, her fist hitting firmly on the wooden barrier. "Answer me!"
Brittany could hear movement inside. There was muffled crying and what sounded like a loud clanking.
"It wouldn't matter what you did…or how hurt I felt! I could never…ever…hate you!" she said, furious with her wife's behavior at this point, "I love you! Now open this door and talk to me, for Christ's sake!"
Santana lifted the heavy porcelain top that covered the back of the toilet, reaching down inside and pulling out a clear, frosted bottle of vodka. She unscrewed the red top and lifted it immediately to take a long, calming swallow from the bottle. Her body stopped trembling within a few seconds as she took another long drink then slid down in the small space between the toilet and the pedestal sink, leaning back against the bathroom wall.
She sat with her knees pulled up and her elbows propped on them, taking another then another drink from the tall glass bottle. The Latina's head pounded with thoughts and feelings that were coming at her in waves so fast everything seemed jumbled in translation, ultimately causing her mind to shut down. Her only salvation at the moment was the searing comfort of the liquid passing quickly through her body, slowing her breathing, sedating her emotions.
"Santana!"
The brunette jumped reflexively each time her wife pounded on the door and screamed her name. She said nothing though, partly because she had nothing to say and partly because she inwardly knew Brittany was right.
Brittany was always right. That was the pattern the two of them had. Santana acted dramatically on impulse, and Brittany calmly showed the fierce Latina the err of her ways. Only, this time, Santana had turned her wrath on her one unwavering source of support, and from the sound of things, Brittany was not going to stand for it any longer.
"Santana!"
"Go away."
"You open this door right now…or…," Brittany demanded, striking the door again then kicking the bottom edge for added emphasis, "…or I'm going to kick it down!"
"Go away, I said!" Santana yelled louder, her voice booming from the interior of the small space.
"Brittany?"
The blonde turned toward the sound of her name to find Quinn Fabray standing there with Cate Boyd a few steps behind her.
"The door was cracked open," Quinn told her best friend, "I knocked first."
"I didn't hear you," Brittany responded, letting out a long breath of air and leaning her forehead against the bathroom door.
"Britt…?" Quinn stepped closer toward Brittany.
Brittany looked to the side and could see now that Quinn definitely appeared pregnant. She let out a half sigh, half laugh. She found it curiously amusing what the eye will overlook until it sees things in clearer context.
"What do you want, Quinn?" Brittany asked with a mildly dismissive tone, having a much bigger problem on the other side of the bathroom door.
"Cate felt we should just leave and let everyone cool off, but…," Quinn explained hesitantly, "I don't want there to be any animosity between any of us."
Brittany didn't respond to the shorter blonde, her mind still trying to wrap itself around the revelation that Quinn was pregnant again with Puck's baby. Santana was right about one thing…it did feel like fate was having a huge laugh at their expense.
She knocked again on the door in front of her, softer this time, hoping to coax her wife out of her bitter rage.
"Santana?" Brittany tried a kinder approach, "Santana, please?"
"Can I try?" Quinn asked timidly.
Brittany paused to weigh in her mind whether that was a good idea. Feeling at a loss over her own attempts, she stepped back and gestured toward the door, "Be my guest."
Quinn closed the gap between herself and the wooden barrier and knocked, "Santana, it's Quinn."
"Go away, Fabray!"
"We promised each other long ago that we'd have no judgment between us," she waited a beat before saying, "I also promised you that I would always be there for you."
Santana said nothing.
"You're hurting. That's what this is really about," the Yale professor stated objectively, "Pushing us all away won't make the hurt go away. Trust me…I know." Quinn looked over her shoulder at Cate.
Cate Boyd smiled supportively.
"We all love you, Santana...your wife especially," Quinn tried, "but you have to take a step toward us."
There was a long silence followed by a loud sound of something crashing inside the bathroom.
"Santana!" Brittany nudged Quinn out of the way to twist the doorknob, banging on it frantically, "Santana, open up…are you alright?"
Brittany kicked the door again then hit it with her shoulder.
"I can't get it open!" she said to the other girls, an expression of fear on her face.
"Santana, open the damn door!" Quinn said authoritatively, knocking on the door.
"Cate! Please do something," Brittany begged, "What if she's hurt?"
Cate pushed in between the younger girls, pounding the door with her open palm, "Santana! We'll break this in if you don't unlock it right now."
The three of them looked at each other for several seconds then Brittany gave the green light, "Do it."
Cate stepped back then rammed the door with all the strength in her shoulder. The old wood around the door hinge gave way and opened up. When Cate tried opening the door wider, something prevented more movement.
"Santana!" Brittany shouted from behind Cate, seeing her wife's legs on the floor behind the door.
She squeezed inside the bathroom, stepping over Santana who lay face down on the floor.
"Tan, are you okay?" Brittany lifted on her wife's shoulders, pulling up the dead weight of her upper body.
Cate opened the door all the way once Santana was no longer blocking it. She saw no visible injuries on the younger brunette, scanning the small interior for any indication as to what happened.
"Did she hit her head?" Quinn asked, kneeling in the tight space.
Cate saw that the towel rack was halfway broken off the wall and it hung down as if Santana tried to grab at it.
"Not that I can tell," Brittany answered, gently patting Santana's face to rouse her, "Santana...honey?"
Curious as to why the lid to the back of the toilet was off and sitting on the closed bowl, Cate passed behind Quinn to look inside. She was taken aback to find a nearly-empty bottle of vodka set down in it. Pulling it out, she held it up and said, "Do you guys always keep your liquor in the bathroom?"
Brittany and Quinn both looked up at the tall girl with puzzled expressions then looked back down at Santana who was passed out cold with her head in Brittany's lap.
"Britt, she's drunk," Quinn stated, bending close enough to Santana's face to smell the alcohol.
"Well…she had a lot of wine at dinner," Brittany excused, running a caress down Santana's face then looking back up at Cate and the bottle she held, "I don't know what that is doing in here. Santana's doesn't even drink vodka."
"Somebody's been drinking this, Brittany," Cate pointed out. She turned the bottle sideways then back up to emphasize its emptiness. "Somebody's been drinking a lot of this."
"You don't know it was Santana, Cate!" Brittany raised her voice which echoed in the tiny space. Collecting her emotions with a deep, shaky breath, the blonde dancer asked, "Would you two please leave?"
"Britt…," Quinn ran a supportive hand down Brittany's upper arm, her face pleading with her old friend to not close off and deny the situation that was right in front of them.
"Q, go…please?"
"At least let us help you get her in bed," Cate insisted, helping her girlfriend to a standing position before lifting on Santana.
Between the two of them, Brittany and Cate easily carried Santana to the bed where Brittany closed the drape in order to have privacy in the studio apartment to undress her wife and put her in a comfortable sleep shirt then tuck her under the covers.
The tall blonde stepped out from behind the colorful fabric divider and walked toward the couch where Quinn and Cate sat. She folded her long arms and said, "Thank you for your help."
"Did she wake up?" Quinn asked with a look of concern on her attractive face.
"No," Brittany responded, pausing before adding, "She's totally out."
"Do you still want us to go?" Quinn bit at her lip.
"Yes, please just go," Brittany sighed, moving toward the front door. As Quinn passed in front of her, Brittany stopped the shorter blonde with a hand on her shoulder, "Quinn, I'm sorry about all this."
"Don't be sorry, Britt," Quinn put her arms around Brittany, squeezing her tightly and assuring her, "I love you guys."
Brittany squeezed her back, feeling tears forming in her eyes. She sniffed then requested, "Please don't say anything about this to anyone…ok?"
Quinn nodded and kissed Brittany on the cheek then she stepped into the hallway.
"Call us if you need anything at all," Cate told Brittany, hugging her too.
Monday, October 10, 2022
10:03 PM
Quinn Fabray stretched out on the king-sized bed in her hotel room and rubbed at the growing bump in her abdomen, sighing heavily at the culmination of events that played out earlier in the evening. What should have been an enjoyable reunion of old friends coupled with the excitement of Quinn's new job and renewed relationship with Cate turned into a tragic train wreck of emotions.
The blonde professor closed her tired eyes to rest her pounding head, but her thoughts were only of her dearest friends. The sight of Santana passed out on the floor and the heartache that was written across Brittany's face was too much to shake off.
"Honey," Cate said at full volume, coming around the corner from the en suite bathroom, but she lowered her voice when she saw Quinn relaxing and said, "Oh sorry, I didn't know you were already asleep."
Quinn opened then closed her eyes. "I'm awake."
Cate slipped off her pants and put them over the back of a nearby chair, climbing under the bed covers in just her black boxer briefs and white, ribbed tank. She closed the distance between herself and Quinn, wrapping her arms around the blonde and snuggling her with her chin on Quinn's shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Cate inquired lovingly.
"Mmmhmm," Quinn was almost too tired to speak, confirming, "I'll survive."
"Both of you?" Cate kissing Quinn's bare shoulder.
"We're both tough…we can take it," Quinn assured her girlfriend, "Aren't you glad you're back among the Glee crowd? We're a barrel of laughs, aren't we?"
Cate chuckled, "Tonight was…interesting…to say the least."
"Hmmm…well, it was your big mouth that set it off," Quinn teased lightly, reaching under the covers for Cate's hand.
"Yeah, sorry about that," Cate grimaced, squeezing Quinn's hand in hers.
Quinn sighed, her eyes still closed.
The older girl watched Quinn's face, relishing in the shared intimacy that came with being back together, and she saw a tear escape and roll down her beautiful face.
Cate nuzzled further into Quinn's body, "I am really sorry, sweetheart."
Quinn opened her eyes and turned toward Cate, assuring her, "I know, it's okay. I knew Santana was going to freak no matter when she found out."
"She's spiraling down again. She needs help," Cate observed, "People don't just store liquor in the back of their toilet for lack of space."
"I know," Quinn sighed. The look on Brittany's face told Quinn everything. It was clear that Brittany did not even know they had vodka in the apartment, and Quinn had never known either of them to be heavy drinkers.
"Maybe you should call her dads…or even her mom?" Cate suggested.
Quinn shrugged. "I promised Brittany I wouldn't say anything."
The brunette kissed Quinn's cheek, nudging her gently, "Honey, that's just going to compound the problem."
"I don't know what to do," the younger girl swallowed hard and turned more into Cate's embrace.
Cate Boyd held Quinn tightly as she cried.
Tuesday, October, 11, 2022
9:46AM
Santana opened her eyelids, but they felt so heavy, they closed again on their own. Her head was pounding so hard and her throat was so dry and scratchy that she could not drift back into sleep.
She opened her eyes again to see full sunlight. Her movement had to be forced, but Santana managed to turn from her right side onto her back, closing her eyes again to block out the morning sun. To help with the transition from dead of sleep to consciousness, she draped an arm over her face, letting out a long flow of air.
As she lay there, becoming more oriented that she was in her bed inside her apartment, she smelled food cooking and nearly gagged. She sat up suddenly and threw the covers back, making her way quickly to the bathroom and dropping to her knees in front of the toilet where she threw up.
Santana wiped at her mouth as she pushed herself up to her feet, bracing against the wall and moving the back of the toilet. When she reached in to locate the bottle of vodka she'd hidden, it was gone.
"Fuck," she said aloud, closing her eyes a second to steady her body. After putting the heavy porcelain back in place, she rinsed her mouth and face with some cold water at the sink then walked out into the bedroom.
The brunette looked over her shoulder to see Brittany busy in the kitchen so she stepped over to the large chest of drawers at the foot of their bed. She opened her clothes drawer and ran her hand under several neatly folded t-shirts and cotton pants. Not finding what she was looking for, she dug more frantically in the drawer and the drawer below.
Santana took a deep breath, noticing her hands were trembling and her vision was distorted. She turned around without shutting the drawers and moved toward the far side of the room, immediately going over to the lower kitchen cabinets, opening the doors and pushing aside a set of large bowls and a few pantry items.
Brittany paused, standing at the sink where she was rinsing a dirty pan, and asked, "Looking for something?"
"Huh? No…I mean, yes…sort of," Santana stammered, covering her rising desperation by asking, "Do we have any crackers."
"Yes," Brittany said matter-of-factly, drying her hands to open one of the upper cabinets, removing a white and blue box of saltines, and setting it down on the kitchen counter, "Where we always keep them."
"Oh…great," Santana replied with a grimace, standing to full height and opening the box to pull out a sleeve, "Thanks."
"No problem," Brittany snipped, grabbing toast from the toaster and putting them on a plate, "I made breakfast. Sit down and eat with me."
Santana subtly checked under another lower cabinet nearer the sink then in an upper cabinet, behind a large casserole dish, before passing behind her wife to sit in one of the two chairs at their small table. Her post-drunken haze lifted rapidly when she sat down and realized what waited for her.
In the center of the table sat every liquor bottle Santana had searched out, two smaller bottles from her clothes drawers and four taller ones, including the vodka bottle from the bathroom and two white wine bottles she had filled with hard liquor once the wine was gone.
Santana's gaze moved from the collected bottles to her wife's face as Brittany sat a plate of eggs and toast in front of her then plopped down in the chair across the table.
"Find what you were looking for?" Brittany said nonchalantly without looking up, picking up her fork to take a bite of scrambled eggs.
Santana did not immediately respond, mulling over in her mind the appropriate exit from this situation.
"Do you want me to get you a wine glass? Or will you just be drinking out of the bottle?" Brittany asked with a snide tone, smearing some butter onto her piece of toast.
Santana wanted very much to take a long drink from any of the five bottles on the table, calling Brittany's bluff. Instead, she closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, hoping to steady her emotions and her nerves.
"You should eat something. It'll absorb whatever's left in your stomach from last night," Brittany suggested.
Santana opened her eyes and looked at her wife. She had known Brittany for twenty years, since they were children in grade school. She had seen every emotion that could ever be felt cross Brittany's face at one time or another…or so she thought. The look that was on the blonde's face at this very moment was new to Santana. This look was one of ultimate disillusionment, and the light that always shone so brightly in Brittany's blue eyes, especially when she looked at Santana, had now faded.
"I can't," Santana told her, her words barely above a mumbled whisper.
Brittany stared at the pale brunette for a second before asking, "Why not?"
"You know why…eggs make me sick," Santana snapped back, pushing on the plate to move it out from under her nose, "I can't even stand the smell of them anymore. They remind me of being pregnant…and the baby."
"Everything reminds you of the baby," Brittany snapped.
"You don't have to be nasty to me just because I can't stomach your eggs," Santana stated.
"You really think the problem here is some eggs?" Brittany dropped her fork and stood up, picking up Santana's plate and walking over to the silver trash bin. She stepped on the foot pedal then tossed in the eggs with the plate and all. She turned back toward the round table and proclaimed, "There! Better? No more goddamn eggs."
Feeling she had nothing to lose, Santana lifted one of the half-full wine bottles, popping the cork and taking a long drink.
Brittany sat back down in a huff and crunched another bite of toast. "Keep doing that, Tan…because alcohol will definitely solve all your problems."
Santana slammed the bottle down on the table, causing everything to rattle. "You don't know what I feel!"
"You're right! I don't know what you feel, because you won't talk to me about anything," Brittany yelled back, "But if you think I don't suffer too then you are wrong! You are not the only one hurting here. That was my child too…and now I have lost you both."
"Shut up!" Santana screamed, standing and walking toward the bathroom since it was the only place in the apartment where she could separate herself.
Brittany's long legs carried her quickly past the angry Latina so she could block her entrance. "Don't walk away from me…we need to talk through this."
"You will never understand what I feel…my life was ruined by someone who is walking around this town with no real consequences," Santana denounced.
"Your life is being ruined by you, Santana!" Brittany spat back. "We had just enough…we had us, and it was wonderful…until you got fixated on getting pregnant. I don't even know now if it's about actually having a child…or if it's more about proving to yourself you can."
"You're blaming all this on me?" Santana was unable to comprehend the complexities Brittany pointed out.
"No, I'm not. I love you, Santana. I understand what the rape did to you, the scars it left, physically and…mentally. Nobody understands better than me."
"No you don't! You don't understand!" Santana screamed at Brittany, "If you did then you wouldn't be treating me this way."
"Treating you how? Walking on egg shells around you? Never wanting to upset you? Feeling invisible but scared I'll say the wrong thing. Loving you? Is that the awful way I'm treating you?" Brittany retorted, hurt mixed with anger flashing behind her blue eyes, "Do you know how agonizing it is to sit around this apartment and watch you self-destruct all over again?"
The fire in Santana's dark eyes was enough to char everything in her path as she reached under the bed and pulled out an overnight bag, tossing it at Brittany's feet, "Then get out while you can!"
"What?" Brittany grimaced.
"I'm serious…leave! Pack your things and go someplace that's cheery and happy all the time…where you don't have to worry so much…where you don't even have to think about me," Santana prodded, kicking the suitcase closer toward Brittany, "Go on…leave!"
Brittany stared at her wife, seeing the Latina's nostrils flaring in and out she was breathing so heavily. Her first thought was to walk over and hold Santana down and hug her tightly until every bad thought was purged from her body. The second thought she had was that they were at such extreme odds now that perhaps some space would do them some good.
Quietly, Brittany picked up the bag and set it up on the bed then placed several items of clothing in it before grabbing her brush and toothbrush from the bathroom. When she zipped it closed, the sound echoed in the silence that surrounded them, startling the couple, causing them each to jump slightly.
Brittany put the strap of the suitcase over her shoulder and said, "Excuse me."
Santana moved toward the wall to allow Brittany to pass then watched her as she walk toward the front door, pausing to pick up her dance bag and her messenger bag.
The blonde pulled her keys off the hook by the door before opening it and stepping through the doorway. She turned back for a brief moment and locked eyes with Santana, telling her, "I love you."
Brittany closed the door behind her and stepped down the first three stairs before pausing and looking back up at their apartment door. She stood there for several seconds, tears streaming down her freckled face, then she took a deep breath and continued walking.
Author's Note: Please don't leave a review that tells me there is too much angst in this story. If you have lived this scenario as I have then you know the heartache and darkness that comes with it. I know some of you don't understand the agony of infertility. Santana is not simply being overly dramatic or obnoxious. She is sincerely in mental pain. I have witnessed this, and I know the toll it takes on a couple.
If it is too much for you to tolerate then perhaps you should read a different story. If you trust me though as your writer then give me your faith that I will give you a good read and that I truly believe things have a way of working out in the end. I will not leave you unsatisfied at the end of this fic. So if you trust me then please keep reading.
If you have anything else to say then I would be glad to hear it. Thank you, Kim.