A/N: I'm confused…when did I say that I was planning on hurting Rachel? Some readers think that because Brittany's realised that she may have an inkling of feelings for Santana, that she's just going to break Rachel's heart. Um…no. If you recall, Santana was very adamant that she was with Rachel, regardless of Brittany's revelation.

ANYWAY, Quinn just gets the short stick all the time :( Poor girl…

Onward and up!

-H

CHAPTER 10

Santana sat as far forward in the uncomfortable plastic chair as she could without falling off it or tipping it over. Her hands were permanently wringing over themselves and even though Rachel had distracted her from that by linking their fingers together and holding her hand tightly, she'd gone to go and get them all coffee and now Santana was back to wringing her hands.

Quinn was her best friend. Her best friend. She should be there, next to her, holding her hand, asking if she needed water or ice chips or something.

Argh! I feel so fucking useless!

Her brain was screaming at her.

Is this what Quinn had felt when she'd watched Santana fighting with Brittany? This feeling of complete helplessness, but uncontrollable anger at the world in general?

"I got you some coffee, San," Rachel said softly, sitting in the chair next to her.

Santana just shook her head, bouncing her legs impatiently. She stared at the white linoleum floor.

"What can I do?" Rachel asked desperately.

"Rewind the clock," Santana muttered bitterly.

Rationally, she knew that Rachel was just trying to make her feel better. But what could cheer her up or bring a smile to her face when her best friend was lying in a hospital bed with injuries unknown? With losses unknown?

"Santana?"

The Latina lifted her head at sound of Fiona Fabray's voice. She stood up and quickly crossed the waiting room and hugged her tightly.

"How could this have happened?" Fiona cried into Santana's shoulder. "She was supposed to be coming home from school right after Glee."

"She was, Mrs. Fabray," Santana said quietly, her voice scratchy from swallowing her tears of sorrow and anger. "It happened at the school. She was about to leave and this…the bike…he came out of nowhere and he was going so fast and he just…he hit her!"

Santana had never, not once in her entire sixteen years of living, babbled. Yet here she was, unable to form a coherent sentence with the woman who knew her as Quinn's self-proclaimed big sister.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Santana stuttered.

"Sssshh," Fiona soothed, rubbing her back and pulling her into another hug.

Rachel furrowed her brow as she saw Santana's shoulders start to shake. She was crying?

Fuck this. She couldn't just sit there and watch her girlfriend in such pain. She walked to the nurse's desk.

"Excuse me, but we've been here for the better part of two hours with no word whatsoever on Quinn Fabray. Is there any way that we can just get a 'yes, she's ok' or 'she's stable' or something?"

"I'm sorry, but as I've told you seven times already, you're not family, therefore I'm bound by law," the nurse replied politely, but Rachel could see her patience was wearing thin.

"Well, her mom's here now," Rachel said, gesturing to the woman she assumed was Quinn's mother. They sure as hell looked alike.

"Then any news that comes through will be told to her," the nurse replied and the look in her eyes warned Rachel not to push her any further.

Normally, she'd pull the full drama queen hysterical act, but she didn't think that Santana would appreciate that. Frustrated, Rachel went back to sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

"You ok?" Brittany asked her quietly.

"No," Rachel snapped. "My girlfriend is a mess because she doesn't know if her best friend is ok. And if the…she just needs to know that Quinn is ok."

"Look, you know I'm no good in situations like these," Brittany said. "I always say the wrong thing, whether it's insensitive or whatever, but you're a good girlfriend, Rach. As nauseating as it is to watch you two, you seem to be good for one another."

Rachel blinked and looked at her best friend, who was sitting in the chair next to her, one long leg crossed over the other and inspecting her nails.

"B…" Rachel began, "I don't…thank you," she finally said sincerely. "I know we kind of bombarded you and I shouldn't have brushed off my best friend's feelings the way that I did, but-"

"Feelings? What feelings?" Brittany asked suddenly, her eyes wide. "I don't have any feelings. None at all. You and Santana, you have feelings. Me? No, I don't have feelings."

Rachel narrowed her eyes in confusion. "I'm not sure whether you're being sarcastic here…"

Brittany smiled. "Nope, I mean it. I know you've never done the whole feelings thing, which is why it's your thing. Yours and-and Santana's. Where the hell is Puck?"

The brunette's head snapped up and looked around. "Why? Do you see him?"

"No, which is weird. He's been frigging glued to Quinn's side since the beginning of the year and now when she's in trouble, he's nowhere to be seen."

Brittany had a point. When, if, Puckerman showed, she was going to have to keep a tight leash on Santana. The Latina was bound to tear his throat out.

"Did you see him at school today?" Rachel asked curiously.

Brittany looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Nope. Not that I would've noticed. I was barely in class today."

"Yeah, I noticed," Rachel said slowly. "Were you in pain? Did you want to go home?"

"Uh, no. I was just skipping," Brittany said quickly, her eyes fixated on her nails again. "No reason."

"Uh huh," Rachel said, unconvinced.

Brittany may have thought that her best friend was oblivious to her tells, but she wasn't. She knew all about the fake smile and the skilful lack of eye contact. Brittany was hiding something and she would eventually find out what that something was.

"Coffee?" Brittany asked, standing up suddenly.

Rachel held up her still full cup and smirked in amusement. Maybe it was because they were at a hospital. Sometimes hospitals freaked people out. The brunette shrugged and returned her attention back to her girlfriend, who was now sitting on a chair next to Quinn's mother, gesticulating as she spoke. She saw Santana take a deep breath and run her hands quickly through her hair. She stood up and Quinn's mom nodded at whatever she said.

Rachel immediately stood up when Santana turned around and started walking back in her direction. Their eyes met and Santana just held up a hand, pointing to the restrooms. Rachel knew better than to follow her. She just nodded and sat back down.

Brittany spun around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. That had been way too close. Had Rachel figured something out? God, had Santana told her something?

It was mortifying. Of course, she would just deny anything if Rachel did ask.

The blonde shook her head and headed for the coffee machine. Rachel would no doubt question her if she went for coffee and came back with none.

She waited patiently as the machine spat out the liquid that the hospital passed off as coffee. She capped the lid and took a sip.

"Mother fucker," she hissed as the lid fell off the moment it touched her lips, causing the hot liquid to splash down onto her uniform.

She squeezed her eyes closed in frustration and stared at the ceiling as if it was somehow its fault. Angrily, Brittany tossed the whole damn coffee into the trash, not caring that she messed everywhere. Coach Em was a complete bitch about keeping their uniforms pristine. If they brought uniforms in for dry cleaning that had suspect stains, she demanded to know the full story. Something as mundane as spilling coffee generally warranted fifty laps and two hundred push-ups. At least.

Brittany pushed the door to the bathroom open and headed for the nearest sink. She turned on the hot water and pushed open the first stall to grab some toilet paper as the paper towel dispenser was empty and froze when she saw Santana sitting on the closed toilet lid, her legs pulled up to her chest. She lifted her head and Brittany saw tears running down her face, her eyes the saddest she'd ever seen anyone's.

"Uh, I-I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't know anyone was in here."

She started to pull the door closed when Santana's voice stopped her.

"Wait."

It was thick with unshed tears and Brittany looked frantically at the entrance to the bathroom, silently begging for anyone else to come walking through to save her. She didn't do the whole comforting thing. Sure, she'd said a few nice things to Rachel, but she'd known Rachel for years. She barely knew Santana and after everything that had already happened earlier that day, she was the last person Brittany needed to be comforting. Or whatever.

"Relax, Brittany," Santana said tiredly, stepping off the toilet and wiping her eyes. "I'm not going to ask you to hold my hand or anything."

"Good," Brittany breathed, then clamped her hand over her mouth.

Santana gave her a very small smile and shook her head slightly before moving past her to the sinks. She went to the one where Brittany had run the hot water and put her hand under the running stream.

"No," Brittany warned.

"Jesus fuck!" Santana cried out, pulling her hand away quickly.

"The water's hot," Brittany deadpanned, not sure what else to say.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock?" Santana snapped, glaring at the cheerleader as she cradled her reddening hand. "Got any other pearls of wisdom hidden under that bottled mop of hair?"

Brittany's eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to snap back, but Santana beat her to it.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Still getting used the whole no rage thing."

Well fuck. Why'd she have to do that?

Brittany had been all ready to give the Latina a piece of her mind before she'd pulled the apology card.

Shit.

It was so much easier when she could be a bitch to Santana. Why couldn't things just go back to the way they were?

"Bet you're wishing you could chew me out right now, huh?" Santana said, wincing in pain.

"Uh, yeah," Brittany muttered, something spurring her into motion.

She walked to the sink with the running hot water and shut it off, turning the cold on instead.

"Put your hand under here," she instructed, keeping her tone neutral.

Santana frowned and looked at her. Brittany just stared back. The Latina looked quite a sight. There were tears tracks down both cheeks and her mascara was smeared. Her cheeks were flushed from crying and her lips were dry.

And why in the hell are you looking at her lips?

Brittany jerked her eyes away and focused on the running water.

"It's going to blister if you don't cool the skin down," she muttered.

She saw Santana moving slowly towards her and she stepped away from the sink deliberately in the opposite direction.

"Never pegged you to know something about first aid," Santana commented, hissing as the cold water touched her heated skin.

"Having eight-year-old twins as siblings kinda forces you to," Brittany muttered.

She frowned. What the hell? Why was she speaking to Santana? And why was she saying something personal?

"Twins? Your parents are brave."

Brittany shrugged and studied the stain on her Cheerios top.

"Coffee accident?"

Brittany sighed sharply. "Ok, look. You don't have to do the small talk thing. We both promised Rachel we'd be friendly, but that doesn't mean we have to actually talk."

"Fine," Santana replied, shrugging.

"What?"

Brittany couldn't believe it had been that easy.

"Whatever, Brittany. You obviously have some kind of issue that you're dealing with and the last thing I want to do is make it more complicated. So don't stress about it. I'll stay out of your way and if we happen to be in proximity to one another, we'll just be civil."

"Um…"

Santana chuckled and looked up from her hand to meet Brittany's eyes. "You didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you?"

"Honestly, no," Brittany replied. "Our history doesn't exactly…We're not shining examples of being civil people."

"True. But Rachel has really opened my eyes and she's risked a hell of a lot to be with me so it's only fair that I do my part."

"Yeah," Brittany muttered.

Because I need another reminder of that.

"Um, look-"

"You good?" Brittany interrupted, having a good idea about what Santana was leaning toward. "I'm gonna go."

"Your uniform," Santana said.

"I've got five others," Brittany said dismissively, walking to the door.

She pulled the door open, misjudging the lax swing back and the corner hit her squarely in the face.

"Fuck!" she screamed, holding her nose.

"Oh, Jesus." She heard the water being shut off.

Tears were streaming down Brittany's cheek and they weren't from crying.

"Let me see," Santana said, trying to move Brittany's hands away.

"No!"

"Brittany, stop being ridiculous. Just let me check to see if it's broken."

"What?" the blonde said in horror, dropping her hands.

Not a broken nose. Oh, dear God. What the fuck else could go wrong?

"Um, ok just hang on a second," Santana said after inspecting Brittany's face for a few moments.

She couldn't even see anything because the tears were blurring her vision. She wiped them away and her thumb accidentally brushed the bridge of her nose and she yelped in pain.

"What happened?" Santana asked.

"I knocked it by accident," Brittany mumbled, real tears starting to form. This was turning into the week from hell. As if last week hadn't been enough torture.

"You need to lie down to stop the bleeding," Santana said gently.

"What?" Brittany squeaked. "I'm bleeding?"

Santana smiled. "Not a lot. The force of the door just probably burst a few veins. But you need to lie down," she reiterated.

"Here?" Brittany gestured around the bathroom, grimacing.

Santana knelt down on the floor, wincing slightly and holding her side. "You can rest your head here."

"Um…"

"You want blood on that top too? I'm sure Coach Pillsbury will have a field day with you trying to explain how you let a door slam into your face."

Don't do it.

Do it. You know you want to.

Shut up.

Fuck it.

ARGH!

Brittany swallowed and rubbed her suddenly sweaty hands against her red skirt repeatedly as she slowly knelt on the ground. Now she was eye level with Santana, who looked at her expectantly. She held a wad of wet toilet paper in her right, non-injured hand and grimaced.

"It's a means to an end," Santana said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, but we're in a hospital," Brittany argued. "They've got proper medical stuff."

"You wanna fill in mountains of paperwork and wait two hours to be admitted or do you want me to get you cleaned up in five minutes?"

"Fine," Brittany huffed.

She hated logic. It never favoured her cause.

She turned and leaned back slowly. She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped.

"Just me," Santana said softly, guiding the blonde down to finally rest her head on her thighs.

Jesus, this is really not a good idea.

"Too high," she heard Santana mutter. "Hang on." She gently lifted Brittany's head and shuffled till she was sitting cross-legged and carefully lowered her head to rest where her shins crossed.

For a really bony part of the leg, Santana's shins were surprisingly comfortable.

"Ok, this is gonna hurt," Santana warned.

"Any way you could not hurt me?"

"Give me ten seconds to feel if it's broken," Santana murmured, her eyebrows scrunching together as she studied Brittany's nose.

She tried tossing her loose hair over her shoulder, but it just fell back in her face, obscuring her vision. Santana sighed impatiently and reached up, moving all her hair over her right shoulder.

"Ok," she mumbled, eyes focused and steady hands nearing Brittany's face.

"Wait, wait!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Santana breathed in irritation. "Brittany, my mother is a plastic surgeon. I grew up studying models of noses. I know what I'm doing, ok?"

"Your mom is a plastic surgeon?" Brittany asked, squinting up to look at an upside down Santana.

"Yes," Santana sighed. "And she only does highly technical procedures that require intense bone reconstruction or removal."

"Cool," Brittany mumbled.

"What does your mom do?" Santana asked.

Brittany sighed and focused on the creamy looking skin on Santana's exposed neck. She frowned, but couldn't seem to look away, the different visions of Rachel's hands wandering over Santana's body worming their way into her head.

"She's my dad's PR officer."

"What does your dad do?"

"He's a writer," Brittany replied, watching as the skin moved whenever Santana slightly altered the angle of her neck. "Mostly journalism, but he's quite popular. He writes for a few of the big magazines and goes to all the major events. They're going to some big thing in London in two weeks."

"That's cool," Santana said genuinely.

"Hmmm," Brittany mumbled.

It wasn't cool. It sucked. Her parents were never home and she always had to play mom to her brat kid brother and sister. They listened to her achievements as though it was simply expected for her to be the kind of person she was. She hated it.

"Oweee!" Brittany screeched, squeezing her eyes closed in pain as Santana pressed on the left side of her nose. There was a small crunch and Brittany opened her eyes in alarm.

"Is it broken?" she asked fearfully.

"Nope," Santana said with a smile. "It'll bruise a little, but no fracturing or break."

"Oh, thank God," Brittany breathed.

"Ok, this won't hurt as much as what I did just now, but I'm just gonna clean you up. There's blood like all over your face."

"Attractive," Brittany muttered.

Santana just smiled and started wiping the wet paper over her cheeks, chin and under her nose.

"Could you tilt your head back a little for me?" Santana asked softly.

Brittany obliged and Santana cleaned around her nose. She had a really gentle touch.

"Are you going to be a doctor?" she asked suddenly.

Santana blinked in surprise, but smiled. "What makes you ask that?"

"I dunno. You said your mom was a doctor and you're really good with your hands. Uh…" Brittany's eyes widened as she realised what she'd said. "I mean, your good at taking care of, um…shit."

She just closed her eyes to avoid the mortification of Santana's gaze.

"I don't know," Santana replied quietly. Her ministrations continued softly and they coaxed Brittany to open her eyes again. "I mean, I'd love to. I think I'd love it, but my mom's career, back when she was still at a practice full time, was incredibly time consuming and we hardly got to see her. When we were growing up, it was always just me and my brothers. My dad's a chartered accountant so his hours were also crazy."

"That sucks," Brittany heard herself murmur.

Santana shrugged. "When we moved, my mom decided to only work part time so that she could be part of our lives more." She smiled briefly. "We're always incredibly grateful to her for that."

"Lucky."

"Yeah." She smiled wider. "I love the relationship I have with her. Actually, with all my brothers, too. But in answer to your question, my brother Miguel is studying medicine. When he's home, I go through some of his books to see if it interests me."

"Does it?"

"Yeah, but then I think about the time it took my mom away from us and I don't if I could do that to my family."

"You want kids?"

Santana smiled ruefully. "You sound surprised."

"Well, yeah," Brittany mumbled, averting her eyes. "I mean…I dunno."

Santana hummed a laugh. "To be fair, Brittany, you don't really know me so a snap judgment like that is a little uncalled for, don't you think?"

She didn't say it maliciously and it made Brittany feel really bad.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"No problem," Santana replied easily, continuing her careful clean up. "But yes, I'd love to have a family. My mom is one of three kids, my dad is one of four and there's four of us. So I've always had a big family."

"Wow, you have three brothers?"

"Yup. All older. Well, at least in age," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Brittany smiled and their eyes met. No words were spoken for a while and Santana's hand stilled.

The blonde started to feel her heart rate slowly increase in speed and she saw Santana's eyes flicker very briefly down to her lips.

"Uh, you-you have…um, your lips," Santana murmured.

"Huh?" Brittany squeaked.

In response, Santana ran the damp towel across her lips. Brittany could feel her breath hitch.

No, no, no. This was wrong. Shit!

Brittany sat up quickly, sliding away from Santana, pulling her legs up to her chest in the same way she'd found the other girl in the cubicle. They both sat, just looking at one another, the Latina's brow furrowing more and more as her mind obviously worked through something.

"Thank you," Brittany said quietly.

Santana just nodded slowly.

"This is weird," Brittany breathed out.

"Yeah," Santana replied quietly. "Um, how does your nose feel?"

Brittany tested it out, wrinkling the muscles in her face and gently prodding it with her finger.

"A little tender, but fine."

Santana nodded. "When you get home, just put some ice on. It'll-"

"Reduce the swelling," Brittany cut in with a small smile. "Yeah, I know."

The door swung open and Brittany spun around to see her best friend entering. Rachel froze when she saw the two of them sitting on the floor. Brittany didn't know what her face looked like, but coupled with Santana's red hand and the bloodied wet paper in her other hand, it probably looked like they'd been in another fight. Santana's eyes widened as she came to the same realisation.

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "I burned my hand with hot water and Brittany hit her nose with the door."

She frowned and looked down. Brittany couldn't help the giggle that rose in her throat. It really sounded ridiculous. Santana glanced up and smiled.

Rachel felt like she'd stepped into the twilight zone. Her best friend and girlfriend, previously sworn enemies, were giggling on a bathroom floor. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear something more had been going on, but that wasn't possible.

"Um, San," she said quietly, catching her laughing girlfriend's attention. "Quinn's asking for you."

Santana was up and in front of Rachel in two seconds flat.

"She's ok, right?" she asked worriedly. "How's…everything?"

Rachel tried her best to keep an emotionless face, but she couldn't. Not around Santana. She simply shook her head.

"Shit," Santana breathed.

"You should go to her," Rachel said.

Santana nodded. "Find Puck. Get him here."

Rachel took Santana's hand, not realising it was the one she'd burned and frowned when she hissed and pulled it away. She looked down and took it more gently. The skin was red, but there wasn't any blistering. She brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckles. Santana smiled sweetly at her and leaned in for a brief kiss.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Room 414," Rachel replied. "I'll wait for you."

Santana kissed her again before walked out and Rachel turned back to her best friend to see her back turned and her gaze fixed on the opposite wall. She rolled her eyes.

"She's gone now. You can look again."

Brittany slowly stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She grimaced at her red nose and the beginnings of some bruising.

"Seriously not my week," she muttered.

"You ok, B? It doesn't look that bad."

"Yeah, that's only cos…" she trailed off and looked down.

"Cos?" Rachel prompted.

"Nothing," Brittany replied shortly.

Rachel frowned. "What's going on, Britt? I thought things were cool with us? You've hardly spoken to me all day. The most substantial conversation we've had today was in the waiting room earlier. You're shutting me out. I know it. Why?"

Brittany just shook her head. "Dealing with stuff," she mumbled. "I'll be fine, Rach. I just…I'll deal with it. Believe me when I say that it has nothing to do with you, ok?" She met the brunette's gaze in the mirror and Rachel saw that she meant it.

Rachel nodded slowly, but wasn't entirely satisfied. Brittany normally played things close to the chest – she was the only person that the blonde had ever confided in and that was only on a rare occasion.

"Wanna come wait with me?" she offered.

"Um, I should go home," Brittany mumbled. "I need to get ice on this before it swells up like a bitch."

"It's not broken, though, right?" Rachel asked worriedly. The last thing they needed was for Brittany to sustain another injury that would prolong her return to cheerleading.

"Not broken," was all that Brittany said quietly.

"I'll walk you out to your car then," Rachel offered and the blonde nodded.

She hesitantly linked her arm through Brittany's and smiled when her best friend tightened the grip.

Santana took a deep breath as she stood outside Room 414. She had to be strong.

Forget about the fear, forget about seeing her fly through the air, forget about you were too terrified to check to see if she was alive. She's alive and she's here.

Santana nodded to herself and knocked twice on the door.

"Come in," Fiona's voice rang out.

The Latina slowly opened the door and peeked her head in.

"Oh, finally!" Fiona said gratefully, walking up to her. "Rachel was beginning to think she'd never find you."

"Sorry, I, uh, burned my hand," Santana said lamely, holding up her left hand.

"Are you ok?" came a soft voice from the bed.

Fiona stepped aside and Santana's heart sank a little. Her best friend looked so pale. She had a bruise on her cheek and grazes on her forehead and chin. But her eyes – Santana knew those eyes better than anyone's. They were so, so sad.

"Quinnie," she breathed.

"I'll leave you two for a few minutes," Fiona said to no one in particular.

Santana just heard the door close behind her as she walked up to Quinn's bed. She stood awkwardly next to it, her hands behind her back.

"I'm not contagious," Quinn said softly, a small smile on her face. It wasn't a real smile though. Her eyes were still sad.

"I'm sorry," Santana whispered, her voice breaking.

"Stop that. San, this was not your fault, nor could you have done anything to prevent it. Please don't blame yourself."

"But-"

"No buts." It was Quinn's don't argue voice.

Santana wasn't about to start a fight so she kept quiet. She did step closer to the bed though. Quinn reached out her hand and Santana took it gently.

"How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.

"Sore," Quinn replied. "Nothing major, other than, you know."

Her face was unreadable and Santana hated it. She hated not knowing what Quinn was feeling because it meant that she couldn't make it better.

"I-" Santana's voice broke and she cleared it before trying again. "I wish there was something I could do to make it better."

Quinn sighed again and the girls spent a few moments in silence.

Eventually, the blonde broke it. "Do you believe in fate?"

Santana nodded slowly.

"You believe that everything happens for a reason?"

Santana nodded again, her throat getting tight. She knew where this was going.

"Maybe this was meant to happen," Quinn whispered. "I was never…I'm too young. I'm…I'm relieved."

She let out a breath and Santana could tell that she had been holding that in for a while.

"You one hundred percent on that, Quinnie?"

She nodded. "I didn't want to be a mom, San. I didn't. But I couldn't have a…you know."

Santana squeezed her hand lightly.

Quinn took a deep breath. "Someday. But not now. It was a mistake."

Part of Santana was relieved that Quinn was handling this so well, but she also wondered how much this was going to really affect her in the long run.

"Does your mom know?" Santana whispered.

"I asked the doctors not to tell her. But she has to know because I'm a minor and she's legally responsible for my medical care, which means she needs to know everything that's going on. But I need to be the one to tell her."

"Quinnie, I know you've had one hell of a day, but you can't let this linger too long."

"I know," Quinn replied, nodding. "I'm going to tell her tonight." She squeezed Santana's hand. "Does Puck know?"

"Rachel's trying to contact him. He wasn't at school today."

"Yeah, I know. I haven't spoken to him since Saturday."

They fell into a silence again, only to be broken by a gentle knock on the door.

"Sorry, Santana, but the doctor just wants to check on her again. Hopefully he can discharge Quinn tonight and she can come home."

"I'd like that," Quinn murmured.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" Santana asked. "I can stay with you tonight?"

"No, I'm gonna be home this week. Doc says I'm on strict bed rest." She smiled and it warmed Santana's heart to see her eyes lighten up a little too. "Looks like we swapped positions this week."

"Yeah," Santana replied with a smile. "At least you don't have an overbearing girlfriend who needs to make sure that you're completely incapable of doing anything yourself."

"No, I have you for that," Quinn teased.

Santana laughed. "You bet your ass, Fabray."

"Come over tomorrow after school," she suggested.

"Ok, but I'll text you."

Quinn nodded and pulled her best friend in for a hug. Santana squeezed as tightly as she dared. They pulled away and Santana stepped backwards as the doctor took over, asking questions.

She paused at the door and caught Quinn's gaze, sending her a wink and a smile. It was returned and she knew that things may actually be ok.

Rachel hung up her phone and made a move to throw it on the ground.

"Whoa!" Brittany said, catching her arm. "What the hell, Rach?"

Rachel was seething. She didn't think she'd ever been so mad. That good-for-nothing, piece of shit, lower than scum dirtbag asshole!

"Rachel?" Brittany queried, her voice worried. "That look is scaring me."

"Good," she said through her teeth. "Because he'd better be fucking scared."

"What? Who?"

Rachel tried to control her breathing.

"Who, Puck?" Brittany asked.

The brunette just nodded and started pacing the sidewalk outside the hospital where they were standing. Her phone rang again and she winced when she saw who it was. Santana was going to be pissed.

"Hey, baby," she greeted, seeing Brittany turn away in her peripheral vision.

"Hey, where are you?"

"Out the front. You're not staying with Quinn?"

"No, she said I should come over tomorrow. She's ok, though."

"That's good. I'm glad." And she was. For Quinn. Not so much for Puck.

"Ok, babe. I see you," Santana said, hanging up.

Rachel turned and saw her girlfriend walking quickly towards the exit. She looked much better than she had in the bathroom and Rachel was reluctant to take that away.

"Hey," Santana greeted with a smile, leaning in for a kiss.

Rachel reciprocated and hugged her tightly.

"Any news on Puck?" Santana asked once they'd pulled away.

Rachel opened her mouth, furrowed her brow and closed it again.

"What?" Santana knew something was up.

"His phone's off," Rachel said quietly.

"Ok." Her girlfriend said it slowly.

"So I called his mom."

Santana's eyes narrowed.

"Baby, promise me you'll try to stay calm, ok?" Rachel asked earnestly.

"I can't make any promises, Rachel, but I'll do my best," Santana said in a low, angry voice.

Rachel took a deep breath. "His mom checked his room. His stuff's gone. Puck's gone."

A/N: BOOM!

Trying to get the Brittana FRIENDSHIP going, but it's going to be a slow process…Pezberry fans, never fear! :)

Let me know what you think :)

-H