There was a soft knock on the door. "Britt could you get that while I finish getting the girls ready?" Quinn yelled from upstairs.
With Taylor on her hip, Brittany cautiously walked up to the door and twisted the doorknob. "Well, well, well." Santana smiled sheepishly. Taylor squealed happily and stretched out her arms, Brittany handed her over to Santana. They exchanged smiles and greeted each other with an awkward hug and you could cut the tension with a knife.

"Quinn are you ready?"

Brittany sat squirming in her seat, as they drove over to Puck's house. Santana was going way over the speed limit, but she didn't care. There were a lot of things she'd stopped caring about lately. "Sit, still." She said in a calm voice. "I'm sorry that my un-comfortableness is unsettling to you. But I honestly don't know how to talk to you anymore." Santana rolled her eyes. She knew Brittany had something on her mind and whether it was important or not, she wasn't really in the mood to hear it. She was driving recklessly and she knew it, but she just wanted to get there. "Can you slow down?" The blonde had said it more of a statement rather than a question. "No." Santana was angry, for whichever reason, Brittany was not really interested.

Instead of hearing each other out, they sat in complete silence, with not even the radio on. Brittany rolled down her window she inhaled and felt the warm summer's breeze wash over her. She wanted nothing more than to tell Santana about the baby, but the way she was driving, kept her eyes strictly focused on the road. "Okay, San, seriously. Can you slow down?" Santana made a hefty right turn and exited the freeway. She was gritting her teeth and her fists were clenched so hard that her knuckles had turned white. With nails digging into the steering wheel, she finally turned to look at Brittany. "Do you know that Ariel was supposed to come with me tonight?" Brittany stared down at her hands nicely folded on her lap. "I know. But it was your choice, you could have chosen to show up at Puck's with her, you could have chosen not to drive me. The decision was yours Santana, not mine." Even so, Brittany felt very much responsible now. Maybe if she had just stayed at home, Santana wouldn't be so mad at her. "But you didn't. San, I'm sorry, but I am not your little punching bag. You and I have been through it all, have we not? I still love you, you know. I will always love you and I wish that we could go back to how things were. It's my only wish. Maybe we can't start out as best friends, but I'd like for us to get to that point again. San, I want to be your friend. Can't we just start over?"

Santana's heart literally melted at hearing those words.
Touched and on the verge of tears, she opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly a car cut in front of them, which automatically forced her to slam on the breaks.

The vehicle behind them didn't have time to stop and crashed right into the rear of their car. Santana was thrown forward and hit her head on the wheel and was whiplashed back again, while Brittany brought her arms up to protect her face as she could feel herself being lifted from her seat and thrown out the front window.
Santana witnessed it all, her body went numb and her eyes closed as she fell into unconsciousness.

When she came to, all she could hear was sirens. Slowly she opened her eyes, and the flashing lights blinded her as she tried to regain focus. "Brittany?" she panicked.
Everything started to come back to her, the silent treatment, the speeding, the crash. Brittany. "Oh my god." Santana watched as the blonde was being lifted onto a stretcher.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, not caring that the necklace she was wearing got caught and ripped from her neck. For a second she looked down at the broken chain lying on the ground, contemplating on whether she should pick it up or not.
It had been a gift from Brittany and from the day she'd received it, Santana hadn't been seen without it, hell, she didn't even take it off when she showered. Right now, the necklace was the least of her worries, she thought and stumbled out of the car.

Medics were immediately at her side, wanting to tend to her wounds. "No, don't touch me. Leave me alone." She snapped. "Brittany? Let me go with her." The paramedic nodded, held out his hand and lifted her into the ambulance.

Brittany's eyes were closed, but Santana could tell she'd been crying. "Is she going to be okay?" she asked and looked down at the blonde. Her clothes were torn, shards of glass still pierced her skin at the knuckles, bruises and blood, cuts and scrapes.
Santana felt nauseous at the sight before her.
"Blood pressure's sinking. Blood pressure 60 over 40. Brittany, can you hear me?" Brittany coughed, gasping for air, as blood seeped out of her mouth, never once did she open her eyes, not wanting to see the damage, the piercing pain was enough. She put her hands on her stomach and pulled up what remained of her shirt. "My baby." She said. "Please, save my baby." Santana's eyes grew large and moist. She was paralyzed with fear, the silence wrapped around her like a cancer spreading through her body.
How could she not have known?