A hand struck out hard against Santana's face, the heaviness and sting forcing her to wake up. Her eyes shot open to find that Tina's arm had fallen on to her from the sofa just above where she was lying. With a small grunt, she repositioned herself out of reach, grumpily swatting Tina's hand away from her. She used her remaining momentum to sit up from the floor to look out at all the sleeping bodies currently occupying the Pierce living room. All the Glee club surrounded her, soundly asleep.
After the bonfire had ended and the crowd had dispersed, Susan had opened her door to them sensing their need to stick together for the night. It was true, nobody wanted to be alone just yet with them finding their comfort and strength in their solidarity as a group. The prospect of being left to their own thoughts was too difficult to stomach just now and it had lingered heavily in air as they all sat together to talk. Susan herself couldn't bare the idea of returning to her empty house, it was far too symbolic. She'd rather be surrounded with kids that were almost her own. It wasn't the same but it was something.
They'd slowly returned back to the house, their cars weaving through the town together like a procession. All ending up together at Susan's hadn't been planned- it was just the instinctive nature of their friendship that they'd be there for one another. They settled around the living room and chatted together into the small hours until the eventual exhaustion of travel and grief overcame them. Santana acknowledged sleep would have probably been harder to come by had she been by herself. She couldn't say her sleep had been peaceful though; it had been plagued by visions of her friend...so many questions.
Altogether, it had been an emotional night- more than anyone was really prepared for. Certain stories shared around the room made them laugh, others forced the room into a pensive silence.
"You and Brittany were still the best threesome I ever had." Puck could always be relied upon to break the tension with something entirely inappropriate. Even in his grief, he couldn't hide the obvious smug pride that formed his half grin. It wasn't until he caught the sight of Susan's eyebrows shooting right up to her hairline in embarrassed shock that he stopped smirking. Realising she was still in the room, he immediately turned bright red and his focus shifted quickly to his shoes. It earned him a quick fired pillow to the face from Quinn who was shaking her head in dissaproval. Artie gaped at him, not quite believing his friend thought that was an appropriate time to bring the threesome up- if ever. Thankfully, Kurt swooped in and saved the situation with his own stories from the time Brittany was his campaign manager. The era of the unicorn.
"It's strange to see everyone crashed out like this together without it coming with a raging hangover." A yawning voice pulled Santana out from her thoughts and the replays of last nights conversations. The owner of the voice shifted next to her. Mercedes had woken and was rubbing her eyes as she stretched her back, the floor not being the most comfortable sleeping place. Santana became aware of her own uncomfortable aches and joined in arching her back to stretch it.
"Yeah, for a second I thought we were just at another one of Puck's house parties. The fact we all still have our clothes on should have been a bit of a give away though." Santana couldn't even fake a chuckle as she made the weak joke. The reality of why they were really all there was creeping back in and Santana wrapped her arms around herself to keep off the cold it emitted. Mercedes observed her, carefully deciding on her next words. Since they flew in to Ohio together, they hadn't actually spoken much- if at all. She wanted to know how Santana was but knew the woman well enough to know the question must be grating by now. Santana sensed the hesitation as she watched her friends mouth open and close slightly a couple of times.
"Last night was intense, beautiful but intense. It almost feels like a dream...or a nightmare, I'm not sure." Her eyebrows creased as she tried to decide. Mercedes nodded, fully understanding what she meant. Schue had been quick to put together an evening in Brittany's memory but there was a niggling part of her that felt it may have been an awful lot, too much too soon. The news had barely gotten the chance to sink in, the town and her friends were still seeing stars from the shock of it all. Mercedes felt guilt rattling in her chest that Santana had been thrust into that without warning and she had let her.
"I should have given you a heads up. Tina pretty much got me involved the second we got into her car and it was all kinds of crazy. To be honest, I think people were just desperate for a distraction or something to occupy themselves with. You know, like staying busy would help them deal." Santana waved off her worries.
"It's fine, it was just a lot to take in at once." Her mind flickered back to the candles, the flowers, the film, the singing. A burn started to creep up behind her eyes and she knew she was on the edge of crying again. She inhaled deeply trying to fend any rogue tears off. She looked down when she felt a squeeze on her hand, Mercedes offered a small smile as Santana returned the gesture. Mercedes moved to wrap her arm around her friend and they both silently let the tears fall. Santana breathed in the scent of her friend and wished until it hurt her chest that it could be somebody else's.
"None of this seems real. How is this real?" Mercedes had no answer, no insight into how to make it all better, she could only pull Santana in tighter.
"I can't even try to understand how God-" Santana's head snapped up. Religion always came up as a raw nerve.
"God? Seriously Mercedes?" Santana detached herself from her friend, a feeling of anger spiking. "Don't turn this into some sort of divine act because that's bullshit, like it's Gods way."
Mercedes winced as she recognised the rising tone. It was once Snix the cheerleader, now she recognised it as more the ruthless lawyer that went straight for the jugular. Mercedes tried to clutch at the right thing to say as Santana created some distance between them.
"Well-"
"Who's up for breakfast?" Susan appeared in the doorway having spent the night in her own room. She faltered at the sight of Santana and Mercedes but quickly put on a warm smile, a delicate mask. She wanted them to believe she was okay but there was a hollowness in her smile and the rest of her face that revealed her secret and told Santana she'd barely slept. The night had been long and empty for Susan. Brittany's old room was just across from hers and the distance had been suffocating. Several times in the night had seen her get up and almost open the door before swiftly returning to her room, where the darkness was vast and consuming. Visions of the perfectly made bed that would always remain so plagued her as nightmares.
Santana could see it all on the woman, the dark circles under her eyes told stories of her pain. The bloodshot eyes betrayed the smiling façade, it killed Santana to see her trying so hard. She felt a duty to look after Brittany's mother. Forgetting Mercedes words, Santana swiped away at the few tears that were yet to make it to her chin. Sure she'd gotten them all, she plastered a small smile onto her face, replicating Susan's camouflage. She could be strong.
"How about I make us The Special?"
...
It was hard to imagine the once gleaming counters and shiny oven top when every surface had faced the tornado of Brittany Pierce making breakfast. If it wasn't covered in flour, it was coated in a sticky residue.
Santana woke when the smell of honey and bacon wafted teasingly up to her nostrils. It tickled her senses, lured her in and urged her to get up. The cold side of the bed told her enough to know it was Brittany was making breakfast which was a first. In all the years they'd known each other, they'd never made each other breakfast and the thought alone gave her a flutter of butterflies. She knew she shouldn't even be letting them take flight but she couldn't fight the thrill that this entirely domestic moment was giving her. She even allowed herself to wonder if this what their life together would be like. Unsure of whether she was meant to stay in bed or not, she decided it was easier to get up.
Softly padding down the stairs, she could hear sizzling and Brittany's soft voice singing to herself. Santana couldn't even stop the content sigh that slipped out of her, she was only glad that no one was around to be a witness to it. Regardless, she kept a smile on her face as she crossed the living space, humming along with Brittany. That was until she reached the kitchen and her eyes bulged at the sight.
"Brittany, what the fuck happened in here?" She couldn't believe that one 15 year old could make so much mess. She was pretty sure the orange mark now on the ceiling was egg yolk. Brittany whipped around quickly at her voice.
"No, no, no- you're not supposed to see this." She was clearly flustered as she stretched herself out as if it would block out the kitchen. "It's all a surprise. Come on." Her long legs strode over to Santana and she grabbed her arm to pull her along. Santana would have come along easier if she wasn't so fixated on the state of the kitchen, she couldn't take her eyes off of it. "Saaaan." The whine in Brittany's voice made Santana more submissive to being lead away.
"Britt, what is going on?" They were now in the dining room. Brittany pulled out a chair and waited for Santana to take her seat. Santana was still hesitant but took the chair anyway, out of intrigue if anything.
"Now that the mademoiselle is seated," Santana laughed at the questionable French accent. Brittany tried to scowl but was too busy trying to hold back her own giggle "...I will serve breakfast."
She brought through the bacon first, then the toast. Santana was just tucking in when Brittany came to place down a huge bowl of lucky charms, then waffles, then eggs...
The list of food continued until the dining table was bursting with food. Santana looked at it all and the accomplished look on Brittany's face. Santana watched the door expecting to be joined by at least another four people. No one joined them, this food was just for the two of them.
"Err Britt, what's with the buffet." There wasn't a single breakfast food unaccounted for. Brittany was piling the different flavours onto her plate, oblivious to Santana's bewilderment. She stopped as if she was genuinely contemplating Santana's question.
"I never know if breakfast should be salty or sweet or what you like so it was just safer to make it all. I call it The Special."
...
Susan remembered the time she'd returned home after Brittany had first made The Special, how she nearly cried when she saw the mess. Racoon's were close to being blamed until the scattered pans and cutlery across the counter mutinously gave the game away and told her that her daughter was the culprit. She'd dropped her bags to the floor and span around with every intention of confronting her daughter. She huffed all the way to the dining room with an exasperated, well practised speech itching on the tip of her tongue. She came through the door ready to march her daughter back in to the kitchen to sort the chaos she'd left, that was the plan at least. As soon as the door to the dining room opened, the anger left her as though it were sand falling between her fingertips. She observed the gaze Brittany had on Santana as her friend ate from various plates and Susan was struck instantly by its unflinching devotion. Brittany was barely touching her own plate, her focus completely swept up in her friend. Such a smitten, adoring smile. Susan connected all the dots and upon realising Brittany had done this all for Santana, she struggled to contain her own maternal elation. Her daughter was in love for the first time. With this revelation and a quick last glance back, she snook back into the kitchen to clean while the two girls ate.
"I'm glad to see you've gotten tidier at making this." Santana jumped, not realising Susan was in the room watching. She was just piling up the last of the waffles to take through to the group waiting. The 12 other food groups were already laid out and no doubt being demolished, largely by the boys. A sad smile crossed her face.
"I think we both know I wasn't the messy one. I could leave for 5 minutes and come back to a bomb site. It was almost a skill." Susan exhaled a laugh through her nose as she nodded in agreement.
"She was like a whirlwind, always tearing through the place. She was so quiet, it was the only way to really know she was even home." The kitchen was impeccable in comparison the states Brittany's turn as chef had previously left it in. Santana had learnt the art of washing as she went and she was incredibly grateful she had. If Brittany had been here to cook, the kitchen would look post-apocalyptic at this point. That alone created another looming ache in her chest as she looked at the already washed dishes; the kitchen should be a mess right now, it should be chaotic. Susan must have sensed Santana's train of thought or was on board herself for she was casting her own glances at the tidy work surfaces. When she eventually turned her back to rejoin the others, Santana flicked some left over yolk up on the ceiling- for old times sake.
The dining room was fairly sombre with the group eating in silence. The only sound to be heard was the occasional scrape of fork against plate as people picked at their food. Nobody knew what to say or what the appropriate way to act was. For the most part- without the gloss of the night before, everything was finally and painfully beginning to sink in. Every now and again, one of the girls would sniff before glancing around apologetically and returning focus back to their meal.
"This is really great Santana, thanks." Finn finally spoke up and his words brought out a few other muttered thank you's around the table. Santana looked across to see him smiling at her awkwardly, she returned with a grateful nod before stabbing through a waffle then deciding she wasn't actually hungry. This was horrible, the whole atmosphere was horrible. She couldn't stand the silence, the fragility. Susan had withdrawn into herself and nobody had anything to say. They didn't want to be apart but they all desperately needed some time alone. Santana now wanted to be alone.
"So, what is everyone doing today?" Only a couple of the club looked up from the their plates to consider Rory's question and a unsure shrug seemed the common response. Sam looked conflicted while he cleared his throat.
"I'm err, I'm going to see my Mom and Dad and maybe stay there for a bit." He bit the top of his lip nervously but Kurt nodded along in agreement.
"My Dad and Carol called to say they wanted me and Finn to go home for a bit," he eyed Susan cautiously before looking down at his plate and continuing softly "you know, with everything that's happened." His words seemed to pull Susan back into the room from wherever her mind had wandered and a thin smile graced her lips.
"Of course, it's only right that you should be with your parents right now. Let them hold you tightly."
A fork dropped onto a plate breaking the pregnant silence caused by Susan's words. A chair swiftly screeched across the laminate flooring filled the room causing everyone to snap their focus up to the source. Santana was on her feet, her eyes glossy and her chest heaving with the deep breaths she was trying to make. She couldn't be the strong one, she just couldn't. She became aware that everyone's attention was now fixed on her; the concern, the surprise, the pity. Everything began to shrink in and tighten around her.
"I can't do this." That was all she said as she fled the dining room. The rest of the Glee club threw anxious glances around one another, a silent conversation to decide who should go and follow her. Quinn moved to get up but Susan rose from her seat gently.
"You kids finish up your breakfast, I'll go and check on her." Quinn still tried to stand but Susan's palm placed on her forearm was enough of a signal for her to nod and place herself back in her chair.
Santana was pacing the front porch trying to catch her breath again. There was so much going on inside her, she wasn't sure if she was on the verge of a breakdown or seriously punching something. The atmosphere back inside had become too much for her, she felt the weight of everyone's pain looming over her. She didn't want to have to share her grief, her Brittany. That thought alone made her feel even worse; She had no right to think that, Brittany hadn't been hers for a very long time. So much time wasted, what she'd give to be able to see her again- to put right the mistakes they made. She would never get that chance. Her chest became more constricted and she fought to keep upright.
The wood of the decking creaked underneath Susan's weight. She didn't want to impose, she was witnessing a broken and exhausted woman.
"Santana?" Santana had been unaware of the company and jumped at the sudden presence of someone else. At seeing it was Susan, her tense shoulders slumped a little.
"I'm sorry Sue, I just-" She already felt bad for just running out as she had but he was barely able to talk with the pain in her chest.
"Shh, you just need to breathe." Santana began to even out and Susan was relieved to see some colour returning to her face. "You don't need apologise. Believe me, I understand." With what should have been a reassurance, Santana instantly began to feel guilty; her own pain dwarfed in comparison to a grieving mother. Susan seemed to sense this and she held up a hand as if to protest the very thought.
"We both loved her just as much and just as fierce, you do not need to feel bad." Susan took a gamble and stepped closer, cautious to not overcrowd the young woman. She wasn't prepared to have hazel orbs completely swallow her in and hold her there. They were trying to read her, to search right through her. Susan became lost in those eyes.
"What happened?" The question shattered the spell but Susan was unable to break free from the eye contact. She didn't answer straight away, taking a moment to consider her words and the weight of Santana's inquisitiveness. She tried to disguise the agony that filled her as she tortured herself with mental pictures and re-imaginings. She sought strength where she had none and all she could see was hazel. She collected her words carefully.
"I want you to go home. I want you to see your parents. When you have, then you can come back here. Then, we will talk about it." There was a finality that Santana didn't dare question, she could only weakly nod. Susan quickly pulled the girl into her arms for an embrace. Santana melted into the hug as she was greeted with the smell of a familiar perfume. The scent danced and teased her senses. It caused her to breath in and close her eyes, it almost tricked her. But she couldn't forget. Santana forced her eyes open, she broke the hug and she walked away to her car without saying a word.
Santana quickened her pace the more she could hear her name echo through the school halls. Her walk became a sprint as the voice, that voice, got closer and closer. She wasn't even sure where she was running but she couldn't stop, even when the calls following her became cries.
Her lungs begin to burn and she knew she must stop but it doesn't compare to the burning sensation left on her lips. She just kissed Brittany, in school.
She crashes through the doors that take her to the field and runs until she reaches the bleachers. A wave of nausea crashes over her and she bends to catch her breath and shake off the impulse to vomit. Her intakes are too short and sharp, her head spins from the lack of oxygen. Everything under the bleachers feels like it's throbbing around her.
Kissing Brittany wasn't exactly a revelation. Aside from the odd peck when they were younger, making out with each other had become a trusted party trick to lure boys in. That was Santana had told herself each time anyway. Things had started to shift though, things were different between them. This kiss was sober, this kiss had feelings. Her mother had seen it.
Santana could feel the acid rising up her throat as she tried to block out the haze of flashbacks: The kiss, so slow and tender only to be interrupted by the surprised gasp of Maribel Lopez. Looking wide-eyed and frantic between her best friend and her mother, Santana entered a dazed panic. She could only follow her instinct and that was to bolt.
She fled.
Santana imagined her mother and Brittany stood in the school waiting for her. Would her mother hate her now, would Brittany? Her chest constricted at the very idea of losing her Mom and the girl she loved. Loved? That word alone was enough for the world start to blacken around the edges as she forgot to breathe entirely.
A soft hand began rubbing up her back, bringing the world back in to focus.
"Breathe San, breathe." Brittany's voice steadied Santana's pulse, it became a motivation to breathe again. The bleachers resumed their normal shape and the strangling feeling in her stomach eased, if only a little.
"Please don't hate me!" Brittany looked puzzled by the outburst.
"Why, how could I ever hate you? It's just impossible. You are amazing." Santana soaked in her words and the sincerity that rang in them. Part of her wished Brittany wouldn't talk like that. Brittany wrapped herself tightly around Santana and began peppering her shoulders with light kisses. Santana shrugged her off before she could allow herself to enjoy the attention. The rejection stung Brittany and it showed in her pout.
"Britt, my Mom. She like, saw." The gravity of that fact poured over like new again. Her speech became rushed "She must be so angry. Was she upset? Did she say anything?"
Brittany could only shrug, guilty at not being able to offer much in the way of information.
"I'm not sure, I chased after you without really stopping to think or look." Santana bit her lip anxiously at the answer. "She just seemed, kind of surprised. Sort of like how you did when I kissed you in the woods for the first time."
Santana remembered their first kiss only too well but that didn't help her current situation. Brittany moved forward again but Santana again dodged her.
"Britt please, I can't right now." She had to plead, she was too afraid of what being in Brittany's arms would do to her, what it would reveal. Brittany's face hardened for a second until she just sighed. It sounded like a sigh that had been held in for a lot longer than just that day.
"I'm sorry your Mom saw us, really I am. I'm sorry that you felt like your only option was to run rather than talk about it. I'm sorry you are too afraid to be near me right now in case someone see's." Brittany took in a large breath before continuing, Santana watched bewitched having never hearing Brittany be so assertive before. " And I'm sorry that our great kiss had to be interrupted like that because I am not sorry it happened. I am not sorry that you kissed me or that I kissed you back because I like kissing you. I like kissing you Santana. I like you and I wont be sorry for that either."
Santana's mouth had fully dropped open by the time Brittany had finished. She threw herself into Brittany's arms and just breathed her in. Brittany held on to her tightly, occasionally rubbing circles into the small of her back. Santana felt like her insides were dancing, everything melted away. Everything but Brittany.
"I like you too" she managed to whisper into Brittany's ear.
The honking of a car pulled them out of each other and Santana knew it was her Mom. Brittany released her hold.
"Go home, speak to you Mom. When you have, come round to mine and we'll talk and cuddle okay?" None of this felt real to Santana, it was all too dream like. Brittany liked her, like actually liked her. She could only muster a small head movement to show that she'd heard. Unable to produce anything to say in response, she walked away to her mothers car without saying a word.
The car journey home took Santana back past McKinley High. Word must have spread through the rest of town, fresh new bouquets that weren't there the night before had been placed along the gates. Sunflowers became a theme throughout the town centre and right across the drive to Lima Heights. A lot of the local businesses had adopted the flower, Brittany's favourite, as a sign of respect. Living in a big city for so long, Santana had almost forgotten how tight knit a community Lima was. In times of need, it became a great support network and the citizens all stuck closely together. Seeing the huge blooms of sunflowers, she was grateful for it.
Mentally, she wasn't sure if she was ready to see her mother, or more specifically to be mothered. In her attempts to be a successful lawyer, her relationship had grown more distant with her family with the trips back becoming less frequent. She had partially expected to have seen her parents at the memorial, they didn't show. She wasn't disappointed, well that's a lie, she was but she was grateful to escape having to see her Mom look at her as if she was a tragedy.
Santana felt bad for snapping at Mercedes, she recognised she had over-reacted but something in what Mercedes said struck a chord with her, it cut away at her and it was a feeling she couldn't shake off.
Her car crept through her neighbourhood, the houses still as she remembered. As she rounded on her driveway, she spotted that her old basketball hoop was still fixed above the garage. She'd never been one for the sport but one day Brittany had a notion she'd like to be a professional like Michael Jordan. Susan said no so as per, Santana facilitated Brittany's fancies and persuaded her own parents that she loved basketball and wanted a hoop to practise. They obliged, happy that their daughters interest were extending beyond shopping and boys. Brittany's interest in the sport lasted only a day and the basket had been there ever since.
Santana parked up and surveyed the house in front of her. Being in the Pierce residence actually seemed easier, somehow. She pulled herself out of the vehicle and made heavy steps towards the front door. Should she knock? Should she just walk in? Waltzing in didn't sit right with her after living away from home for so long so she settled for ringing the bell. Pressing the button on what was once her own front door felt strange. She heard muffled voices from further on in the house so she knew that somebody was home. She glanced up at her bedroom window as she waited but quickly looked away as she remembered the amount of times she had opened that window to Brittany.
"Oh Santana!" As quick as that, Santana was engulfed in flying arms. She hadn't even heard the door open. "Marco, Santana is here." Santana had little chance to think before those same arms were guiding her through the house. Eventually her Mom let her go and took a step back to look at her daughter. Before Santana had chance to predict it, Maribel's face was grief stricken. Her father appeared in the door frame sharing a similar expression to his wife. He crossed the room quickly to wrap his arms around his daughter and for perhaps the third time that day, Santana broke.
"Baby, I am so sorry." Marco held Santana tighter as she cried into his arms, Maribel was standing by them batting away her own tears.
"Quinn called us yesterday." Maribel's voice wobbled so Marco opened his arms to her too. Maribel had always been so incredibly fond of Brittany so when she'd found out that Santana was in love with her best friend, she'd been delighted. Now her heart broke for her daughter.
Marco rubbed the backs of both his daughter and his wife trying to soothe their pain.
...
Santana had fallen asleep in Marco's arms. She lay peacefully and he softly stroked her hair as she did, urging her to sleep just a little while longer. Maribel watched from an opposing sofa at her daughter. The couple occasionally shared glances; looks of sadness, looks of worry and just once, a look of relief to have their daughter back home. Marco let Santana lie there curled up against him for three hours until she began to stir.
She hadn't realised she'd even fallen asleep but when she found herself with her father, for the first time in what felt a long time, a feeling of warmth filled her.
"Would you like something to eat or drink sweetie?" Santana lifted herself from her fathers arms and looked across at her mother. Even though she'd slept, she still felt drained.
"Maybe some water? I don't have much of an appetite just yet." Marco squeezed her arm in understanding while Maribel got up for the kitchen.
"Did you sleep okay?" Santana stretched out her back and a yawn escaped.
"Yeah, sorry if you have a dead leg." Marco chuckled lightly but there was still concern apparent in his face.
"If sleep becomes a problem-"
"I will pay you a visit, I promise." Marco nodded, sensing to let the subject go. Maribel arrived with a jug of water and poured for the pair.
"I still can't believe it. What Susan must be going through." Santana thought back to Susan being by herself, how vacant she appeared at breakfast.
"I think I'll probably stay there again tonight." She ignored the obviously concerned expression that flashed across her fathers face. "She really needs someone." Maribel's expression matched her daughters and she nodded in agreement. Marco cleared his throat unsure of what he was about to say.
"Are many of the glee kids coming back?" Santana was fairly certain her parents would already know the answer from speaking with Quinn. Her eyebrow raised.
"You know they put on a huge memorial service last night right? You know I was there with them all?" Both her parents looked at the floor, telling Santana everything. Lima was too small a town for them not to know and their families were too close for them not to have heard.
"We did." Marco didn't try to hide the shame in his voice with his reply. Santana sat slightly crestfallen by the admission. Part of her had hoped that maybe someone had forgot to tell them, that it was perhaps just a communication mishap. She couldn't hide the sting.
"And you didn't go?" She didn't want to snap but she couldn't help it, she couldn't hide that it hurt. "You didn't think I might have needed you there? That Susan might have needed her friends?" The last question was more targeted at Maribel but Marco still looked too ashamed to reply. If Santana was honest, she hadn't actually given her parents much thought last night but in the face of it now, she reflected how they should have been there for her, for Brittany.
"Your father was away last night with work when Mr Schuester called to let us know. He got in first thing this morning on the first flight he could but it was too late by then. I- well I just couldn't make it." Santana turned to her mother in confusion. Brittany had been like a second daughter to her, how could she state so casually that she couldn't make it?
"Couldn't make it? This wasn't brunch or like missing a hair appointment. " The betrayal rang out in her voice. Maribel turned away, not able to look Santana in the eye. From the conflicted, blaming glance she briefly shot at her husband, it was clear to Santana that not being able to go wasn't a decision her mother had made for herself. Under the new scrutiny of his daughter, Marco lowered his head. He flipped his hand into the air. Maribel took this as a signal. When she spoke next, it was little above a whisper.
"Alma." Whatever pieces remained of Santana's heart shattered with the mention of that one name. The grandmother that had rejected her for being gay.
"Abuela?" Her voice choked out the title. Alma had moved into a granny flat built onto the house a few years back. As she grew older, dementia had taken its toll. For all her faults, Marco could not see his mother put into a home so they took her in. This was part of the reason Santana stopped coming home. While a lot of Alma's memories had been lost to the disease, her Catholic conviction had not.
"She wasn't doing so well yesterday, wandering about the house as if she was 60 again. I always need to keep an eye on her or she can just vanish. Only last week we found her in the street preaching at a gang of teenagers. If I was to go last night, I would have had to have brought her with me and God only knows what that woman-" Maribel couldn't even finish the sentence as she struggled with the last of her words. She hated herself for having to put Alma first, she said as much in muttered Spanish that only she could hear.
"Your mother was afraid she'd make a scene with her...conservative views. She didn't want Alma to take last night away from you." Guilt was evident in the way Marco's head hung. While he hated the way his mother treated his daughter, how she hid behind her faith, he was still unable to abandon her. As a result, he carried the burden of her convictions and felt responsible for all she inflicted on the family. He'd had to beg Maribel not to leave his mother alone in the house last night. He knew what it would mean but still, he asked it of his wife.
Santana could not feel sorry for her father at this time. Mercedes' earlier words crept up on her again stirring the same anger as earlier. It began to fog her vision, she could hear her grandmother's voice from years ago; how she was living a sinful life, how God would judge her. How there was only one place for girls like her.
"Is she here now?" It was more rhetorical, she didn't wait for an answer. Before either parent could move to stop her, Santana was storming through the house and towards Alma's living quarters. She wasn't sure what she was doing but it felt like she'd lost control of her body, of her senses. Thrusting the door open, she found her grandmother in her armchair watching daytime television. She slammed the door shut behind her.
"ABUELA!" Alma jumped at the new voice in her room, startled by the volume. "Well it seems all your praying and wishing came true, congratulations." Santana made her way further into the room, her words dripping in scorn.
"Who are you?" Alma squinted as she struggled to place the familiar face. This didn't deter the younger woman. Santana felt the years of rejection flow out from her.
"You always told me I was living a sin and that God would punish me for it." Alma tried to shrink back as Santana advanced on the old lady.
"What do you want?" Alma became distressed as the stranger towered over her.
"He did it abuela. He took her away. He took my soulmate." Hot tears coated Santana's face as she spoke with venom and grief. "I suppose you would call her my abomination though wouldn't you?" Santana tried to retain her stance but her lip quivered the more she spoke.
"What- what is going on?" Alma was still battling to make sense of this situation. The confusion of it all scared her.
"Brittany abuela, he took her from me. She's dead." Santana's face distorted in pain and she grabbed the arms of Alma's chair, trapping her grandmother in. "So you got what you wanted in the end. Brittany is dead. God punished me and he took her away from me. You win!"
"Santana, enough!" Marco tried to intervene but Maribel held onto his arm to stop him from grabbing their daughter. Santana collapsed into a heap at her grandmothers feet. It was all so exhausting. The anger began to warp into fear, a fear she'd held onto since this morning.
"Is she going to hell abuela, is she? Did God really hate us for loving each other enough to do that?" Santana's whole body shook. She took her grandmothers hands into her own. "Is Brittany in hell?"
Maribel crumbled as she watched the scene with her mother-in-law and daughter. Marco looked on with a pained expression as Alma tried to make sense of the puzzle that the situation was to her. She tried to remove her hands from Santana's grasp but found that the grip tightened.
"Is she in hell?"
"Marco? Marco?" Alma looked around frantically looking for her son. "This woman, who is she? What is she talking about? Make her stop!" The wail that left Santana next came from the very depth of her. She let got of her grandmothers hands and retreated back away from her but remained on the floor. Marco took the chance to go and comfort and reassure his mother. Santana watched the older woman fret in her chair, the woman that judged her, the woman that cast her out. Her shoulders shook until she felt her mothers arms snake around them.
"Come on sweetheart." Santana could only stare at her grandmother, who was looking at her with the wide eyes of someone watching a snake about to strike. Santana sat for a moment longer until she allowed herself to be lead away. As she passed her father, he stopped for a moment to apologise.
"I'm sorry Santana." He placed a hand on her other shoulder. When it was apparent he wouldn't get a response, he grimaced while turning back to see to his mother and soothe her.
Santana didn't look back at her grandmother, she just allowed her mother to pull her away from the room.
The last of the trip to her parents had been relatively silent. Santana's father had stayed with Alma just to be sure she was okay. Santana had been in a catatonic like state.
"I don't know what to do, she's just sat there...I'd say it's been over an hour since she moved last...I'd appreciate that, thank you." Maribel hung up on the kitchen phone and made her back to the living room where her daughter was still sat, unmoving.
"Would you like anything to eat baby?" Silence. "Perhaps a strong sweet tea?" Silence. Maribel ran her hands through her hair, frantically trying to think of something to draw her daughter out. "Would you like to talk about Brittany?" She was certain the name would be enough to trigger some sort of response but it did nothing. Her words bounced off her daughter as if they were made of rubber.
Maribel was grateful when there was eventually a soft knock at the door, it gave her something to do.
"Is she still the same?"
"Yes. Please come through." Maribel lead Quinn further into the house. Quinn wasn't sure what to expect, she only knew what Maribel had told her and that Santana had shut her family out. She flinched at the sight in front of her. Santana was sat perfectly still, her face passive and her eyes completely glazed over. She watched for five minutes and became certain she hadn't even seen her friend blink.
"Thanks for calling me, I've been worried since she left Britts." Quinn caught herself as she said it, still not quite ready to put her old friend in the past tense.
"It's good to see you Lucy, thank you for coming." Quinn felt herself smile softly at the use of her old name. Only Santana's mother had refused to call her by any other, adamant that the young girl had never not been beautiful. She allowed herself to be pulled into a hug and found herself to be returning it.
"Has Marco looked at her?" Maribel sighed heavily shaking her head.
"He feels so responsible. He said if she stays like this much longer, we might have to take her into his hospital." Maribel started to sob and it was Quinn's turn to pull the other woman into a hug.
"It wont come to that, I promise." She glanced over at her friend who hadn't changed. She tried to put all her faith into her words but she wasn't so sure.
Santana was somewhere else.
"Say it again?" Brittany was hopping up and down on the bed on her knees.
"Briiiiitt." Santana was trying to feign annoyance but her smile gave her away. Even if she wasn't smiling, she was sure her eyes would give her away. Brittany put on her trademark pout and shuffled closer to Santana.
"Please?" Santana could only let out a laugh. It was disarming to her how easily she'd become wrapped around the blonde girls finger. She let out a huff as she rolled her eyes, again not meaning any of it.
"Fine." She got up on her own knees so she was level with her friend. The way Brittany looked at her caused her to gulp at first. "I- err".
"You're not shy are you Miss Lopez?" Brittany smirked as Santana scowled.
"Of course I'm not!" She didn't tell Brittany that her stomach was currently on its hundredth somersault.
"So what are you waiting for?" Santana closed her eyes lightly and took in a deep breath.
"I like you." Brittany squealed and fell back on to the bed.
"Say it again!" Santana grinned.
"I like you." Brittany shimmied into her duvet at hearing the words again.
"One more time?" Santana threw herself back down on to the bed so she was lying next to the other girl. Brittany's voice became softer. "One more time San?"
Santana pulled herself in closer until they were nose to nose.
"I like you Brittany Pierce."
"Like, *like* like me?" Santana laughed at the girls ridiculousness and ran a thumb across her cheek.
"Yes, I *like* you." Brittany hummed at the words as if she had never heard them before.
"I *like* you too Santana Lopez." She kissed the Latina's nose and pulled her further into her arms. Santana couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
"It's been four hours, maybe we should take her to the hospital?" Maribel held tightly to Marco's arm as they both observed Quinn attempt to talk to her friend.
"Just give me a little more time to talk to her, please?" Quinn implored to them. "Please."
Maribel seemed to disagree and looked up to Marco desperately seeking his guidance on the matter. He nodded at Quinn. Maribel's face fell dumbfounded so he kissed her forehead as reassurance.
"One more hour. If she is still like this, we will take her in." Quinn smiled gratefully for the compromise and the extra time.
"Please San, this is hard enough as it is. Snap out of it." She squeezed her friends hand hoping to feel something back. Nothing.
"It's like she can't hear us at all." Quinn was becoming more frustrated the more worried she was.
"It might be an idea to carry her to her room?" Marco offered, the blonde contemplated the proposal.
"Do you think it might help?" Marco didn't look too confident in the idea but he was running out of them.
"The change in surroundings? Being in a safe space, it might help?" That was enough for Quinn to agree with.
Marco gently picked his daughter up in his arms to take her upstairs. Quinn couldn't help but break at the sight of her friend so lifeless being carried away. Her eyes, she almost looked...
"Marco, maybe you should call ahead at the hospital? See if there is a bed for her?" Marco agreed as they made their way through the house. Both were becoming more and more certain they themselves were not enough. He placed Santana delicately as he could down on the bed.
"I'll go and do that now." He looked at his daughter, reluctant to leave the room. "If anything changes-"
"I will shout, I promise." Marco left to phone the hospital where he worked, Quinn made herself comfortable beside her friend. She'd concentrated so much on monitoring Santana for change, she'd barely paid attention to the room. It was when she became aware of a familiar shade of purple she glanced up. Quinn couldn't hold in the gasp as she did. The room had remain unchanged from when they left high school. The same furniture and posters adorned the space. The dresser still had some of the old perfumes they wore in their teens. She laughed at the tackiness of them. On the far side of the room sat a desk, scattered across that desk were picture frames. Even the wall behind the desk has photos unevenly tacked to it.
She got up from her place beside her friend and gently tread across the carpet. Gingerly, she picked up each of the frames. There were pictures from Glee, of Santana's family and nested in the middle was a picture of the unholy trinity on their first day in the Cheerios. She stroked the glass as she remembered that first day, how shit scared they all had been. The other girls were bigger, meaner and determined to wear them down. They found their place though and in time they became the bigger, meaner girls. Except Brittany, never Brittany. She put down the frame and turned her attention to the wall. She ran her fingers across the curling corners and tried to fix them into place. As she roamed across, she noticed she began to fade out of the photo's and they became of just Brittany and Santana. They were always laughing and smiling, sometimes at the camera, sometimes more intimately. There was a time where this wall would give Quinn a pang of jealousy, not now. Especially not now. Her eyes landed on a picture that was hanging crookedly as the tac wore off. Brittany was nuzzled into Santana and Santana was beaming. Quinn never saw her friend so happy. She took it from the wall and observed it closely. They were so content. She flipped the picture and Santana had scribbled down the date and location. It was their senior year just before Nationals. At the bottom of the picture was something else though.
I think I will love you forever
- B xxx
Quinn took in a sharp intake of breath and proceeded to put the picture back where she found it. She felt liked she'd snooped on something incredibly private and personal. As she stuck it back on to the wall, one more picture caught her eye though and stopped her returning back to Santana's side. It was from when she had first gone to Santana's house, they must have been six? Brittany had invited her. It was the same day Brittany declared they would be best friends forever. Quinn couldn't resist seeing if anything had been scrawled on to the back of this one.
Our perfect little family.
It was only brief but it was enough for Quinn's breathing to start to shake. Brittany had been so happy that day believing the friendship between the three was the most magical thing in the world. Brittany always had the ability to make anything feel magical. You didn't have to be in love with her to know that.
Bzzzzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Quinn swiftly wiped at her nose and face as the buzzing sound of something vibrating filled the room. She looked around curiously until she spotted a phone moving across the dresser with each burst. Before she could really think about what she was doing, she had crossed the room and answered it. Stunned at her hasty decision, she stuttered a greeting into the phone. Why had she answered Santana's phone?
"H-hello?"
"Do I pay you to ignore my calls?" Quinn frowned in confusion, startled by immediate aggression.
"I don't understand?" was all she could just about verbalise. Why had she answered this call?
"That'll be the immigrant in you. Where are you on my son's case?" Quinn couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her stuttering demeanour quickly bowed out for her icier persona to step in.
"Speak to me like that again asshole and I will take this phone and make it an immigrant up somewhere you wont want." She abruptly ended the call as she heard the male's voice bawk on the other end. "What a douche." She looked down at the phone in disbelief. It wasn't her wittiest line but she'd been too riled and her Head Bitch In Charge had been dormant for too long.
Bzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzz Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. The guys nerve!
"You really want it shoved up you a-?" She sneered down the phone.
"Quinn?" Quinn's eyes bulged as she recognised the voice on the other end.
"Susan? Susan! Sorry, mistaken identity." She scrunched up her face and cursed at herself internally.
Maribel walked into the room at that point. Seeing Quinn's scrunched up face, she silently asked who was on the phone. She mouthed Susan in reply. Maribel looked panicked for a second before motioning to Santana and putting a finger to her mouth. She didn't want her to tell Susan. Quinn put her hand up to let Maribel know she understood and she wouldn't.
"Oh, right. This is Santana's phone though?" Susan sounded confused, Quinn remembered she wasn't actually on her phone.
"It is, she just couldn't answer it." Too honest Quinn, too honest. Her grip tightened on the phone. The last thing Susan needed was this.
"She couldn't?" Susan's voice stopped sounding so distant and more invested in the conversation.
"Err..." Quinn tried to think of an excuse. The bathroom, say the bathroom. "Err..." Smooth Fabray, real smooth.
"Is she okay?
"Err..." Quinn wanted to kick herself. Thousands of dollars spent on a Yale education studying English and this is what it got her? Maribel put her finger to her mouth again.
"Quinn?" Susan sounded more demanding, more like a mother. Quinn sighed with resignation. She mouthed an apology to Maribel.
"Santana got herself into a state when she got home. She's sort of, shut down?"
When she finally put down the phone, she was exhausted. She vowed to never answer a phone again.
"Susan is on her way, I'm sorry- I couldn't lie to her." Maribel just motioned for her to sit next to her. Once she did, she was pulled into an embrace and Quinn soon relaxed. Maribel started stroking through her daughters hair, under her breath she was whispering prayers.
"How are you Lucy?" The question stumped her.
"I- I don't know." Truthfully, since landing back in Lima she'd made everyone else's welfare her priority. Every now and then, something would creep in around the edges but she'd shut it off and find something to do. Her upbringing had made her very good at bottling her feelings up. Soft lips kissed the side of her head and the lid on that bottle felt a little looser. The hand that started to stroke through her own hair almost burst the dam.
"We've all drifted into our new lives but I always felt that we'd come back together again." She allowed her tears their freedom this time. "We'd be at each others weddings, have kids- our kids would grow up as friends. We'd be the unholy trinity right to the end with our walking frames. Silly little daydreams really but I thought that's how it would be."
She reached out for Santana's hands, observing how much this had destroyed her already, sure she'd probably had her own daydreams too.
"This isn't how it was supposed to be for us."
Santana remembered the very first time she'd seen Brittany Pierce. It wasn't in school like her parents would say in their stories. It was before that.
It was the day her minder took her to the park. It wasn't a gesture of kindness, the minder knew the house had camera's so the park was the only place she could bring a child and hang out with her boyfriend. It was a routine Santana had become familiar with. It was a routine she had hated. Instead of being let out of her seat to climb the frames or play on the slides, she was kept strapped in. Her minder didn't want to have to look out for her, she only wanted her boyfriend.
Every day, Santana would huff and kick in her chair trying to break free but she couldn't.
When all else failed, she cried, she cried until her throat hurt.
"Can't you shut her up?" The boyfriend viewed Santana with disgust as he kissed along his girlfriends neck on the bench. Santana chose to be particularly relentless that day. Her minder rocked the buggy hoping it would help. It just annoyed Santana more. Her cries got louder. The boyfriend gave up and crossed his arms sulkily. The minder looked desperate to win him back round.
"Fine, go and play!" She unbuckled the buggy and roughly pulled Santana out from it. Santana couldn't quite believe it at first thinking it was a kind of trick. She'd never been allowed to play before. She cautiously glanced back but her minder was already busy with that boy. Santana turned back to the park. Now it was open to her, it scared her. There was so much to do and kids were everywhere. She'd took another glance back to be sure she wouldn't get in trouble, the minder wasn't even watching her.
She could still remember the feel of the soft bark under her feet, how it made her unbalanced and wobbly on her feet but she got used to it.
Making small steady steps, she moved further into the park. She was cautious of the other kids, she'd never socialised like this before. She double checked back to the buggy- they were talking now, it looked like they were arguing. Santana rolled her eyes, this was all part of the routine.
"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Santana stopped in her movements towards the slide and she span herself round. As she did, she saw a bright burst of blonde hair flying up towards the sun. Santana's heart stopped as she saw the girl swing back down safely. Once she was ground level, Santana could see the other girls face more clearly. It was made from one huge smile. Santana found herself smiling just looking at her. The girl whooshed back through the air and Santana tensed praying she wouldn't fall off. Again, the girl swung back down safely and Santana let out the breath she'd been holding. As the blonde girl giggled, so did she. Santana felt no need to play on the slide an ymore, she wanted to keep watching, to make sure the girl made it back down okay.
The girls blue eyes momentarily caught Santana's and Santana felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. It was only a passing moment though as the girl swung back high into the air. Santana wanted to be up there with her, where the sun made her shine. She didn't know much about poetry at that age but she thought this girl looked like the angel her family put on top of the Christmas tree. Maybe if she could get on the other swing?
Arms suddenly yanked Santana up from the ground startling her. She kicked out but the hands just smacked at her legs. The arms were tight, too tight. They carried her away from the swings. She fought but the arms were too strong. She finally wriggled to see that the blonde girl had left the swings and was stood watching her. Santana wanted to run over but every time she tried to break free, the arms got stronger.
Worn out from fighting, Santana surrendered to her minder and let herself be strapped back into her buggy. Her minder was crying too. Santana didn't care. As she was pushed out of the park, she risked a glance out and saw a small hand waving goodbye.
Susan asked to be alone with Santana. Nobody argued.
She sat on the bed and merely stared at her for the longest time. Partially, this was because she wished she could do the same. She wanted to just be able to stop. She wanted to lie still and let all of this wash by. She wanted to be numb to it. Her day had been filled with visitors telling her how wonderful her daughter had been. Any parent would be proud but she just wanted it all to stop. Perhaps she could lie with Santana and they could both remain like that and they would never have to feel.
No.
The same voice that had gotten her through the day. She wasn't sure if it was even hers. It was the voice that told her to fight on. It was the voice that told her she could help Santana.
She knew she could. She had to brave. She had to be strong.
"She was in a car accident. It was her girlfriend that gave the police my number." She winced as she said 'girlfriend'. Susan knew it would hurt to hear, it hurt to say but it was necessary for disclosure. She let the voice give her the power to speak.
"It wasn't a rainy day so the roads were dry. It hadn't been dark so there was enough light. It was a lovely day, a perfect day." If Santana could hear her, she wasn't making it known. Susan continued.
"They think it was a cat or something that ran into the road. She'd swerved to avoid it anyway." Susan replayed the phone call she'd received in her head. The man told her so matter of a factly, so void of emotion. She tried to channel him now, wondering if it made it easier to say.
"Her car was recovered from the water. She'd drove it into the water." Susan dabbed at at her eyes, her hands visibly shaking under the weight of what she was saying. In the end, she gave up trying to stop the tears.
"They say she tried to swim but I know that was just to be nice, to make it less hopeless. Brittany never learnt to swim."
Susan paused as she tried to fight off the mental images her mind created to torture her with. Her body twitched as she closed her eyes. She could see her daughter alone and scared in the water while it rushed in around her. She wanted to reach out, to be able to save her. She wanted to be able to pull her baby to safety but all she could see was a cold face in the water.
Susan felt the bed move underneath her, it pulled her back to the now. Santana's body was trembling, she'd been listening. Susan didn't say a word, even when she heard the whimper she remained silent. She lay down with her and held the woman from behind. Together, they wept.