A/N: Warnings for this chapter and the whole fic. Please be aware this is not my usual comedy fic. PM me if you want to know more before reading. Please note that I've changed the name in part 3 of Patrice Saint-Clair to Jesse Saint-James.
Thanks for reading and reviewing. Thank you to Lulu as always.
I wasn't going to end this part here but I want to rewrite the ending.
Part 4
From across the street Brittany watched the party in full swing at the address Will had kindly given them after being gently persuaded to help. She adjusted her binoculars to focus in on the people visible through each window searching for the lucky Jesse Saint-James whose acquaintance she could hardly wait to make. Eventually she sighted him through a large window talking to a few dark suited men who appeared rather grim faced for supposedly happy party guests. She swung her gaze around to zoom in on Santana who was walking up to security on the front door trying to give the impression of a swaggering tit headed police officer. Brittany observed her as she reached into her jacket and pulled out Will's official ID card. The security man read the card carefully then flipped it over to the photo side. A photo of Santana looked back at him. If he had been slightly smarter he may have noticed that Santana appeared to be wearing the same clothes in the photo as she had on now but he let her pass inside with a disinterested dismissal.
Brittany looked around once more for Saint-James and had to quickly adjust the focus once she realised they were still optimised for ogling Santana's ass. She put the bins away and made her way around the side of the property where Santana was waiting to crack open a window to let her in.
They wandered through the lavishly decorated rooms of well dressed and well inebriated guests, Brittany reaching out and plucking a champagne flute from the tray of a passing waiter. She took a sip and offered Santana a drink. With a smile, she declined.
As they worked through the groups of people looking for Saint-James Brittany recognised the familiar sensation of Santana's hand hovering near her lower back, guarding and guiding her through the crowd. Santana probably didn't even realise she was doing it.
They made their way up the wide set staircase to a higher level overlooking the main room. People leaned over the stone bannister peering down at the people below, expensive drinks in their hands whilst making idle conversation. A happy façade to mask the true purpose of the gathering.
"There." Brittany said, looking over Santana's shoulder at the furthest area of the landing where she could see Saint-James opened a door. She glimpsed a man acting in some kind of a sentry role through the door, a wire was visible running behind his ear. Saint-James exchanged a few words with him and then exited the party as the door closed behind the both of them.
With a flourish Santana opened the door and stepped smartly in front of the startled sentry with a charming smile.
"Can I help you?" he asked, politely.
"Yes. I'm here to see Mr Saint-James," Santana said smoothly.
"May I have your name, please?"
Santana held up her ID card for the second time. The man peered at the name and then checked it against a list of names he held on a clipboard. While he busied himself Santana glanced up to watch the elevator indicate it was about to return from its visit to level minus one.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. Your name is not on the list," the man said.
"Oh," Santana looked puzzled. "Could you check again?," she asked politely.
Dutifully, the man looked down again. As he did so the elevator doors behind him opened and Santana jabbed him sharply in the chest shoving him backwards into the empty carriage. He froze at the feeling of a pistol digging in his gut hidden from view under his clipboard. She spun him around with a hand to his shoulder and cracked the butt of her gun onto the back of his neck. Brittany stepped in behind them before the doors could close and under Santana's instruction she pressed the button for the underground level.
They stood in a bemused silence over the unconscious body as elevator music assaulted their ears.
"What is this?" Santana asked, sounding horrified.
"I think it's 'Run Joey Run?'" Brittany frowned, listening carefully.
"Yet another crime against humanity," Santana muttered darkly.
The doors opened and they peered out cautiously into an empty marbled corridor. Brittany stepped out with her sidearm drawn while Santana huffed and puffed as she dragged the unconscious body out of the elevator by the feet.
"Don't worry, Britt," she puffed heavily. "I'll do it."
Brittany cracked a sunny smile, and rather a smug one too Santana thought, as she held open a door to a cupboard full of cleaning supplies for Santana to stuff the man into. Brittany shut the door and smirked as Santana adjusted her jacket and cricked her neck.
"I knew you had it under control."
Warily they made their way down the dully lit hallway dotted with dark wooden doors, their highly polished veneers belying their expense. Muted male voices could be heard behind the doors but they couldn't make out any of the words clearly. They turned a corner to find another stretch of hallway with the same furnishings and doors. A door clicked behind them and they turned to see a waiter step in their direction balancing an iced bottle of champagne on a tray.
"May I help you?" he asked them, curious to find two women wandering the halls.
"You certainly can," Brittany said with a flirty smile as she eyed him up and down.
Santana's jaw dropped open as Brittany stepped out from the door the waiter had originally appeared from dressed in her newly acquired white shirt, black bow tie and smart white waiters jacket. She regained her senses finally noticing that Brittany was now standing right in front of her and tried to focus for a moment on adjusting Brittany's bow tie.
Suddenly, Brittany shoved Santana away from her and she stepped back even further to conceal herself behind the corner as the door next to them opened and a man in a black suit with a slicked back ponytail stepped out into the hall closing the heavy door behind him.
"Your champagne, sir?" Brittany announced, quickly setting the tray on a small table next to the room.
"Yes, I will take it," he said in thickly accented English.
Brittany calmly removed the ice bucket from the tray and calmly threw the remaining metal disc like a Frisbee straight into the man's throat. As he stumbled back Santana wrapped her arm around his neck and continued to help hinder his breathing until he went limp in her arms. She looked up at Brittany who was looking at her expectantly.
"Why do I always have to do it?" Santana whined.
"I don't want to mess up the tux. It's hot!"
"Fine, but don't go in there without me," Santana scowled and began to drag away another heavy dead weight. What did these people eat? Oh yes, that was it, they fed off the misery and despair of others.
Brittany restocked the tray once more with the champagne and then with a quick glance in the direction Santana had left, entered the room the man had exited from.
In the small darkened room a lone man sat with his back to the door, a notebook on his lap, and on the small table next to him his hand rested next to a large red button. Brittany shut the door behind her and took a step closer to the curly haired man as he pushed the button beside him. Brittany stared out of the large window the man was facing at the front of the room through which she could see a scantily dressed girl standing alone on the middle of a spotlit stage.
As she stared a woman's voice came through over a loudspeaker.
'I have fifty thousand. Fifty thousand.'
The girl pushed her hair out of her eyes and turned around on the spot, appearing dazed and unsure of where exactly she was. She squinted at the invasive bright light shining directly in her face.
Brittany's brow furrowed at the sight of the unknown girl standing there in her underwear. Surrounding the stage more windows were visible with men sat behind them all watching the unwitting girl. Brittany's heart almost stopped as she realised what she was witnessing. A human auction.
In the room opposite she could see a man press on of the red buttons and straight after the voice over the speaker announced.
'One hundred thousand. One hundred thousand.' Then, seconds later. 'One hundred and fifty thousand.'
Brittany looked away as the girl looked around confusedly. She put down the champagne, the ice cubes clinked as she pulled the bottle out of the ice bucket.
'I have one hundred and fifty.'
"Your champagne, sir,' she said quietly, holding the bottle next to the man so he could see the label.
She eyed his greasy black curly hair and eyebrows big enough to sink the Titanic. He ignored her for a moment intent on the bidding.
'Two, I have two.' He pressed the button again. 'Two hundred and fifty.'
"May I serve?" Brittany asked him.
"Yes," he snapped with a flick of his wrist, irritated by the interruption. His eyes never left the girl he was bidding on. That was just as well or the look of loathing on Brittany's face would have caused him immediate alarm.
'Two hundred and fifty,' the speaker repeated.
On stage the girl staggered trying to keep upright. It was clear to Brittany she had been heavily drugged to keep her docile.
'Sold for two hundred and fifty thousand.'
Brittany watched as a handler came to lead the girl off the stage as she was obviously incapable of doing it herself. Meanwhile the man with the massive eyebrows picked up his phone and dialled. She placed his glass of Champagne on the table next to him as he began to speak hurriedly in Arabic.
The man hung up as a spotlight lit up the stage again capturing Brittany's attention. Again, a woman's voice came over the speaker.
'The last item. As usual, we save the best 'til last.'
Eyebrows downed his champagne in one gulp and handed the glass back without even looking at Brittany. She snatched the glass off him.
They both looked up at the words coming over the speaker.
'Speaks English, some French. Certified pure.'
Brittany busied herself refilling the glass as the last girl for the night was led out hidden under a large flowing cloak with a hood covering her face. She watched and poured as the handler pulled the hood off the girl's head.
Eyebrows gasped as Brittany spilt champagne all over him.
"Sorry," she muttered not sounding sorry at all.
"Get out!" He snapped at her.
Brittany ignored him, glancing over at the unmasked girl who had her back to them. She was dressed only in lingerie, her hair was loose and covered her face so Brittany couldn't identify her.
'The bidding will begin at one hundred thousand.'
The girl fumbled her footing and turned to steady herself her face finally visible to Brittany.
'One hundred thousand.'
Everything stopped.
Brittany couldn't breathe. Her heartbeat was the only noise she could make out in the world as it thundered in her ears. In front of her eyes Sugar was slowly turning around trying to figure out where she was, dazed under the blinding spotlight. Brittany could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
'One hundred thousand.'
"I told you to-" Eyebrows began shout at Brittany.
"I heard what you said," Brittany spat viciously at him. She shoved the muzzle of her gun pressed into his cheek until he sat back down.
"Buy her," she commanded him.
'I have one hundred thousand.'
Eyebrows hesitated.
"Buy her," Brittany growled at him unhappy to be repeating herself and jabbed the gun harder at him. He pressed the button.
'One hundred and fifty.'
Almost immediately the bid increased.
'Two hundred.'
She cocked the gun and he quickly pressed the button again.
'Two hundred and fifty.'
Another bidder put it up again straight away to three hundred then Eyebrows bid three hundred and fifty thousand as he wisely hit the button again without further prompting.
'Four.'
Brittany watched Sugar standing out there looking lost and forlorn and frowning as she tried to clear the fog in her head brought on from the drugs in her system.
'Four hundred and fifty.'
Brittany shoved the gun in the man's face so hard it left an indent in his cheek. He gritted his teeth and resisted, refusing to bid again. Brittany leaned over and pressed the button for him.
'Five hundred. Five hundred thousand.' The voice over the speaker sounded excited at the price. 'We have five hundred thousand. Sold.' Brittany's shoulders slumped at the relief of the result. 'That concludes the auction for tonight. Thank you all for coming.'
Brittany had eyes only for Sugar as she watched wide eyed as the handler led her daughter out of her sight.
'You can collect your purchases directly.'
"Move," snarled Brittany, grabbing Eyebrows by his collar and tugging him to his feet.
"You'll never get away with this," he said.
"If you want to live, you'll make sure I do," she said as she pushed him towards the door.
With the gun to his head she followed him out of the room unaware of the raised hand behind her until the butt of a gun cracked down on the back of her skull. She slumped face down on the floor knocked unconscious.
Brittany woke to murmured voices and a dull throb in the back of her head. Dark blurs moved across her vision. One got bigger and bigger until Brittany's vision cleared and she squinted at a perfectly manicured Jesse Saint-James holding Santana's I.D. card up to her face.
"Now, Ms...?"
Brittany's head lolled to the side she took her time taking in her surroundings ignoring the impatient man in front of her. She was in a spartan, brightly lit boiler room with her arms slung over a warm overhead pipe, her hands secured with handcuffs. To Brittany's right and slumped on the metal walkway was Santana, also cuffed to the railing. She was unconscious, her dark hair was matted with blood at her left temple and a dried trickle of blood was visible where it had run down the side of her head in front of her ear and down her neck.
Brittany rolled her head back wincing at her bruised neck muscles to find Saint-James waving the I.D card in her face. Anyone acquainted with her would realise in a heartbeat that the blank look on her face would be ringing blazing alarm sirens.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" He asked, his head angled at a cocky jaunt. "Pay attention when I'm speaking to you. Now, we know that neither of you are this man." He picked at the photo of Santana that had been carefully stuck over Will Schuester's face until it peeled away. "As your companion is incapacitated right now, I ask you... to whom do we owe this pleasure?"
Brittany ignored him and brazenly eyed up the four men Saint-James had with him. Three in front and one breathing down her neck from behind.
"Well," he sighed at the lack of response. "It doesn't really matter what we call you," he shrugged. "What matters is what you are doing here. So, do you mind putting us out of our misery?"
Brittany opened her mouth to speak but found her throat dry and began to cough. Saint-James stepped back in disdain as Brittany licked her lips and wet her mouth to enable her to speak.
"The last girl," she croaked. "I'm her mother."
Brittany witnessed a flash of anger cross his face, Saint-James was furious. It was immediately hidden with a stoic mask but his eyes remained hard and cold. He looked over at one of his men who stared anxiously back at his employer and was no doubt somehow responsible for the lapse in security that night.
"Give her to me," Brittany demanded, regaining his attention.
Saint-James stared hard at her. Judging from the fire in her eyes she was not doubt telling the truth.
"I wish I could, honestly. You see, I'm a parent myself."
Brittany's eyes narrowed.
"I have two sons and a daughter but let me tell you something Ms. Whoever you are and your mysterious companion, both of you unusually skilled in retrieving wayward teenagers..."
"My wife."
"That partly explains all the busted heads we found her with. Anyway, as I was saying, this is a business. Avery unique business with a very unique clientèle."
"I'll pay," Brittany offered desperately in her hoarse voice.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," he said nonchalantly, completely dismissing her offer. "In this business there are no refunds, returns, discounts or buybacks. All sales are final. Besides discretion, it's the only rule we have." Jesse looked from the unresponsive Santana to Brittany who was straining at her restraints her eyes blazing.
"Oh well. Kill them." He turned to one of the men behind him. "Quietly. I have guests."
Brittany watched Saint-James walk out without looking back at her, taking one of the men with him. That left three for Brittany and none for Santana.
As Brittany began to pull on her handcuffs and reassessing her options one of the two men in front of her stepped forward and nodded to someone she couldn't see. She heard the clink of a chain and tried to look over her shoulder at what was unravelling behind her. Her entire body tensed up as quickly as a whip as a length of chain was thrown over her shoulder and wrapped itself around her neck. Then the man behind began to pull on it.
Without use of her arms Brittany strained all the muscles in her neck to try to hold off the strangulation as long as possible. In her already weakened state her vision began to blur quicker than it normally would and she looked up in desperation at her restraints.
The pipe she was tied to looked solid but the support holding it not far from the ceiling was missing a bolt. Further along the pipe a join where two lengths met was being held together with rags. While oxygen was still on her side Brittany jumped up as best she could and let the force of gravity and the strength of the man pulling on her windpipe pull her back down. The shock of the extra weight tugged on the weakened strut and the whole support popped out of the plaster in the ceiling.
The poorly maintained pipe dropped low enough for Brittany to get a better grip on and she pulled down again causing the pipe to come apart at the half assed repair job. Brittany's unsupported half of the pipe dropped down further and cracked straight on top of the head of the goon in front of her. With her arms now moveable but still looped over the lowered pipe Brittany jerked her head back and headbutted the man trying to hold her back with the chain. His nose let out a satisfying crack as she introduced it to her skull.
Only metres away from the action, Santana grumbled incoherently at the noise disturbing her unplanned sleep but instead of waking up settled back up against the side of the walkway.
The chain fell from Brittany's neck and she ran her arms along to the end of the pipe until they were unhooked.
As the last man advanced on her she slapped at a valve on the pillar next to her which let a jet of scalding steam out of the fallen pipe right at face level. He screamed, clawing at his face and stumbled backwards becoming hidden in the expanding cloud of steam rapidly filling the boiler room.
Brittany spun around on her toes and with her tied hands clasped in a double fist swung her hands into the strangler's face. He staggered onto one knee and Brittany pounced on him pinning his body against the metal rail surrounding the walkway at waist height. She forced his head over the handrail twisting his neck until it snapped.
Twirling back Brittany grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall as the man with the steam pipe facial ran screaming out of the billowing cloud toward her, his face bright red and his skin peeling in places. His arms waved wildly, he hadn't been able to see where to aim the weapon now clasped tightly in his right hand. Brittany quickly slammed the base of the extinguisher into his face repeatedly until his momentum changed to backwards. Pumped full of adrenaline and pain he got up again, rising through the fog like a horror movie monster. Brittany threw the canister in her hands at his head and ran straight at him slamming his back up against the wall and forcing his hand to point the gun to the ground. She grasped his hand and held his finger down on the trigger shooting him in the foot.
Outside in the maintenance corridor the gunshot and resultant scream interrupted Jesse's conversation with his security manager. A pained expression crossed his face.
"Would you please go and see what part of the word 'quietly' they did not understand."
"Yes sir."
Steam pipe facial had his back pinned to the wall with the force of Brittany's body as they wrestled for control of his gun. Brittany determinedly forced his arm around, the man's actions becoming more and more panicked as she overpowered him bringing the muzzle of the gun up to aim at his face. Their eyes met as her finger reached over his and they pulled the trigger together.
Brittany kept the gun as his grasp loosened and he slumped to the floor. She tugged his bunch of keys from his belt and quickly unlocked her handcuffs while looking around at the steam billowing in every direction masking any more trouble.
Jesse's security guard opened the door to the boiler room. His final thought was one of puzzlement as his vision went foggy. His concerns shortly ended with a bullet to his head.
Strawberries.
"Santana?"
Strawberries on her lips.
Groggily, Santana began to stir. Around her the world was getting lighter but still her vision wouldn't clear properly.
"Why's there clouds? I'm dead."
"No, honey. You're not dead." Brittany's voice came croakily through the haze.
Gingerly Santana moved her head, the muscles in her neck still protested loudly from the clout they'd endured at the butt of a gun when the perils of busily stuffing henchmen's bodies in the supply room had caught up with her. She blinked slowly, finding a concerned Brittany kneeling in front of her to focus on. Thankfully Brittany wasn't blurry, but there was a disarming look of worry evident on her face.
"Wake up, sleepyhead." she said with a smile brushing Santana's hair back off her face and tucking it gently behind her ear.
Santana stared dazedly at the ruffled woman before her. She reached up and softly touched the red mark around Brittany's neck where the chain been used to strangle her. Brittany grasped her hand between both of hers.
"Santana, would you do me the honour?"
"Huh? Is this one of those dreams again because this is not okay, okay?"
"Listen to me, this is important. Jesse Saint-James is outside this room with the location of our baby in his bouffant and there's a bullet in here with his name on it."
"I do. I mean, what? Um, I mean, yes... always," Santana rasped, looking thoroughly confused by herself. Brittany chuckled as she tugged Santana up. As Brittany led her by the hand to the door through the steam Santana raised her free hand to her mouth, she could swear her lips were tingling.
At the far end of the corridor Saint-James jabbed at the button for the elevator repeatedly. His eyes widened as Santana strode along the corridor bearing down upon him. A lock from his perfectly coiffed hair stuck to his forehead where sweat had begun to bead upon his brow. He put his hands up as the women approached him.
"Okay, we can resolve this. I know how you feel. We should talk, okay?" He backed away until his back hit the closed elevator door. He reached over and pressed the button again, in vain. "We can work this out!" he squeaked as Santana ran at him with her gun drawn.
With a ping the doors opened and he stumbled backwards partly of his own velocity and partly because of the force of the bullet now embedded in his right shoulder. He remained on his feet but clung to the back wall with a moan.
"You have no idea," his voice was laced with pain. Santana didn't drop her aim and shot him again in the other shoulder.
"Where is she?" she yelled in his face now crumpled with agony.
"You don't understand," he whimpered. "Please try to under-"
Santana silenced his pathetic excuses with a bullet to the knee.
He screamed and slumped in the bottom corner of the car. His breathing was short and shallow and his face had gone bright red as sweat trickled down to soak his collar. Santana stepped forward preventing the doors from closing. She raised the barrel of the gun to his face.
"There's a boat, by the quay," his voice trembled. Santana's face was full of fury. "Pleash unerstan," his words had begun to slur. "Wash all bishness. It washn't personal."
"It's personal to me." Santana emptied the remainder of the clip into his torso then stepped back allowing the doors to close.
As they walked away they could hear a scream from the floor above them where the elevator doors had opened and a guest had spotted the return of the host to the party.
They waited at the back of the property where guests were returning to their cars to flee from the bloodstained party. Finally Brittany spotted the mighty eyebrowed man from the auction pushing a cloaked girl into the back of a car.
"There!" She didn't even waste time to point, she just ran. A split second later, Santana followed.
Their feet pounded on the street as they tried to keep the car in their sights. While the speeding vehicle had to, to an extent, obey the Parisian traffic laws Santana and Brittany ran straight across the flowing traffic causing havoc as drivers panicked and swerved to avoid them. Fortunately in this affluent region of Paris the river was only a few blocks away so they didn't have far to chase the car.
Brittany halted her sprint by slamming into the wall along the riverside with a breathtaking thud. As she gasped huge lungfuls of air, she looked down upon the river's quayside and could see from a few hundred yards away Eyebrows and two other men hurriedly leading three covered women onto a large luxury river cruiser. The gangway was pulled aboard behind them in a rush and the boat motored away without wasting any time.
Santana ran up seconds later and collapsed her body into Brittany, gasping for breath. She pressed her face into Brittany's shoulder and groaned at the ache in her lungs.
The car that had transported the girls to the boat remained parked on the quay as the driver lazily leaned up against the open door puffing on a cigarette as he watched the boat leave.
His cigarette dropped from his fingers to the ground and he followed soon afterwards as Santana knocked his legs out from under him with a sweeping kick. She sharply cracked his head against the car door and continued to angrily kick him until he stopped moving.
She turned to get into the car to find Brittany in the driver's seat.
"How did you get in there so fast?"
"Longer legs than you."
"Don't I know it," Santana eyed them. "Can I drive?" she asked hopefully.
"No."
With a scowl but not wasting any more time on protesting Santana resolutely fastened her seatbelt then braced herself as Brittany yanked the gears into reverse and pressed her foot on the accelerator. The car reversed at full speed back up the slipway from the quay to the main road and without hesitating Brittany backed out straight into the evening's traffic and span the car around with a sharp tug on the handbrake.
Santana gripped the door and the edge of her seat and gritted her teeth as the car swerved from left to right dodging terrified drivers. The powerful Audi effortlessly tackled the oncoming cars as Brittany sped the wrong way down the one way street.
"Fuck!" she yelled, as Brittany suddenly pulled onto the sidewalk to avoid a red light, thankfully bereft of pedestrians at the late hour.
"What was that?" Brittany asked her nervous passenger, casually.
"Nothing," said Santana breathlessly trying to slow her heart rate.
"Are you sure, because it sounded like you were commenting on my driving?"
"B, please don't do this now," Santana visibly winced as Brittany avoided a bollard at the last second.
"You know I don't like it when you comment on my driving."
"Britt, I love your driving. It's one of the reasons I married you, I swear. Does this thing have air bags?" Santana gasped as the car slid to a 90 degree angle via a handbrake turn to another road. "I adore your driving, I fucking love it so please drive faster so we can get to our daughter but not so fast that we die on the way because there aren't even any Jesus handles in here. Why don't they have Jesus handles in these new cars?" she muttered, trying to find something to grip onto.
"Jesus handles?"
"You know. The ones above the door so you can grab them and shout for Jesus."
Brittany peered over at the river running parallel to them in time to see their target disappear under a bridge up ahead of them.
"Jesus isn't driving this car, I am. Do you still get travel sick?"
"Wh-whould it make any difference if I said yes?"
Brittany chuckled and spun the steering wheel hard left. The tyres screeched but held fast to the tarmac as they turned off the main road and drove down to the lower highway running along the riverside.
"This is one way," Santana gulped and closed her eyes.
"I am going one way," said Brittany putting her foot down and now overtaking the boat cruising along nearby.
To her everlasting dismay Santana let out a high pitched scream as Brittany swerved around a brightly lit truck then slammed on the brakes. They skidded to a halt at a row of concrete bollards.
Santana tried to unclip her seatbelt with difficulty her hands shaking as she finally managed to get out of the car. They dumped the car not even bothering to shut the doors behind them and ran to the apex of the bridge to line up with the boats trajectory. They had about sixty seconds before the boat would be beneath them.
"Why didn't you fight for us, Santana?"
"What?" Santana shifted her focus from the boat to Brittany at the question from out of the blue.
"Answer the question."
"Now? You want to do this now?"
"We have sixty seconds before we're going to get shot at a lot and we may never get this chance again."
Santana stared at her ex-wife, windswept on the edge of a bridge in the dark of the night.
"You know what my worst nightmare was before we had Sugar? Before clearly this nightmare we are currently living in became number one. That you'd realise the truth. That I wasn't good enough and that you could do so much better. I was just waiting for that day. That day when you'd realise you didn't love me and that I didn't deserve you and you would see through me. I kept letting you down and it became obvious, even to me, that I was just disappointing you over and over again. And then you slapped those divorce papers in my face and it all came true." She couldn't look at that heartbreaking face Brittany was giving her so she scowled down into the murky swirling waters far below them.
"Why did you accept that?" Brittany asked. "Why didn't you fight for me?"
"I thought that was what you wanted!" Santana raised her voice in anger. "That the divorce papers meant you didn't love me any more and I didn't want you to be stuck with me if that was what you wanted."
"It was supposed to be a wake up call!" Santana was taken aback by the force of the yell Brittany aimed at her. She gripped tighter onto the bridge as the words battered her. "Some tough love. A good, harsh dose of reality but you just accepted it instead and that's why I am so fucking angry with you, Santana. I was so frustrated with you for continuing to take missions after Sugar was born! You were never around and you didn't want to talk when you were there!"
"Well you know what?" Santana shouted back at her. "It turns out the world becomes even scarier when you have a tiny perfect baby to protect. You're like the perfect mom always knowing what to do, how to stop her crying and make her smile and I couldn't... do anything without getting really freaked out I was doing it wrong or screwing up and upsetting her. I didn't want her to hate me for not knowing what the hell I was doing. So I did what I'm good at. I was trying to make the world a safer place. Locking up creeps who would dare breathe the same air as our daughter."
"She loves you so much," Brittany pressed her shoulder up to Santana's. "She was heartbroken when you stopped living with us."
"Why did you do it?" Santana spluttered, completely flummoxed. "That's a really crappy way of telling me to wake the hell up."
"You were pretending everything was okay and you wouldn't talk to me about it. You were just keeping it all to yourself and worrying about everything."
"If I didn't then that would make everything real, everything slip away."
"You're an idiot."
Santana stared at her completely gobsmacked for fifteen silent seconds. Brittany watched the muscles in Santana's jaw clench.
"You're right," Santana said finally, glancing back at the boat as it reached the far side of the bridge. "I thought I could do both, have the career and the family but I failed and I almost lost both of you. I lost you and Paris can burn to the ground for all I care, I will not lose Sugar today."
"You'll never lose us."
"Britt-" Santana's voice cracked. Brittany reached down for her hand and entangled their fingers. "If they've hurt her, I don't know what I'm going to do..."
They watched as the prow of the boat appeared from underneath them. Santana turned to face Brittany. "I lo-" The boats foghorn blasted out as it appeared from under the bridge. "I fucking love you, okay?" Santana screamed as they jumped.
They landed with a thud on the roof and rolled over to break the fall. Santana lay still on her back and looked up into dark clouds momentarily winded by the drop.
"Okay then," she heard Brittany murmur nearby.
Brittany got to her feet first, Santana close behind and pulled out their guns.