Part 5

Her nose was itchy. Right on the bit between cheek and nose. And it wasn't just a little tickle kind of itch but the kind where you need a steak knife or a screwdriver to dig in and scratch it properly. Her nose twitched but the action achieved no relief. She scrunched it and wiggled it but still nothing. God damn if she wasn't so bone weary sleepy she'd move her arm and scratch it it. Oh god, that was itchy. Finally, upon threat of imminent torture by the itch, Sugar reached up and scratched her nose.

Her eyes fluttered but she was so tired everything around her was muffled and blurry. It couldn't be afternoon yet, she mused. She was always this sleepy before noon. Just a few more hours, she sighed and sank back, her muscles relaxing onto her cushioned seat. Besides, it must be okay. Her Mom would wake her up if she was supposed to get up for something, she was like her own personal alarm clock.

'Sugar, sweetie. Time to get up. You've got school.' She would say softly, running her hand through Sugar's hair. 'Come on, baby girl.' All nice and gentle and soft. A trick she'd picked up from waking her Mama for years. Then, if she dozed back off again, the threat of violence. 'Sugar, if you don't get up I'll call your Mami to come get you up and you know that's upsetting for all of us. Lord Tubbington wouldn't come back in the house for days after the last time.'
Well there was no need for threats, sheesh. Sugar was no fool. She would stick a leg out from under the covers as evidence she was in the process of getting up. Over the following ten minutes Brittany would witness Sugar wake up this way, limb by limb, until she slid to the floor successfully out of bed.

Sugar sighed. Why was her room rocking like that? It couldn't be time to get up yet, was it? Mom would know. Mom? Mom? Mom...

Sugar's eyes flew open. She winced and shut them, the lights were bright enough to momentarily dazzle her even though her vision was hazy through the bright white of her robe... Robe?

She stared down at the fabric covering her arm in horror. What the hell was she wearing? She looked over at the two girls slumped on the couch opposite her wearing matching white robes and hoods so large they acted as a veil to hide their eyes.

"Oh my holy sweet baby Jesus in hell on a stick," she said in a hushed whisper. "I've been kidnapped by a cult. I've joined the KKK," she gasped. "Mom will kill me."

She plucked at her sleeve her face scrunching with distaste at the unusual garb. "Are you fucking kidding me? It's fashion week!"

One of the girls nearby stirred, catching her attention. She slumped back in her seat and played along as three men entered the room her alertness hidden by her veil. They each pulled a girl to her feet and held them by their arms leading them stumbling through corridors.

Inside the luxury river cruiser Eyebrows tapped on a door and then opened it. Inside a rotund Arab Sheikh in a silken robe was lounging on a king sized bed.

"They are being prepared, sir," he said, dipping his head differentially. The Sheikh gave a brisk nod and dismissed him with a flick of his hand.

They moved silently, their feet light and senses alert as they made their way to ladder to the deck below. Brittany was limping slightly after the jump from the bridge. Carefully they watched the deck below as one man leant over the railing smoking and the other wandered the perimeter whistling an unusual tune. The women exchanged a glance.

Swinging from from the rail above the steps, Santana kicked the smoker in the face. He immediately scrambled to his feet and ran at her with a shout but Brittany intercepted his charge with the heel of her palm to his nose, knee to his face and then quickly tumbled him overboard.

Meanwhile Santana had grabbed the second man in a headlock and quickly snapped his neck. She dropped him to the deck and turned to check that Brittany was unharmed.

"Smoking kills," Brittany murmured as she stepped over the body.

The three women in white were tugged through the corridors, their incapacitated state inconveniencing the men. The man leading Sugar let out a curse as she tripped him up for the third time. From under her veil Sugar could count three sets of feet and a full holster on the hip of the man leading her.

Eyebrows gave Sugar a sharp tug pulling her tighter to his side as he warily looked over his shoulder. He jumped closer to the wall as he caught a glimpse of Brittany moving out of his view through an exterior window.

He addressed the two men with him immediately.

"You, take them to the Sheikh. You, come with me." He reached up and tapped his ear piece. "We have an intruder. Search the vessel. Kill her if necessary."

An armed guard kicked open a door to a darkened room on the main deck and peered in pointing his gun ahead of him. Santana eyed the barrel as it came within inches of her nose, then, she reached up and sharply tugged it, pulling the man into the darkened lair. With a swift chop to the back of his neck she grabbed a handful of his hair and cracked his face into the edge of a sink. Seconds later Santana and Brittany exchanged a glance of shared bewilderment as another man sidestepped down the corridor in some amalgam of half squat half yoga stance. His eyes were wide with fright as he followed his shaky gun into the unknown. Brittany almost felt sorry for him for a second. But not quite. Shaking her head, she stepped out right in front of him and slammed the butt of her gun into his face. As he tumbled to the ground she grabbed his gun and flicked the safety off.

They made their way to a luxurious wooden panelled living quarters ever closer to their destination. Santana held up an arm halting Brittany as she spotted another guard, this one with a semi automatic machine gun, yey, stalking his way toward them. With their backs to the wall they watched his reflection as he got close enough for Santana to fling her elbow out from around the corner and into his nose. He fell backwards firing wildly into the ceiling his finger jammed on the trigger with panic. Santana stuck her arm around the corner again and fired at him until he stopped flailing and fell silent.

"You take port side, I'll go starboard. I want the Eyebrows," Brittany said cryptically.

"Huh?" Santana grunted, her brow furrowed. "Is that code?"

"Grease slicked hair and slug brows. You'll see."

Santana watched as Brittany disappeared back the way they'd come from to find an alternative route through the cruiser. With her back to the wall she took a moment to catch her breath. Seconds later her eyes widened and she scrambled to raise her weapon only be surprised by Brittany's swift return. Her arm dropped uselessly to her side as Brittany shoved her back against the wall and kissed her hard.

Santana's mind melted out of her ears and trickled into a puddle on the floor along with her heart. She was oblivious to the world around her. She didn't even open her eyes at the sound of a gunshot when Brittany raised her right arm and fired at a guard who had run around the corner, mid kiss.

While Brittany peeled herself off her ex-wife, Santana's jaw was frozen open, her chest heaving, her eyes closed. Brittany smoothed Santana's shirt back down, brushing out the creases she'd caused by clenching the material with her fist. She looked up at Santana who was now staring, stupefied, at her, eyes half lidded and her jaw slack.

"I'm sorry," Brittany said all of a sudden. "I shouldn't have done that."

"What?" Santana croaked. "Why not?" She looked absolutely stricken and the dopey look on her face disappeared in an instant.

"I shouldn't distract you."

"I don't mind," Santana blurted quickly.

"Head back in the game, Santana," Brittany said with a wink. Santana licked her lips then swallowed hard as she watched Brittany walked away again. "Be careful," Brittany warned over her shoulder.

"Right," Santana cleared her throat. "Right. You too. Right... right. Where?... phew... um... Sugar. Sugar! Yes."

Santana lifted her gun to shoulder height and entered the next section of corridor, ears strained for oncoming guards.

Eyebrows stood in the lobby in front of the master bedroom with two more armed guards by his side. They had heard the rapid gunfire and were anxiously awaiting instructions.

"Come in," Eyebrows called on his comm device for the umpteenth time but still no one answered. "Check that way," he ordered one man. "Find them," he said to the other. As they left him he fell back to the Sheikh's door to await the inevitable arrival of the mother.

An armed goon stalked up to a door with a porthole shaped window offering a view into the next section of the cruiser. He pointed his assault rifle against the glass and squeaked the muzzle against the pane as he moved it to the side so he could observe the next area. It appeared clear fort he time being until a pistol whipped up from below the window and fired into his face, shattering the pane of glass and embedding the bullet in his brain.

Santana cursed as she tried to push open the door with the body now blocking it. She made sure to slam his lifeless head hard against the wall as she squeezed through the gap.

"Asshole."

At the far end of the corridor another man appeared and then disappeared just as quickly. He jumped back for cover, as startled by her appearance as she was by his. Sticking his arm around the corner he fired blindly at her as he backtracked for cover.

With the stupid dead asshole blocking the door she'd just come through Santana shot at the window next to her piercing the glass. The pane cracked but didn't shatter so she elbowed the glass into shards and threw herself through the gap into a lounge room. The man entered the room from his end of the corridor and continued firing at her. Santana jumped over a couch and flattened herself to the floor as the shooter wildly sprayed bullets at everything in the room. The hail of bullets tore through expensive paintings, shredded cushioned furniture, smashed mirrors and blew chunks of woodchip out of the wall all raining down upon Santana. She peered through the gap under the couch and all the way under the coffee table and another armchair which all blocked the man's view of her. Santana, however, got a lovely uninterrupted shot directly at his feet. She fired twice and he fell immediately.

Outside the Sheikh's door his chief bodyguard stood nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot, cradling his weapon as he guarded the door. To his horror the door behind him opened and his boss stuck his head out. Eyebrows immediately backed into the room forcing the curious Sheikh away from the door.

"It's safer in your room, Excellence," he pushed the man back and closed the door behind them.

"What's going on?," the Sheikh demanded. "Who is it? Answer me, Blaine," he ordered.

"The girl's mother. She wants her back." The Sheikh glared angrily at his chief guard as though it was his fault.

"I'll get rid of the bitch," Blaine said with a bow.

He opened the door again and carefully exited the suite. Stealthily he moved towards the noise of gunfire and shouting further along the boat. So keen was he on the noise up ahead he didn't notice Brittany step out from a doorway and follow him.

Santana pushed herself up from behind the sofa and dusted off broken glass and chunks of plaster. Her dark hair was streaked with dust from the walls.

The main door burst open again and a man ran in firing at her. Santana scrambled backwards tripping over her own feet in haste and backed into the small bathroom off the main lounge. She got behind the door frame as the bullets rapidly punctured the thin walls then began to fire back hitting him once in the neck.

"Such bad shots," she muttered as she pressed her hand to her side and winced. Santana watched with alarm as the handle of the bathroom door opposite her jiggled then turned. She glowered as an arm snaked its way through the gap holding a gun. She threw her weight against it jamming the arm in the door then snapped the man's wrist. Using the broken limb she turned the pistol back on its owner and fired through the wooden door.

Santana made her way back to the lounge and leaned one arm against the door frame. She scrunched her nose and winced as she took a deep breath. Behind her in the bathroom the body of the guard lay on the ground at an awkward angle, only his unnaturally twisted arm over the threshold. At the main entrance two bodies lay one top of another.

"That's how we do it Lima Heights," she said as she surveyed the carnage of the destroyed lounge.

"There can't possibly be any more people on this frickin' boat," Santana muttered to herself not noticing she was favouring her left side as she cautiously made her way across a lobby to the door of the master suite.

Santana pushed the door wide open to reveal a decadently decorated bedroom. She had no interest in the furnishings only having eyes for the two people staring back at her from the centre of the room. The Sheikh was trembling just as much as the girl he was using as a human shield. Sugar gripped tightly onto the meaty arm wrapped around her neck trying to push away the golden curved knife held to her throat.

"Drop the gun," said the Sheikh, his beady eyes were narrowed anxiously.

Santana didn't even blink as she looked him dead in the eye, her face a picture of composure and control. Calmly she raised her gun and took aim. Sugar closed her eyes and held her breath.

"We can neg-"

Santana pulled the trigger.

Sugar stumbled hurriedly away and watched aghast as he tumbled to the floor, blood trickled from the entry wound directly in the centre of his forehead.

Slowly Santana dropped her arm to her side, her hand quivering uncontrollably.

Looking over at her mother, Sugar began to shake. She let out breathy sob and straight away upon hearing the sound Santana took three large strides and swept her up in her arms.

"Mom?" Sugar asked in a squeaky disbelief. "Mom?"

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. I got you."

"Mama?" She gulped, reverting to the name she used to call Santana when she was little. She tried in vain to hold back her tears as she realised, "You're here. You came for me." Sugar gripped her mother's shoulder so tightly her fingers went white. "You came for me," she repeated. Sugar pushed away from her mother for a second, to Santana's alarm, and looked her up and down in disbelief.

"Of course I did," Santana tugged her back into her embrace. "I promised you, didn't I?" Sugar buried her face in Santana's neck, her body shaking with shock and relief. "I will always, always come for you, Sugar. I swear it."

The tangible evidence of Sugar safely in her arms meant that Santana could finally allowed relief to course through her body. It started from her head, loosening the tension in her shoulders and chest that had kept her on edge for days. Santana kissed her hair over and over again making the girl melt into the safety and protection of her mother's arms and allowing Sugar to finally break down completely.

Once Sugar had become coherent again Santana moved back slightly, not too far though, not so she'd have to let go, and held Sugar at arms length, not letting the girl out of her grasp as she looked her up and down.

"Are you, okay? Are you hurt? Did anyone hurt you?"

"I'm okay," Sugar's breath hitched still choked with emotion. "Except, I think I joined a cult. I swear I didn't mean to."

"You think you what?" Santana asked puzzled.

"I joined a cult and was about to be sacrificed to Jabba the Hutt and I did not chose this... this thing!" She flapped a loose white sleeve in distress. "This is crushed velvet. It's horrific and it's supposed to be fashion week."

Santana laughed and hugged her close. "Oh baby girl, how I've missed you. It's okay, sweetie. You've done nothing wrong. I love you."

"I love you, too," Sugar mumbled into her shoulder.

From elsewhere on the boat the sound of a grown man screaming reached their ears. Santana looked down as Sugar tensed in her arms as and smiled reassuringly at her daughter.

"It's okay. They're with me."

"What?" Sugar looked worried.

"I've got a surprise for you. My partner, my old agency partner, is here. We used to do this stuff all the time back in the day."

Sugar looked uneasy and burrowed closer to Santana as another scream rang out only to be cut off mid flow and then ended with a thud.

"It's okay," Santana whispered in her hair. "That'll be her now. As soon as she heard what happened she insisted on coming to help find you. I'd love for you to meet her. I think you'll really like her."

Blaine crept along the shot up corridor stepping over the body of a fallen colleague. The boat had not long gone quiet, the gunfire had stopped. He hoped that meant the bitch was dead.

In the silence he heard the sound of broken glass crunch under someone's feet behind him. He spun and fired in the direction the sound had emanated then ran to hide behind a partition wall.

Brittany fired at the glass partition and then jumped through it landing on top of Blaine where he was crouched. They both tumbled to the floor losing their guns in the scramble. Brittany grabbed him by the slicked back hair with one hand and punched him in the face with the other. His nose cracked under her fist then the back of his skull crunched the broken glass lying under them scattered all over the floor.

Blaine scrambled to free his arm pinned under Brittany's leg and released a flick knife mounted on his wrist, hidden by his sleeve. He stabbed it into her left bicep, Brittany growled at the surprise attack and crossed her forearms using them as a press to force his knife arm back towards his face.

Blaine kicked up with his knees and using the momentum flipped Brittany up off his torso. She had no choice but to continue the momentum over his head in a somersault. Without faltering Brittany finished the move by ending up rising straight onto her feet.

Immediately Blaine was upon her slashing at her face while Brittany hurriedly tried to deflect him by hitting out at his forearm. The ferocity of his attack drove her back and he landed a slicing blow at her stomach cutting through her clothes, the fabric quickly becoming wet. Brittany snarled angrily and fiercely elbowed him in the gut. While he gasped for his missing breath she spun him around and jabbed him in the kidneys from behind. She kicked at the back of his knee and hit his shoulder so he collapsed onto his knees leaving it easy for her to grab him by the skull and hit his head against the wall.

Blaine forced himself to his feet and kicked backwards at Brittany sending her staggering away. He ran at her slashing his blade at her neck and face. She had no choice but to fall back swatting away his arm until he switched tactics and grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the wall. She snatched at the door handle next to her and they fell through the open door into another room.

Brittany snatched up a wine bottle from the collection stored in the new room and smashed it against the edge of a table. She mimicked Blaine's combat ready stance, him with his blade and her with custom half bottle ready.

Blaine scoffed at her makeshift weapon. His smirk turned to condescending sneer as he eyed her bruised face, scratched skin, tattered clothes and they way she rested her weight onto one leg.

"You ever heard of the combat school of Lima Heights?" Brittany stared him down. His smirk faded. "You're about to." She lunged at him.

They slashed their weapons at each other, Brittany faster and more graceful with her movements. Seeing an opening she took it and carved down her bottle into Blaine's knife arm. He screamed in pain and wildly struggled to retreat. Brittany pulled back and slashed his face with the glass turning his body away then swung her arm back around and drove it into his gut. She loosened her grip on the embedded bottle as he doubled over groaning in agony and instead reached for his knife arm. With a sharp twist she bent his arm back, cracking his shoulder out of its socket and snapping the bone. The resultant scream could be heard from the shore.

Brittany tapped him one last time lightly on the back of the neck and breathed out a sigh of relief as he fell face forward onto the ground with a thud and shuddered uncontrollably for a few seconds.

Brittany climbed over Blaine's still form making sure to step on his hand which still had his blade tied to it. The bones in his fingers cracked under the pressure of her boot but he remained silent this time.

Snatching a pistol up from another fallen guard, Brittany made her way to the master bedroom.

"The one who got married?" Sugar asked with a modicum of suspicion at the smile on Santana's face. "Who did she marry?"

Santana looked down at Sugar's face taking in the familiar features. She had Brittany's nose and almond shaped eyes and Santana's brown eyes. Santana chuckled and kissed Sugar on the head.

"Me," said Santana.

"Her," came Brittany's voice from the doorway.

Sugar turned to find her mother staring at her in wonder, her cheeks wet with tears. Sugar's jaw dropped. "Mom?"

"Hey, baby."

Santana gently pushed a dazed Sugar in Brittany's direction and she fell from the arms of one parent to another.

"What's happening?" Sugar mumbled, gripping onto Brittany as though for dear life.

"Your mom is the biggest, baddest most badass kickass agent there has ever been," Santana said, unable to hide the adoration in her voice as she watched the two of them together. "She makes stone cold crime lords cry. The underworld trembles in fear when they hear her name." Their eyes met over Sugar's head and they exchanged a relieved smile.

"Her name Brittany?"

"Codename: The Unicorn," Santana explained.

"Oh my god," Sugar mumbled into Brittany's shirt. She pulled her head back and looked closely at Brittany. Her ponytail was half out, there was blood spots up her cheek and her right eye was beginning to swell. She looked down at the shredded remains of her sweater and the large bloodstain on it.

"It's okay, it's not my blood," Brittany assured her. "Not most of it anyway." Sugar just stared at her until Brittany asked with worry. "Are you all right, Sugar?"

"I'm okay," she sniffled. "The dead beached whale is kind of creeping me out though." Santana kicked the Sheikh in disgust pushing his leg out of Sugar's eyesight. At the reminder of what she'd had to put up with for the past few days Sugar's lip began to tremble and she burst into tears. Santana held her from the other side of the hug and they sat her on the edge of the bed and held her until she calmed down.

"Is she okay?" Brittany asked Santana over her head.

"She says so," said Santana, gently stroking Sugar's hair.

"Sugar, let me check you," Brittany nudged her. Santana pulled her onto her lap and held her close while Sugar had to put up being treated like a five year old being inspected for new clothes by her mother.

Sugar looked in awe from one badass mother to the other. "What's your codename?" she asked Santana.

"Snixx," said Santana. Brittany gave her a watery smile over Sugar's head.

"Who's driving the boat?" asked Sugar with a thoughtful frown.

"No one, sweetie. I stopped the engines," said Brittany, taking off her torn jacket and placing it around Sugar's shoulders.

"So," said Santana, tugging Sugar and Brittany into another hug. "Are we all agreed that Sugar is grounded until she is is thirty?"

"Agreed," said Brittany.

"Agreed," Sugar muttered, her head tucked under Santana's chin and her forehead on Brittany's shoulder. "I missed fashion week," she sighed.

Brittany smiled and kissed Sugar on the head then to Santana's surprise she got a kiss too. On the forehead but still.

"Score," Santana murmured, sleepiness suddenly sneaking up on her. "Heyyy. Why's it so dark in here?" she mumbled in confusion as the lights on the boat seemed to dim.

"Mama?" Sugar sat back and looked at her in concern. She stared in horror a the wet patch growing from under Santana's shirt. "Oh my God, she's bleeding."

Santana's eyes closed. "It's a slight graze. Ppsssh. S'all good."

The last thing she saw was Brittany and Sugar peering down at her in concern as her consciousness slipped away.

Sorry for the delay. I've not been very well so if some of this doesn't make sense let me know and I'll try to fix it when my head isn't fried any more.

ps. There will be an epilogue.