A/N: Just a heads up that there is quite a bit of nasty language and some violence in this chapter. If this is an issue for you, please feel free to PM me and I'll give you a summary of what happens in the chapter.

A/N 2: I'm just going to keep thanking you guys for being so supportive and awesome and for reading this story. Your reviews have been so kind. Happy Hump Day, y'all.

QUINN

So much for "pretend" fighting instead of really fighting. Santana and I aren't speaking to each other and honestly that's fine with me. I love her, Lord knows how much I love that girl, but she can be so rude and insensitive. I'm actually less concerned with her bitchy comment than I am about the fact that she hasn't seen the need to apologize for it yet. Usually Santana knows when she crosses a line and does her best to fix things, but when I called her out this time she just looked away and shook her head, as if being called "teen mom" by your girlfriend is totally normal.

We're sitting next to each other in yet another class and I can actually feel the heat radiating off of her. Calling Santana "fiery" is not just apt when it comes to her temper, she actually heats up when she's angry or worked up over something. And not just your normal, "body temperature rising in conflict" kind of warmth, Santana gets borderline feverishly hot. At first I thought it was kind of cool, because it's so unique to her and tends to pass quickly, but now it actually has me worried. I've rarely had Santana angry enough with me that she gets like this, for one, and for another, our little disagreement was hours ago, before third period. There is no way it's healthy to basically run a temperature for hours just because your girlfriend snapped at you.

I bite back my instinct to try to calm her down. She caused this, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be the one soothing her when I'm the one who was treated poorly. I can't help but cast a sideways glance at her though. I'm not surprised that she has her face turned slightly away from me, but I am surprised to notice that she's quivering slightly. My mind is racing now. This can't be about me, she's actually vibrating with rage. I've seen Santana's temper more than most, but this is different.

I raise my hand and wave it a little until our brain dead math teacher notices me.

"Yes, Miss Fabray?"

"I'm not feeling well, can I please go to the nurse?" I lie smoothly.

"Sure-"

"Actually, would it be okay if Santana escorted me? I'm feeling really lightheaded."

Santana closes her eyes briefly and her jaw flexes, but still keeps her face angled away from me.

"I suppose."

We're dismissed without a second thought and I can't help but roll my eyes at the indifference from our teacher. I know it's because I'm pregnant and San is a Cheerio and can basically do whatever she wants, but a little effort wouldn't hurt the guy. He didn't even look up at us once he saw my hand up. Whatever.

Santana gathers her things and reaches down to grab my bag, as well. I know she'll claim she was just playing the part of helping me, but I know San is secretly very chivalrous. Still, her movements are jerky and irritated, and she basically snatches the rest of my things up before leading the way out the door. She waits for me to fall in on her left before she starts towards the nurse's office.

I can't help but notice the way she slants her body slightly away from me as we walk down the hall in silence until I see the nearest bathroom and basically push her in.

"What the fuck, Quinn?"

Santana's voice holds an edge I haven't heard since before we made up, and I can't help but flinch slightly. I don't think she sees it though, because she's turned her face away from me yet again. She's pressed her back against the wall, with her head turned to the right. Her chin is canted upwards, and I can tell she's looking at the ceiling. Santana is clearly trying to control her temper right now and it has me completely bewildered.

"I'm worried. What's going on?" I ask, trying not to sound too concerned since I'm still angry at her for earlier.

"Who said something is going on? I'm fine. Can we go back to class now?"

The harsh bite to her voice cuts through me, but I refuse to let her see that. This is not my Santana. I don't know who this is.

"Why won't you look at me if everything is fine?"

Silence.

"All you had to do was apologize Santana, I don't know why this has become such a big deal. I'm not even that mad-"

"Get over yourself, Quinn, not everything is about you."

I feel anger flash through my whole body.

"Then what is it about, Santana? I know you're not on the rag, so what possible explanation do you have for being such a raging bitch?"

Santana sets her jaw, her nostrils flaring. She drops my bag to the floor and holds my notebook out to me. When I don't take it, she opens her hand and lets it drop, papers sliding out all over the place. My fists are clenched at my side, but I refuse to give her a reaction. She turns her head slightly, pinning me with a vicious glare with her left eye before slowly, almost mechanically, turning her head to fully face me.

I can't help the gasp that falls from my lips. Santana's right eye, cheek, and lip are swollen and bruised. There is a small split that runs vertically across both her lips. I instantly reach out to her, but she recoils from my touch and pushes my hands away. It feels like she's stabbed me with her rejection.

"THIS is my explanation. Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted to see? Grow the fuck up, Lucy. You really think every fucking thing is about you and it's fucking ridiculous. So I'm gonna go now, because I can feel myself wanting to really flip out and that won't help anything. I'll see you later," Santana pauses ever so briefly at the door, but doesn't look back at me when she whispers, "I love you."

She's out the door a second later. I just stand there, feeling frantic and horrified. All I can hear in my head is her pained, desperate voice whispering I love you as if none of what she'd just said was really meant for me. All I can see is the fresh damage to her perfect face.

In a sudden, instantaneous flash I am enraged. I quickly snatch up all of my stuff and stomp out of the bathroom on a mission. I know where Santana would normally go, and she knows I know, so she won't go there. I'm not looking for her right now though, so it doesn't matter. I go instead to the dumpsters by the buses and spot the stupid mohawk I'm searching for.

"Puck."

"Hey baby momma. Finally figure out that I'm the guy for you?"

I grit my teeth at his stupid nickname for me and even more stupid question.

"I need your help, someone hit Santana."

I'm surprised to hear that my voice is calm and cold.

"Whoa, what? Like actually hit her? Why?"

"Yes, actually hit her. And I don't know why, but her face is badly bruised and she's just, she's..."

The sobs finally start and I can't finish what I'm saying. Puck quickly pulls me into his arms.

"Don't worry, Quinn. I'll take care of it. It's okay."

"I don't know what to do. I need to find her but she won't talk to me."

"Listen to me, ok? Text Brittany and go find Santana. I'll find out what the hell happened and beat someone's ass if I have to. Just make sure Santana is okay, alright Quinn? I'll text you as soon as I know anything. Now hurry up and get inside, it's cold out here."

Puck leads me to the door and opens it for me. I pause and look back at him.

"Thanks, Noah."

"Of course."

SANTANA

Just Prior to 2nd Period

"Look at this arrogant bitch. Someone forgot where they came from."

I hesitate for a second. Keep walking. Keep walking, Santana. I take one step forward.

"That's right. Don't even bother, Santanita."

Annnnnd that's it. Fuck this bitch. I turn around and march right back.

"Holy shit, sorry, didn't think I could possibly be hearing your voice. It's hard to believe you're even in school. How was your last stint in juvie? You sure are well on your way to being just another Adjacent resident for life. Estoy tan orgulloso de ti, prima."

The cretin I'm looking at is a cousin, somehow. I don't even know how exactly we're related, but we spent much of our childhood playing in the dirt together. At least, until she decided girls are supposed to watch sports, not play them, and I moved on up out of the dump known as Lima Heights Adjacent. For some reason there is animosity amongst our extended family towards my parents and me for moving out of the ghetto to a nicer neighborhood. Some people are proud, some are assholes. She's one of the assholes. It's just the way things are.

Unfortunately, this won't be the first time I've had words with this particular bitch. She's practically green with envy and is always looking for ways to tear me down. We go at it pretty much every time she manages to be released from kiddie jail.

"You better watch your mouth, puta. You're a little smart ass, but you don't have the muscle to back it up. I'll drop you so fast you won't even know what hit you."

I bark out a harsh laugh.

"I might not be as thick as you, Rosa, but I guarantee I've got all the muscle I need. Fortunately, my smart ass also knows that beating your fat ass would be kind of stupid, seeing as I actually have a future."

I turn to walk away, feeling smug.

"Yeah, a future playing house with your knocked up little white girlfriend. Shoulda known you were a dyke when we were kids."

I fix my indifferent mask on my face before turning back around.

"That was weak, even for you. Still pissed that your boyfriend tried to get with me, huh? You know I wouldn't touch that ugly mug of his with a 10 foot pole, no need to feel so threatened."

I strut away, acting completely unaffected. My gut is churning though, I'm a little worried I'm going to puke. I take a deep breath and hurry to class.

Just Prior to 3rd Period

I've spent the entire last class mulling over what my asshole cousin said. She's a bitch, but generally dismissed by everyone since she's in and out of juvenile hall all the time. I try to remember if anyone that actually matters was there to hear her accusation about Quinn and me. I'm walking on autopilot to meet Q at her locker, arriving unceremoniously and leaning on the wall next to her.

"Hey! There you are, I missed you before 2nd." Quinn looks positively overjoyed to see me.

"Calm down, teen mom. I got a little busy."

Ugh. That was a dick thing to say. Quinn's face shows her shock and hurt. I glance away from her, stealing myself to apologize. My bad mood isn't her fault, after all. Out of the corner of my eye I see my cousin looking at me with her eyebrow raised and lose my train of thought. I shake my head and bring my eyes back to Quinn, who is looking at me expectantly.

"Jesus, Santana. Could you be a bigger bitch?"

She waits another second and then storms away from me. I want to follow her, but I feel Rosa's eyes on me and stay rooted in place.

When Quinn is out of sight, I stride over to my cousin, my eyes fixed on hers in an angry glare.

"Oh I'm the lesbian? Last time I checked, you're the one staring at me. Which is honestly even creepier because we're related. Stop looking at me you fucking freak."

She steps at me and I lean forward to emphasize how little of a fuck I give. I tense, ready for her to throw down.

"Hey, both of you knock it off and get to class," Mr. Schue says, stepping between us.

My cousin gives me a little sneer, then walks off. I breathe out a small sigh of relief. I'll go toe to toe with anyone if needed, but I definitely would rather not.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue."

"Is everything okay, Santana?"

I don't know what to say to him. I normally would say yes without hesitation, but right now I'm feeling like nothing is okay. Too bad I can't tell him any of the things that are so totally wrong.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I'll see you at Glee."

I can feel his eyes on me as I walk away, surely worrying about who I'll tear down later as a result of my bad mood.

Just Prior to 5th Period

I'm in the Cheerios locker room, getting changed to go for a short run during my lunch hour. I need to apologize to Quinn, but first I need to blow off some steam and work through my thoughts. I've discovered that running is one of the best mediums for me to release the tension that tends to build up inside of me.

It is cold out, but I head to the track and plug my headphones in. I start slow, but quickly find a steady pace, letting the music wash through me as I circle around for another lap. I'm oblivious of everything except my feet pounding on the ground, the cold air rushing in and out of my lungs, and my music—until I spot them.

FUCK.

My mother's voice rings in my head.

"Look at me, Santana. Ninguna lucha, verdad? No fighting. Protect yourself if need be, but just stay away from her and don't let her bait you. Am I clear?"

I slow down and consider my options. I could outrun them, go straight for the school. It's not that far and I know I'm faster than all of these bitches. But if I run, it'll be open season. I'm better off standing my ground and fighting, even if I lose. In Adjacent, cowardice is worse than dying, and those are the rules we're playing by right now. I might not live there anymore, but it's in my blood, and I know they expect me to step up. So I do.

I start walking, steeling myself for whatever is about to come.

"So this is how you want to do this? You and four friends against one cheerleader? That's impressive, prima. I'm sure this will go over real well back en el barrio cuando mi abuela hears about it."

My mom's mother is a mean bitch. Toughest bitch I know. Everyone in the neighborhood knows who she is and respects her. My father's family is larger, but my mom's carries more clout. It's a well-known fact that, as the oldest grandchild, I am my abuela's favorite. Fighting me is one thing, fighting me 5 to 1 is another.

Calling my cousin on this is my only chance to even the odds, and I feel a glimmer of hope when I see her flinch slightly. I'm right, and she knows it.

"Nah cuz, están aquí sólo para el show. But we don't even have to fight, little Diabla. Just admit that you're a dirty fucking maricóna and that you're fucking that uppity puta, and I'll walk away."

I laugh, even though I feel like crying.

"Forgetting the fact that you're so completely wrong, why the fuck do you care so much? You're awfully hung up on who I'm sleeping with and it's starting to really creep me the fuck out."

I know before I finish saying it that I've just guaranteed a fight. This bitch is clearly homophobic, and I've now accused her of being gay twice. Rosa's eyes narrow and darken, her lips pulled into a sneer. Damn it, Santana.

"I just want to make sure la familia knows about you so that they can disown the dirty dyke that claims our name."

I feel myself flinch internally, but I know my eyes are cold and lifeless, revealing nothing.

"And what? You're going to try to beat a confession out of me if I refuse to "admit" to being gay? That's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard. Makes sense coming from you though. So let's do this. Ready whenever you are, you lazy, delinquent, pathetic fat bitch."

I put my arms out wide and make the "come at me" gesture with my hands. I need her to come after me, I need her to lose control so that I can take advantage of her bullish attack. She's been in more fights than me, but I'm still smarter. I know I need to keep my head.

"I'm going to knock your fucking teeth out. And then I'm going to drag your rich whore girlfriend out to this field next to you and bring her down a peg or two. With a little luck, maybe that little bastard she's carrying will be as brain dead as you are."

Cold fury washes through me and I lunge at her, throwing a wild punch that grazes her chin. Rosa leans back to avoid my fist, leaving her slightly off balance. I grab her jacket with my right hand and start raining punches with my left.

She's forgotten that I'm a leftie.

My cousin is covering her face with her arms, but she sets her defense as if my punches will come from the right. I get a couple of solid shots in before she reaches a hand out to grab me, using her body weight to drag me to the ground by my sweatshirt.

Wild slaps and punches fly between us. All I can think is don't let her get above you. Rosa is definitely heavier than me and has no problem yanking my smaller frame down every time I get into a position where I can actually hit her with force.

She almost gets above me twice before I'm able to brace myself above her and throw punches as hard as I can. She blocks my fists from fully connecting a couple of times, but eventually two punches land right in a row. She howls in pain and blood flies from her nose. I raise my fist up to hit her again, but instead I stop and shove myself off of her to sit on my butt, holding my knees and catching my breath.

Rosa is kicking her legs and crying. I want to laugh at the big tough juvie bitch crying, but I'm too exhausted. I look up at her idiotic, skanky friends and notice they look dumbstruck. That does make me laugh a little and I shake my head as I start to get up.

All at once I feel a blinding pain in my side and I register that one of these stupid bitches kicked me straight in the ribs. I end up on all fours and gasp for a second before another blow lands against my side and I instinctively bring my arm down to protect the spot that's been kicked. I hear "stupid dyke bitch" and see a flash by my right eye. I turn my head to the left slightly and try to bring my hand up just before I feel a sneaker connect solidly across the entire right side of my face.

My arms give out and I kind of collapse onto my side. I blink, trying to clear the blurry vision in my eye. Blood fills my mouth. My thoughts are scrambled, everything is focused on the pain, until all at once pure rage takes over.

Fuck. This.

I scramble to my feet and fly a vicious punch into the face of the bitch who kicked me. She seems surprised that I even got up and doesn't defend herself at all when I connect a shot to her busted grill that puts her on the ground. I want to drop down and beat her ugly fucking face in, but realize that the others will have a free shot at me if I do that.

I wheel around to face the other three.

"Who's next you stupid fucks? COME ON!"

Two of them are helping my still-bleeding cousin to her feet, the other just looks scared. They're done.

"You're fucking pathetic, you know that? You didn't prove shit except that you are as fucking stupid as everyone thinks you are. Vete al carajo, you piece of shit. Stay away from me, stay away from Quinn, or I swear to fucking God I won't stop next time when you start crying."

I spit on the ground to clear my mouth of the blood that's built up, then pick my iPod up off the ground and walk quickly back to the locker room. The Cheerios locker room has a coded lock on the door, and I finally feel safe when it closes behind me. I rest against it with my hands on my knees for a moment, then strip my bloody clothes off and get in the shower before I feel the tears come. I lean my head back to avoid letting the water hit my sensitive face, but my knuckles burn from the soap as I wash myself.

She wouldn't have really hurt Quinn, would she? What if she did? What if something happened to DJ like she said?

I'm horrified. Everything that was just said to me was bad, but worst of all is that she threatened Quinn. Anger and fear burn through me in equal parts. I'm suddenly terrified that just being with me will put my innocent girlfriend at risk. I won the fight, but there is no guarantee no one else from my crazy ass extended family won't try to finish what Rosa started if she runs her mouth about me being gay. There are some homophobic assholes in that crowd.

Suddenly the only thing in the world I want is my mom and dad. I drop my head down and cry hard, ignoring the pain in my face and ribs until I feel drained. I pick up my phone to text my parents, but bite back the urge to run to them.

You're not a child anymore, Santana. You got yourself into this mess. Deal with it.

I carefully put my Cheerios uniform back on, adding my pants and white long sleeved shirt. I feel the flushed heat I always experience when I'm in full rage mode. I'm not really sure what to do with myself, so I step in front of the mirror and fix my high pony with shaky hands. I carefully avoid looking at the damage to my face, as if seeing it will make all of this real.

I keep my head down and walk close to the wall as I hurry to my 6th period class, sliding into my seat next to Quinn just as the bell rings. I'm grateful that I'm on her right side, so she can't see my face. I can't control my shaking hands or the way my body is trembling, though. Normally being near my girlfriend calms me, but right now I just feel on edge. I am instantly regretting coming to class.

As soon as Quinn raises her hand, I know what she's up to. I can't believe our clown of a teacher doesn't realize she's full of it, her too-sweet tone gives her away every time. For some reason it pisses me off that she's going to force me into a conversation. The last thing I want to do right now is deal with my argument with Quinn from this morning or try to explain my face.

I snatch our things up and head out the door, hoping I can keep the silence long enough to make it to the nurse's office and drop her off without having to speak with her or having anyone seeing me. Of course, I'm not that lucky, and I feel her hands push me into a bathroom.

Even though I know it's Quinn and she's only trying to help me, being shoved snaps my very last nerve and I know I'm about to lose my temper.

QUINN

Puck just called to tell me that he saw Rosa Lopez in the nurse's office with a "fucked up grill." He's pretty confident Santana caused it, but he's not sure how San ended up with her face so bruised. According to Puck, there are two things you look at after a fight: the face and the knuckles. Evidently, Rosa's knuckles don't look like they pounded on someone's face today.

I've got Brittany by my side and we're trying to think of where Santana would go if she couldn't go to the one place she'd normally be. Britt's head snaps up suddenly.

"Follow me," she says with a determined look in her eye.

Brittany leads me to the auditorium and stands on the stage with me.

"Santana. I know you're in here somewhere. Will you please just come talk to us?" Brittany calls out.

There's silence in response, but movement catches my eye. She's sitting on the scaffolds above us. The movement I saw was her picking her legs up so that we wouldn't spot her. Santana sighs with irritation when she realizes we've noticed her. We look up at her, waiting.

"Can you both do me a favor and just leave? Please." She tacks the "please" on as a sarcastic afterthought.

"No, San. We can't. So you can either come down here, or Quinn and I can climb up there. Your choice."

"What do you want?"

"Okay, here we come!" Brittany heads to the ladder and starts climbing, and I'm hot on her heels.

"Stop! Jesus. I'll fucking come down." Santana is clearly pissed.

We sit on the edge of the stage and wait. I hear Santana gasp as she climbs down and turn to look at her. A pained grimace distorts her features as she finishes coming down.

I keep my eyes straight forward as my bruised and battered angel lowers herself down gingerly to sit between us.

Britt immediately puts her arm over San's shoulders, ignoring the flinch it causes, and gently pulls my beautiful girlfriend against her. Santana's chin drops to her chest and she immediately begins sobbing; her slight frame shaking with each desperate cry. Unsure of what to do, I slowly reach out and pick up Santana's hand gingerly. After what Puck told me, I can tell Santana gave as good as she got. My heart aches at the sight of her swollen, gashed knuckles. I raise her hand to my lips and carefully kiss it. I hold it in mine delicately and wait.

We sit like this for a long time, until Santana finally sniffles and sits back up. She turns to me with a heartbreaking expression. I know she wants to apologize, so I just shake my head.

"It's okay baby. Just tell me what happened."

Santana takes a long, quivering breath and then begins her story.

My whole body feels cold as I listen to Santana describing how this whole day has been one long escalation that led to an apparently inevitable fight. She glances furtively in my direction when she talks about some of the things that were said, as if she's only telling part of what happened.

"Wait, San. I don't understand…"

I don't know how to explain to her that I know there is more to this story than what she's saying. I don't want to push her, but I can feel in my gut that she's glossing things over.

"Santana, you need to tell us the truth," Britt chimes in sternly.

I'm grateful that Brittany can tell too, but I cringe slightly, because for once I think I have a better read on Santana and I'm pretty sure she really doesn't want to tell us.

Santana's face flashes anger, but quickly turns into a grimace from the pain.

"Actually, I don't need to tell you anything. My cousin tried to beat me up, but got her ass kicked instead. One of the four hoochie bitches she brought out with her took a couple of cheap shots. Hence my face, okay? End of fucking story."

5 to 1. Her own cousin came after her with 4 other girls. Oh my God.

Brittany looks like she's been slapped. Santana hops lightly to her feet and goes straight for the side door.

"San, wait. Please," I beg shamelessly.

Santana pauses and turns to look at me, pure sorrow in her eyes. I feel my breath leave my body at that look, and I realize that I'm afraid.

"I'm going to go talk to Sue and then I'm taking the Jeep and going to Lima General. Either I can pick you up after Cheerios or Brittany can drive you home. Send me a text and let me know if you need a ride."

She starts to walk again.

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Santana? I'm coming with you to the hospital," I shout after her.

Santana doesn't stop or even acknowledge that I just spoke to her. In moments she's out the side door of the auditorium and I'm left sitting in shock next to Brittany.