SANTANA

I walk into Sue's office without knocking. She looks up from whatever she's working on and takes in my worked over face, then drops her pen and leans back, waiting on me to speak.

For just this one time, I actually love Sue for her lack of emotion. It's so much easier to deal with someone who isn't trying to get me to feel right now.

"I gave better than I got. The responsible party will probably try to claim I started it. In reality, she came after me with four friends in tow. All of this damage is from a cheap shot delivered by one of them. I figured you'd want to hear it from me first. I'm not going to give you any names, but I am willing to bet my tanning privileges that this shit won't stop as long as she keeps being allowed at this school."

I pause for the barest hint of a moment and close my eyes as I say my next words.

"She didn't just threaten me. She threatened Quinn, too."

I open my eyes and look at my coach. She's an evil, crazy woman, but I respect her. She wins, and I know that she cares in her own weird ass way.

Sue nods as she takes in what I've told her.

"I'll take care of it, one way or another. You need to go to the hospital, Santana."

"That's my next stop," I assure her.

"How are you getting there?"

"I'm driving myself."

Sue's lips press together in disapproval.

"No, Lopez. You aren't. Go get Fabray, and/or Pierce, and have them take you. I know you're a hard bitch, but you probably have a concussion, based on the fact that I can literally see the crisscrossed outlines of the shoe laces that evidently struck your face. Now where did this happen?"

There's no way I'm voluntarily getting either of them to drive me.

"At the track. I was running during lunch," I respond bitterly.

"Who swung first?" Sue asks.

I have to think about it, because it was all such a blur. I sigh when I remember.

"I did."

"Damn it, Santana. You know I have this whole school bugged or under video surveillance. Now I have to destroy the footage before Figgins comes looking for it."

"She made a very specific threat towards Quinn and her baby. I had no control over that first punch," I say emotionlessly, shrugging my shoulders. I couldn't care less if Figgins wants to punish me for all of this. I did what needed to be done in the moment.

Sue's face hardens when she hears my explanation and she nods sharply.

"Well, in that case, I'm just glad you didn't kill her."

A rueful smile plays at my aching lips, and Coach gives me a slight smile in return.

"Your escorts have arrived, go get looked at. I'll take care of everything on this end," Coach assures me.

My insides grow cold at the realization that Sue has stalled me until my girlfriend and best friend could arrive.

"Thanks, Coach." I say sarcastically before turning to leave.

"Lopez," Sue's stern voice slows me down, "it's not their fault that this happened. It's not your fault that this happened, either. Don't let ignorance win by tearing yourself down for someone else's actions. Don't try to shut off your emotions because you think it will hurt less. It might work today, but it'll hurt you a hundred times worse tomorrow. You're strongest when you care most. I've seen it."

My chest aches immediately, but my thoughts are scrambled.

"Don't let ignorance win…"

Does Sue know about me and Quinn?

All I can do is nod and glance at my coach quickly before walking out to face Q and Brittany.

QUINN

We drive in silence. Santana stares out the window, doing her best to ignore Brittany and me.

I glance in the rearview mirror and make eye contact with our blonde best friend. She looks as sad as I've ever seen her, worry etched into her usually blissful face.

I had Brittany call San's parents while we followed her to Sue's office. I knew I couldn't handle that conversation, but Britt had been calm and collected, telling only the facts we knew and that we were on our way to Lima General in a few moments. I could hear the worry in the voice coming through the phone and my heart had ached painfully. Brittany had held the phone out to me with an apologetic look.

"Mrs. L wants to speak with you."

I'd stared at the phone for a moment before taking it.

"Hi Momma L."

"Quinn honey, are you okay?"

Her real daughter got beat up and she was asking about me. Tears immediately sprung to my eyes.

"Yeah...I'm okay...just...really worried...about her." I'd managed between whimpers, continuing after take a deep breath, "She's so angry and shut down. She's acting angry at us."

"I know, sweetheart, but you have to stay calm and be patient, okay? Santana doesn't handle needing help very well. She's going to fight against anything that makes her feel weak, but it's not YOU she's fighting. She loves you."

I'd started nodding emphatically before remembering I needed to speak.

"Okay," I'd said, sniffling.

"We'll be at General waiting for you. We love you both. It's going to be okay."

We park and walk into the ER together. We see Mom and Dad Lopez right away and they jump out of their seats. Mom pulls me and Santana into her arms gently while Papa Lopez pulls Britt into a quick hug before stepping in front of Santana to inspect her injuries.

"Come on, Santanita. Let's get you checked in," he says calmly.

I stay put with Brittany while Santana and her parents walk to the counter.

Santana doesn't have to wait and is quickly whisked behind a curtain.

Brittany and I sit down and wait.

SANTANA

My face has been poked and prodded by a seemingly endless stream of people. I've been x-rayed and put through the MRI and CAT scan machines. I've answered basic logic questions and taken memory tests. I feel like I've been on autopilot all day. I'm exhausted.

I know I have two cracked ribs and a sprained left hand. The rest of the conversations around me have just seemed like noise. I'm not sure if I was intentionally ignoring what they said about my face or if I wasn't intended to hear it.

My father turns to his colleague and asks for a plastic surgeon. My head snaps around at that. I've avoided looking at myself, but I can't imagine that I need stitches, let alone a plastic surgeon.

"Wait, what?"

My parents both look at me.

"Why do I need a plastic surgeon?"

They exchange an uncomfortable glance before my dad speaks up.

"Mija, have you...seen your injuries?" My father asks carefully.

"No, but I can feel my face. It hardly even bled besides my lip."

Mom looks ashen and casts her eyes away from me. I look at my father, searching for answers in his face.

"Santana...your top lip is split all the way through. Your bottom lip is badly gashed. I'd actually be surprised if you can fully feel much of your face, your nerves can only handle so much and I would guess you have surpassed the threshold. The feeling will come back over the next couple of days. Don't worry about your lips either, they will be fine once you're stitched up, there shouldn't be much of a scar."

I'm dumbstruck. How could I not feel this? I tentatively touch my tongue to my top lip and run it along until I feel the raw gap in my skin. My eyes widen.

"Can I see a mirror, please?" I ask quietly.

My father nods and guides me to a bathroom. I glance towards the waiting area as I follow him and see my two favorite blondes leaning against each other, asleep. My chest constricts and I turn away.

In the bathroom I tentatively look at myself.

HOLY SHIT.

I'm swollen and bruised from forehead to chin. Coach wasn't kidding about the network of shoelace lines across my cheek and the side of my eye.

Oh my God, my eye.

I'd heard snippets of conversation about my eye and my vision, but it only just now registers. My right eye is swollen badly, but my actual eyeball looks even worse. I close my left eye and immediately lose the majority of my sight. I can see the shape of myself in the mirror, but can't really see myself. I open my left eye again and lean in to study the damage to my right. I have to gently open my eye wider with my fingertips to be able to actually see it.

My brown iris looks darker than usual and my pupil appears dilated. Several blood vessels burst within my eye as well, I can't see any white on the outer part of my eye. I notice that if I try to look too far to the left or right I feel a shooting pain.

I sigh and look away from my busted eye, shifting my attention to my mouth. Sure enough, the very bottom of my upper lip is split through. My bottom lip is split open, but not nearly as badly. There is a deep bruise arcing along my chin just below my mouth, evidently where the toe of the sneaker had struck me.

Hot damn.

I'm suddenly pretty impressed that I got up from the blow to my head. It had seemed like the only possibility while it was happening, but now it seems to me like I should have either been unconscious or pretending to be. No wonder that crazy bitch had looked stunned when I not only got up, but came up swinging hard.

I remember the connection with her face and look down at my knuckles. They are cut up, bruised, and swollen. The doctors were impressed that I didn't have a boxer's fracture, which results from improperly punching. They'd explained that I had struck directly with the center of my fist, which saved me from breaking my hand.

I'm proud of myself. I took on five girls and came out the victor, despite probably having the worst injuries. I'd been smarter, faster, and tougher.

I walk back to my curtained area, trying unsuccessfully not to look over at Quinn and Brittany. Whatever pride I might feel about the fact that I'd come out of a shit situation generally intact is instantly chased away when I see them.

I know what I have to do, but I can't think about it without feeling like my chest is imploding, so I don't. Instead, I address my mother in a low voice as soon as I get to my little curtained square.

"Mom, I need you to send Quinn and Brittany home."

My mother balks at my words, her eyes flickering from exhaustion to confusion to recognition. Her gaze is hard on mine when she speaks.

"I will not do that, Santana. Quinn deserves to be here, and so does Brittany. How would you have felt if she sent you away a few months ago when she was in the hospital? How would you have felt if she shut you out instead of leaning on you? Shutting her out isn't strength, mija, it's weakness."

I swallow thickly and look away, I can feel the anger and the pain rising in my chest.

"I can't do this, Mom. I can't. And I need you to support me on this. For once, please, just back me up."

The tears in my mother's eyes cut me to the quick and steal my breath. I wasn't expecting this reaction. Anger maybe, but not hurt.

"I have always and will always support you, Santana Diabla Lopez. You are my daughter, and I love you, but you are wrong on this. Tell me, please, what you are trying to accomplish?"

I sigh and look down at my feet. My parents haven't asked me about the fight yet, and evidently Brittany and Quinn didn't tell them either.

"Mom, this wasn't just an attack on me. Quinn was threatened too. Our being together puts her at risk. I can't let her get hurt because I'm too selfish to let her go."

"Mija-"

My mom is interrupted by a voice raising slightly outside of our curtained area.

"…you two are fucking. Santana will be out on her ass before you know it, because that shit doesn't fly in our family. She's a disgrace, just like you, whore."

Rosa. And there is only one person she could be talking to. I take one step toward the curtain before my mother grabs my wrist tightly, keeping me from going to my girlfriend's defense. I glare at my mother intensely, but she just shakes her head at me and whispers "wait."

"I happen to know for a fact that you gave more than one McKinley Titan herpes, so that's a little bit of kettle-pot action, isn't it? I'll be pregnant for a few more months, but you're infected for life with whoredom. So you can literally go suck a thousand dicks, you stupid bitch, because that's all you'll ever be good for. Enjoy kiddie prison. Again."

I'm shocked when I hear Quinn's voice sounding like a harsh growl. I look at my mother with wide eyes and she's grinning ear to ear in response to Q's verbal beat down. My wrist is released and I immediately snatch the curtain back.

QUINN

5 Minutes Prior

I wake up suddenly, my muscles tight and achy from sitting in a crappy plastic chair. Brittany looks at me sleepily and then gets up to curl into a ball on the floor. I carefully avoid her as I stand up to stretch. I walk cautiously towards Santana's curtained area, needing just to see that she's okay.

"Well look who it is," I hear from an opened area to my right.

I turn and see none other than Rosa Lopez, her nose humongous with swelling, her eyes blackened. She has a large cut on her cheek.

My eyes narrow and I feel adrenaline shoot through me.

"Don't speak to me, you piece of shit." I spit my words at her, my voice low with fury.

"You sure have my cousin whipped, don't you, Miss Bitchy Rich? She was ready to take a beating for you. Santana got lucky. She'll get hers though, not to worry."

I fight to keep my bitch glare focused on her as I process her words. I decide to go on the offensive.

"Oh will she? How many friends will you bring this time? Better come ready, because it looks like Santana beat your sorry ass outnumbered and alone. And understand this: next time she'll have friends too. You'll never get her alone again, and I promise you that those of us who stand beside her will be willing to kill for that girl. Santana is everything you are not, and more than you could ever dream of being. So I hope you enjoy being just another second rate, Santana-wannabe, Rosa, because you'll never compare to the real thing."

Rosa's eyes flash with anger and she leans forward, her wrist catching on the handcuff attaching her to the bed.

"I know you two are fucking. Santana will be out on her ass before you know it, because that shit doesn't fly in our family. She's a disgrace, just like you, whore."

I smile thinly, my voice acidic as I step closer to emphasize my words.

"I happen to know for a fact that you gave more than one McKinley Titan herpes, so that's a little bit of kettle-pot action, isn't it? I'll be pregnant for a few more months, but you're infected for life with whoredom. So you can literally go suck a thousand dicks, you stupid bitch, because that's all you'll ever be good for. Enjoy kiddie prison. Again."

I hear a curtain behind me rip open and turn to see the most beautiful face in the world, bruised and looking outraged, but somehow still ever so striking. Santana simultaneously gently pulls me backward by my elbow as she steps forward, effectively placing herself slightly in front of me. I keep my eyes on the side of her face.

"I thought I told you to stay away from her. I thought I made myself perfectly clear. Watch yourself, Rosa. I'm not kidding. I will hurt you." Santana looks as deadly serious as I've ever seen her, and I experience a bizarre combination of pride, arousal, fear, and smugness.

I look back at Rosa. She is as pale as her skin tone can be. Pretty sure she wasn't expecting Santana to be so close by.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her mouth snaps shut at the same moment I sense my surrogate mother behind me.

"Girls, go in the curtained area, please."

I glance at Santana, who looks at her mother briefly, before giving Rosa another glare and turning back into her area. I follow and close the curtain behind us. My eyes search my girlfriend's face, desperate to know where we stand after the craziness of this day. She is frozen, her head tilted, and I recognize that she's listening to her mother. Momma L sounds cold and quiet, her angry whisper fading in and out so that we only catch snippets of what she says.

"…have more potential than this, Rosa. I've always believed in your ability to overcome obstacles, but instead you choose to let... Worse, you punish your own cousin…she had nothing to do with. Tío Miguel and I chose to move…Santana…a child. You are blood, sobrina…room to work through these issues on your own. But this is toofar...might never regain her vision in her right eye, Rosa. This isn't a game…"

Santana reaches down and grips my hand with her good one. I squeeze it, then release it to wrap my arm lightly around her waist, pulling her closer to me as we continue listening as best we can.

"…cool or impressive or brave…disgusting…whatever you think you know about Quinn and Santana, forget it. They live under my roof, by my rules…not necessary…back to juvenile detention… know this…refused to give up your name, despite everything…after her again, or if anyone else…on your behalf, I will take everything from you. Family lines will mean nothing to me…lawsuit that takes what little you have. Am I clear?"

I look at the damage to my favorite face. My heart aches painfully at the physical wounds I see, but more so for the emotional ones I know Santana will not share easily.

She finally looks at me and I control the flash of horror I feel when I fully see how damaged her eye looks. Momma Lopez's words ring in my head again.

"Might never regain her vision in her right eye, Rosa."

Oh Jesus Christ, no.

"Santana, I…I just want you to know that I love you," I say firmly, looking into her eyes, "I'll let you deal with this however you need to, but I'm here. I'll always be here."

My girl leans forward and rests her forehead on mine for a brief moment. She closes her eyes before she speaks.

"They have to stitch my mouth, Q. You might not want to stay here for this."

I know the pain I feel at her indifferent response is evident on my face, but I choose not to comment on it. Pushing her won't work.

"I'd prefer to stay with you, if you don't mind," I tell her calmly.

She studies me for a second, then nods.

"Okay, I'll be right back. I'm going to check on Britt," I say, dropping a light kiss on her left cheek and leaving the curtained area.

I find that Mrs. L is already checking on our blonde friend. Brittany has a pillow now, her Cheerios jacket draped over her.

I make eye contact with Momma Lopez and she inclines her head towards where I left Santana. I pick up on her meaning and turn around to return to my girlfriend's side.

I don't miss how Santana's good eye lights up when she sees me, despite her efforts to keep her features neutral. God, it hurts that she won't let me in, but I'll do whatever it takes to support her through this.

I hold her hand as they stick her open wounds with lidocaine to numb them before beginning the stitching. I'm amazed by the precision of the plastic surgeon, and soon Santana's gashes have both been pulled carefully back together.

I get a tiny smile from San when the surgeon is finishes, her numbed lips lopsided in the most adorable way.

I'm so glad when we are finally free to go. The only thing in the world I want to do now is curl up with my beautiful girl and just be with her.

SANTANA

I'm waiting at the house for Quinn to return from dropping Brittany off. The hurt on her face when I chose to ride home with my parents saddened me, but I know it's for the best.

My mother and I haven't spoken to one another since I made my decision clear to her in the hospital. I can tell that Dad is uncomfortable with the silence between us. Our family is usually full of conversation and laughter. This uncharacteristic silence is awkward for us all.

Upon arriving home, Mom had looked at me seriously and made her only comment.

"You're going to regret this, Santana. Be stronger than this."

I'd stared at my feet, knowing my soul is dying already, but also knowing that it's really the right thing to do.

So now I'm waiting. Waiting to break Quinn's heart. Waiting to break my own.

My thoughts are racing.

"Don't let ignorance win by tearing yourself down for someone else's actions. Don't try to shut off your emotions because you think it will hurt less. It might work today, but it'll hurt you a hundred times worse tomorrow. You're strongest when you care most. I've seen it."

"Shutting her out isn't strength, mija, it's weakness."

"Quinn is your answer."

"…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."

I clasp my hands together and begin to pray.

I can't do this.

But I have to.