It had been a little over a week since the shooting, and supposedly, this was sufficient time off for everyone before they had to go back again.

Santana didn't know who the hell had made that decision, but obviously, it was someone who didn't have a clue what they were talking about. Someone who hadn't been there, who hadn't seen the bodies and the blood, who hadn't heard the shots and the screams. Someone who hadn't seen those other kids every day, alive, walking and talking and mostly being pains in the ass to everyone, kids she normally wouldn't have had a second thought about or wanted to see, let alone talk to…but kids who she had known. Kids who had been real and alive and part of her daily life. Kids who had suffered and been frightened and died on their high school floors.

So what if they had cleaned the school? So what if Tyler was in prison and awaiting trial? What would stop another kid from doing the same thing? What would stop Santana herself from seeing the blood all over again, even on freshly washed floors? What would make any of this even a little bit okay?

She wanted to go to another school, or to drop out entirely. She wanted to be homeschooled or take online classes, and her mother had wavered, considering this. But in the end it was her father who had put his foot down.

"Santana will never recover from the trauma if she continues to hide from it and allow it to continue to cause her such fear," he had stated, shaking his head. "I am certain it will be difficult, but she has already developed posttraumatic stress disorder and it is likely because we allowed her to avoid her fears. The more she does so, the more frightened she will be when forced to face them. She needs her education, she needs to move on, and she will have to do it."

It was true that Santana's mother had slept with her every night since she had forced her to stop sleeping over with Rachel, and that every time Santana woke up sobbing and gasping for breath, she had rocked and held her like a child, soothing her in a manner that Santana's father had eventually declared unhelpful to her. It was true that her mother had told Santana she could not watch TV, go online, or read any papers until the fervor of coverage died down, and Santana herself had not wanted to leave the house and not done so. It was also true that even the calls and visits Santana received from friends, especially the onpourings of the concerned, frightened Glee members had been restricted; she had let her speak only with Quinn and have a visit only from Brittany, both which had been cut off when Santana could not stop crying and her friends could not seem to comfort her. She had been very sheltered, with her mother making sure she took medication every day to help her sleep and try to ease her anxiety- medication that her father declared to be a crutch.

"You have to get beyond this, Santana," he had told her. "You will be seeing a psychologist, and you will talk about it there. It is talk and not medication that will make things better."

But on the two occasions she had seen the psychologist this week, Santana had been unable to say anything at all. She had simply sat with her head down, cupping her elbows, and refused, not wanting the panic at the words she still could not say, the thoughts she didn't want to have, to flood through her again. And each time she had fallen apart the moment she was safely back in the car with her mother.

She didn't want to go to school. But she had no other choice; her father had made it clear she would go if he had to carry her in himself.

The one comfort she could get from this was Rachel. The two were in honors classes and had almost all of them together. Santana never would have thought the day would come where she would take comfort in having almost the same schedule as Rachel, but now it seemed an immense relief. She had called to coordinate her arrival time with Rachel's, and as her mother dropped her off at the front of the school, giving her a tight hug and kiss, she had whispered to her, "Carina, please call me if you need, I have taken off work all week and I can take off one more day. But you will be all right. You are strong and you are safe and I am so proud of you. I love you."

It had taken everything she had not to burst into tears, cling to her mom, and beg her not to leave without her. But Santana had taken a deep breath and let her go, waiting for Rachel even as she tried to fight the panic already closing over her throat and pressing against her chest. When she saw the girl coming forward, she almost lunged towards her and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her hard and briefly burying her face in her shoulder. It was several more minutes before she could pull apart, already teary-eyed, take one last gulping breath, and holding Rachel's hand in hers in a vice grip, take her first few steps inside the school.

Immediately Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel, as much for her own comfort as the other girl's. She closes her eyes tightly, her voice shaking as she tells Rachel to do the same.

"We're…we're supposed to breathe. We're supposed to…it's not real anymore, it's not…"

But she is shaking too, and she knows her heart is racing against Rachel's just as rapidly. She rubs her hand over Rachel's back, trying to ground herself by touching the girl, feeling her solidly against her, as she fights back the terrible thoughts coming into her head.

"We…we're together…he's not here," she tells Rachel, but she doesn't sound certain at all. "He's not here."

Rachel closes her eyes upon Santana's insistence. Holding onto Santana she listened to her shaky voice and held her even tighter than before. She didn't register that she was crying by that point and some people had stopped and just stared at them. She didn't notice anything other than Santana holding her and the way they were both shaking.

"How… how do we… "

She trailed off as a locker slammed and she screamed thinking it was another gun firing. Burying her head in Santana's shoulder she held onto her as she cried, she wasn't strong enough to do this and all she wanted was to hide out in her room with Santana and not emerge for a while.

Santana jumped too, her nails digging into Rachel's skin, and she whirled them sideways so her back was not an open target, head jerking up, eyes darting. After determining that there was no gun in sight, she is still shaken, and she rocks Rachel, fighting back her own tears.

She notices the people looking at them, and tries to glare at them, feeling a rush of protectiveness over Rachel, but doesn't yet snap back. They can damn well walk on and leave them alone.

"I have first period with you," Santana tells Rachel, muttering into her shoulder. "It will be okay. We'll switch seats. We'll sit by the door. It will be okay."

Rachel cried into Santana's shoulder and just held onto her as she rocked them. She could tell that Santana was feeling protective over her just as she was too. She didn't move her head from Santana's shoulder for a few minutes, and when she did she noticed Kurt standing close by looking worried.

When Santana spoke she nodded a little and carefully untangled herself but wrapped an arm around the girls waist and slowly walked towards their first class. "The door sounds good."

Santana almost pushed past Kurt, not wanting to look at or be looked at by anyone. She was hardly in the mood to be judged or stared at, to have people looking at her like there was something wrong or strange about her or what she was doing…or worse, challenging it. She couldn't stand to hear anyone imply right now that she was using Rachel or she was in any way harming her, or that she was going to turn this against her when Rachel didn't expect it.

She walked with her slowly, opening the door and immediately claiming the seats closest to it. Sitting down with Rachel, she grips her hand beneath the desks, her chest tight, as she lowers her head, already barely able to stand sitting still here.

Kurt followed them, seeing as he had the same classes with them for the most part. When they reached their class she walked in and sat down beside Santana, gripping her hand tightly. Shifting her chair a little closer she rested her head on her shoulder and closed her eyes.

"I feel like I'm suffocating in here."

Santana squeezed her hand, not replying. She doesn't trust herself to speak right now. Her throat feels dry and scratchy, and every time she breathes in there is a coldness in her lungs. She feels sick to her stomach and finds herself rocking slightly in her seat without meaning to, the hand not gripping Rachel's pressed against her chest.

Rachel closed her eyes trying to picture herself somewhere, anywhere but there. She couldn't be there and she couldn't live in fear. When their teacher walked in she opened her eyes but all she saw was the monitor of their detention and just started shaking.

"I have… have.. to get out.. out of here."

Santana hears Rachel, but she can't bring herself to move. It's as though she is back, one week ago, again paralyzed by fear as the horror of the moment occurred all around her. She can't stand with Rachel, can't try to comfort her, and she can't reason with herself that her fear is illogical. Instead she squeezes Rachel's hand harder and harder, a soft sobbing noise escaping her throat, as she inwardly panics at the thought of Rachel leaving the room without her.

Rachel instinctively wrapped her arm around Santana when she sobbed despite the pain that came with it.

"Hey.. shh, you're okay," she whispered, completely unaware that the class was waiting for them. "I'm here."

Santana slowly raised her eyes, her heartbeat still out of control, and leaned into Rachel's touch, wrapping her arm around her too. Gradually she becomes aware of several classmates gawking at her, and she snaps back at them, her face reddening.

"This is a classroom, not a circus, and we're sitting in the back of the room. Your eyes are in the wrong damn direction."

Rachel didn't look at their classmates, she just held onto Santana and kept her head resting on her shoulder. She was too tired and too anxious to really make eye contact with anyone else.

"Alright everyone, let's get focus back.. we have a class to get started," Mr Shue called out, redirecting everyone's attention onto him.

Santana doesn't know how she makes it through the period. Every time someone scuffs their feet or closes a book too hard, coughs or shifts too suddenly, she jumps, even gasps, heart leaping into her throat. She feels like a bundle of raw nerves, barely in control of her body as the lesson drags on, and she doesn't even attempt to pay attention or take notes. It takes all her concentration to sit in her seat and hold onto Rachel, to take what comfort the other girl's presence gives her.

Rachel's own reactions mirror Santana's, she's shaking like a leaf towards the end of the lesson. Nothing is written on her notebook other than nervous taps of her pen against the paper. All of it is completely out of character for the petite brunette but she wasn't herself and she wasn't sure that she ever would be. She was just lost and scared and the only comfort she could find was in the arms of Santana, who she had grown fond of over the past week. When the lesson was finally done and they were dismissed, she still didn't move, it was like something had glued her to her seat and she was struggling to get the signals from her brain to her feet.

Santana notices Rachel's struggle and leans over her, lightly touching her shoulder as she forces herself to her feet. She rubs her shoulder, talking to her softly.

"Come on. I'm here, okay? Nothing will happen."

She isn't sure she really believes that, but every time she focuses on trying to help Rachel, it makes her focus less on her own fear.

Rachel finally got to her feet, holding onto Santana's hand and managed to force out a small smile.

"What do we have next?"

Usually she knew her schedule like the back of her hand but right now she was drawing blanks on absolutely everything. She barely knew which day it was let alone what classes she had all day.

Santana too has to wrack her thoughts, finally coming up with history. Boring, safely so, right?

She walks with Rachel, her hand tightly squeezing, and barely makes it halfway down the hallway before she comes to a stop, her chest compressing as they stop in front of THAT closet. She is hit with a strong urge to drag Rachel back inside with her, to hide from the noisy hallways and the other kids, kids she can't see all at once and watch and KNOW she's safe from. She is starting to breathe much faster than before, lightheaded, as she squeezes Rachel's hand.

When they stop in front of the closet her breath hitches in her throat and she jumps a little when she feels Kurt's hand on her back. "Come on, Rach." He whispers to her which get's her to snap out of everything long enough to tug on Santana's hand gently and encourage her to keep moving. When they finally reach their history class she does the same thing as they had earlier and sits by the door urging Santana to sit with her. There was a vacant seat, one which she knew was occupied with one of the girls that were shot that day and immediately she feels herself crumble and dissolve into a teary mess. Sure she wasn't friends with her but she had been there in those final, terrifying moments.

Santana can't do it. She can't sit here, not now, maybe never. She can't pretend to listen, she can't pretend that she's okay or that any of this will be okay. She can't pretend that she isn't constantly thinking of blood and death and dying, of all the possible dangers that could crop up, and she can't watch Rachel so upset. She too sees and is stricken by the empty chair, and without another thought she struggles to haul Rachel to her feet and out of the classroom.

"Come on- come on- come ON-"

She doesn't know where she's going, but here, she doesn't feel safe. Here, she is going to pass out or start crying, and she can't tolerate it anymore.

Rachel doesn't fight Santana she just get's up with her and allows herself to be pulled out of the classroom. Of course their teachers all understand and know that it's going to take a while for both girls to fully recover and get back into everything but at the same time they were worried about allowing them to fall too far behind. Once they were out in the hallway she looks around with tears still falling down her cheeks.

"Can we leave?" she asked nervously, they had stayed for one class and she hoped that was enough because she couldn't take being there any longer.

Santana is still struggling to breathe. She doesn't let Rachel pause, walking with her at a rapid pace, and this becomes pacing, circling the halls and dragging Rachel with her as she tries to think of somewhere, anywhere she'll feel safe. The more she walks the less she can think, and the more panicked she is feeling.

Just then Puck steps out of the classroom next to the ones they had just exited, his face furrowed with concerned confusion, and Santana realizes then she's cursing aloud without realizing, loud enough that it had apparently attracted his attention. He takes a step towards them, hand extended, and then stops, still frowning.

"Santana? Rach? You okay?"

"Get us out!" Santana spun on him, her tone urgent, intense. "Your keys…your…get us OUT!"

Rachel is shaking like a leaf the entire time, she can't be there and she knows that. She can't take it anymore and the mere thought of staying there too much longer was making her feel like she was going to throw up. She couldn't take it no matter how much she had been told that going back would help her feel better, it was doing the opposite. When Puck came out she was startled and snapped back to reality and just looked at him, wanting to just hug both him and Santana but she can't move, again.

"Yeah, come on."

Normally he wouldn't give anyone the keys to his truck but he knew that both girls couldn't be in that school any longer. When they were out in the parking lot Rachel was struggling to keep herself upright and breathe calmly.

"Temple… I need to go to Temple," she whispered.

She wasn't sure why, but she felt the need to go to a place where she had always found some kind of peace in times of need. And right now was one of those times, she had to go there.