Title: This Wasnt Supposed to Happen

Pairing: Brittany/Santana, Santana/OC, Brittany/OC

Rating: Just M

Spoilers: NONE!

Description: Santana was supposed to be there for her little girl but now shes stuck in the middle of nowhere in a war. the only thing she has is a picture of her daughter when she was a year old and a photo of her high school sweetheart that she hadnt seen in about 7 years.

World: AU

A/N: I would love to thank my BETA! Shes simply amazing and I thank her for looking over this and fixing things that definitely needed to be fixed!

To my 5 reviewers haha I had a sudden burst of thought and just decided to write! So here it is, chapter 2.

"Half way around the world, that wont stop me from loving you, half way around the world ill still be feeling the way I do and I, I wanna hold you baby cause I miss ya like crazy!"

SANTANAS POV

I wanted to go home so badly, but I was stuck in this place without knowing where I was exactly. No one could find me or the soldiers I was with. The enemy had ambushed the four of us at our camp while we were on what we called 'down time'. Just sitting around talking and waiting really. Karofsky was on watch but the enemy came up from behind and covered our heads with bags.

I couldn't figure out the smell of the bag but next thing I knew, I was in what looked like a cement house. My hands were tied behind my back until one of the guys crawled over and untied them. All I could do was rub my wrists. I wasn't sure what to do then but the boys were talking amongst themselves, probably trying to come up with a way to get out of here.

"I wonder what they told my mother," I said and sighed looking down at my hands.

"Probably that we're off doing something good but top secret - lying. Why would they want to tell her that they lost her daughter? That the enemy got four of us?" Puckerman said.

It was me, Lt. Puckerman, Lt. Hudson and Karofsky – the newbie to the pod, as we called him. All I could think of was my mother walking around the kitchen pacing back and forth, wringing her hands, worrying and talking in a hushed tone so that Noella wouldn't hear her. But I know my mother, she would be strong for my mija and wouldn't let the little girl see her face when she heard the news of her missing daughter. It was hard leaving the two of them behind, leaving Noella was the hardest.

She was only one year old when I got the letter saying I was being deployed to heal wounded soldiers. Looking at her little round face and those big brown eyes all I could do was smile and make sure I didn't cry. It wasn't me. I had grabbed my duffle bag and left. I didn't know it then, but that was the last time I would see my little girl and my mother. I had gotten a couple of letters and a pictures before we were taken hostage. Noella was two years old in the picture and my mother had written me a letter telling me how much she was like me at that age.

Only two things kept me going and those were the people back home, I knew I had to get back home as well. And one person I had to find again. I wanted to go home, I just had to. I thought being a medic would be safer but I guess it still has the risks of being a regular soldier. The enemy hasn't done anything to us, other that threatening me and my fellow soldiers with guns in our faces if we didn't follow what they wanted us to do. I thanked God every day that they didn't demand anything sexual, because I was sure I couldn't take that.

The one thing I did hate was that when we smelled too bad, they would walk in and throw water all over us. Sometimes I wish they would have just stripped us of our clothing and did it, but we had to sit in wet clothing until they had dried. And to tell you the truth I'm not entirely sure how long we have been here, I lost count after a week or so – but counting the sunrise and sunset was getting tiring. Then there were the days when I just forgot to count because they would have dragged me out of the small house and into the sunlight to tend to their wounded men.

This is what our men and women were doing to them and now I had to fix them so they could go back out and wound and kill more of our family. I just wanted to go home.

3rd person POV

The soldiers sat in the room playing Tic Tac Toe in the dirt on the floor. They had tried to escape many times, but they had been caught each time and whipped back into shape. The others yelled at them in their native language and the US soldiers didn't understand what they were saying. Having slided back against the wall, all four of them just sat there, not knowing if they would ever be found. Puckerman scooted over to Santana and bumped her shoulder with his own.

"Can I see it again?" He asked, looking at her.

"Puckerman, you have seen it many times, it hasn't changed" she answered, smiling a little bit.

"So? She's a cute kid, plus, you're the only one who has a picture of home. "

"You would have gotten a picture Noah...you are her godfather"

Santana reached into her uniform and pulled out a folded picture that was torn around the edges. She unfolded it, showing a picture of herself and Noella when she was about 6 months old. The creases on the picture were turning white from being folded too many times but they didn't cover their faces. She handed the picture over. Puckerman held it in his hand and smiled to himself, Hudson and Karofsky taking a look at it over his shoulder.

"She's a mini-you, San."

"Yeah, in this picture she is, but I haven't seen her in 5 years. She could have changed, she could look like her father," she bit back at him and took the picture back. Running her thumb over the photo her thumb touched every crease in it. She sighed.

"We're going to get out of here, Lopez."

"How long have you been saying that exactly?"

"Too long…" Hudson and Karofsky chimed in making her laugh.

The soldiers were right, it had been way too long and maybe they were holding onto false hope. Every day, a new strategy was thought out and every day, it was shot down. It was getting tiring thinking of all of these ways to get out and each of them failing. Some days, it got so bad, that the Iraqis that were keeping them hostage would hit them and beat them. Santana was the only one that had physical evidence of having been hurt. There were the fading bruises, the uniform that was torn up in places, the deep scrapes that were on her legs from being thrown around when she didn't cure one of their soldiers. Even with all the plans in the world to get out, the only way they believed they could succeed in doing so was if they were rescued.

"What are you going to do when you get out, Puckerman?" Santana asked, looking over at him.

"Go find my ma and tell her how much I love her, then I would sit back and crack open a cold beer and a maybe get a burger," he said with a smile.

"What about you, Hudson?"

"Same, maybe go find Rachel or Katie..."

"I think Katie is the better bet, I swear when you and the hobbit broke up she was all over Q in about five seconds," Santana said with a laugh and put her head back against the wall of the compound.

"Shut it, Lopez! What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna hold my little girl till shes too big, tell my mother that I'm sorry I was a huge – and I mean huge – bitch, then find Brittany, tell her I've loved her since I've met her and I'm never goin to take life for granted."

Puckerman, Hudson and Karofsky nodded. Puckerman reached over and put his hand into hers, squeezed it and then let it go, smirking to himself.

"Oh and I'm going to have so much sex, preferably a hot brunette."

"Oh yeah, up top, Puckerman!" Hudson held his hand up. Puckerman slapped his and laughed.

Santana shook her head with a smile. Boys will be boys as always. That was one of the last times they ever really had a good laugh before their captors started to get aggravated with all four of them. They thought they shouldn't be laughing and having a good time but pleading for their life. More days went by and the roughness got worse. Puckerman was beaten and thrown back into the den after two hours, left with a black and swollen eye, a broken left hand, bruises and cuts. Only because he fought back like he always does. Hudson had a few cuts but that was it and the same went for Karofsky. Lopez and Puckerman were fighters and it definitely showed.

A guy with a hat and ragged clothes walked in. He grabbed Santana's arm and pulled her up and out of the den, then threw her into the sun.

"Fix him." That was all he said and Santana rolled over onto her back. She looked over at the guy who's intestines were spilling out of his abdomen.

"I can't fix him, I'm sorry," she said. She crawled over on her arms and took his pulse. All she did was shake her head.

"He's dead, I can't fix him," she repeated.

The man walked over to her, grabbed her by her hair, glared at her and pushed her back down, holding a gun up.

"FIX HIM!" he yelled louder and all she could do was shake her head and a shot was fired.

He hit her in the stomach. She reached down and grabbed it. Applying pressure to it, she slowed her breathing. The man stood over her and pressed his foot to her wound. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes – the pain was getting too much. She couldn't tell if it was through-and-through since she was laying down. Passing out from the pain she woke up later on in a helicopter. Puckerman leaned over and saw she was opening her eyes.

"She's opening her eyes!" he yelled. The medic walked over and looked at his colleague.

"Hey there, welcome back. You're going home. The wound wasn't through-and-through, we have to take you to surgery!" he yelled over the noise of the helicopter.

Santana nodded and she closed her eyes just to rest. When they got back into the United States they were all flown to Mass Gen to get everyone looked at and they rushed Lopez into surgery. Now all that left to do was calling their families.

MARIA'S POV

Getting home from the store, I let Noella change out of her school clothes so that she could go and play. Walking over to the kitchen, I grabbed a few plates to make some lunch for us. I had heard on the television earlier before we left that a few soldiers were found but they wouldn't release the names or conditions. Every day the phone rang I dreaded that it would be the General saying that my daughter wouldn't ever come home. That she was killed overseas serving her country. How I would be more than heartbroken – how could I possibly tell Noella that her mother wouldn't ever come home, that she wouldn't meet her and that the two of them would never just hang out?

Opening the fridge I grabbed some charcuterie and bread from the box that sat on the counter. It was about ten minutes later and I realized that my granddaughter wasn't down here so I called out to her.

"Noella! Bug, lunch in two minutes!" I said, but I didn't get an answer.

Putting the finished sandwiches on the plates I walked down the hallway to her room and looked inside. Tp my surprise, I didn't find her there. Walking out I saw the door to my daughter's room was open wide enough for a five-year-old to get in. I walked over and pushed it open seeing Noella's sun dress on her mother's bed and the little girl standing there with a big oversized McKinley High Football shirt on. One of the many Santana bought oversized at football games so that she could use them as nightwear.

"Bug, what are you doing?"

"Trying on clothes," she simply replied. She ran over, put her arms up and smiled.

"You look like your mother with that shirt on, that was her favorite!" I said picking Noella up in my arms.

The football shirt she wore was just a simple grey T-shirt, probably a men's medium or large. The red writing across the chest was faded from being worn and washed too many times. Walking out of the bedroom, I closed the door behind me, Noella on my hip as I walked us back to the kitchen to eat. Stepping foot in there the phone rang and I picked it up.

"Lopez Residence."

"Maria Lopez? This is Lt. Montgomery from the United States Army."

"Yes?" I feared the worst as I heard his voice on the other side.

"I have good news. Your daughter, Santana Lopez, is at Mass Gen. She's home, ma'am. At the moment, she's in emergency surgery, but she's home!"

"Are you serious!" Tears came to my eyes as I heard this. My mija was alive! Even though she was in emergency surgery, she was alive! My heart beated faster thinking of losing her if the surgery wasn't successful.

"When can I see her?"

"We can come pick you up in thirty minutes and take you there."

"Yes, thank you! Thank you!"

TBC.