A/N: Hello, everyone!
I haven't said this in a while, but I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has alerted/favorited/reviewed this story! It really means a lot that some people are enjoying the story. Thanks also to the silent readers. You guys rock too. :D
So, the reviewers:
Last White Feather - Hehe, glad I could make you swoon. ;) What a twist, indeed! I wonder if that will change things...? We'll see. ;) Thanks for the review, as always, and I hope you like this semi-short chapter! :)
James888 - I haven't had time to respond to your new review, so I'll do it here. I know, that's one of the things that I love so much about Brittana. It's obvious, even if it's not "in your face" all the time. They can't help the way they feel and just let it show in their body language and actions. :) Oh, the masquerade will be "resolved" shortly...you'll see what happens, though it's probably safe to say that Santana's going to feel hurt and betrayed (can I get a "duh"? lol). Thanks again for the review, and I hope this chapter is to your liking! :D
Sorry this is shorter than usual, guys. I have been a little insanely busy this week...Oh, well. Such is the way with things. :)
On an unrelated note, if any of you are interested in history and comedy, you should check out the BBC's TV show Horrible Histories. If you're not from the UK (such as myself), you can watch series ("season") 2 and 3 on YouTube. They do comedy sketches in a variety of different historical time periods (obviously focusing on Britain, but they do some others as well, like the Aztecs or the Greeks), while at the same time teaching the viewer a little bit about history. They aren't always correct (I've caught a couple mistakes for the Roman and Stone Age segments), but it's all highly entertaining! Especially the songs. The songs are the best! :D So...yeah. If ever you find yourself so inclined, you might want to check it out sometime for a good laugh. :)
Okay, that's enough babbling out of me today. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!
It had taken everything.
Fifty feet wide, the avalanche had swept down from above the yard and hurled itself across the tracks, sweeping everything in front of it down over the side of the ravine.
The cook shack was gone. Tina and Mike Chang were gone, crushed by the force of the moving snow and buried under who knew how many feet of ice and debris. If the trains had not moved on from Cascade the night before, would they have joined them? Brittany wondered.
It could have been us, she thought as she stood at Santana's side, staring at the astonished faces of her fellow passengers. It could have been me.
Total silence followed Santana's announcement, as though fear and shock had rendered people speechless. But it didn't take long for the storm to break.
"How do we know that we will be safe here?" the man sitting closest to them demanded as he leaped to his feet. "Have you looked at the slope above the trains? That whole side of the mountain could slide down and send us right into Tye Creek."
Brittany stretched one arm across Santana's back in a silent show of support. But, as the questions continued hard and fast, the hand that she had pressed against her shirt waist slowly clenched into a fist. She could feel the tension radiating from the Latina's body. However, Santana kept her voice calm and steady. Never had Brittany been so impressed by a show of strength and will.
Wrong, all wrong, she kept repeating to herself. She had never misjudged anyone as badly as she had misjudged Santana Lopez. The still waters in her ran so deep that Brittany didn't think that she would ever find the bottom.
"All I can tell you is that there's never been a slide here before," Brittany listened to the shorter woman say patiently. "I know that slope above the strains looks bad, but it's really safer than the set-up at Cascade."
"Why's that?" the first man to challenge Santana barked.
The brunette took a deep, steadying breath. Brittany moved closer, instinctively offering the other woman even more support. She didn't glance at the blonde, but the hand around Brittany's waist moved upward. Just once, almost absently, as though she didn't realize what she was doing, Santana stroked her long, golden hair. Then her hand resumed its tight grasp about Brittany's waist.
"The Cascade yard was in a ravine, a place where a slide is more likely to occur naturally," she explained. "It's an entirely different kind of terrain than where the trains are here. Not only that, but there's a ridge, a hogback, high up on that hill. If a slide did start to come down, the hogback would shunt the snow the other way. Chances are, it wouldn't touch the trains at all."
"But you don't know that for certain," a woman's voice said. Brittany turned her head in the speaker's direction. It was Mrs. Fabray. The older woman was white, all the way to her lips. Beth was squirming uncomfortably in the tight grip of her mother's hand.
Santana passed her free hand across her face. "No, I don't know that for certain," she replied, her voice beginning to show the strain she had been trying to keep in check. "I'm not going to lie to you people," she went on, her voice rising just a little. "Nobody can know anything for certain in this situation. No one has ever seen a storm like this so late in the season, not even the most seasoned men."
A low buzzing of conversation filled the dining room, reminding Brittany of a swarm of angry bees.
"Why can't we just go back to Leavenworth?" an older woman asked.
"Because the eastbound tracks are completely buried by the slide at Cascade, ma'am," Santana said. If she was irritated by the woman's question, she didn't let it show in her voice, but rather kept her tone even and polite. "There's a rotary trying to clear it now."
"In other words," a voice Brittany couldn't identify shouted, "we're stuck here. We can't go forward or back!"
An agitated groundswell of noise rose in the dining room.
"Please," Santana pleaded, trying to regain control of the terrified passengers. She released her hold on Brittany to ask for silence by raising both of her hands. "Please, ladies and gentlemen, you must stay calm. There's never been a slide here before, and there's no reason to think that there will be one now," Santana said.
"I promise you the crews are doing the very best they can. Superintendent Figgins himself is out with a rotary right now, trying to get the slide to the west of us cleared. Once that is done, we will get under way to Seattle just as soon as we can. All you folks have to do is be patient and sit tight. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better get back to work myself."
She turned swiftly and left the dining room. Brittany followed her, close at her heels. The Latina strode across the hotel lobby at a brisk pace, and then stopped in front of the door so suddenly that Brittany couldn't stop in time. She ran right into the brunette.
Santana turned, her arms reaching to steady the taller woman. "Britt," she said, her voice so tense that Brittany almost didn't recognize it. "I'm sorry—I—"
"Don't," Brittany cut her off. "Don't apologize, Santana. I should have let you go, I just—" The Latina gave her a tiny shake, cutting off her flow of words.
"No you shouldn't have," she answered softly as she gazed intently into Brittany's ocean blue eyes. "But I—" She released the blonde to pass one hand across her face once again, as if trying to clear her thoughts. As Santana focused on her again, Brittany saw the ghost of a smile had appeared in her deep brown eyes. "I can't believe this—but I forgot that you were there. All I could think about was getting back to the trains."
Brittany felt her lips quiver upward. How could she smile in the midst of so much pain? But, somehow, it just felt right. The relief in Santana's face when she saw the blonde's reaction was so plain that Brittany wished she had thrown back her head and laughed aloud. Santana was strong, but that didn't mean that she didn't need support. Didn't mean that the Latina didn't need her.
"Just be careful out there, will you?" Brittany said. "You've already been working so hard."
"Not as hard as some," she answered, the smile vanishing like the sun behind a cloud. "Most of the rotary crews haven't slept at all."
"All the more reason for you to stay fresh," Brittany answered firmly. "They'll need someone to help decide what to do, with Superintendent Figgins gone. I just wish I could be out there working alongside you and helping the crews as well."
A small, sad smile whispered across the brunette's features. "I know, so do I, but Superintendent Figgins has expressly forbidden it. The only reason why Figgins even allows me out there is because I'm his number two. It's not fair, but it's the way he runs the railroad."
"Yes, well, maybe one day that will change, and women will be able to work with men as equals in all manner of industry," Brittany responded, her jaw set in determination. "But until that day comes, you will be making a difference here as you lead the railroad crews in their work to free us from this unstable situation. I have every confidence in you, Santana," Brittany finished steadily, looking the Latina straight in the eye to convey her sincerity.
Santana regarded her in reverent silence, her eyes shining with emotion. "You're pretty fierce, aren't you, Miss Bennett?"
"Not always," Brittany said, striving to keep her tone light. "Only when it comes to those I—"
Her voice strangled in her throat. Brittany faltered and broke off. Her heartbeat hammered, posing the same question, over and over. What have I done? What have I done?
She had almost told her.
Brittany stood absolutely still, listening to the word she hadn't spoken tremble in the air around them. Watching the way the fire blazed in Santana's eyes like a signal beacon. The Latina bent her head forward a fraction, closing her eyes briefly, as though deep in thought, that one lock of hair tumbling as always across her forehead. Brittany didn't hesitate to reach up and brush it back.
Santana's raven hair felt like silk between her slender fingers, exactly right: soft, yet strong. At the touch of the blonde's fingers against her forehead, Santana jolted, as if stung, and stared wide-eyed at the woman in front of her. The fire in her dark eyes burned so hot and bright, Brittany was certain that she would be blinded by it. The rest of the world would be seared away until the two of them were all that was left, all that she could see. All that she wanted.
"Only with those you what?" Brittany heard her murmur, her husky voice taking on a slightly deeper timbre. Brittany felt a sharp pain shoot through her chest as her heart cracked open. Everything except the need to tell the Latina what was hidden there burned and blew away as ashes on the winter wind.
"Only with those I love."
She closed her eyes then, the blaze of Santana's eyes became so bright, and suddenly felt the shorter woman's full mouth close over hers.
How was it possible?
Brittany had never imagined that anything could be hotter than what she had seen within Santana's eyes, but the touch of her lips was an inferno. Brittany's blood raced like wildfire through her body, roared like a bonfire in her head.
She could feel heat sweep along the surface of her skin, and then slowly sink down and down, till her heart was knit back together. From this moment forward, it would be fused with the Latina's forever, the part of her that burned most fiercely of all.
Santana tilted her head, intensifying the kiss impossibly more as Brittany felt the brunette's hands entwine in her hair, pulling her ever closer, and Brittany's own arms tightened around the other woman's waist. Neither woman wanted to let go, for the moment to end, so consumed they were by the flame as their mouths moved together in unison. It wasn't until Brittany opened her mouth wider and ever so gently swiped her tongue across Santana's plump bottom lip that the Latina was jolted back to reality.
Santana slowly disconnected their mouths, her brown eyes staring up into Brittany's, her hands still wrapped up in golden locks, her breath unsteady. "My God," she whispered. "Britt—I—"
Brittany laid her trembling fingers against the Latina's swollen lips. "You have to see to the trains," she said, never sure how she found her voice. "It's all right. I know. Just promise me that you'll be careful," she said again.
"I will," Santana promised, disentangling her hands from Brittany's hair to take the blonde's pale hands with her own, her thumbs softly caressing the backs of them, sending delightful tingles up Brittany's arms with each pass. "Stay inside. Stay warm. Help Mrs. Jones if you can. It would probably be good to keep busy. Try not to worry, Britt. It will be all right. I promise."
Brittany felt a cold fist close around her burning heart. Before she could say another word, Santana turned and opened the door, passed through it swiftly, and slammed it shut behind her.
I made a promise, too, Brittany thought despairingly as she turned away. A promise to Brittney that things would be all right. A promise she was very much afraid that she had just broken. She took two steps across the lobby, and then stopped short.
Brittney was standing in front of her in the dining room doorway.
Brittany spent the rest of the day in a strange blur, her body moving, but her mind unfocused. Brittney disappeared shortly after breakfast. Brittany stayed at the hotel. Along with several of the other women, she helped Mrs. Jones prepare and serve lunch, then dinner. Brittany lost track of the number of plates she carried to and fro, first full, and then empty. By the time the last of the dinner dishes were finally done, Brittany had washed so many her hands were red and puckered.
Santana had come in just once, in the late afternoon, with word that Superintendent Figgins had returned with the westbound double rotary. The slide at Windy Point still had yet to be cleared, but Figgins was hopeful that, with a new load of coal and water, the rotary would be able to finish the task during the night, enabling the trains to move on in the morning.
The Superintendent was going back out as soon as the rotary had been refueled, to stay with it until the slide was cleared. He had assigned to Santana the task of telling the anxious passengers that they would be spending one more night in Wellington.
To herself alone, Brittany had admitted that she was glad she didn't have to be on the train when Santana made her announcement. Before the slide at Cascade, the passengers had been irritated by the delay the snowstorm caused, but no one had been particularly alarmed by it. But what had happened in the night at Cascade had changed everything, changed everyone.
Now Brittany's fellow passengers ate their meals in total silence, or in tight groups leaning toward one another, talking in low, urgent voices. More than once, Brittany saw a man bang his fist upon the table as he made a point in an argument. Anger, tension, and fear all hung like smoke in the air around her.
How long will it take? she wondered. How long before the nerve of the passengers shattered like the film of ice on a pitcher of water on a winter's morning?
But surely, she consoled herself, long before such a thing could occur the slides would be cleared and they would all be on their way to Seattle.
In the blur of activity, Brittany didn't see Brittney all day, though Mrs. Jones said that she had come in at both mealtimes to fetch food for herself and the Puckerman family. When Noah Puckerman came in to dinner, one of the last men to do so, he confirmed that Isaac was ailing, and that Brittney had spent the day helping Rachel with her and Abby.
Mr. Puckerman looked even worse than Santana did. His hands were red and chapped from the cold; his face was drawn and haggard. He still insisted on helping Santana work with the train crews, in spite of his concerns about his family.
"I shouldn't have let Rachel make this trip," he said, when Brittany took a moment to sit beside him. "Isaac's birth was hard on her, and the baby's always been frail. But she didn't want us to be apart, and I couldn't bear to leave her."
Brittany reached to cover one of his hands with hers. It felt strange to see such a big man be so helpless. "I'm sure you did the right thing," she said softly, knowing how inadequate the words were even as she spoke them. "Things have to get better soon, don't they? I mean, they can't get much worse." No matter how dire the situation, the tall blonde always tried to see light at the end of the tunnel, the bright side of things.
Noah Puckerman snorted, and then rubbed a hand against his tired eyes, trying in vain to relieve the tension. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, if I were you," he said wryly. "This is the very devil of a storm." Then he colored. "Santana would skin me alive if she knew I had told you a thing like that."
"Don't worry about Santana," Brittany reassured him with a smile. "I'm not the sort of person who needs things sugar coated. I'm sure Santana knows that I would much rather know the truth."
"I daresay she does," Mr. Puckerman answered with a tired smile. He stared down at the red-checked table cloth a moment. "If you'll allow me to say so, you've each made a fine choice. I wish you every happiness, Miss Bennett."
Brittany swallowed past the enormous lump in her throat. Santana wasn't the only one the blonde was deceiving, and none of them deserved it. "Thank you, Mr. Puckerman," she managed to choke out after a moment.
"Noah," he corrected. "We shouldn't stand on ceremony after all that has happened, and all the help that you have given Rachel."
"Thank you, Noah," Brittany repeated, smiling warmly at the man seated across from her.
But once again, in the back of her mind a voice was shouting, insisting that Santana deserved the truth as much as she did, as much as Noah Puckerman. How could she accept Santana's love, Noah's heartfelt good wishes? She had lied to them both. She was not Brittney Bennett.
All through the long, strange day, it had been Brittany's feelings for Santana that had sustained her, kept her going. Her greatest joy, and her greatest conflict.
When she tried to think ahead to the future, the blonde discovered that she couldn't do it. She could see only now, the current moment. The way ahead was hazy and white, as if Brittany was trying to see through the snowstorm.
However, as the day dragged on and she could still feel the searing heat of Santana's lips against her own, her heart began to dream a thing her mind knew was impossible: that somehow, she and Santana could be together when their strange journey was over. That, like a fairytale, their story could end in happily ever after.
"I'll walk you back, if you like," Noah offered as he finished his dinner, snapping Brittany out of her thoughts and back to the time at hand. "It's dark out. You shouldn't go alone."
"Just let me get this plate washed up," Brittany said, holding back a retort that she could take care of herself and telling herself that he meant well.
"Never mind that," Mrs. Jones said, materializing behind her. "You've put in a long enough day, Miss Bennett. I appreciate your help, but you should go along now. Besides, she added, a twinkle in her eye, "there's always tomorrow, don't forget."
Brittany groaned, making Mrs. Jones chuckle. Brittany followed a silent Noah Puckerman to the hotel door. Then, sheltered a little by his bulk, she stepped back out into the storm.
A/N: Uh oh...What's Brittney going to say once she gets a moment alone with Brittany? Will anyone overhear said conversation? We'll find out the answers to these questions in the coming chapter (I'm pretty sure...haven't written it yet, though, lol), so hang tight! :D
I hope you liked this chapter! I know not too too much happened, but it's still pertinent. :) K, that's all. I'll be back in a week!
