Note:

Aw, last chapter :(

I'll miss writing this as much as I miss glee- but I promise I'll start it/Avalanche 2 up when I have more episodes.

Thanks so much for your interest and comments and encouragement, it's been so amazing.

I've posted the prologue for my AU Brittana fic- No Place Else. So go and check it out! I've got chapter one in the works as we speak and that should be up soon.

And my Tumblr link is lumosknoxobliviate . tumblr . com if you want to check it out.

But for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Ch 22: Moments

Catastrophe is made up of moments. Or, at least, they're what it leaves behind after it's rolled past the sun and let the light back in.

And the moments are never the ones you'd expect. They're not there because they contain reasons to explain what happened. They're not there because they're meant to connect to one longer chain of cause and event.

They're there because they're the ones you need.

The ones that give you back your meanings.

Monday, 10:14 p.m.

She's astride Santana and it's perfect. Small rocking motions with her hips. Not enough to take herself completely off Santana's fingers. But enough.

Because her skin is so white it becomes a canvas for the shadows in the room. And for the golden light that creeps in off the street like a stray cat. The two collide and cross section her chest and her stomach and her face.

She has one hand fisted in her own hair- elbow drawn up and out like a bird's wing. The other arm- and Santana loves this the most- is being used as a brace- palm down, sweating slightly, fingers grasping, digging in against Santana's chest- right above her heart.

Santana wonders if Brittany can feel it going and going and going- morse coding her name.

Santana licks her lips- which have dried out because of her open mouthed breathing, then she curls her wrist, repositioning her fingers- only so slightly- but it's like the movement is an underwater earthquake and Brittany is the sea above. Her breath hitches and her body jack-knives in slow motion. Her hands come loose from her hair and off Santana's chest and for a moment, she just sways- pleasure clenching her features tight against one another.

And then the face is inches above Santana's own, her elbows on either side of Santana's head. Their breath mingles as Santana strokes her fingers harder and Brittany lets out a whimper, pressing her lips hard together so that they go white. Santana pushes harder, skidding down the slope of her own arousal, trying to see straight.

Brittany's body shudders and she drops her head onto Santana's chest so that Santana can smell her hair. She cries out: once: just a moan, once: Santana's name. And then: "I need you."

Santana had always assumed that she was the one in need. But not this night. This night Brittany clings to her as hard as she can- lifelines and promises and forevers- that's what Santana feels in the long seconds when Brittany hugs her fingers from the inside and becomes jagged and frenzied and then, still.

Tuesday, 3.55 p.m.

Santana walks into the choir room and drops her bag by the foot of the piano. Its heavy- filled with a deadly dose of calculus homework. Quinn is closest, leaning around the other side of the piano, flipping absently through a magazine.

"Hey," Santana says, walking around to stand beside her. Quinn doesn't lift her chin off her hand but her eyes flick up and she smiles. It flutters on her face, it almost looks grateful.

"Hey Santana, how's it going?"

Santana shrugs. It's been an average day by anyone's standards. Except Becky's, probably, who'd had to spend the whole of Cheerios practise holding a vomit bag up to Coach Sue's face.

"Sounds bad," Quinn says. "That's probably the only thing I don't miss about Cheerios...Sue's insanity."

"Don't forget the protein shakes," Santana reminds her.

Quinn's features crinkle. "Oh god, yeah, add those to the list. Is she still making you guys drink that crap?"

"Uh huh. When I tried to tell her one girl's tongue had started going numb she just said to take it up with President Obama."

Quinn rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Then she smiles fondly.

"I miss it a lot." Her laughter hasn't died from her voice but it only makes the words more earnest.

Santana cocks her head and feels something in her chest pull for Quinn.

"So...Go ask Coach if you can join again."

Quinn slackens her mouth and frowns at Santana.

"You don't mean that."

"Yeah I do," Santana says. "Re-join."

And, because she's gotten better at telling the truth, she adds: "We miss you, too."

Tuesday, 9:45 p.m.

Brittany's bed creaks- and it's too early for the sounds to be swallowed into the night, veiled by the excuse of restless sleep.

So, they do it on the floor.

Santana is lying on her back with one arm thrown over her eyes and Brittany's head ducked between her legs. Her tongue is exceedingly gentle and her hair whispers across Santana's thighs. Santana tilts her head down to see her. Brittany has her eyes closed as her tongue curls down the length of Santana. She looks so engrossed, so devoted, so present.

Santana can't look again after seeing that. It always makes the end come too soon.

She has a hand on Brittany's head. It acts as the last shred of Santana's control; it's the last bit of her to give over to Brittany completely. Tonight is not a night where she can just relax and come undone beneath Brittany's touch. Not many nights recently have been because lately the end always rises up to greet her far too quickly- tinging her release with guilt as she watches surprise and then a flicker of disappointment ghost over Brittany's face. They've tried pushing Santana through it, connecting her first orgasm and her second without a pause or a hitch in their movements- but everything is so sensitive and raw that it becomes painful.

She feels a little like a stupid boy.

Santana wills herself to hold off, pressing her forearm so hard against her face that the top of her nose begins to ache. She curls her toes, tightens her leg muscles and her stomach. After a moment she brings in her back muscles as reinforcements but she suspects it's too late.

As a last resort, her hand claws the back of Brittany's head, trying to tug her away.

Brittany's tongue is sweltering around Santana's clit- moving in circles. The meaning of Santana's hand in her hair doesn't process for a beat- and by the time it does Santana's already at the edge.

The loss of Brittany's mouth lets her gain some form of control. But it only lasts for the briefest flicker of time- because Brittany sweeps her body up Santana's and settles on top of her, pressing the top of her thigh in the place that her tongue has just vacated.

Santana's whole body turns in on itself. Her mouth gapes open. Then she's gone. Her eyes roll back, and she closes them so she won't see Brittany pull her head up and watch her in surprise. Santana's back, even with Brittany's weight on her, curls up off the ground, and her limbs- she doesn't even have the sense to keep track of them.

She's halfway through when her phone rings. And the vibration on the desk above their heads is enough to chase the tail of the orgasm away so that Santana finishes limp and sweating- ashamed and irritated.

Above her, Brittany is smiling into Santana's frown and Santana tosses her head to the side so she doesn't have to see Brittany's attempt at making her feel better.

"Babe. Hey."

Hands softly coax Santana's head back around and then Brittany's lips are warm and soothing on her forehead, the tops of her cheeks and the tip of her nose.

They look at each other and ignore the phone. It rings and rings and rings then stops and the silence is deafening.

"I'm sorry," Santana mutters.

Brittany shakes her head so hard that her hair whips Santana's face.

"You're not allowed to be sorry."

"Well I'm breaking the rules."

Brittany wriggles her arms between Santana and the carpet and tugs their bodies completely up against one another- curling even their toes together.

"If finishing too quickly is the only thing you have to be sorry for then I think we're pretty good, don't you? And besides," Brittany's features tilt into coyness, plucking one of Santana's hands up and holding it above their heads. They both look at it. "Your skills with this aren't affected by how quickly you finish. So you're not leaving me in the lurch."

Santana raises her eyebrows and their eyes meet. She feels nothing like a boy now.

They kiss then, lazy and slow and deep. And then, as Santana slips her mouth down and bites Brittany's bottom lip, Brittany drops Santana's hand because it's needed elsewhere.

Santana doesn't check her phone until the morning. The person had called twice last night but the I.D is blocked, so she can't call them back. Her mind skips to one possibility of who it could be. And she stops herself because the thought is ridiculous.

She pushes it to the back of her mind and lets Brittany make pancakes for breakfast.

They don't call again.

Wednesday, 9:08 a.m.

Santana is in homeroom when a runner comes in and gives the teacher a small pile of pink slips. Grateful for a distraction from her mad dash to finish her essay for English, Santana trails her eyes after the teacher. He winds through the desks, glancing at the names on the slips and mapping out their positions in the class.

Santana is the last to have hers placed in front of her. Sam, Rachel and Mike are already hovering by the door looking at her. She gets up and joins them and they follow the directions on their pink slips- Please meet Mr Schuster and Miss Pillsbury in the choir room.

"Regionals practice obviously," Sam mutters.

"Or maybe Dalton has actually decided to punish Sebastian for what he's done to Finn," Rachel points out.

"Urgh. Give it up Berry," Santana snaps. "No one actually cares enough about Finn to Google him. The pictures are nothing."

They are the last group to arrive and the first thing Santana sees is Mr Schue's face. It's like a storm.

And then her eyes travel over the others- who all look as confused and as unsettled as she feels.

Brittany has saved her a seat and as soon as Santana sits down she shuffles close and threads their arms together. Quinn is on the other side of Brittany and she leans forwards.

"Coach said no," she whispers. Santana's stomach tightens harder.

"I'm sorry. I'll- I'll talk to her."

Quinn waves her hand, dismissively.

"She had her reasons. It's alright."

Mr Schue's voice stops Santana's reply. Her and Quinn settle back in their chairs and align their eyes at him with everyone else's.

"Is everyone here?" He asks.

Everyone looks around at each other.

"Kurt and Blaine aren't," Mercedes points out.

"Oh, I know that. That's alright. Everyone else?"

Santana narrows her eyes. Okay, she thinks, this definitely has something to do with Dalton. That thought makes her even less prepared for what Mr Shue says next.

"The staff have just been informed that last night Dave Karofsky tried to take his own life."

It's the way that Brittany's body flinches against Santana's that makes the words compute properly.

"No way," Puck breathes, slumping in his chair and running a hand down his face. His are the only words for a while. Miss Pillsbury's throat is working like she's trying not to cry.

"What happened?" Santana is surprised that the question comes coherently out of her mouth because it feels stuffed full of cotton wool.

"The story isn't clear at this point. But what I need to get across to you all is that he is in a safe place now and getting the care he needs."

"Was it a cry for help, did he actually intend on dy...?" Mercedes can't finish her question.

Mr Schue shrugs.

"At this point, I don't know. But whatever happened was serious enough to get him admitted to hospital and put under 72 hour watch."

It's then that Santana remembers the phone call. And it's like it makes her shrivel.

She's on her feet and heading towards the door before Mr Schue can protest.

She walks down the corridor, digging around in her bag for her phone. She thinks she's calm until she notices that her hands are shaking and fumbling uselessly. She crouches in the hallway- against some lockers and sets her bag down on the ground between her legs. She gets a hold of her phone and brings up her recent calls list.

Missed: Unknown number (2)

As she accesses her contact list and scrolls downwards her heart is in her mouth and it skips a beat when she gets to 'D' and can't find Dave or David. Bile swells in her throat when she gets to 'K' and there's no Karofsky.

She was sure she had his number. Though, she'd never cared enough to ever use it.

She's crying now, her face screwed up so hard it hurts.

She scrambles back up her contacts list and gets to A. And before she can even think twice, she's calling the person she wants most in the world to be behind that unknown number.

Her Abuela's home number rings and rings and rings and rings until, finally, there's a clatter and a male voice, who she recognises as her Uncle Terry's, speaks gruffly into the phone.

"Yes?"

"Tío. Tío, it's Santana." Her voice is all odd and wavery. She must not sound like herself at all because there's a pause and then her uncle repeats her name back to her. Really slowly.

"Santana?"

"Si, I just…" She presses her lips together and rides out another surge of tears. Her shaky breath crackles into the phone speaker. "I just was wondering if Abuela tried to reach me. I missed a call last night. Two-two calls. And something- something happened last night and I really want to- Is she there?"

The next pause lasts long enough for Santana to know the answer before her uncle says it.

"She didn't. Goodbye, Santana. I better go."

"O-okay…" The line falls dead in her ear.

Santana's legs give out beneath her and she's crying in earnest now- thinking about David's face through the window of his pick-up and that goddamn Valentine's Day card.

Brittany's knees crack as she crouches down beside Santana and wraps her up in her arms.

"I think he called me. Just before...I mean...the numbers blocked but I think he tried…"

Santana can't get any more words out and Brittany just holds her and rocks a little, her lips stamped against Santana's temple.

They stay like that until the silence is broken by Santana's phone which lights up, buzzing with an incoming call.

Santana picks it up and looks at the 'Unknown Number' phrase flashing on the screen. She and Brittany exchange a look and then, steeling herself for the sound of Karofsky's voice, her heart in her throat at what she might hear, she presses 'answer.'

Wednesday, 3.30 p.m.

"I still don't get why he called you and not me," Blaine says, shoving his hands into his jeans pocket and glaring through the window of the Lima Bean at the back of Sebastian's head.

"He told me it was because he knew you wouldn't hear him out." It's the third time Santana has had to remind Blaine.

"And- and how did he know about Karofsky on the same night that it happened?" Kurt asks, his eyes also lined up with the back of Sebastian's head.

Santana rolls her eyes, sick of lingering outside the café like stalkers and sick of having to repeat herself.

"I've already told you," she grits out. "All Sebastian said was that he knows a couple of guys that go to school with Karofsky and that he did it in the afternoon and by the evening- when Sebastian tried to call me- it was already spreading around the school. And," She holds up a hand as Kurt opens his mouth. "I've already told you that I don't know why he called us here; just that he had some stuff to say. And also, I'm doing the talking, kaapesh?"

Blaine holds up his own hands in submission.

"Sure, fine. I personally couldn't give a rat's ass what he has to say so feel free to lay into him on my behalf."

"I'm so sick- I'm sick of all this crap," Kurt says, jamming to toe of his shoe downwards to scuff the sidewalk. "He's not important, Santana. You should have just ignored him. He's just a stupid bully who doesn't deserve anyone's time and effort. Dave's in hos-"

Santana cuts across him.

"You know, it's funny you should mention Dave. Because I recall that your opinion of him not too long ago being exactly the same as your opinion of Sebastian now."

"What are you trying to say Santana?" Blaine asks warningly. Kurt's face hardens his eyes boring into Santana's. She meets his gaze head on.

"All I'm saying is that you don't know what it's like to feel so shit about yourself that you have to torment other people. Dave does. I do. And Sebastian probably does as well. I mean, if I resembled a rodent as much as he does I'd hate the world and everyone in it too."

Brittany snorts with laughter beside her but Blaine and Kurt are still looking at her like they're deciding whether or not to be offended.

"You can't just… When something like this happens- with Dave...we can't just ignore idiots like Sebastian. We've got to make him see that whatever crap is going on in his own life is worth dealing with rather than projecting it onto everyone else. That's what I…" She looks to Brittany, before she can stop herself. "Just, trust me," she says, her cheeks flushing. She drops her eyes because Brittany's face is open and proud and Santana really does not want to let Sebastian see her crying.

"Wow. Alright I'll give it to you Santana that was well said." Blaine's nodding at her, impressed.

"Mmm," Kurt simpers, "I'm impressed. But, I really don't think going all 'we're here to help you with your inner suppressed pain' is going to work with this guy. We tried the nice approach with Black and White."

Santana snorts. "God. No. That's not happening. I'm still going to tear this guy a new one. But we just have some weight to throw behind it with what happened to Karofsky."

They all pause then. And it kind of reminds Santana of one of those 3 minutes of silence that they do every year on September 11- with everyone grim and reflective. Then Kurt sets his jaw and looks back up to the window.

"Alright. Let's just get this over and done with."

Thursday, 6:18 p.m.

Mercedes is the one who says what everyone is thinking.

"I'm not in the mood to practice tonight."

"Ohthankgod," Puck mutters, dropping Tina's hands and crumpling to the floor, hiking one foot up to his face and pressing into the sole of it with his thumbs.

There's an overall shuffling as all the other couples shift away from one another. The only two left clasped resolutely in their position are Finn and Rachel. And even then, it looks to Santana like Rachel is physically holding Finn in place.

"No, no, come one guys," she whines. "We've gotten this far, only a couple more hours and then…"

"Hours?" Artie holds up a hand. "Uh-uh. Not happening."

"Hold on." Quinn's voice travels over the room. "We just need an incentive to keep going."

Rachel rounds on her. "Oh I'm sorry. I forgot that today's teens rate pizza, booze and sex as higher incentives than winning. That should be all the motivation we need. Now, come on Finn."

She jerks them through the movements- which is super awkward because Mercedes has turned the music off so now all Santana can hear are their shoes squeaking and Rachel's intake of breath every time Finn steps on her foot.

"I could…Uh…Pizza actually sounds kind of awesome," Sam pipes up sheepishly from beside Sugar.

"Agreed," Rory adds.

This earns them a death stare from Rachel, but Quinn stands up and brushes her hands demurely down the front of her skirt.

"I'll volunteer my car and some cash if someone comes with me?"

"I'll come!" Brittany says immediately, scooting away from Blaine to bounce over to Quinn.

"Uh…" Rachel begins.

"I'll come too," Santana raises her voice, walking over to join Quinn and Britt. Brittany smiles and gives her a kiss hello on the shoulder. Things like that still make Santana go red and grin like an idiot, but she tries to supress it while she's giving everyone a fierce look.

"Come on, cough up- We ain't paying for all of it."

When everyone- bar Rachel- has contributed some money, Quinn, Brittany and Santana head out to the parking lot to Quinn's car.

It's been so long, but none of them falter amidst the ritual they once performed every day. Quinn unlocks her driver's door- because her central locking is broken- and leans over to flip up the front passenger seat lock for Santana- who in turn opens the door and curls her arm around to unlock the back door for Brittany.

Brittany slides into her place in the middle of the back seat and buckles the over the shoulder seatbelt which, Santana notes fondly, still has a furry frog cover Velcro-ed to it that Brittany brought Quinn two years ago. Brittany had been so excited by it that Quinn had let her put it on the belt she used instead of the driver's seat one.

When Santana looks back over her shoulder Brittany is stroking the tip of her finger along the top of the frogs head, smiling down at it.

"Still got that old thing," Quinn says. Santana looks across and sees that Quinn has been watching Brittany too in the rear-vision mirror.

"Mr Toad," Brittany mumbles fondly, still stroking him.

Quinn drives them out of the car park and just as she hits the main road her phone lights up and goes crazy in her centre console.

She reaches for it and glances down. After a pause, she snorts and looks away from her phone- veering the car- which had drifted slightly- back fully into their lane.

"Read this."

Santana takes the phone that Quinn's holding out to her and looks at the message. It's from Sam.
"Rachel caved. Make sure u get a vegan 1."

Santana rolls her eyes to Quinn.

"Urgh. Friggn typical."

"What is?" Brittany peeps her head in between them and leans her chin on Santana's shoulder. Santana lifts the phone to her face and watches her read the message.

She snorts too and tosses her head away from Santana's, settling back in her seat. She starts humming along to the opening bars of 'I Love the Way You Lie'- which has just come over the radio.

Quinn and Santana exchange smiles and then break away into laughter as the song hits the second verse and Brittany's voice jumps several notches in volume because she's more comfortable with the lyrics- rapping fluidly along to Eminem's bit.

Santana reaches behind her and knots her fingers in Brittany's.
"You should be the one rapping on Saturday instead of me baby," she calls back over her shoulder.

Brittany squeezes back but doesn't break rhythm.

"You ever love somebody so much,
you can barely breathe when you're with 'em
You meet, and neither one of you, even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feelin', yeah them chills used to get 'em…"

Quinn joins in suddenly, bouncing a hand back and forth above the steering wheel like a gangster. Santana screws up her face in mock disgust and switches her gaze between them.

Quinn knows the words just as well as Brittany, but she's laughing a little so she stumbles over them. Santana feels herself soften as she looks at Quinn and then she's grinning too.

The verse winds up and Brittany snatches a breath between words.
"You're Rihanna, San! Go!"

There's something about the way Quinn and Brittany both turn to her- breathless and bright eyed- that makes Santana close her eyes and sing her heart out.

Saturday, 11:15 a.m

As soon as Santana shuts her bathroom door, she leaps away from it and bounces around on the tiles, waving her arms like an insane person. She's breathing heavily when she stops and catches sight of herself in the mirror.

She shakes her head at her reflection and then grins like an idiot.

"We won," She says aloud, and laughs.

Santana realises then that the things she cares about have a tendency to creep up upon her. Brittany did. And glee club has.

Santana drops her eyes down to the plastic bag she'd laid out across the sink- her bridesmaid's dress. The others- Tina, Mercedes, Sugar and Brittany- are in her room, changing there. Santana just needed a moment to fully let the joy take her over. She had suspected rightly that it could be a slightly disturbing sight and she preferred to do it in solitude.

She peels the bag halfway open and then changes her mind and takes off her Regional's costume first.

The bridesmaids dress is pink- which she hates- but it looks okay, kind of nice against the tone of her skin. She tosses her hair over one shoulder and regards herself in the mirror. Who's she kidding? She looks hot.

She twists her arms around her back, her fingers slipping on the pitifully small zip. She tugs, slips, tugs, slips and it doesn't budge so she turns in circles, chasing an angle that will let her move the zip.

When she hears laughter coming from the doorway she stops and turns around.

Brittany's halfway inside the bathroom, her eyes soft with amusement. She's in her dress already. By the way it hugs her hips and sits right on her shoulders Santana can tell that her zip hadn't decided to be as much of a bitch as Santana's has.

"I love how silly you are sometimes," Brittany says softly, stepping over to her and taking a hold of the zip, easing it up Santana's back.

The material tightens around Santana's body as the zip climbs higher and just as Brittany gets it to the end she dips her head and kisses Santana's back.

"There," she steps away. "Turn around."

Santana does, feeling shy as Brittany's eyes sweep up her.

"You're perfect," she says breathlessly. Then she presses her lips together and goes red.

Santana smiles so wide that it hurts.

"I love you," she says back.

They step up to one another, tilting their faces close. Santana watches Brittany's eyes flutter closed in anticipation. It's one of the best things Santana can think of seeing in her whole life.

They're interrupted by banging on the door.

"Santana!" Mercedes called. "There's someone on the phone for you!"

Santana steps around Brittany and opens the door. Mercedes is holding out Santana's cell phone. She's grinning.

"Who is it?" Santana asks, frowning.

"Just take it and see. I think you're going to like this."

Santana's eyes switch very slowly back to the phone. There's one name on her tongue and she wants to ask Mercedes for confirmation so that she can prepare for the shock of that voice. She's missed it so much.

Mercedes shakes the phone in front of her face and raises her eye brows.

"Go on," she urges.

Santana takes the phone, takes a breath and turns back into the bathroom.

She presses to the phone to her ear and listens to the static on the other end.

"Abuela?" She breathes and she sees Brittany's face light up beside her. Santana surges on. "Abuela I- thank you for calling I…I've been really wanting to speak with you…"

"What?"

Santana loses her breath at the sound of the voice at the other end.

"What?" She says back, her chest clenching.

"It's- it's Quinn. Didn't Mercedes…"

There's an awkward pause. Santana works bitterly to contain her tears. Brittany is hovering around her, her expression sunken in concern.

"Quinn. Yeah. Sorry," Santana mumbles.

"Sorry…Hey I…I just called to tell you that Coach Sue changed her mind about the Cheerios and invited me back. She gave me the uniform and everything. I'm- I'm wearing it now." She laughs lightly at herself.

"That's great! Cool. Good, awesome. That's so cool," Santana babbles.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. And Santana, I just wanted to thank you. I… Well, I never thought I'd say this…but I'm kind of looking forward to being a part of the squad with you as Captain."

"You are?" Santana's surprise is muted. Everything feels muted. She doesn't even try to make herself sound grateful but she thanks Quinn anyway. She must sound really awful because the tone of Quinn's voice has deadened when she speaks again.

"…Yeah. Yeah alright well that was all I called to say. I guess I'll see you at the wedding."

The line goes dead before Santana can say she's sorry.

Saturday, 2:00 p.m.

Santana has her eyes closed, her head tilted upwards and resting against the wall of the waiting room. She's glad the blood is rushing so hard in her ears because it means she can hardly hear the sound of the others crying. Mercedes and Rachel, she thinks. Tina too, and Sam. Maybe they all are. Santana's just glad she doesn't have to hear them.

Brittany's hand is in hers. Their palms are sweated together and their knuckles are squeezed painfully against one another.

And God, she just wants to get up with Brittany and go. She wants Brittany to sit in the passenger seat of her car and cradle a six pack of beer between her thighs while Santana drives. And when they go to drink them they won't even care that Brittany's skin has made them warm because they'll still enjoy fizz on their tongues and the taste of it in each others mouths. And they'll be at their lake- the reeds will be warm and the water welcoming like it's summer again. And Brittany will throw herself in first. And Santana will stand on the bank, caught in that moment of fear that lasts until her head breaks the surface and it's one of the wonders of the world- watching Brittany disappear and come back again.