"Chang."

The people on the floor collectively flinched, still wary about what happened to Jacob this morning, and Mike nearly hesitated to rush across the floor to join Santana at the door of her office. Her first priority was to get the women in the room so she was punching in her security code as she said, "I need you to do something for me."

When the door opened and the rest of the women disappeared into the sanctuary that was her office, Santana finally turned to face him. If he was surprised by the misting, but present, traces of tears in her eyes, he didn't let it show, nor did he comment on it.

He just asked, "How can I help?"

"I need..." Santana heard the deeper meaning to his words. Business aside, Mike would be there for her if he could, and that meant more to her than she realized. "I need you... to be in charge for the rest of the day. Make sure Thompson is getting Israel's projects back on track and the network—please, tell me you have made some progress on that network."

"We have," Mike assured her, "we're getting it all worked out right now. I have this covered Santana, I know what needs to be done."

It was such a testament to how much he cared by knowing enough to not ask if she was okay, he knew she wouldn't want him to draw attention to just how upset she really was. Santana glanced from him to the floor, then nodded. She could trust Mike.

"Thanks, I'll be in here if you need anything, but I would prefer that you... didn't."

"I understand," he made to go back to work but Santana's voice stopped him.

"And Mike?" she watched him turn around and look at her, waiting intently for direction. "I was thinking... I had a photo shoot scheduled for later this week, but I'm not really feeling up for it. Did you want to maybe sub in for me?"

The way his mouth fell open slightly inspired a small snort of laughter. It was a welcome feeling after the trauma she and the rest of the girls had been subjected to with St. James. She needed this small blip of humor before she was reminded of what her life was really all about, drama.

"Give it a thought," she tossed over her shoulder as she started reentering her security code to open the office door, "I think you would love the photographer."

"I feel like I'm in shock," Rachel pressed her hands against her face. Her skin was clammy but her cheeks were still so hot. She had never been that humiliated. How the hell did St. James know so much? Who else could have connected the dots? Was Quinn still willing to be with her after she was exposed as a vindictive harpy?

And did Quinn believe that she had slept with those men?

"Welcome to my world," Santana breezed by her and to her desk where Quinn was already opening the bottom drawer. There was a clink of glass and before she even reached her seat, Quinn was handing her a glass of dark, just in case, alcohol.

"Thanks," Santana brought the glass to her lips and moved over, "here, take my chair."

Quinn didn't need to be convinced. She sank into Santana's plush office chair, keeping her eyes focused on the windows and not acknowledging anyone else in the room. Santana knew to give her a moment to herself; she hoped her desk would give Quinn the same sense of protection it gave her.

Quinn's oldest, deepest, wound had been reopened in the most inconvenient way. In front of her friends, her girlfriend, and by someone she absolutely detested. Santana wanted to hug her, and maybe sometime tonight, she would find Quinn with her defenses down and she'll be able to be there for her. Right now, however, Quinn was in lock down and Santana was going to give her the space she needed.

"You two want some?" Santana offered because she thought this would go a little better if everyone would just relax. They weren't in the kill zone anymore, they needed to take a moment and just breathe. They needed to keep from turning their frustration onto each other.

"No thanks," Brittany was walking across the office to her desk.

It was a kind gesture that Santana hadn't taken it out yet, even if she wasn't going to be at Clockwork nearly as much anymore. She wondered briefly if Santana was hesitant to take it out because it would finalize the end of their time working together. She had such a great time working here.

Brittany ran a finger over the smooth surface, Gathering strength from the dark wood, the memories she's gathered here, "I'm not a fan of the strong stuff."

"Maybe if it was bong she would be interested," Rachel bit off, walking towards the couch but having too much gathered tension to bother sitting down.

"Really, Rachel?" Brittany spun on her heel to face her friend, or her boss, she wasn't sure who Rachel wanted to be at the moment. "Really?"

Rachel threw her hands into the air, letting out an aggravated huff, "I'm sorry, Brittany, but you have to explain the arrest. When you failed your first urinalysis, you told me you only did drugs in a recreational sense. I had no idea that you sold them, or that you had a criminal record."

Santana's eyes shifted between them wearily, unsure if it was her place to get involved. Rachel was still Brittany's boss. Brittany was decidedly her girlfriend. She took another drink, her hand falling on Quinn's shoulder for a small sense of comfort. She did know that it wasn't the best time to be fighting right now. They were all so stung out, worried about what each of them was thinking, how they were reacting to the new found revelations.

"I don't sell drugs," Brittany corrected her shortly crossing over her chest, leaning back against her desk. She couldn't believe this, Rachel was not about to have this conversation right now. Right here. In front of Santana.

Rachel moved forward to stand in front of her, fully ready to have this conversation, "How can I take you seriously after that? After that mugshot, Brittany?"

"You need to trust me, because we're friends," Brittany was too angry to look hurt, but she felt it. "I've never lied to you about any of this."

"You never listed a prior criminal record," Rachel took a small step closer, "I checked when you first failed a drug test."

"My record was expunged after I finished my community service," Brittany spoke clearly, a slip of sarcasm tracing into her tone. She wasn't in the mood for another round of twenty questions. She didn't need to be kicked when she was down. "Therefore, I wasn't legally obligated to cite it on the application."

"Well, you're still obligated to comply with company policy requiring full cooperation when a urinalysis is requested," Rachel's eyes gleamed with a challenging air, "I would love to see if you could pass a test tomorrow."

Santana felt her jaw set, Brittany had just been threatened and now it was unquestionably her place to step in, "Look here, Berry."

The women turned towards Santana making her way around her desk. Brittany watched her stalk towards them, her hair billowing softly as she took long confident strides, a determined look in her eyes.

"I'm not going to tell you how to be Brittany's boss, that's your deal," Santana put herself next to Brittany, staring the editor down with a hard look, nearly the same intensity as the one she gave Jesse St. James. "But I am going to tell you that it's mighty fucking rude to berate her right now after we all just got put on blast like that. So if you want to revisit the issue in the office tomorrow, when you're a little calmer, it would be pretty professional of you."

"Like anyone in this company knows the first thing about being professional," Rachel scoffed, "the professional thing to do would to stop covering for a pothead."

"Tell me how you really feel," Brittany grumbled.

"Oh, so I suppose that this is you being her charitable savior," Santana tilted her head sarcastically, "allowing her to keep her career."

"As a matter of fact," Rachel was almost prompted to draw up on her toes so she could squarely look into Santana's eyes, "I think I have been quite understanding, and she should be grateful that I've been protecting her this long."

"If you had really been protecting her, that asshole never would have got a copy of the test," Santana growled, her eyes narrowing. "Why the hell would you keep something like that around?"

"It's just something I keep on file," Rachel explained brashly, "I keep everything on file!"

Brittany knew it was true, Rachel had the most elaborately organized record room she had ever seen, each label had a multitude of different secondary labels and Brittany found the level or labeling just as confusing as no labels at all. That still didn't excuse her from filing records that were detrimental to her career.

"Had it ever occurred to you that this could be used against her?" Santana looked at her like she was inept, and it made Rachel feel about an inch tall, "that it could be used against both of you?"

Rachel flushed, "I'm sorry if I don't live in a constant fear of blackmail like you do."

"Maybe you should think a little harder about this shit, since you're the one that helped opened this fucking can of worms and you're the one that gave St. James the ammunition against, Brittany," she pointed a sarcastic finger to the blonde, "your friend here."

"Can we please stop fighting?" Brittany pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. She cared so much about these women, it sucked to see them going at it.

"We'll stop as soon as Rachel promises to destroy the rest of the test records," Santana crossed her arms indignantly.

"And what are you going to do if I don't," Rachel looked Santana up and down in a manner that screamed for a challenge, "sexually harass me?"

"Oh my god, Rachel. Don't start this," Brittany reached out and took a hold of Santana's arm, trying to disengage her from the argument but it was too late. Rachel had hit a button.

"You're one to talk," Santana ignored the hand on her arm as her vision went red, "how do I know you're not just fucking Quinn to guarantee yourself this scoop at Clockwork? Or should I be worried that you're going to leak all her drama to some sleazy tabloid as soon as you're done with her?"

"How dare—!"

"Guys, that's not stuff we need to be throwing around," Brittany tugged harder on her elbow pulling her from her standoff with the editor. "You both need to chill out."

"What? She gets to put you on under the gun like that but I'm not allowed to—"

"She cheated on me!" Rachel's voice cut through Santana's bitter argument. Quinn's eyes glanced over from the window for the first time since she sat down. Rachel was too beside herself to notice, "I caught her with that—man, her producer."

Santana's anger fell to the floor with Rachel's tears.

"I caught them in bed together and she had the audacity to be so fucking—" Rachel pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep the tears at bay, she had already promised herself no more tears for that woman, "cavalier about it! Like I was supposed to understand, which was in insult in itself because I've never slept with a producer. Charmed them, sure. Let them feel like men with a pretty lady on their arm, guilty as charged. But slept with them? Not on my life. She didn't have the same principles, it had been going on for months and all I get is a fucking," Rachel's voice was absolutely dripping with contempt as she repeated the words verbatim, "Oh, Rachel honey, I date women, I just sleep with men. It's only business, it doesn't mean anything."

"Rachel," Brittany tried to step around Santana to get to her friend but Rachel stepped away.

"Yes!" she brushed the moisture from her eye roughly before pegging Santana with a stern look, "I did it. I leaked the extent of her promiscuity to that shitty little tabloid because I was angry, and hurt, and I never wanted her to be able to put another woman in that position again! It's not like it ruined her career, because she's still the lead in a show I've been dreaming about my entire life. It's not like I hurt her any more than she hurt me. It's not like she didn't—"

She cut herself off when a pair of thin arms wrapped themselves around her waist, Quinn drew her in close to her chest, saying resolutely, "That bitch deserved it."

A new batch of tears fell as Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and pressed her face into Quinn's shoulder, "I thought she did, but now… I feel so guilty sometimes."

"We all have something to feel guilty about," Quinn mumbled into her hair, her eyes shifting to Santana and Brittany, "and we don't need each other to make it any worse."

She pulled Rachel over to the couch and they sat down together. Quinn wrapping Rachel up against her, "San, could you run and grab me a bottle of water?"

Santana didn't have to be told twice, she glanced at Brittany and they silently made an agreement to give the couple space. Santana honestly wouldn't mind a little herself. A walk might do her temper some good, her office had turned into the runoff area to the mindless anger and frustration that Jesse St. James inspired, and she wanted out. After grabbing her wallet from her computer bag, Santana and Brittany walked out. Brittany was about to head to the main floor, to the nearest break room.

"Hey," Santana caught the blonde's attention, when Brittany looked over, she tilted her head towards the back exit and Brittany understood.

They made the track towards their hallway, slipping silently into their elevator, and cringing under their own silence.

Was it rude to talk about it this soon? Did they need to cool off a little longer? The questions hung uncomfortably in the air and Brittany felt like it was the first time things were this tense between them. She hoped that what St. James had shown Santana didn't change things, change Santana's opinion of her.

Santana tapped her knuckle against the cold hard wall, her eyes sliding to the blonde next to her, "I'm going to assume you weren't smoking a cigarette last night."

"No," Brittany shook her head, pursing the corners of her mouth, "I wasn't."

Santana nodded slowly. There was a part of her that didn't like the fact that, "I couldn't even tell."

"I'm kinda responsible about it," Brittany mumbled, trying to read her body language, hoping to get a clue as to what she was thinking. "I wouldn't think to get completely blazed right before going to dinner with you."

"Have there been," Santana wasn't sure if this was out of line, "other times... when I didn't notice?"

"No," Brittany met her eyes so hopefully she knew she was being honest.

"You never told me," Santana mentioned quietly, she didn't want to make it into a big deal. Brittany had already to expose more than she was obviously willing to at that point, Santana didn't want to push any further. Brittany had always given her that courtesy.

Brittany sighed, "And which date is the date that I can admit to being arrested on drug charges? The fourth? Seventh? Twelfth? And then you catch me smoking in some dark alley like I'm some shifty eyed drug runner and it was so obvious that you had a problem with it, Santana, even when you were trying to be cool about it, and that was when you thought it was just a cigarette. What am I supposed to say?"

Santana licked her lips, "Point taken."

"I'm not saying that I would have kept it from you for forever, or that I didn't think you would eventually… hopefully, maybe get used to the idea," Brittany continued helplessly, "I just would have liked to tell you in my own time, in my own way."

Santana could understand that sentiment. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She led Brittany out into the hall and onto of the floor with her favorite computer lab. She knew this floor was understaffed and there was a small chance that they would run into anyone. The luminescent glow of the vending machines guided their walk through the empty hallway; dark from disuse and energy conscious employees.

Brittany fidgeted with the cuff of her shirt sleeve as she debated on if she should satisfy her own curiosity. Really, she knew it didn't matter. She wouldn't hold anything against Santana, especially when it was at the hands of Jesse St. James. Still she couldn't help but wonder, "Does she still work here?"

Santana glanced up and over to the blonde next to her. Brittany's hair was picking up a blue tinge in the light of the vending machine, and on any other day, Santana would have commented on how pretty it was, instead she asked, "Who?"

"The woman he used to trick you," Brittany explained quietly.

Santana was honestly surprised by the question, and her eyes dropped to her wallet, "Um yeah, she still works in the marketing department. You've seen her around the building, passed her a couple of times in the lobby."

"How can you stand that?" Brittany felt her skin crawl at the thought.

She shrugged, feeding the machine a dollar at a time, "It was a long time ago, and it was easier to get over when I realized it was just Jesse St. James' game. She was just a pawn, and it's not like she meant anything to me."

The machine pushed out a water bottle with a dull thud, Santana grabbed it, taking her time to choose her next words.

"It wasn't," her eyes examined the water to keep herself busy, an embarrassed expression spreading over her face, "an emotional attachment... that I was looking for. Stupid, I know, but I was trying to break out of my post-UCLA funk and she was... there."

"I'm not judging," Brittany told her, and Santana knew she was being sincere. "I'm just glad she didn't hurt you."

"Ever since, I've been so against any sort of relationship with the people I work with. I didn't know who I could trust. It's been me, Quinn, and Kurt against the world," her eyes shifted up to Brittany through her bangs, "until you came along anyway."

"I'm glad I did," Brittany didn't know of anything she was more grateful for. She could take all the drama, all the dirty underhanded schemes, as long as Santana was here with her after them.

"Me too," Santana agreed, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. She didn't want to dwell on this crap with St. James. She wanted to take a leaf out of Brittany's book and get over it and on with her life. "And hey, on the bright side of all of this, it looks like you're going to be published after all."

Brittany blinked a few times, her mind reeling to get caught up with the idea, "I guess, you're right."

Santana shoved her shoulder gently, playfully, "Oh come on, you have to be more excited than that."

Brittany felt herself smile, a small bubbly presence pushing out all the ill feelings Jesse St. James had instilled in her since the meeting. Santana was trying to get her to cheer up. Brittany laughed softly, realizing that it was okay, they were going to be okay.

Santana smiled back at her, a small light of pride in her eyes, "There we go. There's no way in hell I'm letting today ruin how awesome this is for you."

"Awesome for us," she scuffed her shoe against the floor because she wanted to hug Santana and wasn't sure if she was allowed. "This is awesome for us, and it's all because of you."

Santana looked amused, "Hardly, all I did was answer some questions."

"No, I mean that we never would have gotten it approved if you hadn't shown St. James up like that."

She snorted, "Yeah, I'm still not sure how I feel about that, or even how long it's going to keep him quiet. Come on, let's get back upstairs. I don't need Rachel bawling all over my couch, Kurt will kill me for ruining the upholstery."

"Don't be mean."

"She started it."

Brittany rolled her eyes a little and chuckled, "We should probably apologize to her."

"I'm not apologizing," Santana shook her head in a adorably stubborn manner. "She threatened to fire you."

"Technically she has that right."

"Technically she shouldn't have gotten in your face right after getting it from St. James, and in front of everyone too," Santana wasn't backing down on this one. "I'm offended on your behalf."

Brittany bit her lip, trying to fight a flattered smile, "Okay, so maybe she wasn't exactly tactful about it, but she was upset from the meeting."

"She didn't need to take it out on you," Santana hit the up button on the elevator and waited, crossing her arms, her lips pursed to the side. She was being stubborn, and protective, and Brittany couldn't help but love her for it. "And why are you ready to apologize so quickly, anyway? Last time she pissed you off you made her grovel for an entire dinner before you even cracked a smile."

She had been completely serious but the melodious laughter that fell from Brittany's lips warmed her entire body. It was so good to hear the woman laugh after a morning like this one.

"That's completely different," Brittany shook her head still laughing softly. "When she started plotting against St. James it was like, intentional. She deliberately left me out of the loop when she knew I had so much to lose. What happened in the office just now was only her being really mean because she was embarrassed and scared. She was upset and I'm the one thing she has any sense of control over, being my boss and all, she like, wanted to remind herself of that."

"That's bullshit, and rude as fuck," Santana didn't understand how Brittany could be so understanding.

"It was kinda rude, yes," Brittany agreed, "but I get that she was upset, I was upset, we were all upset. I don't want to be upset with each other anymore so if that means I have to let this one slide, I'm totally willing to do that."

Santana stepped into the elevator when it opened, "Well, I'm not."

Brittany followed Santana and beat her to the button on the wall, their fingers brushed and Santana was surprised when Brittany's wrapped around hers. The doors closed, and her stomach fluttered, and it had nothing to do with the way the elevator was lurching upwards. She looked up at the blonde, glad to see the hurt and anger gone from her eyes, Brittany truly was over it. She slipped her hand into Brittany's completely, squeezing it with a gentle reassurance.

"What if I asked you really nicely to be nice to Rachel because she was really embarrassed?"

"St. James embarrassed all of us," Santana mumbled, glancing at the numbers on the wall to gauge how much time they had together, how long she could keep Brittany's hand in hers.

"Which is exactly why we all need to get over it," Brittany closed a little distance between them, wanting to be as close to Santana as possible, to draw as much strength as she could from the woman, "I don't want this to mess us all up again."

Santana resigned herself to be cordial to Rachel when they made it upstairs. Quinn wouldn't appreciate her being a bitch anyway.

"Fine," Santana sighed, unable to hold her grudge under Brittany's kind eyes, "I'll play nice."

Brittany took a chance and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Santana's cheek. She lingered for a moment, taking in the light citrus scent of Santana's shampoo. If they could stay in this elevator for the next forever she thought she would be ready and willing to make that commitment. Unfortunately, the soft chime let her know that they had arrived to their floor and that the real world was going to sweep them up again. She pulled away, sighing, "Thank you."

They opened the door of Santana's office to find Rachel still wrapped up in Quinn's arms. From the look of it they had both been crying and it made Santana want to go find Jesse and hit him with more than a threat. She handed Quinn the water bottle and wasn't surprised that she immediately passed it to Rachel. She tried to not get annoyed by that. To keep her spirits up, Santana went to her desk and finished off the drink Quinn had poured her. Quinn's own cup was empty.

"Brittany," Rachel was pinching her own fingertips as she softly said, "I am so sorry about the way I acted earlier."

"I am too," Brittany sat on the couch next to her, "I'll forgive you if you promise not to give me that drug test you were talking about."

Rachel met Brittany's eyes and found the sly smile in them. She laughed with as much gusto as she could muster in her emotionally drained state, thankful that Brittany was able to make a joke about it, "I'll take that deal."

Santana leaned against her desk, watching Brittany take Rachel's hand for a quick squeeze, and holding her tongue. She wasn't about to apologize for anything she said. Brittany had asked her to be nice, she would try to be nice. Her kindness was her silence.

"I cannot believe that man has the capacity to ruin my magazine," Rachel's head fell into her hands and she mumbled, "I am so thankful to you, Santana, that you were able to use Sunshine's information to find enough dirt on him to intimidate him into silence."

Santana glanced away, crossing her arms over her chest, frowning when she said, "Don't thank me for that shit."

"Why didn't you do it years ago?" Brittany asked quietly. "When he first started blackmailing you?"

Santana let out a short breath, not wanting to come across insensitive but she had to say, "Because it's incredibly illegal, Brittany. Not to mention totally fucking crass. Why would I want to stoop to his level? And honestly, look at us," she made a sweeping gesture to the women in the room, "we're all some level of lady lover, using his own gay against him is like, the cherry on the hypocritical cake."

Brittany bit her lip, sighing, "You're right, I'm sorry. But, he's hurt you so much, I don't understand why you haven't fought back until now."

"That's just it though," Santana frowned deeply, more to herself than to anyone else. "He's only ever been trying to hurt me. You guys think I was pissed at you because you went behind my back about Sunshine, but that wasn't it."

Quinn and Rachel perked up curiously.

"As soon as you started working against St. James I knew he was going to try to get some dirt on you," Santana shook her head, giving Quinn a tired look, "and then you and Rachel started a coup and that just made her a target, and Brittany was guilty by association, and then I realized that it wasn't just me that was going to get messed up when he decided to stop playing around. I needed… something that might scare him into not leaking what he might have found."

"I'm still glad you did it," Quinn shrugged, knowing it would help Santana to have someone say she was justified, "you shouldn't feel guilty at all, he used that woman to get the upper hand on you a long time ago, so in my book that's karma."

Santana still didn't look convinced, "Yeah, I guess."

"What do we do now?" Brittany didn't really feel like leaving Santana to go back to work on editing and she was sure Rachel was too out of it to want to work any more than she did.

"I say we exposed that man for the cretin he is," Rachel declared gruffly. "We should expose this whole company and it's disgusting lack of ethical practices."

"You can't do that."

Rachel looked at Santana like she was crazy. Quinn looked kind of sympathetic. Brittany wished Santana didn't feel this way.

"Seriously, and Britt, I mean no offense, I swear," Santana wished she didn't have to bring this up, "but, I need you guys to promise me that this feature isn't going to get me fired."

"What?"

"Santana, that's ridiculous."

"It's not," she had to make sure this was absolutely clear, "I hate it, but I have to admit that what St. James said is right, I've been Clockwork's figurehead for too long to be marketable to other companies. If I get fired now…"

If she got fired now, after finally, maybe, getting out from Jesse's grip... Santana wasn't sure what she would do. Jesse was the major player in her animosity towards this company, and now that he had been at least temporarily controlled, maybe things would start looking up for her. If she got fired now she wouldn't be able to provide for herself, or even... if they got more serious... for Brittany?

"We're not about to publish something that will get you into trouble with your executives," Rachel assured her. "I said that on a whim, don't take me seriously. I understand the dynamics, and I'm going to promise you that Quinn will be approving the final cut. You're more than welcome to read it yourself."

"I don't need to nose around in your process," Santana brushed off her offer, still unsure if Brittany wanted to her to read it at all, "You just need to realize how serious this is. I get that as an editor you want the version of the story that's the most scandalous, and with this shit St. James just pulled I know you would totally be up for some revenge, but if you do that I'll get fired and I'll be fucked. I need you to say that you understand that, Rachel."

Rachel swallowed thickly, feeling another level of pressure coming down on her shoulders. If she messed this up she would be messing up Santana's livelihood. She nodded, "I understand, Santana."

Santana kept her eyes until she was satisfied, "Thank you. I'm sorry to doubt you, or whatever."

"I get it," Rachel assured her, "really, I do."

"We'll take care of it Santana," Brittany stood from the couch and made the short walk towards the woman. "Please, trust me on this one."

Santana wouldn't make Brittany to ask her twice, the look in her eyes said it all, "I trust you with everything, Britt. It just helps to hear it out loud sometimes."

"Would it help if I told you, I love you," Brittany's voice dropped to a level that was semi-private and meant only for Santana's ears. "Would it help if I told you I would rather not publish anything than risk all the work you've put into your career here?"

Santana's gaze fell to her shoes, the level of earnestness in Brittany's eyes and words too much for her to handle without feeling the telling prickle of tears in her eyes, "I wouldn't want you to do that, Britt, I would never want you to do that. I respect your career just as much as I care about mine."

"I know, honey, I know," Brittany reached up and tucked a strand of Santana's dark hair behind her ear, "but that doesn't change the fact that I would do it. I love you, Santana."

"I—I love you too, Brittany," Santana didn't care about the others in the room when she rocked to her toes and captured Brittany's lips in her own, all that mattered was that this woman was willing to stay with her through all the drama, all the secrets, and even give up what she had been working so hard for.

She would never ask that of her, but the thought was just as powerful as if it had really happened. Brittany was more than she thought she deserved, and she would do whatever it took to get to that point.