WHN - Part Five
Quinn woke up a few hours later. It was still dark outside as she looked for the alarm clock, 4:14am. She had become restless and couldn't stand tossing and turning. She stood up looking for her shirt that had been thrown to the floor hours ago. Not wanting to wake Santana by turning on the lights, Quinn felt her way around. She grabbed the shirt and headed out to the kitchen where she put the kettle on and waited in the darkness. The worry of what was coming that day was evident on her face. The kettle beeped and she poured her tea before sitting down at the kitchen table. A few seconds later, she could hear movement from the bedroom.
"Hey, I hope you don't mind, I borrowed a shirt. I couldn't find-" Santana said sleepily, turning on the light. She stopped when she saw Quinn sitting at the table, in her missing shirt.
Quinn smiled, "I just grabbed the first one I found. I didn't want to wake you."
Santana leaned against the doorframe.
"You look good in my shirt," Santana smiled back at her. Quinn blushed and looked into her mug. San moved to the cupboard to get a glass for water.
"You okay?" She asked.
Quinn sighed and explained, "I can't stop thinking about this meeting. I just keep thinking what mistakes I've made and how I want to take it all back."
"I think you're getting ahead of yourself. You just have to take it a day at a time. Let's go back to bed, I'll see if I can take your mind off it...again," smirked Santana.
Quinn smiled and followed her back to the bedroom.
That morning both girls were dressed and ready to head out to the school. Quinn had been quiet all morning and Santana let her be with her thoughts. Deep down, Santana figured nothing good would come from this meeting, but she also knew that pointing this fact out would not be helpful.
Moments later, they were sitting in the waiting room of the Dean. Quinn was a wreck; her fidgeting and constant movement gave that away. Santana leaned over, placing her hand over Quinn's.
"Breathe, you'll be fine either way," encouraged Santana.
Quinn felt like she would be sick, yet she found comfort in Santana's presence.
As she started to gain her composure back, the doors open and standing there was the Dean and her professor, shaking hands and smiling. Both Santana and Quinn stood.
"Miss Fabray?" the Dean nodded.
Quinn smiled and nodded.
"Right, this way please," he held the door open. Quinn took one more look at Santana, noticing the look of concerned that fell upon her. Quinn answered with a weak smile and followed the Dean inside. Once behind the doors, Santana sat back down, not before she noticed the professor checking her out.
"Can I help you?" asked Santana, sarcastically. The professor gave a snide smile and left the office. Santana looked at the secretary, whose face reflected the disgust Santana felt.
The minutes dragged by as Santana sat there waiting for Quinn. She got up and helped herself to a paper cup of water. She crept around the office looking at the Deans' golf trophies out on display.
She sat back down, feeling anxious as the time ticked by, hearing every second pass as her worry increased.
Then the door opened and Quinn emerged. She looked white as paper. Santana stood, wanting to go to her but keeping a sense of composure in front of the authority figure. Quinn knelt down gathering her belongings. No body was saying anything; Santana knew that the silence was not a good sign. Finally, as the girls were leaving, Santana heard the Dean asked the secretary to book a tee time for himself and the professor. Santana was about to turn around and let him know what he could book, when Quinn's fingers entwined with hers. Santana turned back around to see Quinn's face. She looked dizzy and disoriented, her breath labored and shallow. Santana stopped her.
"Hey, what's happening?" Santana asked her.
"Please," said Quinn, "just get me home."
Santana wrapped an arm around her and headed back in the direction to Quinn's apartment. She hailed a cab knowing that the walk would be unbearable. As they pulled up in front of Quinn's place, Santana paid the cabbie and followed Quinn upstairs. Quinn kept walking not stopping for anything. Santana followed picking up the clothes she let fall to the floor. Before anything could be said Quinn disappeared behind the bathroom door. The sound of running water taking the place of the silence that surrounded them.
Santana gave her space. She went to the kitchen and put on the kettle.
Twenty minutes later, Santana was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. The water was still running from bathroom. She couldn't take it anymore, she had to make sure Quinn was okay.
"Quinn?" She called through the door. No answer.
"Hey Q? You okay? Why don't you come out? We don't have to talk about it unless you want to?" She called again, this time trying the door. It was locked.
What the hell? She thought.
"Can you just let me know you're okay?" She tried once more. Still, hearing nothing, Santana tried to push thought the door. Nothing happened. She took a few steps back and dropped her shoulder. This time the door flung open. Santana regained her balance and found Quinn. She was hunched over in the corner under the spray of the shower. She hadn't even budged at the sound of Santana barreling through the door.
"Q, you have to get out of there," Santana opened the door expecting steam but finding icy cold water instead. She turned around and grabbed towels. Not thinking, Santana stepped into the shower between Quinn and the freezing water.
"Hey, look at me," said Santana, placing a hand on her cold cheek.
"You're going to be fine. Whatever it is, we'll get through it," she told her, not even acknowledging the cold stream running down her skin.
Quinn just let the tears fall, silently.
Santana finally turned to shut the taps off. She wrapped Quinn in towels; her skin was red from the cold water. Santana tried to dry and warm her as best she could.
"You need to get warm, let me help you," she said, realizing that Quinn had begun to shiver. Not waiting for a reply, Santana wrapped her arms around Quinn and pulled her up. She half carried, half dragged her to the bedroom and covered her with blankets.
"I'm done," murmured Quinn from under the covers.
Santana turned around at the first sound Quinn had made since she stepped out of the office. Grabbing her a sweater, Santana returned to the bed and sat down beside her.
"Done what Hun?" She asked.
"Done school, they're kicking me out," Quinn said.
Santana didn't know what to say. It didn't seem logical.
"They can't do that," she replied.
"They know that," said Quinn, "that's why they said I could leave quietly, without making a fuss and they wouldn't make a mark on my transcripts. Or I could take it further and loose everything I've already worked for."
"That's blackmail," said Santana.
"He said I threw myself at him and conned him into an inappropriate relationship against his will," she explained, through tears.
"That's garbage!" exclaimed Santana; "he was checking me out in the lobby! He knew exactly what was happening. He's just playing the 'whoa is me' card and getting away with it because he's golf buddies with the Dean!" Santana could feel her blood boiling.
"You need to go over his head. Take it to the media. This is crap."
Quinn curled into Santana's lap.
"I'm glad you believe me," she said softly.
"Of course I believe you. Why wouldn't I?" said Santana, brushing Quinn's cold hair away from her face. She pulled the blankets up around Quinn. Santana wanted to fix this but she had no idea where to start. She looked down and noticed Quinn had fallen asleep. Santana slipped out from under her and found Quinn's laptop. She would find something.
Santana tried looking for similar cases online, finding a few. But then began looking at apartments in New York.
Nobody ever complained about having too many options, she thought to herself.
Santana was emerged deep into the apartment search when Quinn stepped into the kitchen.
"Hey," she said, quietly.
"Hey you," answered Santana.
"Guess I was tired," replied Q.
"Well, you didn't sleep much last night," answered Santana, adding a small smirk.
Quinn sat down, "what are you looking at?"
"Oh, just some apartments in New York. Unfortunately, the cheaper one's are close to Berry and Lady Hummel. But they aren't all bad," she answered, getting up to get Quinn a glass of water.
"I can't go to New York with you San," Quinn mumbled.
Santana turned around.
"Why not? It'll be perfect. We'll get an apartment, some side job-" she replied.
"We don't even know what this is..." Quinn interrupted.
Santana didn't know what to say. She tried a couple times to start a sentence, but couldn't.
"It's just that-" Quinn started.
"No," Santana stopped her, "I get it."
Santana pushed the computer towards her.
"I found some similar cases that went to court, you should read them. I'm going to go jump in the shower," she said, leaving the room before Quinn could say anything.
Quinn let her head fall to her chest. She didn't know what she wanted but she knew the feeling she had now wasn't it.
Santana let her clothes drop to the floor as she stepped into the shower. The hot water felt comforting and eased her muscles.
She's your best friend; she thought to herself, you knew these couple of times was just random.
Her thoughts weren't helping; a tear fell from her eyes and mixed with the droplets already traveling down her cheek.
"Santana?" she heard from the other side of the shower door. San wiped the moisture off her face.
"Yea-?" she said weakly, clearing her throat, "yeah?" she repeated.
"I'm just-," Quinn started but didn't know how to finish, "I'm just scared."
Santana didn't know how to reply, she was naked in the shower and Quinn's presence was making it hard to focus.
"I know," she answered, shower poured over her skin.
"I just want you to be happy," offered Santana. She could feel the water becoming cooler, when the shower door opened. Quinn stood there, her trail of clothes behind her. She stepped inside and wrapped her arms around Santana.
"I just don't want to be alone," admitted Quinn.
"I know," said Santana, returning the embrace, "but I would never leave you. It doesn't have to be like this. You're my best friend—"
Quinn interrupted her, "I love you."
Santana froze.
"Say something," said Quinn, not looking at her.
Santana took a step back, the spray streaming down her back. She looked into Quinn's amazing hazel and soft green eyes.
"I love you too," said Santana.
She pressed her body against Quinn and held her close.
"What now?" asked Quinn, her lips against Santana's wet shoulder.