I'm so happy to be back from my study break!
hamonrye - Santana? do you mean Brittany?
knowthescore - you'll know early into this chapter. Somethings hurt more than explosives though.
boredsenseless2 - thank you for your constructive review.
wkgreen - oh, he does. You'll know how evil he is later on.
winkaneye1 - thanks! I'm trying to update regularly now.
nayalove - you got it! Stick around to see if their feelings change with the circumstances.
Guest - Trying to keep as original as possible!
Athena Sampaio - I don't plan on stopping. Thanks for you're kind words.
Enjoy the story!
Chapter 7
Yet again she ran the events over in her mind. It happened with great speed she wasn't sure if it happened at all.
"You aren't making sense Lopez," beside her, Puck, weeded through the strip of a bush beginning to lengthen atop his head. His patience waned thin.
"Maybe someone else saw it better, I don't know what happened."
Puck rolled his eyes. Santana was never like this, like she'd just encountered a ghost and could no longer utilize words to create meaning.
"You were right there. Try harder." He droned dryly.
She closed her eyes and replayed the fifteen minutes following her exit from the theater.
I went to get the car, I told Bri… my friend who came with me that I'd only be a minute. Instead of walking down the right street, turning the corner and doing as I'd said, I crossed the street unnoticed and walked back to the other side and positioned myself at the corner of the alley way.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
You were meant to shoot him when he came out the front door to meet the press.
But there he was in plain sight having a smoke with…with a girl…she…she was …umm
"Blond", Pucks voice broke through her thoughts. "You didn't see her face, she was just blond. Probably his girlfriend, now tell me the rest."
No, not his girlfriend. It can't be. I had my gun ready but before I could shoot they were running. Someone alerted them and they made a dash around the back of the theater. I had one window to shoot and I did. The girl took the bullet almost like she'd known it was coming and was trying to spare him.
"What I don't understand is why you didn't let the bomb off. That was our plan B."
Santana said nothing. How could she explain that she didn't want to blow up the bad guy because of someone she thought she knew?
"You saw her face then didn't you?" Puck had drawn out the whole sequence of events in strangled lines and red circles.
For a while longer Santana said nothing. She stared at the uninteresting wooden counter of the bar. She couldn't go on with the story. She didn't want to remember what she saw after that.
"At least tell me if you hit her in a vital place. Maybe we can find her in a hospital around here, ask her some questions." Puck put his pen and notepad into his coat pocket with a snap.
"No, I'm going home."
Santana shivered in the cold all the way back to her car. While she was in a state of shock over the whole operation gone wrong, Brittany had sent her a message saying Quinn would pick her up. She would sleepover at Quinn's tonight because Quinn needed some advice about the bakery. Lastly, she promised they'd reschedule their date.
Then Santana was engulfed in silence.
Once more she remembered her standing in the alley. Santana had a perfect shot of Rory Flanagan but she couldn't shoot. She turned into a statue.
Her final attempt was lame. They were rounding the back and she had no way of killing either of them. The bullet she fired had caught the long leather sleeve of a jacket she was sure should have been over her shoulders.
She'd given that jacket to Brittany. Brittany with long blond hair.
Santana drove home slowly to a dark empty house, to a cold, Brittany-less bed. She shut her eyes and vowed to forget tonight ever happened. Tomorrow she'd see Brittany at the bakery, apologize for not getting the car faster, and take her somewhere nice for their make-up date.
She would erase the blond hair, the jacket, and most importantly the split second of eye contact before boy and blond had barreled out of sight and out of reach.
The next day greeted her with several messages titled URGENT by Puck with excessive alarm marks. Each taunted her with a silent blare.
She was not ready for this day.
Santana got herself ready in her usual fashion. She didn't miss how quiet the house was. Usually there would be singing from the bathroom, the kitchen, the next room with the second clothes closet, anywhere with Brittany.
The only way to hear that voice again was at a bakery a few blocks down.
Santana hurried.
Brittany it seemed had also forgotten about the night before.
Santana walked into the cozy, little, bread house to find her wife sitting directly in the splash of morning light coming through the colored glass window. The seat opposite to Brittany was empty but a cup of smoking coffee sat on the table for somebody.
"Good morning," Brittany got up but Santana pushed her straight back to her sitting position. Brittany smiled beautifully. If there were a contest for 'best smile', Brittany would win.
There was only one thing on Santana Lopez's mind at the moment, and that was to kiss her wife. All of last night had gone by with her yearning for Brittany's touch, her smooth skin, her warm body, her gentle breathing, her soft hair.
"I'm going to kiss you," Santana told Brittany, like she needed permission to kiss her beloved.
"Sit first," Santana looked towards the chair opposite of Brittany reluctantly.
"No, here." Brittany guided Santana's thighs to relax on top of hers. "Better?"
"Much," Santana managed. Brittany's presence was getting to her. Sometimes she wondered how she ever made it through the day without being near her wife.
"Now, where were we," Brittany whispered. Santana took that as her cue.
Brittany always felt good. Her body, her lips, her hands, her hair, it was so easy to get lost in the sensations of a her mouth, pressuring , sucking, her tongue caressing deep, her hands traveling from back to thigh to breast. Nothing mattered when all these feelings existed – not even oxygen, or gravity, or the deadly UV rays – nothing.
"You guys can cut it out now, some mothers are afraid to bring their children in for breakfast because you two are pushing 'pg13'."
And of course Quinn was there to remind them they did live in a world with oxygen, gravity, UV rays, and children with their republican mothers.
Brittany gave her one final lingering kiss before pointing out her coffee was probably lukewarm.
Santana asked Brittany how Quinn was doing, even though Quinn was available to answer all of Santana's questions.
Brittany hadn't understood at first why the two didn't seem to get along. But later she learned that they couldn't get along without the banter, the teasing, the offensive words, the annoyed faces – that as the way they got along.
"Come on Q, you're all up in my business. Talk about eavesdropping on your customers, I should write a review about it and have it published in some magazine."
"Oh, Santana. You don't even pay for your coffee and that's the cheapest thing on the menu. You're one to talk."
"I agree with the cheap part. Brittany and I should move our breakfasts to Starbucks for 'quality' coffee and blueberry muffins."
"Awww, but then you wouldn't be able to perv on that girl….what's her name….Annabelle? the one that jogs every morning in practically nothing but her birthday suit and stops by for a yogurt smoothie."
"Wait, you like her?" Brittany joins Quinn with her playful voice. "I thought you only liked blonds, not red heads."
"What! Now this is not fair. Brittany gets off the hook whenever she compliments a guy in a nice suit but even if I take a tiny peek at a half naked woman begging to be seen I get teased?"
"When will you ever learn Santana?" Quinn shakes her head and refills Santana's outstretched cup, "the world is never on your side."
She doesn't know what's worse. That what Quinn said is true or that Brittany laughs as if she agrees too.
Pucks annoying calls have finally gotten the better of her. She says goodbye to Brittany and Quinn, giving the former a kiss on the cheek before hurrying out of the bakery.
"Picking up the phone now?" He's past the point of being annoyed, he just sounds defeated like he gave up on Santana ever answering his calls.
"Whatever, be glad I haven't changed my number. I was busy with 'real' important things." Brittany is and always will be more important to her than any job. She was glad she and Brittany were okay.
"I won't be mad if you tell me all the details Lopez, I could use a good wank right now."
Santana almost puked her coffee and blueberry muffins all over her shoes and the sidewalk. "You have ten seconds to tell me why seven urgent messages from you are in my message box. Go."
"Screw you Lopez, the boss is personally overseeing the Irish case and you're to come in and get your instructions. That's an order."
Santana sighed knowing there was no way for her to back out of it. "Is that what they're calling it? The Irish case? How unoriginal."
"You have ten minutes to be here or the boss may be sending you back from where you came from, which I hope he does. You are nothing but a pain in the ass."
"You would know how that feels; did Hummel give it to you last night?"
"I hate you Santana Lopez."
"I hate you too."
Santana hung up the phone with a smirk of satisfaction. She'd totally won that one.
In and out. Santana planned to escape the building right after receiving her instructions. She had a lunch date with Brittany after all.
Santana was lead to a glass cube, tinted so that no eyes could see in.
Puck was waiting for her. He threw her a dirty look.
"Santana, this is Shuester, our boss. Now bow slightly." Puck whispered in her ear.
Santana did so even if she felt it unnecessary. What age did they live in?
In a louder voice, Puck spoke to the boss. "This is Santana Lopez. Our best field agent responsible for closing the books on many famous names."
The boss or Shuester looked Santana up and down. Quite opposite of what Santana had expected, he was not menacing at all.
"Good day Santana, please sit." Santana took a chair beside him at the round table, "This is a tough business, you agree?"
"Yes," Santana replied firmly. She could feel his hand move up and down her thigh. He'd placed it on her as she seated herself.
"I am the master of all things. I know everything. Do you understand Santana?"
Again she replied with a "yes." His hand was squeezing now and Santana shifted uncomfortably. Whatever menace he lacked was made up abundantly by his creepiness.
"I'm going to give you a chance Santana. There's somebody you need to take care of before you take care of your real target, you know who I'm talking about, correct?"
Santana gulped, not because Shuester had found a small gap between the bottom of her shirt and the top of her pants. "Yes."
"Good, you have till sundown to get them out of the way of our operations or we make them our target. You can leave now."
She shivered. The hair on her arms stood up. She didn't believe her ears but she didn't dare ask.
She was glad to be away from the disgusting man she worked for but she wasn't looking forward to her lunch with Brittany anymore.
Just like this morning, Santana found Brittany waiting for her. But she wasn't smiling. She seemed to mirror Santana's mood.
"Hey, how has your day been? You don't look so good." Brittany greeted her. Santana leaned over the table for a kiss but was only given a peck on the cheek. Brittany half smiled apologetically.
"I've had better days." Santana mumbled, then not knowing what to do, reached over for the menu. Both of them were abnormally silent, looking over the menu as if not willing for the explosion to happen yet.
From over the top of the laminated card Brittany searched Santana's face. Was she doing it willingly? Did she really mean nothing to Santana? After all, Santana had replied with a firm yes when she was instructed to kill Brittany.
Santana caught her eyes and for a minute they stared at each other, asking silent questions neither could answer.
A young waiter introduced himself and asked for their order. Only then did Santana and Brittany break eye contact.
Santana smiled at the pretty, oblivious, girl in a white shirt, black miniskirt and tie. "I'll have the seafood salad and a side of garlic bread and fried onions."
The girl turned to Brittany but found an empty chair.
Santana hadn't been clueless, she'd seen Brittany leave but she was in the middle of ordering and couldn't think fast enough to stop her.
"She went to the bathroom, she'll be right back." Santana assured the waitress. The girl smiled politely; almost bashful and said she'd get Santana's order first.
Brittany was gone only a few minutes. Santana immediately got up from her chair with the intention of following her. But there on Brittany's chair was a brown leather jacket, and everything came back to her, the golden hair, the footsteps running, and the shot.
Santana rushed forward and pulled the left sleeve into the sunlight. There it was, a hole, unmistakably burned through the leather. A new hole burned its way into Santana's heart as she picked up her feet and dashed out the door.
And this is why she always wears glasses in the great outdoors, the city counts, anywhere sunlight is counts.
She's blinded before she's belting for someone to stop. In the nick of time and thanks to her trained reflexes, she's out of harm's way.
"Brittany," she shouts in futile. Black bike and rider have become a speck in the New York traffic.
She should be doing something, anything but getting wasted in this hole of a bar. Santana came straight away knowing it'd be the first one open for customers.
She has time, till sundown. According to her watch, another three to four hours, maybe five if the sun is on her side. Quinn's voice rings loud through her thick migraine when will you ever learn? The world is never on your side.
In the middle of this slipping in and out of consciousness, wishing her life was the dream and her dreams were real, she hopes no one finds her in this state. Not even Brittany. That damned name.
The bartender looks at her strangely as she wakes up and orders another strong drink. She doesn't know she's saying everything she's thinking till the graying man behind the bar asks if he should call Santana's wife to pick him up.
There aren't many people this early and the alcohol is doing its job in her blood. She feels bold, her life is a mess anyways and these are strangers, people who won't judge or even if they do – it doesn't affect her.
"Br..bitch. She lied. My whole life is a lie. Do you know how that feels? The way it feels to have your whole billion dollar empire disappear before your eyes because you didn't know you built it on quick sand. You understand that right? No? What if you woke up no longer recognizing anything? It's like dying in a way, you don't know if you're dead or alive or hanging by a thread somewhere in between. And you don't feel like anything. Well that's how I feel; I'd rather be stabbed by a knife."
A few men were trying to calm Santana down. Through her ranting and windmilling of her arms she hadn't noticed Brittany walk into the bar.
She kind of did see her now. Like a ghost coming through the door of the tunnel leading to heaven or hell. Everything was too bright.
Just as her eyes focused a flash of pain whipped her cheek. The men let her go to grip the offended jaw.
"I was going to tell you everything."
Someone was crying in front of her but Santana couldn't see the difference between the roof and the floor. She felt like she was spinning.
"Well, it's too late for that now huh? Milk me for all I'm worth? And now you tell me? I never thought you'd be unfaithful." Santana taunted the voice as she steadied herself against a table.
"Santana Lopez, you are the most stupid person I know…I don't know why I married you but I never regretted it. If you think I was unfaithful, look in the mirror next time you can stand up straight. Oh, and you'll want this back I heard everything."
Something was pressed into her hand. And then she was gone. Maybe Brittany walked away or maybe Santana blacked out before she got to see the painful vision.
"Do you know what the fucking time is?" Santana startled at the sound of her own voice. She felt in desperate need of water and perhaps a pill to help with her head.
"I should be asking you that question." Puck said through the phone.
"This is really not a good time,"
"Are you serious right now?"
"Why are you calling me Puck!" Santana shouted, losing all her patience.
"Because it's dark outside my window and you haven't contacted anybody."
"What does….oh shit."
Santana scrambled as best she could over her mountain of pillows and sheets to place upright her fallen alarm clock.
"It's seven." She said bluntly now remembering with much pain everything that should have happened while the sun still shone.
"The boss isn't happy. He already knows you haven't got the girl."
Santana closed her eyes so tight she saw stars, and then opened them again. She was thinking hard but that was multiplying the pain in her brain and in her chest.
"I can't believe you couldn't get her Santana. You're our best. What's gotten into you?" Puck said frustrated and disappointed.
"You're not helping." Santana finally said. "I'll call you back tomorrow ok? I'm not feeling well."
"Don't," Puck was agitated with her behavior and the way she couldn't see the seriousness of the situation. "Grab a pen."
"Don't need one, just say what you need to say."
"Fine. As of tomorrow you're job is to hunt and kill that girl. She's more than an obstruction now; she's a hazard to our operations. If you don't kill her in two days you're dead."
Santana didn't have a chance to say anything before Puck was gone.
First things first, water and pills.
Once Santana had a clearer conscious and a functioning mind she laid down all the facts.
Brittany was somebody Santana didn't know. Brittany was doing something against her organization. Brittany was putting Santana's life in danger. Brittany was her target. Brittany was her responsibility to kill. Brittany lied to her. Brittany didn't deserve to walk away like nothing ever happened. Brittany had told her something. Brittany was gone but she was the only thing in Santana's life right now.
Santana decided she hated Brittany. Brittany had ruined their life no matter how fake.
And what were her parting words? Look in the mirror. Santana had already done that in her drunken state and saw nothing but a mad woman.
Look in the mirror. Santana wouldn't miss it whatever it was now that she was in the zone.
She pushed her hips off the kitchen counter and threw her cup in the sink. Her eyes shifted to a yellow smiley post-it that only Brittany used
I'm staying with Quinn. Don't try to contact me or harm me. It's for your own good.
The note was written in bright red, a color Brittany never used. Blood red.
Santana re-entered her room and made a bee-line for her dresser mirror. There was nothing out of the ordinary. No further message from Brittany. No shocking revelation.
There was nothing except for a lone ring laying smack in the middle of the desk.
Sometime when she was sleeping, Brittany was in her house. She'd left the note and then the ring.
Santana never thought she'd feel this hurt. It tore her heart to shreds.
For her it was the beginning of the end.
She had only one desire; to kill Brittany and then to die herself.
A/N 1: Can't wait to read you're comments! How good do you think Santana will be against Brittany?
A/N2: I apologize for the long wait. During the semester I don't pay much attention to studying but during exam weeks I put everything into preparing for the tests so I have no spare time. Thanks for bearing with me!