Santana winced and leaned against the wall. They were moving too fast and her ribs hurt. Also her head. Her arm. Her legs, shit, everything hurt, okay? She had been shot, stabbed, clubbed, beaten, nearly electrocuted and hadn't eaten or slept (being knocked out didn't count) in what felt like days. She was overwhelmed and she didn't know how much longer she could carry on. She was basically running on hate and rage which, although pretty standard for her, was slowly but surely losing out to pain and tiredness.
"You okay?" Cara whispered.
"I'm fine." Santana spat, glaring at her and pushing off the wall, her arm wrapped protectively around her ribs.
"No you're not but it's not much further, I promise." She replied, reaching her hand out to her.
"I said, I'm fine." She replied harshly, slapping the redhead's hand away. "Get your damn hands off me."
Cara held up her arms in submission and started back up the corridor quickly. Santana scowled at her back and followed as best she could. God, this was ridiculous. She could barely walk, how the hell was she supposed to rescue Puck and take down Russell Fabray? She would be lucky to fight her way out of a wet paper bag the way she was feeling at the moment. Cara stopped at a door and pushed it open cautiously before sticking her head through it and switching on the light. She gestured back to Santana and disappeared inside.
"Take off your top." Cara said as she entered the room.
"Excuse me?" She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms, an action which caused her to wince and curse quietly.
"Oh, calm down, Lopez." Cara chuckled as she continued rummaging around the room. "I'm not trying to sneak a peek. Rachel would kick my ass."
"Alright, let's just clear something up here, shall we?" Santana said evenly, placing her hands gently on her hips as she tried to summon up her threatening stance. "We aren't friends, Cara. You have been lying to me for the whole time we have known each other. I have no idea who you are and I don't for one second believe your crock of shit story about how you came in there to 'protect' me, so drop the fucking act, okay? Don't talk to me like we're close, don't talk about my friends and don't ever, ever talk about Rachel, ever again, or I will fucking end you, entiendo?"
"Santana…"
"I may look like I'm having difficulty standing but if I die kicking your scrawny ass, I will die happy so shut. The fuck. Up."
Cara stared at her with a pained expression before squaring up and returning to her rummaging. "Fine. But I'm still going to need you to take your top off. You're no good to me like that. I'd be better off knocking you out and going by myself."
"Wouldn't put it past you." Santana muttered as she sat down and gingerly pulled her top over her head.
Cara said nothing as she marched over to the chair with an arm full of supplies. She gestured at Santana to lift her arms and began to wrap bandages around her bruised ribs. Santana winced as the bandages were pulled tighter, her face set into a scowl.
"I know you don't want to hear it but I really am sorry." Cara said quietly as she pulled the bandages tight enough to pin them. "I wish I could have told you."
"Shut. Up." She gritted out through the pain.
Cara nodded tightly and held out some pain killers as Santana slowly put her top back on.
"There's no water." Cara muttered as she headed back to the door. "You ready."
"Always." She shot back. "Let's go."
Santana pressed against the wall and held her breath. They had been sneaking about for what felt like hours and she was over it. There were voices coming from around the corner and they were getting closer. Her head was beginning to swim a little bit but her pain was definitely less. She could barely feel her hands and she was starting to feel oddly amused by their predicament. She glanced ahead to where Cara was trying to peer round the corner without being seen and felt an almost overwhelming urge to laugh. What the fuck was going on? Was this what it felt like to lose your mind?
"Probably." She chuckled.
Cara whipped round to face her, a look of rage and alarm on her face. The voices in the hallway stopped and Cara's whole body went rigid against the wall. Santana shrugged and laughed softly, causing Cara to head quickly towards her and pull her through the door closest to them, closing it quietly behind them. Santana started to get angry but then felt a heaviness set on her so she huffed out a breath and sat down on a chair.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Cara hissed at her.
Santana rolled her head back slowly and looked at her, her eyelids strangely heavy. She tried to raise her shoulders in a shrug and then thought back on the question. What was the question? Where the hell were they? She opened her mouth to ask but was stopped by a noise from the corridor as Cara moved quickly back from the door and into the darkest corner of the room. Santana followed her with her eyes but made no effort to move, it all seemed like a lot of work and she couldn't really remember what they were doing so she just sat there. Fuck, what was in those pills?
Suddenly the door swung open and a large shadow swept over her.
"You have got to be shitting me." A deep laugh swept across the room. "How the fuck did you get out?"
"Honestly?" Santana slurred. "I don't remember." She chuckled.
He laughed back and advanced on her. "Well lucky for me I found you. We have unfinished business, little girl."
Santana started to laugh uncontrollably and rocked forward in her chair. "Well, shit, Jabba, yes we do!" The memory shot to the forefront of her brain as she got to her feet. "I have to kill your fat ass."
"What's going on, Tony?" Came a voice from the door.
"Fuck off, Paul." Jabba said quietly, turning to his friend and pushing the door closed. "Come back in ten minutes, alright? I'll break her in for you."
The door clicked shut and silence descended on the darkened room. Santana lifted her heavy lids and waited for her eyes to adjust, an odd feeling of calm settling on her. It wasn't like she didn't know what this man intended to do, it was just that she was not concerned by it. She didn't know where it was coming from but she suddenly felt an overwhelming certainty that he would try, he would fail, and he would die screaming. She let out a tired sigh. The thought didn't give her any pleasure, she just didn't care. He was in her way and she didn't have the time or energy to care about the life of this would be rapist who had kicked her friend in the face. She just wished he would make his move quickly so she could get on with her day.
"Not so funny now, huh, bitch?" His voice came from the darkness, the rattle of his belt buckle echoing through the room.
"Oh, shit, you're still here?" She answered in a bored tone.
"Funny girl, you're going to be fun to break."
"Funny girl." Santana chuckled. She must remember to tell Rachel about that. She would love it. Well, maybe not so much in this context…
She heard him lurch towards her and spun out of the way, silently congratulating her body on following her instructions. He swore as he collided with the chair and swung out his meaty fist towards her. God, he stank. Even in the darkness he was easy to avoid, she just had to dance away from the smell. He swung again and she backed away just in time, but stumbled over something behind her and fell into the wall, bumping her head and causing the injury there to bring a fresh wave of nausea over her.
"Got you now, bitch." He laughed, grabbing her and yanking her up. The forward momentum rocked her head forward towards his and she opened her mouth, biting down hard in the flesh she came into contact with. He screamed out and pain and shoved her away with a curse. She fell against the wall again with a bang and felt a hand on her arm. She hit out in front of her, only to have her other hand caught and a cold, metallic object pressed into it. She heard him roar as he headed back towards her and she spun around, her hands out in front of her. The was a thud, her hand was wet, a dull ache reverberating up her arm at the impact and the man let out a surprised sigh, followed by a gurgle and another, altogether more frightening sound, a keening sound, and he dropped to his knees, taking Santana's hand with him.
She snatched her hand back, a sick, squelching noise accompanying it.
"Santana," A quiet voice came from behind her. "Santana we need to go. Now." A hand touched her arm gently and she whipped her head round, trying to make out the face in the darkness.
"Cara?"
"We need to go now." She said again, pulling Santana towards the door.
Santana turned to look behind her as Cara cracked the door open, the sliver of light illuminating the man on the floor. He had one hand on his throat, blood pooling around it, the other hand reaching out towards her. Her eyes travelled down his body til they reached his flaccid cock hanging out of his pants and her lip curled in disgust. She stepped back over to him and sank the knife into his fat gut, again and again, his pathetic, gurgling screams only adding fuel to her fire.
"Santana!" Cara hissed urgently, grabbing her and trying to pull her away.
"Get the fuck off me!" She wheeled around, jabbing the knife towards the redhead's face and slamming her other fist into the wall next to her head. Cara threw her arms up and backed up against the wall quickly. "Don't you fucking touch me."
"Alright, I'm sorry." She whispered. "You're right, but we need to go."
Santana glared at her former friend, her face a mask of rage, her mind overwhelmed with everything that had happened to her and she wanted nothing more than to bury the knife into her lying, scheming face. Something, somewhere in the back of her brain screamed at her to stop and slowly the fog lifted from her eyes and she found herself staring into the bright green, terrified eyes of the girl who had just saved her life. She dropped her hand and uncurled her fist, backing away slowly, allowing the girl to move.
Cara swallowed slowly and slid along the wall, never taking her eyes off of Santana. As she reached the door she turned her body and stuck her head out into the hallway quickly before stepping out of the room. Santana followed her out and noticed that she was practically running down the corridor to get away from her. She set off in pursuit but was stopped by a shout from behind her. She turned and saw a guard advancing towards her and pulling his gun. She could not move, could not think, just stood there frozen and waited for the shot to ring out. She felt a rush of heat by her ear and the advancing guard pirouetted and dropped to the ground. She span round and saw that Cara had stopped, gun raised as she scanned the corridor ahead and the one to her right.
"Come on!" She yelled, eyes pleading with Santana to move. As her legs kicked back into action her eyes widened in alarm as a figure appeared behind Cara, gun aimed at her head.
"No!" She screamed as the shot rang out, then raised her hand at the sudden pain in her arm. She looked down at it. She was bleeding. The bullet had grazed her arm. Her eyes shot back up to Cara who was clutching her ear but was otherwise unharmed. He had missed. How had he missed? She looked behind the redhead and her saw him on the floor, another figure standing over his body. Her head reeled in shock and disbelief as she recognised that figure.
"Blaine?"
"Santana!" A voice called from behind him, causing tears to spring to her eyes. She looked up the corridor in desperation, praying to everything she had ever heard of that she was not imagining that voice and dropping to her knees in gratitude when she saw Rachel sprinting down the corridor towards her.