We Become Who We Are When We Fall In Love

by summerkid

Sent to live with her aunt in Texas, Santana comes face to face with a past she thought was long gone. She is shown the beauty in life through the eyes of her childhood best friend, Brittany, who ultimately shows her that life and love are one and the same... by making her feel it. AU

7. Chapter 7

No Matter What Would Come Her Way

June, 2004

Santana remembered how she stood next to the seat her brother was sitting in. They had gotten up so early that morning, but, she didn't mind. Actually, she couldn't even sleep the night before she was so excited. She'd gotten up extra early just to make the very sign she was holding in her hands, with hope that it'd be one of the first things he'd see when he got off of the plane.

She doesn't really remember much of when her Uncle Roger left for the Marines. She was pretty young when 9/11 happened. But, she did know it was a big and very scary deal. The day he left for boot camp, Aunt Linda was so sad and she remembered how she and her mother tried to occupy her mind with other things. Santana tried her best to make her smile.

Fiddling with the oak tag in her hands, Santana glanced over at Aunt Linda, who clutched a fist full of Kleenex against her mouth. She wondered why things got to adults so much. What anything sad made grownups more depressed than anyone else she knew. Uncle Roger was coming home. Maybe not for good, said her mother, but he was going to be spending November in Knox City. So, why were the adults so, morose?

As she muddled over these thoughts on the sad verse happy tears, she almost missed it. In the blink of an eye, Aunt Linda was sprinting away from the rest of the family and weaving in and out of the tiny airport's crowd. It was easy to figure it out, she'd spotted Uncle Roger.

As soon as he saw Linda, he dropped his duffle bag and opened his arms for her to jump into him. Then, it was like all of the sound in the entire world had faded away and there was no one else in the airport but them. Santana was mesmerized by the way it felt so cinematic.

Suddenly, her sign welcoming her uncle back didn't seem like the most important and first thing he needed to see. Instead, she was comfortable settling on watching the way her aunt smiled through tears. How she pulled her head back from their embrace to look at his face and the way her fingers ran through his shorter than usual hair.

That year, the Annual Knox City Late Fall Fair was the best one that Santana could ever remember being to, as well as the last. It was also Uncle Roger's last. He died in late March later that year while overseas.

When Santana and her family returned for their yearly visit in the middle of June that same year, the change in the air at Aunt Linda's was palpable. Even for a nine year old, Santana could sense the shift in the house she had always considered her second home. Her parents tried to make the vacation seem like they had in the past, but it was only a few months ago that they were standing in the living room of Linda's after Uncle Roger's funeral.

Unable to sit in the uncomfortable silence created by the adults who didn't know what to say, Santana settles for going out across the road where the tire swing was. She kicks the dirt in the road, some pebbles flickering off in all different directions as she makes her way towards the misshapen tree. If she is going to have to settle for silence, she may as well be in her self made quiet.

Before she could even stick her legs through the hole in tire, she turns when she hears the familiar sound of feet scuffling across the dirt road she just traveled on. It's Brittany, the girl from up the road, holding a tentative smile on her face as she walks closer to Santana. They wave to one another, even letting out soft 'hello's' as the distance between them minimizes.

When Santana settles on the tire swing, Brittany takes up the job of pushing it gently. Every now and again, both girls chance glances over in the direction of the sad cloud hovering over Aunt Linda's house and twist their lips in defeat. At only nine, they feel completely powerless which seems odd because they always felt invincibly strong.

"Play her some music." Brittany muses after a few more beats of silence. It was simply. Almost silly.

How could music make Aunt Linda smile? Could a song take away the pain, even if only for a little while? Santana twists her lips in thought and they don't talk against for a little while. Brittany's mother eventually calls her in for dinner. Before the little blonde girl leaves, she says she'll call her friend after and then she runs off, hops over the tiny curb and vanishes into the house.

Later that night, with the dark and stillness of sleep floating through the house, Santana wakes up. It was odd, because after such a long day, she figures her body would be exhausted. But, there she was, wide awake staring at her bedroom window. Quietly, she pads down the hallway, taking note of the silence through the rest of the home. When she comes into the living room, she stops and looks around. It's the same as it looked earlier, yesterday and even last year.

Her uncle's guitar rests on its stand and his work boots are under the table next to it. The room, the home actually, still smells like him. A mix of sweat and grease from working on his bike, with a hint of his manly body wash.

She moves towards the guitar and lets her fingers touch the strings he would never pluck again. They are rough and it makes her wonder if that was why his hands were so callously. Her father says a man's hand is like sandpaper because he works hard for his family. She contemplates the idea of being a musician and if it would be considered 'hard work'.

Probably not to her father, but, she thought that Uncle Roger is… was a 'hard worker'. He played music and fixed cars and bikes. Doing two things at one time has to fall into that category. It would be nice to find someone like Uncle Roger to spend the rest of days with. She figures that's why Aunt Linda loved him most out of anyone.

A sound from the end of the hall catches her ear and she quickly pulls her hand back from the guitar. The strings gently hum at the way her fingers had slightly stuck to them and caused them to vibrate softly. Curious, she heads down the hall towards the muffled noise until coming to the partially opened door of her aunt's bedroom.

It's the unmistakable sound of crying with the desperate attempt to be quiet about it. She bites her lower lip and her feet come together as thumbs on a hand would, with uncertainty. It's sad. That is fact. There are not many times that Santana can recall seeing her aunt cry or be so unhappy. But the recent turn of events has pretty much made up for that. The urge to make Aunt Linda a little less sad is too strong and she rushes, quietly, back to her room to brainstorm. Her eyes scan her dimly lit room, thanks to her nightlight, to look for an answer. Then, that's when she sees it. It's cleared jeweled case glimmers under the bit of moonlight peeking through her window. She grabs it and creeps her way back to Aunt Linda's room.

With a soft tap on the frame, she pushes the door open some more, just enough for her little body to fit. Instantly, Aunt Linda looks up and tries her best to wipe away her tears.

"Santana?" She says in a tired and confused voice as she looks from her niece to the clock on her nightstand. "It's late, you should be in bed." Linda tells her and ruffles the covers away from her body.

"I can't sleep." Santana explains as she twists the bottom of her shirt in her hand and holds the jewel case in the other. "You're crying." Even for a nine year old, she knows that was kind of obvious and silly to point out. But, it feels like her only option. Linda nods, but even still, tries at a smile for the sake of the young girl. "I miss Uncle Roger." Her aunt's face instantly falls, pained by the little girl's admission, regardless how obvious.

"I know sweetie." She whispers in exhaustion and shuffles on the bed. "What's that?" She jerks her head in the direction of Santana's hand as she brings both of her own hands to her cheeks to wipe more tears.

"I wanted to show you something." Santana tells her and walks over to the DVD player. Aunt Linda watches curiously as she pops the case open and places a disc into the player tray. "I promised Uncle Roger I wouldn't show you this until…" She pauses, because even she knows she shouldn't bring up the wedding that will now, never happen. "I hope he doesn't get mad." She pouts and shrugs her shoulders. "But… you're so sad." She says and takes the spot closest to Linda on the bed.

The DVD plays and the first image to come on the screen is Santana and Brittany, dancing around and using hair brushes as microphones singing their hearts out. Off camera, is the sound of Roger's distinct laugh and the picture shakes a little.

After a few minutes of just Santana and the girl from up the road, Brittany asks Roger for the camera, telling whoever is listening that she loves filming things with her stuffed animals and Quinn. Aunt Linda chuckles, a normal reaction whenever Brittany says anything. The camera pans back and after some jumbling, it stills, leaving the focus of the frame being Santana and Uncle Roger.

Santana has her head resting on Aunt Linda's chest, her ear to where her heart beats, and she feels the intake of a deep breath at the sight of Uncle Roger. Linda's arms wrap tightly around her niece as they continue to watch the child made home movie.

Brittany says action and Roger starts to play a song that Santana knows by heart. Aunt Linda grins through tear filled eyes when Brittany whispers to herself and the viewers that Santana has a Disney Princess voice.

"Are you gonna sing to Miss Linda at your wedding?" Brittany asks, zooming in on Santana's face as she looks over at her uncle who continues to strum lightly on his guitar.

The duo watch the rest of the twenty minute video in silence. Content with listening to the sound of Uncle Roger's voice being the last thing to hear before going to sleep. A few hours later, Santana realizes that she must have fallen asleep. The room is still illuminated by the television screen but there are no voices filling her ears. Instead, she can hear the gentle noises of Aunt Linda breathing softly, letting her know her aunt is sleeping.

She looks over to the television across the room, finding that her aunt had paused it. There, on the screen in Aunt Linda's television at four in the morning is Uncle Roger with a big smile on his face and his guitar in his arms. Her heart swelled, but only momentarily, for she realized that this is now the only way she will ever be able to see her uncle again. But not just her, Aunt Linda too.

It was then, at four in the morning in June that Santana got her first taste of a broken heart.

---

Then I Was Young and Unafraid

November, 2011

The buzzing in her hand reminds her that she has her weekly meeting with the town's resident OCD case. If there is anything besides football that Santana would like to avoid, it's her Wednesday get togethers with Emma Pillsbury. Sure, the woman is nice enough, but the fact that she even has a social worker is the problem. Maybe she was a rebellious teenager back in Boston, but she is finding it hard to find her bearings here in the sticks to be even remotely insubordinate.

A few weeks ago she actually tried to miss her meeting with Miss Pillsbury, but it got way too boring walking around aimlessly that she wound up getting to her office early. It was almost embarrassing for her to even admit to her aunt when she had called her to come pick her up early. So much for being a badass. Normally, back home, she didn't have to try so hard. Being a bad kid came second nature to a girl like Santana. The only times she even went to school in Boston was because she was too buzzed to go home or because she and Puck would steal some pot from the local stoner.

With this sadness of no longer being even a fraction of the girl she was back home, she meanders away from her new school and towards the football field where she can hear the sounds of cracks and booms from the gridiron. The only sound that is appealing is that of the cheerleaders practicing and giggling. At least she can catch a glimpse of some leggy chicks before she heads off to her head shrunk by little miss crazy herself.

But, as she is about to make her way through the bars and blockades that make up the stadium bleachers, her Tana-senses perk up. She whips her head in the direction of a familiar scent and the corners of her lips turn up. Completely disregarding her initial goal of ogling cheerleaders, she allows her sense of smell to lead the way to her newest needed destination. Just as expected, she finds a tiny group of misfits in a loose circle.

"Hey," One of the boys says as she walks up to them. "You're that chick in my P.E. class." He notes, pointing to her with a stoned smile on his face. Santana nods, hoping to not really get into the sophisticated or philosophical conversations that sometimes moments like this can arise to.

"Any chance I can get in on this?" She asks, trying her best at sweet. They all stare back at her, seemingly interested but almost too high to really care. The boy who recognizes her pulls the sleeve of his very worn in zip up sweatshirt up and delicately offers the joint to her.

"Ladies first." He says in a chivalrous tone. Her lips are practically watering, it's been so long since she's had the sweet taste of marijuana on her tongue and the disarray it causes in her mind.

"You're supposed to pass to the left." One of the other boys points out defensively, seeing as he was next in line.

"Oh," The first boy realizes and then giggles before turning around until Santana is now on his left. "There you go." If she was stoned, she would have probably laughed, but she is growing increasingly impatient. "Dude," He slaps his friend in the chest after Santana takes the offered substance from between his fingers. "This is why girls don't talk to you." He tells him.

"It's puff, puff, pass bro." He reminds the ginger haired boy as he rubs his chest.

"When you're a gentleman it's puff, puff, lady." He grins wildly and motions towards Santana who is enjoying her third intake, relishing in the mist as it slips from her lips. "And what a fine lady at that." He adds, turning his full attention to her, watching the way she passes the joint on to the kid who impatiently waited his turn.

"What's your name?" A third boy chimes in, his eyes shamelessly looking her up and down.

"My name is irrelevant." She says with a smirk and a head tilt. After a few moments, the ginger haired kid busts out a hearty laugh.

"You're that Lopez girl." He snaps his fingers and points to her again. She doesn't confirm nor deny the fact, just settles for watching him work that last brain cell he clearly has left.

"Are you gonna be a gentleman this time?" Santana asks the boy who only moments ago complained about him getting skipped. With a quirked eyebrow and a misleading wink, he quickly hands over the joint back to Santana.

"Your name is 'Irrelevant Lopez'?" That third boy asks, patiently waiting for his turn after Santana. Not expecting the absurd but should have been expected question, she nearly chokes on the smoke she's just sucked in and lets out a cough filled laugh.

"Here." She says, her throat still closed up from laughing and smoking at the same time. The third boy gratefully takes the nearly withering joint and nods his head in thanks.

After a few more hits, she stood there and watched the four boys finish off a second joint. It's been a while since she's taken part in any kind of illegal substance, and she wasn't really banking on it hitting her so hard. But now, as she's walking towards Main Street, she realizes she did not take that into consideration. It's a little past four in the afternoon and she's more than missed her weekly meeting with Miss Pillsbury.

For a moment, she grins, feeling triumphant that she has finally been able to sort of retouch her stone of badassery. But, then she spots Aunt Linda's truck and that golden victory immediately rushes away from her body and is replaced by the cold feeling of doom. She drops her head, a little bit happy that her high has pretty much faded away on her travels from school and into town. But also a little sad that she can't be numb and high as a fucking kite while she receives the wrath that awaits her.

Aunt Linda jumps out of the driver's seat and marches her little body up to Santana, grabbing the young girl by the strap of her bag. Only pausing for a moment to turn and sniff the air around her niece. This only makes her shake her head even more. Santana's quick to keep up with Aunt Linda and her short legs, but the woman's definitely got some strength to her. After practically shoving Santana into the passenger side of the truck, she slams the door and stalks towards the driver's side once again.

The ride is mostly silent, safe for a few huffs and slams against the steering wheel from Aunt Linda. If something like this were to happen back in Boston, she'd be hearing an earful from her mom like a week after said incident. But, she's figuring Aunt Linda is taking her father's approach and is not going to say one fucking word. She finds it kind of humorous. No wonder she's such a fuck up. No one can even call her out on her bullshit.

Well, she thinks that for now.

When they pull into the driveway, Aunt Linda throws the truck into park and kills the engine. She's just about to get out when she feels her aunt's hand on her arm and the woman mutters 'stay'. Linda's head is straight, her jaw is clenched and she removes her hand from Santana's arm and runs it through her own hair.

"Why are you doing this?" Aunt Linda asks, the words coming out slowly and through her teeth like a hiss.

"What are you talking about?" Santana asks incredulously. Playing dumb sometimes helps her case.

"You reek of pot." She points out in an obvious tone. "I'm not an idiot Santana. And I also know you have probably been to Stars Lake, so don't try and tell me you haven't had any alcohol since you've been here." She snaps her gaze in Santana's direction, instantly catching her niece's guilt written in her eyes.

"Whatever." Santana sighs in annoyance. She's totally over these adults telling her 'right' and 'wrong'. "Half the kids in this town do the same shit!" She shouts back in equal frustration. "There's nothing else to do!"

"Are you ever going to learn?" She asks in harsh frustration. Santana's eyes widen slightly, not at all prepared for an authoritative Aunt Linda. "Are you ever going to stop this?" Her voice echoes in the small cabin of the truck making Santana remain still. "You were sent here to stop acting like a spoiled little… Are you forever going to do shit because everyone else is doing it? God dammit Santana," Aunt Linda takes a breath and shakes her head some more. "I thought you were changing or becoming that little girl I once knew. I guess that couldn't have been further from the truth." A small but unamused chuckles pops from Linda's lips and she glances at her niece. "You don't want to be different, heaven forbid. You want to be a drunken, drugged up loser who feels sorry for herself. Well, go ahead because no one else is gonna do it for ya. Maybe having you come here wasn't a good idea… I just… I can't help you if you keep fighting me." She finishes in defeat.

"I'm not fighting you." Santana assures, but it's a lost cause. They both know she has.

"Yes, you are. But," Aunt Linda sighs and pulls the latch on her door. "Come on, re-heated pizza for dinner. After, you're calling Emma Pillsbury to apologize and reschedule for tomorrow."

She watches as her aunt walks up the porch steps and then the way the screen door sways back and forth a few times before it slams to a close. The last few minutes, a complete whirlwind, leaves her with a strange feeling in her chest. Her high, long gone, is no way to blame for the strangeness going on in her body. Aunt Linda could have very well just brought her to the train station, airport or even left her there on Main Street to rot. Sure, maybe she said a few harsh things, but after she said them she told Santana to come inside for dinner. Even what she said, Santana may hate to admit, wasn't even harsh per se. It seemed harsh, but only because it's true.

---

"We won't put this in your file." Miss Pillsbury waves Santana's indiscretion away with a flick of her wrist. "Chalk it up to a mistake that won't happen again. Right?" She rests her hands on her overly clean desk and stares back at the young girl across from her.

Santana's eyebrows are practically up to her hairline and her jaw hangs slightly open. It's amazing how coming absolutely clean to Miss Pillsbury over the phone last night has somehow saved her ass. Truth has never been Santana's friend, up until now apparently. Realizing she has yet to give an answer, she shuts her mouth, smiles and nods.

"Great." The social worker cheers with a wide smile. "Here," Miss Pillsbury hands over a pamphlet. "Maybe you need some extracurricular activities." Santana scrunches her nose in distaste at such a suggestion and glances down at the pamphlet that reads 'How to be a Social Butterfly'. "Your aunt told me that you cheered when you were younger. Why'd you stop?" She asks with actual interest. But, Santana just rolls her eyes and shifts in her chair.

"I misplaced my spirit stick." She replies flatly, receiving a curious stare from Emma.

"Well," The older woman clears her throat and fiddles with some papers on her desk. "It's too late to join the cheerleading squad anyway." She shakes her hands and head at that possibility because it clearly won't work. "But, maybe we can find something that will keep you focused and away from the influences you were sent here to avoid."

"Look," Santana interrupts her with a sigh and a wave of her hand as she adjusts in her seat to sit straighter. "I totally appreciate the second life here Miss P." She acknowledges the kindness. Check. "But, you've read my files, so we both know that being 'social' is not really the problem here." Pointing out the obvious. Check. "If I get any more social, I'll be sharing a room at Seasons with Lindsey Lohan." Make herself look like a victim of circumstance by comparing herself to a horrible celebrity role model. Check.

"Santana," Miss Pillsbury shakes her head and sits up straighter in her chair. "I think that your definition of the term 'social' is vastly different from where I am trying to lead you here." The ginger haired social worker explains. Santana lowers her head and rolls her eyes, reaching down to her purse to pull out her lips gloss. "By extracurricular activities, I mean after school clubs." She suggests and Santana peeks around her compact to send a raised, questioning eyebrow to the woman sitting across from her. "There are so many viable choices for such a…" She tilts her head smiles as she watches Santana stare at her own reflection and apply her lip gloss. "An opinionated young lady. Like, oh, debate. You could join the debate team." Emma taps the desk enthusiastically catching Santana's attention away from her mirror momentarily. "You obviously have way with words, judging from, well…" She motions towards the file on her desk which holds the many word for word reports from past teachers, police officers and other authority figures from back in Boston. "We'll just set these aside 'cause we wiping the slate clean, right?" She smiles widely but cautiously at the teenage girl in the chair opposite her.

"Thing is, the only kind of clubs I like, are the one I have to sneak in to." Santana explains with a shrug of her shoulders as she shuts her compact and screws the top back on to her lip gloss. "I don't mesh in this southern society. The kids here are way different from the ones back home." She honestly admits, letting her eyes fall to where her purse is so she can put her cosmetics away.

"Maybe you just need an outlet." Miss Pillsbury tries a different approach. It's obvious to her that Santana has some things she keeps locked up and that maybe there's a way for her to express herself. "There's the school paper." She reaches to the right of her desk and grabs her copy of the Knox City High School Muckraker and hands it to Santana. "According to your English teacher and you History teacher, you have flawless grammar and an interesting insight." She taps the pages in front of her where the weekly reports from Santana's teachers sit.

"I'm just book smart." She shifts in her seat, crossing her legs at the knee and her arms over her chest.

"You're not just book smart Santana." Emma assures her and grabs a manila folder, flipping it open to rummage through some papers. "I've read some of your papers." Her eyebrows raise as she seems to find the one she'd been impressed by. "Your paper on the imagery and metaphors in Sylvia Plath's poem 'The Mirror', well," She eyes the paper and then Santana. "It was truly inspiring." She says with certainty. "Being book smart is great, it means you're a thinker. But," She fans out the copies of Santana's tests and essays in awe of the young girl's way with words. "I know you're more than just that. When I was reading these, I saw something that maybe you don't even know is there."

Santana sits there, legs and arms crossed, straight faced. She's never actually heard a slew of compliments from an adult in one sitting and she's not quite sure how to react to this.

"You're a dreamer Santana." Miss Pillsbury breaks the silence, leaning over her hands to make eye contact with the teenage girl across from her. "You have the structure of a thinker, but, somewhere in-between the lines there's a dreamer dancing on the page." She gathers the pages together and sets them back inside the manila folder before lacing her fingers together.

As she waits for Aunt Linda to pick her up outside of the Knox City Healthcare building, Santana glances down at marble notebook in her hand. At Miss Pillsbury's suggestion, each week she has to try and write a small something about a topic given to her by her social worker. She rolled her eyes when the woman gave her the blank book she's now holding, complaining that now she's got homework outside of homework.

But, she can definitely give Miss Pillsbury points for trying. If she can't open up during their sessions, maybe she can open up to herself in a great way she knows how to express herself. She figured she'd give it a try, everyone, including her social worker, has always said she has a way with stringing words together. Plus, she's always been a straight A student in English. Well, when she actually went to class anyway.

---

"And I hope to see all of you at the Annual Knox City Late Fall Fair tonight after the game." Principal Figgins voice rings out as the students rush to get to their lockers, preparing themselves for the football game this evening.

Santana moseys over towards her locker, books in hand and rumblings of discontent in her body. It's not a new feeling of being totally over this whole small town vibe, but it is literally bordering on unbearable. Sure, she's got her Friday's covered, what with the strenuous activity of sitting in the bleachers for the Knox City High School football team. But even that is a bogus bullet point on her very short list of things to do and she's growing increasingly bored of her typical weekend tradition.

The only things she knows to keep her idle hands at bay are the exact things that get her into trouble. See incident from a few days ago. Point being, even her nights out with the 'normal' kids from Knox, she is still able to find herself in heaps of trouble. Lesson learned here it, Aunt Linda knows the scent of weed from a mile away so that joyous, teenage road is no longer going to be traveled on. At least not while she's here.

As she opens her locker and shoves her un-needed books to the back, she glances over her shoulder and down the hallway. It's there that she spots the reason behind her even attending this almost second form of religion to the state of Texas. Brittany is at the end of her line of vision, completely unaware of Santana's lingering eye. Her blonde pony sways side to side as she swaps her books, just as Santana had been doing before becoming distracted. Her tight, blue, polyester cheerleading uniform grips at her body in all the right places and her bare legs, well, enough said.

"I think you're drooling." A whisper of a voice comes to her ear and she jerks her head back when the air from the words hits her ear. She turns to the other side of her to find Quinn staring at her with an inquisitive look and a raised eyebrow, a look patented by the blonde. Santana rolls her eyes, feigning ignorance and Quinn's semi obvious observation.

"The game's away right?" She asks, desperate to change the subject as far from her as possible. Quinn leans against the locker beside Santana's and nods her head as she tugs on her cheerleading duffle bag.

"I knew there was another reason you were coming to all of the football games." Quinn says suggestively and smirks at the way Santana slightly fumbles with her books before quickly shutting her locker with a louder than needed bang.

"The only reason is there's nothing to do in this cow town." Santana defends, spinning on her heels to face her friend, leaving her back to the girl she had previously been eyeing from a far. Quinn looks down and bites her bottom lip before she chuckles and shakes her head. She knows that even if she caught Santana red handed, literally, the girl would probably deny anything till she was blue in the face. "Besides," She flips her hair, giving a stoner looking boy a stare down as he passes them before turning her attention back to Quinn. "I wasn't drooling over anyone."

"Right." Quinn gives up and pushes herself away from the lockers, leading them to walk down the hall. "You don't do 'feelings' or whatever." Santana nods firmly as she follows her friend towards the staircase. "So," She turns so she is walking backwards until her back hits the door leading to the stairs. "Please tell me you're coming to the Fair." She says this with wide, pleading eyes. "My mom is literally planning on making me stay at the pie tent the entire time. She's convinced that telling her I want to hang out with friends is just a play to ditch her." She explains with slight annoyance and Santana chuckles as they descend the stairs, making their way to the first floor of their school. "Which, please, we all know that is one hundred percent true. It's my senior year and I do not want to spend my last Fall Fair of freedom trapped under a picnic tent selling blueberry pie."

"Like I said, Aunt Linda's probably already signed me up for something even worse than that." Santana reminds her, shaking her head at the very thought of having to do any kind of community service in a community that pretty much blows. "Especially after the shit I pulled on Wednesday." She adds as an afterthought, but says it low enough that Quinn doesn't ask her to repeat herself. When she glances over her finds Quinn looking down at the ground once they hit the main floor, her lips twisted in thought. "But, I'm banking on being punished for missing my meeting," She catches herself before exploiting her Wednesday meetings with the town's social worker, wanting to avoid questions as to why. "So she'll probably drag me there herself to be more 'social'. At least we'll both be miserable." She offers, wondering if what she's just said has busted Quinn's bubble of hope.

"You don't know do you?" Quinn asks softly once they reach the parking lot in front of the school. Santana's eyebrows furrow as she follows Quinn over to the flag pole where they usually wait for Brittany. Once there, the blonde slowly turns to face her friend and gives her a solemn look. "Your aunt hasn't been to the fair in…" Her eyes widen a bit and she takes in a breath as she thinks about the last time she'd seen Linda Lopez at the Annual Knox City Late Fall Fair. "She doesn't go to them." She settles for, finally looking back up at Santana who is still staring at her in confusion.

"Why? Doesn't everyone in this town do everything together?" She questions, unsure as to why Aunt Linda out of anyone in Knox would pass up a night of carnival type fun. But, before she can delve further into the 'why' of it all, Brittany comes bounding towards them with an excited, pre-game smile on her face.

"You ready for tonight's game?" Brittany asks as she bumps her shoulder to Quinn's.

"Two more and then playoffs." Quinn sing songs pushing her shoulder right back into Brittany, who grins back at Santana.

"You're comin' right?" She inquires, a bit more hopeful than she had expected to sound. Quinn sends Santana an 'I knew it' smirk and watches as the shorter girl nods her head.

"I gotta go and stretch my spirit fingers before the big game." Quinn announces, flickering her fingers and sends a wink to the girls before she turns towards the parking lot.

"Ready?" Brittany asks once it's only the two of them standing by the flag pole.

"Uh," Santana glances around the parking lot that is thinning out quickly and looks over at Brittany. "Yeah." When they get inside the head cheerleader's pick-up truck, she sets her books on her lap and looks to her left at Brittany. She watches her turn the key to start the ignition and smiles back at her when she reaches her arm around the back of Santana's seat as she backs the truck up.

"What?" Brittany giggles out when she pulls her arm back from behind Santana to put the car in drive, noticing her friend's eyes still on her.

"Nothing." She shakes her head and moves her focus to the windshield.

"You sure? You look like you want to say something." Brittany points out, making sure to look both ways before turning out of the high school's parking lot. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Santana nod, letting her know she is certain that there is nothing on her mind. She shrugs, letting her friend get away with holding in whatever it is she is thinking about.

Santana wants to ask Brittany about what Quinn was saying, that Aunt Linda doesn't go to the fair anymore. She remembers the few times she and her family were able to make it down to Knox City to join in the town's festivities. But, as they are turning off of Main, she realizes. The last time she'd attended the Annual Knox City Late Fall Fair, well, circumstances were quite different.

Of course she would assume that the particular gathering might bring up some unwanted and very sad memories for her aunt, but she had just figured that after all these years, she would have somewhat moved on. However, it's seems as though that is not the case. While Brittany fumbles with the radio dial, Santana pictures the rest of town having a ball at the fair while Aunt Linda sits at home, clutching a picture or some sort of memorabilia of her uncle. The thought made her shiver and desperately reminded her of one of those ridiculously heartbreaking Nicholas Sparks books.

When she finally snaps out of it, Brittany is pulling into her perfectly paved driveway. It makes Santana's mind wander once again to her uncle, and that maybe Aunt Linda's driveway was still made up of dirt and rocks because he never got the chance to pave it himself. It only makes her think of all of the other things that they never got to do. But, it also brings her mind to her own parents and the things they never got to do. Like, celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary or even more family vacations to Aunt Linda's.

These ideas just annoy her because, it's clear to her that nothing good can ever last even if it is stolen from you.

"I have to ride with the team." Brittany breaks the radio filled silence that had fallen between them since they had left the school's parking lot.

"Oh," Santana brings herself back to reality and grabs her things before placing her hand on the latch to the door. "Yeah, I'll take Aunt Lee's truck." She knows that Aunt Linda won't have a problem with her using the truck to go to a football game. Aunt Linda would let her use the truck any time of day if it meant she was staying out of trouble.

"Cool." Brittany just smiles. She's grateful that the distance and transportation details are not going to deter Santana from coming to the game. "But, if you want, we'll meet back here after? Go to the fair together?" Santana nods as she hops out of the truck and heads towards her Aunt's house.

Brittany watches on as Santana disappears beyond the bushes that separate their houses, wondering what it is that is distracting her friend. Sure, Santana doesn't really say much as it is, but there is clearly something on her mind and it kind of made her worry. She seemed more in her head than usual. But, she figured it best not to push for an answer just yet, sure that if Santana needed to vent, she'd be the one she would turn to.

"Hey Aunt Lee." Santana greets when she walks through the door. She tosses her books on the coffee table in the living room when she hears her aunt shout a 'hello' from the kitchen and then follows the voice. "So, can I borrow the truck?" She asks, leaning against the wall and watches as Linda stirs a pitcher of iced tea with a big wooden spoon. Her aunt looks up to give her a skeptical glance and she offers the older woman a pout for good measure. "Britt's game is away." She explains easily and enters the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter. Aunt Linda raises an eyebrow at the comment of it being 'Britt's game', but turns her focus back to her iced tea and nods. "Awesome." Santana cheers with a bite of apple in her mouth and hops up on the counter top.

"But, you better come back here right after." Linda explains. Santana stops munching on her after school snack and stares blankly at her aunt.

"Why?" She asks with a tinge of irritation. After a few moments without an answer from Aunt Linda, she crosses her legs at the knee and looks to her apple for the next best bite. "There's that probably super dull fair tonight. Everyone's going and Quinn practically begged for my presence and I do not like to disappoint." Again, Aunt Linda doesn't respond. Santana shrugs her shoulders and flips her apple around to get a fresh bite. "I mean, it's most likely a ploy for her to have some company while flinging pies at the Knox masses, but…"

"After Wednesday," Aunt Linda interrupts, sets the spoon in the sink and grabs the pitcher to bring to the refrigerator. "Did you really think you were gonna get away without facing any consequences?" She shakes her head as she sets the pitcher on the top shelf and turns back to the counter to wipe it clean.

"So you wait till there's finally something fascinating happening in this place to start dishing out discipline?" Santana inquires in disbelief, completely ignoring her afternoon treat and keeps her eyes on Aunt Linda.

But, she doesn't say a word, simply continues to walk around the kitchen running her dish rag over every surface. Silence in a situation like this does not bode well with Santana, who hops off the counter and crosses her arms over her chest. She's sure this has something to do with the 'why' of her Aunt not being a fixture at the yearly late fall fair. Suddenly her intrigue as to the reasons behind Aunt Linda no longer attending this function vanish and she does the only thing she knows that lets her get her way. She cuts. Deep.

"You aren't punishing me because of Wednesday." Santana accuses with a stern, but calm and steady voice. "You just want some company while you sit here," She uncrosses an arm to wave it in the air to emphasize the house they are in before crossing it again. "Sad and alone." Aunt Linda makes the mistake of stammering by the sink and Santana quirks an eyebrow in victory. She doesn't want to hurt her aunt really; in fact, it's not even Aunt Linda she's thinking of right now. "Well, I have my own miserable life thank you very much."

Memories of the times her mother even tried to punish her or keep her from going out come rushing through her mind. All she can picture now is the way she'd come home to find an empty bottle of vodka on the coffee table or 'hidden' under the tomato jars in the recycling bin. Or the other nights she remembers, when she was younger, finding her mother asleep on the recliner with home movies playing across the screen. It was so depressing and embarrassing to her that her mother could not get over the past and the shortcomings of Santana's father and their relationship.

"The least you could do while I'm trapped in this hell hole," Linda is rendered motionless, purely speechless at the volume and anger coming out of such a small person, but keeps her back to Santana as the young girl continues her tantrum/tirade. "Is give me the freedom to not stand here and watch you wallow away in self pity because you're lonely." Santana bites her tongue as soon as the last word leaves her lips and at the sight of her Aunt gripping the edge of the sink.

It's quiet in the kitchen for a few, but painstakingly, long seconds. Santana's mouth hangs open, her jaw trembles with words her brain can't think up to say. Her arms loosen from her chest, but she doesn't drop them to her sides. She watches, with wide eyes, as Aunt Linda straightens herself up and clears her throat. Her back remains to her niece and she begins the motions of cleaning the counters with the rag that is still in her hand.

"The keys are by the door." Linda tells her. Santana is startled because the woman before her still has that Lopez strength in her voice.

"Aunt Lee, I'm…" Santana stutters, 'sorry' not necessarily being a word that easily falls from her lips, but one she feels the need to say repeatedly right now.

"Santana," Aunt Linda says, and looks over her shoulder at the area her niece is standing by but not at her. "Bring your phone." She reminds her and then goes back to wiping down the counter that really does not need any more cleaning.

Santana stands still for a few more moments, unable to speak or move really. It takes her physically willing her body to turn around, go to her room, grab her jacket and phone and then keys before leaving the house. Like with all away games, she drives to her high school to follow the busses and the trucks of eager parents and fans to the game.

Normally, while she rides behind the controlled chaos that is Knox City football fans, she mutters to herself about how lame they all are and that Puck would totally make fun of her for becoming one of these 'school spirit' kind of girls. But, today is different. The entire drive to Newcastle, all Santana can think of is what had just happened between her and Aunt Linda. It was unplanned to say the least. The whole time she's been here, she has been desperately trying to avoid any kind of confrontation with her aunt. But, as always, when faced with authority she went for the low blow.

It's almost a thirty minute drive out to Newcastle, but to Santana, she would have appreciated some more time. Sometimes driving around helps her clear her thoughts and it's kind of been a hard something to do ever since she's been here. Sure, Aunt Linda lets her borrow the truck a lot, but, she just can't find the same flow with the roads here like the ones she knows so well back home.

The crowd at Newcastle is just as big and loud as the Knox City fans at their own home games. It seems that everyone here in Texas has an affinity for the all American sport, safe for her of course. Before she gets out of Aunt Linda's truck, she scans the foreign little town's people, football team and cheerleaders. She can't help but roll her eyes in thought. The thought being that her high school has way hotter cheerleaders than they cousin lovers. This only makes her roll her eyes again, but at herself, for even referring to Knox as hers.

She turns her head when she hears louder cheers and sees that about twenty feet from her parking spot is where the Knox City High School busses are letting out the squad and team. She looks on as bubbly cheerleaders in blue and white uniforms bounce off of the bus, with their little blue and white duffle bags over their shoulders and their high, most likely regulation ponytails swinging behind them. There's this certain pep in the step of a Texas cheerleader that she finds slightly endearing. Every Friday night, they go out on the field to cheer on the players to 'fight, score, win' while also informing the other team that their school is 'boom, dynamite'. Win or lose, the girls are out there trying to motivate their boys and keep the spirits of the people in the stands up.

It really makes perfect sense to her why Brittany of all people would be a Texas cheerleader. There's this optimism a cheerleader needs to possess or their cheers are somewhat, not believable. That innocence Santana catches in Brittany's eyes every Friday night could probably power the whole squad with pride and optimism.

As she gets out the truck, her mind switches to the 'why' someone like Quinn would be a cheerleader. After all the crappy things she's been through, it almost seems like a sad joke that the one pregnant teenager would throw on a most likely itchy polyester uniform and be cheerful. Maybe it was God's form of punishment, to bestow endless cheer for the cheerless cheerleader. As though being a test Quinn needs to pass in order to be accepted through the pearly gates at the end of her life.

Walking through the throngs of overexcited, high school football fans, Santana continues on her own little dissection of the possible 'redemption' Quinn is looking for through cheering. She's sure having a baby and then losing it at fifteen is pretty rough. Well, she didn't lose it really. She gave the baby up for adoption, but Santana figures it's as close to death without the actual dying. A loss like that has got to be unfathomable. It's kind of like… and that's when it hits her.

Standing in the small walk way that leads the opposing teams fans to the bleachers, she steps to the side to avoid being in the middle of a gang of loud, pushy people. She leans up against the tiny fence just by the steps leading up to the small staircase and the feeling of dread spills over her, sending a cold chill down her spine. The half conversation she had with Quinn earlier today, with the blonde's subtle 'you don't know' about why Aunt Linda doesn't go to the late fall fair echoes in her mind.

She's been so wrapped up in getting through her time here in Knox that she was blinded to anything and anyone other than herself. This strange feeling in her gut felt heavy and her chest tightened. It's no wonder why Aunt Linda hasn't been to the fair in the last few years. The last time Santana even remembers going to the Annual Knox City Late Fall Fair was when her Uncle Roger was home on leave from the Marines. It was also the last time she'd seen him before he died a few months later. It was the last time Aunt Linda had seen or been with him as well.

Even though it's been years, it's apparent that the pain is still there for her aunt. Time is a funny thing in that it sometimes does not heal all wounds. If Santana wasn't a perfect example of that, what with her family's dysfunction and short comings, Aunt Linda was the very picture of that.

With a wave of guilt, something Santana has seldom felt before in her young life, she glances out to the field where the players on both teams are already stretching and practicing. She can see from her spot as the Knox City cheerleaders gather in a tight circle, smiles and laughter drowned out by the even louder crowd in the stadium. Suddenly, this Friday night ritual of sitting there and feigning interest in a game she does not understand in the slightest, does not seem like a great way to forget about her problems.

Without another thought of a football game or even cheerleaders in short skirts doing split in the air, Santana spins around and heads back out towards the parking lot. Within seconds she's pulling back out to the highway and driving back towards Knox City. The drive this time feels shorter. Not paying much attention to the flowing traffic, her mind wanders to and from all of the awful things she'd said to Aunt Linda over an hour ago.

When she had said them, she knew she wasn't meaning to speak that way to Aunt Linda. Unfortunately, Linda had been in the line of fire during a short by highly volatile temper tantrum completely directed at Santana's parents. Her aunt had, unfortunately, been in the crossfire and bearer of harsh words. But, regardless of how wrong she knows she's been, she has absolutely no clue as how to go about rectifying her awful behavior.

Santana winds up driving all the way back to Knox City High School instead of back to Aunt Linda's. She can't face the woman who has been kind enough to take her in this year, without at least thinking of some way to make it better. Back home, if she'd accidentally 'hurt' someone's feelings, she would just make a sarcastic remark and completely dance around the word 'sorry', therefore apologizing without actually saying the words. She's just certain that it won't work that way with her aunt.

---

The bus pulls up to Knox City High School a little after nine at night. The boys are cheering louder than ever, because they are one game away from an undefeated season and also two games away from the playoffs. Their voices fade off into the distance as they hop in their trucks and head off for a most likely celebratory evening. The cheerleaders arrive a few moments later, some making it back in time to get in their boyfriend's trucks or to drive off with one another.

Quinn and Brittany are happily walking back to the parking lot a few feet away from where the school bus had dropped the squad off. They talk animatedly about how amazing it is going to be to have the playoffs going on, especially for their senior year. The football team usually makes it to the playoffs, but it's just icing on the cake when it happens for a senior.

The pair walks halfway to the parking lot, discussing the fair and how they'll meet up at some point if Quinn can manage to escape the clutches of the pie tent. As the trucks and cars that once filled the front of the school drive off the town's hotspot, the fair, only a few vehicles are left behind.

"Hey." Quinn says softly, interrupting their pointless conversation. Brittany glances over her shoulder when Quinn nods her head to the spot behind her. About thirty feet away, where Brittany's powder blue pick-up is parked, sits Santana on the hood. "I, uh," Quinn shifts her feet from side to side and looks over to where her own truck is parked, on the opposite side of the lot. "I'll see you later?"

"Oh, yeah." Brittany breathes out with a smile, turning back to Quinn just as she is heading towards her truck. After she watches Quinn's truck pull away, she turns around to walk to her own ride. The one with the sad looking girl sitting on the hood, clearly waiting for her. "Hey." She greets softly, not wanting to startle Santana too much.

Santana glances over her shoulder and sends her friend a half hearted smile, nodding at the greeting. Brittany slows her walk as she comes closer to the truck and places her duffle bag into the back before moving to the front where Santana is still sitting.

"You weren't at the game." Brittany comments. She walks to the front of the truck and hoists herself up until she is sitting in the spot next to Santana. When she doesn't respond, Brittany takes in a breath and glances out to the road in front of them where Santana's stare is. "Wanna talk about it?" The girl beside her shakes her head. It was to be expected, but it doesn't make it any less frustrating. The quiet takes over for a little while longer, until Santana takes in a deep breath as well and when she lets it out, it's actually followed with a tiny admission.

"I was such a shit to my aunt today." Santana tells her. Brittany tries not to smirk or grin, but it's kind of hard when her friend phrases her behavior in such a way.

"Did you apologize?" She asks after a few short seconds of silence.

"I don't do apologies." She hears Brittany let out a slightly annoyed but amused laugh.

"Do you actually 'do' anything?" Brittany asks curiously and turns her head towards Santana, who stares back at her in confusion. "Ever since you got here all you tell me is what you don't 'do'." She says and leans farther back on her hands. "'I don't 'do' love'." Brittany imitates Santana's accent and attitude. "'I don't do feelings'." She adds, finally smiling when hears a gentle chuckle come from the girl beside her. "I know you say 'we're not little kids anymore', but, we're also not strangers." Brittany enforces. "We know each other. We're still the same people. I mean, yea, we changed a bit, just our bodies really. So what, we have boobs and got taller… well, I got taller. And like, instead of 'Zoey 101' posters on our walls I have Beyonce and the 'Charlie St. Cloud' movie poster. And, I don't know, you've got strippers or naked girls." She chuckles with a shake of her head after receiving an arched eyebrow from Santana. "I don't really know." She watches as Santana's mouth goes from smile to serious a few times and how her head subtly shakes from side to side as she breathes out a small laugh.

"No naked girls." Santana informs her with amusement.

"Well, see." Brittany waves her hands in the air before letting them fall to her thighs. "I don't know things like that because you don't tell me. Talk to me." She begs, but in the least pathetic kind of way that Santana's ever heard. It's kind of cute.

"About what?" She questions with uncertainty. She's never actually had a friend, besides Brittany when they were kids, who she had any sort of meaningful conversation with. Puck never actually listened to her piss and moan about her personal problems. The most they ever complained about together or shared was about getting it on with some chick or even sometimes each other.

"Like," Brittany starts slowly, giving herself a few seconds to think of what she wants to say. "What is it about home you miss so much? What are your friends like there? Why are you here and not there?" She tilts her head to the side, watching as her 'questions' go through Santana's mind. With a tiny giggle she brushes her knee against Santana's to catch her full attention. "Is your favorite food still mac and cheese?" She asks this as though it is the most important question of them all and it garners a chuckle from the girl beside her. "Anything. Everything. I knew you then and I want to know you now." Santana nods, looks over at Brittany and smiles, her eyes shining under the moonlight. The blonde can sense that her interest is most definitely appreciated.

The quiet of the night covers them up and they sit on the hood of the pick-up enjoying the clear night sky above them. Brittany leans back, her hands coming to rest on the top of the cool metal of the hood of her truck. She wonders if expressing he interest in all things Santana will evoke the sharing of feelings from the tight lipped little girl beside her. But, after a few more minutes with only the sound of breathing and cars from far away, she clears her throat and shifts her feet on the bumper of her truck.

"So, when I'm in a bad mood…" She starts, but pauses when Santana laughs out in a breath.

"You in a bad mood? Yeah right." Santana chuckles and gets one of those sweet smiles topped with a shoulder shrug from Brittany.

"When I'm in a bad mood and yes it's been known to happen." She flashes a toothy grin at her friend and playfully bites on the tip of her tongue as she shifts on her hands that rest on the hood of the truck. "I just pop my headphones in and let music fix me." Santana stares with an intrigued and amused smirk, watching the way Brittany lets her head fly back to smile at the sky.

"You really think music can 'save' someone, don't you?" She asks with extreme curiosity and desire to know the blonde's secrets. Brittany lightly laughs, shrugs again and lowers her head to glance down at Santana's hand resting against the worn in metal inches from her.

"Music makes all the difference." Brittany tells her, looking up to find Santana's eyes staring back at her. She smiles sweetly and tilts her head in thought. "Without it, there's no," She twists her lips for a moment, recalling a memory. "I once read that a song can trigger a memory just as easily as a smell can. Sense memory is a pretty insane thing." She nods and her eyes widen, remembering how surprised she was at this first time around. "The fact that we can recall something from so long ago at the drop of a beat or ting of a symbol," Her eyes flicker from Santana and to the night's sky a few times. "It's pretty inspiring. I guess that's why I love to dance. Sure, I don't always need actual music coming out of the speakers," Santana lets out a tiny laugh and nods, completely agreeing with Brittany on that one. "But, it doesn't mean the music isn't there. There's always music. It's," She sits up to pull her hands from behind her and off of the hood of the car and motions to herself. "Inside of me. It lets me do what I love to do. It helps me. It's what makes me believe in… well in everything. I'm not naive like people think." Brittany firmly states, setting her hands on her lap and looks at Santana. "Like that Russian guy said, 'you may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one'." Santana refrains from correcting her, because it's in this absurd moment of clarity for Brittany, she brings the same clarity to Santana. "Difference between me and everyone else is that I have the balls to dream out loud and dance to the music."

Brittany claps her hands together, noting her moment of wise wisdom is finished and she sucks on her lower lip as her words drift off into the night time air. It leaves Santana in awe at the way in which she pieces words together to describe a feeling, in such a simple way that leaves Santana nearly speechless. Perhaps Brittany is not what many would call book smart, but to Santana, it didn't mean that the blonde isn't her own kind of smart. Brittany makes words, the ones about feelings, sound like a song that she dances to everyday. Santana can't help but wonder if she'd ever learn the dance.

"So much for getting you to talk." Brittany breaks their short silence and hops off the hood of her truck. "I hope I at least helped a little bit." She shoves her hands behind her back, almost forgetting that she's still wearing her cheerleading uniform that has no back pockets.

"Uh," Santana slowly slides off the truck as well, making sure her skirt doesn't ride up in the process. "I'm just kind of hoping your sweetness has rubbed off on me and that Aunt Linda can't find it in her heart to not forgive me." Santana shakes her head and shakes her hands in the air, obviously not as good with words right now as Brittany.

"So you think I'm sweet huh?" Brittany counters with an arched eyebrow. The quickness of the response catches Santana off guard, but she recovers.

"As pie." She winks which garners a light giggle out of Brittany.

"Cheese." Brittany nudges her gently. They stand there quietly for a few moments, both uncertain of where this conversation leaves the night. "So," Brittany speaks up once more. "I gather you got an apology to make." She nods subtly, but Santana soon mimics the motion.

"I better." She points over her shoulder to where her truck is parked only a few spots away. They wave to one another, and Santana turns around when she sees Brittany walk around to the driver's side of her truck. Her boots make crunching noises over the gravel of the parking lot, but the noise is disturbed by the sound of Brittany's door squeaking open.

"Santana," Brittany calls out, instantly catching Santana's attention. "It's a shame you gotta miss the fair tonight." She comments, leaning her arms on the roof of her truck as she stands on the foot step of her vehicle. "At midnight, the guy who runs the Ferris wheel stops it at the top for me every year." She waves her hand in front of her face as though painting a picture in the air. "It's like you're flying."

When Santana finally gets home, the house seems quiet. But just as she places the keys down on the table by the door, she hears a familiar sound from a time so long ago. Slowly, she walks towards the noise which leads her to the living room. Aunt Linda is sitting on the couch, the only light is that of the television and the table lamp in the far corner of the room. On screen, she sees her younger self smiling and dancing away.

She half smirks to herself because she remembers these videos. There were probably dozens of these around the house of her, Uncle Roger and Brittany from all those summers they'd spent together. Uncle Roger was playing guitar while the younger Santana made up her own words to songs she didn't know. It'd been so long since she'd watched the DVD, it almost seemed like a dream that she had once been so tiny and full of hope.

"I know the words now." Santana speaks up, startling Aunt Linda, who grabs the remote and lowers the sound. She moves from her spot against the wall and goes to stand beside the couch.

"I always liked your versions better." Linda chuckles, sending a longing glance to the television as an image of Uncle Roger comes on screen.

"I didn't mean what I said to you earlier." The younger Lopez admits with her head hung and her eyes downcast. "You've been trying to help me. Letting me come here instead of going to juvie, 'cause that's probably what would have wound up happening and…" She looks to her aunt and her shoulders slump. "I get that, you're trying to help me and no matter how hard I make it for the both of us…" Her voice trails off, realizing she is just not very good with words except when they aim to cut. "I guess it makes sense that I'm here though. I know you still miss Uncle Rog." Aunt Linda looks down at her lap and nods with a sad smile on her lips. "Probably always will. I know I will." She explains easily enough. "Truth is, we are both broken people. Maybe if we lean on each other, we can help one another be whole again. But, you can't stay trapped in the past. You have to live in the now. It's a beautiful world out there… it just needs you to class the joint up a bit." She offers Aunt Linda her best bright smile which makes the older woman tilt her head and grin.

Aunt Linda looks at her niece for a moment. The young girl she remembers might not physically still be here, but deep inside, beyond that tough exterior and behind those tortured brown eyes she can see her. Through her straight face and tight lips, she closes her photo album and waves Santana over, patting the spot on the couch just beside her. Santana does as requested, and nervously takes the seat offered to her by Aunt Linda.

"Why do you do that?" Aunt Linda asks in a soft voice. Santana's brow furrows and she tilts her head when she looks at her aunt. "Pretend like you don't care, about anything?" Linda shrugs her shoulders as though to emphasize her point, even adding an eye roll. "You act as if the world owes you things, like you don't have to work for them like everyone else in the world." Santana looks away for a moment. Her eyes flicker to the coffee table not only avoiding Aunt Linda's determined stare but, also to avoid some truth. "People have crappy things happen to them all the time, Santana. I'm proof of that." She points to herself with sad humor in her voice. "It sucks, but, it's life. But, the bad things don't make life any less worth living. Sometimes, it's the bad things that happen in our lives that make us truly appreciate the things we do have." She smiles at her niece and reaches over to affectionately squeeze her knee. "Come here." She places her arm around Santana's shoulder's and pulls her against her chest, patiently waiting for tiny arms to wrap around her in return.

"I'm..." Santana mumbles the starts of an actual apology, but falls short and just she allows herself to fall comfortably into her aunt's embrace. She's curious when she hears and feels a rumble of chuckles roll from Linda.

"Us Lopez folk," Aunt Linda pulls back to look her niece in the eye so the girl can see that she's smiling. "We're not very good at sharing our feelings. It's hard for me to be mad at you for that." She presses a quick kiss to Santana's temple before letting her free of the hug. "But when we do," She lets out another laugh. "Look out." Linda shakes her head and looks to her right where she places her hand on the photo album she'd been looking at before Santana came in with a bucket of apologies. "I do miss your uncle." She comments in a far off voice and Santana just watches at the way her aunt lightly runs her fingers over the worn, leather cover. "I wasn't punishing you because of that." She says and looks over at Santana who keeps her focus on her hands in her own lap. Linda grins, taps her photo album and pushes herself up from the couch, patting Santana's shoulder as she prepares to leave the room.

"Someone told me that the Ferris wheel is the place to be." Santana suggests with a tiny, hopeful smile. "Said it's like you're flying." She squeezes her aunt's hand and motions with her head towards the front door. "What do you say, wanna fly?"

"Santana, honey," Aunt Linda reaches over and taps the hand that is covering her own. "I had ten years of flying with your uncle." She smiles wistfully at the memories. "I think my flying days are over." She winks, gives Santana's hand another tap and then pushes herself up from the couch. "Ya know," Linda interrupts herself and turns back to face Santana who is still sitting in the same spot. "If you leave now, you might be able to catch the last flight."

And with that, Aunt Linda grabs her album and leaves the living room and Santana. When she hears her aunt's bedroom door open and close Santana glances over at the time on the cable box below the television set. It's a little passed twenty after eleven and she knows that McKinley Field, where the fair is, is about fifteen minutes away off the south service road.

She gnaws on her bottom lip, grabs her cell phone and then the keys before breaking out into a light jog to the truck. In the blink of an eye, she passes the Pierce home, to find the driveway empty of all vehicles which only spurs her on to press more firmly on the gas. She shakes her head at herself, wondering why she's even racing to get to McKinley Field in the first place. Everyone is probably already on their way home, Quinn's most likely closing up shop at her mother's pie tent and it's not like Brittany insinuated that she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel with her.

So when she finally reaches the open field that the town holds all of their yearly fairs, she's proven right at her first thought. The make-shift parking lot is probably half as full as it had been earlier in the evening. There are close spots to the front, which is better for her, but only makes her feel as though she's too late. She walks briskly up to the ticket teller, which is really just a sad looking box that looks like a cheaply made toll booth stopped at by people when passing through cities.

With a two tickets in her hand, ten dollars worth, she makes her way through the thinning crowd of the late fall fair. Some tents are still up. Mostly, she reasons, for people to just gossip with one another about everyone else. As soon as she parked the truck, she could spot the Ferris wheel. But, as she walks through the rest of the field, she finds that it is a lot further than it looked, being set up just before the end of the entire fair itself.

There are some people waiting in line for the roller coaster, others waiting in line at the Fabray pie tent and the rest of the masses are enjoying their treats while walking hand in hand and arm in arm. To her left she sees the various games that fairs have. The ones where people throw balls at wooden milk bottles, shoot water guns towards a clown's mouth and the one with the ping pong ball to win a fish. At the end of the long throng of games, she looks forward to see that she has finally reached the Ferris wheel.

Just a few feet away, where the rides operator leans up against a metal hand rail, she spots a blonde headed girl. It's Brittany, and she's clearly having a conversation with the Ferris wheel guy, as she is moving her hands around as the man obviously listens. When Santana gets a little bit closer, the young man's eyes flicker in her direction, causing Brittany to look over her shoulder and she smiles.

"You made it." Brittany says in a soft whisper of excitement. The cheerleader turns fully around, letting Santana see that she is not donning her usual cheer uniform.

"You ladies ready?" The man says, a tight lipped smile tugs over his teeth and he steps back to motion towards the bench ready for new passengers. Santana's brow furrows and she gives Brittany an inquisitive look.

"How'd you know I'd come?" She asks with surprise. Brittany shrugs her shoulders and glances down at the round where her shoes are brushing over the pebbles in the dirt.

"I didn't." Brittany admits before looking back up at Santana. "But, I hoped you would and you did. So…" She peers over her shoulder towards the awaiting bench, and then her eyes fall back to Santana and she wriggles her eyebrows.

Santana hands over her two tickets to the operator and steps in, taking a seat as Brittany asks the man to stop at the tippy top. She grins because the blonde sounds like that little girl she used to play with all those summers ago.

Just as promised, the Ferris wheel bench the two of them are sitting in stops at the very top, giving them a beautiful view of the sky. They can see beyond the open fields, farms and houses and just past Main Street. Santana's two hands grip the steel bar that is supposed to be there for safety, but honestly she feels anything but. It's the warm hand that covers her own that eases her anxiety and lets her breathe.

"Remember in the summer," Brittany interrupts the light wind that has been the background noise floating between them, and raises her other hand to point out ahead of them. "They used to shoot fireworks at the summer fair?" She asks, letting her hand drop back to the bar and looks over at Santana who is staring off into the sky.

"Mhmm." Santana nods as she hums out the response.

"Did," Brittany gets that she's the one who's going to have to be making conversation, but it's something she's grown accustomed to with Santana. "Everything with your aunt work out?" She asks.

Santana looks down at her hands that are gripping at the steel bar, first at her right one and then the left, the one with Brittany's hand covering her own. Her mouth turns up slightly at the corners and she blinks some of the dryness the air from up this high is causing before turning to the girl beside her. She nods and mouths 'yeah', which kind of comes out all scratchy and gets lost in the breeze.

"Thank you." She finally says after clearing her throat. Brittany just smiles and nods, acknowledging her and then they both turn their heads back to the open sky.

---

Brittany was all ready for cheerleading, but was just as surprised as the rest of her squad when she learned that her coach had cancelled their Wednesday afternoon practice. It's not often they get off from cheer practice, but it's something they can learn to appreciate. Cheerleading at Knox City High School, especially under the reign of a coach like theirs, is a pretty hard life. Their squad literally only has a month and a half off during the whole year, so when they get a day off, it's a nice breather.

But with no plans directly after school, Brittany finds herself a little lost. It's easy for her to go through a routine, because every day is always the same. School, practice. School, game. It's a lot easier to get by as a Texas cheerleader when there is some structure. As she is about to find Santana to see if she wants to get together now that she is free, her cell phone goes off. It's a text message from her mother asking her to drop by her office after school. She's sure it's about something completely unimportant in her own life, but something 'super' important in the Mayor's. Sending a quick response to her mom, she heads out to her truck rather unenthusiastically.

Quinn couldn't have been more relieved to finally get a day to herself. The last time she had ever had moments to herself after school was when she got pregnant sophomore year. As much as she appreciated the alone time, it was also a little too alone. But after two years of working her ass off to be in the top three of the squad, she quite likes the idea of having a day to do her own thing. So with that in mind, she gathers her little gang of misfits and they head out to Holly's Daze for some relaxation and burgers.

Santana is more than a little bummed when she has to decline the trip to Holly's straight from school, because she has her weekly meeting with Miss Pillsbury. But, while leaving Quinn in the dark as to what the important 'thing' she needs to actually is, she assures them that she will meet up afterwards.

It takes Brittany a good ten minutes or so to reach the parking lot of Knox City Town Hall. She parks her truck beside the nicer cars of the office building employees, including her mothers, a 2011 Mustang. It was a gift from her father last Christmas and it was a complete joke to Brittany. Her mother hated muscle cars and anything that went too fast, yet here was her fire engine red Mustang convertible. Brittany is sure she just enjoyed it because it was flashy and expensive.

As she walks around the steps of the front of the building to head up to the glass doors, she happens to take a glance across the street. With a double take, she tilts her head to the side when she notices Santana walking up Charles, where she had just come from, and go through the doors of the Knox City Healthcare building. She's curious, to say the least. It makes her wonder about all those other Wednesday's when Santana said she had 'things' to keep her busy. Brittany kind of realizes that other days during the week, her friend can usually be found waiting for her in the bleachers for cheer practice to let out.

When Santana finally reaches the outside world beyond the doors of the Knox City Healthcare building, she is surprised to find a familiar powder blue truck parked right there by the curb. But, she's even more surprised when she finds the truck's owner leaning comfortably against the passenger side door looking back at her.

She tucks her thumb under the bag on her shoulder and shifts it to a better position. Her eyes flicker to the people walking around the town, completely unaware of the strange air suddenly between Santana and Brittany. Even Brittany is unaware. They both make moves towards one another, chuckling awkwardly as they meet halfway on the sidewalk.

"Are you sick?" Brittany asks curiously, motioning to the building just behind Santana that is clearly the one where the doctor's office is.

"Oh," Santana glances behind her to see the big letters that spell out 'healthcare' on the front of the building and shakes her head when she turns back to Brittany. "No, I just had to get something for my aunt."

"Oh." Brittany nods and looks over her shoulder to her mom's office building briefly. "Is your aunt sick?" She asks, suddenly concerned that her neighbor might be ill.

"No." Santana instantly assures her. "Aunt Lee's fine." They both shift their weight from foot to foot and their eyes travel from one another to down the street and then back.

"You know," Brittany starts, slowly and softly, and catches Santana's attention. "You don't have to lie. If you don't want to tell me something, just say so." She offers with a half smile half frown and Santana can't fight the heat that comes to her face as she has never actually been called out on a lie. It's kind of surprising that Brittany can sense even a little white lie from her. It's kind of intimidating.

"Okay, well, then I don't want to talk about it." She spits out defensively, but does her best at making it sound as calm as possible. Still, it catches Brittany a tad off guard and now she's looking sort of like a puppy that's been kicked.

"Is this," Brittany shrugs and her fingers tug at the bottom of her cheer top, using her head to nod at the healthcare building. "Where you go every Wednesday?" Her feet step on one another as she notices the way Santana shifts her bag. "I mean…"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Santana snaps, letting her eyes come up to meet Brittany's wide with surprise ones.

"I was just wondering." She admits in a small voice, tearing her eyes from those dark browns.

"Why?" Santana asks, slight irritation but also a bit of confusion in her tone. But Brittany's eyes are the ones that look confused and she tilts her head to the side.

"Because I care." She explains with ease. It's so simple, but to Santana, nothing is ever that easy.

"Look Britt, I gotta go." Without another word Santana waves and heads down Charles. Leaving Brittan with no apology for being snappy or short.

She's sure that the girl from up the road is probably watching her walk away, most likely stunned. Truth is, Santana's slightly stunned herself. She's never, ever spoken to Brittany in such a way. Not even when they were little, single digit girls and Santana got in trouble when Brittany ate mud on a dare. In fact, she's never even thought about talking to her with such irritation or annoyance before.

As she turns down on Main Street with the intentions of meeting Quinn and her gang of misfits, Santana can't fight that strange and recurring feeling of guilt sweep through her body. She's sure she'll be able to brush off the sensation once she reaches Holly's Daze, and not let on that she's just committed a Knox City sin. Sin being, making Brittany Pierce so sad it looks like she just saw a dog get hit by a car; twice.

---

It was a little too easy to slap on a straight, unamused face around Quinn, Kurt, wheelchair kid and the Asian duo. Even if she did look depressed, sad or even mad they probably wouldn't have even picked up on it. Well, Quinn probably. But, they both know the blonde would never bring up issues in mixed company so she was safe with that one. Yet, as she sits at her desk in her room, marble notebook open to the first blank page, she feels lonely.

Surely it's not the first time this particular feeling has ever graced through the little, tight body of one Santana Lopez. But it doesn't make it any less uncomfortable. She shifts in her seat, unable to find a good position that will not leave her with her ass half asleep. Her wrist flicks and the cap of her pen taps on the notebook, making a popping sound that echoes in her room. She looks up from her desk and over her shoulder towards her window and across the way to Brittany's window. Her lips twist and she drops her pen.

She'd gotten home a little before dinner and after a riveting episode of Jeopardy, Santana came straight to her room to see if Brittany was around. But, it's now almost ten at night and she has yet to see the light go on in her friend's room.

Growing frustrated and feeling even worse than she did an hour ago, Santana gets up from her desk and heads to the window. With her marble notebook long forgotten she opens her bedroom window and leans on the sill. If anything or anyone deserved to hear her out, it was going to be Brittany and hopefully she'd be willing to listen.

When Brittany gets home, her father is fast asleep on the recliner with a football game as his white noise. On the kitchen counter is a note from her mother, asking her to let her know when she gets home. She does as requested and knocks on her mother and father's bedroom door, opening it just enough to poke her head through.

"I'm home." She whispers into the darkness.

"Okay sweetie." Mrs. Pierce mutters before turning on her side and leaving her back to face her daughter.

Brittany carefully closes the door and only lets go when she hears the click. She shuts the television off, knowing that in about fifteen minutes or so, her dad will wake up because of the silence and make his way to bed on his own. She puts on the surface light on the microwave so that he will find his way without complete blindness.

Finally reaching her room, she pushes the door open and is more than surprised to find Santana sitting there at the end of her bed. Her dark hair is down, covering her bare shoulder and the tiny hint of light from the bedside lamp only provides Brittany with her silhouette. She closes her bedroom door, quietly and quickly, uncertain if her father is going to be walking by any minute to go to bed. When she turns back around to face Santana, she sees how the other girl's chest rises and falls, almost nervously.

"Can we talk?" Santana's voice is tiny.

"But, we never do that." Brittany tells her, the true meaning behind her statement does not fall short on Santana's waiting ears.

"I know, but…" Santana nods, letting her head tilt from side to side as she realizes how much more difficult the idea of sharing actually is. When the bed dips, she peeks out of the corner of her eye to see Brittany has taken a seat on the side of the bed. "Did you know that I have a half sister?" She asks and looks over her shoulder to gauge Brittany's facial expression. But, of course, she shakes her head because Santana has never said anything about it. "She's two and probably the most adorable thing I have ever seen in my entire life. But," Her smile fades and her eyes drop to where she can make out the shadow of Brittany's hand, resting on the bed beside her. "I don't get to see her so much." She admits almost inaudibly and turns her face towards the window. Brittany doesn't respond, but, opts on remaining quiet in hopes of continuing this wave of sharing from Santana. "When my parents got divorced, my dad practically moved to the other side of town." A throaty chuckle escapes Santana's lips, but Brittany knows it's not because of the humor in her statement. "He married this awful, wretch of a bitch, Patti. And, well, she is not my biggest fan." Brittany frowns, not liking the way this story is going. "She doesn't like me around. My dad doesn't either. He never calls me up just to see how I'm doing anymore. He just buys me things. I think he thinks that's a great way to show me he 'loves' me or whatever. Truth is, it makes me feel less loved than anything. I don't think that I could do anything to make him… I could cure cancer and it wouldn't mean a thing. Besides, he has a whole other family now, so…"

Brittany isn't sure what to say. She wants to tell Santana that she's sure her father loves her to the ends of the earth and back. That he hasn't chosen his new family over his old one. That she is more than positive that Mr. Lopez thinks about his daughter every single day. But, she doesn't say any of those things. This is the first time Santana has ever shared her feelings since she came back to town. It's like an amazing breakthrough that Brittany does not want to end. So, instead of saying any of those words, she reaches out and grabs Santana's hand in her own.

"See," Her voice cracks and Santana looks over her shoulder at the girl who's holding her hand. "I'm a pretty good listener." They smile, sadly, at one another. "When you actually talk."

Brittany tugs on her hand and soon the two are lying side by side, hand in hand, on a twin bed in dim lamp light. They remain quiet for a few moments, the only noises in the room are their breathing and the faint sound of crickets from just outside the blonde's bedroom window. A gentle squeeze of Brittany's fingers around her hand, eases some of the tension in Santana's chest.

"I think I miss home because it's familiar." She admits, shrugging her shoulders and there's the light feeling of Brittany's skin rubbing against her own. "It's the same house we lived in when my parents were married." Santana explains and from the corner of her eye, she can see Brittany nod in understanding. Of course she misses her house, it's the only thing she has left that is part of her 'family'. "But, now it's just me and my mom. She's always…" She shakes her own head this time and closes her eyes. Even Puck doesn't know much about her family.

"What about your brother?" Brittany's curiosity gets the best of her and she interrupts the silence that has brushed over them.

"He's away at college." Santana sighs out, letting her eyes remain closed but more comfortably. "He goes somewhere in Ohio. Like, who goes there on purpose?" She chuckles out with irritation.

"Doesn't he visit? Like, for holidays?" Brittany asks, but when she hears and feels the rustling on the pillow, she knows Santana is shaking her head. "Why?"

"Last time he came to visit was about two years ago, right before the baby was born." She lets out a long breath. "He never returned my e-mails, or calls or texts. Anyway, he and my father got into a fist fight." If it weren't so dark in the room, Santana would have noticed the horrified look on her friend's face. But, the lamp light only provided enough light to just make out the corners of the room where she kept her focus. "I don't know what happened after that. I called Puck…"

"Puck?" Brittany interrupts.

"Oh, yeah, Puck. He's one of my friends from back in Boston." She explains and then after a beat, her shoulders slump further into the bed. "Actually, he's my only friend." This admission is quieter and she can feel a slight heat creep up into her cheeks.

The realization that she literally had one person to rely on back home is kind of depressing to her. Were they even really friends though? All they used to do was cause chaos, get high, drink and have sex, sometimes with each other. Maybe a friendship those things did not make, but she hoped somewhere deep down, they actually were friends.

"He's not." Brittany tells her and turns on her side so that she can just make out Santana's profile.

"What?" She asks in confusion.

"You're only friend." Brittany reminds her, squeezing their hands together as she rests the side of her face on the pillow. Santana smiles inwardly, enjoying the closeness and companionship Brittany provides her and has given her since the very moment they reconnected. "So, what got you sent here?" She finally asks the question on everyone's tongue.

Santana takes in a deep breath, she'd been waiting for the time this question would actually be asked and not danced around. It's not that she's embarrassed really, but more so that she's been wanting to simply slip by the social aspect of Knox and do her time here without having to express herself. But, being around Brittany brings out a different side of her, whether or not she even realizes it.

She spends the next hour and half explaining, in some detail, the actual event that had made the judge decide on sending her out to the sticks. Brittany listens intently as Santana describes the night in question to the best of her ability, not even leaving out the bits and pieces that doesn't necessarily shine a pretty light on her. From the weed to the liquor, the sneaking out, the pills, the girls and then the SUV that Puck had boosted. Santana tells Brittany about the night in jail and how the woman, Jane, was kind to her. How, in the courtroom, her mother cried and her father didn't even look at her.

Brittany doesn't interrupt with questions or even with platitudes of sorrow for her story. She just listens on when Santana chronicles her teenage indiscretions from late nights at parties and raves that faded all the way into the early hours of the morning. She watches the shadow of Santana's mouth move when she lists the thickness of her juvie record that goes from shoplifting to public indecency.

"I'm sure that, after all this, you're probably…" Santana stammers, shakes her head at herself and rubs her fist into her suddenly sleepy eyes.

"I still like you." Brittany reminds her in a soft, sleep haze voice. Santana turns her head with a quizzical stare. "I mean, you had some road blocks or, obstacles." She shrugs her shoulders and lets out a yawn before continuing. "You're still you though." She can see a hint of Santana's face with the help of her lamp and she smiles. "You're beautiful and smart. Your laugh, when you actually do laugh, is infectious. And," She tilts her head on the pillow, letting her eyes fall closed. "Your smile…your smile is like sunshine." Santana can see the small, sleepy grin on Brittany's lips. "I think you're still the you that you wish you were. The one you were is who you still are." She yawns once more and lets out a giggle. "I don't know if that made any sense."

But, oddly enough, Santana thinks it makes perfect and complete sense. Especially hearing it come from Brittany's lips.

They lay there in silence for minutes upon minutes and Santana listens carefully, hearing the familiar sound of soft, easy breathing. She lifts her head up from the pillow and under the stream of moonlight peeking through the window, she sees Brittany's eyes are closed. She wonders how long she'd been talking since Brittany had gone into dreamland. A small chuckle creeps in her throat but she swallows it, settling for a tight lipped grin, not wanting to wake the sleeping blonde. Santana let's her head fall back to the pillow softly and lets out a long awaited sigh. It's one of sleep, thought and a bit of relief.

With a glance to the clock on Brittany's nightstand, Santana figures that it's best for her to head on back to her side of the fence. It probably wouldn't do them any good to get caught in Brittany's twin bed by the Mayor of Knox City. For once, she feels a slight pang of guilt sneaking out on a girl without saying goodnight or goodbye or anything. But, also for once, she's content with the fact that she will at least see her tomorrow.

She looks back over at the girl beside her. Her eyes are still closed, her lips are slightly parted and her hands are bundled up cutely under her chin. A small smile comes to her own lips, because the way Brittany looks kind of reminds her of how she slept the same way when they were younger. Her own head lay comfortably on the pillow as her eyes scan over the peaceful face in front of her. It's hard for her not to focus a little on Brittany's lips. She remembers that night on Aunt Linda's porch steps when she had felt those very lips on her cheek.

They were so soft and gentle against her skin, the memory causes her eyes to close and replay the sense memory. She's curious as to how those lips would feel on her own. Would they still be just as soft? She glances up once more, to make sure that Brittany's eyes are still closed. Nothing would be more awkward than getting caught staring at someone's mouth as they're sleeping.

"Britt." She whispers and lifts her hand up, letting her fingers gently fun through some blonde hair.

Her intention is not so much to wake Brittany up, she's just kind of thinking out loud. She wished she'd never had to stop coming here. That she'd grown up knowing that she had a person like Brittany around back in Boston. With Puck, it's different. Sure, she most definitely considers him a friend. It's just different she figures. Puck never looks at Santana the way Brittany does. No one does. In fact, no one ever has. As her eyes scan over the sleeping blonde's features, she's reminded of the time in the clearing by the Pierce's barn and how Brittany had called her beautiful.

"I think," She says even softer, watching the way her fingers tuck Brittany's hair behind her ear. "I think that you're beautiful too." She gulps, licks her lips and rests her palm against Brittany's cheek, letting her thumb just hover over her lower lip. "I just…" Santana shakes her head while her eyes watch her thumb move through the air over Brittany's lips. "I can't." She breathes out.

Brittany stirs a bit, startling Santana who pulls her hand back. She remains still for a few more moments before finally letting out a breath she had no idea she'd been holding in. Before she carefully slips out of the tiny, twin bed to leave Brittany undisturbed and sleeping soundly, she lets her fingers brush away some blonde hair from her forehead once more. Then, as she lifts her head from the pillow with the intentions of getting up, as if by gravitational force, her lips press softly to Brittany's forehead.

"Goodnight." Santana whispers and then slips through Brittany's window and into the night.