Out of the Ashes

by lifeloveinsanity28

AU: Santana Lopez has always shouldered the weight of caring for her younger siblings, Quinn, Blaine, and Rachel. Their older brother, Noah is absent and their mother is a mess. Their fragile stability is shattered by a single event. Now, they must find the strength to rebuild and overcome their traumatic past. Can they rise from the ashes of destruction?

6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. All characters are the property of RIB and Glee.

A/N: So I definitely didn't expect it to take a month for me to update this time around. I started rewriting my old chapter 6 but it turned from one chapter into three chapters. I plan to post the first one tonight and the other two should come some time tomorrow. I didn't intend to go a month without an update. So sorry for the wait. Thanks as always to my awesome beta and friend, 216BLT, for all the help and motivation. Thanks for reviewing and following.

Trigger Warnings: allusions to domestic violence, descriptions of a crime scene, descriptions of murder victim/suicide, allusions to physical abuse

Noah sat in the hospital waiting room as time seemed to stretch on endlessly and become meaningless. He had quickly grown bored with scrolling through his phone and now stared mindlessly at the clock on the wall. Time had felt meaningless since the moment he arrived at his house earlier that night. He could've been sitting here for only minutes or it could've been hours or days and he thought it would've felt the same. Time had run together and became blurry and the wait suddenly felt different somehow. First, he waited for Blaine and Rachel and later for Santana but then Santana appeared and she was pissed, specifically pissed at him. Pissed at him for doing exactly what they were all doing now which was waiting. He didn't know what she had been expecting of him.

He could feel tension blanketing the room as the minutes stretched on and he felt his stomach knotting in either anticipation or anxiety, he wasn't sure which. He knew Santana and Quinn felt it too. He was certain both of them probably knew exactly what came next. But he couldn't ask Santana. She was ignoring him and it was really pissing him off. She was always bitching that he wasn't around enough and now he was right there and it still wasn't enough. She always knew exactly what was going on and now when he was ready to share in her knowledge, she was shutting him out.

He groaned, slumping back down in the chair as he rubbed a hand over his mohawk in frustration before turning to study Santana. He ignored the way Brittany glared at him from over Santana's head. He didn't really need her shit too. Santana had no right to be as mad at him as she was. She had been sobbing in his arms on the side of their house and now she wouldn't talk to him. Maybe he should've known that she expected him to stay with Blaine and Rachel while they were examined but he wasn't like her. He didn't know how to comfort them or the right move to make because being their person felt foreign and unnatural to him. He had never had to be their person before. They had always had Santana or Quinn. He knew it was his own fault for not being around more.

He could feel the frustration bubbling up in his chest and blistering across his skin the longer they were forced to wait and they weren't just waiting for the little kids. They were waiting for what came next. Their mom was dead and Hiram too and Noah wished Hiram hadn't been such a pussy. It wasn't fair that Hiram could ruin their lives and take his own in the same breath but all Hiram had ever done was destroy everything and everyone around him. Noah had never been able to do anything about that. He couldn't do anything about it now either. His mom was dead and none of this felt real. He had all this anger just below the surface of his skin because he didn't understand and he wouldn't be able to do anything about any of it now. He wouldn't be able to tell Hiram how much he hated him or take out his anger on his stepfather because he deserved it.

He had always been just five minutes too late. He hated Hiram and was angry at Shelby. He was angry at Santana because she always knew everything and told him nothing and that hadn't changed. He hated himself too for never being there and for knowing absolutely nothing. Sometimes he wondered if he was just like his fucking stepfather. Or maybe he was like his mother who had never been able to pull herself out of that dark place and do something to fix everything Hiram ruined. She had tried to do something tonight and she too had been five minutes too late just like him.

Santana could feel Noah's gaze boring into the side of her skull and she clenched her jaw against the urge to tell him to look somewhere fucking else. She knew he had questions and she knew she should tell him about Emma but her stomach was churning and she felt like she was going to throw up or crawl out of her skin as the seconds ticked by on the clock she couldn't stop staring at. The ticking of the clock was silent but she could hear it in her head and it was slowly driving her insane. She couldn't talk to him when she felt like she was going slowly insane. She didn't know why everything was taking so long and she just wanted this night to end. She wanted Blaine and Rachel back with her and not wherever they were.

She watched Anna alternate between studying them and studying the entrance of the hospital and she knew she was waiting for Emma to appear. She tried to ignore the weighted gaze of the doctors and nurses that filtered in and out of the waiting room every so often. She could almost feel the pity in their eyes and wondered how they would even know that they were Hiram's stepkids or if she was imagining it. She could almost hear them whispering to each other about what Hiram had done and how they hadn't known and they should've known. She wanted to yell at them, tell them to shut up and that they were thinking too loud. She wanted to tell them that what happened to them wasn't some tragedy for them to watch. Hiram had been their coworker and a monster and they all should've known. But they didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore.

She clutched Quinn's hand tighter when she heard the soft whoosh of the pneumatic door opening, the anxious bouncing of her leg stilling as her spine straightened when the familiar figure of her aunt entered the hospital. Emma looked as terrified and anxious as Santana felt. She looked smaller somehow, clinging tightly to the hand of the curly-haired man who accompanied her. Mr. Schuester. Santana spent most of her high school career ignoring her aunt but she hadn't missed the rumors about Emma and the Spanish teacher. It appeared that all those rumors were true. She watched as Emma searched the room, their eyes locking briefly before Santana glanced away. She wasn't ready to talk to her yet. She had called her because she hadn't had another choice but she wasn't ready to have a conversation with her.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Noah shouted and Santana felt Quinn flinch beside her, their interlocked hands coming apart with the force of her movement.

Santana felt everything in her body still as she watched Noah get to his feet and advance on their aunt. She could see his fists balled at his side and his rigid posture, and almost sense the anger that was radiating from him and she was frozen. She should've fucking told him. She knew he would be mad but there was something untamed and wild in his anger that had her heart racing and her stomach knotting. She watched as Emma's face paled at the sound of Noah's shout, her lips parted slightly in shock as she tried to form the words to calm Noah.

"Noah…I-" Emma stammered.

"You what? What the fuck are you even doing here? You shouldn't be here!" Noah barked.

Santana jumped to her feet rushing toward Noah and Emma because no one else seemed to be willing to do anything. Mr. Schuester had moved so that he was slightly in front of Emma, almost as if to protect her and Noah was standing too close to Emma. Her brother was tall and he was looming over Emma in a way that made Santana uncomfortable. She knew Noah would be angry when Emma arrived at the hospital but she hadn't expected him to seem so threatening.

"Noah," Santana breathed, reaching out to place a hand on Noah's arm, trying to distract him from their aunt.

Noah spun to face Santana and expected to see his anger mirrored on her features. Emma had abandoned them. Emma had left them in hell and she had no right to be here now. He studied Santana surprised to see that his own anger was not reflected on her features as he expected. Instead she just looked sad and small, her shoulders hunched as she twisted her hands in front of her, her eyes trained on the ground.

"You…you knew," Noah spat, his eyes narrowing as he clenched his jaw.

Santana shrugged and nodded, her eyes trained on the floor, studying the toes of her slightly dirty sneakers as she scuffed them along the flecked linoleum, "I-I called her."

"You fucking what?" Noah roared and Santana's head snapped up to face him, the fury she saw burning in his eyes stealing her breath, "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Noah, please. I-I had to. You don't…I didn't..please, Noah," Santana practically begged. She needed him to understand but he just shrunk away from her.

Noah scoffed, throwing his hands in the air, "Fuck this."

Santana watched frozen, her vision blurred with tears as Noah strode out of the hospital doors. She saw Mr. Schuester and Emma deflate, their attention turning towards her. Anna had moved towards the entrance calling after Noah and Santana could hear Quinn crying. The sound of her sister's tears spurred her to move as she brushed past her aunt and Mr. Schuester, running into the parking lot after her brother. She needed him. She needed him to understand. She had to explain it to him. He had to know that there was nothing else she could do.

Emma deflated slumping back against the triage desk as soon as Noah and Santana ran out of the emergency room doors. She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes and her hands were shaking, her chest too tight and achy. She could hear the social worker calling after Noah and Santana but Emma knew her attempts at getting them to return would be futile. She had expected Noah's anger but he was something more than just angry.

She hadn't expected him to seem so explosive and so threatening. She had a hard time reconciling the teen who had loomed before her, green eyes flashing dangerously with the little boy that once held a funeral for a goldfish. She had heard the rumors at the school about Noah's temper, whispers in the hallway about arrests for assault, and suspensions for fighting. She deserved to be the receiving end of his fury but she hadn't expected it to make her feel so terrified. She had only been at the hospital for five minutes and she already felt like she was drowning.

She hated that Noah's anger had her questioning everything and made her wonder if she had made a grave error in answering her phone that night and showing up here. It had taken everything she had to just stay in that moment and if it hadn't been for Will's hand in hers, she may not have stayed at all. Leaving would've been easier than trying to shove down her panic as Noah yelled at her, accusations burning in his eyes. But Santana was there and she looked so small, her dark eyes almost haunted as she tried to calm her brother and Emma couldn't leave again. She couldn't leave when Brittany Pierce and Finn Hudson and their mothers were looking at her so expectantly or when Quinn was staring, shell-shocked, silent tears running down her cheeks and she had the same haunted look in her eyes as her older sister. She had stayed because leaving would be too easy.

It wasn't until Noah stormed away and some of the tension released from her body that she had truly been able to scan the waiting room. She felt nauseous when she realized that Blaine and Rachel weren't with their siblings and her chest ached when she noticed her sister's absence as well. She didn't know if she had expected to see Shelby but her absence was palpable. Quinn's silent tears had turned into heartbroken sobs at that point and Emma fought her urge to rush to her niece and try to comfort her. She and Quinn had been close when the girl was younger but she wasn't sure Quinn would welcome her attempts at comfort now. She didn't know if she had ever felt more useless or inadequate.

"You okay?" Will asked, turning towards her and leaning down to catch her eyes.

Emma sighed as she nodded, tearing her gaze away from Quinn sobbing into Brittany's chest, "I'm…they're just so…"

She allowed her words to trail off because she didn't know if there was an adequate word to describe what the children were. Noah was angry, that one was easy but there was something more that she couldn't describe. Santana and Quinn seemed so broken and she still hadn't been told exactly why she was here. She didn't know why Blaine and Rachel were missing and where Shelby was and the longer she waited, the more uneasy she became.

"Ms. Pillsbury, we need to speak with you," Anna told her when she rejoined them, effectively silencing any reply Will may have had. Anna was now flanked by two police officers. They introduced themselves as Detective Blake and Detective Lowe and the serious expressions on their faces caused Emma's pulse to quicken once again as she gripped tightly to Will's hand. Her hand in his was the only thing that was keeping her upright. She watched as Anna's eyes darted furtively around the waiting room, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "Privately."

Emma felt a pit form in her stomach at Anna's words before she nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. She didn't trust herself to speak. Her head spun and she felt nauseous as she shot one final look at the group gathered in the waiting room. Noah and Santana still hadn't returned and she knew that this conversation, this moment would change everything. She clung tightly to Will's hand as they moved through the narrow hallway, trying to ignore the beeping machines and patients on cots in the hallways, her eyes trained on the floor as she counted each step she took down the hall. She froze when she realized they were being led to a small conference room, and her heart once again began to beat a staccato rhythm in her chest. She had been in rooms like this before. Everything about this moment was both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Nothing good ever came from being led to a conference room in a hospital.

Five-year-old Emma was trying to sleep but she couldn't because something was tickling her nose and the back of her arm. She swatted at it ineffectually, burrowing further into her pillow, "Go 'way. Sleeping."

"Em, you gotta wake up," Her eleven-year-old sister, Shelby, half-whined, half-demanded.

Emma's eyes shot open at the sound of her sister's voice. Her room was still dark and she frowned in confusion at her older sister. She pushed herself into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes sleepily and yawning as she pulled her worn teddy bear tighter to her chest.

"How come you woke me up, Shel? It's still dark outside," Emma pouted as she fought the urge to lay back down. It felt too early or too late for her to be awake. She wasn't sure which.

"Mom told me to get you. We have to go somewhere," Shelby explained.

"Go? Go where?" Emma asked. It didn't make sense. It was the middle of the night. Where would their mom even take them in the middle of the night? Their dad was on a trip, maybe she was taking them to see him.

"Shelby? Did you wake up your sister?" their mom asked as she entered the room, flipping on the light switch next to the door. Emma blinked rapidly at the sudden brightness of her bedroom.

"Yes, but she won't get out of bed," Shelby told their mom, sighing exasperatedly.

Emma pouted because that wasn't true. Shelby had just told her to wake up. She didn't tell her to get out of bed. She opened her mouth to protest but stopped when she looked at her mom. Her mom looked sad and a little worried and it made Emma's stomach hurt.

"That's okay, Shel. Go get your shoes on and grab some for your sister. We'll meet you at the car," their mom told her oldest daughter. Shelby nodded and Emma could hear her steps thundering down the stairs. Shelby was still in her pajamas. They were going somewhere and Shelby didn't even have real clothes on, "C'mon, sweetie, we have to go."

Emma's mom bent down and lifted her into her arms. Emma wanted to ask where they were going and why she couldn't get changed into something other than pajamas, but her mom looked like she was gonna cry and Emma could feel her shaking. She didn't say anything, just wrapped her legs around her mom's waist and wound her arms around her mom's neck as she buried her face in the crook where her mom's neck met her shoulder. She breathed in her mom's familiar scent and allowed it to loosen the knot in her tummy. She knew something was wrong. Her mom had never looked so sad or so worried.

"Shelby, do you know where we are going?" Emma whispered once her mom had placed her in the backseat of their car.

Shelby shook her head, "No. She didn't tell me," she whispered as she held out a jacket to Emma, "Put that on. I'll help you with your shoes."

Emma nodded, shoving her arms into the jacket and pulling it tightly around herself. She wished she hadn't left her teddy on the bed. Her stomach felt funny and fluttery like it did the first day of school and she didn't like it. She didn't know why her mom was so quiet and why she still hadn't told them where they were going.

She looked out the window, her eyes scanning the inky blackness of the night sky until she found the moon. She liked watching the moon when she was in the car. She always felt like the moon was following them wherever they went when they drove at night. It made her feel safe that the moon was always there. She glanced away from the sky when she felt Shelby grab her hand and lace their fingers together. She could tell Shelby was scared too, she felt her sister's hand shaking when she reached for Emma's hand. Shelby's fear made the fluttering in Emma's stomach increase. Shelby never held her hand anymore. Shelby was in middle school now and she acted differently. She didn't play with Emma like they used to. Everything Emma did seemed to annoy Shelby lately but her big sister was holding her hand now.

Emma felt her eyelids growing heavy the longer they drove and she rested her forehead against the window. She was so tired. She wanted to be back in her bed, safe and warm, not in the backseat of her mom's car with a scared Shelby and her mom, who still hadn't spoken to either of them. Emma could hear the soft catches of her mom's breath as they drove and she was pretty sure her mom was crying. She just wanted someone to tell her where they were going and what was going on.

She must've fallen asleep because the next thing she became aware of was the car coming to a stop in front of an unfamiliar brick building. She felt Shelby's fingers tighten around her own causing her to wince as she turned toward her sister.

"The h-hospital? Why are we at the hospital?" Shelby asked as soon as the car stopped. Her voice sounded different to Emma, high-pitched and shaky, and Emma felt her heart began to pound in her chest.

"Momma, are you sick?" Emma whispered. She thought that had to be why they were at the hospital. Her mom was sick which is why she was so quiet and why she was crying. It had to be the reason they were at the hospital.

Her mom sighed, "I'm not sick, baby," Emma felt something loosen in her chest at her mom's words but she still didn't make any move to leave the car. She twisted around in her seat so she was facing Shelby and Emma and her eyes looked sad. Emma could see the tears she was trying to hide shining on her cheeks in the moonlight, "Girls, we need to go inside."

Shelby wrenched her hand away from Emma's and Emma felt the loss so abruptly that it made tears well in her eyes. Shelby was shaking her head, her arms crossed over her chest, "No. Not until you tell us why. Why are we at the hospital, Mom?"

Shelby sounded angry but Emma didn't think she was. She thought her sister was scared but she wasn't sure. Shelby never seemed scared. She was the bravest person Emma knew. She did lots of things that made Emma would've been scared to do. Emma was scared of a lot of things but Shelby always seemed so fearless. Shelby's words sounded angry but her eyes looked scared and it didn't make sense. How could someone be both angry and scared at the same time?

Emma watched as their mom's face crumpled slightly before she buried it in her hands. She didn't speak for what felt like forever. She just breathed deeply a few times and when she looked at them again the tears were gone. Her tears had been replaced by something else that made Emma's mouth feel dry and her chest feel tight. She glanced at Shelby and could tell that her older sister saw it too because her arms weren't crossed over her chest anymore and she seemed to shrink under the weight of her mom's gaze.

"Girls…there…there's been an accident. Your…your dad was-" Their mom started to say and her voice sounded funny too. It didn't sound like her voice at all. Shelby surged forward in her seat, knocking her shoulder against Emma's and shoving her against the door.

"Dad? Is he…is he okay?" Shelby asked, holding onto her mom's hands and Emma wanted someone to hold her hand, too.

Emma knew something was wrong with her dad. That's why they were at the hospital. People got hurt in accidents, her dad must be hurt too. Her mom was sad and Shelby's voice sounded so soft and Emma just wanted to run inside the hospital. She wanted to find her dad. Her mom and Shelby weren't explaining anything to her. It was like they forgot that she was there but her dad would explain it.

"I don't know, Shelby," Their mom snapped, and her words sounded angry too as she pulled her hands away from Shelby's. Emma didn't understand how both her mom and her sister could be so sad and still sound so angry, "That's why we're here. That's why we need to go inside."

Shelby nodded, slumping back in her seat as their mom climbed out of the car, Shelby followed her lead but she stopped when Emma didn't follow, staring at Emma expectantly from the open car door, "C'mon, Em."

Emma shook her head. Something bad had happened to her dad and she was too scared to move. Her dad was the strongest person she knew and she didn't want to see him hurt. She didn't want him to be hurt. Her mom hadn't even said what kind of accident it was but Emma knew people got hurt in accidents. She didn't want to go inside.

"I'm scared," she whispered and Shelby sighed.

She could feel the heat of embarrassment in her cheeks and a tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she turned her attention to her hands, folding and unfolding them in her lap as she tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. She was trying to get the butterflies to stop flapping their wings against the side of her stomach. She flinched when the door slammed shut but then her door opened and she felt a blast of cool air against her skin.

She glanced at her sister through her eyelashes when Shelby placed her hand over Emma's folded ones. Shelby was crying and Emma felt emotion bubbling in her chest, pressing against her throat as another tear made its way down her cheek.

"I'll hold your hand," Shelby whispered and Emma nodded, untwisting her fingers and taking Shelby's hand as she climbed out of the car.

They followed their mom into the hospital, Emma clinging to Shelby's hand. Her legs were shaking and she wasn't sure if it was because she was scared or if it was just because she was cold. She wanted to hold her mom's hand too but her mom was walking too fast and Shelby was walking too slow and Emma's legs were too short to catch up to their mom even if she dragged Shelby with her.

She wanted to hold her mom's hand and she wanted her dad. She wondered if her dad would have a cast like her friend, Liz did when she fell off her bike and broke her wrist. She had let Emma sign it and she wondered if her dad would let her sign his as well.

But they didn't take them to see her dad when they got inside. A doctor in a white coat and a nurse met them in the lobby before they led them to a small conference room. Emma wanted to crawl into her mom's lap when she sat at the conference table but her mom looked scared and had her hands tucked tightly under her thighs. Emma let Shelby pull her into her lap instead, shifting until she got comfortable as Shelby wrapped her arms around Emma's waist tightly. Emma played absently with the string bracelet on Shelby's wrist as Shelby pressed her forehead against Emma's shoulder.

Emma didn't understand where her dad was. Her mom said her dad was here, that they had to come to the hospital because her dad was in an accident. She didn't understand the words the doctor was saying. Her mom was crying now, her tears weren't silent and she was making this loud, high pitched noise that made Emma's ears hurt. Shelby was crying too, sobbing against the back of Emma's neck, her whole body trembling as her tears soaked the ends of Emma's hair.

Emma felt like she was going to throw up but she couldn't. She would make a mess and Shelby would be mad and her mom was crying and shouldn't have to clean up after Emma too. But everyone was sad and her stomach was twisting because her dad wasn't here. She chewed on her lower lip because her dad had been here but he was somewhere else too. The doctor said he died. He was dead. He was gone. Her mom had explained death to her when her nana died last summer. Her dad was gone like her nana and Emma wouldn't see him for a really long time, but it still didn't make sense.

Her dad was only supposed to be gone for two days, not forever. He was supposed to come home tomorrow and bring Emma and Shelby presents and take them out to a special dinner. He had promised and now he was just gone. Emma would never see him again. It wasn't fair.

Emma felt pressure in her chest and behind her eyes and she couldn't stop either of them from exploding out of her as she started to cry. She was crying because her dad was gone and she didn't really understand. She was confused and scared and her mom and sister were crying too and she just wanted someone to explain what happened now but no one was talking.

Emma flinched when she heard something clatter to the ground but then her mom was there and she was still making that strange sound that hurt Emma's ears as she gathered them into her arms. She pulled them against her so tightly that they both tumbled out of the chair and to the ground. Emma didn't want to be on the floor of the hospital sandwiched between her mother and sister. The floor was dirty. She was too hot and she felt like she couldn't breathe but she couldn't stop crying. She didn't want her mom and Shelby. She didn't want to be in the hospital with her mom and Shelby's sadness covering her like blanket and causing her to feel too hot. She wanted her daddy.

"Emma?" Will questioned softly.

Emma blinked at the sound of her name and she wasn't five anymore. She was at a different hospital and in a different conference room. She was thirty and everyone was staring at her expectantly but she couldn't move. Shelby wasn't holding her hand, Will was and he was too close. She could feel his breath warm against her cheek and she felt like she was suffocating. She pushed against his chest gently and he seemed to understand as he backed up slightly as she took a deep breath.

She was thirty and she was glad that she had Will to hold her hand because she had been twenty-seven and all alone the second time she had been in a room like this. She had wanted to hold Shelby's hand while she sat in a similar conference room being told that her mother's cancer had spread and they weren't sure she would make it through the night. But Shelby hadn't been there, she and Shelby weren't even speaking and Shelby didn't know that their mother was sick. She had been sad and angry and all alone at twenty-seven on the verge of becoming an orphan. She had hated it but she hated Shelby more for leaving her alone.

But she wasn't alone now. She had Will holding her hand and there were five kids, Shelby's kids, that needed her. They were angry and scared and probably hated her a little but they still needed her. Nothing good had ever come from a conversation in a hospital conference room in the middle of the night and from the grim looks on everyone's faces, she knew this conversation would be no different. None of this was about her though. It was about them and about Shelby and even though her legs felt like they were going to give out as she walked into the conference room, she could do this.

She sat stiffly in one of the hard backed conference room chairs and braced for impact. She kept her eyes trained to the wood grains of the conference room table and fought the way her fingers twitched with the need to clean the surface of the table. It was gleaming under the fluorescent lights but she could see the streaks and smears on the shiny surface and the thin layer of dust that coated it and she wanted to wipe it all away. Everything inside her felt frantic and jumbled and she just wanted to still her insides somehow.

"Is someone going to tell me what is going on?" Emma questioned. There was a bite to her words that surprised her but she needed to get through this moment so she could get to the next and she couldn't do that when everyone was being so silent and studying her with the same sad, closed-mouth expression.

"Ms. Pillsbury-" Anna started and Emma quickly cut her off.

"Please just call me Emma," she corrected. Something about the formality made her skin crawl. It felt wrong. Ms. Pillsbury was for the student body of McKinley and the glass walls of her guidance office. She was just Emma right now. She was Shelby's little sister and the kids' aunt.

"Emma, there was an incident tonight," Anna tried again.

Emma's eyes shot up to meet the other woman's gaze. Anna looked uncomfortable, shifting in her chair like it was the worst thing she had ever sat on. Emma could see the sadness or maybe pity in her eyes. Emma knew that calling whatever had happened that night an "incident" was a kindness for her benefit.

"Shelby?" Emma croaked, something had lodged itself in her throat and she had barely been able to muster the vocal strength to string those two syllables together.

Anna nodded curtly, her lips drawn in a tight line but she stayed silent for a moment. Emma felt a tear leak out from the corner of her eye and watched as it splashed on the slightly dirty surface of the conference room table. Everything inside her felt so still now. She felt numb and empty and she didn't even know what was coming next.

She rested her forehead against the cool surface of the conference table. She didn't care that she was probably going to need to take at least three showers to feel clean again. She knew what was still to come was going to be terrible. She couldn't look at Anna while she spoke. She knew she should feel something but she couldn't feel anything or maybe she was feeling too much and her brain couldn't process it so she just felt this soul-sucking emptiness instead. There were too many people and they were all watching her, waiting for her to say or do something but she didn't have any words. She felt claustrophobic and suddenly so young. She couldn't speak and she couldn't move, she could only listen even when everything inside of her was telling her she should run.

Anna was speaking again then and Emma did her best to focus on her breathing as the other woman's words washed over her. She heard "Shelby" and "murdered" and "Hiram" and "suicide" and she suddenly was five years old again and she just wanted her mom. Shelby was dead. Shelby had been murdered by her husband. Emma couldn't remember the last time she felt this impossibly young and this alone. She could still feel Will's hand in hers but it wasn't enough to chase away the loneliness that she suddenly felt.

Her eyes were dry and she thought she should be crying because her sister was dead. Her big sister had died. She felt as though every emotion had been sucked from her body and an eerie calm settled beneath her skin and she hated it. She had done things on her own for so long but finding out that her sister had been murdered made her feel like a little kid who needed a real adult to explain to her what came next.

She wasn't a little kid though and there wasn't anyone else. There were kids, actual children, who needed her to be the adult. She thought of the haunted, almost vacant look she saw in Santana's eyes and how small the girl had seemed and Noah's fury at her that was masking something deeper and the hopelessness she had heard in Quinn's tears and the way it made her stomach clench. She may have felt like a child at that moment but they were children.

"The-the kids," Emma stammered, her voice raspy as it grated against her suddenly dry throat. She swallowed thickly and tried again, "The kids…were they home? Did they see it happen?"

"The younger two, Blaine and Rachel were home," one of the detectives, Emma wasn't sure which explained, "Rachel sustained an injury-"

"An injury? What kind of an injury?"

Emma felt something then, a frantic beating of her heart and a fluttering at the base of her stomach. Hiram had murdered her sister and had hurt his child and Emma wished she had done more. She had never done enough.

"The doctors believe she has a concussion. Blaine didn't sustain any injuries but he has been examined as well-"

"Who-who found them?" Emma whispered but she wasn't sure she really wanted the answer.

"Quinn is the one who called for emergency services. We believe she and her sister, Santana, were the ones who found the bodies. But we'll know more once we interview them."

Emma felt something cold and leaden settle in her stomach at the detective's words. Bodies. Her sister and her husband had been nothing more than bodies that had needed to be found. She felt a wave of sickness wash over her because there was something so crass about the detective referring to her sister as a "body." She had loved her sister and most recently hated her but her sister was more than just a body.

She was more than just a shell that used to be a person. She had been a mother and Emma's best friend for longer than she wasn't and now she was just gone. Emma would never have the chance to fix any of the things that had been broken between them for so long. She didn't want to think about that now. There would be time for her to think about all of the missed opportunities and all the things they hadn't said and how things could have been different if they had both been less stubborn and angry. She couldn't think about any of those things because she might never stop. There were still so many decisions that needed to be made.

Emma's head shot up from the table as she processed the detective's final words, "Interview them? When?"

"We need to speak to them tonight," the detective explained. Emma really wished she could remember which one was which but found that she didn't really care all that much.

Emma felt a surge of protectiveness in her chest as she wrenched her hand away from Will, narrowing her eyes at the detectives across the table as she shook her head, "No. Absolutely not. Not tonight."

"Emma, I know this is…difficult but it's important that we speak with them tonight while the events-"

"I don't care about that," Emma felt heat wash over her and Will reached out to put his hand on her back but she jerked away from his touch, "They're just kids. They're kids. Their mother is dead and you-you want them to tell you about it? How can you expect them to do that?"

They were the adults; Emma, Will, the detectives, and the social worker, they were the grown ups. Their job was to protect the children, those five children in particular at this moment. Those kids had just lived through the worst thing imaginable. It wasn't right that they were just expecting them to relive all of it.

They couldn't do that. They were here now because everyone around them had already failed to protect them. Emma had failed them and now they were going to be asked to just relive the worst moments of their young lives. Emma didn't know if she could protect them from that but she at least had to try. She could tell by the way the detectives' features had hardened that they had no intention of backing down.

"We need their statements to finish our investigation," One of the detectives, Detective Lowe, stated simply and Emma felt a surge of anger course through her veins.

Her nieces and nephews entire lives had changed in a split second and everyone seemed so nonchalant about the impact that would have. She could feel frustration building in her chest and pressing against her rib cage. The frustration felt better than the emptiness that Shelby's death had ushered in.

"I want to be there when you interview them," Emma blurted out and almost instantly regretted it, although she didn't let it show. She wanted to protect them somehow but she didn't know if she could listen to them talk about how Shelby died and what they saw or what they heard. Santana and Noah had also made sure to let her know how little they thought of her and she didn't know how Quinn felt, so she wasn't sure she would even be welcome. Blaine and Rachel probably didn't even know her but that didn't matter, she needed to at least try. Her nieces and nephews deserved at least that, "Can I do that?"

"Of course, someone familiar should be there if possible," Anna assured Emma. Emma wanted to laugh even as inappropriate as it would be. She wasn't a familiar person to them, not anymore, and she hated herself for it. They needed someone. They needed their mom but Emma was all they had. She didn't think that was very fair either.

"What happens next? After they're interviewed, what then?" Emma whispered, her stomach already fluttering as she braced for the answer, reaching for Will's hand once again.

It was Anna's turn to talk then. She discussed medical clearance and the importance of the four kids that had been in the home that night being examined. Emma's heart stuttered and froze in her chest when she started talking about placement, emergency shelter hearings, and home studies. Emma could do little more than nod dumbly and agree immediately when Anna asked if she was willing to allow the children to be placed with her and Will.

She tried to ignore the way Will's fingers tightened around hers until it was almost painful when she agreed, refusing to meet his eyes. She had to do this. Shelby would want her to and she hadn't even thought about how much Will's life would change too. But the moment was fleeting because Will was agreeing without hesitation and Emma felt something loosen in her chest. Anna seemed to have sensed the momentary pause and indecision but she stayed quiet as she excused herself and the detectives were quick to follow. And then Emma and Will were alone and Emma felt like she could breathe again.

"Emma, are you sure?" Will questioned as soon as the door closed, turning to face Emma fully as he took both of her hands in his.

Emma shook her head, "I'm not sure of anything, Will, but I have to do this. We have to do this. I-I wasn't there..I should've been there and I wasn't. I can't let them down again."

She wasn't sure of anything right then other than the knowledge that the kids had no one but her and Will. If there was anyone else Santana would surely have called them first. She wasn't sure that they even could do this. Her nieces and nephews were traumatized and she wasn't sure that she and Will would be enough to keep them together. She was only sure of her need to try to fix what she had broken. This was the first step. She knew she should've asked Will before she agreed. She could tell from his furrowed brow that his head was spinning just as much as hers. She had never spoken about any of the kids and Will only had minutes to adjust to the idea of having five traumatized kids that most likely hated Emma living in their house but he had agreed.

"Okay, Em," Will whispered, nodding as he swallowed roughly, "Okay."

Emma felt a sudden rush of gratefulness in her chest because he could've just as easily said no or changed his mind but he didn't. She pitched forward slightly until her forehead rested against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist, and she breathed deeply. She needed this moment. There were so many hard moments still to come but she needed to sit in this moment.

"Shelby's dead," Emma whispered carefully, testing the weight of the unfamiliar words on her tongue, forming each word carefully just to see how it felt to speak those words out loud. She focused on the way her tongue and lips formed each letter carefully, painstakingly. She felt the same sinking feeling in her chest and she clung to Will like an anchor that was preventing her from sinking into the deep. She suddenly felt her sister's loss so abruptly.

"I know."

"Shelby's dead." She repeated again just for good measure.

It still didn't feel real but all the tears that she hadn't cried were spilling down her cheeks. Her chest was heaving with great gasping sobs and Will was holding her as tight as possible to try to lessen the impact. She had never felt more alone than she did then even with Will's arms wrapped around her and his hands rubbing up and down her back in a soothing pattern. She had no family left but Will and the five broken children that were waiting for her to guide them to the next step but she couldn't stop crying.

She had grieved the loss of her relationship with Shelby when she was twenty-one but she never thought she would grieve the loss of all the potential and of the future they should've had that would never be. She always thought they would have more time. She would never have the chance to tell Shelby how sorry she was but she could try to make it up to the children. She didn't know if she and Will would ever be enough and they couldn't replace what was lost but maybe they didn't need to try. They just needed to be there.

….

Noah's legs seemed to have a mind of their own as he stormed out of the emergency room. He had no clear direction of where he was even going, just that he knew he couldn't be in there anymore. He couldn't be in the waiting room that suddenly felt too small with her and the fucking do-gooder Spanish teacher, Mr. Schuester. Noah couldn't quite work out what the fuck Mr. Schuester was doing here. He shouldn't be here but neither should Emma. She had no fucking right to be there when she had fucking abandoned them.

He could hear someone calling his name but the voice was unfamiliar and he assumed it was the woman who had brought his sisters to the hospital but he didn't really give a fuck. He still didn't know who the hell she was. He had absolutely zero intentions of going back to that damn waiting room. He couldn't be in there without feeling like he was going to explode. He couldn't be in there without wanting to scream and shout and tell Emma exactly what the fuck he thought about her being there that night. His mom was dead and Emma didn't get to be here now.

He heard the sound of sneakers slapping against the pavement behind him, the sounds of the footfalls familiar and he knew they belonged to Santana. But honestly, fuck her too. He was so fucking angry at her that he could feel it burning under his skin. She had ignored him all night after bitching him out when she finally got to the hospital. She wanted him to be there but she iced him out because he wasn't a fucking mind reader and didn't do what she thought he should. She had fucking called their aunt. She had called their aunt and she hadn't even had the fucking decency to tell him. She could've told him. She should've told him. He knew that she had kept her mouth shut because she knew how he would feel about it.

Emma had abandoned them. She had been the last one to leave them but she had still left. His dad had left and then his mom had married Hiram. Their nana had pretty quickly gotten over their mom and Hiram's shit and she had left too but Noah couldn't remember why or how or what happened just that she wasn't there anymore. But Emma, Emma was different. Emma had tried until she just stopped. She had stayed around the longest but she still left.

The worst part about it was that Noah was pretty sure she knew what Hiram had been doing. He had seen it in her eyes that day at the hospital when Hiram had gone too far and their mom had broken her arm. Noah and Santana had lied to her that day. Their mom had made them lie. He had been ten and he wanted nothing more than to tell the truth and let someone save them but it wasn't just about him. Nothing had ever been about him. He had hated her for making them lie but she was his mom and he would've done anything to stay with her when he was ten even if that meant being forced to stay with fucking Hiram.

They had lied but he could tell even at ten that Emma didn't believe them. He remembered how she had looked at them both that day before going to talk to their mom. His sister was a terrible liar and that much hadn't changed. Emma hadn't believed them but she hadn't done anything either. She just fucking walked away like everyone else. He knew his mom was a bitch and had been great at pushing everyone away but he had always wished just one of them had stayed.

Noah paced back in forth in the hallway outside of his mom's bedroom, fighting the urge to press his ear up against the door and listen to the conversation that was going on inside the room. He didn't really need to get any closer to the door to know that his mom and Emma were arguing. He could hear the rise and fall of their raised voices even from across the hall. He shouldn't have let Emma in but he didn't care. His mom was probably going to be really mad because he broke Hiram's rules but Hiram's rules were stupid.

He wouldn't have let Emma in if his mom would've just gotten out of bed. His mom never really got out of bed anymore just like when Blaine and Rachel were born and she stayed in bed for days. He had always called Emma on those bad days because he and Santana were little kids and they didn't know how to take care of babies. Emma always came and sometimes she even managed to get their mom out of bed but other times she just took care of them. She always made sure to leave before Hiram got home.

He found himself wanting to call Emma every day when things got bad again. His mom had forbidden it and Santana told him he couldn't call her either because of the investigation but Noah wasn't sure that his aunt had been responsible for that. But then she was just there and he never had to call her. She was at their front door on a Saturday morning when he and Santana had been deciding how they were going to take care of the twins and Quinn while Hiram was at work and their mom refused to get out of bed no matter how much they begged. He had let her in and ignored the way Santana glared at him or how she pinched him when Emma wasn't looking. Santana was the reason he was standing outside his mom's bedroom trying to figure out what was going on.

His spine stiffened when he heard the door to his mom's room creak open. He wasn't supposed to get caught. He was supposed to be eavesdropping but he was supposed to leave before either his mom or aunt caught him.

"Noah?" Emma questioned towards his retreating form. Noah had definitely been caught. He should've moved faster. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before turning to face his aunt. His aunt looked sadder than he had ever seen her and he could tell by the way she was wiping her eyes that she was crying. Her cheeks were flushed with pink and the tip of her nose too.

"Hey Aunt Emma," he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans to try to appear nonchalant and like he hadn't just been caught eavesdropping.

"What're you doing? Were you eavesdropping?" Emma asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Noah shook his head, "Not really," He knew she didn't believe him when she stayed silent and only raised an eyebrow in response and he found himself shrinking under her gaze, "Santana told me to but I didn't hear anything, I swear."

Emma chuckled quietly and Noah felt some of the tension drain from his body at the sound of her laughter, but then she stopped and she just looked sad all over again, "It's fine, Noah."

"Are you…are you leaving?" Noah asked, his eyes sweeping over Emma and the way she was clutching her purse close to her chest. She looked nervous or scared and so sad. He told the truth when he said he hadn't really heard much of the conversation but he did hear one thing and that was his mom telling his aunt to leave and not come back. She couldn't listen. She couldn't just leave.

Emma sighed and he watched her deflate, "Noah, I-I have to. She doesn't want me here."

"So what? I want you here, and so do the girls. We want you to stay. Hiram's rules are stupid and she won't even get out of bed. Why does she get to decide?"

"Noah, she's your mother," Emma admonished gently but her words didn't hold the usual bite they did when she scolded him, "She's having a hard time right now but she's still your mom."

Noah fought the urge to roll his eyes. His mom had been having a hard time ever since she married Hiram. They had all been having a hard time since his mom married Hiram. His mom hardly ever acted like a mom most of the time. She never got him and his sisters on the bus in the morning and most days, it was Santana who packed their lunches or swiped money from their mom's purse when they got tired of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so they could buy hot lunch at school. He missed his old mom before Hiram ruined everything.

"I know that, but you could still stay," he implored and Emma opened her mouth to protest, "Just for a little while. Hiram's not gonna be home until late and Mom won't even know you didn't leave. Please. We need you."

He hated that he was begging his aunt to stay but he couldn't just let her leave. He knew his mom wasn't going to get out of bed when she didn't follow Emma out of her room and he didn't hear the sound of her shower running like he always did when his aunt forced her to get out of bed. He and Santana couldn't take care of the little kids all by themselves all day and their mom had already yelled at both he and Santana once when they tried to get her out of bed. He needed Emma to stay. They didn't have anyone else.

"Okay, but just for a little bit," Emma told him and she smiled brightly as he pumped one fist in the air in triumph, "Have you eaten lunch yet?"

"Uh-uh and I'm so sick of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," Noah told her, making a face at the mention of their usual lunch fare as he and Emma made their way down the stairs.

He hadn't seen Emma again after that day. She had stayed for a little while. She had stayed and played with Blaine and Rachel and read books to Quinn. She had enlisted his and Santana's help in making lunch and then she left. She had left and told them she was going back to college. She had gone back to college and they had moved that summer. She had told them it was only for a little while but it had been almost five years before he ran into her at McKinley and he had been so angry that he refused to talk to her. A little while was not five years and he didn't really care to hear her explanation. She had been all they had left and she had never come back.

Noah was knocked out of his thoughts by a sharp shove from behind. It was hard enough to halt his movement but not hard enough to really throw him off balance.

"What the fuck?" Noah sputtered as he spun around coming face to face with Santana. His hands clenched into fists at his side as he studied his younger sister. Her eyes were flashing dangerously but under her bravado and anger, he could see her anxiety. He could see it in the way she was chewing on her bottom lip and how tightly she had crossed her arms over her chest.

Santana shrugged nonchalantly, "I had to get you to stop running away."

Noah scoffed, "Running? I wasn't even running."

"Y'know what I mean," Santana told him, rolling her eyes, "You may have been walking but you were definitely running away. You don't get to just keep doing that."

Noah chuckled mirthlessly, "Yeah, and who's gonna stop me? You?"

"Obviously fucking not or you wouldn't keep fucking trying to run."

They were nearly toe to toe, their chests heaving and their faces flushed as they traded barbs. Santana found that she welcomed the change. She had felt nothing but cold and empty since the moment she walked into their house that night. But now anger was coursing through her veins and burning through her chest and she found that she was clinging to it like some twisted version of a security blanket. Arguing with Noah, and the anger she felt every single time was almost comforting as fucked up as it was and she found that she wanted it to stay awhile because she was so tired of feeling nothing.

"I was right here, Santana. I've been here all fucking night and you wouldn't even fucking talk to me. You always fucking do this, San. You bitch that I'm not around but you just make all the fucking decisions. You think you get to decide what's best for all of us."

Santana threw her hands up in the air in frustration, gesturing wildly around the nearly empty parking lot, "What the fuck else was I supposed to do, Noah? Huh? Someone has to make the fucking decisions," Santana spat her voice dropping an octave as she jabbed a finger into her own chest, "I make the decisions because," She was jabbing the same finger into Noah's chest now, "You're always running away."

Noah resisted the impulse to slap her hand away, choosing instead to grasp it in his own as he moved it off his chest, dropping it abruptly as he took a few steps back, shaking his head, "You should've told me. You should've fucking told me you called her."

"Why? Why does it even fucking matter?" Santana spat, "Our mom is dead, Noah. Our fucking father is a deadbeat. Emma is our only fucking option. She's all we have."

"She was all we had once before and she still fucking left. She abandoned us," Noah's voice was softer now and he saw tears fill Santana's eyes before she was able to blink them away, "She fucking left us with them and never looked back."

"I-I remember," Santana whispered brokenly as she tried to discreetly wipe at her eyes and the tears that shone in them, "I didn't know what else to do, Noah. There wasn't another option."

Santana was right. Noah knew it but he still didn't want to admit it. There was never anybody else. Their grandmother was dead and their dad was a piece of shit who made child support payments but never fucking once tried to see them. Everyone they ever cared about had left them.

"She should never have been an option," Noah stated and he wanted to believe it but he couldn't, "You could've talked to me. We could've figured something out."

Santana shrugged all traces of anger having been wiped from her form as she wrapped her arms around herself, "Like you said there isn't anybody else. It was either Emma or foster care or some shitty group home or worse."

Noah sighed as he rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets, remembering Hiram's familiar threats in Santana's words. Hiram had used foster care and group homes and never seeing their mom or siblings again to silence them, to keep them from telling anyone what happened in their home. Noah had always hated how powerless his stepfather made him feel and he hated that he felt the same way now. Everything had always been so far outside of his control, that the only thing he had ever been able to control was his ability to run away. He had gotten so good at running that he wasn't even sure he remembered how to just stay.

"It shouldn't be her, San," Noah repeated, slumping back against the light pole behind him, rubbing a hand over his face, "It shouldn't be her."

Santana sighed, twisting her hands in front of her as she scuffed her shoe along the gravel, "We're kids, Noah. We're just kids. What else were we supposed to do?"

Noah shrugged because he knew she was right and he hated it. They were sixteen and seventeen and it wasn't just them. It was never just them. He wanted to stay mad at Santana. But she looked so small, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against a crack in the pavement, her eyes averted from him as she waited for him to say or do something. It reminded him of a fourteen year old Santana clutching at his arm as the sounds of shouts and breaking glass filled the house, begging him to stay but he had left her then too. He was no better than their aunt.

It was so easy to blame everything on Emma. She was always the only one that could push their mom. She was the only one that their mom had listened to and she was the last to stay and when she left everything got worse. He had spent so much time hating her and blaming her, he wasn't sure he knew how to stop. He wasn't sure he could.

"I don't know if I can do this," Noah whispered and Santana's gaze snapped to his, her eyes wide, lips parted slightly in surprise and he winced. He wasn't supposed to say that out loud. He hadn't even realized he had spoken until the words had left his mouth.

"W-what does that mean? What can't you do?" Santana stammered once she had recovered enough to form words.

"This," Noah explained, sweeping one hand around the parking lot as if to indicate what he meant but he could tell Santana didn't understand, her brow furrowing at his gesture, "She left us, San. She said she would come back and she didn't," He blew out a frustrated breath, "And you..you tell me you need me but you never talk to me. You don't tell me anything. I just…I can't."

"I-I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear?" Santana implored. She took a few steps toward him, trying to explain and needing him to understand. He just shook his head as he rocked back on his heels needing to keep some distance between them.

"I do need you, Noah. We need you. I don't…I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to do any of this. I'm mad at her too," she continued, tears trickling down her cheeks. Noah clenched his hands at his side as he fought against the urge to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"We-we just lost our mom. Mom's…mom's dead, Noah," Santana whispered as she swallowed against the tears that were clogging her throat, "How am I supposed to tell them that? How am I supposed to explain any of that to them? I-I can't do this either. I can't lose you, too."

Noah watched as Santana buried her face in her hands, a sob wracking her form and his heart broke. He hated how small she seemed and how broken. They were both so young and neither of them knew what they were doing. He knew how hard Santana had tried to keep them all together. He hadn't been there but she had always stayed. He only wished keeping them together didn't mean having to rely on people that had hurt them or left them.

He reached for her, pulling her hands away from her face and leaning down so she was forced to look at him, "You aren't gonna lose me."

Santana shook her head, pulling her hands away from him as she crossed her arms over her chest, "It kinda feels like I already have," she told him, avoiding his gaze as her eyes darted around the parking lot, "You're never around, Noah. I've had to do everything myself and I can't…I can't do it anymore," Santana's voice broke on the last word as she shoved her hands roughly against her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears, "I can't do this alone."

"You aren't alone, San. I'm here, okay? I'm going to be there," Noah tried to reassure his sister but she just scoffed softly, continuing to look anywhere but at him, "I just….I need time."

Santana stilled, wiping furiously at the tears that coated the surface of her skin. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest but her anger had fizzled. It was no longer a raging fire that threatened to consume her but it was still smoldering under her skin. Santana wanted to scream. She wanted to punch something or someone preferably Noah.

She had told him she needed him, that she was scared of losing him and all he could say was that he needed time. She didn't know why she expected this conversation to be any different than any other conversation they had in the last few years. They were always the same. Santana would plead with Noah not to leave, just to stay this one fucking time, and then be forced to watch as he walked away.

She thought maybe it would be different because their mom was dead and they had lost everything. Santana needed time too. She was going to have to tell her baby brother and sister that their mom was dead, that Hiram had murdered her and she didn't know how she was supposed to do that. She needed someone to be there for her, to help her through all the hard shit that was still coming. They only had each other and now, and her big brother was telling her that he couldn't do the one thing she needed him to do.

"Fine," Santana spat, her posture stiffening as she spun on her heel and turned away from him, calling over her shoulder, "Take all the fucking time you need. I'm going back inside. Our brother and sisters need me."

"Santana, stop," Noah called after her, catching her elbow and slowing her forward movement.

"Don't," she warned, jerking her arm out of his grasp, "Don't fucking touch me. I'm done with this. I can't do this anymore. Not tonight. Take your fucking time and I'll take care of them, just like always."

Noah could do little more than gape at her retreating form before his legs finally decided to work again as he trailed after her. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell her he was sorry that he couldn't be what she needed right now. He wanted to tell her he would stay but he couldn't. He knew he should stay but he didn't know how. He knew he wasn't being fair and that he shouldn't be leaving his sister to deal with all this shit on her own. But he couldn't be around Emma. He didn't really expect Santana to understand. Their whole lives had changed and he didn't know how to adjust. Everything he felt was so close to the surface and he knew it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge.

He couldn't be around Emma without wanting to shout at her for abandoning them. He couldn't look at Blaine and Rachel without remembering them sobbing in the ambulance or feeling the guilt gnawing at the base of his stomach. He was supposed to be the big brother. He was supposed to be the one protecting them and now they were broken and he wasn't sure he knew how to be what they needed. He wasn't even sure he knew how to be the big brother anymore.

He took a deep breath as he stopped short at the entrance to the hospital. He wasn't ready to go back inside yet. He couldn't. He watched through the window and saw Santana and Quinn standing with Emma and the other woman. He still hadn't asked Santana who she was but he assumed she must be a social worker. He didn't know why he hadn't asked.

Santana looked pissed and Quinn looked scared but he couldn't hear what they were discussing. Emma's face was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed with tears and he knew she had been crying. She must've been told that their mother was dead. He felt a surge of anger in his chest at the sight of her tears. She didn't deserve to cry over their mother, not when she hadn't been there.

He knew he should go back inside. He could see Santana's hands clenched at her side and the way Quinn was trembling and he knew he should try to help or calm Santana down or something, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but watch. He wondered when he became a bystander in his own life. He hadn't been there at the house with Santana when she had found their mom and Hiram and he should've been. His siblings had all been there and he was the only one that was on the outside looking in. He wondered when that had happened.

He stood in the shadows just watching as Santana's posture finally relaxed and Quinn reached for her hand. He stood there until Emma and the social worker led Santana and Quinn through the door to the exam rooms. He wondered if they were finally going to take Santana to see Blaine and Rachel. He knew he should want to see them too and he did but he just felt so fucking guilty because he wasn't there. He was never there. It wasn't until the heavy wooden door shut behind Santana and Quinn that his legs finally worked, carrying him into the waiting room as he slumped down beside Finn, resuming his wait once again.

…..

Santana felt like she couldn't breathe. She felt like something was sitting on her chest and crushing her lungs. Maybe she did need to get examined, maybe one of the doctors in this damn hospital could tell her why her lungs had decided to just quit working the second she had gotten to her house that night. The pressure in her head was almost worse than the pressure in her lungs. All the emotions she wouldn't let herself feel were spinning inside her like a storm brewing and she needed something, anything else to focus on. She clenched and unclenched her fists on her thighs just to give her hands something to do.

She was losing control. She hadn't had control over anything that happened that night but she felt like she had given up the last ounce of control when she called Emma. Emma and fucking Anna were the reason she was sitting in this stupid room. They told her she needed to be examined but that was really fucking stupid because she hadn't even been home when it happened. She was fine even if she was sure she was going insane and her lungs didn't seem to want to do their fucking job. She was fucking fine.

She tugged the stupid gown they made her change into closer to her body. She hated how exposed it made her feel. Sweat broke out across her skin and she wondered how she could be this hot when her back was exposed for the whole world to see. She hated that she hadn't been able to reach the ties and she wished they would've just let Quinn stay with her. Everything was so fucking stupid and she was over it.

She shouldn't just be fucking sitting here. She should be doing something. She should be with Blaine and Rachel. She didn't understand why they wouldn't just let her see them. She hadn't seen them since she led them from the house and she knew they wouldn't understand why she wasn't there. She had promised them that she would be there and she wasn't. They were probably so scared.

"Screw this," she whispered as she hopped down from the exam table.

She winced when her feet made contact with the linoleum below her, the chill of the floor seeping through her socks. She needed to get out of this fucking room. She felt like she was suffocating and she was done waiting. She had been waiting all night and she was so fucking over it. If they wouldn't take her to see Blaine and Rachel, she would just have to find them herself.

She was in the middle of shimmying her sweatpants up her legs when the door opened, startling her. She spun toward the sound and nearly lost her balance as her heart stuttered in her chest.

"Hi Santana, I'm Doctor Thomas," A young female doctor stated as she entered the room, her eyes trained on the chart in her hands but she paused when she saw that her young patient was in the process of leaving, and she arched one eyebrow, "Going somewhere?"

"Yes," Santana gasped out. Her voice was supposed to sound stronger than that but she was choking on air. She moved toward the door, but the doctor was blocking her path, "Get out of my way. I'm leaving."

"Santana-" the woman tried again.

"I have to see them," Santana choked out. She didn't understand when the air had gotten so thick and since when was her voice so damn high pitched, "They need me. Please. You have to let me out of here. I can't stay here. You have to let me see them."

Dr. Elizabeth Thomas took a deep breath as she studied the young girl in front of her. She was panicking. She could see it in the way her eyes continued to dart frantically toward the door and the way her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps. She had heard the whispers in the ER that night about the horrible things that Dr. Berry had done and she had been in the room when the two youngest children were brought in. She hadn't known Dr. Berry well or at all but she knew that Santana was his stepdaughter and she was terrified and panicking. She knew that Dr. Berry was the reason for it. She knew that the girl in front of her had been through hell and was still standing.

"I can't make you stay," Dr. Thomas started taking a few steps back from Santana and leaning against the counter on the wall, "But you do need to be examined. You can see Blaine and Rachel but you won't be able to leave the hospital until I've examined you."

Santana paused her hand hovering above the doorknob as she took in the doctor's words. She was trapped. She could leave right now and find Blaine and Rachel but then she would be forced to stay in the hospital even longer. She hated this fucking hospital. He had worked here and she didn't want to be anywhere that he had been.

"Fine," Santana muttered, her shoulders slumped as she returned to the exam table.

"Good choice," Dr. Thomas said and Santana glared at her. Santana thought it was supposed to come across as praise but it just sounded patronizing.

"Don't talk to me like that," Santana spat, "I'm not a little kid. Don't talk to me like one," Santana watched as the doctor nodded and apologized, "Are they okay? Are Blaine and Rachel okay?"

"We're taking good care of them," Dr. Thomas assured Santana.

"That's not really an answer," Santana observed and Dr. Thomas just shrugged, "Can we just hurry up and get this over with, please?"

Dr. Thomas nodded, "Of course. But before I start, I need to let you know that there are some detectives here that need to interview you. Would you prefer they interview you before or after I examine you?"

"Is neither an option?" Santana questioned but Dr. Thomas just stared at her expectantly and Santana could only sigh, "I guess before."

"Would it be easier for you to talk with them if your aunt or the social worker were in here with you?"

Santana shook her head furiously, "Absolutely not. I just want to get it over with."

Santana watched as Dr. Thomas went to the door and gestured for a detective to join them.

"Hi Santana, I'm Detective Lowe," The man said, offering her a smile as Santana rolled her eyes in response, "I'm here because we need to talk to you about what happened tonight."

Santana shook her head, "No. I-I can't talk about that."

His words hit Santana's skin like she had been doused with a bucket of freezing cold water and every muscle in her body tensed against the shock. She was such a fucking idiot. She was so focused on just getting through this fucking exam and getting to her siblings that the reason she would be getting interviewed hadn't even registered. The pressure in her chest was back and it was worse. She felt like she was drowning on dry land as the memories of that night washed over her like a tidal wave that threatened to drag her under. She squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of sickness washed over her. She could smell the scent of blood and death that clung to the inside of her nostrils and she swallowed against the bile that coated the back of her throat and she didn't think she would ever get rid of that smell. It had been so potent she could almost taste it.

She lifted her trembling hands from her lap and held them in front of her face as she opened her eyes. She turned them over slowly in her field of vision, inspecting every inch of her skin and palms. Her eyes widened when she saw the crimson smears and reddish-brown blood coating her palms. She shook her head fiercely. There was no way. Her hands couldn't be covered in her mother's blood. She remembered rinsing the blood off with the garden hose. Her head spun. She was going crazy. She had to be. Her hands were clean when she walked into the exam room. She scrubbed at her hands desperately needing to remove the blood that had somehow reappeared.

"Santana, I know this is hard," Detective Lowe said, his words were enough to snap her out of her daze. She blinked rapidly as she tried to process what he was saying but all she could see was the memory of her blood-soaked hands. Her brow furrowed when she recognized that they were clean now. She turned her hands over slowly making sure the blood was really gone.

"Fuck you. You don't know anything," she snapped as her voice wavered and shook. She wanted to sound angry but she just sounded scared, "You weren't there."

None of them had been there. Santana had been alone. They shouldn't be asking her to talk about any of this. The fucking detective didn't understand anything. Santana's chest felt like it was caving in and she couldn't fucking breathe. She wasn't here. She wasn't in this hospital. She was somewhere else and nothing felt real. She didn't know when she left.

She was still in the living room of her house. She was trapped with her mother and Hiram. She couldn't find Blaine and Rachel. Her mother was so still and so cold. It didn't feel real. Her mom looked like a mockery of who she had been and Santana couldn't get the blood to stop flowing. She didn't even realize it already had. Her hands shook as she remembered pressing them to the wounds that littered her mom's chest. Why hadn't she realized how still her mom's chest was with the absence of breath? It couldn't have been her hands pressing tightly to her mother's chest to try to stem the bleeding. It had to have been someone else. She was trying to save her mom but she was already dead. She had left her mom alone, blood congealing in the carpet and on her skin that was so cold, too cold to be real.

"I-I was too late," Santana whispered to herself, screwing her eyes shut tightly as her breaths began to come in short gasps, "I was too fucking late. I tried…I tried to save her but I c-couldn't..she was already gone. I l-left her alone. I wasn't there…I should've been there. She-she was alone and he-he-he murdered her," She took a deep breath wiping at phantom tears on her cheeks. She should be crying. People cried when they talked about things like this, "He killed her. He killed her and I couldn't save her and he killed himself too."

She wasn't supposed to be talking about this but she couldn't stop. Her words sounded foreign and her voice sounded different, almost robotic and empty. She didn't recognize her voice at all. She wasn't even sure it was her voice she was hearing. It had to be someone else telling the detective what happened. It couldn't be her. She felt like she wasn't in her body anymore, like she was floating above herself, watching someone else panic and hearing someone else recount what happened at the house that night. She didn't feel real.

"Santana, you're doing a good job, sweetheart," Someone said and she felt a soft touch to her shoulder. She opened her eyes and met the soft green eyes of Dr. Thomas, sympathy shining within them, "We know how hard this is to talk about."

Santana didn't know why she was looking at her like that. She had barely spoken, She hadn't done anything but then Detective Lowe spoke. She wasn't even sure what he asked but reality crashed around her. She felt like she was buried under the rubble. None of this was happening to someone else. It was her voice and her words. This was her story. She was the one who had tried to stem the bleeding from her mom's still chest. It was her eyes that had roved over Hiram's slumped over form and saw the way one side of his head seemed to cave in. She was the one who couldn't find Blaine and Rachel. She was the one who had left them alone. She had left them. She had to find them.

Her heart raced as she moved to climb down from the cot but something or someone held her down. Gentle hands gripped her shoulders and upper arms. The soft touches kept her in place.

"I-I have to go," Santana mumbled as she fought weakly against the hands that were holding her down, "I have to find them. They're so little and they're all alone. I need to find Blaine and Rachel. They weren't supposed to be there. He-he found them. It's all my fault. Please. Please let me go."

She was trapped. She didn't understand why she was being held in place and why she couldn't get her limbs to move. She didn't know why her body suddenly felt so heavy and uncoordinated. She was a cheerleader. She should at least be able to fight off whoever or whatever was holding her down. Her lungs burned with the need to draw air and black spots danced across her vision. She felt like she was going to pass out or throw up. Everything was spinning and she was too hot.

Dr. Thomas watched as the young girl in front of her was swept under a tidal wave of panic. It had started slowly at first, just a glassy faraway look in Santana's eyes as if she was somewhere else, seeing something that none of them could see and a soft hitch of her breath in her chest. She watched as Santana's panic intensified as she began to babble nonsensically, her face taking on a ghostly pallor as she struggled to catch her breath. Her limbs had started to tremble as she fought against Dr. Thomas' gentle grip on her shoulders.

Dr. Thomas gestured to the nurse who had entered the room to hand her an oxygen mask, "Santana, I'm going to put this over your face. It's oxygen," She held the oxygen mask out for Santana's inspection but the girl kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, as Dr. Thomas slipped the mask over her face, "It'll help. Just take some deep breaths."

Santana froze as the oxygen mask was placed over her face, the sensation of cool air over her lips and nose causing her eyes to fly open, "The-the closet," she choked out, locking eyes with the woman in front of her, gripping at Dr. Thomas' wrists, "They're in the closet. They're hiding. They weren't supposed to be home."

"They aren't in the closet, Santana," Dr. Thomas assured Santana, wincing at the grip the girl had on her wrists as she guided Santana's hands to her lap, "They're here. They're in the hospital. They're safe," She saw a flicker of recognition in Santana's eyes, "You aren't there anymore. None of you are. You're in the hospital. You're safe."

Santana nodded, her grip on Dr. Thomas' wrist loosening as she brought one hand up to clutch the oxygen mask, taking greedy gulps of air. She could feel her chest loosening as her heart rate slowed. She could feel the adrenaline seeping from her pores leaving her drained and exhausted. Her muscles were twitching with the memory of how tense they had been just moments before. She was so tired and she just wanted to curl up on this narrow, little bed and drift to sleep.

But she wasn't alone. The doctor was still there and a nurse and the detective hadn't left. She could hear them murmuring lowly by the door and she knew the doctor was telling him that the interview was over. She didn't even remember what she told him or if any of it made sense. He had barely spoken to her at all and she had been thrown into a maelstrom of emotion that had left her shaking and empty.

"Santana, are you feeling better?" Dr. Thomas asked, approaching her cautiously after the detective left.

Santana shrugged passively. She didn't feel anything. Nothing felt real. She felt like she was somewhere else. She felt like all of this was happening to someone else. She reached for the oxygen mask, coughing weakly once she removed it from her face, "Can I see Blaine and Rachel now?"

"I still need to do my exam," Dr. Thomas reminded her and Santana groaned weakly at the doctor's words, "It'll be quick and then we can see about taking you to your siblings."

Santana nodded, her eyes once again trained on the flecked linoleum as she allowed Dr. Thomas to manipulate her limp limbs in order to gather her vitals. She wondered if the detective had gone to talk to Quinn or the twins. She needed to be with them if he did. She had barely been able to keep it together and they were younger, smaller. They needed someone to guide them through the hard moments and she needed something else to focus on.

She shivered as she felt the cold, metal of the stethoscope against her back as the doctor listened to her breathing before re-tying her gown and re-entering Santana's field of vision.

Santana narrowed her eyes in the doctor's direction, ready to spring off the exam table, "Are we done?"

Dr. Thomas shook her head, "Not quite. I need to talk to you about the scars on your back."

Santana's breath caught in her throat as she spoke through gritted teeth, "No. There's nothing to talk about."

Fuck. She had forgotten. She had been so focused on what Hiram had been doing to Rachel and what he had done to her mom and just fucking getting to Blaine and Rachel that she had forgotten all about the scars and stories her body contained. How could she have forgotten? She knew the scars on her back were a near mirror image to the marks that had been painted on her little sister's skin but it wasn't the same. Her scars were old and so faded that they were barely visible anymore. She knew they were nowhere nearly as bad as the marks she had seen on Rachel. She couldn't even remember the last time he had used the belt on her but she couldn't have been much older than Rachel. Santana had a big mouth and didn't know when to shut up. She never knew when to stop fighting so most of her punishments were doled out in the heat of the moment. Beating her with a belt required premeditation that Hiram didn't seem to possess when slamming her into walls or raining blows down on her body. The darker part of her wondered if he had stopped because he had moved on to Rachel.

"Santana, I need you to tell me about the scars on your back," Dr. Thomas repeated.

Santana just continued to shake her head, "They don't matter. They're old and he's dead."

She felt her eyes widen with the last words she spoke, her eyes holding Dr. Thomas' eyes for a beat too long. She recognized the shift in the doctor's eyes and the spark of understanding that she saw there. She had inadvertently told Dr. Thomas everything she needed to know.

"You can get dressed, Santana. I'm done."

Santana hopped down from the exam table, her shaky legs threatening to give out as she gripped the edge of the cot to stay upright, "And I can see Blaine and Rachel?"

"I'll find out." Dr. Thomas assured her as she left the room.

Santana didn't think she had ever gotten dressed so quickly in her life. She definitely wasn't planning to stay in this room to wait for someone to finally tell her she could see her brother and sister. She was done with all the fucking waiting. She had done everything everyone else had wanted her to do since the moment she had gotten to the hospital. She was done doing what other people wanted her to do. She needed to see them. She needed them. She hadn't seen them since the moment Mrs. Pierce had taken Rachel from her arms and led Blaine to the ambulance. She knew the tightness in her chest and the anxiety coiling in her belly wouldn't go away until she saw them.

She pulled the exam room door open, shooting a cursory glance around the corridor. She could see Anna, Emma, and Dr. Thomas further down the hall, speaking in hushed tones. She was grateful that they weren't looking in her direction. She didn't even know where to start looking for Blaine and Rachel. She wondered where they had taken Quinn. She slipped from the room, pressing her back close to the wall as she shuffled sideways down the hall. She needed to avoid detection. She couldn't let her aunt or the social worker spot her. She wasn't entirely sure they would let her see them. They had told her she was too angry and her grip on her emotions was too tenuous to be around them which was total bullshit because she would never do anything to hurt them or scare them.

She had barely made it five steps from the exam room door when she heard a panicked cry. Rachel. She would know the sound of her younger sister's tears anywhere. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up as she turned in the direction of the sound of her sister's sobs. Any concern she had about being spotted by the adults seemed to fly from her mind at the sound of Rachel's tears as she raced down the hall in the direction of Rachel's cries.

*Loved it, hated it, let me know*