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?

9. Chapter 9

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

A/N: I apologize for the length of time between updates. It was never my intention to make you wait nearly two months between installments. I really struggled with the rewrite of this chapter. I initially intended to have this be a two part update and am nearly finished with the next chapter. You will definitely have it by the end of the week. I have written quite a bit for future chapters as well so I really hope you all will stick around through this journey. As always thank you to my friend and beta, 216BLT, for keeping me motivated.

T/W: allusions to domestic violence, allusions to physical abuse of a child

Santana stirred from her sleep, roused by the soft whimpering that permeated the dimly lit room, reverberating in the stillness. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the darkness. The acrid scent of antiseptic invaded her nostrils, causing her nose to crinkle and her stomach to churn. The familiar odor triggered a surge of anxiety, setting her heart pounding within her chest as she struggled to orient herself. The whimpering sound intensified, growing louder and more frantic, laced with a tinge of panic. Santana's eyes snapped open, and she abruptly sat upright on the chair masquerading as her makeshift bed for the night, her muscles protesting the sudden movement. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room until they settled on the form of her tiny little sister in the oversized hospital bed. Rachel thrashed, and cried out, locked in a battle against invisible demons even as she slept. The memories of earlier that night flooded Santana's mind, hitting her with such force that it stole her breath away. Ignoring the way her fatigued muscles protested, Santana rose from the chair and rushed to Rachel's side.

"Rachel," Santana whispered urgently, her lips only inches from her baby sister's ear.

Navigating around Rachel's thrashing limbs, Santana carefully avoided any inadvertent contact as her hands hovered hesitantly above her little sister, torn between the urge to shake her sister awake or find an alternative method to rouse her. Rachel's whimpers and incoherent murmurs escalated with each passing moment, steeped in mounting panic while her limbs flailed erratically. Perspiration clung to Rachel's forehead, causing her bangs to stick, and a deep furrow etched her brow as she remained ensnared in the clutches of her nightmare. Now more urgent, Santana whispered Rachel's name again, projecting a more insistent tone. She needed Rachel to wake up; her concussion and frantic movements would only make everything worse. Santana whispered Rachel's name again, louder and more insistently. She glanced quickly in the direction of her aunt, asleep in the other chair in the room, seemingly oblivious to Rachel's panic. She didn't want Rachel to wake up Emma. Emma would want to help. She would want to help but she didn't know them and Emma would just make everything worse.

"C'mon, Rach, wake up," Santana tried again and an edge of desperation crept into her voice as she brushed Rachel's sweaty bangs away from her forehead, hoping the gentle touch would wake her sister.

Santana's voice filtered into Rachel's unconscious mind, chasing away the nightmare. Rachel's eyes shot open and she bolted upright in bed. Her heart raced and her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Her entire body trembled as her eyes darted frantically around the room before finally meeting Santana's gaze in the darkness. Her face crumpled as she held her older sister's gaze, a sob escaping her lips as she began to cry. Santana scrambled onto the bed and pulled Rachel into her arms. She cradled Rachel's trembling form against her chest as she wept. Running her fingers tenderly through her little sister's hair and rocking her slightly, Santana whispered words of comfort in an attempt to soothe the little girl's tears.

"He….he…he was here," Rachel gasped, her words broken by sobs and hysterical, "I-I-I was in the closet again...and-and he….there was blood…M-Mom was-was screaming…Blaine wasn't there and-and I-I was alone…he…he...was trying to get to me..to pull me out."

"Shh, Rach, it was just a dream," Santana murmured, brushing Rachel's hair back from her forehead as she worked to calm her little sister's ragged breathing and racing heart, "I've got you. You're safe..it was just a dream."

She knew it must've been a dream before Santana told her because she wasn't in the closet. She was in the hospital with Santana. Santana was holding her, reminding her that she wasn't there anymore. Santana had gotten them out. Rachel's mind seemed to know it was a dream but it felt so real. She had been in the closet but she was alone. She couldn't find Blaine in the darkness and she could hear her mom screaming for her to run and hide. A shiver crept up her spine at the memory of her dad calling for her mockingly like they were playing a game of hide and seek. She kept trying to crawl further and further back into the closet which seemed never-ending. Her dad was reaching for her as she scrambled to get away, his hands covered in blood, almost skeletal like one of the zombies in the TV show Noah watched sometimes and had given her nightmares for a week when she had caught a glimpse of it once.

"But-but-but…" Rachel's words faltered, her voice trembling as she pulled away from Santana, settling on her knees and scanning her sister's face. Her eyes darted around the room, brimming with anxiety and searching for any signs of the haunting presence that had plagued her dreams.

Her heart was still beating too fast, making her chest feel tight as she struggled to breathe. The dream was still there clinging to her mind and she half expected to see her dad somewhere hidden in the shadows. His voice was still echoing in her mind, accompanied by the crazed look in her eyes.

Santana reached out and placed the palms of her hands on either side of Rachel's face, forcing her sister to cease her frantic exploration of the hospital room. With the pads of her thumbs, she tenderly wiped away the tears still cascading down Rachel's cheeks, anchoring their gazes together.

"He's not here, Rach. It's just you, me, and Emma. You're in the hospital but you're safe. He can't hurt you here. No one is going to hurt you. You're safe, okay?"

Rachel nodded frantically before her face crumpled again as she pitched forward, burying her face in Santana's chest as she wrapped her arms around Santana, holding on tight, her voice a near wail as she cried, "But he hurt Mommy."

Rachel's tears were silent now but her body was convulsing with each and every breath and Santana could feel the front of her shirt becoming damp with her little sister's tears. Any words of comfort or reassurance had been silenced by Rachel's proclamation and her silent tears. Santana's eyes welled with tears as she suddenly felt helpless and useless, unable to do any more than hold Rachel tightly and wait for her tears to subside. She felt so young and inadequate and she hoped her attempts at comfort would be enough.

She couldn't reassure Rachel about what Hiram had done. Their mom was dead and Hiram had been the one to kill her and there was no way to reassure her baby sister about the reality of their existence. There were no words that she could say that would change anything that happened No murmured words of comfort would bring their mom back or make any of it hurt less. It still didn't quite feel real and Santana still thought if she just pinched herself hard enough, she would wake up and none of this would've ever happened.

"San, why'd he do it?" Rachel whispered through her tears, her voice loud in the silence of the hospital room.

"I don't….I don't know," Santana responded, her eyes squeezed shut, hoping Rachel would accept her answer as guilt twisted in her gut.

Rachel was still young enough that she believed there was a simple explanation for even the most complicated situations. But Santana couldn't explain to Rachel why Hiram had killed their mom. She cycled through what felt like a million different explanations in her mind but none of them seemed like enough. She wanted to tell Rachel that he was just an asshole, that he didn't need a reason to do terrible things because he always had done terrible things and never needed a reason. But he was Rachel's dad and as twisted as it seemed to Santana, she knew her little sister loved him even if it didn't make sense. Nothing that happened made sense, and she didn't know how to explain that to her baby sister.

Guilt settled heavily in Santana's stomach and across her skin, weighing her down as she remembered her own role in the destruction. She couldn't explain that to Rachel either. She couldn't explain to Rachel how she had pushed their mom to do something. She couldn't tell Rachel that their mom had died because she was trying to protect them for the first time in years. Santana tried to ignore how her chest seemed to ache when she remembered that their mom had only chosen to do something last night because Santana had broken Rachel's trust and confided in her mom that Hiram had been hurting her baby sister. She had died because she was trying to protect Rachel. She definitely couldn't tell Rachel that. Rachel would blame herself, and she was too young to have to carry that much guilt. None of this was Rachel's fault. Santana hadn't been able to protect Rachel or Blaine at the house that night but she could keep this secret if it meant that Rachel would never blame herself.

Rachel nodded, sniffling as she burrowed closer to Santana's chest. Her breath was still hitching in her lungs as her tears slowed and her eyes grew heavy, "Sanny, can you sing me the song?"

Santana took in a sudden, shaky breath through her nose at Rachel's request, feeling her heart freeze in her chest. A strange calmness settled over her, sending prickling tears to the corners of her eyes. The ache of missing her mom surged within her, engulfing her like a tidal wave. Would it always feel this way? She couldn't tell which version of her mom she was mourning—the one from her childhood or the one they could have had if they had escaped that night, instead of her mom bleeding out on the floor with stab wounds littering her body. Rachel's simple request for the familiar song made her ache and burn as the memories flooded her consciousness and stole the breath from her lungs. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want to remember what it felt like to have a mom but now she felt like her mom was right next to her, whispering in her ear, humming the familiar melody of the song that Rachel requested.

Six-year-old Santana tossed and turned in her bed which suddenly felt uncomfortable. Every muscle in her body ached and burned. She was too hot and then suddenly too cold as she shivered and shook with fever. She sat bolt upright in bed as she was hit with a coughing fit, tears leaking from her eyes as her chest rattled with each cough. Her stomach flipped dangerously before she flopped back down on her bed, suddenly sweating as she kicked her blankets off and struggled to catch her breath. She didn't think she had ever felt so sick. She hated being sick. She wanted to call for her mom but her throat ached. It was late and her mom was probably asleep.

"San? You awake?" her mom asked from the doorway, the small sliver of light from the hallway, illuminating Santana's bedroom and causing her to wince as a spike of pain shot through her head.

"Mm-hmm," Santana whimpered weakly, "Can't sleep. Don't feel good."

Shelby made a soft, sympathetic noise as she entered the bedroom. She placed her hands on Santana's feverish forehead, her hands felt like ice against Santana's overheated skin. A shiver crept up Santana's spine as her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of her mom's gentle hands brushing the hair away from her forehead.

"You're burning up, baby," Shelby told her daughter, her voice tinged with concern.

Santana leaned into her mom's touch as she opened her eyes. She knew what that tone in her mom's voice meant. She glared up at Shelby, pouting, "No more medicine."

She hated the yucky medicine her mom made her take. She told her it was supposed to take like cherry or grapes but it just tasted like chemicals. She hated the way it burned and made her stomach hurt. She already felt terrible and she didn't think the medicine helped anyway.

"No more medicine," Shelby reassured her daughter, her brow furrowed with concern, "I'll be right back."

Santana frowned deeply as she watched her mom leave the room, burrowing under the covers, suddenly so cold as she coughed weakly. She didn't want to be sick anymore and she didn't want her mom to leave. She wanted her mom to make her feel better.

"Sit up, San. Drink this," Shelby said and Santana shook her head, not turning to face her mom. Her mom said no more medicine, "It's not medicine. It's just Gatorade."

Santana sat up then, drinking greedily even though the cool liquid seemed to burn her throat. Her mom rubbed her back as the simple act of drinking caused another fit of coughing that wracked her small frame. Exhausted, she collapsed back on her pillows, the simple act of sitting up had been too much. She jerked with surprise when her mom placed a cool washcloth on her forehead, causing her eyes to flutter closed as the dampness refreshed her fevered skin. She sensed the bed shifting as her mom climbed into the bed beside her.

"Momma, what're you doing? You're gonna get germs," Santana protested as she scooted over to make room for her mom in her bed.

Shelby pulled Santana into her arms, the little girl's head pillowed on her chest as she ran her fingers through her daughter's hair, chuckling softly, "Moms don't get germs."

Santana frowned, "I think you made that up," she mumbled and it just made her mom laugh again, "Noah said I was con…contagious 'cause I had germs. He said I was gonna get him and Quinn sick, too. I don't wanna get you sick."

"San, Noah may be your big brother but he doesn't know everything," Shelby told the little girl, wrapping her arms tighter around her daughter as she dropped a kiss to the top of her head, "Now try to get some sleep. You need to rest so you can get better."

"But…but I still don't feel good," Santana whined. She was uncomfortable and her nose was too stuffy for her to breathe through. Her mom's fingers felt soothing as they ran through her hair but her head still hurt and her body ached, "I don't wanna be sick anymore."

"I know baby, but what if I told you that I knew a song that would make you feel better?"

"You do?" Santana asked, slightly awestruck even if she wasn't quite sure a song would make her feel better, "Will you sing it?"

"Of course, baby, but you gotta close your eyes."

Santana nodded, squeezing her eyes shut as the melodic strains washed over her and filled her bedroom.

"Sanny?" Rachel questioned again, peering up at Santana and blinking owlishly, "What're you thinking about?"

Santana shook her head, trying to clear the haze of the memory and the tears that clouded her vision. It seemed so silly to her now at sixteen to believe that a song had some sort of magical healing powers but at six years old, she would've fought anyone who told her differently. The memory had been so vivid that she felt a rush of warmth in her chest mixing with the searing pain and leaving her lightheaded. It had been their special ritual, most moms would've made their sick kids chicken noodle soup but Shelby wasn't like most moms, she chose to serenade them and promised that it would work just as well as any medicine.

As a little kid, Santana would've sworn that her mom's tender vocals accompanied by that particular song, had more healing powers than any medicine she had ever been given. Shelby hadn't sung much as they grew older but she had told the youngest kids the same thing and taught them the same song. Santana had taken over soothing nightmares and nursing sick children when Shelby couldn't or wouldn't. Santana knew it was never the same as them having their actual mom do those things for them.

"Nothing…I…" Santana started, trailing off as she wiped at her eyes. She ignored the way Rachel stared at her expectantly as she struggled to compose herself. She couldn't talk to Rachel about their mom. She couldn't speak about her mom at all without feeling like she was being burned from the inside out, reduced to nothing more than ashes and rubble. She wasn't ready to talk about her mom, "It's late, Rach and you need to rest. We should try to go back to sleep."

Santana reclined back on the hospital bed, pulling Rachel with her as she tried to get comfortable on the narrow, too-firm hospital mattress. Rachel sighed as she rested her head on Santana's chest, the steady thumping of her sister's heart, comforting her.

"Will you sing the song now?" Rachel whispered softly, her eyelids suddenly heavy as the rhythmic beating of her sister's heart and the gentle sensation of Santana's fingers running through her hair conspired to make her sleepy.

"Yeah, okay," Santana muttered.

Emma was awakened by the sound of singing that seemed to echo off the tile in the silent hospital room. Tears welled in her eyes as the sound of the familiar song flooded her consciousness. She would be able to recognize that song anywhere even if the singing was slightly hushed and barely above a whisper. She sat up, slightly disorientated as she rubbed at her eyes before they landed on the hospital bed in front of her, and for a brief second, her hazy mind saw Shelby sitting on the hospital bed holding her youngest daughter. But the singing voice wasn't quite right, it was huskier, richer in tone, and carried an innocence in it. She shook her head to clear the tears that were obscuring her vision, her memories, and the knowledge that her sister was dead tightening her chest.

She wasn't watching her sister cradle her youngest daughter, she was watching Santana do her best to comfort her little sister. A wave of nostalgia washed over Emma as she studied her nieces in the dim light of the hospital room, Santana rocking Rachel as the dulcet tones of her voice and the familiar song filled the silent spaces of the hospital room. Emma suddenly felt Shelby's loss so abruptly that it left her breathless and aching.

Emma crept across the darkened hallway, tears damp on her cheeks as she pulled open the door to Shelby's bedroom. Their dad had been gone for a week and Emma sought out Shelby every night. She didn't like how quiet and empty the house felt without him. Sadness had seemed to settle into every inch of the house, heavy and oppressive and Emma hated it. It made her skin feel too tight and her tummy ached until she couldn't sleep.

She squinted in the darkness of Shelby's bedroom, the only light in the room coming from the moon. She could just make out her older sister sprawled out across the bed on her stomach, her blankets bunched up at the bottom of the bed where she had kicked them off. Emma let out a breath as the ache in her stomach subsided. She crept across the bedroom, dodging and sidestepping the clothes and shoes that always littered her older sister's floor. Shelby was always so messy. Emma didn't like messy. Her own room was always kept clean and orderly. Her mom said Shelby was only messy because she was almost a teenager and teenagers were messy.

Emma approached her sister's bed, shaking her shoulder insistently as she hissed her older sister's name. Shelby swatted at her in her sleep, turning away from the intrusion as Emma shook her again.

Shelby lifted her head from the pillow, squinting at Emma blearily. Her hair stuck up at funny angles from her sleep. Emma could just make out the creases from her pillow on her sister's cheek. Shelby groaned when she met Emma's gaze as she flopped back down on the bed, yawning widely, "Em, it's late….what'd…what'd you want?"

Emma shuffled anxiously from foot to foot beside Shelby's bed, "Can I…can I sleep with you, please? "

Shelby sighed but nodded as she stretched and yawned. She rolled over and made room for Emma in her bed. Emma breathed a sigh of relief as she crawled into bed beside her sister. Shelby reached down to pull the covers over them. They lay side by side, their arms and legs brushing under the covers as they stared at the ceiling.

Shelby sighed as she rolled onto her side, facing her little sister. "Did you have a bad dream?" she whispered, her breath warm against Emma's cheek and her voice loud in the silence of the bedroom.

Emma shrugged, her small shoulders lifting up and down. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep, a nightmare would sneak in, just like always. They were always the same, starting from that night at the hospital when she learned her daddy was gone. In her dreams, she saw cars crashing into each other, their metal bending and crunching, and her daddy was always inside one of them. He'd scream, calling out for her or her mommy, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get close to him. Sometimes, the car would burst into flames, and her daddy would bang on the window while Emma ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, but the car always seemed to move farther away. But the scariest dream was when he didn't scream at all. He would just stay silent, looking like one of those scary zombies from a movie, the flesh on his face burned and melting away as he stared at her.

She had the zombie dream tonight but her daddy was trying to talk to her during it but nothing came out but scary noises. She woke up with her heart hammering in her chest and tried to stay brave and stay in her room. She hugged her teddy bear tighter to her chest and repeated over and over that it wasn't real. She hadn't been able to stay brave when the tree outside of her bedroom window started casting eerie shadows on her wall. She fled her bed when a branch scrapped against the window, seeking out the comfort of her older sister. She wanted her mom but her mom was sad all the time now. Sometimes when Emma talked to her mom all her mom would do was cry. She didn't like that her mom was so sad all of the time and watching her mom cry made her stomach hurt. She wanted her mom to make her feel better like she always did when she was sick or the kids at school were mean but she didn't think her mom knew how to make her feel better anymore not when she was so sad.

"I have bad dreams too," Shelby confessed.

Emma's eyes widened in surprise as she curled on her side to face her older sister, their foreheads nearly touching on the pillow they were sharing. Emma locked eyes with her older sister. "Really?"

Shelby always seemed so fearless to Emma. Shelby did all of the things Emma was too scared to do. She thought bad dreams were only for little kids like her, not big kids like Shelby.

Shelby laughed quietly to herself, smiling softly at Emma. "Everyone has bad dreams, Em."

"Even momma?"

"Probably especially Mom," Shelby murmured, brushing a stray lock of Emma's hair behind her ear.

Emma shivered at the feeling of her sister's fingertips ghosting over her skin and her eyes fluttered close. "'Cause of Daddy?"

"Mm-hmm," Shelby hummed, "Because of Dad."

Emma nodded, her eyes welling with tears. She think she understood what Shelby was trying to tell her. Everything kind of felt like a bad dream since her dad died. They weren't like the dreams that woke her at night but different. Emma kept waiting for him to walk through the door, and wrap his arms around her. She thought maybe that's how her mom and Shelby felt sometimes too.

"I miss Daddy," Emma murmured as she swallowed her tears.

Shelby shuffled closer to Emma, wrapping an arm around her sister. "Me too."

"Do you have bad dreams about him too?" Emma questioned, her voice muffled by Shelby's pajama shirt.

Emma felt Shelby shudder, "I don't wanna talk about it," she said, her voice trembling, "It's late. We should try to get some sleep."

"Don't wanna," Emma protested through a yawn, "What if I have another bad dream?"

"I'll be right here if you do," Shelby reassured her little sister, "Why don't I sing you a song? We've been working on one for an assembly. It might help you sleep."

"'Kay," Emma murmured.

Emma snuggled closer to Shelby, feeling the warmth radiating from her sister's chest. Each word Shelby sang seemed to vibrate through her body, soothing her like a gentle lullaby. The weight of Shelby's words settled upon her, and Emma's eyelids grew heavier with every breath. She let herself surrender to the softness of her sister's voice, allowing it to envelop her and guide her into a peaceful slumber.

Emma reached up, delicately wiping away the tears that had started to stream down her cheeks. She shook her head, trying to dispel the foggy remnants of the memory that clung to her mind. The ache in her chest lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the past. As the sound of her sister's soft singing voice began to fade from her mind, it was replaced by the sweet sound of Shelby's daughter's voice, serenading her baby sister with the same familiar song. Emma's heart swelled with sorrow as the absence of her sister washed over her like a wave. The lyrics of the song, though sung by a different voice, brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. With misty eyes, she observed Santana cradling her baby sister, brushing Rachel's hair back from her forehead, and placing a gentle kiss on her little sister's forehead. Emma's heart ached, recognizing the echoes of her sister in the way Santana cared for Rachel, and it filled her with sadness.

She found that she wanted to cling tightly to the echoes of her past and the parts of Shelby she could see mirrored in her daughter. She wanted to remember Shelby as the big sister that sang her the same song every night for two weeks after their father died or drove her to her first school dance. She wanted Shelby's children to remember their mom as the one who had taught them to ride their bikes, who kissed skinned knees and put ice on bruises. The mother who cheered loudly in the stands during Noah's flag football games or helped them with their homework around the kitchen table.

She wanted to hold tightly to those pieces of her sister and forget the angry, unrecognizable person her sister had become as she was shouting at Emma to leave and never come back. But she couldn't help but see those pieces of her sister, the dark parts she wished she could discard, embedded in the children. She could see them in the marks that Hiram had painted on Rachel's body. She could see the dark pieces of Shelby weighing down her oldest children, especially Santana. Santana reminded her so much of Shelby because Santana had needed to be Shelby. She could see it in the way that Santana consoled her younger siblings. She could see it in the way Santana fought against her own emotions in order to be there for them. The marks on Rachel's body may have been visible but she knew there were marks on Santana as well, hidden from view. She could recognize them even now as Santana drifted to sleep, a slight furrow in her brow and a tension in her limbs that shouldn't exist in her sleep. Emma felt anger blossom in her chest as she recognized just how deeply Shelby's darkness had tainted her children as she watched them sleep.

….

The first thing Rachel noticed when she woke the next morning was that she was alone. She noticed the sudden emptiness of the bed she was sleeping in before she noticed the sharp, throbbing pain in her head or the rumbling of her empty stomach. Her head felt fuzzy and too heavy when she tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness washing over her as she was forced to lay back down. She let out a soft whimper as the pounding in her head increased. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly against the tears that were stinging them as she bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling. She wasn't supposed to be alone. Santana was supposed to be here. She remembered Santana singing to her in the middle of the night but now she was alone.

Everything felt wrong. She wanted all of this to be a bad dream. She wished it was. She wanted to be in her own bed, not in the stupid hospital. She thought she would wake up this morning and everything about last night would be a bad dream. She would be in her own bed, in her room and her mom and dad wouldn't be dead. It was supposed to just be a nightmare but it wasn't. She was in the hospital and she was alone. Her head hurt and her parents were still gone.

Her eyes flew open when she heard the sound of a door opening. She pushed through the spinning in her head and the nausea in her belly as she forced herself into a sitting position. Relief flooded her body as she took in the familiar figure of Santana entering the room.

"San?" Rachel whimpered, the tears she had been holding back falling down her cheeks rapidly.

Santana turned toward the sound of Rachel's voice, a small smile gracing her features. "Hey munchkin, you're awake," she murmured, her brow furrowing with worry when she noticed the tears streaming down her little sister's cheeks before Rachel buried her face in her hands. Santana quickly closed the distance between them, climbing into the bed beside Rachel and pulling the little girl into her arms, "What's the matter?"

Rachel shook her head, burying her face in Santana's chest, "I….I thought I was alone…you…you weren't here…I thought I only dreamed you were here," she sobbed.

Santana sighed as she ran her fingers through Rachel's unruly hair, shushing the little girl as she rocked her slightly. "I'm here…I'm sorry…I just went to the bathroom…I would never leave you."

"I…I thought it was all just a dream," Rachel mumbled, her tears slowing slightly as her sobs turned into hiccups.

"What…what do you mean?"

"All of it…Mom…Dad…the hospital…I wanted it to just be a dream." Rachel said, pulling back from Santana so she could peer up at her. Santana looked tired. She looked like she hadn't slept all night. She could see the slight redness rimming Santana's eyes as her older sister drew in a shaky breath.

"Me too," Santana whispered as she tenderly wiped the remnants of tears from Rachel's cheeks, studying the slight purpling of the skin over Rachel's cheekbone where Hiram had struck her the night before, "How's the head?"

Rachel shrugged, frowning deeply. Her head hurt. She could feel her heartbeat in her temples and every time she moved too fast, she felt like she was spinning but she didn't want to tell her sister. She didn't want to have to stay in the hospital. She just wanted to go home.

"It hurts a little…I'm okay…it's not that bad."

Santana narrowed her eyes at Rachel, recognizing her sister's evasive behavior, "Rachel-"

"Good Morning, girls," Emma chirped brightly as she entered the room, balancing a cafeteria tray in her arms, and effectively cutting off anything Santana was going to say. She was so focused on not dropping the tray that she was carrying that she missed the way Rachel flinched and cowered closer to her older sister or the way Santana was glaring at her.

"Where the hell have you been?" Santana snapped coldly, watching as Emma placed the tray on the bedside table. Emma's movements paused briefly at the harshness in Santana's voice before she resumed arranging the items on the table.

"You girls were asleep…I..I thought you might be hungry when you woke up," Emma explained, wheeling the tray towards the bed, "They brought breakfast earlier but it was cold…I…I didn't know what you liked so I got a little bit of everything."

Rachel stared at the slightly runny eggs, and the congealed oatmeal on the tray in front of her as her stomach churned, "I'm…I'm not hungry," she whispered, uneasily.

Emma's face fell slightly before she offered Rachel a gentle smile, "Sweetheart, you should really try to eat something…you need food to help you heal."

"She said she isn't hungry. She doesn't have to eat if she doesn't want to," Santana spat, her glare intensifying as she locked eyes with Emma, "She doesn't even like eggs or oatmeal."

Rachel's gaze darted nervously between Emma and Santana, confusion etched across her features. She didn't know why Santana was lying to their aunt. Rachel liked eggs and oatmeal. She was hungry but just the thought of eating made her stomach churn with nausea. Emma was trying to be nice but Santana seemed mad. It didn't make sense to Rachel that Santana would be mean to their aunt when she was trying to help.

"Oh…well that's okay, how about fruit or yogurt?" Emma questioned, holding up a styrofoam bowl of fruit and a small container of yogurt.

Rachel glanced quickly between the offerings and then up at Santana who was still glaring at Emma before shrugging. "Fruit, I guess."

Santana rolled her eyes at the slight flicker of relief in her aunt's eyes as her attention drifted back down to Rachel, "Rach, you don't have to make yourself eat just because she wants you to...not if you aren't hungry."

Rachel paused before taking the bowl that Emma was offering her, "I'm…I'm a little bit hungry," she mumbled as she removed the lid, popping a grape into her mouth.

"What about you, Santana? Would you like eggs or oatmeal?" Emma asked, keeping her tone as light and breezy as possible and doing her best to ignore the icy glare she was still receiving from Santana. She knew this would be difficult but she thought after the night before Santana may have been a little more open to her being around but she had clearly been wrong.

"Santana doesn't eat breakfast…neither does Quinn…they just drink gross protein shakes."

"Hush," Santana hissed, nudging Rachel gently with her shoulder.

Emma was only here because Santana had called her. She was only here because there were no other options. Santana didn't need her little sister giving away all of her secrets. She didn't trust Emma and she would've been the last person Santana would've called if there had been any other option. It was bad enough that they would have to live with her or that she had seen Santana fall apart last night. She didn't need Rachel's helpful comments giving her aunt any more insight into her life than she was ready to share. Having her here now was already more than Santana could take, the memory of Emma's abandonment and rejection was too fresh for Santana to do anything more than just allow her to be in the same space as them.

"Sorry," Rachel mumbled, placing the Styrofoam bowl down on the tray, grateful that no one seemed to notice she had only eaten the one grape as she glanced down at her hands before glancing back up at her older sister, "San, when can we go home?"

Santana felt her heart drop into her stomach at Rachel's whispered question. Rachel didn't remember. She must not have remembered Anna telling them last night that they would be going to Emma's house. Rachel had to know that they could never go back to that house. There was nothing left for them there anymore. Their mom was gone and just thinking about returning to their house caused Santana's skin to crawl. Her chest tightened at just the mere mention of their house and she suddenly felt like she was back there again, her hands coated in her mother's blood. She glanced down at them quickly, her chest loosening when she saw that they were clean.

Santana shook her head, trying to clear the haze of the memories from her mind. "We aren't…we aren't going back there," she choked out.

Rachel's eyes widened as her gaze darted wildly around the room and her heart raced in her chest. "W-what? But…but it's our house…it's our house and I…I can't stay here. I don't wanna stay in the hospital forever…I wanna go home….I don't wanna be here…I…I don't like it."

Rachel hated the stupid hospital. She hated the way it smelled. She hated the stupid itchy blanket that she had and how hard the mattress was. But she mostly hated that she knew her dad worked here and every doctor in a white coat that passed by her door made her heart pound and her chest ache. Every muscle in her body tensed each time as she just waited for her dad to appear in the doorway even though she knew he was gone. It still didn't feel real. She hated that the most. She just wanted to be in her own room, in her own bed and in her own clothes.

Emma watched as Rachel's face crumpled, large tears rolling down her cheeks as her voice grew more hysterical with each protest of her current situation, panic lacing each word. She waited to see if Santana was going to step in and calm her little sister but Santana's gaze was fixed on a point that Emma couldn't see, her eyes vacant and she seemed oblivious to Rachel's increasing panic. Emma moved the tray from where it hovered over the bed before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Rachel, no…that's not….you aren't going to stay in the hospital-" Emma started, reaching out to place a hand on Rachel's knee.

"But we don't have a home," Rachel sobbed, cutting Emma off, "What's gonna happen to us?"

"Shit," Santana mumbled, as her little sister's tears cut through the haze of memories that clouded her mind. Rachel was trembling against her and she wasn't sobbing so much as she was wailing, her confusion evident in her tears, "Rach, that isn't…that isn't what I meant…we can't…we can't go back home but you aren't gonna have to stay in the hospital."

"But where…where are we gonna live?" Rachel whispered through her tears as she reached for her older sister's hand and tangled their fingers together.

"With me," Emma assured the little girl, "You're going to come live with me."

Rachel's eyes rose to meet Emma's as she used the back of one hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks as she frowned deeply. She thought she remembered that now. Everything about the previous evening was hazy and kind of blurry but she remembered the nice lady, Anna, telling them that they would go to Emma's house last night but she had to stay in the stupid hospital.

"Now? Does that mean we can leave now?" Rachel questioned as she absentmindedly played with Santana's fingers.

Emma smiled softly at Rachel. "Well...no, not quite. We have to wait for the doctors to say it's okay for you to leave."

Rachel's eyes widened as she shook her head slightly. "But...but I wanna leave," she pleaded, her words coming out in a rush, "I don't wanna stay here again…I'm okay…you...you can tell them I'm okay…I don't need to…I don't need to stay here…just…just…tell them that…please...can you...can you tell them that…tell them I'm okay…tell them I can leave-"

"Rachel, stop." Santana's voice cut through Rachel's panicked words, firm and commanding. She grasped Rachel's hand, guiding her gently onto her lap, feeling the rapid rise and fall of Rachel's chest, the quivering of her smaller frame. Santana wrapped her arms around Rachel tightly, securing her sister in her arms.

"Rachel, breathe," Santana asserted, resting her chin on Rachel's head as she rocked her slightly, "Listen to me," She paused as she waited for Rachel's panicked pleas to silence as the little girl's attention settled on Santana, "We're going to leave the hospital….We're gonna go to Emma's house. But Hiram…he…he hurt you, munchkin. The doctors need to make sure you're okay. They need to make sure nothing else is wrong."

Rachel nodded as she reclined back against Santana's chest. Her breathing slowed and her heart rate normalized as she let her older sister's words wash over her. "I just…I really, really don't like it here," she whispered.

Santana sighed, resting her chin on Rachel's bowed head as her eyes fluttered closed against the tears that stung them. "Me too,"

Her little sister hadn't said why she wanted to leave so badly but Santana understood. Rachel didn't need to tell Santana why, not when her baby sister's panic was as familiar as Santana's own. Focusing on Rachel made it easier but she could feel the panic pressing against her lungs and coiling in her stomach, threatening to pull her under at any moment. It started with the familiar scent of the antiseptic that seemed to cloak the hospital bringing memories of Hiram creeping into her bedroom to the forefront of her mind and stealing sleep from her. She had laid awake all night, trembling and terrified, her body in the hospital but her mind somewhere else as she just waited for Hiram to appear. She repeated that he was gone, he was dead over and over like a mantra but his presence lingered on her skin and in her mind.

She had feigned sleep when the nurses entered Rachel's room as the first rays of light filtered into the hospital room and she had been forced to listen to them whispering about Hiram as if he had been some sort of saint. Their words clawed at her insides as she bit down on her cheek, the taste of blood mingling with her frustration, as she fought against the urge to shout at them, to tell them to get out. She wanted to tell them what a monster he had been and that their kind words about him were wasted on a man who was little more than a master manipulator and an architect of destruction.

She stayed silent as her body convulsed with silent sobs as she curled herself around Rachel protectively as the weight of how Hiram had fooled everyone crushed her underneath it. Santana hadn't been able to do anything at that moment but cry silently and cling to her baby sister, praying that Rachel stayed asleep. She cried for their mom and how Hiram's manipulation had ultimately led to her destruction. But mostly she cried for herself and her siblings and all the different ways Hiram had destroyed them and the people that they could've become if he had never existed in their lives.

Santana was knocked from her thoughts when Rachel suddenly shot bolt upright in Santana's lap, nearly knocking the top of her head against Santana's chin as she twisted to face her sister.

"My…my brother. Is he here? Did he sleep here?" Rachel asked frantically as if suddenly remembering something she misplaced.

"Your brother?" Santana teased with mock offense, reaching out a finger to tap Rachel on the nose. Rachel swatted at her hand and rolled her eyes, waiting expectantly for the answer to her question, "No, he didn't sleep here last night…he couldn't. He's with Quinn at Brittany's house."

"What about Noah?"

Santana's expression hardened the mischievous smile that had been playing on her lips only seconds before slipping from her face as she drew her lips into a tight line. "He went to Finn's house."

Rachel's gaze shifted away from Santana as she met Emma's eyes. She had nearly forgotten that their aunt was still there. "We're all coming to live with you right? All of us? Not just me and San…but all of us?"

"Of course, Rachel. All of you are going to come live with me and Will." Emma confirmed, her tone soft as she tried to convey reassurance to Rachel.

"Will…Mr. Schuester…you…you live together?" Santana questioned

Confusion clouded Emma's features as she frowned deeply. Santana had been angry, almost furious when she suggested Quinn and Blaine go home with Will the previous night. She thought Santana had understood. "Well yes…I thought…I thought you knew that."

"I forgot," Santana stated tersely, a blush coloring her cheeks as she glanced away from Emma.

She didn't know how she had forgotten that detail. Everything last night had been so confusing and chaotic but now it all made sense; Mr. Schuester and Emma showing up at the hospital together and Emma's suggestion that Quinn and Blaine go home with him, it all made sense. She didn't know how she had missed it. She wasn't sure if they could live with him. They didn't have any other options but living with Emma would be hard enough without adding Mr. Schuester into the equation. He was a stranger. She didn't know if she and her sisters could live with a strange man. The thought made Santana's skin prickle and her stomach turn in a way that made her vaguely uneasy.

Rachel's eyes darted between Emma and Santana. "Who's…who's Will?"

"My husband," Emma stated and at the same time Santana spat, "A freaking Spanish teacher."

Santana's head swiveled in Emma's direction as her aunt's words struck her. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Emma, "What? Since when?"

"This summer," Emma explained and Santana scoffed, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest, "We've only been married for a couple of months…it was a small ceremony at the courthouse but he is my husband."

Rachel watched the interaction between Emma and Santana with interest. She didn't understand how Santana seemed to know so much about their aunt and her husband but Rachel didn't even remember her. "How come…how come you know so much about them, San?"

Santana sighed, glancing down at Rachel. "I see them at school," she said, heat flooding her cheeks as she chewed on her lower lip. She didn't want Emma to know that she had always paid attention to her, "You didn't change your last name," she observed quietly.

Emma shrugged, remembering the familiar argument she and Will had been having since the ink dried on their marriage certificate. She hadn't changed her name because it was the last piece she had that connected her to the family she no longer had. She didn't want to explain that to her niece

"It wasn't necessary…and we didn't really want our marriage to become gossip at McKinley."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she muttered.

Rachel glanced down at her hands in her lap, picking at her cuticles. "Is he…is he nice?"

"Of course," Emma reassured Rachel.

"He's kind of a dork," Santana stated ignoring the glare Emma shot in her direction.

"If we come to live with you, does that mean…"Rachel started her words trailing off as she chewed her lower lip, her brow furrowed in concentration as she gathered her thoughts, "Does that mean you will be our parents now?"

"No," Emma and Santana responded in unison.

Rachel's frown deepened as she glanced between Emma and Santana. She didn't understand. Kids were supposed to have parents and her parents were gone. "But…but-"

"Your parents will always be your parents…even if they aren't here anymore….they'll always be your parents," Emma explained, "Will and I…we can't…we can't replace them…we wouldn't want to…but we'll take care of you…all of you…we'll make sure you're safe and that you have everything you need but we won't…we won't be your parents."

Rachel nodded, glancing down at her hands in her lap, "Do you…do you have kids?"

Emma chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No. Will and I have only been married for a little while. We don't have kids yet."

Rachel paused as she seemed to consider Emma's words, studying her hands intently before raising her eyes from her lap to meet her aunt's as she studied her seriously, "Do you even know how to take care of kids?"

Santana snorted beside her, her body shaking with silent laughter. She quickly disguised her laughter as a cough when Rachel glared up at her, shooting her sister an apologetic look, "Yeah, Emma, do you know how to take care of kids?" she repeated, unable to keep the amusement out of her eyes.

Emma rolled her eyes at her older niece before turning her attention back to Rachel, the small smile on her lips falling at the serious expression on the little girl's face. "Of course, we know how to take care of kids. Will's a teacher…I'm a guidance counselor…we take care of kids every day," she explained but Rachel just continued to regard her quietly, "You know…I used to be your favorite babysitter."

"You were our only babysitter," Santana sneered, the amusement falling from her face as her expression hardened into a scowl, "She was a baby…she doesn't remember that," she swallowed heavily as she looked down at her sister, pulling her closer to her side, "We aren't those little kids anymore."

Emma's eyes watered as guilt twisted in her abdomen, a sob rising in her throat as she glanced away from the girls to hide her tears, "I–I know."

Emma's shoulders slumped under the weight of anxiety as she observed the girls before her. The false confidence she had mustered moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of uncertainty and unease. Santana's reminder was unnecessary; Emma was acutely aware that the children sitting in front of her were far removed from the carefree souls she had once known. Emma recognized that they had been shaped by tragedy and abuse, visible in the physical marks they bore. Yet, she knew there was an untold depth of pain and suffering that they kept hidden, concealed behind walls of mistrust and guardedness.

She had witnessed the transformation two years ago when Santana first arrived at McKinley, the haunted and guarded look in her eyes, so different from the innocent child she had once been. In her more honest moments, she knew it started well before she had been forced out of their lives. The subtle changes she had recognized in the children when Shelby married Hiram and fell into the depths of depression after the twins' birth had fully taken root. The once carefree innocence the older kids had exuded as young children had twisted and turned making them subdued and protective, protective over secrets that they had been unwilling to share. She wished she could take it all back. She should've fought harder. She shouldn't have let Shelby force her from their lives so easily. She told Rachel she knew how to take care of children but she wasn't sure she knew how to take care of these kids.

"Where…where were you?" Rachel asked quietly, her quiet question cutting the thick tension that had fallen in the room like a knife.

Emma drew in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes before meeting Rachel's gaze. "What-what do you mean?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders, "You're our family…you're our mom's sister…you said you babysat us when I was a baby…but I don't…I don't remember you…where were you?" she whispered as she leaned into Santana's side, her eyes searching Emma's face.

Rachel's words pierced Emma's heart like a knife as the tears she had managed to swallow seconds before fell down her cheeks and the lump in her throat grew until it felt like it was choking her. She could feel Santana's eyes on her face and her gaze felt like fire on her skin, like she was being burned from the inside out. She didn't know how to explain any of what happened to Rachel or if there was even an explanation that would satisfy the little girl.

Emma wiped at the tear that fell down her cheeks, biting down on her quivering lower lip in an attempt to stem the flow of tears, "Rachel…I…I don't….it's…it's complicated," she managed to choke out.

"Not that complicated…you left," Santana muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her aunt.

Anger flared in her chest as heat spread across her skin at the sight of Emma's tears. Emma shouldn't be crying. She didn't get to cry when she was the one who left them. There was nothing complicated about any of it. Emma had abandoned them just like everyone, just like her dad and their grandmother. She shouldn't be crying now. Rachel may have only been a baby when Emma left them but Santana hadn't been. She remembered everything.

Santana leaned against the kitchen doorway studying her aunt carefully as she cleaned the dishes from lunch. Santana could see Emma's shoulders shaking and she was pretty sure her aunt had washed the same plate for the last five minutes or however long it was that Santana had been standing in the doorway. Santana knew Emma was crying but was trying to hide it from them.

"Aunt Emma?"

Emma flinched nearly dropping the plate she was washing back into the soapy water. "San-Santana," she stammered, clearing her throat," I thought you were watching a movie."

Santana shrugged. "It's boring," she muttered as she shoved away from the doorframe and entered the kitchen, coming to stand beside Emma, "I've seen it like a million times…Quinn makes us watch it like every other day," Emma chuckled softly but it sounded sad and Santana didn't miss the way that her aunt wiped at her eyes, "I'm sorry my mom made you sad."

Emma sighed, setting the plate she was holding down gently before gripping the edge of the counter tightly. "It's not…I'm not…." she started before trailing off.

Santana felt her stomach squirm uncomfortably as she watched her aunt struggle. She had forced Noah to eavesdrop on her aunt and their mom earlier but they had all been able to hear them yelling. They had all heard their mom yelling at Emma to leave and telling her that every bad thing that had happened was because of Emma. She knew what was coming next. She knew why her aunt was crying but saying it out loud would make it real.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"I have to, San…I have to go back to school…I don't...I don't live here."

Santana felt frustration bubbling up in her chest and she clenched her fists by her side. "That's not what I meant," she practically growled.

"I know," Emma sighed, "Your mom's upset…she needs space…we both do."

"Sisters fight but they always make up," Santana mumbled, parroting the familiar words her mom said to her and Quinn when they fought, "You could just tell her you're sorry."

"It's not that easy…I wish it was."

"But-but we need you," Santana pleaded, her words frantic as her heart pounded furiously in her chest, "Mom needs you too…she won't…she won't tell you she does…she's sad…she's sad and that makes her say a lot of things she doesn't mean…but she does need you….Hiram is-"

Santana bit down hard on her lip to keep the words from tumbling out. She couldn't tell Emma about Hiram. She knew that's why her mom was mad at Emma. Her mom was mad because of the hospital and her broken arm. Hiram had broken their mom's arm and then social workers showed up at their house and her mom and Hiram thought it was all Emma's fault. But Emma would never have known about any of it if Santana hadn't called her so it was a little bit Santana's fault too. She couldn't tell Emma about Hiram's punishments or their fights and how sometimes her mom had bruises on her skin. It would only make everything worse just like after the social workers came.

"Hiram is what, Santana?"

Santana glanced away from Emma, picking at the countertop with her thumbnail "Nothing," she said, licking her lips, "They just…they fight sometimes…and she gets sad…and we don't know how to make her feel better….but you...you always know how to fix her."

Emma turned off the faucet, wiping her hands on a dish towel before regarding Santana seriously. "Santana, are you sure that's it?" she questioned softly, "If Hiram's doing something…if he is hurting her or you," Emma paused, drawing in a deep breath and waiting for Santana's attention to turn towards her, "If he's doing something that scares you or makes you uncomfortable…you can tell me."

Santana shook her head vehemently, backing away from Emma. "He's not…it's not that," she lied, hoping Emma wouldn't recognize her deception before sighing, "It's just…she's sad…she's sad all the time…like before….like when Blaine and Rachel were born…and I don't know how to make it better."

She wanted to tell Emma everything but she knew she couldn't. She couldn't tell anyone. If she told the social workers would come back and maybe this time they would take them away. She knew if that happened they would be separated at least that's what Hiram had told them the last time. She didn't know who would care for Quinn or the twins if Santana wasn't there. Santana and Noah took care of them and they couldn't do that if they got separated. She couldn't tell Emma everything but maybe she could convince her aunt to stay.

"Santana, you're nine…you're a kid…that's not your responsibility," Emma whispered.

Santana's eyes watered as she met Emma's gaze, her chin quivering as she attempted to hold back the tears that stung her eyes, "But if you aren't here….who's going to?"

Emma dropped to her knees in front of Santana, cupping Santana's cheeks, "I think…I think this time your mom may have to figure out how to feel better on her own," she explained, sighing when Santana's eyebrows knit in confusion, "I know that doesn't make a lot of sense…but sometimes…sometimes adults have to figure these things out for themselves."

Santana shook her head, "What if she can't? What if she doesn't know how?" she questioned, her voice trembling as a tear fell down her cheek, "You're her sister….sisters are supposed to stick together…no matter what."

"She doesn't want my help," Emma spat bitterly, "She told me-"

"I-I know what she said…I heard her…you were really loud," Santana explained, pulling away from Emma, "She didn't...she didn't mean it….she's just mad...she only said that 'cause she's mad...she says a lot of things she doesn't mean when she's mad."

"Santana-"

"No!" Santana exclaimed, pushing away from Emma and crossing her arms over her chest. Her heart was racing in her chest and she felt like she couldn't breathe. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that her mom was making Emma leave. Their mom always did this, "You can fix this…you can tell her you're sorry…she'll...she'll forgive you…she can't stay mad forever."

"You're right…she won't be mad forever…that's why I need to give her space…she needs time, sweetheart," Emma explained, "She needs time to not be so mad anymore."

Santana's shoulders slumped as she studied her feet. She knew it wasn't going to work. She knew no matter what she said the outcome was always going to be the same. Emma was going to leave. She was going to leave them and they would be stuck with Hiram and their mom and all of her sadness that Santana didn't know how to fix.

"I-I don't want you to leave," Santana murmured, her eyes welling with tears as her lower lip trembled. She could feel the sadness squeezing her heart but she didn't want to cry. She wanted to be mad at her mom and at Emma because they were adults. They were supposed to be the grown-ups. They were supposed to be the grown-ups. Grown-ups were supposed to protect kids. They weren't supposed to leave them alone. They weren't supposed to fight.

Emma reached for Santana, pulling her into her arms. Santana relaxed into the embrace, hooking her chin over Emma's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut as tears trickled down her cheeks. "I know, sweetie, I know," Emma soothed, rubbing her hands up and down Santana's back, "It'll only be for a little while."

Everyone said that before they left. Her dad had said the same thing to her and Noah before he left. He told them he was just going away for a little while. He promised that he would bring them to visit but he never came back. Their nana didn't even say goodbye. She just got into a fight with their mom about Hiram and they stopped seeing her. She still sent them birthday cards and Christmas presents but they didn't go to her house anymore and she never came to theirs. Everyone always said it would just be for a little while but a little while felt like forever.

"What if it doesn't work?' Santana whispered through her tears, "What if you give her time and it..it doesn't work?"

She felt Emma sigh as her aunt pulled away from her slightly. Emma placed her hands on Santana's cheeks, forcing Santana to meet her eyes as she smiled weakly. "Your mom and I are sisters, remember? And sisters stick together," she reminded Santana. Santana just shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands before wrapping her arms around Emma's neck and leaning into her. She held tight, wanting her aunt to feel how much they needed her, and force her to stay but she knew she couldn't. She was starting to think her mom was lying to her every time she said that because her mom had said family stuck together too but everyone Santana loved always seemed to leave.

"Santana," Emma murmured, her voice filled with remorse as it trembled dangerously.

Santana glanced over at Emma. She could see Emma's eyes swimming with tears and shining with something else. Her aunt had the same look on her face that the doctors and nurses all wore when they looked at them. It wasn't quite sympathy or even really pity but something else. She heard it in Emma's voice as well, how gently she had spoken Santana's name, barely above a whisper as her voice trembled with emotion.

"Don't," Santana spat, her eyes narrowing before she turned away from Emma, looking out the window.

Emma was going to apologize and Santana didn't want to hear it. Emma didn't just get to apologize like that was going to fix anything. Emma had told Santana that she would only be gone for a little while and it had been seven years. No apology could erase any of that. She didn't want to hear Emma's bullshit apology two years ago and she didn't want to hear it now. She couldn't just say sorry and think that it would change anything. Apologies didn't mean shit when everything would still be fucked. Emma couldn't take back anything that had happened in the last seven years so any apology she offered would be for her and not for them. She couldn't take any of it back and Santana wasn't going to let her try.

"Why…why did you leave?" Rachel questioned quietly.

"I…It was a mistake," Emma responded fiercely but although she was answering Rachel's question her words were directed toward Santana, "Your mom and I…we…it was a mistake," she repeated, her voice softer now as her gaze settled on Rachel who was regarding her with innocent curiosity, "I should've been there…I should've been there and I…I wasn't. I can't…I can't change that," Emma drew in a shaky breath as her gaze softened, "I know I can't change anything that already happened but I promise that I will be here for you all from now on."

Rachel chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully as she mulled over her aunt's promise, her gaze drifting away from Emma. "Grown-ups break promises all the time," she whispered.

She didn't know if she could trust Emma. Her parents had promised them a lot of things and they had always broken those promises. Her dad had promised he would never hurt her again after the first time he had used his belt on her but he had never stopped. He had punished her almost every day. He bought her gifts and promised each time would be the last but there never was an end. Her mom had made promises too. They weren't the same as the promises her dad made but she broke them too. She would promise to watch a movie with Rachel or do a project or help Rachel with her homework but she would take her medicine or drink her funny-smelling juice and she always forgot.

Emma's response was abruptly cut off by the sound of the door swinging open, the sudden entrance capturing everyone's attention. A small, dark-haired figure burst into the room, interrupting the conversation.

"Blaine!" Rachel exclaimed, her excitement evident as she locked eyes with her brother. "Where'd you come from?"

Blaine paid little attention to Rachel's question, instead focusing on his mission as he climbed onto the foot of the bed. With determined agility, he made his way up to the top, squeezing himself snugly between his two sisters.

"Ugh, Blaine," Santana grumbled, scowling at her mischievous younger brother, as he used her stomach for leverage, and the toe of his sneaker accidentally caught her in the shin. "Watch it."

Blaine remained silent, finding his place between his sisters. Rachel erupted into laughter, thoroughly amused by her brother's playful antics and Santana's disapproving expression. She enveloped Blaine in a tight hug, once he was settled against her side. Blaine then turned his gaze to Santana, his eyes wide and apologetic.

Santana rolled her eyes as she ruffled his hair affectionately. "Yeah, yeah, I know you're sorry," she stated and he smiled widely, "But you need to be careful, okay? Rachel's hurt, so you have to be really careful around her until she gets better."

Blaine nodded solemnly as he glanced at Rachel carefully.

"I'm okay," Rachel reassured her brother, managing a weak smile, "It only hurts a little bit."

The door flew open again causing Blaine and Rachel to flinch and cower closer to Santana as Quinn appeared. Her chest heaved as her eyes frantically darted around the room before settling on Blaine nestled into the bed between Rachel and Santana. "Blaine!" she barked, her tone harsh even as it quivered with anxiety.

"Quinn," Santana warned, her gaze flickering to their two younger siblings.

"He ran away from me, San," Quinn explained, "He just…he took off. He can't do that. I didn't even know if he knew where he was going. He needs to stay where we can see him. He can't just take off like that."

"225…I was going to room 225," Blaine repeated, remembering the room number that they were given at the front desk. He hadn't meant to run away from Quinn but she was walking too slowly and he wanted to see Rachel. He was old enough to read the numbers on the doors until he found the right one.

"Blaine, you can't do that…even if you think you know where you're going, you always have to stay with one of us. Got it?" Santana reprimanded. Blaine nodded, his eyes watering as his lips trembled, "Good. Now apologize to Quinn for freaking her out."

"Sorry, Quinn," Blaine whispered.

"Yeah, whatever," Quinn grumbled as she made her way to the window, swinging herself up to sit on the windowsill.

Emma watched the interaction between the kids with interest. She was struck by how effortlessly they were able to communicate with hardly speaking. She watched as Rachel reassured Blaine but she hadn't even heard him ask a question. She saw how easily Santana managed to quell Quinn's panic and scold Blaine without even missing a beat. There was so much she was going to have to learn about them. She glanced toward the door again expecting to see Mrs. Pierce or Brittany arrive next.

"How did you kids get here?" Emma questioned. She knew Quinn was too young to drive but she also didn't see any adults with them either.

Quinn shrugged. "Noah picked us up."

As if on cue, the door swung open again revealing Noah and Will. Noah's arms were laden with sodas and snacks, his trademark smirk on his face as he swept his eyes over his siblings. He made a big show of carrying his bounty into the room.

Santana rolled her eyes as she watched Noah juggling the unnecessary amount of cheap vending machine snacks in his arms. "Did you just hit every vending machine in the hospital?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Noah shrugged as he placed the assorted snacks on the bedside tray, "We needed a variety…you can't have a vending machine breakfast without options."

"Yeah, I definitely think you accomplished that," Santana remarked.

"So that must mean you don't want any of this deliciousness, San?" Noah questioned, sweeping one arm out wildly, gesturing as if he was displaying a prize on a game show.

Santana shook her head, rolling her eyes at her brother. Her stomach had been in knots since the night before. She wasn't sure she would even be able to eat even if she was hungry. The thought of food made her stomach churn uncomfortably as she fought the urge to gag.

"Noah, did you bring anything for me?" Rachel asked, her eyes trained on the snacks laid out on the table as she pushed herself forward on her knees. Her stomach still ached with hunger and the snacks Noah brought looked much more appealing than cold oatmeal and runny eggs.

Noah brought one finger to his chin, studying the goodies on the table as he feigned serious contemplation of Rachel's question, "Hmm….I actually think I forgot to get something for you," he said seriously, turning to Rachel with an apologetic look on his face, "Sorry."

"Noah, that's not fair," Rachel whined, pouting as she glared at him crossing her arms over her chest, "There's no way you can eat all of that by yourself."

"Ugh, don't look at me like that, Rach," Noah groaned, reaching for a packet of cookies on the table and handing them to his sister, "It was just a joke"

Rachel pouted as she tore open the package of cookies, "It was mean," she retorted.

"Well if I'm so mean, I guess I can just take these back," Noah suggested, reaching for the cookies in her hand, Rachel squealed in protest, scrambling further up the bed as she held the cookies out of reach of her older brother's grasp. Noah winced as their game halted when Santana reached over and smacked Noah on the back of the head gently.

Santana glowered at her brother as he rubbed at his head, glaring at Santana. "Knock it off, jackass. She has a concussion."

"That's a bad word, San." Rachel and Blaine scolded in unison.

"Yeah, San, that's a bad word," Noah mocked. He smirked as Santana struck out at him again. He laughed when he managed to narrowly avoid Santana's hand and her forward momentum nearly caused her to topple off the narrow hospital bed. Santana huffed, quickly righting herself as she scowled at her laughing brother.

Quinn hopped down from the windowsill, rolling her eyes at her older siblings, "You're both idiots," she stated haughtily as she mulled over the selection of treats on the table. She snagged a candy bar for herself before tossing a bag of Skittles to Blaine. Blaine smiled brightly as he tore the bag open.

Will watched as the kids ate their snacks in silence. His eyes drifted from them to the uneaten breakfast on the tray beside the junk food Noah had brought, "Y'know guys maybe we shouldn't be filling up on junk before you've even eaten breakfast," he suggested. He shifted uncomfortably as every eye in the room turned towards him and Emma nudged his ribs with her elbow. The easy atmosphere of only moments before had shifted and the room was filled with a tension that seemed to crackle in the air.

Emma shot him a look before turning to the children. "It's fine," she said smiling softly at Blaine and Rachel. The youngest two children had stopped eating at Will's suggestion, studying them both warily as if waiting to be scolded for breaking a rule that they didn't know existed. She watched as they shrugged before continuing to munch on their snacks silently.

Emma ignored the look Will shot her when she didn't follow his lead and reprimand the children. She knew she shouldn't let them fill up on junk food when Rachel had only eaten one grape for breakfast but at least they were eating. They had no control over anything that happened to them the previous evening but she could at least let them control what they chose to put into their bodies. It was nice to watch them just be kids for a few moments. She was able to catch glimpses of the children she remembered in Santana and Noah's playful teasing and Quinn's annoyance at her older siblings despite the trauma and fear that she knew they were still experiencing. She wanted to bottle that moment up and preserve it for them before reality came crashing back down and if letting them eat junk food for breakfast accomplished that she wasn't going to tell them no.

Her attention was drawn back to Rachel when the little girl let out a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a sob. The package of cookies she had been happily eating moments before lay forgotten in her lap as she bowed her head nearly to her chest, one hand pressed to her forehead.

"Rach, you okay?" Santana probed gently, having noticed the same shift in Rachel's demeanor that Emma observed.

Rachel shook her head, wincing when the throbbing in her temples increased at the slight movement. She shut her eyes tightly against the pain and the sudden wave of sickness that washed over her. She thought if she stayed really still maybe the pain would go away, "I-I don't feel good…my….my head really hurts," she whimpered, her voice strained as tears ran down her cheeks, the pressure of the tears causing the pain in her head to increase as her stomach started to churn with nausea, "I feel sick."

Santana brushed Rachel's hair away from her face and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. Her skin had taken on a sickly pallor, every muscle in her face drawn and tense. Santana sighed as she pulled Rachel into her lap. Rachel buried her face in Santana's shirt, her entire body convulsing with a combination of pain and tears.

"Are you gonna throw up, Rach?" Blaine questioned, his tone frantic as he scrambled off the bed, watching Rachel warily. Rachel whimpered again at the jostling of the bed as it caused her head to spin and her stomach to flip. She focused on breathing, clinging tightly to Santana as she waited for the sick feeling to pass.

Blaine raced to Quinn's side, wrapping his arms around Quinn's leg as he rested his cheek against the rough material of her jeans, his eyes wide as he studied Rachel. He didn't want Rachel to be sick. He didn't want to be in the hospital room anymore.

"Quinn, Noah, why don't you take Blaine down to the playroom at the end of the hall?" Emma suggested as she pressed the call light on the remote control. She could see Blaine's panic in the way he clung to Quinn, his eyes wide as saucers as he stared at Rachel.

"No…I don't want to go to the playroom! I wanna stay here with Rachel! I'll be quiet, I swear. I don't need to leave." Blaine protested, his voice raised to nearly a shout as he shook his head vehemently.

Rachel flinched at the loudness of Blaine's protests, "Too loud," she mumbled, raising her hands to cover her ears, pressing her face tighter to Santana's chest.

Santana glanced over at her younger brother as she pulled Rachel closer to her, "Go, Blaine, please," she urged. Blaine opened his mouth to protest, still shaking his head, "Rachel doesn't feel well…she needs quiet…you can come right back."

"C'mon, dude," Noah said, ruffling Blaine's hair before taking his hand and leading him toward the door.

"But I don't wanna go," Blaine mumbled, his shoulders slumped as he glanced back at Santana, his eyes wet and wounded.

Will shifted uncomfortably beside Emma as he studied the girls in front of him, running a hand over his hair, "I'm just…I'm going to go with them."

"We don't need a babysitter," Quinn spat over her shoulder as Will followed them out of the hospital room.

Rachel sagged against Santana once her siblings left the room, the silence enveloping her like a hug and soothing away some of the pain in her head. Everything was too loud and too bright, she just wanted it all to go away. She wanted her head to stop hurting. She just wanted to feel better.

"So, Miss Rachel, what's going on this morning?" A voice asked from above her. Rachel peeked one eye open from where she rested against Santana's chest and saw a nurse and a doctor standing beside the bed.

Rachel let out another whimper, shaking her head slowly as she fisted her hands in Santana's shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. She didn't want to tell them she didn't feel good. She felt like there were a million tiny little people in her head, pounding against her brain and her skull, or maybe they were playing the drums. She could feel the pressure behind her eyes increasing with every drumbeat until she thought her head might just pop off her shoulders and float away. Her stomach was still swirling with nausea and she felt kind of funny like when Blaine spun her too fast on the tire swing at the park. She didn't want to tell the doctor and nurse how she felt. They might make her stay here again and she didn't want to be here. She wanted to be in her bed at her house.

Santana let out a shaky breath as Rachel continued to cling to her. Santana's eyes swept over the adults that had gathered in the room, pausing when her eyes settled on Noah near the door. She didn't know when her brother had come back to the room. He couldn't be here. Rachel had struggled with even the doctors examining her last night. She wouldn't be able to deal with Noah being here as well. She shook her head at him, mouthing at him to go. She held his gaze as he shook his head in response crossing her arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall near the door. She blew out a frustrated breath at his refusal to leave before her attention shifted back to Rachel.

"Rach, they're here to help you….they can make you feel better. You have to let them help you," Santana soothed but Rachel just continued to shake her head, "C'mon, Rach, I'll be right here with you the whole time."

Santana rubbed her hands up and down Rachel's back in an effort to soothe her and comfort her. Her movements stopped when Rachel let out a whimper and tried to pull away from Santana's touch. Santana dropped her hands to the bed as Rachel pulled away from her. Santana had forgotten. She had forgotten about the bruises on Rachel's skin. She felt sadness settle in her chest because she wanted to comfort Rachel but she couldn't even touch her without hurting her. She met Noah's eyes over the top of Rachel's head and saw him swallow convulsively in response to Rachel's discomfort, his eyes falling to the floor before he quickly left the room. She felt pressure in her throat and behind her eyes as she bowed her head to Rachel's, whispering a soft apology into her younger sister's hair.

"Rachel, do you think you're ready to talk to us now?" the doctor questioned but Rachel remained impassive, silent, and still in Santana's arms. It was almost as if she thought if she stayed statue still they would leave her alone.

"You have to let them help you, munchkin," Santana whispered against the shell of Rachel's ear, "They'll give you medicine…it'll make you feel better."

Rachel nodded, lifting her head from Santana's chest as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She squinted her eyes against the sudden brightness and the way her pulse pounded fiercely in her temples again. She didn't want to talk to the doctor but she wanted to feel better. Santana leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Rachel's forehead as Rachel moved off of her lap. Santana moved to stand but Rachel grasped her arm tightly, keeping her in place.

"So, little miss, your aunt tells me you aren't feeling well this morning." The nurse said, a sympathetic smile on her face as she tried to draw Rachel's attention to her.

Rachel shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the bed, using one finger to trace the geometric patterns on her hospital gown. "I…my head hurts…my tummy feels weird…but I'm okay," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears once again, "I just wanna go home."

"Well how about I give you some medicine for that headache and stomachache and then Dr. Dan's going to do a real quick exam…after that, we can see about getting you home. How does that sound?"

Rachel nodded. She didn't really want to take gross medicine or let the doctor examine her again but she would if that meant she could leave the hospital. She would do whatever they wanted if it meant she didn't have to spend another night in the hospital. She studied the nurse closely as she handed Rachel a small plastic cup with liquid medicine. She wanted to ask the nurse if she knew her dad. The same question had been pressing against her mind all morning but she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. She winced as the bitter liquid hit her tongue, fighting the urge to gag.

"I'm going to examine you now," Dr. Dan explained to Rachel as he approached the bed.

Rachel shrank back against the pillows, her heart sinking as her shoulders slumped. She released her grip on Santana's hand in favor of gripping the edge of the hospital gown where it covered her knees. She knew he was going to look at her back again. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as her heart beat furiously in her chest. She didn't like them looking at the marks her dad had left on her. She didn't like the way they looked at her after they saw what her dad had done. Everyone got sad and quiet and it made her stomach hurt. It made her want to disappear. Each bruise and mark was a reminder of something she had done wrong, something she had done to make him mad. She tried to explain it to the detective and social worker the night before but no one listened. They all thought her dad was bad but Rachel was the one who broke the rules. He told her was only trying to make her better. It was her fault too but no one was listening to her.

She tried to focus hard on her breathing and let her mind drift somewhere else. She tried to focus on being somewhere safe and warm where Dr. Dan wasn't shining a bright light in her eyes, making her head hurt worse as white spots danced across her vision long after the light was removed from her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured herself at her house and her mom was there. Her mom was happy and smiling and they were watching a movie in her mom's room, Rachel laying in her mom's big bed with her mom's arms wrapped around her. Suppressing a soft sob, she pretended that the doctor's hands were those of her mother, tenderly caressing her back like she used to when Rachel was younger and she couldn't sleep. The tears cascaded down her cheeks, unstoppable, as the doctor's clinical touches sharply contrasted with the memory of her mother's soothing touch, the memory she clung to with all her might.

Santana twisted her hands in her lap as she watched the doctor examine her little sister. She wanted to reach for Rachel's hand as she watched her baby sister cry and shake beside her but Rachel didn't want to hold her hand. Rachel had pulled away from Santana and the abruptness of the action made Santana's chest ache. She could feel the shame radiating off of the smaller girl as the doctor manipulated her limp limbs and Rachel kept her eyes tightly shut. Santana felt the pressure of tears building behind her eye sockets and she shut her eyes tightly against them as she turned toward the wall. She could still hear Rachel whimpering and sniffling beside her and she wanted to cover her ears and block it out. She could feel the familiar guilt curdling in her stomach at the pain in Rachel's whimpers and soft sobs served as a reminder of her failure to protect her little sister.

"All done," Dr. Dan announced when he was done with the exam, pulling the back of Rachel's gown closed, "You were very brave, Rachel."

Rachel felt all the tension release from her limb as the doctor expertly tied her gown closed. Something in her chest crumbled at the doctor's words, the tears falling faster down her cheeks. She felt the sobs she had been suppressing building in her chest as she pitched forward at the waist, pressing her face tightly against her knees.

"Hey, you're okay, little one," Santana murmured, reaching for her little sister, running her hand over Rachel's touseled hair, "It's okay….it's over…you're okay."

Santana attempted to gather Rachel into her arms but Rachel pulled away from her, shaking her head as she continued to cry. Rachel didn't want Santana to hold her. She wanted her mom. She wanted to go back to the place in her mind where her mom was alive and happy. Rachel knew it was only a memory but it felt real. It felt more real than her mom being gone. She wasn't sure that her mom being gone would ever feel real. She wasn't ready to let go of the memory of her mom rubbing her back and running her fingers through her hair. She was afraid if she let Santana hold her, it would chase away the memory of her mom.

Santana felt the sting of Rachel's rejection in her chest. She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks as she continued to run her fingers through Rachel's hair, not wanting Emma and the doctor to see how deeply Rachel's rejection stung. She bit her lip and clenched her jaw, pretending that Rachel's rejection of her comfort didn't bother her and that she didn't deserve it. Rachel was here in the hospital because of Santana. She was here because Santana hadn't been fast enough to protect them. Hiram had been able to hurt Rachel because Santana wasn't there to keep her safe. She had left Rachel alone with him every day. She didn't deserve to be the one comforting Rachel when she bore some responsibility for all that her little sister had suffered at the hands of her father.

"So we are going to go ahead and discharge Rachel," Dr. Dan told Emma, drawing her attention away from the girls.

Emma nodded, wiping at her eyes as she made eye contact with the doctor, "You're…you're sure? She's okay?"

"Concussions take a while to heal…she'll heal better at home. We don't have a reason to keep her here," Dr. Dan explained, "She'll need to be on cognitive rest for at least a week," Emma's eyebrows knit in confusion, "No screens. No school. No physical activities or sports. Just keep her calm and quiet. Let her sleep when she wants. You can give her Tylenol or Motrin for headaches and if she has any increase in symptoms bring her back to the ER. You should set up an appointment with her pediatrician in the next couple of days."

"What about…what about her other…her other injuries?" Emma stammered, glancing away from Santana who was watching her carefully.

"It's mostly bruising...but a lot of the bruises are starting to heal. There are some open wounds that have scabbed over. I would just keep an eye on them…you can use Neosporin to help them heal and prevent infection."

"I can do it," Santana interrupted.

"Santana," Emma warned.

"She's my sister. I'll take care of it." Santana spat.

Emma just sighed wearily. She didn't have the energy to argue with Santana. She just wanted to get the kids home. The last twelve hours were some of the most exhausting of her life and she could only imagine how difficult they had been for the kids. She hadn't forgotten Rachel's panic at the thought of staying in the hospital for another night. Her stomach churned uncomfortably as the anxiety over what came next started to build under her skin.

She wasn't sure she and Will were ready for what came next. Her nieces and nephews were virtual strangers to her at this point and there was so much she didn't know or understand about what they had gone through in the last seven years. She didn't know if she would be able to be what they needed or if they would ever trust her enough to let her in. The fear of failure was nearly paralyzing, making Emma question everything but at the end of everything, they were still the children she loved and they needed her even if it wasn't her that they wanted. She would push through her anxiety and her fear of not being enough if that meant that they would be safe.

"I'm going to go get the paperwork started. Feel better, Rachel." Dr. Dan said as he and the nurse left the room.

Emma nodded, her gaze once again drifting to the girls on the bed. Rachel's body was still convulsing with silent tears and Emma could see how tense Santana appeared as she too watched Rachel cry, frozen in her inability to comfort her younger sister. Emma could almost sense the anxiety and shame radiating off of her oldest niece. "Santana, I'm going to let Will know what's going on. I'll be right back."

The older girl didn't look at her, just hummed in acknowledgment her eyes still trained on her younger sister. Rachel's tears had slowed and she was no longer sobbing but she still had her head buried in her knees and she didn't look up as Emma left the room.

"Rachel," Santana tried again once Emma left the room, "Talk to me, munchkin. You're freaking me out."

"Don't wanna talk," Rachel mumbled into her legs, "Tired."

Rachel sniffled as she straightened up, leaning back against the pillows. She didn't know if it was the medication or her tears that were making her so tired but her eyelids felt heavy and she was struggling just to keep them open. She yawned widely as her eyes fluttered closed. Her limbs felt heavy and she didn't know if she could keep her eyes open for one second more, exhaustion covering her like a thick blanket as sleep pulled her under.

Santana sighed, curling onto her side next to Rachel. She studied the tear tracks on Rachel's cheeks and how her little sister's features still seemed tense even in sleep. She wanted to wipe the tension from her sister's face but she settled for wrapping one arm around Rachel's midsection as the little girl's breathing slowed and evened out. Santana let her eyes fall closed as well, her forehead resting against the side of Rachel's head. She wanted to take it all away from Rachel. Rachel and Blaine had always been her responsibility but she didn't know how to fix this for them. She wanted to take away Rachel's pain, the bruises that marred her skin, and Blaine's memories from that night but she couldn't. All of this should've been Santana's burden to carry, never theirs.

She propped herself up on her elbow studying Rachel's features as she gently wiped the tear tracks from her cheeks. Rachel snuffled in her sleep, wrinkling her brow at the sensation of Santana's fingers against her skin. Santana smiled gently even as her eyes watered, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her gaze fell on the bruising that marred her little sister's cheek. Rachel was so little. Rachel didn't deserve any of this. Santana should've been there. She left her little sister in that house with a monster every single day and she thought Rachel was safe because that monster was her father. He had been hurting Rachel and Rachel kept it a secret to protect Santana. Even now she didn't know what other secrets her little sister was keeping and she hated it. She felt sobs burning in her chest, pressing her lips together tightly to keep them contained as she lay back beside Rachel. She wouldn't leave her or Blaine again even if Hiram was gone, they were still her responsibility and she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. She would be there to make sure no one had the opportunity to hurt them again.

*Loved it, hated it, let me know*