Together we will rise

by Jinxgirl

Post Glee, canon through season 5 and then AU after. About a year after Brittany and Santana have broken up, Brittany learns of a traumatic incident Santana endured and the suffering she's going through. Their paths draw together again as together they work to rebuild their lives- and eventually, their relationship. Trigger warning: incident of rape/physical assault, homophobia

15. Chapter 15

She noticed Santana was shaking as the entered the building, a low, pre-war office building from the looks of it. Brittany mentally noted that they probably could've walked, which may have been a future option as a way to calm Santana before and after her appointments, walking home and getting fresh air. They kept their hands linked up the elevator ride and down the hall through the door, where Santana shocked her by stepping in first. Blissfully, the waiting room only had two other people in it, and Brittany placed her hand on Santana's back, guiding her to the little check in window.

"We're here for Doctor Stevens," She said politely, fishing both their wallets out of her bag and handing over their licenses, "For Santana Lopez."

The receptionist clicked a few things on the computer before returning their licenses and holding out a clipboard to Santana, which Brittany took, guiding them over to the corner chairs, pushing Santana into the corner one and sitting beside her, throwing her a comforting glance.

The clipboard on her lap held pretty basic medical and identity questions, all of which Brittany could fill out for Santana, circling this, checking that box, finally handing it over to Santana to mark her own signature. "You okay?" She asked, for what seemed like the millionth time that morning.

Santana couldn't find words to respond to the receptionist when she asked for her name and was relieved when Brittany did this for her, also getting her license for her. If Brittany could do all the talking for her the entire time she was in this damn building, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. If only.

She was glad when Brittany chose a chair far apart from the other two people in the waiting room, although neither looked remotely threatening. She didn't pay any attention to what Brittany was writing, her legs jogging restlessly in her chair as she sat perched on the edge, alert and hyper aware to everything around her. The waiting room was nice enough, with colorful paintings that Santana was pretty sure were Van Gogh of scenery and flowers. She wasn't sure what she thought about that given that the dude had apparently cut off his ear and committed suicide, but maybe that was the point? Subtly marking this place as one for crazy people? Or was she overthinking it?

There were plenty of magazines and tissue boxes, all which Santana ignored, and a corner table with coloring books, crayons, and a small selection of toys for children. Santana had never considered children needing to come to counseling before, and the thought of it was somewhat horrifying to her. She couldn't even begin to imagine a child enduring anything similar to what she had, and the thought made her heart wrench with anger and grief, which she didn't realize showed on her face as she stared in the direction of the children's area.

She didn't hear when Brittany asked her if she was okay, lost in her own head. She did take the clipboard when Brittany handed it to her and signed mechanically, letting Brittany turn it back in for her and keeping her eyes trained on her until Brittany returned to her seat beside her. That seemed like far too long for her to take those few steps there and back, separating them.

When a woman in her late thirties with long dark hair came to the waiting room and called Santana's name, Santana jumped, going stiff and silent. She recognized her from her picture on the website, and although the woman gave her a warm smile as she waited, Santana's heart leapt to her throat. She grasped Brittany tightly with both hands, unsure at first if she would be able to stand and walk.

"Ms. Lopez? I'm Kate Stevens, but you can call me Kate rather than Dr. Stevens if that makes you more comfortable," the woman addressed her, not commenting on Santana's lack of response. "And please feel free to bring anyone back with you that you wish to," she turned her smile towards Brittany, directly welcoming her back as well.

Santana stood slowly, not releasing her grip on Brittany, and with slow, uncertain steps followed the woman to the door and down the hallway to her office. The entire time she walked she was merging more and more against Brittany, until by the time Kate opened the door to her office and gestured for them to go ahead of her inside, Santana was practically getting Brittany to carry her.

The office was a large enough size and free of clutter so that Santana didn't feel closed in, with two windows on two different walls. They had blinds partly open and transparent currents. Santana was surprised that there was no official looking desk for Kate to sit at, and though there was a couch, there were also two other chairs that resembled rocking lazy-boys, and a small coffee table between with a box of fidget toys, a package of colored pencils, blank paper, and an adult coloring book. There was a bookshelf against one wall filled with books, but also interesting paperweights, what looked like weighted stuffed animals, and some folded blankets. The lighting of the room was neither too dark nor too bright, and there was some sort of scent coming from a diffuser on the shelf that Santana didn't identify but didn't find unpleasant.

It didn't look like a horrible, scary place. Still, Santana blurted out first thing, "What am I supposed to do, lay on the couch and tell you all my crazy while you nod and say uh huh and ask about my childhood? I didn't want to come here, you know, this is not my idea and this is not going to help. I only came because she wanted me to."

She nodded towards Brittany even as she remained standing, clinging to her.

But Kate didn't get offended or even seem startled at all by her defensive, angry tone and the jut of Santana's chin in her direction. Instead, she actually laughed as she came in behind them and shut the door.

"No, people don't lay on couches around here. That's what we tend to see on TV, but like most things, TV doesn't really portray therapy in a very accurate light. You can sit wherever you're comfortable, and you can let me know which seat would be most comfortable for me to sit at. Is it okay if I call you Santana, or do you prefer Ms. Lopez? And you, are you Brittany Pierce?" she addressed Brittany. "May I call you Brittany?"

"I'm not my mother, it's Santana," Santana muttered, slowly sinking down onto the couch and tugging Brittany with her. "Whatever, sit wherever, I don't care. But not beside me!" she said hurriedly, just in case the woman did choose to plop directly beside her on the couch. "One of the chairs. I told you, I didn't want to come. There's no point."

Kate sat in one of the chairs as she had directed, still seemingly unbothered by Santana's words and demeanor.

"Well, that's understandable that you didn't want to come, Santana," she said smoothly. "No one wants to make change, change is messy and painful and uncomfortable, no matter how good and needed it can be. You don't know me and you don't trust me, and that's fine, that's very normal. It must be very hard and scary to think about talking to a stranger about things that are personal and painful to you. But you are here, as much as you don't want to be, and that tells me that part of you does really want to make changes in your life in some way, and part of you still hopes that it can happen by coming here. Even if that's a really tiny part, I think it's there."

"You don't know me," Santana snapped, but as she huddled closer to Brittany on the couch, gripping her hand, but her face has lost some of its pinched look. She has to admit that the woman doesn't sound totally crazy. Maybe, possibly she's right.

"Well, yes, that's true, and that's part of what we're doing today," Kate acknowledged with a nod. "An assessment is getting to know you and your life, your struggles, and the history that may have contributed to them. It gives me a picture of what you may need in therapy and how I can best try to help. I understand it can be very painful and difficult to be asked some of the questions I will have for you and to give answers, so we have several options. If you choose not to answer some questions at this time, we can simply come back to them on another day. If your friend would like to answer for you and you can confirm her responses, that is also fine. I also have a dry erase board under the box of fidgets," she nodded towards it," and some markers beside that. You can write answers that are difficult to say aloud and then erase them. Many options, so I hope that all makes it a little easier."

As they sat in the waiting room, Brittany had to admit she was impressed by how well Santana was doing, given the circumstances. She looked terrified, and Brittany followed her eyes as they glanced around on high alert, but she was doing a good job keeping semi-calm and breathing close enough to normal as they waited to be called in, tucked into Brittany's side. She felt a burst of pride in the small downtime that they waited - Santana had come so far, and now they were at the actual appointment, which was a triumph in and of itself.

When Dr. Stevens emerged, Brittany recognized her instantly. She looked just like her photo and not as if the headshot had been taken 10 years ago and she was still using it. She was pretty young and seemed, above all, warm and friendly. "It's okay," Brittany soothed when Santana jumped, running her hand over her side and smiling at doctor Stevens, giving her a confirming nod as she held Santana tighter against her body. "That's us."

She stood slowly, taking Santana up with her, careful not to part their bodies as they stepped through the door into the hallway, following Dr. Stevens passed a few doors, her hand wrapped around Santana's back at the waist, somewhat dragging her along. She politely smiled at the doctor as she let them enter her office, standing still for a moment, taking it in and knowing Santana was doing the same as she stood beside her, standing straighter now but still grasping her hand, with Brittany's free hand still resting on the small of her back.

Brittany couldn't think of a therapist room that Santana would respond "well" to, but if there would've been one, this would've been it. She almost sighed in relief looking at the windows and space, knowing a smaller, closed off room would've been a nightmare for her. There was even a couch and a few recliners, which meant they could definitely sit beside each other, which Brittany knew would be a must. She was about to pull Santana toward the couch gently when she spoke, surprisingly resolute and snappy for how fearful Brittany knew she was. It was rude, but Brittany didn't chastise her, instead flicking her eyes to the therapist to gauge her reaction, knowing that it wouldn't be the last time she snapped at her during their visits, wanting to see how she handled it.

Dr. Stevens couldn't have handled it better, not missing a beat in her friendliness, instead smoothing right over Santana's bluntness. "Brittany's fine," She piped up, letting Santana pull her down beside her on the couch as the doctor took one of the chairs. She hummed gently as Santana curled into her, knowing Santana would hear the comforting sound as they both listened to Dr. Stevens, Brittany trying to soak up as much information as she possibly could, happy that Dr. Stevens was so nice and seemed to be very patient with Santana.

She brightened when she mentioned the dry erase board and markers, as if she'd already known one of Santana's preferred forms of communication, even though Brittany knew that must've been the case with lots of other patients. Her eyes fell on the fidgets and dry erase board - she wasn't sure Santana would hold any of the fidgets, knowing she preferred to play with Brittany's fingers or clothing or hair in some way, but knew the dry erase board would probably make things easier.

"Sometimes Santana writes words on me instead of speaking them," She nodded gently, "Well, not actually writes them, but traces them on me with her finger," Brittany shared.

"Brittany then," Kate acknowledged Brittany with a nod and smile. "And that's wonderful that Santana has already found a way to express difficult things, that's very resourceful of you," she directed towards Santana. "It sounds like you're already working hard on yourself."

She shifted her focus to Santana, but the way that she looked at her wasn't intense or expectant. It was patient, nonjudgmental, as though she were simply waiting for Santana and expecting no particular response from her. Santana shifted, squeezing Brittany's arm, but didn't snap at Kate's explanation of how she can respond to questions. Honestly, having those options given to her made her feel a tiny bit better.

"Whatever," Santana muttered, not sure how to respond to the compliment that had been phrased like a statement and so was difficult to deflect. "Let's just get started, act all the lame intrusive shit you're going to ask."

She threw in the swear word partly to test Kate, her eyes flickering up towards her to see how she would respond to that, but Kate didn't miss a beat or seem offended at all. She simply nodded acknowledgement of Santana's words.

"I can appreciate you wanting to get through this quickly. Again, Santana, remember that there are many ways you can respond to questions you find difficult. We'll begin with the most obvious. What's bringing you in here today, other than, of course, Brittany feeling you need to be here? What's been happening in your life and your feelings, in how you handle things, that's causing you to seek out therapy?"

Santana froze, her thoughts crowded with multiple answers at once, all which she didn't want to say. She didn't want to just blurt out first thing to this woman her many, many layers of "issues," and where would she even start? The rape? No way. The eating issues? Definitely not. Her fear of so many things, her intense anxiety to the point of spiraling into being unable to breathe sometimes? Nope. Her fear of being a loser, a failure, lower than ordinary and not worth much? How could she say that out loud, much less to a stranger? And her parents, her abuela? No. Way.

She looked at Brittany helplessly, genuine fear in her expression, and pressed even closer to her, so merged side to side and thigh to thigh she was practically half perched on her lap.

Brittany's eyes glanced to Santana when Kate's did, seeing how she would do under her gaze. It wasn't that Kate was looking at her in any type of patronizing way, but something Brittany had noticed since she'd been back was Santana had gotten increasingly skittish about prolonged eye contact without anyone that wasn't Brittany. She felt her shift into her a little, but overall, she seemed to still be doing good. Brittany gave her arm a comforting pat with the arm that was wrapped around the back of her shoulders in response to Santana's squeeze, continuing their nonverbal conversation.

It seemed to Brittany like Santana and Kate were doing a balancing act- she could tell Santana was snapping at certain intervals or slipping in curse words, knowing she was terrified but also knowing she was doing it to see if Kate would bite at the bit, trying to gauge her reaction. Brittany usually would've elbowed her if she was being dismissive like this in any other setting, but she didn't, knowing this entire situation was agitating for Santana, not bothered by her impoliteness. Her defenses, Brittany thought, her heart aching.

Santana's act was dropped quickly when Kate questioned her, Brittany felt her entire body go rigid beside her. It had taken much shorter than Brittany expected for fear to override the indifference that Santana was trying to portray, and Brittany knew it must've been because that fear had been bubbling so close to the surface of Santana's demeanor. In the silence that followed, Brittany could practically read Santana's mind, knowing her exact train of thought as all of the different tragedies in her life were listing themselves out before her in her mind.

It was nearly impossible given their position, but she felt Santana curl even closer to her, and Brittany leaned back against the cushions, wanting to appear calm and relaxed but also so Santana could tuck herself even further into her. When Santana turned her head, looking at Brittany now instead of the therapist for the first time, Brittany saw the pure fear swimming in her eyes. She knew Santana was afraid - it would've taken a lot for her to take her eyes off the stranger and potential threat in the room, if that's how badly she needed to meet Brittany's gaze.

"It's okay," Brittany promised automatically. She'd been trying to observe mostly, not wanting to interject where she wasn't needed, but she didn't hesitate to speak and give Santana verbal reassurance as she turned to her. "Do you want to sit in my lap?" Brittany asked her as she pressed ever closer, not far off from her lap to begin with.

She gently pried her hand out of Santana's grip, deciding it was more important to keep an arm around her, using her free hand to reach up and tuck Santana's still-damp hair behind her ear. "Do you want to tell me how you want to answer that, and I can tell her?" She asked attentively, as if Kate wasn't sitting six feet away from them. "Or I can answer first, maybe we can start with the breakup?" Brittany said, holding Santana's gaze evenly, laying out all her options for her, silently showing her her power.

Santana more than anything did want to sit in Brittany's lap, curling herself small and comforted and protected there as she always felt. But she also was keenly aware of Kate Stevens a few feet away, her eyes steadily observing, and although the woman had so far shown no judgment and taken everything Santana did and said in stride, she wasn't sure being that vulnerable in front of her was at all something she wanted the woman to see.

But Kate spoke up to override this, her voice quiet and calm as before.

"Remember your options, Santana. If you want Brittany to answer for you, she can answer what she knows, and you can confirm if she has things right. Or you can use the dry erase board. Please remember too that I want you to feel as safe and comfortable as possible in here. I understand that's very difficult given the circumstance, so please, do whatever helps you. If you would normally feel calmer sitting in Brittany's lap, and that will help you with being here today, please go ahead." She gestured as though encouraging. "I promise, I've seen and heard it all in the past fifteen years I've been practicing. There is very little that you could do or say that is going to throw me off."

Santana hesitated for just another moment before sliding herself on Brittany's lap, still not meeting Kate's eyes, She leaned back into her chest, feeling Brittany's heartbeat against her back and trying to use it to steady herself as she grasped again for Brittany's arms to wrap around her.

"Can...can you answer?" she said shakily to Brittany, overwhelmed at the prospect of trying to list out all the many, many reasons she's having such a difficult time recently and all the reasons from the past that have compounded it. "I'll try later."

Brittany listened to Kate's assurances, wondering if Santana would actually act on her wants and crawl into her lap in front of a stranger. She had no problem doing it in front of Rachel and Kurt, knowing they'd already seen it all and that Santana didn't care about what anyone thought when she was in desperate need of Brittany's comfort. Now though, she knew Santana was still toeing the line of being truly afraid and wanting to make it seem like she didn't really want to be at therapy in the first place. She also knew Santana wasn't comfortable with the doctor yet, being as they'd only been in there for fifteen minutes.

But Kate's words seemed to have given Santana the little push of courage that she needed to act on what she wanted, and Brittany smiled a little, adjusting to criss-cross her legs as Santana nestled into the little pocket of her lap. She was surprised she'd done it, but knew that Santana's resolve must've been wavering- her anxiety about being in a new place in a situation where her life was the central topic of conversation seemed to be sinking in, and Brittany was all too willing to offer Santana a familiar place of safety and comfort on her lap. She registered silently, as Santana settled in, that Santana had her back against Brittany's chest, still facing the therapist, a good sign, knowing Santana could've easily turned her body to Brittany and straddled her lap so that they were chest to chest instead. As she grasped for her arms, Brittany crossed them around her tightly, wanting her to feel secure and safe, locked into her arms and nestled against her body.

"You're okay," She whispered gently before speaking louder for Kate to hear. "Uhm, well, Santana was assaulted, s-sexually assaulted, in July," Brittany confessed, cutting through all the haze in her mind to the one true reason. "At work, she worked in a bar and someone flirted with her but she's a lesbian and- ," Brittany shook her head, dismissing the semantics, knowing they could get into that later.

"I'd broken up with Santana a year before that because I'm a prof - well, was a professional dancer, sort of still am, I don't know," Brittany babbled. "I was on tours, we broke up, and hadn't spoken in a year so she was living with our friends and it was really hard for her, for both of us, but worse for her. I've been back in New York for about two months because our friends had called because um, things had gotten pretty bad."

Santana kept her eyes trained down on Brittany's hands, letting herself sink back into her as small and protected by her arms as she could let herself be. Her cheeks reddened, not used to hearing the words sexual assault said out loud in front of her. Rachel and Kurt had tiptoed around it, using elaborate code phrases, and Santana herself had not spoken of it directly since she blurted in anger at Brittany that she had been "fucked", an outburst that had alarmed and frightened her to the point of not wanting to repeat it. She listened to Brittany's uneven explanation, biting her lip. In some ways, she wanted to explain, to let know Kate know it hadn't just been assault, it had been rape. It had been threats to kill her, it had been an assassination to her character, and it had been physical attacking that left her bruised and torn. But she can't say any of that. She doesn't want to say it even to Brittany.

Kate listens attentively, nodding acknowledgement when Brittany occasionally fumbled for words. When Brittany seemed to finish, she spoke to them both directly and sincerely.

"I'm sorry to hear you experienced that, Santana. Abuse of any kind of can devastating and completely change even the strongest person's life. I'm sure it's been hard for you as well to see Santana in pain, Brittany." She paused, looking in the direction of Santana's downcast face and then to Brittany's.

"Can you tell me a little more about how things had gotten so bad for Santana that your friends felt she needed your support?"

Santana squeezed Brittany's arm again, silently conveying that she wants her to answer. Kate smiled at her encouragingly.

"What I think we'll have you do, once Brittany has told me a bit more, Santana, is give you some screening questionnaires to fill out. I can appreciate you're finding it very hard to talk right now, and this will help me have a better idea of what you've experienced and how it's showing up in your life without you having to talk about it. You won't have to say anything if you don't want to, just mark and circle things on some papers. Does that sound more comfortable for you today?"

Santana paused, then gave a very slight nod, still not meeting her eyes.

Brittany had her arms wrapped across Santana's chest, her hands wrapped around her upper arms, gently rubbing Santana's arm with her hand as she spoke and as Kate reacted to the information that Brittany had provided. She knew it was a lot, as well as the fact that it was all jumbled and knotted information. Brittany hadn't even mentioned all the details of their breakup or any of the details of Santana's home life or their relationship and dealing with Santana's sexuality in a public school in Ohio.

As Kate spoke, Brittany rested her cheek against the top of Santana's downturned head, silent until she asked another question, this time directed straight at Brittany, the designated speaker for the time being. As Santana squeezed Brittany's arm, Brittany's squeezed back in response, understanding what she was requesting.

"Uh, well, she was living with our two friends from high school, Kurt and Rachel, and I was touring in Europe but one night it got so bad, Kurt called me," She began, "Santana was having- is having, pretty bad nightmares, night terrors actually, about stuff and kicks and screams and it takes a long time to calm her down and she doesn't like to sleep alone. So she sleeps with me now but she was sleeping with our friend Rachel before and I think it was harder for Rachel to deal with. And um, she's just upset really easily, and doesn't like to be around men, like in stores or in elevators and stuff like that. And our friend Kurt is gay and we've known him forever but he said Santana was sometimes scared to be alone with him in the apartment." Brittany explained, wracking her brain for all the things they'd listed on the phone.

As Kate suggested the screening questions, Brittany hugged Santana tighter to her, nodding in agreement that Santana would undoubtedly prefer something written as opposed to speaking.

Santana's face took on a pinched, shamed look as Brittany spoke, but she couldn't deny that what she was saying was all true. She hadn't even mentioned Santana's eating, fainting spell, or recent severe weight loss, nor had she mentioned their own complex relationship. She gave another small nod, confirming to Kate that what Brittany was telling her was true, even as she squeezed Brittany's arm again, both as thanks for speaking for her and for her own comfort. She could feel her rapid heartbeat slow down just a bit when Kate took this information and again showed no judgment or surprise.

"That sounds exhausting, Santana, and very hard to live through," she commented softly. "Nightmares and night terrors are very common after experiencing something traumatic. It's your body's way of trying to relive and work through something you experienced where you were helpless to the outcome, and to try to force you to reexperience it and have a more positive outcome. Unfortunately, your brain tends to get stuck and it can't imagine how a better outcome could have happened, so it's not very helpful to you, is it?"

The question was rhetorical, but Santana gave a small nod anyway, processing what she was saying as she hugged Brittany's arms over her chest. She had never thought of her experiences as her brain trying to help or protect her in a way. It certainly didn't feel that way.

"There are several screenings here I have for you," Kate continued. "Please take your time with them. If you feel like any of them are too much or too upsetting to complete right now, that's okay, just raise a hand or let Brittany know to let me know, and I'll take it from you and we'll work through that how we need to. You still don't need to talk if you don't feel ready. But if you do have any questions about what any of the forms mean, please let me know, however you're comfortable asking."

She passed out to Santana screening tools for her to complete to measure depression, anxiety, traumatic experiences and symptoms, and the extended version of a questionnaire on adverse childhood experiences. Santana felt herself further calm as she began to read through and circle the questions on the clipboard with the pen Kate had handed her. This felt easier, more doable. It was like being in school, and she could handle that.

The first question on depression, Santana self scored herself as ending up with a score of 24, with a score over 20 indicating severe depression. She had marked little interest or pleasure in doing things she used to enjoy, feeling down, depressed, and hopeless, trouble sleeping, having little energy, poor appetite, feeling bad about herself, trouble concentrating, being fidgety and restless, as occurring nearly every day, with thoughts of being better off dead occurring several days.

Moving on to the scoring for anxiety, Santana marked that she felt nervous/anxious/on edge, unable to stop worrying, worrying too much about different things, had trouble relaxing, was restless and unable to sit still, was irritable, felt afraid something awful would happen, nearly every day, giving her a score of 21, with over 15 being severe anxiety.

For adverse childhood experiences, Santana marked seven out of fifteen. Before age eighteen, she had experienced an adult in her house often putting her down, insulting her, or humiliating her, abandoning her- one she hesitated on, but then marked, thinking of her abuela-, pushing, grabbing, or slapping her, had felt no one in her family thought she was special or important, had been often bullied by classmates/peers, felt her neighbors could not be trusted and were unsafe, felt she was treated unfairly or badly because of her race, and had witnessed someone in her neighborhood being beaten up. That gave her a score of eight childhood adverse experiences out of a possible fifteen, with the screening indicating that a score of more than four was higher than 85% of the respondents.

Her final testing, a trauma screening, was the hardest for Santana, but she gripped her pen tightly, held Brittany's arm in one hand, and breathed before answering it. The first part asked her to circle traumatic events that have happened to her. Santana hesitated before circling sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, and being bullied. Her hand hesitated, hovering between emotional neglect and neglect, unsure if her experiences qualified.

She had always been fed and clothed and taken to the doctor if needed. She had a roof over her head. She couldn't say she was neglected. It was the emotional neglect she was unsure of, and she tapped that to Brittany, then let her eyes drift to the dry erase board, wanting to use that but not wanting either of them to move to get it. Finally she cleared her throat and made herself speak, flitting her eyes up to Kate for just a moment.

"What's emotional neglect exactly?"

"Good question, that isn't a term most people are aware of," Kate acknowledged. "Emotional neglect is when a parent or caregiver doesn't respond appropriately to a child's emotional needs. It's usually not intentional, but the result is the parent doesn't notice or act on what the child needs. Basically, in emotional neglect, a child's need for attention, affection, or acknowledgement of their emotions is ignored, invalidated, or disregarded. People who grow up in emotionally neglectful families may be disconnected from each other emotionally and seem like they are living separate lives instead of lives together, or it may feel that way to the child. It isn't a form of trauma or abuse that is often acknowledged or talked about, but it's very real and can be very devastating."

Santana didn't hesitate this time. She marked this as her experience.

Moving on to the questions on her reactions to trauma, she marked unwanted and upsetting memories, nightmares, flashbacks, distress after being reminded of the trauma, reacting in her body after reminders of the trauma, avoiding trauma related thoughts or feelings, avoiding reminders of trauma in her environment, negative thoughts of herself and the world, blame for herself, negative emotions consistently, disinterest in activities she used to enjoy, difficulty feeling positively, irritability, destructive behavior towards herself, hypervigilance, startle reaction, difficulty concentrating, and difficulty sleeping. Handing this all in to Kate, she waited, aware that Brittany had been reading over her shoulder as she answered.

When Kate handed Santana the screenings, Brittany plainly read them over her shoulder, knowing Santana wouldn't care if she saw them, being that Brittany had lived all of these experiences with her, even if she wasn't going through them herself. Santana seemed to melt into her a little at the task, comfortable with silently reading and circling the answers she thought fit best. She'd only gotten a few questions in when the shock began to register with Brittany - everything Santana was circling was true, but it was the first time either of them had actually seen all of Santana's struggles on paper, and all the "small" day to day hurdles like low energy and trouble sleeping all seemed to stack up quickly.

It was hard for Brittany to register, seeing how severe Santana began to score on the screenings as she made her way through them, realizing just how much their lives had spun out of control. She felt guilty for a moment, wondering if her love for Santana and willingness to calm her had made her a bit blind to the severity of it. There were hundreds of tiny adjustments they'd made in their lives - like making sure they were home before dark if possible, always making sure Brittany was early to pick Santana up, taking a considerable chunk out of their days with Brittany sitting in the bathroom while Santana showered and then the reverse because Santana didn't want to be alone, and always making sure drawers and cabinets were shut quietly so Santana didn't jump or get frightened. She realized, as all of these thoughts spun through her brain, that she could keep going endlessly, all the different things they did to try and make Santana's life bearable.

At the last screening, Brittany had been reading the question along with her, shrugging when Santana tapped her, knowing she was asking what she thought it meant and how it was different from just neglect. She was surprised when Santana asked the question out loud, feeling a little burst of pride that Santana felt comfortable enough to ask for clarity, both of them looking at Kate as she explained. Her eyes flicked back to the paper just in time to see Santana circle it resolutely, feeling her heart break just a little at how Kate's definition seemed to confirm this for Santana. She loosened her arms a little as Santana leaned forward to hand in the screenings before leaning back against her, taking a calming, yet shuddering breath. "Those were… hard to read," Brittany said finally, shaking her head a little.

Santana glanced up at Brittany with some surprise when Brittany spoke. She had felt the difference in how Brittany held her, how Brittany had fought not to tense up her arms and the slight change in her breathing and heartbeat as she read over her shoulder. Santana rubbed her hand over Brittany's arms, still crossed over her own chest, concerned for her now and so more comfortable to be able to speak aloud, since she feels this is focused on Brittany.

"Why, babe? I mean, you know this stuff. I did it right, didn't I?"

Kate took the forms from Santana with a small smile of acknowledgement for her having completed them and looked over them quickly, confirming her self scoring and observing the results. Looking up, she regarded Santana and Brittany both with calm lack of surprise, but spoke with genuine empathy in her tone.

"This is a lot to carry, Santana, the experiences you've been through. That's an extreme amount of trauma for anyone to go through even with support, and it says something about your strength and character that you've managed to keep finding a way to survive through it. But I know that you, and Brittany as someone who cares for you, must want more for your life than just surviving it. The changes in your life and your emotions, your thoughts, that you've indicated here, those are all things you've developed to survive, your brain and body's way of trying to protect you and keep you safe. To some degree it's worked, because you're still here. But it's also interfering with your ability to be living a full, happy, and healthy life. What you're going through is understandable and makes complete sense, given what you've experienced, but it's also less than you want for yourself, isn't it?"

Santana hesitated, eyes down, then she lifted them up to meet Kate's for just a milisecond, giving a jerky nod before averting them again, blinking back tears that started to press against her eyes. She felt like a heavy weight on her chest and back had shifted just a little off of her- not lifting entirely, but giving up some of its pressure, just by seeing plainly before her how difficult and unmanageable her life had become, and having someone acknowledge that who didn't know her or live with her. It made it feel more valid, somehow, more real, and somehow, that wasn't as scary as she had expected.

"And Brittany, I can see how this would be difficult for you to look at and see what Santana's going through all at once," Kate continued to affirm. "You may know all of these things, as Santana pointed out, but seeing them all at once instead of just managing them as they come up is very different. Santana's clearly important to you, and of course you would find it hard to realize how much pain she's carrying."

"Let's start today with giving you a few basic tools," Kate shifted her focus back to Santana. "There is of course a lot that will need further clarified and voiced from you or Brittany, but with all this information you were able to give, what seems clear to me is you need skills to be able to calm and ground yourself when your fears or anxieties begin to take over. Of course, other people such as Brittany can often help, but they can't always know when you're beginning to shift in mood, and they won't always be with you. Let's go over some skills you can use on your own if needed."

She talked Santana through several exercises, not forcing her to actually perform them, but making sure as Kate herself demonstrated that she understood the concepts, then handed out papers that spelled them out as reminders, should Santana need them. She covered tapping exercises in which Santana could tap her finger tips in rhythm to her knees, tap the tips of her toes, or embrace herself at the elbow or with arms crossed over her chest, tapping one hand at a time in rhythm. She explained that this cross movement and rhythm would help regulate her mind and breathing. She walked her through using five senses to ground herself and her thoughts and writing her name as small as she could ten times, then taking as many breaths after. Santana took this all in with some openness, accepting the papers and looking up at Brittany to what she thought.

Brittany was surprised when Santana verbally questioned her, knowing it must've caught her off guard if she wanted the answer enough to ask her about it. "I- yeah, I mean, I knew them, but I guess I'm just used to them," She said, her eyes focused on Santana. "I mean, I knew all the things you circled but seeing them all listed like that just seems like so…much." Brittany had lived through most of those issues with Santana and, if she had to fill out the form on behalf of Santana, probably would've come up with a lot of the same answers.

"I guess we just made so many little changes to make sure you're okay it just seems like every day for us, it's not like we can't live our lives, mostly. When everything is listed out, like the nightmares, and how you feel and how I always make sure I'm early to pick you up, all those things just seemed tiny, but I guess all together they're really not. And then you add up everything from before on top of it." Truly, the way it looked on paper made her surprised that Santana could actually function at all. She supposed, to the average person, Santana wouldn't be able to function as well as she did with Brittany - especially if that person was a man, but still, it shocked Brittany to see all of Santana's trauma listed out like that.

She was grateful Kate spoke, because coming from the doctor, the reason for coming to therapy seemed a lot more clear than the points Brittany had been trying to make to Santana all week long. Of course, Santana wasn't outwardly resisting therapy to the doctor, but Brittany was still grateful the doctor had formed it like a question. She recognized it as something she did too when speaking, mostly to get Santana's thoughts to stop so she could actually focus on what she wanted and needed at the time, knowing her mind usually moved to fast and she was never given much space to talk things out. She wondered, silently, if somehow Kate already knew that about her, or if it was just standard to ask patients that sort of thing. Either way, it worked.

Brittany registered how Santana's body had tensed just a little when she responded- how her nod was a little to jerky, hugging her body even closer to her. When Kate acknowledged her instead of Santana, she nodded in agreement, knowing Santana felt it.

"We've known each other since we were fourteen. I knew about all of it, but I got used to certain things, I guess." It was true, so much of it had happened right before Brittany's own eyes that she'd adapted to make Santana feel better and make her life easier without really thinking about the long lasting effects of whatever the situation.

When Kate shifted over into actually teaching Santana skills, Brittany watched too, attentive and trying to commit things to memory so she could remind Santana or help her if she stumbled. A lot of them were things Brittany had never seen before, but she watched Kate explain them all and how they could help, finding herself nodding along. Regardless of if Santana pushed back on therapy in the future, at least these techniques seemed like real things that could help in the future to make things better. When Santana turned to her, she smiled, telling her as much.

"I guess we'll have to try them when you're feeling upset, but I think they could work," She shrugged nonchalantly, keeping the pressure off. "I think a lot of times when you get upset, once I have you in my arms it's just about waiting for you to calm down, right?" She confirmed, knowing that, besides her gentle touches, there wasn't much she could do except hold her until it wore off. "We could try these when something is scary to see if it stops it or makes it a little less scary because you're busy doing something else." Brittany nodded.

"It is a lot," Santana answered Brittany, softly but with feeling in her tone. She's directing her eyes back towards her, turning her head, rather than at Kate, but her voice is loud enough for Kate to hear. "It feels like a lot. Every day. It's...it feels like it's crushing me sometimes. Like I can't walk or move or breathe. That's why I need you with me. And why sometimes I can't get out of bed."

Kate acknowledged her with a gentle nod. "It is a lot," she echoed back, with quiet emphasis. "I'm sure it doesn't feel that way to you, but you have tremendous strength to be functioning even in a manner that isn't working for you to have your best life."

She paused, letting them both take a moment to process, before addressing Santana. "Are you okay to continue with some of the questions left, or do you need some more time? Take a moment to really think about it."

Santana did pause, briefly meeting Kate's eyes before dropping them again, and then nodded quickly. When Kate waited for a clearer response, she said quietly, "You can ask more, I guess."

"Okay," Kate confirmed, nodding again. "Remember again your options, Santana. If you begin to feel overwhelmed, you can raise a hand for us to stop or pause. You can answer out loud, let Brittany answer, or write your answers on the dry erase board."

Seeing that it would be difficult for Santana to reach for the board from her position on her lap, she took it herself and with a nonverbal questioning look that it was okay, which Santana nodded to, she moved to set the board and its marker beside the girls on the couch before resuming her seat. She asked Santana a few questions about her previous therapy, which was easy to answer; Santana never had any. She confirmed that she was taking no medications and never had, her health questions, and her surgery of breast implants at age sixteen, which Santana flushed and mumbled over, but did confirm verbally. She asked her about her history of smoking, drinking, and substance use, and Santana confirmed that she had experimented with smoking, drinking, and marijuana use as a teenager and in her twenties, but never on a regular basis, never to the extent of daily or becoming addictive, and that she currently used nothing at all.

Then came some of the questions that Santana began to struggle with. Kate asked her about her current living situation, which was easy; she had lived with Kurt and Rachel, but now lived with Brittany. It was her past family set up that Santana began to struggle with.

She could answer easily enough that she was an only child, raised by her mother and father, but primarily with her abuela as her main caregiver until she was in middle school. It was Kate's question about her past and current relationship with her parents and her abuela that caused Santana to start to falter. She gripped Brittany's arm, her head dipping down again, and squeezed it silently, mumbling. "Can you?"

Each of Santana's words seemed to weigh heavier and heavier on Brittany's heart, reminding her of the constant battle she put up with on a daily basis, a battle that was ever present no matter how much comfort Brittany could offer her. That's why I need you with me. The words were deep and yearning, and Brittany nodded, her eyes holding Santana's as Santana twisted back to look at her from her position on her lap. She felt her own eyes prickling, nodding resolutely, her hand coming up to brush Santana's hair off her face, "I'm right here," She promised gently, a silent reminder of Brittany's love and commitment to her- she'd promised Santana she'd never leave again, and she intended to make good on that.

Swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, she glanced back to Kate, who was offering them a brief solace, a break, a way out. Half of her expected Santana to jump at the opportunity - the Santana she had dragged here this morning would've absolutely jumped at the chance, but the one in her lap hesitated, silently confirming to Brittany that this morning's shallow veil of anger had been just that- shallow. Still, she knew Santana listened to her own feelings, especially now, to discern when she needed something, and she sat silently, waiting for Santana to make the call for the both of them. She was prepared for Santana to request a break, ready to turn her in her lap so she was facing her and give her a few minutes of uninterrupted comfort, but when Santana agreed to continue, a swell of pride burst in her chest and she snuggled Santana to her, proud of her resiliency but also her ability to actually think about the question instead of just insisting they stop or continue.

She grinned when Kate handed her the board, reaching out from where she sat to steady it beside her on the couch, stilling the marker so it didn't roll away before returning her arm to around Santana's body. Brittany settled herself back against the cushions, bringing Santana's torso with her, settling them in for the next round of questions, her fingers idly playing with Santana's hair as she witnessed the back and forth of their questions and answers, all pretty straight forward. Brittany even bobbed her leg a little when Santana explained that she lived with her now, a silent message, grinning as Santana said it out loud.

The next questions that came made Brittany's smile wobble, knowing they had just veered into sensitive territory, her eyes glancing to the side toward Santana, even though she couldn't directly see her face from how they were sitting. Santana's squeeze came a moment later, something Brittany was expecting, especially for a topic like this.

"Uhm, Santana… told her Abuela about her sexuality in high school and it- " Her voice hooked on her explanation of the aftermath. She had started to say "it didn't go well,' but that seemed to soften the blow in a way that was unfair to Santana. "It didn't go well" didn't seem like the correct way to phrase the fact that Santana's abuela had basically ripped her heart to shreds after Santana offered it to her.

"Was just…" She swallowed, shaking her head a little, surprised at the flame of anger she felt spark to life in her chest. "Fucking horrible." Brittany felt the surprise in Santana's body when she cursed, but continued. "They haven't spoken since, her Abuela threw her out."

Explaining it made Brittany's blood boil and run ice cold at the same time, overcome by the way the world had mistreated Santana, overcome by how sad she was for the girl in her lap.

"And… Santana hasn't spoken to her parents in over a year?" She glanced to Santana to confirm that timing. "They don't know about the a-assault." Brittany chewed on her lip, "They were never really there for her."

It was the bitter, broken truth, and Brittany hated being the one to say it, to deliver the burden that no adult in Santana's life had ever really shown up for her in the way that they should've.

Santana rested her head briefly against Brittany's when she promised her that she was there, stroking back her hair. She blinked several times, her heart stuttering as she waited for Brittany to explain her situation with her family, trying not to let show just how difficult even considering the question was to her. She expected Brittany to be delicate about explaining the distance in her family, the way that there had never been much interaction at all between her and her father, how the attention and affection of her mother had been scattered, unreliable, and rare in occurrence. Even in regards to her abuela, she expected Brittany to be measured in how she explained her disowning her.

But Brittany wasn't. Santana could feel the shift in her, the anger in her body as well as her voice when she swore. It startled her, not because she didn't think that Brittany ever got angry, but because she usually made such effort not to show or express it, at least around Santana, or in regards to people she knew Santana cared about. It touched Santana, to think of Brittany angry on her behalf, but it also hurt in a way that she hadn't expected. Why had her own parents not been angry on her behalf? Not just about her abuela, but about the video, outing her to the world? About Finn, outing her to the school, even inadvertently? Why hadn't her parents been raising hell on her behalf? Why hadn't they been doing all they could to make sure she was okay?

Because it hadn't been okay. Santana had not been okay, and what happened to her, how she had been treated, was not okay.

This was the first time she really let herself think about it in this way, specifically in regards to her parents; as a teenager, she had just been grateful that they had accepted her coming out without anger or disbelief. But in hindsight, even that response had been muted, less than what she needed. Acceptance, yes, but lacking true support or validation. They had accepted Santana announcing her gayness in the same way they accepted Santana staying out all night with Brittany, Puck, or whoever she happened to be with at the time, without calling, texting, or asking later where she had been and what she thought she was doing not asking or informing them first. They accepted her gayness in the same way they accepted her testing boundaries- because they didn't set any. Because maybe they didn't notice she was pushing them in the first place, or even that she was gone.

When Brittany put words to this, sharing with Kate that her parents hadn't spoken to her in a year, did not know what had happened to her, and had never really been there for her, Santana's head lowered further until it touched her chin, her hair falling forward, and she started to tremble, tears beginning to silently streak down her face. She made some effort to hide or suppress them, pressing her lips together tightly, but hearing Brittany put into words something neither of them really spoke about, how little her parents were really there for her, sank in deeply. Because as much as she might want to ignore it, it was true.

Kate spoke softly, addressing Santana primarily.

"I can see how hurtful this is to you, Santana. And how much it angers you for her, Brittany, that Santana hasn't gotten the kind of love and support she needs from her family. No matter your age or experience, every person wants and needs a family to love and accept them unconditionally, and it is absolutely normal and valid that it would hurt if she doesn't receive that."

Santana's quiet tears intensified then, coming faster, her face crumbling with now audible gasps as she tried to keep from outright sobbing. She clutched Brittany's arm, wanting to turn into her and hide, to seek out shelter and comfort as she usually would, but a part of her fights this, wanting to make herself understood, wanting to have her own voice and thoughts expressed. This is something she so rarely is willing to even think about, let alone talk about, and even Brittany is usually cautious about touching on it with her. But it hurts. It hurts so badly, so much, and through tears she finds herself reaching for the dry erase board, starting to scribble in messy, loose scrawl.

"They never were there. They never wanted to do anything with me, I barely saw them, even when I was little. They let abuela have me, they let her yell at me and slap and pinch me and call me names and say things to me, really awful things when I pissed her off, and they didn't care. They let her throw me out and they didn't care. They never cared what I did, they didn't even care if I was okay. They never asked if I was okay. I was just supposed to be. I didn't have a choice but to be but I wasn't. I wasn't. They don't call me. They don't notice I stopped calling them. I haven't seen them in two years and I don't think they care. They didn't want me. They never wanted me. I wasn't good enough, I was never enough to get their attention, I wasn't good enough or bad enough or anything. It didn't matter what I did. I didn't matter."

The board was entirely covered by then with her writing, and Santana thrust it at Kate without looking, her body now convulsing with sobs. Doubled over in Brittany's lap, too overwhelmed now even to turn to her to hide, she just cried.

Brittany curled herself even further around Santana, as if she could tuck her under her arm and shield her from the harshness of the world. She felt the flame licking against the inside of her ribcage, the need to protect Santana and keep her safe was so hot and strong that in that moment it felt as though that was her very reason for existing at all. She had her arms wrapped around Santana's torso as she cried, one hand gently rubbing against Santana's ribs as she wept silently. Brittany knew, that while her assault was fresh grief and pain and lurked just below the surface of Santana's thoughts each day, the pain she felt about her family was something far, far deeper, something that went straight to the core of Santana's very being, etched into her bones, a pain she'd always known.

Kate's words only seemed to confirm that Santana was justified in her emotions, that even in her adulthood, she had a right to feel that pain and need for her parents. It was, Brittany realized, the first time Santana had received validation from someone who wasn't Brittany and was a professional at that, and Brittany could feel the effects of Kate's reassurances roll through Santana's body, dislodging something deep inside her, a release of even more tears. Brittany lifted one of her hands, cupping Santana's chin in her hand to catch her tears, about to turn her face towards her and request a break when Santana reached over to the dry erase board for the first time.

Brittany's eyebrows flew up at the realization that Santana had more she wanted to say - actively seeking out a way to communicate rather than shying away from the topic. She stilled, watching Santana set the board on her knees, only intervening when Santana's shaking hands fumbled over uncapping the marker. Brittany pulled the marker out of her grasp and yanked the cap off swiftly, holding it in her fist as she placed the marker back in her hands, her own heart in her throat as Santana began to scribble furiously. As she wrote, Brittany gathered her hair away from her face, holding it at the base of her neck so Santana could see as she penned her thoughts, jumping down to a new line every time Brittany thought she was done writing. Just when it seemed she couldn't break Brittany's heart anymore, she confessed another heartbreaking piece of her sadness, sloppy, teary letters revealing the darkest parts of her heart.

When Santana thrust the board at Kate, Brittany sighed, blinking back her own tears. Santana was now bent over in her lap, Brittany's arms caught in the middle where they wrapped around her waist as Santana doubled over, crying into her own knees.

"Hey hey hey," Brittany soothed, sliding her arms out so she could turn her by the shoulders, "Come here, take a break," She hummed, rearranging their bodies and legs so Santana was facing her and Brittany could wrap her arms around her again, one hand placed on the back of her head to ground her. "Shhhh, I know, I know." Brittany hushed, feeling her own eyes prickle, glancing quickly to Kate to gauge her reaction as she read.

Santana let herself be turned towards Brittany, though her body is heavy, deadweight, unhelpful in moving to face Brittany. She buried her face in Brittany's neck, both arms clumsily moving to wrap tight around Brittany's waist, her face hot and working as her chest heaved for breath with her sobbing. She was still shaking, almost choking on her own tears.

Kate quickly skimmed what Santana had written and then set the board down, knowing it all is important, but not as important as immediately addressing Santana's clear distress. Speaking to her calmly but just loudly enough to be heard over Santana's crying, she tried to address her.

"Brittany's right, Santana, I think it's time we take a break. Brittany, I think Santana needs a little help right now, if you can. Please cross your arms over her back so your left hand is on her right shoulder and your right hand is on your left, and slowly start to tap your hands over her shoulder blades in rhythm. Two taps at a time."

She crossed her arms over her own chest to again demonstrate to Brittany what she wanted her to try to do against Santana's back. "Keep a steady rhythm while you tap. One, two. One two. Santana, focus on Brittany's hands tapping against you, and try to breathe alone with that. Try to slow your breaths in time with it. One, two. One, two."

When it seemed to her that Santana was marginally softer in hear tears, that she was trembling less and seemed to be making some effort to try, Kate spoke again softly. "Good, Santana. Now think about five things you remember seeing in this room. Try to say them out loud, if you can, but if you can't yet, that's okay. Five things you see. Thing them through. Now, four things you can touch or feel. Three things you hear. Two things with a smell or taste. One calm word. Take a breath, and let's try again."

She walked her through it two more times until Santana's breathing had mostly evened out to sniffles and she slumped, exhausted, against Brittany. Kate gave her soft encouragement and lay a box of tissues within easier reach before speaking again.

"I think we've covered a lot today, and I don't want to press much further given how much you've pushed yourself. But there is one last part that's necessary to get done, and that's safety planning. But let's take a few more minutes before we get into that. Would you like something to drink?"

Santana shook her head, still clinging onto Brittany. She didn't want anything at all but to lay against Brittany and never let go.

"Shhh, I've got you, you're okay," Brittany hummed, gathering Santana's hair off her face where dark wisps clung to her tear stained, sweaty cheeks. "You have to try and breathe for me or I have to sit you up," She cooed, her eyes watching Kate skim what Santana had written while the rest of her body was in tune with Santana herself, trying to give her the comfort and safety she was desperate for in that moment. Santana's cries were so deep and so guttural that in that moment, Brittany would've given her absolutely anything just to try and stop her tears and pain.

She knew Kate wouldn't force them to continue, but when she verbally agreed that it was time for a break, Brittany felt relief burst through her, sighing a little with the confirmation that they would have some time to let Santana come down from her emotional high and settle before they moved on with anything else. At Kate's instruction, she did what she was told, holding Santana close to her chest with her arms crossed over her back, beginning to mimic the tapping that Kate was demonstrating against Santana's back, gentle pats, but firm enough that Santana could feel them through her clothes, a steady back and forth.

Brittany kept her slow tapping while Kate explained the list of things Santana could name with her senses, paying close attention to both what Kate was saying and how Santana was reacting, keeping her own breathing steady, her chest rising and falling methodically against Santana's.

"Am I allowed to talk to her while I do this?" Brittany wondered. It was usually her first, and most effective form of comfort, and verbal communication had become the foundation of their relationship years ago, but she wanted to confirm her own speaking wouldn't get in the way of her tapping or helping Santana breathe.

She smiled in appreciation when Kate placed the tissues near them, still holding Santana close as she sniffled and rested herself against Brittany's collarbone, her body waterlogged and heavy, a dreary quiet now taking the place of what had once been ripping sobs. Brittany had stopped tapping and instead had taken to brushing her fingers through Santana's hair, glancing down at her when Kate asked if she wanted something to drink, feeling her shake her head against her neck.

"Could we have a water please?" She asked politely. Brittany knew Santana wouldn't sit up to drink it right then, but she wanted it anyway, if Santana needed it later, once she was calmer. For the moment, she just rested her head against Santana's her hand moving through her hair soothingly.

"You're okay, Babe," She hushed, "Just stay right here." She knew Santana had no plans of moving, but she also wanted to reassure her that she didn't have to move and dislodge the calm that had settled somewhat unsteadily over the room.

"Sure, talk her through it if that feels comfortable to you and her," Kate confirmed to Brittany as she tried to help Santana through the self regulating tactics she was walking them both through to help Santana. "But ultimately, let Santana try for herself as much as possible. The ultimate goal is for her to be able to learn to use this herself if she needs to, if you aren't there to help. But today, if this is what she needs and where she's at, that's absolutely fine."

Kate got up to retrieve a bottle of water from a mini fridge in the room and placed it near the tissues, within easy reach, before sitting back down. She addressed Santana softly, keeping her voice low and even but holding empathy.

"I can see how hard that was for you, Santana, how much you've been carrying for so long, and how much that's hurt you. That took a lot of courage to share. Thank you for trusting us with this."

She didn't comment any further on what Santana had written on the board, giving her time and space to continue to calm down, and gradually Santana did. Sniffling and gulping back further tears, she let Brittany hold her and stroke her hair for a few more minutes in silence before she pulled away just enough to take a tissue and blow her nose, going out of her way to avoid looking at Kate and to try to hide her face from her as she continued to pull herself together. She reached for the water and took several long swallows, realizing that its cold further settled her and added to her fragile senses of calm.

Lying back against Brittany's chest, her cheek mostly turned into her , she rested again, one arm twining tightly back around her waist. A few more minutes passed with Kate seeming in no hurry to rush her before she finally said in a near whisper, "Can we go ahead and get finished?"

Brittany nodded in understanding, pleased and relieved that her speaking to Santana was okay, at least for the time being. Honestly, she couldn't imagine a scenario in which Santana would ever not be in the same room as she was, let alone panicking like this on her own and calming down on her own. While she knew their current lifestyle wasn't sustainable in the long run, it was hard to imagine something outside of their carefully crafted routine.

She smiled in appreciation as Kate placed the water bottle near them, knowing it would help if and when she could get Santana to drink it. Kate's words were sincere, and Brittany reaffirmed them by patting Santana's back silently, as if to offer her agreement. It was a big deal, marking the first time Santana had ever really explained her family situation to anybody other than Brittany, ripping open a deep wound that never quite fully healed over.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Brittany continued to murmur quiet comforts to Santana, relieved to realize she didn't feel any pressure from Kate about the situation and didn't feel like they were being rushed to calm Santana down so they could continue the session. When Santana sat up enough to blow her nose, Brittany handed her the uncapped water, giving her a reassuring smile and taking a sip herself before capping it again and welcoming Santana back into her arms, settling her against her chest once more. They were both letting Santana lead and giving her the control and Brittany knew that would resonate with her even if Santana was too upset to pick up on it at the moment.

She wasn't sure if Kate heard the whisper, so Brittany repeated it for her, her hands now wrapped loosely around Santana, one hand resting on her lower back. "I think Santana's ready to continue," Brittany said with an appreciative smile at how patient Kate was being in letting them calm down.

Kate nodded, giving both a gentle smile, before addressing Santana directly again. "Santana, this question is probably also a sensitive and painful one for you, but it is very important that you answer it honestly. Please take your time if you need to, and again, remember your options. If you need me to erase the board for you to use it again, or if you would like to erase it yourself, you can. But for this question, I do want for you to answer it yourself however you're able, without asking for Brittany to do it for you."

Santana took an unsteady breath, tensing in anticipation of this, and reached for one of Brittany's arms to squeeze. She hesitated, then nodded slightly, her eyes drifting towards the dry erase board. Seeing this, Kate confirmed, "Do you want this back?" and when Santana nodded, she handed it to her, pulling a tissue from the box for her to erase her writing.

Santana swiped the scrawl of words with somewhat harsh gestures, as though somehow also erasing the feelings that accompanied them. Leaning back against Brittany, she watched Kate, waiting for the question with her muscles taut in her dread of it.

"Santana, it's very common when someone has gone through a lot of pain and a lot of trauma that they begin to turn that pain inward and do things or think things out of the desperation the experience can bring them," Kate began, in the same even, calm tone. "Some people may do things like cut or scratch their skin until it bleeds, or other things to deliberately harm themselves. Some people may make themselves vomit or restrict their eating to the point of being dangerous to their health. And sometimes, people may even begin to feel like they are better of being dead or that they want to die. Have you experienced any of these things?"

She paused, eyes on Santana gently but without letting her escape their gaze. "Take your time and think about it before you answer. And please know, if you do or have thought of any of these things, you are not alone. It's very common, and although it's a serious thing, it's also understandable that it would become something you turn to in order to try to deal with your experience."

Santana's heart began to pick up speed in its beating, and she tightened her grasp on Brittany, her eyes glancing up at her, not wanting to respond at first. She swallowed hard several times, pulling Brittany's arm closer around her, and then gripped the dry erase marker in her other hand, slowly beginning to write. She glanced up at Brittany, concerned about her response to her words, but didn't stop.

"I used to vomit a lot and exercise and not eat in high school, but I stopped when Brittany's parents found out. They called my mom but she didn't really talk to me afterward about it, she just said I was being silly and I needed to stop and to talk to my dad about it because he's a doctor, but I didn't. Brittany's mom talked to me and started watching me and making sure I ate when I was over and that I didn't get any thinner and told the guidance counselor at school but the counselor there sucked, she was a nut case herself so I didn't go talk to her."

She held this up for Kate to see and when Kate acknowledged having read it with a nod of encouragement, Santana erased it and continued writing.

"I got better in high school because Brittany's mom was kind of like my mom and I didn't want to disappoint her or Brittany. But then when I moved to New York and dropped out of college I kind of went back to not eating, and sometimes when Brittany was on tour too. And after what happened-"

She hesitated, her hand shaking, but then wrote the word for the first time, barely legible, but present on the board.

"Being raped, I stopped eating. Because I couldn't eat, I didn't want to, and I didn't want anyone to look at me like he did anymore, like I was sexy. I want people to look over me and not see me. I don't want to take up space."

She held that for Kate to see again, and Kate nodded, responding.

"I can understand why you would react that way. Your body has been through considerable trauma. It was treated badly, emotionally, physically, and sexually. It was neglected of the love and the affection it needed. It makes sense why you would begin to punish it and try to regain control of it, even in an unhealthy way," she said. "What about the rest of the unhealthy ways of coping I mentioned? Self harm, thinking about dying? Has that ever happened for you?"

Santana took her time erasing the board again, her stomach flipping and sloshing heavily as she debated her response. She didn't want to admit what Kate had now twice asked her, but Kate had also emphasized that it was an important question, and she didn't think that the woman would let her get away with it if she thought she wasn't being honest. She reminded her of Katherine Pierce in a way, and it was that factor that pushed her into honesty.

"Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead," she wrote, the words smaller and more cramped than the others she had written before. "Or that I want to die. Sometimes I think it a lot."

She held that up again, almost shrinking back into Brittany's chest, and Kate nodded acknowledgement, her expression gentle, but not overly sympathetic or off putting, lacking patronization.

"Thank you for being honest about that, Santana. How far do those thoughts go for you on those days? Do you ever think about how you would die or how you might kill yourself? Do you ever make a plan or think of a time or a place? Have you ever started to do something to cause yourself to die?"

Those were a lot of questions, and Santana cringed against them, pressing her lips together as though to keep verbal responses from emerging. She wrote more slowly, but still, she responded.

"I think sometimes I'd jump off a parking garage or another tall place. Or take all the pills and medicine I can find. But I never did like actually tried or thought I'd do it on a certain day or time."

Kate acknowledged this again, and then retrieved a paper copy of a safety plan, beginning to talk Santana through it. Santana responded mostly in writing as Kate talked her through triggering emotions, feelings, and places for self destructive or suicidal thoughts and behaviors, coping skills she can use when they occur, and calming people she can turn to and places she can go. She included her own number, that of a suicide and eating disorder hotline, and also the numbers and websites for Santana to access if she would rather text or type than verbally speak. She made a copy for Santana to take with her, then with a warm smile, stood.

"I think we've covered a lot for today and you've earned yourself a day of rest and recovery. You've really done a lot today, Santana, and I hope that as difficult as I know this must have been for you, you're proud of yourself for how hard you've worked. I'd like to see you back in a week. Is the same time and day okay?"

Santana hesitated, then nodded. Kate gave her a nod and smile in return.

"Then I'll see you then. It was nice to meet you, Santana, and you, Brittany. I look forward to continue working with you."

Santana's legs were shaky when she stood, and she grasped Brittany with both hands, exhausted physically as well as mentally. She almost felt like she wanted to ask Brittany to carry her, but walked out of the building on her own feet. Once outside she slumped against Brittany more fully, clearly relieved to be finished and overwhelmed at everything she had shared.

Brittany kept her arms around Santana, helping her shift in her lap so her back was against her chest again, her eyes flicking down to the harsh words written across the dry erase board. She was grateful that Kate handed her a tissue to erase it, feeling a small burst of relief when Santana scrubbed the words away, as if the act of taking the words away would simultaneously remove the heartbreaking feelings from Santana's chest. She hated looking at the words, even wanting to drag her own sleeve across them and make it like they'd never been written in the first place. She wondered if it was cathartic for Santana to erase them or if the words were already imprinted too deeply on the surface of her heart.

Before Kate even asked the question, Brittany could feel how tight Santana's entire body was, running her hands down Santana's thighs to try to and relax her muscles and soothe her, knowing she was still upset from their latest topic of conversation and afraid of what would come next. Brittany didn't blame her - she was afraid too, afraid of what Kate would ask, what Santana's reaction would be and what emotions Santana would experience as a result.

As Kate spoke, Brittany felt her heart stutter just slightly. Neither of them had mentioned Santana's eating, even though it was the reason they started up therapy in the first place. All of the other things Kate was describing sounded awful, and Brittany, silently, experienced a pang of fear - had Santana ever scratched herself to bleeding? She pulled herself back into the present with the thought that she's seen Santana's body naked on a daily basis when she'd been back, and knew every single inch of her. Still- the question was edging into dangerous territory and Brittany felt her stomach roll at the thoughts running through her own mind.

She rested her chin on Santana's shoulder, reading along with her writing, none of the words being a surprised to her until Santana confessed she sometimes stopped eating when Brittany was away on tour. Her blood ran icy instantly - she had? Tour had been that hard for her that she'd resorted to not eating again? Guilt slammed into Brittany with a nearly physical force, and she tightened her arms around Santana's waist, feeling awful that she'd done that to her.

Brittany almost opened her mouth to whisper to Santana that she didn't know that, but what Santana wrote next stopped her dead- rape. The word was black and harsh against the whiteboard, and Brittany sucked in a sharp breath at it. They usually just referred to it as an assault or an attack or "what happened to you." but this was hard truth, glaring up at the both of them. She was amazed at Santana's strength having written it but stunned at the word itself, looking at it in disbelief as if she still couldn't wrap her head around what happened to her.

Brittany could hardly hear what Kate was saying, reeling in the aftermath of realizing Santana had stopped eating while Brittany ad been on tour and then written out that word for the very first time. Her eyes were out of focus as Santana continued to write, and she blinked away the haze, paying attention again to her next words. Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead. Brittany shuddered, uttering, "Oh my God," before she could stop herself, momentarily turning her head away from the board. She could not lose it, not in there, not when she was the only thing keeping Santana together in the first place.

It was haunting, and her brain filled with horrible images, things Santana could do when she was alone. At class? While Brittany was sleeping? She sucked in a desperate breath, turning her head back toward Kate and the whiteboard, purely out of a masochistic curiosity about what Santana was writing down after Kate asked so many questions. A parking garage, pill bottles. She, for a moment, thought she would be physically ill, resting her forehead against Santana shoulder for a moment to steady herself. Santana, who was alive and real and in her lap. Santana, who Brittany would do anything for - who Brittany needed more than anything.

She took a deep breath and picked her head up, forcing herself to calm down, to pay attention to what Kate was saying and what she was handing Santana. She was grateful it was ending, feeling just as exhausted as Santana probably felt, helping Santana stand up and finding that her legs were surprisingly sturdy. She knew it shouldn't be a shock - of course Santana's mind had ventured to the darkest places, but seeing it written out like that brought a fresh wave of awful clarity to the situation, and it was almost difficult for Brittany to let Santana crawl out of her lap, wanting her closer.

She felt better outside, knowing that was only the first meeting and of course, the most grueling. She tried to shake the shock of it away, forcing calm into her body when Santana slumped against her, wrapping her arms around her tiredly.

"You did amazing," She promised, rubbing her back over her coat. "That was hard for me, so I can't even imagine how it was for you," She admitted, pulling her phone from her pocket with one hand. "I'll call an Uber and then we can go home, okay?" She had a million things to say, but knew they all had to wait until later.

Santana had been so caught up in what she was writing, in releasing the terrible, terrifying flow of words that so often took hold of her mind and soul to really take in what Brittany was doing in response to them. She had written quickly but painfully her honest responses to Kate, only vaguely aware of Brittany's distress in her tightening arms and her brief, horrified utterance aloud. Now, outside of the therapy session, she is coming down from the aftermath of the stressful experience, and her body begins to tremble, almost in delayed shock of her own daring.

She had really just said all those things, to a stranger. To Brittany. To anyone other than her own exhausted mind. She had just told them about her deepest grief about her family, what had felt too raw and vulnerable and pathetic to ever say aloud. She had talked about her eating and her sadness, even her occasional thoughts of suicide. Should she really have done that? What would Kate do with that information now? Was it still safe? What was Brittany thinking and feeling now?

When Brittany acknowledged that she had found the session hard, Santana squeezed her arms harder around her waist, murmuring into her collar bone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I didn't want to say things that would make you sad. I try not to. Sorry."

She exhaled raggedly, not lifting her head. "I really want to go home. Sorry."

Brittany tried to ignore the way her hand trembled as she called an Uber, feeling relief explode through her when she was matched with a driver only three minutes away. "We don't have to talk about it right now," She said, tucking Santana closer to her body in the Manhattan winter chill. She knew they'd have to discuss it, eventually, and, most importantly, she had things she wanted to say. The session had shifted things into perspective for Brittany, however horrifying it was, but in that moment, she knew better than to open the floor to such a sensitive subject as they stood waiting for their ride home.

"Don't try to keep me from being sad," Brittany pointed out gently. "You're sad, I can handle sad, I just want you to be honest with me." It was all she said before the Uber rolled up and Brittany ushered Santana inside first before following, smiling at how Santana tucked herself into her side in the same way she'd done on the ride there, grateful for the contact. The session had been brutal, and all Brittany wanted in the aftermath was to hold Santana as tight as she possibly could and have as much physical closeness as possible.