Santana heard Brittany come into the bathroom beside her but doesn't move or say anything. She wouldn't have known what to say. Her emotions are tangled up and raw, and so, so painful to even try to unravel. She feels sick and scared and hurt, angry and guilty and stunned by her own feelings, her own words. She wants to undo it all and just climb back into Brittany's lap again, safe and protected and comforted, and yet she still clutching onto the now less sharp edges of her anger at Brittany for her leaving, and at herself for still wanting her so badly.

She wants to tell her to go, to get out before Santana is hurt too badly this time by her to be able to survive it. She wants to tell Brittany to go before Santana destroys her life, as she is certain now she will. And yet no words will emerge. It's hard enough just to breathe.

When Brittany sets the glass of water beside her, Santana's hand twitches, tasting the bitterness in her mouth as she becomes aware of how dehydrated she really is. When Brittany touches her back, Santana jerks involuntarily, not having seen the touch coming, but didn't shrug her off. As much as she judges herself for it, she doesn't want Brittany to stop touching her.

But she has to. She has to make her go, before it's too hard to let her stay.

Santana reached for the glass with a shaking hand and sipped the water, drinking the entire thing once she realizes how good the cool wetness tastes to her. Setting it back down, she remains on the ground, staring at her upper legs when she finally spoke in a small, lifeless voice.

"I didn't mean to say that. The last thing. That... wasn't right. Can we...just pretend that didn't happen?"

She took a shaky breath, lifting her head only slightly. "Don't you see you need to go back. This isn't your life and it shouldn't have to be. I don't want that for you. You shouldn't want that for you. You don't, really. You don't want this."

Brittany felt an immediate twinge of guilt when she felt Santana jerk under her hand, opening her mouth to apologize when Santana instantly relaxed after a moment. She kept her hand there, warm and steady against Santana's skin as Santana took the glass Brittany had silently offered, downing it in one gulp as Brittany watched with sad, sympathetic eyes. Santana's entire personality seemed to pendulum back and forth between bursts of anger, flashes of fear, and moments of sheer sadness and brokenness. It was exhausting and painful to watch, and Brittany couldn't imagine what it was like for her to live it.

She knew their conversation about the tour and the breakup was far from over - Brittany had things she wanted to explain, and she knew Santana did to, certain she would've kept speaking if not for scaring herself with her own words. But Santana had ended the conversation for now with the bomb that had shocked both of them, and now they lay in ashes, a battlefield quiet and deserted, two soldiers with neither an ounce more energy to war with each other.

Pressing her lips together, Brittany tilted her head to listen as Santana spoke, her voice barely audible, even in the silence of the bathroom. The lifeless tone in her speech was a stark contrast to how loud and grating her voice had been just minutes ago. Begging Brittany to forget, urging her to go back to her own life and, through her words, revealing her kindness - I don't want that for you. It was the selflessness Santana had always shown her, willing to walk through the darkness alone so Brittany didn't have to experience it.

"Tour is not my life," Brittany said, holding Santana's gaze, feeling her eyes sting. "Neither is dance. My life is a whole bunch of different things but touring is my job right now and it's never been a job I'd wanted for ever," Brittany explained, knowing their perceptions of Brittany's career were vastly different.

As a dancer, it was an unspoken rule that you always had to prepare for what could easily happen at any practice, any performance, any audition. A wrong step could end the career of a professional and, unlike any other career, dance was one that tended to have an expiration date.

"Kurt didn't force me to leave tour and come here. I made that decision myself and I don't regret it. I don't want to be on tour right now, I want to be here, with you. I knew what I was walking into," She insisted, even though she really didn't - no matter how much Rachel and Kurt had tried to prepare her, experiencing it was something different entirely. "My life isn't anything if I choose work over the people that are important to me or I don't show up for them."

They lapsed into a short but not uncomfortable silence while Brittany formulated what to say next. Moving her hand to rest on the side of Santana's head, Brittany shook her own head gently. "We can't forget what you said or pretend like you didn't say it." She said softly, swallowing hard. She knew what she doing - she was stepping into territory that only she had the privilege of entering, a daring risk that only Brittany would've ever been allowed to take. "You saying it or us forgetting it doesn't change what happened to you, Santana, and us pretending like we forgot it doesn't mean it never happened."

Brittany wished, prayed that could be the case, that Santana could shake her assault off like a bad dream. Rachel and Kurt had explicitly told her they never spoke about, never, ever, brought it up while she was doing exactly that.

"But you're allowed to be upset about it." She continued, her thumb stroking back and forth soothingly as she knelt beside her. "You're allowed to cry and be so angry that happened and be afraid and feel however you feel."

Brittany's words sounded obvious to her own ears, but she wasn't sure if anyone had ever explained to Santana that she had the right to her own feelings at any point in her life. Rachel and Kurt, as much as they helped, didn't seem like the type of people who ever let Santana just be whatever she was, ever let her just sit with her pain or her anger or heartache. Brittany knew it was because they were probably out of sorts with what to do with Santana when she was upset, wanting the emotional outburst to be over as quickly as possible, fumbling to comfort her just so she'd stop. The entire time she spoke, her eyes were on Santana, searching her face for a hint that she'd ever gone too far, trying to show Santana openness and solid ground and comfort in her eyes alone.

Shifting, Brittany rearranged herself so she was sitting against the wall, not waiting for Santana's direction before she tugged her into her lap, this time, she was the one who needed Santana close to her, relieved to have the warmth of her body back in her arms where she was safe, treasured, loved.

Tour wasn't Brittany's life...she didn't want it to be. She wanted to be here. She wanted to be with Santana.

Brittany's priorities had always been different from Santana's, but the one way they were similar was in their caring and desire to protect those they cared for. This should not come as a surprise to Santana that even now even after her bitterly crude words, Brittany wanted to be here. But it was. It was surprising, and it made Santana's eyes prick with tears she tried to blink back and try to swallow against the lump forming in her throat.

She closed her eyes as Brittany's hand rested against her head, leaning into her touch slightly. Her eyes opened quickly, her body stiffening again when Brittany gently but firmly told her that she would not indulge her in pretending to forget what she had said, what had happened to her. Heart picking up a faster, more unsteady lack of rhythm as she anticipated Brittany asking questions, forcing her to talk, she sucked in a bracing breath that came out like a strangled sob when she exhaled again.

But Brittany didn't ask her anything. Brittany just told her things, things she had never been told before- things she had never really accepted or believed. Most of her life Santana had fought most emotions but anger, feeling they were unacceptable, uncool, or just too much, too big for herself or others to live with. But here was Brittany telling her that her feelings were all okay, even normal. Telling her that she was entitled to them. It was a different view than Santana was used to.

When Brittany pulled Santana into her lap on the bathroom floor, drawing Santana's back against her chest and closing her arms around her, Santana didn't fight it. She didn't even want to, really. She let Brittany hold her, grounding her, accepting her, and with another shuddering breath out, Santana let her hand drift up to hesitantly rest on Brittany's arm. Then she leaned her head back against Brittany's shoulder, beginning to slowly, gradually relax a little again. Eventually she murmured aloud.

"I can't talk about it, Brittany. Please don't make me."

Brittany wrapped both arms around her, Santana's back up against her front, securing her in a comforting hold. She was calmer now, now that the dust had settled, feeling Santana physically relax against her, Brittany right hand crossing their bodies to rub up and down Santana's left arm lazily, touching her as much as possible. With her free hand, she laced her fingers through Santana's where their arms crossed.

She wasn't exactly sure where to go from there but she felt no pressure, like they didn't really need any sort of direction at all. She was content to sit with her, Santana's head leaned back against her shoulder, both of them drawing the comfort and touch they needed from the other, a wordless, physical exchange.

When Santana did speak, Brittany gave her arm a gentle squeeze to let her know she was listening, swayed by how small and begging her voice sounded. It was foreign to hear Santana beg like that, pleading with her. "You don't have to talk about it," She soothed, knowing Santana was still shocked and taken aback by the fact that she'd referenced what had happened so boldly and abruptly that night. Brittany knew she had been shocked by it, but aware that her own feelings paled in comparison to the horror Santana must have felt, her own mouth, her own anger betraying her, blurting out something Santana tried so hard to stamp down.

"One day, you'll be able to talk about," Brittany promised, "One day, it'll just be something that happened a long, long time ago, something you hardly even think about anymore." She knew that day was likely far, far off, if they ever got there, but she also knew she had to reassure Santana that her life wouldn't always be like this, that existing wouldn't always be so difficult for her to deal with, that every minute wouldn't always be a struggle.

She let them lapse back into silence, leaning her head back against the wall behind her, her eyes falling shut. Brittany wasn't tired, quite the opposite, instead, every nerve in her body buzzed at being able to hold Santana so close to her, but both of them had just ping ponged through every emotion in the book and for the time being, Brittany was grateful to just sit there with Santana and be.

Santana relaxed a little more against Brittany's chest, her body growing a bit softer under her comforting embrace and stroking hand on her arm. As Brittany continued to touch and speak to her reassuringly, caressing her, validating her with gentle, softly confident words of hope, Santana's body responded automatically, curling into Brittany without making herself smaller or coiled this time in the process. Her exhaustion began to sink in, her eyes growing hooded and heavy, and she let them drift closed. Within ten minutes she had drifted into sleep, her breathing soft, even, and regular, her body losing any remaining tension in sleep as she unconsciously burrows closer to Brittany's solid, soothing warmth.

Feeling Santana relax against her, Brittany had taken to humming softly to fill the silence, her own eyelids heavy where her head rested against the wall. She'd shifted her body so her legs were straight out, Santana slumped between them. Brittany wasn't sure when she'd slipped off, but she was lulled by Santana's weight against her and her soft, even breaths. Being so still reminded her how truly exhausted she was and how little rest she'd gotten in the past 24 hours traveling across completely different time zones. She'd been running on adrenaline before, but now, she slipped easily into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

She had no idea how long she'd been own, but when she came around again, shifting a little from how stiff her back felt, she could hear the unmistakable banter of Kurt and Rachel, both of them doing a surprisingly good job at keeping their voices low. "Rachel, stop taking photos of them!" She heard Kurt whisper yell, quickly followed by, "But God, that's really adorable, they're lucky I cleaned the bathroom floor the other week."

Although her eyes were still shut, she grinned, cracking one eye open, nearly laughing out loud at the way Rachel gasped in surprise that she was awake.

"Oh! Brittany, I didn't realize you were awake! When I got home I thought for a moment the two of you had left but I quickly found you hear and then, I'm sure you don't mind, I took a few precious photos. I thought you might want them to document your reunion an-"

"Rachel!" Kurt cut off Rachel's whisper babble as he stood beside her in the doorway, although he had the same expression of adoration on his face as he looked down at the two of them. "May I ask how, out of all places in the apartment, you ended up in here?" He asked.

"She got sick," Brittany said back quietly, leaving it at that. She didn't want to overshare what Santana had told her, and she could fill them in on any other details later. "I have to stand up, my leg is falling asleep." Brittany said around a yawn, glancing down at Santana, still sleeping soundly against her chest, Brittany's arms still wrapped around her.

Slowly and gracefully, Brittany moved her legs so she could get them under her body to stand up, one of her arms moving to hook under Santana's legs, the other arm holding her body close to her chest as she stood, easily cradling her against her. Santana was so light, it was nearly effortless for Brittany to carry her, stepping sideways out of the bathroom door and following Rachel who had pulled back the curtain to her own bed.

"She doesn't really sleep in her own bed anymore," Rachel informed her.

Bending gently, Brittany let Santana sink into the mattress, standing over her as she shifted, waiting for a moment in case she woke up, her hand resting on her forehead gently.

Santana was so comfortably zonked that she didn't hear Kurt and Rachel come in talking. She slept on, only beginning to stir when Brittany lifted her. Screwing her eyes more tightly shut in unconscious protest, Santana burrowed her face into Brittany's shoulder, making a protesting grumbling noise in response to being lifted and moved. She didn't wake up completely though, soothed by still feeling Brittany's warmth and her arms around her.

When Brittany lay her down on Rachel's bed, Santana mumbled wordless protest again, missing Brittany's arms around her. Eyes still closed, she grasped blindly for Brittany's arm, reaching out for her, wanting her to remain close.

Rachel moved the curtain open and smiled broadly when she observed the interaction between them. She whispered, "Brittany, you clearly have the magic touch when it comes to Santana Lopez, I have spent quite frankly a vast, consuming amount of hours with her recently and she has never looked even a small percentage of the calm she appears to be now. You should consider being a massage therapist if the dancing doesn't work out. Not that it won't of course, Kurt and I have followed your progress even though we have to hide it from Santana and you really are impressive, we are both so proud of you and I know Santana is too even if she won't say so now."

"Rachel, do you not remember the girl is asleep, can you curtail your natural desire to monologue just a little," Kurt sighed , coming up behind her. He too smiled softly as he regarded Santana on the bed before looking to Brittany, regarding her with some concern."You must be beyond exhausted, Brittany. Why don't you lay down and rest yourself? You can take Santana's bed if you want."

"Or mine!" Rachel chimed in, her eyes aglow with her very obvious matchmaking fantasy. "You can sleep in mine with Santana, I don't mind!"

Brittany instantly missed Santana when she set her down, but she knew that Santana desperately needed sleep and, although she might want to, her sleeping slumped against Brittany's chest on the bathroom floor was not the best source of rest. She sat on the side of the bed gently, making sure not to dip the mattress too much under her weight.

When Santana reached out, trying to find the contact she'd just lost, Brittany smiled, catching her hand in the air and holding it against her chest, watching Santana's face relax when she'd found what she wanted. Santana had always done that, even in sleep - searched for Brittany. If they ever rolled away from each other or slept in a position where they weren't tangled up in each other, Santana was quick to reach out in her sleep, her hand searching across the bed in the dark until she made contact with Brittany, pulling her back against her.

For the first time, Santana's expression was relaxed, the muscles in her face soothed in sleep instead of the constant pinched and nervous expression she wore when she was awake. In sleep, she looked so much younger, so much more fragile than she did when she was awake. The huge emotions and loud voices they'd been throwing at each other earlier seemed a world away and now, all that was left was her Santana.

Turning when she heard the curtain open a little, she smiled at Rachel, eyebrows raised in amusement at her whispered rant. The recognition that Santana had such a positive reaction to Brittany made her heart thump. She'd been so unsure, waffling back and forth on if she was really capable of comforting Santana anymore, especially through this, but hearing Rachel's observation gave her a burst of happiness, of confidence. When Rachel admitted that both she and Kurt had tracked Brittany's career, she blushed, feeling the heat seep across her cheeks at the realization that maybe her friends cared about her more than she even thought. "Thanks, Rachel," She whispered, meaning it more than she ever had.

At Kurt's statement, Brittany nodded honestly, she hadn't thought much about herself since she'd gotten there but she was exhausted. The short sleep she'd had wasn't nearly enough to make her feel rested, and she node gratefully at Kurt's suggestion. She knew she had a hotel she probably should go check into, but leaving so abruptly when she and Santana hadn't even said goodbye wasn't something she even considered doing. She stood from the bed, gently setting Santana's hand down beside her body, hesitating to make sure she didn't stir from the motion. At Rachel's overenthusiastic suggestion, Brittany's eyes widened before she smiled, shaking her head.

"I'll sleep in Santana's bed - I don't want to wake her up," She whispered, glancing back at her sleeping form.

Truthfully, Brittany didn't trust her own body. Part of her was nervous she would scare Santana or jolt her out of sleep, but she was almost more afraid that she wouldn't scare her, that their bodies would find each other naturally, as they always had, and they would wake in each other's arms in a position that was not appropriate for two people who weren't dating. She didn't want to take the risk, didn't want Rachel or Kurt to walk in on them wrapped in each other, didn't want to confuse Santana. And so, although she wanted to curl up next to her, she slipped out of the curtain and into Santana's space.

It was the first time she'd actually stopped to look around there, recognizing so many familiar items from their life together. Tiredly, Brittany realized her suitcase was across the apartment and she really didn't want to go back out where Rachel would undeniably engage her in a 20 minute conversation. Instead, she pulled her shirt over her head, rummaging around in Santana's drawer before she found a sweatshirt that was oversized enough to fit her, pulling it over her head before slipping under the blanket and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

88

For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Santana slept deeply, dreamlessly, and peacefully. The whiplash of emotions had completely sapped her, and although she was normally a restless sleeper, she didn't move at all for the three hours she slept. This was so against what Rachel had come to view as normal and routine for her that when she peeked around the curtain after coming home again from a voice lesson and saw that Santana was in the same position that she had last seen her in, she panicked.

Santana was jolted awake by a panicky voice, far, far too close to her ear. "Oh my god, she's not moving, Santana! Santana, are you okay? Oh my god, I can't tell if she's breathing! Santana, Santana wake up!"

Santana bolted up with a gasp, her eyes darting, too disoriented to immediately recognize Rachel's familiar voice. Her heart pounds as she tries to draw herself fully awake and aware, and Rachel, relieved, exhales loudly and dramatically, clutching at her chest.

"Oh thank goodness! You weren't moving, and the sheets weren't tangled up or on the floor, and you were so quiet and still I thought you might be dead! You scared me!"

"I scared you?" Santana muttered, trying to conjure up a withering glare but not quite hitting the mark. "Next time you're sleeping I'll scream in your ear, see who's scared then."

She realized just after she said it that this was actually something she had done, and often. She dropped her eyes, cheeks flushing, and was grateful when Rachel let the comment go. Sometimes, unbelievably, the girl did know when to keep her mouth closed.

"Sorry. Anyway, if you're going to class, it starts in thirty minutes."

Santana stood, stretching, her head clearer and calmer than it had been in what felt to her like a lifetime. It was amazing what a little decent sleep could do. She started to gather up her laptop but then froze, her brief calm over as the memory of her eventful morning rushed back to mind. Her head swiveled, looking for Brittany as though she might have missed seeing her beside her, and she threw back Rachel's curtain, pushing past the other girl in her hurry.

Had any if that even been real? Had Brittany really dropped everything to come to her? Had they really said the things they said to each other? What if they hadn't? What if it was all just a really vivid dream?

"Santana, what's wrong?" Rachel called, concerned by the change in her demeanor, but Santana was scanning the living and kitchen area, both alarmed and increasingly anxious when she saw no sign of Brittany. Heart raising up to her throat, she checked the bathroom, then Kurt's curtained off area before throwing aside her own curtain, already terrified that she really had just been dreaming.

She shouldn't be terrified, she should be glad. Brittany belonged where she was in Munich, not here with her and her mess. But nevertheless, when she tosses open her curtain and saw Brittany curled up in her bed, wearing her sweater, no less, Santana let out a sharp, edgy laugh, relieved, and her heartbeat began to slow down. It had been real. Brittany really was there.

"Santana?" Rachel whispered, coming beside her and watching her uncertainly, but Santana shook her head. She stared at Brittany, wanting to wake her, but knowing that Brittany must be far more tired even than she had been, given her journey. It would be selfish to wake her up, even to tell her goodbye before class. It would be far more selfish to wake her up because she wanted her to walk her to class instead of Rachel, who was here, loyal and patient, instead of doing any number of other possibilities after her lesson, to do just that.

Santana hesitated, then took out a post it and stuck it on her night stand where Brittany would see. "Going to class, starts at 6. Back by 9." She signed her name, fighting the impulse to write love or put a heart. They weren't in the place where she could do that, but old habits seemed to be wanting to emerge in spite of herself. It was also hard not to kiss Brittany on the forehead or hell, the mouth before following Rachel out the door, but Santana refrained.

She was still making sure Brittany left. She was not going to screw up and make her think she should stay. She was not going to make it that much harder on herself when Brittany did.

When Brittany stirred, she groaned, rolling over and pull the blankets over her, nestling her face and nose into the pillow and - Santana. Instantly, her nose was hit with the unmistakable smell of Santana and she jolted up, remembering where she was, remembering what had happened in the last 48 hours. Even though Santana no longer even slept in her room, it still smelled like her, like her shampoo, her perfume, her chapstick, the familiar smell of her skin. Sitting up, Brittany raked a hand through her hair, glancing out the window into the now-dark Manhattan. Was Santana awake? Did she actually go to class? Surveying her surroundings, she noticed the neon sticky note, bright against Santana's nightstand. Scanning her eyes over it, she smiled a little.

She was sad Santana hadn't woken her up, but knew that she wouldn't do that, she would've never disturbed Brittany. She was relieved, though, that Santana had decided to go to class, hoping it meant she was feeling okay and that she hadn't a had a nightmare when she slept. She assumed that she hadn't - from what she heard from Rachel and Kurt, the nightmares were usually loud and violent and she was sure she would've woken up.

Parting the curtain and stepping out into the common room, she saw Kurt wasn't there but Rachel was, looking at her instantly like she'd just been waiting for her to wake up.

"Brittany! There you are, did you have a good sleep? Santana went to class which does surprise me because she has days where just going outside seems to be overwhelming for her and usually if she doesn't get a good night sleep she's much too tired and upset to go to class but I was happy she went today because I keep trying to tell her how important school is. I do suppose she had such a good sleep before hand, she was perfectly still and she usually never is, even when she's not having a nightmare. I have to say she does kick quite a lot but the kicking is certainly preferable to her screaming. She seemed alright when I walked her to class. Of course, it's getting chilly so it's not great for my voice for me to be out in the cold but I'll be leaving soon to go pick her up."

Brittany gaped at her, not sure if she'd prepared what to say beforehand or could launch into a monologue that quickly and easily.

"I'll go!" Brittany volunteered, her head still spinning a little from Rachel's lecture on Santana's tendencies and the importance of a good night's sleep.

She could see the relief blankly written across Rachel's face at the fact that she didn't need to leave the house to go back to get Santana, and stood by patiently while Rachel explained how to get there and wrote them down on a piece of paper. Her descriptions were far more than Brittany needed, like telling her there was a green lamppost on one corner and a black one on another. Still, she appreciated Rachel giving her the directions and set off a little bit early, wanting to get there before Santana's class got out in case she'd miss her.

Once she got there- still wearing Santana's hoodie- she found the spot where Rachel usually said she waited for Santana, a ledge beside the building that had a raised garden. Realizing she must have been walking quickly because she was excited, she lifted herself on the ledge, looking around at her surroundings, trying to be patient but really just looking forward to seeing Santana again.

Santana had not done the reading for class she was supposed to, but she had always been good at skimming and picking up information by listening while still doodling in margins, appearing that she was not. She felt she had enough grasp of the material that she could still sit through class, add the occasional comment if necessary or if she felt like it, and get by. But this evening, for all the attention she paid the professor and her classmates, she might as well have stayed home.

It wasn't lack of sleep or even the apprehension of walking on campus at night, even with Rachel, that bothered her today. All she could think about was Brittany. The note she left her had been deliberately short and factual, but the more she thought about it, the more she agonized. Had Brittany been irritated by it, even angry? What if she woke up, realized that Santana was right, that she needed to get back on tour ASAP? What if she had time to really think about how fucked up Santana was, how she was too big and bright and beautiful in the world to let herself be stained by her messiness? What if she spoke with her manager and they told her she had to get back right away, and what if her flight was right in the middle of Santana's class? What if she had left and Santana didn't even get to say goodbye?

The class seemed endless as Santana grew increasingly antsy and agitated, and the only thing keeping her from walking out was her spotty attendance record and the fact that she would have to wait for Rachel or walk alone in the dark. By the time the class ended she bolted up out of her seat and nearly plowed people down to find Rachel outside the building, intent on grilling her on Brittany's current whereabouts as she had noticed she had not missed any texts or calls on her cell.

She tried to tell herself as she walked that it would be okay, if Brittany was gone, it would be fine. It was inevitable and how things should be. It would probably hurt less if she left without some huge production of a goodbye. It would be fine, she would get over it. Eventually.

But as she came up on the ledge where she usually met Rachel to walk home, Santana could see long slim legs swinging, a frame clearly taller and more athletic than Rachel's with glossy blonde hair obviously not Rachel's either. It was Brittany waiting for her, Brittany who was there to walk her home.

Brittany was still there. Brittany hadn't left. Brittany had gone to the effort to seek her out.

Santana stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, and before she could stop herself a huge smile broke out over her face. Before she even felt the threat of it coming on, she found herself bursting into tears of relief more than sadness. Embarrassed, she covered her face with both hands, trying in vain to hide it as tears seeped through her fingers and her shoulders shook.

"Y-you're st-still here," she managed to sob out. "You're st-still here!"

Brittany felt like she'd been out there for hours, but she knew it had likely only been a few minutes - she was just anxious to see Santana again that time seemed to drag on. A chill had settled into the city since she'd last been there and she found herself grateful she was wearing Santana's swear, burying her hands in the kangaroo pocket.

And then, just as Brittany was alone outside, she wasn't. Students seemed to swirl around her and she perked up, glancing around - class had let out. There were so many people pouring out the doors and Brittany tried to look at all of them, seeing if any of them were Santana. She was tempted to push through the crowds and go looking for her but Rachel promised they always met at the same spot because it was a little ways away from the crowds and it made Santana feel better that she knew Rachel would always been in the same spot.

Santana almost got to her before her eyes had a chance to register it was her, walking with a quick determination like she was in a rush to get there. Brittany smiled as Santana approached, finally looking up and seeing her - but then she skidded to a stop, hair swinging over her shoulder as she halted. Brittany's stomach plummeted - was Santana expecting Rachel and unhappy that Brittany was there instead? Would she be mad?

She received her answer a minute later when Santana's face broke out in a wide, elated smile. She looked like a child in that moment and it reminded Brittany of all the times Santana had given in to happiness and how much younger her real smile made her seem. Brittany hopped off the ledge, relief making her insides feel like a balloon, light and dizzy from her joy.

What she didn't expect was a sob to burst forth from Santana's mouth, tears springing to her eyes abruptly. Brittany froze again, not sure what was happening until Santana brought her hands up to cover her face, her body wracking at the emotions it was overcome with. Through her tears Brittany could hear her mumbling, stuttering out a repeated phrase and she had to take a step closer to actually hear head.

You're here. Santana was stuttering, "You're here" over and over again and this time it was Brittany's face that cracked into a smile. She sighed in relief, feeling emotional herself over the fact that Santana was so happy to see her. Reaching forward, she pulled Santana toward her by her forearm, both of Santana's hands still over her face. She pushed Santana so her back was against the brick of the building and then slid her arms around her waist, burying her face in her hair and not giving a shit that this was probably not how exes should greet each other.

"Of course I'm here," Brittany laughed into Santana's shoulder. "What, did you think I was going to let Rachel hog you all the time?"

Santana let herself be tugged around by Brittany without protest, still in tears, sniffing and sputtering and not even sure of what she was saying or wanted to say. Her body felt too small, her skin too thin to contain the intensity of her feelings, and even she is surprised by them. She pushes her face into the familiar, comforting hollow of the slope where Brittany's neck met her shoulder, trying to breathe her in to regulate herself. Brittany smells like her own facial cleanser and toothpaste, even her own sheets and clothing, and yet she's still smells Brittany's unique scent underneath; she wants to soak it in. She lifts one hand to wipe at her eyes repeatedly, but she's finding it difficult to stop just yet. She is just so damn glad Brittany didn't leave, not now, not yet.

"Sorry," she muttered into Brittany's skin, her own arms grasping Brittany tightly around the waist. "I'm trying to stop being such a loser, I swear. I know I'm crazy now. I know, and I fucking hate it."

She takes a shuddering breath, a little calmer after getting that out. Even though the thought is constantly on her mind, how pathetic she is, what a burden she is to Kurt and Rachel, she has never actually said it out loud before. Is actually faintly relieving to speak it.

"I hate it," she repeated more calmly. "I know we don't say the s word, but that's what it is."

They stayed like that, their heads buried in each other for Brittany didn't even know how long, feel Santana's tight hold on her waist. She lost count of how many times she witnessed Santana visibly calm down just by being pressed up against Brittany in the last 24 hours, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be something she ever got tired of.

"Don't be sorry," Brittany hummed, hugging her even tighter to her. She listened to Santana speak, not dismissing her statement, but actually listening to what she was saying, waiting until she felt her calm down a little until she picked her head up. "Look at me," She commanded gently, knowing Santana didn't want to pick her head up from its favorite spot on Brittany's neck but she asked her to do it all the same. Santana, of course, listened.

"Do I look unhappy that you got so excited to see me?" Brittany asked, eyebrows raised. She was still grinning from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with joy. "I told you. you could feel anything you want this morning, remember? That includes happy things." Brittany pointed out, reaching behind her and threading one of Santana's hands together with hers as they fell into step beside each other, even though Brittany could've held her in her arms standing there all night.

"When you have big emotions, you have to get them out," She said gently, quietly dismantling all of Santana's statements, giving her hand a gentle squeeze as they walked towards the loft. "Why do you think it's stupid?" She asked out loud, plainly requesting Santana explain her thought process to her. She did that all the time with Santana, forcing her to push her thoughts out of her mind and speak them into real, tangible words, to help Brittany understand why she thought something was the way it was.

Santana was reluctant to look up at Brittany when she requested, but she could never defy her when she spoke to her in that firm voice. She lifted her face, meeting Brittany's eyes, and listened, trying to accept and take in what Brittany was telling her.

She knew that Brittany believed what she was saying; she never lied to her, even to make Santana feel better. But it still feels wrong to Santana to be so openly emotional; it always has. It's one of the the things she has never been able to accept in herself, how deep and intensely her emotions run, and they are all the stronger now.

She let Brittany take her hand, only briefly thinking that she shouldn't, that she should try to reclaim some distance, before deciding it feels far too nice to do so. As Brittany pushes her gently to explain her thoughts, Santana exhales, trying to put them into words somewhat haltingly.

"Because. It's...it's been months. It's over. It won't...it's not still happening, it's over, I know that. So I should be okay now. I should be able to just be normal. I should be able to do normal things, like go shopping and walk three blocks alone. I should be able to go to work and school. I'm a grown woman, I should be able to go through a day without being...being scared. I should be able to take a damn shower!"

Her voice gets tight and bitter with frustration at herself at the end, and she squeezes Brittany's hand unconsciously. Her last remark is almost inaudible, more to herself than to Brittany.

"Besides, it's not like I haven't had something like this coming. You can't treat people like shit for no reason and piss guys off and lead them on for years without getting some kind of payback."

This is what she truly believes. She had brought this onto herself; she doesn't really have the right, therefore, to feel like she's suffering.

Brittany listened to Santana explain her feelings, about how she felt she should do things, being careful not to interject. She heard the way Rachel had cut into their conversation in the apartment insisting - Santana, don't say that. While she knew Rachel was trying to be helpful to the situation, she also knew that Santana had never had a chance to speak in her life. Her parents never gave her enough attention to where she could speak freely and explain her emotions, and Cheerios wasn't the place where Sue had ever allowed them any emotional vulnerability. Even in glee people had misjudged Santana, cutting her off before she ever really developed a chance to convey her feelings.

Brittany, on the other hand, nearly always stayed silent, giving Santana room and space to speak her feelings without making her feel like she had to hurry up. And even though it heard her heart to hear that Santana held herself to such an impossible standard, she tried to stay quiet, sympathetic of Santana's desire for independence. It was always something she wanted, never something she had. Even when she refused to admit it, she needed Brittany as fiercely as Brittany needed her and, even after they graduated and moved to New York, Brittany still saw the ways in which Santana's upbringing influenced her life - feeling like she constantly needed to be independent.

Besides, it's not like I haven't had something like this coming. The words made Brittany stop on the sidewalk, still in the night. It wasn't the first time that day that Santana had caught her off guard with the way the conversation veered. Brittany thought Rachel and Kurt had told her pretty much everything but the more time she spent with Santana, the more that she was surprised and she suspected that maybe, just maybe, all the things Santana kept catching her off guard with were things she'd never brought up to Rachel and Kurt.

"I don't…" She started walking again, her mind registering the fact that it was getting late, remembering Santana didn't like to be out late. "I don't understand what you mean. Payback?" Brittany asked, feeling like she'd probably soon regret it.

She felt her stomach clenching, already feeling like she might be sick based on where she thought this conversation was going.

Santana looks around nervously, checking who may be waking by and listening. Her hand grips Brittany's tighter as she feels her breathing begin to grow more shallow, her chest suddenly partly constricted.

She wants to hide her face against Brittany again and refuse to answer. She wants to drag her back to the apartment and bury herself in blankets, but no matter where she goes or what she does, she can't escape her own mind. That has become more than clear recently.

"You know," she managed, eyes down, her narrow shoulders drawing in more, as those folding her body in on itself, making herself small as possible. "What happened. I...I know no one will say it, but I know. If it...if it had to happen to someone, I h-had it coming the most. After everything I've done... after, well..."

Her shoulder pressed into Brittany's and her feet stumbled, nearly causing herself to trip, but Santana barely noticed.

"I...I deserve it most,* she managed, the words squeezing out with difficulty through her struggle to continue to breathe more or less normally. "I... brought it on myself. For being, for what...what I...it's my fault. I made this have to happen, to show me up, or p-punish me, or something. So I...so I should suck it up and just get...get over it, because... because... because I made it happen anyway."

Although they're walking, Brittany keeps stealing glances sideways at Santana, only looking forward to make sure she wasn't about to bump into anyone. "Hey," Brittany said softly, rubbing her thumb across the back of Santana's hand, not to say anything to her but more to remind her where she was and who she was with, feeling Santana grow increasing stressed. "We're almost home," Brittany promised, even if she only really knew that based on how much they'd already walked.

She let Santana speak, falling quiet, glad they were shoulder to shoulder because she likely wouldn't have been able to hear her otherwise. Her free hand shot out to catch Santana when she stumbled a little, but Santana stayed up right, pressing into her as much as possible while walking as she continued to explain thoughts that had never occurred to Brittany.

Just like she always had, Santana was letting her into the prison of her own mind, revealing how she truly thought, despite the fact that what Brittany thought couldn't have been more different. It was a random, tragic night that would likely change Santana's life forever, but Santana only viewed it as finally getting what she had coming.

Slipping her hand out of Santana's, she instead wrapped her arm around Santana's shoulders as they walked the remaining blocks to the loft. "I don't think you want to talk about this out here, huh?" She guessed, rubbing Santana's arm to let her know she wouldn't push her out here, not in the dark. "You had a horrible, terrible thing happen to you, and it wasn't because you're Santana Lopez." It was the only thing she said until they got back to the loft, letting Santana out from under her arm to unlock the door.

Once upstairs, she saw that both Rachel and Kurt's curtains were closed, remembered that it was after 9 at night. She knew, realistically, she should go back to the hotel, but the words Santana had just spoke were crushing against her chest and, like most other things with Brittany, she could not let them go. "Sit with me," She asked simply, moving back to sit on the couch where she'd sat this morning, slipping her shoes off.

Santana didn't say anything else and they continue to walk. Grateful that Brittany was not proving any further, that maybe she would simply let us go, she also took this to mean that privately Brittany agreed with her. Brittany knew that she was right, no matter how much she loved her or used to love her. Everyone knew that she was right. Santana didn't know if that made things worse or better, knowing that she had created her own suffering from her past behavior.

She huddled under Brittany's arm, chilled not so much from the outside temperature as from her own confessions. Shaking slightly, she walked with her lips pressed tightly together, her head down, and focused on fighting down any outburst of emotion that might try to force itself out of her.

The apartment was dark and quiet as she and Brittany entered. Santana knew that Kurt and Rachel were probably still awake but taking time to themselves before they did prepare for bed. Rachel had once attempted to make a strict rule that after 9:00 p.m. all parties had to have a low noise threshold rule in the apartment and give each other space if they so desired it, and although Santana had rolled her eyes and mocked it relentlessly before her assault, she generally did follow it now. She didn't feel like being loud and obnoxious very much even to irritate Rachel. Besides, both of them did need and deserve time to themselves after what they had done to try to help her.

She expected Brittany to tell her goodbye and leave for her hotel, but Brittany surprised her by taking off her shoes sitting down on the couch, and asking Santana to sit with her. Santana hesitated, unsure of what exactly the other woman was up to, but then sat beside her, keeping a few inches between them as she faced her. She wasn't sure if Brittany just wanted to relax with her a while or is she wanted to talk or what, so she stayed quiet, waiting for Brittany to act further.

Brittany waited patiently until Santana was sitting next to her, patting her lap for Santana to swing her legs up on, draping her arms over Santana's thighs as they sat. She was aware Santana had been silent since her confession, choosing instead to huddle into Brittany the rest of the walk.

"I want to talk about what you told me when we were coming home." Brittany said, her eyes sad, trying to convey to Santana that she didn't deserve everything life had given her. "You think what happened to you that night happened because you were mean to people or you're not a good person?" She wondered again, disbelief seeping into her voice. Brittany had so many things to say about all of it, the fact that Santana thought she deserved it, the fact that she was so hard on herself and frustrated with what her life was then.

Brittany's hands didn't stay still for long, rubbing Santana's legs as she spoke, massaging the joints of her ankles, trying to soothe her while she spoke. "This didn't happen to you because you're Santana Lopez." Brittany repeated, her eyes kind but burning with a fierce determination. "This happened to you because a man who was a monster ended up in your bar and decided to do the worst thing someone could do." She explained, crossing her line again by directly referencing that night.

This wasn't the first time she wished the world had been kinder to Santana. All their lives, Brittany had watched Santana been dealt a cruel hand - parents that weren't the most present and affectionate, a struggle with coming to terms with who she really was, a reputation in high school for being easy. Brittany, most of the time, had come off unscathed, but she knew it was because she often faded into the background - she was easily forgotten, if she stayed quiet. And then, when they'd gotten out of high school, Brittany finally thought it was going to be better for Santana, only for her to land a touring job that left Santana lonely and needier than ever. And now, the worst thing that she could ever imagine happed to the girl she loved.

Santana didn't hesitate to let Brittany pull her legs into her lap, letting her taut muscles unravel slightly under her strong, experienced hands. Brittany has often massaged her where she holds tension and strain, whether from Cheerios or just general stressed and she always feels better after, almost like a cat being petted. She lets her eyes half close, trying to let herself relax.

Her eyes open again when Brittany speaks, and her muscles automatically tense again when Brittany references the rape, as though bracing herself. She shook her head, her eyes avoiding Brittany's, voice soft and emotional when she responded. "You think that because you can't see anything bad in me. You never could. So I don't believe you. I...I can't."

Brittany continued her ministrations, trying to relax the muscles she felt tensing under her hands. She knew she was stubborn, but Santana could be stubborn almost to a level of frustration. "No, I think that because I'm right," Brittany said evenly, still looking at Santana even though she was looking away. She tilted her head back against the couch, knowing that Santana would believe certain things Brittany told her, but there were some things that were so deeply rooted that Brittany wasn't sure if even she could change Santana's mind.

"Even if I didn't know you, even if you were a terrible person who did terrible things, what happened to you wasn't your fault." She said. "Even if there were bad things about you, no one could ever be deserving of that."

She pressed her lips together, sighing. She really should be leaving, but all she wanted to do was keep sitting there with Santana, like she couldn't peel herself away until she knew she did her best to give her peace of mind, to try and make her think what Brittany so truly believed.

"And maybe I can't see anything bad in you because I'm the only person who you've ever shown all of you." She knew the words were stepping over the line, things she should not be saying to her ex. But she meant them. "And what happened to you is something that doesn't just go away. Nothing ever just goes away. If showering with someone in the bathroom makes you feel better than who cares?" Brittany asked gently, willing Santana to look at her, knowing this conversation wouldn't be one that would end in a single night.

Santana shivered, partly from Brittany's firm but gentle touch, partly from her insistent words to her. She closed her eyes against threatening tears until she has willed them back. She wants to believe Brittany. She really does. But she can't bring herself to.

"I care," she said quietly. "And I still think I made myself karma's bitch. But thanks for thinking otherwise."

It did matter to her, what Brittany felt about her, how she saw her. Even now...maybe especially now. But that doesn't mean she can agree.

Leaning her head against Brittany's shoulder, she wished to herself that the blonde would stay all night, rubbing her legs, caring in a way that no one ever had, in a way Santana could not quite allow anyone else to. And it's precisely because she wants this that she mumbles "You should go to your hotel and sleep. You have to still be tired."

Brittany shook her head gently. "Nobody else knows you don't like to shower alone or that you sleep next to Rachel. People don't look at you and instantly know what happened, San. If it's what you need to feel better, than none of us are judging you." She promised softly.

Their entire lives, Santana had been obsessed with others' approval, even if it were private things. She'd seen it when they were younger and she saw it now, Santana judging herself based on things that made her feel okay.

"It could've been me," Brittany pointed out gently, toeing the line again. "Let's say I'd been in a bar bathroom alone, anyone could've walked in, anyone could've done the same." She whispered, knowing proving this point would upset Santana, thinking about herself ever getting hurt in the same way. "But if it did, would you tell me it was because I slept with every guy and school and had it coming?"

Brittany made a noise in the back of her throat when Santana suggested she leave - she was right about that. Brittany was exhausted and, as much as she wanted to stay and curl around Santana's little body, she knew it would be crossing a line and making the waters murky and that's not what she wanted.

"I will in a little, will you be okay?" She wondered softly. She knew her role in this was to help Santana, not confuse her about their relationship.

Santana listens to what Brittany is telling her and hears her, but she doesn't agree. It matters to her. It matters to her too that people may judge her if they did find out, and she most certainly does judge herself. She has always held herself to very rigid standards of what she believes that she should and should not be and do, and she isn't cutting herself any slack right now. She truly doesn't feel that she should be given any.

When Brittany started to point out to her that anyone could have been in the same situation that Santana had been in, painting the hypothetical imagery of Brittany rather than Santana being in the bathroom, being the one attacked, Santana stops breathing for a moment in horror at the vivid imagery that comes into her mind. Her stomach flips over with nausea as she imagines Brittany being grabbed and held down, being threatened, being choked, her clothes torn off her as she tries to fight and fails. She imagines Brittany being hurt exactly as she had been, being told the same vile things that she had been, and believing them. All of this flies through her head in a matter of moments, and she actually chokes on the revulsion it causes her.

Gagging, Santana's eyes filled with tears that quickly spilled over as she shook her head hard enough to cause the tendons of her neck to stand out and her hair to whip back and forth, the ends hitting Brittany's face.

"No! No, don't ever say that, don't even think about that," she begged. "That isn't going to happen, that isn't true. Don't say that!"

She doesn't respond to Brittany's earlier question asking her if she is going to be okay when she leaves. Right now the thought of Brittany suffering instead of her, the words lingering out in the air, having been spoken aloud, is somewhat irrationally terrifying her, and she is afraid that having spoken the words will somehow curse them into happening. She doesn't try to check the tears streaming down her cheeks as she looks at Brittany with desperation.

"Take that back!"

She knew she'd struck a nerve based on the sound that came out of Santana when she said it, a harsh, disgusted, fearful noise. "Hey hey hey, I'm sorry," Brittany said, her hands moving from rubbing Santana's legs to resting on her shoulders. "Shhhhh, San."

Brittany knew it would hit home, but didn't want Santana to now live in fear of it ever happening to Brittany just because the thought had never occurred to her that it could've been any of them. It was then that she realized just how targeted Santana believed the attack was and how deserving Santana thought she was.

"It didn't happen to me," Brittany reminded her, her heart fracturing at the desperate look on Santana's face. "And saying it out loud won't make it happen to me," She cooed, moving to take Santana's face in her hands, her thumbs swiping the tears off her cheeks. "I'm fine, Santana, I'm right here and I'm fine and nothing bad happened to me." Brittany reminded her gently, a knot forming in her stomach.

She remembered when Santana, earlier that morning, had confessed that nobody knew everything about the assault, and, seeing how upset she was just then, Brittany couldn't help but wonder just what that man had done to her.

"I didn't say it to upset you," She promised, smoothing Santana's hair behind her ear. "I said it to make a point to you that it could've been anyone. It could've been me, or Rachel or Quinn or Tina or whoever. It has nothing to do with us and everything to do with him. No one deserves to have to live though that, and the fact that it happened to you was awful and a million other things, but not because you're Santana, just like it wouldn't be my fault." Brittany said softly, grateful she and Santana were already sitting so close together.

Santana sobbed, her shoulders quaking as sucked in shaky uneven breaths. Brittany's soothing words and touch were like a cool balm beginning to ease some of her fear, but she still wanted her to have never said the words in the first place. Brittany's reassurance that she was okay, that she was not going to be hurt by speaking simple words, did not fully convince her, but her gentle, calming voice and hands gradually were enough for her to breathe more easily, though her pulse still hammered like a hummingbird's. Sniffing, she wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist and clung, trying to chase away the sinister images still lingering in her mind.

"Don't talk about it anymore. Stop," she mumbled, a little more calm, but still obviously close to the edge. "Stop."

She let Santana fall into her, her hand on the back of her head, gently murmuring reassuring words as she calmed her down. While Brittany knew she was allowed to make Santana anxious, even she knew when she needed to back off and how much Santana could take. She reminded herself that she was in New York indefinitely and she had lots of time to try and help Santana and change her mindset, if that was even possible.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry I upset you," She hummed, threading her fingers through her head. "But I'm okay right now and I'm safe and you are too," Brittany promised as they sat there.

She knew Santana didn't need her to reassure her anymore, she just needed to feel her there and bring herself down from her emotional high and so Brittany sat and held her, until her sobs dissolved into hiccups and she could feel Santana's chest expanding in deep breaths against her own.

"Go put pajamas on, okay?" Brittany whispered into her hair. She could've been holding her for 10 or 45 minutes at that point - she wasn't sure. Time had seemed to stop when it was just the two of them, sealed in their little universe. "I'll wait for you," She promised, knowing from earlier that Santana probably wouldn't change in front of her.

She let Santana vanish into her space while Brittany hung back outside the curtain, grinning when she emerged again. Taking her hand, Brittany pressed a finger to her lips with a smile and then slipped past Rachel's curtain, pulling Santana through with her. Brittany hadn't intended to hand around until Santana was in bed, but after how upset she'd gotten, Brittany wanted to make sure she was tucked in and safe next to Rachel. Silently, she waited for Santana to climb into bed before gently crouching down, next to Santana's head, her arm resting on Santana's pillow and her hand gently brushing the hair off Santana's face as she lay on her side looking at Brittany.

"I'm going to go back to the hotel, and I want you to go to sleep and not think about anything," She hummed breathily, knowing it was easier said than done but still wishing it for Santana. "I know you were scared I would leave during your class but I'm going to be here tomorrow too, and the day after that and after that. I'm not going to leave you, Santana. And my number is still the same, so if you need to text me before then, I promise I'll remember to charge it and keep it on loud," She smiled - Brittany was awful at charging her phone, and all too many times it died without her even realizing it. She stood, rubbing Santana's arm over the blankets, before slipping out of the curtained area and gathering her things as quietly as possible, wanting to stay but also knowing it was a boundary she needed to keep as she slipped out of the loft.

As Santana slowly calmed down, she felt her body getting heavy against Brittany with the nearly physical weight of her emotional weariness settling over her. She wiped her running nose with the back of her hand as she took a final steadying breath and stood at Brittany's directive to get dressed, shuffling almost on autopilot. She rifles in her drawers for a t shirt and pajamas pants and tosses her day clothes on her bed, then emerged back to Brittany. She let Brittany lead her to Rachel's area without questioning her, too tired to even think to wonder what she's doing.

She is pretty sure she sees Rachel's eyes slit open just a little, for just a second, as those the other girl may be just pretending to sleep. As Santana pulls back the blanket and settles so she is back to back with Rachel, the top of her shoulders in light contact with Rachel's, she looks up at Brittany, eyelids heavy. She listens to Brittany's promise and gives a slow nod, accepting what she is saying without arguing, believing her, at least for now.

She shuts her eyes as she hears Brittany moving quietly on the other side of the curtain, trying not to worry about her leaving the apartment alone at night. She tries to focus on listening to Rachel breathe beside her, and after a few more minutes reaches for her phone to text Brittany to be careful, to let her know when she is safe in her room. She knows there isn't a chance in hell she can let herself asleep until she knows this for certain.

Although she laid awake for a few minutes, her mind spinning about Santana and all the information she'd received in the last few days, the emotional and physical exhaustion quickly tired her out. It was hard to believe just two days ago she'd been in rehearsals in Germany and now she was in New York, with Santana of all people. They'd slipped back into their old ways so easily, it was impossible to believe they had gone so incredibly long without seeing each other. Still replaying the days events in her mind, Brittany fell into a dark, dreamless sleep, making sure her phone was plugged in and on loud, just in case.