Santana had more or less moved into Brittany's new apartment with her, and she loved it.
She still had some of her things over at the loft, but since Brittany had began inviting her to stay over every night, and she had found no reasons to protest it, she had moved all her toiletries, most of her clothes and shoes, and other more personal and useful belongings into Brittany's space. Santana now had her own drawers and her own spots for her stuff, and she was very happy about it. It wasn't official- she wasn't helping pay rent, and she hadn't even asked Brittany if this was her way of asking her to move in with her- but this was what it felt like, and it felt even better than she would have thought.
They still weren't dating. Brittany had gently had that talk with her again recently- something about Santana not being ready, about still being too much in need of worrying about being healthy and strong and not needing to rely on Brittany's words for her self-worth. Santana wasn't thrilled about that, but when Brittany had her mind made up, there was nothing she could do to change it. They hadn't so much as kissed on the lips. But they had a daily routine together, they showered and dressed and went to bed together every night, and it was a huge comfort and feeling of safety to Santana, more than she had experienced since the night of her attack.
Being in the apartment felt like a new start, a place that wasn't associated with the traumatic aftermath of the memories of her assault or even how different she had been, living there before it. The new apartment felt like space to grow in a new direction and have neutral and even positive memories instead.
Santana was hardly a new and all better person, just by a change in location. But she did find that even only a few days into staying exclusively with Brittany, her nightmares had lessened in intensity. She could get some sleep most nights, and she had not had a severe panic attack during the day or woke up screaming during the night since leaving the loft. She still felt anxious and exposed when in public, but the loft felt like a safe bubble from the rest of the world. She could even let Brittany leave the room for a brief period without an immediate rush of fear, at least on a couple of occasions, although that went out the window once they were out in the world.
Her new, steadier feeling had even extended just a little to her eating. Santana was pretty sure she hadn't gained any weight, but she thought she hadn't lost any more either. She was eating something every day for the past few days, even if it was just a tiny bit, and even if she still needed Brittany not to see her do it. She was starting to feel a small spark of hope that maybe Brittany was right. Maybe she could be better, one day.
And then things fell apart, as most things in Santana's life seemed to, completely without warning and in the most dramatic sense.
Several days after coming to stay with Brittany, Santana had a particularly long day in school ahead of her. It was finals week before holiday break, and she had multiple papers, projects, and exams due soon, which required a lot of research and studying and time in the school library with classmates as partners at times, which she resented and which made her feel prickly and irritable from anxiety until she could break free of them. On this particular day, she had two classes and several hours needed to be spent in the library working on a project with some classmates as well as researching with references the library would not check out to students. She would end up spending most of the day on campus and not able to see Brittany until the end of the final class at nine that evening, which was unlike her usual schedule and particularly difficult for her to get through.
But it had to be done, and Santana was determined to get through it. She pushed herself to eat in the morning- just a grapefruit, one of the foods that felt "safe" to her, and four almonds for protein- and then got through the rest of her afternoon powered by several large cups of coffee. By the time she finished her first class, group work, and research, she felt strange, a little dizzy and increasingly shaky, but she attributed that to nerves and maybe too much caffeine.
She dragged herself to her final class of the day at six, thankful that it was mostly review material before the final exam, and attempted to pay attention and take notes. But her head was swimming, her eyes were blurring and flashing spots even though she was wearing her contacts, and her head felt heavier and heavier, harder to hold up than it should be, her neck muscles weak and aching with the strain. When she felt the shakiness of her legs begin to spread up her torso and limbs until she was fully trembling, Santana began to get nervous, trying to force herself to be still; she didn't want anyone to notice and think she was weird. But then her vision darkened, her hearing began to fade out, and she lost sense of anything happening to her or her body at all.
When Santana began to drift back into awareness, the first thing she took in was the background cacophony of noises. There were discordant beeps and tinny voices sounding as though they were coming from an intercom. She could hear distant footsteps and the irritating snorting of someone who was snoring, loudly and with the cadence of a chainsaw snagging on wood. And then she heard an all too familiar and very fast-paced voice, saying something repeatedly- the only word that Santana caught was her own name, said in a pleading fashion.
Then she was aware of her body, feeling very sore and achy in every place she could think of, and a pinching pain in her right arm. She was cold, and there was a light, scratchy material against her skin that didn't feel like anything she would own as clothing.
Utterly confused, uncertain whether she was caught in some sort of strange dream, Santana opened her eyes with difficulty, as they felt very heavy. She squinted, initially disoriented by the very bright light and white walls above her head, and thought at first that she must still be in the classroom. Had she fallen asleep? Why was Rachel in the class- that was Rachel's voice, wasn't it?
And then she looked down at herself, slowly registering the pale green paper gown and the feeling that her body was undressed beneath it, the fact that she was lying on a small, narrow, and very uncomfortable bed. She let her eyes drift to take in the clamp on her left index finger, the IV needle stuck in her right arm, and the electronic graphing looking device beside the bed, the source of the beeping, with her name and multiple numeric readings printed across the screen. As she looked at it, recognizing in a sudden sweeping horror just what this all meant, the beeping suddenly spiked in intensity and volume, the jigs and jags on the chart of her pulse and heart rate soaring high.
She was in the hospital. She was naked, basically, and in the hospital. Again? Still? How had this happened, how was she back? Had she ever left at all? Had everything that happened since the rape- going back to the loft, Brittany coming to see her, going to stay with Brittany- had none of it ever happened at all? What if it hadn't? What if it had all just been a long, vivid dream, and Brittany was still on tour, still unaware of anything at all about Santana and her miserable life? What if she was still unsafe, her rapist still potentially stalking after her, ready to pounce as soon as she walked out the hospital door? What if he just strolled inside, posed as a visitor, and finished off what he had started? He had threatened to kill her- even now, Santana's neck could feel the heavy weight of his thick fingers around her throat, crushing her breathing, bruising her skin. He was going to come back. He was going to kill her, he wouldn't let her tell anyone what happened to her. He was going to be here, any moment, and Santana was going to die. She was going to die and she had never seen Brittany at all, she had imagined everything. Brittany wasn't there. Brittany had never been there, and now Santana was going to die.
She heard a high pitched whimpering broken up by stuttering, choking efforts to breathe and did not realize that this was coming from herself, not until she began to scream. Shrieking in sheer terror, Santana began to thrash on the bed, fighting the very memory of her impending death, utterly convinced that she had to get out of bed and run, fight for her life. As she pulled out the IV and a sharp pain shot through her arm, resulting loud shrills came from the machines she had been attached to, and this only heightened her fear. She struggled to sit up, to stand, and could not gain enough control of her weak, shaky limbs to do so.
Beside her, sounding to Santana in her petrified state like it was coming from a huge distance, Rachel gasped, immediately babbling in an effort to speak over her screams. "Oh my goodness, oh my gosh, Santana, please, Santana, calm down, please! Santana, it's okay, you're going to be okay! Oh my gosh, you're bleeding, your arm, Santana! Santana, please, please, you have to calm down, please, Santana!"
She sounded like she was sobbing by her last words, but Santana couldn't register this. She could concentrate on nothing but her terror and her conviction that none of the last several weeks, not one thing she had experienced with Brittany, had ever happened at all. She was worse than alone. She was better off dead, and yet, she was so very afraid that she was about to die.
Several nurses came bustling into the room in response to the wildly blaring alarms, brisk and business-like as they attempted to settle Santana. But the moment strange voices were addressing her and strong hands touched her arms, Santana lashed out, swinging and kicking with all the strength her adrenaline could produce. One of the nurses swore when she got her pretty solidly in the jaw, and behind them Rachel wrung her hands, almost bouncing on the balls of her heels in her own anxiety.
"Oh no, oh no, please Santana, stop, Santana, they're trying to help you! Can you, ma'ams, can you give her something to calm her down?"
"Not in her condition, unfortunately," one of the nurses answered her brusquely. "Your friend here has a BMI of under 16, a healthy BMI is 18.5. In her condition, giving her a sedative could cause her to become delirious. No, if she can't calm down, we're going to have to use restraints so she doesn't hurt herself or others."
She raised her voice, addressing Santana directly. "Miss Lopez, do you hear me? Can you understand? You're at Mercy Hospital, you fainted. You're dehydrated and malnourished, we need to have you calm and cooperative so we can give you fluids and do some tests to see if you're sick or injured. That's what the IV is for, it needs to stay in your arm. If you don't calm yourself, we're going to have to strap your arms and legs."
But although part of Santana heard, she couldn't take it in and understand it, and she certainly couldn't calm down. She continued to fight, still screaming and writhing as much as she could under the strong and experienced grasps of the nurses, and as Rachel pleaded with her in the background, one of the nurses exhaled, addressing the other.
"Okay, restraints it is." She spoke into what sounded like a walkie talkie, requesting another staff member to come assist with restraining a patient, and as Rachel gasped, renewing her fervent pleas for Santana to calm down and cooperate, they were soon joined by a male nurse who helped the other two in holding down and strapping firmly Santana's limbs to the bed. As her IV and finger clasp were reinserted, Santana gasped and gagged and trembled from head to toe, already growing hoarse. She couldn't hear their efforts to explain to her again where she was or what they were doing; she was deaf to everything but her own memories, her own fears. Even when the nurses left the room and she was left alone with Rachel, she could only sob, tears streaming, barely feeling Rachel come up beside her and take her hand in her own trembling fingers.
"Santana, I called Brittany, she's coming. I promise you, she's coming. She'll be here soon."
But Santana didn't believe her. Brittany was in Munich, an entire world away. She was alone, and she was in hell.
After her conversations with Rachel and Kurt, Brittany was content on Santana never going back to the loft again. She knew that was largely unrealistic, but the conversation made it clear to her just how tone deaf Kurt and Rachel could be and how obliviously they could be so something that was occurring right in front of them. She knew that she owed them so much for caring for Santana while she wasn't there but, more than anything, she felt anger toward them recently for their obliviousness as Santana withered away before them.
Bringing Santana to the loft seemed to do wonders for her. The new space seemed to calm her, and she and Brittany fell into an easy routine there, sleeping tangled up in each other every night, Brittany gently coaxing Santana into eating small bites of breakfast when they drank their coffee together every morning. They weren't good by any stretch, but they were okay, they seemed to have balanced out, at least for the immediate present, and Brittany was willing to work with that. She knew they had a long way to go, but for now, Santana seemed to be more calm with her, in her apartment.
Santana had spoken to her multiple times about her stacked school day as finals approached, and they'd both when over the whole day multiple times. When Santana would go to the library between classes, what she would work on, and, of course, when Brittany would pick her up and what they would do when they got home (Brittany promised a movie and that she'd rub Santana's back through the entire thing). She knew Santana was nervous about the day, about having so much stimulation and being apart from Brittany for so long, but Brittany had been attentive to give her extra comfort the day before and tell her, multiple times, that she'd be picking her up and knew she could do it.
And Brittany really, really thought she'd be able to do it. She knew Santana was nervous, but also knew that she'd be distracted with classmates and school, a welcome distraction that Brittany thought might help keep her mind from wandering. She had back to back classes while Santana was in school but, even though she was teaching, she kept her phone nearby, just in case.
When it rang, Brittany truly thought for a single moment that she was imagining it, or that she'd caused it, based on how many times her eyes had glance to her phone. Picking it up, she expected it to be Santana but it wasn't - it was Rachel. Could she be calling to apologize? To talk to Brittany? Or was it about Santana? She realized, pressing accept, that she couldn't breathe, her lungs tight and restrictive.
She wasn't sure what exactly Rachel said but, before she could register it, her body was moving, pulling clothes on over her dance clothes and shoving her feet in her sneakers without bothering to untie them. Her hands were trembling, fumbling as she zipped her bag and all she could think of was Santana. Santana, waking up in a hospital, again, with Rachel, confused and scared. The vision made Brittany nearly want to be sick, steadying herself against her locker after she slammed it shut. She spoke in a wobbling voice to the other teacher there that night, making sure her classes were covered while her mind was elsewhere.
Her mind wasn't working, but she forced herself to stop, to think. How could she get there. A cab was out of the question, it would take forever. The subway would be quick, but she'd have to switch trains and might have to wait. Pushing out into the open air of the city, Brittany threw her bag over her shoulder, breaking into a job, then a flat run. Fastest way to get there, she decided.
And she was right. She didn't even feel the burning in her lungs or her legs, fueled by pure adrenaline and the consuming need to be with Santana. She hardly slowed when she got to the hospital, stopping the first nurse she saw and pleading, begging with her to be directed to Santana's room. The nurse, when she said Santana's name, paled for reasons Brittany didn't know, pointing her down the hall. She tried to slow herself, to control herself now that she was inside of a hospital, but she still sped down the hall, her eyes raking over the numbers until she landed on the one she wanted, feeling some of the tension in her chest dissolve, finally.
She burst into the room, all attempts at being calm and collected going out the window. She knew Rachel would be there, and she was, but Brittany's eyes hardly registered her, immediately falling on Santana and - restraints. In her haste to get to her, Brittany didn't prepare herself for what she would see, never considering the possibility of Santana being tied down to the bed, hearing herself gasp before she could stop herself. On legs that could barely carry her, she crossed the room to the bed, standing opposite Rachel, her hands all over Santana all at once, her breath caught in her throat.
"Oh my God, oh my God, hi," She said, her voice trembling. "You're okay, it's okay," She cooed, her hand resting on Santana's head, the other hand coming up to wipe her tears. "I know, San, it's okay."
"Oh thank goodness, oh Brittany!" Rachel gasped from Santana's other side of the hospital bed. She releases Santana's hand, wiping at her own eyes, and starts talking a million words a minute, her expression intensely remorseful and her eyes bright with further tears.
"Brittany, she fainted in class, they called me as I'm still her emergency contact and when I got here she was just hysterical, she was fighting and screaming and they said they can't sedate her because of her weight, I didn't know she was so bad, I didn't know she…I feel so terrible, I'm so sorry!"
Santana didn't register any of this. She was just crying in pitiful, wrenching sobs, her chest hitching and her entire face scrunched and bright red from exertion. Sweat beads her forehead despite how cold she is to the touch, and she is trembling terribly, no longer fighting the straps.
When Brittany touches her, her eyes open wide, glistening with fear and confusion along with brimming tears, and she stares. Another shuddering sob breaks out and she shakes her head.
"I don't want it to be a dream, I thought it was real. I want it to be real. I want to go home, I want it over, I think it was over. I want Brittany, I want Brittany, I want the real Brittany, I want the real Brittany for real!"
"Santana, no, this is Brittany, you're awake," Rachel tried to explain. "She is real, she's here!"
But Santana continued to sob even as Brittany touched her. "I want Brittany. I just want to make it real…"
Brittany hardly heard Rachel's babbling, focused on Santana, her hands running over her torso, her arms, her legs, her fingertips tripping up on the straps that held her down. She wanted to cry, to tear the straps off. Santana was so small it seemed almost ridiculous for them to confine her, she was so small and so weak, although Brittany knew Santana likely put up quite the fight and was much stronger than anyone ever gave her credit for, especially when she was panicking.
"Rachel, calm down," Brittany said without looking at her, her voice free of anger or accusation. She knew Rachel spiraling like that wouldn't help Santana and, at that point, Brittany's goal was to calm down the entire room. She was shocked at Santana's sobs, how scrunched her face was, her chest heaving. She couldn't imagine all of the fear and terror that had coursed through her upon waking up, that was coursing through her right then probably.
When Santana spoke, Brittany basically gaped, in disbelief. It was the exact same reaction Santana had had when she'd first gotten there, completely and utterly disbelieving of the fact that she was real and right there.
"Hey, stop," Brittany held Santana's chin in one hand, wanting her to have no room to question her or upset herself more. "You fainted at school, you're not hurt, you just fainted. I'm right here. I was at the studio and Rachel called me and I came down here." Brittany said, forcing Santana to hold her gaze, her voice low and explaining, giving Santana all the facts, listing out everything that had happened. Demanding her to see her.
"Don't do this 'not real' thing, Santana. You know I'm right here." She commanded. "You were in my apartment this morning and you'll go back there-" She cut herself off swiftly before she said tonight, realizing, for the first time, that they could possibly keep Santana there. "I need you to calm down," Brittany said, leaning over her, brushing the tears off her cheeks with her fingers. "Nobody's going to hurt you with Rachel and I right here." She reminded, her voice softening.
Rachel sucked in several breaths, cutting herself off from talking with obvious effort, and backed away a little, giving Brittany more room even as she watched the two of them anxiously. Santana's crying is briefly interrupted when Brittany grabs her chin, her tone and gaze at her forceful as she commanded Santana to look at her, to see her, to believe she is there with her. The way she holds her chin so firmly, the stern intonation of her voice, cuts through her fear for a few moments, long enough for her to come out of the disorientation and believe her.
Her eyes briefly clear before overflowing again, and she continues weeping, now straining against the restraints, bucking her torso and trying to twist her wrists and ankles inside them to no avail.
"B-Brittany…please…please, get me out of this, please, I need out of this. I want to go home, please. Brittany, please…"
She stretched her fingers out as far as they would go, wanting to reach out to Brittany, to be held by her. The inability to move just further upset and frustrated her and she started breathing more jerkily again with her crying and efforts to get free.
"I w-want you…I want you to h-hold me, I want to go home. Get me out, please!"
If the situation wasn't so terrifying, Brittany would've laughed at how quickly Rachel cut herself off. She'd been on edge with Kurt and Rachel since their text exchange, bitter that they hadn't realized the severity of Santana's problem and hadn't intervened sooner, although she knew Santana would've rebuked their intervention harshly. She glanced up from Santana momentarily, throwing a comforting, grateful glance Rachel's way before returning her focus to Santana.
The recognition that dawned on Santana was evident, her emotions playing plainly across her face, making Brittany take a breath of both relief and pity. She felt guilty, even though she knew Santana had been doing a little better - guilty that she didn't push Santana hard enough or bucked too easily when she got upset. The revelation that Brittany was real seemed to only make Santana less accepting of the fact that she was strained to a hospital bed and Brittany quickly moved her hands, one on Santana's shoulder, the other on her stomach, trying to stop the bucking, fearing, for a moment, that Santana would physically injure herself trying to get free.
"I know, I know, shhh," Brittany soothed, her hand moving down Santana's arm to her hand, giving her something to hold onto. "I know you don't like it, I know, I'll ask them if they can take you out of it." She promised, her other hand fumbling to press the call button on the hospital bed remote. "I need you to breathe, San, I know you don't like it but Rachel and I will make sure no one hurts you, we're right here." Brittany knew, regardless of her recent feelings about Rachel, that she would, of course, protect Santana when needed.
I want you to hold me. The words clenched around Brittany's hard, a wave of emotion breaking against her ribcage. It was the first time in a very long time that Santana had vocalized her need for her so plainly, so desperately. Santana had always been someone who showed Brittany what she wanted with her body, reaching and touching and slipping into Brittany's lap. Physical touch had always been easier for Santana than words, but now, she was begging for exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed.
Shifting her body, Brittany sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her torso turned to face Santana, hands still trying to calm her. "I know, I want to hold you too, shhhh," She hushed, "I promise I'll hold you for as long as you want after this, but please stop fighting, you're going to get hurt."
Brittany leaned over Santana's body a little, trying to prevent her torso from snapping against the restraints, her body writhing. "I'm right here, just like if I was holding you," She hummed, even though she knew it was quite different, Santana's hands pinned to the bed, not allowed to seek out what they wanted from her.
Rachel continued to hover a few feet away, occasionally sniffling and wiping at her eyes as she tried to get herself in control. Santana stopped struggling at Brittany's touch on her shoulder and arm, not wanting to fight her, but tears still stream down her face as she grasps Brittany's hand tightly enough that her own knuckles make a popping sound. When Brittany sat on the edge of the bed, Santana tried to shift her body towards her as much as the straps would allow. She tried to press into her as Brittany leaned over her, the monitor of her vitals still flashing with the peaks and valleys of her high pulse rate.
"I-I'm scared," Santana gasped, closing her eyes, as though by not seeing, she could undo the reality of the situation she's in. "I'm scared, Brittany, I'm scared. I w-want out. I want to go h-h-home."
She is completely unaware of Rachel a few feet away despite having been touching her and addressed by her several times just a few minutes ago, and for once she wouldn't have cared about Rachel hearing her talk with such naked need. When a nurse shows up at the door in response to Brittany pressing the call button, Rachel is quick to go to meet her, finding her voice again.
"Please, ma'am, can you please undo Santana's restraints now? She really wants them undone, they're scaring her more."
This was the same nurse Santana had clocked in the face earlier, and she looked unmoved by Rachel's earnest request and expression.
"She's in restraints for a reason, miss, and it doesn't look like she's much calmer than she was before. If she can calm herself down enough to get some of her vitals in a more acceptable range, then we can do that."
"But she can't calm down when she's restrained, that's why she's upset!" Rachel protested. "And Brittany's here now, she can calm her down without restraints, she doesn't need them anymore with Brittany here!"
She says that like the nurse knows or cares who Brittany is. Which she doesn't.
"She's in restraints for a reason," the nurse repeated. "The doctor will come by soon and you can talk to him."
Hearing her and realizing that the woman doesn't seem to have any intention of letting her go, Santana's breathing started picking up again towards hyperventilating, and she squeezed Brittany's hand harder. She was too upset to be able to form words, but her shaking, which had eased a little when Brittany lay on her, started to pick up again in intensity.
Brittany leaned into her, her body pressed to Santana's side, trying to comfort her with her weight. Her heart thumped in her chest, adrenaline still racing through her body, feeling like reality was moving too fast for her mind to catch up to it. She'd never even considered the situation before her, never even thought Santana would end up fainting in class. She supposed it was naïve on her part to not consider that, but she always assumed if Santana was ever hospitalized it would be Brittany taking her to the hospital, forcing her to seek help. Her waking up in the hospital, scared and disoriented, was the worst possible scenario that had never even entered her mind.
"Keep you're eyes closed, San," She hushed. Usually, Brittany instructed the exact opposite, she typically wanted Santana's eyes open so she could see her, so Santana could see her surroundings instead of being pulled into her own mind. Now though, she knew that Santana seeing the hospital around her, the restraints, the beeping machines would only stress her out more and so she enocuraged her to keep her eyes shut, listening instead to the soothing of Brittany's own voice.
"Just keep them closed and take a deep breath," With the hand not holding Santana's, she let her fingertip trace her features, a familiar comfort. "I know, I know, you're okay and we're going to go home soon. I promise I'll stay right here until they say you can go home," She swore, hoping to calm Santana as much as possible in their situation.
When the nurse entered, Brittany kept her hands on Santana, grateful that Rachel took the initiative. Brittany feared if she spoke she'd cry, watching as Rachel did her best at convincing the nurse, feeling a surge of gratitude for her despite their recent clash. Her optimism was soaring, knowing the nurse would agree and then she could have Santana in her arms and she'd be able to calm her down and everything would be much better if Santana could move.
She felt Santana tense under her body as the nurse, to Brittany's shock, rejected Rachel's pleas, sounding rather cold about the entire thing. She opened her mouth but Rachel beat her too it, trying desperately to convince her. Sitting so close to Santana, she could hear and feel the way her breathing picked up, the monitor next to her beeping even more wildly.
"Shhh," Brittany muttered without looking at her, rubbing her hand across her forehead. "Breathe," She whispered.
Just as the nurse was about to turn on her heel, Brittany piped up. "Please!" She uttered, her voice pitching unevenly, watery and desperate. "I-I know she's in restraints but I promise I can calm her down better. I just need 10 minutes. If she thrashes, you can put them back on, I s-swear." She stuttered, "I just need to hold her and she'll be calm and not fight anymore." Brittany promised. "Just give me 10 minutes to try," Brittany tried to keep her chin from wobbling, knowing Santana was teetering on the edge of a full blown meltdown, the air around them thick and heavy.
Santana squeezes her eyes shut as Brittany had instructed, trying to focus on her voice and her touch. Her forehead is tightly lined with her stress, her face still badly scrunched up, and the heavy emotion is like a visible, tangible cloud emanating from her. The nurse looks between Brittany and Santana somewhat skeptically, then sighs, shaking her head.
"I'm giving you less, this is her safety and yours being compromised if she gets violent. She needs to be still, and if she can't be she has to have outside force because there is no chemical option available for her currently."
She removed the restraints first on Santana's hands, then her ankles, briskly rubbing them to check circulation before backing away to observe her with still wary gaze. Rachel stammered effusive thanks to her and started telling Santana she was okay more or less on repeat, seeming to be telling herself that more than Santana. Santana, meanwhile, immediately reached out for Brittany and buried herself as closely into her as she could, her heart hammering against Brittany's chest, hiding her face in her neck and quickly dampening the skin in her tears. She clutched her in panicky neediness, trying to climb on her lap before Brittany even fully had a lap available to climb on.
"Brittany…Brittany…" Was all she could manage to say. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Still shaking, she wrapped her arms tight around her waist.
When the nurse surrendered to her request, Brittany exhaled sharply in a relieved sigh, in disbelief that she'd agreed. She squeezed Santana's hand, silently telling her without words that she had to keep her body still, that she couldn't thrash when she was freed, her heart stampeding against her ribcage.
"Tha-thank you," Brittany said, remembering her manners quickly, feeling her eyes prickle with gratitude at her surprise victory. She could have Santana in her arms in just a minute, just a minute, she repeated it like a mantra in her head.
As the nurse approached, Brittany stood quickly, standing earnestly beside the bed, her hand still resting on Santana's head, not breaking contact in order to keep her calm but also not wanting to get in the nurse's way and risk her getting even more irritated at their pleas. Her eyes followed the nurses actions closely, stuttering out another watery thank you.
"She'll be fine, thank you, thank you so much." Brittany babbled, watching her remove the restraints and rub Santana's ankles and wrists, praying Santana didn't jerk her body or twitch, praying she wasn't afraid in that moment.
And then, instantly, Santana was grabbing for her, free to move and clutching at her clothes, needing her. "It's okay, you're okay," Brittany repeated in a mantra, immediately sitting back down on the bed and letting Santana clamor on top of her lap, burying her face in her neck. As Santana moved, Brittany was careful of her IV, trying to settle her against her lap. "Shhhh, don't be sorry, just sit with me," She cooed, making sure Santana's dress was tied tightly in the back so none of her skin was exposed. Her entire small body was trembling wildly in Brittany's lap, finally free to fall, knowing Brittany would catch her.
"I'm right here," She hushed, skating her hand over Santana's back. "Right here, be careful of your IV, San."
Santana burrowed into her, needing to feel as close against Brittany as her body would allow. Her hitching breaths gradually began to stagger out into more reasonable pacing, though she is still shaking, her skin clammy even as her face remains hot and flushed from all her crying against Brittany's skin. She cries less desperately, with more exhausted relief and leftover fears, even as her pulse slowly dials down to a level that is still borderline, but no longer causing beeps and jagged peaks on the chart. The nurse watches her for a few moments before giving a nod.
"Okay, Miss Lopez, I'll leave the restraints off, but you need to keep yourself calming down. No one's here to harm you."
Rachel let out an audible relieved sigh as the woman left. "Oh I'm so glad she relented, that's better, isn't it? Santana, what can I do to help, I didn't call Kurt yet, do you want me to? Santana?"
Santana didn't answer her, still totally overwhelmed and focusing on soaking up comfort from Brittany. Although she isn't on the verge of a full meltdown anymore, she's far from calm and collected and has yet to lift her head from Brittany. "It hurts," she whispered into Brittany's neck, sniffling, still grasping her tight. "Everything hurts. What are they going to make me do? Don't let them, I want to go home. Please take me home…."
Brittany was all too happy to have Santana in her arms, her hands brushing across her back, her bare legs and arms, as if she could relax Santana's trembling muscles. Although she's hyperfocused on calming Santana, she feels slightly more at ease. Santana's in her arms and she knows that now, all she needs is time to calm herself down. She's exactly where she needs to be, and despite the fact that they're in a hospital, Brittany feels slightly more relaxed with Santana in her lap.
"Thank you," She repeated again, responding for both her and Santana, knowing Santana wouldn't respond but knowing that Santana would be fine where she was, Brittany's arms offering her a level of calm that she could've never gotten restrained to the bed, the beeping on the monitor showing the decline in Santana's pulse as she steadied herself. Santana's skin was sweaty and flushed with her exertion and stress and Brittany almost wanted to lift her head to cool her but knew better, knowing Santana would get even more upset.
"She'll be fine," Brittany nodded in understanding, assuring the nurse that Santana wouldn't be violent any more, combing the wispies off Santana's cheek as they clung to her clammy and tear-stained skin.
When the nurse left, the air in the room seemed to calm even more. Brittany shifted her body, pulling the hospital blanket out from under her body and yanking it free, wrapping it around Santana to give her an extra layer of comfort, careful not to tuck it between where her and Santana's bodies were pressed against each other.
"I think she's okay," Brittany said, answering for her again, "We just have to let her come down on her own," She hummed knowingly. "She knows where she is and is where she wants to be," Brittany told her, knowing that no amount of talking or touching would soothe Santana any more than laying against Brittany's chest would. "I think you can tell Kurt what happened but he doesn't need to come here," She answered plainly, shrugging.
Hearing Santana whisper, she tilted her ear towards her, giving her her full attention. "Did you get hurt when you fainted?" Brittany asked, checking to make sure the IV wasn't snagged anywhere. "I know, San. I'm not sure what they need to do and if they need to run any tests but we'll figure it out and then we can go back to the apartment," She promised.
Brittany wished she knew more, but when the nurse had come in, her only focus had been to get the restraints off. "We'll figure it out," She hushed, "Just try to rest for a little."
"Okay, should I text or call him?" Rachel wondered aloud. "It's a lot to say in a text and I'm sure he will call when he gets it anyway, but I don't want to talk about it in front of Santana and upset her, or have her think we are judging her- Santana?" She tried to address her directly, despite Santana's face not behind visible. "Santana, I'm not trying to talk about you or judge you or- I just want to tell Kurt, is that okay? Santana, I'm so so sorry- I, we love you, you know that, right? I know we don't say that, and you would probably say something mean if I did normally but, but you're one of my best friends, and- and-"
She swallowed hard, teary again, and tried to compose herself. "Please get better, please do what they tell you here, okay? Is it okay if I leave the room to call Kurt? I won't leave the hospital, I promise.*
Santana caught perhaps a third of what Rachel was rambling, but it was enough. She's calmed enough for just an occasional few stray tears, though she's occasionally sniffing or trying to clear her throat to breathe more easily, and the added pressure and warmth of the blanket around her has helped ease her shaking. She didn't look up from Brittany's neck, unable to bring herself to leave it's safety, but she nods a few times in response to Rachel, hoping Brittany can translate for her.
Yes, it was okay to call Kurt. Yes, it was okay for Rachel to leave the room to do so. And yes, although she didn't, couldn't say it, she loved Rachel too.
Rachel watched, confused, but appeared to come to similar conclusions. She swallowed again, then nodded. "Okay, I'm going to call him. I'll be back, okay? Santana- can I, is it okay to hug you now? You don't have to move, or hug back, I just, I really, really want to hug you please?"
Santana hesitated, pressing into Brittany as concerned Rachel might change her mind and pull her away, then nodded again against Brittany. Rachel came forward reluctantly and awkwardly but sincerely and far more gently than usual put her arms around Santana's hunched back, and partly Brittany's too as a result of their proximity. She rested her cheek briefly against Santana's head.
"I'm sorry," she whispered shakily. "I, I'll go call Kurt."
She pulled away and left the room, leaving Santana alone with Brittany. After several more minutes Santana was just calm enough to whisper into her neck.
" Britt? Those two suck at helping me. They talk too much. And too fast. And too much like a wind up doll someone stuck on fast forward."
Her lips twitched just a little, almost but not quite a smile. "Don't tell those dorks I love them too."
She drew in a shaky breath, answering Brittany slowly and confusedly about being hurt. "I…I don't know. My head hurts, and my chest," she said unsteadily. "And my eyes. And my arm…"
Most of this is from crying so hard and straining against the straps. She did have a small knot on her temple from hitting her head on the desk fainting, and the first IV insertion was stinging from where she had pulled it out and made it bleed.
Her eyes drifted up slightly from Brittany to take in the IV connected to herself and her chest tightened with fear. "Is that…what are they putting in me? Does that have calories? Are they trying to make me gain weight?"
If they hadn't been in a hospital room, Brittany would've been shocked that Rachel was voicing questions aloud, asking her, asking Santana her thoughts. She couldn't remember a time where Rachel had asked questions, knowing she usually just picked an answer even if she didn't really know it.
Although Brittany knew Santana wouldn't answer her directly, Brittany stayed silent, letting Rachel say everything she needed and wanted to say, her hands continuing to rub soothing circles on Santana's skin to offset the bubbling madness of Rachel's words.
"You can call Kurt and you can leave the room," Brittany nodded, "She'll be fine, just call him and talk to him and calm down, Rachel." Brittany urged softly. "Santana's fine, you don't need to speak to her, she knows where she is and she knows I'm here and you're here, she just needs a minute to sit." She said gently, trying to assure Rachel that not every single moment of silence needed to be filled by her voice, that Santana was just fine once she realized where she was and realized she was safe, the rest was just Santana needing comfort.
She felt Santana press herself tighter against Brittany's body, their ribs pushed together, hesitant, for a moment, at Rachel's approach. To steady her, Brittany slipped her arms around her waist underneath the blanket, locking her in the safety of her lap and repeating Santana's nod, encouraging Rachel. She smiled comfortingly at her when Rachel wrapped her arms around her body to, feeling a moment of empathy for her. She knew Rachel must be lonely, and even if she didn't exactly know how to handle Santana, Brittany knew it wasn't complete and total self centeredness.
Letting Rachel slip out to go call Kurt, Brittany rested her head against Santana's, holding her silently. When Santana confessed that they sucked, but she also loved them, a laugh bubbled up from Brittany's throat, "I know, San," She hummed. "I feel the same way. That's why I've had you at the loft. I love them too but they're," She paused, sighing, "Not great at realizing the signs. I was mad at them for how bad you'd gotten right under their noses."
"Just relax your body," Brittany hushed at Santana naming all the places she was in pain, "And take big, deep breaths, you just need to calm your body down."
She followed Santana's eyes along the IV drip, up to the bag of fluid suspended next to her bed. "I don't know, I don't think so," Brittany answered honestly, "I think it's just to hydrate you," She explained, trying to ignore the way her stomach clenched at Santana's fear that it would make her gain weight. "San- it's over, the calorie counting and not eating and trying not to gain weight. It's over. This?"
Brittany glanced around them. "This is the worst it could possibly get, you can't keep doing this." She said softly, knowing this was their reality and it had to end now. "We have to get you help." She added. "This is bad for your body and all I want is what's best for it."
Santana has mostly relaxed now, no longer crying, her breathing almost under control. She rested against Brittany quietly, taking the breaths as Brittany had encouraged. At first she can't breathe deeply, because it makes her cough a little, but she gradually can take slower, deeper breaths. Her body is still shivering a little, but she is loosening her hold on Brittany a little too, holding her less desperately.
When Brittany tells her that she is no longer able to maintain her eating or lack thereof, Santana tensed, already knowing this has to be the case, but still anxious at the thought of it. She swallows hard, her voice small when she answers.
"I know. I know, Britt. It's so scary to think about it though. I don't know if I can."
A few minutes later a male doctor came in and introduced himself. Santana stayed in Brittany's lap, not wanting to be touched or handled by him, but she let him take her blood and let Brittany help her into the attached bathroom to give a urine sample. She barely managed to only as a result of the IV, and was unable to stand or walk without help as her legs were too weak and shaky. After she finished and left the cup as the doctor had asked for the nurse to take, she reached for Brittany again, wanting back on her lap.
"I know I need to get stronger," she admitted to Brittany, once back in her arms and having rested a little from the limited moving. "I don't want to be here again. I can't."
Brittany held Santana in her lap, listening as she coughed in bigger breaths and gradually let the tension seep out of her body, laying heavy and relaxed on Brittany instead of desperately gripping at her. Her hands were slow and lazy but never still, skating through Santana's hair repeatedly, rubbing down her arms and the tops of legs under the blanket, silently soothing her, lulling her back to steady footing.
