Chapter 24 – Lesbos

Brittany is still holding her when Santana starts to stir half an hour later and begins to struggle.

"Shhh, baby, it's just me. I've got you. You're safe." Brittany speaks calmly, softly, and gently into Santana's ear.

Santana relaxes but pulls back and looks at Brittany.

"You're still here," she mumbles.

"Of course I am," Brittany maintains the same calm, soft, gentle tone, "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"But …"

"No, Santana," Brittany is still calm, soft, and gentle but her tone is firm, "you did not cheat on me." She cups Santana's chin gently and tips her face up to look at Brittany. "Look at me," she says when Santana doesn't meet her eye. "Hey, look at me … please?"

Santana looks up into Brittany's eyes and Brittany smiles softly.

"That woman took something you didn't offer. Did you ask her to kiss you?"

"No. I wouldn't …"

"Exactly. You didn't ask for it. This isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't fight hard enough …"

"Oh, honey, you couldn't have fought any harder. You bit her lip so hard she's going to require plastic surgery to fix it. She's got scratches and bruises, too. All that and she still didn't get the hint that you weren't interested. And that's not even including whatever damage you did to her throat when you punched her."

"But I must have …"

"Santana, honey, please listen to me. I heard that woman talking with her friends. They were pissed at her. Apparently, she does this a lot. She's a sexual predator … she, like, goes to clubs or whatever and finds a woman she wants and just … grabs her and kisses her. She KNEW who you were. She tried to say she didn't … tried to say you wanted it … her FRIENDS called her on her bullshit. She's been obsessed with you. They've been to all of your performances. She KNEW you were in a happy, committed relationship. She just didn't care.

"This isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. I will tell you that every day until you believe it. I want you to say it. I want to hear you say it every day until you believe it."

"Britt …"

"I love you, Santana. I'm not going anywhere. You're mine and I'm yours and that's not going to change.

"This isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. She WAITED until you and I weren't right next to each other. This isn't your fault. This is HER fault and ONLY her fault."

Santana nodded and leaned into Brittany's touch. "Lie with me? Until they come to let me out?"

"Of course. Always." Brittany slipped in next to Santana and drew her close.

"I love you, Britt-Britt."

"I love you, too, Santana." Brittany placed a soft kiss on the top of Santana's head. "Rest, honey. I'm here. You're safe."

xoxoxoxoxo

Neither girl had noticed the counselor standing just outside the door. She had hesitated to interrupt the two women while they were talking. She was impressed with the way the blonde talked to the brunette; soothing her but still firmly letting her know it wasn't her fault.

The counselor poked her head inside the door. She didn't think she could do anything more than the blonde was already doing but she wanted to let them know she was here. The brunette might need some deeper counseling once they got back home but, for right now, the blonde seemed to be all she needed.

The brunette was lying in the blonde's arms, eyes closed.

She crossed the room silently and spoke quietly to the blonde.

"I am Magdalini Markalli. Doctor Stamatou suggested I stop in."

Brittany hesitated.

"No, don't wake her," Magdalini said, "she needs rest. I just wanted to tell you that you are doing exactly the right thing. Reassure her that she's not at fault. That she didn't do anything wrong. Continue to be supportive. If she feels she needs to speak to someone unbiased or emotionally unattached, please come back if you are still on Lesbos. She may not need an objective party." The woman smiled. "The two of you … you're truly heartwarming. Good luck."

She left as silently as she came.

Xoxoxoxoxo

"We are kind of awesome," Santana's voice was soft.

"I thought you were sleeping?"

Santana shook her head. "No, just had my eyes closed. I'm so tired but my mind just won't stop running through it. What if I had done this or that; if I hadn't left your side … if …"

Brittany cut her off. "Santana … she was pretty much stalking you. She wanted you and, honey, we can't be tied to each other 24/7. At some point, we aren't going to be side-by-side or hand-in-hand. People can't live like that, you know? This wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. She had developed a fixation on you. Honestly? I think that, by the end of the festival, she'd have attacked you whether I was there or not." Brittany shook her head, still pissed off that someone thought they had the right to touch another person without permission. That someone thought they had the right to touch her Santana.

The nurse came in then and talked to them about the care of Santana's wounds and to come back or see her family doctor if she had any concerns. She gave them a bag with gauze, medical tape, antibiotic ointment, and a small jar of Arnica gel.

Brittany helped Santana get up and get dressed; wincing as she saw the bruising on Santana's breast, mound, and thighs for the first time.

"Britt, that's not mine," Santana said as Brittany handed her the sweatshirt.

"Yeah … um … you were shaking pretty bad after the assault and I didn't know if you were cold or in shock but, I thought I remembered that you're supposed to keep a person in shock warm so, either way, I just needed to get you warm. There was a vendor not too far from where you were attacked selling tee-shirts and sweatshirts so I bought one and wrapped it around you." Brittany shrugged. "So, yeah, it's yours."

Santana looked at Brittany like she hung the moon.

"Brittany," she says in the impossibly small voice she only uses with Brittany, "thank you."

Brittany hears so much more than a 'thank you for the sweatshirt'.

"Always." She smiles.