14. SHIT HIT THE FAN
Reality hits hard. You learn that the hardest way.
After your little cabin retreat with Santana, once you are recovered from your concussion and able to drive back to the city, the world decides to start spinning faster. What has been tranquility and stillness for a few weeks, suddenly turns into a turmoil of shit after shit after shit that you can't really keep up with, and it leaves you emotionally drained. You feel worried and sad, and in retrospective, you should have seen it coming, but you have been so infatuated by the beautiful Latina that you have ignored everything else.
They day after you were back in town, Noah Puckerman called you to tell you that Nate Keating had finally been arrested. Apparently he made the mistake of getting completely wasted one night and harassing a woman on the streets. For what a witness had said, he had ran towards the woman calling her a filthy gold digger bitch and had slapped her on the face, twice. When the police got there he was found on his knees, holding on to the woman's leg begging for forgiveness. They still haven't been able to determine if he ever realized the woman wasn't Santana or not. For what the officer told you, it had been a blessing, since they had been only 24 hours away of having to close and store the case for good.
You messaged Santana to tell her the good news, but she never answered.
You also called Quinn. To say she was mad at you would be the understatement of the century, rightfully so, but she gladly accepted to open a spot for you to go into her office.
Once you are sitting in her office, you don't dare to talk as Quinn paces around the room. She's fuming and you know she's trying really hard not to take it all out on you.
"What happened to your face?" she asks when she finally sits down in front of you.
"I had an accident." You reply and she snorts so hard that you are sure she actually knows exactly what happened to your nose. It's the only signal of Santana being okay you've gotten for the past few days, and you are thankful. If she is visiting Quinn, she must be okay, right?
"You didn't come in last week." She states calmly after a few seconds, looking at you intently with her hazel eyes and you want to swallow hard.
"I was...busy..." you mutter, moving in your seat nervously. You hear Quinn sigh and you see her rubbing her eyes with one hand. When she looks back at you, you notice she looks tired, like she hasn't slept for a while, and you realize that you needed a meeting with your best friend, not with your therapist. Too late for that now.
"Britt, I love you, and respect you, but let's cut the chase here, okay?" She says and you bite your lip. "What the hell were you thinking?" She asks and you know she is talking about Santana. You just know. And you could play the dumb blonde card for a while, but you know there is no use. She's holding you accountable for your actions, and you better take responsibility of them.
"But I don't understand what the problem is anymore." You say somewhat frustrated. "I know I shouldn't have taken any interest on Santana when we met, but it happened, and now there are no ties between us anymore." You whine.
"You don't see it, do you?" She asks as she leans back on her chair.
"See what?" You ask confused.
"Britt, you understand Santana is still married, don't you?" She says warily.
"Of course." You reply with a nod. You don't know how that is important now, though.
"How do you think Mr. Keating will react when he finds out his wife cheated on him?"
You look at her blankly for a few seconds.
"But we didn't-" You try to reason, but Quinn cuts you off.
"Oh, don't even try, Brittany. I know you two kissed, I know she is what happened to your nose." She snarls and you slump in your seat like a child being scolded. "I'm breaking all my moral, ethical and even legal laws here, but someone needs to rip the band-aid off your eyes." She adds and you only are able to look at her, but you don't move nor speak.
"She essentially cheated on her husband, with you. She is married to an abuser, Britt. If their divorce case reaches the court, and, believe me, it will, he is not going to let her go that easy. And if he finds out your little affair? God, Brittany, don't you see how dangerous that could be? Not only could he try to rip her off of every belonging she has, he could kill her." She says, her eyes suddenly sad and worried. And you get it. You should have thought about that. You should be more thoughtful of her situation, that's how she broke your nose after all, but she disarms you completely. You are starting to think that you are not attracted to her, but foolishly and madly in love with Santana.
"But...he's arrested now..." Is the only thing you can think of saying.
"And that's another damn thing." She answers with a sigh. "You know what he did, right?" She asks and you nod softly. "Well, fuck, you should know this, you are a social worker for God's sake..." she starts, getting up from her chair again.
"What?" You ask, not knowing where this is going.
"Brittany...Santana is facing witness protection. You have given her a safe house, that is awesome, but she is still in the same city, and seeing how he reacted to the sight of a woman that only had in common with Santana the fact that she was a Latina...Social services are fearing for her life and well being. You should know this." She states and you can only look to the floor in silence. She is right, you should know this. You should have seen it coming. How can you be so reckless sometimes?
If she's taken into witness protection, you will never be able to see Santana again.
Your heart clenches at the thought.
When you look back up, a single stray tear is running down your right cheek.
"God, I'm sorry, Britt. Someone needed to tell you all this." Quinn says softly as she gets closer to wrap you between her arms in a friendly, warm hug.
She is right. It needed to be done. Someone needed to take you back down to Earth.
When you get home, you throw yourself on the couch and don't move for hours. You don't turn the lights on, nor the TV, nothing. You limit your existence to be lying there in silence and darkness. You are exhausted.
For a couple of days your mood is still dull and grey. You take a few sick days off work and stay home eating fast food and washing trashy TV shows. In all honesty, you haven't even showered.
You have tried texting Santana a few times, but she isn't answering any of your texts. You only want to know if she is okay.
You have done a few things around your home, like cleaning a little. You have tried a few things to bring your mood back up, but it's hard when the object of your disappointment is yourself. You can't seem to lift yourself up, when the voice inside your head reminds you all the time of how stupid you are.
You are about to give up for one more night and just go to sleep, when the moment you are finally stepping out of your shower, your phone beeps. It has been ringing for all this days straight and you have only answered a couple of calls, but this beep makes your heart beat faster for some reason.
Turns out your intuition was right.
When you pick up the phone you find one text message.
"Come pick me up, please." ~Sexy Vixen
