A/N: Trigger warnings for racial slurs

So, I wanted to just have them file a restraining order but then I researched it and it's a process they wouldn't be able to get done in less than a day sooooo … things got changed a bit.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Chapter 55

Santana POV

Santana was dying. Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic and she just felt like she was dying.

It was the day after their confrontation with Susan; they had gone that morning before classes and signed their statements. The officer who helped them was friendly and sympathetic; he gave them his card and gave them the name of a fairly good lawyer in town who would be able to help them.

The confrontation, Brittany's upset and restless night, her own restlessness, and getting up early to go to the police station had, apparently, created a perfect storm of stress for Santana. She'd started getting a headache in her first class at nine-forty and it had increased steadily. At eleven-thirty she left her class (twenty minutes early), shot a quick text to Brittany letting her know that Santana was going home and wouldn't be able to meet her for lunch, and headed home.

She'd taken two ibuprofen with half a bottle of water and was currently lying on the couch; arm over her eyes, one leg stretched out on the couch, the other bent at the knee with her foot on the floor trying to stop the room from spinning. It wasn't working. When she started seeing flashers in her vision and her stomach started roiling, she knew she was going to get a migraine and it was going to be a bad one.

She started trying to sit up. Slowly, inch by inch, trying to keep her head as still as possible so she could go into the kitchen and get her migraine meds. She groaned; she should have just taken them in the first place. Dumbass. She was on her feet; a bit unsteady but upright. She had started shuffling toward the kitchen when someone knocked – no, pounded – on the door. The pounding was accompanied by a harpy's screech. Santana was grateful that Brittany had gotten her in the habit of locking her door.

"Brittany Susan! I know you're in there! You open this door right now!" Susan's voice was cutting through Santana's brain and she moaned in agony. She wanted to ignore the incessant noise but Susan wouldn't stop pounding and yelling. Santana walked the extra five feet from the kitchen doorway to the front door.

She unlocked the door and gingerly opened it, mustering her best glare for the woman on the other side.

"What the fuck do you want?" Santana's growl was more of a hoarse whisper.

"Don't speak to me like that, you little spic! I want to speak to my daughter so either fetch her like a good little housemaid or let me in." Susan made to push her way into the apartment but Santana, miraculously, stood firm.

"Okay, one, I'll talk to you any way I like in my home. Two, Brittany is not here. So fuck off." Santana tried to close the door but Susan pushed it open.

"Where is she? She's not at her house or at work."

"I don't know and if I knew I wouldn't tell you." Santana really didn't know where Brittany was; she knew she had rehearsal with her partner for her mid-semester project but after that, with Santana not available for lunch, Santana really couldn't have said.

Susan sneered. She glared at Santana then narrowed her eyes. "Are you high? Of course you are! Damn wetbacks crossing the border, living off the government, and spending their days smoking the ganja. And what do you mean you don't know? She's supposedly your," Susan spat the word out, "girlfriend. Shouldn't you know where she is and what – or who – she's doing?"

Santana felt her stomach rebelling harder and took a shallow breath, swallowing twice to keep the bile down. She was going to be sick in a moment. She tried to close the door but, again, Susan forced it open.

Santana gather as much strength she could. "I don't know because I don't keep her on a leash; she's not a fucking puppy. You need to leave. Now."

Santana heard the sound of a phone notification. Susan took her phone out of her purse and looked at it before turning it toward Santana with a malicious grin. "Well, I seem to know where and who she's with."

The picture Susan was showing her was of Brittany. Brittany being held by some guy. In some guy's arms. Being kissed by some guy. There was something off about the picture but Santana couldn't focus enough to figure it out and the way Susan was waving it was …

Oh, god, she thought as her stomach finally won its battle to expel its contents. She vomited all over Susan; her phone, her designer clothes and shoes, her purse, and possibly her face and hair before she slid to the floor in the doorway, one leg behind the door, one in front. She leaned against the frame, taking shallow breaths to try and prevent herself from getting sick again but Susan was screaming at her. Or about her. Or, in general. Santana wasn't sure. She was in agony. Her head was splitting, her stomach was roiling, her eyes felt like someone was stabbing pins into them and the flashers in her vision were getting worse. She bent her knees and pushed her head as far into them as she could (until she actually hit her head against the door that was sandwiched between them, causing a pain spike). She kept breathing, wishing for oblivion.

"SANTANA!" She heard Brittany's cry and the thunder of footsteps up the stairs.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Brittany's POV

To say she was pissed would be a complete understatement. She was beyond pissed. Martin had kissed her!

She had never really liked the guy and was less than thrilled when she'd been paired up with him for their mid-semester dance project. She wouldn't have chosen him, she'd have preferred Mike, but it had been a blind pairing so Brittany had to suck it up. He was a jerk. Bit of a narcissist. Not as talented as he thought he was or, maybe, just too lazy to be as good as he could have been. He was about her height with dark hair and hazel eyes. She didn't find him attractive at all and, any time he flirted, she firmly rebuked him. She made sure he knew that she wasn't interested; she was, in fact, in a serious relationship.

So today he decides to kiss her. She had slapped him so hard that the imprint of her hand was not only red but had started to turn a lovely shade of purple. She had been shaking out her hand, wondering if she'd sprained something, when he thought to retaliate; she was so beyond furious she hadn't even thought about it when she brought her foot up and kicked him square between the legs. She grabbed her things and stormed toward her professor's office only to find the woman had left for the day. It was NOON! How the hell was she gone already?

She growled to herself and promised that she'd be at that office first thing the next morning. She would not be working with Martin again. She'd retake the class if she had to before she'd work with him. He'd be lucky if she didn't cause enough trouble to get him expelled. Or arrested.

She had a full head of steam and was walking out of the building when she thought to check her phone. It was just before noon so she started toward the union to meet Santana when she noticed that there was a message from Santana from about thirty minutes ago.

She frowned. Santana had class until eleven-fifty. She opened it and found the message a little vague but it let her know that the Latina was going to the apartment so she turned around and headed for Main Street.

She'd just reached the outer door when she heard a screech. Flinging open the door, she started up the stairs in a hurry only to see Santana slumped in the doorway and Susan screaming bloody murder on the landing.

"SANTANA!" Brittany cried out and thundered up the rest of the stairs.

She roughly shoved Susan out of the way. "What the fuck did you do to her?" Brittany cradled Santana to her.

"She's the one who's drunk and high and VOMITED ALL OVER ME!" Susan's voice caused Brittany to wince.

Brittany lightly caressed Santana's face. "Come on, baby, open your eyes."

Santana's eyes fluttered but didn't open all the way. Brittany saw enough to recognize that it was a full-blown migraine. She scooped Santana up, bridal style, and managed to open the door. She walked in with Santana, Susan on her heels. She turned around and stared at the woman. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Don't be stupid, Brittany, I need to clean up!"

"Not here, you don't." Brittany set Santana gently down inside the door and pushed Susan back. "You don't belong here. You are unwelcome here. Go. Now." She stepped through the door and closed and locked it.

She picked Santana up and headed toward the bathroom, hearing Susan yelling and rattling the doorknob.

She ran the water in the tub and quickly rid herself of her clothes before gently removing Santana's. She left them all in a pile and slipped Santana into the water before sliding in behind her. She carefully made sure Santana was all cleaned up before exiting the tub and carrying Santana to her room.

She went into Santana's bathroom and grabbed Santana's contact case before trying to rouse the brunette.

"Baby, I need you to wake up," her voice was soft as she gently caressed Santana's cheeks and arms. "Come on, baby, I need you to take out your contacts and I need you to tell me if you took any of your meds."

Slowly, Santana came to. "Britt?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm here. I've got your contact case, can you take them out?"

It took Santana a few tries but, eventually, she was able to remove her contacts and put them into the case. Brittany took them back to the bathroom, squirted the solution onto them and then screwed the tops back on. She went back into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of boy shorts, a pair of soft flannel pj pants and warm long-sleeved shirt for the girl.

"Honey? Did you take anything?" She carefully dressed her girl and had her lie down.

"'profen, two."

"Okay, I'm going to get you your meds, a bottle of water, a bottle of your stomach soother mixture, and one of your compresses. Do you need anything else?"

"picture."

Brittany frowned in confusion. "You need a picture?"

"guy kissing you."

Of course. She felt her fury, which had disappeared when she saw Santana slumped on the floor, rise up again. She was going to kill that woman.

"Baby, I love you. I need you to get better and then we can talk about it, okay? I promise you, it wasn't what it looked like. Do you need anything?" Brittany was worried. Santana was sick and she wasn't sure what was going through the Latina's mind.

"You."

"Okay, I'm going to go get your stuff and I'll be right back."

Santana's eyes fluttered open, barely slits, but open. "Love you, Britt."

Brittany placed a soft kiss to Santana's forehead. "I love you, too." Brittany quickly threw on some clothes before going to the kitchen.

She hurriedly got everything she needed for Santana and went back to the bedroom. She got Santana to take her meds, drink half a bottle of water, a few sips of the stomach soother, and had her put a compress on.

"I'll be back, sweetheart. I need to go clean up the landing so it doesn't stink in here."

"Cuddle?"

"As soon as I get back, I promise."

"'kay."