A/N: I did not plan this chapter. It, quite literally, came out of nowhere. The next one spawned from this one. Also, yes, Santana is in Music Composition and the people she sees are from her Music Theory class... this was not an error.

The majority of this story is told from Brittany's POV. This chapter is Santana's POV.

Trigger Warning: The next few chapters deal with a school shooting and its aftermath. Really hoping I can do it justice.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Chapter 11

Santana was bored. She was sitting in her music composition class and, honestly, the professor could not be any more monotone. She checked her phone. 11:37am. Thirteen more minutes and she could get out of here and have lunch with Britt. She smiled at that. Lunch with her girlfriend. It had only been a week … well, a week tomorrow … but Santana had never been happier. She sighed happily. Britt was at the photo lab; she always went there on Fridays while Santana was in her last class of the week. 10:50 – 11:50 am. Ugh. Longest hour of her life.

11:48am

Everyone was rustling, putting things away, getting ready to leave. It irked the professor but he had stopped making an issue of it; if they missed something important in the last two minutes, that was their problem.

She was staring out the window at the courtyard when she saw someone moving toward the opposite side of the Fine Arts Building. The person lifted their arm and Santana, without thinking, yelled.

"DUCK!"

There was the sound of gunfire and shattering glass. Everyone was under their desks. Their windows weren't broken; the shots had not been fired in their direction.

There was more gunfire but it sounded muffled, further away or … the shooter had moved into the other side of the Fine Arts Building; Theatre and Art. The students started to move.

A quiet guy … Joe? Jim? John? Something like that, spoke up after clearing his throat.

"Head to the back of the building, not the main doors. If there's more than one, one of them could be waiting by the front. Back of the building, use the side door facing Red Jacket; if there's more than one, they'll cover main doors, front and back. If there's more than one and they're organized. Avoid the windows. Stay low. Move as quickly as you can without making a lot of noise."

With that, he slung his backpack over his back, "Take your bags; they'll protect your back." And he was out the door, practically crouching.

She watched as others gathered up their things and started following him. Santana had seen his eyes and had a suspicion that he'd been through this before.

She haphazardly stuffed everything in her pack and started heading out the same way everyone else had.

But … Brittany? Where was Brittany? Her blood ran cold. She needed to get to the photography department. In the art department. Her phone buzzed.

From; Britt-Britt

10-19-2015 11:53am

I am okay. If you can, go home and wait for me. Don't come looking for me, please. Just go home. I love you.

She's okay? But not safe. That's what Santana read. She was okay … for now. The "I love you" should have warmed her; it didn't. It made her afraid. It was the first time Britt had said it … Brittany would never say something like that in a text message unless … the shooter … oh, god, the shooter must be close to the photography department. Fuck! What should she do?

She wanted to text Britt but was afraid that it would alert the shooter of Brittany's location. Home. Brittany told her to go home. She really didn't want to do that. She needed to get to Brittany.

But.

Brittany told her to go home and wait for her there. Santana closed her eyes and a single tear slipped free. She would go home. She wouldn't like it but she would do as Britt had asked.

I love you, too, Britt, she thought, sending a desperate plea to the universe to get Brittany out of this safely.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

She took a circuitous route to the side doors; avoiding the more traveled thoroughfares and giving the photography wing a wide berth. She finally made it to the side doors and slipped out; quite a few people were still milling about. Most of them seemed lost; not sure where to go.

Joe (Jim? John? Santana made a mental note to seek him out later) was trying to get people to just … move. Anywhere but here.

"Main Street is probably the safest right now," he sighed and looked far too world weary for a young man of roughly twenty years. "There could be shooters at the dining halls or the Union. It all depends on who it is, why they're doing it, if there's more than one. Go. Move. Follow the path to Court Street and head up to Main. Or go through the back alley to Laundry Row and head to Main that way." He kept urging people to move even while keeping his head on a swivel.

Santana spotted two of her music theory classmates. "Aubrey? Declan? What are you guys doing?"

"Um, we were going to go back to the dorm," Aubrey said, her hazel eyes wide with fear, "but I … don't know …"

"Yeah, I mean, it said shelter in place but … seemed stupid to stay where the shooter was. Now, though …" Declan's voice was unsteady.

"Come on. I live on Main Street, you guys can shelter with me until this is over," Santana was icy calm. She thought she was probably just numb. Numb with fear for Brittany. If she let herself feel anything she would fall apart and she needed to get home.

Brittany told her to go home and wait.

She took a deep breath and led Aubrey and Declan to the alley that would lead her home.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Santana opened the apartment and ushered Declan and Aubrey inside. The couple took a seat on the small love seat while Santana grabbed them all some water.

She turned on the small television and found the news was already being broadcast.

12:21pm

"Multiple 911 calls have reported that an active shooter is on the University campus. It is unclear if there is more than one. Responders are rushing to the site; students and faculty are being advised to shelter in place. It appears at least one shooter is in the Fine Arts Building. Classes across campus have been canceled for the rest of the day. Students and faculty are advised to avoid campus and to shelter in place if they are on campus until such time it is deemed safe to leave. We'll have more as information becomes available." There was aerial footage of the Fine Arts Building. Footage of people running away from it. Santana was sick to her stomach.

Brittany.

Her phone rang.

Quinn.

"Santana? Where are you? Are you okay?" Quinn's voice was panicked.

"I'm home. I'm fine." Santana's voice, on the other hand, was eerily calm.

"Daniel and I are on our way."

"Stay where you are Quinn. There's no reason to risk …"

"We're almost there."

Santana sighed and hung up the phone.

She looked at Aubrey and Declan. "You guys need anything? You okay? I mean, you know what I mean …"

They both nodded. "Yeah. Um … I guess as okay as we can be?" Aubrey said, looking at Declan, who nodded. "No, the water is fine. Thanks, Santana. I mean, for letting us hang here until … it's safe to go back to campus."

"No problem."

"Are you okay? You seem a little … I'm not sure what," Declan broached the subject carefully.

Santana nodded. She was just barely holding it together. That's why she wanted Quinn to stay away; she knew she'd fall apart with Quinn. "Yeah. Um. My girlfriend … I think she's stuck in the Fine Arts building. She was in the photography lab." Santana swallowed hard.

"Oh. Fuck." Declan and Aubrey said at the same time.

The door crashed open and they all jumped.

"SANTANA!?" Quinn cried out as she came running in the living room. She immediately went to Santana and wrapped her in a tight hug. "God, they said … I thought …"

"I'm fine, Q." Santana cleared her throat, trying desperately not to cry. She pulled back and straightened herself out. "I'm fine. Declan, Aubrey … this is my roommate Quinn and," she indicated Daniel who had just come through the archway, "her boyfriend Daniel. Guys, this is Aubrey and Declan – they're in my music theory class."

Pleasantries were exchanged and then Daniel was hugging Santana. "I'm glad you're okay."

Santana nodded and cleared her throat again; excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

She went into the bathroom attached to her room instead of the one in the main part of the apartment. Once there, she splashed cold water on her face and leaned her forehead against the mirror. She couldn't break down; not now. When Brittany was here, when Brittany was safe; then she could break down.

Brittany.

She felt the scream rising … a gut-wrenching howl threatening to break free. She shook her head. No. No. She would not break. Not now. No.

She turned and knelt before the toilet, her stomach emptying itself of everything. And then continuing to empty nothing.

The bathroom door opened and Quinn slipped in; she pulled Santana's hair back and gently rubbed her back.

"Declan and Aubrey … told me. I've got you. She's going to be fine, San."

The floodgates opened and the sob she'd been holding at bay ripped through her chest.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

2:26pm

The day dragged. News reports were sporadic; the shooter was here, no the shooter wasn't. There was one shooter, there were three. So far; four dead, fifteen wounded. Nobody knew how many were unaccounted for. It had been two hours of hell.. Two fucking hours and they still didn't know who or where or why. Or, the news didn't have the information. These things don't normally last two hours, right?

Still no word from Brittany.

Santana sat quietly. There was nothing to say.

At some point, Daniel went and got food. Subs and pizza; stuff that could be eaten cold or easily re-heated. Santana couldn't eat. She sipped at her water, trying to keep her stomach from trying to turn itself inside out. Again.

Brittany.

Brittany.

Brittany.

It was a mantra in her head. The others spoke in low tones but it was barely a buzz to Santana.

Brittany.

Brittany,

Brittany.

Forty minutes later the news finally broke that the shooter had been apprehended. No word on the wounded or the dead. Would she even be notified? Would anyone know to notify her? Or would she find out by reading it on a website like everyone else? Her whole world gone in an instant … and she was no more important than anyone else.

Declan and Aubrey left. Again saying their thanks and asking Santana to call or text if she needed anything and to let them know about Brittany. Santana looked at them blankly and nodded.

Half an hour.

Forty-five minutes.

3:28pm

Fifty-three minutes. A knock at the door.

Santana was up and moving. She flung the door open to the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

"Brittany," it was more a relieved sigh than an actual word; she threw herself into her girlfriend's arms and felt those arms tighten around her waist.