Arms of the Angel (15/?)
So, here's Santana being protective and yes, there is a reason I'm ending this where I'm ending this. So, next time, Sebastian is released and there's a POV switch in the chapter, which will be denoted by both several asterisks and a font change so that, no matter what format this is not being read in, the change will be visible.
Santana was so angry by the time she got back to the hospital that she almost punched the policewoman in the face.
“Whoa there, steady tiger,” Pearl held up a hand to block Santana’s fist. “What the hell?” she demanded.
“You need to find Alodia, fast,” Santana said, starting to shake a little.
“Did she threaten you?” Pearl asked immediately, taking out a memo pad.
“I think so,” Santana’s face burned. This sounded so stupid, even in her head. “She said something about someone named Dick or Frank, I think.”
“Dick,” Pearl tapped the pen between her cheek and her memo pad thoughtfully. “That’s not much to go on. In fact, that’s nothing to go on. I’ll get back to you on it.”
“Thanks,” Santana said, already distracted by the person who had just walked into Sebastian’s hospital room. “I’ll see you later.”
Pearl nodded and Santana walked into Sebastian’s room, where he was currently staring at her, trembling slightly.
“Are you okay?” Santana asked awkwardly, trying to ignore the third person in the room.
Sebastian licked his lips. “Did you go and see her?”
“What the hell is your problem?” Santana demanded. “Why didn’t you want me to see her?”
Sebastian put a bony finger to his lips, and Santana forced herself to nod grudgingly.
“If she knows I’m here, she’ll find me,” Sebastian trembled harder. “I know too much about her.”
“You mean like how to spell her name? Because I could sure use that information right now,” Santana said.
Sebastian thinned his lips and turned away from her. Panic crossed his face, but Santana didn’t notice it because a pretty doctor entered, holding a clipboard on which rested a mountain of papers.
“Hello,” the woman said. “My name is Aimi Kehoe,” she offered her hand to Santana before walking past the Latina to the side of Sebastian’s bed. “I’ve looked over your chart, Sebastian Smith-”
“Smythe,” Santana corrected, turning around. She knit her eyebrows together in confusion when she saw Sebastian’s bone-white face.
“Sebastian Smythe,” Aimi corrected herself, flipping through the papers. “Well, I’ve looked over your chart, and I’m pretty sure you can be released now.”
“Are you kidding me?” Santana couldn’t believe this.
“Now, you still need to come in for outpatient methadone treatments, but other than that, you can go home. Or, if you don’t have one, we have several treatment facilities that can accommodate you if you can afford them.”
“He can stay with me,” Santana said, feeling her heart tightening from joy disappointment.
“Great,” Aimi said, flipping to a form before handing the clipboard over. “If you can just sign right here,” Aimi pointed, “then we can be on our way.”
“I can’t go with her!” Sebastian cried.
“Why not?” the orderly asked as he unhooked various tubes out of Sebastian with what Santana refused to think was far too little gentleness. “She’s already here, and she seems pretty willing to take care of you.”
Santana was so angry by the time she got back to the hospital that she almost punched the policewoman in the face.
“Whoa there, steady tiger,” Pearl held up a hand to block Santana’s fist. “What the hell?” she demanded.
“You need to find Alodia, fast,” Santana said, starting to shake a little.
“Did she threaten you?” Pearl asked immediately, taking out a memo pad.
“I think so,” Santana’s face burned. This sounded so stupid, even in her head. “She said something about someone named Dick or Frank, I think.”
“Dick,” Pearl tapped the pen between her cheek and her memo pad thoughtfully. “That’s not much to go on. In fact, that’s nothing to go on. I’ll get back to you on it.”
“Thanks,” Santana said, already distracted by the person who had just walked into Sebastian’s hospital room. “I’ll see you later.”
Pearl nodded and Santana walked into Sebastian’s room, where he was currently staring at her, trembling slightly.
“Are you okay?” Santana asked awkwardly, trying to ignore the third person in the room.
Sebastian licked his lips. “Did you go and see her?”
“What the hell is your problem?” Santana demanded. “Why didn’t you want me to see her?”
Sebastian put a bony finger to his lips, and Santana forced herself to nod grudgingly.
“If she knows I’m here, she’ll find me,” Sebastian trembled harder. “I know too much about her.”
“You mean like how to spell her name? Because I could sure use that information right now,” Santana said.
Sebastian thinned his lips and turned away from her. Panic crossed his face, but Santana didn’t notice it because a pretty doctor entered, holding a clipboard on which rested a mountain of papers.
“Hello,” the woman said. “My name is Aimi Kehoe,” she offered her hand to Santana before walking past the Latina to the side of Sebastian’s bed. “I’ve looked over your chart, Sebastian Smith-”
“Smythe,” Santana corrected, turning around. She knit her eyebrows together in confusion when she saw Sebastian’s bone-white face.
“Sebastian Smythe,” Aimi corrected herself, flipping through the papers. “Well, I’ve looked over your chart, and I’m pretty sure you can be released now.”
“Are you kidding me?” Santana couldn’t believe this.
“Now, you still need to come in for outpatient methadone treatments, but other than that, you can go home. Or, if you don’t have one, we have several treatment facilities that can accommodate you if you can afford them.”
“He can stay with me,” Santana said, feeling her heart tightening from joy disappointment.
“Great,” Aimi said, flipping to a form before handing the clipboard over. “If you can just sign right here,” Aimi pointed, “then we can be on our way.”
“I can’t go with her!” Sebastian cried.
“Why not?” the orderly asked as he unhooked various tubes out of Sebastian with what Santana refused to think was far too little gentleness. “She’s already here, and she seems pretty willing to take care of you.”