Fic: They Say Bad Things Happen For A Reason [Part Nine]
Title: They Say Bad Things Happen For A Reason [Part Nine]
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: little under 5k this part
Notes in Part One
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight]
--
Santana sits up in bed, gently rolling Brittany's body off of her and swings her legs over the side. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes and presses her phone into her ear, trying to kick start her brain.
"And?" Anxiety bleeding into her tone against her will.
"And she's talking. Come by the hospital. I told Hudson and Rutherford to meet at the apartment around 10," Puck says. "We've got a good two hours."
She hangs the phone up and sets it back on the table, debating whether or not to wake Brittany up. She runs her hands through her hair and tries unsuccessfully to rub the smile off of her face. It's tough because Brittany is naked in her bed and her blonde hair is like, everywhere on her pillow, and she feels like she can smell Brittany all over her. There's a lightness in her chest that wasn't there hours ago because things feel like they have a chance at mending, despite the fact that deep unresolved issues still lay around them. But Rachel isn't dead which is a plus because it means Quinn won't be a fucking mess today so she feels a shred of happiness for the first time in a long while.
Santana takes a deep breath and stands up. She's halfway to the bathroom when she hears the rustling of sheets behind her as Brittany calls out a sleepy, "Where are you going?" So she walks back to the bed and sits down, reaching over to stroke the hair out of Brittany's squinting eyes.
"Rachel's awake," she informs her.
"Awesome," Brittany breathes, lifting her head up to smile at Santana before dropping it back down on the pillow and closing her eyes.
Santana laughs. Brittany was always impossible to wake up in the mornings, more prone to hitting the snooze button fifteen times than getting up when the alarm went off. She slides back down into bed, laying on her side and propping her head up in her hand.
"Hey," she says gently, as she runs her hand through Brittany's hair again and then down to trail over the smooth skin of her shoulder. "I'm going to the hospital. I need you to stay here."
Brittany wakes up a bit more, but still seems incapable of anything more than squinting at Santana as she starts to pout. "I want to come," she replies. "Rachel's my friend."
"I'd feel better if you stayed here. It was a risk having you at the hospital yesterday. I'd rather not repeat the mistake today."
The blonde girl shifts in bed, sliding to her back and Santana feels herself get distracted by the dropping sheet on Brittany's chest. She may have thought sex was fine instead of talking last night but she needs to reorganize her priorities soon before sex is all they're doing and none of the talking that needs to happen gets done. It's hard though because she really likes the sex part and Brittany is still the most attractive woman Santana has ever known and right now, she's naked in her bed.
Despite floating in a sleepy haze, Brittany seems to sense where Santana's brain has gone and she scoots closer, runs her palm down Santana's side until it gets to her hip where Santana grabs it, holding in in place there before it can do any damage.
"We can't," Santana says, despite her body wanting exactly the opposite.
"Why not?"
Santana swallows as she looks at Brittany, now more awake and wider eyed and staring at Santana like Brittany's going to seduce her no matter how Santana feels about it. It's kind of hot. No, scratch that. It's really hot.
"Britt," Santana starts before getting cut off.
"You're hot, I'm hot. You love me, I love you. You're naked, I'm naked," Brittany lists off, stroking her finger under Santana's hand with each reason.
"We have stuff to talk about," Santana explains. "And I have to get to the hospital."
"What stuff?" Brittany asks absently, as she shifts even closer to Santana and presses her lips to her neck.
Santana struggles to focus, struggles to hang onto the reasons why this is a bad idea. Because it is. It was terrible idea the first time, it was terrible idea the second time, it's still a terrible idea the third time. They have issues. Sex won't solve any of them. Or, well. Sex won't solve all of them.
"Nothing's changed," Santana gets out, moving away from Brittany's lips and picking Brittany's hand up off her hip to sit between them. "You left me."
She sees Brittany's protest and keeps talking before it can get out. "Yeah, you stayed away because you dropped your damn cell phone down a sewer, but you still left."
"You told me to," Brittany challenges, looking hurt.
"You wanted to leave. You wouldn't have left if you didn't want to," Santana argues, feeling her chest squeeze as all the feelings of abandonment come back to her.
"I didn't want to leave," Brittany denies.
"Then why did you? Because my words were 'if you want to leave, leave.' And then you did."
Brittany doesn't have an answer for that, she just pulls her hand out of Santana's and rolls over onto her back, looking away. It sends fear straight through Santana's gut and she just needs to make Brittany understand.
She closes the space between them and puts her lips to Brittany's shoulder, closing her eyes as she inhales the scent of Brittany's skin. "I love you," she whispers. "I love you so fucking much it's ridiculous. When you left it killed me. And nothing's changed," she explains. "My job, my life. It's all the same. So if you're going to leave again, I need you to tell me. I need you to do it now." Desperation creeps into her voice and Santana clenches her jaw for a moment against the feeling. "I won't be able to handle it again so I need to know now instead of later."
Brittany swallows audibly and opens her mouth to answer but Santana stops her. She actually does need to get the hospital soon and they really don't have time to have this conversation. As much as she wants to get it all out, as much as she wants to take it back and sink into Brittany's body and forget their problems for a few more hours, she can't. They don't have time. And more importantly, she has responsibilities and a good friend in the hospital and she needs to leave before she has a seriously emotionally draining discussion with a gorgeous, naked woman whom she's in love with in their bed.
"Just think about it, okay?" Santana says, moving to get up. "We'll talk about it later we just need to stop," she shifts her eyes over the bed. "We need to stop doing this," she says, gesturing towards the crumpled sheets.
Brittany nods. "Okay."
"Okay," Santana responds, making her way again to the bathroom and getting ready.
--
It's thirty minutes later and she's standing in the kitchen, Brittany somewhat reasonably dressed (as much as Brittany normally wears, which isn't much), surveying the contents of Santana's refrigerator.
"Don't leave for any reason," Santana is saying. "I'm serious, Britt. If you need something call me, or ask the guy at the door. Do not leave."
"What about our dog, San? He needs to be walked." Nemo looks up at Santana and wags his tail as Brittany says the words.
"I'll take him out when I get back. He'll be fine," Santana says, crossing her arms and staring the other girl down. "Brittany, promise me."
"I promise," Brittany says, amused affection in her voice.
"Okay, I have to go. I should be there already."
Brittany walks over, opening a yogurt as she moves. "It's great that Rachel's awake," she comments as Santana grabs her badge and gun, getting ready to leave.
"Yeah," Santana breathes, genuinely. "Really good."
Brittany cocks her head to the side. "You were worried about her," she states.
"No," Santana denies, staring at the girl like she's crazy to suggest such a thing.
"Mmmm," Brittany replies, getting a spoon out of the drawer and dipping it into her yogurt. She stares at Santana with a knowing grin.
"She's Quinn's wife," Santana explains, shrugging.
"Yeah, she is," Brittany agrees.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Whatever," she says, turning to leave. "Don't go outside, Britt," she commands one last time, opening the door.
"I won't," Brittany calls back.
She has to resist the urge to yell "I love you" on instinct, too afraid of how attached she'll get to the familiarity of the exchange. She shuts her door and makes her way outside, tugging her jacket closer against the rain and focuses her brain away from tall, blonde ex-girlfriends.
She looks at her watch and thinks about Rachel in that hospital bed, the way she looked, bleeding out on the pavement, and Quinn's broken expression in the stairwell. She runs the rest of the way to the subway station.
--
"I'm going to go get us drinks," Rachel said, standing up from the booth and observing her three companions.
"Beer," Santana answered, wrapping an arm through Brittany's, and tangling her foot around the blonde's ankle. "And a vodka cranberry."
Rachel put her hands on her hips. "Yes, I know Santana. You both order the same thing every time we go out."
"Why are you still at the table then?"
Quinn reached across the table and smacked Santana on the arm. "She's doing you a favor, you ass."
Rachel smirked at Santana, pleased with the way Quinn came to her defense, as always. "Thank you, Quinn. I'll be right back."
The brunette walked away from the table and Santana watched as Quinn's eyes stayed glued to the girl the whole way. "Wow," she said. "Obvious, much?"
Brittany giggled and Santana smiled at the sound, but Quinn cut a glare at the other girl. "You realize you're practically in Britt's lap, right?"
"Whatever," Santana responded, wiping the smile right off her face, but unwilling to move. Brittany grinned at both of them before going back to drawing flowers all over the napkin on the table.
It pulled a laugh out of Quinn who stood up at that moment and moved out of the booth. "I'm going to the bathroom. Tell Rachel, okay?"
"Sure," Brittany answered when Santana just rolled her eyes.
They sat there then, alone, with Brittany still doodling and Santana watching her. Just as she was about to suggest that this was a perfect makeout opportunity her eyes spotted Rachel at the bar where two large men were surrounding her.
She watched the scene for a minute, trying to judge the situation, when she saw the man on the left grip Rachel's bicep and tug her closer. She disentangled herself from her girlfriend and stood up immediately. "Be right back, babe," she said to Brittany as she moved towards the bar.
When she approached Rachel she could see the uncomfortable set of the girl's shoulders and the glaze in the eyes of the two guys next to her. She budged in between Rachel and the guy holding her, knocking his arm away in the process.
"Hi, Rach," she greeted, smiling and ignoring the other two as she put her back to the bar.
Rachel jumped in surprise but let out an exhale as she recognized Santana. "Hey," she said, shifting closer to the other girl.
Santana raised an eyebrow at the two guys staring at them. "Can I help you?"
"You got a friend, baby? She can come too," the guy on the other side of Rachel said, moving in closer.
"Why don't you step back, buddy," Santana answered, leaning her elbows back behind her on the bar and surveying both guys. "She's not interested."
"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. We're just looking for a good time here."
"What part of not interested is confusing to you?"
"Listen, girly," the guy closest to Santana started.
She turned toward him and affected a disgusted expression. "I said step off, loser. We're way out of your league."
The guy on the other side of Santana made an offended sound and took a step towards her, anger radiating off him. She contemplated baiting him again, trying to get him to swing a punch because it had been awhile since she was in a good bar fight and she could see the way Brittany was watching her with interest from the booth. She wasn't above trying to impress her girlfriend with her mad skills.
But Rachel actually looked like, afraid and Santana felt a strange wave of protectiveness sweep over her. Rachel was annoying, sure, but Quinn was kind of attached to the girl and somehow that made it Santana's problem, made her feel protective of Rachel in a way she only really felt for three other people. So instead of letting out the brilliant insult she had on the tip of her tongue, she stuck her hand in her back pocket, fingered her badge and pulled it out.
The lights of the bar reflected off the shiny gold shield and she smirked when she saw the way both guys reacted to it, recognition and fear flashing across their faces. The guy to her right stuck a hand in his pocket in a defensive gesture and Santana almost laughed at the ammunition he just gave her.
"Why don't you just walk away right now before I pull that little baggy out of your jacket pocket and bust you both right here." It was a guess, but she was a cop and she got paid to notice stuff like that so she'd lay odds she hit her mark.
Both guys just stood there, alternating their gazes between her badge and her face, before the one on Rachel's other side took a step back, putting his hands up in front of him. "Come on, Alex. This chick isn't worth it."
His buddy seemed to agree with that assessment and turned with his friend, disappearing into the crowd of people in the bar. Santana laughed, pleased with the outcome, before spinning back around to lean forward against the bar next to Rachel.
"Thanks, Santana," Rachel said after a moment, nudging her shoulder into Santana's.
"Whatever, Berry," she replied, rolling her eyes and looking down the bar to try and find the bartender. "Are you going to buy me my drink or not?"
Rachel just smiled knowingly.
--
"How is she?" Santana asks, bursting around the corner of Rachel's hallway. Four people are standing there, outside the door. Quinn, Puck, a nurse and the doctor. All four of them whip their heads around to stare at her.
"What?" Quinn says first.
"Rachel. Is she okay?" Santana repeats. "She woke up right?"
Quinn looks taken aback and sort of stares at Santana for a little bit. The attorney's eyes are still bloodshot, her face betraying the fact that Quinn probably hadn't slept last night but a flicker of amusement lights up her features. "Oh my god," she says after a bit.
"What?" Santana says, trying to catch her breath. She ran most of the way between subway stations.
"Oh my god."
"Quinn," Santana starts, annoyed with the way no one is giving her a fucking answer.
"You're worried," Quinn realizes, shock evident in her voice. "You're worried about Rachel."
"I am not," Santana denies when she realizes how she sounded. First Brittany thinking she's gone soft on the girl and now Quinn. Not good.
"You totally are," Quinn argues, actually smiling at this point. Then the blonde girl lets out a long stream of laughter, bending at the waist as she struggles to breathe. "You're worried about Rachel," she gasps like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened.
"Shut up," Santana intones, a flush creeping into her face as she tries to find an excuse for her concerned. "She's a witness, it's better for everyone if she's like alive and shit. She's a good shot at finding this guy. That's all."
Quinn just keeps laughing, tears streaming down her face and a massive smile spread across her lips, looking completely unconvinced by Santana's explanation. She puts a hand on Santana's shoulder as straightens back up and beams at the other girl. "Thanks, S," she says when she can finally form words without giggling. "I really needed that."
Santana rolls her eyes, annoyed with the way everyone was reading her. Yeah, she's a little concerned for Rachel, so what? Quinn is her best friend and she's married to Rachel. It's concern by proxy. Worrying about Quinn requires worrying about Rachel. It's obligatory feelings.
She glances in the hospital room and sees Rachel, asleep on the bed inside, before turning back to Quinn. "Well?"
"She's fine," Quinn says, laughter still lingering in her voice. "A few cracked ribs and a nasty headache but other than that scar on her forehead that she'll complain about for months, she's going to be fine."
Santana lets out an exhale, but tries to hide how much of a relief that news is. If Rachel wasn't going to be okay, Quinn wouldn't be okay. And if Quinn isn't okay, Santana isn't okay. It's simple facts of life. Santana needs Rachel if only because Santana needs Quinn. That much she's accepted over the years.
Plus, Rachel's annoying as hell. Most annoying person Santana has ever met actually, but there's a part of Santana, a deep, small very insignificant part that she would never admit to that kind of likes that about the shorter girl. If Rachel wasn't around to annoy Santana, she feels like her life would be incomplete, missing a big piece and she wouldn't be able to run on full strength.
She shrugs, feigning disinterest. "Whatever."
The blonde girl chuckles again and even Puck has a little smirk on his face. The nurse and doctor, however, look mostly confused.
Quinn takes a step forward and wraps her arms around Santana's neck, whispers quickly into her ear before releasing her. "I love you."
Santana rolls her eyes again and pretends like she could really give a shit about what is happening right now but a warmth shoots through her stomach and she feels part of her world balance out. She knows Quinn can tell the eye roll really means I love you too.
"I'm going to go talk to her," Santana says after a minute. "See if she saw anything." This is said to Puck.
"Yeah," he replies. "I'm going to just finish up with Dr. Roberts here before he checks on her again," he explains, pointing at the doctor standing next to him.
"Okay." She nods at everyone, ignoring the way Quinn is still smiling at her and walks into Rachel's room.
--
"What happened?" Quinn asked, walking up to where Santana was sitting, Rachel's hand clasped tightly in hers.
"What are you guys doing here?" Santana asked, jumping in surprise and running a shaky hand through her hair.
"We heard Britt got hurt, we came right over," Rachel explained.
Santana rolled her eyes. "She slipped on some ice outside our building. She's fine. Just a broken wrist and a bruised tail bone."
Quinn's lips twitched into a grin and Santana could see the urge to sue someone forming in her friend's brain. "I'm going to go talk to the doctor," Quinn said, releasing Rachel with a kiss to the temple and walking over to the counter.
Rachel took a seat next to Santana and looked over at her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Berry," Santana said but her voice betrayed her feelings. Brittany was fine. Her brain understood that. But seeing her girlfriend lose her footing, take the dive and hearing the sickening crack of a bone breaking shook something inside her and she still hadn't recovered. Her heart was still pounding and she couldn't get her damn hands to stop shaking.
Rachel just sat there for a minute until she put her hand on Santana's thigh in silence. She wanted to snap at the girl, swat the hand away and deliver a particularly nasty insult but something stopped her and she felt a stillness creep into her joints that wasn't there before, starting at the warmth on her thigh under Rachel's palm.
They sat there while Quinn interrogated Brittany's doctor and didn't say a word.
--
"Did you see the car before it hit you?"
Rachel blinks. "Yes," she says.
"Well," Santana replies, looking at her expectantly.
"Well what?"
"Well what did it look like?"
"Oh, right," Rachel says, shaking her head a little bit and then gasping in pain at the motion. "Sorry, things are kind of," she pauses and waggles her hand around.
"Do you remember or not, Berry?" Santana asked, sticking her hip out and plastering on a bored expression.
"Santana, as my extensive training in musical theater should indicate to you I have an impeccable memory," Rachel replies, glancing over as Quinn and Puck reenter the room.
"She's fine," Santana observes dryly to her friends.
Quinn chuckles and comes by the side of the bed, smiling at Rachel affectionately.
"Did she see the car?" Puck asks, walking up beside Santana.
"We were just getting to that," Santana answers, raising an eyebrow at Rachel.
"Yes, right," Rachel replies. "It was black."
"Black," Santana repeats.
"Yes, oh and it was old. A four-door I believe because I noticed it as I was crossing the street," Rachel continues. "I thought it odd obviously because, well, Quinn and I reside on an affluent street as you well know and it's quite rare for a car in that, shall we say, condition to be parked there."
"You didn't happen to catch the license plate did you?" Puck ventured.
"Oh!" Rachel exclaims. "I did."
Santana nearly falls over in shock. There's no way they caught this kind of break.
"Like I said, I have a mind like a steel trap and as I memorize pages and pages of lines and lyrics nearly daily it wasn't that hard for me-"
"Berry," Santana interrupts. "Just tell me the plate."
Quinn glares at her, but Rachel forges ahead. "Right yes, of course. It was a Kansas license plate, which I also thought was strange, but that's neither here nor there I suppose."
Santana nods encouragingly and tries to bite back the frustrated get on with it that's dying to be spat out.
"It read," Rachel tilts her gaze to the ceiling as if the answer is stored there. "KAZ 2Y5."
Puck writes the plate number on a small pad of paper and nods to Santana that he got it.
"Thanks, Berry," she says, nodding at her two friends before grabbing Puck and dragging him out into the hallway.
"Well that's something," he comments as they walk together down the hall towards the exit.
"Yeah, it is," she says flipping open her phone and dialing a number.
"Calling Abrams?"
She nods affirmatively and grabs the pad of paper Puck's holding as the phone connects.
"Artie, it's Lopez. I need you to run a plate for me," she says. "Yeah I've got it right here." She looks down at Puck's chicken scratch and chuckles. "Kansas plates, kangaroo alpha zeta two yellow five. Got it? Thanks, call me back when you get something."
She hangs up as they're walking out of the hospital and back into the rain.
"It's probably stolen," she says, looking sideways at Puck.
"Yeah," he agrees. "But it's a start."
"Yeah," she replies, blinking up into the rain and taking a deep breath before walking the rest of the way to Puck's car.
--
Finn Hudson and Matt Rutherford are standing in front of her building when they pull up and a sneer crosses her face involuntarily. Puck catches it as he's putting the car into park.
"Be nice," he warns. "We need them."
"I am nice," she answers ignoring the way he finds that statement completely hilarious.
"Hudson, Rutherford," she greets as they step up to the doors. They both nod warily at her and while she considers apologizing to the taller guy for like a second, she remembers quickly the way he was staring at Brittany and feels absolutely zero remorse for shoving him, literally, out of her apartment. She points her arm towards the doors. "Shall we?"
They're silent the rest of the way to Santana's apartment.
When they get to the door, the uniform there nods at her as they walk in.
"Britt?" She calls out, needing some kind of confirmation that Brittany's there and safe and she didn't leave again.
The blonde comes down the hallway and spots the four of them in the entryway.
"Hey!" She says brightly. Santana's relieved to see the girl actually decided to put on clothes today, if only sweatpants and a shirt Santana recognizes as one of her own.
Finn smiles wide at the greeting and Santana reminds herself over and over again that she has a job to do but then Brittany slides over to Santana side and kisses her on the cheek. "Hey," Brittany says, softer this time, only addressing Santana. She watches with warm satisfaction at the confused look Finn sends their way.
"Hi," she replies, smiling at the blonde before walking further into the apartment.
"Come on, we can set up in the kitchen."
Brittany scoots away from then at that point throwing a "I'll be in the bedroom" over her shoulder. Santana's stomach flips over and her brain derails at the casual statement. For a second she curses whatever mature part of her decided to tell Brittany they should stop having sex until they fix all their issues.
Puck laughs at the expression on her face and puts a hand on her shoulder steering her into a seat at the kitchen table.
"Okay," Puck says, as they all sit down. "What's the plan?" He asks, setting a stack of files on the table and spreading them out. Finn and Matt each grab at them, flipping them open and going over the information contained within. Santana's eyes roam the pictures of Brittany, the studio, her apartment, Rachel, the splatter of blood on the pavement outside Quinn's building.
She swallows, takes a deep breath and looks at the three guys at her table. "Well Rachel gave us the plate numbers of the car that hit her," she informs Finn and Matt. "We're waiting on those. I think we should go back over the dance studio, Brittany's apartment and the street where Berry was hit. There has to be something there that the first sweep missed."
Puck nods, agreeing with her. "Can you think of a reason why he'd go after Rachel? I mean, I thought this was about you. Everyone that has ears knows exactly how you feel about Berry. Britt makes sense," he explains, cocking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction the girl went. "That's about you. Rachel? That's about Quinn."
"Yeah," Santana replies, only half-agreeing with the reasoning. Yeah, hitting Rachel was a little more about Quinn than Santana but it was still about her, there was still a connection, if only through Quinn. But Pike was focused when he talked to her, he wanted Brittany, the pictures were of Brittany. The dance studio, the apartment. All about Brittany. About getting back at Santana. Then what, he changed his mind and went after Rachel? It didn't make sense.
"There's something we're missing," Santana says after a minute. "Some connection. Some reason. Go over Quinn's cases. See if she's connected to Pike in any way, to any of his family, friends, known associates. Maybe it's not just about me anymore."
Matt nods across from her and flips his phone open. "Finn and I can do that. We'll stop by the dance studio too if you guys want to take the apartment."
"Sure," Santana answers, grateful that she doesn't have to think about Finn in Brittany's little apartment for whatever the reason. "That works. Pull all the files we have on Pike from earlier too, anything even remotely related to him. I want to know him better than his mother does by the time we're done."
"Why don't we meet up again later then. Here, around 6? We can order take out," Puck offers.
Finn and Matt stand up from the table, both of them nodding in agreement. "Great," Finn says. "Come on, Matt. Let's do this.
They're just out of the kitchen, turning the knob on the door when Finn turns back to Santana. "Hey, say goodbye to Brittany for me, will you?"
"Sure thing," Santana responds even though she has absolutely no plan to do that.
Puck starts laughing once they're gone and Santana just glares at him until her phone rings loudly from her pocket.
"Lopez," she answers, her face growing serious when she hears the voice on the other end. She hangs up after a minute with a quick, "Thanks."
"We got a hit off the plates," she says to Puck, standing. "Place over on 82nd."
Part Ten