Setting Rain on Fire 15.2/20
Wow, thanks for all your reviews! They made me smile for hours, and kept me upbeat even if I’m right now I’m superbly poor, remarkably unhealthy, and amazingly miserable. Keep ‘em coming. I want to surpass 200 by the end of this story. x)
Mom, even if you never see this, and even if you don’t particularly like the Brittana storyline, this is for you. You were the person who taught me to always do the right thing - no matter how painful, no matter who I was up against, no matter the consequences.
Chapter Fifteen [Part Two]: Caught in the Crossfire
“Let me inside, no cause for alarm.
I promise tonight not to do no harm.”
Crossfire, Brandon Flowers
“Wow. If we really do decide to do that, it’ll be a really, really huge step, San.” Her eyes are wide, filled with the unique childlike wonder I can only attribute to Brittany.
“It will.” I agree. I feel my lips shaping into a small smile. “It just feels like the right thing to do, you know?” I squeeze her hands gently.
“Right thing to do?” She echoes, her brows suddenly furrowing slightly. A distant look settles in her eyes, and they shift away from my face to the space behind me.
“Yeah,” I reply, my eyebrows rising involuntarily at her rather unexpected reaction. I wait for a moment, but she seems to have frozen temporarily in the moment. “Are you alright?”
She blinks once, and her eyes move back to mine. “Uh, yeah.” She replies lamely.
My eyebrows rise impossibly higher. “Well, that’s what Kurt told me.” I pause momentarily, trying to find the right words to frame the question in my mind. “So, what about Quinn?”
An anguished look crosses Brittany’s face, and I feel worry start to pump steadily in every cell in my body. Her eyes sweep over my face rapidly, as though she’s searching for answers on my skin. I tighten my hold on her delicate fingers.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” I whisper.
She swallows visibly, then says in a low voice, “Taylor Linwich wants to talk to us.”
Hearing the name unleashes intense emotions over me, chasing out all the positive thoughts I had just a few minutes back, like the dogs of the underworld hunting down their innocent prey. It literally feels like a chainsaw’s been driven into my body, before having it twist in a slow, steady counterclockwise direction.
“What?” I hear myself choking out. I don’t even realize I’ve let go of her hands until I feel the coldness in the absence of her warmth.
“Quinn thinks we should forgive him.” She murmurs, the agony in her eyes shining brightly. The world begins to shake around me, and I grab unto the nearest surface to stabilize myself. I’m yelling, “NO.” before I even realize it.
“That’s what I told her.” Brittany tells me in a distressed whisper.
“What did she say?” Anger resonates in every single syllable. Some part of me wants to find Fabray so I can skin her tactless little ass.
Brittany drops her gaze and falls into the couch. “She told me we needed to heal.”
Maniacal laughter rips through my body, and my tight fist connects with the solid wall. “Fuck her. We’re doing fine.” My throat begins to ache with all the yelling I’ve been doing. “We’re doing fine.” I repeat, in a much softer voice.
Brittany remains silent much longer than I thought she would. I look at her, shock combining with the anger flowing through me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan. “Don’t tell me that Quinn-fucking-Fabray got into your mind, Brittany.”
Brittany shrugs defensively.
“Spit it out.” I snap, fury roaring in my head monstrously.
“I think she’s right.” Brittany whispers softly. She looks up at me, her face begging for me to hear her out. When I say nothing, she continues in an even softer voice, “We’re always going to be trapped in this bubble unless we do something about it.”
“The only thing we’re trapped in is this stupid idea.” I growl. “We. Are. Doing. FINE.” I repeat, throwing emphasis on every single word.
“No, we’re not.” She says, dropping her gaze. “We’re finding ways to distract ourselves. And the distractions are working. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. But there will always be that bit of us holding on desperately to all the unanswered questions, San.”
“And you think talking to him - IT - will help us find those answers?” I ask heatedly. “God damn it, Brittany. If I’m ever allowed to be within fifty meters of him, I swear I will kill him with my bare hands. And how dare he have the nerve to want to talk to us!”
Brittany looks at me with eyes filled with so much sorrow I feel like I’m suffocating with it. “But it all kind of fits, don’t you see?” She whispers slowly.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well…” She hesitates for the smallest fraction of a second. “You were talking about doing the right thing.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with all this.” She inhales deeply, keeping calm. “I think it’s the right thing to do.” She says evenly.
“Let me get this straight.” I say through gritted teeth. “You think that forgiving a murderer would be the right thing to do?” I shake my head. “Can you hear yourself? This is the person who killed Nicholas. Our son. Your fucking son.”
“I know that!” She cries, a bitter edge entering her voice. “You think I’ve forgotten that?”
“Well, it certainly seems like it, if you’re here talking about forgiving the person who killed him! God, Brittany!”
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting, Santana.” Her eyes narrow. “And who said that this is automatically about forgiveness?” She replies tersely. “It’s also about understanding, San. A whole big part of it is about showing compassion and mercy.”
“Those all just sound like fancy words for ‘bending over backwards’ to me.” I hiss coldly.
“They aren’t.” She argues. “You want us to join the fight against homophobia? Well, being able to show the tolerance homophobes failed to give us is the first step to make.”
“That isn’t the sort of fight I’m signing up for.”
“Fighting fire with fire isn’t the only way to fight, Santana.” She rebuts passionately. “Don’t you see that doing that will only make the fire grow even larger?”
A growl bursts involuntarily from my lips, and my hands clench into fists so tight I feel my nails digging sharply into my palms.
Brittany watches as I try to control my anger. She inhales deeply through her mouth, then stands and moves towards me, palms spread open in a pacifying motion. “Look, San, I don’t want to fight.” She sighs. “You think this isn’t difficult for me?” She says slowly. “I saw him kill our son.”
“Exactly.” I reply, my voice rising again. “He’s the reason all this happened in the first place, Brittany! He’s the reason Nicholas is gone. He’s the reason you had all those terrible nightmares. How can you even think about forgiving that?”
“Because I need to.” She blurts out. She drops back unto the couch, looking utterly defeated. “We need to.”
My mouth drops open, but I can’t think of anything to say.
“It isn’t easy.” She whispers. “But we need to at least try to understand.” She insists, looking at me with pleading eyes. “We owe our son that much.”
“The only thing I owe my son is justice.” I reply shortly. “And if I have to get that justice through my own hands - if I have to pull out the heart of the idiot who killed him - I will.”
“Oh, San.” Brittany chokes, tears running freely down her face. For some reason they make me even more furious, though all my emotions are all over the place and I can’t determine who I’m mad at anymore. Quinn? Linwich? Brittany? Myself? And how did I go from ‘I love us’ to this? I worked so hard to make sure that today would be perfect, and now everything is lying in pieces on the floor. Brittany chokes on her tears, and I snap back to reality. Sniffing, she whispers, “Don’t you see that hurting him will only make us as bad as he is?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” I say harshly, automatically, without thinking twice.
The gravity of my words - one ‘s’ word in particular - hits me when I see her face fall, and an utterly broken and betrayed look fills her eyes.
The anger drains out of my body, and guilt replaces it with overwhelming force.
“Brittany.” I begin, horrified. I move towards her. “Oh my God, I’m so sorr-”
“I’m going to bed.” She interrupts in a broken voice, standing and moving out of my grasp.
She turns and walks straight into the bedroom. I hear a sob burst from her lips before the door shuts behind her. The sound of the knob mechanism latching into place breaks my heart.
Never in my entire life have I hated myself so much.
Mom, even if you never see this, and even if you don’t particularly like the Brittana storyline, this is for you. You were the person who taught me to always do the right thing - no matter how painful, no matter who I was up against, no matter the consequences.
Chapter Fifteen [Part Two]: Caught in the Crossfire
“Let me inside, no cause for alarm.
I promise tonight not to do no harm.”
Crossfire, Brandon Flowers
“Wow. If we really do decide to do that, it’ll be a really, really huge step, San.” Her eyes are wide, filled with the unique childlike wonder I can only attribute to Brittany.
“It will.” I agree. I feel my lips shaping into a small smile. “It just feels like the right thing to do, you know?” I squeeze her hands gently.
“Right thing to do?” She echoes, her brows suddenly furrowing slightly. A distant look settles in her eyes, and they shift away from my face to the space behind me.
“Yeah,” I reply, my eyebrows rising involuntarily at her rather unexpected reaction. I wait for a moment, but she seems to have frozen temporarily in the moment. “Are you alright?”
She blinks once, and her eyes move back to mine. “Uh, yeah.” She replies lamely.
My eyebrows rise impossibly higher. “Well, that’s what Kurt told me.” I pause momentarily, trying to find the right words to frame the question in my mind. “So, what about Quinn?”
An anguished look crosses Brittany’s face, and I feel worry start to pump steadily in every cell in my body. Her eyes sweep over my face rapidly, as though she’s searching for answers on my skin. I tighten my hold on her delicate fingers.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” I whisper.
She swallows visibly, then says in a low voice, “Taylor Linwich wants to talk to us.”
Hearing the name unleashes intense emotions over me, chasing out all the positive thoughts I had just a few minutes back, like the dogs of the underworld hunting down their innocent prey. It literally feels like a chainsaw’s been driven into my body, before having it twist in a slow, steady counterclockwise direction.
“What?” I hear myself choking out. I don’t even realize I’ve let go of her hands until I feel the coldness in the absence of her warmth.
“Quinn thinks we should forgive him.” She murmurs, the agony in her eyes shining brightly. The world begins to shake around me, and I grab unto the nearest surface to stabilize myself. I’m yelling, “NO.” before I even realize it.
“That’s what I told her.” Brittany tells me in a distressed whisper.
“What did she say?” Anger resonates in every single syllable. Some part of me wants to find Fabray so I can skin her tactless little ass.
Brittany drops her gaze and falls into the couch. “She told me we needed to heal.”
Maniacal laughter rips through my body, and my tight fist connects with the solid wall. “Fuck her. We’re doing fine.” My throat begins to ache with all the yelling I’ve been doing. “We’re doing fine.” I repeat, in a much softer voice.
Brittany remains silent much longer than I thought she would. I look at her, shock combining with the anger flowing through me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan. “Don’t tell me that Quinn-fucking-Fabray got into your mind, Brittany.”
Brittany shrugs defensively.
“Spit it out.” I snap, fury roaring in my head monstrously.
“I think she’s right.” Brittany whispers softly. She looks up at me, her face begging for me to hear her out. When I say nothing, she continues in an even softer voice, “We’re always going to be trapped in this bubble unless we do something about it.”
“The only thing we’re trapped in is this stupid idea.” I growl. “We. Are. Doing. FINE.” I repeat, throwing emphasis on every single word.
“No, we’re not.” She says, dropping her gaze. “We’re finding ways to distract ourselves. And the distractions are working. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. But there will always be that bit of us holding on desperately to all the unanswered questions, San.”
“And you think talking to him - IT - will help us find those answers?” I ask heatedly. “God damn it, Brittany. If I’m ever allowed to be within fifty meters of him, I swear I will kill him with my bare hands. And how dare he have the nerve to want to talk to us!”
Brittany looks at me with eyes filled with so much sorrow I feel like I’m suffocating with it. “But it all kind of fits, don’t you see?” She whispers slowly.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well…” She hesitates for the smallest fraction of a second. “You were talking about doing the right thing.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with all this.” She inhales deeply, keeping calm. “I think it’s the right thing to do.” She says evenly.
“Let me get this straight.” I say through gritted teeth. “You think that forgiving a murderer would be the right thing to do?” I shake my head. “Can you hear yourself? This is the person who killed Nicholas. Our son. Your fucking son.”
“I know that!” She cries, a bitter edge entering her voice. “You think I’ve forgotten that?”
“Well, it certainly seems like it, if you’re here talking about forgiving the person who killed him! God, Brittany!”
“Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting, Santana.” Her eyes narrow. “And who said that this is automatically about forgiveness?” She replies tersely. “It’s also about understanding, San. A whole big part of it is about showing compassion and mercy.”
“Those all just sound like fancy words for ‘bending over backwards’ to me.” I hiss coldly.
“They aren’t.” She argues. “You want us to join the fight against homophobia? Well, being able to show the tolerance homophobes failed to give us is the first step to make.”
“That isn’t the sort of fight I’m signing up for.”
“Fighting fire with fire isn’t the only way to fight, Santana.” She rebuts passionately. “Don’t you see that doing that will only make the fire grow even larger?”
A growl bursts involuntarily from my lips, and my hands clench into fists so tight I feel my nails digging sharply into my palms.
Brittany watches as I try to control my anger. She inhales deeply through her mouth, then stands and moves towards me, palms spread open in a pacifying motion. “Look, San, I don’t want to fight.” She sighs. “You think this isn’t difficult for me?” She says slowly. “I saw him kill our son.”
“Exactly.” I reply, my voice rising again. “He’s the reason all this happened in the first place, Brittany! He’s the reason Nicholas is gone. He’s the reason you had all those terrible nightmares. How can you even think about forgiving that?”
“Because I need to.” She blurts out. She drops back unto the couch, looking utterly defeated. “We need to.”
My mouth drops open, but I can’t think of anything to say.
“It isn’t easy.” She whispers. “But we need to at least try to understand.” She insists, looking at me with pleading eyes. “We owe our son that much.”
“The only thing I owe my son is justice.” I reply shortly. “And if I have to get that justice through my own hands - if I have to pull out the heart of the idiot who killed him - I will.”
“Oh, San.” Brittany chokes, tears running freely down her face. For some reason they make me even more furious, though all my emotions are all over the place and I can’t determine who I’m mad at anymore. Quinn? Linwich? Brittany? Myself? And how did I go from ‘I love us’ to this? I worked so hard to make sure that today would be perfect, and now everything is lying in pieces on the floor. Brittany chokes on her tears, and I snap back to reality. Sniffing, she whispers, “Don’t you see that hurting him will only make us as bad as he is?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” I say harshly, automatically, without thinking twice.
The gravity of my words - one ‘s’ word in particular - hits me when I see her face fall, and an utterly broken and betrayed look fills her eyes.
The anger drains out of my body, and guilt replaces it with overwhelming force.
“Brittany.” I begin, horrified. I move towards her. “Oh my God, I’m so sorr-”
“I’m going to bed.” She interrupts in a broken voice, standing and moving out of my grasp.
She turns and walks straight into the bedroom. I hear a sob burst from her lips before the door shuts behind her. The sound of the knob mechanism latching into place breaks my heart.
Never in my entire life have I hated myself so much.