FIC: For You
Series: No Day But Today
Title: For You, There Will Be No More Crying
Pair: Klaine, Brittana
Warning: attempted sexual assault
Word Count: ~4120
Summary: Brittany’s journey that brought her to the night of the party and after.
Author's Note: We're getting there.
Santana grabbed Brittany’s hand and yanked her from the doorway where she’d frozen. The sudden jerk made her shoulder ache, but she didn’t make so much as a peep. She just followed where Santana led, and soon she was sitting in the back of the Lopez car with Santana and her little sister Lupe and staring ahead.
It was like her voice box was broken. Brittany had always imaged a little jewelry box in your throat when people talked about a voice box. Santana’s was a rich cherry wood, with deep curlicues engraved along the sides in a pattern that was magic, and her mom’s was plastic and painted in pastels, like her own but with less glitter.
But when the image of the boxes faded from her head, another returned. Lord Tubbington. That woman had been eating him. Eating him alive. Why would anyone do that? Tubbs was the sweetest cat in the world! And the cuddliest!
“No, no more crying,” Santana whispered, pulling Brittany’s head to her shoulder.
“What’s happening? I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything!” Brittany sobbed.
“It okay. I’ll protect you,” Santana promised. “And we’ll figure this out together, okay?”
Brittany nodded and peered out the window. A man was dragging Mr. Schuester to the ground. “We have to help him!” She lunged at the window. At the sudden movement, Lupe squeaked and pulled her knees up to her chest.
“Stay there!” Mr. Lopez bellowed. He hit the child locks. “Everyone stays in the damn car. No arguments.”
“Can we find my mom and dad?” Brittany looked around at the family, pouting. “Please?”
“We have time,” Santana said. “Papa, please? We don’t have to meet the Hummels for another hour.” She looked at Brittany and smiled. “Carole called us a few minutes ago. They’ve got a plan to get us out of town for a few days. We’ll be safe.”
“Fine,” Mr. Lopez barked. “We’ll swing by your mother’s workplace, but no one leaves the car. We’re a family, and we’re all sticking together until this thing is over.”
***
Brittany's fingers ran through Santana’s hair. She was reclining across the seats, with her head in Brittany’s lap, and tears just kept spilling over her cheeks. No sobs, just quiet tears. Like they might never ever stop.
“Maybe they got out. I bet they did. Puck’s good at tight spots,” Brittany said. “I bet he got them out, and he’d have taken Lupe. And maybe your parents?”
Her voice box let out gravelly, not-Santana-voice sounds. “Not my dad. He is dead. He’s dead. Or he’s one of them. God, he might’ve bitten Mama or Lupe. I’m the worst sister ever.”
Brittany dropped a kiss on Santana’s lips. “Believe, Santana. Believe in happy things, and that we’re all gonna be alright. No more crying.”
Santana nuzzled their noses together and stroked her fingers over Brittany’s neck. “I guess we’re going to Canada, of all places,” she drawled.
“Canada... They have the cops who ride ponies.”
“Also, moose. They have moose. Which are scary. If I were a freak, I wouldn’t want to get my shamble on with moose hanging around. They’re terrifying. And huge.”
Brittany giggled softly. “Can I get a new cat when we get to Canada?”
“Absolutely.”
***
Brittany’s hands had shook as she scrambled around for something to attack with, but everything she touched had fumbled right out of her fingers. The infected freaks had been everywhere. Bent over in hungry determination as they ripped flesh from her mother’s bones with their teeth.
Afterward, Brittany jumped at anything that moved. She couldn’t eat, and she felt sick all the time. Now both of her parents were gone. For pretty much ever. Also her cat. And her boyfriend.
Everyone kept slipping away.
That night Brittany sat by herself while they circled around waiting for Burt and Finn and Tina’s dad to get the car going again. She’d never been able to take down one of the freaks. Even though they’d eaten Lord Tubbington, she’d never wanted to. They were kind of like animals, too, in a way. They didn’t know any better. It wasn’t like they were killing things to be mean. That’s how nature was. Bigger things ate smaller things, and they were hungry, so they ate.
And she knew that meant they were like dangerous, hungry dogs that no one owned and cared for. And maybe if someone was able to train them, they would be better dogs. And they would know better and stop hurting people.
But knowing that they had killed some people and watching them kill her mother was different. Even if they could have been trained to be better, and if they couldn’t help it, even if they were just sick and still sort of people... That didn’t matter anymore.
If they couldn’t be stopped, these freaks would end everything that was precious and happy about the world.
***
“Bay-bee! Kurt’s havin’ a bay-bee,” Brittany sang. She bounced on the bed and bopped her head from side to side.
Santana laughed. “You are so happy about that. It’s crazy how happy you are about them...” She shrugged and pulled her hair up. “I never thought I’d see Kurt again. Or any of our friends. I wonder if he’ll be happy to see us. His brother and dad, yeah, sure, and Tina...”
“A baby!” Brittany bounced again.
“Yeah! A baby!” Santana shook her head and looked out the window. “God. How hard must that have been? Being pregnant down there with everything being so awful... Wanting everything for that baby, ‘cause you know those two.” She pursed her lips and cast Brittany a knowing look. “They’d get all sappy over it.”
“Yeah.” Brittany felt her heart swell up and fell back on the bed. “Googly happy daddy eyes.”
“I don’t know if I could do that. I mean, if you and me could... If I were pregnant with our baby and the world crashing down all around us...”
Brittany flopped over and rested her chin on the backs of her hands. “You wouldn’t have my baby?”
“Hm. Yeah.” Santana crossed her arms. “I don’t know if I’m the mommy type to begin with, but drooling freaks added into the mix doesn’t exactly make me feel like nesting. Anyway, fat me? No thanks.”
Brittany got up and circled her arms around Santana’s waist. “You’d be super hot no matter what.”
Santana looked over her shoulder and chuckled. Brittany laughed, too, and kissed her, tasting the raspberry lip gloss Brittany had nicked for her the last time they’d raided a store.
“I guessI would get fat for you, if you really wanted me to. And if we were dead thing free,” Santana said, turning around and hanging her arms around Brittany’s neck.
“I could protect you. Like you protect me. I could protect you, too.”
Santana smiled. That big bright way that she did only around Brittany.
“I love it when you smile like that,” Brittany said. “I love you.”
Santana took her hand and pulled her toward the bed. “Let’s do something that would make Mama Chang stomp around about our inappropriateness!”
***
Kurt’s arms circled around Brittany’s and he held the gun in her hands aloft. “Blaine’s really better with the firearms,” he murmured.
Brittany tilted her head to the side and turned the gun sideways. “Make my day, punk!”
“Oh, Britt, no. God, no. No, no, no.” Kurt straightened the gun. “You’re not a gangster. If you hold the gun that way, it could jam or malfunction. Your aim is not better that way, I swear.”
“But they do it on TV!”
“TV also says that shutting up someone by kissing them is romantic and not sexual assault,” Kurt said dryly. He lifted her arms a little. “TV says a lot of stupid things. Use the sight. Okay? Take a deep breath and when you’re ready, pull the trigger.”
Brittany swallowed.
“Watch for the kickback,” Kurt warned.
Brittany closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.
“Hey, pretty pretty. Get your hands off my woman!” Santana complained.
Brittany looked over at her and grinned. “I’m gonna be a badass!”
“You don’t have to.” Santana came over and smacked Kurt’s shoulder. “I can take care of you.”
“I want to be able to take care of me.” Brittany looked back at the target, creased her brow, and fired.
It didn’t even come close. She dropped let her arm fall and pouted.
“It takes practice,” Kurt said. “Keep trying.”
He stepped back and eyed Santana, who was crossing her arms unhappily.
“I can do this.” Brittany fired again. Without Kurt behind her, she fell back a little, and the bullet hit the fence instead of the can.
“Just focus. Take another deep breath, slow things down. And focus.”
She fired again. The bullet nicked the side of the can. Happily, she turned to Kurt, then to Santana, who gave them a begrudging smile and told her what a good job she was doing. She exchanged another look with Kurt, who walked over to drape his arm over Santana’s shoulder and whisper something into her ear.
Brittany was glad that Kurt seemed friendly with Santana. They all needed friends right now. Because they’d lost so many.
***
Mr. Hummel was watching them with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side, but Brittany repeated the dance move anyway. First the body roll, then the hips, then the drop down to feel over her things.
Saffire and Juni repeated the move. They weren’t in unison at all, but they did okay, and Brittany clapped.
“Oh, that was so good!”
“Huh.” Mr. Hummel came forward slowly, and Saffire looked up at him and gave a little wave. “Your dad know you’re gettin’ dance lessons?”
“Well, I couldn’t ask,” Saffire said pointedly. “He ain’t back yet.”
Mr. Hummel pursed his lips.
“Don’t make her go, Mr. Hummel!” Juni bent backward onto her hands then flipped herself up into the air. “We’re going to put together a number for everybody.”
“A show like that would give pretty much everybody an uncomfortableness.” He looked at Brittany, and she straightened up and tried to look responsible. “Let’s keep it PG, okay?”
Brittany nodded energetically and saluted. Mr. Hummel wasn’t their leader officially, but in her head, Brittany though of him as Cap’n Hummel. “Can do!”
His brows furrowed, then he turned to leave. Brittany grabbed Juni’s ankles.
“Okay, now, I’m gonna show you how to dance with a pole!”
Saffire covered her mouth and fell to her knees, overcome with giggles.
***
“To he-ell with stares, the sweat is drippin’ all over my fa-ace...” Brittany sang to herself as she poured two glasses of wine. The party with everyone there had been fun. She liked when everyone came together. “No-o one’s there. I’m the only one dancin’ up in this pla-ace...”
Mike had brought some frivolous stuff back for a few of them some weeks ago. Wine and condoms and strawberry lube and other crazy things that made Finn wonder out loud about that kinds of stores they’d found... But that wasn’t what came to Brittany’s mind as she smelled the wine. They’d mourned a little girl today who they’d lost in the last run. She missed Juni, and her crazy little laugh and free spirit, and it just reminded her how bad it was to waste a single thing they brought back, ever. They risked themselves every time they went out there to get supplies. It was bad to waste a moment of their lives, when others had lost theirs.
As she bounced her way back to the bedroom, Brittany sipped her glass of wine. It was cold in the drafty old house, but she could get all cozy with Santana under the covers.
A high-pitched whimper stopped Brittany in her tracks. She stared at the doorway. No light there, but the bed was squeaking. Her thoughts slogged around in her head, unable to pull together into some kind of understanding. She tilted her head and set down the wine glasses and heard Kurt’s silver antique voice box with filigree around the edges and a shiny mirror on top saying,
There are so many moments that we’d have been dead if we hadn’t kept our heads. You just have to be able to step outside of yourself, assess the situation, and figure out how to keep you and your loved ones alive.
Brittany grabbed the gun from in between the sofa cushions and crept towards the bedroom. It was like playing hide and seek with Lupe back when everything was normal. Light steps. Watching for the creaky boards. She could do this. She could sneak sneak and find out if there was a walker there...
At the doorway, Brittany froze. There was a figure on top of Santana, holding her down with one hand on her neck, while Santana choked out a helpless noise.
A low grunt came out of the figure pinning her down. Brittany’s eyes pricked with tears, and she hoped that it hadn’t already bitten Santana. She couldn’t put Santana down. She couldn’t watch her die.
When a walker is in your sights, fire away. That’s why I like the crossbow, honestly. There’s no shortage of wood, and I can make new arrows. Give it an extra shot to the head to make sure it’s dead.
Slowly, Brittany drew oxygen deep into her lungs and raised her gun.
But if they’re near someone else, you have to take a deep breath. Make everything slow down, and make sure that shot doesn’t sink into the person you’re trying to protect. They’re a lot harder to take down when they’re moving and you have survivors to worry about.
It was dark now, and she couldn’t focus on the dead thing’s hand on Santana’s thigh, or the noises either were making. Just the head. Just like the target on the cans. Her eyes began to adjust, and she could see the outline of its head from the faded light through the window. She widened her stance to counter the kickback.
Then Brittany pulled the trigger.
Santana let out a rough, terrified scream, as the back of her attacker’s head blew off and it slumped over on her. She scrambled up and away from the body, pushing it away from her and bolting for the door. She stopped and stared at Brittany, who aimed one more time and shot the head again. Just to be sure it was dead, like Kurt had said.
“It’s okay!” Brittany smiled and pulled Santana to her. Santana’s knees buckled, and Brittany went with her onto the floor. “You’re okay. Right? No blood got in your eyes or anything? I’ll love you even if you have to get an eyepatch.”
“Oh, God,” Santana managed. Her voice was so hoarse, and her eyes so very wide, and she leaned into Brittany and coughed, struggling to breathe. “You killed him.”
“We should tell the others, right? So they can check the town for other walkers?”
Santana looked up at Brittany. Blood was splattered across her face, along with her tears, and bruises and swelling. Brittany frowned. Usually walkers just grabbed and bit. Why had it hit her? More than once, even.
“Oh, baby,” Santana petted Brittany’s hair, rasping out the words with determination. “You saved me. You saved my life, okay?”
Lifting her head, Brittany stared over at the body on their bed. She realized what was missing. What was always there, when the walkers came. Granted, she’d been protected from them by everyone else, so she hadn’t been around them as much as Blaine and Kurt, or Van, or even Rafe. Not as much time as the really crazy and really wonderful people in their group.
But she knew that the room should smell like rot. Like gross and deadness. Especially after blowing off a walker’s head.
“There shouldn’t be so much blood here.” Brittany blinked, then repeated. “There shouldn’t be so much blood. There shouldn’t be so much blood, Santana. Oh my, God, why is there so much blood? Walkers don’t have that much blood!”
She pulled away from Santana and went to the side of the bed. Her fingers poked the still-warm flesh of the man whose head she’d blown off.
When she turned around again, her gun raised almost instinctively.
“No, no!” Santana croaked.
Blaine raised a hand, showed her his gun, and made to slowly lower it to the ground.
“Oh, Blaine!” Brittany wailed. She dropped her gun, ran over, and threw her arms around his neck.
“Breathe, Britt.” Blaine looked down at Santana, then over to the bed. “That’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing. I would have, Britt. I almost did, okay?”
“I thought it was a walker!”
Blaine kissed her forehead and pulled her over to the doorway. “We gotta get out of this room, okay?”
“Santana’s hurt!”
“Okay, hon. Why don’t you go to the sofa out there? I’ll help Santana out. I’m strong for a little guy!”
Blaine lifted Santana up, and as he was helping her to the sofa, Finn burst in through the front door. Blaine sent him out almost immediately to get Mama Chang, and Brittany curled up against Santana, petting her swollen face gently. Blaine’s eyes drifted towards the bedroom. He picked up the wine and brought it over to them.
He stayed with them, feeding Brittany the wine until Mama Chang came in to tend to Santana. Brittany wasn’t able to form any proper words while she watched Mama Chang sewing up the gash on the side of Santana’s face and setting her nose.
Then Finn and Mike came in to carry out the body, and Brittany started to shake and cry and slipped onto the floor. Santana tried to move over to her, but Mama Chang kept her still, and Blaine grabbed Brittany around the shoulders to keep her still.
Her fingers grasped at the cold floorboards.
***
“Oh. Honey.”
Rafe came up behind Brittany. She was sitting out on the steps, holding a knife, the remains of her hair around her. The rest was in jagged pieces sticking out from her head. Now that she looked at the mess, she wasn’t sure why she’d cut off her hair.
Except, when she’d looked in the mirror that morning, she didn’t recognize herself, and that had been too scary.
“I’m trying to make me me again.” She looked up at Rafe, who was staring down at her with a little more arched brow than he usually had towards her. “I can’t. I can’t make me me.”
Rafe reached for her hand and tugged. “C’mon. There’s one thing I’m good for, aside from babysitting and pining after guys in committed relationships.”
Brittany followed after him, her eyes watching his odd, hobbling gate. He sat her down in the bathroom and pulled out a pair of scissors.
“Okay, Blondie, let’s make you less ‘just got out of the crazy refugee wing’ and more um... anything else.”
Rafe continued to chatter as he snipped away at her hair. About her and Santana, about Kurt, a lot, and then about a string of wacky dating adventures that ended badly each time. Eventually he got tired of babbling, and started to sing to himself.
“Snip snip here, snip snip there, and a couple of la di das. That’s how we pass the day away in the merry old abandoned town of Oz.” He brushed off the back of her head and dropped down onto his good knee to examine her hair from the front. “We can make a dimple smile out of a frown... We can even dye your eyes to match your gown. Jolly old town!”
Rafe tapped her nose with one finger. Brittany’s lips twitched slightly.
“I don’t like The Wizard of Oz. The flying monkeys are scary.”
“How about Wicked? Every gay person has to like Wicked.” Rafe bit his tongue, pinched the hair on either side of her face, and pulled it down to measure. Then he combed her hair over to the side and began to snip again. “I mean, Elphaba and Galinda are practically the romantic couple in that, right?”
He sang again, “I don’t know if I’ve been changed for the better, but I have been changed for gooood!”
“Wicked’s good. Kurt loves Wicked. Lots.”
“I gathered.” Rafe sighed heavily, then ruffled her hair a little. “I don’t have any product, but... C’mon.” He pulled her up and held her in front of the mirror. “I dunno if this feels any more like you, but I gotta tell ya, I didn’t really feel like me for a long while. You didn’t lose a leg, but you lost something.”
“I took something.”
“He was gonna take something,” Rafe quipped.
“I took something.” Brittany ran her fingers through her short hair and pushed air in and out of her lungs.
She turned and left the bathroom.
“You’re welcome,” Rafe muttered.
She drifted into the bedroom. Not the one they had been using. No one wanted to go in there. No, they’d taken over another room. Santana was there, laying on her left side, since the ribs on the other side were bruised. Her face was less swollen, more recognizable.
Santana hadn’t really spoken much since the night before, but that made sense. Her windpipe had nearly been crushed, and Mama Chang had strictly ordered her not to talk for the time being. Now she was on painkillers, and she was sleepy. But she didn’t sleep. She just stared at the wall.
Blaine had said that the drifter had been after food and guns, and Santana had written down what he’d said, and he’d just asked how many of them there were, and where the guns were. He’d attacked Kurt, too, which was also scary, because he could have taken away one of Pippa’s dads. But he’d also been really, really rough with both of them. More than he had to be, and that didn’t make sense to Brittany. Being so rough, with his hand on Santana’s thigh.
That’s what Brittany remembered. He’d been there for supplies, but he’d been tempted to take more. People called her stupid sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid. Thinking that hand where it had been made her feel bad. Because it almost made her glad he was dead, if he’d even thought about hurting Kurt and Santana like that. Like he’d come for what he needed but had been willing to take so much more from them.
Brittany crawled up behind her. Santana jumped and looked back at Brittany. Her brows knit together, and she touched Brittany’s hair with sluggish fingers.
In spite of the stitches on her lower lip, she smiled just a little, and mouthed, “Pretty girl.”
Brittany rubbed their noses together. “Did you sleep?”
Santana shook her head. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana protectively. “You can sleep now. You should sleep.”
A moment later, Rafe drifted in and draped a blanket over them. Then he set a gun on the nightstand, met Brittany’s eye, and gave them both a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving. Brittany could hear his hobbling stop in the living room, where he stayed out on the sofa, as though taking watch. Like Blaine had when it had first happened, then Kurt, then others. Taking shifts, watching them and trying to help them feel safe.
“It’s okay.” Brittany saw a tear spilling down Santana’s cheek, and she wiped it away. “I’ll protect you. You sleep. I’ll protect you.”
Next Part: Scare
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.
comments posted there. Please comment there using OpenID or your DW account.
Title: For You, There Will Be No More Crying
Pair: Klaine, Brittana
Warning: attempted sexual assault
Word Count: ~4120
Summary: Brittany’s journey that brought her to the night of the party and after.
Author's Note: We're getting there.
Santana grabbed Brittany’s hand and yanked her from the doorway where she’d frozen. The sudden jerk made her shoulder ache, but she didn’t make so much as a peep. She just followed where Santana led, and soon she was sitting in the back of the Lopez car with Santana and her little sister Lupe and staring ahead.
It was like her voice box was broken. Brittany had always imaged a little jewelry box in your throat when people talked about a voice box. Santana’s was a rich cherry wood, with deep curlicues engraved along the sides in a pattern that was magic, and her mom’s was plastic and painted in pastels, like her own but with less glitter.
But when the image of the boxes faded from her head, another returned. Lord Tubbington. That woman had been eating him. Eating him alive. Why would anyone do that? Tubbs was the sweetest cat in the world! And the cuddliest!
“No, no more crying,” Santana whispered, pulling Brittany’s head to her shoulder.
“What’s happening? I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything!” Brittany sobbed.
“It okay. I’ll protect you,” Santana promised. “And we’ll figure this out together, okay?”
Brittany nodded and peered out the window. A man was dragging Mr. Schuester to the ground. “We have to help him!” She lunged at the window. At the sudden movement, Lupe squeaked and pulled her knees up to her chest.
“Stay there!” Mr. Lopez bellowed. He hit the child locks. “Everyone stays in the damn car. No arguments.”
“Can we find my mom and dad?” Brittany looked around at the family, pouting. “Please?”
“We have time,” Santana said. “Papa, please? We don’t have to meet the Hummels for another hour.” She looked at Brittany and smiled. “Carole called us a few minutes ago. They’ve got a plan to get us out of town for a few days. We’ll be safe.”
“Fine,” Mr. Lopez barked. “We’ll swing by your mother’s workplace, but no one leaves the car. We’re a family, and we’re all sticking together until this thing is over.”
***
Brittany's fingers ran through Santana’s hair. She was reclining across the seats, with her head in Brittany’s lap, and tears just kept spilling over her cheeks. No sobs, just quiet tears. Like they might never ever stop.
“Maybe they got out. I bet they did. Puck’s good at tight spots,” Brittany said. “I bet he got them out, and he’d have taken Lupe. And maybe your parents?”
Her voice box let out gravelly, not-Santana-voice sounds. “Not my dad. He is dead. He’s dead. Or he’s one of them. God, he might’ve bitten Mama or Lupe. I’m the worst sister ever.”
Brittany dropped a kiss on Santana’s lips. “Believe, Santana. Believe in happy things, and that we’re all gonna be alright. No more crying.”
Santana nuzzled their noses together and stroked her fingers over Brittany’s neck. “I guess we’re going to Canada, of all places,” she drawled.
“Canada... They have the cops who ride ponies.”
“Also, moose. They have moose. Which are scary. If I were a freak, I wouldn’t want to get my shamble on with moose hanging around. They’re terrifying. And huge.”
Brittany giggled softly. “Can I get a new cat when we get to Canada?”
“Absolutely.”
***
Brittany’s hands had shook as she scrambled around for something to attack with, but everything she touched had fumbled right out of her fingers. The infected freaks had been everywhere. Bent over in hungry determination as they ripped flesh from her mother’s bones with their teeth.
Afterward, Brittany jumped at anything that moved. She couldn’t eat, and she felt sick all the time. Now both of her parents were gone. For pretty much ever. Also her cat. And her boyfriend.
Everyone kept slipping away.
That night Brittany sat by herself while they circled around waiting for Burt and Finn and Tina’s dad to get the car going again. She’d never been able to take down one of the freaks. Even though they’d eaten Lord Tubbington, she’d never wanted to. They were kind of like animals, too, in a way. They didn’t know any better. It wasn’t like they were killing things to be mean. That’s how nature was. Bigger things ate smaller things, and they were hungry, so they ate.
And she knew that meant they were like dangerous, hungry dogs that no one owned and cared for. And maybe if someone was able to train them, they would be better dogs. And they would know better and stop hurting people.
But knowing that they had killed some people and watching them kill her mother was different. Even if they could have been trained to be better, and if they couldn’t help it, even if they were just sick and still sort of people... That didn’t matter anymore.
If they couldn’t be stopped, these freaks would end everything that was precious and happy about the world.
***
“Bay-bee! Kurt’s havin’ a bay-bee,” Brittany sang. She bounced on the bed and bopped her head from side to side.
Santana laughed. “You are so happy about that. It’s crazy how happy you are about them...” She shrugged and pulled her hair up. “I never thought I’d see Kurt again. Or any of our friends. I wonder if he’ll be happy to see us. His brother and dad, yeah, sure, and Tina...”
“A baby!” Brittany bounced again.
“Yeah! A baby!” Santana shook her head and looked out the window. “God. How hard must that have been? Being pregnant down there with everything being so awful... Wanting everything for that baby, ‘cause you know those two.” She pursed her lips and cast Brittany a knowing look. “They’d get all sappy over it.”
“Yeah.” Brittany felt her heart swell up and fell back on the bed. “Googly happy daddy eyes.”
“I don’t know if I could do that. I mean, if you and me could... If I were pregnant with our baby and the world crashing down all around us...”
Brittany flopped over and rested her chin on the backs of her hands. “You wouldn’t have my baby?”
“Hm. Yeah.” Santana crossed her arms. “I don’t know if I’m the mommy type to begin with, but drooling freaks added into the mix doesn’t exactly make me feel like nesting. Anyway, fat me? No thanks.”
Brittany got up and circled her arms around Santana’s waist. “You’d be super hot no matter what.”
Santana looked over her shoulder and chuckled. Brittany laughed, too, and kissed her, tasting the raspberry lip gloss Brittany had nicked for her the last time they’d raided a store.
“I guessI would get fat for you, if you really wanted me to. And if we were dead thing free,” Santana said, turning around and hanging her arms around Brittany’s neck.
“I could protect you. Like you protect me. I could protect you, too.”
Santana smiled. That big bright way that she did only around Brittany.
“I love it when you smile like that,” Brittany said. “I love you.”
Santana took her hand and pulled her toward the bed. “Let’s do something that would make Mama Chang stomp around about our inappropriateness!”
***
Kurt’s arms circled around Brittany’s and he held the gun in her hands aloft. “Blaine’s really better with the firearms,” he murmured.
Brittany tilted her head to the side and turned the gun sideways. “Make my day, punk!”
“Oh, Britt, no. God, no. No, no, no.” Kurt straightened the gun. “You’re not a gangster. If you hold the gun that way, it could jam or malfunction. Your aim is not better that way, I swear.”
“But they do it on TV!”
“TV also says that shutting up someone by kissing them is romantic and not sexual assault,” Kurt said dryly. He lifted her arms a little. “TV says a lot of stupid things. Use the sight. Okay? Take a deep breath and when you’re ready, pull the trigger.”
Brittany swallowed.
“Watch for the kickback,” Kurt warned.
Brittany closed her eyes, and breathed deeply.
“Hey, pretty pretty. Get your hands off my woman!” Santana complained.
Brittany looked over at her and grinned. “I’m gonna be a badass!”
“You don’t have to.” Santana came over and smacked Kurt’s shoulder. “I can take care of you.”
“I want to be able to take care of me.” Brittany looked back at the target, creased her brow, and fired.
It didn’t even come close. She dropped let her arm fall and pouted.
“It takes practice,” Kurt said. “Keep trying.”
He stepped back and eyed Santana, who was crossing her arms unhappily.
“I can do this.” Brittany fired again. Without Kurt behind her, she fell back a little, and the bullet hit the fence instead of the can.
“Just focus. Take another deep breath, slow things down. And focus.”
She fired again. The bullet nicked the side of the can. Happily, she turned to Kurt, then to Santana, who gave them a begrudging smile and told her what a good job she was doing. She exchanged another look with Kurt, who walked over to drape his arm over Santana’s shoulder and whisper something into her ear.
Brittany was glad that Kurt seemed friendly with Santana. They all needed friends right now. Because they’d lost so many.
***
Mr. Hummel was watching them with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side, but Brittany repeated the dance move anyway. First the body roll, then the hips, then the drop down to feel over her things.
Saffire and Juni repeated the move. They weren’t in unison at all, but they did okay, and Brittany clapped.
“Oh, that was so good!”
“Huh.” Mr. Hummel came forward slowly, and Saffire looked up at him and gave a little wave. “Your dad know you’re gettin’ dance lessons?”
“Well, I couldn’t ask,” Saffire said pointedly. “He ain’t back yet.”
Mr. Hummel pursed his lips.
“Don’t make her go, Mr. Hummel!” Juni bent backward onto her hands then flipped herself up into the air. “We’re going to put together a number for everybody.”
“A show like that would give pretty much everybody an uncomfortableness.” He looked at Brittany, and she straightened up and tried to look responsible. “Let’s keep it PG, okay?”
Brittany nodded energetically and saluted. Mr. Hummel wasn’t their leader officially, but in her head, Brittany though of him as Cap’n Hummel. “Can do!”
His brows furrowed, then he turned to leave. Brittany grabbed Juni’s ankles.
“Okay, now, I’m gonna show you how to dance with a pole!”
Saffire covered her mouth and fell to her knees, overcome with giggles.
***
“To he-ell with stares, the sweat is drippin’ all over my fa-ace...” Brittany sang to herself as she poured two glasses of wine. The party with everyone there had been fun. She liked when everyone came together. “No-o one’s there. I’m the only one dancin’ up in this pla-ace...”
Mike had brought some frivolous stuff back for a few of them some weeks ago. Wine and condoms and strawberry lube and other crazy things that made Finn wonder out loud about that kinds of stores they’d found... But that wasn’t what came to Brittany’s mind as she smelled the wine. They’d mourned a little girl today who they’d lost in the last run. She missed Juni, and her crazy little laugh and free spirit, and it just reminded her how bad it was to waste a single thing they brought back, ever. They risked themselves every time they went out there to get supplies. It was bad to waste a moment of their lives, when others had lost theirs.
As she bounced her way back to the bedroom, Brittany sipped her glass of wine. It was cold in the drafty old house, but she could get all cozy with Santana under the covers.
A high-pitched whimper stopped Brittany in her tracks. She stared at the doorway. No light there, but the bed was squeaking. Her thoughts slogged around in her head, unable to pull together into some kind of understanding. She tilted her head and set down the wine glasses and heard Kurt’s silver antique voice box with filigree around the edges and a shiny mirror on top saying,
There are so many moments that we’d have been dead if we hadn’t kept our heads. You just have to be able to step outside of yourself, assess the situation, and figure out how to keep you and your loved ones alive.
Brittany grabbed the gun from in between the sofa cushions and crept towards the bedroom. It was like playing hide and seek with Lupe back when everything was normal. Light steps. Watching for the creaky boards. She could do this. She could sneak sneak and find out if there was a walker there...
At the doorway, Brittany froze. There was a figure on top of Santana, holding her down with one hand on her neck, while Santana choked out a helpless noise.
A low grunt came out of the figure pinning her down. Brittany’s eyes pricked with tears, and she hoped that it hadn’t already bitten Santana. She couldn’t put Santana down. She couldn’t watch her die.
When a walker is in your sights, fire away. That’s why I like the crossbow, honestly. There’s no shortage of wood, and I can make new arrows. Give it an extra shot to the head to make sure it’s dead.
Slowly, Brittany drew oxygen deep into her lungs and raised her gun.
But if they’re near someone else, you have to take a deep breath. Make everything slow down, and make sure that shot doesn’t sink into the person you’re trying to protect. They’re a lot harder to take down when they’re moving and you have survivors to worry about.
It was dark now, and she couldn’t focus on the dead thing’s hand on Santana’s thigh, or the noises either were making. Just the head. Just like the target on the cans. Her eyes began to adjust, and she could see the outline of its head from the faded light through the window. She widened her stance to counter the kickback.
Then Brittany pulled the trigger.
Santana let out a rough, terrified scream, as the back of her attacker’s head blew off and it slumped over on her. She scrambled up and away from the body, pushing it away from her and bolting for the door. She stopped and stared at Brittany, who aimed one more time and shot the head again. Just to be sure it was dead, like Kurt had said.
“It’s okay!” Brittany smiled and pulled Santana to her. Santana’s knees buckled, and Brittany went with her onto the floor. “You’re okay. Right? No blood got in your eyes or anything? I’ll love you even if you have to get an eyepatch.”
“Oh, God,” Santana managed. Her voice was so hoarse, and her eyes so very wide, and she leaned into Brittany and coughed, struggling to breathe. “You killed him.”
“We should tell the others, right? So they can check the town for other walkers?”
Santana looked up at Brittany. Blood was splattered across her face, along with her tears, and bruises and swelling. Brittany frowned. Usually walkers just grabbed and bit. Why had it hit her? More than once, even.
“Oh, baby,” Santana petted Brittany’s hair, rasping out the words with determination. “You saved me. You saved my life, okay?”
Lifting her head, Brittany stared over at the body on their bed. She realized what was missing. What was always there, when the walkers came. Granted, she’d been protected from them by everyone else, so she hadn’t been around them as much as Blaine and Kurt, or Van, or even Rafe. Not as much time as the really crazy and really wonderful people in their group.
But she knew that the room should smell like rot. Like gross and deadness. Especially after blowing off a walker’s head.
“There shouldn’t be so much blood here.” Brittany blinked, then repeated. “There shouldn’t be so much blood. There shouldn’t be so much blood, Santana. Oh my, God, why is there so much blood? Walkers don’t have that much blood!”
She pulled away from Santana and went to the side of the bed. Her fingers poked the still-warm flesh of the man whose head she’d blown off.
When she turned around again, her gun raised almost instinctively.
“No, no!” Santana croaked.
Blaine raised a hand, showed her his gun, and made to slowly lower it to the ground.
“Oh, Blaine!” Brittany wailed. She dropped her gun, ran over, and threw her arms around his neck.
“Breathe, Britt.” Blaine looked down at Santana, then over to the bed. “That’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing. I would have, Britt. I almost did, okay?”
“I thought it was a walker!”
Blaine kissed her forehead and pulled her over to the doorway. “We gotta get out of this room, okay?”
“Santana’s hurt!”
“Okay, hon. Why don’t you go to the sofa out there? I’ll help Santana out. I’m strong for a little guy!”
Blaine lifted Santana up, and as he was helping her to the sofa, Finn burst in through the front door. Blaine sent him out almost immediately to get Mama Chang, and Brittany curled up against Santana, petting her swollen face gently. Blaine’s eyes drifted towards the bedroom. He picked up the wine and brought it over to them.
He stayed with them, feeding Brittany the wine until Mama Chang came in to tend to Santana. Brittany wasn’t able to form any proper words while she watched Mama Chang sewing up the gash on the side of Santana’s face and setting her nose.
Then Finn and Mike came in to carry out the body, and Brittany started to shake and cry and slipped onto the floor. Santana tried to move over to her, but Mama Chang kept her still, and Blaine grabbed Brittany around the shoulders to keep her still.
Her fingers grasped at the cold floorboards.
***
“Oh. Honey.”
Rafe came up behind Brittany. She was sitting out on the steps, holding a knife, the remains of her hair around her. The rest was in jagged pieces sticking out from her head. Now that she looked at the mess, she wasn’t sure why she’d cut off her hair.
Except, when she’d looked in the mirror that morning, she didn’t recognize herself, and that had been too scary.
“I’m trying to make me me again.” She looked up at Rafe, who was staring down at her with a little more arched brow than he usually had towards her. “I can’t. I can’t make me me.”
Rafe reached for her hand and tugged. “C’mon. There’s one thing I’m good for, aside from babysitting and pining after guys in committed relationships.”
Brittany followed after him, her eyes watching his odd, hobbling gate. He sat her down in the bathroom and pulled out a pair of scissors.
“Okay, Blondie, let’s make you less ‘just got out of the crazy refugee wing’ and more um... anything else.”
Rafe continued to chatter as he snipped away at her hair. About her and Santana, about Kurt, a lot, and then about a string of wacky dating adventures that ended badly each time. Eventually he got tired of babbling, and started to sing to himself.
“Snip snip here, snip snip there, and a couple of la di das. That’s how we pass the day away in the merry old abandoned town of Oz.” He brushed off the back of her head and dropped down onto his good knee to examine her hair from the front. “We can make a dimple smile out of a frown... We can even dye your eyes to match your gown. Jolly old town!”
Rafe tapped her nose with one finger. Brittany’s lips twitched slightly.
“I don’t like The Wizard of Oz. The flying monkeys are scary.”
“How about Wicked? Every gay person has to like Wicked.” Rafe bit his tongue, pinched the hair on either side of her face, and pulled it down to measure. Then he combed her hair over to the side and began to snip again. “I mean, Elphaba and Galinda are practically the romantic couple in that, right?”
He sang again, “I don’t know if I’ve been changed for the better, but I have been changed for gooood!”
“Wicked’s good. Kurt loves Wicked. Lots.”
“I gathered.” Rafe sighed heavily, then ruffled her hair a little. “I don’t have any product, but... C’mon.” He pulled her up and held her in front of the mirror. “I dunno if this feels any more like you, but I gotta tell ya, I didn’t really feel like me for a long while. You didn’t lose a leg, but you lost something.”
“I took something.”
“He was gonna take something,” Rafe quipped.
“I took something.” Brittany ran her fingers through her short hair and pushed air in and out of her lungs.
She turned and left the bathroom.
“You’re welcome,” Rafe muttered.
She drifted into the bedroom. Not the one they had been using. No one wanted to go in there. No, they’d taken over another room. Santana was there, laying on her left side, since the ribs on the other side were bruised. Her face was less swollen, more recognizable.
Santana hadn’t really spoken much since the night before, but that made sense. Her windpipe had nearly been crushed, and Mama Chang had strictly ordered her not to talk for the time being. Now she was on painkillers, and she was sleepy. But she didn’t sleep. She just stared at the wall.
Blaine had said that the drifter had been after food and guns, and Santana had written down what he’d said, and he’d just asked how many of them there were, and where the guns were. He’d attacked Kurt, too, which was also scary, because he could have taken away one of Pippa’s dads. But he’d also been really, really rough with both of them. More than he had to be, and that didn’t make sense to Brittany. Being so rough, with his hand on Santana’s thigh.
That’s what Brittany remembered. He’d been there for supplies, but he’d been tempted to take more. People called her stupid sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid. Thinking that hand where it had been made her feel bad. Because it almost made her glad he was dead, if he’d even thought about hurting Kurt and Santana like that. Like he’d come for what he needed but had been willing to take so much more from them.
Brittany crawled up behind her. Santana jumped and looked back at Brittany. Her brows knit together, and she touched Brittany’s hair with sluggish fingers.
In spite of the stitches on her lower lip, she smiled just a little, and mouthed, “Pretty girl.”
Brittany rubbed their noses together. “Did you sleep?”
Santana shook her head. Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana protectively. “You can sleep now. You should sleep.”
A moment later, Rafe drifted in and draped a blanket over them. Then he set a gun on the nightstand, met Brittany’s eye, and gave them both a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving. Brittany could hear his hobbling stop in the living room, where he stayed out on the sofa, as though taking watch. Like Blaine had when it had first happened, then Kurt, then others. Taking shifts, watching them and trying to help them feel safe.
“It’s okay.” Brittany saw a tear spilling down Santana’s cheek, and she wiped it away. “I’ll protect you. You sleep. I’ll protect you.”
Next Part: Scare
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth.
comments posted there. Please comment there using OpenID or your DW account.