How deep the bullet lies - Chapter 2
Title: How deep the bullet lies - Chapter 2
Characters: Quinn, Santana
Pairing: Santana/Quinn, Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13 (They seem to curse a lot for some reason.)
Words: ~1655
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Summary: Set in the future. Quinn and Santana spend a night out drinking.
A/N: A great many thanks to basisforming for kindly helping me with feedback and making the text more readable.
A/N: The title is taken from the song "Running up that hill" by Kate Bush.
Comments appreciated.
chapter 1 chapter3 chapter 4 chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Santana liked her patients. They were generally honest, straight forward and often more rational about their health condition than their parents. Little Jack was a trooper. He looked so pale and weak when he woke up after his extensive surgery but he didn’t complain. It wasn’t like he didn’t have anything to be put out about - there were very many tubes attached to his tiny body and he had a twenty-centimeter-long cut in his chest. As Santana gently stroked his forehead, he looked at her with his big brown eyes. What she saw was a look of quiet acceptance.
Santana was convinced her patients brought out the best in her. Secretly she needed them as much as they needed her. Both parties helped the other live as functioning human beings. Sometimes they made her wish she was a parent but, more often than not, she was happy she didn’t have a child of her own who could get as sick and hurt as many of her patients were. While most of them recovered from whatever reason had brought them to her, some did not. How could anyone go on after losing a child?
There was only one part of her job that she really detested. That was when she had to treat patients who had been deliberately hurt by adults. On those days, she truly hated the world.
* * *
Quinn was twenty minutes early and decided to wait at the restaurant’s cocktail bar. She ordered a martini with an extra olive. She had decided that it was time for “the talk” tonight. After downing her drink, she ordered another one.
Santana dashed in half an hour later.
“Sorry I’m late! Got held up by the chief. I swear that woman is going to be death of me,” She smiled at Quinn who smiled back.
They were seated at their usual table in a slightly secluded booth and they both ordered fish and white wine.
“You seem a little jumpy or something today, Q.“ Santana looked at her friend.
“Look... I’m just gonna come out and say it. San, it’s time for you to either stop sneaking in to that theatre every Thursday or make yourself known to her,” She paused for a moment. “I’m saying this because I love you. This is fucking killing you. I can’t just sit back and watch it happen.”
Quinn could see thoughts and feelings flash across Santana’s face. She was prepared to face her friend’s famous rage.
Santana took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke it seemed to be with great effort. “Q, I know you’re saying this out of love but I don’t think I’m able to do either of those things.”
“I think you’re going to have to because I know you can’t keep doing what you’re doing. Sweetie, every time you leave that theatre you’re a little further down the abyss and your heart is a little more broken. You sleep in my bed when your nights get too dark and you sing sad songs in a shady late-night bar for fuck’s sake!”
“Not that shady! And it won’t be forever. They’re taking the show on the road in two months. Then the choice will be taken away from me.” Santana listlessly moved some peas around on her plate.
“I know that and do you know what else? I am fucking terrified of that day! Honey, if you haven’t done something about this by then I don’t think there is anything I can do to help you on that day and frankly, that scares me witless!” Quinn’s face was flushed.
“I don’t know what to do”, Santana whispered. Quinn took her friend’s hand across the table.
“S, I think you should make yourself known to her. Let her know you’re here. See her.”
“I broke her heart. I fucking obliterated my own in the process but that’s not the issue. I broke the most beautiful thing in my life and treated it like it didn’t matter. It’s unforgivable, Q.”
“Enough! Yeah, you screwed up! Big time even, but you did not damn your soul forever. You made a mistake. People make mistakes!” Quinn shot back, upset.
“So why do I feel like a hollow drum a zillion years later. I have a career, I haven’t let my body go, I make a shitload of money but as you so poignantly pointed out, I sneak into my best friend’s bed because I’m afraid of what crawls out of the shadows at night. I’m a thirty year old doctor who can’t take care of herself! Pretty good definition of pathetic, huh?”
Quinn took her wallet out of her purse and started to put bills on the table. She had her ice queen look on her face.
“Stop talking S. We’re going to Hector’s.”
They rode the taxi in silence. The city flickered by. Santana quickly thought about her schedule the next day. She had reserved the day for paperwork and didn’t have any surgeries planned. She’d be okay. Quinn picked up her Blackberry and sent a message to her assistant to reschedule all appointments before eleven next morning.
“Hola Hector! Dos tequilas por favor!” Quinn ordered.
“Fancy Q!” Santana always found it amusing when Quinn spoke in Spanish. Not that Quinn was bad at it. She just found it funny somehow.
They downed their drinks and bit in to sour pieces of lemon. Santana felt her whole face contort and she shuddered.
* * *
After spitting out the peel of her third lemon wedge Santana put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder and said, “Fuck it Q! We have to drink something else. This is too dire!”
And so they switched to vodka.
“Santana… Seriously, you must let Brittany know you know she is here. And that you are here.” Quinn was making an effort to sound coherent.
“You know what, Q, I’m still too ashamed to. I hurt her too much and I embarrassed myself by fucking up so royally. Oh shit, this is why I don’t drink more often. It makes me say things I never intended to voice to anyone, including myself. “
“Okay, I’ll share something I’ve never told anyone. I think Puck still resents me for parting him from his daughter and I cannot think of one single thing that says he’s wrong to. I’m not exactly holding my breath waiting for a mother-of-the-year award ‘cos hell, I dumped my kid!” Quinn raised her glass as if giving a toast. “There. That’s the stone that weighs down my baggage.” Quinn lowered her forehead to the bar counter and groaned at herself.
“Ya know, we were some aces at high school you and me, Quinn Fabray!”
“Hector, dos más, por favor!”
“Here you go querida but I’m cutting you off now. As soon as you’re done with these I’m having you two lovely ladies put in a taxi”, Hector looked at them pointedly.
* * *
They staggered up the staircase holding each other up.
“It’s such a good thing we grew up and became responsible adults”, Quinn muttered , characteristically sarcastically.
“A good thing indeed!” Santana giggled but suddenly stopped. “Oh fuck Q, I don’t feel so good.”
“You are not puking on the floor S! You are not!” Quinn warned.
Santana gathered all her mental and physical strength and coordination and dashed for the bathroom.
“Gross!” Quinn muttered and hauled herself upstairs by the banister. “You’re sleeping in your own bed tonight!” she hollered.
Santana was almost eighteen years old. It was spring and the trees in Lima were in bloom. She arrived late at the party. The music was blasting out of the speakers and there were people everywhere.
“There you are! We were worried you were going to be a no-show.” Kurt put an arm around her shoulders and smiled at her.
Her eyes scanned the room. Mike was moving smoothly to the beat on the dance floor. Her eyes kept wandering and landed on the all too familiar shape of Brittany’s back. She was straddling someone who was sitting on the couch. They were obviously engaged in a deep kiss.
Santana’s insides tied themselves into a knot. She headed for the kitchen where bottles were lined up on the counter. She pulled out a pint glass and poured Absolut until the glass was half full. Hurriedly, she began to chug.
* * *
Several hours and Absolut top- ups later Santana got off the dance floor to catch her breath. Too late she realised Brittany was approaching her.
“Hey there!” Brittany gave her a drunken smile and kept coming closer and closer. She didn’t stop until her body was pressed against Santana’s. She rested her head on Santana’s shoulder and traced her lips over the Latina’s neck.
“I miss you, San.” Her hands roamed over Santana’s sides. Santana stood petrified for a moment trying to get her intoxicated brain to function.
“Get the fuck off me!” she said roughly. “I don’t want your charity fucks!” She hurried off.
That was a blatant lie. She wanted anything and everything she could get from Brittany but even in this sorry state she couldn’t bring herself to give in to that. She wasn’t even worthy of a charity fuck.
Santana woke up six hours later. At first she felt disconnected from her body. Instants later a punishing headache hit her and there was a taste of bile in her mouth. Her gut wrenched and churned. Silently, she begged for death to take her at that moment.
As she sat up she realised she was still wearing her skirt and bra but no top. Certainly not one of her finer moments.
Quinn had left a bottle of Advil on top of a small note on the kitchen table.
“Physician, heal thyself!” it said.
Santana wasn’t sure if Quinn was referring to the hang-over or their conversation the night before.
Characters: Quinn, Santana
Pairing: Santana/Quinn, Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13 (They seem to curse a lot for some reason.)
Words: ~1655
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Summary: Set in the future. Quinn and Santana spend a night out drinking.
A/N: A great many thanks to basisforming for kindly helping me with feedback and making the text more readable.
A/N: The title is taken from the song "Running up that hill" by Kate Bush.
Comments appreciated.
chapter 1 chapter3 chapter 4 chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7
Santana liked her patients. They were generally honest, straight forward and often more rational about their health condition than their parents. Little Jack was a trooper. He looked so pale and weak when he woke up after his extensive surgery but he didn’t complain. It wasn’t like he didn’t have anything to be put out about - there were very many tubes attached to his tiny body and he had a twenty-centimeter-long cut in his chest. As Santana gently stroked his forehead, he looked at her with his big brown eyes. What she saw was a look of quiet acceptance.
Santana was convinced her patients brought out the best in her. Secretly she needed them as much as they needed her. Both parties helped the other live as functioning human beings. Sometimes they made her wish she was a parent but, more often than not, she was happy she didn’t have a child of her own who could get as sick and hurt as many of her patients were. While most of them recovered from whatever reason had brought them to her, some did not. How could anyone go on after losing a child?
There was only one part of her job that she really detested. That was when she had to treat patients who had been deliberately hurt by adults. On those days, she truly hated the world.
* * *
Quinn was twenty minutes early and decided to wait at the restaurant’s cocktail bar. She ordered a martini with an extra olive. She had decided that it was time for “the talk” tonight. After downing her drink, she ordered another one.
Santana dashed in half an hour later.
“Sorry I’m late! Got held up by the chief. I swear that woman is going to be death of me,” She smiled at Quinn who smiled back.
They were seated at their usual table in a slightly secluded booth and they both ordered fish and white wine.
“You seem a little jumpy or something today, Q.“ Santana looked at her friend.
“Look... I’m just gonna come out and say it. San, it’s time for you to either stop sneaking in to that theatre every Thursday or make yourself known to her,” She paused for a moment. “I’m saying this because I love you. This is fucking killing you. I can’t just sit back and watch it happen.”
Quinn could see thoughts and feelings flash across Santana’s face. She was prepared to face her friend’s famous rage.
Santana took a moment to compose herself. When she spoke it seemed to be with great effort. “Q, I know you’re saying this out of love but I don’t think I’m able to do either of those things.”
“I think you’re going to have to because I know you can’t keep doing what you’re doing. Sweetie, every time you leave that theatre you’re a little further down the abyss and your heart is a little more broken. You sleep in my bed when your nights get too dark and you sing sad songs in a shady late-night bar for fuck’s sake!”
“Not that shady! And it won’t be forever. They’re taking the show on the road in two months. Then the choice will be taken away from me.” Santana listlessly moved some peas around on her plate.
“I know that and do you know what else? I am fucking terrified of that day! Honey, if you haven’t done something about this by then I don’t think there is anything I can do to help you on that day and frankly, that scares me witless!” Quinn’s face was flushed.
“I don’t know what to do”, Santana whispered. Quinn took her friend’s hand across the table.
“S, I think you should make yourself known to her. Let her know you’re here. See her.”
“I broke her heart. I fucking obliterated my own in the process but that’s not the issue. I broke the most beautiful thing in my life and treated it like it didn’t matter. It’s unforgivable, Q.”
“Enough! Yeah, you screwed up! Big time even, but you did not damn your soul forever. You made a mistake. People make mistakes!” Quinn shot back, upset.
“So why do I feel like a hollow drum a zillion years later. I have a career, I haven’t let my body go, I make a shitload of money but as you so poignantly pointed out, I sneak into my best friend’s bed because I’m afraid of what crawls out of the shadows at night. I’m a thirty year old doctor who can’t take care of herself! Pretty good definition of pathetic, huh?”
Quinn took her wallet out of her purse and started to put bills on the table. She had her ice queen look on her face.
“Stop talking S. We’re going to Hector’s.”
They rode the taxi in silence. The city flickered by. Santana quickly thought about her schedule the next day. She had reserved the day for paperwork and didn’t have any surgeries planned. She’d be okay. Quinn picked up her Blackberry and sent a message to her assistant to reschedule all appointments before eleven next morning.
“Hola Hector! Dos tequilas por favor!” Quinn ordered.
“Fancy Q!” Santana always found it amusing when Quinn spoke in Spanish. Not that Quinn was bad at it. She just found it funny somehow.
They downed their drinks and bit in to sour pieces of lemon. Santana felt her whole face contort and she shuddered.
* * *
After spitting out the peel of her third lemon wedge Santana put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder and said, “Fuck it Q! We have to drink something else. This is too dire!”
And so they switched to vodka.
“Santana… Seriously, you must let Brittany know you know she is here. And that you are here.” Quinn was making an effort to sound coherent.
“You know what, Q, I’m still too ashamed to. I hurt her too much and I embarrassed myself by fucking up so royally. Oh shit, this is why I don’t drink more often. It makes me say things I never intended to voice to anyone, including myself. “
“Okay, I’ll share something I’ve never told anyone. I think Puck still resents me for parting him from his daughter and I cannot think of one single thing that says he’s wrong to. I’m not exactly holding my breath waiting for a mother-of-the-year award ‘cos hell, I dumped my kid!” Quinn raised her glass as if giving a toast. “There. That’s the stone that weighs down my baggage.” Quinn lowered her forehead to the bar counter and groaned at herself.
“Ya know, we were some aces at high school you and me, Quinn Fabray!”
“Hector, dos más, por favor!”
“Here you go querida but I’m cutting you off now. As soon as you’re done with these I’m having you two lovely ladies put in a taxi”, Hector looked at them pointedly.
* * *
They staggered up the staircase holding each other up.
“It’s such a good thing we grew up and became responsible adults”, Quinn muttered , characteristically sarcastically.
“A good thing indeed!” Santana giggled but suddenly stopped. “Oh fuck Q, I don’t feel so good.”
“You are not puking on the floor S! You are not!” Quinn warned.
Santana gathered all her mental and physical strength and coordination and dashed for the bathroom.
“Gross!” Quinn muttered and hauled herself upstairs by the banister. “You’re sleeping in your own bed tonight!” she hollered.
Santana was almost eighteen years old. It was spring and the trees in Lima were in bloom. She arrived late at the party. The music was blasting out of the speakers and there were people everywhere.
“There you are! We were worried you were going to be a no-show.” Kurt put an arm around her shoulders and smiled at her.
Her eyes scanned the room. Mike was moving smoothly to the beat on the dance floor. Her eyes kept wandering and landed on the all too familiar shape of Brittany’s back. She was straddling someone who was sitting on the couch. They were obviously engaged in a deep kiss.
Santana’s insides tied themselves into a knot. She headed for the kitchen where bottles were lined up on the counter. She pulled out a pint glass and poured Absolut until the glass was half full. Hurriedly, she began to chug.
* * *
Several hours and Absolut top- ups later Santana got off the dance floor to catch her breath. Too late she realised Brittany was approaching her.
“Hey there!” Brittany gave her a drunken smile and kept coming closer and closer. She didn’t stop until her body was pressed against Santana’s. She rested her head on Santana’s shoulder and traced her lips over the Latina’s neck.
“I miss you, San.” Her hands roamed over Santana’s sides. Santana stood petrified for a moment trying to get her intoxicated brain to function.
“Get the fuck off me!” she said roughly. “I don’t want your charity fucks!” She hurried off.
That was a blatant lie. She wanted anything and everything she could get from Brittany but even in this sorry state she couldn’t bring herself to give in to that. She wasn’t even worthy of a charity fuck.
Santana woke up six hours later. At first she felt disconnected from her body. Instants later a punishing headache hit her and there was a taste of bile in her mouth. Her gut wrenched and churned. Silently, she begged for death to take her at that moment.
As she sat up she realised she was still wearing her skirt and bra but no top. Certainly not one of her finer moments.
Quinn had left a bottle of Advil on top of a small note on the kitchen table.
“Physician, heal thyself!” it said.
Santana wasn’t sure if Quinn was referring to the hang-over or their conversation the night before.