Now, in her defense, she had good reason. Very good reason. Lockdown on no, there had been nothing about keeping silent over the Network. Or the mirrors. And certain people weren't answering either of them. She was worried. Worried enough to venture out on her own. Once she checked to be sure the coast was clear. And grabbed a lamp from her nightstand.
She wasn't that stupid.
It was a toss between Theme from Mission Impossible or Theme from Jaws playing in her head as she slowly crept down the hallway. By some miracle, there was no one in sight. Not even an ominous ping drop to disturb the silence. Just her foosteps. And the lamp chord dragging behind her. The music room was open. She visibly relaxed. That must be it. She'd gone into a place she felt safe. Sure enough, the moment Brittany walked into the room, she caught sight of Santana sleeping on the floor. She could have laughed in relief.
"That doesn't look very--" about three steps in, she saw it.
The blood.
And she screamed.
"Santana--oh my god, no!" Frantic, she took another three steps towards the girl, before flinching back. Help. She needed help. She ran to the doorway. "Somebody! Anybody! Please, she's really hurt...I think..."
The blood drained from her face as a past conversation she'd had came back to haunt her.
People've died here, you know.
Yeah, I know. People die all the time.
Her legs wobbled beneath her. No. No no no no. This wasn't how it was supposed to...not Santana...not today...
Pure instinct led her to abruptly shut the door, locking it with a loud click. Somebody was killing people, and she had just screamed. That was... No, wait, she could worry about that later. First, Santana. As it was, It was a miracle her feet managed to get her to the other girl's side, practically collapsing the moment she got there. Santana's head was in her lap at once, and the blood was everywhere. It came from her throat. Still pouring out. Brittany reached with one hand, trying to stop it. For all the good that did. All she did was get the blood on her hand. Santana's blood.
"No, please. Don't do this. Don't die on me. I don't..." Her voice caught in her throat. She'd never been so scared in her life. "I don't know what to do, Santana. Please. Tell me what I'm supposed to do..."
There was no answer. Nor would there be.
She wanted to cry. Her eyes burned. Her chest ached. Her vision blurred. Any minute, she would throw up. She knew it. Except, no. She had to be strong. For Santana. If somebody came, she had to be ready to tell them what happened. Except she didn't know what happened. She didn't know anything. Just that Santana was laying in her arms, dead, and she was getting blood all over her skinny jeans. One hand still on her throat, the other wrapped around her upper chest, Brittany leaned down and placed her chin on the top of Santana's head. Her eyes just barely caught a piece of paper to one side. It was soaked in red, save for a few sparse letters at the top: V--LEN-INE
Valentine.
Santana had come to work on a song. For her.
Brittany shut her eyes. Tight.
"All of my life, I have been waiting for, all you give to me..." Music only she could hear played in her head, the melody barely passing through her lips in more than a quivering whisper. One last song. "You opened my eyes and showed me how to love unselfishly. I've dreamed of this a thousand times before. In my dreams I couldn't love you more..."
A pause, and she nearly missed the next beat as her voice threatened to crack.
"...I will give you my heart, until the end of time..."
Happy Valentine's, indeed....
But...well...Brittany.
Now, in her defense, she had good reason. Very good reason. Lockdown on no, there had been nothing about keeping silent over the Network. Or the mirrors. And certain people weren't answering either of them. She was worried. Worried enough to venture out on her own. Once she checked to be sure the coast was clear. And grabbed a lamp from her nightstand.
She wasn't that stupid.
It was a toss between Theme from Mission Impossible or Theme from Jaws playing in her head as she slowly crept down the hallway. By some miracle, there was no one in sight. Not even an ominous ping drop to disturb the silence. Just her foosteps. And the lamp chord dragging behind her. The music room was open. She visibly relaxed. That must be it. She'd gone into a place she felt safe. Sure enough, the moment Brittany walked into the room, she caught sight of Santana sleeping on the floor. She could have laughed in relief.
"That doesn't look very--" about three steps in, she saw it.
The blood.
And she screamed.
"Santana--oh my god, no!" Frantic, she took another three steps towards the girl, before flinching back. Help. She needed help. She ran to the doorway. "Somebody! Anybody! Please, she's really hurt...I think..."
The blood drained from her face as a past conversation she'd had came back to haunt her.
People've died here, you know.
Yeah, I know. People die all the time.
Her legs wobbled beneath her. No. No no no no. This wasn't how it was supposed to...not Santana...not today...
Pure instinct led her to abruptly shut the door, locking it with a loud click. Somebody was killing people, and she had just screamed. That was... No, wait, she could worry about that later. First, Santana. As it was, It was a miracle her feet managed to get her to the other girl's side, practically collapsing the moment she got there. Santana's head was in her lap at once, and the blood was everywhere. It came from her throat. Still pouring out. Brittany reached with one hand, trying to stop it. For all the good that did. All she did was get the blood on her hand. Santana's blood.
"No, please. Don't do this. Don't die on me. I don't..." Her voice caught in her throat. She'd never been so scared in her life. "I don't know what to do, Santana. Please. Tell me what I'm supposed to do..."
There was no answer. Nor would there be.
She wanted to cry. Her eyes burned. Her chest ached. Her vision blurred. Any minute, she would throw up. She knew it. Except, no. She had to be strong. For Santana. If somebody came, she had to be ready to tell them what happened. Except she didn't know what happened. She didn't know anything. Just that Santana was laying in her arms, dead, and she was getting blood all over her skinny jeans. One hand still on her throat, the other wrapped around her upper chest, Brittany leaned down and placed her chin on the top of Santana's head. Her eyes just barely caught a piece of paper to one side. It was soaked in red, save for a few sparse letters at the top: V--LEN-INE
Valentine.
Santana had come to work on a song. For her.
Brittany shut her eyes. Tight.
"All of my life, I have been waiting for, all you give to me..." Music only she could hear played in her head, the melody barely passing through her lips in more than a quivering whisper. One last song. "You opened my eyes and showed me how to love unselfishly. I've dreamed of this a thousand times before. In my dreams I couldn't love you more..."
A pause, and she nearly missed the next beat as her voice threatened to crack.
"...I will give you my heart, until the end of time..."
The tears rolled down her cheeks now. Hot. Wet.
"You're all I need, my love...my Valentine."
She buried her head in Santana's hair.
And she cried.