Glee 1. Chapter 1

**Title: A Dangerous Game**

**Pairing: Santana centric**

**Summary: Future fic! It's been seven years since Santana's seen anyone from high school, but when she is given a missing persons case with the name 'Quinn Fabray', she's left at stopping at nothing to find her.**

**Disclaimer: Do NOT own show, just idea and writing.**

…

_The year is 2012…_

Graduation went off with a smash since there really wasn't much that could go wrong. Well that is if the banner was too low and Finn got tangled in it, or Rachel being her graceful self and trips up the stairs or on the way down, or if the ramp they quickly made out of plywood suddenly cracked under the weight of Artie, but since neither of those things happened, Santana could consider it a job well done. Especially since Glee Club had to do their own lame rendition to the Vitamin C classic—Miss. Pillsbury-Shuester's choice.

Yes by the end of the year, Mr. Shue and Emma managed to marry each other without Will beating her down on her…accomplishments. Santana just thought he was jealous—he seemed to get that way a lot, the more she thought about it.

The biggest accomplishment had to be when she saw Brittany step up on that stage to get her diploma. It was a big deal she liked to believe and she also liked to believe she cheered the loudest, next to Quinn of course.

And now as she stood outside on Puck's balcony while the Glee kids and other graduates packed up his house, she wondered what lied ahead for everyone. Will they all keep in contact? That really just would blow her away, well with everyone scattering to other parts of the nation and others staying here in Lima since they have yet to graduate, she found it unlikely.

She held her beer in her hand and took a seat, letting her legs slide between the white fence, she dangled her feet over the roof, watching the night sky. Suddenly parties in high school didn't seem so fun anymore. She really should be enjoying it with it being only a few weeks before everyone goes off. Quinn especially since she got early admissions and would be starting in the early summer, but she couldn't—when her mind was set into overdrive it was hard to bust away from it.

The door cracked open behind her and she could hear the music and loud chattering, before it was closed off again. The person sighed a very feminine sigh, before sitting down next to her with her red solo cup—how fitting.

"I'd expect you to be partying it up and bawling your eyes out by now," she commented, sipping out of the cup then placing it off to the side.

Santana turned her head to eye Quinn carefully, before smirking—she knew her so well. "Yeah well, it doesn't seem so fitting anymore," she grumbled as Quinn nods in agreement, before letting a breath out.

"It really doesn't—pretty soon all of this will become some distant memory and we'll realize how stupid we were at eighteen," Quinn exclaims then turns her head to stare at an emotionally distant Santana. "But I wouldn't regret any of it,"

Santana blinks then turns to look at Quinn again and shrugs. "I would with everything that happened to you," she says, chugging her beer and Quinn eyed her in disbelief, then breathed out yet another laugh.

"Okay, so I would regret having Puck as my first, but when I think about Beth and how even though I was regretting letting Shelby take her, I realize I can't regret giving someone life while giving someone else the chance to be the mother they always wanted to be," Santana understands exactly what Quinn was getting at and even she wouldn't regret a single moment she's spent in high school.

However, she can't say all of it was sunshine and rainbows—yes rainbows; and unicorns for Brittany's sake. But it got better, it truly did, but she just wanted to move on, go to Columbia and study criminal law. The idea she gets to help people while kicking ass—it's like a double bonus in a career, when you've spent most of your life tormenting others; it was time to give back.

"You know Fabray, through all the petty shit we went through here, I always considered you one of my best friends, but I truly believe that none of us will ever stay in touch, with the exception of Rachel, Kurt, and Finn since two are going to NYADA and the others are related by marriage," Santana has been convinced of this for quite some time, since Brittany got her scholarship to Berkley for performing arts and she got her acceptance letter to Columbia.

She and Brittany were supposed to end the school year together to only begin another together in the same state and city, but who was she to turn down one of the best schools in the country and who was she to tell Brittany that turning down a full scholarship to one of the best schools in California just to come with her was right? Because it wasn't, so she never did. And now she and Brittany are no longer dating because the thought of long distance really was something they couldn't imagine.

"You're truly convinced of that? You and I will only be two hours apart, so I could always hop on a train to see you or something," Quinn shrugs and Santana chuckles as the wind picks up to force her to turn her head.

"Besides are you really that convinced that you and Brittany will never communicate again? The thought of that ever happening is slim to none, even with the distance," since Quinn is hers and Brittany's best friend after all, it's of course no shock that she knows every plan and every bit of information about the two of them. The fact is, Santana thought distance tore everyone apart, even friendships, so maybe that's what she's doing—ruining the ones she's built before the distance gets a chance to do so.

When she remains silent, Quinn just nods to herself as if she already got her answer. The girls were attached at the hip and the idea that they'll never speak again, just seemed so farfetched to her. But when Santana didn't bother saying anything else, she sighed and got up from her spot, grabbing her now empty cup in the process and got ready to walk back inside.

"You know, you and I aren't so different," Santana stops her and Quinn turns around expecting more; perhaps an explanation, but she doesn't start right away. Instead, Quinn takes a seat on one of the chairs that was placed outside.

"How do you figure?" Santana turns around to a curious Quinn, with her arms and legs crossed with a determined smirk.

Santana blinks as a small smile forms subconsciously across her lips. "Well we both wanted the same thing—power. And all the while when we thought we were the hottest bitches in school, deep down we were the most insecure—Lucy Caboosey," Santana eyes Quinn carefully, noticing the way her determined stare is now turned down to her lap.

"It's okay though, you felt out of place in your family and just the entire world's idea of being perfect, but here you are now; the poster child of perfect as am I," she adds with her typical bitch smile. Quinn doesn't know where these sudden rants from her friend are coming from, but she really couldn't be more right. Even though Quinn is a firm believer in 'if you don't like something about yourself change it', she couldn't hide the fact that through changing her outer appearance, she was still Lucy and probably always will be. But at the same time, Lucy needed to learn to love herself—and she has and when Lucy does something, so does Quinn.

"I'm planning to remove my breast implants after I get to New York," Santana's voice broke her from her thoughts. Her eyes widen at the sudden admittance. "If I want to be part of the FBI, I have to make sure that nothing is compressed on my chest or anything, you know? Plus, I realize how much attention actually sucks," she soon noticed that after Finn outed her and that stupid jock approached her—it didn't seem so important anymore.

"I think—," Quinn starts pushing herself off the chair and leans down behind Santana to hug her from behind. "I think you're going to make one amazing agent and then when I figure out what I'm going to do, I'll see you in New York. Don't think for a second that the 'Unholy Trinity' will ever separate because we've always stuck together even at our worse," she whispers to Santana, before kissing her temple and standing back up to walk back into the house to leave Santana deep in her thoughts.

That was seven years ago. And like she thought—it was the last time she saw Quinn Fabray.

…

_The year is 2019…_

Santana runs down the street through a dark alley after her suspect. Her phone is ringing nonstop, but she doesn't have time to answer it. Her suspect begins to run through traffic and she stops for a moment, trying to decide the best method to this, without having to fire her gun. While clutching her gun, she looks around frantically.

"Fuck it," she mumbles, running and hopping on top of a taxi that is currently being occupied and spots the man, running through the rush hour. She begins running, hopping from the top of one car to the next, while her partner travels right behind her with his gun raised ready to fire.

"Lopez!" He yells to her, watching has she jumps from a taxi and lands out of his sight. He curses under his breath at her constant mischievous techniques. How was he supposed to back her up when she takes matters into her own hands and leaves his sight?

He ran through the non-moving traffic and spots Santana running just around another alley on the guy's tail.

She begins to run into a sprint as their suspect hits a dead end with a fence. He jumps up on and just as he's about to get over she catches him by the end of his jacket and pulls him off the fence. He hits the floor hard on his back and as she's about to flip him over to cuff him, he kicks her in the stomach and it feels as if her lungs have been ripped out of her body.

He frantically gets up and jump up on a dumpster close by and hops over the fence. He runs down the rest of the alley, checking back and forth to see if she's following him and by the time he turns around he's met with a huge tackle and he lands on his stomach with a grunt.

"You crazy bitch," he grumbles as she smirks, cuffing his wrists behind his back.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," she breaths out with a smile. "You're under arrest, anything you say or do will be held against you in the court of law," she read off his rights and just as she pulls him up by the metal chain her partner comes to a halt in front of them with their car.

She tosses him into the back and earns a stern look from her partner. "Don't start Chad," she challenges, getting into the passenger seat and instead of scolding her, he lets her be, knowing he won't get anywhere by telling her the protocol.

As far as they were both concerned, she brought the fire when the suspect wasn't going down easy and there were times where she'd put herself at risk, okay she puts herself in danger all the time, but she just needed to get the guy, even if it meant jeopardizing her safety in the process.

Chad just really cared about her, like the sister he never had. Granted he's been at this job longer at thirty five, but he just felt like her recklessness could cost them their jobs, yet at the same time, he knew that Santana bided by the rules, however she just bended them enough to get her man, so he really never complained much, till it had them running around the city.

...

Santana is now twenty five and all her goals she set for herself have happened. She passed her CPA test and got her Bachelor's degree in criminal law and successfully completed enough courses to get a degree in Accounting, although she was still unsure as to why you needed that to be in the FBI, but at any rate, she wasn't one to disappoint, so she managed to graduate top of her class, just to be damn sure she was right for the job.

An agent by the age of twenty five was her dream and she couldn't be more proud of her life. She didn't have much room to date though, seeing as her job was rather demanding in all aspects of the word. Girls just assumed she couldn't commit and for a while that could be considered the truth, but that just didn't seem like it covered it all.

She steps into the shooting rage, through the workout area, where she sees some of her fellow agents, trying to wrestle and battle it out to keep up their masculinity, but she never paid any mind to it—because why would she?

Stepping into her box she places her smartphone on her playlist, and all sorts of degrading lyrics start barreling through the headphones as she sets up her mark.

_Break me down, you got a lovely face  
>We're going to your place, and now you got to freak me out<br>Scream so loud, getting fuckin' laid  
>You want me to stay but I got to make my way<em>

Squeezing the trigger, Santana fires several rounds, knowing she's hit her marks—she's that confident. She drops the empty rounds and reloads her gun, firing yet again, feeling in her element and how each force of the gun brings her so much clarity.

It's strange really, after high school and she hit college, everything just change; physically and emotionally. She grew unattached to people and girlfriends especially, because like she had expected, no one ever stayed in contact, well that is until Brittany called halfway into her freshman year.

They rebuilt their friendship from the ground up and Brittany had to basically relearn Santana all over again. Physically Santana looked pretty much the same, but emotionally, she just wasn't completely there, and she really couldn't figure out why.

She lives in a one bedroom apartment, no roommate and no pets; not even a fish. She knew the demands of this job required complete and undivided attention. She wasn't proud of being a loner, but she was pretty fucking proud of her job. She got to save people every day, what could be better than that? Plus, even though she didn't have anyone to share her success with, it didn't mean random hookups were completely out of the question, because she had them. Oh did she have them—with her partner Chad Harris, there was no way in hell she could not have a hookup.

He was the kind of guy that didn't realize his hookup days should be long gone, but when he did, well he turned into her wingman and suddenly girls were crawling all over her, wanting to see her gun, which in turn sounded a little more suggestive than it should.

_Hey! You're a crazy bitch  
>But you fuck so good I'm on top of it<br>When I dream I'm doing you all night  
>Scratches all down my back to keep me right on<em>

Santana sighs and reloads her third round, before firing off a few and hitting her next mark. She mostly did this to unwind from a case that she just completed, which in turn means it's a stress reliever.

She suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder, snapping her back to reality and twisting around with her gun up in firing mode.

"Oh holy shit! Put that down right now!" she pulls her ear buds out and smirks, keeping it up. "I mean it Santana," she rolls her eyes and lowers her gun and her partner breathes a sigh of relief.

"Oh c'mon Chad, you really thought I was going to shoot you, you know me better than that," she exclaims, pushing the button to bring her paper forward. She pops it off the hinges and Chad notices the marks range from the head to the chest and his eyes widen in amazement. "Yeah it's lucky that it's not a full body picture," she adds, giving him a slight devilish smile.

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. "You hate the male species that much you want to destroy the guy's chance of ever giving life?" He asks dramatically and she blinks a few times, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Chad, it's a piece of paper," she tells him, tossing it at him then walks off as he follows in suit.

"Okay, okay fine, but that doesn't totally answer my question," she sighs and stops her walk and looks at him.

"I don't hate them, I just prefer that they weren't in such close proximity unless I'm beating the shit out of them," she turns to him as he just sighs. Her attitude is something he's grown use to and he had to admit that in a way, having her around as been amazing. He liked to consider her one of his best friends and she would say the same about him.

"Oh hey, the Chief wanted to see us about a new case, something about we seem to be perfect for it," he shrugs and she nods as they run up the stairs into the offices. She walks through as Chad follows behind, knowing people are eyeing the target paper carefully.

They make their way over to the Chief and she knocks on his office door and looks in.

"Come on in," he ushers with his hand, swiveling in his chair as Chad comes in behind Santana. They stand there as the Chief gets up and shuts the door behind them. He pulls a file out and places it in front of them.

"First and foremost, I'd like to say congratulations on getting our suspect as always," he smiles and they nod; Santana isn't one to gloat in her accomplishments. "Now down to business, we've gotten a call for a missing lawyer. She's been missing for about a week and her neighbor only now called it in because they thought perhaps she had been on vacation, but when one of her co-workers stopped by her apartment it seemed as though, the speculations of her having gone missing seemed more evident, so now I find it rather important because she's pretty high profiled, so I thought you two would be perfect to look into this full force," he briefs them and they nod along with him, opening the profile to the front page to the name and a photo of her.

Santana's eyes widen at the letters and the picture that came with it.

_Fabray, Quinn_.

Her breath hitches in her throat and she shakes her head in disbelief.

_This cannot be happening_, she thinks as her eyes continue to rack over the front page of the profile. She looks up to the two men and they are watching her carefully. She closes her eyes and nods frantically.

"Okay sir, we'll get right on it," she composes herself just enough to walk out, leaving Chad to grab the profile and he tosses the target into the garbage on the way out.

She frantically walks away from him as he calls behind her, but she ignores him. It just seemed so hard to believe that in her life this would ever happen. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she'd have to look for someone from her past and not just anyone, but one of her best friends. She's been gone a week, who's to say she's even alive?

_Santana you can't think that way._

Santana walks into the bathroom and locks it behind her, taking in deep breaths to control her lungs from giving out. She runs her hand through her hair and throws a punch against the bathroom wall. She's angry because maybe, just maybe if she spent more time with Quinn and they remained close, maybe she could've prevented this.

She sits on the floor and as hard as she tries the tears end up seeping out of her close eyelids. She knew if she let her emotions get the best of her in front of everyone she'd be off the case. There is a certain code where if you know the person personally somehow, they force you to remain out of it and she couldn't let that happen. She had to find her.

She pulls her phone out and goes through her contacts to locate the person who always seemed to calm her down. She listens to it ring and then they pick up.

"Hey San!" she hears the happy tone of Brittany on the line and it brings a smile to her face.

"Hey," she breaths out, her voice visibly cracking because of the new information that she was just given. Yeah, Quinn was right; she and Brittany would never part completely.

"San, what's going on? What's wrong? Did you get hurt? Do I need to travel to New York?" Brittany panics and Santana chuckles at her urgency.

"No, no I'm fine. I got kicked in the stomach, but it was nothing. I just got a new case and it's really hitting home for me. I needed to hear your voice," she whispers to her softly and Brittany takes a seat in the dance studio; she practically lives there, always has. She was about to go on tour with Britney Spears, so she had to practice up, plus she was a little concerned people were going to confuse them, but she wasn't going to worry too much about it.

"What do you mean?" Brittany asks, lifting her legs up to her chin and Santana sighs through the receiver, running her hand through her hair again.

"Britt, it's Quinn—my new case is Quinn," she breaks down again and Brittany's eyes widen, her mouth drops and she doesn't know how to calm Santana down after this. She was one of her best friends too and she still considered her special to her, even if they didn't communicate much.

"San," her voice cracks a little as well as she listens to Santana cry on the other end. She wants to be strong for her friend, but how can she when there was a chance their best friend will never be seen again?

"San you gotta be strong, if anyone can find her, it's you," she tries and Santana sighs deeply.

"How do you know? Britt, she's been missing a week, what if I never find her?" She asks negatively and Brittany grimaces at the thought.

"Because I know your strength and your heart. Besides, look at that Elizabeth Smart girl. She was missing for like a year or something and she was found, it's always possible and plus you know Quinn better than anybody, you'll find her," Brittany encourages and Santana begins to think Brittany is right.

It's been seven years, but who knows Quinn better than her, besides Brittany? That's nobody. She imagined she hasn't changed much and with that, she was convinced that she had to do everything in her power to not only hide that she knows Quinn, but to actually find her…and alive.

* * *

><p><em>So first chapters are always difficult to write and this was no different. However, I promise this will get better AND this will be my first full length Quinntana story, so go easy on me guys. Let me know what you think and I'll try to get the new chapter up soon.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A knock on the bathroom door halts all conversations and leaves Santana frozen on the floor. It's nothing out of the ordinary for her to become more alert about certain things, so she waits until she perhaps hears a voice on the other end to signal who it may be.

Another knock sounds and a voice follows close behind. "San, you alright in there?" It's Chad. And he's using his concerned voice, but Santana doesn't have the heart to answer him just yet.

Her mind is still rattling at the thought that she's looking for Quinn, whether it's physically her or just a body, she wasn't sure, but she knew one way or another, this had to be solved. Something about the way the other girl made her feel really transpired all of this. She never really considered them romantic feelings, because sure she definitely crushed on her in high school since God was the 'man' for creating a pervert that decided to make cheerleading skirts so short—Quinn's thoughts, not her own.

But even with that, Quinn was the kind of girl that you could bring home to your parents, regardless of her teen pregnancy, because it wasn't like she slept with a bunch of guys and suddenly she was careless just that one time—it was one guy, she lost her virginity to and because the guy was a moron and got her drunk, there's the consequences.

However, Quinn was highly pleasant to be around when she and Brittany got on the Cheerios. She was most definitely a rising talent as was she and Brittany, but Brittany didn't have the attitude nor the capacity to take on such a role as Captain, but she knew she deserved it. Even when she desperately wanted it—she knew Quinn was better than her and maybe that's partly where her insecurities stemmed from.

"Santana! Answer me please so I know you're not dead in there," she hears Chad yell again and she has no choice but to sigh and slide her way back up the wall. Thinking back to the Quinn she's used to is difficult to stomach, when she's thinking about the worst case scenario.

"I'll be out in a second," she replies back to him, flushing the toilet, and turning on the water to wash her hands.

She walks out soon after and nearly runs into him. The look on his face tells her he's suspicious, especially when her cheeks and under her eyes are slightly flushed. She rubs her arm over her eyes and fakes a yawn.

"You didn't answer me earlier. You okay?" He asks as she nods, squinting her eyes to make them look more tired.

"Yeah, I'm just exhausted," she fibs, walking around him as he travels close by.

"You sure? You seemed like you just wanted to get out of the Chief's office as soon as possible," he pries a little further and she knew she couldn't get past him, but she sure as hell was going to try. She loves Chad dearly, but she just could not blow her cover on knowing Quinn on a personal level.

"Well when a woman has to go, she has to go Chad," she shrugs and he stops to look at her with disgust.

"Oh jeez Lopez," he shudders as she chuckles softly next to him. One thing she's learned about dating guys in her past was that they hated to know about women problems, especially the ones that happened once a month.

"Now that you've resolved that little—issue, where do you want to start first?" He asks, opening the file in his hand as she stands over him. He makes it easier by lowering it on his desk and they begin to look through the information that was taken down.

_Place of work: Bloomberg & Hutcherson Inc. _

_Boss: Terrance Bloomberg _

_Neighbor to call in report: Olivia Thomas _

_Last seen: Leaving to go on a jog in the park across the street around 5 a.m. _

The rest of the information states what she looks like and such further. Santana knew they had credible information to begin the case. According to the Chief, her neighbor was first to call in her missing, which can only mean one thing.

"Start at her apartment, we'll talk to her neighbor first, grab as much information about her life as possible and work our way over," she tells him, closing the file and leaving it on his desk. He nods in agreement, but she's already on the move out the door.

…

Chad drives along the busy New York streets as Santana looks out the window in thought, which swirled of all things Quinn. Why was she targeted for an attack? Was it even planned or was it random? She knew lawyers were just as at risk as she was as an FBI agent, but it still didn't ease her mind. All she knew was that they were running out of time, especially being ninety-six hours behind.

"We're here," Chad's deep voice comes into ear and she steps out along with him. They take in their surroundings and Santana had to definitely approve of the area. It wasn't Manhattan, but it definitely had that sort of feel to it.

They stepped through the double doors and there stood a man at a desk.

_Is this an apartment building or a hotel?_ Santana thinks as they walk up to him and show them their badges, explaining as to why they are here.

"We're here to investigate the disappearance of Quinn Fabray, we need to speak with an—Olivia Thomas," Santana says, looking down at her notepad to validate she had the correct name. The man nods cooperatively and guides them to the elevator, clicking floor number twelve to lead them on their way.

After a few moments, the elevator comes to a halt and they both walk out to the left towards their destination. Santana can feel her heart rate building up to the moment they are standing in front of the apartment. This girl could be the very reason for Quinn missing for all she knows, but she couldn't just place the blame on her—it wouldn't be fair and it could possibly be inaccurate.

She takes a deep breath, but doesn't knock—instead she just stands there. Usually she's the 'take charge' type in the cases she and Chad receive, but it's different now.

Chad glances over at her for a split moment and she notices the way he eyes her curiously. She needs to get out of her head and do her damn job. Yes this was Quinn and yes it's incredibly difficult to register, but acting this way won't help people believe she doesn't know her and can't do her job; there's too many risks at this point.

She clears her throat and knocks on the door. They wait for a moment until the door opens to reveal a stunning brunette, no older than she, dark brown eyes—to be quite honest, she sort of reminded her of Rachel, but she held that thought down.

"Hi Ms. Thomas?" She asks politely and the girl nods. "Hi I'm agent Lopez and this is my partner agent Harris, we're from the FBI and we need to ask you a few questions on the disappearance of Quinn Fabray," she states as they both show their badges.

Olivia opens the door further. "Of course—wow you guys jumped on it fairly quick. I just called it in this morning," she speaks and even her voice sort of has that Rachel Berry feel to it, but definitely not nearly as obnoxious or were there as many large words to add to her vocabulary.

They walk in and take a seat on her couch as a dog walks between their legs and Chad nearly jumps out of his chair at the sight.

Olivia notices and chuckles. "Sorry about that, don't worry he's friendly. His name is Arthur, he's Quinn's dog. I went over there earlier in the week and brought him here to take care of him. She usually has me take care of him if she's working late or she goes out of town," she tells them, patting where she sat for him to jump up. "Would you like anything to drink?" she offers as Arthur jumps up next to her and they shake their head as they continue to eye the dog. Santana just couldn't get the idea out of her head that it is so like Quinn to name her dog as if he's a person.

She snaps out of her thoughts and looks up at the girl, who is awaiting their questions. "When's the last time you saw Quinn?" She asks as Chad opens his notepad ready to jot down the answer.

She sighs and leans back in her chair as she strokes Arthur's fur. "Um—Monday, I believe," she squints as she tries to remember precisely when.

"Being that you take care of her dog, wouldn't it be a tad strange to not check up on her sooner?" She asks a little more assertively because frankly, if Quinn trusted her enough to watch over probably the only prized possession she has, it seemed a little strange to her that this Olivia person wouldn't look further into it.

"Well I was a little curious, but I didn't just want to barge into her apartment uninvited—that would be rather rude on my part. I only assumed she was working early mornings and late nights and just never had the time to tell me to take care of him or just left enough food for him. Frankly, it's not my job to take care of Arthur, I do it because she asks me to and because I care about her," she explains straight forward and Santana can still feel herself fuming slightly and it was only growing.

"Are you and Quinn close?" Chad breaks the hostility and Olivia turns her attention to the man before her, and begins to blush. Santana can see the way the color instantly rushes to her cheeks and she knows it's something she never thought she'd see ever coming.

"Well—um," she clears her throat and laughs slightly. "Quinn and I sort of use to—have sex on occasions, so I imagine you can't get any closer than that," she answers nervously. Santana's eyes widen at the admittance because last time she saw Quinn Fabray, the girl was as straight as a board or so she made it seem.

"Well then," he chuckles to himself and rubs the back of his neck.

"So if you two were fornicating then you must know her daily routines," Santana jumps in ready to pounce because for some reason the idea of Quinn naked with this girl rubs her the wrong way. She just didn't like her—something about her she couldn't quite figure out—she just hated her.

"Oh um yes—well sort of, when I'd stay over or vise versa, she would get up at five every morning for a run in the park, then by the time she was done it'd be about six so she would come home and shower, have breakfast and coffee then go to work, the rest varied," she tells them, with her eyes down at her lap and Santana nods subconsciously.

"You said you two _used _to have sex? Did that status in your relationship change or is it still in progress?" Chad asks and Santana can feel her blood boiling at the fact that he had to bring it up again, but she composed herself.

Olivia turns flush again. "No we're not anymore. It changed because I wanted commitment, but Quinn just wasn't in that position, she said her job was too demanding and she liked keeping it strictly sex related and nothing more," she shrugs and Santana smirks at the idea of Quinn ever just having random sex—just didn't seem like her; maybe she has changed more than she thought.

"What was she doing when you last saw her?" Santana's hostility slowly dissolved after Olivia's last answer and she knew that once she got this answer, she'll know where to look next.

"I work sometimes fairly late myself as a bartender on the other side of the city—call it a hobby, I guess, but I saw her walking out of her apartment ready for her run in the park across the street," she tells them, pointing in the direction it would be and Chad writes it down.

"And you said you officially called in her disappearance when one of her coworkers came by, do you perhaps have a name and what happened?" Chad asks, looking up from the information he's already placed down.

"Yeah um—I was coming up in the elevator with a few bags of food and I saw him standing outside her door, knocking and looking rather flustered. I asked him who he was and what was going on. He just said he works with Quinn and the entire company is concerned about her whereabouts since she hasn't come in all week. That's when I called it in and he said if I see her tell him Brad is looking for her—he didn't leave a last name," she elaborates and they both nod. Santana looks over at Chad as he writes down the last of it and looks back up at her to give her a nod.

They turn back to Olivia and smile politely to her. "Thank you for your time," Santana tells her, getting up as does Chad and Olivia.

She fixes her shirt slightly. "Of course and if you need anything else, feel free to come by," she tells them and they thank her again before going on their way.

…

They walk down the steps together and Santana walks around the car, confusing Chad. She looks both ways before running across the street as he follows behind her—he's used to this.

"San! What are you doing?" He calls after her as they make it to the next sidewalk. She walks through the opening gate and sees a little playground as well as various plants and trees lining the area. There's a jogging path as well, and Santana starts walking along it.

"This is the park she runs in, so if Olivia is saying she hasn't seen her since her jog, I'm convinced that was when she was taken," Santana tells him walking along the path for a while longer, looking to the sides to see if anything that shouldn't be there is lying in the grass haphazardly.

"Well who's to say she wasn't taken from her apartment? What if by the time she finished her jog, she came back up to her apartment and she just was taken?" He asks, trying to debunk any possible chances.

"Because, her door just didn't look like there was any sign of forced entry. We can always go back and look, just to be sure, but I have to trust my gut Chad," she presses and he nods, knowing first hand that gut instincts are usually the way to go in this type of career.

They walk along in silence, getting a glimpse of a lake as they round the bend and Santana could definitely understand why Quinn would run here of all places. It's beautiful and serene, especially before the sun goes up and all you can see is navy blue skies. Santana knew it must look even more beautiful then, but it didn't hide the fact that it was incredibly dangerous to run in New York City at five in the morning.

_Please tell me, I'm right about this._

She scans the area further, before walking down the small hill to the lake. The lake was somehow drawing her towards it. Quinn was always one to love the simple things and nature—no one else knew that but she and Brittany, so she'd imagine her to just stop at the lake and just sit down, because it's what she would've done in high school.

Santana walks further and sees something shining due to the sun's rays, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. She bends down and picks up a smartphone with a napkin—almost looks brand new too. She eyes it carefully, trying to turn it on, but the battery is dead.

She turns to Chad, who is standing at the top of the hill and motions for him to come down. Not too soon after he's by her side and he shrugs.

"People lose their phones all the time Lopez," he tells her, but she looks over at him, not completely convinced.

"C'mon, who in their right mind would ever want to lose something like this? It's brand fucking new Chad. I'm collecting it as evidence, we'll go to tech and hopefully they'll be able to hack into it and get us some information," she tells him, wrapping it in the napkin and placing a rubber band around it—you never know when you'll need one, then places it in her pocket.

"We have to keep moving," she tells him, getting back up to walk along the path again. If this was Quinn's phone, what else could she have possibly dropped?

As she walks up the hill, her foot steps on something—squishy? She lifts her foot and sees a wallet of some sorts in the tall grass, she uses her coat pocket to pick it up and flip it open to see in the flesh Quinn's I.D, her credit cards, insurance card, and even some cash.

She turns to Chad and eyes him carefully. "You convinced yet?" She asks as he holds his pocket out for her to drop it in, obviously not having the necessary tools.

"Okay, so maybe you are right, but there's no way in hell this was a random attack because if so, the suspect would've taken her money and cards," he explains and she nods in agreement.

"Yeah, which is why I'm thinking it was planned—the question is, I'm not sure who'd want her dead,"

…

Santana and Chad step into the tech lab, after reporting to the Chief on their findings. He was pretty amazed as to what they've found thus far, but they were running out of time if she was still alive, so he knew they have to act fast. He called down to the tech lab to arrange them to meet with their tech specialist to hack into the phone they discovered.

"Hello my two favorite people in the entire universe. You've bare a gift for me?" Tech specialist, Ye Wong says with his arms as wide as his smile.

Santana takes the phone out of her pocket and hands it to him. He turns around to his deck and pops the rubber band off, then examines the phone for a moment. He pulls out a USB and plugs it in, then starts typing away at his computer and suddenly loads of pictures and videos begin popping up, along with contacts and pervious calls.

"Good thing about iPhones is they offer the Cloud now, so transferring your information is a piece of cake," he tells them, smiling yet again then turning back to the task at hand.

He scrolls down for a moment as Santana's eyes pan over all the information. "This is her phone," she whispers more to herself, but she knows the men heard her.

"How can you be so sure?" Chad asks as Santana points to one of the pictures to instruct Ye to click on it and upon doing so a larger image of Quinn's dog Arthur comes up. She tells him to click one of the videos, but as soon as she does—she regrets it.

_Hey Quinn_

_Hey Liv_

Santana sees the rather shaky video of Quinn laying on her bed with a groggy looking smile and her short hair in every which direction. She's convinced that Olivia, her neighbor was sitting straddling her, much to her disliking.

_Mmm I want you so bad_, Olivia's voice comes into ear and Santana's eyes widen as it continues on. The two men are sitting there in amazement and what comes next is Olivia undressing Quinn and darkness. They hear the static of intense movement, then it stops and all you can hear are moans of each of their names.

"Okay turn it off," Santana finally decides and Ye doesn't make any movements, too busy listening to the video. "Fuck Wong! I said turn that shit off now!" She yells and her anger snaps him out of his daze, and he stops it.

She sighs deeply, before walking away from them. "Let us know of any suspicious voicemails or text messages!" She calls over her shoulder, pushing the door open so hard that it hits the back wall.

As she walks back up to the office, she takes a seat at her desk and closes her eyes to compose herself. She couldn't stop the anger from flowing within her. She hated that she was getting so caught up so soon into this case and she couldn't deal with it, especially when some of her collages were such horndogs.

"What's going on with you Santana?" She opens her eyes to see Chad. His arms are crossed and he's looking at her with a stern look.

She sighs. "Look it's a sex video Chad, it's her personal video. Would you be a little angry if someone you didn't know was watching you have sex?" She poses to him and he looks down in thought. He wasn't sure what to say. He's a law enforcement official—they come across these sort of things every day, it was something they have to deal with—something the victim has to deal with too.

"I guess you're right, but it's a part of our job San. We look at every piece of information and unfortunately some of it will be extremely personal. You know all of this," he tells her and she sighs heavily.

She knew he was right and any time before this case she didn't care, but now it was different—she reminds herself every fifteen minutes. To keep her emotions in check is going to be a difficult challenge, especially around Chad. How is she going to keep this from him?

She looks up at him and grimaces at him. "You're right," she whispers to him, and even though he was glad she understood where he was coming from, it still didn't hinder his thoughts that something is wrong—and he was going to find out, and hopefully soon.

* * *

><p><em>So I just want to thank you all so much for the amazing feedback. I've been writing nonstop with this story, so I'm pretty much writing chapter six now, so if I keep getting internet when I can the updates will continue to be pretty quick. I love my Brittana fandom, but the Quinntana fandom, you guys are amazing with your feedback and interaction; it's by far the best I've ever written for.<em>

_ I want to tell you all that, it'll be pretty quick when they find Quinn because the story isn't strictly based off finding her; I thought I'd address that._ _However, the story won't just end after Quinn's found. This story will still have its action and drama, but it'll also be a story about Santana's growing relationship with Quinn, whether it's romantic or not, is up to you to stay tuned to figure out. _

_Anyway, so please review and let me know what you think._


	3. Chapter 3

****_Probably the shortest chapter you will ever get from this story. Thank you all for the reviews, they mean the world to me. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.  
><em>

**Chapter 3**

The next morning, Chad walks in with his normal cup of coffee, ready to start the new day and get a handle on this case. He slept like a baby, even though he's been highly concerned with Santana's attitude lately. He knew she had one, but this attitude is different and since they've gotten this case, it's only gotten worse.

He tried letting it slide, but after her outburst on Wong yesterday, he knew something was bothering her. He needed to get to the bottom of this if it continues to get worse.

He greets some of the people in the office on his way in and upon getting to his desk, he notices Santana running her eyes over the file for their case. Her eyes were drooping, but they still were open. He takes in her presences and notices she hasn't even changed out of her previous work clothes.

"Santana, have you been here all night?" He asks, placing the to go cup on his deck and draping his coat on the back of his chair.

She glances up and he finally sees the bags under her eyes. "Um—yeah," she answers simply, looking over more information. He watches her, before sighing and taking a seat in his chair. He rocks back and forth, before leaning forward.

"You won't be at the top of your game if you don't get sleep," he tells her and she places the paper she was looking over underneath the pile to look over the next piece of information.

"I'll be fine," she doesn't bother looking up to meet his truly concerned gaze; instead she keeps her eyes peeled on the paper.

He just shrugs because who was he to question her stability and strength?

"All right, then where are we heading today?" He asks, taking a sip of his coffee, before placing it in front of her. He knew she loves her coffee in the morning, but usually she brings her own and seeing as she never went home, it only made sense that she didn't have any—besides he can always get a new one when they head out.

She looks at the cup and grabs it appreciatively taking a sip. She places it down then organizes the papers. "Definitely go to B & H first, talk to her boss, if we can talk to this Brad guy as well, we should be in good shape," she tells him and he quickly gets up, grabbing his coat off the chair.

"Let's get going then," he tells her as she follows in suit out the door with the coffee in hand.

…

Before heading to the firm, they stopped off at the local _Starbucks_ and grabbed a new cup of coffee for Chad. While driving, he couldn't keep his attention completely on the road because he was so worried about his partner—his best friend. It's not like her to just forget about herself and put her complete time into a case. Her job is her life, but she manages to rest during the nights when they were in the middle of a case.

They pull over to the side in front of the firm and as she's about to get out, he locks the door.

"Chad we need to talk to these people," she tells him, pulling on the lock, only to have him lock it again. She turns to him and gives him a death glare, getting incredibly annoyed with him right at this moment. "Seriously? This woman could be dying somewhere and you fucking want to play this game?" She yells at him. She's always had a mouth on her, but never was she this irritable. Chad wants to blame the lack of sleep, but she was like this yesterday with Wong.

"You better tell me what's going on right now or I'm going into the Chief's office and making sure we're off this case," he threatens to her. She looks at him in shock—it's the last thing she wants, but who's to say if she told him the truth that he still wouldn't go and tell the Chief?

She just has to trust him. She was never good at keeping things from him anyway. She sighs and looks down at her hands in her lap, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

"You have to promise me you won't go to the Chief," she tells him and he sighs, unsure of what she's asking of him.

"I can't promise you with the way you're acting. It's concerning San," he tells her softly, placing his hand on hers. She sighs fearfully—she has to try and it would be nice to have someone else know, instead of keeping it to herself and have her become succumbed with the need to find her.

"The reason I'm so—different this time around is because—is because I know her, like personally and it's really forcing me to want to do everything in my power to find her," she opens up and he takes his hand off of hers. She turns her gaze to him and gulps, hoping he stays true to her and doesn't ask her to get off the case.

"How personal?" He asks curiously, taking his seatbelt off to get more comfortable then grabs his coffee and takes a gulp of it.

"We were best friends in high school, but it wasn't anything like Olivia personal. I haven't seen her in seven years, but I'm treating her as if she's still my best friend," she confides and he nods in understanding. As much as he wants his partner back to her bitchy, badassery ways, he knew that had he ever came across a case about someone he knew personally, he'd try to hide it too.

He unlocks the door and she looks down quickly at the lock on the passenger side and back at him. He gets out of the car and she follows with him. He meets her on the sidewalk and he fixes his jacket in the process, before clearing his throat.

"I won't tell a soul. I would've done the same, now let's find her, so I can get my badass partner back," he tells her, causing her to chuckle as he places his arm around her.

"Oh trust me, when I find this son of a bitch, you'll get her back—count on it," she promises and he smiles at her words—he knew she was still in there.

…

They enter the establishment and immediately go into the elevator, and hit number fifteen to reach the law firm. The ride up is pretty slow for both of them, but Santana felt more at ease now, having an ally that knows about her past with Quinn. She knew she probably should've told him from the start, but it's only been a day, so it's not like it was that long of a wait.

They finally hit the floor and walk out as the doors open. They flash their badge to the woman at the desk, having done it numerous amounts of times.

"We need to speak with Terrance Bloomberg, inform him the FBI is here," she tells her firmly and the office attendent nods frantically. Something about the way Santana projects herself sends people running. It amazed her how she ever got laid at all.

The young woman calls and informs Terrance after a short moment and not too soon after she hangs up. She looks at them timidly, before replying to them.

"He's in his office, first door on your left," she instructs them and they nod, thanking her and begin walking back. People in their cubicles look on curiously as they pass; their faces are hard and firm—not nearly as pleasant as they could be, especially Santana's. They truly looked like hard asses and the other employees definitely knew they didn't want to mess with them.

Chad knocks on Terrance's door and immediately they hear the command to come in. They take a seat in front of him, shaking his hand and introducing themselves.

"I'm agent Harris and this is my partner agent Lopez. As you're probably aware, one of your fellow employee's has been called in missing, so we just would like to ask you a couple of questions to continue our investigation," he tells him, opening his notepad.

"Of course, of course. We here at B & H are highly concerned with Quinn's status," he assures them and they give him a tight lipped smile as well as a firm nod.

"Did Quinn have any enemies working here?" Santana asks curiously, folding her hands on the desk. Terrance looks at her curiously and thinks about the question for a moment, before shaking his head slowly.

"Um—I don't think so. She's has a few high profiled cases under her belt, but nothing where I could consider them enemy worthy," he chuckles softly and she nods slowly.

"We will need to see all her past cases she's had if you will," she tells him and he nods understandingly.

"It's usually confidential, but anything to find her. I'll get them all together for you by the end of today and give you a call," he tells them and they just nod appreciatively.

"Who is Brad?" Chad asks, looking at his past answers with Olivia and remembering a Brad stopping by from work.

"Brad Wheeler—only Brad we have here, but um—he's an intern that mostly helps out with Quinn's cases. He's always on her tail and others would say he has a little bit of romantic feelings for her, as does she, but we don't really look too far into it," he swats away with his hand and Santana looks over at Chad, making sure he writes down every detail of that piece of information.

She turns back to Terrance. "How good is she at her job?" She asks curiously for her own sake and for the case.

"Oh, by far one of the best lawyers I have ever seen. She's lost a few cases, but won far more," he tells her genuinely. She thinks about what all he's said, but there really wasn't much to go off of. She hoped for more, but those past cases are really going to be what triggers it and talking to this Brad Wheeler will hopefully give them more insight on what could've been the possible motive.

"All right, well thank you for your time, if we may, where can we find Brad Wheeler?" She asks, shaking his hand again as he points in the direction, mentioning that he sits in a cubicle right in front of Quinn's office.

"I will call you as soon as I locate all her past files," he says and they thank him again, before following his directions to Brad.

Santana's guess is even if others did think Quinn liked this Brad guy back, it didn't mean that was the case. Quinn was an affectionate person back in high school, there was no doubt in her mind that hasn't changed. So if she flirts with someone, it didn't mean she liked them—it would be harmless for her. So at any rate, Santana's guess is if the feelings weren't reciprocated he could've went off the deep end.

They walk straight down till they find Quinn's office. The door was completely shut and when they looked to their right, there was a young man, with thick rimmed glasses and jet black hair. Santana's eyes widen at the sight—he was most definitely not Quinn's type in anyway, but she couldn't think about it.

"Brad Wheeler?" Chad asks and he looks up from his computer and Santana finally gets a better look at him.

_Okay if he lost the glasses he'd be her type. But wait a minute? Isn't she gay? Oh god Santana, you're really fucking thinking about Quinn's sexuality right now? _

"Yes sir, what can I do for you?" He asks and they flash him their badges, before giving him their usual speech and he nods.

"I don't really know much about her disappearance. We just work together and I was worried when she didn't show up to work for the week. I was left doing random filing, so when I went on lunch, I stopped by her apartment yesterday and her neighbor told me she hasn't seen her either, so I left her my name and told her to tell Quinn if she sees her that we're all concerned here," he explains, before they ask him any questions and Santana leans over his desk to bring back her 'take charge' attitude.

"Besides coworkers, what's your relationship with Quinn?" Her eyes are narrowed and she's trying to put forth her best attempt at intimidating him, but it's semi difficult when her cleavage is in full view. He looks down and she notices instantly. As much as she wants to arrest him just for that, she needed to get her answers.

He laughs nervously, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Well—um, I'd say we are friends I guess, but between you and I, I'd love to be more. She's just so beautiful and—perfect, you know? Well I mean I guess you don't considering you haven't met her," he rambles and she rolls her eyes at his statement as Chad snickers slightly behind her.

She holds in a smirk, knowing he's thinking the same thing she just was earlier. "Yes we know what you mean," she tells him, playing along with him.

"We asked your boss if she had any enemies here, but we would like to ask you the same question since you work closer with her," she asks him, still leaning on the desk and he looks down in thought, and begins to nod slowly.

"Yeah um—in the firm, no, she's very well liked here. Very pleasant to be around and always has a smile on her face, but I couldn't say the same about her cases. She's represented fairly dangerous people—probably considered the most dangerous people in New York," he tells them nervously and Chad jots down quickly his response, knowing this is valid information they need.

"We have Bloomberg getting together all of her cases so we can see the outcomes and such, but he said we shouldn't be concerned about them," she tells him, finally pulling herself off his desk, but he shakes his head, pulling out a few files.

"No way, only reason why he's saying that is because he doesn't physically know the exact situation of it all," he explains, opening one file with the name _Salvatore Giovanni_ printed on it, among his charges. They look over it carefully, knowing immediately that he is an Italian mob boss that the FBI picked up a little over a year ago.

He opens another and places it out for them and this one has the name _Hernando Martinez_ and then another with the name _Nikolai Salvinsky_. They all have something in common as Santana looks over each and every one of them.

"Wait, these are all mob bosses," she tells him, looking up and he nods slowly, grimacing at the thought.

"Look at the final bits of details on the files," he tells them as Santana scans further and further, then looks through the next two files and her eyes suddenly widen at the realization.

"She didn't win either one of these," she whispers, then looks back up at Brad. "But Bloomberg said she was an amazing lawyer," she just didn't understand what Brad was showing her. She knew that these people were dangerous. She's heard the stories and she talks to her coworkers who locked them up, but she just didn't get what he is placing before her.

Brad tilts his head from side to side then closes them. "I'm not for certain, but my best guess is they could be mad that they weren't represented to the point of their charges dropping. Even though they've been placed in prison, it doesn't prevent any danger on these streets. They still have outside contact to their fellow mobsters and their children, who hold huge contributions to the 'business', they like to call it," he places the files back into the cabinet and faces them. Santana sighs and places her hands on her hips, licking her lips and capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, then looks over at Chad.

He looks at her as if he knows what she's thinking and she exchanges a look with Brad. "You're insinuating that there's a hit out for her between three mobs?" She clarifies and he nods instantly, keeping immediate eye contact with her.

"I know it's probably farfetched, but I can't stop thinking about the possibilities," he assures them and she inhales deeply, trying to make the ultimate decision of what exactly to do.

"All right, make sure Bloomberg knows your thoughts and tell him we need those files sooner than the end of the day. If you're right here, we need to find her as soon as fucking possible," she tells him firmly and he nods frantically as she walks away from his desk, without a thank you and Chad follows behind her.

…

Santana frantically walks down the steps as Chad runs after her. What Brad said made logical sense in her head and if this was the situation, they probably are already out of time, but she didn't want to think about it.

"San! Wait up!" Chad calls after her, hitting the unlock button to the car. She opens the driver's side and gets in as Chad gets into the passenger side. "Switching roles, I see," he comments as she pulls out of their parking spot.

She remains silent as she pulls her phone out to dial a number. She puts it to her ear—she needed to talk to one of these bosses at least.

"Hey it's agent Lopez, I need you to make sure that I can talk to Giovanni in ten, it's extremely important," she tells them through the receiver. "Yeah, well if he fucking refuses, tell him I'll cut his motherfucking cannoli off, how about that?" she yells in a reply and waits for them to respond. "Thank you," she hangs up and doesn't bother looking over at Chad, who decided to remain silent.

Things just got really serious and bad fairly quickly.

* * *

><p><em>I think I'm going to change the rating for the simple fact that Santana's mouth is as foul as ever, plus it's going to get ridiculously dirty in a few chapters, then throughout the rest of the story. So thank you all for the reviews again and please keep reviewing. If any of you are waiting for my other story that's in progress. It's coming, I just have gotten absorbed in this one, plus one of my buddies has been on vacation, but now she's back and I should get a new update up for that soon. I'll hear from you guys soon!<em>

**(lacksubstance . tumblr . com)**


	4. Chapter 4

_Fair warning: This chapter gets foul on some cases. I also would like to express that I am in no way racist to any ethnicity. I actually find people from every background to be beautiful in their own ways. You'll see what I mean, so I just want to apologize in an advance if anybody is offended. And lastly, trigger warning of rape, violence, gagging and tying up, so like I said this chapter is pretty foul, so many warnings. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 4**

Santana brings the car to a screeching halt in front of the prison and steps out instantly with Chad. They jog up the steps and walk through the door. They make their way to the front desk and hold their badges out and immediately are let in, knowing that the officers have been expecting them.

They are guided to the interrogation room and Santana can already see Salvatore sitting in his gray jumpsuit with his wrists and ankles cuffed to the ground while a guard watches over him.

They step through and he looks up, smiling slightly at them. Santana motions for the guard to leave and she stands there on the other side of the table, while Chad backs up to lean against the wall; he knows this is Santana's fight and knew she wanted to take charge of this.

"So you're the one that threatened to cut my dick off, if I didn't show," he comments and she gives him a side smirk, tilting her head to the side to show she's not fucking around. "You can cut it off anytime mio bella," he adds and she grimaces at upon hearing this older man's words as he practically undresses her with his eyes. She should be used to this, but she really couldn't stand this part of the job, unfortunately she just grins and bares it.

"What do you know about Quinn Fabray?" She gets down to business as he crosses his hands, his growing smile, fading as quickly as it was placed on his lips.

"That bitch—worst lawyer I have ever had in my life. Told me she could get me off on my charges and the bitch threw me under the fucking bus," he tells her and she exchanges a look with Chad as he nods for her to continue.

"You know who would possibly want her dead?" She asks him and he laughs at her, throwing his head back like it's obvious and she's just not seeing it.

"Oh mio bella, that girl got herself into some shit," he confesses after calming down a bit, breathing out some chuckles here and there. "Every mob wants her, alive or dead, but we aren't fucked up enough to do it," he elaborates and she places her hands down on the table, leaning forward just slightly.

"Keep talking," she seethes and he smiles devilishly to her.

"You should come closer—then get on your knees for me mio bella, with luscious lips such as those. Bet you give a mean blow," he shakes his head in amazement. She's starting to fume at his words—never has she felt so disgusted since high school.

"Tell us what the fuck you know!" Chad jumps in, slamming his hands down and getting up in his face.

"Yeah, sorry I'm not as pretty old man," he finishes and Sal merely smirks at him.

"Fine, from what I know, my men have reported that the Puerto Ricans have a hit out for her as well as the Russians, you best start at the Ricans, they certainly are dirty pieces of shits," he told them, spiting and crossing his arms completely on his chest.

Chad nods and motions for Santana to follow. As they begin making their way out, Santana places her foot in the chain and gives it a tug, forcing Sal's face to ram into the metal table. She holds it there for a moment and leans over him.

"You should really think about what you say, because you were actually hitting on a 'Rican' and we don't take too kindly to the insults _mi amor_," she uses air quotes, pulling her foot out of the chain as he jerks back up in his chair, wincing in pain as she walks out completely, following Chad.

…

"So do you think we should try and contact the vicinity that Hernando is in?" Chad asks, tugging on his coat as the wind picks up, while they walk down the steps.

Santana shakes her head slightly. "No, I'd rather not interrogate another mob boss that is just going to call me either a _chonga_ or their _puta_," she looks through her phone and sends a text message out to one of the other agents to locate the head of the Puerto Rican mob now that Hernando is locked away.

"I know what puta means, but what is a chonga?" He asks curiously, stepping into the passenger seat as she takes the driver's seat again.

She places the keys into the ignition and pulls out of the spot. "It's like a Spanish whore, mostly hear it in Florida," she informs him, keeping her eyes on the road and he squints his eyes in confusion.

"But you're from Ohio," he tries to piece it all together, but he can't figure out. She breathes out a sigh of frustration.

"My _madre_ grew up in Miami," she tells him and he nods as she makes a turn. Her phone goes off and she opens the text message, while checking back on the road. She tosses it over to Chad and he takes it. "According to Wong, they're located near 15th Avenue and their new boss is Hernando Martinez Jr. –surprise, surprise," she tells him as they map their destination.

"Do you even think they'll talk? I mean, no offence to your ethnicity, but you guys are hot heads and aren't easy to cooperate with," he states and she turns the car again and watches the road. She doesn't respond right away because she knows it's true.

"Most likely they're in an old apartment building, dealing with something drug worthy. Basically, if we just tell them that we don't give a shit about what they're smuggling or selling, then they will talk," she informs him, pointing firmly at nothing in particular.

He looks over at her. "How can you be so sure?" he shrugs and Santana pulls over to the side road, across from—like she expected, a rundown apartment building.

"Like you said Chad, I know _my kind_," she tells him, pulling her gun out. "If they don't cooperate of course," she adds in reference to the weapon and gets out walking across the street. He sits there for a moment to register their conversation, before pulling his gun out of its holster and jog across after her.

He stands next to her and Santana knocks on the door, waiting for a response of any kind. They're left there for a little over five minutes, before Santana places her gun back in the holster as she tells Chad to place his back in as well. She knocks again and this time around the top of the door opens and a man looks through it.

"Who you?" He asks in his thick accent and Santana holds her badge out for him. "Get the fuck outta here puta,"

"Clearly you couldn't avoid that insult," Chad whispers to her and keeps his eyes peeled forward as does Santana.

"Look I _needs _to talk to Hernando Jr. I _needs_ to know what he knows about a chica that's missing," Santana rephrases her words to go along with him and he just puffs out a breath.

"You wastin' your time," he tells her and she slams her fist into the door; she could tell that it scared him a tad by the way he jumped at it.

"Tell Hernando we _wants_ to talk to him right now! I don't fucking give a flying fuck what the hell you are doing in there, whether it's selling dope or transporting it to fucking Mexico, I don't fucking care! Get his ass now, before I _starts_ making it a big deal!" She yells and he looks at her for a moment longer, then finally opens the door and he instructs them to go up the stairs to the door at the end of the hall to the right.

They walk up the stairs in silence and when they open the door, they see Hernando sitting at a wooden desk with a pound of cocaine on top of it. He looks up and narrows his eyes.

"Who the fucks are you?" He shouts, getting up from his desk, ready to start attacking. Santana pulls her gun out instantly, holding it in a 'kill shot' position stopping him in his tracks as he holds his hands up to surrender.

"You listen to me, you will sit your ass down and answer our questions, do you fucking hear me?" She instructs in a deep tone of voice and he nods, sitting back down and she lowers her weapon.

"We aren't here to bust you, that'll be someone else's job," she tells him calmer and he eyes them carefully, taking in every movement they make.

"What do you want?" He asks with a slight attitude behind his thick speech.

"We need information on Quinn Fabray. She represented your father, did he send a hit out on her?" She asks and he looks away from her intense gaze and he nods.

"Si, but that dumb puta was already picked up; she's wanted by us, the fucking _Italianas_ and Russians—she's lucky we didn't get her. Bitch would've gotten chopped to bits," he seethes in his broken English and Santana begins to fume.

"Who picked her up?" She asks and he looks back over at her, debating if he should tell her or not. If he didn't tell her all she wanted to know, she'd have other agents on his ass so fast that he'll be sharing a cell with his _padre_ before the night was over.

"Russians," he simply states and Santana turns on her heel and leaves the room as does Chad. They step out of the abandoned building and she pulls her phone out and calls the Chief.

"Hey Chief, it's Lopez, we've got a lead on our victim. We need a location on the Russian mob's hangout and fast, we'll call for backup if necessary," she tells him and hangs up, quickly hopping into the car and peeling out of their parking spot.

Santana knew this is it. They were at the end of their search at this point. If it wasn't for Brad, they would've never thought of looking into the possibility of there being mob hits.

_What the hell have you done Q?_

Santana's phone begins to go off and Santana doesn't recognize the number right away, but answers it nevertheless.

"Agent Lopez," she says.

"Ms. Lopez, this is Terrance Bloomberg, I have those files for you, but I took my own look into them and I've seem to come to the conclusion on some things that I must share with you," he tells her and she looks over at Chad, who watches for her reaction.

"Go ahead Mr. Bloomberg," she tells him sighing deeply, hoping it wasn't even more terrible than it's already looking out to be.

He opens the files to keep himself occupied as he holds the phone between his shoulder and ear. "While looking through her past file cases, what I told you was correct. She's an amazing lawyer, but something is off," he begins to ramble.

"No offence sir, but I'm sort of on a deadline here, so it would be great if you got to your point," she tells him as she gets a text. She pulls her phone away from her ear as she hears him grow slightly frazzled.

_Chief:_

_There's a warehouse on the pier where they import fish and such. Best chance is that they are there. I recommend you call in for backup as soon as you get there._

Santana pulls the phone back to her ear as he finally composes himself enough to say what he's wanted to say. As she continues to listen, she begins turning down the street that leads to the pier.

"But basically, Quinn has won every case she's received, except—three," he tells her finally as she makes a right at an intersection. She listens to what he is suggesting and then it hits her, and her eyes enlarge.

"Let me guess—the three cases are her high profiled ones," she states and she begins to increase her speed even higher, knowing now that it is about to get worse.

"Yes—Miss. Lopez, I don't want to alarm you, but there is a very high chance that she is truly in extreme danger," he informs her and she rolls her eyes at his choice of words. _No offense to him_, he's helping her out the best way he can possible and she appreciates it wholeheartedly, but to tell her to not be alarmed about the status of Quinn's danger, well she just wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yeah thanks for that, I have to go now," she tells him and hangs up without waiting for his reply as she pulls over a block away from the pier. If the entire mob was in that warehouse they needed to make themselves unseen.

She pulls her gun out as Chad walks up next to her in the same position. They run quickly across the street and hide behind a few crates.

"Should we call in backup?" He asks and Santana looks over at him and shakes her head.

"It seems pretty vacant," she shrugs slowly strutting towards the large scaled warehouse. He follows her and takes his phone out.

"I really don't want to risk it," he grumbles, but she hears and lets him call. If it makes him feel safer than that's all that matters to her.

They continue onward to the warehouse much faster than before and as Santana gets closer she notices two men walk out of warehouse, forcing her to slide to a halt and hide behind a plank. She stands with her back against the wood as Chad looks out for the men for her. They've always been a good team like this—both having each other's back.

He motions for her to keep going after seeing the men walk off and Santana turns and starts jogging to another crate as Chad sprints up to her. He catches his breath when he gets there and he watches as Santana checks for anybody else.

"What are you going to do when you see her?" Chad asks randomly and Santana ducks her head back in and she shrugs. To be honest, she never thought about it. It's been seven years since they've last seen each other and she imagined that even if she was still alive, she wasn't going to be left on scathed.

"I dunno, I've never thought about it," she whispers to him and shakes her head, motioning for him to follow her towards the door. They quickly open it and slide in quietly, halting any conversations from now on until they officially have Quinn in their custody.

The warehouse is silent, but completely covered from head to toe in shelves of unnecessary items. Santana uses the isles to hide behind, just in case there are some of Salvinsky's men are in here. She wants to desperately call Quinn's name out, but at the same time she didn't want to blow her cover—she really didn't know what to do.

She looks between the shelves quickly, hoping to spot her anywhere, but she doesn't. Chad is on the other side, so she was convinced he hasn't found anything either.

_Where the fuck are you Q?_

She walks out from behind the shelves and holds her gun up, ready to fire at any moment. Chad moves up next to her and he too feels the silence growing too unbearable.

"Something doesn't feel right," he whispers as she nods in agreement, scanning the area for any other areas, when a door that looks like it could lead to an office comes into view, plus there's an upstairs. Santana halts her movements and sighs, lowering her gun to her side.

"We won't be able to find her this way. I hate to do this to you, but we are gonna have to split up if we're going to cover this entire place, so you check that door and I'll go upstairs," she tells him and he nods. He would've said no, but the fact that he called in backup made him breathe a little easier.

Santana raises her gun again and makes her way slowly up the stairs, hoping to death that Quinn is up there and alive. As terrible as it is to think about, she just wants her alive—she didn't have to be completely unmarked with cuts and bruises, but she just wants her living and breathing.

She keeps looking at the area and upon reaching the top space, she sees two doors that also look like offices, but far larger than the one downstairs. She walks towards the first door and opens it to see it turned more into a living room than anything. Santana's eyes bulge at the thought that the other side could very well be a bedroom. She grimaces thinking about it, but she has to keep the possibility open.

She holds her hand out as it trembles, getting ready to grasp the doorknob.

She gulps. _This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for almost two days._

She grasps the doorknob and turns it slowly, then pushes it open to reveal a man completely undressed with his ass in full view. She had half a mind to shoot it like it was a target. He doesn't notice her standing there as he pleases himself on whoever it is. Santana just prays it's not Quinn.

_Please do not be Quinn. Please do not be Quinn._

She stands there a moment longer, hearing his grunts and his breathing becoming heavier as he picks up his pace. It's hard—extremely hard for any female, even if you did like it that way. She suddenly hears the sound of muffled screams.

Santana springs into action and holds her gun more firmly. "Hey! This is the FBI!" She yells and he stops and turns slightly. Santana can see the flash of blonde hair and suddenly she feels herself getting sick, but she has to be strong for her—she can't give up when she's found her and evidently alive.

"Get your fucking dick out of her right now and stand the fuck up!" She shouts as he does as he is told. She finally gets a full view of Quinn and like she expected she has cuts and bruises throughout her body—and obviously she's been raped too, but Santana didn't want to think about that right now.

Santana walks up to him and he truly looks fearful. "How many of you have touched her?" She fumes and he gulps at the sight of her fury, but doesn't respond. "Tell me or I swear to fucking God I will shoot you!" she boils and he jumps at her tone.

"A—All of u—us," he stutters in a thick Russian accent. Suddenly he's not so tough when he doesn't have a gun or any clothes on.

"How many of you are there?" She seethes, pointing the gun down towards his gentiles, to show she is not fucking around and he swallows at this.

"I don't know for sure, ten maybe fifteen," he replies quickly as if to beg that she spare his manhood. She glances over at Quinn, who is close to passing out. She suddenly feels her heart break into pieces, watching her tied to a headboard and gagged, completely stripped of her clothes—it's a fucking nightmare and Santana isn't sure she can stomach it any longer.

She turns back to the fearful guy, before raising the end of her gun and hitting him in the head with it to knock him out. She runs over to Quinn quickly and steps over her to untie her wrists and ankles, which too are bloody due to burns from the cloth rubbing so much.

Quinn's arms drop like they are deadweights to the bed as she dozes off weakly. Santana unties the gag and wraps her coat around her body, pulling her into her arms.

"Quinn c'mon stay with me," she whispers to her, brushing her hair out of her face, but she keeps going in and out of consciousness. "Q, please," her voice cracks as she rocks her back and forth.

Quinn's eyes open for a moment to take in Santana's presence. She manages to smile at her old best friend as she lays in her arms. "San," she whispers huskily and Santana winces at the sound.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here Q. You're safe now, everything will be alright," she tells her soothingly as she hears the sound of frantic footsteps, making their way up the stairs.

Quinn is barely able to let out a slight disbelieving laugh. "I knew you'd find me. I knew—I knew if anyone could find me—it'd be you," she replies with much difficulty and Santana's bottom lip begins to tremble, but she nods frantically.

"Yeah I did, but you gotta stay strong, okay?" She tells her and Quinn just nods as their backup comes in along with Chad behind them, catching his breath. He looks at Santana as she holds a now unconscious Quinn and all he can think about is if they were too late or not as he takes in Santana's broken expression.

* * *

><p><em>Yeah I thought I'd be generous and give you guys the chapter early. I don't know when I'll post the next one. I just got a job, so I have figure out some things first. It is written, but I just thought I'd keep you guys in suspense for awhile. Thank you all for the reviews. Please keep on reviewing. Also on Tumblr there seems to be the possibility of a Quinntana Week. I've made the decision of most likely putting my own contributions for it, that is if you all would like me to. Let me know and of course review this chapter. <em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The time is one in the morning and Santana is sitting down with her legs up to her chin; her back leans against the wall of the room that Quinn now occupies. She's exhausted, but she can't bring herself to leave her side now that they've found her. A few officers now occupy the floor on each wing for protection purposes, but she didn't feel comfortable enough to just let her lay in there and let some higher power decide her fate.

Her phone vibrates and she pulls it out of her pocket to see a picture of Brittany on the screen. She needs her best friend right now, so she answers.

"Hey," she answers hoarsely. She's feeling so many things that it's taken a toll on her voice as well as her body.

"Hey San, I got your message. I didn't wake you, did I?" She asks frantically running around her room in her apartment that she shares with her fiancé, packing her suitcase. She met him at an audition last year and wants to get married after the new Britney Spears tour that Brittany is going on. He's a nice guy from what Santana could tell since they came to visit her a few months back, and Brittany is happy and that's what's important.

"No, I'm at the hospital," she tells her, rubbing her eyes with her other hand, suddenly hearing the zipper of her suitcase. "Are you going somewhere? The tour isn't for another couple of weeks Britt,"

Brittany pulls her suitcase off her bed and carries it out of her room as she sees her fiancé sitting on the couch watching television.

"Yeah San, I'm coming to New York, you need me there and apparently so does Q. Have you heard anything?" She asks as she places it against the wall and sits down next to him. He places the television on mute out of courtesy for her. She smiles gratefully to him, placing a kiss on his cheek as he places his hand on her thigh to show support.

Santana sighs, running a hand through her hair. She really doesn't want Brittany feeling like she has to show up to take care of them both. She already has a few plans in mind on what she's going to do when they release Quinn and that is bring her back to her place and hide her in a bubble—no one will ever get to her again.

"No I haven't heard anything yet. But even if I did, I'm still not leaving till she's released," Santana decides and Brittany nods at the phone, even though she knew her friend couldn't see her, but she knows Santana and if Santana is set on something, it's relatively difficult to make sure she snaps out of it.

"Well I've booked the first flight out tomorrow. Don't worry about me, I'll take a taxi to your apartment and just wait there," she tells her and Santana sighs deeply again.

"Britt, you really don't have to come. I'll be fine and so will Q. I mean it's not like I don't want to see you and I'm sure Quinn would love to see you, but I'm just wondering if it'll all be too overwhelming for her right now. You didn't see her Britt, she was a mess when I found her," she doesn't want to go in grave detail to Brittany of the state she found her other friend in, knowing it'll really send Brittany's stomach into a churning mess.

"San, I already booked my flight and my bag is already packed, I can't just back out of it now," Brittany says with such urgency. She just really wants to check in on her best friends, is that so wrong? She hasn't seen one of them in seven years and to know that the next time she does see her, it's right after she was taken hostage to a bunch of Russian mobsters, she just knew that she has to start valuing the time she has with her friends because she never knows when she'll see them again.

"Look, I'll tell you what, cancel this reservation and rebook it for some time in the next few weeks before you go on tour. I need to see how she is holding up first before she has guests flooding in, you know? I mean her office knows we've found her and she's well liked there, I don't want to overwhelm her just yet," Santana explains the situation and she can hear Brittany sigh as she asks her fiancé, Tyler to grab their laptop. He does as he's told and Brittany gets to the airline's website and reschedules her flight.

"Okay, I trust your judgment San. It's rescheduled for three days before I leave for the tour, that's the sixteenth of March," she informs her and Santana nods.

"All right, thank you Britt for understanding," she tells her softly as the doctor walks down the hall. "Hey I gotta get going, but I'll give you a call on anything new and I'll probably talk to you before the sixteenth," she says, sliding up the wall and dusting herself off in the process.

"Yeah definitely. Oh! And by the way, Ty and I have decided to have our wedding in December in Hawaii," Brittany practically shrieks and Santana can't hide the busting smile that threatened to take over her entire face, even during this eerie time. She just can't contain her excitement for Brittany; she remembers when it was her who made Brittany this happy, but she knew that their relationship wouldn't have withstood the careers they've chosen. At least she's with someone in the same career path as she and he sometimes tours with her. Santana just couldn't do something like that because her job is so demanding.

"Really Britt? Hawaii? Why there?" She asks, looking over at the doctor who has now stopped and is talking with another doctor. She wants to keep tabs on her because she's treating Quinn and any new information on Quinn's status, she wants directed to her.

"Well we want to get the honeymoon and the wedding all done at once, plus you refrain from dealing with the snow," Brittany giggles and Santana nods distractedly, still following the doctor with her gaze.

"Oh, makes logical sense," she laughs softly. "But I really gotta see what this doctor knows about Quinn, Britt. I'm so happy for you and I'll see you in a few weeks, I love you," she bids farewell and Brittany quickly returns it and they hang up.

Santana stalks over to Quinn's doctor, who is at the front desk looking at a chart, then begins signing off on information that Santana isn't sure of. She stands there for a moment with her hands in the pockets of her pants, since her coat is in Quinn's room. Her doctor, Dr. Young, looks up from the chart and places it down on the counter top, taking in Santana's presence.

"Lopez, you look exhausted, you should go home and get some rest," she tells her, handing it back to the nurse. Santana has brought in several people in the same situation as Quinn, some better off, some not so lucky, so Dr. Young knows her fairly well.

She walks around Santana and she quickly follows after her. "Young you don't understand. I need the status of her condition," she pushes and Young stops and turns to her curiously. She places her hands in her lab coat pockets and stands there, so she can receive more information. "The Chief is concerned," she lies and Young raises an eyebrow, knowing she's lying.

"Santana, I know you better than that. You don't just sit around this hospital waiting for information on a patient you just brought in because of your Chief, so really what is it, so I can _possibly_ tell you further," Young tells her and Santana inhales deeply, casting her eyes to the floor for a moment then back up. It's not like they can kick her off the case because Quinn's already has been found—the mission is already complete, however they are set out to find the Russians and take them out as well as the Puerto Ricans because their hits haven't been dismissed.

"Farrah—she's—she's extremely important to me, okay?" Santana admits softly and with much difficulty.

"Why is that?" Farrah asks, now crossing her arms. "I mean, I know she's beautiful, but it isn't like you to go after a victim in one of your cases," she adds with a little bit of distaste for the victim, since she's just been through a huge ordeal.

"Oh no, no, not like that Farrah, I promise," she shakes her head tiredly, holding her hands out to plead her case. "She's been one of my best friends since high school and I'm really all she has close to family here," she adds and Farrah's face softens.

"You're not supposed to be on cases that hit on a personal level Santana, you know that," she grills into the younger girl and Santana shakes her head in frustration.

"I know that, but shit Young, what would you have done, huh? What if your son came barreling into your ER with a bullet wound or something and he was dying and nobody else knew that he was your son? What would you have done? Hide it or tell them 'this is my son, take my place'?" Santana challenges in a whisper, not wanting others to find out the truth and Farrah eyes her carefully, then sighs deeply in defeat. Any official or medical personal would do the same thing she did and she knows it.

Young licks her lips and looks down both halls. "She's fine physically. Vital organs are up to par. You rushed her in extremely malnourished and dehydrated, so we have her on a feeding tube and drip. She was most definitely raped on numerous occasions vaginally and anally, but no signs of premature pregnancy or anything like that—no STDs either. Looks like they were careful to not go that far into damaging her, and of course the cuts and bruises. The cuts look like they match a box cutter and her bruises just look like they've slapped her around and beat her profusely. I don't know what the hell she did to piss them off, but they did a number on her," she explains to Santana and she winces at the extent of Quinn's condition. She knew it was bad, but having it all laid out in front of her, just further shows she's been on their shit list.

She rubs her forehead and closes her eyes. "I'll tell you what," Young says, guiding her into the room. Quinn is in ICU and even though she's not allowed to have visitors at this hour and is most likely sleeping, Young is determined to do her this favor.

There's a reclining chair in the room and Young goes into the closet next door to grab a blanket and pillow while Santana takes in the room and Quinn, lying there almost lifeless. Her heart quickens at the sight of her. She sees the rise and fall of her chest, and it brings tears in her eyes that she's alive—that they were quick enough. Her eyes travel from the machines to the tubes, each one finishing to some part of Quinn's body.

One travels from one machine to the tube in her nose, the next travels from another machine to the tube in her throat, while another travels from another machine to the tube in her right hand. She sighs deeply taking in her presence. She's no longer bloody, just scars and Santana can't help but think about how true that statement is. She has scars, but these ones that are visible to the naked eye will heal, but the ones that are hiding beneath the surface, those will take months or even years to heal—sometimes they don't heal at all.

Young comes up behind her and places her hand on Santana's shoulder comfortingly, before walking over to the chair and placing the blanket and pillow down for her. She walks back over to Santana, glancing over her shoulder at Quinn, before turning back to Santana.

"I want you to get some rest. She isn't going anywhere, but by the time you wake up that feeding tube will be out of her throat, she won't even notice it getting pulled out either so, you both should be good. She's on some heavy duty pain meds, so don't be alarmed if you don't see her awake at all during the day," she informs Santana quietly and she nods in understanding, before thanking her and walking further into the room. She walks slowly around the bed, taking every bit of Quinn's features in, before pulling her shoes off and taking her holster off to place it on the window sill next to her along with her phone.

She lays down in the chair and fixes the blanket so it's covering her entire body and places the pillow behind her head, pushing the chair up so it reclines and begins to lean back. Santana lays on her side and watches the heart monitor machine for a moment, listening to the way it beeps slowly. Then her gaze moves back to the rise and fall of Quinn's chest, how she's breathing so effortlessly and suddenly she finds herself unable to say awake any longer, becoming succumbed by sleep.

…

The next morning, the sun showed brightly through the closed blinds of the large window—the window that Santana happens to be passed out next to, but even the sun's brutal rays couldn't get her to wake from her slumber. During the night, her blanket kicked down to her ankles and her shirt rose just above her navel, and her hair that was up in a tight pony is now laying carelessly over the back of the chair. Saying she was exhausted would be an understatement.

Unbeknownst to her, Chad leans against the sliding door of Quinn's room, watching his partner's state as he sips his cup of coffee. He drove over here after checking in at the office, but unfortunately he has some bad news for Santana and he is supposed to tell her now, but she looks so peaceful, that he doesn't have the heart to wake her.

He looks over at Quinn, who no longer has the feeding tube down her throat—not that he saw it to begin with. He left the status of Quinn's condition to Santana, since he knew either way she wasn't going to leave her side. Still though, she's attached to multiple machines and resting well. He still can't seem to get the broken expression that Santana had on her face out of his head. He truly thought that Quinn may have died in her arms and that idea truly struck a nerve in him. He didn't want his best friend, who is prone to being a hard ass, to be in so much pain. But even with Quinn alive, she still is in pain—he can see it on her face right now as she sleeps.

He takes a drink from his coffee again and pushes off the door to let her sleep longer. The Chief told him to get her out of the hospital and bring her to his office immediately, but that is something he just can't do. She hasn't slept in a little over forty nine hours, he wasn't about to wake her from the only rest she'll receive in the next couple of weeks, especially when Quinn wakes and she goes into 'attentive Santana' mode.

He takes his phone out and calls the Chief, explaining his feelings on the matter.

"Chief, this is the first time she's getting any rest in the last forty nine hours, I'm not about to wake her," he explains to him and he listens to the growing frustration in their Chief's voice. "I understand sir, but we all start letting things get personal. This was her best friend and now we know more than ever that she's in some deep shit. Santana isn't one to let that slide, especially when we have only one in custody. Whether you try to take her off the case or not, she's still going to do everything she can to keep Ms. Fabray safe, because like you said, it's personal," he tells him, sipping some more of his coffee as he paces back and forth in the waiting room.

"I am going to come down there myself, if you do not drag her here Harris, do you get that?" The Chief yells and Chad just sighs deeply.

"Loud and clear," he tells him, pausing for a moment. "So I guess I'll see you in—what? Ten minutes?" He asks sarcastically and suddenly the line goes dead and he looks down at his phone. He surely has pissed his Chief off, but he just can't care. All that matters to him is Santana stays on this case and she helps Quinn—it'll keep the girl sane, what part of that doesn't he understand?

Chad turns around and sees a disheveled Santana standing in front of him. Her shoes are still off and her hair is still lying haphazardly. She's looking at him with tired eyes and he smiles warmly at her.

"You sleep okay?" He asks concerning, finishing off his coffee.

"I heard what you said to the Chief," she answers softly, dodging his question and he grimaces at her. "I know you didn't say anything and I'm positive Young didn't either. It was my own actions that found me out," she tells him, before he has a chance to explain himself.

"He's determined to kick you off the case now," he states and she inhales a breath, before nodding in understanding. "What are you going to do?" He asks as she rubs her eyes tiredly, taking a seat in one of the chairs as he follows.

"Explain it the way I've been explaining it. What would you have done in my position?" She tells him. "I mean Chad, I'm not wrong—we found her and she's alive. She'll grow stronger and back to the old Quinn everyone's used to at her firm and what I'm used to. She remembers me and the fact that she expected me to find her only signifies I made the right decision. I don't regret one ounce of it," she explains to him and he smiles softly, placing his arm around her, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head—the only guy that's ever allowed to do that anymore.

"I'm proud of you San and hey we didn't do it, it was all you. You called the shots, I was just there for the ride. You found her in that room, I arrived with backup. It's the normal routine, you know?" He shrugs and she laughs slightly, nodding knowing how right he is.

The elevator dings in front of them and they immediately stand up when their Chief enters. His face is fuming and hard. He's not just looking at Chad nor Santana, but both of them as a team. Chad knew of the personal relationship Santana has with Quinn, so he is planning to punish them both.

"You two are in a world of trouble, do you understand?" He begins to seethe and Santana stands in front of Chad as the Chief walks up to them.

"Listen sir, it was me. I tried to hide my relationship to the victim and I'm sorry about that. Yes, I let my emotions get the best of me, but sir, she was missing for a week and you said so yourself, we were perfect for the case and I think the fact that I knew her on that level made it even better because I did everything in my power to find her," she explains stopping for a pause, then continues. "I didn't rest once, looking for possible loopholes and any other viable information. We found her in less than forty eight hours and she was alive, while some people were convinced she was probably dead. I'm not excusing the fact that I broke protocol, but sir you have to ask yourself, what would you have done if someone took your wife or your best friend, knowing that the protocol states you can't be involved?"

"You gave me this case and I happened to have known her, I wasn't going to just give it back and I sure as hell know Chad wouldn't have in my position and I know you wouldn't have either. I don't regret a single moment about taking this case and I would greatly appreciate it if I stayed on until these guys are taken down," she pleads her case to him and he looks at her with his anger still visible, but he knew she was right unfortunately, as was Chad. Sometimes these cases can get personal and any good cop or agent will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of it.

He falters and begins blinking furiously. "Fine, fine! You're still on the case, but right now, your number one priority is checking on that woman, do you understand? No just gallivanting off to kill these motherfuckers," he warns her, pointing sternly at them; her specifically.

She nods frantically, before he takes his leave. Santana watches him go and she exchanges a look of relief with Chad and he smiles warmly at her, when a nurse comes up to them.

"Ms. Lopez," she says and immediately grabs Santana's attention. "She's awake and has asked for you," she tells her. Santana nods to her and sends her on her way, before she looks back at Chad, then walks off to Quinn's room to officially talk to her after seven years.

* * *

><p><em>I didn't keep you guys waiting that long, did I? I didn't think so either. Okay so a few quick things, you guys I'm going to officially convert to Quinntana based ONLY (unless one shots or prompts are asked, you know whatever that makes me go to Brittana or Faberry) after my Brittana story ends. I have much more ideas for Quinntana for just the simple fact that they just work, even if others can't understand it (of course you guys do though, so that doesn't apply). Anyway<em>, _so I feel like I should also warn you guys that is story is going to take a little while for them to develop to anything other than friend based because of Quinn's state of mind. She will get better and they will grow during this point and upon doing so, things will transpire, but for now, just enjoy the journey and development. I refuse to rush it, so just enjoy the pace. Other than that, thank you guys for the reviews; they mean the world to me and I hope you guys continue to like the story further. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Santana walks back to the room and is met instantly with hazel eyes. They're tired looking her way and she's sure hers look the same—and that she just looks like a mess in general, but Quinn never says anything. She just watches Santana stand there for a moment before Santana walks around and takes a seat next to her bed. Quinn turns in the other direction and Santana hands her some water, knowing Quinn's voice is hoarse as it is; she really couldn't imagine how much worse it sounds now.

Quinn takes a few sips before handing it back to Santana, who just places it on the table. She sighs heavily as they continue to take each other's presence in. There really wasn't much they could say and one would think that they had a lot since it's been seven years, but under the circumstances, all of what they should talk about seemed pointless.

"Your boobs are gone," Quinn comments groggily and Santana's eyes drop in confusion. She looks down at her chest and back up at Quinn, who has a growing smirk plastered upon her face.

"It's been seven years, I doubt you even remember what they look like," Santana quickly composes a reply and Quinn's facial expression never falters.

"I remember," she speaks softly, moving just a little bit more on her side. "I remember when we use to sleep over at each other's house when Brittany would go on her annual family vacation, and that we would cuddle up and watch a movie. I distinctly remember using your boobs as pillows," she adds as Santana flushes, but it goes unnoticed to the tired blonde next to her.

"Then when you held me in your arms, you held me flushed against your chest. It was soft and comforting, but different. The size is like a cup smaller," she finishes, coughing slightly as Santana closes her eyes at Quinn's words.

The first conversation they have in seven years is about her boobs—that's just perfect.

"Yeah well I did tell you I was going to get rid of my implants," Quinn nods slowly as her eyes slowly droop. "Turns out I still get unwanted attention," she adds as Quinn laughs slightly.

"I get the attention I've always wanted," Quinn comments, stretching slightly but wincing as she stretches just a tad too far. Santana watches how uncomfortable Quinn is and she wishes she could do more, but she can't. She doesn't want to get the nurse because they'll just give her more pain medication and have her go to sleep. This is the first time she's been able to look into these hazel eyes in seven years. They used to be a distant memory, but they're real now. Right here and she isn't about to let them go away; she just isn't ready yet.

"Yes and then you get taken hostage by a bunch of Russians and held against your will where you were probably commanded to do things and was pretty much their sex slave," Santana begins to raise her voice merely at the thought of Quinn ever wanting to have any attention, especially after this. She just really couldn't fathom her thought process.

Quinn blinks frequently and takes a deep breath, before watching Santana carefully. She couldn't read her friend's expression; it was like it was a cross between angry, guilty, sympathetic, frustrated—the list went on.

Quinn sighs and closes her eyes. "Well it seems you know more about what I went through than I thought you did," she whispers and Santana leans forward in her chair.

"Well shit Q, what am I supposed to think? I deal with missing people every day, but I've never dealt with it on this sort of level. Where it involved someone I care about and mob bosses. I'm trying to understand Q, I really am, but I just can't grasp why they are targeting you," Santana explains and Quinn finally opens her eyes and looks at Santana. She can see the lost feeling in her face.

"I want to help you. But you gotta help me Q," she pleads and Quinn looks down at nothing in particular to avoid looking in Santana's eyes.

"When can I go?" Quinn asks softly, fiddling with her IV tube without trying to pull it out, but use it as a distraction.

Santana leans back, slightly defeated that Quinn dodged everything she had just opened up to her about. She knew she couldn't force her to tell her anything, but she really wanted to get a handle on these hits and stop them so Quinn can feel safe.

"I don't know," she finally says, placing her hand up to rest her head on it. She's still exhausted, but she needed to do something about Quinn's safety and she's pretty convinced she's going to close off from talking to anyone about what happened by pretty much avoiding it or changing the subject, like now.

"You can come home with me, you know? I mean, that is if you want—you don't have to though," Santana offers and Quinn finally looks up at her almost as if to see if she was joking, but she isn't. But Quinn just merely shakes her head at the offer.

"I want to try and get back to my life as it was before this. Plus I have to take care of my dog, Arthur," she tells her and Santana smiles to herself, knowing she just doesn't want to look weak—it's what the old Quinn would do.

"Arthur is with your neighbor Olivia," Santana shudders at her name and Quinn smiles as she nods, before sighing deeply.

"She's always so good to me," she yawns out and Santana can feel a hint of jealousy hit her, but she really wasn't sure why. It wasn't like Quinn is dating Olivia and they're getting married, and going to have lady babies. Even if they were, Santana and she aren't together—not even close, and never were close to that point, so it didn't make any sense.

Santana nods distantly, before rising from her seat. "I'm going to check on when you'll be okay to leave, you get some rest and I'll talk to you later," she quickly changes the subject as she rounds the bed and almost walks out.

"Thank you for keeping me company last night," she turns around and Quinn is looking right at her. Santana grows confused by how she even knew she stayed with her last night. "I saw you cuddled up in the chair early this morning. You were snoring softly—it was adorable," she giggles and Santana begins to grow embarrassed, before she clears her throat to compose herself.

"Um—you're welcome, get some sleep," she instructs her, before walking out leaving Quinn to rest.

…

Santana slides the door shut and stands by it for a moment, taking deep breaths in hopes of relaxing herself. This is Quinn; it's not like she's any different than she was before. Maybe the fact that the new bits of information she's learned about her is what's causing these reactions. She's a lawyer, who had some relatively dangerous clients. She's either a lesbian or just very fluid with her sexuality now. And, she has random, no strings attached sex with her neighbor and possibly that Brad guy, if he's lucky. It's just all so much to process, when all her life she's imagined Quinn Fabray a totally different way.

She takes a final deep breath, before walking over to the nurse station, hoping to talk to a nurse or doctor about Quinn's ultimate status.

"Excuse me," she says to a nurse that walks through and doesn't seem to be doing anything. She looks up and walks over to Santana, offering her a smile. "Hi, I just want to know the status for Quinn Fabray? When will it be good for her to be able to leave?" She asks, crossing her legs behind each other and that's when she notices she's left her shoes in Quinn's room and her hair is most likely still a mess.

She pulls her hair out and runs her fingers through it before pulling it back up in the famous tight Cheerio's pony she knows so well and has been so succumbed to using.

The nurse looks over Quinn's chart carefully, not questioning if Santana's family since they know her position. She finally looks back up and offers another smile her way.

"Well, all seems well with her physically. No broken bones or internal injuries, except for vaginal and anal tearing, which were superficial, so it'll heal on its own. She seems to be weak still from lack of nutrition, so we want to keep her here overnight to observe her progress with eating and drinking. Other than that, if Dr. Young gives the okay, she could leave tomorrow, if all goes well," the nurse explains to Santana, who nods happily. At least Quinn's not in too bad of shape; all they got to do is monitor her eating and drinking, to make sure everything goes down right, Santana thinks anyway.

She thanks the nurse and slides the door of Quinn's room back open, quietly, hoping not to wake the now sleeping girl. Santana tip toes across the room and grabs her shoes and walks out frantically, shutting it behind her. By the time she gets out, the same nurse is still standing in the same spot, watching her in amusement.

"I wanted to be quiet," Santana explains her actions and the nurse laughs, holding her hands up defensively.

"It's okay, I get it. No need to explain it to me," she tells her and Santana nods, placing her shoes back on, before walking back to the desk.

She hands a piece of paper to the nurse and she looks up at her in shock. "It's for Quinn's records. I'd like a call in case of any changes and when she'll be released. Please give her the number as well if she needs me," she explains to the thoroughly confused young girl, who breaths out a sigh of what seemed to be relief. Santana didn't question it though; she knew the nurse thought she was hitting on her, but she didn't have the energy to throw it back in her face.

The nurse nods and Santana walks out of the hospital, to go check on the situation back at the office. Hopefully Chad got a handle on everything and they'll be ready to take down the gangs, along with the hits out for her.

…

Santana walks through the elevator and into the office, getting a few looks from some coworkers, but she mostly ignored them. She walks over to Chad, who is on the phone, working diligently to locate the hideout for the Russians.

She sits down in her desk and rocks from side to side, waiting patiently for him to get off the phone, which doesn't take long. He hangs up and sighs, then looks up at his partner.

"Nothing?" Santana comments and he shakes his head in frustration.

"No—wherever the hell they fled, it's putting a strain on our investigation," he says. "How's the victim? Quinn, right?" He asks and Santana nods, smirking at how ironic it is that he has no idea what her name is, but she could never forget it—usually it's her with the shitty memory when it came to names.

"She's fine, spoke to her for a little bit, but she looked so tired, that I didn't have the heart to keep her up any longer. She can leave by tomorrow possibly, so that would be nice," she summarizes to him and he nods.

"Well that's a good sign," he comments, before looking down at the paperwork on his desk. He sighs deeply, before shaking his head. "I think I may be going about this wrong," he adds and Santana leans forward.

"I think we should go see the one we brought in to custody and talk to him," Santana suggests and he laughs slightly at her suggestion. He points his pen at her, shaking his head.

"This is why I need you," he comments, making her laugh and stand up to walk out to the jail and talk to this guy.

…

They walk through the doors and are ushered immediately into an interrogation room. The man they brought into custody is sitting at the table, fiddling with his hands almost nervously. It's no wonder he's not the boss—probably not even close to becoming it.

Santana walks in and his eyes widen at her presence. She smirks and waves, moving each finger in the process. "Remember me?" She asks and he gulps, nodding frantically.

She takes a seat and leans forward to make sure she is leveled with his eyes. "I need to ask you where your buddies are hiding. It seems that they have all decided to play a little game with us and we can't seem to locate them," she tells him in a slightly sarcastic tone.

He looks down at the table and remains silent. She scares the living shit out of him, but he just wasn't about to talk. She watches him carefully as his mannerisms only grow more and more nervous, before she places her foot in the chain and pulls him face first into the table. He groans in pain and she forcefully leaves the pressure there.

"I won't let up till you talk and since I don't want to actually touch you, I'm going to leave my foot here. So tell me what the fuck you know, before I place even more pressure on your skull," she tells him, pulling it harder and he screams out in pain.

"Okay, okay!" He yells and she leaves her foot there. "Let go!" he screams out.

"Not till you talk!" She seethes and he groans again, taking deep breaths to keep the pain at a bare minimum.

"Underground," he says and she leans forward in her seat, straining her ears to hear.

"Underground where?" She questions and he closes his eyes tightly as she tugs it just a little more.

He screams. "Underground by the warehouse—where you found us yesterday," he says as she pulls her foot out and he jolts back upright.

She smiles devilishly at him. "Thank you sir, you've been a great help," she tells him, getting up and walking out of the room. Upon leaving she sees Chad outside the mirror with their Chief. They look at her curiously, before she smiles at them. "That's how it's done boys," she comments, walking out of the interrogation area.

As she walks down the hall, feeling rather proud of herself, her phone begins to ring and the hospital's number appears on her caller I.D.

"Lopez," she says and listens to Farrah on the other line, frantically speak. "Wait, wait, calm down. What's happening?" She asks and Farrah begins speaking again, more calmly. Santana's eyes go tightly shut. "Yeah okay, I'm on my way," she tells her and hangs up the phone to rush to the hospital.

…

Santana gets let through the ICU and she instantly hears screaming, forcing her to run through the hall towards Quinn's room.

"STOP! STOP IT! PLEASE STOP IT!" She hears as she gets closer and runs up to the room to see several nurses in front of Quinn as she rocks back and forth in her hospital bed and Young coming up behind her with a needle.

"Whoa, what the hell you doing with that?" Santana stops her with her hand. Farrah looks at her and down at the needle.

"I'm going to sedate her to relax her," Farrah explains walking further into the room, before Santana steps forward again.

"No you're not. She's not fucking crazy, Farrah," she tells her, walking around the nurses. "Move out of the way!" She yells as Quinn continues to scream furiously with her eyes screwed shut as tears seep out of the cracks.

Santana hops up on the bed next to Quinn and wraps her arms around her and holds her flushed to her chest and begins rocking her back and forth. "Shh, it's okay Q. It's okay, I'm here," she soothes and it begins to calm Quinn down to a whimper and the staff begin to watch her in amazement to the point where Quinn completely relaxes, clutching to Santana's shirt.

Santana looks up at the staff, taking a deep breath and pulls away just enough from Quinn. "What did you guys need?" Santana asks and Farrah walks over to her side and looks at Quinn, who gulps at her.

"We wanted to check her blood pressure, then we were going to give her some breakfast," she explains and Santana nods, then looks down at Quinn.

"I'll stay here," she tells her and Quinn nods distantly.

After they manage to get what they need from Quinn, Santana slides off the bed as they bring her food in and let her eat solid food for the first time in a week. She manages to scarf it down in minutes and Santana had to laugh when she devoured the bacon. When she sat in the chair to keep Quinn company, Farrah walks in and motions for her to follow her out.

Santana stands. "I'll be right outside, okay?" She tells Quinn, who nods slowly.

"It's okay San. I'm a big girl," she breaths out, sipping her juice and Santana nods distantly and slightly confused because moments ago she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Santana walks out with Farrah and they lean against the nurse station.

"Here's the deal, nothing is wrong with her physically nor mentally, but I'm concerned about emotionally. These types of situations scar a person and I've seen this before. They will say they're fine, but once they go home, it'll become too much that they'll begin to harm themselves physically or worse kill themselves," she explains to Santana who nods, not wanting to think of that possibility.

"Quinn would never commit suicide Farrah, no matter how bad things get or feel," she assures her, only to get pressed further.

"Maybe not, but I want you to be aware, because that episode back there—she isn't fine, Santana. I think she calmed down for you because you make her remember a time when life was good and she trusts you," she stops for a pause, before continuing. "My point is, I want you to consider sending her to therapy. You're neither her mother nor her guardian, so it's really up to her if she wants to go or not, but I suggest you bring it up to her and she decides to go," she finishes and Santana sighs deeply and nods.

"Yeah, whatever I got to do to help her," Santana looks back in the room and sees Quinn pushing her table away and watching television.

"Good, now I'll call you if anything else happens. If not, she'll be released tomorrow and I'll call you tomorrow morning to come discharge her," she states to Santana who nods and Farrah walks away to work on her other patients.

Santana stands there for a moment longer, watching Quinn in her room alone. To think she thought Quinn was out of the woods and was perfectly fine—she thought wrong. Sure, she knew that there was a chance that Quinn was going to have emotional baggage, but she didn't expect it to show so soon and come out as panic attacks, and to think she's possibly one of the only people that could calm her down is scary. Santana looks down in almost defeat—now she's even more determined to keep her safe and get these sons of bitches into cages.

* * *

><p><em>The thing you'll notice with the way I've written Quinn is that she'll be accustomed to <em>_basically be very open with Santana, you'll see as it continues further. Santana will not know how to handle it at times, so she'll take steps back for that reason. However, with that said, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's only going to get crazier as far as Quinn and the entire situation they've been placed in. Thank you guys for the past reviews and until next time, review and let me know what you guys think._

_ALSO! Quinntana Week on Tumblr will be coming soon. I've pledged to do the full week, but to make it easier for you guys, who aren't on Tumblr, it starts the 26th of March and ends April 1st. I have a tab on my Tumblr that says "Quinntana Week Submissions", so you'll be able to access them all at any point in time. So that's all, I'll talk to you guys later._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

When Santana got back to her apartment, she couldn't have been more ecstatic to hit her mattress. All the stress at work is putting such a damper on her sleeping and even her eating routine. She realized upon leaving the hospital finally, that she hadn't eaten the entire day because she's been so focused on Quinn's welfare.

_The power of being an agent. You begin to care less about yourself and more about others. What the hell has happened to me?_

Then again, she always has to remind herself that this isn't just another case—this is Quinn.

The next morning though, she got up rejuvenated and ready to start another day at the office. She has her coffee in hand and is out the door by eight, like she does every morning. She walks down the steps of her apartment building and takes in the crisp air, hoping that today will be a good day.

She only lives about a block away from the office because realistically she knew better than to have a car in New York City. Traffic is a bitch and she so is she, and when two bitches come together it turns into war.

She steps out of the elevators and continues sipping away at her coffee and as she takes her seat at her desk, the Chief comes up next to her.

"You're not in here today," he tells her and she looks up at him, hoping she wasn't fired or anything drastic. Sure she takes things to the max by coming off a tad pushy and maybe even a little violent, but she felt they were necessary steps. "Your job today is to take care of our victim. Since you're both on a personal level with each other, I find that her safety is our highest priority right now. I have Harris and Ryder together today, while we locate the Russians. Think of your job as a bodyguard," he explains and she rolls her eyes. She wants to protect Quinn, sure, but she wanted to take down the mobs with Chad.

_Can't we just wrap her in bubble wrap and place a bunch of weights on her, so she can't be lifted or picked up?_

That sounds like a stupid idea, the more she thought about it. But he was her Chief and he calls the shots, therefore she can't turn her back on his commands.

She just nods that she understands and he walks away, forcing her to get up and walk out of the office with her coffee and make her way to the hospital.

…

Santana steps through the ICU doors and walks to Quinn's room to see her, sitting up with her legs crossed Indian style, from what she could tell. The color in her face was back and she's eating her breakfast much slower, which meant she wasn't nearly as hungry as she was when they brought her in which is fantastic in Santana's eyes.

Santana knocks on the opened sliding door and Quinn looks up acknowledging Santana with a smile. She stalks in and takes a seat next to Quinn's bed, stealing a piece of her bacon in the process.

"Hey! I'm the one that needs to eat not you," Quinn says as Santana smirks, still munching on the bacon, just to piss Quinn off since she knows she doesn't play when it comes to bacon.

"Are you eating good? Keeping everything down?" Santana asks and Quinn returns the smirk knowing she should correct Santana, but she didn't have the heart to be a grammar snob when Santana's being attentive to her.

"Yeah—I haven't puked, which is good I think. And I'm staying hydrated and when they feed me, I eat it all. I don't know, I think I feel pretty good," Quinn tells her and Santana nods thinking how amazing that is. Even though Quinn's been in the hospital for realistically a short period of time, they were able to get her strength up pretty quickly, not that Quinn stopped eating and drinking by choice—give the girl food and water, and she'll devour it.

"That's great Q," she tells her and Quinn smiles, then nods, digging back into her food. "So are you sure you want to go back to your apartment? The offer about staying with me still stands for as long as you need to," Santana questions, not wanting one of her panic attacks to occur when she's not with her.

Quinn looks up at Santana and nods, assuring her she'll be fine. "I'm just concerned that you'll panic," Santana says and Quinn stops mid chew and looks down at her food to distract herself.

She begins chewing again and swallows it. "What time can we go?" She dodges and Santana inhales a deep breath, wanting to get on her case for doing it again, but she relaxes because she knew this was harder for Quinn than it is for her.

"I don't know I guess whenever you're ready and the doctor sees you one more time to give you the okay," Santana replies and Quinn nods.

"What about work?" She asks curiously. She hasn't been at work in almost a week and a half. She has a lot of work that needs to be done and it can't be prolonged any longer.

Santana shrugs. "I assume whenever you feel comfortable. There's nothing physically wrong with you, so I don't see why you couldn't go back tomorrow or something," Santana exclaims and Quinn places the top that covered her plate back over her now empty plate and wipes her mouth.

"Okay, I'm ready," she says urgently and it makes Santana laugh, but she knew Quinn was actually being serious. When she had Beth, she refused to lay in bed—she wanted to get up and walk around immediately. This was the first time since her car accident senior year that she's been cooped up in a hospital bed.

"Okay, well I'll have the doctor come in and talk to you. You can relay the information back to me about anything we need, while I stop by your apartment and grab you some clothes," she tells her and Quinn gets ready to open her mouth. "I'll bring you sweats. I'm all about keeping you comfortable," she adds and Quinn closes her mouth and begins to smile warmly at her.

Santana looks in both directions awkwardly. "Don't look at me like that," she tells her, but Quinn's facial expression never falters and Santana's only other thought is to walk away and fast, before it gets even more uncomfortable.

…

Santana walks out of the elevator in Quinn's apartment building after getting a spare key from the front—she swears up and down that Quinn is living in some high end hotel; she's even more convinced now after getting the extra key.

As she walks out, she slowly makes her way down the hall and instantly is met with Olivia, who quickly walks up to her.

"How's Quinn doing? I'm so worried about her. I tried calling your office and I tried calling the hospital, but they won't tell me anything about her condition. I even tried saying I was her wife, but they still wouldn't," Olivia rambles and Santana's eyes narrow. She really couldn't stand this chick and as she continues on with her inability to not shut her mouth, she begins to hate her even more.

"You need to calm the fuck down," she holds her hand up, placing the spare key into Quinn's apartment door. She pushes it open and Olivia follows her, hoping for some answers.

"Sorry, I've just been so concerned and when I talk, sometimes I can't stop," she explains as Santana walks through the apartment into her room.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed," she replies sarcastically. "She's fine though. She's leaving the hospital today and will be coming back here, so you can see her then," she adds more seriously and Santana opens the top draw to come face to face with lacy bras and underwear.

She feels her cheeks get hot all of the sudden in embarrassment. _Nope. That's not the draw. _

But then she remembers she probably needs undergarments, so she sighs deeply and rummages through it.

"She likes the black ones. She matches most of the time, but sometimes she'll spice it up and go with say black and red," she stops what she's doing when the voice comes through her ears. She turns around and sees Olivia looking over her shoulder. She diverts her eyes away from the girl, feeling even more awkward and irritated than before.

She turns back to the draw and finds a sports bra and a pair of boy shorts. "Yeah well she's not getting dressed for someone to just take them off. She's getting these for comfort," she replies harshly as she hears something hard hit the bottom of the draw and start vibrating.

Santana turns to Olivia, who is looking back up at her with guilty eyes and a fake smile plastered on her face. She returns back to the draw and pulls the rest of the undergarments out of the way to see the source of the vibrating.

"Oh god Q, really?" She whispers to herself, pulling the vibrator out and turning it around to figure out how to turn it off.

"You twist the—," she flips her head around and glares at Olivia, who finally gets the hint. "Okay, well I should go," she walks away quickly and Santana breaths out a sigh of relief. She hears the door shut and Santana turns back to the device in her hand and eyes it carefully. She closes her eyes to compose herself of the thoughts filling her brain—mostly extremely dirty.

She twists the top and places the panties and bras back on top of the arousing device and closes the draw, feeling so much better that everything is concealed. She goes through the next draw and finds a shirt and then the bottom draw to find the sweatpants. That one was by chance since that's where she puts her sweatpants.

She walks out of the room and makes her way to the front door, opening it and shutting it, making sure to lock it on the way out and heads back to the hospital.

…

She walks back into the hospital with Quinn's clothes and walks in to her room to see Farrah in the room. She is telling Quinn of everything that's going on and Quinn is listening very intently. Santana stands there for a moment hoping to hear some of the information, but it's things she already knows, so she clears her throat to make herself known.

They turn their attention to her and acknowledge her with a smile. "I got you some clothes," she comments and places them in Quinn's lap.

"Thanks San," she says appreciatively. Farrah smiles at the minor interaction and looks up at Santana, who looks slightly uncomfortable, but she ignores it, knowing it's probably not her business.

"All right Quinn, we'll just get those discharge papers and you'll be out of here. If you need anything you may call me or obviously Santana," she tells her and Quinn nods, giving her a smile. Farrah pats her shoulder and walks out of the room to get the papers ready.

Quinn flips through the clothes Santana brought and notices the undergarments. "You went through my underwear draw?" She raises her eyebrows and looks at Santana curiously. Santana begins to feel herself get scorching inside, remembering a certain piece of merchandise inside the draw.

"Uh—yeah, I thought you'd want underwear and probably a bra," she breaths out nervously and Quinn smirks at her, before shaking her head.

"You saw it didn't you?" She comments, looking down at the clothes and Santana's eyes widen at what she's_ possibly_ referring to.

"Saw what?" She asks and Quinn looks up, rolling her eyes at her friend.

"Santana, I'm not going to spell it out for you. You saw my vibrator," she replies bluntly and Santana sinks into the chair. Quinn begins to laugh at her reaction. "It's funny how you were the most blunt person I've ever met in high school and now here you are, getting nervous and freaked out about finding my vibrator,"

"Stop saying that!" She whines and Quinn only pulls herself up a little bit and steps out of the bed. She continues to laugh the entire time, walking over to the curtain to close it completely. Santana's eyes are covered with her hands, trying to block out any thoughts of Quinn physically using it out of her head.

She sighs deeply as she opens her eyes to see a naked Quinn.

_Oh my God. You fucking kidding me right now?_

Every part of her backside is still as toned as it was in high school. Her back muscles are flexing and her butt—Santana really couldn't stop staring at every part of her, especially that butt. It's hard to believe that pretty much nothing's changed on Quinn since they last saw each other. She's just a little more blunt about her _sexcapades_.

Santana subconsciously ran her eyes over her body, like it was in slow motion and her mouth begins to react, by licking her lips and capturing her bottom lip between her teeth.

"San can you help me?" Santana snaps out of her trance and gets up from the chair, then begins walking over to her and stands in front of her. Santana tries her absolute hardest to not look down, but fails miserably—even with the hickeys, other bruises, and cuts, she still looks amazing to her, but she can't tell her best friend that.

Quinn hands her the bra and underwear. "Hold your arms out," she tells her and Quinn does as she's told, slipping them through the holes and threads it over her head and pulls it around her sides, leaving it to Quinn to adjust herself.

_Although I wouldn't be against it; holy fuck, where the hell did that come from?_

Santana shakes her head and squats down to the floor and tells her to slip her feet through the holes. She feels Quinn clutch her shoulder for balance as she gets both legs in. Santana slides her way up with her fingers hooked in the sides, gliding it up her body.

"Anything else?" Santana asks and Quinn looks at her carefully, before a growing smirk appears on her lips.

"I don't know, do you think I need anything else?" Quinn asks, placing her hands on her hips. Santana looks over her body and laughs slightly.

"Nope you look perfect," she jokes, well sort of. She'll always be perfect to her, but she was missing the pants and shirt.

Quinn holds in a smile by pursing her lips together tightly, before grabbing her shirt and slipping her arms through the sleeves before tossing it over her head. She hands Santana the pants and she's back on the floor, slipping them through her legs and pulling them up.

"Shit," she curses and Quinn hears as she stands up to her level.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asks and Santana closes her eyes, guilty.

"I forgot shoes for you," she says and Quinn shrugs.

"It's okay San, don't worry about it," she tells her as she opens the curtain and sees Farrah standing at the nurse's station with the papers ready to be signed. Santana reads over it as Quinn stands next to her and she begins signing them, since she's being released into her care and not leaving on her own. It doesn't take long for Santana to declare they are good to leave and begin their walk to the elevator, while Quinn remains in hospital socks.

They walk out of the elevator after it lands on the first floor and out of the hospital entrance. Santana quickly scoops Quinn up in her arms making Quinn screams out in surprise. When she realizes it's Santana who has her, she begins to breathe out little giggles.

"You ass," she comments with a chuckle and Santana smirks, walking to the car.

"Oh please, if I was an ass I wouldn't be carrying you," she replies and Quinn shakes her head, wrapping her arms around Santana's neck to give her some leverage.

"Oh Santana, you're so strong," she jests dramatically like she's a damsel in distress. Santana laughs loudly at her and continues walking to the car with Quinn in her arms.

They finally get through pretty much the entire parking lot till they finally reach the car and Santana unlocks it, placing Quinn inside. "Buckle up," she commands and Quinn rolls her eyes.

"Yes Officer," she exclaims as Santana shuts the door and walks around to the driver's side to get in and drive to Quinn's apartment building.

…

They drive through the city and Santana keeps her eyes peeled on the road, examining the area as if she truly was Quinn's bodyguard. Their moments leaving the hospital made her realize how much she truly missed Quinn in her life. They were never that close, but for some reason, this time felt different—like it's a new beginning.

She keeps her hand on the gear shift—call it a force of habit and as they stop at a red light, she stops the car and upon doing so she feels fingers lace over hers. She looks down at her hand and it's now interlocked so to speak with a much paler hand. She meets Quinn's eyes and sees the smile on her face—almost as if it's out of adoration, but Santana didn't want to think about it, instead she leaves Quinn's hand over hers because in a way it's comforting for her.

The ride is pretty silent the entire way to Quinn's apartment. They pull up to the front and Quinn looks over at the park across the street, almost terrified. Santana could feel it as she travels her gaze to where Quinn was looking.

She turns back to her and turns their hands over to intertwine them completely. "Hey," she whispers softly, getting Quinn's attention to her. Their eyes lock and Santana stares at her with such sympathy. "You're okay Q, okay? Nobody's going to take you ever again. I'm never going let that happen," she assures Quinn, who continues to keep her eyes on her, to see if there is any ounce of her that was lying, but Santana remains serious.

Quinn nods, unbuckling her seatbelt as Santana gets out and walks around the car to open the door. Santana scoops her up in her arms and pokes her a little bit in her side to get her to smile, which works. Quinn giggles, making Santana laugh as she shuts the door.

They walk up to the front desk and Santana holds Quinn tighter to her body. "I'm here to drop this off," she jokes, making Quinn laugh slightly as her arms are back to being wrapped around her neck. He smiles at their interaction and nods.

"Of course, welcome home Ms. Fabray," he says, walking over to the elevator to let them up. The elevator doors close and Santana stands there with Quinn in her arms, when her phone begins to vibrate against her hip, but almost against Quinn's butt.

Quinn squeals. "Either your phone is vibrating or you're excited to see me," she jests as the elevator door dings and Santana laughs.

"They can wait," Santana states amused as she walks through the doors and down the hall to Quinn's door. Upon doing so, Olivia paces impatiently in front of her door and Quinn's being that they're facing one another. "God, does this bitch ever leave?" Santana mumbles under her breath, but Quinn hears it and chooses not to respond, but instead pulls one hand away from Santana's neck and pulls it back, landing it against Santana's backside.

Santana jumps in surprise. She casts her eyes down at Quinn, who just looks ahead with her lips pursed, like she never did anything. Unfortunately, her actions and Santana's reaction got Olivia's attention and she begins to walk over to them.

"Oh my God! Are you okay? I thought you were dead," Olivia asks concerned as Santana walks around her.

"Yeah Liv, I'm fine," she assures her rather frantic neighbor. Santana pulls the spare key out of her pocket, not bothering to acknowledge Olivia's existence.

"Are you sure? Because Agent Lopez is carrying you…oh my God Quinn! Are you paralyzed?" She asks deeply concerned. Santana sighs deeply with the growing frustration evadible with each passing moment.

"Oh Agent Lopez," she coos to Santana, who blushes furiously as she pushes the door open with her hip. Olivia notices this and can't hide the slight pain in her stomach at the tone Quinn used. She truly cares about Quinn and the thought that she's fondling over someone else, especially someone as hot as agent Lopez, well that devastated her. How could she even compete with an agent?

Santana sets her down on the floor and Quinn turns to Olivia to show she in fact still has use of her legs. Olivia walks over to her and pulls her into a tight embrace, almost too tight for Santana's liking, but it's not up to her to decide if it's too much for Quinn or not.

"I'm just glad you're okay," Olivia mumbles into the crook of Quinn's neck as Quinn rubs soothing circles on her back. She looks over at Santana, who is staring anywhere else, but at the two girls.

"Yeah me too," she whispers back as Santana clears her throat and they instantly pull away.

"Well perhaps I should get going and let you two get back to—well whatever you two do," Santana rushes as she is ready to walk out, Quinn stops her by placing her hand around her wrist.

"San," Santana turns around at the sound of Quinn's voice. How soft and almost terrified it sounds. She knew it had nothing to do with Olivia being there and she was leaving her with the girl, but the fact that she was leaving in general was the problem.

"I'll see you soon Q. You have my number if you need anything and I'll return your phone from evidence when I see you," she assures her and Quinn just watches her with sad eyes—she really didn't want her to go, but she knew she had to, so she nods and Santana walks out of the apartment to report back to work.

…

The time is midnight by the time Santana returns home and she has to admit, the rest of the day went relatively well. There was no distress calls from Quinn and she was actually able to put herself more into locating the rest of the Russians. When Chad and agent Ryder along with their backup went to the underground hideout their guy in custody informed them about, they found about half of them where he said they would be—now it's about locating the rest, then getting a handle on taking the hits off of Quinn.

She tosses her coat on her couch and hops her way into her bedroom as she pulls off her shoes, before landing face first into her bed. She groans at the feeling of the pillow top against her body. She loves her job, but it is fucking exhausting.

She finally manages to change and crawl into bed in her tank and boxer shorts. She isn't sleeping for more than two hours when her phone goes off. She opens her eyes tiredly and squints when a number she doesn't know is on the screen.

"Hello," she grumbles tiredly and she suddenly is met with screams in the background and a frantic girl on the other line.

"Hi—um agent Lopez, this is Olivia and um—Quinn is totally flipping out right now and I don't know what to do," she hears and she frantically gets out of bed and is already placing her shoes on and grabbing her coat.

_SANTANA HELP ME PLEASE! SANTANA!_

"What happened?" She locks up her apartment and runs down the stairs frantically, holding the phone to her ear.

"I don't know. I took her out to dinner to show her how much I missed her and was glad she's home, then when we got back she undressed and changed into her sleep clothes. She asked me to stay over and then we started kissing, next thing I know she's screaming and rocking back and forth," she replies frantically as Santana hails a cab. She steps in and tells the driver the address, and sits back to take in all Olivia has said. Her kissing Quinn doesn't go unnoticed to Santana and all she wanted to do was punch her for even advancing towards her after she's been missing. Her scars and bruises are obvious, so why the hell would she do that?

"I'm on my way," she says, hitting end on her phone as they come to a stop. She pays the driver and opens the door, quickly running up the steps. She runs past the front desk, pulling out the spare key she never gave back. She waits impatiently for the elevator to go all the way up and when it dings, she quickly jets down the hall.

She can already hear the screams and they only grow louder when she runs up to Quinn's apartment. Santana opens the door and shuts it, instantly Olivia runs out of the room.

"Oh God, she's screaming for you to help her, calling you is the only thing I could think to do," she tells her and Santana is already making her way into the room. She instantly sees Quinn topless—which Olivia forgot to mention on the phone. She takes her shoes and coat off, then slides into the bed with Quinn.

She wraps her arms completely around her protectively and rocks her back and forth. Quinn instantly clutches tightly on to Santana's tank as she whispers soothing words in her ear. Her screams grow muffled till they finally turn to whimpers. Olivia watches on in complete and utter confusion. To her, she's known Quinn far longer than she did, so she couldn't understand why Quinn reacted that way when she touched her and kissed her, but she relaxes when she's being held by the agent who she merely just met.

"I think I'll go back to my apartment. I'm sorry for waking you," she tells them and Santana nods, letting her leave, knowing it was better that way.

They sit there for a moment longer until Quinn is finally completely relaxed. She looks down to see Quinn has fallen asleep and she can't stop the growing smile from forming on her lips. She leans fully back in the bed and holds her more flushed to her body, resting Quinn's head on her chest as she too is quickly succumbed by sleep.

It's going to be a long few weeks—or possibly months ahead for the both of them.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah I don't even remember half of what I've written. It's been in my documents for awhile. I'm evil I know but I thought I'd give this to you while everyone waits for Gravity, plus it's long overdue. So if you're still reading, let me know what you think and I'll try getting back to this story as soon as I can. Thank you for the reviews, even though last time I updated it was Spring Break, so I think people forgot about it, but hopefully everyone remembers it now.<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The blinds shut out the sunlight—and all of reality it would seem. After last night it's evident things weren't going to be the same. Santana has been up for a little over an hour, before the sun even rose. She didn't get much sleep through the night, waking every hour or so to check on Quinn, but she always seemed to be in the same position and state—sleeping almost soundly, curled up into her side, with her leg slung over hers.

She sighed deeply, hating the churning feeling in her stomach. Seeing Quinn so riled up, rocking back and forth to almost close herself off from any harm—it's just so un-Quinn like. Even when things got bad, she never turned into a panic mess; it was never like this, but here she is, freaking out at the mere touch of someone who used to touch her in the most intimate of ways, which Santana still cringes about.

She steals a glance at the sleeping form next to her and traces her battered face with her fingertips, trailing along every cut from her forehead, to her cheek, to the one that lies on her bottom lip.

_How could this happen?_

She remembered how awful things got in high school. How Quinn went from the top to the bottom of the social latter after she got knocked up, then rose back up to claim her throne—even if it was at her own expense. She remembered that even through all the trails of failed relationships, Quinn seemed to always remain composed in some way. Till the beginning of senior year, when she turned into Santana's version of a punk, but that's the difference with Quinn; when things got shitty, she wouldn't emotionally fall apart—she'd express it in her actions.

That's when it hit Santana, maybe what Farah said was right. If Quinn is capable of hating her life so much that she'll change her entire demeanor through her determination, who's to say she isn't capable of hurting herself if things got too much? Quinn stays in her own head as it is; it's a bitch to get her to talk.

She moves a strand of blonde hair out of her face and takes in her features yet again, before making the decision that regardless of whether Quinn wants to go or not, she's going to a therapist. No matter the cost, she needed her to get better for her own sake.

The night table alarm clock went off and Santana's eyes shot to it quickly leaning over to turn it off, as to not wake Quinn. As she hit the button, she felt arms snake around her waist. Santana stiffened at the touches, cursing inwardly.

"You're much more stronger than I remember," she hears a husky whisper as fingertips graze under her tank. Her eyes shoot wider, quickly removing Quinn's hands out from under the fabric.

"You need to stop that," she tells her, sliding to a sitting position and getting up from the bed to cross to the bathroom.

"I woke up and you were over me. I happened to see your abs, what am I supposed to do?" Quinn asks as Santana halts all movements, before turning around.

"I don't know, usually you panic whenever someone else tries to touch you. I'm surprised you didn't waking up to see a body above you," Santana retorts harshly. She isn't really sure where her anger is steaming from, but she could tell from the hurt expression on Quinn's face now that she regrets it.

Quinn nods slowly. "I knew it was you, that's why," she explains softly and Santana shakes her head in disbelief.

"So, you knew Olivia was with you the entire night and when you were about to fuck her, you flipped out!" She wants to understand and yelling at her wasn't going to help, but she couldn't think right now. She knew Quinn wouldn't willingly agree to go to therapy, so she's already mentally preparing herself for the argument.

Quinn snaps her head up, tears visible in her eyes. "It's different," she chokes out and Santana holds her arms out wide.

"Tell me how it is Q. I want to understand," she says softer and Quinn just looks down, getting out of the bed to cross the room and out of the door to use her other bathroom. Santana watches her walk out for a moment, before shaking her head frantically.

"No, no, no," she repeats, walking after her as Quinn walks down the hall, ready to turn into the bathroom. She runs up behind her and picks her up, causing Quinn to scream.

"Santana! Stop it! Put me down!" She yells, kicking and throwing her hands in all which directions ready to swing at her. Thankfully, she doesn't make any contact and Santana drags her back in her room, tossing her back on her bed, shutting the door.

When Santana turns back around, she's met with an eerie sight. Quinn has crawled to the far corner with her legs up to her chin, looking at her with glassed over eyes—she looked petrified.

She closes her eyes, feeling a wave of guilt rush through her. She didn't think about what her actions would've done. She probably just triggered something in her memory about what happened and she hated herself so much at this moment as she watches her cower as far away from her as possible.

_It's bad._

"Q," she breaths out, taking cautious steps towards her as Quinn watches her every movement. Santana steps around the bed and leans down in front of Quinn. She places a steady hand on her arm and Quinn flinches at the touch. "I'm—I'm sorry for what I did. I'm just tired of you walking away or changing the subject when all I want to do is help you," she explains and Quinn looks away from Santana.

The silence becomes deafening, before Santana comes up with a solution. "Look, I'm sorry I overreacted this morning. It's just, you've never really touched me like that or acted like this with me before," she continues on.

"Because you had Brittany," Quinn mumbles and Santana takes in the hint, biting on that reply.

Santana nods. "Yeah, you're right. See though, you and Britt are different —so very different. Yeah, I could goof off and be flirtatious with her because that's pretty much all we had, but with you—you I was always able to talk to about things—things I couldn't with Brittany because she wouldn't be able to understand. She tried, but it wasn't the same. Both the blondes in my life were special to me—and they still are," she expresses softly to Quinn, who doesn't once interrupt, but loosens up at her words.

"You were right. Brittany and I couldn't stay away from each other for long, because we still speak…and she's engaged, and she's happy, which means I am as well. He's good to her and he can keep up with her now, which is something I can't," Santana trails off, looking away to take in everything she's said. It all held the truth, but sometimes she wishes she had what Brittany had—someone to come home to, but then she remembers the time she spends at work and how she has none of it, not even to go out anymore.

"When's the wedding?" Santana looks up to see Quinn staring back at her with those hazel orbs that held redness around them.

"December in Hawaii—something about wanting to get everything done at once," she brushes off and Quinn nods. "She wants to see you, you know. She was going to fly out the morning after we found you, but I told her to give you some time," she adds.

"I want to see her and I want to go to the wedding," Quinn voices and Santana nods.

"Well Brittany would love to have you there," she replies, taking her hands in her own. Quinn completely relaxes at the gesture as Santana traces her thumb over each knuckle.

"I don't know how to let people back in and I don't know why, but with you, I feel the safest, so when things get too much, all I want is you to save me, I guess," Quinn opens up and Santana feels herself breathe a little easier at the openness. This is what she's wanted and she's finally getting Quinn to open up, so she can figure out how to help her.

"According to Dr. Young, it's possible that I remind you of a time when your life was better and because you trust me," Santana tells her and Quinn shrugs, unsure for sure if that's the case. Life wasn't perfect when they were around each other, but it was definitely better than this.

"We'll work through it Q and I think the first step is going to see someone. They'll be able to help you figure it out," she tests, hoping Quinn will go for it since she knows that things are pretty damaged right now.

Quinn sits there to take in what Santana said, only to shake her head. "No, I'm not going," she finally replies and Santana sighs deeply, hoping it would be easier than that.

"Quinn, you have to. I can't do this by myself," she pleads to her and Quinn looks down at her with hurt in her eyes.

"I get it. I'm a burden to you. Well I'll make it easier for you then," Quinn takes her hands out of Santana's and slides off the bed, forcing Santana to sit back up and watch after her.

"That's not it! Quinn, you've went through a traumatic experience, okay. When I find people, who go through things like that, I hand them off to a specialist, but you're not just someone else!" She yells after her as Quinn opens the door to walk down the hall, past the bathroom and to the kitchen. She flips her head around, staring at Santana with fire in her eyes.

"Okay! So you want me to recap for you all that I've endured, so you can_ understand_? I went for a jog in the park across the street. Upon doing so, I took a seat down by the lake to watch the sunrise. It was quiet then three men came up behind me, grabbed me and took me into a tinted van. Two of them were in back with me, gagging me and placing a blindfold over my eyes. I remember feeling my clothes getting ripped off and being left in my sports bra and underwear the entire ride while they felt me up!" Tears welled up in her eyes as Santana watched her explain everything to her.

"The van stopped and I was pushed out of it and carried over the shoulder into a room. They threw me to the concrete and ripped the blindfold off my eyes. There were more men there and I had to perform sexual favors—anything they wanted and if I didn't, they cut me and they would physically hit me. I was raped everyday—sometimes two or three at a time and all I remember is praying that you'd find me because I knew you would be a part of the FBI like you wanted," she's full on sobbing in front of Santana as she too feels herself shedding a few tears as her stomach churned.

"I guess that's why it's different with you! Because you were all I could think about to get me out of that hell hole! And when you found me and held me close—I never felt safer! So I know that you can help me get through these panics, you just need to give me time. I don't want some random person looking at me with pity, so please understand why I don't want to go," Santana crosses the room and wraps her arms around Quinn firmly, letting her cry into her.

She rubs soothing circles on her back, but doesn't say anything—just remains silent, letting Quinn cry out all her emotions since she has first been found. Quinn knows she's not okay, she isn't in denial about that, but she can't help but think about how much denial she's possibly in about how much power she holds in helping her.

"Q, I can be here for you, but I think physically talking to someone else will help you too," she just doesn't think she can do this alone and certainly didn't want to burden Brittany, and definitely didn't want to go to Olivia—she wasn't that desperate.

Quinn's head rises from Santana's neck and she looks up at her with fresh tears. "After everything I told you, you still want me to go!" She lets her voice go an alcove higher and Santana shakes her head frantically.

"Listen to me, I can be here to take care of you and talk everything out, but then what? Nothing is going to change. When I have to leave you for work and you go back to work, someone comes along and touches you in some way that triggers something, you panic then what? I have to drive down to your office and comfort you? You don't want to deal with that for the rest of your life, going to therapy will not be so bad. Fuck! I go to therapy—it's part of the job. I'll go with you—I'll do my own sessions and you do yours," Santana reasons with her as Quinn sniffles.

"Why would you go?" She asks, calming down a little bit as Santana continues to hold her close.

Santana shrugs, looking away. "To talk—to have someone unbiased, not judge you for your thoughts, it helps if you're opened to it," she explains and Quinn looks down at the random freckle on Santana's neck to distract herself.

"You'll go if I go?" She asks slowly and Santana nods.

"I promise I will go, if you go," she assures her and after a minute of staring at that certain spot on Santana's neck, Quinn turns back to meet Santana's pleading eyes and nods.

"Okay, deal," she whispers and Santana smiles softly, leaning back in to hug her.

_Things will work out, I feel it._

**x.**

Sitting there patiently waiting for the therapist to open her door, Santana by her side, she feels herself growing far more nervous than intended. She knew what to expect—she took Psychology before and hell she's a lawyer, so she knows what to expect in these situations, but to be the patient and not the one on the respective end for once sends a growing surge of uncertainty to her core. She watches that cherry wood door for as long as possible and Santana can feel that nervous energy sitting next to her. She didn't want to make her do things she didn't want to do, but this would be good for her—for them.

Santana wants to believe that it's the right thing because she too needed to make sense of the events that just occurred. Quinn was once a huge part of her life and to come back into it in such a dramatic way like being taken hostage it's sort of shocking and surreal. She may hide behind this tough exterior, but she's not okay either.

She takes Quinn's hand in hers, holding it tightly. Quinn finally looks away from the door down to their laced fingers. That small gesture eased her worries a little because she remembers she's not alone; everything is over. Her protector is here—and she promised she wasn't going to let anything happen to her; that was enough because she trusted her with everything she had.

"Quinn," her eyes meet a middle aged woman with a warm smile. She doesn't know what to think of her just yet. She can imagine she's probably a nice woman and before this happened she would've welcomed her with just as sincere of a smile, but right now she couldn't figure things out.

Quinn exchanges a fearful look with Santana, who could only muster up encouraging ones. She wasn't allowed to go in with her and Quinn was aware of this—it's why she's made no movements to get up. She gives her hand a squeeze and nudge of her head. "It's alright, I'll be here when you get out," she ensures her and Quinn turns back to the waiting woman, before nodding distantly.

She picks up her purse and makes her way slowly into the room, dreading the next hour. Santana sighs deeply, knowing how hard this was for her friend, but it was the right thing, she kept telling herself.

It had to be the right thing.

**x.**

The door shuts behind Quinn as she takes in her surroundings. Everything was made of cherry wood it seemed from the desk down to the boarder of the walls. There was a dark couch across from a nice throwback chair, both matched of leather brown. It seemed to remind her much of her father's study when he still lived in the house with her mother. It smelled almost crisp, but definitely not of Cuban cigars like her father's room did.

"Would you like to take a seat?" She turns her attention to the therapist, who offers up the chair and Quinn ponders this for a moment. She shifts from one foot to the other almost insecurely.

"I thought the couch was for me," she replies quietly and the woman smiles, breathing out a tiny laugh.

"Yes well it depends. I offer my best seat as a peace offering I suppose," she shrugs and Quinn nods distantly, before deciding to humor the woman and take a seat on the couch in front of the chair.

"I wouldn't want to impose," she jests and the woman chuckles before taking her seat in her chair as Quinn adjusts herself on the surprisingly comfortable couch.

She waves it off before grabbing hold of her notepad. "Before we begin, I want you to know that anything you say will be confidential here unless you want Santana to know otherwise," she begins and Quinn nods, knowing the routine enough from prior clients and movies.

"How well do you know Santana?" Quinn asks moving to cross her legs and she smiles, knowing Quinn won't fully trust her until she gets some details about her.

"Well I evaluate Santana quite often, so for several years the FBI has sent her to me, but when she called me about you and explained the situation, I couldn't let that slip. If she trusts me enough to send you to me than I feel you can trust me. I just want you to understand that, I won't give you pity and remorse, I'm here to let you speak and let out any feelings you may have," she explains thoroughly to Quinn who slowly loosens up at her words. She's right though, if Santana trusts her than why couldn't she?

Quinn nods giving her a small smile. "So—," she draws out trying to work through her name. Santana did tell her, but it got a little fuzzy through everything that happened that morning.

"Judith," Quinn's eyes widen slightly, thinking of her mother just for a moment.

"You know everything, don't you?" Quinn asks dodging her name just for the time being, not wanting to say it out loud.

Judith looks on at the timid woman before nodding slowly, her facial expression never faltering. Regardless of this, Quinn felt at ease because it's what she had wanted—no pity from some random stranger. Had she told someone on the street or from work it wouldn't have been the case—they would've pitied her and wanted to just walk on eggshells with her; she wanted things back to the way they were, before the panic attacks, before she needed Santana to protect her all the damn time; she did a fine job on her own. She didn't want to feel like she needed anyone, no matter the situation.

"So why am I here then? If you know everything there's no point. I mean I thought I'd tell you what happened to me and you'd just psychoanalyze me," Quinn says with hostility in her tone.

Judith places her pen between her lips, before pulling it out thoughtfully. "Is that what you want me to do?" She asks curiously, raising her perfectly manicured eyebrow and Quinn sighs deeply. She wished that was all she wanted, but she really didn't know what she wanted.

"I don't know," she replies with a defeated shrug, fiddling with the fabric of her purse.

"What do you want Quinn?" She asks carefully, leaning forward to get a better interaction with her patient. Quinn raises her eyes to meet hers. No one has ever asked her that before. What did she want? She wanted a lot of things, but she never had the chance to voice them—until now.

"So much," she breaths out shaking her head as Judith nods, folding her hands up on the notepad that laid on her lap.

"What do you want from coming here? I know you didn't want to at first, but what do you hope to benefit from talking to me?" She tries again, hoping to gauge a straightforward reply. Quinn knew how to answer that though, knowing exactly what to say and she wasn't about to dodge it either. If she was going to get better, she had to face every demon in her closet.

"To get better. To not panic anymore when someone touches me. To hopefully feel something again," she states and Judith merely smiles warmly, completely satisfied with that answer.

She places her hand on Quinn's and she looks down instantly at their touching skin. It feels almost as if it burns, but she wills herself to not pull away. Her skin is soft and her brushes of her fingers over the top of her hand is tender. She gulps, smiling softly to herself, meeting Judith's eyes again.

"I'm going to help you. I'm going to challenge you because I will not give up on you nor will that young woman sitting outside," she ensures her as her eyes gloss over with fresh tears. Quinn nods frantically, hoping for the best as they call the session to an end. It was short, but Judith knew there wasn't much to tell the first go. Tomorrow the real work began and she could already tell trust was a big deal and she needed to gain at least that before anything else—she called that first session a success.

She escorts Quinn out of her office and they are met with Santana's immediate eyes. She gets up and crosses the room and places her hand on Quinn's lower back to offer her some support. She wasn't worried that anything terrible happened, she just didn't know what to expect. She just felt the need to rush to her side upon seeing her in sight.

Quinn offered a smile and Santana returned it as Quinn wrapped her arms around her waist. Santana places her arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to her body as Quinn whispers into her ear. "Everything will be okay," Santana could only muster the biggest grin she had to offer before shaking hands with Judith as she sent them on their way.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So that chapter was pretty short, but I wanted to give you guys something, especially after so long of a wait. Gravity and this story is the only ones I'm working on, so no more Brittana stories are in the works or anything. If you've read Ship Of Dreams, I'm aware it was rushed and such, it is a shame that I grew uninterested in the couple, but these things happen unfortunately. That aside, I'm planning to hopefully work on Gravity on Tuesday (maybe, I may have something to do.). But I hope you guys enjoy the little bit of drama in this chapter, it'll get better, I promise. So please review and let me know what you think. :)<strong>_


	9. Chapter 9

**It's been too long, but I hope this makes up for it. I hope you guys aren't too mad and I hope you guys will still read. After much deliberation, I figured out how I want this to go, so we'll see how quickly I update from here on. Anyway, enjoy and thank you for sticking around. You guys are amazing!**

* * *

><p>Walking into Judith's office was actually a lot less nerve-wracking than the first time around. Somehow the older woman managed to relax Quinn in such an ease that it almost made her feel—safe; secure even, regardless of all that occurred.<p>

She still hasn't gone back to work in the office; however, she has managed to bring her cases home with her because the FBI have mutually agreed for her safety that she be under protection due to the hits still being out on her. It worried Quinn obviously; she didn't want anything serious to happen to her—well anything more than what she already endured, but she knew if anyone could keep her safe it was Santana.

Evidently, Santana felt better being by her side, so Santana stayed with Quinn. She's stayed with Quinn during the times Quinn worked on her cases at the kitchen table, she's stayed with Quinn during the times she'd watch television, and during the times where she'd go to her therapy sessions.

They've gotten easier. Talking about not only her ordeal, but her entire life has been almost a breath of fresh air because for once someone is actually listening to her feelings on each and everything, and not casting judgment upon her for it. She's realizing so much more now that therapy isn't for someone to pity her nor tell her she's crazy, but for a good ear when there isn't anyone else.

When she's called into the office like always, leaving Santana in the waiting room, she definitely isn't anticipating what she sees. It's normal at first, but Judith gives her a warm smile, standing up in front of her.

"I thought we could try something a little different," she begins and Quinn places her purse on the couch, before getting back into place. "Now I think you're making excellent progress talking about everything you've had built up inside, but this is going to help you physically be willing to let people in. If you panic it's okay, but we're going to talk about your feelings in single words, but just using someone's touch on your skin," she explains the exercise and Quinn already feels the nerves in the pit of her stomach, but she wills herself to nod at the woman's request.

"Excellent, now call Santana in because we're going to need her," Quinn turns to the wooden door and pops it open, which prompts Santana to look up from her magazine. She crooks her finger to instruct her to come over, in turn Santana tosses the magazine in a pile then gets up to advance towards her friend. Quinn's face has healed nicely with only a few minor discolorations from bruising, Santana always manages to pinpoint, before walking in with her.

With the door firmly closed again, Judith offers Santana a smile, before explaining what her purpose is. "Now Santana, what I want you to do is stand where you are. Quinn I want you to lift your shirt just up to your hips; no more than that because a touch on your hand or shoulder or even arm is something that you can handle, but a touch on your waist—the place that can give you the most comfort from someone you care about can also be the one place that you can fear more than ever being touched because it is so intimate, so I want you to close your eyes after you have that part of your skin exposed," she explains and Quinn gulps even more nervously, as she slowly rises her shirt up just barely exposing the skin to the point where it's covering her belly button still.

She inhales a breath, closing her eyes and exhaling trying to build herself to relax. "Now Santana place your hands on her hips," Judith says and just like that Quinn feels Santana's soft hands laying on her skin. They're warm to the touch, but instantly her nerves wash away and she's finding it easier to breathe and function. "How do you feel?"

Quinn smiles softly to herself. "Safe," she whispers and Santana looks down, smiling at the ground, glad she can make the blonde feel such a way. She wants Quinn to feel safe with anybody; not just her, but she wants her to get stronger—she wants the pain to go away.

"And her hands?" She questions and Quinn takes a deep breath in and exhales yet again, letting a big smile take over her features—something Judith sees, but Santana doesn't.

"Very soft and tender—loving," she whispers the last word and something in the way Quinn says it, brings a warmth through Santana's entire body, biting her bottom lip to suppress any visible feelings, even if Quinn can't see it. These past few weeks have been about rebuilding who they were to each other and focusing on Quinn, but it made Santana realize that—something was there that she didn't realize in high school; something bigger than either of them could suppress now that they were out of high school and in the real world. Now that Santana is here to protect Quinn and be there, not as an agent, but her best friend as well—there is just something, that neither one could explain.

When Judith moves her head to tell Santana to leave the room, she regrettably removes her hands from Quinn's hips, which sends the nerves back to Quinn's body, but she keeps her eyes closed, knowing this was part of the exercise.

"Okay now Quinn, how do you feel?" She asks and Quinn doesn't really know how to answer that. Santana somehow releases the tension her body feels; she's lost without her simple touches and feels vulnerable, knowing she's not around.

"Scared, nervous, a little lost," Quinn admits miserably, hating the feeling she's getting without knowing if Santana was even still in the room with them or not. She licks her lips to keep herself semi distracted, before feeling a pair of hands on her hips again. They're soft too and she finds herself, relaxing to the touch as the warmth builds off the pair of hands.

"And now?" She asks curiously as Quinn tries to figure out exactly what she's feeling.

"At ease I suppose. I'm not sure, but it's not a bad feeling," she explains, not knowing the right words to express her emotions.

"All right, that's fine and you may open your eyes," her eyes open and when she takes in the close proximity of the other woman, noticing the way her hands rest on her hips; not intimately, she can't help but smile. That burning sensation that she normally feels when someone puts their hands on her, to the point where she wants scream like her skin is on fire, is like it never happened.

"You've done well," Judith expresses, removing her hands from her hips and allows Quinn to place her shirt back down. "I'm proud of you and I know Santana is as well," she adds sitting down in her chair as Quinn makes her way over to the couch.

"Thank you," she sighs happily. "I just want to get my life back together and now that I have Santana back in it, things finally feel more at ease, I guess," she adds smiling ear to ear at the other woman as she crosses her legs to get comfortable.

"She seems to be very special to you. I can tell that you are to her as well," she states and Quinn shrugs nonchalantly.

"I suppose so. I mean we were pretty close in high school," Judith raises her eyebrow questionably at Quinn's choice of words.

"That's not what I meant," she says carefully. "Have you two ever dated? Slept together at all?" She asks curiously, trying to get to the root of their involvement, but more so why Quinn feels the way she feels when Santana touches her and not anyone else.

Quinn blushes under the questions, clearing her throat. "Um—no we haven't. I only just recently a year ago realized my feelings towards women. Santana's known since high school," she replies and Judith nods slowly.

"Do you think about ever doing those two things with Santana?" She counters back and Quinn gulps, not wanting to lie to her therapist—of course things aren't to leave the room, so if she tells her the truth it won't come back to Santana.

She looks down and fiddles with her fingers in her lap, biting her bottom lip. "I feel the safest when I'm with her, isn't that how you're supposed to feel when you love someone?" She asks confused and Judith looks at her, nodding.

"Well in some cases yes, but there are many definitions on what love is because it is felt and dealt with in many aspects, so if you're in love with her, are you afraid of her not loving you back?"

"Aren't we all afraid of not being loved back?" She asks quietly.

"Of course, but how do you know she doesn't love you back if you don't try?" Judith questions and Quinn knows she's making a valid point, but this is Santana she's talking about. Santana hated relationships and she's single because her job is far too demanding, even if they did date their relationship would be so conflicted because both of their jobs are so heavily demanding—then again is that such a bad thing?

"I think I always loved her, but never said anything because she was dating our best friend Brittany," Quinn confesses, wringing her hands in a force of habit to calm her nerves even though she knew Judith wouldn't judge her or anything—to be honest if any did come out of them being together, she imagined her therapist would be one of their greatest supporters.

"Then who are you to deny yourself of finally getting that chance? Do you feel like you don't deserve happiness or are you worried about the intimacy level?" She's aware that it's Judith's job to get to the root of her issues and thus far she's achieved doing just that—helping her and guiding her in the right direction in order for her to allow certain things back in her life; her intimacy level being one of them, but with Santana—she couldn't ever seeing that as an issue; it's just never been a problem before.

"I don't really know what's stopping me. I mean we haven't seen each other in seven years before all of this—we're totally different people now," she reasons and it's true. Back in high school neither one of them were the way they are now. Santana's developed a serious demeanor and work ethic—she's hates the intention she so desperately seeked back then and she's much more tender towards her than she was when she was slapping and tearing her down in the halls of McKinley.

"I may even go as far as saying we're better people than we were before," perhaps it is the right time to just tell Santana how much she cared for her. Brittany is getting married and is happy with her future husband according to Santana, and from what she knows Santana isn't seeing anyone nor is she, aside from her little thing with Olivia which is over and done with.

She meets Judith's eyes and the older woman appears to have a small smile on her face. "Sounds like you're convincing yourself of something you already know," she simply states and Quinn looks down, shaking her head—maybe she has.

…

Quinn sits at her coffee table with her files sprawled out alone for the first time in two weeks since she was abducted. It's weird to say that she's progressing to getting back to normal so quickly, but she likes to believe it's because she's trying so desperately to prevent herself from shutting down. She's been going to Judith as frequently as possible, plus Santana being there to help her after her shift is helping a great deal. She stays over so much that it's like she lives there—sleeping in the same bed even to the point where when they wake up entangled in each other. In high school, if that happened they would probably just brush it off, now it's like it's where they were supposed to be; in Quinn's eyes anyway.

She sits back and closes her eyes, rubbing them tiredly, having too much on her mind to focus. Olivia has shown up at least every day to check on her, but anytime she'd see that Santana was there she would find some half assed excuse to leave. Quinn wasn't an idiot—she knew how Olivia felt about her, plus she told her in the past, but that's what ended their friends with benefits agreement, but she thought it'd be over now. She couldn't imagine how terrible she'd feel if she saw Santana and her, kissing or something outside her apartment—it would make Quinn feel bad for hurting her friend, but she'd have to accept how things were.

Quinn starts to hear the turning of the key in her lock, forcing her to look over to the front door to see Santana stepping inside with bags, locking the door behind her, she holds them up to the blonde. "I thought we could cook," she tells her, walking into the kitchen and Quinn couldn't help the smile that forced its way to her lips. She hops up from the couch and pads towards Santana to see her pulling stuff out from the bags, turning the oven on along the way.

Quinn's been careful to not touch Santana the wrong way, not wanting her to push her away like when she first got out of the hospital, but she feels the need to be closer to the other girl, prompting her to wrap her arms around her waist. Santana breathes softly at the touch, leaning into it, knowing that at the simplest of this tender touch from Quinn she will feel just as much at ease as Quinn feels when she does this to her. Santana isn't sure where these feelings are coming from or even what these feelings mean for either of them, but she knows something's there. She's an agent it's her job to spot these things.

"What are we making?" Quinn mumbles into Santana's back, looking over her shoulder as Santana starts cutting up some vegetables.

"Well I figured we have some baked chicken and steamed vegetables. It's nothing too exciting, but I don't cook much since I'm usually working and alone anyway," Santana shrugs and Quinn holds her by her biceps, noticing just how firmer they've gotten since high school. She hasn't been paying much attention to little things when Santana's arms somehow find their way around her, she just knows that things are different, but a good different.

Quinn nods. "Yeah I totally get it," she sighs, tugging Santana's jacket off so she is more comfortable while they cook. As Quinn goes to hang it up though, she stops and begins to ponder this moment. She bites her bottom lip and tries to push it away, but it won't leave her mind. This feeling is like they're practically married. Santana coming home from work, them cooking dinner, they eat together; watch a little television, before heading to sleep. Married couples do this—not best friends and frankly she didn't care; she didn't want this feeling to go away.

She walks back outside and sees Santana pulling out seasonings from the cabinet, so Quinn hops up on the counter adjacent to Santana, which prompts Santana to turn around and narrow her eyes. "I thought you were going to help," she comments and Quinn smirks, leaning forward as she crosses her feet.

"I am—it's called supervising," she jests and Santana licks her bottom lip, before capturing it between her teeth.

"All right fine, but no staring at my ass," she warns jokingly, turning back to the chicken and Quinn, by default starts to stare where Santana tells her not to. Frankly in her defense, she probably wouldn't have if she didn't say anything, but she has always been attracted to the other girl, so it's natural to like what she possesses. "Hey!" she chastises, catching Quinn's leering, but Quinn doesn't try to hide the fact that she was doing what Santana told her not to.

"You have a nice ass San. Can't fault me for staring at a—perfect specimen," she uses the rasp in her voice that used to get everyone going in high school; maybe even her if she ever used it on her out of affection. Anytime she heard it directed to her it was when she strung up emotions out of her and not good ones—like when she told her that Puck and she were sexting while they babysat. She shudders at the thought, looking back at it since it seemed completely inappropriate to think about him now, especially since they both been with the guy at one point in their lives—one more memorable than the other.

"Yes well I'm not the only one with a big ass of perfection," she quirks an eyebrow. Unlike before, Santana would just take the compliment and milk it for what it's worth, now she removes the attention from her and fills the focus elsewhere. She really doesn't like the attention too much anymore, regardless of how sexy she still was.

Placing the chicken in the oven, Santana turns around, cleaning her hands off, before walking around Quinn to jump in the shower. "Hey San," she calls before she goes any further. Quinn hops off the counter, biting her bottom lip as she folds her arms across her chest. "Is there any new information about my situation?" She asks quietly, hoping that maybe she can get back to work outside of her apartment. Santana was an excellent distraction from making herself stir crazy, but she was ready to step out on to New York's pavement again and be able to just be herself.

If Quinn ever asked Santana if there was any progress made she would tell her the truth, but if she never asks she just chalks it up that Quinn trusts them to do their job, and this time Santana is convinced Quinn is getting impatient waiting for the next pin to drop so to speak. The fact is Quinn was in danger any time she left her apartment, but aren't we all? Santana wants to protect Quinn with everything she has and if she leaves this place, it loses the chance of being a safe haven. They have police cars patrolling all day while Santana's away and when she is here, she sends them home.

San sighs, leaning against the wall. She secures her bottom lip in between her teeth. "We're doing everything we can to get the hits off, but it's hard when no one is cooperating. We have a few Russian accomplices under arrest and charged since they carried the attacks out, but slowly and surely we will get to the rest," she explains to the blonde, who nods in understanding. "It's quite a mess you created Q. Like what were you thinking taking on these cases, if you couldn't represent them at their highest potential? Do you realize what you have done?" These questions have plagued Santana's mind since the moment she found Quinn on that bed, but it takes her only now to voice them.

Quinn nods slowly, knowing that people are probably questioning why she would put herself at such a high risk, but only Santana had the nerve to ask, so she deserved an answer. "I thought I was doing the right thing," she begins just as Santana was about to talk, she walks over and places her two fingertips upon her lips. "Let me talk," she says soothingly, prompting Santana to nod. "I wanted to protect this city, so when I discovered each of them going to court and they needed their council, I made sure I was on it—but to corrupt them, not to drop the charges, so I didn't represent them to my full potential, so I can put them away myself," Quinn explains and Santana's gaze is hard, before she shakes her head.

"Don't you know how terrible it is to feel in your heart when someone is actually guilty and it's your job to make sure they walk free?" Quinn poses and Santana looks down because she gets it even though her job is just putting them away. It places Quinn is a terrible situation, but all she can do is tug her forward, taking her in her arms. She runs her fingers through her hair, kissing the side of her head softly.

"I won't let anything happen to you, I promise," she says as Quinn pulls away from her grasp, looking in her eyes. Quinn can sense the pain and perhaps she's caused it for her—she doesn't want Santana to constantly worry about her; she wants her to just stop thinking for a little while.

It happened so quick, when she leaned in and wrapped an arm, placing her hand on the back of Santana's neck, meshing their lips together softly, it was like the air escaped from her lungs and when Santana didn't pull away, but rested her hands upon her hips, she never felt more protected.


End file.
