I can see my sweet girl swaying
she's crazy Cubano como yo, la la...
On the balcony and I'm sayin
move baby, move baby, I'm in love..
Scarred tan hands littered with tattoos fluttered lightly over broken strings. The only sound that rang throughout the room was the lonesome sound of an acoustic guitar and the haunting yet sweet voice that crept along with it. A figure sat crumpled against almost sable walls with the word "Ha!" etched into their surfaces in bright red ink. Locks upon locks of long mangled black hair hung over Santana's shadowed face as her mouth formed the words over and over again.
"I'm in love—I'm in love— I'm in love..."
She looked up with bloodshot eyes at her closest friend, Quinn, who stood in the corner of the darkened room, listening to her play.
"I'm in love... I'm in love..." She chanted it over and over again, voice barely more than a growl until she faded out all together. Then a different name came to mind.
"Quinn..." Quinn lifted her gaze to meet that of her employer, her normally disinterested eyes laced with the smallest bit of worry.
"Have you found her yet...?" Santana questioned, her hands moving lightly over the guitar strings, softly strumming random melodies.
Quinn shook her head. "No."
The chords switched from major key to minor at her answer. "You didn't Youdidntyoudidntyoudidnt ...you...didn't?" The brunette resumed almost a childlike tone as she brought a scarred fist to her forehead, beating it over and over again.
"Where...is...she. Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!" The mutters turned to screams, and then the screams to laughter. Santana allowed her body to go limp as she threw her head back against the wall and giggled, slipping in and out of reality.
The silver of her teeth flashed in the dim light when she opened her mouth to speak again, tilting her head in Quinn's direction.
"I'm...nothing without her." She whispered, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. That same hand then reached beside her for a half empty bottle of whiskey. "Nothing, nothing."
Santana downed the liquor in one swig, welcoming the burning fire it left in her throat. Once she was finished, she examined the bottle with a steely coolness before something in her calmed expression snapped.
Winding her arm back, the brunette threw the bottle at Quinn's head screaming, "NOTHING!"
But the honey blonde woman didn't flinch, not even even batted an eye as the glass object impacted the wall and shattered into a million pieces. They both turned and looked as golden liquid dripped down the dark purple walls onto the mossy velvetine carpet
Quinn looked back at Santana and raised an eyebrow as if to say "really? Scary."
Santana was reminded why she had kept Quinn around. She wasn't afraid of anything. Not even the insane brunette herself.
Those people were rare.
There was one other person who wasn't afraid of her.
Someone who drove Santana more insane than she already was with annoyance and passion. Someone who filled her senses every day and night. Someone who was now ripping the Dark Queen of Crime apart from the inside because she cared so damn much and she couldn't tell you why.
Brittany Pierce.
Her Princess.
Her Wildcard.
The jester of her heart.
Brittany was gone, and it was goddamn ripping her apart.
"We'll find her." Quinn attempted to reassure the deranged woman who had torn herself to bits on the foyer floor.
Santana broke into more laughter, reducing herself to a convulsing, sobbing creature on the velvet rug. The one she'd once laid Brittany across. "We'll find her...We'll find her? And keep running in circles? Check and recheck every corner? Continue this trail of blood in our wake?" Her tone was mocking as she spat the words in Quinn's direction, "where else is there to look when we've looked everywhere?! There's no corner of this piece of shit city we haven't already searched, no facility that we don't have eyes on! I WOULD KNOW!" She beat her fists on the floor as she screamed.
Quinn remained silent, lost for a response at her Boss's outburst.
Santana stood from her heap on the floor and began to pace. "There's something we're missing, something we're not seeing." She muttered this over and over to herself, waving her hands around in the air, her exposed chest coated in sweat as she took in heavy breaths.
Santana bared her teeth as she tried to think, stopping to press her face against the large victorian window that resided in the center of the room. Brittany cherished this house.
"Where, where where where where where oh where are you?" Seemingly unable to tolerate another minute of her friends self destruction, Quinn decided to take a risk, and placed a hand on her exposed shoulder.
"She's somewhere. We just can't see her yet."
"But when?" Santana's voice had become shrunken, broken. Days without Brittany had been taking their toll for a while, but now she'd reached her breaking point.
She needed her, craved for her presence.
Santana's life had always been hectic, outrageous, irrational. But Brittany had been her steady constant. She was the drug that kept her reality in check, the lullaby that sang her to sleep at night, her partner in crime. What good was one without the other?
She was all these things and more, and right now Santana needed her.
She needed her, and Brittany wasn't there.
So she stood, sharp eyes looking into the nonchalant abyss that were Quinn's own, making a silent vow to kill every scumbag this world had to offer until her queen was back at her side.
Quinn nodded as if she understood and moved aside as Santana made her leave, humming a familiar tune while she calculated their next move.
"On the balcony and I'm singing
Oh baby, oh baby. I'm in love.."
Fin.
