Here it is; the final chapter. I want to thank everyone so much for reading it has meant so much to me. As always, please review (you know I love them). Also, I already have another fic in the works, and if you go under my author name I wrote another short Brittana fic previous to this one. For the last time at the Moulin Rouge, enjoy!

Chapter 10:

Good, she's not home, Brittany thought, as her tentative wrap of the familiar brass knocker on Santana's door was answered only with silence. Not having to stand on her tip toes as the shorter brunette did, Brittany lifted a hand and searched briefly atop the door casing until her slender fingers found the cold metal of the key to Santana's flat. She let herself in and quickly moved about the room, gaze trained intently on the floor in search of the diamond earring that she had lost in the midst of her heated love-making with Santana. No, she thought, that wasn't love making. That was…abuse. Being taken advantage of. Sex. Nothing more. But obviously Santana was good at that, as that was why her apartment was empty. She was surely as heatedly entangled with the Duke right now as she had been with Brittany the previous evening. Angered at her own weak will, Brittany furiously wiped the welling tears from her eyes and continued her search. As she reached a hand blindly under the edge of the bed, she heard a crinkling sound and pulled out a disheveled looking letter. Her heart stopped immediately and the nausea flew in like a flock of buzzards as she recognized the familiar handwriting and signature; the Duke. Her eyes hungrily absorbed the words, her skin growing paler, and her hands growing shakier with every word. No sooner had the letter come to a close and its meaning sunken in than a small gasp escaped Brittany's lips,

"Santana…" Before her brain could process her actions she was on her feet and sprinting for the door. She hurtled the stairs, three at a time, thanking God for her long, gazelle-like stride. As she exited into the back square of the Moulin, the most direct route to the West Tower, a scream broke the still night air. Brittany's heart stopped in her chest and her blood ran cold; that hoarse, strangled cry belonged to Santana. Her legs were a blur as she sprinted to the base of the tower, the screaming growing louder, more frequent, and more desperate as she approached. Again she vaulted the stairs, willing herself to push harder, move faster. She finally reached the top and was confronted with a large, crackled black door. Her hand found the knob in an instant, and thankfully it was not locked. Brittany pushed open the door, the final barrier muting the screams. When the wooden wall had been removed, her ears were assaulted by a crying, moaning, that couldn't be human. It couldn't be human because how could any human possibly be subjected to the kind of brutality that would produce these low, animal moans and howls?

Brittany entered the room. Her eyes searched desperately until she found the far wall, and the scene that she witnessed almost brought her to her knees. Santana was tied to the bed by each limb. Her bustier had been cut open and her breasts were exposed, vulnerable. Her shins, or what was left of them, were a mangled red river of blood with floating, blindingly white bits of what Brittany could only assume was bone, bobbing amongst it. The Duke, sporting a bloody lip, loomed over a thrashing Santana, firmly pressing a white hot iron poker to the inside of her left thigh. His eyes flickered black and hard in the fire light and his mouth held a smile that would have made the Devil shiver. He had not heard her come in over the sounds that were escaping Santana. She wailed and shook, trying desperately to escape but to no avail. Here eyes were wide but unseeing, the black water of her pupils almost drowning the gentle russet that Brittany so loved. Her wrists were raw and bleeding from the angry bite of her restraints and her shins made a horrible grating noise with every renewed thrust away from the Duke. Brittany stood, rooted in shock, watching the love of her life be tortured to death, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the ice that had frozen the blood in her veins was at once melted, and instead the blood began to boil with an anger unlike any other that Brittany had ever felt.

With three great strides, she was at the coffee table, snatching with one hand the thick crystal candlestick that must've weighed twenty pounds. In another three, she was behind the Duke and using both her hands to raise the impromptu weapon above her head and then bring it crashing down with all her might, bludgeoning the Duke squarely upon the back of the skull. Brittany heard a swift crack as the crystal met bone, and then an unpleasant squelching as it continued deeper. The Duke's limbs went immediately limp and he crashed to the floor, the cooling iron clattering beside him. Brittany dropped the candlestick, dripping with scarlet, and quickly made her way to the side of the bed, hurriedly undoing Santana's restraints. She watched the Latina's face, watched as her eyelids flitted open and close, and her gaze drifted in and out of consciousness.

"You stay awake for me, Santana." Brittany cooed, placing a quick, gentle kiss on the raw meat of Santana's wrist that was exposed by the first removed bit of rope. The eyes flitted to her face, showing a hint of recognition. Santana's mouth opened and closed, and her body instinctively tilted toward Brittany.

"No, you stay still. Just stay still, love." The tears were flowing freely as she undid the remaining bonds and Santana's eyes never once left her. Knowing there was no other way, Brittany knelt on the bed next to Santana,

"Santana I—yes, hello beautiful," she smiled and responded to a weak hand on her cheek. "Santana I am going to pick you up now. This is going to hurt very much but I need to get you out of here. Is that ok? Do you trust me?" Santana nodded without hesitation, a croak issuing from her throat,

"Ah luh oo," Santana rasped and Brittany's eyes flooded with tears as she nodded rapidly and brushed back satiny black hair from an alarmingly cold and sweaty forehead,

"I know. I love you too." Brittany took the proclamation of love as a "yes" to her previous question. Standing once again, she placed one arm under the bend of Santana's knees and the other on her back, just below her armpit, and without instruction Santana looped her arms around Brittany's neck.

"Are you ready?" Brittany whispered. Another croak. Brittany lifted, gingerly applying force until Santana was an inch off the bed. Santana's legs flopped down slightly as her feet were no longer supported by the mattress and she gave a barely contained shriek of pain that jolted through Brittany's heart.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." She cried, but Santana only shook her head wearily, closing her eyes tightly and breathing deeply. When the eyes fluttered back open and locked themselves on Brittany's face once again, she resumed her task. Brittany began to right herself again, trying to jostle Santana's broken and battered form as little as possible. When she had straightened fully, Brittany began taking the most wary of steps, not rushing the painstaking process. The journey took two hours, and Santana's eyes never left Brittany's face.

Xxxx

Brittany looked over to the chair next to her own to see Santana's doe eyes trained on her with a look so entirely flooded with love that Brittany sometimes thought she might drown in it. It seemed Santana hadn't torn her eyes from Brittany except when they slept ever since the moment she had saved her from that tower.

"Santana," Brittany murmured, "why do you keep looking at me that way?" Santana only smiled broadly and reached over to take her lover's hand.

"Well," she stated, "the night before my…accident, when you left my flat, I was sure I would never see you again. And, I honestly don't know how I did get the chance to. We both know it was a miracle I survived that, and I am still convinced it is a dream. So, just in case, I am never going to stop looking at you. I never want there to be a last time I see you. And if I don't take my eyes off of you, that can't happen, can it?" Brittany laughed her airy, childlike giggle.

"Well, no, I suppose it can't. But Santana, you must know that I'm not going anywhere, don't you?"

"I know," Santana shrugged, "but with you it's not worth taking any chances. And, besides, you're the most beautiful thing in the world. Why waste my time looking at anything else?" Brittany ducked her head from Santana's heavy gaze and blushed fervently.

"I don't think I believe that out of all of San Juan, you have nothing better to look at than me." Santana rose, slightly shakily, on her newly healed legs, still adorned by lightning-bolt like scars that spidered over her shins, and moved swiftly in front of Brittany. She knelt in the sand in front of the tall blonde's beach chair, and locked her brown eyes firmly on dancing blue. Brittany saw a mischievous look that she knew all too well creep onto the brunette's face. Santana raised her hand slowly and placed her fingertips on the side of her tanned neck and traced them down, along the ridge of the ridge of her collar bone, glancing lightly over the center of her sternum and then dragging painfully slowly through the sumptuous valley between her breasts. Brittany swallowed thickly, her eyes following each and every movement of Santana's fingers. The slender caramel digits dipped into the breast of Santana's yellow cotton sundress and pulled out a small, glittering object. Santana laughed at Brittany's lustful expression.

"It works every time." She smirked and, finally snapped back to her senses at the brunette's words, Brittany scowled and rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Santana continued, "if you don't believe me, then I guess I will just have to spend the rest of my life showing you." Santana unfurled her fingers, and in her palm, glittering in the Puerto Rican sun, lay a silver ring with a beautifully crafted diamond embedded in it. Brittany inhaled sharply, her jaw dropping.

"You are all I see Brittany, and I will never look away." Santana promised. The tears came to Brittany's eyes and her throat clenched tightly around the single word she wanted to get out, so furious nodding sufficed. She flew forward in her chair and placed her hands upon Santana's cheeks and pulled her lips to her own in a kiss fueled by every ounce of love she had inside of her.

"I—love-you, Santana." She finally managed between kisses and gleeful sobs.

"I love you more," the brunette whispered against her lips. Brittany smirked and pushed Santana backwards onto the sand and covered her sun kissed body with her own.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that."