Author's Note: As part of my challenge to write one shots for Wemma over the course of Glee Season 3, here is my take on the moments after Will sings 'Fix You' to Emma in Asian F. It is a little angst-y, but I hope you enjoy.
Thank you once again to my Beta, Jodie, for looking over my work prior to publishing. Couldn't write without your enthusiasm.
"And I will try, to fix you." Will's voice tapered out as the lump building in his throat finally got the better of him. It was hard to hold back tears when the person he loved more than anything in the world was crumbling right before his eyes. Emma, her hands still clasped in prayer, curled herself into a ball on her bedroom floor, shaking and sobbing, powerlessness consuming her. She hadn't cried like this in a long time, not since Carl left her after discovering her love for Will was still burning brightly in her heart. A love so pure it would never burn out.
Will pulled Emma into his arms, rocking her gently. Emma rested her head on his chest, feeling his body surrounding her, comforting her. He kissed the top of her head and looked up to the ceiling, warm tears running down the curve of his cheeks. He continued a silent prayer, pleading with the powers above for strength, guidance and hope. Will had never prayed a day in his life, but praying alongside Emma, he thought some good must come from it. It had to.
"Emma, honey, I promise you we'll get through this together. I can't bear to see you like this; you're breaking my heart," Will whispered through his own deep cries. Guilt pierced his insides. This was his fault. If only. If only he hadn't invited her parents over. There was no modern invention in the world to reverse time and stop his hand from picking up that phone. What he should have done instead was listen to Emma.
But his own lack of self-confidence made him do it. He was not Carl: no fancy car, no expensive house, and definitely no medical professional. He was just Will Schuester, a high school teacher. He so wanted to impress them, show how dedicated he was to their beautiful daughter. To prove that he was a good man, no, a great man, who would look after her and treat her right. And show them how much he loved her.
Tonight was the night he was supposed to ask Rusty Pillsbury for his permission to marry Emma.
Everything was planned out in Will's mind. First, a candlelight dinner. Will had arrived home extra early to set their dining room table perfectly and put his culinary skills to work for the most sumptuous meal anyone had ever created. While the roast was in its final stages of baking, Emma would arrive home, kiss Will and join her parents in the living room, overjoyed to see them. The foursome, over a bottle of wine, would talk, share stories, laugh and really get to know one another. Sitting down to dinner, the conversation would continue, flowing freely, effortlessly. The Pillsburys would comment to Emma on how wonderful Will was; Emma would agree and hold his hand, smiling directly at him. Will would kiss her on the cheek and she would blush, slightly embarrassed, but so incredibly happy. After dinner, Emma would give Rose a tour of the apartment as Will and Rusty stepped out onto the balcony for some air. It was then, right there, where Will would ask for her hand. He had even memorised exactly what he was going to say.
"Mr Pillsbury, I love Emma very much. I know we've only been together a short time, but what Emma and I have just feels right. S-she's my soul mate and I couldn't imagine life without her. So, with your permission, I'd like to make Emma my wife."
After a brief silence, Rusty would say, "Welcome to the family, son." They would shake hands firmly, maybe even pat each other on the shoulder. Or give a manly hug.
Not longer after, the Pillsburys would leave, thanking them for a lovely evening. As soon as the door closed, Will would hold Emma flush against his body and kiss her with so much passion it would make her weak. Fumbling in his side pocket, he would reach for the red velvet box he'd kept hidden all night, placing it in Emma's hand, opening it to reveal a diamond ring. An engagement ring. Emma's engagement ring.
Emma's eyes would grow wider, a smile reaching from one ear to the other as she nodded her 'Yes,' unable to form words coherently. Will would place the ring on her finger, kissing her delicately on the lips. Tears would spring from their eyes, both excited for their future life together. He would scoop Emma in his arms, carrying her all the way to the bedroom where they would finally make love for the first time.
Yes, Will had imagined this evening would run smoothly. Tonight was to be the most magnificent night of their lives.
And now, his Emma was a shattered mess.
Will thought her ginger hair was beautiful, yet it came with a price. A price Emma needn't have endured had her parents not been ginger supremacists. Who did they think they were, anyway? Tying her thumbs together with twine, forcing her to clean everything that was touched by someone not a redhead. They practically called her a freak her entire life. How did she cope? How did she not break down? How, living with such bigoted people, did she end up with the kindest heart a person could have? If this was how the Pillsburys treated Emma, he didn't want them in her life. Ever.
Emotional scars ran deep in Emma's body. Only now were those scars reaching the surface. And they hurt like hell. She had hidden them for so long, away from the outside world, away from Will. Especially from Will. Had she not already burdened him with enough? This was her personal war, where previously, accepting defeat was the solution to live as normal a life as possible. It was easier this way. But it was not the way Emma wanted to live, no matter how normal she believed it to be. She wanted to fight. She just didn't know how.
Actual combat took courage. Will gave her that courage. Emma was so fortunate to have him as her boyfriend. He was the one person to stand up against her parents. The one person to stand up for her. He believed in her. He believed she could overcome everything that plagued her. And this is how Emma found her will to fight. Emma began to see a therapist, taking medication, making excellent progress. Will was with her every step; she could never repay him for his patience and compassion over the summer. Some days she would wake up, see Will lying next to her and pinch herself, still unable to comprehend that they were finally together and how far she had come to beating her illness.
From when she was six years old, all the jokes, the name-calling, the teasing, Emma forced herself to laugh right along, taking it in her stride. Even when it came from her parents, she simply smiled and remained mute. Internally, her body screamed for it to stop. The scars ravaged her insides, stealing her own truths, skewing her perceptions. No one to trust, branded an outcast, Emma grew up within her own private world, accepting that this was who she was meant to be. Her career choice as a guidance counsellor was a logical decision, because she genuinely enjoyed helping other people with their problems, steering them towards the 'normal' route, a destination that was purportedly out of her reach. Emma disliked the sun shining on her personal problems, permitting them to take a backseat. And that's where they stayed. But like all backseat drivers, the niggling feeling was always there.
While the medication improved her OCD immensely, major disruptions to a routine lifestyle were a setback. Her parents were a setback. They were the icing on an already overcooked Pillsbury fruitcake. But despite everything, Emma loved them, well, from a distance or through telephone wire.
Now, she just felt so exposed. The truth on how her illness came about just sat down to a dinner that ended in a heated argument and a nervous case of the 'cleanies'. Emma hadn't heard that expression since she was 18. The connotations from that one word made her sick inside. Thank God for Will. His support was all Emma needed. How he didn't run in the other direction after witnessing all this, she would never know.
Emma snuffled, shivering, cuddling further into Will's body. She heard him crying, which only made her cry more. Hiccupping between her tears, she pleaded, "I need you more than ever, Will. I need you to tell me that everything's going to be okay."
Will rubbed her back, trying to soothe her. "Everything's going to be okay."
"Tell me that you'll always be by my side." She gripped his shirt, burying her face into the crook of his arm.
"I'm here for you, always."
"Tell-tell me, t-that this hasn't changed the way you feel about me." Emma scrunched her eyes shut, afraid of his response.
"It's only made my love for you stronger."
Emma gulped. "Oh, Will, I l-love you, s-so much."
"I love you too." He put his index finger under her chin, raising her head as he leaned down to look at her. Their eyes connected. "Don't ever think otherwise." Will pressed his lips to hers, drinking in her sweetness, tasting a mixture of their salty tears. She kissed him back eagerly, concentrating on the soft touch of his mouth, allowing her mind to forget everything that happened. Her cries eased into a whimper as they drifted further into their imaginary stratosphere, through the clouds, feeling the sway of the gentle breeze encompassing their bodies. Will drew her closer, pulling her down with him, tenderly sliding his tongue inside, stroking slowly against her own as she laced her fingers through his hair. Will was aware that a kiss wasn't the answer. It wouldn't fix a lifetime of hurt. He just wanted her pain to go away. And outside of praying, this was all he could think of.
Excitement soaring high, Emma dove headfirst into unknown territory, indulging her senses. She deepened the kiss, heat licking her insides. She wanted to mould into Will's body, to feel this way forever. His caresses took the sting out. As long as he loved her, nothing else mattered. Her mouth trailed wet, hungry kisses over his jaw line and down his neck. Will explored her body with his fingertips, circling her back, reaching southwards to her behind, returning north to her ginger locks. Encouraging murmurs from both parties incited feverish desires, putting them both on the brink of temptation.
"I'm sorry Emma, I can't do this. We have to stop." Will realised he was taking Emma beyond the realm she was accustomed to. And it wasn't fair on her, especially since she was so emotionally susceptible. Regardless of her actions, despite what she thought she wanted, Will was going to make damn sure Emma would be protected from future upset.
Emma's wobbly voice whispered, "I want to feel whole again. Make me feel alive. Make me better; you're the only one that can." She grasped for his shirt, attempting to pull it up and over his head, but Will was too strong and held her off. He wiped his face clean of tears, and gazed up at her. Her pleading eyes were filled with ache. In reality, she was hopelessly lost, tossing aside the caution that kept her in control. Will shook his head, his throat constricted, managing a shaky breath. "I've screwed everything up. Look what's happened. If it wasn't for me, if it wasn't for me…I'm sorry, so sorry…" He cupped her face; her skin was soft and warm, still moist from her tears.
"It's not your fault baby." Emma kissed his forehead.
"I should have known, though," he sighed.
"You were so brave; you said something to them I've wanted to say for years, but I was too scared. Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said in a quiet hush, plunging into another mind-blowing kiss. Her fingers curled around the waistband of his blue and white striped pyjama pants, edging them down, skimming his pelvic bone.
Will grabbed her wrists. "Not tonight, not like this. Sex isn't going to make it better." He paused, inhaling deeply. "No regrets, Em."
Ignoring his impassioned plea, Emma tore off her yellow nightdress, leaving her naked with the exception of her underwear. She pounced on him with white-hot intensity, lighting a spark in his belly. "I don't care… Please?" For a moment, Will almost gave into Emma's campaign of persuasion. He could have overlooked the real reason for her actions and yielded to her begging. "Touch me… P-please… Please? It may not make it better, but it will help…" She started to attack his neck again.
Somehow, Will garnered the energy to fight her, in the kindest way possible. "Em, hon, you're too vulnerable right now. I'm not going to take advantage of you in this way." He took hold of her shoulders, lifting her off him, reaching for her clothing.
"No! No-no-no-no!" Emma sobbed, "I don't care, I want this, I want you! Make me feel like I'm a normal person, just for tonight." Anguish coiled her heart. Why was he doing this?
"You are a normal person, honey," Will countered, touching her face, but she slapped him away. She began to shake, flustered, anxiety coursing through her. Rising from her position on the floor, she slipped her nightdress back on. Will stood too, unbeknownst that the Emma he loved was about to crash and burn.
"I'm not Will! I'm a freak! I'm a freak! My parents are right!" She pushed him out of her path as she bolted to the bathroom. Will tore after her, but she proved too quick, slamming the door in his face, locking it. "Freaky Deaky, Freaky Deaky, that's all you are Emma Pillsbury!" Will heard her harrowing cries, unable to help. Then…
A smash.
A scream.
"Emma! Emma! Open the door!" Will rattled the doorknob, pounding on the door at the same time. "Emma!" Hitting it with his fist wasn't going to make it open. With all his might, he rammed his shoulder into the door, and as it gave under the pressure, bounded into the bathroom, almost ramming into her.
Shards of glass, remnants from a vase, was scattered all over the floor. Blood trickled down Emma's arm. Breathing unevenly, panic rife in her large eyes, she tried to free herself from Will's grasp as he yanked her out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom, away from slicing another part of her body.
"Leave me alone Will!" When that didn't work, Emma beat his chest with her fists, repeatedly calling herself a freak. As her arms grew tired, the war on Will's chest ceased. Burying her face in her hands, she wept uncontrollably. Will held her close, calming her, kissing her, reassuring her. "You're not a freak, you are my beautiful, precious, adorable girlfriend who in my eyes is absolutely perfect." Will's voice broke. This was becoming too much. "Believe me, Em, please believe me." He rested his head on hers and closed his eyes.
"I b-believe you," she strained, "B-but there's a large part of me that doesn't."
"Hey, hey, hey. Your parents are wrong, okay, they're wrong. They don't know you like I know you. Turn around." Emma turned to face their bureau mirror. Will wrapped his arms around her waist. "What do you see?"
Cautiously looking into the mirror, she replied, "I see a ginger-haired crazy who doesn't deserve such a wonderful guy."
"Emma…" he said in his scolding schoolteacher tone.
"It's what I see, okay?"
"You know what I see? I see an amazing, courageous woman who doesn't realise how far she's come. Her fight isn't over, but it's nearing the end. Whatever setbacks befall her, she has the strength to get up and soldier on. And, holding her, I see the man that will stand by her forever."
"You see all of that?"
"I do, sweetheart."
"I think I'm going to cry again." She turned back to the safe haven of Will's chest, shedding more tears.
"Shhh…it's okay. Let it all out."
Emma had harnessed her anger for too long. She had tried to appease her parents, gain their praise, their attention her entire childhood. And in one night, they unravelled what little self-assurance she had. Now her rage was gone. Emma felt nothing. Her mind was worn; her body tired. They remained standing, holding each other, refusing to let go. The solace they felt, the closeness of their bodies, gave them the hope to rise above the dimness. Slowly, her breathing steadied. She was all cried out.
"Do you feel better?" Will questioned softly.
"Barely." She kissed his chest. "I'm sorry I hit you. And threw myself at you. I'm so ashamed."
"It's alright, everything's alright," he replied, gently massaging her back and neck.
His fingers felt nice, kneading her muscles, relieving her of tension. "But I understand why. And I'm glad you said no."
"Trust me, it was really difficult, your body is stunning. When we do, uh, reach that milestone, it'll be magical. Because we'll be able to express our feelings without external influences, just us, loving each other in the most intimate way possible."
For the first time that night, Emma smiled.
"Now," Will continued, "Let me take a look at your arm."
Emma held her arm out. The small gash had put on a good show; there was quite a bit of blood, but the cut was only minor. "Ow, I think I have some in my foot too." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
"Dr Will to the rescue. Sit down on the bed; I'll get the first aid kit." Emma did what she was told. She looked at her arm. Most of the blood has dried, and she noticed some on Will's grey shirt. Bringing her leg up to her knee, she squinted at the tiny shard shining from the ball of her foot. Throwing that vase probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. But it helped.
Will returned with his first aid kit and began to swab the cut. It stung a little and there was still a tiny sliver embedded in her skin. He got the tweezers and pulled it out, dropping it in a disposable container.
"Bandaid?" Will asked.
Emma nodded. He placed a strip on her arm. "Kiss to make it better?"
She nodded again. Will kissed her arm, then her lips, sending a tingly feeling down her spine. Then he tended to her foot. The piece of glass in her foot was bigger, and in quite deep. But it was out in a flash and with the other in the container. Emma breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you." She patted his leg.
"It was nothing. C'mon, let's go to bed. We'll worry about cleaning up tomorrow. You need to rest." Will put the first aid kit on the dresser.
"What about your shirt?" Will looked down, observing the bloodstains. He took the shirt off and dug in the bottom drawer for another. "We'll wash that in the morning as well."
Will tucked Emma into bed, kissing her nose. She smiled back at him, her eyes slightly red and swollen. She was exhausted. Will climbed in next to her, enveloping her in his arms. He kissed her cheek.
"Hold me, Will."
"I am sweetie."
"I can't feel you, hold me, please." Will held her tighter against his body, so tight he felt as if he was squeezing the life out of her.
"I'm holding you." He pulled the covers over them.
They laid there in silence; relishing in the comfort they brought each other when together. He breathed in the faint scent of her perfume, the first time he was able to concentrate on it tonight. It was the same one she was wearing the day they met. Sweet and rosy, the fragrance haunted Will many a lonely night, reminding him of the woman who captured his soul.
"You know, there's only one Emma Pillsbury in the world; I'm so glad she's you." He placed his hand over hers, knitting their fingers together.
"Will," Emma mumbled, her eyes heavy, "Thank you for loving me the way you do."
"I'll love you no matter what. Sleep tight, my angel."
The room became quiet as the couple drifted off to sleep.
The sun peeked from behind the buildings, its lumbering stream of light signifying the start of a new day. Will rolled over towards Emma, wanting to give her a morning cuddle, but her side of the bed was mysteriously empty.
"Emma?" Will called out. He sat up, worried. Then he heard a scraping of glass against tile. He got out of bed, wincing from the pain where Emma hit him. Still half asleep, he stumbled to the bathroom. Rubbing his eyes, trying to focus, he spotted Emma on the bathroom floor, dustpan and brush in hand.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" Emma asked, taking a break from her clean up. "I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep and thought I'd get a head start on cleaning up."
"Do you need any help?" Will leaned on the door frame.
"No, it's fine, I'm almost done. I think I'll go for a shower after I finish since I only had one shower last night."
"How are you feeling?" Will kissed her lips. He could taste the peppermint from their toothpaste.
"I'm doing okay. Still feeling a bit drained, but I'll be fine. I…I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it yet."
"Well, whenever you're ready, I'll be here." He touched her chin, bringing her closer and kissed her again. "Breakfast will be on the table when you're done."
After Emma was 100% sure she removed every last bit of the glass, she placed the pieces in some newspaper, then in a plastic bag and into the garbage bin. Returning to the bedroom, she grabbed some clothes from her wardrobe. Emma couldn't wait to wash remnants of the evening down the drain with a cooling shower. Will smiled at her as he made the bed. She smiled back, stepping into the bathroom and closed the door.
It was nice to see her smiling again.
Scanning the bathroom a second time, she sighed. Men would never learn to tidy up after themselves. "Will, putting your dirty clothes on the hamper isn't the same as putting them in the hamper." Emma picked up the pants he was wearing last night. "And… There's something still in the pocket. You remember last time you left something in your pocket…"
Pocket. Pocket. Emma's engagement ring! Will dashed to the bathroom, frantically opening the door. "No Em, don't open… that." Too late. The red velvet box had already revealed its contents to the prospective owner.
The 18k yellow gold ring, with a solitaire diamond, bead-set claws and diamonds on the shoulders, glistened in the light. Will selected it earlier last month, putting down a deposit and then paying off every week until yesterday, when it officially became his. Emma couldn't take her eyes off it.
"A ring. An engagement ring?"
"Uh-huh."
"My engagement ring?" Will nodded. "It's gorgeous." Breathless, Emma backed up against the wall, placing her hand on her heart. "But, why, wha–"
"I was going to propose to you after your parents left," he began. "Last night was two-fold. First, meet your parents. Second, ask your father if I could marry you. With things going the way they did, I wanted to wait for the right opportunity…but I don't know if I can wait anymore."
"Well, why don't you ask me now?" Emma asked hopefully, passing him the box, biting her lip.
"You don't want to wait for a romantic moment?"
"No."
"Special occasion?"
"Uh-uh."
"What about –"
"Please ask me before I burst!"
"Okay, here goes." Will cleared his throat. He fixed his eyes on hers, taking her hand in his. "Just over two years ago, I fell in love, I mean, really fell in love, for the first time. This remarkable woman and all her quirks drew me into her world, like a bee to honey. She has changed my life for the better. And although she has obstacles to overcome, I will be with her every step of the way. That woman, Emma, is you. Whenever I was down, you lifted me. You ignited my passion to do the things I love. My heart beats a little faster when I'm in your presence. You bring out the best in me and I can't imagine my life without you being a part of it. Put simply; you're my soul mate. So," he got down on one knee, holding the ring box, "Emma Pillsbury, will you be my wife?"
Emma took in a sharp breath, beaming, exclaiming, "Yes, Will, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"
Will took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Emma jumped on the spot, clapping her hands and laughing, ecstatic that she was finally going to become Mrs Will Schuester. She leapt into his arms and they kissed, long and slow, blissfully pleasing each other, soaking up a moment that was to become an indelible memory. Will felt the tears run down Emma's face. She rested her forehead on his, breathing softly.
"Thank you for being everything I need. I love you more than anything."
Brushing away her tears, Will replied, "Weep no more, my Emma, I'll be with you, always."