Disclaimer: I don't own the ABC family show "Switched at Birth", which will here on be referred to as SAB

Title: Speed Talking

Author's Note: This one-shot is about a topic that's very near and dear to my heart. I feel that it's a condition that is often misunderstood or written off. A lot of people just aren't patient so they miss out on knowing new friends, new loves. So I dedicate this story to anyone who's ever had a speech problem and been or felt isolated by it.

I can't believe it! I let it happen again. I didn't mean for it to, but it did. I was talking to Emmett and I was so excited. That's when I felt it. The pressure of it was building in my throat threatening any words that I might utter. So I fell back on a well used crutch and without meaning to. My words picked up speed, running together. I was trying to be heard before the pressure could stop me.

"So I talked to my Dad about the fundraiser and the carwash…" My words trailed off as I saw the look of confusion on Emmett's face, I felt my cheeks flush with heat. "I'm…sorry…I didn't mean to…I'll slow down," I slowly back pedaled thinking about every word before it passed my lips, concentrating desperately on making each sound.

It was the only way to keep my speech slow and prevent any problems. You see what most people didn't know is that I Bay Kennish have a severe stammer, a stutter, a speech disfluency. There are so many names for it but it all boils down to one thing embarrassment. Not for me mind you. I consider it a nuisance. To my family though and the rest of the world it's something to be pitied and reviled. The only reason no one knows is because of constant vigilance and hard work on my part.

It started when I was just a little girl, six or so. I didn't speak like the other kids in my class. I tripped and stumbled, they laughed. Even at such a young age I knew how important image was to parents. I was already so different from them that I couldn't bare them knowing about this. I didn't want to deal with the disappointment. So I did the only thing that made sense at the time. I stopped talking, no really noticed. It was okay though I was content to watch other people.

I retreated inside myself after that. I guess that's when I started to really get into my art. I used the art to express myself. Since the thought of opening my mouth to do more than eat was terrifying. No one understood my self-expression, confusion blooming on their face with every new drawing. I didn't care I just kept drawing getting better and better. Eventually I graduated from colored pencils to paint. Paint opened up a whole new world of possibilities for me.

By now I was in the fifth grade. I still only spoke if I absolutely had to and still no one noticed. Or so I thought anyway. My teacher that year was Mrs. Gaglianese and she noticed that I wasn't speaking, well not orally anyway. She didn't make big deal out of it. She watched me learning how to interpret my expressions and gestures that I used in place of spoken words. She praised my art and made me smile. I loved her.

One day though she asked me to stay after school. She said that she needed to talk to me. I wasn't alarmed at first, my teacher often kept me after. The school day had passed quickly. I watched and waited as all the others collected their things and rushed out exuberance flowing from them. I was content to stay behind separate from the rest.

That's when Mrs. Gaglianese motioned me over to her desk. She already had a chair waiting for me. I watched her, she seemed nervous. She kept smoothing out her clothes and straightening her already neat desk. I sat down and looked at her waiting patiently. When she didn't speak I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head in a practiced move of expectancy. I almost wished I hadn't.

"Bay I need you to talk to me." Her expression was firm; no argument from me would be acceptable.

I couldn't believe that those words had left her mouth. I shook my head at her vigorously. I was floored and trying my best not to run from the room or pass out. I thought she understood, I thought she respected my choice to be silent. Yet here she was asking the impossible, she wanted me to speak….like with my voice! I couldn't, wouldn't do it as memories of the cruelty of six year olds surfaced in my mind. I hated that such a simple thing that came so easily to others was so difficult for me. Sometimes I wondered if I just wasn't meant to talk. I was certainly happier silent.

"Bay," she spoke again touching my shoulder startling me, "Bay I know this hard and I know that you have your reasons, but I need you talk to me. It's okay your safe here in this room. I won't judge you."

I looked at her uncertainty pumping through me as surely as there was blood in my veins. It was the look on her face so calm and accepting. Could I talk to her? Could I let her hear the truth? Would it disgust her? Would she turn away like so many others? I didn't know the answer to any of those questions…..but I wanted to. I chewed my lip as she continued to wait patiently. Finally giving in I nodded my head at her.

"You can say whatever you'd like to," she encouraged me again after I'd open and closed my mouth for the third time.

My nervousness got the better of me "I..I…I…d…don't..wa…wa..want ttttt…to..talk,talk,talk." I tripped and stumbled over my words repeating the sounds incessantly and uncontrollably.

I looked down. I didn't want to see her face. Or watch her leave the room frustrated. She didn't run from me and she didn't pity me either. She merely hugged me tight and told me that this could be worked with, that there was help. She said that I didn't have to always be so isolated by my speech.

That day she went out with me to where my parents were picking me up. She asked them to come inside, by telling them that they needed to talk. The entire time I stuck close to Mrs. Gaglianese standing just behind her halfway hidden. I listened as she explained to my parents about all the things she'd noticed about me. She told them what a wonderful and creative student I was. Not that they were entirely thrilled about the creative part.

It was then that she got down to brass tacks. She explained to them as gently as she could about my speaking to her. Of course they didn't believe her assuming it was just a sick joke. My Father even ranted a bit about going to the principal, while my Mother just looked horrified. It was then with a heavy heart and my teachers support that I spoke to my parents and I mean really spoke to them. No hesitation, no trying to control what I couldn't control.

Just as I expected they freaked out. They acted like it was the end of the world. I mean how on Earth could their baby girl have a speech problem….it was unthinkable. My Dad even accused me of faking it. That's what did me in and I cried and screamed about how I wasn't….all the while struggling for them to just understand me.

Once they believed the ball really got rolling. There were all these tests and different therapists. They must have sent me to ten different speech therapists before they found one they liked. It didn't matter to them that I didn't want to talk. Oh NO! They just couldn't respect what I was comfortable with, just because they weren't comfortable with it.

So I spent the next four years in therapy. I gained control and my speech gradually improved. Soon I was talking as much as all those around me. I still tripped occasionally but it wasn't as noticeable as before. In fact that's why I talked so quickly not because I was overly excited…well not completely. I had gotten so good with my speech that I could feel a stutter coming before it manifested. I found that if I spoke fast enough I could get my thoughts out before it disrupted my flow. Eventually it just became a habit.

That's why I was a speed talker. I didn't want anyone to hear. Not that Emmett would hear me. I knew though that if I lost it that he would see it. I didn't want him to see it either. It's not that I thought he would hold it against me. I just didn't want him aware of another pothole on the communication highway. I thought he would never have to know, I would learn sign and everything would work out. Trouble is that it was taking so damn long that he still had to rely on reading my lips most of the time.

After everything we'd been through recently I didn't want any more problems. Especially considering all the ones Daphne was sure to make for us. Recently me and Emmett had sort of broken up because of her, but he'd come back for me. He'd come running back for me.… he'd spoke with his voice for me!

"I…..Just….Want….You," those four words still brought tears to my eyes, in fact it was better than some three worded phrases he could have said.

It made me more determined than ever to learn his language, I would work harder than ever. I knew it would take a long time for me become fluent though. So that meant till then I'd have to find another way to avoid the times that it was hard to speak. That resolution had lead me back here….here being the waiting room of my old speech therapist's office. I had re-signed myself up, not only would I learn sign but I would beat this once and for all. No More Speed Talking!

"Bay Kennish," the receptionist called my name.

I stood and made my way across the room over to the door that would lead deeper into the office. Behind me I heard the door to the waiting room open and close. That's when it happened…. something in the air had… changed, shifted ever so slightly. I don't know what had caused me too but I turned around. It was like in one of those movies when everything slowed down and the viewers held their breath because they knew something the lead character didn't.

When I'd fully turned around, well to say what I saw shocked me would only be the understatement of my life. I found myself face to face with the last person I ever expected to see in here. I watched as his eyes widened in shock and confusion. I felt my throat go impossibly dry, like I hadn't drunk anything in days. What was he doing here? That was the only thing that I could think.

At the same time as he raised his hands to speak, I said "Emmett….!"

I never got to finish that thought though as the therapist pulled me through the door. It closed behind me with a resounding thud. It seemed that my boyfriend and I were going to have a lot to talk about later. I wanted to know why he was here. Of course he was going to demand the same of me. God I hated the thought of fessing but he was bound to find sooner or later. I just wished it hadn't been this soon.

I giggled as very popular line from a TV show me and my Mom use to watch together ran through my head, "Luucy you got some explaining to do!"

Okay be honest about what you think. This one-shot has been rattling around in my head for a while and I just have to know. Please if you didn't like it I understand…..just be gentle.