Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created in Glee. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is being intended. However, all original characters belong to me.
A/N: the plot for this story came to me one day, I set it aside while working on my other story Broken (It's structured around Brittany, most of my Glee stories are focused around her because I find her to be the easiest to mold since there is still not too much know about her outside of Glee, Cheerios, Santana, and Artie.) I wouldn't say this story is serious, I would consider it to be emotional.
First I'd like to say I love Brittany and Santana together, I have my issues, but that's beside the point. This will be one story of two different stories using the same basic plot of 'family', but each will be in a different context. I don't plan on having this story very long no more than 10 no less than 7 chapters and I will try to make them as long as I can, aside from this one.
A/N UPDATE: There isn't much of an 'update' to explain a simple plot change. Nothing to large other than I have decided to have Santana not 'dislike' Artie as much as I originally was planning at the beginning. There is more of a distasteful understanding for what happened and why behind Santana's attitude and involvement with Brittany in the story. It will not be touched much but there is also a relationship between Quinn and Rachel that will be looked at and played with. Quinn and Rachel will be the subjects for the second idea (which will be explored at some point in their own story).
I'm not the best with grammar and spelling. I'm dyslexic, so I apologize.
Anyway, enjoy, leave me a review. I'm a big fan of wanting t know what you as the reader thinks.
Title: Closer
Rating: T – language
Summary: The decisions we make, mold us every day for the rest of our lives. It is these decisions that have led Brittany and Santana down to another crossroads together. Can Santana, will Santana's decision change Brittany's life forever.
Chapter 1
The large king sized bed had become her sanctuary for what felt like weeks. The reality though was it had only been a day maybe two. The young woman with the slender dancer body and sun shot blond hair cocooned herself within the stillwater blue and white satin sheets. It was nine a.m. Monday morning, and still no motivation to leave bed.
The doctor had prepared them for this, she had said "I think it best you prepare yourself for the worst result, Brittany, that is not saying it will be, but after last time, none of this should be taken lightly, especially your chances of depression." Brittany hadn't taken it lightly. She consumed herself with work, painting after painting. She worked day in and day out. This resulted in a series of ridged and untamed pieces, she would gesso them later. Brittany wanted no memory of these last few weeks.
A crumpled envelope lay across a small nearby desk letter opener still beside the letter. Brittany continued to look at the thin sheet of white computer paper. It was after all the sheet of paper they had been anxiously been waiting for, and dreading the results that had come. Brittany's wondered, wondering if she could have done anything eaten healthier, excised more or less. There had to have been something should have done, to make her body work. She could make her body move seamlessly along a dance floor. She could control her every movement, but the one thing, the one part of her body, she had always believed know like the back of her hand had betrayed her, not once, but twice.
…
The exam room was cold, as all hospitals were. The room was a bright white aside from the camel colored leather chairs and table which smelt unnaturally clean. Brittany sat upright in one of the chairs. So many had not wanted her to go alone, however it was the only time she could spare. This had been the only time her work schedule would allow.
"Hello, Brittany, it's good to see you, I hope everything is well."
"Hi, Dr. Williams it's good to see you too, and everything is fine, thanks." Brittany reluctantly rose from the seat. The old leather crackled from the loss of her weight. She lifted herself onto the table.
"Now, you are sure you want to have this appointment alone?" She pulled a blue ballpoint pen from her white coat pocket. "We can always reschedule," said Dr. Williams as she flipped through the chart. "I understand that it is your body, but to have both you and your husband here would be much more beneficial, especially after last time."
Brittany bit at her lower lip, she would be strong.
"It's alright; we will both be here for the next appointment. There was just no way of scheduling together. He has his classes and I have my clients, but next time we will be together."
Dr. Williams nodded. "Now, what we have set up for you today is a series of blood tests. Of course, once we have everything finished we will give you a call. As well as, send you a more detailed letter explaining our findings."
Brittany nodded. She took a deep breath as she watched the nurse roll up her sleeve, and begin to prepare her for the procedure.
…
Brittany sighed. She wanted to, no needed to talk to someone. Someone she had not spoken to directly in three years. The chances of being hung up on were high, so high in fact, that that humiliation was only reason holding her back from calling her. Still, now, now she needed a friend, her best friend, to help her through what could be the most emotional time in her life.
THE OFFICE WAS SMALL, but it was hers. Santana Lopez, after attending Ohio State University, was accepted into the University of Southern California Los Angeles. Finally, she had interned then scavenged her way around Ohio's world of Public Relations until, finally with enough connections, creditably, and money to her name opened a small PR firm in Columbia, Ohio, which had just recently begun to branch out into larger more predominant cities around the United States.
"Good afternoon Miss Lopez," said the chipper voice of one of the two interns she employed.
"Hello, Sarah, do I have any calls?"
Sara skimmed her notes diligently. "Yes, you do actually. Mr. Johnson called; he needs you to conference with him and a few of his clients tomorrow while he is in New York. Kurt Hummel called. He needs you to stop by the restaurant as soon as you can, today. Your mother called."
Santana scoffed at the mention of her mother. She loved her dearly, but she could only take her so much, for so long.
"Oh yes, and a Brittany Abrams called you today, as well."
The chrome plated coffee mug crashed to the floor spilling crème filled coffee across the white carpeted floor.
"Miss Lopez? Miss Lopez is every—"
"When did she call?"
"No more than two hours ago just as you left for your lunch meeting."
"Thank you, Sarah. I'll take the calls in my office." Santana opened the door, hand still holding tight to the handle feeling for the door to click shut. She walked over to the large desk. Photo after photo lay strewn about its top. The photos consisted of her clients in a verity of different positions compromising and not. Santana glanced through; she really should start to work. She lifted of a photo of Mercedes Jones and Rachel Berry, she paused. They could wait.
Santana took hold of her cell phone, skimmed through the numbers, and clicked. She wondered for a moment if this was still the number. There was no turning back now, the phone began to ring.
"Hello?" Brittany had picked up.
I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think. The next Chapter will be much longer; this was just the stories setup.