Chapter Two

"Dude, we have to tell him to get his shit together," Puck says, shaking his head.

"Isn't he kind of going through a lot right now? I mean, Kurt just switched schools, and I think he must feel a little responsible."

"Yeah, and he and Rachel are on the rockies, something big is about to give between them."

"So," Mike says as they walk down the hall; they've just left the change room from another intense football practice. "Don't you think we should give him a break?"

Puck shakes his head, "He's the quarterback, he needs to get it together. The championship game is coming up in a month, we have to be ready."

Mike looks incuriously at the other boy, "Since we got Coach Beiste we haven't lost a game."

"Exactly! And we're going to ruin our luck if our quarterback doesn't get his head out of his ass. Look, I'll talk to Hudson," he says as they reach a fork in the hallway, "I'll catch you later." He nods and then heads off towards the front of the school to the parking lot.

Mike shakes his head at Puck's forcefulness and heads to his locker. Or so he intends.

Brittany's sitting on the bottom steps of one of the staircases, looking across the hall and out the window into the Quad. He stops walking, staying out of her immediate line of vision. She isn't in her Cheerio's uniform, but black sweat pants and a blue tank top. Her chin is resting in her hands, with her elbows on her knees. She isn't frowning, but she isn't smiling either.

As if sensing his presence, the blonde blinks and shakes her head, looking over at him. "Hey."

"Hey," he replies cautiously. "What are you doing?" It's after school on a Friday, Mike can think of no reason why Brittany would be sitting there alone.

"I wanted to use the ballet room afterschool," she answers, shifting to one side of the staircase. Mike walks over and, dropping his bag with a thump, sits down next to her. "I have a competition coming up, but Jupiter's is being renovated."

Jupiter's is the name of the dance studio they've both been attending for over a decade. They took jazz lessons together when they were little and became easy friends. By now they've both migrated through learning different forms of dance at the studio and don't take the same lessons anymore, but the bond they formed when they were younger never left.

They still see each other in passing at the studio when their lessons overlap, and once a month on free-style night. The two of them can bring down the house on those days. The other students can dance amazingly, but no one can free-style quite like the Jellyfish and the Lobster when they're together.

"You didn't hear about the stink bomb?" Mike asks, referring to the reason why the dance room has been closed the past two days. Principal Figgins hadn't been too happy, and still hadn't "determined the culprits behind this vile act."

She shakes her head, giggling slightly. "No. I didn't know. And it totally ruined my plan of rehearsing when I walked in and gagged." Her slight smile fades, "It kind of sucks though, I really wanted to practice."

"Why don't you just use the choir room?"

"I tried, but Mr. Schue's already left for the night."

"So? Why didn't you just sneak in?"

She gapes at him. "Mike!"

"What? Mr. Schue wouldn't mind. Come on." Before Brittany can protest he's gripping her hands and leading her down the hall towards the choir room. He can feel her hesitation, but she doesn't pull out of his grasp as he tows her along. Yes, it's after hours and they shouldn't be in the room. But Mike knows he's right, Mr. Schue won't mind.

The lights in the room are off, but the door isn't locked, for which Mike is thankful. Of the Glee kids, he is one of the least likely to be able to break-in somewhere, that's more Puck, or maybe Santana's, area of expertise.

They slip inside, Mike laughing to himself at the idea of spending even more time inside the room. It's become like a second home to them, to all the Glee kids. Somewhere they can go and be themselves. Like a sanctuary.

For him, it's the first place besides his room and Jupiter's that he can go and dance. Where he can dance and dance and not care what anyone says. That dancing is a girl's thing, that it makes him gay for liking it, that he's a wimp for not liking sports.

It's the reason he tried out for the football team in freshman year, to keep people from finding out about his love of rhythm and movement. For a long time Brittany was the only one at school who knew what he did in his spare time, and she kept his secret for him, knowing that some people would never understand.

And then Glee club happened, and it's slowly brought him out of his shell. He's still a little nervous about singing a solo for the group, but now he never holds back when he feels overcome with the need to dance.

And Brittany gets it, she's always gotten it.

"Alright," Mike says, opening the cabinet with the stereo system. He holds out his hand while he turns the machine on, smiling when he feels the weight of a CD case drop into his palm. After inserting the disc the room fills with music, a high and moving melody with a steady base underneath.

He turns and Brittany is standing in the middle of the floor stretching her body out, fingers twitching as she does so while the music begins to wash over her.

"When's the competition?"

"This weekend," she answers, glancing up nervously at him. "About an hour away, so I have to study for the English test in the car."

"You read the book this time though, right?"

She nods, smirking.

"Group number?"

Blond hair swings in her pony tail as Brittany shakes her head, "No. Solo dance this time. We did a big group thing a few weeks ago."

"How long have you been practicing?"

"Only about a month and a half. I wasn't going to do it at first, when my teacher asked, but… I figured it would help take my mind off… things…" she trails off, remembering to herself. Mike can see something in her eyes, something that looks like pain, but he doesn't press for answers from her.

He also doesn't ask why she's practicing the day before her competition if she's been doing so for over a month. Because he already knows the answer.

Just like how this room is a sanctuary for him, it's also a sanctuary for her. For as long as he's known Brittany, and he's known her a long time, one of her biggest problems has been her confidence. She knows her body and she knows how to move, but her mind sometimes thinks differently than other people's. She was teased a lot when she was younger – they didn't go to the same school until high school, but they've been friends long enough that he knows what she went through. What she still goes through.

She isn't teased now, she isn't blatantly made fun of, but her confidence is still constantly being worn down just by the way people treat her, despite the red and white uniform that should protect her.

Mike remembers when they first started high school, finding out the Brittany from dance class was not the same Brittany at school. At Jupiter's, Brittany let herself be free. She spoke her mind, was always laughing and moving, and people accepted her and admired her.

At school, Brittany let herself fall into a role everyone had picked for her. She stayed quiet often, letting herself fade into Quinn's shadow. She mimicked Quinn and Santana and the other Cheerios, pretending to act mean to other kids but never putting any heart into it. And once she was labelled a dumb blonde, she let herself play the part.

Mike has never thought Brittany was unintelligent. He knows she sees things differently, it's something he loves about her, but he knows she isn't stupid. Yet she lets other people think she is, pretends to be. At first Mike didn't understand it, but he thinks he gets it now. Being made fun of because she wasn't as bright as everyone else when she was younger wore down her self-esteem to the point where, now, she lets people tell her she's wrong and stupid and all kinds of other hurtful words, even when she's right, rather than stand up for herself, because she doesn't like causing conflicts.

Being in the choir room lets her come out of her shell a little bit, just like it does for him. Most of the Glee kids still write her off as the dumb blonde, but in here she's able to be herself and less likely to be judged.

But that's why it's a day before she has to perform and she's still practicing. Because her low self-esteem has worn its way into the one thing she's most confident about. Her dancing.

Brittany knows she can dance. Brittany knows she can command her body to do things other people's can't. But Mike can see the difference between when Brittany is dancing simply to dance, and when she's dancing because she's going to be judged on it. It's why she puts so much focus into learning their routines for Glee numbers, not because it's hard for her – its anything but – but because she doesn't want to be the one to let people down.

"Did you want to practice alone?" Mike asks after a moment.

Brittany ponders this for a few seconds, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "Actually…" she questions him tentatively, "Can… could I run through it with you? Maybe you can give me some feedback? Since the competition's tomorrow?"

Mike smiles, because to him Brittany will always be the small, blonde girl with freckles and pig-tails, asking if he'll be her dance partner during one of their first classes together.

"Sure," he says, mimicking his response from years ago.

So she dances.

Mike tries to be critical as he watches, looking for things to comment on to help her improve, since he knows that's what she wants, but it's hard. Watching Brittany move is an amazing thing. The passion she has, the ease with which her body goes through the motions, touches him. It's the same as when he watches Tina dance or hears her sing; they both have a distracting beauty when it comes to things like this.

The music ends and her body stills. Her limbs are loose and her hair's come down from its tie, and she's breathing steadily in and out, not quite heavily and having worked up a sweat, but she's getting there. Her face is determined, only the corners of her lips are pulled up in a ghost of a smile.

"That was really good."

Brittany huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face. "No, it wasn't," she counters as the CD begins the next song. She walks over to the machine to put the first song on again, looping it so it will repeat over and over. "I was a little weak near the end."

"You lost your center."

She nods, agreeing, "My ankle wobbled and it totally set me off."

"Go through it again," he tells her, walking closer.

She smirks at him, knowing the look in his eyes. But she complies, her body beginning its dance once again. She twirls, spins, kicks and extends over and over for him. And this time he calls out things to her, watching her move with a critical eye, the way he does when he helps teach classes to some of the younger kids at the studio. He gives her feedback, telling her things she agrees with and recognizes need improvement, and things she hadn't realized.

By the time she collapses on the floor, smiling but spent, he knows she's going to win. Even without seeing any of the other competitors. This dance is different from what he's seen her do before. The moves and the style are the same, but there's something behind it that gives her just a little extra push.

"Thanks," she pants, lying on her back on the cold tile floor.

"No problem. Here," he produces a bottle of water from her bag. She smiles, and then grumbles as she has to sit up to drink.

Mike is breathing a little heavily too, because by the end of the session he was dancing with her. He can't resist music, no matter how hard he tries.

"You're really good."

"Thanks," she repeats, capping the water after a long pull and dropping back down again.

"You're going to do amazing, Britt."

She shrugs, "Maybe."

"No, really," Mike argues, looking down at her as he sits next to her sprawled and exhausted body. "That was one of the – the best dance I think I've ever seen you do."

"You're just saying that."

No, he isn't. Not at all. "Really, Britt. I've never seen you move quite like that before. It was amazing. You're going to kill it tomorrow."

She ducks her chin and looks away, brushing off the complement.

"Why'd you decide to do it?" He asks after a while.

"Hmm?"

"You said earlier that at first you weren't going to enter. What made you change your mind?"

The blonde blinks, staring up that the ceiling tiles. Her breathing has calmed down but she hasn't moved from where she dropped. "I needed a distraction," she finally offers.

"From what?" Mike asks, genuinely concerned.

There is a long and heavy sigh in response, and Mike realizes there's more going on here than he knows. Something is really bothering the girl lying next to him. He sits forward more, so his legs are crossed and he's looking at her with his full attention. "Does this have to do with the autumn-confetti thing at the wedding?"

"Yeah."

"You know you can tell me, right? Whatever's bugging you?"

"I know."

It makes Mike frown when she doesn't elaborate.

"Britt?" Her eyes close for a moment, and Mike realizes when she opens them again that they're moist with un-shed tears. "Brittany, what's going on?" He asks forcefully.

He wants to make her sit up and look at him, he wants her to make eye contact with him. But he holds back from tugging her up from the floor, not wanting to scare her off. Instead he waits as she lays on the floor and stairs at the ceiling, contemplating telling him what's bothering her.

"I needed a distraction," she finally repeats. "I needed to just… stop thinking. About everything that was going on. I needed to just let everything fade away for a little while, and dancing helps. I stopped doing individual-competitive last year, once I was doing Cheerios and Glee; I only did the group-competitive stuff. But… practicing on my own, for something that was wholly and solely mine, it let me drift away for a little while."

"Why did you need to drift?" He asks quietly.

"Because I don't know what I'm doing anymore." Her hands fidget with the hem of her tank but Mike sits very still and listens as she continues. "I… San and I are fighting. I think."

"You think?" He asks, the words bubbling free before he can stop them. He's confused enough to hear the two are fighting, because that rarely happens. Brittany and Santana are always in-synch. But the fact that Brittany doesn't even know worries him.

"I… yeah. I… I think. We… we had a bit of a fight in the parking lot last week."

Mike wants to ask what the fight was about, but knows that if she doesn't offer a reason, then it probably isn't his business.

"And we kind of… we were kind of fighting before that too. Not like… not like fighting fighting. But she… something happened. And it hurt. And then we kind of stopped talking for a little while. And then we were pretending everything was okay even though it wasn't. And now she's mad at me because I'm…"

He waits, but eventually she changes the subject. "I'm dating Artie."

"I know."

She frowns up at the ceiling. "No, I…" Then she sighs and starts over, "I think I'm dating Artie for the same reason I'm doing this dance competition."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Just to… to make myself feel better because my best friend really hur– to make myself feel better and forget for a little while." She sits up suddenly, turning so she's facing him fully. "Is that bad?"

"What?"

"Is that mean, what I'm doing?"

"Why would it be mean?" He's lost her thought-path by now.

"Because I'm being selfish. Because I don't actually like… I mean, I do, but, it isn't… Am I being mean to Artie for doing this? And to Santana?"

Mike takes a moment to really think about how to answer this for her, because her eyes are begging him to help. "I don't think you're being selfish for dating Artie," he starts. "I mean, obviously you like him enough to date him, you like his company. And he clearly likes you. I don't think there's anything wrong with that, if he makes you feel better about anything that's going on. I don't think… I don't think you're using him, if that's what you're getting at. You just want to have a little fun, right?"

She nods, but Mike can tell by the look in her eyes that she doesn't believe him, and that the conversation is over. Like before, he sees the shadow wash over her, watches her change into the Brittany willing to give in and submit to avoid conflict.

"I should run through it one more time," she says, standing and moving over towards the stereo system once again.

Mike jumps to his feet to follow her and places a gentle hand on her shoulder, "You're going to do great, Britt."

She turns to look at him, eyes closed-off but a bit of hopefulness peeking through. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he nods. "You and Santana will make up, you always do. And you and Artie are good together. And you will do great at this competition. Because the other competitors won't have a passion behind their song like you do."

"Thanks Mike, for helping me with the dance."

"Any time."

And he really does mean anytime; he'll always try to help Brittany when her confidence wavers.


He does exactly that one week later, when, after a few days of practicing their routine for Sectionals – wherein he and Brittany have a dance solo – Brittany's confidence fails her again. She lets it settle in her head that if she can't do this perfectly that she'll cost the team the competition.

It starts off simply. They start rehearsing every day after school – she even neglects going to Cheerio practices as often as she can. At first it's light and happy while they're still making up their moves. But once they have their routine and are working on perfecting it Mike sees the change happen. He watches as, day after day, Brittany's smile starts to fade into a mix of determination and fear. She starts pushing herself, and him, harder and harder as the worry that she's going to fail them grows inside her.

It's a few days before Sectionals. The two of them had English second period – they were only watching the movie version of the book they had to read – so they bagged off the class and went to go practice in the always-empty Astronomy room. They had shoved some of the desks to one side of the room and set up a small CD player and gone to work, with Brittany's frustration growing each time she mis-stepped. Second period led into lunch, wherein Brittany completely gave in, dropping heavily into one of the empty chairs.

"I can't do this."

"Yes, you can."

She shakes her head glumly, "No. No, I can't do this."

Mike tries his hardest to get her out of it, the hopelessness feeling she falls into, but his words of encouragement aren't enough. After about twenty minutes of trying he realizes that he isn't the one she needs. He and Brittany are close friends, but she needs someone closer to cheer her up.

He knows she and Santana are on rocky grounds right now. At first glance they seem to be okay, but he can see the tension between them if he looks hard enough. But Mike knows that, if there's anyone who can calm Brittany now, its Santana. It's always been Santana. And even though they're sort of fighting, he knows Santana will come if he says Brittany needs her.

While Brittany's pouting at the ground Mike quickly texts Tina to call him. Then he goes back to trying to convince the blonde that she does in fact know how to dance and won't let them down.

"I know you can to this, Brittany."

"But what if I can't, Mike? I already let the group down last year at Sectionals, when I gave Sue the set list. I… I can't do it again. I can't be the reason we lose. I can't do that to everyone a second time. They don't like me enough as it is."

He's in the middle of addressing this, "Brittany, everyone in Glee loves you. And I believe in you, I know you won't let us-" when his phone rings.

She looks sadly at him as he reaches into his pocket and pulls it out. The display says Tina, just like he'd asked. But Brittany doesn't know that. "Crap. I…"

"Go ahead," she mumbles, getting up from the chair to restlessly pace the room.

"I'm sorry. I'll just be a minute, okay?"

She doesn't answer.

Mike quickly darts from the room, opening his phone and beginning to move down the hallway. "Hey."

"Hey, what's up?" Tina asks.

"Nothing, I just needed to get out of a conversation."

Tina sounds a mix between amusing and unimpressed, "You had me call you just so you could stop talking with someone?"

"It's important, okay? But I have to go. I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Um, okay? Love you too."

He hangs up, pockets the phone and sprints up the hallway. He glances in the choir room first, but doesn't see Santana anywhere. He sees a trio of Cheerios in the hallway and asks if they've seen the Latina, but they shrug and say they think they saw her in the lunch room.

He checks the lunchroom but doesn't find Santana. It's when he's on his way back to the Astronomy room, about to give in and text her asking here she is, that he sees Artie at the other end of the hallway. The boy wheels down the hall, slowing as he passes the room Brittany's in. Mike watches with a growing smile as Artie seems to realize Brittany's hiding in there and wheels himself inside.

Artie's as good a choice as Santana for cheering up Brittany, right?