Part 3

It doesn't take long for Sam to lead them to Mr. Schue's office. He takes a breath and looks over at Brittany, hesitating only a moment before knocking. He has to do this for her, he has to get her help. He tries not to think about the fact that she's standing there oblivious to the fact that he's about to force her to do the one thing that he can never manage to force himself to do. He wonders if she'll hate him for it.

Mr. Schue answers the door pretty quickly, he looks a little startled to see them standing there but he recovers quickly, smiling at them and asking them to come in. "So what's up guys?"

Brittany looks up, "um…the ceiling I think."

Sam can't help but smile a bit at her answer but remembering why they are here, the smile quickly disappears. He shuffles his feet and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "We were talking and there's something I think you need to hear."

Mr. Schue nods and smiles at Sam encouragingly.

Sam turns to Brittany and initiates a nearly identical conversation to the one they had just had in the library. "Do you walk into walls a lot?"

She doesn't seem bothered by the fact that he's asking her the same question he asked her not fifteen minutes ago. "No, only when I'm being really frustrating." She gets the word right on the first try this time.

Sam looks quickly back at Mr. Schue, seeing the confusion flittering across his features, before turning once again to Brittany. "And when you say that you walk into walls, you mean that your mom hits you, right?" He prompts her and, even though he knows the answer, he holds his breath. A part of him can't help but wonder if with Mr. Schue here she'll lie about it, but of course she doesn't, she's not him.

"That's what I said isn't it?" She looks at him with the same confused look she had given him in the library earlier. This time however he doesn't answer her question, instead he turns to Mr. Schue, whose expression has gone from confusion to worry.

"Brittany," Mr. Schue asks carefully, "I just need to be sure I understand right, okay. You're saying that your mom hits you?"

Once again Sam can't help but expect her to deny it and his stomach flutters nervously.

Brittany just nods and adds a "yes," in confirmation though.

"Oh Brittany," Mr. Schue sighs, his expression grim. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Sam jerks his head quickly back to her at that statement. He doesn't know why he didn't think to ask her that himself, considering the mass of bruises currently littering his own torso, it's a question that he should have known to ask.

"Umm…" Brittany looks uncertain.

"Do you have any pain? Err…maybe bruises?" Mr. Schue tries to clarify for her.

Brittany nods and when she doesn't do anything else, Mr. Schue prompts her again. "Can I see?"

Sam holds his breath as Brittany lifts her shirt up to reveal a cluster of bruises on her left side. He sighs, her words had been enough for him, he hadn't needed anymore confirmation, yet now he had it.

Mr. Schue takes a step towards her and it seems like he's debating hugging her but instead he just says, "It's going to be okay now, I promise."

"What's going to be okay?" Brittany asks, clearly confused.

Mr. Schue looks to Sam then, as if he's trying to confirm that she really doesn't know what is going on. Sam just shakes his, not sure what else to do.

"Never mind, it's okay." Mr. Schue tells her. Fishing through his wallet, he pulls out a couple of dollars, handing them to Sam. "Why don't you two go get something from the vending machine and then come back here?"

Brittany seems oblivious to what is being implied but Sam is pretty sure he knows that Mr. Schue is sending them away so that that he can call social services or something. He feels nervous at that thought but doesn't really know why. He tries not to think about, instead focusing on Brittany who practically skips to and from the vending machine.

When they return to Mr. Schue's office, Mr. Schue is sitting behind his desk and he's shuffling a deck of cards. He smiles at them but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You guys want to play a game?"

"Yes," Brittany grins, seemingly not bothered by the fact that they are supposed to be in class right now.

An hour and four games of Go Fish later Mr. Schue gets a call and he leaves the two teenagers in his office. Twenty minutes later he comes back with a woman who Sam can only assume is from social services.

"Brittany, this is Mrs. Granger, you're going to go with her okay?" Mr. Schue tells the blonde.

"I'm not supposed to take rides with strangers," Brittany says, shifting nervously. Up until now she hasn't shown the slightest signs of distress but Sam can tell that she's quickly becoming anxious, like it's finally occurring to her that something out of the ordinary is going on.

Without even thinking about it, Sam reaches over and takes her hand, squeezing gently. "It's okay," he reassures her, "she's not a stranger. You can go with her."

It takes a minute but Brittany seems to relax somewhat. "Okay Sam." She says getting up. If only he could reassure himself as easily as he could reassure her.

After a quick exchange with Mr. Schue, the woman leads Brittany out of the room and just like that she's gone. Sam's shoulders slump forward and he sighs. He's saved her right? He's done the right thing? When she's finally realized what's happened, she's not going to hate him, right?

The bell ringing startles Sam and he looks up at the clock. "It's time for glee." He says it without even really realizing it.

Mr. Schue nods, "I guess it is."

"Are you going to tell them?" Sam asks him.

"I think I have to," Mr. Schue sighs in response.

xxxxxx

When Mr. Schue and Sam enter the choir room, everyone else is already there. Sam takes his seat without making eye contact with anyone, he doesn't feel like faking a smile right now, and waits for Mr. Schue to start talking.

"I've got some not so good news I need to tell you," Mr. Schue addresses the group.

"Shouldn't we wait for Brittany to get here?" Artie asks looking around as if he expects her to appear.

"The news is about Brittany," Mr. Schue sighs. "She's been having some problems at home."

"What kind of problems?" Quinn asks.

Mr. Schue sighs again. "Abuse."

At that word the room goes so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Sam does know why but he can't bring himself to look around and see his classmates', his friends', expressions.

Finally, Rachel speaks up, "are you sure?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Schue replies clearly confused.

"It's Brittany." Rachel pauses before continuing. "Are you sure she's not just confused? A couple weeks ago she thought that babies come from Storks and she's been known to believe in Santa Claus and magic combs. So are you sure that she actually meant to say that she is being abused? Are you sure that she even knows what that means?"

Sam has to literally bite his tongue to keep from snapping at her. How could she think that? It had never occurred to him that people could not believe Brittany. He wonders if people would believe him if he told them he was keeping an almost identical secret.

"I'm sure," Mr. Schue says in a tone that leaves no room for discussion.

The room seems to explode after that, everyone asking questions and demanding answers so loudly that no one person can really be heard. It's making Sam dizzy.

"Guys, guys, slow down," Mr. Schue raises his voice above all of theirs. "One question at a time."

"What's going to happen to Brittany now?" Mike asks quietly.

"She'll stay with me," Santana declares firmly.

"Wait," Artie protests, "She's my girlfriend, she'll stay with me."

"So what," Santana rolls her eyes at the word girlfriend, "she's my…she's my best friend and she'll stay with me."

"Guys," Mr. Schue interrupts the argument that is unfolding. "I'm sorry but Brittany is a minor so, unless either of your families are registered and approved to foster children, she won't be able to stay with either of you, at least not immediately while they're sorting out what's going to happen now."

"So they're just going to what, give her to strangers?" Santana asks, the anger clear in her voice.

"Well…" Mr. Schue sighs. "Yes."

"This is stupid," Santana crosses her arms. "Where is she? She's going to be scared, I need to see her."

"I'm sorry Santana," Mr. Schue tells her, "but a woman from social services already came. She's already gone."

"Whatever," Santana huffs, "this meeting is over right?"

Mr. Schue nods and she storms out. Everyone but Sam filters out fairly quickly after that, he doesn't feel like he has the energy to move.

"Sam?" Mr. Schue puts is hand on the boys shoulder. "You did a good thing today, don't doubt yourself okay?"

Sam nods in response, wishing it were really that easy.

xxxxxx

Brittany doesn't show up to school for three whole days after that and it's agonizing. Artie looks like somebody kicked his puppy the whole time, Santana practically growls at anyone who so much as looks at her and they have to keep her from attacking Rachel on a daily basis, Finn looks confused most of the time like he still can't really grasp the idea that a parent would hurt their child, and Puck's fist are always clenched like he's trying very hard not to put his fist through a wall.

As far as Sam is concerned, time has never passed more slowly. He's pretty sure he doesn't sleep at all for those three days. He just lies awake every night and wonders where she is and what she's thinking. He needs to see her desperately, needs to know that she is okay and that he has done the right thing.

When on the fourth day she shows up at school word spreads to the glee club rather quickly and within ten minutes they are all congregated around her locker. Sam stands at the outskirts of the group, needing to see her but not sure what her reaction to him is going to be. He watches as each of the girls and Mike hug her, as Finn shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, as Puck bumps her on the shoulder with his fist affectionately, and as Artie takes her hand.

"Where have you been Britt?" Artie asks her, making himself the spokesperson for the group.

"They won't let me go home," she tells them all and she looks so sad that Sam can't help but wonder for the millionth time if she's mad at him for getting her taken away from that place, he refuses to refer to it as her home if only because it assuages some of the guilt.

He's so busy musing to himself that he misses whatever gets said next but he picks the conversation back up as Brittany keeps talking.

"..and I got a new name, Foster, but everyone is still calling me Brittany so maybe it's not actually my new name but an atlas."

"Alias?" Santana corrects automatically.

"Yes," Brittany nods smiling. She watches Santana carefully a moment before she speaks up again. "San?"

"Ya Britt." Santana responds, her voice gentle, the way it only ever manages to be for Brittany, and Sam notices that she's standing impossibly close to the other girl, they're not touching but if either of them shifts even a fraction of an inch they will be.

"Does your mom really feed you every night? Like not just when I come over but every night?" She asks with nothing but curiosity reflected in her voice and in her eyes.

"Fuck." Santana says out loud exactly what Sam is thinking. His life is seriously screwed up and nothing should shock him but the things that Brittany is saying make him want to scream or maybe cry. Even now, she's just so innocent. It's just not fair that she had to go through that. He knows then that it doesn't matter if she is mad at him, he did the right thing.

Brittany waits expectantly until Santana eventually answers her question. "Every night. She feeds me every single night."

"Good," Brittany beams at her, "because moms are supposed to do that." Her eyes are wide as if this fact is shocking to her.

Sam's stomach twist into knots again and he watches as tears spring up in the corners of Santana's eyes. It seems like he's not the only one reacting to things that Brittany is saying, not that he's about to point that out out loud.

He watches as Brittany, seeming satisfied with what Santana has told her, scans the group in search of something. It isn't until her eyes lock with his that he realizes that she's looking for him. They just stare at each other a moment and he can feel his heart start to beat faster.

"Sam," she takes two steps towards him. "I've got to tell you something important."

His throat is dry and he swallows. "Okay." He manages to get out. This is it, if she's mad at him, he's about to find out.

"Saying you walked into a wall isn't the same thing as saying your mom hit you," she tells him, her tone of voice serious. "So you have to say it the right way. You have to tell a grown up that your mom hits you and then they can make it stop because nobody is supposed to hit you ever, no matter what you do." She gives him a small encouraging smile. "So you just have to say it, okay, and then it will be all better."

Everyone's eyes are on him now, he's sure of it, he can feel them even though he can't look away from her. He'll never think of her as oblivious again. She figured it out, well she'd gotten the mom part wrong but still, she knows. No one has ever even come close to guessing before, well except for her that day in the choir room but that had been accidental.

He can feel his chest tightening and he's finding it hard to breathe and he wonders if he's going to pass out. You just have to say it. Maybe it can be that easy. Maybe with her standing there encouraging him, her eyes locked with his, it can be that easy. It will all be better. He opens his mouth and prays that the words don't stick.