Thank you again for reviews and subscriptions (please keep reviewing!) I jumped ahead a few years in time here, realized if I wrote day by day this story could be 400 chapters long pretty soon. Anyway, things start to get a little tough here. If you can't handle that parts of this story are going to be sad, then I'd stop here. But I hope you'll continue, because after all, fiction is the reason we're all here right?
P.S- Am I the only one that's finding it totally maddening that Brittany hasn't spoken in like 5 episodes now? And Santana's had like…4 lines total in the same time frame?
Twelve years old is a tough age to find out you're a ticking time bomb. But that's how old Brittany was when she figured it out.
Sure, she knew she was different. That much she had grasped by the time she could form full sentences. Somehow, though, in the few years she'd had Santana in her life, being different was in the back of her mind most of the time. The two were inseparable by this point in their adolescence. They were best friends and everybody knew it. Santana liked having Brittany around to help her through things like puberty. Brittany certainly knew all about it, considering she had dealt with it herself at age five.
Most of Brittany's classmates had gotten used to her different appearance by now, with the exception of Dave Karofsky who still gave her crap every day. He always waited for a rare moment when Santana wasn't around, and Brittany decided not to tell Santana about those moments.
But by seventh grade, the rest of the boys at school who used to laugh at her started treating her a lot different. Lots of boys and girls at school were 'going steady'. Brittany wasn't stupid, she knew why the boys were suddenly so interested in her. The older she got, the more she looked like her mother, and in her twelve years of life she had seen the effect her mother had on men. But Brittany had no interest in having a boyfriend. Santana didn't seem to either. In fact, she'd nearly blown a gasket when Mike Chang asked Brittany to go to the Christmas dance with him.
"Me and Brits aren't going to that stupid dance. We're renting movies and getting pizza while all you dorks slow dance and catch acne from each other," she had said.
Santana made Brittany feel like a normal kid. Brittany knew she looked different on the outside, but Santana never once mentioned it and sometimes it made Brittany forget about her condition all together.
Brittany walked into the house after a particularly long Friday at school. Her parents had decided that twelve was an appropriate age for Brittany to start walking herself to and from school, since Santana's house was halfway they walked together. Brittany was excited, Friday night was their ceremonial sleepover night. Tonight it was at Brittany's, so Santana had stopped at home to get her things while Brittany went to make sure her mom bought the right junk food they would be needing for the night.
She tossed her bag down in the foyer and headed to the kitchen. Cheese curls and popcorn on the counter, check.
"Mom?" she called as she continued searching the kitchen for snacks. A six pack of root beer in the fridge, awesome. Now all they needed was the pizza she had promised them, but Brittany knew that'd be coming later. Brittany made her way into the living room, surprised when she didn't see her mom there either.
"Mom?" she called out a little louder. Still no answer . She shrugged and made her way upstairs to her room to bring down pillows and blankets to the designated movie marathon area in the living room. As she neared her door, she noticed her parents' bedroom door cracked slightly. She heard crying.
Brittany crept closer, being sure to be extra quiet so she could hear what was going on.
"It's like time just keeps slipping away," she cried. Brittany peaked in the door. Her mother was sitting on the floor against the far side of the bed, looking out the window into the backyard. Tissues were balled up all around her. She gripped the phone tightly to her ear.
"Brian and I have been seeing Dr. Turner more and more. He doesn't talk much but I know it bothers him too," she continued. What bothers dad, she wondered. Was it something she did wrong?
"He just deals with it differently. He goofs around with her a lot more. Tries to treat her like his buddy, like it'll make this easier in the long run. But every time I look in that sweet child's eyes, the end gets a little closer for me and I can't handle it," she sobbed.
"I know it won't be tomorrow. But imagine if days after your child was born the doctor told you you'd be burying them before too long? My daughter's whole life was plotted out for her before she even spoke a word. No amount of therapy is ever going to get me to come to terms with this," she continued. Brittany slid down to the floor, her back against the wall. Was her mom saying what she thought she was saying?
"30 if she's lucky," she heard.
"She's just been doing so well, she loves school, she had friends…she's happy. This damn disease has always scared me…but lately…I feel like it's taking her from me one day at a time. I mean how am I supposed to cope? Every day she looks a little older. Every day I have to deal with the fact that she probably won't get married or have children of her own…by the time I get to watch her grow up into an adult, it'll be time to say goodbye. I can't handle knowing my daughter's going to die…every day is a constant struggle," oh God. Brittany's heartbeat quickened.
"I'm gonna die?" she thought to herself. No, how can that be? Life was just starting to get awesome. She had a best friend, she was good at school…why would her mom keep this from her? Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the doorbell. She saw her mom noticed it too and scampered off before her mother would see her spying. She flew down the stairs and flung the door open to see Santana perched on the doorstep, her overnight bag in hand.
"Hi San," she stepped aside to let her friend in.
"Brits let's get our grub on. I'm starving," she announced, leading herself to the kitchen. Brittany so desperately wanted to tell Santana what she had just heard her mother say, for Santana to hug her and tell her it wasn't true, that they'd be 100 years old and still be best friends. But she figured now wasn't the time to bring it up and followed Santana into the kitchen.
Brittany's mom was soon behind them, having tried to excuse her puffy eyes on the fact that she just took a nap.
"Don't get too full on junk, girls, I'll order the pizza in a little while," she warned.
"I never get full, ma," Santana said through a mouthful of cheese curls. She had become such a fixture in the Pierce household that nobody blinked an eye at this. Brittany called Mrs. Lopez ma as well.
"Yes, Santana I know. That's why I keep you around, to get rid of the leftovers that Brittany and her dad won't eat," she giggled, ruffling Santana's hair. She noticed that Brittany sat quietly, spinning one cheese curl between her fingers on the table, but never picking it up to eat it.
"What's wrong with you, boo?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders. Brittany shrugged.
"Brits is mad cause next week we have to cut up a frog in science class," Santana spoke for her, recalling from her memory the only thing she could think of from their day that could have Brittany bummed out.
"Oh, well don't worry too much about it sweetheart. I mean the frog will already be dead," she explained. There was that word again. Dead. Brittany sighed.
"Yeah besides Brit, I'll chop him up, you just have to write what it looks like," Santana announced. She wasn't afraid of a little blood and guts. She watched the surgery channel with her dad all the time. She swore, between that and her father's play by play, she could probably insert a chest tube with her eyes closed.
"I don't care about the frog. Even though it's mean and they shouldn't kill frogs just so we can look at their insides," Brittany admitted.
"Well then cheer up Brits! This is my only day I don't have soccer and I want to chillax," she announced, tossing up a cheese curl and catching it in her mouth. Brittany smiled weakly, finally taking a bite out of her snack.
"Go on in the living room girls, mom's got some cleaning to do out here," her mother requested and they scampered off, snacks and movies in hand.
They were halfway though Jackass 2, which Santana had to sneak out of her brother's room and they had to wait until Brittany's parents were asleep to pop in. Santana giggled at almost every scene. She had seen this a hundred times with her brother, but it never got old. Brittany found a few parts amusing, but had hardly cracked a smile.
"Brits? What's wrong?" Santana whispered, the light of the screen illuminating their faces.
"I'm gonna die San," she replied. Santana froze, forgetting suddenly about the few pieces of popcorn she was about to toss in her mouth.
"Huh?" she choked out.
"I'm gonna die. Before I can get married or anything," she admitted.
"Brit you don't know that. I mean we all die, but we aren't allowed to know when," she answers back.
"My mom said. She said so, Santana. She was crying today when I got home and telling someone that I was gonna die before I turn 30 or something. She said it's cause of my disease," Brittany explained.
"What disease?" Santana asked. She knew Brittany was different…but she never thought of it as a disease.
"The one that makes me look weird. Werner something my mom calls it. I knew it wasn't good cause they make me go to a doctor all the time. But I didn't know it was going to make me die," she admitted. Santana felt a lump in her throat.
"But the doctor can fix it. That's what doctors do Brit, I know cause my dad is one," she reasoned. Brittany shook her head.
"I don't think so, San. My mom wouldn't cry if he could fix it," she said.
"He's not trying hard enough then!" Santana exclaimed.
"Shh, San! My parents will wake up!" Brittany tried to quiet her. Santana tossed the blanket off herself and scampered over to where her shoes lay.
"San what are you doing?" she asked.
"If your doctor won't fix you, my dad will! I'm gonna go ask him what to do!" she exclaimed, tying her shoes.
"San, it's like midnight you can't leave," Brittany told her.
"I'll be back Brits!" she replied, heading out the front door. She ran as fast as her legs would let her go. Brittany wasn't going to die, not on her watch. She ran until her lungs burned. She ran and ran as hard as she could, even when tears started to mix with the sweat on her face. Finally she made it to the front door. She tried the knob. Locked, of course. She reached down under the mat, fetching the spare key and unlocked the door, hurling herself inside. She barely checked to make sure the door closed behind her before she darted up the steps. She entered her parents room and made her way to her father's side of the bed cautiously.
"Dad. Dad, wake up," she nudged him.
"Dad, come on," she tried again. He opened one eye to identify the intruder.
"Santana…why aren't you at Brittany's?" he asked groggily.
"Dad you have to help, Brittany's gonna die," she announced, tugging on his hand to try to get him out of bed.
"What? What happened?" he started to panic. He sat up and turned on the light on his end table, taking in her sweaty, disheveled appearance. She tried to catch her breath before she explained further.
"Santana, what's going on? Is Brittany hurt?" he tried to pry it out of her.
"Brittany said she heard her mom saying she was gonna die cause of her disease. And her stupid doctor won't do anything. Dad you have to fix her, I know you can. Please," she begged. The man sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before reaching forward and taking both his daughter's hands. He knew this day was coming.
"Santana, honey…Brittany sees a specialist. A doctor that specializes in her kind of condition. I don't know anything about her medical history and even if I did, her condition is so very rare. There is nothing anybody can do," he said as gently as possible.
"Dad just come and like do an exam on her, maybe you can figure out a way. Please, dad. Don't let my best friend die. Please," she started to cry again.
"Santana…" he choked out, trying to find a comforting way to explain this lesson she was too young to be learning. Her knees buckled and she collapsed into her father's arms, sobbing harder than she could ever remember doing before.
"Don't let her die, daddy. Please. Don't let her die," she cried as he rocked her back and forth. For the first time since they had met, Santana found something about Brittany that scared her to death.