Author's note: This is my first story and I really appreciate honest feedback. So a big thank you to the people who review! It's always encouraging to know that people are reading and possibly enjoying my story. :)
This chapter is a little different as I'm starting to explore Emma's issues. Let me know if you think I've gone overboard!
Chapter 7: Undone
Having spent the weekend contemplating consequences, among other things, Emma was prepared for a rough Monday back at school. But there was no way she could have been prepared for the type of day she ended up having.
It started with an urgent call from Figgins's office. Through the glass, she could see Will sitting in front of the desk, shoulders hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees. Emma's heart seized.
She entered the room in a panic, looking only at Will, "What's wrong? What's going on?"
Will's face looked drawn, but there was a hint of light in his eyes as he acknowledged her arrival.
Principal Figgins said, "Santana Lopez came to my office this morning to report another student for sexual assault."
Emma gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. She glanced at Will, better understanding his posture, and turned back to Figgins as he continued explaining.
"Apparently, she was on a date with Mr. Evans last night and things got out of hand."
Emma's professional instincts took over once she knew the trouble wasn't directly related to Will.
"Have you spoken to each of them?" she said.
"Yes," Figgins answered. "And they seem to have different interpretations of the event."
"Can you tell us more?" Will wondered.
"Well, they didn't provide details... thankfully...but Mr. Evans indicated that Ms. Lopez was pressuring him to have sexual relations." Figgins raised his eyebrows in a way that suggested he had no trouble believing this scenario.
"And when he said he wasn't ready, she flipped out."
As an afterthought, he said, "Those are his words, of course, not mine."
"And what was her version of the story?" Emma asked.
"She said he was the one pressuring her, even after she told him to stop."
"Did he...," Will couldn't say the word.
Emma jumped in to help with a more specific question. "What was the specific charge in her assault complaint."
Figgins picked up a piece of paper and read from it: "Unwanted groping."
There was a noticeable reduction in tension in the room. Neither Will nor Emma wanted to believe that Sam was capable of something more severe.
"Just between you, me and the lamp post, this sounds like a lovers' quarrel," Figgins opined. "However, it's a delicate matter and I think you are the best ones to handle it."
Will said firmly, "I'd like to talk to Sam."
Figgins expressed his agreement with a nod and then spoke to Emma.
"Miss Pillsbury, Santana is in English class right now. I've arranged for her to meet you in your office as soon as the period ends. Please...talk to her. If what she says is true, we are going to have to report this to the police."
"Yes, of course," she said, numbly.
"William, let me know how your conversation goes with Sam. I will contact his parents if the need arises."
Will and Emma shared a look of distress and then left Figgins's office to perform their respective, dreaded, tasks.
-X-
Emma returned to her office, a ball of nerves. She searched her bookshelf for material on sexual assault. While she had encountered similar situations in her career, she hadn't had as strong of a connection to the parties involved. She wanted to be there for Santana, for Sam, but also for Will.
Santana appeared in the doorway seconds later in a cloud of hostility.
"I can't believe they are making me talk to the guidance counselor. As if YOU know anything about this topic. Why don't we just cut to the chase? Give me my pamphlet and we'll tell everyone we had a deep, meaningful chat."
Emma had prepared for such an entrance and replied forcefully, "Santana, come in, shut the door, and have a seat. Please."
Santana eyed her skeptically, surprised that there would be no negotiating. She did as she was asked, but under her breath said, "Wow, when did you get a backbone?"
"Now," Emma continued in a softer tone while sitting down, "Principal Figgins has asked me to speak with you about this very serious matter. I understand you have made an accusation...against Sam?"
"That's right," she said, defiantly.
"Santana," Emma said cautiously, "Would you like to tell me what happened?"
"I already told Principal Figgins. What more do you want to know?" she challenged.
"Do you want the details? Do you want to know WHERE he touched me? Do you want to hear all the dirty words he used? I bet you do."
Emma was taken aback. This was going to be more difficult than she had hoped.
"Santana," she said in a measured tone. "We thought it might help for you to talk about it with a professional counselor, a female counselor."
"No thanks, I'm good", she said, oozing with sarcasm.
"Will, err Mr. Schuester, is listening to Sam's side of the story as we speak. What is he going to tell him?"
"How should I know?", she said, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Emma.
"He'll probably lie."
It surprised her that the more aggressive Santana became, the more empathetic Emma felt toward her.
"Really? What makes you say that?"
"Men always lie about these things."
Emma noted her use of the word "men" and wondered just how extensive Santana's sexual exploits were.
"Okay. So let's talk about next steps then," Emma said as she picked up the phone.
"What are you doing? Who are you calling?"
"Santana, I'm afraid we are going to have to get the police involved."
"What do you mean? Can't you just suspend him or something?"
Emma put the phone back in its cradle.
"I'm afraid you don't understand the severity of these accusations, Santana. Sexual assault is against the law. You have given us no choice but to alert the authorities." Emma reached for the phone again.
"No wait," Santana said abruptly.
"What if it was, maybe, just a misunderstanding?"
Innocently, Emma said, "What do you mean?"
"Well, what if, you know, he thought I was just kidding or something?"
"I mean, we WERE kinda hot and heavy, and it's not like I've ever said no before."
"Santana, if you felt threatened by him in any way, you have a right to bring charges," Emma said seriously.
She looked down at her hands, saying nothing for a few minutes.
Emma let her think.
Finally, Santana looked up and spoke what Emma hoped was the truth.
"I never felt threatened."
Emma tilted her head, and looked at Santana quizzically, but without judgment.
Santana started to cry.
Emma got up and walked around the desk to sit next to her. She grabbed her hand and rubbed it soothingly.
Santana admitted to Emma that Sam had called her a slut and she cried some more.
The conversation that followed was surreal for Emma. She had always dreaded the topic of sex. In fact, she had learned to identify the kids who were thinking about it when they walked into her office, and she had invented several evasion techniques. Rachel tripped her up once, but most kids seemed to be put off by her puritanical vibe.
For the first time, Santana, of all people, made Emma feel comfortable talking about sexuality.
Maybe it was the way she was so open about her physical needs. Maybe it was how she described her sensual experiences unapologetically. Maybe it was the way she challenged Emma's conservative platitudes. Or maybe it was just how she looked at Emma as if she was the first adult to ever truly listen to her.
Whatever the reason, Emma opened up too. She opened up her mind to the possibility that acting on one's physical desires wasn't exactly, well, bad.
When Santana seemed ready, Emma suggested that they talk with Sam together.
She agreed and Emma called Will. He picked up on the first ring and she explained the situation. He chose his words carefully since he was sitting with Sam, but she could hear the relief in his voice. He said he would send Sam down immediately.
-X-
As the day finally came to a close, Emma knocked gently on Will's door. He looked up, revealing the same stress lines she had seen in Figgins's office that morning. He seemed relieved to see her, and gave her a half smile.
"Hi Em. Long day," he said exhaustedly.
She entered. "Mind if I sit down?"
"Of course. I was hoping you'd come by."
She scrutinized his expression, wondering how he meant that.
"To talk about Sam and Santana," he elaborated, answering her unspoken question.
"So...how did you get her to retract the accusation?" he said, turning the conversation in a decisively professional direction.
"Well," she began. "Santana has a hard exterior, but as you can probably guess, she's not as tough as she wants everyone to believe."
"Mm hmm," he agreed, encouraging her to continue.
"I think she appreciated someone listening to her for a change so I let her talk, and eventually, she realized that she may have overreacted."
"That's when I called you."
"Sam cried when he found out she told the truth."
Emma had a tender vision of Will comforting Sam.
"Do you know why she lied about it?" he asked.
Emma started, "Well, I think she has pretty strong feelings for Sam. And from what she told me today, it seems she has always expressed her emotions physically."
"When Sam rejected her...advances, I think she felt like he was rejecting her as a person."
"And now I guess we know, Santana doesn't handle rejection constructively."
Will listened with genuine concern for these kids that he believed in, that he loved.
He responded softly. "Sam didn't understand at all. One moment he was just trying to explain that when he really likes a girl, he prefers to take it slow. And the next, she was screaming obscenities and accusing him of...well, you know..."
Emma nodded her head sympathetically, then added, "I think he may have believed he was conveying his message diplomatically, but what Santana heard was, Good girls don't put out."
Will let out a nervous laugh.
Despite the awkward subject matter, Emma found herself enjoying the intimacy of this conversation with Will. They were a team again, working together to help the kids. It had been too long.
Boldly, she continued, "We ended up having a long conversation about her…..promiscuity."
Emma remembered Santana's graphic description of sex and shuddered. She looked up at Will and saw that he was enthralled. She mustered the courage to go on.
"We talked about how her, um, sexuality is a source of power. And I suggested, perhaps a bit bluntly, that she was wielding it as a weapon."
Will raised his eyebrows, and let silence descend upon them as he studied Emma for a moment, then looked past her, lost in thought.
Emma wondered what he could be pondering. She didn't know what to say next.
Carefully, Will's eyes returned to Emma. And in a tone that was both challenging and accepting, he said, "Is that what you were doing last Friday night?"
Emma swallowed hard. He might as well have punched her in the stomach. Her words came out in a deluge.
"Oh god, Will. I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry," she pleaded guiltily.
As if he had rehearsed, Will replied calmly, "Really, Emma? You've had two days to think about it and you don't know what happened?"
Emma sat back in shock. She knew they needed to have this conversation, but she wasn't ready to have it now. She tried to remember what she had planned to tell him, but the wires in her brain became tangled as he continued talking.
"I know you better than that, Em. You've been dwelling on it all weekend. So why don't you tell me what's really going on in that head of yours."
She shouldn't have been surprised that he knew her so well.
"You're right," she finally said.
She looked down at the floor and sighed quietly. Will stared at her intently.
"Watching you cuddle up to her all night was hard for me, Will," she admitted in a hoarse whisper.
She could see the hope in his eyes and she felt her flight instinct running strongly through her veins. She gripped the sides of the chair, firmly holding herself in place.
"I know...," her voice cracked. "I know I moved on with Carl, but I haven't had to watch you...move on. I wasn't prepared to feel jealous."
With a clinical, unexpectedly detached tone, Will said, "What do you think it means, Emma?"
She steeled herself to say what she knew she needed to tell him, again.
"It means a part of me still has feelings for you, Will, and maybe always will. But it doesn't change the fact that I married someone else."
Emma saw Will's temper flaring and she braced herself for his anger. He walked toward her chair and she stood up, apprehensively. She scanned her brain for words to calm him down and then realized she had completely misread his intensity.
He reached a hand toward her face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, gazing into her eyes lovingly.
"Em, I think there's more going on here than you realize."
Her voice quivered as she said, "Oh really? What else is going on here, Will?"
Confidently, he declared, "Not only do you still have feelings for me, but…" He paused, putting his finger under her chin and tipping her head up. He waited for her bashful eyes to meet his, and then he said,
"You want me."
Emma squinted at him and took a breath to speak but nothing came out.
Will continued in a voice that Emma noted later was simply too sexy. "I see you trying to focus up here, but your eyes stray to my lips, as if you are thinking about what they would feel like on your mouth right now."
Will put a strong hand behind her neck, threaded his fingers into her hair, and started to lean in. Emma tilted her head forward and inhaled his scent, the thrill of adrenaline pulsing in her blood. She couldn't have turned him away if she tried as his lips neared hers.
But instead of kissing her, he moved his mouth just under her ear and whispered, "Or maybe you are thinking about my lips somewhere else on your body."
Emma's sharp intake of breath betrayed her arousal.
Will lightly touched her chin again with the tip of his index finger and ran it slowly down the side of her neck. With only a hint of hesitation, he continued past her collarbone, tracing his finger around the opening in her blouse, painting a necklace on her bare skin.
Emma closed her eyes and whimpered.
Will pulled his hand away abruptly, took a step back, and with only a slight smirk, said, "I rest my case."
Emma opened her eyes, terribly embarrassed. She gave Will one last pleading look before she did what he knew she would do: run.
-X-
Emma ran out of Will's office, but she couldn't escape the feeling of shame. When Will stepped close to her, even before he touched her, she became acutely aware of the heat between her legs. The tingly feeling was completely new to her and she was confused by the combination of excitement and fear.
That night, as Emma lay in bed, she thought about many things, but strangely, kept returning to her conversation with Santana. Despite Santana's obvious self-esteem issues and overactive libido, Emma had felt a touch of envy as she listened to her talk openly about her sexuality.
She began to think about her own childhood….about how her Mom always used a safety pin to close her blouses even higher than the top button. She thought about how she was teased by other kids for wearing ankle length skirts with tights in the middle of summer. Even if boys had lined up at her door, her parents wouldn't have allowed her to go on a single date.
Needless to say, sexual curiosity was not encouraged. And Emma was nothing if not obedient. She absorbed her parents discomfort about the topic like a sponge.
In college, she had several close encounters, but none that led anywhere significant. Well, if she was being honest with herself, she never allowed them to lead anywhere.
The image of Will leaning over her on his couch, kissing her suggestively, crept into her mind. Her reaction was the same as it had always been in that situation. Too much too fast. Too much too fast. She tried to remember how she was feeling in his apartment that time, and as usual, the only emotion she could recall was anxiety.
Santana's words echoed in her head. Then there's that moment of pure ecstasy. That moment of release when your body is lit up like a Christmas tree and you don't have a care in the world.
Emma wanted to be free from her anxiety.
Before she made a conscious decision, her hand was slowly caressing her flat belly. She ran her finger around the waistband of her pajama bottoms absentmindedly as she recalled Santana proudly discussing bringing herself to orgasm once or twice a night. She wondered what it would be like...to be bad.
Emma didn't have a clue what she was doing, but she knew where she felt the fire. She closed her eyes and suddenly she was back in Will's office.
He was whispering in her ear and lightly touching her neck. She knew he wanted her and she wanted him just as badly. He kissed her passionately and then moved his hand from her neck down to her top button. He slowly removed her blouse and within seconds (in her mind anyway), she was lying on his desk, completely naked from the waist up, as he kissed and caressed and sucked.
Her hand was moving rhythmically as her body relaxed under his loving touch.
She didn't even undress him in her dreams that night, the night she reached the pinnacle of gratification for the very first time. Dreaming of Will.
Her last thought as she drifted off to sleep was that one or two times a night might not be enough.
