Chapter 10: When Everything

I leave Artie's office a little while later, promising I'll be back tomorrow morning. For when this Quinn person gets here.

I'm nervous about that. The way she dropped everything to come here… Seeing and meeting Artie was one thing, he was calm and just a little bit confused, but I have no idea what to expect with this woman, how she'll react to seeing me. If only hearing my name can get her jumping between cities, what exactly will her seeing me do to her?

I call Drew on my way back to my car, telling him that it's almost noon, he needs to get his ass out of bed by now.

"Why?" he mumbles into his phone. "I enjoy sleep. Go away."

"Fine, I won't tell you about my day then."

"You just said its noon, how can you have had a day already?"

I can tell I'm pissing him off. It's fun. "I thought you didn't want to hear about it," I sing-song.

He grumbles again, "I don't."

"Oh, I think you do."

"Unless it involves the two of us taking the week off to drive down to San Diego for some fun time, or you getting yourself a Valentine, I don't want to hear about it."

"Well," I draw out, knowing I've got a way in now. "I was meeting with someone… a guy…"

"Are you lying?"

"Nope," I say. I mean, yes, I'm lying, but not completely, right? I was meeting with a guy.

"I'll be there in twenty."

"Best friend ever!"

Drew grumbles and hangs up.

A half hour later I'm in the kitchen making eggs when I hear the door open. "B, you dragged me out of bed. This had better be good," he yells as I hear the thump of his shoes coming off and the louder thump of Hobbes realizing there's company and jumping off the kitchen counter.

"I made you food," I answer, peeking around the corner to see him crouching by the door, my cat weaving in and out between his feet.

I figured food would be good. For one, I was hungry and I knew he would be hungry. Two, it would be an apology for both getting him out of bed, and for not telling him yesterday when Artie said he recognized me or telling Drew last night after I made the appointment with Artie's secretary.

"What kind of food?" Drew asks as he enters the kitchen.

I look up and smirk. Drew will forever claim he is a dog person, but the way he acts with Hobbes begs to differ. 'He's the size of a dog anyways,' is Drew's usual excuse.

He dumps the large beast onto the kitchen table and takes a seat. Hobbes lays down right in front of him, waving a paw in the air until Drew sighs and starts petting him.

"Eggs."

"Eggs and cookies are the only food you can make," he complains, eyes on the cat before him.

"And nachos 'n salsa," I add.

"Exactly," he looks up at me. "If you were smarter, you'd learn to make better food to bribe me with, not just eggs."

I flip the omelets onto the plates and walk over to the table. Drew gives Hobbes a little nudge but he doesn't move. His big yellow eyes blink up with me pleadingly, but I glare at him. "Go on, off the table." He gets up and jumps down, so I set one plate down in front of Drew and the other for myself.

"I made omelettes especially for you."

"Bribery food," he says, taking a bite. He chews for a minute, then adds, "Not the greatest."

I wave his comment off. "Just be grateful I'm feeding you at all."

He shrugs, thick mop of hair falling in front of his face as he dips his head to keep eating. "I like you better when you cook me take-out."

"You just like that I put up with you enough to feed you," I giggle. "You'd eat burgers every night if it were up to you."

"A burger's a burger, fast food or not. And a burger's damn good food."

I'm fairly certain that burgers are all Drew ate through college. I'm no expert at cooking, but at least I can do better than him. And he's over here a lot because of it.

"So," he says around a mouthful. "What is this news you got me out of bed for?"

"You know the guy who was on the tour of the labs yesterday?"

"Wheelchair guy?" I nod. "Yeah, said hi. He seemed pretty cool. Was a little intimidated by Grant-"

I cut in, "Everyone is intimidated by Grant."

"But he seemed pretty nice. Why?" He pauses and then blinks a few times, some sort of realization dawning on him. "He asked you out, didn't he? Score B, high five!" He holds his hand out but frowns when all I do is laugh at him. "What?"

"He didn't ask me out."

"Okay…"

"But I went to see him today."

I'm only halfway through my lunch but Drew has already finished inhaling most of his. He drops a scrap on the floor, knowing Hobbes will appreciate it. Then he focuses all his attention on me. "Explain."

"He recognized me," I say nonchalantly, lifting another bite of egg to my mouth.

If Drew hadn't already finished eating I'm sure he would have been wearing his food. His hand pounds down on the table excitedly, "What?"

I flash a smile. "Yep."

"He recognized you? From before the accident? He knew who you were? What did he say?"

"One question at a time, Drew, please."

"How'd he recognize you?" he demands.

"Grant tried to introduce us. But Artie kind of froze up because, like, I've been missing for five years. And then I went to see him today," I say, skipping over the part where I could have told Drew all this last night but didn't. "And he filled me in on some things. Not everything, but some."

"Like what?" He looks like a kid in a candy store his eyes are so big.

"Like I grew up in Ohio, I have a sister. I was a nurse before the accident."

Drew nods, "That fits. Pretty well actually." He takes a moment to really think that one over. "I can actually see that really easily. Easier than picturing you in the lab."

"Oh thanks," I grumble. Just because I'm not a super genius like him doesn't mean I'm not good at my job. "Artie and I dated in high school apparently."

Drew looks thoughtful, "Was he in a wheelchair then?"

"I think so," I say, remembering the pictures he showed me. "Apparently we were in some sort of glee club; he said I was a kick-ass dancer."

"That doesn't surprise me at all."

I stand, taking our empty dishes and bringing them to the sink. Then I follow him over to the couch, sitting as Drew flops down next to me. "What else?" he demands. "Why didn't you take me with you? You're making me hear it all second-hand," he whines.

"If I had taken you," I suppress a giggle, "You would have embarrassed the both of us."

"Did he say anything about what happened to you?"

I shake my head, "He didn't know a whole lot; he could only tell me what he knew. We were friends, but he wasn't there when I disappeared. He… he said they did look for me though, he's sure they looked in hospitals for me."

"You were in a hospital," Drew states, knowing my whole history, from the moment I woke up to the moment I met him.

"I don't know," I say, giving a little half-shrug. "He… he doesn't know everything. He called someone though, that I was closer with. A friend. She's coming down tomorrow. Hopefully she'll be able to fill in what Artie couldn't."

Hobbes jumps up onto me, digging his feet into my legs until I push down on his back and make him stretch out on my lap. He's heavy, but a familiar weight. "He told me my name though."

"Your…" Drew looks confused for a moment. "Oh God. That's right. Bethany isn't even your name, is it?"

"No."

"So?" He looks hesitant, asking this, like he's afraid learning the real name will ruin the image he has of me in his head.

"I'm Brittany Pierce-Lopez." Hobbes purrs where he sits on my lap. Clearly he likes my real name.

"Brittany," Drew says, testing the word out. I watch him carefully as he repeats it a few more times, his lips moving slowly through the letters. "Brittany. Huh. It… it doesn't feel all that different."

"I was close," I say, repeating my words from earlier. "I picked the name Bethany because it felt almost right. Bethany, Brittany, I was close."

"You were. Nice," he agrees. "I can still call you B, can't I?" He smiles, "And a hyphenated last name, interesting. Mom didn't want to take your Dad's name?"

"No," I say. "This is the best part."

He narrows his eyes at me, searching my face for the answer. "Best part?"

"I'm married," a beat, "to a woman."

It takes over a minute for Drew to process this one. He sits and stars at me, unblinking, long enough that it starts to worry me. His eyebrows are pulled together slightly, so I know he's thinking and not brain-dead, but it still worries me how still he's sitting.

Hobbes seams to notice. He lifts his head from where it was resting in my lap to look up at Drew, letting out a puffy mew at him.

"Wow," he manages to say. "You're married. You're married?"

"Apparently."

"A woman."

"Yeah."

"Huh. I never really pegged you as… I mean sometimes you… but… huh."

I've never really thought about sexuality, not the way Drew does. If I like someone, then I like them. If I don't, then I don't. It's never really needed special words for me.

Then again, I haven't really been interested in anyone since the accident. There's Grant, and then there's the few guys that have asked me out, but I've never really… felt a connection.

Maybe because I wasn't actively looking at women.

Maybe… maybe because something inside me already knew there was someone else.

"Do you know what she…?" he tries.

"Artie showed me a picture, yeah. Her name's Santana."

"Nice," Drew says, bobbing his head, "Ethnic. She pretty?"

"Yeah," is all I can say, because, well, yeah. She was stunning in that picture.

"Do you know anything about her?" He asks, and suddenly I don't like the look on his face, the way it's quickly pulling into a frown.

"No," I say slowly, "No, Artie didn't say a whole lot. He explained a little bit about what he knew from the day I disappeared, about me and her. And he said it was really rough on her, me vanishing like I did." Actually, it was more what Artie didn't say. How he couldn't finish all his thoughts, the pained looks he had worn.

It was the way his face had slowly dropped when he was talking about the other woman, not just a frown, but looking like he was actually in pain – like he was reliving his pain. It was the way his eyes lost their excitement from when he'd been showing me the pictures. The way his whole body seemed to droop in his chair, like it hurt too much to think about her and what she had gone through.

"Where is she now? Where did you live before the accident?"

"California," I answer, though Artie never specified where.

"And she…" Drew hesitates.

He reaches over and tugs Hobbes off my lap, pulling him into his own. He wraps both arms around the cat, who doesn't seem at all bothered to have been woken and moved. Drew wraps his arms around Hobbes and holds him like he's some sort of shield, the way someone would hold a pillow against them, to weaken the blow they're expecting.

"Drew?" I know I'm not going to like this.

"Well, I mean. B, it's been five years since you left. And if no one knew what happened to you, if you just disappeared on them… well… did Artie say anything about her… about her moving on?"

I don't say anything, I just stare at Drew, my lips parted slightly.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this. But, I mean. Five years is a long time for someone to wait, B. She… Artie said you were married to her, did he say if you still are?"

"I…"

"Fuck," he says, shoving the cat off his lap and leaning towards me. "Damn it, I shouldn't have said that," he insists, taking my hands in his.

I didn't really think of that one. But he as a point. A really good point. If I left, or disappeared, or whatever, and they didn't know why or if I was coming back… even if I had been married to her, I wouldn't expect her to wait around forever. If she found someone else…

A heavy weight settles in my chest. I'm not really sure what to do now. Artie said Santana would still want to see me. But why wouldn't she? She'd want to know I was alive, for the sake of knowing.

She just may not want to know for the sake of having her wife back.