A/N - I don't own Glee or profit from these stories I write about the characters.
The reviews and alerts are so generous and amazing, as well as the requests for updates. I can't tell you how much I appreciate them all. Thank you! I have been fighting a health battle that has utterly exhausted me. I'm sorry I have not personally answered my reviews like I usually do. I read them all, and appreciate them very much. When I feel better I'll try to answer them personally.
I also will try to update more frequently but if I can't, I promise I will never abandon this story. It will be completed. Thanks so much, all of you readers are so awesome.
Step 14 Therapy
Santana Lopez woke up with her eyes glued shut from tears and makeup, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth, and a fierce pain in head reminiscent of the concussion she suffered in Cheerios camp sophomore year. She was hurting so bad, she was down to operating on primal instincts. The first necessity was the bathroom, and fast; she was going to hurl and she knew it was going to be a close call.
Gently and quickly untangling herself from Rachel, she stepped out of bed right on a body and Santana nearly screamed in fright. She wasn't fully awake, and had vague unsettling dreams all night about people coming and taking Rachel away from her. She jerked away from the warm body, and bumped into a second body on the floor.
"Ugh, San it's too early. Go back to sleep," Quinn moaned as she turned into Brittany's body on the floor next to her. She didn't wait to hear the response before falling back into a deep sleep, which was just as well since Santana merely grunted in an annoyed manner.
Santana could count the times on one hand that she'd been violently and physically ill after a night of drinking, she could tell this was going to be one of those times. 'God why did I drink so much last night?' was all she could think about as she desperately tried to fight her way to the bathroom, before she threw up all over Rachel's bedroom floor. Finally making it to the door without stepping on any more girlfriends, she flung herself towards the toilet.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, she found herself crying and groaning as she heaved long after there was anything left to bring up. She was on both knees, and her entire body was shaking. She was about to collapse when she felt cold air hit her back as the bathroom door opened and closed quickly, and she found herself engulfed in the warm arms of her girlfriend.
Brittany reached up and pulled her own ponytail holder out of her long blonde hair with one hand while holding Santana securely around her middle. She quickly gathered Santana's raven locks, and bound it all up and off her face in a high ponytail like they all used to wear in high school. Closing the lid to the toilet, she grabbed a clean towel and folded it into a makeshift pillow, "Here, baby, lay your head down on the towel. I'll be right back to help."
Santana's head flopped down on the fragrant towel, and she moaned piteously. She was just grateful for a place to set her head. Her neck was not capable of holding her head up any longer; she hadn't eaten any real food in days, and she was suffering from the worst hangover she had ever had in her entire young life.
Brittany was back in a flash, "San, can you sit down, or do you still feel sick?"
Santana waved her hand but made a move to sit up, so Brittany helped her sit with her back up against the bathtub. When she was reasonably certain Santana was not going to fall over if left unattended, she got up and ran a washcloth under warm water.
"Here, baby. Sit still, I need to clean the makeup off your face," she went to work getting rid of the mascara that was sealing Santana's eyes. Brittany went back and got the cloth wet a few times, and gently and thoroughly cleaned up her lover. She had grabbed the aspirin and the bottle of water off of Rachel's nightstand, "Ah there's my beauty. You were buried under yesterday's makeup. Can you sip some water, I have aspirin?"
Santana had still not spoken; she was certain if she did her head would shatter like fine china. She nodded carefully, and reached out for the water and painkillers. Brittany watched her sip the warm water, and down the aspirin. She was ready to help her if she looked like she was about to get sick again. It looked like the water and aspirin were going to stay down.
"Honey," the tall blonde started softly, "do you want to go back to bed, or do you want to take a nice warm bath?"
"Bed…. Sleep…" the Latina croaked miserably, "B, shoot me."
Brittany tried not to smirk at the last part, "You're lucky it's me helping and not Q. She just might oblige you," she quickly stood up when Santana just groaned again in reply, "Ok, I'm going to go grab you some clean pajamas; our bed or Rachel's?" she asked softly helping Santana off the floor, and directing her to the closed toilet seat.
"Rachel's, please…" the brunette croaked painfully, huddling over and holding her aching head in both hands.
Brittany nodded, "Ok, then I'm going to call your work, and tell them you are too sick to come in today and probably tomorrow. Wait here, baby. Don't move," she directed sternly but Santana was obviously sick, and clearly not going anywhere. Brittany looked at her with loving concern; she had never seen her girlfriend this hung-over in her entire life.
She opened the door, and found Quinn standing in front of her holding clean pajamas. Brittany leaned forward, and kissed the other blonde chastely, "Thanks, sweetie."
"How is she?" Quinn asked quietly.
Brittany nodded noncommittally, "Sick, sad, hung-over… I'm going to call her work and let them know she won't be in today and tomorrow. She's off anyway for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It will give her a few much needed rest days. She wants to go back to sleep for a while. I'm going to get her into these clean P.J.'s, and put her back in bed with Rachel."
Quinn nodded, "Yeah, I think they could both use the rest. Did you notice, there were no screaming nightmares last night?"
"Maybe we found a way to help Rachel sleep through the night."
"Yeah maybe, but it could have been all the alcohol fumes that knocked Rachel out," Quinn sniped; she was sad for Santana, but still a little pissed off at her.
Brittany laughed softly, and slapped her girlfriend on the arm, "Quinnie, don't be mean. She's really sick, so you have to forgive her."
"Did she say what happened with Shelby?" Quinn asked curiously. She and Brittany both knew the meeting was not going to go well, but they hadn't expected Santana to be that disturbed by it either. She was dying to find out what happened.
Brittany shook her head sadly, "She really hasn't spoken, she's mostly just groaning. Go back to bed, sweetie. I'll take care of San, and then I'll come join you for a nap. Sleeping on the floor can't have been comfortable on your back. We'll find out what happened with Shelby when San feels better."
The shorter blonde pouted. Her back felt miserable and she was exhausted, but she didn't want to abandon Brittany or Santana, "You sure, babe? I can stay and help."
"Go on, San will be fine. I will join you in a few minutes. I love you, Q."
"I love you too, sweetie. Tell San that I love her?"
"Of course, Quinnie. She already knows that, just like you know that she loves you. Now scoot…." She turned Quinn around and pointed her to the hallway, gently patted her butt, and sent her on her way back to bed like she would a little girl. She grinned as the blonde grumbled, stopped to grab her pillows, and headed back to their own bedroom. Neither San nor Quinn were morning people like her and Rachel on the best of days.
Brittany got Santana changed and tucked in next to Rachel. She watched in amazement as the two brunettes unconsciously moved together and clung to each other as if drawn by an invisible magnetic field. It was the first sense of hope she had for Rachel since her birthday; now they just had to help keep Santana from unraveling.
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The following day was December 22nd and it was the day of Rachel's first appointment with the therapist. She was in the living room listlessly watching cartoons, while Santana explained her visit with Shelby to her girlfriends. She was still slightly hung-over. She'd never had one that lasted for two days. The brunette washed down some more aspirin with some orange juice, and nibbled on some toast while she waited for her girlfriends to chime in on Shelby and her demands.
"I can't believe how sad and desperate she has become. I wish she would have gone to rehab when we arranged it for her the first time. Rachel deserves so much better from the woman who gave birth to her," Brittany shook her head dejectedly. She was always the one out of the three to try to see the good in someone, or find a silver lining in a bad situation. She had genuinely cared for Shelby Corcoran when she first met her, despite her obvious problems.
Quinn was furious, "I will strangle that woman with my bare hands if I ever see her in person again. How dare she use Rachel like some bargaining chip? She has no conscience and no soul! How can we agree to her demands? It's unconscionable!" They were speaking softly so Rachel didn't overhear them, and Quinn was practically hissing she was so angry and upset.
Santana nodded in agreement, "You know I agree with you, mi amor, but Shelby has us between a rock and a hard place. I looked into her eyes; they were black and cold like a shark. She is deadly serious. The woman has no feelings; she will literally use Rachel like some pawn in a chess game to destroy us if we don't agree to her terms. She's not bluffing you guys, she'll do it. I talked to her attorney; Shelby will subpoena Rachel to testify, and she will take us to court for not only being lesbians but being in a poly relationship. We could very easily lose custody of Rachel if she pursues it. I will not lose my daughter because of that junkie whore piece of shit!"
Brittany's sky blue eyes flashed dangerously, "Who is she to judge our relationship? It has nothing to do with us being good mothers'. Rachel was hording food in her closet, and terrified of being beaten for every little mistake when she first came to live with us," the other women could see she was very close to tears.
Quinn reached over and took Brittany's hand, and squeezed it lovingly, "So she wins? Just like that? I say we take our chances, and show people the kind of parents we are. Rachel will want to stay with us, and we can beat this."
Santana looked down at the table. She looked upset and ashamed, and was using her finger to draw invisible doodles on the table top, "Well she has more ammunition than just that, I'm afraid," she whispered quietly without looking up.
Quinn and Brittany's eyes met across the table, as they took in Santana's demeanor, "What do you mean, San?"
The Latina swallowed audibly, "I might have punched her in the head in front of her attorney while she was handcuffed and chained to the table."
It was so quiet in the kitchen you could hear a pin drop, as Santana waited nervously for her girlfriends to say something. She knew they didn't approve of her hair-trigger temper, and she was ashamed she had fallen for Shelby's blatant baiting, especially after she had been warned of the trap in advance. She couldn't stand the suspense any longer, and looked up to see both her girlfriends struggling not to laugh. The look on her face must have been priceless, because both Brittany and Quinn lost it and burst out laughing.
After a full minute of giggling and laughing, Brittany wiped her eyes, "Good, the bitch deserved it!"
Both Quinn and Santana's jaws dropped wide open; they had never heard Brittany say a mean thing against anyone in their lives. They stared at her in shock.
Brittany shrugged, "What? She's trying to take our little girl away from us!" she smirked at her girlfriends, "You two aren't the only ones allowed to be protective you know, I can be a mama bear too!"
That started another round of laughs.
Brittany got up from the table still giggling, "I'm going to go give Rachel a bath, and get her dressed for her therapy appointment," she walked around and kissed both her girlfriends tenderly.
Quinn got up to finish doing the breakfast dishes, and Santana joined her at the sink to dry. The brunette was still feeling guilty, "I'm sorry that I failed you on the day you finally got to meet Beth. I'm sorry I failed Rachel by losing her that day, and I am so sorry I failed everyone by getting violent with Shelby," she finished despondently.
The blonde sighed heavily, and carefully folded and hung up the dish cloth giving her time to think before speaking. She turned towards Santana and took both her hands in her own, "You need to listen to me, Santana Lopez, and you need to listen good; you haven't failed anyone. We haven't had time to talk about Beth but I met her and she's safe, beautiful, and happy. She has a wonderful family. If she wants a relationship with me, I would like that very much but honestly, she's not my daughter; Rachel is. I felt connected to Beth but she's a beautiful little stranger who happens to look a lot like me, and Puck a little. She definitely has his sneaky smirk when she's amused. I've always been afraid for her, because I didn't know anything about how she was growing up. I do now, and it's more than I could have ever given her. I'm at peace about it," she reached out and tucked raven hair behind Santana's ear. She sighed again, "My daughter, our daughter Rachel snuck out of the house that day because she thought I was going to abandon her, and unfortunately for all of us, Shelby just happened to be stalking her that day. She manipulated a child for her own sick purposes and that wasn't Rachel's, B's, or you're fault; it was Shelby's. We have to help Rachel get better; we can't waste time on guilt or regrets. What happened to Rachel on her birthday could destroy her if we let it, but we won't. It's that serious, babe; we have to save Rachel's life. You are so strong, babe and we all count on you. Maybe too much, and I know you take too much on yourself. We have to be a team, and you have to let us help you when you're overwhelmed. Rachel is counting on us, and we can't do it without you. You can't drown in the guilt, babe and you can't fall apart now. We all need to be strong for each other, ok?"
Quinn smiled when Santana gave her a watery smile, and a fervent nod, "Good, listen San, things happen that are out of our control, and we can't stop them. When you crawled into bed with her, she allowed physical contact for the first time since her birthday and stopped screaming all night. You helped her, you did that!"
Santana let out a small sob feeling her guilt release, and she threw herself into Quinn's open arms. The blonde loved being able to comfort the vulnerable woman she loved so deeply. It was her opportunity to give back to her protective partner, "We are all going to be ok, we just need to stick together right now. Why don't you go get dressed and ready so we can take Rach to therapy?"
The brunette wiped her tears fiercely, her resolve to help save Rachel firmly back on track, "Thanks, mi amor. I needed that," she leaned forward and captured Quinn's lips letting her gratitude, love, and passion flow through her kiss.
Santana pulled back joy on her face again, as Quinn smiled lovingly. The brunette turned to the door when she heard a loud snap, and felt a stinging pain in her ass, "Ow fuck Quinn, what the hell? That hurt!" she rubbed the sting strenuously as she turned to see a still smiling Quinn swinging the wet dish towel from her hand.
"You are completely forgiven now, but that was for punching Shelby and for coming home drunk as a skunk. Don't let either happen again! I have no intention of marrying a violent alcoholic!"
Santana left the kitchen backing out nervously this time, much to Quinn's amusement.
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The small family sat in the waiting room of the crisis therapist's office. Brittany looked over at Rachel sitting completely still and staring off into space. There was no fidgeting, no bouncing, no long monologues about anything and everything like Rachel was prone too; she was just a shell of her former self. Ever since she slept through the night with Santana she had stopped throwing tantrums, but she had also retreated quietly into herself.
Quinn noticed Brittany staring, and turned to look at Rachel; the little girl wouldn't allow physical contact except when she was asleep. It made the blonde sad; she missed her little peanut wanting to cuddle all the time.
Santana was nervous and anxious and it translated into irritation, "Jesus! What is taking so long?" she burst out, startling everyone around her, "I'm sorry, pequeña, I didn't mean to frighten you; sorry Q, sorry B," she mumbled berating herself mentally for frightening Rachel.
Quinn reached over and took the tan hand in her own, and rubbed calming circles on the back of her hand with her thumb, "It's ok, just relax baby. We're here now, and Rachel is going to get better," she whispered softly so only Santana could hear.
The door open and a short, heavyset woman walked into the waiting room. She was wearing a long, flowing, floral skirt with a light blue peasant blouse, and tan sandals. Gray streaks highlighted the ash blonde hair that met her shoulders, and wire-rimmed granny glasses adorned her pleasant round face. She exuded peace, and looked like an old hippy, "Hi, I'm Amy Woodbridge and I am so pleased to meet you all," she bustled over to the small family, "You must be Rachel Corcoran?" she knelt down unthreateningly so she was on the tiny diva's level, "I've heard so many cool things about you. I hear you love to dance, and sing and you want to be on Broadway someday, is that true?"
Rachel looked at Amy, then up at her moms' then back at Amy. She nodded cautiously, the woman looked safe enough, and she was surrounded by everyone she loved but she was reluctant to let anyone into her tight circle.
"That's amazing, I love a strong woman who knows what she wants in life," Amy said enthusiastically. Rachel looked at her guardedly, she didn't feel strong. She gently reached over and grabbed her mommy Quinn's hand, and was instantly calmed by the supportive squeeze she received in return.
Amy didn't miss Rachel reach for her mother, and was pleased with Rachel's level of interaction. She was worried that the child might be completely walled off; she had seen some kids who became catatonic after surviving a trauma like the one Rachel had survived, "Please, everyone let's go into my office and talk," she turned and led the way to her office.
Everyone squeezed together on a big couch facing the therapist. Santana liked how she kept addressing Rachel, giving her a voice. It was empowering for Rachel, and the Latina knew that it could help the child recover her confidence, if she wasn't pushed too hard.
"Rachel is it alright with you if I talk to your mothers' for a few minutes? You can stay and listen, or you can use my art supplies on the table over there," Amy indicated an area directly behind the couch. She waited patiently for Rachel to indicate her decision. When Rachel didn't speak or get up to go to the art table she tried again, "I understand it may be difficult to speak or make decisions, or you may not want to talk right now, and that's fine. But, if you want to stay and it's ok to talk about your situation with your moms', just nod your head and let me know. If you want to take a look at the art supplies, just go on over," her tone was gentle and understanding, not judging or pushy and all the women liked her immediately.
She waited until Rachel got up and walked over to the art area before starting, speaking loudly enough for Rachel to hear her, "Ok just wanted to go over a few basics on how this will work; I will meet with Rachel daily. If you can't get here every day, let me know and we can find a way to work around that. I will talk to Rachel privately unless she indicates to me that she requires one of you present. The goal will eventually be Rachel and I together, one on one, but if she needs additional support in the beginning that's perfectly acceptable. After her session, Rachel will wait with my assistant while I go over the daily treatment plan with you, and what we've accomplished. What Rachel says to me is private, so it is up to her to share the details of her session with you unless I feel she or someone else is in immediate danger, but honestly I don't see that as a concern right now. Any questions?" She watched as a million questions washed through the young mothers' minds, but all three didn't really know how to verbalize their concerns.
"I don't understand why what is said in here is so private," Santana snapped at the therapist, immediately defensive, "how are we supposed to help her at home, if you are keeping things from us?"
Amy remained unruffled, "That's a very good question, Santana. The purpose of that is not to keep things from Rachel's parents, but to give her a completely open, safe place to divulge things she might not be ready to share with you yet. I can see that you all have an amazing foundation as a family, and I honestly believe as time goes on, Rachel will want to share her feelings with you. It's pretty obvious to me that she trusts you all very much," she looked at Santana firmly but understandingly, "I know all this has affected you, but it is Rachel's trauma to bear, and to come to terms with. She needs an arena to feel completely safe to deal with it. That haven is here, do you understand?"
"Yeah, but it doesn't mean I have to like being kept in the dark about my own daughter," she mumbled begrudgingly.
Finally Quinn cleared her throat, "You have the police reports, and witness statements. I mean you understand everything that happened?" she asked with a quick backwards glance at Rachel.
Amy nodded, "I do have all the facts, now I want to deal with Rachel's feelings and all of yours as well, in time," she raised an eyebrow as she mentally assessed the three women, liking what she saw. They were all strong, loving women and Rachel was a lucky girl to have a stable home life.
She turned towards Santana when the brunette started to speak again, "I was told you were to receive a report from Shelby Corcoran's attorney as well?" she asked more than stated.
Amy nodded carefully, Santana's agitation was transparent and she wanted her to stay calm for Rachel's sake. She watched Santana chewing on her lip, and struggling with what to say. She intervened, "I thought we could talk about that after Rachel's session, and I could offer some insight if you were interested in my opinion about it."
Santana looked relieved, and nodded her agreement.
Amy turned to Brittany kindly, "Do you have any questions?"
The tall blonde shrugged, "Not a question as much as a comment; Rachel loves singing, dancing, and art. I'm glad you have an art area for her. She's a very expressive little girl, but she seems to have lost her interest in all those things. I just hope you can help her get that passion back, it's one of the things that make Rachel so special, her passion for life."
Amy smiled at them all, it was apparent they all loved the little girl so much, "Believe me; we all have the same goal in mind. I know it's hard to entrust Rachel to me, and just sit in the other room," she glanced at Santana, "but your daughter will be treated with love, respect, and kindness in this room. She will be given back her voice, the voice that was taken from her in that apartment complex. It may get worse before it gets better, but Rachel is a strong, resilient little girl and she has three mothers who obviously love her very much. Just give this a little time. I'll be with you every step of the way, and will answer any and all your questions."
All three women nodded, and actually looked a little relieved. Rachel was staring at the paper she was coloring on, but was listening to every word. When she first went to the art table, she had decided she was not going to be alone in this room with that strange woman for even one second, but now she was calmer and more relaxed. She was also concentrating on every word being said by the adults, because she understood they were all talking about her.
Quinn got up and walked over to Rachel. She knelt down and admired Rachel's coloring, "That's beautifully done, peanut. Your mama B and mama S are going to go wait in the lobby, and I'm going with them unless you need one of us to stay with you. It's alright if you do, and it's alright if you don't; there is no wrong choice, baby girl. We'll do whatever you need us to do."
A small smile played on the therapist's lips. It was the perfect thing to say to the little girl, and she could tell Quinn was being sincere.
Rachel looked up quickly at Quinn, her melted milk chocolate eyes flashed fear but she didn't say anything. She watched Rachel swallow hard as the young girl made a decision. Her mommy questioned her, "you would like one of us to stay, is that correct?"
The tiny girl nodded quickly, and reached up and took Quinn's hand, pulling her onto the floor with her. Santana and Brittany got up and walked to the waiting room, thanking Amy as they did.
"Pequeña? I'm going to be right outside this door if you need me. We won't go anywhere else."
"Rachie, I'll be sitting with Mama S. We love you, sweetie."
The tiny diva looked up at them both, and gave a slight nod. It wasn't much, but it was more communicative than she had been in the last few days, and they were thrilled she was opening up a tiny bit.
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Quinn sat in silence as Amy talked to Rachel, while the tiny brunette drew pictures and colored on them. When the therapist had first approached, Rachel had rapidly backed up onto Quinn's lap. She held herself rigid, and was definitely not cuddling but she wanted the comfort and safety of her mommy's lap while facing this strange woman. As the therapist continued talking to Rachel; getting to know the child and letting Rachel get to know her, the little brunette relaxed a bit and eventually wound up with her back and head resting on Quinn's front. It nearly brought the blonde to tears, but she fought against her urge to pull Rachel even tighter. She let her wounded child dictate the pace she was comfortable with; touching would occur when Rachel allowed it.
Quinn didn't know what to expect, but Amy didn't push and didn't ask any difficult questions. She talked about Broadway shows she had seen, her favorite singers and music, how she had two left feet and couldn't dance to save her life, and how much she loved children. She asked some basic easy questions that Rachel could answer with a nod or one or two words.
After nearly an hour of coloring and casual conversation, the therapist slipped in what she did for a living; helping young people like Rachel who had been through difficult and traumatic events they couldn't really understand and deal with on their own.
The blonde felt Rachel tense up when the tone of the conversation finally came around to Greg and Shelby, and what happened the day of her birthday party. Both adults saw immediately that Rachel was not going to talk about that day or her feelings about it yet, so Amy asked Rachel to draw a picture about anything she remembered about that day. Quinn looked up at the older woman sadly, but the therapist just smiled encouragingly and nodded; she knew what she was doing. It was all going to be ok eventually, but it would take time.
The two women watched as Rachel leaned forward and grabbed a clean piece of drawing paper, and began her sketch. She was diligent and focused on her drawing, the tiny pink tip of her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. No one said a word, they just let her draw. When she was finished, she sat back against Quinn's chest as if she were completely physically and emotionally drained.
"May I look at it, Rachel?" Amy asked quietly waiting for an ok from the artist in question.
Rachel looked up at Quinn with tears in her eyes. The blonde couldn't decipher what the look meant. Was Rachel asking her permission? Did she want Quinn to look first? Did she not want Quinn to see the drawing? It was so confusing without words, "Do you want me to look at your drawing, peanut?"
The tiny girl looked back and forth between her mommy and the stranger in front of her. She didn't want anyone to see what she had drawn, it felt like it exposed too much of her pain and fear. But, Rachel was a very smart little girl and understood she was in this weird place to talk to the woman about what happened on her birthday. Sadly Rachel looked back at her mommy and nodded for her to look at it.
Quinn didn't know what exactly was on the paper, but she steeled herself for the worst case scenario. She didn't want to get overly emotional and upset Rachel. The blonde looked nervously at Amy, and then picked up the drawing, "Ok, I see a woman with yellow hair next to an airplane, so that must be me?"
Rachel nodded her agreement.
"That's really good, peanut! So I'm all the way at the end of the paper so I'm far away, is that right?"
A small smile played on Rachel's lips, her mommy was so smart. She nodded again.
"So that's mama B and mama S with you and some birthday presents, balloons, and a cake with…. that must be Kurt, right?"
Amy just kept watching Rachel and Quinn interacting. Quinn was very gentle and patient with her, and Rachel was responding. It was a very good beginning.
The blonde pointed to a woman stick figure near a big building, "Is that your mama?"
Rachel reacted violently, shaking her head no fervently. She reached over and grabbed a black crayon and began to X out the woman on the paper. When she was finished she leaned back in to Quinn with tears falling down her cheeks. She turned in Quinn's lap so she was facing her mommy, and held her face in both her hands staring into her eyes. She took one hand and put it over Quinn's heart and the other over her own heart.
Now Quinn started to cry, "I'm your mommy, and that's Shelby. Is that what you mean, baby?"
This time Rachel shook her head yes just as violently. She was trying to make clear her feelings about Shelby without having to say them out loud. She was still too afraid to say how much she was afraid of Shelby and Greg, and how much she hated them as well. It was all so overwhelming for her; it was easier to remain quiet. She leaned forward again and tapped on the pictures of her other mamas' as well.
"I know, peanut. I'm your mommy Quinn, and that's your mama B, and that's your mama S. I understand, baby girl, this is a very good picture.
Amy took a deep breath, and spoke softly, "Rachel, there is someone else that was there that day that you didn't draw, isn't there? Can you draw the other person that was at the apartment with you and Shelby?"
Rachel looked up and spoke very plainly, "No, we were alone."
Quinn looked up quickly, and stared at the therapist; her hazel eyes wide with fear and confusion, "But…"
Amy quickly held her hand up to stop Quinn from speaking, "Do you really not remember anyone else, Rachel or is it just too scary to think about?"
Rachel got an obstinate look on her face, and crossed her arms, "We were alone," she repeated again.
Amy pressed a bit harder, "It's alright to be afraid, Rachel. Can you just draw what you remember?" she picked up a black crayon and held it out to the girl.
Rachel slapped the crayon out of her hand, and before Quinn or Amy could react, she was on her feet screaming at the top of her lungs. She was having a full on tantrum, ripping up her drawing and kicking and throwing the art supplies around the room. Both women jumped back to get out of the way of the destruction. Santana crashed into the room, letting the door hit the wall with a loud bang, startling Rachel out of her tantrum.
She turned and looked at Santana wildly, not sure who to expect. When she saw it was her Mama S with her Mama B right behind, her little face crumbled and she started to sob and wail loudly. Santana was at her side immediately, scooping her up into her arms bridal style and holding her against her chest; kissing her hair and cooing to her softly.
Amy stood up and looked at Quinn, "Are you alright?"
Quinn was shaken but she nodded quickly, "She's been having these tantrums since the day she got out of the hospital."
The therapist pointed at Quinn's bruised eye, as the blonde nodded, "She accidently hit me with her elbow when I was trying to calm her down."
The older woman put her hand on Quinn's arm, "She's actually doing better than I thought she would be. The drawing was very well done, and she responded to direct questions. As you can see, she's holding the trauma very tightly inside of herself, and she's trying to force herself to bury it and forget. When she remembers, or is forced to remember she reacts violently. I consider that to be pretty normal, don't you?"
Quinn grimaced, "Yeah, I want to react the same way every time I think of what happened, and what could have happened."
The therapist led Quinn over to where Brittany was standing next to Santana holding a still quietly sobbing Rachel, "Take her home, cuddle her and love her if she'll allow it. Don't force her to talk if she doesn't want to. Is she eating, sleeping?"
Brittany answered, "She picks at food, we try to keep it simple and get her to eat a little bit of things we know she likes. She has been having nightmares every single night, but last night, Santana slept with her and Rachie slept through the night."
"Listen, you three have wonderful maternal instincts, just follow them. Bring her back tomorrow at the same time, and we'll talk some more. I know this is a really difficult time for all of you, but you are all handling this really well. I'll work on a more individualized treatment plan and have some more information for you tomorrow. If she exhibits any symptoms of shock take her to the emergency room, but I don't think that will be an issue tonight. Just keep an eye on her. You did really well," she reached over and smoothed the blanket of hair off of Rachel's face, pleased when the girl didn't pull away from her, "I'm very proud of you, Rachel. You did a wonderful job today, and you were very brave."
They were all surprised to hear a mumbled apology, "Sorry."
"You don't have anything to be sorry about, Rachel. I promise, it's nothing to worry about."
"Your art stuff…" she waved an arm at the mess near the art table.
Amy laughed sweetly, "Don't worry about that at all. My art area gets destroyed at least once a week, but thank you for apologizing. I don't want you to worry about it at all tonight, all right?"
Rachel closed her eyes, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and nodded her head as she burrowed tighter into Santana's chest.
"Good girl, I'll see you tomorrow. You get some dinner, and a good night sleep tonight," she grabbed a business card and scribbled a number on the back of it, "this is my cell number, please call if you need me tonight," she handed the card to Brittany.
"Thank you for everything," the tall blonde said sincerely.
"Of course, Rachel is going to get through this and so will all of you. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
An emotionally exhausted Santana carried an emotionally exhausted Rachel out to the car, as Brittany dug the keys out of Santana's pocket. Quinn slipped into the passenger seat while Santana still holding a now sleeping Rachel close to her slipped into the backseat. Brittany got into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirror. She looked into the backseat and saw Santana drifting off, Rachel already out, and Quinn with her head leaning back looking about to fall asleep as well.
"Q? Should we just stop, and get some take-out for dinner?"
Quinn nodded without opening her eyes.
"You know the day after tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and we haven't done anything for the holidays," the tall blonde fretted. Christmas was her favorite holiday, and more importantly it was important for Rachel to have a real Christmas. She was not about to allow Shelby to steal that from the little girl. Every child should have a magical Christmas, and Brittany was going to make that happen for her little girl.
"Let's worry about it later, sweetheart," Quinn said tiredly, "I'm afraid I'm not up for much tonight but dinner and maybe a movie."
"Okay, Quinnie I'll handle dinner tonight. You just put your head back and get some rest. We'll be home before you know it."
"Thanks, sweetie. I'm beat, aren't you?" Quinn peeled open one hazel eye to observe Brittany.
"A little, but I'll be alright. I don't want you to worry about anything tonight. I've got it under control. You can count on me!"
Quinn reached her hand out and entwined her fingers with the strong hand of her lover, "I know I can, honey. You're the best girlfriend, ever!"
Brittany smiled brilliantly; she had a plan for Christmas now too!
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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. We aren't going to dwell too long on counseling but some stuff needs to be addressed. Next Chapter is a Brittastic Christmas with some special guests attending. I can't promise because I can't control when I'm sick and when I'm not, but I am aiming for next Thursday!
If you enjoyed it, please drop me a review! Thanks!