Disclaimers: I do not own Glee or the characters. I do own all OCs unless ownership is otherwise given.
Spoilers: current chapters of Worth Giving Up? (chapters 30-32)
Rating: T

Thank you to those who reviewed on the last chapter! I hope you are having/had a good April Fools' Day. Please stay safe and healthy out there; remember to wash your hands, stay home when possible, and just take the precautions needed to keep healthy!

Notes: Shoutout to auntdedra. Here is some Brittana for you. This is part 2 to the outtake to chapter 32 of Is It Worth Giving Up?

Enjoy! :)

Friday, November 20th, 2009

*During lunch*

While Quinn and Rachel wait in the Choir room to be picked up, Brittany decides to stay at school for after lunch. Along with her, Santana also stays.

The older of the two observes from down the hall as the dancer gathers her books for the next class.

The two have not spoken since yesterday, since their fight or argument or… whatever you want to call it.

Brittany had a prior engagement last night along with Mike. Their kids – the ones they teach dance to – had their Thanksgiving recital, and the two had to be in the Auditorium of the dance studio to help set up, greet the kids, and also help with whatever else.

Of course, the actual dance teacher handled most of it, as Mr. Kendrix is responsible for the group of kids, allowing Mike and Britt to supervise/teach at least three times a week, but Brittany and Mike did assist with some things.

The two did not get home until late, and Brittany crashed as soon as she had her dinner, having to shower this morning and rush around to gather her things. For the first time in a long time, she and Santana did not get a ride to school together. Mike took her while Santana rode with Quinn and Rachel, who were brought by Josiah.

Now, Santana stands down the hall, closer to Rachel and Quinn's lockers than her own. She senses the presence behind her, and knows that it will definitely take some getting used to.

"Just talk to her."

And, of course, she is the Santana Lopez. Which means she does not usually say the following unless you are of great importance to her but…

There seems to be a lot of things that have occurred when usually, they do not happen.

"I called her stupid, pretty sure she is not going to want to talk to me."

"You indirectly implied those words. And right now? You not being attached to her side is more unsettling than fucking Rachel and Quinn Fabray being attached to each other. The longer you stew about this, the less you will want to do it."

"Don't you have something else you need to be doing?"

Dave sighs as he adjusts his backpack's strap on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I have to go meet with my coach." He takes a few steps away, and adds, "Stop stalling and just talk to her." before he walks away.

Santana watches him as he goes and then faces towards where Brittany is standing, only to find the dancer watching her. She feels a prickliness wash over her, and hates it.

That look in her baby blue eyes is something that Santana has seen too many times over the years the two have known each other – from her own mother, her biological mother, that is, from other kids, and the teachers, when Brittany doubts her own intelligence because everyone keeps saying…

Rachel was right. They worked so hard – they do work so hard – to get Brittany to understand she is nothing of what other people say about her, and Santana goes and…

There were so many ways Thursday afternoon's conversation could have ended, so why did it happen the way it did?

Santana is broken out of her reverie when she sees a flash of blonde moving. She blinks, straightening up to find Brittany approaching her, and once she is there, the dancer simply holds a hand, and, dumbly, Santana just stares at it.

After several moments of no movement, Britt flexes her fingers, bringing Santana out of her thoughts once more. She hesitantly places her own in the dancer's, and is tugged to follow her, down the hall, around several corners, and finally…

… ending up at the Library.

Brittany is silent the whole way and Santana is fighting with herself on what to say, or how to say it, or even she should something in the first place, but she does not question where Brittany is taking her.

No…

She knows she will never have to question the dancer's decisions… know she shouldn't have questioned them.

She is mad that Quinn and Britt told Z and Dave without her knowing.

She is so fucking pissed off about it but…

Like Rachel said…

She could be mad, and still could have had a different reaction. Brittany was looking out for them – it may not have been the most… smart… way, but she was still looking out for Santana, for Quinn. They reached their breaking point long before August of this year. It was near the time Britt and Quinn told Z and Dave… things.

And after that point?

They were exhausted and barely able to wade their legs to keep their heads above water; they were struggling, hoping for that one adult to just see it. Hoping for Judy to step in, hoping for Britt's parents, or her own parents, or for Rachel to just…

… ask.

It takes several moments for Santana to realize they have stopped moving and that, completely on autopilot, she had followed Britt through the Library to the room that Rachel showed them earlier this week, one of the testing rooms with shades for the window and a door, their own little private getaway of sorts.

Brittany is leaning against the table. The dancer is not wearing her backpack and, Santana realizes, neither is she. A quick glance to the left shows both bags have been placed on the table.

The two girls are now holdings hands, both hands, Brittany is gently spinning the ring around that is on San's right middle finger, the one that has a tiny aquamarine stone in it that only Britt knows would have been Marianna's birthstone.

And Santana stares down at them, not knowing what to say or where to start.

Britt pulls one hand away, raising it, gently brushing the backs of her fingers across Santana's cheek, watching as the Latina's eyes flutter shut, and she takes a deep breath, whispering, "I need to say some things, and I need you to listen, okay, Santana?"

And the older girl can do nothing but nod, keeping her eyes shut because she can't make herself see the look in Brittany's eyes.

Though, this proves to be futile because Brittany just whispers, "Look at me, baby." And she waits until brown meets blues. "What I am going to say, it will upset you, but please know that I not saying it to upset you. Ok?"

She knows Santana will understand that, but she still waits for the nod, and then…

She breathes out slowly through her nose, switching from holding Santana's hands to wrapping her arms around her and pulling the girl against her. Santana settles her arms around the taller girl's waist, leaning her head against her chest, and feeling Britt place her own arms around her shoulders, one hand gently tracing random shapes on her back.

"Do you remember," Britt starts quietly. "The first time Q had a panic/anxiety attack, and Rach was not there with us?"

Santana nods in leu of answering verbally.

"Rach came in eventually," Brittany continues. "but she was gone just long enough for us to realize we were… that we weren't equipped to handle something like that. But she came back, just a few minutes into it, and she calmed her down, and we were able to go back to relaxing."

She sighs.

"That happened several times throughout our childhood, and you and me? We never thought to actually learn how to help passed getting her some water, or clearing the room, or something like that, because we–… We always thought, Rachel can handle it. Rachel will always handle it. We don't need to do anything more. And you know what?"

She laughs here, humorlessly.

"We were little kids. We had no idea of the kind of experience those three had garnered over the last three years. We had no idea of… of the things he was capable of. We were little kids, and we thought we would always have Rachel to handle that, but, Santana, we didn't. We didn't have her. It is an absolute miracle, that Q lasted as long as she did."

She sniffles, using her sleeve to wipe her tears, and she feels Santana adjust in her arms, pulling back just enough. Brittany hates the broken look in her girl's eyes, but knows she has to continue.

"She went nearly two entire years without a bad anxiety or panic attack." It's whispered, her voice hoarse from the tears, having little cracks and catches here and there. "And the first several of them? We were able to calm her down. We were–… We were able to distract her, and keep going, and everything seemed all right."

"But then the big one happened. And–" She scoffs. "And we had no idea what to do."

Brittany sighs, blinking several times, feeling Santana trying to catch her tears.

"You were–… It–… We didn't know what to do. I was very close to breaking and honestly, San, honestly? The only reason I didn't that first time?" She makes eye contact here. "Was because you were already losing your shit."

It would be funny, the wording of that sentence, just a little bit, given different circumstances, but here?

Here it is the truth.

Santana – all 13 years, and tiny, fierce, Santana, – lost it when she realized they couldn't hand Quinn off to Rachel. When she realized that them doing this shit to Rachel was the reason for Quinn's anxiety attack, the big one, that is, that day.

"The relief that was on your face," She breathes out, slowly. "I–… When you heard your brother downstairs, and you realized we had someone who could help, and you ran out to get him… That, San, that right there was when I decided that… that we couldn't do it anymore."

Brittany sighs, deflating, just… feeling exhausted all of a sudden.

"I didn't decide it right away. It was a couple of weeks. I went back and forth, I spoke to Q about it, we – both – debated on whether we should include you or not. But, eventually, we decided to just go and tell them, just the two of us."

Brittany sighs here, deeper, and…

"You have to understand, Santana, that we did not do this with the sole intention of keeping you in the dark. And I am so sorry about it, okay? If I could go back, I would have talked you into coming with us that day. You would have known about us telling Z and Dave, and… I am sorry that we never told you, but, as much as you would like to think we had shit under control, we didn't."

And she pulls back, to make eye contact, to make sure Santana is really hearing her.

"We were so far from having it under control – we weren't sleeping, we weren't eating, Q was having anxiety attacks nearly every day. We wanted to tell Mamí, but we couldn't. We wanted to tell someone, but we just… couldn't. Because we didn't know what he would do to her. We never knew when she would…"

She forgoes the rest of that thought, saying, instead, "I am sorry we kept you in the dark about this, if I could go back, I would have told you, but, Santana, I do not regret telling Dave and Z. I do not regret agreeing to them being the ones to slushie Rachel. And you have to understand that because… You can't react the way you did."

Brittany sighs, pulling back even further, pushing Santana away slightly so they are fully facing each other.

"I won't put up with that. I love you, San… I love you so much, but I will not put up with you jumping to conclusions, and insinuating, that I didn't think things through that day; that I just jumped head first into a random, split-second decision. We can't do that to each other. Not now, not… not ever. We have so many things happening, and we can't do that to each other. Okay?"

She hates the tears. Really, she hates them on anyone, she cannot stand to see anyone – especially her friends – cry, but it is worse when it is Santana, and it is heartbreaking when it is her fault.

Sighing, Brittany wipes the tears her thumbs, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Santana's but holds this position for a only a few seconds before San is finally breaking. And she is pulling the girl against her.

Santana chokes out, "I'm sorry…" only a second before Brittany shushes her gently.

"I know, baby. It's ok. I've got you."

Brittany pulls her in close, tightly, as Santana buries her face in the dancer's neck. She knows that, usually, Santana does not do hugs, not like this, (except for when Britt needs it) because this, this is categorized under "mushy feelings and shit" – her words, not mine, – but right now?

Right now, she needs it.

Right now, all Britt can do is say, "I've got you." And hope that her girl believes that as much as she means it.

That was not how it was going to go, but I think I am pretty satisfied. I had about three different ways for this scene to play out, including Brittany being mad a bit longer, but then I decided I liked this the most.

I honestly think Brittana is going to happen sooner than season 3. A little throughout, with the focus being when I finally get to the summer chapters, so not for a while. Of course, the spotlight will still be the friendships, getting Quinn through each day, and just as much fluff as possible, but I do enjoy writing Brittana, and moments like this between the two.

Anyway, please review and let me know what you thought! Also, if you have an outtake from a certain chapter, or a moment between someone that you want to see, just prompt me, and I'll see if I can do it. In the meantime, I will continue to do outtakes, extended scenes, and excerpts from the chapters. :)