Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews, they are much appreciated! Not much else to say except here's the next chapter for you!


Brittany hadn't realized that she'd been holding her breath, frozen to the world, as she watched Santana walk into the eye of the storm. It was the clearing of Sam's throat and the sympathetic nudge of her shoulder that reminded Brittany that idling the car there was doing absolutely nothing to help, and with one final glance to where Santana stood, arms crossed across her body, nervous, guarding herself, Brittany lifted her foot from the brake and slowly rounded the next corner.

Inside the diner, Santana put on her best front, appearing non-plussed by the presence of the exact person she was trying to avoid, and pretending she actually cared about the lemonade that flowed from the tap she'd pressed on the fountain, busying her hands before approaching Hummel and her father. Mercedes intentionally turned her back and took off toward the old couple sitting in the front, leaving Santana alone with the two men without so much as a wave.

"Hi Papí, hi Sheriff Hummel." She twisted the paper from her straw and slowly sipped her drink.

"Hey mija. Practice run late?"

"No." Santana shook her head. Hummel's son, Kurt, was one of her Cheerios, and she knew that a lie like that would be easily discovered. "Just a lot of homework this semester. I actually just came to see if 'Cedes would head over to the library with me. She's much better at this Transcendentalism stuff than I am."

"Mercedes!" Javier called over his shoulder, and the girl sashayed over to him, crossing her arms across her chest and raising at eyebrow at Santana. "Don't worry about your side work, Santana could use some homework help."

"I've got plans tonight." Mercedes answered cooly, avoiding the pleading gaze of her best friend.

"Please, Mercedes? I really need you to explain some of the English stuff to me, and I figured I could help you with that, um, blood lab for bio." Santana sputtered out, hoping Mercedes wouldn't shoot her down again.

"Oh." She slowly looked into Santana's eyes, just as warm relief flooded them. "Fine, glad you want to work on it before the due date. Just give me five minutes and we'll go."

"Thank you." Santana exhaled slowly, careful not to draw any attention to herself.

"So, as I was saying, Javier." Hummel began speaking again, one eye never leaving Santana. "Your daughter could have been hurt, your business could have been robbed, you just don't know. You don't take credit cards, you don't have cameras, there's pretty much no record of anyone who comes and goes from this place. Seems unwise and unsafe to me."

"Burt, my family has owned this diner for how many years? In all those years, one gun has gone off. No one was hurt, nothing was taken, I don't see why I'd spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on equipment. The odds of something like that happening again are right up there with one of those green aliens on my sign coming to life and walking through that door."

It took everything in Santana's power not to spit the lemonade out in shock, and the quick swallow she took caused the liquid to go down the wrong way and for her to start gasping for breath. Quickly, her father patted her on the back, and she took in air, dabbing her chin with a napkin and hoping that the Sheriff wasn't going to read into her weird episode.

"Santanita, dios mio. Are you alright?"

"I'm good." Santana waved off his concern, but felt her already burning cheeks grow hotter under Hummel's gaze. "I just really don't like hearing about the gun going off. It's all anyone has been talking about in school too, and it sort of freaks me out a little."

"You had quite the close call there, I can understand why that would upset you." Hummel soothed, and she tried not to glower at the man who posed such a real threat to Brittany (and to the others, but all Santana could hear in her head was Brittany, Brittany, Brittany). She needed to keep her cool, she needed to behave like someone who was present for a gunshot that harmed no one, not someone who'd actually been shot and saved by the sheriff's person of interest. "I know it's hard for you, Miss Lopez. I still get a little startled by the sound if a gun, and I've been carrying one for twenty-five years. Of course, we're all glad no one got hurt, but even so, I think all of Roswell would feel a little safer knowing what happened to the men who were in here that day."

"I certainly would, Sheriff." She put on her best sickly-sweet affectations and tried not to roll her eyes at herself.

"Excellent. Since you agree, I'd like to talk to you some more, and Ms. Jones too, since you were the only staff out on the floor that day. Is that alright with you, Javier?"

"It's up to Santana, Burt." Javier looked at his daughter, and Santana sat, conflicted. This wasn't just going to go away. It was small town America where nothing happened, and a stray bullet was the most interesting thing in years, and that would have been fine, Santana would have talked until she was blue in the face about burly old men with a gun. But it wasn't a stray bullet, and the sheriff was too paranoid for his own good. She could already guarantee that the discussion would center around someone else, someone who it couldn't center around, not if Santana had anything to do with it. "You have my permission, sweetheart. I know I'd sleep a little better at night knowing..."

"Papí, remember nothing happened." Santana swallowed, the back of her throat still burning from the lemonade. She knew it wasn't going to easy, but she also knew the best shot of Hummel leaving Brittany and the others alone would be for her to convince Hummel, even more than last time, that it was a stranger who asked if she was alright, that it was just ketchup, that there was no such thing as aliens. And all she could really do was pray that Mercedes would trust her again, and that she'd back her up. "I'll come tomorrow, Sheriff, if that's alright. But I do think I've told you all I know."

"You can never comb over a case too finely." Burt pinched the brim of his hat and stood, nodding to both Lopezes. "I'll see you tomorrow around four, Miss Lopez?"

"Yes, sir." Santana put her fake smile back on, and kept her eyes trained on the counter in front of her, fighting the urge to let her eyes follow the man out the door, fighting the urge to make sure he wasn't headed to where Brittany (and the others, she kept reminding herself) were waiting.

Santana could barely focus on her father, who had shifted the conversation to school, cheerleading, normal. She squirmed in her seat, casting the occasional glance toward the door to the back room, questioning what was taking Mercedes so damn long to change her clothes, though she had a sneaking suspicion that she was intentionally making Santana wait, giving her a taste of her own medicine. When she finally emerged, a half scowl on her face and a backpack slung over her shoulder, Santana tossed her empty glass in a bus bucket, kissed her father goodbye and walked out of the diner, Mercedes following wordlessly.

"The library's the other way." Mercedes finally spoke, watching Santana walk the opposite direction and throw cautious glances over both shoulders.

"Yeah. I know. I also read Walden two years ago. Did you really think I needed your help?"

"I don't know what to think about you anymore."

"I know. And I'm sorry." Santana spoke softly, slowing down so Mercedes could catch up with her. "Trust me, 'Ce, I'm taking you to someone who's going to help me explain everything. It's totally fucked up, and you're probably not going to believe any of it. I mean, I barely did, and I have more reason to than you do."

"Let's just get there already." Mercedes tried not to let Santana's words soften her anger, not until she knew it wasn't a game anymore, not until she knew she wasn't being kept in the dark about something dangerous enough to spill her best friend's blood.

They rounded the corner onto Sycamore, and Santana scanned the cars parked there, until her eyes settled on the silver Prius that idled on the curb fifty feet ahead. Looking through the back windshield, Santana squinted her eyes, confused as to why there were only two blondes inside. Slowly, she approached the car, and Mercedes balked the moment she figured out who they were meeting.

"Oh hell no, Santana. I thought you and I were having a conversation, I didn't know you were going to team against me with the Pierces. We don't even know them."

"You wish you knew one of them." Santana tried to tease, glancing at Sam and wiggling her eyebrows, but Mercedes wouldn't take the bait. "Listen, just get in the car and you'll understand why I needed them for this."

"I hope so. Especially since you just set the execution date with Hummel tomorrow."

"There won't be an execution." She crossed her arms harshly across her chest. "You promised that if I let you in, you wouldn't tell him about the blood."

"I still don't like this."

"I know." Santana pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and Mercedes couldn't resist the desperate, pleading look in her best friend's eyes.

"Fine. But if this is about drugs, or some weird all-blonde mafia that you somehow became a lackey for, I'm out."

"Fair enough."

As Santana opened the door to the back driver's side, Mercedes followed suit on the passenger side. Although she wouldn't admit it to anyone, the moment she was back in Brittany's presence, the coil of tension that had been winding tighter and tighter since she'd seen Sheriff Hummel in the diner seemed to loosen. It didn't quite unwind, but somehow, just a glimpse of Brittany's small smile in the rearview mirror brought her back from the snapping point. She wasn't sure where Quinn had gone (although she suspected that Brittany and Sam, and probably even Quinn herself, were aware that her intimidating presence could cause Mercedes to run screaming), but something about being in that car, merging her normal world with this new, previously unknown reality just felt right.

"Um, so, I know we haven't really met, or whatever." Sam started awkwardly, snapping both Brittany and Santana out of their weird eye contact via mirror. "But we know each other's names and stuff, since we go to school together, and we're at the diner all the time, because Br-"

"Sam, stop talking." Brittany cut him off gently, her cheeks coloring simply because she knew Sam was going to say something again about her borderline stalker behavior, and she figured that probably wasn't the best approach to getting Santana's confidante on board with their little secret. "Hi Mercedes. Thanks for meeting us."

"Wasn't exactly a choice. Where are we going?"

"Our house, if that's alright?"

"Yeah. That's, uh, fine I guess." Mercedes glanced over at Santana, who nodded her gratitude. "I've never seen you two without your sidekick."

"Quinn had some stuff to do." Brittany met Santana's eyes in the mirror again, confirming her suspicions with a single glance.

The rest of the five minute ride to the Pierce's house was silent. Nervously, Santana tried to gauge Mercedes' reaction, but the other girl sat largely stoic and expectant, her earlier irritation failing to fade away. When they finally reached the house, it seemed like no one could get out of the car fast enough, eager to quell the rapidly growing tension. While Sam unlocked the door, both Santana and Brittany watched Mercedes cautiously take in her surroundings, a newfound sense of fear evident in her features. At that, Brittany squirmed awkwardly, realizing that while Santana seemed to lack any and all rational fear when it came to her, that wasn't to say that Mercedes would be the same way, and that it was entirely possible that she'd be able to instill said fear, said logical fear into her friend.

"Ma? Dad?" Sam called out, even though the lack of cars in the driveway would lead them all to presume that no one was home. "Alright, looks like it's just us. Mercedes, can I get you a drink, or a snack or something?"

"I'm good. Let's just bite the bullet already." She said quietly, and Santana cringed slightly at the expression. She really, really wished that everything would stop reminding her of what it felt like to have the life begin to drain out of her before Brittany... "Santana, I want you to tell me what happened. No cop outs, no letting someone else tell the truth."

"That's what I planned." She fought the urge to snap at Mercedes, because seriously it felt like everyone was attacking her, everyone but Brittany, and, she guessed, Sam. "Just let me finish before you freak out, okay? Because I had a hard time believing it too."

"Yeah. Fine." Mercedes sank down on the couch, never taking her eyes off of Santana. Wringing her hands, Santana shot one last glance at Brittany, who nodded encouragingly while Sam took a seat in the chair opposite Mercedes.

"Okay. I'm just going to go ahead and say it." She sucked in a deep breath, hoping, praying that doing this would keep Brittany (and Sam, and Quinn, she added hastily) safe. "When the gun went off, I was shot in the stomach. That's where the blood came from."

"You were shot?" Mercedes snipped in disbelief, and made to stand up.

"Please 'Ce, just let me talk, okay? I can't do this if I've gotta fight against you." Santana pleaded, and Mercedes tightened her jaw before sinking back against the cushions. "The force of the bullet knocked me to the ground, and I was lying there, dying, until I wasn't anymore. Until all the nothingness was replaced with Brittany. With her eyes, and her voice, and just, her presence."

Santana swallowed quickly, realizing, one, that there were tears in her eyes, and two, that the feeling she'd just described sounded tragically, beautifully romantic. She could feel Brittany's eyes on her, and she couldn't chance a look in her direction, because she swore that she'd forget her entire purpose for recounting the story and throw herself into the blonde's strong arms, beg her to hold her and kiss her and be with her, even though Brittany had said that they couldn't. Shaking her head to clear all the ridiculousness, Santana refocused on Mercedes and the look on her face, the stop bullshitting me face that Santana herself had perfected over the years.

"So there wasn't pain any longer, there wasn't a bullet in my body, and Brittany was gone faster than I could even process her being there. Part of me thought I'd gone into shock and imagined it all, but when I looked at my stomach, there was this." Santana lifted her shirt and revealed the mark that had nearly faded into the slightest shimmer, but that still burned for Santana the same way it had the instant it had been left there, and probably would for the entirety of her life. "Brittany Pierce saved my life, Mercedes. That's why I'm acting weird, that's why I lied to Hummel, and that's why more than ever in my life, I need you to be on my side. Please."

"How?" Mercedes single word question was barely a breath, but the three other people in the room heard it, and Santana finally looked to Brittany again, giving her the opportunity to reveal her own truth.

"I'm not human." Brittany spoke equally as soft, and Santana opened and closed her fist, fighting her desire to take Brittany's hand in hers, to let her know that in her eyes, there was nothing for her to be ashamed of.

"Neither of us are." Sam added, louder than his sister. "I know it sounds like a prank, Mercedes, but it's not, we were left out in the desert in 1947, in incubator pods, and we didn't come out until the night Hummel found us out there. Basically, we are what's left of the Roswell aliens."

"You've gotta be kidding me right now." Mercedes finally pushed herself up and glared angrily at Santana, clenching her fists at her sides and standing on her toes so she was eye level with the other girl. "I thought you were gonna be honest with me, and you pull this shit? The Roswell aliens? Really? I can't even give you credit for this, because it's the least creative lie I've ever heard. Human looking aliens who hang out in diners and miraculously heal the help? Great story. I might not be able to get to the bottom of whatever it is you got yourself into, but I know who can. You blew your shot, we're done here."

"I'm not lying, I-"

"Save it." Mercedes put her hand up and turned away quickly, but Sam was quicker, stepping between her and the door.

"Let us show you, please." Sam begged as he watched his sister and Santana both go into a silent panic. "If you don't believe us after, you can tell whoever you want and we won't stop you."

Brittany was shocked at Sam's offer. If Mercedes didn't believe them, they were totally screwed, more screwed than they already were, and she silently thanked whatever higher power was out there that Quinn wasn't there. If she was, Brittany was pretty sure that Mercedes' proof that aliens existed would involve witnessing Quinn telepathically tearing Sam limb from limb, and she shivered at the notion of that, even if it was a gross exaggeration. Surprisingly, Mercedes took two steps back, and looked to Santana and Brittany. Without missing a beat, Brittany placed a hand on the small of Santana's back, and while Santana immediately recognized the first purpose, that strange pull to comfort her, the second wasn't clear to her until Mercedes' eyes widened comically, and Santana looked down to the shirt that had formerly been white, and suddenly took on a bright red hue.

"What did you...? How did you...?" Mercedes sputtered, backing toward the door for an entirely different reason. "Holy shit. I...I have to go."

"Mercedes-"

"What kind of fucked up dream is this?" She began frantically pinching herself to no avail. "You weren't lying, and that's so much more messed up than if you were."

"Please don't say anything." Brittany's voice came out meek and uncertain, and it was Santana's turn to comfort her, resting her left hand on Brittany's forearm. "We're not going to hurt you."

"That's what they always say in the movies before they do. Santana, you're coming with me, I'm not leaving you here to be prodded, probed, and possibly abducted." Mercedes voice was high and squeaky, and not even Sam could make a joke about Brittany probing Santana.

"They're not going to hurt us." Santana repeated Brittany's sentiment, turning her head to look into Brittany's blue eyes, another silent promise that she truly believed that. "She saved me."

"You are not thinking clearly. I can't let you stay here, I'm not letting your dumb ass put both of us in danger."

"Come outside with me and let's talk, just me and you." Santana begged, squeezing Brittany's arm and trying to tell her that she would make it right. "Please. I know I've asked a lot from you, but you've been my best friend for my entire life. I told you the truth, just please trust me, for five more minutes."

"I don't even know if it's really you in there."

"'Cedes, it's not a sci-fi movie. I'll prove to you that it's me, however you want. We were both born at Lovelace Hospital, our birthdays are twenty-three days apart, your mom always teases mine that she got pregnant so I'd have an automatic friend, my first word was 'Ce, I told you I liked girls when I was twelve, and you told me you didn't care if I liked girls, or boys, or aliens, you'd love me anyway." Santana's face flushed with the realization that in spouting off facts about their friendship, she'd actually sounded like she was challenging Mercedes to keep a promise she'd made so many years earlier, and that whether or not a certain alien girl would allow it, she definitely did like one, and she could feel said girl's eyes on her.

"Little did I know..." Mercedes muttered, but gave a curt nod to Santana, affirming that they could talk, alone.

It was agony for Brittany, both watching Santana struggle with the conflict, and with her own fear about what any of it would mean for her. She wouldn't change it, she knew that, she'd never go back, she'd never let that beautiful, perfect girl die, but she was so afraid of Hummel discovering her true identity, of taking her away (and Sam, and Quinn, she'd put them in such grave danger), of falling victim to those bone chilling experiments that she'd only read about in supposed first hand accounts. But even more (and she was ashamed of herself for even thinking that it was more important) she was afraid of Santana looking at her in the way Mercedes did, like she was a freak, a monster, someone who would hurt her, kill her, when all she really wanted (as much as she'd try to bury her feelings) was to protect her, to love her even, if somehow that ever proved possible. Their eyes met briefly as Santana turned the doorknob, and she could feel the promises there, the words unnecessary to tell Brittany that the other girl would do whatever it took to protect her too. As the door closed with Santana and Mercedes on the other side, Brittany released a shuttering breath, the prick of unshed tears stinging behind her eyes, and Sam was quick to engulf her in a strong embrace.

On the other side of the Pierces' front door, Santana sat on the top step, hopefully patting the spot next to her before Mercedes reluctantly sat. Their friendship had always been so easy, they'd bickered, like all girls do, but in such a short period of time, a gigantic rift at formed, and both for the sake of her their relationship, and for the sake of Brittany (Santana couldn't believe that the tie she felt toward the blonde somehow felt infinitely more important than a bond that had been present for her entire life), Santana needed to fill it in, needed to make things right, no matter what it took.

"So you believe that it's me?"

"I don't even know what I believe anymore. You're just-you're totally fine about the fact that there are two aliens hanging around town like it's no big deal?"

"Three, actually." Santana confessed, figuring it was better to just get the whole truth out all at once,

"Quinn." Mercedes took a deep breath, knowing without question who the third was.

"Yeah. I was totally freaked out too, Mercedes. I mean, we spend half of our afternoons making fun of the tourists who actually think aliens are real, and it turns out we've known some for years. But Brittany...she didn't have to save me, do you know what she put at risk to do that? I read some scary shit online, and the things they would do to her, to all of them, if they knew..." Santana shivered, even in the hot sun. "She put all of their lives at risk for me. How could I be afraid of her?"

"I don't know, Santana." She lowered her head to her hands and sighed, exhausted, defeated, and oh so confused. "I really don't even know what to say."

"I was really pissed at first too." Santana began, desperately trying to find some common ground for them. "I yelled, I demanded answers, I thought she was fucking with me. I made the choice to be a part of this, and it's still your choice too."

"It's not really though. They know I know, you're on their side, they have no reason to kill you. If I walk away now, who's to say I'll wake up tomorrow?"

"It's not like that. They're scared, this is their entire life on the line, you know? You know what happened to Grant Hummel, and even if he's never come out and said it, you know the sheriff is looking for a way to validate everything his father was called crazy for. Brittany, Sam, Quinn, they'd all just be collateral damage."

"I thought the police were supposed to be the good guys."

"I thought a lot of things 'Cedes, but I don't think good and evil are so black and white anymore. It was the government who did what they did in 1947, and they probably thought they were doing the right thing too. I don't know what the aliens were like out in the desert, but if they were anything like Brittany..."

"You hardly know Brittany." Mercedes snapped, her emotions bubbling over again. "I just don't get it."

"Neither do I, I can't explain how I feel, okay?"

"No. It's not okay. I'm supposed to trust our lives to your unexplainable feeling? Tell me how that makes sense."

"Nothing makes sense anymore! Why should this? Please. I'm not asking you to do anything, I'm not even asking you to be a part of anything after tomorrow, I'm just asking you to keep your mouth shut and back up my story."

"Oh, is that all? God, Santana, you're acting like this is the same as me telling your father that your practice ran late when you skip a shift at the diner, not hiding the fact that there are three aliens who may or may not kill us."

"They're not going to kill us." Santana clenched her jaw, beyond annoyed that she couldn't just make Mercedes feel what she was feeling. "Why can't you just trust me?"

"Why couldn't you just trust me? It works both ways."

"It's not the same thing. And look, now I did trust you-"

"Only because I had something you wanted."

"No! That's not true. You think it wasn't killing me not to be able to talk to you about this? We tell each other everything, and then the biggest thing that's ever happened to me went down, and I couldn't tell you. Do you think you mean nothing to me? Maybe I'm selfish for wanting you to be a part of this, but I'm not selfish asking you to protect their secret."

There was silence as Santana and Mercedes stared at each other, clearly at an impasse. Rationally (if rationality even existed anymore), Santana understood her friend, and if she didn't have that strange out of body, near death experience, if she didn't feel the emotions she couldn't explain, the tug on her very soul that just thinking of Brittany caused, maybe her reaction would be similar. But that wasn't the case, she had experienced those things, she was still experiencing them, honestly, and for that reason, the disconnect between her and the one person who'd always understood her, who'd always been on her side, was very real. Mercedes saw the desperation that colored dark brown eyes, and so, so badly she wanted to immediately agree to Santana's request, but the gravity of the situation, the unbridled terror she felt when she thought about all she "knew" (although she recognized that referencing Alien, Invasion of the Body Snatchers and The Thing held about as much value as referencing Finding Nemo when discussing the habits of fish) held her back. It wasn't a decision she could make so quickly, even if Santana had.

"I need time." Mercedes finally spoke, after close to a full five minutes where the only sound was the hum of the lawn sprinklers.

"I guess it's my turn to wait then." Santana barely whispered, regretting her confidence that Mercedes wouldn't betray them, regretting that she may have put Brittany (and the others) in even more danger.

"You know that I love you, Santana." They never spoke those words to each other, it was just implied, but as Mercedes felt her lifelong friendship begin to splinter right before her eyes, she felt the need for a verbal reminder. "But there's a lot at stake here."

"Yeah." Santana cast her eyes over to the front window, where she could see Brittany pacing the floor, and Sam sitting with his head in his hands. "There is."

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah." She repeated, the thought of their four o'clock meeting with Sheriff Hummel causing her heart to begin racing, Mercedes earlier words you just set the execution date echoing in her ears.

Santana watched as Mercedes stood up and walked down the driveway, tilting her head over her shoulder to look back just once before she reached the street, her own house only a few blocks away. She wanted to chase her, to beat her down if that's what it took to get her to just understand, but she didn't, she just watched her go, completely powerless. Burying her face in her hands, Santana let ice cold panic take over her, even if she knew that it would do absolutely no good. It was a hand between her shoulder blades that broke her from racing thoughts, and when she looked up with tear filed eyes, tears that came from blind rage, at Mercedes yes, but mostly at herself for believing she was doing the right thing, the bright blue ones staring back at her made her feel even worse.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked softly, knowing that Santana wasn't, knowing that none of them were, but not really knowing what else to say.

"I really thought it was right, I thought she'd be on our side. I fucked this up so bad."

Brittany held her breath, which only caused her already nervous pulse to spike. She hadn't heard the conversation, didn't know what transpired, but if it had been good, Mercedes would have come back inside, and Santana wouldn't be sitting on the porch on the verge of tears. Realizing that telling Mercedes hadn't solved anything made her stomach churn. Was she living her last twenty-four hours of freedom? Should she, Sam and Quinn pack their things and run? Should she turn herself in, since it had been her choice, after all, and hope that would be enough, hope that Hummel would leave the others alone?

"So she's turning me in?"

"Yes. No. I don't know, she says she needs time."

"Oh." Brittany felt her heart rate slow, but not by much. It wasn't over, not yet. "I'm going to talk to her."

"What? Brittany, if I couldn't convince her..." Santana started, but then their eyes locked again, and as she looked into Brittany's, she felt like the blonde could convince anyone of anything.

"I'm going, Santana." Brittany told her firmly. "I know that you guys have been friends forever, and she should trust you, but think about if the roles were reversed. You'd be terrified, and I think the best way to handle this now is for me to be the one to let her see that I'm not what she thinks."

"I hope you're right. Quinn is going to kill me in my sleep tonight if you're not." She groaned, and then watched Brittany blanch at Santana expressing the exact fear that they were trying to talk Mercedes out of. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't actually mean that. That was a really stupid thing to say."

"It's fine." Brittany waved her off with a sigh. "No one is hurting anyone, okay?"

"Yeah. You should go now though, if you're going to go. Her parents usually get home by seven."

"Okay, yeah." She inhaled sharply. "Sam can drive you home, if you want."

"I'd rather wait here, if that's okay. I just, I don't know." Santana suddenly felt awkward, and Brittany gave into the urge to take the other girl's hand in her own. Yeah, her world might be about to come crashing down around her, but for some inexplicable reason, watching Santana upset, watching her blame herself for something they really had no other option but to try, felt like an equally catastrophic event. "If it doesn't work, I'll figure something out. I'll find a way to steal the order pad, or I'll-"

"Hey, we will figure it out, alien alliance, right?" Brittany tried to lighten the mood, but her throat felt tight.

"Yeah." Santana choked a laugh, and when Brittany gave her hand a squeeze, then stood up, she felt like crying for the second time in under a half hour, as she watched someone walk away from that porch.

Brittany made it just around the first corner before she felt a familiar, all too assuming presence at her side. Resisting the urge to groan, figuring somehow Quinn and her uncanny ability to hide in the shadows had seen everything, and would never pass up an opportunity to gloat at Brittany's failure, she crossed her arms across her chest and refused to take the bait. They walked in silence for half a block, Quinn's smugness radiating off of her as Brittany's irritation grew.

"Just stop." Brittany huffed. "You've made your point."

"But Brittany, I haven't said anything." The corner of Quinn's lip twitched with an unformed smirk, and Brittany scoffed at the false sweetness in her words. "Just figured I'd come and help you, since it didn't go so well back at the chateau, did it?"

"How are you going to help? You're going to scare Mercedes too?" Brittany spoke through gritted teeth. "Because I seriously doubt that's going to fix anything here."

"And your ideas have worked so well today."

"Better than your lack of ideas." She snapped back, and immediately felt bad. She hated that everything with Quinn was an argument, she hated that it couldn't be easy, that she couldn't have a normal friendship with the one person who was supposed to be able to understand her. But the thing was, other than the strange, otherworldly DNA, they had very little in common, and Brittany had long ago given up hope of them watching movies, doing homework, talking about crushes (although Quinn spent a lot of her time making fun of Brittany's creepy fucking obsession with Lopez, as she liked to call it), and resigned herself to the perpetual bickering. "If you're coming, you need to let me talk."

"I wasn't asking your permission, actually, but thanks. I'll keep my mouth shut if you somehow manage to get this Chernobyl level disaster back under control. But if you can't, I'm stepping in."

"You're not supposed to want me to fail, Quinn."

"I don't actually, but my bag is still packed, just in case. I don't have much to lose if I leave this town behind. You, on the other hand have a lot at stake, and somehow I believe that your passion, or whatever, for this shithole will help you get it done."

"That's surprisingly encouraging."

"Not trying to be." She shrugged. "I'm just being honest."

"Well thanks, I guess."

It was refreshing for Brittany, not having to fight Quinn on one small thing, even if part of her was wondering if there was some type of ulterior motive. Checking hazel eyes for a sign of malice or deceit, both were surprisingly absent, and Brittany let herself breathe the smallest sigh of relief. Approaching Mercedes house, Brittany stared at the blue door ahead of her for a moment, and let her mind drift to Santana. She'd said Mercedes was trustworthy, and despite the earlier incident that would call that into question, Brittany believed her, believed that she could make it right, if only she could convince Mercedes that she was worth trusting. For someone who found words difficult, it wasn't going to be an easy feat, but somehow it had to be done. When they made it to the porch, Brittany took one last look at Quinn, hoping for some nod of encouragement, but realizing when she was met with a blank look that her earlier words were the only bone Quinn would throw for the day. Inhaling one last deep breath, Brittany gave two hard raps on the door and shifted her weight between feet until Mercedes peeked through the crack of the door, her eyes swollen and red.

"I told Santana that I need time." She mumbled, refusing to meet Brittany's eyes, and throwing nervous looks to Quinn. "Are you here to end me now for that?"

"No." Brittany shook her head furiously, hating being seen as dangerous, as the enemy. "We're here because...because we asked you to trust us and take our side, but you really have no reason to, beyond what Santana is telling you."

"Okay..." Mercedes raised an eyebrow, waiting for Brittany to say more, still not opening the door beyond a crack.

"I want to answer your questions, and I want you to see that even though we're technically aliens, there is also a lot of human in us." Brittany tensed her jaw, hoping Quinn really wouldn't speak, because the last thing she wanted was for her to start off on something about how she didn't have human emotions, even though Brittany knew that somewhere deep down, she really did. Instead of saying anything, Quinn just rolled her eyes and Brittany continued. "Do you think we could talk?"

There was a long, tense pause before Mercedes opened the door slightly wider, and Brittany heard the jingle of keys before she stepped through, locking the door behind her. Brittany didn't even have to look at Quinn to see the mockery was written all over her face. They were aliens, Mercedes had seen Brittany change the color of Santana's shirt, Quinn had probably been inside the Jones house while everyone was at the Pierces, assessing that situation, locks wouldn't exactly keep them out. Almost imperceptibly, Brittany shook her head, asking Quinn to stop, even in her own mind, and she was met with another eye roll. Once the door was secure, Mercedes led the two blondes over to the patio set on the other side of the porch, taking a seat, and gesturing expectantly to the bench across from her. A chill ran up Brittany's spine as she looked at Mercedes across the table, sending a silent hope to the great beyond that this would be the last interrogation she'd undergo for a while.

"Go ahead." Mercedes spoke after she and Brittany blinked at each other for a while, and Quinn looked like she was somewhere in between aggravation and boredom. "Say what ya'll want to say."

"I was hoping maybe I could show you." Brittany said quietly, the idea coming to her suddenly, and Mercedes' eyes looked like they might pop straight out of her head and roll away. "Not like earlier, I want to show you inside of me...I mean, not like my organs, or anything, like inside of my head."

"What, you're going to project your thoughts out into the sky for me? Some movie of the mystery that is Brittany Pierce?"

"No, it's not really like that. I can't, control what information you see or anything, I don't know how to explain it. It's like, I can make this mental connection with you."

"Like a mind meld?"

"You've really seen a lot of science fiction movies, haven't you?" Brittany tried to joke, and she swore she could see just the smallest hint of a smile on Mercedes' lips.

"Santana's dad is really into them." Mercedes shrugged. "I don't know how comfortable I am with you seeing into my head. I want to believe you, because I want to trust Santana, but I just...I don't know. I'm not sure what I thought she was going to tell me today, but I definitely didn't think it was this. All this time, you've been in school with us, hanging out at the Lopezes cheesy alien themed diner, and we make fun of the tourists for believing that the crash happened, it's just a joke, except now it isn't,"

"I know." Brittany said softly, the familiar embarrassment about who she was coloring her cheeks. "Imagine how it feels to be us, to walk past that creepy museum with the autopsy pictures in the window, or to have to sit through that crash festival every year. Kinda sucks."

"Yeah. I guess so." Brittany heard the first sign of compassion in Mercedes' voice, and she seized the opportunity to do what she came for.

"I can block out the connection on my end, if you wanted to try this. I'm not going to invade your privacy." She could feel Quinn's eyes boring into her, sure that Brittany would have taken the opportunity to see where Mercedes actually stood. But this was about building trust, and they couldn't expect Mercedes to give them hers without having theirs.

"What about yours?"

"There are some things more important than privacy."

"And you promise you won't hurt me?" Mercedes asked, the first sign of trust.

"I swear." Brittany nodded, and held out her hand. "When we shake on that, I'll start the connection."

"I hope Santana knows that I'm a damn good friend to her, giving you my hand on a promise that you won't melt me from the inside out."

"She knows that you are, she really believes that you're a good ally for us to have."

"Well, I haven't made my decision yet." Mercedes reminded Brittany, but slowly, almost glacially extended her hand to where Brittany had opened hers.

The connection didn't happen instantaneously when their palms touched, Brittany gave Mercedes the opportunity to back out. She thought that it was Mercedes hand that she felt trembling, but then she realized it was her own. It was the ultimate form of vulnerability, allowing someone to access the core of her being, and she swallowed hard, trying to tamp the anxiety she felt surrounding it. Just as she closed her eyes, about to allow Mercedes in, she felt the warm weight slip out of her hand, and as her eyes snapped open, her heart sank. She shouldn't have hesitated, she should have just done it, should have made Mercedes know.

"I can't do it." Mercedes breathed, and Brittany vaguely registered Quinn rising up from the seat beside her. "I can't just be in your head, it's not right."

"Wait, what?" Brittany looked at her, completely befuddled by that unexpected response.

"You were willing to do your nose twitchy voodoo thing and open up your soul, and you saved Santana's life. None of that makes me any less terrified, but I don't need to see inside your head to realize that you're being genuine. I'm sorry I didn't see it right away."

"You don't know me though."

"I don't, but I do know Santana, I've always trusted her instinct, and you just kind of, I don't know, sealed it for me."

Brittany took a deep, gasping breath, feeling like she needed to completely fill her lungs after metaphorically starving for air. Quinn had slumped back in the chair, her natural distrust for everyone and everything causing her eyes to go wide with disbelief.

"R-really?" Brittany stuttered

"Just like that?" Quinn snapped, finally breaking her agreed upon silence, and Brittany resisted the urge (not for the first time that day) to smack her. "What do you want from us?"

"I don't want anything. I just want to know that we're safe now."

"Mercedes. You're safe from us, you've always been safe from us, but I can't let you become a part of this without telling you the truth, without you knowing that we don't even know what lies ahead. We'll do whatever it takes to keep ourselves safe, and to keep you and Santana safe..." Brittany sighed, hating the idea of Santana in any more danger (of both of them in danger, she amended, reminding herself that Mercedes would have to be just as high a priority). "In saving her, I don't know what I've opened us up for. Hummel may be the worst of our problems, or he may be the least, we don't even know really who we are, let alone if we have bigger enemies out there."

"But you still saved her, knowing there could be life threatening consequences for you?" Mercedes voice was clouded with wonder, because even thought Santana had said as much, it was different somehow, hearing the words from the blonde. Brittany nodded, and Mercedes saw something deeper than she'd ever seen in another person's eyes at the mere mention of Santana to Brittany. "I always knew you had a crush on her, but it's more than that, isn't it? There's only one reason you risk your own life for another person. You're in love with her, aren't you?"