The Road to Unicorn Chapter 20: Your Face Against the Morning Sun, a glee fanfic

First of all, thanks to all you unicorns for being so patient. All messages I got asking where I was and if I was okay were all lovely, and not a single person was at all rude or demanding.

I have had some personal issues, which I will explain at the bottom of this page. Nothing in here is left a secret. :P I bring you guys 26k as a peace offering, though from the nature of a lot of the content, I don't think this is my best chapter. It's actually a couple of chapters put together, but I hate cliffhangers so I refused to stop writing until I reached a checkpoint that I liked.

Last chapter was so great for reviews and I think I got called a genius three times, and it doesn't get any better than that! :)

luceroadorada and harumad - thank you both for reminding me that I said nothing about how Santana's surgery links up to my own timeline! I can't believe I forgot.
Santana was only thirteen when she started talking about boob jobs and cosmetic surgery. Her mom had already had her boobs done, so it was a very normal, accepted thing in her house. Santana hated the fact that she didn't have as much going on as Quinn. She kept saying to me even when she was thirteen, that if she only looked different, everything about her would be better because people would have to treat her differently, and a whole lot of other things like that, so I did kind of quote her there and put that in.

Prattle01 - Oh! I definitely don't see you at all as an aggressive person. It's more like, some people stand back and just watch their friends get hurt, but others (like you) are strong enough to step up and say or do something about it. From your comments right from the beginning I saw you as a strong person who likes things to be fair, with a good sense of what fairness really is, and I liked that a lot about you, and I hold those qualities as ones I wish I had more of, you know? I want to step up, and let bullies know how they treat people (usually me) is not okay, much more often than I do. So it's a really positive thing for me to look at the illustration of you as a unicorn protecting the page, and triumphantly winning a battle over 'evil,' because it makes me feel strong too, like I too won't just stand back and put up with bullying next time, so I only meant to thank you, not embarrass you….and I really hope you don't mind! :)

xoxo – What did you guess was in Granny's letter? I'm so interested to know! I would put money on the fact that you probably figured it out, or at least part of it out. :)
Anyway, I'm about to tell you all about the letter in this chapter at some point. I also agree it's so sad for teenagers to get a boob job, my Santana was obsessing about getting one before she'd even finished growing. Speaking of canon, this chapter and the next one is still vaguely on canon (though I've been twisting it around a bit) and then after that things change.

hlnwst – Aww… "Who needs to worry when Brittany S. Pierce loves you and thinks you're perfect?"… that is the sweetest thing to say.
It's cool that we have kind of the same history with Cruel Intentions. Santana tried in vain to open my eyes to other movies before it. She tried "A Clockwork Orange" when we were a bit younger and when it came to the sex scene I kind of stared, and she got so hopeful that I might be finally paying attention and learning things, but then I said and I quote: "Are they pretending to be bunnies?" :P I also know what you mean about wanting to keep this in the Brittana community too. I think I would rather have a hundred people read this who really understood and connected with the story, than millions of people who just kind of enjoyed it.
Feel free to 'take up as much of my space and time' as you like, by the way, I'm always glad to hear from you. :)

Miara848 – Thank so much for not being mad at Santana for the brush off at the end of the last chapter… I really appreciate that, because it's so easy for people to be angry at her, and it would mean a lot to her to have your support (and it means a lot to me!). Also, I'm so proud of you for the great grade on your art project! *gives you a big hug*

BiBenji – Thank you so much, and I would have been so impressed if you managed to read 13 chapters in a night because the ones at the end are so long. Also, I absolutely love your unique name. :)

Joodles91, wkgreen, just. a. dreamer. named. jay, sadpanda15 & Ascoeur – thanks so much for the lovely comments and for reading. :)

Chapter 20 – Your Face Against the Morning Sun

Brittany, S. Pierce, Present.

Dear Artie,

I'm sorry for how I treated you in senior year. Had I known the things I do now, I never would have let you fall in love with me.

I'm sorry that I was the last person you were able to love, and I'm sorry that this isn't your story, because you deserve to have someone love you enough to write pages and pages for you, like I've done for Santana.

Our relationship was only brief, but you helped me realize that I was smart enough to take on senior year, and you made me realize that I deserved to be treated better than I was being treated. You were a perfect gentleman. I only wish I had given you something half as nice back. I did love you, just not in the way you wanted me to.

You have your place in this story, and it wouldn't have been written the same way without you.

Love,

Brittany

Brittany S. Pierce, Age 17

"As your school guidance counselor I'm in charge of setting up careers week, and making sure we have representatives from all the different professions that the students are interested in, and I've called you in here today because….Brittany are you listening," Miss Pillsbury asked.

"There's a ladybug on my finger," Brittany told her, holding it up, "are all ladybugs ladies?"

Caught off guard, Miss Pillsbury allowed her attention to be diverted. "Um… no, I think there are boy ones too."

"Oh," Brittany said, squinting at the tiny insect on her finger. She brought it closer to her face and spoke to it, "If you're really a boy don't worry, you can still be as manly as a stag beetle if that's what you really want. I'll only look at your insides, not your outsides."

"Yes. Okay. Touching. Now as I was saying I can see you've had some trouble filling out your careers week quiz, and I'm sorry but I can't score it for you unless you redo it, and change… all of your answers."

Brittany sat and regarded her for a moment, disappointed that her ladybug had now flown away. She figured it was headed to its lover for some sweet ladybug kisses.
"I don't want to," she said finally.

"Why?" Miss Pillsbury asked. "Didn't you see all your friends get theirs back? There was so much excitement in the cafeteria at break. Don't you want to know what you're going to be?"

"I don't think I want to be anything. There's no point," Brittany said in a dull monotone.

"You don't really mean that, do you? What's got you feeling like this? This isn't like you," Miss Pillsbury said surprised, the resistance from the usually mild mannered blonde girl coming as a surprise.

"I do mean it," Brittany said defiantly, "and nothing made me feel like this."

"What are all your friends going to be?" Miss Pillsbury repeated.

"I couldn't even be classified," Santana bragged, proudly holding up her score sheet. "As your undisputed top bitch of this school, the whole world wants me. Look, they think I'd mostly be a good lawyer or doctor, but I've got stars in the journalism and athletic career columns too. I don't even know where to apply first."

Brittany sent a small smile in Santana's direction.

Santana is so smart, I always knew she could do anything, Brittany thought.

She pushed her food around, pilling it on top of itself like a tower.

"Well, I'm headed straight to Broadway," Rachel spoke up. "I expect I'll only last a week at NYADA before people will be approaching me for all kinds of parts. I bet I'd be perfect for this new show called Spring Awakening." She flashed her quiz around, the gold stars she had applied to the bottom catching the light and sparkling.

"Does your sheet say 'Broadway star' Santana?" Rachel asked dramatically, rolling her eyes at her. "You will never know what it's like to have the whole world want you until you have made so many curtain calls that you think you might pass out from the sheer exhaustion of it all, 'til you have gone momentarily deaf from the sound of clapping, and last but most, most importantly you find yourself constantly haunted by that fragrant smell of pollinated flowers thrown dozens at a time at the stage, as if the sweet smell of success can never quite leave your senses."

"Well, with that huge beak, no smell will ever escape your 'senses.' And everything doesn't have to be written on this sheet," Santana replied back hotly. "Miss Pillsbury's hand was probably cramping by the time she got to the arts column. Just you wait. If you get on Broadway, I'll simply stroll into the room and they'll forget all about you and they will say-"

"GUYS!" Mercedes barked. "Come on. Break it up. We're all friends and we don't want to waste the last half of our last school year bickering like freshmen, do we?"

Brittany looked up from her food and shook her head from side to side at Mercedes seriously.

Mercedes smiled at her. She hadn't been directing that comment at Brittany, so she certainly hadn't expected her to answer, but she thought it was kind of cute that Brittany had responded to the question, and so seriously. And at least Santana and Rachel had stopped looking at each other like they were about to poke each other's eyes out with the plastic cafeteria utensils.

"Well, my quiz revealed that above everything, the arts is my passion, so even though I might not be the best singer in all the world, you have to do what your heart wants," Mercedes said aloud.

Mercedes knew that Santana and Rachel weren't going by the same philosophy. She knew that after high school they would study the career that they knew they could be best at.

They needed that applause and recognition to live. Mercedes figured she was in for a lot of rejection, but she hoped she'd find her place somewhere.

Mercedes couldn't help but notice Brittany was scribbling something down on a napkin in front of her. She picked it up and read it.

"You're totally awesome at singing, Mercedes!" the note read, with a rainbow and a microphone beside it.

Well, Mercedes thought. Rejection ahead or not, I've still got one fan.

Brittany pulled the note back towards her and added. "You know how your signature of authenticity page on your history assignment went missing?"

Mercedes nodded.

"Well that was totally me. I wanted your autograph."

"All you had to do was ask me, Lil Eve," Mercedes said out loud, breaking the silence. She chuckled.

Brittany blushed. She looked over at Santana and saw her staring at her. She gave her a little half smile, but Santana only looked away, pained. They weren't fighting, but things seemed strained between them lately all the same.

"What did your quiz say you were gonna be?" Mercedes asked Brittany, trying to include her in the conversation.

"I don't know," Brittany said finally after a short silence, "I never got mine back."

She turned away from them, curling inwards on herself in shame. At some point, nearly all of her teachers had been frustrated enough to yell at her when she couldn't understand their instructions, saying she wasn't worth bothering with. Finn had called her a retard the other day too, for asking if a parenthesis was the daddy of Miss Pillsbury's Master's thesis.

She knew perfectly well that there were never going to be any career mentors coming to speak to her.

"See these quiz answers?" Miss Pillsbury continued, when Brittany didn't speak, "I didn't need half a page on what you might do in every given situation. I mean, for the question 'You're in the middle of a difficult, critical situation, what do you do?' you have written this long story about a cat being stuck up a tree, and how well you handled it."

"That cat scratched me, but I climbed up and got her down anyway," Brittany said proudly.

"Yes I see, but under it you have a story of being nearly defeated by hot sauce."

"Isn't it just the worst thing ever, when you take a bite of something without knowing, and it hits you like a sneak ninja attack? Or if something's super hot because it's heated up, and you start breathing out smoke and steam like a sick dragon?"

"Brittany, can't you see that I can't do anything with that answer? Not only is it contradictory because you've given me two different answers to the same question, it's too specific. There won't be either cats in trees or hot sauce in your career path."

"But what if I'm meant to be a fireman, or what if I'm a cook, or a police officer with an addiction to shrimp. What then?"

Miss Pillsbury put her hand to her forehead and Brittany sat lower in her seat.

Why do people always have that reaction to me? Brittany thought.

The guidance counselor ran her finger down the page and chose another question, selecting it because at least Brittany only had written a one word answer to it.

"For the question, 'If you could work anywhere, where would you like to work?' I can see that you've written 'Disneyland.'"

"But you said anywhere," Brittany grumbled.

"I meant anywhere within reason."

"Then you should have said that!" Brittany said, nodding.

"And I didn't need to hear the details of your sex life when I asked "Are you a social person?'"

Brittany's eyes widened. "You said on the top of the page that that this whole thing was confidential!"

"And it is," Miss Pillsbury assured her, "but your sex life with… this 'banana' person, whoever the fake name may be for, is not relevant here."

Santana Banana, Brittany thought.

"And as for Banana, no um… Santana," Miss Pillsbury corrected herself, "You've actually written a lot of your answers about her, and on your test I don't need to know if Santana likes to be challenged or if she's a confident person."

"You said just put anything down if I didn't know the answer."

"Gods of Fandusters, and Bio Green Cleaning products give me strength," Miss Pillsbury moaned internally. "I meant put anything down about yourself. This kind of quiz is always about you."

"Oh. Well I didn't know those answers. I don't know stuff like if I'm a 'confident person' or not. At least I had answers about Santana. I had to write something," Brittany said, beginning to look distressed. "You said I had to write something."

There was a silence.

"You know, there's a whole wide world out there, Brittany." Miss Pillsbury said finally. Away from Santana, she stressed in her head.

Brittany shrugged. If Miss Pillsbury meant that if she had to trade Santana to have things in the big world, then she didn't want to do that stupid quiz at all.

"Who are you, Brittany?" Miss Pillsbury asked her, trying to scale it back and start with the basics.

Brittany's response was automatic. "I am Brittany S. Pierce. I can dance. I remember stuff that other people forget. I have a Santana, relationship yet unconfirmed. I have two hundred and twenty-six stuffed animals including little ones on keychains. I can hear stuff from very far away. I used to take really good care of my cat, Lord Tubbington, but then he died. I can roll my tongue and cross my eyes."

"Brittany, you've been giving me some variation of that little speech for years now," Miss Pillsbury said impatiently, "and it tells me absolutely nothing."

"Who are you?" she said emphasizing every word.

"You sound like the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland. And you kind of look like it too," Brittany said, widening her eyes to more bug-like standards.

"You're avoiding the question," Miss Pillsbury accused. Brittany had been avoidant from their very first session.

"How are you coping Brittany? Is anyone giving you a hard time? We need to talk about ways you can cope with your Asperger's at school."

Brittany stared at Miss Pillsbury's shoes. They were white, and really, really clean.
"Do you have a cat?" she asked.

"Um…why yes I do," Miss Pillsbury said, surprised.

"What is your cat's name?"

"Um… Mozart. Now as I was saying-"

"Is Mozart a boy?"

"Yes."

"Does he like sleeping? Can he play piano like in the cat videos online? Is he an evil genius? What color bed does he have? Does he dance-dance-dance-da-dance-dance-dance?" Brittany asked clicking her fingers to her own beat.

Miss Pillsbury sighed. These cat questions could go on all day. She tolerantly answered a few more, but drew the line when Brittany asked if Mozart had been in a rocket into space.

"If I am, it's because… I don't have an answer," Brittany acknowledged slowly. She wasn't trying to be obnoxious on purpose. She knew this conversation wasn't going very well, but she didn't see how she could fix it. She just wanted Miss Pillsbury to leave her alone.

Mr Schuester then chose that moment to enter the room, and the minute he laid his eyes on Brittany he did a double take. She still had her thumb and index fingers circling her eyes to make them look larger. He also noticed she had her cheerios outfit on backwards.

"Brittany are you okay?" he asked, gently.

Brittany shrugged, sudden tears coming to her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I know what you're going through," he told her, coming to sit beside her, glancing at both the quiz on the table, and at Emma's irritated expression.

"You do?" Brittany asked, peeking out at him through her hair that she hadn't managed to brush this morning.

"It's frustrating to do a quiz on the subject of yourself and not know any of the answers, isn't it?" he sympathized.

"It makes me feel so stupid," Brittany admitted quietly. "Nobody else had a problem with it."

"That's because it's a really hard test," Mr Schuester told her. "You aren't the first kid that hasn't been sure what to do with her life."

He flipped through the pages looking at her answers, and then frowned.

"This isn't your best work, Brittany."

"Yeah, I know that," Brittany said, sniffling.

"No, I mean you can do better than this. What's going on? Why are you holding yourself back? You know better now than to write these kinds of answers."

Miss Pillsbury softened from behind her desk. As frustrating as she was, Brittany was struggling more than she'd realized. Maybe I should have offered to explain the questions to her, she thought with a pang of guilt. Sometimes it looked like Brittany was coping better that she actually was, but then, problems like this surfaced. More and more evidence was starting to point to the fact that Brittany goofed off when she had to write formal things down, because she was afraid. Both her verbal and written communication had improved over the years, but it seemed Brittany hadn't yet realized the extent of those improvements. Convinced she was still locked behind a brain that couldn't communicate her thoughts, and isolated and humiliated by the constant failures of her past, she still thought herself stupid. She could grow angry enough with herself to throw a test on the floor, or not even try, because being called stupid for her worst effort, was much different to being called stupid for her best.

"I'm not holding myself back!" Brittany cried, shrinking away from them both, and sitting further back in her seat, "you don't know anything!"

He gave her a minute to compose herself, and waited, knowing that she'd think about it if he gave her the time.

"Okay," Brittany said tiredly, giving in after her mild outburst. "I guess maybe you're right. I really didn't know any of the answers, but I knew the stuff I wrote down wasn't right either, I just didn't care."

She paused. "I… wish senior year never had to end."

Mr Schuester scratched his head. "Why is that?"

"Because if it never ends then-" Brittany hesitated.

Then at some point surely I'd be able to convince Santana to go to prom with me, she thought, then realized her reason was bigger.

"If we stay in senior year then at least we'll still be together… and she won't have gone far, far away to be a lawyer-doctor-journalist or whatever she said she'd be. We'll still be… on the same level," she said painfully. She feared that Santana would outgrow her if she saw beyond Lima. Others had outgrown her even in this small town.

"You and Santana?" Mr Schuester asked to confirm.

Brittany nodded.

Miss Pillsbury recalled Santana's quiz. Santana was a very smart girl, skilled in manipulation. She had known all the right responses to give to give to fool the quiz into saying she was suited for all professions. Even with all her years of experience, she had hardly known how to score it. There wasn't anything wrong with it on the surface, but in truth, the answers were as useless as Brittany's. She had put the biggest tick in the lawyer column, because in the end, the quiz proved that Santana was a power hungry go-getter and would probably do well in the law courts.

"You can't hold yourself back, because holding yourself back won't make Santana stay," Mr Schuester said.

"I know, and I don't even want to hold her back. It's just that I'm running out of ideas to keep us together, and even if I found the right career, I know it wouldn't be hers so I can't even follow her. That's why I said I didn't want to redo it and change my answers. I just want this all to stop, and put everything on pause."

"Have you two had a fight?"

No, Brittany thought. But we haven't had a date either. I thought it was a date when we lived together for that whole week, even though it was just because she needed me after having surgery, I still thought it was like a whole lot of dates. But she says they weren't. A date just means any time that you could mark on a calendar that you spent with someone that you love, right?
Something clicked in her mind. And now things are kind of weird between us, and that's probably because they really were dates all along, she realized. She's just scared again.
"No," she said out loud. "We don't fight much anymore."

'Well no matter what you do, this year won't stop. And if you don't sort yourself out, you'll end up without enough credit to graduate, and then you'll be here repeating senior year on your own, without Santana," he said sternly.

"Okay… okay. I'll think of something."

"Having a goal is a good start," Miss Pillsbury suggested, "and make sure it's one that doesn't involve Santana."

"A goal that's not about Santana," Brittany repeated as if even just the idea of it was foreign to her.

There was a silence.

Mr Schuester spoke up. "You know why I like music Brittany?"

"Why?"

"Well, there's always two sides to it. Even when you're singing in front of a big group of people, there's a part that you're sharing, and a part that is nothing but your own."

Brittany turned her head on one side and looked at him quizzically.

"When you sing a song that you love - it is like a release, and it can bring out all your emotions that have been silenced by all the drama going on around you. You can choose to let other people watch, or you can sing alone, but at the same time you have to accept that the emotion and power that comes out when you sing is carried only by you. Even if you don't know who you are, you have to accept that the emotion expressed by that comes from somewhere, and by that token, you know that you're here in the now and that you exist. That's why I've kept encouraging you to sing songs all this time, because one of these days, you're going to find the right song that reveals yourself, and maybe with it, might come a hint about what you want to do with your life."

"Well I haven't done a very good job of that yet," Brittany said, with a half smile, shrugging her shoulders apologetically. "All I've done is cause Glee club riots."

"I disagree," Mr Schuester told her. "You've been getting better and better every time. I mean, you started out singing about not being able to hug every cat in the world-"

"And I stand by the wellbeing of our feline population as one of the most important issues-" Brittany started.

"But it's still not really a deep one," he interrupted. "I mean, you could talk about cats all day and every day, and from what I've heard from Miss Pillsbury you already kind of do. You don't have to reach for that. It doesn't show any sides of you that we can't see on the surface."

He paused. 'Then you and Santana did a duet, and you may not have really connected with that song, but you stood up there and you were really confident."

"I connected with the song," Brittany argued.

Mr Schuester raised his eyebrow at her.

"Okay. I don't really know what it means to um…get up in her bush like Dubya," Brittany said, reciting the lyrics to Build me up, Buttercup. "But I still knew it was a song about being in love."

"But maybe not your kind of being in love," the teacher said.

"Yeah."

"And then, in the last solo you did, you managed to express Santana's feelings really well, and you told us what you thought she really wanted."

And you don't know why, but you're dying to try, you wanna kiss the girl, Brittany thought.

"It's your turn Brittany. You're ready. Use music to explore who you are."

"Yes," Miss Pillsbury interjected. "And when you feel like you've found some answers that you're missing, you come here, and no matter what time of day it is, or what I'm doing, I will score your quiz for you."

"It's my turn," Brittany said, trying out the words on her tongue, having no clue as to why tears were still rolling down her face.

Brittany sat outside Miss Pillsbury's office trying to think. She'd been given a note that said she didn't have to go back to class.

She caught sight of Artie rolling down the hall and shut her eyes hoping that if she couldn't see him, then he would have no chance of seeing her. When she opened them, he was right in front of her, peering into her face. She sighed.

She figured it must have been her outfit that gave her away. That was what she got for wearing all these bright colors, there was nothing she could ever do to blend.

"What's wrong, Britt?" he asked her, moving back now that she was staring at him, or staring past him, he wasn't sure. She did look quite vacant, perhaps even more so than usual.

Brittany only shrugged. She hoped he'd just go away. She had to think. She had so many voices in her head that she didn't want any more in her ears. The sound of Miss Pillsbury and Mr Schuester telling her to get her act together on repeat, was already more than enough.

"Come on, we're friends right?" he said to her. He knew they hadn't spoken to each other very much, but they were at least part of the same social circle.

"I think so," Brittany said finding her voice. Artie really was nice and he smiled at her sometimes. Just because she was feeling lost and he wasn't who she wanted to see right now, didn't mean that she could take all that out on him. "How come you're not in class?" she finally asked, curiously, trying to be more polite.

"Oh, I have a pass to see Miss Pillsbury. She's been seeing me ever since I got it into my head that I was going to be the first subject of a brave experimental therapy, and I would soon walk again."

Brittany blinked at him. Experiments? Science? She thought. That could only mean robots, right?

"Is your dad Stephen Hawking," she asked. She thought the resemblance between Artie and the physicist was uncanny.

Too uncanny, she realized after a beat. Maybe Stephen Hawking had created Artie out of mechanical parts, and used his own DNA and memories to clone himself as a son, just like in that Astroboy movie. She had heard Stephen on the news saying that robots were going to take over one day, so maybe he was getting in quick to make sure it was the 'Artie' model. Maybe there were still some bugs to work out with mechanical legs, or they'd got in a bad batch at Robots R Us. Brittany knew her mind was wandering, but nobody had proved her wrong yet.

Artie laughed. "You're funny," he said, "and I wish he was my dad. He's like my idol. No, wait, I'm just kidding, I wouldn't trade my real dad for anyone, he's always been there for me."

Brittany turned to look at him then. "You and your dad really get along?" she asked as if the concept wasn't possible.

"Yeah. Do you get along with yours?" he asked conversationally.

"I don't know who my dad is," Brittany admitted. "It's just me, my mom and my sister."

She paused.

"Santana doesn't have hers around either," she told him interjecting the other girl into the conversation like she always did, "but his name is Carlos."

"I'm sorry," Artie told her.

"Yeah, Santana's always been pretty sad about that," she said.

"What about you and your dad?" Artie asked, feeling like Santana had become a third person in their conversation, and that she was almost more present than Brittany was.

"I don't know. I've never really thought about it much. I mean it's not like it is with Santana. I can't miss him like she misses her dad. I've never known him so I have nothing to miss."

"You can miss the idea of something," Artie said. "Even if I had never known what its like to walk, I think I would still wish I knew what it felt like. As it is, I barely remember."

I miss the idea of a lot of things with Santana, Brittany realized. I wish I knew what it felt like to hold hands with her walking to my locker after class, and what it felt like to then turn and kiss her like it was nothing. And if only we could dance together at prom.

"You look sad," Artie commented. "You always seem sad lately."

"How… um…," Brittany started.

"Because I watch you," Artie interrupted.

"You're always looking at her, but sometimes I watch you watch her," he said, not bothering to name who they were talking about. "And you seem extra sad lately. I mean, when Mr Schue asks you to suggest songs in Glee club, you've actually been suggesting songs that you can't really dance to, and that's not like you."

"I don't feel like dancing much lately," Brittany murmured. "And there's nothing wrong with Angel by Sarah McLachlan, it's a good song" she said to him, remembering her last nominated song choice. "You can't go wrong swaying in the background," she said aloud.

"Exactly. You're kind of the swaying zombie version of Brittany right now. Trust me, I'm a gamer and I know my zombies. There's the glassy vacant look…-" The one that's always somehow directed her way, he thought. "And there's the uncoordinated shuffle in place of the power moves, and finally there are the monosyllabic answers, and the skipping of class and Glee club."

"I'm going to stop skipping class," Brittany said, "so I can graduate. Because being here all on my own isn't going to solve anything, and I know that now."

"Right. Okay, but what's getting you down?" Artie said rolling closer to her, trying to figure her out.

"It's not important," Brittany said.

Artie gave her a look over the top of his glasses.

"Sorry," Brittany sighed, "I'm so used to pretending I don't mind about things, even to myself."

"So don't pretend. Tell me."

Brittany fiddled with her books for a moment, tracing over the letters on the front. "I guess I'm tired of things changing, and of things staying the same," Brittany admitted. "But mostly I'm just tired."

"Sorry, but that kind of makes no sense, Britt."

All the things that I say always make sense to her, Brittany thought sadly. She tried to explain anyway. "Before we know it, high school will be over, and that's scary."

"I know. What about it scares you the most?" he asked, trying to comfort her.

Brittany bit her lip and said what was on her mind. "What if I can't fix everything by the end of senior year? What if everything stays the same, and then everything changes?"

Artie tried to follow. It sounded like she meant that she was afraid of things staying the same until school finished, and then life pulling them in different directions from that point. He voiced this out loud.

"Sort of like if we graduated tomorrow, you wouldn't be ready, but you're also afraid that when we graduate, you won't be ready then either?"

"Yeah," Brittany exhaled. "I just need more time." She just needs more time, she thought.

"What do you even have to fix, Britt?" he asked. "You're perfect."

He inhaled sharply. It had just slipped out. He had never really understood why everyone said Brittany was so weird. She was one of those perfect, blonde and unattainable girls. He wasn't sure about her intelligence, but at least she knew who Stephen Hawking was. He knew she was completely out of his league, and it wasn't like she didn't have an angry dark haired bodyguard that told him to fuck off in both English and Spanish whenever he had ever tried to get near her to remind him of that.

Brittany sighed and shook her head. She pulled off one of the glitter stars that had become stuck to her hand. They were falling off all the prom posters, and turning up everywhere. She had found them in her hair, in the toes of her shoes and down her top, and privately Brittany was pretty sure she'd swallowed at least a couple.

"Is someone taking you to prom?" he asked, seeing her eyes turn to the poster.

Brittany didn't answer, but her face took on the saddest look that Artie had ever seen.

"I'm just tired now," she repeated. "I'm tired of everything being so hard."

Artie didn't know what to say, so he said nothing, and they sat in silence. Brittany played with her own fingers, twisting them up in her hair.

"Do a duet with me?" Artie said suddenly. "Something loud, obnoxious and fun? I'll sing, you just knock yourself out dancing."

"I'm not Finn," Brittany huffed. "I don't have four extra limb-tentacles and a garden in the shade under the sea. I won't knock myself out."

"It's a figure of speech, Britt. How about it though? Hey, what are you doing?"

Brittany had wandered off to one of the bottom row lockers nearby that was hanging open, and was slowly backing herself into it. It was one of the ones used for storage so it didn't have a shelf in the middle, so she easily folded herself up into it neatly, and closed the door.

"Brittany!" He wheeled himself closer to her. "What if you get stuck in there?"

He peered through the vent holes, seeing bright blue eyes staring back at him.

"I don't mind, it's safe in here."

He knocked on it three times. "You remind me of a wild animal, fleeing from the hunters in a little hole. What is it called, a den, a burrow?"

"I'm not afraid of hunters, I'm just going to hibernate like a bear. I should have had that extra packet of Cheetos, because I'm not coming out all winter. I don't know what season we're in right now, but if I stay in here long enough, winter will come eventually and pass me by."

"You what? Hibernate? What?" Artie stuttered.

"Sometimes Cheetos grow on trees. When they do they're called Treetos. I should have gathered them up while the squirrels were gathering their nuts, and hidden some in here, for the long winter nights."

He eventually caught up with her logic. "Ugh, I get really claustrophobic so I don't even know how you do that," Artie told her, making a face. "But seriously, Brittany, come on out. Someone might come by and really lock you in. You know what people are like here, they have a lot of hate and a lot of time," he said nervously.

"I don't care, I like it in here."

"Brittany. I'm serious."

"Okay," Brittany squeezed her way out, and saw Artie give a sigh of relief and began to clean his glasses.

Brittany stared at him. He had been perspiring like he really had been worried about her, and his glasses had kind of fogged up. Brittany felt bad and wanted to make it up to him. Nothing would happen if they did a duet, right?

"About the duet… well I'd like to. It sounds nice," she told him.

"I bet you've missed dancing, deep down," Artie told her, his eyes shining with excitement the second he realized that she had said yes.

Brittany looked at him in the eyes for the first time since they had started talking. "Just like you miss walking, same as how Santana misses her dad," Brittany comprehended suddenly seeing at him in a new light as if he had suddenly gained an entire dimension to his personality in her eyes. He had his own pain too, just like Santana did. It was easy to forget that the rest of the world hurt too sometimes, not just her. Sometimes, other people didn't even seem real.

"Just like you miss Santana," Artie offered, stating the obvious. He could guess that whatever Brittany was going through probably involved Santana. It somehow always seemed to.

"I always miss her whenever I'm not with her. And sometimes I even miss her when I am with her, when she's not herself."

I miss you when you're gone from the room, Artie thought. I never realized how much I'd miss you, but now that you're not turning up to Glee club as much, I look around for you twice as much as before and I hope that you will be there.

He said it out loud. "I miss you, Brittany S. Pierce. The real one, not the zombie version."

"I can only miss the idea of 'Brittany,' because I don't even know who that is," Brittany said, groaning. Why was all this so important lately? Or maybe it had always been important and she just hadn't known it.

"I can't do a duet with you today Artie," Brittany said coming to stand by him at his locker.

He shut it with a bang. "Sorry," he apologized when she jumped. "It's just really hard to reach properly." He took in her disheveled appearance. She looked like she'd just been asleep, and there was a red imprint on her face like she'd been lying on something uncomfortable.

"Why can't you dance with me today?" he asked, coming back to the issue at hand.

"Because I have a song that I have to sing instead. It came to me while asleep." She touched her face gingerly. "We had gym, but we went outside to play baseball instead, and I fell asleep on a bunch of equipment. I won't forget the bat. I now have to begin my long recovery from baseball bat molestation."

"How did you manage that, Britt?"

"I don't know. I wasn't playing today because I hurt my wrist, and I thought that pile of catcher's mitts looked kind of comfortable to rest on for just a moment, and they seemed okay at first but I paid for it when I woke up," she winced. "And then I looked around and everyone was gone."

"You still look tired," Artie commented. "I'll give you a ride to Glee club?"

"Santana did that once," Brittany said. "She gave me a ride on wheelchair week."

She accepted the ride from Artie apprehensively, and perched on his lap.

"I remember that," Artie said. "She ate all our cupcakes."

"No she didn't," Brittany said loyally, feeling Artie's hold on to her. She stiffened, remembering that when Santana had given her a ride, she had made them fly down the hall. Brittany shut her eyes. When they had been going as fast as they could go, Santana's arms had come around her, holding her tight.

"You're supposed to keep both hands on the wheel or wheel(s) when you drive," she told him. "It's pretty much the only thing I got right in Driver's Ed."

"Sorry," Artie apologized, wheeling as slowly as he could to make it last longer. "Good luck with your song," he told her, feeling her tense up more and more the closer they got to the choir room.

"Thank you," Brittany told him, standing up and inhaling deeply. "It's a song about telling people your story."

"Wait," he called when she made a move to go in.

Brittany spun around. Her eyes darted around suddenly. "You know I didn't practice," she said. "Do you think I should have practiced?"

"No, it's only in front of us. You'll be fine. Just… kneel down," he said gesturing to her with his hand.

Brittany hesitated, then knelt beside him.

Artie ran his hands over her hair to smooth it down, and Brittany patiently closed her eyes and kept still until he had finished. It had got kind of messy while she was asleep.

"There, now when we go in together, no one will mistake you for having after-sex hair and blame me for it," he joked.

Oh my god! Brittany thought. Artie is a lifesaver. That could have been so embarrassing, and you can totally get expelled for having sex on school grounds. "Thanks Artie, really," Brittany said again with more feeling and walked inside the choir room.

"I've got a song, Mr Schue," she told him, unable to prevent her hands from shaking and twisting together in front of her.

"But Mr Schue," Tina started, standing up. "I-"

"Sit down Tina!" Mr Schuester said quickly. "Go ahead Brittany."

"Is it a Disney song again?" a few voices asked from the crowd.

"You better not be singing 'A Whole New World' Rachel threatened. That one is on my list."

Brittany shook her head and started singing a whimsical, softer version of a song she had managed to learn all the words to the first time she had even heard it. It almost sounded like a lullaby. She began letting memories fill her up inside, where they had only been emptiness moments before.

"All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am"

She had barely managed to get the first sentence out before the first tears leaked from her eyes. She didn't feel like she was crying, and she didn't sound like she was crying either. But it seemed that her eyes now had a mind of their own, and she had to breathe deeper than usual to keep going.

"But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you"

Brittany deliberately didn't look at anyone, instead fixing her eyes on the reflective glass on Mr Schuester's office door.

"I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you"

The Glee club's eyes were all on her. Many of them felt moved, almost transfixed by this side of her that they had never seen before. Brittany could be so quiet sometimes, and so unresponsive. They had no idea she was capable of much emotion at all, let alone this much. They couldn't stop staring, their interest captured by the rather rare sight.

"You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
I've been through like you do
And I was made for you..."

Brittany choked up on her favorite line and could hardly even begin to sing the last verse. She tried, but the first words came out in broken whispers. Clearly feeling emotional, Rachel's face twisted up and she looked as if she was about to cry just as much with her. Mr Schuester gave her a small encouraging smile, trying to let her know that she didn't have to finish it if she didn't want to, but Brittany shook her head at him, determined. Within seconds, Mercedes was on her feet, and had come to stand beside her. Brittany reached for her hand, and Mercedes took it immediately, as if she'd been hoping all along that was what Brittany would do. Both feeling stronger, they sung the last verse together in harmony.

"All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you."

On the very last word, Brittany chanced her first look at Santana since she'd first entered the room. She was crying too, but was trying as hard as she could to keep her face blank and expressionless. It wasn't working very well. Her makeup was running, and every now and then Santana would furiously swipe at her face, smudging it a little bit more. More than anything, Brittany wanted brush her tears away more gently than how Santana was it doing herself, and to hold her and ask her what was wrong. When their eyes met, Santana held her gaze for a moment before looking away. As soon as they broke eye contact the Glee club started clapping for her, or maybe they had been clapping already and Brittany had been too involved in what Santana was doing to notice. She was surprised. It was the first time she had ever been given such a sincere and heartfelt sort of applause like this.

She hadn't sung it for applause. And she hadn't even sung it for Santana. The only person left she could have sung it for, had to be herself.

That sick, sad and tired feeling she'd had lately, hadn't left, but a part of it had lifted with the song.

She looked over at Mr Schuester with wide eyes, and he dismissed the class quickly and pointed her into his office.

Before she could get far, Artie stopped her. "That was great,' he said, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. Brittany shrugged at him bashfully, and only made it three steps before his hand was again on her wrist.

"Come with me to Breadstix after school to celebrate? Just as friends? It will be fun, and you deserve it. I'll tell you what happened to the dinosaurs again if you like?" he said speaking quickly, working off the intensity of the emotion in the room to persuade her.

If she didn't say yes now, she probably never would.

He also knew it was a bit manipulative, dangling dinosaur stories in her face like that. Brittany was like Alice to his white rabbit for dinosaur stories lately. She was so curious, and she seemed prepared to follow sources of information on the prehistoric beings anywhere.

Artie knew he really had only the most basic ideas about dinosaurs, but he would spin dozens more tales, if only it would impress Brittany like it had the day before.

Brittany was torn. She liked Artie and she was dying to find out what happened next on 'Dinosaur Shore,' because that drama was just getting good. Snookiraptor had just laid two dozen eggs that had gone missing on a trip to the hot springs volcano spas, where several big burly Stegosauri's were waiting to get their club tail on. Finding out what happened after that cliffhanger, was definitely a priority. But honestly, she especially wanted to go out with Artie, because going out meant she couldn't sit around and wait all night for Santana to call her. Not being alone also meant she might not get as depressed when that call never came.

I'm so tired of waiting, Brittany thought, looking wistfully at Santana. Give me a sign that you really want to be with me. Please? Give me a sign you want me and I'll stay with you instead tonight, she pleaded in her mind. We can go on another one of those dates that aren't supposed to be dates, she promised her with her eyes. You can tell me all your stories instead.

Santana didn't move, keeping her eyes on her and watching her sideways, and after a while Artie began to get impatient waiting for an answer.

"Brittany," he asked again.

Please Santana, Brittany begged with her eyes.

Please Brittany, Artie begged with his eyes.

Without a word, Santana turned, and walked out the room.

"Okay," Brittany said quietly, directing the answer to Artie. "Okay," she said again almost defiantly to Santana's ghost that lingered in the room. She should be able to have a friend anyway right? Regardless of the fact that Santana got jealous of all her friends, she should still have them.

"Yeah?" Artie said, smiling at her.

'I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me.'

Brittany tried to smile back at him. Hanging out with Artie would be fun, although she couldn't help but feel bad because Artie was being so nice, and kept offering her things that she hadn't done anything to earn.

Seeing her teacher tap his foot, she finally followed an impatient Mr Schuester into his office, and they sat down.

"I'm glad I did that song, but I know I didn't get it right," she said before he could speak. "I must have blown it because I still don't really know what to write on that quiz or tell Miss Pillsbury."

Mr Schuester held up a hand. "You remember what I told you the first time I asked you to sing? I told you that I knew you had a big heart, and when we all saw it you would blow us all away. I think you just did," he told her.

Brittany's mouth fell open, the words she had been poised to say dying on her lips. She smiled.

"Tell me what the song was about," he said, slipping into his teacher role.

"I sung about being a girl who loves a lot, who has more to her than what people think. It's also a song about being willing to do anything for someone."

"You like helping Santana, don't you?" Mr Schuester said, an idea springing into his head.

Brittany nodded. It went without saying.

"Do you think you might like helping other people like her? Or people like yourself? Or just other people who are feeling lost or confused?"

"Probably," Brittany agreed, looking around for all the people he was talking about as if they might suddenly come into the office in droves.

"There's a whole big world out there, Brittany," Mr Schuester told her, repeating something he'd heard Emma say.

"They aren't going to try and cram themselves into this office, right?" Brittany said, wondering if she should stand on a chair or something to stay out of the way of a stampede.

The teacher didn't respond. "Wait here," he said.

He reappeared with Miss Pillsbury in tow. She was carrying a brochure for a local community center, and some others with general information about psychology. Brittany picked up the first brochure and pointed at the third picture which showed children dancing. "Why are they dancing?" she asked. The other pictures kind of looked like they were at a school. Did this place have a Glee club too?

"It's part of helping them," Miss Pillsbury told them. "This program is about helpers doing all kinds of things with kids who are sad. Some sessions you would talk to them about their problems, but other times you would draw or paint with them or teach them how to dance to make them happier and give them confidence."

"You can really do that?" Brittany asked excitedly. "Like, as a job?"

"Yep," the guidance counselor smiled at her enthusiasm.

"Why are the kids sad though?" Brittany asked worriedly.

"There are all sorts of reasons," Miss Pillsbury replied. "Maybe their family has split up and they're having a hard time dealing with that. Maybe somebody is being nasty to them at home or at school. Or maybe they have a disorder like Autism or Down's Syndrome and need to talk to someone about it."

Brittany was convinced. "Can I help them? How do you get in there?" she asked.

"Well that's the thing," Emma said. "You're going to need a college degree in psychology; you need one to even to be able to volunteer at this particular place. They're quite strict about who they let near the kids. I know the lady in charge, we actually studied together for years."

"Do you think I could get one of those? Those collage things," Brittany asked, mispronouncing the word to sound more like an art project, her nerves plain.

Emma wasn't sure. Brittany's anxiety with putting anything down formally on paper, stemming from her fear of being humiliated by other people for her 'differentness,' could easily hold her back. Emma wasn't sure if Brittany would start goofing off at college, she wouldn't put it past her to start writing everything in crayon. She seemed to think that if she couldn't say what she wanted, she might as well cause a train wreck instead and draw a picture of a cat on the page, giving people the impression that she had meant to screw up all along. Honestly, Emma didn't have the confidence in Brittany that the girl needed to hear, so she turned to Will, helplessness written all over her face.

"Yes. I think so," Mr Schuester said to Brittany confidently.

Emma breathed a sighed of relief. Thank god he's here, she thought.

Mr Schuester kept talking. "To get a place in a good college you need to work on your GPA because to be chosen over other applicants, you need good scores. You know what that means, right?"

"Poison darts?" Brittany asked, mentally eliminating her competition.

"No more sleeping in class and no more skipping classes okay? And no more skipping Glee club because you need an extracurricular for your application."

And no more staring at Santana in class, Brittany thought. She'd never had something of her own before and it made her kind of excited. She vowed that she would work harder than anyone. Today, she had realized earlier how little she knew about where she lived. She could start there.

I'll have the full 50 states of America memorized by tonight, she promised herself. By tomorrow I will know all the presidents. But for now, I'll write a new description of myself for Miss Pillsbury, Brittany thought.

Hours later, Brittany had come up with a new definition of herself on a piece of paper. It wasn't long enough for her college application yet, but it was a start.

"I live in organized chaos. I am an idiot savant. Most of what I say is random logic. I am the most genuine imitation of a human being you will ever meet. I'm old and young at the same time.

I'm her blue rose.

And I like helping people."

"I should have told her that I didn't want her to go to Breadstix with that freaking nerdbomb," Santana slurred, shifting slightly from where she was lying on Pucks couch.

"Well, why didn't you?" Puck questioned her.

"I don't even fucking know anymore," Santana said. "Give me more, I'm not drunk enough to be having this conversation."

"Well you started it," Puck reminded her.

"My nose is burning," Santana complained.

"Then lay off the meth."

There was a silence, broken only by the clinking of bottles and the shuffling of bodies.

"About Brittany, I don't know… part of me was just an idiot, but the other part of me just wanted her to have a nice person to take her to prom," Santana admitted. "We're not nice people," she said extending her body on top of Pucks.

"Whatever you say, Santana." Puck said, throwing an arm over her loosely. He liked to think of himself as a nice guy, even more so now he'd had Beth. That kind of thing changes you. It made him realize how much he was capable of caring. The second he saw that tiny little person he had made, it was like a whole new part of him opened up inside.

Make no mistake, he knew he wasn't the same guy anymore.

And, as for Santana, he thought. She's a freaking sappy little romance novel sometimes, when it comes to Brittany.

"Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Earth, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter… ugh!" Brittany exclaimed. It was her third night on memorizing the fifty states, and the planets of the Solar System kept tripping her up every time she begun the list.

"Do you want some help, Britt?" Artie asked from the other side of the room. He'd come over to help her study, and surprisingly she really did want to actually study. It kind of reminded him of that Legally Blonde movie. The fact that Brittany said Santana was probably going to study how to become a lawyer, only extended the picture of this in his mind. He imagined Brittany in a little pink suit holding a tiny dog, chasing Santana off to college. Those two had the weirdest relationship, like Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee, or like two Siamese twins or something.

Artie figured Brittany just had low confidence, and needed help standing on her own feet. Then she might break away from Santana, he decided. Hopefully no surgery will be required to separate them. Besides, Elle Woods totally came into her own at the end of the movie, so maybe Brittany would too. And that little Spanish cat of hers would look good in a pink handbag.

He covered a smirk with his hand, then let his hand fall away when he looked over and saw Brittany hunched on the floor, her face screwed up in concentration.

"Try singing it?" Artie suggested. "Give it a tune. Maybe you won't get tripped up then."

"Alright," Brittany said. The fifty states of America were all now going to see a new life… as a rap.

"You know Puck, I'll cut his balls off, feed them to him, and then scratch his eyes out with my fingernails, and then kill him if he thinks he can ever hurt her… like I've hurt her," she trailed off suddenly and reached for Puck's bottle of Jack.

"Artie's my buddy," Puck said. "He really is a decent guy."

"I'm such a loser," Santana said getting up and stumbling around when she heard her phone go off.
"Artie asked her out on a date the other day to this really expensive place that I can't afford, and she didn't even know it was a date or how formal it would be compared to Breadstix, so I actually helped her pick out a dress for her to wear tonight."

She read her message. "Ugh, and now she's thanking me because she would have been really embarrassed turning up in a t-shirt with tigers all over it like she'd planned."

"What gives, Santana?" Puck asked. "All this chat about you and Brittany gets me hot and horny but it's getting kind of old as well."

"She held his hand in class today," Santana said, too out of it to hear what he said. "It was sickening. He looked like he was about to blow right there just from the contact."

"You've got two hands, and so does she," Puck pointed out. "Let's all have a giant handholding orgy," he said thrusting back and forward to prove his point. "I haven't given up on us all having a threesome, and if I had to, I'd let Artie watch."

"You're gross, Puck," Santana said, tiredly.

"But you love me," he said.

"Whatever. Look, I'm gonna crash here again, okay?"

"We gonna fuck?"

"You got pills?"

"Nope."

"Then no," Santana told him, "and I'm not even drunk enough to care that I'm still here."

"…Wisconsin and Wyoming!" Brittany cheered, pumping her fist in the air, beginning to gain confidence that she could memorize anything that she had to for her tests. Geography was pretty much her worst subject ever. There were just so many places with so many names and she had never been able to remember them all. But, brains were a powerful thing and she was going to use hers to its maximum capacity now. Forget Wonder Woman, the real power was in the human brain, and she knew exactly what her costume was going to be next Halloween.

Now to move on to history and list those presidents. She was going for gold. "George Washington, John Adams, Thomas-…"

"Hey, you did good," Artie said affectionately, rolling over to her and interrupting her train of thought. "But I have a question. Why are there plastic dinosaurs encased in ice in my freezer?"

"For your research," Brittany deadpanned without missing a beat. "And Stephen's research, too."

"I see," Artie said even though he didn't. "How is the math going?"

"Which one is Y and which one is X again?" Brittany asked, picking up her homework.

"Y is the tall straight up one, remember? X is the sideways one."

Brittany frowned. "It's not sticking," she said dejectedly.

"In your mind? Okay, Y stands for Yosemite Sam, and X stands for the box office sales of the movie Xanadu. Who stands as tall as he can?" Artie said making a rhyme.

"Sam! And Xanadu flatlined. I can see it in my head now, so it makes sense!"

"Right, so label your figure first, and then look at the formula-"

"Artie, are you going to be a teacher?" Oh my god, he won't be needing all those dinosaurs then, Brittany thought. I will delegate all the research projects I've set up for him to someone else, she decided, using a big word she had found in the dictionary.

"Yep," he grinned. "But I want to teach computer studies."

Brittany nodded seriously. "Computers are hard," she said. "The world needs you. You should make it your mission to make sure that everyone in Lima, even the old ladies, can turn on a computer by next Christmas. That would be amazing."

"Nah, I want to see those ladies writing source code. That would be impressive."

Brittany gave him a blank look.

"Forget the presidents then, we're going to have a computer lesson instead. Now what's the internet for?"

"Sharing porn, and cat videos," Brittany said eagerly. "Maybe even the two combined if you're adventurous."

"Oh boy," Artie groaned. "Hang on, porn? What kind of porn have you seen?"

"All kinds. I even saw Rachel writing some porn for the internet the other day. The internet likes both words and videos when it comes to its need to swallow porn."

"You didn't," Artie gasped.

"Oh, yes I did. I saw her hunched over one of the computers in the library. She was typing really fast like she was all worked up, and when she realized I was there she blushed and she didn't want me to see what she'd written, except I saw anyway."

"And what did it say?"

"You know, stuff like 'The Phantom's manroot was swollen huge with desire, and Christine Daae, the flower of his affection, bloomed in anticipation. What WAS that?"

"I believe that's called 'fanfiction' Britts, not porn," Artie said shaking with laughter at Brittany's dramatic impersonation.

Brittany stared at him, open mouthed.

"It isn't all like that, that's just Rachel's writing style. Trust me, we're all sick of hearing her dramatically sing songs from the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack in Glee club. But I had no idea she was writing things online. Thank god she doesn't insist on doing readings of her own material!"

"You should have seen what those characters did next," Brittany said scandalously. "I will never ever look at any phantoms I meet the same way. Or Rachel."

"I didn't know Rachel had it in her."

Brittany smirked. "You never do, you know. I might even go on that website one day and write a very graphic sex scene."

"Is that a threat," Artie joked. "You gonna top 'the manroot?"

"I might just have it in me," Brittany agreed.

"Never," Artie said, pushing her shoulder playfully. "You're too cute for that."

"It's fucking disgusting," Santana fumed.

Puck sighed, "What?"

"They even want me to be a bridesmaid at their wedding. How long has she even known him for anyway? Like, a few months?"

"Brittany… and Artie?" Puck asked. "Cripple-bro moves fast."

"NO," Santana choked on her drink. "I meant my mom and Jorge. What? Do you know something I don't know about Artie and Brittany?"

Puck shrugged.

"Spill it, Puckerman," Santana demanded.

"Well, Artie asked me to back him up on guitar so he could win Brittany over," Puck, said almost nervously, checking to see if Santana had anything she could hit him with that could cause a fatal wound.

"What song was it," Santana groaned, covering her face.

Puck hesitated. "She will be loved, by Maroon 5."

"Well. Thanks Puck," Santana said sarcastically. "You couldn't have told him to sing um… 'Screwing you on the beach at night' by The Bloodhound Gang or something that would have made her run screaming?"

And running right back to me, she thought.

Puck started bobbing his head and singing. "I would show up for our pottery class dressed like a pirate with John Water's mustache. On a unicorn that shits your name in stars."
"Hmm Brittany would probably find some way to twist that around into being romantic," he added, after a beat.

Santana just glared at him, hoping he'd get the hint.

Puck shrugged, pushing her back with one hand, raising his joint with the other. "Hey, bros before hoes," he defended. "And what do you mean about her running right back to you? She was here just before."

"She was just looking for her shoes," Santana grumbled at him.

"Oh, come on, Santana how thick can you be? Why would her shoes be at my place?"

"She loses things everywhere."

"She probably took hers off and walked barefoot all the way over here just to have an excuse to see you."

Santana looked at the door that Brittany had left wide open. "I shouldn't have let her walk home barefoot in the dark," she said, smacking her hand against the back of the couch.

"Yeah, I texted Artie, he's going to pick her up."

"Why would you even do that?" Santana mumbled.

"So you don't lose your shit and follow her out the door."

Santana sighed and leaned back. She took a long drag and passed the joint back to Puck.

"Did she, you know… did she like Artie's song?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"Couldn't tell. Her face was as blank as her mind."

"You just don't see her properly. I can read her like a book. And you must have missed the song she did for Glee the other day."

"Yeah, I was picking up this weed," he told her, blowing the smoke out of his mouth in a perfect ring.

Santana leaned forward and breathed it in, second hand. "I'm pretty sure they're together now," she said. "I don't know whether to kill him to thank him." To thank him, for being the decent person I'm not, or kill him for it? she debated, sounding vaguely Shakespearian.

"I don't care you know," Puck said. "About you and Brittany. I've never given any fucks. I'm not the jealous type."

"There's nothing going on between me and Brittany," Santana said automatically, and with bite. "I just don't want to see her get hurt, and so what if we hold hands in class sometimes, that's nothing even worth troubling your permanently horny little brain about. I'm really hungry. Do you have any food. You never have any food."

"Santana, you might be thick, but I'm not," he told her.

"Fuck you," Santana told him, past caring at this point but throwing it out there anyway.

"You and Brittany don't bother me. You're a free agent to do what you want. And I know you'll always be back here when the sun sets, because you and I are the same, we're like two sharks swimming in the shallow end, not deep enough to meet up with the rest of the world. We'll always come back to each other. You can only avoid someone for so long in a small pool."

Santana rolled her eyes.

"I mean it," Puck said to her. "Santana you're probably like my soul mate. You're super hot and you let me do lots of stuff that other girls don't. And you've actually kind of become my best friend as well."

He thought about this. Some of the stuff they did together was kind of intense actually. He'd long since worked out she was kind of into masochism, and being forced into being vulnerable. She liked it when he tied her up, or blindfolded her or choked her from behind. It worked, so long as she was deprived of something. She didn't seem to tense up as much then, as some emotional barrier had already been forcibly broken. That was just what they did when they ran out of weed, though.

"Yeah, right," Santana said, dropping her eyes.

"Truth," Puck insisted. "We get up to some crazy shit together and I trust you not to rat me out on it. And you don't see me as a complete screw up."

"You want to debate that last one?" Santana challenged.

"Yep. Then we can have angry sex. Best kind," he grinned. "But seriously Santana, when school ends, I'm getting you out of here. I love you, you know. You won't be stuck in Lima. You'll be gone before the wedding. Maria and Jorge will have to find some other sucker to be bridesmaid."

There was a long pause. "You promise?" Santana asked vulnerably, laying her head on his chest.

"I swear on Beth," he told her.

"Artie! Artie! Guess what! I defeated the snake demon on level 29!" Brittany was beaming as she ran into his kitchen.

Artie was shocked. He'd left her alone for a little while to make them milkshakes and apparently she had worked miracles in the meantime.

"No. Way," he shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes!"

"How'd you do it?" he asked in wonder.

"Um…," Brittany's forehead wrinkled, "I just mashed the buttons together."

Artie couldn't help but smile. The girl always had this sort of lucky magic about her, even if she lacked any kind of technique at video games. She was starting to look at him as if he was magic too and he liked that a lot. It had all started when he'd tricked her into going on a date with him after one of their study sessions and he'd taken her to the most expensive restaurant in their city, courtesy of his dad who liked Brittany a lot.

He moved his chair over beside the couch, hoping she'd come and sit beside him. She didn't, and instead she began to run her fingers through her textbooks that now seemed to have made as many appearances at his place as Brittany had. A disk fell between the pages.

"What's this," Brittany asked, picking it up.

"Oh, that's a copy of my fan made Dr Who music videos."

Brittany giggled. Artie was so cute, but she hadn't understood a word of what he had just said. "Did you just tell me the punch line to a knock-knock joke without asking the question? Because I've totally done that," she said.

"Um…"

"Wait hang on I've got one too. Knock Knock."

"Who's there," Artie asked playing along. If it's Santana 'at the door,' I might actually scream, he thought.

Brittany surprised him. "Adele," she told him, knocking on the wall to demonstrate a diva knocking loudly.

"Adele, who?" he asked.

"A Del computer," she said, proud of her joke. She knew Artie loved computers.

Artie didn't laugh.

"No, it's funny, because you wouldn't expect a computer to knock at your door," she informed him, ready to draw a picture if he still didn't get it."

"But Adele herself, is sure to be standing out there demanding to be let in," Artie asked her dryly.

"Totally," Brittany agreed smiling, missing his sarcasm.

He gave up. "So what did you and Ms Pillsbury talk about the other day. You've been having all these meetings with her haven't you? Anything I should know about?"

"Yeah, I read a letter from my Granny and I found out some things, but I've got to tell her about them first."

Artie sighed. Santana again. Why am I always still the third wheel when she isn't even here?

"Why," he asked.

"Because I promised her when I was a kid that I'd tell her everything first. I don't want to break my promises. I'll tell you too, as soon as I can."

God, separating Brittany from Santana is turning out to even be harder than separating copyright protection from Disney disks to pirate her some new DVD's, he thought. And he prided himself on that skill, last Halloween he had even dressed up as 'a software pirate,' in a regular pirate's outfit, but also with disks and CD's hanging from his belt, and some others tied to his chair. Disney truly are an empire of smart bastards with magical Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo powers of write protection, he grumbled absently to himself getting sidetracked, not knowing who to blame for what he was feeling.

Maybe he was in over his head. He'd told Mercedes his plan to get Brittany and she'd actually said that she'd pray for him. No, he decided. He needed Brittany too much to give up on her.

'I practice every day to find some clever lines to say, to make the meaning come true, but then I think I'll wait until the evening, gets late, and I'm alone with you.'

Changing tactics, and racking his brain for clever lines to say, he went with his one sure fire method of engaging her.

"Come over here," he said. "I liked holding hands with you in Glee Club today," he told her, trying to catch her eye.

Brittany finally stopped what she was doing, laying the book she had been reading down carefully and going over to him.

Seeing he had her attention Artie kept going, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over her fingers lightly. "And I was super proud to be your chem. lab partner. We showed them all up."

Brittany grinned. "I felt like I finally passed potions class at Hogwarts."

"I just like spending time with you. I wouldn't have cared if we were the last ones finished. But most of all, I liked going on a date with you the other night," he said watching Brittany's face. She gave him that torn, sad look followed by bewilderment and amazement, that turned into a deep sad longing, and almost craving expression of need.

He was used to it now, but it still broke his heart a little. At first he thought that it was compliments that made her feel that way, but through trial and error and some experimentation, he realized compliments weren't it at all. In fact, she seemed a bit immune to even being able to hear some of the nice things he said about her.

What got through to her, was talking about his feelings for her, and acknowledging their relationship, as confusing as it was right now. When they were at the restaurant, all he'd had to do was mention that this was a date or say it out loud to another person, and it had seemed to do something to Brittany, and she'd smiled like she had just won the lottery.

If he was honest, he would have to admit that he played the talking-about-feelings card more than he thought was necessary, but he did it because that was what she really responded to, and he would do anything to keep her with him. Hell, he'd probably even wear a sign that said Brittany owned him if it would keep her around. He'd never had a girl like her before. Well, he'd never had many girls period.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, cupping her chin when she didn't move away. Usually she did. This time though, she turned towards him, looking at him almost wistfully as if she too wished that she could just give in and choose him. He kissed her again gently, this time on the mouth, giving her more than enough time to pull away. She didn't.

"The plumbing is different," Brittany murmured to him, thinking about what Santana had said.

Santana had come over the other night and told her to forget about Artie and touch her. It had been so strange, Brittany thought. Santana had seemed to lose control of herself, kissing every inch of her possessively, all the while muttering things about Brittany not being a cheating loser like all her mom's boyfriends because girls can't cheat on boys with girls. She repeated it to her over and over, forcing Brittany's hands to touch her, without giving her a chance to make the movements herself. Brittany had listened, trying to understand what she meant.

"Think about me, now." Santana insisted. "Don't think about him. I'm here now. He's not. You're not doing anything wrong by him anyway. You're not cheating. You're not ruined. You're not a cheater."

"I am thinking about you," Brittany told her, confused by her behavior. What else could she possibly be thinking about right now? What else did she ever think about?

And now, as Artie kissed her, she understood what Santana had been telling her. Santana meant that Brittany wouldn't be cheating on her if she kissed Artie.

I can kiss you, because the plumbing's different, she thought, staring into Artie's eyes. Did that mean that being in love was like pipes and systems, and both Santana and Artie had their own places inside her and Brittany could love them both at the same time, because she could kept those feelings separate and in their own places?

Was that how Santana could be with both Brittany and Puck all at once?

Artie kissed her again. It felt nice. She liked his rough skin and the calluses on his hands from years of pushing the chair, and the way his ears poked out of his hair. She pulled on them, liking that he didn't seem to mind. His arms were strong, and so was his jaw, and he was so sweet. Brittany knew that he would go out of his way to never hurt her. He looked like a little owl, all serious and studious and adorable…

But he wasn't her. He didn't have Santana's smooth skin, her tiny little ears… or any of the things that Brittany loved about Santana. And he didn't smile with his whole face.

If I've got pipe systems, the one that isn't Santana's doesn't work very well, Brittany realized. The plumbing for Artie is blocked. All the feelings I have for her reach me, but his don't get as far.

"Give me a chance," Artie whispered, sensing her sudden distress.

"Okay," Brittany agreed, kissing him back. Maybe it just took time.

"Puck?" Santana slurred as he carried her over to his couch and laid a blanket over her.

"Yeah? What's up?" He knew he really did care for her. He was a different guy to who he had been a year ago, before Beth.

"Tell… me again?" she burrowed under the blanket, leaving just her eyes showing.

Puck nodded. He knew she just wanted to hear it again, and again. Being stuck here was her worst fear.

"I promise I'll get you out of Lima, Santana. As soon as we graduate, we're getting out of here, no matter what, alright? I'll work for a pool cleaning company or better yet, I'll get a job installing them in people's yards. I'm good with my hands, you know that," he smirked at her.

It took a beat, but she smirked back, her system depressed by all the alcohol.

He looked her over. Tonight, something about her was different.

She beckoned him over. "Kiss me?" she said.

He obliged. It wasn't one of her usual hard and angry kisses. It was softer, gentler. It wasn't any better for him but something in her eyes said it meant something to her.

"Thanks Puck," she smiled and closed her eyes. "Will Brittany be there too?

At the thought of Brittany, Puck imagined both girls on his arm at once. He'd always wanted his own little harem. He pushed the thoughts out of his brain. Santana was barely conscious. She wouldn't remember this in the morning, so he agreed with her.
"Yes," he told her.

Santana turned to her side.

"She's like… sunshine," she said dreamily, "with her golden hair."

"Sunshine?" Puck asked raising an eyebrow, "drying our shallow pool up and forcing us into the deep end?"

"No… she's far too timid for that. She just keeps me warm, all it takes is her smile."

He knew he had to stop Santana now. She was the weepy emotional kind of drunk and when she got cheesy like that, he knew tears were soon to follow. So he changed the subject.

"So what are you going to do in New York?"

That was the place they talked about. Full of promise. There were proper universities there, like NYU, and real opportunities. Plus, that was where Puck had already planned to take his pool cleaning business.

She was quiet for a moment and he thought he'd lost her to tears. When he had almost given up and went to bed, she answered softly.

"I thought maybe med school. Like my papi, but fuck him, I'm gonna go my own way and become a lawyer."

"Artie? What are you doing?"

They were sitting outside the movie theatre. Artie was in his chair and Brittany was leaning forward on a bench in front of him, talking about how good the movie had been. It had been good, even though Artie had mostly spent the whole time trying to explain to Brittany that Na'vi weren't related to The Smurfs, and there was no real threat of Gargamel coming to eat the entire Na'vi population, or try to turn them into gold.

She looked pretty today, in a loose top with stars all over it, and suspenders. Artie had no idea about fashion, but he knew that she wore the suspenders to try and match his look. It was endearing. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and she blushed, her eyes darting everywhere as if they were doing something wrong. There were people swarming out the theatre since it had been a full house and they were staring at them. He felt like pointing at her and saying 'Yeah! The cripple gets a girlfriend, deal with it!'

"What am I doing? I'm just kissing my girlfriend," he answered her grandly, to her, as much as to all the people listening to them.

She still had that deer in headlights look. "But there are people watching."

"Yeah, so?" he shrugged a bit defensively.

"Aren't you… ashamed to be seen with me?" she asked, looking at her feet and then at Arties. He wore loafers. She looked at her own feet. Ballet shoes. She had never kissed anyone in public before. She had assumed that it wasn't something she'd ever do.

"What? No!" Artie told her.

How could Brittany even think that.

She didn't feel at all convinced. She'd never been sure exactly how much of Santana's fear of kissing in public was because they were girls, or because Brittany was Brittany.

He smiled at her and tilted her chin up, "I'm proud of you Brittany. Why wouldn't I want to kiss you in public?"

"Really!?" she squeaked. Maybe I'm not too weird to do this. Maybe I could have… her thoughts trailed off.

He chuckled, "Of course. Now come back here, you pretty little thing, you."

He was surprised when Brittany shut her eyes and kissed him on the mouth, kissing him with a sudden confidence he hadn't seen from her much before. He loved that he could bring that out in her.

'And though it's just a line to you, for me it's true, and never seemed so right before.'

Honestly, Artie could see them having a future together. He could see himself marrying this girl. Maybe it was premature, but it was how he felt. He looked up into her sweet blue eyes and he knew what he wanted to say.

"I love you Brittany."

'And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid, like I love you'

He didn't expect her to say anything. They hadn't been dating long. But he hoped she'd believe him.

Brittany looked at him, stunned, the word 'why' written all over her face. She felt like saying 'I love you' was almost like saying something stupid, it had only led to problems so far between herself and Santana.

She pictured Santana's face and thought about all the times she'd told her she loved her, and all the times she had never received a response.

"I love you, Santana," she heard herself saying in a hushed whisper while Santana held her together after she got yet another F in the janitor's closet.

"I love you, Santana," she heard herself saying after Santana told her she didn't mean anything to her after they had just had sex.

"I love you, Santana," she heard in the back of her mind, representing the thousands of times she hadn't told her, but had felt it anyway.

Seeing she looked dazed and confused, Artie kept trying. He knew she liked logic and reasons and things put clearly so she could understand, so he tried his best. "I love how you put your heart into your dancing and singing in Glee. I like the way you think. I like that you notice me even though I'm way below your line of sight. And I like how you don't judge other people."

Because you'd have to be an angel to not judge Santana sometimes, he thought, annoyed at the girl who got in his way so often. It was also nice that Brittany didn't seem to mind his chair.

Brittany didn't know what to say so she flung her arms around him. She felt awful. She didn't know he'd fall in love with her like this. But it felt so good at the same time.

Artie held her trembling body steady. It seemed like she was starved for affection somehow and yet was overwhelmed by it all at once, and Artie felt bad for her.

"I love you," he repeated to her. "I'll take you prom next week?"

"Yes," she whispered softly into his ear, and for a moment she could almost trick herself into thinking that the plumbing was working, but on a second glance inwards, it still wasn't.

Artie was happy. He had date to prom, But best of all, his prom date hadn't said a word about her in almost an hour.

"TEQUILA SHOTS!"

With that call, Rachel Berry Prom Party Train Wreck Extravaganza (or whatever its latest working title was) had officially begun.

Knowing beforehand that she was certain to rule the prom by singing solos nonstop all night, Rachel had taken it upon herself to stage the after party, going all out to make sure it would be a total train wreck of a success. She could hardly be considered much of a wild thing, but in this case she so badly wanted to be wild. She wanted her party to be a last final bash before exams started where the Glee club (and some randoms) could go crazy, partying like they wouldn't be able to when they were knee deep in assignments. Half the Glee club hadn't received any other invitations to get their freak on anywhere else, so it was all up to her. She also figured that if nobody remembered her for her fabulous prom vocal stylings, they would at least remember her for her after party.

To sum up prom night itself, it had been underwhelming… and now it was over.

Brittany had bought into the hype, convinced that what everyone said was true, and that it was going to be the best night of her life.

But now, she truly didn't think anyone there was actually going to write it down in their life histories as 'the best night of their lives.'

She'd had so many other wonderful nights compared to this one, which hadn't had half the magic that had been promised to her. It was the worst kind of false advertising ever.

A lot of people seemed to have had a really nice night, but nothing really extraordinary happened. No one suddenly developed an idea to cure cancer, no one started throwing up rainbows, and no dinosaur emerged out from behind the curtain. Brittany had been particularly disappointed about the dinosaur, because she had wished on one of Quinn's prom stars for one to show itself, because she thought that actually seeing an extinct beast would really give the seniors a true night to remember.

Why did all those stupid posters tell me that prom night was about reaching for any dream I wanted, and then really getting it to come true? she wondered to herself dismally.

Nobody had even seemed to fall in love, and that had literally been written on the posters themselves in big letters. Maybe Brittany might forgive prom for not coming up with a dinosaur, but not this.

"You'll fall in love" the poster had said.

False advertising, Brittany grumbled again in her mind.

She had stuck close to Santana all night though, just in case. Rachel Berry had kept on singing until she was hoarse, but in Brittany's head she had made her own music.

'There you see her, sitting there across the way.'

Artie had been a perfect gentleman, showing up in a handsome tuxedo with his hair slicked back, and he had danced with her as best he could to Rachel's strained vocals. In a light green dress, Brittany had sat on his lap while he slowly moved back and forward, spinning them around when the crowd did. He had made her laugh, and called her beautiful, and she had snuggled into him for most of the night, kissing him during all the really romantic songs, like that 'Heya' song by Outkast.

Still, during the big group number while everyone slow danced shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor, she had found herself working her way close enough to Santana and Puck to lean her arm over the back of Artie's chair from where she was sitting on his lap, and hold Santana's hand.

Surprised, when she felt Brittany's fingers close over hers, Santana's hand had dropped from Puck's hip, and she had squeezed Brittany's hand back, keeping their joined hands as concealed as she could, and putting them behind her back so Brittany could reach her better. Brittany had sighed happily then. It sort of felt like she was now dancing with Santana, Artie and Puck, because they were all connected, but when she closed her eyes, she could pretend it was just Santana. She had danced with Artie all night. She just wanted one dance with Santana.

Afterwards, not giving any fucks about what the prom committee thought, Santana had stolen Brittany as many of the helium balloons as she could carry from the decorated main stage. She had presented them to Brittany grandly, as if they were gold, and she had laughed merrily when the blonde had immediately grabbed hold of her tightly to keep herself anchored to the ground, certain that so many balloons would be sure to lift her up off her feet and take her into space.

Indulging her, Santana had held Brittany still while the girl had stood with an odd posture, as if she was certain her feet were already partway off the ground, while she tied them all to Artie's dad's car. She didn't know what Brittany would do with that many balloons, but knowing her, she probably had big plans.

They hadn't seen each other much after that. Artie had come outside looking for Brittany, and Santana had then gone looking for a smoke, which meant she had to find Puck.

Now that they were at the after party, Santana was keeping a watchful, protective eye on how much Brittany was drinking, and as usual, a very blind eye on how much she was drinking herself.

After some confusion, Brittany had finally managed to take her prom dress off, though she had been the last one to change. She was now wearing an interesting collection of mismatched clothing, and Santana was certain that none of it actually belonged to her. Not even the scarf.
All that currently remained of her prom attire was a large heart shaped bracelet which Brittany had stubbornly insisted on wearing to the main event, even though Santana had said it was tacky.

Santana looked her over. It kind of looked like most of the clothes she had borrowed were from Rachel, but Santana wasn't sure anymore. She certainly didn't recognize her outfit as coming from Brittany's closet, or even as Brittany's style, but she knew Brittany was capable of shopping without her. Maybe she was even shopping with Artie. The very idea of that, and of Brittany changing without her knowledge upset her more than she cared to admit.

She lunged forward to catch one of Brittany's shoes that was somehow flying through the air. Santana sighed. She knew she would never be able to convince her to put it back on again. She also knew that Brittany never had to drink a lot to become the falling-over-and-staggering around version of herself, and by the looks of things, she was already at least half way gone.

Brittany also insisted on keeping Santana in her view. She already couldn't remember anything important, like she had officially forgotten why not wearing clothes was a bad idea. Clothes were the enemy. Why did they always make them out of such scratchy material? While drunk, Brittany was always only about one step away from joining a nudist colony.

"Making it rain! That's my girl. Yeah!" Artie called, throwing money at her when she shed another layer, tossing her socks upwards in the air like they might disappear like magic.

Brittany tried to smile at him. She might as well smile. If she really did join a nudist colony, then that smile would totally be the only thing she'd be wearing.

She didn't understand the money part though, or why it would be raining. She wasn't rain dancing at the moment to make it rain.

Escaping the crowd, she went to sit on the washing machine in the corner of the room, then nervously switched to the dryer. Within minutes she was immediately chased off by Rachel, who had perhaps noticed her guilty expression. There was nowhere else to sit, or she never would have gone near those things. Santana had warned her that sitting on them could make you feel all tingly, but luckily nothing had happened just now. Maybe you're supposed to have them turned on then, before they work, Brittany thought relieved. She hadn't wanted to feel molested by Rachel's dad's appliances.

Wandering back over to the crowd, she began to feel the beat. The music was up loud and it was making her body move. She'd already had enough to drink that see couldn't see her feet. Everything was blurry. And for some reason, all the people in the room kind of looked like rain sticks… or maybe even poles, which made her think of some great pole related dance moves to try out. She looked around for Santana and found her just behind her.

Santana continued following Brittany around, obsessively trying to attach her clothes back to her. Keeping Rachel's rainbow colored scarf around Brittany's neck was well and truly a lost cause. Keeping her socks on was actually so far working out well, but Rachel's top had about a survival rate of about ten minutes before it came back off again. She was sure now that all these things belonged to Rachel. Everything was made in that scratchy fabric that Rachel loved, and Brittany hated, and Santana wondered if she could maybe find her at least another shirt instead. Then, she might have more success.

Some time later, Rachel had convinced them to start playing Spin the bottle, and Brittany was excelling at the game, spinning the bottle round and round and round and round until she was even more dizzy than she had been before. What is the point of this game other that to keep spinning the bottle? Where are the instructions… are they on the label? Okay, what does Bacardi mean, and is it a verb? Brittany wondered.

"Kiss, Kiss!" everyone chanted when Brittany gave up and the bottle finally stopped moving. The bottle was pointed at the new guy, Sam, who kind of looked like that goldfish she'd had once that she'd flushed down the toilet, as if it had come back to haunt her. Huh? Why should she kiss him? Wasn't she dating Artie? Was she now expected to grow a third set of plumbing pipes? What a confusing night this was turning out to be.

Brittany took a breath as she listened to all the instructions being hollered at her. Right, okay, she thought. Kissing is probably the point of this game. Brittany hated the person who named it, because they should have been more specific and called it 'Spin the bottle, and then kiss," because then Brittany would have been properly warned and she so wouldn't have joined in.

Sam kind of looked like a girl. A blonde girl. Or maybe it was just the alcohol. Kissing another blonde girl, that at least in this light looked a lot like herself, was almost sure to feel more like some kind of masturbation, and Brittany was so not into masturbating in public. This was so embarrassing.

Sam pressed his lips against hers and was immediately stopped by Santana who got in his face shouting things at him over the music.
"Hey honeys, it's not a Big Red commercial. No me gusta!" she yelled in his face.

Brittany looked up and smiled at her adoringly. She didn't know what that meant, but if Santana would only sit down and play, she would make sure the bottle landed on her every time. Then, this would be a game worth playing. Quinn spun the bottle then, but when it landed on Brittany, she gave her the strangest expression, pausing for a long time, before getting up and walking away.

Santana chased after Quinn shouting something in Spanish with a few broken English words thrown in, that sounded like Santana was telling her that she had her eye on Quinn and that she better 'fucking watch out.'

Hearing another loud call for action, everyone began doing body shots, and because she wanted to drink responsibly, and because she figured she'd probably had enough alcohol for now, Brittany volunteered to be the body.

Santana immediately hovered over her, claiming she should get all the turns, batting everyone else away.

That was a pretty dumb idea of mine, Brittany thought. Santana's gonna get so drunk. She's already so drunk.

Brittany looked up at her, her stomach shaking every time Santana's tongue came near her in anticipation. She wanted to tell her that it was okay if the boys had a go too. The boys were being nice. They kept saying nice things to her and calling her pretty. Her head was a little fuzzy, but she was pretty sure that meant they were trying to be polite, like saying please before you asked to borrow someone's pen.

When one of the boys tried to physically restrain Santana and hold her back so they could have a turn, Santana snapped, lashing out at them and telling them to fuck off.
"You like the way she dances, huh? You're just little pricks. You're not good enough for her," Santana fumed.

Santana's starting to lose it, Brittany worried. When she gets drunk, she gets all emotional, and so jealous of anything that moves.

Maybe it would help if she got lots of attention from everyone like I'm getting? Brittany wondered. Santana can have all the attention that I'm getting from the boys, it's too confusing for me.

She walked up to Sam and bent down to whisper in his ear.

"Santana's really hot," she informed him. "Go tell her that."

The blonde boy looked at her bewildered.

"Brittany," Artie said, rolling up to her. "What are you doing? You're not… you're not hitting on Sam are you?" he asked, his forehead creasing.
He was an insecure kind of guy, and he'd already had a hard enough time keeping Brittany to himself as it was. Maybe it was the chair? Maybe it's not just a handicap, maybe it's a barrier between me and people, he thought sadly.

Brittany exhaled. Artie had the worst timing. She wasn't sure if she could explain what she had just done, as innocent as it was, while she was drunk like this. Drinking completely took away the words she wanted to use to explain. She shook her head from side to side as hard as she could, then had to steady herself on a nearby table.

"Brittany," he said, almost on the verge of tears.

"Brittany!" Santana said coming up to her, her eyes blazing as she saw several guys surrounding her.

"Santana! Sam wants to talk to you!" Brittany said, pushing Sam towards her.

"Well I don't want to talk to him," she glared, making a fist at her side.

"Um…," Sam said, looking back at Brittany. She's cute, but is she sane? he wondered.

Brittany elbowed him in the ribs, and Sam decided to go with it. He couldn't afford to make people angry with him. He was only the new guy.

"You look nice tonight, um…-"

"Santana," Brittany supplied happily. Maybe it was drunken logic, but she was sure all Santana needed was some attention and compliments. She always felt better when people paid her attention; in fact she thrived on it.

Santana didn't smile. "Oh, so you think you can be her little buddy do you?" she said glaring dangerously. "Getting in good with me to get to her? Fuck you! You're all the same. I bet you're already planning your little evening with your hand tonight. Well that's all you're ever going to have, buddy!"

"Well, I know I'm planning mine," Puck said from behind them both, flexing his fingers out and in, his face giving the impression that he was watching some kind of train wreck drama on TV.
"This is so hot," he said, winking at Brittany suggestively.

Santana exploded, having well and truly reached her limit. She turned to Puck, throwing her hands out emotionally, tears running down her face. "You like her more than me. She's blonde and awesome and so smart! Admit it! Just admit it! No, kiss me," Santana kissed Puck hard.

Brittany felt something catch in her throat, and then expand as if to choke her. It always hurt watching Santana kiss Puck. She was glad Santana seemed okay now, not that she could actually see her anymore. Nobody could see her now that her face was kind of buried in Puck's face.

She turned away and went to go sit with the others. She found Kurt first. He was dancing like one of 'The Inbetweeners,' but she wasn't sure which one.

Where's Mercedes? she thought. After a quick search, she found her laughing with Tina on the couch. Brittany smiled. They looked so happy. She tried to join in, doing her best to think of things to laugh at with them, but everything she thought of fell flat. They seemed to be laughing at their own jokes in their heads, so Brittany tried to follow… but not even her ingenious self created knock-knock jokes were working, and she usually always found them funny no matter what. Her eyes kept darting to Puck and Santana in the corner.

Artie wheeled himself up to her. "There you are, Britt. It's crazy in here, isn't it?" he asked, hoping for some confirmation that she hadn't been hitting on Sam, or that he hadn't been hitting on her.

"Yes!" Brittany agreed, her head starting to spin.

Sam chose that moment to come up to them. "Look, um… is it Brittany?" he asked, gesturing to her.

Brittany nodded.

"That Santana girl is crazy. I don't know what you were trying to do, but it's not happening between me and her."

Brittany tried to glare at him, but she couldn't figure out which ways to get her face to pinch up.

"Yeah, she's something isn't she," Artie agreed, immediately warming to Sam, hoping he would have someone to complain to about Santana, at least for the rest of the night.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Brittany?" Sam asked, flipping his hair. Brittany, with her lack of clothes, looked kind of easy, and he was a social kind of guy who liked getting to know a lot of girls. He could maybe start with her?

Artie's warm feelings vanished. "Yes," he said, puffing his chest out and getting closer, wondering if he could run over Sam's foot. "She has me."

"Oh, sorry bro," Sam apologized to him. "It didn't look like you guys were…-"

"We are," Artie said shortly.

Brittany stiffened, feeling arms come around from behind her, constricting all her movements. She was about to struggle and fight to break free, when she realized how familiar those arms were, so she relaxed. Brittany let Santana squeeze her in a bear hug for a while, until her fingers started going to sleep and she wanted to move them.

"Santana. Let me go, my fingers need to wake up," Brittany told her. "They're dreaming."

"No, I'm jus' protecting you," Santana told her emotionally, holding her tight, her voice muffled from pressing her face into Brittany's back.

Artie came forward and tried to pry open Santana's hands. Being physically stronger than her, he soon had them undone and had forcibly unwound her arms from around Brittany.

The minute she knew she was beaten, Santana exploded, causing a chain reaction in the room. She started hollering abuse at Artie, which got him yelling back at her, with Sam joining in occasionally to make his comments, and Puck coming over and egging them on whenever he could. Brittany hoped it would quickly die down, but it didn't, it only became more heated and began escalating rapidly.

"You're just a stupid boy!" Santana yelled. "What would you know about anything? You're nothing! I don't know why she even likes you!"

"Santana," Brittany warned her, trying to get in between them. "Stop."

Santana ignored her, advancing on Artie as if she might hit him. She let loose a string of cusses and insults in Spanish.

"She's miserable whenever you're around," Artie yelled back, ignoring the fact she was still speaking. "You're such a total bitch! I'm sick of you walking around like you're Queen Bee, like you know everything and own everyone."

"At least I can walk!" Santana hollered. It was a low blow. Brittany grabbed her, trying to pull her away, but it was like Santana's feet were planted in the floor.

"Maybe I can't walk, but at least I won't be using my legs to swing around a pole for the rest of my life!" Artie countered. "People like you just fade away after highschool, because there isn't this stupid social hierarchy out in the real world, and you'll have no one to bully, because that's all you are, you're just a bully!"

Brittany gasped at his words, trying to find her voice and force words out. Santana was going to hit him if she didn't do something soon, and at the moment she wouldn't put a punch up past Artie either.

"Eres un cochino, el unico razon que estoy contigo es porque tu estas tan bueno en la cama," she shouted as loud as she could, managing to equal the volume of both Artie and Santana together.
She stopped then added something else she'd heard for good measure. "Vete a la chingada!"

Everyone in the room turned to look at her, and Brittany held her head straight up defiantly, refusing to back down. She pulled on Santana's arm again, and finally finding no resistance, she led her away from everyone, out of the room and into Rachel's hallway.

Santana's mouth was open. "Do you know what you actually said?" she whispered, taking a few deep breaths as if she were coming down from something.

"No," Brittany told her. "But it worked didn't it?"

Santana continued to look at her incredulously, until slowly she smiled.

Brittany smiled back relieved. There was her Santana back.

Santana's smile grew. "I'm not sure who you directed that to, but you called someone a real pig, and indicated that you wouldn't be with that person if he wasn't so good in bed. And then you basically told us all to go fuck ourselves."

"I didn't!" Brittany said, horrified.

"Oh, yes you did," Santana giggled. Brittany swearing in Spanish was absolutely hilarious. "I sincerely hope I didn't teach you that, because coming from you that's just… wow."

Brittany said nothing.

"Oh, it was me, was it?" Santana said smirking more. Who else would it be?

"You've said it to Puck before," Brittany admitted. "And I've now used up all my swear words and my rage, so don't worry," she said, nodding.

"Pity," Santana said. "Wait… what… you were really angry? With me?" Her face fell.

"Kind of," Brittany admitted. "You guys were fighting over me, right? I didn't like that. There was all this yelling and I just want you all to be friends."

Santana's eyes started watering. "You hate me," she said tearfully, the alcohol talking for her. "Everyone hates me."

"Santana," Brittany tried, then put her arms around her instead. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this.

Santana fell into Brittany's arms, and Brittany held her while the party went on without them. Brittany put a hand to the back of Santana's head, feeling her burrow into her, pressing her body into hers for a full bodied hug.

Santana wondered how she had ever survived without contact from her for this long.

When Santana had finally calmed down, Brittany had steered her into Rachel's kitchen and patted the counter for her to sit up on, while she made her drink a glass of water. She'd read somewhere that doing that was a good idea, so it might help sober her up.

Brittany wanted to follow her own advice and drink a glass of water too, but it was like all the alcohol and the stress of the night was catching up with her now and she was worried she'd get sick if she tried to drink anything else, and she didn't want to do that all over Rachel's dad's nice kitchen.

She wasn't used to getting drunk. Her body was starting to reject all that she'd drank, like it had finally received the memo that she'd been putting things in her body that it didn't like.

"Hey, B… are you okay, baby?" Santana asked her seeing her expression, letting her rare and affectionate side find its way out to her at the sight.

Hearing Santana call her that never failed to make Brittany's heart pound and that was usually awesome, except in this case her body couldn't take the extra stress. She moaned.

Santana motioned her over from where she was still sitting on the counter and parted her legs so Brittany could lean against her. She refilled the glass of water she'd been drinking, and gave it to Brittany.

"Your turn," she insisted, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Brittany's face, keeping the motion going, and then rubbing her back while Brittany struggled to get down the entire glass of water.

"I'm guessing your mom wouldn't want to see you like this, so we'll go hide out at mine?" she asked.

"You don't want to party any more?" Brittany asked with her face all scrunched up, as Santana ran her hands up and down her arms comfortingly. Santana was always the last one to leave parties and even then it wasn't voluntary, she was usually kicked out in the early hours of the morning.

Santana chuckled, her stomach shaking Brittany slightly where she was leaning on her.

"I think we've both partied enough tonight."

Brittany just nodded, trying to keep her face impassive.

"Besides," Santana continued, "I want to look after you. You're more important."

Brittany wasn't sure that Santana really meant that, but she nodded again.

Santana's worried eyes were trained on hers. Brittany really did look pale and ill, and she had bags under her eyes. Santana felt wracked with guilt. Brittany hadn't been herself for a while now, and had only been vaguely improving since Artie had come into the picture. A night of heavy drinking (heavy by Brittany's standards, anyway) just made the physical side of it look more obvious.

Santana had noticed. Of course she had. She had just avoided ever thinking about it, preferring to deny it completely rather than deal with it. She wanted to make it up to her.

Santana felt nearly all traces of her drunken stupor leaving her. She had to snap out of it and look after Brittany.

Unfortunately for her, Artie had exactly the same idea. "Poor Britt Britt," he cooed. "I'll call my dad to take you home."

Santana looked ready to kill him again. Britt Britt was her nickname for Brittany, not his. She tried to swallow down her rage, taking the empty glass back from Brittany, filling it again and drinking it down slowly.

Brittany shook her head. She didn't want Stephen Hawking to see her like this. She also knew that she definitely didn't want to go home, because then she'd probably have to walk past her mom. Besides, Santana still had tears in her eyes. She might need her.

"Santana needs me," she told Artie. "I'm sorry. Thank you for the great time, though."

Santana chose that moment to ham it up, clutching Brittany's arm, even though she had no intention of letting Brittany do anything for her tonight, she only planned to look after her instead.

Artie looked like he might argue with her, then he slumped his shoulders, accepting it. He had known all along that she probably wouldn't be leaving with him, but he had decided to take what he could get. He still had all of Brittany's balloons on his dad's car. They would have to be his reminder of her tonight.

'And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance, you won't be leaving with me.'

They took a taxi and Brittany lay down in Santana's lap, listening to her direct the driver back to her house from the back seat. When she wasn't talking to the driver, Santana would lean down and whisper into her ear, telling her how important she was to her, and how sorry she was that she had been acting like she wasn't. Brittany could hear the far off rumble of thunder, and it made her shiver. Maybe they should turn the car around and go somewhere else if they were heading into a storm?

"You gonna be sick Britts?" Santana asked her concerned as she half dragged her up to her room. She paused at the door, taking in Brittany's sickly grey coloring and her breathing, quick and shallow, and instead led her to the bathroom. "Come on, sweetie, kneel down here" she said, pausing by the toilet to line the water with toilet paper so when Brittany got sick, it wouldn't splash up and hit her. Santana got drunk so much that she knew all the tricks by now. Stupid Berry and her after party, Santana thought.

"I'm not sick," Brittany said shakily, backing up against the sink and holding onto it to keep herself steady. A clap of thunder sounded overhead. "There's water here, we can't be near water," Brittany told her, pacing back and forward, then suddenly dashing from the room.

But you love water, Santana thought confused, chasing after her. It didn't take long for her to find Brittany hiding under her bed. "Brittany, come out from under there, okay. Sit up here with me?" she said arranging herself on her bed and crossing her legs.

"No," Brittany whined, her voice sounding muffled and coming from somewhere beneath her. "I'll turn into a shadow."

"A what?" Santana asked.
A bright light flashed into the room. Lightning, Santana thought. It's close. The smell of rain flooded her senses.

Brittany screamed.

"Brittany! What happened?" Santana went face-first over the side of the bed, eventually supporting her weight on her hands and looking under the bed from upside down. She half expected to see a hurt finger caught on the bed frame, or a giant spider or something. She wasn't prepared to see Brittany curled up in the fetal position on her side, her hands clamped over her head, her face frozen mid scream.

Santana tried to make her voice gentle. "Come on out now babe, or I honestly will come under there and drag you out."

Brittany obeyed her, slowly shuffling out and tunneling her way under the blankets until she reached Santana on the other side of the mattress. She buried her face in her chest, feeling Santana's arms come around her and hold her tight.

"Britt, come on put this on, it's cold," Santana said, reaching for an oversized shirt for Brittany's inspection.

Brittany didn't move.

Santana sighed. "You really are kind of drunk, B. I'll get you a piece of bread to eat or something. It might soak up the alcohol in your system." She rose to get up.

"Santana… please stay. I'm just tired, I'll be fine," Brittany said to her, alarmed at the fact that Santana might really leave her alone.

"Okay, Britt, but then you leave me no choice but to stay up and watch over you, and make sure you don't end up like the people in all those horror story videos we see in those alcohol education classes," Santana joked.

Brittany pouted, "That's not fair. If you're awake and I'm not, then I'll miss all the exciting stuff you see."

Santana laughed. "Exactly what are you going to miss?" she asked gesturing around the silent room, "the epic saga that you always spin talking in your sleep? The boogeyman coming out of the closet?"

"San," Brittany said seriously, "don't even joke about things in closets. Not after we just watched 'Saw' together the other day."
That clown thing, she thought shuddering.

Santana laughed and arranged Brittany so that she was lying on the crook of her arm.
She paused. "It doesn't look like you've been sleeping much at all lately."

The look on Brittany's face admitted that she hadn't. Santana wished she could blame it on the Jigsaw killer haunting her, but she knew better. When she was bad, she couldn't help but know that there was no more powerful villain in Brittany's life than herself.

"I'm more scared of the tooth fairy than that evil clown," Brittany told her.

Caught off guard, Santana tried not to smirk.

"I mean it! You weren't there when I watched 'Darkness Falls' with Kurt. Every time I screamed, he screamed because he was more scared of me than the movie. But I swear, that evil lady who comes out of the darkness looking for your last baby tooth, and kills you if you see her, was the scariest thing I have ever seen."

Santana's mouth finally gave in and twisted up in amusement. Trust Brittany to have fallen asleep on her while both 'The Ring' and the entire 'Scream' trilogy played on the screen, but to have acted like she was being murdered during a much tamer horror flick about the tooth fairy.

"I think it was because you weren't there San," Brittany told her. "That made it so much scarier!"

They fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of Brittany yawning.

"Close your eyes," Santana told her gently, exhaling and softly blowing air on her face. "I'll watch over you now, and you've long since lost all your baby teeth. Just sleep this off, okay?"

They lay in silence together in the stillness, until another round of thunder boomed and Brittany clutched at her, and spoke up again.

"It hurts San," She muttered, unable to be clearer than that.

"What does?" Santana asked anxiously.

Brittany's eyes snapped open. The thunder hurts. The lightning hurts more. It feels like it's already got me. And being close to you, that hurts too. So does being apart from you and trying to be with someone else, she said in her head.

"Everything…everywhere," Brittany told her, the best she could manage out loud.

Santana knew at least part of what she couldn't say, but she kind of wished she didn't.

"Brittany I…" she said, about to make an excuse and then change the subject, but the sad, defeated look in Brittany's eyes stopped her.

"Does it hurt here?" she kissed her neck playfully. "And here?" she got her nose. "And here?" she pressed her lips to her collar bone.

Brittany sighed in contentment, so Santana kept going. She got her shoulder, each of her eyelids, her bellybutton and her temples and she kept going kissing every inch of her until she felt that she had at least dulled the hurt a bit.

Then, the thunder clashed again, and more lightning appeared against the window, which rattled from the crash. Brittany shrieked again, pulling a blanket over both their heads.

"Is this about the storm, Britt? But don't you love storms?" Santana asked, confused.

"Come on Santana! Come outside with me! I'm going to make it rain," fourteen year old Brittany said. "If we're lucky we might get a storm too!"

"Oh, Britts, you and your rain dancing." Santana had to admit that the blonde looked kind of insane spinning around constantly in a clockwise direction, reciting her rain making chants. Her hair, complete with a Native American style feather, spun out in all different directions as it blew around in the breeze. Yes, it was silly, but nonetheless, she went outside to watch her anyway.

After Brittany had fallen to the ground, exhausted and dizzy, her voice almost worn out, she rolled to over to lay beside Santana and look at the sky.

"Nope, no rain, Britt. Just clouds," Santana told her.

"They're good clouds," Brittany told her. "That one looks like a vagina."

Santana giggled. "I think it looks more like a peace sign, Britt."

"Yes! That means the rain is coming. I'd rather see God's peace than her vagina!"

"Oh, yes, wouldn't we all," Santana said, her tone affectionate yet sarcastic. "I can also imagine a hit Christian song with that exact title for the more offbeat, yet still equally faithful of our churchgoers."

Ten minutes later, Brittany felt the first few drops on her nose, which quickly turned into a torrential downpour.

"It worked!" Brittany yelled, dragging Santana to her feet and throwing her arms out to catch the rain.

"Call it off," Santana whined to her, hearing the start of thunder. Some sophomores were throwing an outdoor party tonight and she'd worked so hard to get an invitation, and the last thing she wanted was for it to be cancelled.

Brittany didn't. Her hair plastered to her face, and her feather no longer standing straight, she continued to dance until Santana joined her. At the first flash of lightning, Santana pulled her inside. It rained for three days straight until Brittany finally did the anti-rain dance required to call it off, spinning anti-clockwise and chanting backwards.

She loved storms, and that storm had been the most beautiful one she had yet seen.

"I hate storms," Brittany muttered, opening and shutting her mouth. She raised her shoulders as if to shrug, then lowered them down slowly, keeping them suspended for only a moment before dropping them completely.

"Britts, why?" Santana asked, touching her cheek.

Brittany shuffled around for a moment, before she finally grabbed onto her bracelet and pulled a letter out of a heart shaped secret compartment. She handed it to Santana. Santana had wondered why she had insisted on wearing that rather tacky piece of jewelry with her prom dress, but she could see now that it had clearly been to keep this letter with her. The letter itself had been folded over so many times that it took Santana a long time to finally straighten it out. She smoothed it out on her knee, pinching it with her fingers, and she began to read.

The many terms of endearments immediately told her before even looking at the bottom of the sheet that it was from Brittany's late Granny.

Some words on the middle of the page immediately caught her eye.

"Your dad is living here at Carter's right now. He's doing okay, he just still needs assisted living."

Brittany's dad? she thought. Hold up. Her eyes trailed up the page. She had been half convinced that Brittany's mom had somehow managed to conceive her by herself, just like one of those freaking Whiptail lizards that Brittany kept raving about. Her eyes scanned the page.

"You might remember that he used to live with you when you were small. It was just after he'd had the accident so he might have scared you a little bit. I remember you having nightmares at night when you lived with me, about a shadow of a man who wouldn't leave you alone. That was your father, darling. I used to think it wasn't my place to tell you, but I realize now that it has to be."

Accident? Santana read on and things began to make sense. Apparently Brittany had inherited her disorder genetically from her dad. In his thirties by the time he met Susan, he had studied the art of dating long enough to reel her in and temporarily defrost her heart. He had got her pregnant within a week of knowing her, their relationship intense, fueled by what Granny described as 'magical moments.'

Susan hadn't been prepared for the comedown, and she also hadn't been aware of his disorder. In the short time that they had been together before the pregnancy, he had so far managed to hide all traces of it, appearing only vaguely eccentric. Then, as time went on, his pretense of being normal began to wear down, and his habits, rituals and social failings began to come out, clashing with Susan's no-nonsense, and intolerant personality. As Susan began to resent him, he had become more reclusive towards her, and the world. Susan began to hide him away, feeling that it was impossible to bring him anywhere without him speaking his mind and offending her friends. When Brittany was born, he had vowed to stay and help, even though by that point, his relationship was Susan was strained at best.

Very interesting, Santana thought, putting her free arm back around Brittany who was leaning on her shoulder. What does Brittany make of all this? she wondered. Because consider my mind blown, even just by the fact that Susan isn't a completely dead fish when it comes to people, and had managed to dust all those cobwebs off and actually like someone, even for a short time. She kept reading, and then let out a tiny gasp. Brittany, who had been watching her face intently, nuzzled into her neck unsure of what part she was reading.

Santana pinched the paper hard in between her fingers. Apparently when Brittany was still a baby, all good plans laid had gone to waste, when her dad was struck by lightning. He had survived, but from what Santana could tell as she tried to read around the tear stains on the letter, the experience had earned him a metal plate in his head, and had turned him from a functional man, into one that could hardly walk or speak. The damage from the accident plus his preexisting disorder, had been temporarily debilitating. He had lived with Brittany and her mom for a time, staring into space, sitting on a chair in one room, unable or unwilling to acknowledge his lover or daughter, and in turn not being acknowledged himself by Susan Pierce.

It's no wonder Brittany thought she had made him up as her imaginary friend, Santana realized. It must have seemed like Brittany was the only one who could see him, and she was so little then. She hadn't known who he was or why he was around.

She stroked Brittany's hair absently as she finished the letter. Her dad had made so much progress from that point onward, and he was now living a happy and fulfilling life within the bounds of his care home. Even so, Susan still hadn't wanted Brittany to know him. There was still some conflict between the two ex lovers, that perhaps Brittany paid for sometimes, by being Susan's only ever present reminder of him, as Katie had a different father. She skimmed the rest quickly wanting to get back to Brittany who was eyeing the window in the room nervously, and trembling at her side.

Though she was hastily trying to finish reading, she couldn't help but pause on the section that said Brittany had also been a twin, the other lost relatively early in the pregnancy. Granny had been very thorough, writing down everything she knew about Brittany, that might not have been openly discussed at home.

There could have been two Brittany's? Santana thought, her mind racing with a rush of excitement at the thought before she could stop herself. Two of her?!

Then, the thunder boomed, startling them both and cracking the sky in two. Okay, I think I'll focus on the one I have, Santana thought as Brittany whimpered, cracking into pieces herself.

She shifted her so she could see her face. "What happened to your dad isn't going to happen to you," Santana promised her tenderly. "Never will it ever happen to you."

"How do you know," Brittany asked, her voice hoarse.

"Because no lightning could ever be dumb enough to cross me," Santana told her. "It's all just flashes and loud noises, nothing can hurt you here."

"I don't want to end up like him," Brittany told her, running her tongue over her lip. She could taste blood where she'd bitten it moments before. "I don't want to lose myself. I don't want…-" she trailed off, then tried to begin again.
"I don't want to turn into a shadow. I don't want your time to have been wasted."

Santana knew what Brittany meant. She was trying to tell her that she was afraid of regressing, and of things dragging her down and erasing all the hard work they'd both put in to help her beat many of the limitations of her disorder. Santana knew that Brittany had an irrational fear of taking any kind of drugs or medication because most of them made her feel disconnected, with a heavy sense of confusion, and it reminded her of how she used to be when she was little. Afraid that the effects would last forever and she'd lose herself again, she would panic.
Now, 'being struck by lightning' had officially replaced her fear of meds, and had moved to the top of list of things that Brittany feared would take her grip on the world away.

"Never have I ever once thought, that I'd ever call this time wasted," Santana said kissing her temple. "And never will I ever let any lightning storm hurt you."

"Never have I ever had a ride on a zebra's back. And never will I ever eat green eggs and ham."

Santana's lips paused against Brittany's head. "Wait what?"

"I thought we were playing 'never have I ever, and never will I ever,'" Brittany said, giving Santana a watery grin.

"Oh, okay. Never have I ever played strip…-" Santana ran through every game she could think of in her mind until she found one left sacred, "-Monopoly. And never will I ever have sex on a ferris wheel. I mean wanky, but those things are legit high up, and scary."

As Santana said 'scary' more thunder boomed and Brittany tried to put on a brave face, although she could see that her knuckles on the hand she had interlaced with Santana's, were turning white. "Never have I ever eaten Cheerio's off the floor, and never will I ever do that cause it's totally gross."

"Oh it's my turn. Um… never have I ever carried out my plans to roast Finn over a spit, turning him ever so slowly so his immense beef actually cooks… yet, and never will I ever go to an Indigo Girl's concert," Santana said.

Brittany thought for a moment. "Never have I ever thought much about who my dad was before this letter, and never will I ever go looking for him."

"Are you sure, Britt? You don't have to decide right away, and you don't have to be okay with it, that was a lot of information to take in, I mean, even I feel a bit like I do after one of one of Miss Opperly's history classes right now."

"Ugh, yeah. Why does she always try to pack a hundred years worth of events in one lesson. I was already behind by centuries. And she's missing all the good stuff anyway. Nobody ever knows the good stuff," Brittany pouted.

"I like that you've been studying lately Britt, but what do you mean by that?" Santana said, nudging her.

"Well, I've decided that history is funny. First there has to be a person there to see it, and then that person has to actually find a way writing it down for people to see. Can you imagine just how many important things the world doesn't know about?" Brittany paused. "I mean, nobody will ever know about us, right?" Brittany asked, her voice low.

Santana tensed.

Brittany gave it up. "About my dad, I wouldn't want to confuse him. I mean, imagine me just showing up and making him try to be a dad. I'm not three anymore, and he probably remembers me that way anyway, sitting under his chair and making 'whoooo' noises as if we were both ghosts."

Santana laced her free fingers through Brittany's other hand and joined them in a complicated handhold. "Never have I ever gone a day without hating Papi even just a little bit since he left, and never will I ever be able to stop hating him for leaving," she admitted.

Brittany leaned back and gave her a sympathetic kiss to her earlobe. "Never have I ever had sex with Artie," she told her.

Santana's heart skipped a beat and she froze, not daring to believe it. The way those two had been all over each other in Glee club, she had suspected that they had gone all the way. She could see how much Artie wanted that from Brittany, just by the look on his face.

"And never will I ever have sex with Artie," Brittany concluded, a trace of sadness coming in to her voice.

"You can't say that for sure," Santana said, a small flicker of hope coming into her voice in spite of herself.

"Yes, I can," Brittany sighed. "We have to break up."

"Why? You both seem so happy together." Santana said conversationally, steeling herself for the catch, not quite daring to believe it.

"We are happy. And usually I have this rule, that I've got to keep my promises to people no matter what. So for any other reason I would have stayed with him you know, even if you …-" Brittany trailed off.

Even if Santana asked me right now to be with her, I'd still have to be true to Artie, because I'm his girlfriend. Except this is all wrong because I still want her to ask me, even though I'm with him. I was thinking of her tonight at prom, and at the party, and I should have been thinking of him. The plumbing isn't going to start working. I guess I only have one set of pipes, and they're hers. I was trying to make him fit in her place. I like him a lot, but I'm doing the wrong thing, by him, by her, and by myself, Brittany thought.

"It's just wrong San. I have to break up with him. It's the right thing."

Santana gave her a rare open smile with all her teeth showing.

Brittany smiled back, immediately forgetting her troubles. Santana is so beautiful, she thought. Especially from this angle. I haven't been close enough to look directly up at her for ages.

Santana's heart thumped against her chest, louder than the now far off thunder.

"Get some rest now Britt," she said, settling down to watch over her for a couple of hours.

When Brittany lifted her head from Santana's chest hours later, her mind was groggy and unfocused. Her thoughts were still on their game from before, as it had continued on in her dreams. She had shared something in her dream that she wanted to share now in her reality. In her dream, she had made their night together count. She had found a way to make something of her prom night, and truly make it a night that could be always remembered like those posters said, even if what she was reaching for wasn't a star, and it was perhaps only meaningful to her.

Santana smiled tiredly at her, still leaning against the headboard. She had just been watching Brittany sleep, finding a sense of peace from it, and using the calm to sort out some of her thoughts.

Brittany raised her head a little and pressed her forehead to Santana's chin, nuzzling into her. For a moment she stayed quiet, sensing something about Santana was different. Her face was softer somehow, and the pain that had always surrounded her had seemed to lift in place of something that existed only here.

"Santana," she murmured, "never have I ever been normal, and never will I ever be normal. I have Asperger's Syndrome." Admitting it for the first time out loud, she felt as if a weight had been lifted, as it had been a heavy secret to carry, even if the main person she had been keeping it from was herself.

Santana's eyes became misty with emotion, and she traced a finger up and down Brittany's cheek, "I know sweetie, and it's okay," she whispered to her, her voice cracking from disuse, pride shining from her eyes. "Normal is so fucking boring anyway."

Even in a half coherent state, Brittany still didn't look convinced of that, but she leaned into Santana's touch anyway, telling her with heavy lidded eyes, "I might not be able to admit to that in my right mind tomorrow."

"I know," Santana smiled a sad smile at her, resting her palm against her forehead, and lowering Brittany back down to her pillow. "I won't be able to admit this in my right mind tomorrow either-" She took a breath. "But, never have I ever not loved you, Brittany, and never will I ever stop."

Brittany's eyes opened all the way, as if she wasn't quite sure if she had heard right, or if this was a dream. For a couple of seconds the sheer need in Brittany's eyes overpowered Santana, the situation and the entire room before it shut itself out and the calm returned. Finally, Brittany mumbled back, "I love you too Santana." She could have said thousands of words more to confess her feelings, but she didn't, preferring to keep things simple so the spell couldn't be broken.

Santana got the silent message which was stark and plain in Brittany's eyes. I could still tell you that tomorrow, if only you'd let me.

Brittany knew that Santana saw right into her soul, so she didn't want to see her reaction, she just wanted this to be the night that Santana said she loved her, and the night where she didn't say no. She would never forget tonight, the prom posters had been right all along. Dreams do come true, and everyone falls in love on prom night.

"Sing to me?" she asked her raising a lazy hand up and cupping the side of Santana's face, before lifting her own face up just far enough to kiss her goodnight.

Santana did sing to her, but she waited until Brittany had fallen asleep, or at least until she thought she had. More affected than she realized by Brittany's openness tonight, and not yet sure what to make of her own, she brushed aside Brittany's hair from her face and clung to her tightly, singing to her about her biggest fears and the feelings she hid away inside. One day, she would tell her everything.

"So this is how the story went
I met someone by accident
who blew me away
who blew me away

It was in the darkest of my days
When you took my sorrow and you took my pain
And buried them away, you buried them away

And I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I've ever known
you'll disappear one day
So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away."

About Artie and my personal issues:

There's no easy way to say it, so I'll go back a bit to explain. I've been trying to get in touch with "Artie" for a while now. I wanted to finally apologize properly, and talk to him about everything, and every time we've seen each other this past couple of years we've hung out and and at the same time he would happily give me a computer lesson because I'm so useless, and he loves teaching me. I think most of all though, he liked that I always make him cupcakes to thank him.

He told me he was going to teach me how to use a graphics program next, so I thought I'd use that lesson to figure out how to make a picture cover for this fic. We broke up on good terms, he already knew it was over before I even told him. He told me it was all right, even though it wasn't.

So when he didn't answer my calls for ages I thought it was strange. Then, it became time for me to write his chapter, so I searched for him harder, and found out that he had died. He hasn't been gone that long, but nobody told me at the time so I only found out a couple of weeks ago.

All the things I wrote about him and me were true. He did want to marry me, and for some reason he never got over me right up until the day he died. The ways I treated him were not some of my best moments at all, as you have just read for yourself. It was hard to tell the truth, and not act like I treated him better, but I have to face the facts that I didn't, and for that I'm sorry.

I put the lyrics to the song 'Something Stupid' around some of his scenes, because it was like he was singing that to me all along, it's just I never really responded. If anything I was singing that song to Santana. :(

He was kind and generous and a real gentleman, and I really did love him in many ways.

Rest in peace.

About Santana:

Brittany didn't do the right thing by Santana in this chapter either. I probably drove her crazy being with Artie, and I knew it. I saw through her defenses and all that, and I didn't let her crush me when she used her 'lizard'-esque lines, but I was wearing down and getting tired and frustrated with her. I was tired of everything being so hard. I was also very young.

I wanted to feel better, and Artie made me feel better, and for the brief time we were together I let myself be selfish. He offered me things that I didn't want to refuse, so I didn't refuse them, even though it was wrong.

In the beginning I truly thought Artie and I would just be friends, but then we weren't. In this chapter Santana probably does a lot of things for fear of losing Brittany, sometimes fear pushes you to go past your boundaries.

Also, you may think I'm not censoring her bad language, but I actually am. :P She just really loved to swear.

3 Things:

1. The song Brittany sung for Glee club is called 'The Story' by Brandi Carlile and it is an excellent song, and it's actually a better choice than one I actually chose in real life at the time. This isn't the original, I picked this cover because I liked the video a lot. Some of the pictures of the red headed girl reminded me of Santana and the two girls sing it a little bit more like I sing it. /watch?v=4VR4vtR-qww

At the time, I actually sung 'When she loved me' by Sarah McLachlan (the sad song from Toy Story 2). I didn't have Mercedes, so I had to sing it all by myself.

2. Rachel's fanfic smut porn scene is real.

Artie would be looking down on me from heaven, laughing to see that I did indeed revisit FFN, and that I have in fact now attempted a few smut scenes of my own in this story.

I do not think I have topped 'the manroot' yet though.

My "Rachel's" 'Phantom of the Opera' story would likely still be here somewhere, but the quote I used from it wasn't an actual quote. I made up something equally ridiculous because I couldn't actually remember what she'd written, as I assume I have now blocked it from my subconscious to prevent further trauma. You can blame her for the fact that I'm here at all though! If not for her, I would probably have never have known fanfiction even existed, I live under a rock in that way.

3. It was strange, but once I finally mastered saying the 50 states of America in alphabetical order without tripping up on it, I felt competent to try complicated math formulas, and then suddenly I had my nose in a book about the French revolution.
Whatever works, I guess? I still recite the 50 states when I'm feeling really stupid, to prove my brain is still there. Even though I know it doesn't prove anything, it does give me a bit of confidence. Santana had well and truly learned the list by 2nd grade though, it was just me who got confused.

Also, I do have almost as many issues with storms, as Santana has with her jealousy. She was always a jealous person, but when she was drunk that was when it all came out of her. At prom, she really did steal me millions of balloons. I was so touched.

Brittany had a dream about her dad in Chapter 18 which explains the shadow thing, just in case anyone forgot.

And Brittany's initial description of herself (I am Brittany S. Pierce. I can dance. I remember stuff that other people forget... etc) to Miss Pillsbury was a slightly modified version of what she said in Chapter 6.

Oh wait. One more thing. For that 'the plumbing is different' line, I know I've twisted it around and changed the meaning of it a bit, because I would have personally taken it the way I described it.

All Artie/Brittany scenes are over now, and also thankfully all detailed Puck/Santana scenes are now over too. This chapter had to be done though, because I had to show the shift in the Pucktana relationship towards the end, and the shift in Brittany from the Bartie relationship.

For Bartie I was honest, for Pucktana I was a bit skewed, picking the least painful things for me to write possible while still telling the story, even though what I chose was bad enough.

The next chapter will actually be the last high school chapter. I'll talk about college after that. Thank you all for listening. :)