Rebuilding.
Brooke lay in her bed, shaking. She remembered. But what was it? A dream? A nightmare? "It couldn't have been real," she told herself.
The morning found Brooke feeling stiff and sore. Physiotherapy was helping, but she was certainly not up for cheerleading, that was certain. She wondered why she didn't feel sad about that. "Did I enjoy it?" she wondered. She knew that she should have, especially the popularity that came with it. Now, she reminded herself, she needed to find out what she did like, not what she was supposed to like, and to find out who she was, rather than being who she was supposed to be.
Looking around her room, she noted how it had changed since her 'resurrection,' gone were the posters, the pink clothes, the traces of 'cuteness' that was expected in the room of a 'pretty girl.' Instead, her bed wore a dark blue duvet. Her walls had art prints and there was nothing pink to be seen.
It was later that day that Brooke asked Sam to talk. Their parents were out and Brooke wanted to make sure she had Sam alone, just in case there were trademark 'Sam vs. Brooke' raised voices.
"So what's on your mind?" she asked the former cheerleader, taking a seat on Brooke's bed.
"Well, you may have noticed that I'm not really the same person? I mean, from before the accident?"
"Yeah, it's fairly obvious, you hardly ever yell at me anymore and you've actually been almost pleasant to be around." Sam smirked as she said it.
"Super-funny Sam" Brooke sneered, "but you know I mean it."
"I do too – you have been pleasant to be around – what happened?"
"That's kinda what I wanted to talk about," the blond girl sighed. "I don't remember a lot of it. I mean, I remember us asking Harrison to choose, I remember running out of the prom, I remember the headlights, but I don't remember what he said and I don't remember the car hitting me."
"That's probably a good thing, ya know?"
"Maybe, but I don't remember being upset. I mean, I remember crying, but I can't remember what I was feeling that was making me cry."
"Again," Sam replied, "a good thing, I'd say."
"And I don't remember Josh," Brooke continued. "I half-remember some conversations – but not much – and all I remember about sex is this horrific feeling of something... inside me and wanting it out."
"Well, you never raved about your sex life, Brooke."
"I don't really remember if I raved about it or not, but I believe you."
"Thanks. Usually, you'd argue with me just to argue..."
"I know," Brooke interrupted, "and I'm sorry... but I just wanted you to know, I've... figured out something."
Sam's response was an arched eyebrow and a look a expectation – saying "Well? What?" without using words.
"I realized that I haven't actually changed at all, I've just stopped... pretending."
"Pretending what?"
"To be someone else, someone who's so perfect her mother wouldn't abandon her, who'd never be the second choice. – Do you know I didn't ever realize what my favorite color was? I was so busy worrying about what I should like that I never stopped to find out what I did like."
"And what do you like?" Sam's eyebrow was arching again.
"Lots of things, dark blue," she pointed at the duvet, "wearing loose, unfashionable jeans, eating for God's sake! I love to eat! What the hell was I doing starving myself? and for what? – to be perfect? What the hell was I doing?!"
Sam started to speak, but Brooke was on a roll, "I mean, I hate pink, I hate cheerleading, I hate thinking I can't talk to someone or do something because it'll make me look bad."
At this point Sam was smiling – almost laughing, really, as Brooke ranted on.
"And I never loved Josh, I never loved Harrison – except maybe as a little brother – and I never liked boys! and..." her voice trailed off and her eyes widened.
"Excuse me?!" Sam was on her feet now, as wide-eyed as the blond. A good journalist couldn't let a revelation like that slip by without clarification.
Brooke looked stunned for a second, then a huge grin spread across her face.
"I never... liked... boys" she said, slowly, savoring the words. "I never liked boys." She turned to Sam, repeating the words with undisguised glee: "I never liked boys Sam – not ever. That's why sex with Josh and Harrison was so bad. It wasn't their fault or mine. They was just... wrong."
"Whoa!" Sam interrupted the blissed-out blond, "You mean you're a..."
"Lesbian" Brooke finished, grinning with undisguised enthusiasm. "Yes... Lezzz...Beeee...Annn," she repeated, her face beaming. I could have never said that before, could I? – Hell, you don't get to be Homecoming Queen by being a dyke, do ya? God! I was soooo stupid."
"Sam was starting to get caught up in Brooke's wave of giddiness. "So, you're gay? Wow! That's news. You must have gotten quite the hit on the head."
"Oh Sammie, don't you see? I just don't care anymore – I mean, about what everybody thinks."
"And you had no idea before?" Sam was in full-on 'get-the-facts' reporter mode now.
Brooke tilted her head, thinking. "You know what? I think I always knew – that's the stupid thing. I always knew and I kept telling myself it wasn't real and it would just go away if I ignored it. First Josh, then Harrison – Poor Harrison! He should have picked you."
"I guess," Sam replied, in a non-committal way. She had her tongue poking her cheek in her 'I'm thinking' mode. In truth, Harrison hadn't held out a lot of hope for himself and Brooke. Their visits had been friendly and relaxed for the most part. Brooke realized that, as long as no mention was made of them being a couple, she actually enjoyed his company, but, whenever he brought up their 'relationship' she stiffened. Eventually, he realized that it wasn't going to happen and stopped visiting, at least until he and Sam had it out and she reminded him that, relationship or not, he was damned lucky to have Brooke in his life, "just as a friend" or not. After some raised voices – and some tears, he'd admitted she was right. Brooke was never told about that night. Sam let her think that Harrison came to the mature conclusion on his own, and the triad's friendship slowly began to rebuild itself.
Sam herself, has done her own soul-searching regarding her best friend, wondering more than once if she'd only wanted him because she wanted to prove that she could actually take something that Brooke wanted. She'd hated herself both for what she saw as petty, Nicole-like, behavior and for hurting her two best friends in the process.
Now, Brooke was standing here in front of her, telling her that she'd never really wanted him either. Sam couldn't help but be curious, "Did Brooke also have an ulterior motive for pursuing Harrison?"
Finally, she spoke. "So Brooke..."
"Yes?" the blond replied.
"Who'd you pick?"
"Huh?" Brooke hadn't thought that far ahead.
"Well, if you didn't love Josh or Harrison – who did you love?"
Brooke was stunned by the question. Who did she love? Had she ever really been in love with anyone? She searched her feelings and the answer hit her so hard so collapsed onto the bed.
"Are you ok!?" Sam thought for a second Brooke was hurt – maybe her injuries from the crash?
"Yes, yes! I'm fine. After all this time, I'm fine. I was just thinking about your question."
"And?"
"I have been in love – really in love – once."
"Really?" Sam was excited now, she had to know the answer to this one.
"I don't think... I should tell you," Brooke answered, her grin disappeared.
"WHAT!! No way McQueen, you cannot dump all that on me and not tell me the best part! Who is it? Is it someone we know? Oh God! It's not Nicole"
"What! No!" Brooke made a face like she was about to spew on the carpet.
"Then who? C'mon – I won't tell anyone – off the record, I promise." Sam made a criss-cross pattern across her chest.
Brooke stood up, looking Sam in the eye. "Trust me, you don't... want to know."
Sam's grin faded as she started to wonder if she did, in fact, what do know the answer to her own question. Only the reporter in her couldn't let a question go unanswered.
"So," she, said, turning away from Brooke, "does this.. girl – it is a girl, I'm assuming?" she asked, turning to face Brooke again.
Brooke nodded.
"So this... girl, doesn't know?"
"That's right."
"And you're not going to tell her, because...?"
"Because she's not like me, Sam. She's..she's straight and would just run away screaming, and..."
"Oh I don't think it'd be that bad. I mean, even if she's not gay, I doubt she'd freak on you."
"Oh no, she would, I'm sure she would."
"How do you know?" Sam folded her arms, challenging the blond.
"Well," Brooke said, moving toe-to-toe with the inquiring reporter, "wouldn't you?"
Sam started to falter, wondering if she should keep pushing, but she did anyway, "like a good reporter" she thought. "Well, I don't think I'd freak out, I mean, I.. I don't know how I'd react, but I'd want to know at least."
"Why so you could laugh about it? So you could go tell Harrison.."
"Hold up McQueen!" Sam held her hand up in front of Brooke's face. "My name is not Nicole!"
Brooke deflated a little. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know that's not you."
"Good" Sam smiled, "now suppose you just answer my question?"
"Are you sure?" Brooke hesitated.
"Yes, I'm sure." Sam replied. They were toe-to-toe again. A familiar place for the two women.
"It's... you Sam. It's always been you."
Sam swallowed. "Wow... I wasn't sure.."
"Oh please! You knew. You just wanted to hear me say it."
"Maybe, but... why? All we ever did is fight."
"All I ever did was stare at you, and then try and avoid you and what I was feeling, and then drive you away anytime you got close."
"Ah, it was all too keep you from admitting what you just admitted?"
"Yes, Sam it was. Every time I saw you I felt things that 'good little straight cheerleader Brooke' shouldn't be feeling. Hell, I even know why I picked Harrison."
Sam gave another "Well..?" look to Brooke.
"If I got Harrison, it proved I was 'good enough' and not a big fat failure. It meant that I was that 'good little straight girl' and..." she paused. Sam shuffled her feet. "It meant that he wouldn't have you, and... I wouldn't be left alone."
Both girls were reeling from the last revelation. Finally, Brooke said, "Then, when he picked me, it was... empty. I still wasn't good enough, even if he wanted me, I was still stuck with these... feelings and... and... I'd lost you. – you'd never want me, not after doing that to you. Oh God! I probably jumped in front of Nicole's car!"
"I really hope you're kidding about that part!" Sam sounded angry, but her face didn't show it.
"Don't worry, Sammie, I think I am."
"Wow" was all Sam could muster after a moment. "You seem to have it all figured out."
"It's easy, ya know? – When you don't lie to yourself, when you just accept who you are and don't try to wear a mask."
"No kidding – Whatever happened to that mask, anyway?"
"I... I pulled it off Sam. It... hurt and it was... bloody – Horror movie bloody."
"Ewwww," Sam shivered, picturing what Brooke was describing in the way only someone whose seen Hollywood special effects could imagine.
Seeing the look of revulsion on Sam's face, Brooke said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to hit on you, or anything. I know you're not like me."
Sam stood up straight. "Oh it's not that, I was just picturing what you described – Kinda graphic."
"If she only knew I wasn't be figurative!" Brooke thought.
"So you're not disgusted?" She arched an eyebrow at Sam.
"No! – of course not."
"But you've never...?" The blond was smirking now.
Sam took a deep breath. "Well, I'm not saying I've never thought about it, but I enjoyed being with George – and Harrison."
"I'm sure you did," Brooke answered, turning away. "Look! – Like I said, don't worry, I'm not out to... turn you or anything. Look at it this way, at least I'll never try to steal another boyfriend from you. I bet you could still get Harrison – if you wanted."
"Actually, we already talked about that," Sam whispered. It was barely audible, but Brooke heard it.
"What!?" She spun around, glaring at Sam. "When was this?"
"Last week – but we both agreed that... well, we love each other, we really do, but... we've been best friends all our lives and it's hard to be anything else, esp. after I picked George over him, he picked you over me. It just shows how we're not meant to be – Does that make sense?"
Brooke thought for a moment. "Yes, actually, it does – Just like you and I are step-sisters and..."
"Well that's not the same thing at all." Sam actually sounded surprised with herself as she said it.
"What do you mean?" Brooke looked puzzled now.
"Well, Harrison and I were friends since we were kids, and we chose to be friends. You and I have just been... well, living here for a year or so and it wasn't our decision. We just kinda... adapted to it."
"So, what does that mean?" Brooke had a lump in her throat and her stomach was in knots.
"I guess it means..." Sam was walking towards Brooke now, but not really looking at anything. "It means that..."
"What?" Brooke was shaking.
"Oh my God!" Sam shouted, as years of repressed feelings finally boiled over. She fell onto the bed, giggling. "I was staring at you too! I picked fights with you to get your attention! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!!" she kept repeating, her face in the pillow.
Brooke couldn't stand anymore. She fell down onto her knees by the bed. She was starting to cry. Sam looked up, grinning widely, and then noticed the blond's tears.
"Oh Brooke! No! Don't you get it? I love you too!" Sam couldn't stop grinning. "I – Love – You – Too." She threw her arms around the sobbing girl and didn't let go for quite awhile.
Finally, with tears running down their faces and grinning at the same time, they faced each other.
"I love you Brooke."
"I love you too Sam."
And they kissed for the first time.