I own nothing
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William Nathaniel Schuester was a very energetic child. He was always running around the neighborhood and singing at the top of his lungs. His parents always encouraged him. They always told him he was very talented and that he should never stop being who he was. His biggest supporter was his grandmother.
Regina "Gigi" Schuester had been the first to notice her grandson's knack for not only singing, but dancing as well. She had given him his first pair of dance shoes for his fifth birthday, an acoustic guitar for his seventh birthday, and a shiny black piano for his sixteenth birthday. Even though she had other grandchildren, her world seemed to revolve around Will.
Two months, three weeks, and six days ago, Gigi died.
Two months, three weeks, and six days ago, Will Schuester, in lieu of mourning, attacked the love of his life.
///
She was sitting up now. The rusting metal head post dug into her bag, but it didn't hurt. She watched him as he filled out paperwork with intense concentration.
He was her emergency contact. He was the one who had said he's take responsibility for her, in the event of something horrible happening. This was that event. She thought she had gotten away from him.
"We got new neighbors." He told her with a light smile. "They're from like…Poland or something…they're always arguing in weird languages."
She looked at him. He was trying to act as though nothing had happened. As though she weren't sitting in a room with bars on the windows and cameras in the corners. As though she hadn't traveled practically across the country, just to drive into some icy waters where no one would recognize her when her body surfaced.
He was acting as though she wasn't insane.
///
"I would like to stay here." She stated as her doctor, a man with no name, who she called Brown Beard in her head to differentiate him from the other strange men who were in that building.
"I'm sorry Miss. Pillsbury,"
"Please don't call me that…"
"But if he consents to sending you to a hospital nearer to your home, then we need to do what's best for you."
"I would like to stay here." She repeated turning to look at the man who once shared so much with her. "I would like to stay here."
///
"Mom! I'm sorry, but I can't just make her leave! I won't!" He spoke with his mother on the phone. The woman, though initially encouraging of her son's cross-country pursuit, was beginning to grow concerned with his prolonged absence. "It's not fair to her…I know…It's summer! I don't need to be back for another month!"
He paced the hallway where he had been exiled to yet again as the doctors spoke with Emma. He peered into the small window to see her sitting in a chair, staring despondently out the window, while men in white coats conversed in the corner.
They all looked grave. Very grave.
"I'll call you later." He hung up his phone and continued to watch her through the physical and mental walls that separated them.
///
He brought her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He'd bought the supplies, and a gallon of milk at a small supermarket down the road from the hospital. She ate it. Without emotion she ate it.
The jelly was strawberry. The peanut butter was crunchy. The milk was skim, all of her favorites. She didn't seem to notice.
"They won Regionals." He announced suddenly as he bit into his second sandwich. She stared at him blankly. "Glee did." He said needlessly. If she cared she would have smiled, or something, to let him know she was in there.
"They miss you." He whispered before regressing back into silence.
///
He had fallen asleep. He had been there for three days now, talking to her. Comforting her, despite the fact that he had no idea why.
She watched him, finally letting the sorrow seep into her face. He still cared for her. He was still concerned for her. He still loved her.
He still loved her.
He still loved her.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back and reached for his hand, which was resting on the bed. His fingers were warmer than she had remembered. His skin was softer.
"I missed you." She whispered before dozing off, letting go of his hand in the process.
///
Two weeks and four days of sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair. Eighteen days of watching her stare through him as he spoke with her. Four hundred and thirty-two hours of listening to nurses tell him that her name wasn't Emma, at least not until she was ready for it to be. Twenty-five thousand and nine hundred and twenty minutes of wondering when she'd be back to normal.
Two weeks and four days had gone by. And on a cool rainy morning in early June, Emma made lifted her head to look at him. "I want to leave."
He almost didn't hear the whisper as he ate his cereal. He was content with their silent sittings.
Looking up, he swallowed his mouthful of Honeycombs and stared at her incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"
She stared at him, with a hint of pleading in her otherwise emotionless face. "I want to leave."
///
He had never signed papers so fast in his life. He told himself that he would read the fine print on the carbon copies once he got her back to Lima. By that evening, after three final evaluations, done by three separate doctors, she was cleared to leave. He had gotten the van repaired while he was visiting her, so it was as good as new by the time they were ready to leave.
He made sure that she had a blanket and pillow within reach in case she needed it. The nurses handed him a bag full of medication, and refill information for their local pharmacist.
"We've got a fun drive ahead of us." He told her with a big smile. Emma stared out the window warily as he pulled out of the long driveway, away from the building that had been her home for the past few months. "Are you comfortable?"
He had bought her a pair of jeans, a nice button down shirt, and a bright blue pea coat for the drive home-among many other clothes for her to change into as she pleased.
She didn't speak for hours. For hours, there was nothing but the sound of fuzzy music from the radio and the loud blast of the A/C. It became later and later in the evening. Soon, it was nearly midnight.
Not wanting to make her sleep in a cramped seat all night, he pulled into the parking lot of the nearest hotel, and checked them into a room-a room with two beds.
///
He carried her inside. He placed her in the bed closest to the bathroom, so she would get a draft from the window. He switched the hotel blankets and pillowcases with ones he had purchased and washed with his own two hands. He tucked her in. He kissed her forehead.
He whispered, "I love you," Over and over again, until he fell into a peaceful sleep on the other bed.