Her Smile Heals Me (part 14)
Oh what the hell she says
I just can't win for losing
And she lays back down...
Man there's so many times
I don't know what I'm doin'
Like I don't know now...
By the light of the moon, she rubs her eyes
Says it's funny how the night can make you blind
I can just imagine...
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
But if she feels bad then I do too
So I let her be...
And she says ooh I can't take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can't help her now...
She's down in it
She tried her best but now she can't win
It's hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down, way down...
She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And I know I could break her concentration
But it don't feel right...
By the light of the moon, she rubs her eyes
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there's something less about her...
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
But don't let her see…
Brittany sat on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night with her knees pulled to her chest and her head resting on her propped arms. She rubbed at her temples to massage her aching head as she listened to music on her phone through her white headphones. Even though she tried to calm her stomach by taking slow, even breaths, concentrating on the music playing in her ears, she was overtaken with another tingling down her jawline. That sensation was immediately followed by the taste of bile at the back of her mouth. She yanked on the wire of her headphones to pull them out quickly while sitting up and leaning toward the toilet, throwing up mostly air.
There was a sharp knock on the bathroom door while Brittany dry-heaved into the toilet, her eyes watering as she gagged loudly.
"Yeah?" Brittany said weakly, trying to catch her breath, pulling some toilet paper off the roll to wipe at her mouth.
"It's Quinn…is everything alright?" the voice said from the other side of the door.
Brittany paused a moment, waiting for her stomach muscles to stop convulsing, before reaching up to flush the toilet then she crawled over to the door to unlock it.
"What's going on?" Quinn asked with concern as she pushed on the opened door, "I thought I heard gagging…are you sick?"
"Yeah," Brittany confirmed crawling back over nearer the toilet, leaning back against the tub.
"You look miserable," Quinn told her with a grimace.
"I've been puking up my soul for like an hour now."
Quinn opened the cabinet underneath the sink and pulled out a small, paper cup from a stack of them, filling it with water then kneeling next to Brittany.
"Try this," she coaxed.
"Thanks…," Brittany said as she took the tiny cup and swallowed a small amount of the liquid in it, "…hopefully it'll stay down."
"Maybe you should see a doctor?" Quinn asked.
"I'll be okay…," Brittany took a deep breath, "…I'm getting used to this anyway."
"Have you been getting sick a lot, Britt?"
The taller blonde paused before saying, "I just have a lot on my mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Brittany took another small sip of the water. Quinn watched her dear friend, and she could see Brittany's hands trembling as she avoided answering.
"Brittany…?"
"I fucked up, Quinn."
"What do you mean?"
"I made a really stupid choice about Santana leaving the hospital…I only created more problems for her…for everyone."
"You were only trying to protect her…that's not stupid, Britt…that's love."
There was a pause between the friends before Brittany asked, "Quinn…do you think it's possible to love someone too much?"
"I don't know…can anyone have an overabundance of love?"
"But like…to where it's harmful?"
"Yeah, I suppose you can…," Quinn hated seeing Brittany under so much stress, especially when Brittany was the reliable ray of sunshine for the group of them, "….who is it harming though, Britt? Santana…or you?"
"She should have stayed…I realize that now…," Brittany confessed further, wiping at the tears in her eyes, "…she needs help…help that I can't give her."
"You are the best thing in her life, Brittany."
Brittany lowered her eyes, running the pad of her thumb around the edge of the paper cup, pondering whether to reveal her internal struggle. She looked up into Quinn's caring, green eyes then said, "I ignored her, Q."
"Santana?"
"The night she overdosed…I didn't take her call...," she started crying, "…I'm supposed to love and take care of her…but I ignored her when she needed me most."
"Why?" Quinn asked sympathetically.
"Cause I was being selfish."
"I've never known you to be selfish, Britt."
"It's just that it was the first time in like a really long time that I was having fun… we were all just laughing and goofing around…," Brittany reflected, "…so when she called, I just let it go to voice mail."
"You didn't know what would happen," Quinn tried to make her feel better, caressing her left shoulder.
"That's just it…I never know what's going to happen anymore…," Brittany tried to put words to her thoughts, "I have loved Santana for so long now…all I want to do is be with her, Q…but I can't make sense of all this drama that eats away at us."
Quinn didn't say anything but pulled the taller blonde toward her to comfort her.
"Do you think it would be healthier for you two not to be together?"
Brittany took a deep breath as Quinn's question hung in the air. The burning sensation returned to the pit of her stomach, and Brittany leaned into it, wrapping her long arms around herself. "I think I'm going to be sick again," she warned Quinn, a cold sweat forming on her upper lip.
The shorter blonde watched the color drain from Brittany's face. "You need something to settle your stomach."
Quinn stood and moved toward the cracked bathroom door just as Brittany threw up the water she drank. She opened the door and ran right into Santana who had obviously been standing outside it.
"Is she ok?" she asked with a concerned tone, looking over Quinn's shoulder at Brittany.
"I'm going to see if we have any ginger ale in the pantry," Quinn whispered, stepping out into the hallway, "Just sit with her."
Santana eased herself down next to Brittany, rubbing softly on the curve of her back but not saying anything. Brittany instantly felt better under Santana's touch, and she sat back on the floor and put her pounding head in Santana's lap, shielding her eyes with her forearm from the harshness of the overhead light.
"I woke up and found you gone…," Santana told her sadly, "…I thought I dreamed you again." Santana had told Brittany of her vivid dream about them before they fell asleep, and Brittany had promised to reenact a version of it with Santana as soon as the Latina was feeling better.
"I'm not going anywhere, honey…," Brittany assured her in a very weak voice.
"Good morning, Dad," Rachel entered the kitchen Wednesday morning, giving her father a squeeze from behind.
Trey bent over to kiss his diminutive daughter on the cheek before responding, "Good morning, baby girl…coffee?"
"No, I need tea for my throat this morning," she told him, picking up the kettle from the back of the stove top and walking over to the sink to fill it with water, "I have lessons this morning."
"It's generous of Mrs. Bennett to let you tutor some of her students this summer," Trey said.
"I like working with the little ones…they're all so cute…," Rachel smiled broadly, setting her kettle on a burner and turning on the flame underneath it, "…not unlike a young Rachel Berry."
"You were never cute…," Daniel added to the conversation as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a travel mug out of the drain board near the sink.
"Why do you say that, Daddy?" Rachel challenged him with a pout on her face.
"Because even as a toddler…you were too driven to be cute…," Daniel clarified with a chuckle, "…you were beautiful…but you were ruthless!"
Trey looked at his partner and shared in the laughter that came with the memory of their rising star, "Don't listen to him, pumpkin…you have always been perfectly adorable."
Rachel couldn't help but laugh with her dads, "Well, aren't you glad there weren't two of me?"
"Dear lord…what would we have done with more than one center of attention?" Daniel asked jovially.
"I may always want to be center of attention, but it never made me not want a sibling," Rachel confessed.
"Then I'm glad Santana arrived just in time to make your childhood complete," Trey added with a wink.
The laughter died off as each of them internally reflected on how quickly the young Latina fit into their family.
"I hate for her to go back into that house with those people when she is perfectly part of ours now," Rachel shared with her fathers.
Trey moved closer to his daughter and put his long arm around her shoulders, "Me too."
"I wish we could just adopt her and make it official so she doesn't have to worry about them anymore."
Daniel took a sip of coffee from his mug, contemplating Rachel's statement.
The doorbell rang, interrupting the pause that hung in the spacious kitchen.
"Who could that be this early?" Daniel asked rhetorically, looking at his watch. 8:21am.
"I'll get it," Rachel said.
"No…," Daniel stopped her with a cautious tone, "…I'll get it."
The kettle whistled, startling the three of them, followed by the doorbell again.
"You two stay here," Daniel said protectively.
Before Daniel reached the front door, the doorbell rang out again then again then again. By the time he reached it to unlock the deadbolt and turn the doorknob, the person on the other side was banging loudly on the wood.
Daniel twisted the knob and pulled open the door, revealing a very angry Dr. Lopez. "Where is she?" he said, pushing past the smaller man, "Santana!"
"She's not here, Hector…," Daniel told him, "Calm down."
"Santana!"
"You have no right to barge into our home," Trey said, stepping from inside the kitchen.
"Santana!" the heavier-set man continued to call out loudly, "I demand to see my daughter."
"Mr. Lopez, Santana isn't here," Rachel tried, her eyes wide with fright.
"Rachel…please go up to your room," Daniel instructed.
"Dad…."
"Rachel, please…," Daniel said, exasperated with the situation.
"Where has Santana been staying? Upstairs?" Dr. Lopez persisted, pushing Rachel out of the way as she walked toward the stairs.
"Hey! Don't put your hands on my daughter," Trey called out, following Dr. Lopez who moved quickly up the staircase. Trey's long legs caught up to the doctor at the top landing, and he told Santana's father, "You need to leave right now…Daniel, call the police!"
"Yes, call the police…you are keeping me from my child."
"Santana is not here…we are not hiding anything, Hector…," Daniel hollered from the bottom of the stairs while pulling out his cell phone, "That's what we told the officers last night, and nothing has changed."
"Then I want to collect her belongings…she will no longer be staying here," Dr. Lopez insisted as he tried to move past Trey who was doing his best to force him back down the stairs.
Daniel turned to Rachel and whispered, "Get your stuff and go on to work…before this gets worse."
Rachel nodded.
"And, Rach…," Daniel reached out and grabbed Rachel's forearm, saying to her in a hushed tone, "…I will find a way out of this for Santana."
Quinn reached forward and pulled open the glass door then stepped aside to allow Brittany and Santana to walk through it.
"We can wait over here," Quinn motioned to the waiting area just inside the building, walking over to a wooden coffee table, picking up a magazine, sitting down in a blue fabric-covered armchair, and crossing her legs.
Brittany looked back at Santana, still holding the Latina's hand, smiling sweetly, and said, "Good luck, honey."
Santana hesitated without releasing her grasp on Brittany's hand, responding, "I thought maybe you could go in with me."
Quinn looked up from her magazine just in time to catch a side-glance from the taller blonde.
"You don't have to…if you don't want to," Santana covered, feeling the tension in Brittany's pause.
"No, I want to…if you want me to…are you sure you want me to?" Brittany stammered.
"Yes," Santana confirmed, squeezing Brittany's hand.
Quinn watched as Santana led Brittany around the corner before looking back down and taking a deep breath. The morning had been difficult so far, Quinn acknowledged internally. None of them enjoyed solid sleep though they each desperately needed some. Brittany seemed a little better and had some color back in her cheeks after Quinn made her some dry toast before they left for the bank. Santana wasn't really eating either, still feeling the effects of the charcoal they made her drink at the hospital. It didn't help that Rachel called first thing to tell her Dr. Lopez had forced his way into their house, demanding to see Santana. Quinn's mind was spinning with worry for her former co-Cheerios as well as with her own newest personal developments.
The former cheerleader captain reached into the small, beige purse at her side and pulled out her cell phone, immediately going back into her texts:
CATE
10:54 PM
what are you thinking about now?
Quinn smiled and flushed lightly, looking at her response:
11:01 PM
You…can't stop.
CATE
11:02 PM
good then don't :) goodnight, Quinn
11:03 PM
Goodnight, Cate.
Brittany felt horrible after being sick in the night. Her head was pounding which was making her edgy, and she knew Santana had picked up on that vibe. Calm down, she mentally told herself, taking in a breath and looking over at Santana as she knocked on the door in front of them.
The door was opened by an older woman the height of Brittany who had a warm smile of recognition on her face while saying, "Santana…come in."
Santana stepped inside the cozy office. "Dr. Shane…this is Brittany. I hope it's ok if she's with me today."
"Of course…whatever makes you comfortable. It is nice to have a chance to meet you, Brittany," the psychiatrist said, pulling her desk chair over next to the patient chair, "Please have a seat."
Brittany smiled politely at the doctor, sitting in the desk chair as Santana settled into the brown armchair next to her.
Dr. Shane sat across from the girls, crossing her legs at the knees and setting her memo pad in her lap. "How are you feeling?" she asked, having been contacted by the hospital about the overdose of the mediation she had prescribed.
The older woman noted the long pause that met her question. She watched both teens' body language as they shifted in their seats and looked at each other.
"Santana?" the doctor prompted.
"I'm pretty much a fugitive at this point," Santana revealed with an awkward smile.
"What do you mean by 'fugitive'?"
"I kinda broke out of the hospital last night…and now my father has the police looking for me."
"I see…," the doctor made a note on her writing pad before looking directly at the young Latina, "…this is very serious, Santana. I'm going to be honest with you…I have an ethical obligation to notify your parents that you are here."
"I came to you for help!" Santana sat up on the edge of her seat.
"Take a deep breath…," Dr. Shane motioned calmly, "…I want to help you, Santana."
The older woman watched closely as Brittany reached over and caressed Santana's back and the dark-haired girl relaxed again into her chair. She made another notation on her yellow pad then set her pen down and removed her reading glasses form the tip of her nose.
"You are comforted by Brittany's presence, aren't you?" the doctor observed aloud.
"Yes…," Santana answered her then looked over at the beautiful blonde to her right, "…but I know that's a heavy burden for her."
Dr. Shane watched the dynamic between the teens alter as Santana leaned away slightly. Brittany looked down, a burning sensation flaring in the pit of her stomach.
"Brittany…?"
She paused momentarily. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for Santana…," she stated, pulling her hand back into her lap.
"Including risking her own future…," Santana added sadly.
"In what way?" Dr. Shane asked.
"She cut out on her dance camp to come home…," Santana explained, "…her parents don't know."
"You needed me…it was worth it," Brittany said softly in Santana's direction.
"Is it worth your own sanity?" Santana challenged.
Brittany swallowed hard as those words hung in the air. She fidgeted with a band-aid she had on the middle finger of her right hand.
"Brittany…?" Dr. Shane prodded gently.
"Loving Santana has never been a simple thing," Brittany confessed, fresh tears forming in her blue eyes.
Santana looked up at the therapist across from them then over at Brittany, "…then why do you?"
"Because…there is a part of you that you don't let anyone else see…that tender, super affectionate side of you…you save that just for me…," Brittany said softly, "…and it makes me feel special."
"You've always been special…," Santana reached over and took Brittany's left hand in hers, "…but you're slowly losing that special part of you…and now it's because of me."
"Do you feel that's true, Brittany?" the therapist asked directly.
Brittany diverted her eyes, but confirmed, "…I feel powerless lately…like I'm fighting a battle I'll never win."
"It's made her physically sick…," Santana added, her voice catching in her throat, "…I've made her physically sick."
Dr. Shane watched the two girls in front of her, both wiping at tears falling down their attractive faces. She picked up a square Kleenex dispenser from her side table and leaned forward to offer them each a tissue.
"You are both feeling pretty broken right now, aren't you?" the doctor stated, setting the box back on her table.
Brittany and Santana both nodded and dabbed at their eyes with their tissues.
The therapist sighed heavily with sympathy on her kind face. "Well, I can see how much you love each other."
"But that doesn't seem like enough sometimes," Santana cried, remembering Brittany's words she overheard from outside the bathroom.
"Santana…what were you thinking about on the night you overdosed?" the doctor asked her.
The question took the young Latina by surprise, causing her to hesitate.
"Santana…you need to be able to answer this question in order to get better."
"I've answered this question…dozens of times."
"Answer it again please."
Dr. Shane could see the teenager was mentally tormented on the topic, but she pushed anyway, "Santana…give me an answer…what went through your mind right before you swallowed those pills?"
"I just wanted it all to stop, okay?" Santana choked out through tears, "All of it! The rape, being gay, my parents…being a disappointment to everybody in my life…for one second, it made sense that everybody would be better off with not having to deal with me any longer…and then that second was over…and it was too late go back."
Brittany leaned and wrapped her arms around Santana, pulling the brunette into her embrace.
"Santana…you need more intense counseling…," Dr. Shane informed her, "…you need to retrain your thinking to see your own self-worth again…to assist you down a path of self-acceptance."
"What are you saying?" Santana challenged.
"We need to work with your parents…to come up with a plan to move forward."
"You're going to sell me out to them?" Santana's face fell, "I trusted you…and you were just setting me up!"
"I'm doing what is in your best interest as my patient."
"You're just like everyone else!"
Santana stood quickly and darted toward the door. Brittany looked at the doctor with wide eyes, not knowing what to do other than follow after her girlfriend.
Before she left the therapist's office, she turned back around to say, "She does trust you…please don't ruin that for her."
Quinn followed Brittany and Santana into the parking lot, pulling her car key out of her purse and pressing the remote to unlock it.
"That was fast," Quinn commented, looking down at her watch. 11:33 am. She opened the driver's door to her Jetta and slid into the seat, buckling her seatbelt.
Brittany watched Santana get into the back passenger seat, but she wanted to sit next to her so she rounded the back of the car and got in behind Quinn, telling the shorter blonde, "Yeah…it didn't go that great actually."
"What happened?" Quinn inquired, looking at her passengers in her rearview mirror as she backed her car out of the parking space. She saw Brittany look over at Santana who just continued to look down at her crossed arms. Quinn looked back ahead of her, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the lot onto Lockwood.
"Dr. Shane…," Brittany started.
"I don't want to talk about it!" Santana interrupted loudly.
"What is your problem?" Quinn asked boldly, looking back at Santana in the mirror.
Santana's head shot up, "You are…all of you are!"
"Hey…that's unfair…," Brittany reacted.
"You know what, Santana…we are not your problem…," Quinn turned it back on the fiery Latina, "…we're trying to be your solution…if you'll just meet us halfway."
"You don't know shit about what my problems are, Quinn!"
"Yeah, I do… YOU are your problem…and now you've become everyone else's."
"Quinn, stop…," Brittany implored.
"No, I'm sick of this 'woe is me' attitude… you don't have to be the victim the rest of your life."
"I AM THE VICTIM HERE!" Santana screamed toward Quinn, "I was raped!"
"Oh please…you were like this long before you were raped…angry and defensive…pushing everybody away…," Quinn didn't hold back with her old friend as she slowed her car at a red light, "…and now, you finally have what you always wanted…and you're destroying it!"
"You don't know anything, Quinn Fabray," Santana said coldly.
"I know that your girlfriend was up half the night puking her guts up because she's so worried about you."
"Quinn, please stop…you're only hurting her more," Brittany interjected.
"No, it's fine, Britt…she kisses a girl ONE time and suddenly she's an expert on girlfriends…so let her say whatever she's going to say," Santana spat out with venom.
Quinn turned around in her seat as best she could to look directly at Santana then said, "It was twice, smartass…and I may not be an expert on any kind of relationship…but I'm an expert on you two."
"Well, congratulations then," Santana crossed her arms again over her chest and shifted to look out her window, her anger so palpable it filled the interior of the car.
Brittany looked out her passenger window, some sort of motion catching the corner of her eye. She turned her head further to see a blue Sienna van next to them at the light and a very familiar blonde child waving enthusiastically at her.
"Shit, my mom!" Brittany exclaimed as she ducked down in her seat, sliding as far as she could.
Santana instinctively ducked too.
"Where?" Quinn asked frantically, turning back around.
"Right next to us…my sister saw me," Brittany told her, her head bent at a weird angle.
Quinn banged her frustration on the black steering wheel in front of her, "This is the longest red light in history!"
"Don't look over," Brittany pleaded.
"Just act normal, Quinn," Santana said, exasperated with the entire circumstance, "Nobody's after you!"
The moment the light turned green, Quinn eased her foot off the brake and down onto the gas. She drove several paces ahead of the blue van then unexpectedly turned right at the next intersection.
"We're ok…she kept driving," Quinn announced.
As soon as Quinn turned the Jetta off the main street, the cell phone in Brittany's pocket buzzed. The tall blonde pulled out the phone and looked at the incoming caller, "Fuck, it's my mom."
"Don't answer it," Santana said with a sharp tone, sitting up again.
"Do you think I should, Quinn?"
"Answer it."
"Fine, don't listen to me…," Santana snapped.
Brittany unlocked the phone on the last buzz, "...Hello?"
"Brittany, it's Mom," the voice said.
"I know who it is, Mom."
"How's camp going today?"
"Huh? Camp?" Brittany was confused, "...it's um...a lot of work…tiring."
"I'm sure...but you're a hard worker," her mom said flatly, "In fact, your dad and I are so proud of everything you've accomplished that we've been tossing around the idea of coming up to see your group performance this weekend...that wouldn't embarrass you, would it?"
"Embarrass me? No, of course not," Brittany's brow furrowed at the strangeness of the discussion.
Santana looked over at her girlfriend, confused by her end of the conversation.
"Good!" Mrs. Pierce said excitedly, "...So we'll see you on Saturday then, sweetie."
"Yeah, great," Brittany swallowed hard.
"Oh, and Brittany...," her mother added before hanging up, "...be sure to tell Santana and Quinn I said hi."
Brittany's stomach instantly tightened as the call ended. "She knows."
"What did she say?" Santana asked.
"Quinn – please pull over…I'm gonna be sick."
Quinn turned into the nearest parking lot, pulling to the side away from any of the other cars, and stopped the Jetta under a nearby tree. Before Quinn could even put the engine in park, Brittany jumped out and circled around the car, throwing up behind the trunk of the tree.
Santana and Quinn both got out of the car to check on her. Santana put her arm around Brittany as she straightened up and wiped at her mouth with the side of her hand.
"I've gotta get back…they're going to Michigan this weekend," Brittany told them, "…oh god, they're going to kill me."
"I'll drive you back," Quinn assured her, "You'll get back there…you'll dance your butt off then you'll explain everything to them this weekend."
Santana looked hard at Quinn then turned abruptly and started walking purposefully across the parking lot.
"Where are you going?" Brittany called after her.
"Let her go, Britt…," Quinn suggested with irritation in her voice, "…she's just being dramatic…as usual."
"I can't...," Brittany said, running as best she could to catch up to Santana, "…Santana, stop!"
Santana slowed her pace to let Brittany catch up to her, "Babe, please just go back to Michigan."
"Come with me."
"No…do the best thing for yourself…," Santana implored, "…for once, you need to take care of you."
"Where are you going, Santana?" Quinn asked from a couple of feet behind them.
Santana stopped and turned around, "Don't worry about me, Quinn…you don't have to be my solution anymore."
"Oh grow the fuck up, Santana…," Quinn shouted at her, turning back around, "Come on, Britt."
Brittany looked at Santana with tears in her eyes.
"Please just go," Santana told her.
Brittany knew the best thing to do was to go with Quinn, but she couldn't make her feet move.
"JUST GO!" Santana shouted angrily.
The harshness in the brunette's voice startled Brittany, causing her to visibly jump.
"Come on, Brittany," Quinn called out to her from beside the car.
Brittany sniffed back tears. "I love you, Santana…nothing in this world will change that," she told her before turning to walk toward Quinn's car.
Santana stood firmly and watched the two blondes get into the car, both doors slamming shut, before Quinn quickly drove away. Santana suddenly felt physically limp, all the bitterness and nervous energy draining out of her slim body. She had no other thought in her head than the overwhelming sensation that her world just crumbled around her. Literally without any place to go, Santana sat down on the nearby curb and sobbed.
Author's note: The song in scene 1 is Her Diamonds by Rob Thomas (of Matchbox Twenty).