Author's Note: I want to go ahead and apologize in advance if I offend anyone (though I really hope I don't). When talking about Brittany, this was the only way I could come up with to explain as much of what the show has portrayed as I could. Because, let's face it, on the show she was usually portrayed anywhere from "female Forrest Gump" to "too stupid to exist in real life". This isn't a knock against Brittany or Heather Morris. I adore both of them. This IS a slam against the oftentimes questionable (terrible) writing/decision-making of the show (for more examples, see seasons four and five).
And to explain, I know absolutely nothing about pregnancy complications, possible medicines, developmental issues, autism, or being emotional stunted. I do know that last one is an actual thing, though, because I have a cousin (who I rarely ever see) who was diagnosed with it.
So, please, if anyone wants to hate me, consider that this is a work of fiction and, damn it Jim, I'm a writer, not a doctor. And that I love you for reading the first thirty-one chapters of this. So, cookies for all of you. :-)
Also, if anyone's interested, this chapter's later than I meant it to be because I'm also working on a MUCH shorter story for Faberry Week (December 15-21). If you're interested, add me to your author alerts. It should be out on Day 1 (Sunday, December 15th). If you're interested in Faberry Week, Google it. It's usually awesome.
Brittany ran full speed across the floor, stopping when she got to the hardwood and slid a good five feet before slamming into the wall, laughing the entire time. She laughed even harder when Rachel, who was screaming for her to wait and give her back her cell phone slipped on the hardwood, sliding into a laughing Brittany and fell on top of her.
From the couch, Ashley said, "You two are stupid," not even bothering to pause her game.
Brittany didn't seem to care, though, as she just stuck her tongue out at the back of her sister's head and kept the phone out of Rachel's reach. The brunette was trying to climb up her outstretched body for the cell phone, but Brittany somehow maneuvered away. She pushed Rachel off of her, pirouetting up off the floor before Rachel could even try to figure out how she moved so gracefully.
"Give it!" Rachel said, following her up off the floor, starting to circle the couch where Ashley sat, staring at the television screen.
Only when Brittany moved in front of the screen did Ashley bother speaking, shouting a "Hey! Move it, Gigantor!". Rachel was fairly certain that was something she had heard Santana call Finn. She now had to wonder which of them, Ashley or Santana, had heard it from the other.
"No!" Brittany yelled back. "This is BFF night, and there will be no talking to your new girlfriend. It's, like, a law or something."
"No it's not!" Rachel yelled. "And she's not my girlfriend."
"Yet."
"Brittany, it was one date," Rachel said, huffing and crossing her arms. "We went to see a movie, then had dinner and talked for a couple of hours. It was nice, but nowhere near making her my girlfriend."
"Did she kiss you?" Brittany asked.
Rachel, blushing profusely, refused to answer which seemed to be answer enough if Brittany's huge grin was anything to go by. Hoping she was now distracted enough, Rachel tried to jump onto and over the couch, but accidentally kicked Ashley in the head while Brittany just circled around the couch again.
"Ow!"
"Sorry," Rachel said, giggling at the girl that clearly looked up more than a little to Santana. "But your sister's being a pain in the butt."
"Yeah, she usually is," Ashley admitted. Pausing her game, she stood from the couch and faced her grinning sister, an evil smile coming over her face. "You take right, I'll take left."
Brittany, realizing what the two were doing, blew a raspberry at both of them and took off, running up the stairs as fast as her long legs could take her. Rachel and Ashley followed, with Brittany's mom calling out, "Keep it to a dull roar, girls!"
Upstairs, Brittany almost had the door to her room closed before Ashley slammed into it at full force, knocking Brittany backwards away from the door. Still laughing, she looked at Ashley and Rachel who had cornered her.
"Now," Rachel said, panting. "Give me my phone so I can text Christy."
"Or else," Ashley added.
"Or else what?"
"Or else… um…" Rachel paused. She had nothing.
"Or else," Ashley said, raising her hands wide, palms out, and wiggling her fingers back and forth, "you get SPIRIT FINGERS!"
"Those wouldn't technically be-," Rachel started before a look from Ashley stopped her. "I mean, um…" She held up her good hand like Ashely had done and wiggled the fingers back and forth. Her other hand's fingers weren't really wiggle-capable at the moment. Hopefully they still would be after the brace came off and some physical therapy. "SPIRIT FINGERS!"
"NOOOO!" Brittany screamed as the two girls descended on her, tickling her all over as Brittany tried and failed to fight back.
Eventually Rachel's phone fell from Brittany's hand and the brunette dove onto it. When Brittany pushed Ashley off and went to get it back, Rachel stuck the phone down into her sweatpants and looked up at Brittany with a smug grin on her face.
"I'm not afraid to go in there after it," Brittany said, causing Rachel to blush again.
Ashley pulled a disgusted look and said, "Ew, Birdy. Stop being gross."
"Birdy?" Rachel asked from where she lay on the floor, looking at the two blondes.
Brittany sat up and looked between Rachel and Ashley, who was now standing. "Ash couldn't say 'Brittany' when she was little, and it ended up sounding kinda like 'Birdy'. It just stuck, I guess. She's the only one that calls me that."
"Awww…" Rachel said. "I don't have anything like that. I'm usually glad I don't have any siblings as I don't like to share the spotlight, but seeing you two together… I think it might have been kind of nice."
"No, it sucks SO much," Ashley said, rubbing Brittany roughly on top of her head.
Brittany just reached up and grabbed her, pulling Ashley down into her lap. She wrapped her in a tight squeeze and kissed her cheek, causing the younger girl to squirm. "You know you love it, Ash," Brittany said. They were both smiling, and Brittany looked as happy as she'd ever been. Just by association, it made Rachel happy, too.
"So, now that I've got Brittany pinned down," Ashley said, wrapping her own arms around Brittany, "now would be a good time to run off and text your girlfriend."
Those words reminded Brittany of what she was supposed to be doing, keeping Rachel's phone away from her. She moved to try and get Ashley off her lap, but the younger blonde held on like an octopus, wrapping her legs around the taller girl, too, and refusing to let go.
Getting the idea, Rachel ran off, downstairs to where Mrs. Pierce was fixing dinner and came up just short of her. "Hi," Rachel said, out of breath.
"…hi?"
"Sorry. You're base," Rachel said. "As long as I'm near you Brittany can't attack me." She then reached into her sweatpants, pulled out her cellphone, and again apologized, saying, "I don't usually keep my phone down there. I know that would be unsanitary. I was just trying to keep it away from Brittany."
"I have two teenage daughters, Rachel," Mrs. Pierce said, smiling an older version of Brittany's warm smile. "I completely understand."
Scrolling through her phone, she pulled up the text message Christy had sent her before Rachel's phone had been snatched away at such an untimely moment.
From Christy: So, am I going to see you at Cheerios practice tomorrow? This time I'll have a valid excuse to stare at your butt while we run. Unlike last time, when I had to steal glances.
Rachel blushed at the text message, glancing over at Mrs. Pierce just in case, but she was focused on something on the stove. Typing out a message, she sent back
From Rachel: I can't keep you from staring. I guess I'll have to settle for staring at you during Cheerios practice since there's no way you'll be in front of me while we're running. Some people just can't keep up…
From Christy: Is that a challenge? I swear, it smells like a challenge.
From Rachel: Consider it whatever you want to as long as you remember to bring this star her victory towel again tomorrow morning after I BEAT you on the track.
From Christy: And THAT sounds like an invitation to watch you shower. How very flirtatious of you, Rachel Berry.
Rachel's eyes were huge as she read that, and she had to text her back immediately. She hadn't meant it to sound like that. She was being flirty, but she'd never been that forward with someone.
From Rachel: NO. No, sorry. I'm not ready for that. I was just trying to be… something. Flirty? Teasing? I don't know.
From Christy: It's cool. You're easy to mess with. :-) Still, I'm hoping that by 'no' you mean 'not yet'. ;-)
From Rachel: That's awfully hopeful for someone that said they weren't 'looking for anything serious' last night.
Not that Rachel was 'looking for anything serious', either. Probably. She had only dated three people in her life, and with each one she had tried to make it a serious relationship. Even Noah. And each one had failed spectacularly. So maybe some casual dating was exactly what Rachel needed. No serious proclamations of love, no serenading love songs to one another. Christy couldn't even sing. Rachel frowned at that thought, looking down again as her phone chimed.
From Christy: And you said you were okay with that. If you're not, please tell me now. The last thing I want is to hurt you down the road.
From Rachel: No, it's fine. And I'm sorry. I'm probably the only person that can turn flirtatious bantering texts into serious conversation.
From Christy: No, it's cool. I have a feeling you're going to be half-serious all the time. I just hope I can bring the fun out sometimes.
"Rachel!" Brittany yelled from the living room. "Ashley's going to let us play Mario! Come oooon!"
"Brittany!" Mrs. Pierce yelled to her oldest daughter, getting her to come into the kitchen immediately. She slid again on the linoleum in her socked feet, but stopped herself before her mom could yell. "Brittany, what have I told you about yelling in the house?"
"Not to?"
"Right," her mom said. "And what were you just doing?"
"Yelling in the house," Brittany said, hanging her head. "Sorry, mom. I was just excited about Rachel playing Mario, and I forgot. She's never played video games."
"And I understand that, sweetie," Mrs. Pierce said, smiling at her daughter. "But we still have rules. Now you and Ashley go play and let Rachel finish her conversation with her friend. She'll join you in a minute. Okay?"
"Okay!" Brittany agreed quickly, again racing out of the kitchen and sliding halfway out.
Mrs. Pierce shook her head at her daughter, laughing to herself and going back to what she was doing at the stove. Rachel texted Christy again saying she would see her tomorrow at practice and that she was going to go spend time with Brittany.
"Thank you for that," Rachel said, putting her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants. "Brittany… I love her, don't get me wrong, but last night I went on a first date, and I just had to talk to her for a minute."
"I understand," Mrs. Pierce said. "Even though it's been years, I can still remember the taste of young love. The sweetness, the sigh of longing when apart. It has a propensity to color our every moment, our every feeling. Ahh…" She made a motion to cover her heart with her hand and roll her eyes back, and Rachel couldn't help but watch and be amazed by this woman.
"That was really beautiful," Rachel said.
"I'm good with words," Mrs. Pierce said. "It's one of the reasons I wanted to teach English."
"You teach English?" Rachel asked. "Do you teach at the middle school, or at one of the other high schools…?
"No, I'm an English professor at Ohio Northern," Mrs. Pierce said.
"You're an English professor?" Rachel asked. She looked towards where Brittany had disappeared, trying to make sense of it all. "And, if you don't mind my asking, what is it your husband does?"
"He's our county's district attorney," Mrs. Pierce said. "You didn't know that? I just assumed with yours and Brittany's fathers in the same professions that she would have told you or you would have talked about it."
"Wait," Rachel said, putting her hands up. "Brittany's dad is Marshall Pierce? D.A. Pierce? My Daddy loves that guy… or, I should say, respects him a great deal. I didn't want to imply that one of my fathers has a crush on your husband. That would be completely inappropriate. Not that someone shouldn't have a crush on your husband. I'm sure he's a fine man. Upstanding! I meant upstanding. I wasn't calling him 'fine' as in attractive. I don't even know what he looks like. Though Brittany and Ashely are both beautiful, as are you, so I can only assume that-"
"Rachel, dear," Mrs. Pierce said, interrupting Rachel while laughing at her. "It's quite alright. I understand what you're saying."
"Thank you," Rachel said, taking a breath of relief and of embarrassment. "I tend to ramble sometimes. If you'll just jump in and stop me, everyone's lives will be better off for it."
"Nonsense," Mrs. Pierce said. "You're clearly a sweet girl. It's no wonder Brittany adores you."
"She's been a lifesaver," Rachel said. "Literally, at times."
"Yes, she's told us all about that," Mrs. Pierce said, a momentary look of pity crossing her face as she spoke to Rachel. "And I just want to extend this offer to you, also. I work with some of our crisis counselors on campus occasionally, and while I'm sure plenty of people have offered, if you ever need someone to talk to I'm always here. Any friend of Brittany's is a friend of our family's."
"Thank you," Rachel said, feeling awkward and self-conscious at yet another person concerned more about her well-being that she had been. After a moment, though, she added, "I just have to say you're nothing like I expected."
"How so?"
"Well, I mean, you know how Brittany is," Rachel said. "I just assumed, with as much as she loves people, that your family would kind of be what my Dad would call 'hippies', I guess."
Mrs. Pierce laughed. "I don't think I've ever been called a 'hippy' before. What makes you say that?"
"Just… Brittany loves a lot of people," Rachel said, trying to explain, "so I just assumed that you'd all be hugging all the time and singing songs and very 'free love' and all that."
"Free love?"
"Yeah, you know," Rachel said. "Because Brittany's been with so many-" but her eyes widened and she stopped herself, realizing what she was about to say. Mrs. Pierce seemed to realize, too, as her face took on a much more serious expression.
"'Brittany's been with so many' what?" Mrs. Pierce asked, sounding as serious as she looked. Rachel looked down and refused to say anything, though. "Brittany!" Mrs. Pierce called out to her daughter. "Come in here now, please!"
They heard loud footsteps as Brittany rushed into the kitchen. She slid on the linoleum again, laughing as she did. "Are you two almost-?" but she stopped as the atmosphere of the room registered. "What's wrong?"
"Brittany, sweetie, we need to talk," Mrs. Pierce said.
"Okay," Brittany said. Mrs. Pierce sat down at the table and motioned for Brittany to do the same cattycorner from her. They turned so they were facing each other.
"Should I go, or…?" Rachel started to ask, unsure of what she should do in this situation.
"No, no, that's not necessary," Mrs. Pierce said. "You seem to know more about the situation than I do at this point."
"What situation?" Brittany asked, looking from Rachel to her mother.
"Rachel just let slip- accidentally of course- …something," Mrs. Pierce said. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Brittany, honey. Are you… sexually active?"
"Most of the time, yeah," Brittany said, still looking unsure of the problem. "I mean, sometimes it's just nice to lay there, but it's usually better when everyone is doing something. Especially with Artie, since his lower half doesn't-"
"Brittany!" Rachel said, stopping the taller girl. "I don't think we need to hear all of that."
"But that's what mom was asking," Brittany said to Rachel. Facing her mom again, she asked, "Wasn't it?"
"Well, not really, sweetie, but that did answer my question." Mrs. Pierce said, looking some mixture of concerned and unhappy. "And how many, um… sexual partners… have you had?"
"Do you mean at the same time or ever?"
"You've been with more than one person at a time?!" Mrs. Pierce nearly screamed, standing suddenly from her chair. At that, Ashley flew into the room, but Mrs. Pierce only yelled, "Ashley, go to your room, now!"
"But mom, I didn't-"
"NOW!"
The twelve-year-old rushed up the stairs in fear to her room, and they could hear her door slam from the kitchen. This left the kitchen in a stunned silence: Brittany, on the verge of tears and looking scared and confused up at her mom, her mom trying to calm herself, and Rachel feeling bad for both of them while hating herself for accidentally starting all of this.
"Did I… did I do a bad thing?" Brittany asked in her smallest voice, and Rachel's heart broke for her. The way she sat there looking scared at her mom, the way a tear threatened to fall in the corner of her eye. It was more than Rachel could take.
It must have been more than her mom could take, too, because she rushed over and wrapped Brittany in her arms. "No, sweetie," Mrs. Pierce said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I was just… shocked. You're fine, baby. I love you."
"I love you, too, mom," Brittany said, sniffling. They held each other while Rachel looked on, and thoughts of her failed relationship with Shelby threatened to cause her to break down in tears, too. This wasn't the time for that, though.
After a few minutes of them holding each other, Mrs. Pierce pulled back and looked at Brittany. "Okay, honey, I need to ask you some questions, and I want you to tell me the truth. I promise not to be mad- and that I love you- but you need to tell me honestly, okay?"
"I promise," Brittany said, wiping at her eyes and nodding.
"Good," Mrs. Pierce said. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she asked, "Okay, so… how many sexual partners have you been with total?"
"Umm…" Brittany said, thinking. Counting silently to herself on her fingers, she finally said, "Twelve boys." Mrs. Pierce just looked on in horror. "And Santana."
"Santana…?" Mrs. Pierce asked. And even though it wasn't really a question, Brittany still nodded. "And you've been with… with multiple boys before?"
"No," Brittany said.
"But you said-"
"I've been with more than one person but never with more than one boy," Brittany explained. "I've always only been with San and a boy at the same time. Except for Artie. He's the only boy that I haven't shared with San. I think because he's actually my boyfriend and everyone else has just been friends."
"So let me get this straight," Mrs. Pierce said, shaking her head. "Except for Artie, every time you've been with a boy, you've been with Santana also?"
"Yep," Brittany said. "Sanni looks out for me. Before Artie, she used to say that I wasn't allowed to be with boys like that- you know… nakedly- unless she was there because boys were stupid and would maybe hurt me. But if they tried that when she was there, she'd beat them up. She's protective that way."
"I… I just don't…"
"Mrs. Pierce, if I may," Rachel said, stepping up from where she had been leaning against the cabinet. "Santana Lopez is- and I don't mean this in a judgmental way at all, and please don't tell her or anyone else I said this, but… Santana is rather firmly 'in the closet' about her sexuality. I think being with Brittany with those other guys was just an excuse for her to be with Brittany without having to consider herself 'gay'."
"Totally," Brittany agreed, nodding. "And I won't tell San either, Rachie. She'd be mean to you again."
"Thank you, Brittany."
"This is just a lot to take in," Mrs. Pierce said. Turning to Brittany, she asked, "Do you remember us talking about sex, sweetie?"
"Sure."
"And do you remember what I always said about who you have sex with?"
"You said it should always be someone that I love," Brittany said, smiling happily.
"And have you loved all these boys?" Mrs. Pierce asked.
"Uh-huh," Brittany said, again nodding. "I love all my friends."
"Brittany," Rachel said. "I don't think she means like that. It's like… You love Noah, right?"
"Of course," Brittany said. "Puck's one of my best friends."
"But you don't love him as much as you do Artie or Santana…"
"Well, no. They're…" A look of recognition passed Brittany's eyes. "…oh." Turning back to her mom, she said, "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't know you meant that kind of love. I love Artie and Santana that much, but not everyone else. I just thought that, y'know, they wanted this thing from me, and they like me, so I thought I could make them happy. And, I like making people happy." Brittany seemed to stiffen up and suddenly looked really worried. "You're not going to send me back to that other school, are you? I don't want to go back again. I have friends here, mom. Real friends that don't treat me dumb- I mean, like I'm dumb. Not like at special school. They treat me normal and the teachers, well, they don't treat me normal, but-"
"Brittany, stop," Mrs. Pierce said, again taking her in her arms to hold her. "No, we're not going to send you anywhere. This is our fault, sweetie. Your dad and I should have done a better job explaining this to you. So just calm down. It's okay."
After another minute, Mrs. Pierce let Brittany go again and just sat there, stroking her cheek as she looked at her daughter. Rachel couldn't help her curiosity though, and had to ask, "Special school?" When they both looked over at her, she held her hands up and said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask that. It's private."
"It's okay," Brittany said. She looked to her mom and asked, "Can you tell her, though? I get it confused."
"Are you sure, sweetie?" Mrs. Pierce asked her daughter. "I'm sure Rachel understands that some things are private." Rachel was already nodding along to what Mrs. Pierce was saying, but Brittany stopped her.
"No, I want Rachel to know," Brittany said. "She's my best friend, and I trust her."
"Why?" Rachel couldn't keep herself from asking. "I mean, not that I'm not grateful, but… why? We've only been best friends for a few weeks."
"No we haven't, silly," Brittany said, standing and going over to Rachel. She wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a side hug as they both faced Brittany's mom. Brittany leaned over and rested her head on top of Rachel's. "You've only known about it for a few weeks. But you've been my favorite person for years."
"Why?"
"Because mom said one of the best ways to make new friends is to find someone who looks sad and be nice to them," Brittany said. "And when you got slusheed, you looked like the saddest person in ever, and I knew I needed to be your friend. But since all the Cheerios had to be mean to you I couldn't be nice in front of people, but I left you the letters, and I smiled at you in the hall, and I always loved you in my heart where it really matters. So just because you didn't know about it doesn't mean it's not true."
Rachel just stood there looking down, not quite sure how she was lucky enough to have someone like Brittany care about her. "I love you, too, Brittany," Rachel said eventually, voice thick with emotion.
Brittany pulled Rachel around into an actual hug, squeezing her and saying, "Nope. No tears. If you start crying then Mom will start crying, and Mom cries all the time over sad stories as it is. But we can't have her crying now. Dinner's not even ready yet and she'll want to tell you about me before we eat. And I'm, like, super starving. And she's still got to go apologize to Ash for being all yell-y."
Rachel turned to see Mrs. Pierce was laughing while doing her best to keep from crying. "Sorry, sorry," she said. She patted her eyes dry with a dish towel, leaning her head back and sniffing. "My daughter knows me too well."
"Of course I do," Brittany said, shrugging. "You're my mom."
Brittany let go of Rachel and went over to stir the pots on the stove, turning her back to the rest of the room. Rachel looked from Mrs. Pierce to Brittany and back and felt sure that this was Brittany's way of saying that she wanted her mom to go ahead and tell Rachel about her. It was a way to both be there and not be there at the same time.
Mrs. Pierce took a deep breath, released it, and said, "While Brittany was still in the womb there were some… complications… with the pregnancy. They did a range of tests and determined that she wasn't developing properly. The choices were to end the pregnancy there, or there was a test trial for a new medicine. Brittany's father and I chose the medicine, something called Zanaroxidil. It evened out her development, and she progressed along fine from that point for the rest of the pregnancy. We thought everything was fine, but, as she was growing up, we started noticing certain patterns of behavior in how she was developing."
"What kinds of patterns?" Rachel asked.
"Her motor control was exceptional- she was walking at nine months with excellent stability and balance, but she didn't start speaking until she was almost three," Mrs. Pierce said. "And when she did, it was almost all in complete sentences. Her very first words were 'I love you, mommy'. In preschool, she could easily identify colors, body parts, and animals, but numbers gave her a lot of trouble. She couldn't seem to understand the concept for the longest time. She could- and loved to- read at an early age, but more complicated words confused her."
"I… I don't know a lot about it," Rachel said cautiously, "but it sounds kind of like you're saying she's autistic."
"You're saying it wrong," Brittany said, turning around to face them, though she looked sullen and had her arms crossed. "It's artistic. And I still don't know why people keep thinking I'm good at art. My hippopotamus was pink and purple. It was stupid looking."
"I liked it," Rachel offered.
Mrs. Pierce looked over at her daughter with a confused expression. "Brittany, sweetie, what are you talking about?"
"I… I heard you and Dad arguing about me before Thanksgiving," Brittany said glumly, refusing to meet her mom's eyes. "He called Aunty Jenny some bad words, and you told him not to talk about your sister like that. Then he said he didn't like Aunt Jenny calling me special 'cause I'm not special. I'm artistic. So I took Art class this semester so you two wouldn't fight about me being special or artistic or whatever anymore. And I don't really even like Art class except for I get to hang out with Rachel for a while. So… so… I don't know. Maybe I am special. Because that means retarded, right?"
"Brittany Susan Pierce," her mother said with shock, emphasizing each syllable. "That is not a word we use in this house. And definitely not when we're talking about you. Do you understand me?"
She hung her head in silence as her mom stared at her. "Brittany, come here."
With her head still down and arms still crossed, Brittany went over to her mom who wrapped her arms around her. "Brittany, baby, I'm sorry you had to hear your Dad and I argue. And that you don't like your Art class. If you were concerned, you should have come and talk to us. That's why we tell you that you can even if you think we'll get mad. It's better to have this stuff worked out than to make yourself miserable thinking you're doing something to please us. And this doesn't mean you're anything other than someone that would willingly put the happiness of others ahead of their own happiness. You're the nicest, sweetest, most wonderful daughter that anyone could ever have."
"Better than Ashley?" Brittany asked, finally looking up at her mom.
"Much better."
"Mooooom…" Brittany whined, dragging out the word, though she was smiling again. "You're not supposed to say that."
"Even if it's true?" Mrs. Pierce asked, laughing. "You know how your sister is. She's a pain in the butt."
"You don't mean that," Brittany said, laughing along with her. "Now finish telling Rachel about me while I go cheer Ashley up. She probably thinks you're mad at her for yelling." Turning to Rachel, she added, "Mom almost never yells."
"My dads rarely yell, either," Rachel said, smiling at the two. "Unless I'm being unusually obnoxious about something. I suspect it's been trying, raising a diva such as myself, though they've made it seem easy and carefree. I really do owe them a debt of gratitude. Maybe I'll move them to New York with me after I win my first Tony."
Brittany smiled at Rachel, moved away from her mom and went over towards her, bending down and kissing her on the forehead before flouncing out of the room and up the stairs, leaving a blushing Rachel staring the way she had left.
"Yes, well," Rachel choked out after a moment, turning back to Mrs. Pierce. "So, um… you were saying…"
"You were asking me if it was autism," she corrected. "We had all the tests run, but if it is some form of autism, they never came out and said it directly. It was odd with Brittany. She was positive for some of the tests, negative for others. She's had severe learning disabilities in math and science and vocabulary, but she's excelled in history and literature, and some parts of science."
"Because they involve people," Rachel said.
"That's our guess, too," Mrs. Pierce said, nodding at Rachel. "As you've no doubt noticed, Brittany is amazing when it comes to other people. Reading their faces, their emotions, guessing what they're thinking or what they're going to do. She's gifted at that. And she knows the human body better than her father and I, and we've both taken anatomy classes at different universities. Brittany may not know the official names of the body parts, but she understands how it works better than some doctors I've met. If anything, I would guess that Brittany has some form of 'specialized autism'."
"And that's why you had her put in a different school?"
"Yes," Mrs. Pierce said. "She was falling behind in her class in elementary school, so from third through eighth grade, she went to a school that was dedicated to taking care of students with learning disabilities. Smaller classrooms, more hands-on work, study time during the day for the students. Even more in-class parent participation."
"So what happened?"
"My family moved here to Lima, and my husband ran for the District Attorney position," Mrs. Pierce said. "As it turned out, this was a good change for Brittany, too. We weren't aware that some of the girls in our old town made fun of Brittany for going to that school. We never heard anything about it, and she never told us. Not until we got here, anyway. Her choices were to be home-schooled or to try to make it at William McKinley. She came to us and said she wanted to go to the high school, that she didn't want anyone else to make fun of her for going to a different school anymore. As you can imagine, it broke our hearts, so of course we said yes. I just didn't realize until tonight that she was afraid we'd make her go back to that other school again."
"Hasn't it been hard, though?" Rachel asked. "I have to imagine that the course load is harder in a public high school than her old school."
"I'm not going to lie," Mrs. Pierce said, "we were worried to begin with. After having a talk with Coach Sylvester, though, regarding the possibility of Brittany having to drop out of the Cheerios in order to focus more on her studies, she assured us that Brittany would be getting extra help in all her classes to make sure that didn't happen. That's why on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons after practices, as well as Saturdays after practice, Santana and Brittany study together." Mrs. Pierce paused, expression turning serious. "Or, at least I was under the impression they were studying together. Now that I've learned she's been convincing Brittany to cheat on her boyfriend with her, I think Miss Lopez and I are going to have to have a little talk."
"Mrs. Pierce," Rachel started hesitantly. "I'm not exactly the expert on lesbian relationships or anything. I mean, sure my dads are gay, and I'm… well, it's easier to say 'bisexual' to most people than try to explain pansexuality. But I've only been on one date with one girl, so, like I said, I'm no expert. But when I look at Brittany and Santana… they look like two girls in love. But then again, when I look at Artie and Brittany, they also seem to be in love. So I don't think it's like you're thinking. I think Brittany just loves both of them and truly wants to be with both of them."
"But she can't," Mrs. Pierce said.
"I know," Rachel agreed, nodding seriously. "I've been trying to figure out a way to get Brittany and Santana together without anyone getting hurt, and I just can't figure it out. But if it makes you feel any better, my understanding is that Santana told her recently that they can't have sex anymore because it wouldn't be right. I think Santana Lopez is actually feeling guilty about something for once."
"For once?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Rachel said absentmindedly. "You'll have to forgive me. Santana bullied me for years. I sometimes still find it odd that we're actually friends now."
"She was a bully?" Mrs. Pierce asked. "I know she's a little… abrasive… but an actual bully? What all did she do to you?"
"Mrs. Pierce," Rachel said, shaking her head. "I hate to disparage someone that isn't here. Plus, I don't think there's enough time between now and school on Monday for me to get into everything bad Santana's ever done."
Across town, Quinn was in her shower at home. Sometimes, when she couldn't get her brain to shut up long enough to eat dinner in peace or to do homework, a long hot shower would help. God, how sad was it that she was at home on a Friday night, too? What was the purpose of even keeping a boyfriend if she didn't let him take her out on dates? After Cheerios practice, though, after pushing herself so hard to keep from noticing what else was going on at practice, Quinn just wasn't in the mood for coloring silly mugs and plates with her boyfriend.
Fucking Christy Gunderson. She just couldn't keep her attention on what she was supposed to be doing. Instead of focusing on the routine, she kept looking over at Rachel sitting there in the bleachers of the gymnasium. And, God, fucking Rachel Berry, too. Because every time Christy would look over and smile at her, Rachel would blush and duck her head and smile into the book she was reading like no one else had a fucking clue what was going on. Ugh!
Quinn moved the knob on her shower, making the water just that much hotter. It was practically scalding already as it burned down her neck, her back, but the images wouldn't leave her alone. The memory of Rachel and Christy flirting back and forth during Cheerios practice. The completely imaginary images of Rachel and Christy on their date. Rachel giggling over some joke Christy had told, blushing over some flirtatious comment Christy had made. Christy holding her hand while they walked around or kissing her in some darkened movie theater. Quinn turned the water a little hotter.
God, why did Christy have to go after her friend? There were tons of people she could have dated. Christy was beautiful, smart, popular. Everyone liked her. It was like she was some weird combination of Quinn, Brittany, and Santana. And, okay, if she looked at it that way, it made sense that Rachel would be interested in her. Rachel had made out with two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity- something she still wasn't jealous of- and wanted to date Quinn. If Christy was the combination of the three's best qualities then, yes, Rachel would fall for her completely. But why would Christy want to date Rachel?
The reasons started popping into Quinn's head faster than she could stop them, and it made her cut the hot water up even higher. Rachel was amazing. She was smart and funny and creative and caring. And beautiful. Incredibly sexy in her own way. Sure, she was small, and her breasts weren't the largest or her ass the roundest. Her legs were amazing, though. And her voice was nearly orgasm-inducing just by itself. But, most importantly, she fit just perfectly whenever Quinn hugged her or held her as they slept. Like she was made just for Quinn.
In the steamy haze and running water of the shower, it was difficult for Quinn to tell that she was crying to begin with. Not until that first sob rocked her. She put both hands against the wall of the shower to keep from going down to her knees. She couldn't break. She wouldn't. This was just another test. It had to be. She couldn't be gay. She wouldn't be.
Dear God, Quinn prayed silently, hoping someone was listening. Please help me, God. Don't let me be like this. I… I can't be. I can't be gay. You tell us it's wrong. And I'm trying, Lord. I'm trying so hard to be normal. To be straight. But it's hard. She makes it hard. But I can't stay away from her. I don't even think I should. I care about her. She's my friend, and I want to help her get better, Lord, but I don't want to displease you. I don't want to be an abomination like your word tells us. I just want these thoughts to go away so I can be normal. Please just make me normal, God. I just want to be normal.
She turned the hot water knob as far as it would go.
Brittany and Rachel sat across from each other in Brittany's bedroom, Lord Tubbington overwhelming Rachel's lap to the point of nearly falling off. Since he'd been introduced to her, he had nearly refused to leave her side. Except to eat, of course. Brittany thought it was the sweetest thing ever.
They sat in front of Brittany's video camera, and Rachel watched as she set up her laptop to record. She promised Rachel that it wouldn't be a live interview, but Rachel still wanted to make sure. Somehow, Brittany had talked her into talking about her suicide attempt on her talk show, Fondue for Two. It was probably a bad idea that would end in tears (on Rachel's part, anyway) but maybe they could edit around that. Rachel found herself having a hard time saying no to Brittany, especially after talking to her mother.
After talking to Mrs. Pierce about Santana, the woman had continued on about Brittany. "Most of what I've told you has been about Brittany's learning disabilities, but there… there is another thing that needs to be taken into account. Especially now that she's sexually active. Brittany as well as being mentally… underdeveloped… in some areas is also somewhat… emotionally stunted."
"I don't understand what that means," Rachel said honestly. "Emotionally stunted?"
Mrs. Pierce sighed and looked down at her hands, nervously twisting them back and forth. "The way the doctors and the psychologists explained it to us is that Brittany, emotionally speaking, will never move beyond the age of twelve or thirteen. In some areas, she acts even younger than that. Basically, she will always be a child."
"No," Rachel said, shocked, refusing to believe it. "That's not… I've seen her deal with… with…" She wanted to say 'grownup issues', but… had she? That actually explained so much of Brittany's personality. The way she looked at the world, like a child would. The way she shut down when confronted with people fighting. Her coloring pictures on the back of math tests instead of actually taking them. Her writing all her essays in crayon or using that made up language. It all made sense in a way.
"I'm sorry, Rachel, if that's hard to hear," Mrs. Pierce said, "but Brittany wanted you to know everything about her. She cares about you a lot. So far as I know, she hasn't shared any of this with Santana or Quinn or even Artie. No one outside of our family or the doctors know about this. Only you."
"But… but…" Rachel was staggered. Putting aside the fact that Brittany had so much trust in her, what about the taller blonde's future. "What about as she gets older?" Rachel asked. "What if she wants to get married one day, or have children? Could she understand everything that went along with that? Will she be okay to go to college one day if she wants to? Could she even live by herself in a dorm?"
"Honestly, I worry about all of that every day," Mrs. Pierce said.
At that moment, Brittany and Ashley came tromping down the stairs. Brittany, sensing something was wrong with Rachel, took her out of the room, saying it was so her mom could apologize to Ashley.
In the living room, Brittany asked, "What?" Rachel didn't know what to say, though, causing Brittany to look dejectedly at the floor. "Oh. Mom told you everything, and now I'm too dumb to be your friend. I get it. I'm sorry. If you want, you can call your dads to come get you."
Without wasting any time, Rachel wrapped her arms around Brittany, surprising the tall blonde. "No, no, not at all," Rachel tried assuring her. "You're still the same amazing person that tried to cheer me up after every slushee. You're still the nicest, sweetest person I've ever met. And you're still my best friend forever." She paused, making a decision to never treat Brittany any differently than she always had. This knowledge didn't really change much. She was still the same person, after all. "I just… I'm glad you had your mom tell me everything. I'm glad you trust me that much. I love you, Birdy."
"Rach," Brittany said, pulling back. "Only my sister gets to call me that."
Rachel tried pulling back even further, saying, "I'm sorry," but Brittany wouldn't let her.
"No, no," Brittany said. "You can call me that, too. I just wanted you to know that when you do, it's not because you're my BFF, it's because we're sisters. You're, like, part of my family now, okay?"
And of course Rachel had cried at this. As had Brittany's mom who was looking on from the entrance of the kitchen. Even Ashley looked a little choked up. It was just the effect Brittany had on people, able to pull the truth out of a situation. It was beautiful.
And because of that, Rachel was now sitting there listening to the introduction of Brittany's web show, staring at the screen of her laptop and getting ready to be interviewed by her best friend. If nothing else, it would be good practice for later in her career.
And, really, if she thought about it like that, pretending like she was further along in her career, it seemed almost easy to talk about. Something that had happened a lifetime ago, to another person almost. This wasn't going to be the deep, probing questions Dr. Richards asked her in order to try and work out the causes for why she was depressed or why she wanted to take her life. This was just Brittany being curious about what had happened that night. Rachel was just talking to her friend about something that happened earlier in her life. In that light, she was almost positive she could do this. She just had to keep that idea in her head.
"Fondue for Two! Fondue for Two! That's some hot dish! Fondue for Two!"
"Welcome, everyone to the latest episode of Fondue for Two where we combine two of the things I love most: melty food and talking to people. I'm your host, Brittany S. Pierce, and this is my co-host, Lord Tubbington. Say hi, Lord Tubbington." She waited, hoping the cat would meow or at least make some noise. Rachel even tried poking him, but the fat cat did nothing but dominate Rachel's lap. "It seems Lord Tubbington is being a smitten kitten since this week's guest is none other than my best friend in the entire world, Miss Rachel Berry!"
"Thank you, Brittany, for inviting me to your wonderful show," Rachel said, doing her best show smile. "It's an honor to be here. And I do believe you're right. Lord Tubbington has been all over me all night."
"He loves you, duh," Brittany said, smiling at Rachel. "And he clearly has good tastes in women. Speaking of good tastes, care for some hot cheese?" She motioned towards the pot of bubbling cheese, but Rachel shook her head.
"I can't eat that," Rachel said. "I'm sorry. I'm vegan." Seeing the questioning look on Brittany's face, she explained. "It means I don't eat anything that comes from an animal. No meat, no eggs, no dairy. That includes cheese."
"What do you eat then?" Brittany asked.
"Fruits, vegetables, nuts, breads. Some roots and fungi, like mushrooms," Rachel said. "It's much healthier than the usual omnivoric diet that everyone else has."
"Oh," Brittany said, staring off into space. "Okay, whatever. I guess what I should have said was, speaking of good tastes, I hear that you're dating someone new now. Care to share?"
"I'm sorry, but no," Rachel said, though she smiled and blushed. "I've only been on one date with said person, and I don't know how they would feel about the world finding out about that on an internet talk show. Even one as beloved as this one."
"Aww…" Brittany said, pouting. "Would you at least like to talk about the date?"
"It wasn't anything special," Rachel said, then, immediately realizing what she'd said, took it back. "Not that it was boring! It was great! We went to a movie and then out to eat, and we talked for a couple of hours. Then they took me home."
"And was there a goodnight kiss?" Brittany asked, smiling since she already knew the answer.
"Maybe," Rachel said, blushing. After a moment, though, she said, "But I didn't think we were here to talk about my love life."
"You're right." Brittany leaned forward, picking up her stack of index cards from the small coffee table the cheese sat on. Turning to the camera, she said, "Rachel here was nice enough to agree to talk about her experience attempting suicide. I know it's a touchy subject, so if you think it'll make you sad, go ahead and stop the video right now. But I'm sure a lot of people have had questions about it. I know everybody in Glee has been asking and I never really know what to tell them, so I thought this would be a good way to let everyone know instead of Santana shouting at everyone like always." Brittany's voice went hard, or as hard as she could, and she added, "But remember, Rachel is my bestest best friend ever, so if you try to make her sad about any of this, things will get very bad for you."
"Wow, Brittany," Rachel said, sitting back in her chair. "When did you get so intimidating?"
"Does that mean scary-sounding?"
"Yes."
"That started when Missy slusheed you," Brittany said, shrugging. "Between Quinn and Santana and me, no one's going to mess with you anymore. I promise."
Rachel was left speechless, mouth agape, not a pretty moment for the burgeoning star. After a long moment, she said quietly, "Thank you, Birdy."
"No probs, Rachie." Flipping through her index cards, she stopped on one. "Okay. So, first question, what made you so sad that you wanted to kill yourself?"
Rachel took a deep breath, thinking it over while she scratched Lord Tubbington behind the ears. His loud purring was really very soothing. "That's actually a really hard question to answer. I guess no one thing really did it. It was a combination of factors. It was like, have you ever felt like nobody loved you? Like, no one in the world?" Brittany shook her head. "Well I did. And it wasn't that I was just having a sad day or anything. It was every single day. I thought my parents didn't want me. Thought that I was a horrible person for how I mistreated my now ex-boyfriend. My mother replaced me. Everyone at school hated me and made fun of me. Even the people in Glee that I thought I was friends with. I thought, at least with them, that the teasing was like friends or family would do, but no. They just needed my voice so they dialed it back, unlike the rest of the school. So I guess, it was a combination of all those things."
Brittany looked sadly at Rachel, but Rachel returned a smile to her. "Obviously I'm not talking about you, Brittany. I didn't know we were best friends back then."
"But we are now, right?" Brittany asked, suddenly unsure.
"Of course. And if it wasn't for your immensely fat cat here," Rachel said, smiling and poking again at Lord Tubbington who refused to move, "I would hug you right now because it looks like you need one."
"That's okay," Brittany said. "I'm not sure it's very professional to hug your guests."
"Nonsense," Rachel assured her. "Ellen does it all the time."
"Oh." Brittany got up from where she was and went around the table, hugging Rachel for a minute before returning to her seat. "Okay," she said, clearly happier now. "So, next question." She flipped through a couple of cards, stopping on one and looking at it. "What was it like, trying to kill yourself? Was it scary?"
"It wasn't scary, not really," Rachel said, bringing up memories of that night. "I was really drunk, though, so that probably helped it not be as scary."
"You were drunk?"
"Yes. I had this idea that the alcohol, being a natural anticoagulant, would help me bleed out faster since my blood would be thinner," Rachel explained. "I didn't want it to take a long time. And, you know, I was also hoping what they said about it being 'liquid courage' was true. I wanted to be brave enough to do it, if that makes sense."
The tall blonde was again looking sad, so Rachel offered, "Brittany, if doing this is going to make you too sad, we don't have to. It was your idea. I'm just as happy going to play more Mario or something. Making the fat little man jump around was fun."
"No, no, it's okay," Brittany said. "I just wish I had gone to your party that night or something. Oh!" Brittany flipped through her cards, finding a question. "Mercedes J. in Lima wants to know 'what was that all about?' She suggested that you invited people to your birthday people just to watch you die and said 'even for that drama queen, that is so messed up'. And then Santana pounced on her and Mr. Schue had to pull her off."
Rachel laughed, but both of them knew it was fake, covering up how hurt she actually was at Mercedes's statement. "First of all, I would like to thank Santana but assure her that it really isn't necessary to violently attack people on my behalf. Secondly, it's 'speculation' like that right there that saw me quit Glee club. If my so-called 'friends' can't even bother trying to understand what it might have been like for me, how can they then understand that I wouldn't want to be around them? That I might want to focus on myself and getting better?"
"But to answer her question," Rachel went on, "before I attempted suicide, I was cutting ties with the world, so to speak. I stopped going to dance classes, stopped going to singing lessons. I stopped sharing everything with my parents like I used to. I stopped participating in the eight different clubs I was in, only choosing to stay in Glee where people acted like they liked me. Key word there being 'acted'. I would stay in my room by myself, sleeping a lot and watching old movies, wondering why my life couldn't be like that. I just didn't know how to make it any different than what it was. By the time my birthday rolled around, I had pretty much cut ties with the rest of the world. Something in the back of my mind was telling me to give it one more chance, though. That was the birthday party. No one showing up told me that I had succeeded in making sure no one cared whether I lived or died."
Again, Brittany stood up and went over to her, giving Rachel a long, generous hug for a minute or two before going to sit back down again.
"Okay," Brittany said, sniffling. "So, a lot of people- and by 'people' I mean everyone in Glee that's not me, Q, or San- have been wondering what happened that night. It was your birthday and no one showed up. But somehow Quinn, who, at the time, wasn't friends with you, ended up saving your life. Care to explain how that happened?"
Rachel bit her lip, wondering how much to say exactly about what Quinn had done. The blonde had filled her in on everything she had missed one night as they talked on the phone, though Rachel had to nearly beg to get all the information out of her. The problem with Brittany's question was that it wasn't her story alone to tell. Would Quinn care that she talked about her? Quinn was Rachel's friend, and she was allowed to talk about her friends, right? She hadn't been her friend back then, though…
Brittany looked over at Rachel, staring at her, waiting, and Rachel just decided to go for. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. Isn't that what someone said?
"It's interesting," Rachel started out, "or maybe it's just interesting to me, but… music's always been a big part of my life. I guess I was thinking that, since this was the end of my life that music should be a big part of my death, too. So I made a video to post to my MySpace profile like I had done with all my other singing videos. Just an old habit, I guess. But apparently Quinn watched the video of my final songs just minutes after I had posted them and realized what they meant. That I was saying goodbye in true Rachel Berry fashion. She rushed over to my house and started pounding on my door. I answered it and invited her in."
"You have to understand how surprised I was to see her," Rachel said, again petting Lord Tubbington for comfort and causing him to purr loudly. "I assumed that my Daddy, when he had left for work that morning, would be the last person I ever saw. But for her to show up, it was somehow… fitting. She was my biggest bully, the one who tortured me the most since high school started. If bullying were the only cause of my attempted suicide, then Quinn would have been the one to contribute most to it. She deserved to be there in a way."
"Much to my surprise, though, she tried to talk me out of it," Rachel said. "She said that it got better and that if I killed myself I'd go to hell. All that. It didn't matter, though. I finished my drink then took off running for the bathroom, locking myself in. I then jumped in the bathtub with the knife, and… and that's it."
"That's all you remember?" Brittany asked.
"I have little flashes of memory," Rachel said. "Something about Quinn tying something around my wrists, trying to make me keep my hands up to stop the flow of blood. I'm told I passed out before the ambulance got there. And that my sweater was ruined with blood, but as I didn't have a sweater, I have to assume it was hers. Still, I'm confident that if she hadn't acted the way she did to stop the flow of blood, I wouldn't be here today."
"So she really saved your life, then?" Brittany asked.
"…yes."
"Wow…" Brittany said, staring off, thinking about it. "I just… wow. Quinn's, like, a hero or something. 'Cause people always have this picture of her where she's mean and a bully and stuff, but then… she saved your life. Wow. What did she say when you thanked her for it?"
Rachel looked away from Brittany's gaze, embarrassed. Had she ever really thanks Quinn for saving her life? Looking back over the past few weeks, she couldn't remember a time where she'd said the actual words. When she'd first woken up, she'd been angry at the girl for 'making her live'. Most of the time since then, she hadn't been sure living had been a good thing. Now? Sure, in this moment, sitting there with Brittany, she was okay with being alive. Sort of happy, even. But in general…?
"I've never told her thank you," Rachel admitted, somewhat sheepishly.
"Why not?"
"Because I… I…" Rachel shook her head. "I don't know. Sometimes I'm not sure it's a good thing that she did it."
Brittany was about to say something but paused, staring at Rachel for a moment. Finally, she asked, "So… do you like Lord Tubbington?"
Rachel was thrown, not knowing where the abrupt subject change came from, but she was glad of it. Looking down at the fat cat in her lap, she smiled, stroking down his broad back. "Absolutely," Rachel said. "He's been a sweetie."
"And mom and dad and Ash?" Brittany asked. "Do you like them?"
Rachel looked at the tall blonde curiously. "Of course, Brittany. Your family's been really nice."
"And me?" Brittany asked. "You're glad we're friends now, right?"
"Yes, Brittany," Rachel said, assuring the girl. "I'm really glad you're my best friend. Why are you asking all this?"
"Because it's all stuff you would have missed if you'd been dead."
"Brittany…"
"Like Babs," she continued, despite Rachel's whining. Turning to the camera, Brittany added, "Babs is Rachel's totally adorable pet kitten that she got for Christmas. She's black and white and the cutest baby kitty ever." Brittany looked back at Rachel, smiling. "And you would have missed Quinn being your friend and Santana buying you all those clothes and going out with Chr- going out… on dates," she corrected herself. "And that's just the cool stuff that's happened in the last few weeks. Just think about all the awesome things that you're going to get to do in the future. Going to prom and graduating from high school and going to college." Brittany paused, looking momentarily thoughtful as she bit her lip. "Stuff that not everybody gets to do."
The sudden change in mood had Rachel confused. Brittany had started out trying to make Rachel excited about living but was suddenly melancholy. "What's wrong, Brittany?"
"Nothing," she said. "I'm sorry. I just… sometimes I have random thoughts and they're like fun and happy, but sometimes they not." She shook her head like she could shake the thought away. "But we were talking about you."
"No, Brittany, please," Rachel insisted. "If something's wrong…"
"Well, it's nothing, really," Brittany said, though she sounded more and more depressed as she spoke. "I was just thinking about college, you know, and how you and Santana and Quinn will all get to go off and get even smarter and I'll just be stuck here being the same. Like, if I'm lucky, maybe Coach Sue can let me stay on the Cheerios or something, but I'll still get left behind after next year."
"No, Brittany," Rachel tried assuring her. "I'm sure you could go to college if you wanted to."
"Rach, you talked to my mom," Brittany said. "You know all about…" She looked at the camera like it was spying on their conversation. "…everything. I'm not going to college."
"But…" Rachel stopped. Was it really not possible for her to go to college? There had to be mentally challenged people that went further than just high school. Brittany was amazing. There were so many things she was naturally good at that it would be a waste for her to stay in Lima all her life. No. That just wouldn't work. Brittany was not going to become some kind of 'Lima loser'.
"Brittany, you can go to college," Rachel said. "Maybe you'll need to work on your grades some, but I don't mind helping tutor you, and I'm sure Santana and Quinn will help, too."
"Santi already tutors me some," Brittany said. "But it hasn't helped all that much."
"That's okay. I'm sure if all three of us help you rather than just Santana it'll help even more," Rachel tried assuring her again. "Plus, with me and Quinn there you and Santana won't get… um… distracted."
Taking a different approach, Rachel asked, "If you could do anything in the world for a living after high school and college, what would you want to do?"
"Like, 'anything' anything or 'realistic' anything?"
"For now, let's go with realistic," Rachel said, smiling.
"I think…" Brittany paused, biting her lip again. "I'm not sure if this is actually realistic, but I'd really like to dance for a living. Like, maybe be a Lakers girl or dance with Beyoncé onstage or, like, dance in those shows you like so much."
"You'd like to be a professional dancer?" Rachel asked, earning a quick nod from Brittany. That was perfect. Brittany was an amazing dancer. It made sense that she would continue to do so professionally. And while she wouldn't necessarily need to go to school for that, there were some amazing schools she could go to for dance. Rachel's personal dream destination, Julliard, had an amazing dance program. Then an idea hit Rachel. "You should go to New York."
"What?"
"New York. I'm planning on applying for Julliard and Tisch next year," Rachel explained. "Both of those are performing arts schools, and they probably both have amazing dance programs you could take. I'm sure, as talented as you are, that you could get into either one. Or both. We would just need to make sure you have the grades to do it, and we have a whole year and a half to do that."
"So… I could… I could go to college?" Brittany asked, disbelieving. "And you'd help me?"
"Sure," Rachel answered, smiling. The world deserved to see Brittany dance. The least Rachel could do for her friend is make sure she got the chance to show them.
"But… no," Brittany said, shaking her head. "Even if I could get in, I don't think I could do it on my own. I mean, I wouldn't know anybody or anything and it's not like I could take mom and dad and Ash with me. And… I don't think I'd be okay there by myself. Because of…" she gave Rachel a knowing look… "everything."
Rachel started to speak but stopped. She couldn't promise what she wanted to say. She couldn't. There were too many factors. What if life got too hard again? What if people hated her, mocked her, hurt her even more? What if she couldn't take it? What if- Rachel looked over at Brittany staring dejectedly at the wall in her room, web show forgotten. This was her best friend. Her sister. And, sure, she hadn't had her for long, but she still wanted to do whatever she possibly could to make the tall blonde happy. So she'd promise something she shouldn't promise, something she couldn't guarantee.
Quinn lay on her stomach staring at her laptop, watching two of her best friends talking, one interviewing the other. The hot water burns from her shower prevented her from laying on her back as she usually would, but the lotion she had put on there would hopefully alleviate any evidence of it. She stared at the screen, thankful that Santana had texted her and told her to watch the latest Fondue for Two before practice tomorrow. It was something she usually would have skipped, but Santana had said Brittany was interviewing Rachel. How could she miss that? And now, God, she was so thankful she hadn't missed it.
Quinn had seen a myriad amount of versions of Rachel Berry. The diva, of course. The braggart, the teammate, the shy girl, the insecure girl, the suicidal one. She'd seen Rachel laughing, crying, angry at everyone, angry at no one, angry at Quinn specifically. She'd seen the Rachel that had a crush on her, the Rachel that hated her, the Rachel Quinn considered the "thirteen year old boy" that couldn't help but stare at Quinn. She'd seen all these personas in that one person, but here, on Brittany's web show no less, she was seeing a new one. The professional. And, wow, Rachel was going to be a star.
At seventeen and talking about something completely private and personal, she still managed to answer every question with a grace and poise that would have delighted a studio audience. Rachel Berry would be a household name one day. There was no doubt about it in Quinn's mind. The camera loved her. Everyone else would, too.
But this conversation had taken a turn Rachel hadn't been prepared for. Quinn could see what Rachel was going to say before she said it. This version of the brunette that suddenly appeared, the real Rachel, was easy to read, and Quinn knew she could never hurt Brittany without being the kind of heartless monster she clearly wasn't. Not like Quinn.
"Brittany," Rachel said on the screen gingerly, getting the girl to look at her. "What if… what if we went to college together? We could be roommates, and then you wouldn't have to be alone."
"We could…?" Brittany paused, taking the idea in. "You'd do that for me? Really?"
"Yes," Rachel said, smiling as Brittany also broke out in a huge grin.
A grin that seemed to pause as if unsure. "But… that would mean you'd have to be alive. That you couldn't try to kill yourself again. At least not for a few years."
She watched as Rachel took a deep breath, a breath that Quinn seemed to be holding now. "I know."
"So you promise?" Brittany asked tentatively. "You promise not to try and hurt yourself until after college? Because I'd kind of be relying on you to be there with me. I don't think I could do it alone."
And she knew the camera didn't do the image of Brittany pleading with Rachel to stay alive for her justice, but the tears streaming down Quinn's face at the moment didn't seem to care. She reached up and wiped at the tears, back protesting painfully, because she already knew what Rachel's answer was going to be. She could see it there in her face.
"Yes, Brittany. I promise."
Somehow laughing and crying at the same time (craughing?), Quinn watched as two of her best friends in the entire world hugged over their plans for the future. Well, it was mostly Brittany doing the hugging as Rachel was still being weighed down by the giant cat in her lap. Then the taller blonde ran out of frame, what Quinn had to imagine was out of her room and down the stairs because she could hear her yelling, "Mom, I'm going to college!"
Rachel looked shocked by the turn of events but, ever the professional, said, "And this has been Fondue for Two with your hosts, Brittany S. Pierce and Lord Tubbington. Then, reaching over, she pressed a button on Brittany's laptop, causing the video to end. Quinn lay there, smiling at the screen.
Rachel wanted to live.
For the first time in weeks, Quinn's sleep was deep and peaceful, uninterrupted by nightmares.