My name is Brittany S. Pierce and I like bright colors, soft fabrics, and pop music. I also like dancing most of the time, but right now my legs kind of feel like jelly from suicide runs. I'm also a web series creater and I'm into surrealist cat collage work, but that might change.
Santana: Who knows, I didn't ask. Why would they wait? They're conference is over. They want to come home.
Santana: Send me a picture of the label and I'll remind you when you can take them. Don't even joke.
Brittany: So they're sending their teenage daughter all alone to drive out of state to pick them up? Maybe if they wait a few days the flights will get cleared again.
Santana: I have to. I have to pick up my parents. Apparently all the possible flights home have been cancelled, which is weird, but whatever. I'll probably spend the night at their hotel and be home Tuesday night.
Santana: That sounds fun. But don't take them all at once like your antibiotics. That would probably be too much fun.
Brittany: Why can't they rent a car then? Or just... wait? If they can't fly back there's probably a really good reason.
Brittany: [UNSENT] What if you don't come back?
Brittany: I don't know. What if I forget without someone to remind me? Maybe I should take them all.
âYeah, everyoneâs home,â she answered with a nod, âI made sure of it. Nothingâs really changed around here⊠I think Columbus was just some freak accident.â Santana bit her lip. She was familiar with denial, and it was probably too easy for her to slip into it. She was so ready for this whole thing to be over that sheâd believe her false sense of security before she believed what she saw on TV⊠What she saw with her own two eyes. She shook her head lightly to refocus.Â
âYeah, B. I think a bath would probably make you feel a lot better,â Santana said with big, hopeful eyes. âOf course. I can wait down here for youâŠâ she said, looking around a little awkwardly, sliding her hands into her back pockets, âJust call me if you need anything, okay?â
Brittany would never go so far as to believe that Santana would leave the entire group behind, but it was nice to have confirmation all the same. âDid bus really make it back?â she asked, her lips quirking up into a small, weak smile. âGuess the tanks left you alone then.â She tried so hard to believe Santana was right but... âDid you see anything?â Brittany asked before she could stop herself. Stupid. She felt a hot rush of anger at herself immediately.Â
She gently put her dirty hand on Santanaâs arm and squeezed. âIâm just paranoid. Thereâs a lot of scary noises in the dark, you know? I think I should start bringing flashlights wherever I go.â A locked door wasnât going to keep anything out if it really wanted in, but it was better to pretend. âIâll be quick. I donât want to scare my little sister looking like this.â Brittany pressed a light kiss into Santanaâs cheek before going up the stairs.
She looked up when she heard that familiar voice, almost convinced she was having a dream or some kind of hallucination. She probably wished and prayed so hard that her mind must have snapped and now she was seeing ghosts.Â
âBrittany?â she asked, standing slowly, not wanting to wake up from this if it wasnât real. But it was. It was really her. âBritt,â she said softly again, this time with relief flooding her voice, her own tears welling up. She didnât run to her or launch herself into her arms, instead she walked towards her, her hand coming to rest on Brittanyâs cheek. Her best friend was absolutely covered in grime. The tears she cried leaving the only clean streaks. She knew how she loved Lord Tubbington, but she took him and sat him gently down on the ground anyway. The cat didnât leave Brittanyâs legs, wrapping around her ankles, but Santana needed to hold her. To guide her. To fix her. This. Everything.
âYeah,â she said with a watery smile and a nod. âYouâre a genius, Brittany. Youâre so brave.â She took her hand and cradled it between her own. âYouâre home now, and your family will be so happy to see you. They went to get lunch,â she assured her, petting her hand, âTheyâll be back soon. Come on.â She led her up the porch steps and through the screen door that slammed behind them a little too loudly. âDo you want water?â she asked softly, scooting in inch by inch until she her arms were around her.
As Santanaâs hand touched her cheek Brittany closed her eyes. It was hard to believe she was home. It was even harder to believe that Santana was home waiting for her. If she didnât hurt sheâd be certain that this was all a dream. There wasnât any way she could be this lucky.Â
At any other time Brittany would protest the removal of her cat, but it strangely didnât upset her. âDid the Glee club get out okay?â She gently pushed Lord Tubbington out of her way with one dirty shoe. âThere was so much going on. Did you-â Brittany stopped herself. She couldnât ask. Something had gone terribly wrong in Columbus. Maybe it was even wrong here. But she couldnât bear to see doubt in her best friendâs eyes right now while it was so fresh in her brain. âThere were a lot of looters.â She finished lamely.Â
Brittany felt moderately better inside her own home as she watched Lord Tubbington run up the stairs to her bedroom, but nothing felt quite right until she locked the front door behind her. âI kind of want a bath,â she said finally. âI fell down a lot and I must smell worse than Finn does after a game.â She gently squeezed Santanaâs hand. âCould you make sure the backdoor is locked?â
The bus ride back to Lima was an out of body experience for Santana. She was in the thick of it, pushing everyone she could get to up the steps as Mr. Schue started the old, tired engine. It had to make it back, it just had to. Once they were rolling though, Santana couldnât do anything but stare out of the window, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl she lovedâBrittany. Fellow glee clubbers gently asked her where Brittany was, and Santana all but bit their heads off. They didnât get to say her name.Â
Lima was still Lima, and even though their was a nervous energy in the air, it was still untouched. At least, thatâs what everyone was thankfully realizing as the bus made its rounds to drop everyone off. But Santana disagreed. It would never be home again if Brittany didnât come back to it. Her parentâs were at a medical conference in Illinois, so Santana didnât even bother having Mr. Schue drive to her house, instead getting dropped off at Brittanyâs place to wait.Â
She stepped across the familiar flat stones that led around Brittanyâs house to the swing where they spent so much of their time together. After sleepovers they would bring their bowls of cereal out there to enjoy the morning together. Brittany taught her all about the birds that flitted by, spending time on their swinging tree before flying somewhere new. She braided her hair there, Brittany wished on dandelions there, she kissed her there, and Santana fell in love with her there, and now Brittany had sworn to meet her in this exact spot. Time didnât exist. The sun would only rise when her girl was back and safe, but Santana had no idea when that would be.Â
Brittany crawled out of the sewers and paused, on her hands and knees still, to kiss the warm asphalt. Thank God, she thought as she greedily sucked air into her lungs. There had been moments in the dark that she thought she would for sure die down there. She had even imagined something following her a few times, but she quelled her panic. The only way to get through was to keep a hand on the wall and keep calm. She had learned that last summer.Â
All in all it had served her well. She was only a few miles from home when she decided to brave the streets. Nothing seemed to be different in Lima, but Brittanyâs heart thudded all the same. Her skin practically crawled as she rushed home, exhausted legs threatening to quit every time she broke into a sprint. It was all for nothing if Santana wasnât there. Thatâs all there was to it. If something had happened to the Glee club and she wasnât there she would be responsible for it.Â
As she turned onto her own street Brittany found herself slowing down, as if a part of her couldnât bear the idea of loss. She could see Lord Tubbingtonâs large, well loved shape waddling towards her, tail twitching in the pleasure of seeing his owner, but that was all. It wasnât quite what she wanted, but it made her eyes well up regardless as she scooped him up and buried her dirty, scratched face into his fur. His purrs gave her comfort and she could almost ignore how much heavier he felt, how her shoulder seemed to screech in protest at the unbearable weight. A world where Lord Tubbington could purr was a good one. Once she had a bath and charged her phone sheâd be able to see if she could reach Santana and then decide if it was a fair one.Â
Brittany saw her when she mounted the first porch step. On the bench, behind the rosebush. Just like she had imagined seemingly years ago. She froze as she tried to take in every little detail, telling herself that she couldnât make up those details so it was surely real. Tears started to fall down her cheeks and Lord Tubbingtonâs claws dug into her collarbone as he struggled to find a comfortable spot in her arms. âI took the sewers home,â she told Santana finally. âCan we go inside?â
what: Â Brittany has a super fun adventure during the riot and ends up in a strangely familiar place.
âSan? San?â She pulled her phone away from her ear and almost flung it away in frustration. Dead as a doornail. Was there anything more cliche in a horror movie? Maybe those cliches existed for a reason. What was happening was most certainly something of pure horror, and yet here she was: A pretty little cheerleader who was separated from the group with a dead phone and nothing more ominous than a battery powered toothbrush to her name.
Brittany grunted in pain as the force of the crowd shifted, seemingly hellbent on crushing her and anyone behind her. What the fuck was happening? She fought to keep her balance, fingers momentarily digging into someoneâs arms before being rudely ripped away. It was enough, at least. Just enough to regain her feet and keep moving, trying not to notice the the ground underneath her feet sometimes felt soft... wet, even.
The noise was deafening, louder than anything Brittany ever believed to be possible. Her heart thudded in her chest at the sound of guns, but that wasnât what really scared her. It was the tone of the screams. She had never heard anything like them, but she instinctively knew that it was a sound of death. That more than anything spurred her onward. She took a deep breath and started to run, pushing through the crowd and not minding the crashing bodies around her. Sueâs suicide sprints were good for something.
People ran into her, some even seemed to try to grab her, but payed it no mind. Left, right, left, left. The gunfire seemed to begin to fade, but for some reason the screaming wasnât. How deep did it all go? Brittany ducked into an alley and leaned against the wall, panting. Her legs ached, but she knew she could keep going if she had to. If only she knew what route to take. Brittany frowned as she peered towards the street, hoping to recognize anything. But she had hardly ever gone to Columbus, much less alone. The only thing she knew was the way to the bus station - something she had needed Google for in the first place.
She allowed herself to slide down the wall until she was sitting, unconsciously rubbing her twitching muscles as she watched looters dart past her little hiding place. What could she do? Brittany saw no perfect solution, but she trusted that Santana would be safe. That sheâd be on the porch when she came home and theyâd never come back to this godforsaken city again. It was only a matter of - something thudded into the dumpster on the other side of the alley and Brittanyâs skin broke out into goose pimples. âHello? Anyone there?â Shambling footsteps moved towards her and Brittany found herself scrambling to her feet.
The act made her feel stupid. It was pure instinct, but it might have saved her life. Something she couldnât quite consider human moved into her line of sight and just one brief glance was all she needed to take off once again, tears streaming from her face in confused horror. It wasnât alive, she thought as she ran. But if it wasnât alive⊠what would it mean? Brittany tried to clear her mind of the horrible creature as she ran, but she still could picture itâs torn away face and the thick ropes of intestines that dangled out of the hole in itâs torso. The mental image of it seeming to see her, to reach for her was sure to ruin her dreams for the rest of her life.
It felt like hours passed before Brittany found a solution, but the sun seemed to be in the same spot in the sky. Panic was making her shaky, but when she looked down at the manhole she felt a flush of hope. Escape. Brittany looked around to see if anyone was looking, but people seemed to be very interested in either running or looting. The gunshots were happening more frequently. She hoped that the thing would be ripped apart by military bullets and not find her in her escape hatch. After much panicked tugging - and a painful tearing feeling in her right shoulder - she managed to pull aside the cover just enough to slide her slender body through.There was no way to pull it back into place, but she hoped that not much would be able to follow her. If I get through this Iâll never cheat on Sueâs detoxes again, she thought to herself as she carefully climbed the ladder down into blackness.
âBrittany?â Santana said nervously, the silence on the other end of the line terrifying. Each millisecond was torturous, and the fact that she wasnât with her was making everything worse. âBritt-â she started again, only to be cut off by her best friend finally speaking. She shook her head even though she knew Brittany couldnât see her. âNo,â she insisted, âPlease, just tell me where you are. Iâll find you. You know Iâll find you.â
She heard the gunshot too and it made her jump, the sounds of screams nearly deafening. Her voice cracked when she called Brittanyâs name again and again, like she was calling to her from a dream, waiting for the other girl to hear her through the clouds. There was more than telephone interference between them. A radio silence that shook Santana to the bone every time Brittany fell quiet. She was the only thing, the only thing Santana cared about. But was it possible to transmit more than muffled words through a shotty connection? Words floating over a background of chaos? There was so much more that Santana needed to say. She prayed that she wasnât too late. That she would still have a chance.
âI can hear you,â she replied, steeling herself even though hot tears slid down her cheeks. She was scared. Things only seemed to go from bad to worse. How could she not look for her? How could she leave her there alone? Sheâd do anything for Brittany. Sheâd even help her cross the street, knowing that her hands could guide her the best, even if sometimes Santana forced them both through uncharted paths that hurt her. Reality sunk in, though. And Santana knew that they didnât have any other option.
âYou have to promise me that youâll be there, okay? Promise me, Britt.â Her words were shaky and strained, trying to fight back the blind panic that was rising in her chest. âI love you. I love you forever, okay? Me and you, Britt. Okay? Do you hear me? Promise be youâll be there, Brittany.â
The absolute terror Brittany felt at the very idea of Santana in this crowd made her raise her voice, practically screaming into the tiny phone. âSantana! Itâs not safe!â  Her best friend would do anything for her, Brittany knew it. But if something happened... sheâd never forgive herself. âIâve got it covered, okay? Take care of Glee club.â A sharp scream not far from her made her story sound significantly less convincing even to herself.Â
Brittany ran a hand through her hair and listened intently. Could she even make it back? Her eyes darted as she sought something, some escape route, something that would give her the kind of miraculous rescue that pretty teenage girls deserved. âIâll be there,â she promised. âOn my porch. Next to the rosebush.â She could practically see the place she had sat curled up beside Santana like a content cat. âI swear.â The idea of Santana being there alone made her ache in a way she hadnât really experienced. Sheâd get there or die. That was all there was to it. Sheâd crawl there if she had to.Â
Did Santana realize the odds? Did she even realize what she was saying? Brittany let out a weak, wet laugh at the sound of her voice. âI love you too, San. Forever and infinity, you and me. Just stay safe until Iâm there.â
It all happened so fast that Santanaâs head was spinning. One moment she was singing and dancing around in some nerd competition, and the next she found herself in complete chaos. She stuck close to Sam on the steps in front of the venue they just performed at, watching a sea of people rush by. There was only one thing on her mind though, and that was Brittany. Where was she? Santana couldnât even remember the last time she saw her. Was it on stage?Â
It didnât take long for Santana to freak out, calling Brittanyâs name loudly, asking their friends if theyâve seen her, but no one had. She couldnât handle this, and she was about to try to bully her way through the masses on some crazy mission to find Brittany. She needed to know she was safe. She needed her, period.
When she felt her phone buzzing, she patted her pockets frantically until she fished it out of one of her pockets. Seeing Brittanyâs face light up her screen, she quickly swiped and answered.
âBrittany? Brittany where are you?â she asked frantically. âTell me where you are. Iâll come find you.â
The feeling of relief was almost palpable when Brittany heard Santanaâs voice. For a moment she almost believed that things could be better, but once the actual words clicked in her head she was tense again. Biting her lip, Brittany didnât answer Santana for a long moment as she fought to keep her voice calm. She had never been a good liar, had never lied to Santana, but she had to try. âDonât do that! Iâm okay. I promise Iâm okay. Are you at the hotel? Are you inside? Santana, go inside.âÂ
For the first time Brittany heard a gunshot and she let out a soft gasp. The crowd around her had gone almost scarily still. A lot of them seemed to be doing what she was doing, calling parents, children, lovers. Brittany wondered if she should have called her parents first. âCan you hear me? They barricaded the roads. Nobody can get out right now. I heard someone talk about tanks.âÂ
She gripped the phone until her knuckles were white, but she didnât really feel it. All she could feel was her heart thudding and the way her blood rushed through her veins. Was this what it felt like to know you were going to die? Brittany had been a Cheerio since she was a flat chested child. Sheâd be at the bottom of collapsed pyramids, been thrown and not caught, but Brittany was just sixteen. Death had never really been real to her. Now it was.
âSan, I need you to listen, okay? Get inside with everybody. When the riotâs over get home. Iâll meet you there. I promise. Iâll be waiting for you on my porch. Do not come for me. I wont be able to find you if you do.âÂ
The crowd was so deep Brittany wasnât sure which way was out anymore. All she knew were pushing bodies, screams, the metallic smells of fear and sweat. Sheâd never experienced anything like this before. They have to open up the roads, she thought as she had to shove one of the men beside her to have just be able to breathe. Someoneâs going to get crushed. Brittany wasnât sure they hadnât been already.
A sudden realization made her eyes grow wide and she frantically grabbed for her phone. The Glee club would be getting out soon, if they werenât already. They would walk into this. Santana. Brittany found her best friendâs number and dialed. They had to stay out of this. She just hoped that the angry yelling she heard close by wouldnât mean what she was suspecting.Â
âPlease San, please answer,â she whispered to herself as she heard the phone ring over and over again. âPlease.â
I guess you know her better than I do. Sometimes I open my mouth and silly things come out, itâs pretty frustrating. I just wish sheâd just lay off. Iâm trying to work on comebacks and all. How does she even do it? Well, thatâs nice Britt. I know sometimes I totally set the team back, but itâs fun, you know? When Iâm not counting the steps and the turns that is.
Well thatâs good. We all mess up sometimes, but they say itâs the thought that counts, right?
You know. Itâs just a thing that happens.Â
I donât think sheâs any meaner than Quinn and you dated her. But I know what you mean. Iâd say Iâd talk to her but she might do it more. She has a lot of experience with it. Insults are like petnames in her family. Dancing is supposed to be fun. Itâs about moving your body and really exploring what you can do with it. Thatâs why I love it so much. But itâs not as fun when you feel like you have something to prove.Â
What can I say? It comes with the territory, I suppose.
Thatâs unfortunate, has he been smoking again or something? I donât see how he could have anything to do with a towed car though.
That might not be a great idea, Britt⊠an injury to two of the best girls on the squad wouldnât be good for the Cheerios right now, especially one not related to any real cheer events.
No, thatâs fine. I didnât know you were interested in him.
I think that you two are just going to be friends that fight. Thatâs why Iâm here to keep you from digging your claws too deep.Â
Heâs been experimenting with ecstasy since his last breakup. Itâs very sad. I feel like Amanda Bynesâ mom.Â
Weâll save it for off season, if you two canât get along before then. Maybe we can find some of those padded bats for now? Iâm sure she would love to hit you with one.Â
Are you sure? And itâs practically a tradition, now. Puck and Cheerios, Cheerios and Puck.Â
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