Glee/Glitter: End of Hiatus - Emma
TITLE: The days are long, and the nights are yours alone
AUTHOR: voodoochild_101 (with help from the_girl_20 and an_an0maly )
FANDOM: Glee / #Glitter
PAIRING: Terri/Emma, mentions of Terri/Will
SUMMARY: Two weeks after Valentine's Day from Emma's POV.
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: ~5,926
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. They're Ryan Murphy's.
SPOILERS: None
AUTHORS' NOTES 1: Based on the Twitter based Role Play known as Glitter (the_glitter). Check out the twitter accounts of Terri and Emma.
AUTHORS' NOTES 2: This fic features guest appearances from Will, Terri, Kendra (position vacant) and ( Quinn
AUTHORS' NOTES 3: This fic follows Valentine's Day - Terri, Valentine's Day - Emma, Let's hear your speech and Too Long In The Wind, Too Long In The Rain, Back To Square One. This will not make any kind of sense until you read all of these ones first.
The days are long and the nights are yours alone…
Saturday
It’s late. Emma hasn’t moved off the couch all day except to shower. The TV is on the news channel, but she’s not really paying attention. She hasn’t even cleaned her apartment, and she doesn’t have it in her to care. She hasn’t cleaned the place in nearly a week. In the six days that have passed, Emma’s barely even managed to get herself up and out of bed to go to work.
She jumps and sighs wearily when her phone starts ringing. She picks it up from the end table, not bothering to look at who it is, and rejects the call, putting it back down on the table. A minute later and her phone beeps, signaling a text message.
She lasts five minutes before her curiosity gets the better of her and picks it up to read the screen. ‘One missed call; One new message’. She clicks her messages. Whoever it’s from is bound to be the same person that tried to call her. It’s a text notification that she has a voicemail.
She dials the number. Her heart stops as she hears the voice on the other end of the line. It’s Terri.
‘Hey. It’s me… I guess you prob’ly know that. I di’nt think you’d pick up but I jus’ wanted to hear your voice. M’sister was here. She’s kinda mad at you. Dunno why… I tol’ her it was all my fault. She gave me pills to help me sleep but they jus’ made me sadder and made me miss you more. I love you. I know I don’t act like it a lotta the time, but I do. M’gonna go now. M’tired. Been sleepin’ on the couch cuz the bed’s too big. I know you need space and need t’think… but I hope you’re gonna be done thinking soon. Okay. M’eyes are closing… gonna go. Love you.’
At the mention of the word ‘pills’ Emma is rushing around the apartment to pull her shoes on and grab her car keys. She’s already in the car by the time the voicemail finishes. She puts the key in the ignition without a second thought, turns it and drives off.
A trip that usually takes fifteen minutes has taken her eight and she wonders how she made it there in one piece and without getting pulled over by the police. Still, she thanks her lucky stars.
Pulling herself together and taking a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart, she slowly undoes her seatbelt (and ignores her violently shaking hands), and gets out of the car.
She stares up at the building in front of her. This was all well and good in theory… but now she’s here and she has no clue what it is she’s going to do… let alone what it is she’s going to find. Still, she can’t get the image out of her head of something terrible happening to Terri. No good comes out of anything when Kendra is around.
She takes another deep breath and starts walking.
She’s already got the key out of her purse (she’s not strong enough to give it back yet, and now she’s glad she didn’t) by the time she reaches Terri’s door. She slips it in with ease and turns it, opening the door and letting herself into the apartment. She closes the door behind her softly and creeps down the darkened hallway.
Emma finds her on the couch; just as she said she would be. As quietly and quickly as she can, she makes her way to Terri in the darkness and kneels down beside the couch. She reaches over and turns on the lamp on the end table so she can see Terri. She calls her name a few times to no avail and this only increases Emma’s panic. Her hand shoots out to the other woman’s neck, feeling for a pulse and she lets out a breath of relief when she feels one. Unable to help herself, she brings her hand to Terri’s cheek and lets her thumb stroke the skin, her eyes welling with tears.
“Emma…” Terri murmurs in her sleep and Emma snatches her hand away like she’s been burned
“Go back to sleep, Terri,” she says gently.
“O…Okay.”
She waits until Terri settles before getting up and searching the apartment for any sign of what it is she’s taken. She heads for the kitchen, turns on the light and checks the counter. A pill bottle stands alone in the middle, in plain sight. She picks it up and inspects it. Ambien - prescribed to Kendra. At least Kendra gave her the right kind of pills. Emma shakes her head, and doesn’t bother to count them; there’s bound to be some missing. Instead she walks into the bathroom, opens the cap, dumps the remaining pills into the toilet and flushes. She tucks the empty bottle into her pocket and walks out, back into the kitchen. She searches for a post-it note, then searches for a pen and scribbles down a quick note to Terri. When Emma is finished she wastes no time in getting out of the apartment and back to her own home.
Sunday
It’s a little after eleven a.m by the time Emma gets up and out of bed. She’s never up this late - weekend or not - but she slept rather fitfully after last night, try as she might to forget it. She’s pretty sure her digital clock read five a.m the last time she looked at it.
She rubs her hands over her face and goes through her morning routine. The first thing she does once she gets up out of bed is head straight in to the shower. She stays in there for as long as the hot water tank will allow and by the time she gets out, she’s shivering. She pulls on a pair of jeans and a hooded sweater, tying her hair up into a neat bun.
Trudging into the kitchen, Emma turns the kettle on and then heads into the living room to switch the TV on. The volume is low, but she just wants it for the background noise, anyway. Next she moves to the computer, switching it on so she can sort through her emails that she has, no doubt, received over the weekend - mostly junk, but still, it needs to be sorted.
It dings straight away.
You have mail.
She sits down and scrolls through them quickly; her eyes freezing on one in particular.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Sunday 21st February 2010
SUBJECT: Thank you
Emma moves the mouse over the email to delete it. She’s not dealing with this right now. She doesn’t want to deal with this. She clicks on the email to drag it into the trash, but the computer doesn’t register the motion and opens the email instead.
“No!” Emma yells at the screen. “No, no, no! I don’t want you to do that!”
She huffs at the computer and gets up to make her tea, and when she comes back, the email is still sitting on the screen; taunting her.
Emma pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and taps the mug a few times tossing up her options. She groans and marches over to the computer, sitting down and scrolling through the email.
OK, so I don’t know if you’ll read this, but you obviously got my message last night so I have to admit I’m kinda hopeful that you will.
Thank you for coming over to check on me. I should probably know better than to take anything Kendra offers, but she caught me off-guard because I really did need to sleep. You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to be taking them again.
Anyway, remember in the Sex and the City movie when Mr Big was a complete jerk to Carrie and jilted her at the altar? And then he sent her e-mails where he typed out all these love letters that other guys had written all through history because he didn’t feel like he could write as well as they could.
This is kinda like that. Only I’m not gonna copy other people’s love letters. That’s like cheating and I don’t want to be that person anymore.
So instead of typing out other people’s letters, I’m just going to send you an e-mail everyday telling you something I love about you. I’m not a writer so they won’t be pretty. But they’ll be real.
I had trouble coming up with something for this first one. Not because I don’t love a lot of things about you, but because when I sat down to think about it, the first word that came to mind was ‘everything’. But I narrowed it down a bit.
After last night, I guess it only makes sense for me to tell you how much I love the fact that you genuinely care about people. You care about everyone, sometimes to the detriment of your own happiness. You care about those kids, even though they sometimes don’t appreciate it. You cared about me, even when I was being horrible to you. You used to ask me questions and give me advice and try to help me win back a man you were in love with.
Sometimes I think the only person you don’t care enough about is yourself. If you’ll let me, I’d like to care about you enough for the two of us.
So that’s the first thing. I’ll write again tomorrow.
I love you.
T
x
By the time Emma has finished reading, she’s white-knuckling her mug of tea and she’s scowling. She reaches out and jabs the power button, turning off the computer, before standing up and heading into her cleaning cupboard.
She pulls out every chemical she owns and surveys the room. This is going to be a long day.
Monday
She jolts awake when the alarm goes off and scowls at the offending object, bringing a hand down to switch it off. It’s been exactly one week since this whole thing came to light. Emma sits up in bed and leans against the headboard to calm her beating heart, deciding - not for the first time - if she should call in sick to work, just to avoid seeing Will. Just like all those days last week, she decides against it.
Sighing wearily, she runs through her morning routine quickly and is out the door in record time.
She pulls into her parking space at the same time Will pulls into his space. She sucks in a deep breath and doesn’t spare him a second glance as she gets her things together and steps out of the car. She starts walking towards the building in front of her and pretends like she can’t even hear him when he calls out to her.
It’s the same thing every weekday morning. Emma and Will pull up at the same time (sometimes Emma thinks he follows her from her apartment. The only thing that disproves that theory is that some mornings he’s already in the parking lot, waiting.), he calls out to her, Emma quickens her pace; practically running by the time she gets to her office, and that’s where she stays until last bell.
She slams her door shut and leans against it, breathing heavily. Like always, without fail, Will follows her right up to the door. She hears a sigh come from the other side, then footsteps and then silence. She pushes herself off and trudges to her desk, tears blurring her vision, and sets up for the day.
She knows that her behavior is ridiculous, but she also knows that the only thing she will manage in front of Will is tears over his betrayal. She'll cry, then he'll cry and then there will be a big watery mess.
She shakes her head, hoping to clear her thoughts. The one where perhaps if she were braver in all of this, she'd yell, kick, scream and make both Terri and Will very sorry for what they did. Even in that scenario, she doesn't feel any better. She feels guilty.
Sighing, she unpacks her things, blinking against tears and turns on her computer, just as the first bell rings.
The computer finishes loading and wastes no time in ringing out.
You have mail
Emma freezes in the middle of sorting her papers out. She blinks and lays them down on the desk slowly before turning to the computer.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Monday 22nd February 2010
SUBJECT: You’re pretty
She clicks discard.
Maybe she should have called in sick today.
Tuesday
Emma stares at her computer inbox.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Tuesday 23rd February 2010
SUBJECT: I want to make you smile
She feels compelled to open this one and she caves. Her hand hovers over the mouse, but before she can click on the email, a knock sounds at the door and she nearly falls out of her seat.
She checks the time; it’s ten p.m. She wonders who on earth could be visiting at this hour, and her mind briefly flashes to Terri. Emma stays in her spot.
The knocking starts again, louder, insistent, and continuously.
She panics now because no one ‘just visiting’ ever knocks like that. She gets up and walks to the door to open it. She yelps when she sees Kendra standing there.
“Kendra, what are y -”
“You listen to me you doe-eyed little lesbian. You stay away from my sister! She doesn’t love you. She’s still hung up on Will - as if you didn’t know, I mean she did cheat on you with him. Now I don’t know what is going on in that head of hers - she’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed - and I don’t even want to know what’s going on in your ginger little mind, but I do know that you are relatively smart. So what does it say to you that a woman who is so in love with you goes and cheats on you with the man that you were both fighting over?”
Kendra pauses to take a breath and places her hands on her hips, noting the tears that have sprung to Emma’s eyes.
“Oh good, I’m glad I got your attention. Now, I may not like Will, but I don’t like you a hell of a lot more. There is a way to fix this though. You take your little cauldron and your spell book back to wherever it is you came from and stop putting weird little voodoo spells on my baby sister, and I won’t go near the brakes on your car. You think on that for a little bit.” She turns on her heel and saunters down the hallway. She gets three steps away before she turns back and throws over her shoulder, “If I were you, honey, I wouldn’t take too long.”
Wednesday
Emma finds Quinn already at her front door by the time she comes home from work. These visits are never planned, so she never knows when to expect the young girl, but she never turns her away. Especially not now. God knows she could use her company. There are no greetings; just smiles as Emma unlocks the door and lets Quinn through first.
They fall in to their routine. Quinn takes her shoes off and puts her bag down in the hall, by the door. She pulls out her books and heads to the dining room to start on her homework. Emma takes out her paperwork and sets her bag down in its spot on the table by the door and heads into her room to put her shoes away. She then sets her papers on the table and walks into the kitchen to pour Quinn a drink, depending on what she wants or craves. Today’s craving is orange juice. She heads back into her bedroom, into her bathroom for a quick shower and changes in to some casual clothes. When she comes out, half an hour later, Quinn is still at the table doing her homework. The redhead takes a seat opposite Quinn and the two work in comfortable silence.
An hour passes before Quinn announces she needs a break and Emma agrees readily. The new addition to this routine is that Emma reads the same line over and over again and thinks that Quinn doesn’t notice. Quinn calls for a break not for her own sake, but for Emma’s; she finished her homework twenty minutes prior.
Emma stands up and turns on the computer then heads into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and refill Quinn’s glass, while Quinn heads for the TV, flipping it straight to the music channel. She gets it in the middle of an ad break and mutes it just in time to hear the computer ding and a voice ring out.
You have mail.
Unaware if Emma has heard it, Quinn echoes it, just as she comes back into the living room with their drinks. “You have mail, Ms P.”
“So I heard,” Emma replies with a small smile. She walks over to the computer and bends down to read the screen.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Wednesday 24th February 2010
SUBJECT: You make me want to be better.
She stands up straight again and reaches for the power button. “Well… I’ll just fix that,” she mumbles.
When she turns around, Quinn is staring at her expectantly. There’s an awkward silence as the young girl tries to piece it together.
“…Is it Mrs. Schuester?” She asks hesitantly.
Emma blanches, but recovers quickly. “How’s that homework coming along there, Quinn?” She asks, gently, nodding in the direction of the dining room table.
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Quinn leans forward to get the remote and switches the TV off, turning her body towards Emma. “I finished it a while ago, actually,” she quietly replies. “I saw that you were having trouble concentrating on your paperwork. It’s why I suggested the break.”
“Well… that’s nice of you, but I… I’m fine. I wasn’t having any trouble with an -”
“I’m pregnant, not blind.” When Emma does nothing but turns red and looks to the ground, Quinn changes the subject. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Oh, I’m not hu -”
“Again, not blind,” she says, cutting the redhead off. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat in, like, two weeks.”
Emma narrows her eyebrows in question. “Why are you watching my eating habits?”
“To get to the cafeteria, I have to pass your office. Usually you scramble to get to the lunchroom to sit with Mr. Schue,” she explains, and she doesn’t miss the way Emma’s body tenses at Will’s name. “But for the last couple of weeks you just… sit… in your office. I knew something was up.”
Emma feels like the rug has been pulled from underneath her and she feels compelled to sit down. She falls heavily on to the other end of the couch and just stares at Quinn, who sighs.
“Even if you don’t eat anything for the rest of the week, I’m going to make sure I see you eat tonight… For my piece of mind… Cause I like you. And I kinda like us hanging out and it would suck if you got sick, y’know?” Emma gives a small smile in response and Quinn smiles brightly back at her. “I feel like pizza…. Actually I feel like puking. It’s the baby who feels like pizza.”
Quinn’s words are lost on Emma who’s staring at the computer.
“It’s going to drive you insane wondering what it is she wrote to you if you don’t just read it.” Finishing with her point, she reaches for the remote again and turns the TV back on.
Emma doesn’t tell her that it already is driving her insane.
Thursday
When Emma gets into her office, Will is already there, waiting for her, leaning on the edge of the desk. She stops in her tracks and turns to walk back out the door but Will is already up and closes it before Emma can walk out.
“Emma, please,” he begs. “Emma… Em, I… God you have to know how sorry I am.” His eyes shine with unshed tears and he walks over to one of the chairs to sit down, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.
Emma stays by the door, rigid, watching him, willing herself not to break down as he does. Once again she wishes she had listened to herself and called in sick to work. She chances a look at him and he stares right back at her with sad eyes. She feels tears spring to her eyes and turns away.
“Emma I know you don’t want to talk to me… ever again… but I need you to know how sorry I am,” he repeats, desperately.
“How sorry are you, exactly?” Emma asks quietly.
“I would take the whole thing back, if I could.”
Emma looks back at him. “Please don’t insult me,” she whispers, her tears spilling over. “If there was even the slightest chance that it would happen again, I know you would take it… She’s your wife.”
This floors Will and he stands up, crossing the room to Emma’s side. “No… Emma I -”
“Stop. Just… don’t.” Emma walks away from Will to her desk, turns on her computer and starts unpacking her things, organizing them on her desk and then reorganizing them, keeping her hands and mind busy.
Will cautiously follows her. “Emma, you have to understand -”
“Oh I understand, Will,” she says nodding her head and lining up the pencils that are on desk. “Terri was able to do something that you couldn’t - make a choice - and when she didn’t choose you, something inside you clicked in to place and you finally made your choice. Well congratulations.”
“That’s not how it was at all,” he argues.
Emma nods and looks up at Will. “Oh, so when you realized she chose me - because she did choose me, Will - you decided to get back at me for stealing your wife?” She gives him a pointed look before pulling out her wet wipes and cleaning the leaves on her plants.
“That’s unfair.”
Emma stops mid scrub and looks up at Will. “Unfair?” She drops her hands and straightens her back. “You have a hand in completely destroying my happiness, and what I say to you about that is unfair?”
“And what about my happiness?” Will challenges.
Emma reels back and stares at Will, her eyes wide and filled with tears. She opens and closes her mouth several times struggling to find something, anything to say to that verbal slap across the face. She comes up empty. Somewhere in the midst of all this she became focused solely on her on herself and didn’t think twice about anyone else around her.
“Will… I -”
She’s cut off by the shrill sound of the first bell and she snaps her mouth shut.
Will sighs and closes his eyes. “Look, just forget it,” he whispers. He takes in a shuddery breath and then opens his eyes. “I came here to apologise, so I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.”
He doesn’t give her the chance to speak. As soon as he’s done he walks out of Emma’s office and straight to class.
Emma is still standing by her desk and doesn’t move until a voice from her computer rings out.
You have mail
She snaps out of it and turns towards the machine.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Thursday 25th February 2010
SUBJECT: A clean little secret
The tears that she had tried to hard to keep at bay spill over in waves and she stands up to pack her things up. This is more than she can handle today.
Friday
Emma has time to spare this morning so she logs in to her computer to sift through anything in her inbox that she would have received yesterday had she not gone home early. Like clock work, her computer dings.
You have mail.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Friday 26th February 2010
SUBJECT: Future perfect.
She takes one look at the subject line and promptly bursts in to tears. She doesn’t go to work that day.
Saturday
Emma comes back through the door with less weight on her shoulders than what she walked out with and what she has felt in two weeks. Between yesterday and today she felt so suffocated that she just needed to escape and get some fresh air. That was all she wanted. She certainly did not want to run in to Terri. Kendra’s words rang fresh in her mind at the time, but she took one look at Terri’s haggard appearance and something inside her told her that Kendra’s words held no truth. Throughout the course of the afternoon, all doubt had been erased.
Terri talked, mostly. Emma gave noncommittal responses. Looking at the shell that was Terri made the last of her resolve break. They discussed the emails - Emma asked her to stop sending them, not because she didn’t want them, but mainly because she didn’t want Terri to hold out hope that they would bring her back. She should be doing more constructive things with her time.
The anger that Emma thought she didn’t have in her finally came out and once it did, they were able to communicate a little more.
As the afternoon wore on the air grew less tense but began to get awkward. Tension reared its head again when Emma gave back Terri’s key. It was final. It was official. Emma insisted that it wasn’t the end, but if they wanted to get anywhere then they needed to start from the beginning - as friends.
It may have been two steps forward, one step back, but progress was definitely made that afternoon.
She moves around her apartment, putting her things in their places. She passes the computer and she stops. It’s willing her; it’s calling her and Emma’s curiosity is piqued, especially after today’s talk.
Her legs start moving towards the machine and she moves the mouse, taking the computer out of sleep mode. There’s a fresh email on her screen.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Saturday 28th February 2010
SUBJECT: Let me count the ways.
She’s tempted to start on this one and work her way backwards, but she’s not one to do things out of order. So she clears the screen, goes into her inbox and opens them up, one by one.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Monday 22nd February 2010
SUBJECT: You’re pretty
Hi,
I don't know if you read yesterday's e-mail. Doesn't matter, I'm gonna keep sending them. I'm not going to try to contact you any other way. You said you needed space and that's fine. I'll leave it up to you to contact me when you want to. If you want to. I'll be waiting.
(No more doped up phone calls, I promise. Although, I do wish I could remember more about that night. I only have this sense of you being there and feeling like everything was OK again.)
You already know this, but I think it bears repeating. I love it when you blush. And I really love that you blush when I tell you you're pretty. Sometimes I tell you you're pretty just to make you blush. Mostly I tell you you're pretty just because you are. Beautiful in fact. I know I used to insinuate that you weren't and I really hope you never believed that.
I love you
T
X
Emma smiles a little. She feels her face colour slightly and she knows that if Terri was here, she’d find this hilarious and would taunt her to no end. She probably did this one on purpose. She closes the email and click on the next one.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Tuesday 23rd February 2010
SUBJECT: I want to make you smile
Hey,
Me again. I was looking through the photos on my phone, because I don't have any other ones of you or of us, and I had forgotten how much I love to see you laugh. Really laugh.
I have a picture I took of you the morning we were making waffles. I can't even remember what you were laughing at, but you look really happy.
God knows you don't get to laugh a lot around me. I've definitely made you cry more than I've made you laugh.
I'd really like the chance to redress that balance.
I love you.
T
X
Emma wonders if Terri ever will get that chance.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Wednesday 24th February 2010
SUBJECT: You make me want to be better
Still me. Still writing. Still love you.
One of the things I love most about you (and I would probably never have been able to say this to your face) is that you don't let me push you around. You stand up to me and you don't take my bullshit. You don't let me use emotional blackmail on you, either. I've practically had to learn a whole new way to communicate :)
You know, it scared me the first time you said I'd changed. Because you were so convinced that I'd been such a horrible person before, someone you hated. And I didn't think I had changed so drastically. So I guess I was scared that this 'real me' would appear again and that you wouldn't like her.
I think it also hurt me a little. Because it meant that I'd needed to change for you to like me. But then I realized that what I'd changed was my behavior, and not myself. So I'm still me, but I behave better now.
I love that you've made me want to be a better person. I'm not there yet, but I'm trying.
I love you.
T
X
Emma agrees that today was a definite indication of Terri trying to be better. She only wishes she could be there with her, instead of now watching from the sidelines. She feels tears spring to her eyes at the thought, but she blinks them back, closes the email and opens Thursday’s one.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Thursday 25th February 2010
SUBJECT: A clean little secret
Hey,
I should tell you before I forget - Dog's gone. He's gonna live at Will's. I bought him for Will and I know you were never comfortable with him here, so he's gone. (I was kinda sad to see him go though...he still makes me think of you, with his big brown eyes.)
Anyway, sort of related to that, today's little revelation is that I love that you didn't care quite so much about the cleanliness thing when you were around me. That made me feel so privileged. Like I made you feel OK about yourself and about the rest of the world.
You said to me a couple of times that I made you feel safe. And that you didn't feel that way when you were with Will. That was the moment I knew that I'd have to choose, because I never wanted you to feel unsafe.
And, in my heart of hearts, I think I always knew that when it came down to it, I would choose you. Because the thought of being without you was just too awful to bear. And hey, guess what? The reality of it is worse.
I know that choosing to go to Will's that day was maybe the worst thing I've ever done (and I've done some awful things, as you know.)
My choices aren't always so bad. I know I made the right choice when I chose you, Emma.
I love you.
T
X
Emma, as much as she tries to fight it, can’t help but wonder exactly how Will got Dog. And she’s glad that Terri isn’t here because she’s not so sure she’d be able to stop the accusations flying out. She goes to the next email.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Friday 26th February 2010
SUBJECT: Future perfect
I was thinking about when I fell in love with you. And I really can't identify when it happened. Because when I think back over everything we've been through, my feelings for you now seem to bleed through onto whatever I felt then.
But anyway, that's not the point. The point is, whenever I fell for you, I started to think about the future. Probably far too early, I know. But I imagined the things we'd do together. And I haven't got to do them with you yet.
Like, we haven't been dancing. I want to take you dancing. Somewhere dark and intimate where we can sway together and ignore everyone else.
We haven't gone on vacation together. Somewhere with history. Hell...I'd take the Howard Johnson at the airport if it meant that I'd be alone with you without anything to worry about for a couple of days. At some point in my life, though, I want to walk down a beach holding your hand while the surf washes over our feet.
And I know this is kind of a contentious issue, but I'd kind of imagined us with a family of little blondes and redheads. But if that's not what you want, I'd be OK with that.
Whatever the future holds for me, Emma, I want it to be with you.
I love you.
T
X
Her heart clenches at the sincerity in this email and she realizes that she wants all of that too. Then sadness washes over because it may not happen for a very long time, or at all. A few tears slide down her cheeks and she makes no move to wipe them away as she opens the final email.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Saturday 27th February 2010
SUBJECT: Let me count the ways
I love that you wash the dishes after they come out of the dishwasher.
I love the way you dress like you just stepped out of the Stepford Wives when you go to work, but that you come home and put on jeans and a sweatshirt.
I love the little noises you make when you're asleep.
I love it when you wear my robe.
I love that you cry at stupid girly movies.
I love that I was your first, even if it wasn't exactly hearts and romance...it was good.
I love those color-coded post-it thingies you use on your paperwork. (Especially when you use them to leave me little notes in unexpected places.)
I love that you sing 80s rock ballads in the shower.
I love the way your breath hitches in your throat when I touch you.
I love that the leaves on my plants have never been shinier.
I love that (as far as I know) you haven't eaten peanut butter since we got together, even though it's your favorite.
I love you.
T
X
She can hardly read this one through the tears in her eyes. When she finally does, she picks herself up and drags herself away from the computer and into her bedroom. She climbs on to her bed, holds her pillow tight and cries herself to sleep.
AUTHOR: voodoochild_101 (with help from the_girl_20 and an_an0maly )
FANDOM: Glee / #Glitter
PAIRING: Terri/Emma, mentions of Terri/Will
SUMMARY: Two weeks after Valentine's Day from Emma's POV.
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: ~5,926
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. They're Ryan Murphy's.
SPOILERS: None
AUTHORS' NOTES 1: Based on the Twitter based Role Play known as Glitter (the_glitter). Check out the twitter accounts of Terri and Emma.
AUTHORS' NOTES 2: This fic features guest appearances from Will, Terri, Kendra (position vacant) and ( Quinn
AUTHORS' NOTES 3: This fic follows Valentine's Day - Terri, Valentine's Day - Emma, Let's hear your speech and Too Long In The Wind, Too Long In The Rain, Back To Square One. This will not make any kind of sense until you read all of these ones first.
The days are long and the nights are yours alone…
Saturday
It’s late. Emma hasn’t moved off the couch all day except to shower. The TV is on the news channel, but she’s not really paying attention. She hasn’t even cleaned her apartment, and she doesn’t have it in her to care. She hasn’t cleaned the place in nearly a week. In the six days that have passed, Emma’s barely even managed to get herself up and out of bed to go to work.
She jumps and sighs wearily when her phone starts ringing. She picks it up from the end table, not bothering to look at who it is, and rejects the call, putting it back down on the table. A minute later and her phone beeps, signaling a text message.
She lasts five minutes before her curiosity gets the better of her and picks it up to read the screen. ‘One missed call; One new message’. She clicks her messages. Whoever it’s from is bound to be the same person that tried to call her. It’s a text notification that she has a voicemail.
She dials the number. Her heart stops as she hears the voice on the other end of the line. It’s Terri.
‘Hey. It’s me… I guess you prob’ly know that. I di’nt think you’d pick up but I jus’ wanted to hear your voice. M’sister was here. She’s kinda mad at you. Dunno why… I tol’ her it was all my fault. She gave me pills to help me sleep but they jus’ made me sadder and made me miss you more. I love you. I know I don’t act like it a lotta the time, but I do. M’gonna go now. M’tired. Been sleepin’ on the couch cuz the bed’s too big. I know you need space and need t’think… but I hope you’re gonna be done thinking soon. Okay. M’eyes are closing… gonna go. Love you.’
At the mention of the word ‘pills’ Emma is rushing around the apartment to pull her shoes on and grab her car keys. She’s already in the car by the time the voicemail finishes. She puts the key in the ignition without a second thought, turns it and drives off.
A trip that usually takes fifteen minutes has taken her eight and she wonders how she made it there in one piece and without getting pulled over by the police. Still, she thanks her lucky stars.
Pulling herself together and taking a deep breath to calm her rapidly beating heart, she slowly undoes her seatbelt (and ignores her violently shaking hands), and gets out of the car.
She stares up at the building in front of her. This was all well and good in theory… but now she’s here and she has no clue what it is she’s going to do… let alone what it is she’s going to find. Still, she can’t get the image out of her head of something terrible happening to Terri. No good comes out of anything when Kendra is around.
She takes another deep breath and starts walking.
She’s already got the key out of her purse (she’s not strong enough to give it back yet, and now she’s glad she didn’t) by the time she reaches Terri’s door. She slips it in with ease and turns it, opening the door and letting herself into the apartment. She closes the door behind her softly and creeps down the darkened hallway.
Emma finds her on the couch; just as she said she would be. As quietly and quickly as she can, she makes her way to Terri in the darkness and kneels down beside the couch. She reaches over and turns on the lamp on the end table so she can see Terri. She calls her name a few times to no avail and this only increases Emma’s panic. Her hand shoots out to the other woman’s neck, feeling for a pulse and she lets out a breath of relief when she feels one. Unable to help herself, she brings her hand to Terri’s cheek and lets her thumb stroke the skin, her eyes welling with tears.
“Emma…” Terri murmurs in her sleep and Emma snatches her hand away like she’s been burned
“Go back to sleep, Terri,” she says gently.
“O…Okay.”
She waits until Terri settles before getting up and searching the apartment for any sign of what it is she’s taken. She heads for the kitchen, turns on the light and checks the counter. A pill bottle stands alone in the middle, in plain sight. She picks it up and inspects it. Ambien - prescribed to Kendra. At least Kendra gave her the right kind of pills. Emma shakes her head, and doesn’t bother to count them; there’s bound to be some missing. Instead she walks into the bathroom, opens the cap, dumps the remaining pills into the toilet and flushes. She tucks the empty bottle into her pocket and walks out, back into the kitchen. She searches for a post-it note, then searches for a pen and scribbles down a quick note to Terri. When Emma is finished she wastes no time in getting out of the apartment and back to her own home.
Sunday
It’s a little after eleven a.m by the time Emma gets up and out of bed. She’s never up this late - weekend or not - but she slept rather fitfully after last night, try as she might to forget it. She’s pretty sure her digital clock read five a.m the last time she looked at it.
She rubs her hands over her face and goes through her morning routine. The first thing she does once she gets up out of bed is head straight in to the shower. She stays in there for as long as the hot water tank will allow and by the time she gets out, she’s shivering. She pulls on a pair of jeans and a hooded sweater, tying her hair up into a neat bun.
Trudging into the kitchen, Emma turns the kettle on and then heads into the living room to switch the TV on. The volume is low, but she just wants it for the background noise, anyway. Next she moves to the computer, switching it on so she can sort through her emails that she has, no doubt, received over the weekend - mostly junk, but still, it needs to be sorted.
It dings straight away.
You have mail.
She sits down and scrolls through them quickly; her eyes freezing on one in particular.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Sunday 21st February 2010
SUBJECT: Thank you
Emma moves the mouse over the email to delete it. She’s not dealing with this right now. She doesn’t want to deal with this. She clicks on the email to drag it into the trash, but the computer doesn’t register the motion and opens the email instead.
“No!” Emma yells at the screen. “No, no, no! I don’t want you to do that!”
She huffs at the computer and gets up to make her tea, and when she comes back, the email is still sitting on the screen; taunting her.
Emma pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and taps the mug a few times tossing up her options. She groans and marches over to the computer, sitting down and scrolling through the email.
OK, so I don’t know if you’ll read this, but you obviously got my message last night so I have to admit I’m kinda hopeful that you will.
Thank you for coming over to check on me. I should probably know better than to take anything Kendra offers, but she caught me off-guard because I really did need to sleep. You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to be taking them again.
Anyway, remember in the Sex and the City movie when Mr Big was a complete jerk to Carrie and jilted her at the altar? And then he sent her e-mails where he typed out all these love letters that other guys had written all through history because he didn’t feel like he could write as well as they could.
This is kinda like that. Only I’m not gonna copy other people’s love letters. That’s like cheating and I don’t want to be that person anymore.
So instead of typing out other people’s letters, I’m just going to send you an e-mail everyday telling you something I love about you. I’m not a writer so they won’t be pretty. But they’ll be real.
I had trouble coming up with something for this first one. Not because I don’t love a lot of things about you, but because when I sat down to think about it, the first word that came to mind was ‘everything’. But I narrowed it down a bit.
After last night, I guess it only makes sense for me to tell you how much I love the fact that you genuinely care about people. You care about everyone, sometimes to the detriment of your own happiness. You care about those kids, even though they sometimes don’t appreciate it. You cared about me, even when I was being horrible to you. You used to ask me questions and give me advice and try to help me win back a man you were in love with.
Sometimes I think the only person you don’t care enough about is yourself. If you’ll let me, I’d like to care about you enough for the two of us.
So that’s the first thing. I’ll write again tomorrow.
I love you.
T
x
By the time Emma has finished reading, she’s white-knuckling her mug of tea and she’s scowling. She reaches out and jabs the power button, turning off the computer, before standing up and heading into her cleaning cupboard.
She pulls out every chemical she owns and surveys the room. This is going to be a long day.
Monday
She jolts awake when the alarm goes off and scowls at the offending object, bringing a hand down to switch it off. It’s been exactly one week since this whole thing came to light. Emma sits up in bed and leans against the headboard to calm her beating heart, deciding - not for the first time - if she should call in sick to work, just to avoid seeing Will. Just like all those days last week, she decides against it.
Sighing wearily, she runs through her morning routine quickly and is out the door in record time.
She pulls into her parking space at the same time Will pulls into his space. She sucks in a deep breath and doesn’t spare him a second glance as she gets her things together and steps out of the car. She starts walking towards the building in front of her and pretends like she can’t even hear him when he calls out to her.
It’s the same thing every weekday morning. Emma and Will pull up at the same time (sometimes Emma thinks he follows her from her apartment. The only thing that disproves that theory is that some mornings he’s already in the parking lot, waiting.), he calls out to her, Emma quickens her pace; practically running by the time she gets to her office, and that’s where she stays until last bell.
She slams her door shut and leans against it, breathing heavily. Like always, without fail, Will follows her right up to the door. She hears a sigh come from the other side, then footsteps and then silence. She pushes herself off and trudges to her desk, tears blurring her vision, and sets up for the day.
She knows that her behavior is ridiculous, but she also knows that the only thing she will manage in front of Will is tears over his betrayal. She'll cry, then he'll cry and then there will be a big watery mess.
She shakes her head, hoping to clear her thoughts. The one where perhaps if she were braver in all of this, she'd yell, kick, scream and make both Terri and Will very sorry for what they did. Even in that scenario, she doesn't feel any better. She feels guilty.
Sighing, she unpacks her things, blinking against tears and turns on her computer, just as the first bell rings.
The computer finishes loading and wastes no time in ringing out.
You have mail
Emma freezes in the middle of sorting her papers out. She blinks and lays them down on the desk slowly before turning to the computer.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Monday 22nd February 2010
SUBJECT: You’re pretty
She clicks discard.
Maybe she should have called in sick today.
Tuesday
Emma stares at her computer inbox.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Tuesday 23rd February 2010
SUBJECT: I want to make you smile
She feels compelled to open this one and she caves. Her hand hovers over the mouse, but before she can click on the email, a knock sounds at the door and she nearly falls out of her seat.
She checks the time; it’s ten p.m. She wonders who on earth could be visiting at this hour, and her mind briefly flashes to Terri. Emma stays in her spot.
The knocking starts again, louder, insistent, and continuously.
She panics now because no one ‘just visiting’ ever knocks like that. She gets up and walks to the door to open it. She yelps when she sees Kendra standing there.
“Kendra, what are y -”
“You listen to me you doe-eyed little lesbian. You stay away from my sister! She doesn’t love you. She’s still hung up on Will - as if you didn’t know, I mean she did cheat on you with him. Now I don’t know what is going on in that head of hers - she’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed - and I don’t even want to know what’s going on in your ginger little mind, but I do know that you are relatively smart. So what does it say to you that a woman who is so in love with you goes and cheats on you with the man that you were both fighting over?”
Kendra pauses to take a breath and places her hands on her hips, noting the tears that have sprung to Emma’s eyes.
“Oh good, I’m glad I got your attention. Now, I may not like Will, but I don’t like you a hell of a lot more. There is a way to fix this though. You take your little cauldron and your spell book back to wherever it is you came from and stop putting weird little voodoo spells on my baby sister, and I won’t go near the brakes on your car. You think on that for a little bit.” She turns on her heel and saunters down the hallway. She gets three steps away before she turns back and throws over her shoulder, “If I were you, honey, I wouldn’t take too long.”
Wednesday
Emma finds Quinn already at her front door by the time she comes home from work. These visits are never planned, so she never knows when to expect the young girl, but she never turns her away. Especially not now. God knows she could use her company. There are no greetings; just smiles as Emma unlocks the door and lets Quinn through first.
They fall in to their routine. Quinn takes her shoes off and puts her bag down in the hall, by the door. She pulls out her books and heads to the dining room to start on her homework. Emma takes out her paperwork and sets her bag down in its spot on the table by the door and heads into her room to put her shoes away. She then sets her papers on the table and walks into the kitchen to pour Quinn a drink, depending on what she wants or craves. Today’s craving is orange juice. She heads back into her bedroom, into her bathroom for a quick shower and changes in to some casual clothes. When she comes out, half an hour later, Quinn is still at the table doing her homework. The redhead takes a seat opposite Quinn and the two work in comfortable silence.
An hour passes before Quinn announces she needs a break and Emma agrees readily. The new addition to this routine is that Emma reads the same line over and over again and thinks that Quinn doesn’t notice. Quinn calls for a break not for her own sake, but for Emma’s; she finished her homework twenty minutes prior.
Emma stands up and turns on the computer then heads into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea and refill Quinn’s glass, while Quinn heads for the TV, flipping it straight to the music channel. She gets it in the middle of an ad break and mutes it just in time to hear the computer ding and a voice ring out.
You have mail.
Unaware if Emma has heard it, Quinn echoes it, just as she comes back into the living room with their drinks. “You have mail, Ms P.”
“So I heard,” Emma replies with a small smile. She walks over to the computer and bends down to read the screen.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Wednesday 24th February 2010
SUBJECT: You make me want to be better.
She stands up straight again and reaches for the power button. “Well… I’ll just fix that,” she mumbles.
When she turns around, Quinn is staring at her expectantly. There’s an awkward silence as the young girl tries to piece it together.
“…Is it Mrs. Schuester?” She asks hesitantly.
Emma blanches, but recovers quickly. “How’s that homework coming along there, Quinn?” She asks, gently, nodding in the direction of the dining room table.
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Quinn leans forward to get the remote and switches the TV off, turning her body towards Emma. “I finished it a while ago, actually,” she quietly replies. “I saw that you were having trouble concentrating on your paperwork. It’s why I suggested the break.”
“Well… that’s nice of you, but I… I’m fine. I wasn’t having any trouble with an -”
“I’m pregnant, not blind.” When Emma does nothing but turns red and looks to the ground, Quinn changes the subject. “What do you want for dinner?”
“Oh, I’m not hu -”
“Again, not blind,” she says, cutting the redhead off. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat in, like, two weeks.”
Emma narrows her eyebrows in question. “Why are you watching my eating habits?”
“To get to the cafeteria, I have to pass your office. Usually you scramble to get to the lunchroom to sit with Mr. Schue,” she explains, and she doesn’t miss the way Emma’s body tenses at Will’s name. “But for the last couple of weeks you just… sit… in your office. I knew something was up.”
Emma feels like the rug has been pulled from underneath her and she feels compelled to sit down. She falls heavily on to the other end of the couch and just stares at Quinn, who sighs.
“Even if you don’t eat anything for the rest of the week, I’m going to make sure I see you eat tonight… For my piece of mind… Cause I like you. And I kinda like us hanging out and it would suck if you got sick, y’know?” Emma gives a small smile in response and Quinn smiles brightly back at her. “I feel like pizza…. Actually I feel like puking. It’s the baby who feels like pizza.”
Quinn’s words are lost on Emma who’s staring at the computer.
“It’s going to drive you insane wondering what it is she wrote to you if you don’t just read it.” Finishing with her point, she reaches for the remote again and turns the TV back on.
Emma doesn’t tell her that it already is driving her insane.
Thursday
When Emma gets into her office, Will is already there, waiting for her, leaning on the edge of the desk. She stops in her tracks and turns to walk back out the door but Will is already up and closes it before Emma can walk out.
“Emma, please,” he begs. “Emma… Em, I… God you have to know how sorry I am.” His eyes shine with unshed tears and he walks over to one of the chairs to sit down, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair.
Emma stays by the door, rigid, watching him, willing herself not to break down as he does. Once again she wishes she had listened to herself and called in sick to work. She chances a look at him and he stares right back at her with sad eyes. She feels tears spring to her eyes and turns away.
“Emma I know you don’t want to talk to me… ever again… but I need you to know how sorry I am,” he repeats, desperately.
“How sorry are you, exactly?” Emma asks quietly.
“I would take the whole thing back, if I could.”
Emma looks back at him. “Please don’t insult me,” she whispers, her tears spilling over. “If there was even the slightest chance that it would happen again, I know you would take it… She’s your wife.”
This floors Will and he stands up, crossing the room to Emma’s side. “No… Emma I -”
“Stop. Just… don’t.” Emma walks away from Will to her desk, turns on her computer and starts unpacking her things, organizing them on her desk and then reorganizing them, keeping her hands and mind busy.
Will cautiously follows her. “Emma, you have to understand -”
“Oh I understand, Will,” she says nodding her head and lining up the pencils that are on desk. “Terri was able to do something that you couldn’t - make a choice - and when she didn’t choose you, something inside you clicked in to place and you finally made your choice. Well congratulations.”
“That’s not how it was at all,” he argues.
Emma nods and looks up at Will. “Oh, so when you realized she chose me - because she did choose me, Will - you decided to get back at me for stealing your wife?” She gives him a pointed look before pulling out her wet wipes and cleaning the leaves on her plants.
“That’s unfair.”
Emma stops mid scrub and looks up at Will. “Unfair?” She drops her hands and straightens her back. “You have a hand in completely destroying my happiness, and what I say to you about that is unfair?”
“And what about my happiness?” Will challenges.
Emma reels back and stares at Will, her eyes wide and filled with tears. She opens and closes her mouth several times struggling to find something, anything to say to that verbal slap across the face. She comes up empty. Somewhere in the midst of all this she became focused solely on her on herself and didn’t think twice about anyone else around her.
“Will… I -”
She’s cut off by the shrill sound of the first bell and she snaps her mouth shut.
Will sighs and closes his eyes. “Look, just forget it,” he whispers. He takes in a shuddery breath and then opens his eyes. “I came here to apologise, so I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.”
He doesn’t give her the chance to speak. As soon as he’s done he walks out of Emma’s office and straight to class.
Emma is still standing by her desk and doesn’t move until a voice from her computer rings out.
You have mail
She snaps out of it and turns towards the machine.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Thursday 25th February 2010
SUBJECT: A clean little secret
The tears that she had tried to hard to keep at bay spill over in waves and she stands up to pack her things up. This is more than she can handle today.
Friday
Emma has time to spare this morning so she logs in to her computer to sift through anything in her inbox that she would have received yesterday had she not gone home early. Like clock work, her computer dings.
You have mail.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Friday 26th February 2010
SUBJECT: Future perfect.
She takes one look at the subject line and promptly bursts in to tears. She doesn’t go to work that day.
Saturday
Emma comes back through the door with less weight on her shoulders than what she walked out with and what she has felt in two weeks. Between yesterday and today she felt so suffocated that she just needed to escape and get some fresh air. That was all she wanted. She certainly did not want to run in to Terri. Kendra’s words rang fresh in her mind at the time, but she took one look at Terri’s haggard appearance and something inside her told her that Kendra’s words held no truth. Throughout the course of the afternoon, all doubt had been erased.
Terri talked, mostly. Emma gave noncommittal responses. Looking at the shell that was Terri made the last of her resolve break. They discussed the emails - Emma asked her to stop sending them, not because she didn’t want them, but mainly because she didn’t want Terri to hold out hope that they would bring her back. She should be doing more constructive things with her time.
The anger that Emma thought she didn’t have in her finally came out and once it did, they were able to communicate a little more.
As the afternoon wore on the air grew less tense but began to get awkward. Tension reared its head again when Emma gave back Terri’s key. It was final. It was official. Emma insisted that it wasn’t the end, but if they wanted to get anywhere then they needed to start from the beginning - as friends.
It may have been two steps forward, one step back, but progress was definitely made that afternoon.
She moves around her apartment, putting her things in their places. She passes the computer and she stops. It’s willing her; it’s calling her and Emma’s curiosity is piqued, especially after today’s talk.
Her legs start moving towards the machine and she moves the mouse, taking the computer out of sleep mode. There’s a fresh email on her screen.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Saturday 28th February 2010
SUBJECT: Let me count the ways.
She’s tempted to start on this one and work her way backwards, but she’s not one to do things out of order. So she clears the screen, goes into her inbox and opens them up, one by one.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Monday 22nd February 2010
SUBJECT: You’re pretty
Hi,
I don't know if you read yesterday's e-mail. Doesn't matter, I'm gonna keep sending them. I'm not going to try to contact you any other way. You said you needed space and that's fine. I'll leave it up to you to contact me when you want to. If you want to. I'll be waiting.
(No more doped up phone calls, I promise. Although, I do wish I could remember more about that night. I only have this sense of you being there and feeling like everything was OK again.)
You already know this, but I think it bears repeating. I love it when you blush. And I really love that you blush when I tell you you're pretty. Sometimes I tell you you're pretty just to make you blush. Mostly I tell you you're pretty just because you are. Beautiful in fact. I know I used to insinuate that you weren't and I really hope you never believed that.
I love you
T
X
Emma smiles a little. She feels her face colour slightly and she knows that if Terri was here, she’d find this hilarious and would taunt her to no end. She probably did this one on purpose. She closes the email and click on the next one.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Tuesday 23rd February 2010
SUBJECT: I want to make you smile
Hey,
Me again. I was looking through the photos on my phone, because I don't have any other ones of you or of us, and I had forgotten how much I love to see you laugh. Really laugh.
I have a picture I took of you the morning we were making waffles. I can't even remember what you were laughing at, but you look really happy.
God knows you don't get to laugh a lot around me. I've definitely made you cry more than I've made you laugh.
I'd really like the chance to redress that balance.
I love you.
T
X
Emma wonders if Terri ever will get that chance.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Wednesday 24th February 2010
SUBJECT: You make me want to be better
Still me. Still writing. Still love you.
One of the things I love most about you (and I would probably never have been able to say this to your face) is that you don't let me push you around. You stand up to me and you don't take my bullshit. You don't let me use emotional blackmail on you, either. I've practically had to learn a whole new way to communicate :)
You know, it scared me the first time you said I'd changed. Because you were so convinced that I'd been such a horrible person before, someone you hated. And I didn't think I had changed so drastically. So I guess I was scared that this 'real me' would appear again and that you wouldn't like her.
I think it also hurt me a little. Because it meant that I'd needed to change for you to like me. But then I realized that what I'd changed was my behavior, and not myself. So I'm still me, but I behave better now.
I love that you've made me want to be a better person. I'm not there yet, but I'm trying.
I love you.
T
X
Emma agrees that today was a definite indication of Terri trying to be better. She only wishes she could be there with her, instead of now watching from the sidelines. She feels tears spring to her eyes at the thought, but she blinks them back, closes the email and opens Thursday’s one.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Thursday 25th February 2010
SUBJECT: A clean little secret
Hey,
I should tell you before I forget - Dog's gone. He's gonna live at Will's. I bought him for Will and I know you were never comfortable with him here, so he's gone. (I was kinda sad to see him go though...he still makes me think of you, with his big brown eyes.)
Anyway, sort of related to that, today's little revelation is that I love that you didn't care quite so much about the cleanliness thing when you were around me. That made me feel so privileged. Like I made you feel OK about yourself and about the rest of the world.
You said to me a couple of times that I made you feel safe. And that you didn't feel that way when you were with Will. That was the moment I knew that I'd have to choose, because I never wanted you to feel unsafe.
And, in my heart of hearts, I think I always knew that when it came down to it, I would choose you. Because the thought of being without you was just too awful to bear. And hey, guess what? The reality of it is worse.
I know that choosing to go to Will's that day was maybe the worst thing I've ever done (and I've done some awful things, as you know.)
My choices aren't always so bad. I know I made the right choice when I chose you, Emma.
I love you.
T
X
Emma, as much as she tries to fight it, can’t help but wonder exactly how Will got Dog. And she’s glad that Terri isn’t here because she’s not so sure she’d be able to stop the accusations flying out. She goes to the next email.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Friday 26th February 2010
SUBJECT: Future perfect
I was thinking about when I fell in love with you. And I really can't identify when it happened. Because when I think back over everything we've been through, my feelings for you now seem to bleed through onto whatever I felt then.
But anyway, that's not the point. The point is, whenever I fell for you, I started to think about the future. Probably far too early, I know. But I imagined the things we'd do together. And I haven't got to do them with you yet.
Like, we haven't been dancing. I want to take you dancing. Somewhere dark and intimate where we can sway together and ignore everyone else.
We haven't gone on vacation together. Somewhere with history. Hell...I'd take the Howard Johnson at the airport if it meant that I'd be alone with you without anything to worry about for a couple of days. At some point in my life, though, I want to walk down a beach holding your hand while the surf washes over our feet.
And I know this is kind of a contentious issue, but I'd kind of imagined us with a family of little blondes and redheads. But if that's not what you want, I'd be OK with that.
Whatever the future holds for me, Emma, I want it to be with you.
I love you.
T
X
Her heart clenches at the sincerity in this email and she realizes that she wants all of that too. Then sadness washes over because it may not happen for a very long time, or at all. A few tears slide down her cheeks and she makes no move to wipe them away as she opens the final email.
TO: emma.pillsbury@aol.com
FROM: terri.schuester@hotmail.com
DATE: Saturday 27th February 2010
SUBJECT: Let me count the ways
I love that you wash the dishes after they come out of the dishwasher.
I love the way you dress like you just stepped out of the Stepford Wives when you go to work, but that you come home and put on jeans and a sweatshirt.
I love the little noises you make when you're asleep.
I love it when you wear my robe.
I love that you cry at stupid girly movies.
I love that I was your first, even if it wasn't exactly hearts and romance...it was good.
I love those color-coded post-it thingies you use on your paperwork. (Especially when you use them to leave me little notes in unexpected places.)
I love that you sing 80s rock ballads in the shower.
I love the way your breath hitches in your throat when I touch you.
I love that the leaves on my plants have never been shinier.
I love that (as far as I know) you haven't eaten peanut butter since we got together, even though it's your favorite.
I love you.
T
X
She can hardly read this one through the tears in her eyes. When she finally does, she picks herself up and drags herself away from the computer and into her bedroom. She climbs on to her bed, holds her pillow tight and cries herself to sleep.