FIC: Just A Little Insight (Pro, 1/?) Sam/Brooke
Just A Little Insight (Prologue, Chapter 1/?)
By Misty Flores
Teaser: It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her. There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had.
Series: Popular, Sam/Brooke, Sam/Other, Brooke/Other
Spoilers: Post SII
Notes: Hi there! New here. I recently discovered the magic of Popular, and even though I'm about six years too late on this train, I still can't help the urge to write fic. This is an in progress, but I should update pretty regularly.
Prologue
In certain moments of extreme generosity, clarity, or sappy sentiment, Brooke McQueen would admit to herself that having Sam forced into her life had actually changed her for the better.
When she was at her worst, having a bad day, or completely livid because somehow Sam had managed to wipe half of her MP3's off of her IPOD, she would declare to the world that Sam McPherson had ruined her life.
There were two sets of extremes, both equally volatile and utterly sincere, and at first, Brooke had some trouble reconciling them.
Lying in a hospital bed, in the groggy sort of dispirits that came from spending two months in a coma because she had been run down by her best friend trying to murder her, Brooke had time to contemplate them both.
She remembered a tenuous truce struck, a hesitant sense of euphoria that came with that freedom, secret smiles and laughter in the midst of that whole mess with Harrison. She remembered admitting to herself that she loved Sam, and somehow shifting loyalties from blonde to brunette. She remembered a fight with Nicole for the sake of Sam, and it was never a question of choosing, just a question of when Nicole had pushed her enough. She remembered the line in the sand, drawn because Nicole had chosen to hurt Sam just when Brooke understood that she loved her.
It was because of Sam that she walked away from Harrison that night. Because of Sam that she realized she didn't CARE that Harrison had chosen her, that all she really cared about was the fact that Sam had tears in her eyes, and none of it was what Brooke wanted.
It was because of Sam that Nicole's headlights came burning down on her, and two months of her life were eaten away.
--
"I brought you something," Sam said, a forced cheerfulness in her voice that sounded fake and contrived. She cringed inside, just hearing it, and she hated that she couldn't help herself. The sight of Brooke, brown roots over taking the long blond strands that lay listlessly around the angular face, face sallow and tired and so... spiritless, brought out the inner cheerleader Sam had been horrified to discover that she had.
Brooke didn't even lift an eyebrow, turning her head from the blaring TV to watch her come into the room. "Hi," she said. "Is school over already?"
Sam paused, taking a moment to glance at blinds purposely closed, shutting out the sun intentionally. "It's a little dark in here," she said pointedly.
Brooke glanced at the blinds, then back at Sam. "The light was hurting my eyes." Her tone was even, almost annoyed.
Sam kept her place in the doorway, and made herself take a deep breath in. "Okay, but I think a little light would be good in here."
"It's a hospital room, Sam, not a spa."
"True," she acquiesced, "but I know he might appreciate it," Sam responded, and produced a little betta in a huge champagne glass. "His name is Little Bleu," she continued, coming forward with the little fish, swimming around in the swishing water with rapidly flickering velvety blue green fins. "Not B-L-U-E, but B-L-E-U. What do you think?"
"You got me a fish?" Brooke asked, in a tone that made it impossible to determine whether or not it was welcome.
Sam made a dramatic roll of her eyes. "No, blockhead, not just any fish. This is Little Bleu! He's a fighter. He's scrappy. And beautiful. Just like you." She offered a nervous smile before continuing, "And you don't have to worry about feeding him or changing the water, because I will be here every day to do that. He's pretty!" She finished her sales pitch with a little hop and a wave of her hands, positioning the little betta on the stand right next to her bed.
It was a struggle, to deal with this new Brooke, just when she had finally made her peace with the old one, but Sam had never been one to back away from a challenge. She had challenged Brooke before, back when she had decided she hated her, and had pretty much done every damned thing she could do to make that the case. While her currently resolution was decidedly the opposite, Sam's resolve was no less distinct. Post Coma Brooke was different, but it wasn't her fault. Sam was pretty sure if she had been mowed down by her best friend on prom night and left in a coma during the entire summer she'd be a bitch on wheels too.
"Sam... I..." Brooke seemed to finally give up on the television, at least, reaching up to flick it off with her remote. Her expression, however, looked more exasperated than anything else. "Thank you, but... "
"But what? It's cute! And he's smart. Okay? He swims around and when it's feeding time, he nearly has a cardiac arrest." When Brooke just stared, Sam blushed. "Trust me, it's cute."
"What are you doing, Sam? You don't have to spend every day here."
"I know I don't." Brooke's face was impossible to read. "Look, I brought your college apps that came in the mail," Sam continued, feeling oddly desperate as she began to shrug off her pack. "And Mike signed you up for the same day as me for the SATs...."
"Sam-"
"I figured we could study together-"
"Sam, stop. You're trying too hard."
It was excruciating, and as the words came out of Brooke's mouth, Sam found herself slumping forward, rubbing long fingers into her eyes. "God, I know. It's pathetic."
"Extremely," Brooke said, but not unkindly.
"I don't know why," she said, fingers curling into her lap. Sinking onto the bed, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, a nervous tick. "I'm not saying it was ever easy," she began suddenly, eyes darting up to stare into the crystal clear orbs of Brooke. "But even when it was hard... it wasn't like this."
Brooke raised her knees to her chest, hugging them to her. "So why are you trying?"
The question was startling. "Why aren't you?"
Brooke's look was long, careful, and closed. With a small smile, she merely shrugged and looked away, reaching for the remote and turning away. "Thanks for the fish," she said, and with that, completely dismissed Sam.
The ache that flared inside of her was something Sam would never forget.
--
Brooke would never know if Sam understood exactly what happened in her hospital room that day. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure she understood it herself. All she knew was that Sam was a source of conflict and extremes, and it wasn't something she wanted to handle, not when Sam was trying so hard to be a source of calm, and through no fault of her own, failing miserably.
Cutting off whatever Sam was doing at the knees was what was best, and there was some relief that came from it. Brooke recovered at her own pace, now that Sam wasn't stopping in every day acting like her own personal misguided cheerleader. She studied in those long hours and learned the prep books that Sam had left behind backwards and forwards. When Harrison and Carmen and Lily and Josh came by she was polite and friendly, and when Mary Cherry stopped by with her tremendous story about her drag queen father and gangbanger sister, she really laughed for the first time in a while. She had a curious sedateness, and it suited her.
It was when Sam was around that she really would feel, and for some reason, the reaction frightened her. Sam would stop by, but only with Mike and Jane, and when Brooke was finally allowed to go home, impossibly skinny and a complete brunette, she and Sam had unconsciously reached a different kind of truce. Sam was considerate, sweet and distant, and Brooke was the same.
She didn't know if she blamed Sam for the accident, Brooke didn't want to be that closed minded or selfish. She didn't even know why she had chosen to freeze out Sam when she also missed her. There were moments when they would slip, both of them, either erupt in a horrible fight that would make Jane and her dad even crankier now because of little Mac, or fall into a moment where the veil of formality would slip and there would be a genuine smile, a genuine laugh, a minute second of sincere emotion.
It would always happen when she wouldn't expect it, like the day she was sitting on the couch and Sam came in carrying little Mac against her shoulder, bouncing her nervously because Sam always was a little afraid of the baby. Brooke had only looked up for a second, but the image touched her in a way that had her suddenly staring, and when Sam caught her looking, her step sister did the one thing that disarmed her completely: she smiled. The rush of emotion that came to her surface was nearly painful, and it wasn't long before the comfortable intimacy became uncomfortable awkwardness, and Sam had exited stage right, leaving the stale quiet behind.
In Brooke's room, Little Bleu swam around in circles, hiding among the soft bristles of the little fake plant Brooke had gotten on a whim.
He was just a fish, but Brooke could admit that she loved him.
--
"Honey, are you sure you want to try and take that fish with you?"
"Dad, I checked with the dorm. It's no problem. We're allowed to keep a small aquarium."
"I know, honey, but you have enough here, why don't you leave it for now and when you get settled, you can pick up the fish."
"It's not just a fish, Dad, I'm not leaving Little Bleu."
"I'm not saying you have to, just for the week."
Sam hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She had only meant to stop in and say goodbye, before heading back to her room to figure out how the hell to stuff an entire wardrobe into three suitcases. Still, there was something in that angry lilt that Brooke had in her tone, an angry bit of emotion that made Sam take pause. When she walked in, she saw Brooke hugging the over-sized champagne glass against her chest, brown hair pulled away from her face to reveal a resolved expression.
When they both glanced at her, she felt a little guilty, stepping back as if to ask permission. "Sorry, I was just ... coming to say good-bye."
"It's fine," Mike said, hands on his hips, as if annoyed he was even being forced to argue over a fish. "Maybe you can try to talk some sense into Brooke, here-"
"Mike, the stubborn apple does not fall far from the stubborn tree. You're not going to win this argument. Little Bleu goes." The smile she got from Brooke was the first real one she had seen in days.
"Jane!" Mike tried, just as her mother swept in behind her. "About this fish-"
"Mike, what do you have against the fish? It's Brooke's fish. She can take her fish."
Sam grinned, and was suddenly rewarded with an armful of Mac. "Mom-" But her mother was already gone, followed by a suddenly grouchy Mike, who complained loudly about the women to men ratio in the house.
"What's his problem?" Sam asked Mac, struggling to hold onto the slippery toddler as she tried to weave out of her grasp. "I think Daddy has a serious case of betta envy."
It was only when Brooke chuckled that she realized her stepsister was still in the room.
"So..." Sam began, licking her lips and coming forward with her acrobat little sis. "Need any help?" Brooke's bedroom was sparse now. An open luggage case sat on the perfectly made bed, and the little glass bowl that held Little Bleu was now next to an open zip lock bag, obviously being made ready for transport.
"No, I think I'm all set. But thanks anyway." Brooke wore a smile that was hard to look away from, and formalities over with, Sam found herself struggling for words.
"Brooke," she said finally. "I know we haven't really been close this year-"
"Sam..." came the soft, whispy voice. "You don't have to-"
"Yes, I do." The tears that sprang told her that, and she juggled Mackenzie and couldn't wipe at them as they stung. "I don't know what happened, Brooke, but I just... I need you to know that... that, for what it's worth, I-"
"Sam, please." Her vision was blurry, and still, her eyes shut tight when soft fingers began to wipe at the salty tears that stained her skin. "Your mascara."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, a gentle ache. "I'm sorry that I made you hate me."
"Oh, God, Sam... I don't hate you. I love you." Brooke's voice was rough, different than before, and Sam laughed pathetically, eyes opening to discover a pitying expression, a palm against her face.
Between them, Mackenzie squirmed, and Sam shook her head. "Remember when you hated me? God, Brooke, one word and I would crack that mask you wore, and for a second, I would see the real you. I may have told myself I hated you, but... but at least that was real. And it made me feel real. And then... before the accident it was... even with the Harrison madness-"
"Sam, you don't understand-" Brooke was so close now, eyes bright and moist, and it was more than Sam could bear, because she was sure Brooke pitied her now, and she still didn't know how it happened, why it happened.
"You're right, I don't." Stumbling backwards, she moved away, from the look on Brooke's face, from the flaring pain in her chest, from all of it. "And I don't want to. I just wanted to say good-bye, and to tell you that... you forced me to take a look at myself, and made me realize, I wasn't who I wanted to be. You changed me, Brooke, and I'll never forget that. For that, I'm thanking you. Give Little Bleu a kiss for me."
With a crooked smile, she carried Mac out of Brooke's room, and told herself she had said everything she needed to, and just like Brooke, she could move on.
--
Brooke dyed her hair blonde the first semester at USC. She rushed one of the sororities, and made it through the hazing even after she got snapped at for disagreeing a little too vocally about some of the more ridiculous demands placed on them by the sisters.
She dated one of the linebackers, a blonde, surprisingly sensitive jock named Adam, and thanks to that, found herself in the crux of the social circle at one of the biggest football campuses in the nation.
Her classes were large and somehow still intimate, and Rodeo Drive was only twenty minutes away.
She emailed Sam, at her new Northwestern University address, and in it she tried hard to explain the twisted logic behind the falling apart of their sisterhood. She tried to explain what Sam meant to her, and how she struggled between extremes, and couldn't quite seem to let go of the bitterness that came with it, because what she was living now was everything Brooke had wanted to achieve when she was a starry eyed sixteen year old and it wasn't enough.
What she wanted, she wrote Sam, was to feel again. To sit beside Sam like they did in chemistry and speak without speaking, with gestures and looks. To have that thrill she couldn't quite explain when she realized people were starting to see them as 'Sam and Brooke' and not just individual entities. She wanted the thrill that came with loving Sam, because Sam was beautiful and secure in herself, and Brooke came alive around her.
And, she also wrote, she hated Sam a little for that. Because all this stuff that was all so interesting before Sam wasn't interesting at all, and Brooke had begun to realize that it was really all she had, and she was looking at the rest of her life being bored stiff, because it was what everyone expected and Brooke had gotten run over when she had tried to push against it.
She wrote to Sam that it was wrong that Sam made her feel this way, because there was something twisted that her step sister was putting her through all this emotion, and sometimes it was easier not to feel. That was why she kept her at arms length, because the uncontrollable emotion that came from loving Sam nearly killed her.
Literally.
She tried to explain that she didn't know what she wanted, or how to control it, and wouldn't know for a while and it was easier to shut her out completely, and she wanted to tell her that watching Sam break down with little Mac in her arms had stayed with her and buried deep down inside of her.
She told Sam she was beautiful, that she had always thought so, and what she had really wanted was to forget Harrison and just go to prom with Sam.
She wrote it all, and when it came time to send it, Brooke's own survival instinct kicked in, and she closed the window and didn't save the draft. Instead, she CC'D Sam on her email to her parents, and hated herself just a little bit.
Little Bleu would get excited to see her, and wag his little tail when he saw her enter the room. Brooke knew there was a logical reason for it, he associated her with food, but she still smiled at him, talked to him, and forever branded herself as 'the Fish Chick' in her sorority because of her insane love for her betta.
Jane called her a week before Thanksgiving break, asking her when she was driving the forty minutes it took to get home. She included some general updates, and when Brooke hesitantly asked what day Sam was getting there, got a quiet pause and a response that Sam wasn't going to be able to make it back until Christmas.
Jane asked Brooke to call Sam, try and convince her to come back for the holiday, because Jane said she was sure the only reason Sam was staying away was because she was afraid, and if Brooke and Mike and Jane could only convince her that they were all perfectly fine with her being gay then maybe Sam wouldn't be so afraid of bringing her girlfriend home.
Brooke had been so stunned she hadn't been able to make a sound, and Jane thought she had been hung up on. It had taken five minutes of phone tag and mortified apologies and explanations on both ends before Brooke could close her cell phone.
It wasn't until then that she realized she was shaking.
End Prologue
Part I. Step One. You Say We Need To Talk
"You know, next time Sam decides to get you an animal, I'm going to ask her to get you something that's a little more portable."
Brooke smiled, wrapping fingers around the plastic bag that held the little blue betta fish, trying hard as she could to keep it from bobbing too much with the motions of the car.
"I don't think I'm very capable of taking care of much else," she told Jane, who smiled in response, turning the wheel as they bumped up into their driveway.
"Well, the way you take care of both Mac and Little Bleu, I seriously disagree with you." Jane shrugged, pulling the keys from the ignition. "At least I've got a chance of get grandkids from one of you."
Hesitating, Brooke hugged the plastic bag against her body, and turned her head as she watched Jane open the back door and begin fussing with Mac's car chair.
Little comments like that had a habit of flushing an icy chill into the pit of her stomach, and Brooke always told herself it was on behalf of Sam. As okay as Jane seemed to be with Sam's little bombshell, there had seemed to be a couple moments, where Brooke could see Sam's mother struggling.
"Jane," she tried, fumbling for the car door and trying to keep her fingers tied around the little bag that held Little Bleu and sling her backpack onto her shoulder at the same time. "You know, just because she's... gay, it doesn't mean that..."
Jane straightened, hoisting the baby onto her hip. Dressed for the cold, the toddler looked like an overstuffed teddy bear. She could barely move. Brooke smiled when the baby gave her a gummy grin.
"-there are ways," Brooke tried again, feeling her cheeks flush uncontrollably.
"I know," Jane answered, and had the graciousness to appear ashamed. "I'm okay with it, Brooke. Really, I am. I want Sam to be happy. But I can't help thinking that... you know Sam, she tries so hard to be different-"
"I don't think Sam would tell you about this if it really wasn't what she wanted," Brooke said carefully, retrieving Little Blue's champagne glass from the bottom of the seat, closing the car door with a careful nudge of her hips.
"Well, did you have any idea?" Fishing for her keys, Jane tossed her an inquisitive look. "Did she say anything to you?"
Responding with an awkward chuckle, Brooke averted her eyes, making sure not to squish her fish. Her smile was almost bitter. "Jane, you know how I found out."
It had been a slap in the face, to find out that her step sister was gay from her own step mother in a passing phone call. Not that Brooke expected a personalized coming out telegram, but for all their issues, Sam had started to trust her.
At least until the accident, and in those months that followed, Brooke knew she had no one but herself to blame for the disintegration.
But still, it stung. Especially considering...
"I know, but you two were getting close. I just hate to think that she had to figure this out on her own."
"You know Sam," Brooke mumbled, nodding her thank you as Jane held the door open. "Miss Independent."
"Well..." Jane sighed, and Mac let out a little baby giggle and a bubble as Jane plopped her on the counter, going to work on the zipper that held together the baby's enormous coat. "See if you can talk to her. Maybe... I don't know. There's only so much she can say to her mother. Maybe her sister..."
"I'm not... Okay," Brooke said, barely a whisper, somehow annoyed. When Jane looked at her, she shrugged, avoiding the questioning stare to look down at Little Bleu, who obviously seemed more than a little stressed with the current move. He gave a little flips in his water, little beading eyes staring up at her with a pathetic expression. "I better get him into some decent water."
"Okay, that's fine. Are you going with us to pick up Sam from the airport?"
Back unreasonably tense, she turned around and forced a smile. "You know, I think I'm going to unpack. I kinda... want to unwind, if that's okay."
"Of course that's fine, sweetie!" Jane's smile was kind, and not at all suspicious. "Oh, and Brooke?"
She pressed her mouth together, waiting in anxious silence.
"Welcome home, honey."
--
Little Bleu swam in a gentle circle, happy to be back in his little home. Brooke could hardly say she felt the same.
Flat on her back, she morosely plugged her earphones into her ears and set the IPOD on high, eyes closing as the almost blistering loud music slammed into her brain.
She wasn't much of a brooder. Brooke preferred to be proactive, to actively solve her insecurities with solutions, or, in some cases, starvation. She had never been used to delving into her own psyche, instead wanting to take action, any action, to activate some sort of change. A semester in college had forced her to realize that everything she did was an effort to avoid her own thoughts, and she hated that feeling.
She also, coincidentally, hated freshman psych for putting that thought into her head.
It had taken a lot to become comfortable in her skin, and towards the end of junior year, Brooke thought she was on her way to getting there. A relapse of her eating disorder and Harrison's cancer withstanding, Brooke had things she had never had before: confidence in herself that wasn't founded in her own superficial appearance, an identity. She had friends that cared about her, and while she didn't have Harrison, she had Sam, her sister, who she was sure she loved.
Brooke hadn't wanted to think too much of her sexuality. While something had always been missing with Josh, she had really come to care about him, so much she didn't care about the sex. And with Harrison, it had been nice. There hadn't been much there in terms of attraction, but Brooke didn't want that anyhow. She wanted Harrison because he was sweet and kind and sensitive, and in a weird way, kinda of like a girl.
Brooke winced, forehead wrinkling together before she brought her fingers to her skin and forced herself to smooth it out.
That day they were all locked up in the Novak when Lily had admitted she was confused, it had felt almost liberating, to say it out loud. She had thought about it. She had flashes and images and caught herself staring too long at Nicole's breasts in the locker room and twice, had some very embarrassing dreams that involved Sam and being naked and woke up flushed and scared.
Of course she had said it quietly and only really Nicole had heard her, and Nicole didn't believe her, and after her moment of weakness, she was glad no one had. It was too much, too soon, too fast.
So she didn’t think about it. That fuzzy feeling that came with Sam was something she copped to being sisters, and throughout her sophomore and junior year, that became her constant. Yeah, her and Sam fought all the time, but there were moments where she could just stop and stare at Sam and suddenly be really, really happy that it was Sam sitting across from her at dinner, sitting on her bed, begging for help in chemistry because the Claw hated her, sprawled on the floor delivering their sister. She didn't have to hesitate to tell Sam that she thought she was beautiful, she could talk to Sam about sex and be gratified Sam was coming to HER, she could even bring up the idea of her and Harrison and Sam all going together to prom and it not being weird at all because they were sisters.
Everyone thought it was the coma and the accident that had changed Brooke, and to a point, it was true. But it wasn't just that.
It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her.
There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had. It was that moment that caused her to jump up from the table, to walk away from Sam. It had been her moment of panic, her overwhelming need to get away from Sam and her newfound feelings, that had blinded her to the oncoming car until it was too late.
Two months later, she had woken up in a hospital bed and nothing had changed and everything had changed. Nicole had gotten off with minimal punishment. Harrison was still there, waiting for his chance. Lily and Josh were still together and Carmen was now the most popular girl in school, with Mary Cherry as her sidekick. And Sam was there, in her hospital room, trying to be everything she could be and nothing Brooke wanted her to be.
It had taken a semester at USC to prove to Brooke that whatever she was doing, her little push to get back any sense of normalcy she could, wasn't working. That night wasn't going to go away, she knew, and it was more that ache in her hip that wouldn't go away on really chilly nights and her inability to try out for song girls because she didn't have the flexibility she used to. It was the fact that despite Brooke's attempts to move forward and forget everything, she was living in the past, and it was never more clear than now that she was the only one doing so, because Sam had clearly moved on, and not seen fit to tell her.
Now it was Christmas, and Brooke was hours away from seeing Sam again, and facing this, whatever it was, head on. It wouldn't be fair, she knew, to blame Sam for not loving her. It was already twisted, and she had hurt Sam, she knew, by not being the sister that Sam had wanted her to be.
Brooke hadn't been what Sam needed, not in that last year, and Sam had adjusted accordingly.
Eyes opening, Brooke stared up at the ceiling and considered her options. She could continue the polite freeze-out, until she couldn't take it anymore and react in the worst possible way, and she had the strong suspicion that would end up with another stint in her favorite place, the eating disorder wing at the hospital.
Rubbing her palm along her flat stomach, Brooke grimaced at just the thought. She wasn't going there again. She had promised herself.
She could also be an adult about this and admit that she had reacted badly and selfishly, and apologize to Sam and hope she could at least be friends with Sam again.
There was another option, once she didn't even want to think about, that involved the truth, and Brooke's heart throbbed at even the idea. Just because Sam liked girls didn’t mean she liked HER, and if Brooke even entertained that thought it would just get her into a really bad place.
No. Option two was the best idea. That decided, Brooke closed her eyes and let out a hot breath.
When her bed bobbed with an unseen weight, it had been completely unexpected. Heart jackknifing into her throat, Brooke's eyes jerked open and she nearly tumbled off of it, muffling a screech when she discovered a longer haired version of Sam staring down at her, cross-legged on the bed.
"SAM!!"
"Holy shit!" Sam said, nearly flailing off the bed at Brooke's violent reaction, ducking to avoid Brooke's long legs, swinging at her unintentionally as Brooke tried to right herself. "I'm sorry! I should have knocked!"
Hand pressed to her chest, Brooke blinked at her, jerking off her earphones to stare at the brunette. Cheek's still flushed from the cold, the other girl was now unraveling a scarf from around her neck, half perched on the bed.
"Sam," she said dumbly, too shocked to say anything else. "You're here."
"What a great observation," Sam answered dryly, and Brooke nearly rolled her eyes, trying to get her breathing down to normal. "My flight was early. Mom and Mike wanted me to come get you. We brought chicken." That said, Sam flashed her a shrug and a smile, and backed toward the door, scarf in her hand. Dark eyes flickered toward the bowl on her nightstand, and Sam offered the swimming fish a nod. "Lil' Bleu," she greeted, in her best 'Finding Nemo' impersonation, before heading out of Brooke's room as quickly as she came in.
Brooke stayed on the bed a second longer, trying to process the brief reintroduction of Sam into her life.
Shaking her head, she found herself chuckling oddly at the unconventionality of it.
With Sam, it wouldn't be any other way.
--
"So, do you girls have any big plans for the break?"
It was Jane's polite way of trying to engage the crowd into some sort of dinner conversation, interjecting the question as carefree as she could without trying to sound obnoxiously nosy.
Still, it made the chicken stick a little in the back of Brooke's throat, as she looked up and caught Sam fussing with her mashed potatoes, obviously not in the mood for any sort of chat.
Forcing down the lump of chicken, Brooke took in a small breath, and offered a small smile. "Well, there's a Christmas party that a couple of my sorority sisters who live in Laguna are throwing, but... nothing special." Sam could barely contain the roll of her eyes at the idea, and tongue pressed into the corner of her mouth, Brooke didn't elaborate.
Mike, in the middle of bouncing Mac on his lap, tried to look suitably interested. "That's nice. And you, Sam? Hanging with Carmen and Lily?"
Putting down her plastic fork, Sam also offered her own version of a strained smile. "Actually, um... Carmen's with Mary Cherry in the Alps, and Lily went to visit Josh's family, so... I don't really have a lot of plans. It's cool... I'll see if Harrison's doing anything and swing by the old record store and see if I can pick up some hours."
"Oh, you shouldn't have to work on your break!" Jane chided, and Brooke mentally agreed. "Sam, why don't you spend some time here? You weren't here for Thanksgiving, and it'll be nice to have you home."
"Mom, I... it's nice to be home, but... I'm trying to save up some cash to go to Florida for Spring Break with Rebecca...."
Rebecca. The name caused an awkward reaction, and Brooke found herself choking on her chicken.
"Brooke honey, are you all right?"
"Fine," she wheezed, and fumbled for her water, trying to hack up the lodged piece. "Just... went down the wrong tube," she managed, recovering. Everyone was staring at her, and Brooke felt oddly like she was putting on a performance. "Hey, Sam... I need to go pick up a few things tomorrow. You know, last minute Christmas shopping. Do you want to come with me?"
It was a dirty tactic, bringing it up in front of the parentals, and Brooke knew Sam didn't think much of it. Her expressive mouth turned downwards and she openly hesitated, shaking her head unwillingly.
"Brooke, I did all my Christmas shopping early for a reason..."
"Oh, come on, Sam! You should keep her company!"
"Yeah, Sam, why not? It'll be fun." Mike paused long enough to blow a raspberry on Mac's tummy. "That's my girl!"
"Dad, that's gross to do at the table," Brooke told him, and he gave her a wink in response. "Please, Sam? I'd like to spend some time with you."
Sam's eyebrow's narrowed suspiciously, but Brooke thankfully had the family on her side, and when Jane gave the unsociable one an arched eyebrow, Sam gave up with a fork thrown on her plate.
"Fine," she relented. "But if we're there more than three hours, I'm going to hurt you."
She couldn't help her small smug grin. "Fair enough," she said, and then eyed her chicken warily, not quite ready to dive back in. No wonder she stopped eating. She was really bad at it.
--
Shallow as it was, Brooke was slightly relieved that Sam's coming out hadn't precipitated a full out dyke make over. Eyebrows were still plucked, foundation, the Bare Minerals Brooke had bought her for her last birthday, was still applied, and her hair was neither crew cut looking or looking at all like a boy.
In fact, Sam was as beautiful as ever, in her slightly tighter jeans and her casual fitted tee, hat squished over her head. The only real noticeable difference was a little less lipstick and a more natural shade of eyeshadow, and honestly, it only made her look better.
The scowl on her face, however, didn't add anything to the natural beauty Sam possessed, and Brooke had half a mind to tell her so, as they drove to the mall. In the passenger seat, Sam had her arms crossed, and she was looking everywhere but at Brooke.
"Thanks for coming," Brooke said, when Sam said nothing at all. "I wanted to catch up."
"So strong-arming me in front of the 'rents was the way to do it?" Apparently that still wasn't sitting well.
"Would you have come any other way?"
Sam finally looked at her, a half glance before glancing away. "Touche." Brooke smiled slightly, adjusting her glasses before turning on the signal light. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," Brooke said, and took in a small, steadying breath. Option B was a commitment, and she found it easier than she thought it would be, to be as nice as she could, despite Sam's stares that made it clear she thought she had been lobotomized.
"What's with the Stepford act?" Brooke's mouth became a thin line. "I mean, I leave and you can barely look at me, and now, we're suddenly ..."
"Suddenly..." she repeated, when Sam paused.
"Just tell me what's gong on," Sam said flatly. "I'm not up for three weeks of this. It's not why I came home."
"Why did you come home?" Brooke asked, and nearly smacked herself for answering the question with a question. Somehow, it was still easier to deflect all of this, Option B be damned.
Clearly, Sam wasn't a fan of it either. Throwing her another glare, Sam settled further into her seat. "Because if I didn't Mom would kill me. And I wanted to see Mac."
"Oh." Brooke couldn't exactly hope for more than that.
"And you're avoiding the question."
"I know. I’m sorry." Turning into the mall parking lot, she tried to focus on finding a spot. "It's just... I had all these things I wanted to say to you, and ... I didn't exactly want to do it while I’m fighting some hummer for a compact spot..."
"It can't always be about what you want, Brooke."
"I know, I just..." Anxiety was building, and Brooke closed her eyes, suddenly incredibly frustrated. Slamming on the brakes, she jerked the car into park and turned to face the girl she was in love with. "Look, Sam, I know it's not enough. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry for shutting you out, and I'm sorry for hurting you. I should have been there for you and I wasn't, and I don't have any explanation for it, except that... prom night really messed me up."
Sam was staring at her like she had grown a second head, and it wasn't helping. Longing for a sudden sense of fogginess, Brooke tore off her glasses, and began to fiddle with them, now staring at her hands.
"I just... you were so nice, and I didn't... it was easier to push you away. But you're... I know I didn't act like it, but you were my best friend... not counting the one that ran me over." A hesitant glance up, she realized Sam was still just staring at her.
"You realize that you have about six cars behind you waiting to murder you right now, right?"
It was then that Brooke realized she had just stopped in the middle of a parking lane, in the midst of a cacophony of honking horns. "Oh, God..." Fumbling with the gear shift, she pressed on the gas. "Sorry, I just..."
"So why the change of heart?" Sam said quietly, watching when a car swung out from behind them and flipped them the bird.
Biting her lower lip, Brooke contemplated the own swelling emotion in her chest. She stayed quiet, simply driving, turning into another parking lane. "Do you remember when you came to me about George? You wanted him to be your first, and you came to me, and you asked me advice, and I showed you a porno." Her tone devolved into flat resignation at that last statement, and beside her, Sam snorted at the absurdity of it.
"Yeah," she heard. "That wasn't pretty."
"I loved that," she admitted. "That you came to me. That I could help you. It just... it made me so happy. And I guess, I just... when I found out from Jane that you were..." Her cheeks were burning, and she couldn't look at Sam, right then. "I couldn't believe that I hadn't been there for you. I hated myself for that."
A blanket of somber quiet settled in the car, and beside her Sam seemed to finally come to life, agitated sigh exhaling from her body before she turned in her seat, away from her.
"You didn't miss much," Sam muttered. "There wasn't much talk about it. It kinda just... happened. And you can say it. Gay."
"Gay," she repeated, as if trying to get used to it, the way it sounded on her tongue. "Gay."
"Gay," Sam said again. "Lesbian."
Coming to a pause, the car in front of them blinking their signal, obviously waiting for an exiting car, Brooke's own emotion seemed to rise and fall within her, leaving her curiously empty. Shifting, she stared at the beautiful girl in the car beside her, staring listelessly out of the window. "You know that I’m fine with it, right? That I ... love you..."
A bitter smile floated on Sam's list. "Thanks," she answered dryly. "That was my Christmas miracle. Acceptance from Brooky."
The car in front of her crawled into it's space, and she swallowed harshly, hands back on the wheel. "I wanted to be your first."
"You what?" The tone was odd, and Brooke forced down the choked emotion swelling inside of her.
"Your first," she repeated, and stared into startled dark eyes. "The first person you told." Sam only kept staring at her, and suddenly, she glanced away, sinking deeper into her seat. "But I'll settle for being your friend again. If you'll let me. I know the sister thing is... "
"Shot for now," Sam breathed flatly.
"I'll make it up to you, Sam. I promise." Her words were sincere, her resolve fierce, and knuckles tightened against the steering wheel, she didn't care about what was in front of her, only what was beside her.
Sam was quiet for the longest time, obviously waging some inner battle with herself, and Brooke's insides felt like they were wrapped in a coil, stretched paper thin.
"You've missed like, five open spots," Sam said finally, and pointed a finger toward the other lane. "Head over there before you miss another one or we'll be living in this stupid garage."
It wasn't an answer, but it was good enough, Brooke smiled gratefully and followed the pointing.
"Thanks," she said meaningfully. Sam glanced at her, and for one minute second, Brooke wanted to tell herself she saw tears.
"I needed to get something for Mac anyway," Sam said, non-committal. "Can we do lunch at In-N-Out? I've starved for it. No pun intended."
"Sure," Brooke said, weak with relief. It wasn't much of anything, but Sam had given her a small hint of a chance.
She might as well have given her the world.
-- end chapter
By Misty Flores
Teaser: It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her. There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had.
Series: Popular, Sam/Brooke, Sam/Other, Brooke/Other
Spoilers: Post SII
Notes: Hi there! New here. I recently discovered the magic of Popular, and even though I'm about six years too late on this train, I still can't help the urge to write fic. This is an in progress, but I should update pretty regularly.
Prologue
In certain moments of extreme generosity, clarity, or sappy sentiment, Brooke McQueen would admit to herself that having Sam forced into her life had actually changed her for the better.
When she was at her worst, having a bad day, or completely livid because somehow Sam had managed to wipe half of her MP3's off of her IPOD, she would declare to the world that Sam McPherson had ruined her life.
There were two sets of extremes, both equally volatile and utterly sincere, and at first, Brooke had some trouble reconciling them.
Lying in a hospital bed, in the groggy sort of dispirits that came from spending two months in a coma because she had been run down by her best friend trying to murder her, Brooke had time to contemplate them both.
She remembered a tenuous truce struck, a hesitant sense of euphoria that came with that freedom, secret smiles and laughter in the midst of that whole mess with Harrison. She remembered admitting to herself that she loved Sam, and somehow shifting loyalties from blonde to brunette. She remembered a fight with Nicole for the sake of Sam, and it was never a question of choosing, just a question of when Nicole had pushed her enough. She remembered the line in the sand, drawn because Nicole had chosen to hurt Sam just when Brooke understood that she loved her.
It was because of Sam that she walked away from Harrison that night. Because of Sam that she realized she didn't CARE that Harrison had chosen her, that all she really cared about was the fact that Sam had tears in her eyes, and none of it was what Brooke wanted.
It was because of Sam that Nicole's headlights came burning down on her, and two months of her life were eaten away.
--
"I brought you something," Sam said, a forced cheerfulness in her voice that sounded fake and contrived. She cringed inside, just hearing it, and she hated that she couldn't help herself. The sight of Brooke, brown roots over taking the long blond strands that lay listlessly around the angular face, face sallow and tired and so... spiritless, brought out the inner cheerleader Sam had been horrified to discover that she had.
Brooke didn't even lift an eyebrow, turning her head from the blaring TV to watch her come into the room. "Hi," she said. "Is school over already?"
Sam paused, taking a moment to glance at blinds purposely closed, shutting out the sun intentionally. "It's a little dark in here," she said pointedly.
Brooke glanced at the blinds, then back at Sam. "The light was hurting my eyes." Her tone was even, almost annoyed.
Sam kept her place in the doorway, and made herself take a deep breath in. "Okay, but I think a little light would be good in here."
"It's a hospital room, Sam, not a spa."
"True," she acquiesced, "but I know he might appreciate it," Sam responded, and produced a little betta in a huge champagne glass. "His name is Little Bleu," she continued, coming forward with the little fish, swimming around in the swishing water with rapidly flickering velvety blue green fins. "Not B-L-U-E, but B-L-E-U. What do you think?"
"You got me a fish?" Brooke asked, in a tone that made it impossible to determine whether or not it was welcome.
Sam made a dramatic roll of her eyes. "No, blockhead, not just any fish. This is Little Bleu! He's a fighter. He's scrappy. And beautiful. Just like you." She offered a nervous smile before continuing, "And you don't have to worry about feeding him or changing the water, because I will be here every day to do that. He's pretty!" She finished her sales pitch with a little hop and a wave of her hands, positioning the little betta on the stand right next to her bed.
It was a struggle, to deal with this new Brooke, just when she had finally made her peace with the old one, but Sam had never been one to back away from a challenge. She had challenged Brooke before, back when she had decided she hated her, and had pretty much done every damned thing she could do to make that the case. While her currently resolution was decidedly the opposite, Sam's resolve was no less distinct. Post Coma Brooke was different, but it wasn't her fault. Sam was pretty sure if she had been mowed down by her best friend on prom night and left in a coma during the entire summer she'd be a bitch on wheels too.
"Sam... I..." Brooke seemed to finally give up on the television, at least, reaching up to flick it off with her remote. Her expression, however, looked more exasperated than anything else. "Thank you, but... "
"But what? It's cute! And he's smart. Okay? He swims around and when it's feeding time, he nearly has a cardiac arrest." When Brooke just stared, Sam blushed. "Trust me, it's cute."
"What are you doing, Sam? You don't have to spend every day here."
"I know I don't." Brooke's face was impossible to read. "Look, I brought your college apps that came in the mail," Sam continued, feeling oddly desperate as she began to shrug off her pack. "And Mike signed you up for the same day as me for the SATs...."
"Sam-"
"I figured we could study together-"
"Sam, stop. You're trying too hard."
It was excruciating, and as the words came out of Brooke's mouth, Sam found herself slumping forward, rubbing long fingers into her eyes. "God, I know. It's pathetic."
"Extremely," Brooke said, but not unkindly.
"I don't know why," she said, fingers curling into her lap. Sinking onto the bed, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, a nervous tick. "I'm not saying it was ever easy," she began suddenly, eyes darting up to stare into the crystal clear orbs of Brooke. "But even when it was hard... it wasn't like this."
Brooke raised her knees to her chest, hugging them to her. "So why are you trying?"
The question was startling. "Why aren't you?"
Brooke's look was long, careful, and closed. With a small smile, she merely shrugged and looked away, reaching for the remote and turning away. "Thanks for the fish," she said, and with that, completely dismissed Sam.
The ache that flared inside of her was something Sam would never forget.
--
Brooke would never know if Sam understood exactly what happened in her hospital room that day. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure she understood it herself. All she knew was that Sam was a source of conflict and extremes, and it wasn't something she wanted to handle, not when Sam was trying so hard to be a source of calm, and through no fault of her own, failing miserably.
Cutting off whatever Sam was doing at the knees was what was best, and there was some relief that came from it. Brooke recovered at her own pace, now that Sam wasn't stopping in every day acting like her own personal misguided cheerleader. She studied in those long hours and learned the prep books that Sam had left behind backwards and forwards. When Harrison and Carmen and Lily and Josh came by she was polite and friendly, and when Mary Cherry stopped by with her tremendous story about her drag queen father and gangbanger sister, she really laughed for the first time in a while. She had a curious sedateness, and it suited her.
It was when Sam was around that she really would feel, and for some reason, the reaction frightened her. Sam would stop by, but only with Mike and Jane, and when Brooke was finally allowed to go home, impossibly skinny and a complete brunette, she and Sam had unconsciously reached a different kind of truce. Sam was considerate, sweet and distant, and Brooke was the same.
She didn't know if she blamed Sam for the accident, Brooke didn't want to be that closed minded or selfish. She didn't even know why she had chosen to freeze out Sam when she also missed her. There were moments when they would slip, both of them, either erupt in a horrible fight that would make Jane and her dad even crankier now because of little Mac, or fall into a moment where the veil of formality would slip and there would be a genuine smile, a genuine laugh, a minute second of sincere emotion.
It would always happen when she wouldn't expect it, like the day she was sitting on the couch and Sam came in carrying little Mac against her shoulder, bouncing her nervously because Sam always was a little afraid of the baby. Brooke had only looked up for a second, but the image touched her in a way that had her suddenly staring, and when Sam caught her looking, her step sister did the one thing that disarmed her completely: she smiled. The rush of emotion that came to her surface was nearly painful, and it wasn't long before the comfortable intimacy became uncomfortable awkwardness, and Sam had exited stage right, leaving the stale quiet behind.
In Brooke's room, Little Bleu swam around in circles, hiding among the soft bristles of the little fake plant Brooke had gotten on a whim.
He was just a fish, but Brooke could admit that she loved him.
--
"Honey, are you sure you want to try and take that fish with you?"
"Dad, I checked with the dorm. It's no problem. We're allowed to keep a small aquarium."
"I know, honey, but you have enough here, why don't you leave it for now and when you get settled, you can pick up the fish."
"It's not just a fish, Dad, I'm not leaving Little Bleu."
"I'm not saying you have to, just for the week."
Sam hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She had only meant to stop in and say goodbye, before heading back to her room to figure out how the hell to stuff an entire wardrobe into three suitcases. Still, there was something in that angry lilt that Brooke had in her tone, an angry bit of emotion that made Sam take pause. When she walked in, she saw Brooke hugging the over-sized champagne glass against her chest, brown hair pulled away from her face to reveal a resolved expression.
When they both glanced at her, she felt a little guilty, stepping back as if to ask permission. "Sorry, I was just ... coming to say good-bye."
"It's fine," Mike said, hands on his hips, as if annoyed he was even being forced to argue over a fish. "Maybe you can try to talk some sense into Brooke, here-"
"Mike, the stubborn apple does not fall far from the stubborn tree. You're not going to win this argument. Little Bleu goes." The smile she got from Brooke was the first real one she had seen in days.
"Jane!" Mike tried, just as her mother swept in behind her. "About this fish-"
"Mike, what do you have against the fish? It's Brooke's fish. She can take her fish."
Sam grinned, and was suddenly rewarded with an armful of Mac. "Mom-" But her mother was already gone, followed by a suddenly grouchy Mike, who complained loudly about the women to men ratio in the house.
"What's his problem?" Sam asked Mac, struggling to hold onto the slippery toddler as she tried to weave out of her grasp. "I think Daddy has a serious case of betta envy."
It was only when Brooke chuckled that she realized her stepsister was still in the room.
"So..." Sam began, licking her lips and coming forward with her acrobat little sis. "Need any help?" Brooke's bedroom was sparse now. An open luggage case sat on the perfectly made bed, and the little glass bowl that held Little Bleu was now next to an open zip lock bag, obviously being made ready for transport.
"No, I think I'm all set. But thanks anyway." Brooke wore a smile that was hard to look away from, and formalities over with, Sam found herself struggling for words.
"Brooke," she said finally. "I know we haven't really been close this year-"
"Sam..." came the soft, whispy voice. "You don't have to-"
"Yes, I do." The tears that sprang told her that, and she juggled Mackenzie and couldn't wipe at them as they stung. "I don't know what happened, Brooke, but I just... I need you to know that... that, for what it's worth, I-"
"Sam, please." Her vision was blurry, and still, her eyes shut tight when soft fingers began to wipe at the salty tears that stained her skin. "Your mascara."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, a gentle ache. "I'm sorry that I made you hate me."
"Oh, God, Sam... I don't hate you. I love you." Brooke's voice was rough, different than before, and Sam laughed pathetically, eyes opening to discover a pitying expression, a palm against her face.
Between them, Mackenzie squirmed, and Sam shook her head. "Remember when you hated me? God, Brooke, one word and I would crack that mask you wore, and for a second, I would see the real you. I may have told myself I hated you, but... but at least that was real. And it made me feel real. And then... before the accident it was... even with the Harrison madness-"
"Sam, you don't understand-" Brooke was so close now, eyes bright and moist, and it was more than Sam could bear, because she was sure Brooke pitied her now, and she still didn't know how it happened, why it happened.
"You're right, I don't." Stumbling backwards, she moved away, from the look on Brooke's face, from the flaring pain in her chest, from all of it. "And I don't want to. I just wanted to say good-bye, and to tell you that... you forced me to take a look at myself, and made me realize, I wasn't who I wanted to be. You changed me, Brooke, and I'll never forget that. For that, I'm thanking you. Give Little Bleu a kiss for me."
With a crooked smile, she carried Mac out of Brooke's room, and told herself she had said everything she needed to, and just like Brooke, she could move on.
--
Brooke dyed her hair blonde the first semester at USC. She rushed one of the sororities, and made it through the hazing even after she got snapped at for disagreeing a little too vocally about some of the more ridiculous demands placed on them by the sisters.
She dated one of the linebackers, a blonde, surprisingly sensitive jock named Adam, and thanks to that, found herself in the crux of the social circle at one of the biggest football campuses in the nation.
Her classes were large and somehow still intimate, and Rodeo Drive was only twenty minutes away.
She emailed Sam, at her new Northwestern University address, and in it she tried hard to explain the twisted logic behind the falling apart of their sisterhood. She tried to explain what Sam meant to her, and how she struggled between extremes, and couldn't quite seem to let go of the bitterness that came with it, because what she was living now was everything Brooke had wanted to achieve when she was a starry eyed sixteen year old and it wasn't enough.
What she wanted, she wrote Sam, was to feel again. To sit beside Sam like they did in chemistry and speak without speaking, with gestures and looks. To have that thrill she couldn't quite explain when she realized people were starting to see them as 'Sam and Brooke' and not just individual entities. She wanted the thrill that came with loving Sam, because Sam was beautiful and secure in herself, and Brooke came alive around her.
And, she also wrote, she hated Sam a little for that. Because all this stuff that was all so interesting before Sam wasn't interesting at all, and Brooke had begun to realize that it was really all she had, and she was looking at the rest of her life being bored stiff, because it was what everyone expected and Brooke had gotten run over when she had tried to push against it.
She wrote to Sam that it was wrong that Sam made her feel this way, because there was something twisted that her step sister was putting her through all this emotion, and sometimes it was easier not to feel. That was why she kept her at arms length, because the uncontrollable emotion that came from loving Sam nearly killed her.
Literally.
She tried to explain that she didn't know what she wanted, or how to control it, and wouldn't know for a while and it was easier to shut her out completely, and she wanted to tell her that watching Sam break down with little Mac in her arms had stayed with her and buried deep down inside of her.
She told Sam she was beautiful, that she had always thought so, and what she had really wanted was to forget Harrison and just go to prom with Sam.
She wrote it all, and when it came time to send it, Brooke's own survival instinct kicked in, and she closed the window and didn't save the draft. Instead, she CC'D Sam on her email to her parents, and hated herself just a little bit.
Little Bleu would get excited to see her, and wag his little tail when he saw her enter the room. Brooke knew there was a logical reason for it, he associated her with food, but she still smiled at him, talked to him, and forever branded herself as 'the Fish Chick' in her sorority because of her insane love for her betta.
Jane called her a week before Thanksgiving break, asking her when she was driving the forty minutes it took to get home. She included some general updates, and when Brooke hesitantly asked what day Sam was getting there, got a quiet pause and a response that Sam wasn't going to be able to make it back until Christmas.
Jane asked Brooke to call Sam, try and convince her to come back for the holiday, because Jane said she was sure the only reason Sam was staying away was because she was afraid, and if Brooke and Mike and Jane could only convince her that they were all perfectly fine with her being gay then maybe Sam wouldn't be so afraid of bringing her girlfriend home.
Brooke had been so stunned she hadn't been able to make a sound, and Jane thought she had been hung up on. It had taken five minutes of phone tag and mortified apologies and explanations on both ends before Brooke could close her cell phone.
It wasn't until then that she realized she was shaking.
End Prologue
Part I. Step One. You Say We Need To Talk
"You know, next time Sam decides to get you an animal, I'm going to ask her to get you something that's a little more portable."
Brooke smiled, wrapping fingers around the plastic bag that held the little blue betta fish, trying hard as she could to keep it from bobbing too much with the motions of the car.
"I don't think I'm very capable of taking care of much else," she told Jane, who smiled in response, turning the wheel as they bumped up into their driveway.
"Well, the way you take care of both Mac and Little Bleu, I seriously disagree with you." Jane shrugged, pulling the keys from the ignition. "At least I've got a chance of get grandkids from one of you."
Hesitating, Brooke hugged the plastic bag against her body, and turned her head as she watched Jane open the back door and begin fussing with Mac's car chair.
Little comments like that had a habit of flushing an icy chill into the pit of her stomach, and Brooke always told herself it was on behalf of Sam. As okay as Jane seemed to be with Sam's little bombshell, there had seemed to be a couple moments, where Brooke could see Sam's mother struggling.
"Jane," she tried, fumbling for the car door and trying to keep her fingers tied around the little bag that held Little Bleu and sling her backpack onto her shoulder at the same time. "You know, just because she's... gay, it doesn't mean that..."
Jane straightened, hoisting the baby onto her hip. Dressed for the cold, the toddler looked like an overstuffed teddy bear. She could barely move. Brooke smiled when the baby gave her a gummy grin.
"-there are ways," Brooke tried again, feeling her cheeks flush uncontrollably.
"I know," Jane answered, and had the graciousness to appear ashamed. "I'm okay with it, Brooke. Really, I am. I want Sam to be happy. But I can't help thinking that... you know Sam, she tries so hard to be different-"
"I don't think Sam would tell you about this if it really wasn't what she wanted," Brooke said carefully, retrieving Little Blue's champagne glass from the bottom of the seat, closing the car door with a careful nudge of her hips.
"Well, did you have any idea?" Fishing for her keys, Jane tossed her an inquisitive look. "Did she say anything to you?"
Responding with an awkward chuckle, Brooke averted her eyes, making sure not to squish her fish. Her smile was almost bitter. "Jane, you know how I found out."
It had been a slap in the face, to find out that her step sister was gay from her own step mother in a passing phone call. Not that Brooke expected a personalized coming out telegram, but for all their issues, Sam had started to trust her.
At least until the accident, and in those months that followed, Brooke knew she had no one but herself to blame for the disintegration.
But still, it stung. Especially considering...
"I know, but you two were getting close. I just hate to think that she had to figure this out on her own."
"You know Sam," Brooke mumbled, nodding her thank you as Jane held the door open. "Miss Independent."
"Well..." Jane sighed, and Mac let out a little baby giggle and a bubble as Jane plopped her on the counter, going to work on the zipper that held together the baby's enormous coat. "See if you can talk to her. Maybe... I don't know. There's only so much she can say to her mother. Maybe her sister..."
"I'm not... Okay," Brooke said, barely a whisper, somehow annoyed. When Jane looked at her, she shrugged, avoiding the questioning stare to look down at Little Bleu, who obviously seemed more than a little stressed with the current move. He gave a little flips in his water, little beading eyes staring up at her with a pathetic expression. "I better get him into some decent water."
"Okay, that's fine. Are you going with us to pick up Sam from the airport?"
Back unreasonably tense, she turned around and forced a smile. "You know, I think I'm going to unpack. I kinda... want to unwind, if that's okay."
"Of course that's fine, sweetie!" Jane's smile was kind, and not at all suspicious. "Oh, and Brooke?"
She pressed her mouth together, waiting in anxious silence.
"Welcome home, honey."
--
Little Bleu swam in a gentle circle, happy to be back in his little home. Brooke could hardly say she felt the same.
Flat on her back, she morosely plugged her earphones into her ears and set the IPOD on high, eyes closing as the almost blistering loud music slammed into her brain.
She wasn't much of a brooder. Brooke preferred to be proactive, to actively solve her insecurities with solutions, or, in some cases, starvation. She had never been used to delving into her own psyche, instead wanting to take action, any action, to activate some sort of change. A semester in college had forced her to realize that everything she did was an effort to avoid her own thoughts, and she hated that feeling.
She also, coincidentally, hated freshman psych for putting that thought into her head.
It had taken a lot to become comfortable in her skin, and towards the end of junior year, Brooke thought she was on her way to getting there. A relapse of her eating disorder and Harrison's cancer withstanding, Brooke had things she had never had before: confidence in herself that wasn't founded in her own superficial appearance, an identity. She had friends that cared about her, and while she didn't have Harrison, she had Sam, her sister, who she was sure she loved.
Brooke hadn't wanted to think too much of her sexuality. While something had always been missing with Josh, she had really come to care about him, so much she didn't care about the sex. And with Harrison, it had been nice. There hadn't been much there in terms of attraction, but Brooke didn't want that anyhow. She wanted Harrison because he was sweet and kind and sensitive, and in a weird way, kinda of like a girl.
Brooke winced, forehead wrinkling together before she brought her fingers to her skin and forced herself to smooth it out.
That day they were all locked up in the Novak when Lily had admitted she was confused, it had felt almost liberating, to say it out loud. She had thought about it. She had flashes and images and caught herself staring too long at Nicole's breasts in the locker room and twice, had some very embarrassing dreams that involved Sam and being naked and woke up flushed and scared.
Of course she had said it quietly and only really Nicole had heard her, and Nicole didn't believe her, and after her moment of weakness, she was glad no one had. It was too much, too soon, too fast.
So she didn’t think about it. That fuzzy feeling that came with Sam was something she copped to being sisters, and throughout her sophomore and junior year, that became her constant. Yeah, her and Sam fought all the time, but there were moments where she could just stop and stare at Sam and suddenly be really, really happy that it was Sam sitting across from her at dinner, sitting on her bed, begging for help in chemistry because the Claw hated her, sprawled on the floor delivering their sister. She didn't have to hesitate to tell Sam that she thought she was beautiful, she could talk to Sam about sex and be gratified Sam was coming to HER, she could even bring up the idea of her and Harrison and Sam all going together to prom and it not being weird at all because they were sisters.
Everyone thought it was the coma and the accident that had changed Brooke, and to a point, it was true. But it wasn't just that.
It was the sharp realization, sitting at that dinner table, as soon as Harrison had chosen her and Sam's eyes welled up with tears, that for all her protestations of sisterly love to the world about Sam, she was incredibly, hopelessly, desperately, IN love with her.
There was enough difference in that statement to completely destroy any sense of stability she had. It was that moment that caused her to jump up from the table, to walk away from Sam. It had been her moment of panic, her overwhelming need to get away from Sam and her newfound feelings, that had blinded her to the oncoming car until it was too late.
Two months later, she had woken up in a hospital bed and nothing had changed and everything had changed. Nicole had gotten off with minimal punishment. Harrison was still there, waiting for his chance. Lily and Josh were still together and Carmen was now the most popular girl in school, with Mary Cherry as her sidekick. And Sam was there, in her hospital room, trying to be everything she could be and nothing Brooke wanted her to be.
It had taken a semester at USC to prove to Brooke that whatever she was doing, her little push to get back any sense of normalcy she could, wasn't working. That night wasn't going to go away, she knew, and it was more that ache in her hip that wouldn't go away on really chilly nights and her inability to try out for song girls because she didn't have the flexibility she used to. It was the fact that despite Brooke's attempts to move forward and forget everything, she was living in the past, and it was never more clear than now that she was the only one doing so, because Sam had clearly moved on, and not seen fit to tell her.
Now it was Christmas, and Brooke was hours away from seeing Sam again, and facing this, whatever it was, head on. It wouldn't be fair, she knew, to blame Sam for not loving her. It was already twisted, and she had hurt Sam, she knew, by not being the sister that Sam had wanted her to be.
Brooke hadn't been what Sam needed, not in that last year, and Sam had adjusted accordingly.
Eyes opening, Brooke stared up at the ceiling and considered her options. She could continue the polite freeze-out, until she couldn't take it anymore and react in the worst possible way, and she had the strong suspicion that would end up with another stint in her favorite place, the eating disorder wing at the hospital.
Rubbing her palm along her flat stomach, Brooke grimaced at just the thought. She wasn't going there again. She had promised herself.
She could also be an adult about this and admit that she had reacted badly and selfishly, and apologize to Sam and hope she could at least be friends with Sam again.
There was another option, once she didn't even want to think about, that involved the truth, and Brooke's heart throbbed at even the idea. Just because Sam liked girls didn’t mean she liked HER, and if Brooke even entertained that thought it would just get her into a really bad place.
No. Option two was the best idea. That decided, Brooke closed her eyes and let out a hot breath.
When her bed bobbed with an unseen weight, it had been completely unexpected. Heart jackknifing into her throat, Brooke's eyes jerked open and she nearly tumbled off of it, muffling a screech when she discovered a longer haired version of Sam staring down at her, cross-legged on the bed.
"SAM!!"
"Holy shit!" Sam said, nearly flailing off the bed at Brooke's violent reaction, ducking to avoid Brooke's long legs, swinging at her unintentionally as Brooke tried to right herself. "I'm sorry! I should have knocked!"
Hand pressed to her chest, Brooke blinked at her, jerking off her earphones to stare at the brunette. Cheek's still flushed from the cold, the other girl was now unraveling a scarf from around her neck, half perched on the bed.
"Sam," she said dumbly, too shocked to say anything else. "You're here."
"What a great observation," Sam answered dryly, and Brooke nearly rolled her eyes, trying to get her breathing down to normal. "My flight was early. Mom and Mike wanted me to come get you. We brought chicken." That said, Sam flashed her a shrug and a smile, and backed toward the door, scarf in her hand. Dark eyes flickered toward the bowl on her nightstand, and Sam offered the swimming fish a nod. "Lil' Bleu," she greeted, in her best 'Finding Nemo' impersonation, before heading out of Brooke's room as quickly as she came in.
Brooke stayed on the bed a second longer, trying to process the brief reintroduction of Sam into her life.
Shaking her head, she found herself chuckling oddly at the unconventionality of it.
With Sam, it wouldn't be any other way.
--
"So, do you girls have any big plans for the break?"
It was Jane's polite way of trying to engage the crowd into some sort of dinner conversation, interjecting the question as carefree as she could without trying to sound obnoxiously nosy.
Still, it made the chicken stick a little in the back of Brooke's throat, as she looked up and caught Sam fussing with her mashed potatoes, obviously not in the mood for any sort of chat.
Forcing down the lump of chicken, Brooke took in a small breath, and offered a small smile. "Well, there's a Christmas party that a couple of my sorority sisters who live in Laguna are throwing, but... nothing special." Sam could barely contain the roll of her eyes at the idea, and tongue pressed into the corner of her mouth, Brooke didn't elaborate.
Mike, in the middle of bouncing Mac on his lap, tried to look suitably interested. "That's nice. And you, Sam? Hanging with Carmen and Lily?"
Putting down her plastic fork, Sam also offered her own version of a strained smile. "Actually, um... Carmen's with Mary Cherry in the Alps, and Lily went to visit Josh's family, so... I don't really have a lot of plans. It's cool... I'll see if Harrison's doing anything and swing by the old record store and see if I can pick up some hours."
"Oh, you shouldn't have to work on your break!" Jane chided, and Brooke mentally agreed. "Sam, why don't you spend some time here? You weren't here for Thanksgiving, and it'll be nice to have you home."
"Mom, I... it's nice to be home, but... I'm trying to save up some cash to go to Florida for Spring Break with Rebecca...."
Rebecca. The name caused an awkward reaction, and Brooke found herself choking on her chicken.
"Brooke honey, are you all right?"
"Fine," she wheezed, and fumbled for her water, trying to hack up the lodged piece. "Just... went down the wrong tube," she managed, recovering. Everyone was staring at her, and Brooke felt oddly like she was putting on a performance. "Hey, Sam... I need to go pick up a few things tomorrow. You know, last minute Christmas shopping. Do you want to come with me?"
It was a dirty tactic, bringing it up in front of the parentals, and Brooke knew Sam didn't think much of it. Her expressive mouth turned downwards and she openly hesitated, shaking her head unwillingly.
"Brooke, I did all my Christmas shopping early for a reason..."
"Oh, come on, Sam! You should keep her company!"
"Yeah, Sam, why not? It'll be fun." Mike paused long enough to blow a raspberry on Mac's tummy. "That's my girl!"
"Dad, that's gross to do at the table," Brooke told him, and he gave her a wink in response. "Please, Sam? I'd like to spend some time with you."
Sam's eyebrow's narrowed suspiciously, but Brooke thankfully had the family on her side, and when Jane gave the unsociable one an arched eyebrow, Sam gave up with a fork thrown on her plate.
"Fine," she relented. "But if we're there more than three hours, I'm going to hurt you."
She couldn't help her small smug grin. "Fair enough," she said, and then eyed her chicken warily, not quite ready to dive back in. No wonder she stopped eating. She was really bad at it.
--
Shallow as it was, Brooke was slightly relieved that Sam's coming out hadn't precipitated a full out dyke make over. Eyebrows were still plucked, foundation, the Bare Minerals Brooke had bought her for her last birthday, was still applied, and her hair was neither crew cut looking or looking at all like a boy.
In fact, Sam was as beautiful as ever, in her slightly tighter jeans and her casual fitted tee, hat squished over her head. The only real noticeable difference was a little less lipstick and a more natural shade of eyeshadow, and honestly, it only made her look better.
The scowl on her face, however, didn't add anything to the natural beauty Sam possessed, and Brooke had half a mind to tell her so, as they drove to the mall. In the passenger seat, Sam had her arms crossed, and she was looking everywhere but at Brooke.
"Thanks for coming," Brooke said, when Sam said nothing at all. "I wanted to catch up."
"So strong-arming me in front of the 'rents was the way to do it?" Apparently that still wasn't sitting well.
"Would you have come any other way?"
Sam finally looked at her, a half glance before glancing away. "Touche." Brooke smiled slightly, adjusting her glasses before turning on the signal light. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course," Brooke said, and took in a small, steadying breath. Option B was a commitment, and she found it easier than she thought it would be, to be as nice as she could, despite Sam's stares that made it clear she thought she had been lobotomized.
"What's with the Stepford act?" Brooke's mouth became a thin line. "I mean, I leave and you can barely look at me, and now, we're suddenly ..."
"Suddenly..." she repeated, when Sam paused.
"Just tell me what's gong on," Sam said flatly. "I'm not up for three weeks of this. It's not why I came home."
"Why did you come home?" Brooke asked, and nearly smacked herself for answering the question with a question. Somehow, it was still easier to deflect all of this, Option B be damned.
Clearly, Sam wasn't a fan of it either. Throwing her another glare, Sam settled further into her seat. "Because if I didn't Mom would kill me. And I wanted to see Mac."
"Oh." Brooke couldn't exactly hope for more than that.
"And you're avoiding the question."
"I know. I’m sorry." Turning into the mall parking lot, she tried to focus on finding a spot. "It's just... I had all these things I wanted to say to you, and ... I didn't exactly want to do it while I’m fighting some hummer for a compact spot..."
"It can't always be about what you want, Brooke."
"I know, I just..." Anxiety was building, and Brooke closed her eyes, suddenly incredibly frustrated. Slamming on the brakes, she jerked the car into park and turned to face the girl she was in love with. "Look, Sam, I know it's not enough. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry for shutting you out, and I'm sorry for hurting you. I should have been there for you and I wasn't, and I don't have any explanation for it, except that... prom night really messed me up."
Sam was staring at her like she had grown a second head, and it wasn't helping. Longing for a sudden sense of fogginess, Brooke tore off her glasses, and began to fiddle with them, now staring at her hands.
"I just... you were so nice, and I didn't... it was easier to push you away. But you're... I know I didn't act like it, but you were my best friend... not counting the one that ran me over." A hesitant glance up, she realized Sam was still just staring at her.
"You realize that you have about six cars behind you waiting to murder you right now, right?"
It was then that Brooke realized she had just stopped in the middle of a parking lane, in the midst of a cacophony of honking horns. "Oh, God..." Fumbling with the gear shift, she pressed on the gas. "Sorry, I just..."
"So why the change of heart?" Sam said quietly, watching when a car swung out from behind them and flipped them the bird.
Biting her lower lip, Brooke contemplated the own swelling emotion in her chest. She stayed quiet, simply driving, turning into another parking lane. "Do you remember when you came to me about George? You wanted him to be your first, and you came to me, and you asked me advice, and I showed you a porno." Her tone devolved into flat resignation at that last statement, and beside her, Sam snorted at the absurdity of it.
"Yeah," she heard. "That wasn't pretty."
"I loved that," she admitted. "That you came to me. That I could help you. It just... it made me so happy. And I guess, I just... when I found out from Jane that you were..." Her cheeks were burning, and she couldn't look at Sam, right then. "I couldn't believe that I hadn't been there for you. I hated myself for that."
A blanket of somber quiet settled in the car, and beside her Sam seemed to finally come to life, agitated sigh exhaling from her body before she turned in her seat, away from her.
"You didn't miss much," Sam muttered. "There wasn't much talk about it. It kinda just... happened. And you can say it. Gay."
"Gay," she repeated, as if trying to get used to it, the way it sounded on her tongue. "Gay."
"Gay," Sam said again. "Lesbian."
Coming to a pause, the car in front of them blinking their signal, obviously waiting for an exiting car, Brooke's own emotion seemed to rise and fall within her, leaving her curiously empty. Shifting, she stared at the beautiful girl in the car beside her, staring listelessly out of the window. "You know that I’m fine with it, right? That I ... love you..."
A bitter smile floated on Sam's list. "Thanks," she answered dryly. "That was my Christmas miracle. Acceptance from Brooky."
The car in front of her crawled into it's space, and she swallowed harshly, hands back on the wheel. "I wanted to be your first."
"You what?" The tone was odd, and Brooke forced down the choked emotion swelling inside of her.
"Your first," she repeated, and stared into startled dark eyes. "The first person you told." Sam only kept staring at her, and suddenly, she glanced away, sinking deeper into her seat. "But I'll settle for being your friend again. If you'll let me. I know the sister thing is... "
"Shot for now," Sam breathed flatly.
"I'll make it up to you, Sam. I promise." Her words were sincere, her resolve fierce, and knuckles tightened against the steering wheel, she didn't care about what was in front of her, only what was beside her.
Sam was quiet for the longest time, obviously waging some inner battle with herself, and Brooke's insides felt like they were wrapped in a coil, stretched paper thin.
"You've missed like, five open spots," Sam said finally, and pointed a finger toward the other lane. "Head over there before you miss another one or we'll be living in this stupid garage."
It wasn't an answer, but it was good enough, Brooke smiled gratefully and followed the pointing.
"Thanks," she said meaningfully. Sam glanced at her, and for one minute second, Brooke wanted to tell herself she saw tears.
"I needed to get something for Mac anyway," Sam said, non-committal. "Can we do lunch at In-N-Out? I've starved for it. No pun intended."
"Sure," Brooke said, weak with relief. It wasn't much of anything, but Sam had given her a small hint of a chance.
She might as well have given her the world.
-- end chapter