Fic: The Wisdom of Wildflowers - Part 2/9 +epilogue
Title: The Wisdom of Wildflowers
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word Count: 35000, 2300 this part
Characters/Pairings: Kurt/Blaine, Brittany/Santana, rest of New Directions, Burt Hummel
Spoilers: everything through Glease, veers away from canon after that
Warnings: character death
Summary: It's been ten years since Kurt set foot in the halls of William McKinley High School, but the death of a friend has him headed back to Lima and spending time with his old friends. The week brings sorrow, reminiscences, love, and maybe the chance to mend the tears in old relationships.
Once again, many thanks to Keri and Allie for all their help!
If you'd prefer to read this on tumblr, you can find it under the tag here. I'll be posting it to AO3 soon.
Two
The church is packed, overflowing. There are even people standing, huddling near the back and leaning against the walls up either side. Kurt feels a sense of stage fright, looking back at the crowd from the first pew where he sits with Rachel, Quinn and Mercedes hovering around him like sad little birds. He has been trying to avoid looking over across the aisle to where Santana sits, devastated, next to Mr. and Mrs. Pierce and Brittany's little sister, Stephanie. When he does chance a quick glance across, they make eye contact. There are tears falling in large drops down from her bloodshot eyes. Kurt sucks in a ragged breath and gives her a commiserating look. What a farce. As if he can even begin to understand what she is going through. He's not a good enough actor to even pretend.
Puck is sitting behind him and he claps a hand on Kurt's shoulder. “It's good to see you, man,” he says quietly and Kurt gives him a wavering smile.
He's about to turn back around, Rachel tugging insistently on the sleeve of his jacket, when he spots a pair of familiar golden eyes a few rows behind Puck. Blaine sees him as well and his mouth twitches up at one corner in a sad little smile. Kurt smiles back and nods his head before turning to see what Rachel wants with him, the knots in his stomach twisting and tying into more and more intricate shapes.
Her tugging, apparently, was to get his attention for the minister is standing at the pulpit and attempting to gather the attention of the room. After a moment of shuffling and sniffles and throat clearing, a hush falls over the congregated mourners.
The minster welcomes them all and speaks for a while about Brittany and her family, about how happy she would have been to see so many people who love her spilling from the church in such numbers. Kurt tries to pay close attention to the words, but he finds his mind drifting as Rachel clutches him, her body already shaking with suppressed sobs. Quinn, who was by every right closer to Brittany than Rachel was, sits on Rachel's other side, tall and straight, holding Rachel's trembling hand on her knee and keeping her face blank as she stares ahead at the sprays of multicoloured roses.
“Now,” the minister says, “this is a rather unorthodox service, as our honoured one, the lovely Miss Brittany Susan Pierce herself, has prearranged every moment. So here she is with her own words for all of you, those she loved and who loved her best.”
An image projects on the large screen as the minister slips away, Brittany taking shape, huge and bright and smiling. She waves from the wall of the church and Kurt hears a few distinct sobs coming from his right. He knows one of them, feels it shatter his heart with its absolute and utter brokenness, but he can't force himself to turn in its direction.
“Hello everyone,” the image of Brittany greets them. “Thank you for coming to my funeral. I'm sure there are lots of you 'cause I have so many friends. I love my friends.” There are a few titters and some mumbled I love yous and Brittany grins as though she can hear them. “I wanted to be here with all of you - and of course I will be, though nobody will be able to see me without any super cool Whoopi Goldberg powers, which none of you guys have, so... A video seemed the best. First I just want to say - please don't be sad. I've been sick for a long time and everything is okay now. I came to say goodbye and you guys can cry if you feel like you need to, but after you leave here, I want you to have a party. Dance. Sing. Have fun. That's how I really want you to remember me.”
A calico cat comes on the screen, meowing and butting its head against Brittany's arm. She smiles down at it and adjusts her position so it can curl up in her lap. “This is Captain Piddlywinks. Say hi!” She makes the cat wave at them and around the room are wet sounding laughs as Brittany smiles and the Captain looks on, disgruntled. “Now, since the introductions have been made... I want to talk to you about my family. My extended family. When I was in high school, I joined glee club and those guys went on to become my best friends and my family. I hope you are all out there, that you came when you got calls from Mercedes and Puck, and maybe my beautiful Santana if she wasn't too sad. A few of you are going to come up and speak now, so I would like to introduce you to two of my oldest, best friends, Quinn and Mercedes.” Brittany motions with her hands like she is showing a prize on a game show and Quinn and Mercedes get to their feet, walking to the pulpit as the video cuts out behind them.
Kurt knows what they're going to say, had helped them with it, Quinn curled up next to him on his sofa with Mercedes over Skype, all of them trying and failing not to cry. It was Mercedes who told him Brittany had requested that he sing, but he refused to practise the song until the apartment was clear of people. He broke down sobbing more than the first few tries.
They both stand together, wet eyes and cracking words, but they manage to hold each other up. Kurt suddenly wishes Rachel was singing with him so he would have the same solidity to get him through. He worries that his voice will give out or he will forget how to play the piano. Rachel's lips press daintily against his cheekbone and she takes his shaking hands into hers. She knows him, all of his insecurities. She knows them better than anyone, has been privy to them most over the years. He holds her hands just as securely as she holds his. They are nearly the married couple they had once jokingly added as their relationship statuses on Facebook not long after their dual disastrous breakups.
Quinn and Mercedes finish their speech, their tribute to Brittany, and walk back to the pew, sliding in on Rachel's other side. Kurt turns his head to give them a small smile, to let them know they were amazing, catching sight of a teary-eyed Puck in the periphery, and then Mike and Artie against the side wall. He's startled by the appearance of so many people he hasn't seen in so many years.
Brittany is back then, her face smiling, her cat now absent. “Aren't they lovely?” she asks. “Quinn and Mercedes everybody!” She claps, a few people in the church joining in halfheartedly. “Now it's time for a song, I'd say. It seemed only fitting that my song comes from Kurt, since he sounds and looks the most like an angel.” She smiles down at him and Kurt can swear that her eyes are looking directly into his. “An angel to send me off to live with the angels. Pretty great, right? None of you would be so lucky as to have a pretty unicorn angel sing at your funeral. I would also be totally cool with being reincarnated as a cat or a beautiful tree with hanging flowers, if that's the way things go. So, I picked this song myself and I hope everyone likes it. Especially you, Kurt. I love you.” Kurt wipes a hand across his eyes and places it over his heart, looking into the eyes of his friend, this image of her, imperfect in the worst possible way, in that she cannot hear his own words of love and friendship and sorrow and regret.
He gets up and glides towards the piano. Panic roils in his stomach like a sack of angry snakes, one head occasionally coming loose to bite at him, sharp stings to his heart and throat and eyes. He takes a seat, the scraping of the piano bench across the tile is loud in his ears, making him cringe. He straightens his back and places his fingers on the keys and takes a deep breath. In. Out. And he begins to play, silently praying to Brittany herself that he doesn't mess up. He's so horribly rusty.
Why are there so many songs about rainbows
and what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
and rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it.
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
Who said that every wish would be heard and answered
when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.
Look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us star gazing
and what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
All of us under its spell. We know that it's probably magic.
Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors?
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
La da da di da da da, la da da la di da dooo
There are tears running over his cheeks when he finishes, the last note of the piano fading away in the silence of the church. The bench is even louder when he rises and tries to step around it. He walks back towards Rachel blindly, but as he steps down the stairs, he hears breathless gasps and sobs and glances over towards the heart rending sound. Santana is alone. The Pierces are all huddled together, the three of them crying silently into one another's arms. Santana has no arms to hold her.
Kurt starts in her direction without thinking and kneels down in front of her, pulling her against him and off of the pew. She needs her family. He helps her over and slides down next to Rachel and Quinn, Santana almost seated in his lap.
The rest of the service passes like a blur. He spends much of it murmuring nonsense words into Santana's hair and wiping her face with a hanky. He watches the projection of Brittany's face and feels the way Santana's entire body revolts against her voice, the ghost of her, and he wishes that someone had tried to talk Brittany out of narrating her own funeral.
After the minister says goodbye to the assembled mourners, the members of New Directions meet him in the back room, as they were instructed. Santana is taken from his arms by Quinn. He knows she means well, wants to give him a break, but he is loath to let her go. She needs him. It's nice to be needed. There is no worse feeling in the world than helplessness.
“As you know,” the minister is saying, “Brittany chose to be cremated. She left strict instructions that her ashes be separated into these fourteen bags, and the rest placed in an urn for her parents. He motions to the tiny, intricately embroidered drawstring cloth sacks that line the table in front of them. “She wishes for each of you to take a bit of her back with you to where you live and scatter her ashes in a special place that you think she would enjoy, so that a part of her will be with each of you, always. That is her final request.”
Nearly everyone breaks down at this, trembling hands reach out, arms thrown around shoulders. They have not kept in touch as they should have done, as they had promised. Their sorrow is tinged with guilt and regret. After they are each given one of the lovely bags, there is still one sitting on the table.
“Why is there one extra?” Finn asks. He has moved up and wound his arm around Kurt's shoulders, one hand squeezing his bicep. His voice is thick with unshed tears.
“That one...” The minister smiles sadly. “She said Santana would know and it was top secret.”
Santana pulls herself away from Quinn and wipes angrily at her eyes. “I got this.” She grabs it up and motions for everyone to follow after her. They say their goodbyes to the minister and go with Santana, grouping up again once outside in the soft June sunlight.
“This one's for the choir room,” Santana explains. “After we go pretend to eat and make nice with Debbie and Bob Pierce, we're gonna break into McKinley, Mission Impossible style.”
She looks around, her eyes dry now, but bloodshot and swollen, her nose nearly as red. She's just waiting for someone to speak up, to argue. No one does.
“That sounds freakin' awesome,” Puck says instead and Santana manages a ghost of a smile.
“Shit,” she says, glancing around. “My mom took the car.”
Kurt steps up and lays a hand on her arm. “You are not driving, Miss Lopez,” he says. “Come on. You're coming with me.”
“Oh, Lady Hummel, how I've missed your high frequency chatter.” He raises an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes, grabbing his arm and leading him away towards his car, Rachel and Quinn trailing behind and the rest of their group heading for their own.
Kurt catches Blaine watching him and turns away before the flush of his skin can betray him. I am not a sixteen year old virgin anymore repeats in his head all the way to the Pierces' house.
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