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Part 16. Break With the Ones You've Followed

“Well, Ms. McQueen. I don’t think I need to tell you that you’re a very lucky young lady.”

Her head was ringing, and the egg shaped lump on the side of her forehead felt unnatural and strange. She felt dizzy, and nauseous, and intensely irritated. She also most certainly didn’t feel LUCKY.

Cotton-mouthed, Brooke shivered unexpectedly. She managed a polite, stale smile.

“I realize that, Dr. Morgenstern.”

On a normal day Dr. Morgenstern, her primary care doctor, was a pleasantly chubby woman with a self-admitted soft spot for Brooke, which stemmed from avid care of her both during the coma and since she had woken up from it.

Tonight was not normal, and Dr. Morgenstern was acting anything but pleasant.

Lowering her chart, her doctor’s expression was a mixture of disappointment and anger. Brooke found herself shuddering in response.

“Brooke, honestly, what were you thinking? You’ve survived so much. Do you realize how LUCKY you are to come out of the physical trauma of long coma with minor complications?”

She sucked in her breath, and felt like crying. “I know…”

“To be so irresponsible as to get into a car with an intoxicated driver-“

“Dr. Morgenstern, I KNOW!” Brooke snapped, breaking into the monologue. A particularly focused shot of pain flashed to her head, and she winced, head lowering. “I know that it was dumb, and I realize I wasn’t thinking, and yes, I know I’m very lucky to be alive.”

For a moment, her doctor simply stared at her. “You’re also very lucky your Breathalyzer results revealed you to be under the limit. Half of your friends didn’t fair so well.” Depositing her pen into her coat pocket, the good doctor concentrated on her scribbles for a second, before looking up again. “Brooke, you’re a smart girl. Think about the actions you take and the consequences they might have for you. While you were in this hospital, in that coma, you were rarely alone. People love you. Respect that.” With that, the doctor snapped shut her file and smiled as warmly as she could, considering how pissed she seemed to be at Brooke. “Your parents are on their way.”

Immediately, her stomach dropped. Head falling into her hands, Brooke felt the subtle pressure of Dr. Morgenstern’s hands on her shoulder before the slip of the white coat brushed her cheek and her doctor went on her way.

Brooke deflated as soon as the door closed. Trying to process the events of the evening seemed damned impossible, and all that really came with it was the panicked, fluttery feeling that wouldn’t go away. The headlights, the screeching, the tires- it was all so unsettling and she was HERE again, in a damned hospital room.

“It could have been worse,” she wheezed to herself, trying to calm down, as her fingers gripped the sheets. “I’m okay.”

So consumed with trying to stave off the momentary freak-out, Brooke didn’t register the fact that she was no longer alone, not until a hand descended on her shoulder blade. The pressure startled her, forcing her to jump, whirl, heart thrust into her throat.

“It’s me!” Dusty’s eyes were wide, concerned. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you…”

Brooke’s eyes closed, forcing herself to breathe. “God,” she whispered, fingers against her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

She blinked, trying to focus past her raging headache. “I’m fine,” she whispered, throaty and tired. “Just… It’s been a long night.” Exhaling, she straightened up, tried to get a good look at her girlfriend.

Dusty’s features were marred with a bruise on her chin, quickly moving from yellow to purple. Her left arm was plastered in a cast, held to her body in a sling.

“Are you okay?” she managed.

Dusty’s mouth trembled. “Just a fracture,” she managed, and screwed her eyes shut. “At least it’ll heal in time for school again...”

Reaching over, she offered a comforting squeeze on her shoulder, as gently as she could. “You’re going to be fine.”

Mouth a thin line, Dusty tried to smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “You know, you scared the shit out of me when you said they were taking you in the ambulance too.”

An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach. “I was in a coma for a long time, Dusty. There are… concerns…” Dusty’s eyes went to the floor. “But I’m okay. They just wanted to make sure nothing was kicked out of place.”

It was an awkward conversation between strangers, and Brooke selfishly didn’t feel like having it. Inhaling deeply, she endeavored to change the subject. “How is everyone?”

Mouth twitching into a phantom, angry smile, Dusty closed her eyes. “Okay, I guess. Maria got a scratch on her head and her neck hurts, but she’s fine. Fucking Caleb got arrested for a DUI.”

“He deserved it,” Brooke said, meaner than she intended. Dusty stared at her, dark-eyed and vulnerable. “Dusty, we’re lucky no one was KILLED.”

“I know. Fuck, I know…” Fingers buried into a sweaty dark hair. “Fuck, Brooke I’m so sorry-“

“Stop,” she managed, shoving off the bed. “It wasn’t your fault. You were with me. You didn’t know how much he had been drinking.”

“Your dad’s going to hate me,” Dusty breathed, as she rubbed fiercely at her eyes, uncaring of her already smeared mascara.

“No, he’s not. I won’t let him.“

“I let you get into a car- If anything had happened to you-“

“It would have been my fault.”

“How can you say that?”

Miserably, she felt her chest tighten. “Because… Sam told me.” Her eyes closed, full of self-loathing. “She told me she had seen him drinking and I didn’t want to believe she meant it.”

“What do you mean?”

Her head throbbed, and Brooke rubbed at her bump, grimacing at the tenderness. Shaken, she sucked in a ragged breath. There was no energy for lies. Chin rising, she looked at Dusty. “I wanted to believe she was jealous.”

There was a terrible, awkward silence, as she looked into Dusty’s unreadable expression.

The door burst open, interrupting whatever response Dusty had been on the verge of giving.

“Brooke!”

The sight of her father, trailed by Jane and little Mac, brought such a rush of relieved emotion in her she nearly burst into tears. Like a baby, she opened her arms and when her father flew into them, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“Honey,” he whispered, out-of-breath and terrified. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she managed, holding onto him as tightly she could. “I’m okay. Daddy, I’m sorry-“

“Well, you should be!” Blinking, Brooke looked through watery eyes at Jane. Her step-mother was bouncing Mac on her hip, looking nearly hysterical. “Brooke, what on earth were you thinking!”

“I didn’t… I didn’t-“

“It was my fault,” Dusty managed, and Brooke remembered she was there, looking small and frail, her big cast plastered against her chest. Her voice was huskier than Brooke had ever heard it. “The guy who was driving was my band mate, and I should have checked with him-“

Already, she could feel her father stiffen in her arms, rigid, righteous anger. “Dad, no. It wasn’t Dusty’s fault. She had no idea-“

“Do your bandmates drink on a regular basis?” Mike’s voice was flat, sharp.

“Dad!” Straightening, she grabbed her father’s shirt. “No. This isn’t her fault.” Sucking in her breath, she turned to her girlfriend, knuckles white as she grabbed hold of the bedpost with her good hand. “Dusty, maybe you should wait outside.”

A small twitch of anguished bitterness slipped across her lips, and without another word, Dusty just shook her head, pivoting on her heel.

“Brooke, what were you thinking?!” Jane exploded, as soon as the other girl was gone. “Do you understand what could have happened to you?”

“YES!” Brooke snapped, unnerved. “I do, Jane!”

“I had reservations about that girl,” Mike said, hands on his hips. “From the first day.”

“Dusty wasn’t the problem!” Brooke snapped. “She didn’t know how drunk Caleb was!”

“And you did?” Jane came forward, one hand palming the side of her face, inspecting the bruise even as she glared at her, obviously disappointed. “Sam told me she tried to warn you, Brooke.”

“Sam what?”

“Don’t worry,” Jane said, handing the baby to Mike to better tilt Brooke’s head. “She didn’t squeal, if that’s what you’re thinking. She was nearly hysterical when we called her to tell her you were in the hospital. I had to drag it out of her.”

Brooke’s heart stopped cold. “Where is she?”

“Outside,” Mike said, fingers on the bridge of his nose, in an obvious struggle to maintain control of his emotions. “I tell you, Brooke, I can’t believe you could get into a car WILLINGLY-“

“I know,” Brooke said, suddenly focused on the door. “I know, Dad, and you can punish me for it, but I’m SORRY. I know it was dumb and I know it was idiotic and you’re right, someone could have been seriously hurt-“

“Fine!” Mike’s arms flew up, palms in the air, face red from emotion. “Brooke, you get it. You understand it. It doesn’t change the fact that your mother and I both were frightened out of our wits when we got the call. You were VERY lucky. Understand that.”

Brooke felt her eyes close in regret. “I’m sorry,” she managed again. Her head was throbbing. She felt idiotic and depressed and oddly alone. Straightening, she reached for Little Mac, running her palm along the small back. “Why didn’t Sam come in?”

Mike looked frustrated, unable to get past the torrent of emotions that erupted at the idea of his little girl in trouble. “She didn’t want to, Brooke. Okay?”

It wasn’t okay. The very idea caused such a level of hurt in her she actually gasped.

And then she heard her. Loud. Biting. Drifting in from outside her door. Angry words that forced her to turn, walk as quickly as she could to reach the hallway.

“-COULDN’T EVEN SMELL THE BREATH ON THAT GUY!?”

Chest tightening, Brooke felt her throat close up as she began to comprehend what she was seeing.

Sam, eyes wild with what had to be rage, didn’t seem to care that there were nurses glaring at her, and large men in scrubs were headed her way. Her step-sister only saw one target, and that was Dusty.

A large lump of emotion welled up into her throat, and with it, came sudden panic.

Without thinking, Brooke moved fast, pushing out of her hospital room door toward the fighting pair.

Dusty, it appeared, had run out of patience.

“If you knew so God-damned much, why the hell didn’t you try to stop her?!”

Brooke didn’t wait to register Sam’s reaction. Without a word, she reached forward and grabbed Sam’s wrist, jerking her into her side. She didn’t speak, she didn’t even look at Sam, she simply began to move.

“Brooke!”

Fingers tightening around Sam’s wrist, Brooke continued to move, jerking Sam around the corner roughly, away from Dusty, away from their parents, away from the sick, dark smell of intensive care.

“Brooke, STOP!” With a vicious tug, Sam broke free of her grip. Whirling, Brooke took in the angry girl, as she rubbed at her wrists, eyes moist and completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“What were you doing?” Brooke asked, as quietly as she could, despite the intense raging in her heart. “This is a hospital, Sam!”

“Oh, God,” Sam breathed, head falling back to raise eyes toward the ceiling. “Great. You lecture ME, Brooke. That’s not at all hypocritical.”

A shudder of emotion went up her spine, and Brooke, in the midst of a white corridor, felt the walls closing in on her.

“Okay,” she managed, eyes shutting tight. “I deserved that.”

“You deserve a lot fucking WORSE, Brooke!” The words exploded from Sam, and Brooke opened her eyes, unable to speak. “What the hell is wrong with you!? Why didn’t you listen to me!”

She swallowed, palms pressed against her thighs, overtaken.

“You could have died,” Sam enunciated, coming forward. “Do you understand that? You COULD HAVE DIED.”

It was then she realized that Sam was openly crying. Shoulders shaking, her beloved brunette looked completely defeated. Eyes shining with surrendered emotion, Sam’s head was shaking, furious and frightened and it was all directed at her.

Her mouth opened and yet she could find no words. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground and they seemed glued there.

“FUCK, Brooke. I can’t do this…” Sam’s sleeve wiped desperate at her eyes, voice clogged and broken. “I can’t keep coming here …”

Oh, God. Sammy was scared.

Brooke didn’t remember the accident. She remembered lights bearing down on her and she remembered the screams. She remembered waking up months later and being told every ugly thing that had happened to her body.

Sam had seen it happen.

“Sam.” Her voice was thick, pleading. “Sam, I’m okay-“

“No,” Sam stepped away, away from her when Brooke tried to reach for her. “Don’t touch me-“

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes were stinging and her heart was broken, but she had to touch Sam. She moved - so fast - fingers grabbing hold of strong shoulders, trembling underneath her touch.

Shuddering, Sam jerked away. “Fucking leave me alone-“

“No,” Brooke snapped, fueled by emotion. “I’m not leaving you-“ Arms wrapping around Sammy, she brought the struggling body against her. “I’m not leaving you, Sam.”

“God DAMN you, Brooke!” But the head fell and suddenly limbs were wrapping around her shoulders and a wet face was buried into her neck.

“I’m sorry,” Brooke repeated, an eternal mantra. “I’m so sorry.” A thin body plastered against hers, and Brooke’s heart beat into her throat, but her hold only tightened. Cheek brushing against silky hair, Brooke's eyes stung with moisture and she couldn’t help herself from threading fingers through Sam’s scalp, rubbing rhythmically.

Sam shivered, tangled in her arms.

“I love you.” Brooke heard the words, and her heart stopped, nearly choking her, as Sam’s head lifted away from her collarbone, and brown eyes seared into her soul. “I love you, Brooke. I don’t know what I would ever do if I lost you.”

With a ragged sigh, Brooke couldn’t help but spread her palm against Sam’s soft, wet cheek. She brushed at the tears as lovingly as she could, but she couldn’t speak. There were no words.

When Sam kissed her, Brooke’s mouth opened immediately, brushing against soft lips with such tenderness, it was almost sacred.

Lips clung to hers so sweetly, salty with tears. Pressed together intimately, Brooke pulled back just enough to stare into a brown eyes liquid with emotion. Thumb tracing the jawline of her beloved, Brooke didn’t let her go.

Movement caught her eye, and it was then she discovered Dusty, turning the corner, stopping just short of them both.

She stiffened just slightly, a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach, as her eyes met Dusty’s. She knew what it looked like, standing so close to Sam, palms spread against her cheek so intimately.

It looked exactly like what it was.

And still, she only exhaled, offered no explanation, as she watched Dusty’s face close, expression fade away.

Heel twisting on the linoleum, Dusty walked away from her.

“Brooke?”

Questioning brown eyes and a voice tainted with tears changed her focus, and she rediscovered her beautiful Sammy.

Bewildered, Sam glanced back to stare at an empty hallway.

With a sad smile, Brooke’s thumb traced full lips, and once again followed a strong jawbone, to curl around the nape of Sam’s neck.

“Do you ever think that maybe you have it all figured out and then the rug gets pulled out from under you, and you feel like a complete idiot?”

Maria wasn’t a chain smoker. Whenever she did pull out the pack, it was because she was deeply stressed. The habit was picked up thanks to long hours on sets which she PA’d during her summers.

Leaning against the wall outside the ER, she looked truly shaken. There were no eccentricities, just an exhausted frown and the focused motion of bringing the cigarette to her lips and sucking in the lungful of smoke.

Brooke stayed downwind, in an over sized Medic’s jacket, staring at the flashing light of the ambulance that stood in the loading dock.

“All the time,” she said, shaking her head no when Maria offered her a drag.

Her close embrace with Sam had been interrupted when Mike and Jane had turned the corner, and Brooke, awkward all over again, was forced to release Sam in favor of another lecture from her father on drinking do’s and don’ts.

Sam had since disappeared with Mac, and while Jane and Mike went over her release papers, Brooke had been forced to wait outside. She considered it a stay-of-execution.

Arching an eyebrow, Maria rubbed at her neck, wincing. “You know, I knew they were drinking. I had a couple shots with them. I thought we were okay.”

Her friend sounded listless, lost in her own thoughts. Shivering in her coat, Brooke didn’t respond.

“God, it’s just all so stupid, right? Half the time I don’t even LIKE Johnny. The sex was amazing and he’s in a rock band and what the hell does it matter now? We could have killed someone, Brooke.”

“I know.”

Tilting her fingers, Maria dropped ashes on the curb, and smiled morbidly. “It’s just stupid. Like smoking outside of a fucking hospital. It’s dumb.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“God, I’m so bummed I’m not sure I even want to go to Stephanie’s beach party tomorrow. Are you going?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m probably grounded.”

“Right. Your dad looked really pissed.”

“Yeah,” she said and then continued matter-of-factly, “I think Dusty and I just broke up.”

Visibly thrown, Maria sat down beside her. “It wasn’t her fault, Brooke-“

“I know.” Brooke rubbed at her forehead, wincing as she felt the bump under her fingertips. “It’s not that. I just don’t think I’m ready to be with anyone right now.”

“Is it ‘cause you’re frigid?”

She closed her eyes, and smiled bitterly. “I wish.”

It came as no surprise when Brooke was unable to sleep.

She was tired, she was sore, her headache hadn’t completely gone away, and the drugs she had been given made her thirsty and hot.

She was also in a supreme state of self loathing.

With the drive home came a certain sense of disaffected relief. Sam was in the car, but they were separated by a car seat, and the other girl had been completely silent.

Not that it seemed to matter to her father or Jane. They seemed perfectly content to yell at her the entire ride home. Brooke had yet to be punished, but she suspected that the only reason was because they had been so busy screaming, they forgot.

There had come with the events of the evening a certain state of understanding.

She knew that somewhere in the middle of all of this, Dusty had fallen for her and Brooke had also summarily broken her heart.

She also understood that the coma was a completely traumatic event, not just for her, but for Sam. If anything, it was quite possibly more traumatic for Sam, and still affected her deeply.

She understood that her action of getting into the car with the drunk driver was a severe lapse of judgment that had been spurred by jealousy. Not trusting Sam at that moment was probably one of the most unforgivable things she had ever done.

It was a mistake that could have cost her her life.

Why was it that whenever she felt she was growing, moving on, she only fell further?

“Because you’re avoiding the truth,” she told herself, speaking out loud, into the darkness of her room.

The truth was that she loved Sam. There was no getting around it. No getting over it. It would continue to surface until she stopped being a coward and dealt with it, because Sam wasn’t going anywhere.

Brooke owed it to her to do it single, uninhibited, and without judgment.

The sweet kiss that Sam had given to her in the heat of an intensely intimate moment still tingled on her lips and, breathing unsteadily, Brooke couldn’t help but relive it.

When the bathroom light clicked on at 3AM, Brooke swallowed in anticipation. Her pulse began to quicken, and afraid and exhilarated, she waited for that inevitable knock, for Sam’s soft voice to ask permission to enter.

Instead she only heard movements, opening and closing of drawers, and then she heard the door open and close again. The line of light underneath her door faded away immediately.

She was on her feet in an instant, padding barefoot to the bathroom door, opening it and entering quickly.

Sam’s light was on.

Feet cold on the linoleum, she tried to hear above the pounding of blood in her ears, as she knocked on Sam’s door.

There was a brief, tortuous pause, and then she heard Sam’s voice, telling her to come in.

Feeling awkward, she grasped the doorknob and twisted, pulling and discovering Sam wide awake, an open luggage bag on her bed.

The sight caused a sudden surge of fear. “What are you doing?”

Glancing up, Sam looked apologetic and fragile.

“Hey.” Her dark brown hair fell into her face, and she brushed it back; slow, methodical. “I… uh… I’m going back to Northwestern. Tomorrow.”

The information was impossible to process, and Brooke couldn’t let it sink in. She sucked in a painful breath, arms crossing each other defensively. “What?”

“I didn’t go to that party last night to play nice, Brooke.” Sam’s eyes were on the luggage, and her voice was clogged with emotion. “I… I wanted to see if you really liked her. I wanted to see if there was a chance I could fight for you. Break you guys up.”

She hissed, an inhalation of deep air when she felt suddenly lightheaded.

“Sam…”

“I was jealous.” Sad brown eyes rose to meet her own, scorching her. “And I hate that it was true. It wasn’t the reason I told you about Caleb. That was sincere. But you looked so proud and… happy that I was trying to move on…” She paused and suddenly began to wipe at her eyes, straightening against her emotion. “I’m not a quitter, Brooke. But it’s not fair. Not to you and not to me. I know I’m hurting you guys. I know that the reason you didn’t believe me was because you thought I was jealous and it almost got you killed.”

“Sammy, that was MY fault,” Brooke broke in, suddenly deeply afraid. “Not yours-“

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said, like she didn’t believe her. “But you were getting over me, right? I mean… You said you wanted to, and you had found Dusty and then I come back and I ruin everything-“

“No, Sam.” Her voice was hard, emotional, almost desperate. “You didn’t ruin anything. I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready for Dusty. Okay? I’m not over you, Sam.”

“But you want to be, right?”

Brooke blinked, lost.

“Look, Brooke.” Sam’s hand covered her mouth, as she struggled with her words. “I don’t want you to love me because you can’t stop doing it. Okay? That’s… That’s where all this comes from, you know? All this… Anger and resentment and this inability to make anything work…”

She swallowed “I wanted you, Sammy.”

“And I wanted nothing to do with you. I know. I know, Brooke.” Sam’s eyes closed, as if she was having a mental war with herself. “But how much of that was because you wanted me or because you couldn’t NOT want me?” Brooke swallowed hard. “You’re the one who told me to go back to Rebecca, remember? You said this wasn’t going to work out unless we both gave in, but where does that put us?” Sam struggled with her luggage. “You asked me to let you go. And I couldn’t do it. But if I love you, I have to. I have to let you go and I have to be away from you because if not I’m not going to stop wanting you.”

She got angry. She couldn't help it. "Bull shit, Sam," she breathed, stepping back from her. "This isn't about me. This is about you. You're scared. You've always been scared."

Wide eyes stared at her.

"Yes, we have a problem," Brooke whispered fiercely. "But you leaving isn't going to solve anything. It's just going to make it worse. I'm not going to stop loving you just because you go AWAY, Sam. If it were that easy, it wouldn't be this hard. You love me." The words were accusing, hurt.

Sam looked up. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m not gonna stop, Brooke."

"Then don't LEAVE," Brooke snapped, coming forward. "Don't go! Just stay here and stop being afraid and help me learn HOW to love you without hurting you."

Sam was unusually quiet. She wasn't angry, like Brooke. She was resigned. Locked away in some part of her that was unfazed by Brooke's anger.

She had made up her mind to do this. "You said I saved your life, remember?”

Of course she remembered. She meant every word.

“Well… Not trusting me almost got you killed, and I’m not going to let that happen again.” Frozen, unable to believe this was happening, Brooke stood still as Sam came forward. Brown eyes were shining brilliantly with tears, and Brooke didn’t realize she was also crying until soft fingers came to her and began to wipe them gently away. “I love you, Brooke. I’ll love you forever.”

When Sam kissed her, it was different than the desperately tender kiss she had been given at the hospital. Stained with tears, delicate and chaste, this one spoke of good-bye.

“Sam, no,” she managed, but Sam easily captured her struggling arms, bringing them back to her.

“I need you to let me finish packing,” she whispered.

Just like that, Sam was leaving her. Again. Breaking her heart. Again.

Brooke decided she had enough.

"Fine," she managed, ignoring her hot, angry tears. "Fine. Go. Love me and leave me and good riddance, Sam. You are SO full of shit, you know that? All this ... BULLSHIT may sound prettier than telling me that loving me made you a bad person, but you know what it is? It's an excuse. Just like everything else. And I'm done with excuses."

"Brooke, don't make this harder-"

"I'm not. I just made it easier. Good luck." With that, she turned, and walked away from her.

END CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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