What If....

Chapter 3: Brody Weston

Previously...
"I have tried to keep this to myself, but I will be silent no longer..."

Santana's POV:
"That Brody guy is a psycho. He said I wasn't a real New Yorker until I had my first makeover, and I was like, what does that even mean? Like who are you? But you know I said to myself, Brody's a sweetheart. So what if he's completely hairless and made out of plastic, I'm going to look past that. But then I found this when I was rooting through all the pockets and drawers in this apartment."
"You can't do that!" Kurt butted in.
"Well it's just a thing I do. Anyway, $1,200 in cash. I mean, maybe he's afraid of banks. I mean if I were made of plastic I'd be afraid of a lot of things; open flames, barbecues. But then I found this. This is a pager. And there is only one type of person that carries cash and a pager. Your friend Brody is a drug dealer."
Wow that felt good to let out. Eh I'm heading to bed.

Rachel's POV:
As I lay awake that night. I can't help but think about everything. My baby, Brody, the fact that he might be a drug dealer, my baby, Santana's speech, maybe she knows that I'm pregnant, did I mention my baby? But most of all, Finn. Should I tell him? Should I single parent? Should I keep the baby? Ugh! So many decisions to make and no one to share it with...

Santana's POV:
Listen, the snow has stopped. Ugh yes! No more Moulin Rouge! I need to talk to Rachel about what I found. She can't do this alone.

The Next Day
Santana's POV:
After some homeless man in pee-stained tighty-whities groped me on the subway and then asked me for a dollar, I knew that I had to talk to Rachel. Today. When I got home. So that's what I did. She was on the couch, drug dealer was in the shower, Lady Hummel and Adam were at NYADA. Perfect. "Look now that we're alone, I want to talk to you about what I found in your bathroom trash can under the wadded-up tissue paper, the used cotton swabs and the soiled acne wipes. An item that, unless Lady Hummel's actually been a Lady all these years, could only be yours." I said.
"I don't know what your talking about." Rachel replied, clearly knowing exactly what I was talking about.
"Rachel you're really not going to tell me about the stick?"
"You had no right!" Tears welled in her eyes.
"Rachel I'm your friend, you can trust me. Just tell me what's going on."
Rachel was sobbing at this point. She turned into the couch and I pulled her into a tight hug.
"Oh, God. You're gonna be okay. It's okay. It's gonna be okay." I said holding her close and letting her cry while I rubbed her back.