Doing It Right: Chapter 1
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: Glee
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
Language: English
Summary: Santana was not one to believe in New Age-y stuff, but when given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes, she can't help but take it.
Spoilers: 2x04 "Duets" – 2x15 "Sexy"

A/N: I wouldn't be doing this series if I hadn't already had the whole damn thing mapped out.

Also, I haven't posted anything in months. I blame the writers who I'm betaing for. tjmack is writing an awesome Chuck series called Who Let the Rain In? and making me jealous by growing her writing prowess by leaps and bounds that I could only dream of. And lets_duet drags me into her depraved world of Glee erotica. So, if this fic gets a little bit naughty, you know who's corrupted me.

Update: I've been getting a lot of comments by whiny reviewers in some of the later chapters, so I thought I'd warn all newcomers. I'd like to point out that this series is expected to have 20 or so chapters, and probably in the ballpark of 100,000 words. It is a novel. It is about Brittany and Santana, but I will introduce many secondary plotlines about the other characters. If you are expecting nothing but fluff from a series of this size, from a writer of ten years, then frankly you are an idiot. This is a mix of comedy and drama and angst and romance. If you're looking for something quick and fuzzy, there is so much more on this site for you other than this one story. I have spent many hours crafting this story and I am very proud of it, so I invite you read it, knowing you'll need just a little bit of patience and diligence. I have done my best to make the journey worth it.

Chapter 1: New Age-y Stuff

Santana was not one to believe in New Age-y stuff like this, but she was in pain, in desperation. The words still echoed in her mind: Of course I love you. I do. And I'd totally be with you if it weren't for Artie. I love him, too. I don't want to hurt him. That's not right. I can't break up with him.

I'm sorry.

She'd talked to Ms. Holliday after it happened. She didn't even remember going to see her, but she suddenly found herself bawling with her head pressed into the woman's shoulder. It was the substitute teacher who suggested this unconventional procedure. Santana didn't know how it could possibly fix her issues; it was psuedoscience wrapped in science fiction. But Ms. Holliday promised she'd be there the entire time, so Santana felt oddly safe.

The office looked much like other professional offices: wood paneling, a large desk, several comfy armchairs, and a chaise longue that Santana was now lying on.

"Close your eyes," the doctor instructed, "Now I want you to imagine that moment when you believe you caused the unfortunate series of events. The moment that you think could help you set things right."

In her mind, Santana was now in Brittany's room. She saw two female figures lying on a bed together, wearing familiar red uniforms.

The doctor's voice filtered in: "If you're looking at yourself, you're not there yet. Be there. Be you."

In a flash, Santana found herself lying on top of Brittany, kissing her lips and neck. But something wasn't right; she was still too detached, too inert.

"You should be in your body now. You'll feel paralyzed at first. It will take a minute to take control of your body."

Santana was terrified. It was like being frozen; worse, it was like being nothing. She could see; she could hear; but she couldn't feel. Not her arms or legs or the warmth of Brittany's skin or the coolness of the air or even gravity holding her in place. She couldn't reach out or shake or scream or breathe.

"Listen, there's a lot of talking going on, and I wants to be my mack on," Santana heard her voice saying, like poison. Anger boiled in her; she was supposed to be fixing things, but she was trapped in a body she couldn't control. A body that just lied to the girl she loved. A body that was now sitting up, putting its back to the blonde, cutting her off, and crushing her delicate heart in a way that Santana could easily imagine, since it was happening to her, too.

The distant command was almost imperceptible: "Don't fight it. If you fight it, it'll just take longer to settle in."

Finally, a tingling sensation invaded Santana's arms and she could finally feel things: the fabric of her Cheerio skirt on her hips, Brittany's comforter on her thighs, the strands of her weave in her hands, which were collecting the hair into a ponytail.

Brittany's voice, not even hiding her disappointment, asked, "Who are you going to sing a duet with?"

Not fully paying attention to the voice that her ears couldn't escape, Santana experimentally tried to relax her hands. Her hair fell around her.


Now or never. Santana wished she had more of a plan. Fully in control of her body, she rolled over, resting on her elbows and deliberately locked her eyes with Brittany's. It would be easy just to tell her best friend her feelings. For Santana, it was only a day ago that she'd poured her heart out to the same crystalline blue eyes. All the words were there, at the tip of her tongue. But Brittany was looking up at her, expecting something, expecting anything, expecting everything. Three little words: I love

"…you," Santana said.

A smile magically appeared and Santana's heart clenched. "Yay! What duet are we going to do? If you don't like 'Come to My Window'?"

"Something hot," was the answer, "something that will win us that date at Breadstix." Santana lowered her mouth onto Brittany's, wondering if the blonde had caught her slip-up about a "date."

I've only got one shot for this. I tell her those three little words and I don't hear them back? It'll break me and it'll break me out of this projection and then all hope is lost, for a while. So, it's settled: get Brittany to utter those words first—I know how she feels—and then I say them back, and we're home free. I get the girl.

A/N: It's very frustrating for a fanfic writer to have a really cool plot bunny that when distilled is nothing more than three things readers can already find in abundance: (1) a fix fic, (2) a post-"Sexy" Brittana story, and (3) an Alternate Timeline fic. Readers, keep me on track. The only way to redeem this story is to do it right. Make sure I do, okay?