Title: In this life, we're dead anyway
Rating: T for violence and language
Pairings: Rachel/Santana, Mike/Tina, others currently undecided but will be added as they arise
Summary: She would hold Rachel close and wish that their lives could be different, that they weren't sworn enemies in the middle of a gang war that was bigger than either of them. One day, Santana knew that she would either have to kill Rachel or be killed.

A/N: This is the start of a prompt fill for G6-flying. I'm taking ideas for other pairings you might like to see, including ones for Rachel and Santana (Pezberry is endgame, though.) Please review and let me know what you think.

Prologue

He fixed the hat sitting atop his head, sliding his fingers across the brim of it as he twisted it slightly. He stood tall and straight, his ratty t-shirt clinging to his biceps and his abs. It was torn, but it was he nicest one he had and he hoped it would be enough for her.

The moonlight fell across the field gently, its glow soft. He heard the sound of grasses shift behind him and he twisted around quickly. He pulled his gun out immediately, pointing it ahead of him. He saw who it was and slipped his weapon back into his pocket, exhaling in relief.

She stood before him as she always did, long wavy black hair falling past her shoulders. She raised her hands when he whipped around and smiled at him when he put away his gun.

"I'm glad you came," he said, reaching out to take her hand in his own. He hated having to point his semi-automatic pistol at her as soon as she met him (it drove him mad that he had to do it every time he met the woman he loved) but it was a necessary precaution in the world they lived in. And from the sweet and understanding smile she would give him afterwards, she didn't mind too much. She confessed once that she was so used to having guns pointed at her that she didn't think she would know what to do if a meeting with someone didn't start with a pistol or a shotgun aimed at the head.

"I would never miss another chance to dance with you," she said, gripping his hand tightly.

He grinned boyishly, taking his hat off because he figured that he was nothing special, but he wanted to be a gentleman. He didn't know when he would see her again, so he threw himself headfirst into making their night special. It was their first meeting in months, and with the current state of affairs, it would probably be several more months until they could do this again.

A figure stood behind her, a few feet behind the girl he was meeting. She stared at them sullenly, her own dark locks tied up into a ponytail. She crossed her arms.

"And thank you," he said. "Thank you for doing this."

"I'm not here for you," she responded. Her jaw was set firm and tension was written across her face. "You know where to find me when you're done," she said to the other woman.

She walked away from them then, heading back towards the line of trees they had come out of. A figure waited for her there and the person waved in his direction. He raised his hand and waved back, still smiling.

He smiled again and turned back towards the girl in front of him. He took the hand he was holding and brought it to rest on his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He apologized that he couldn't dress nicer for her.

She smiled up at him and told him that he was perfect.

They danced together, holding each other close as they swayed to music that only they could hear in their heads. Eventually, she started crying, pressing her face to his chest and sobbing into his shirt. He held her and moved them around the clearing, holding on to the moment as best he could. Tomorrow was a new day, after all, and they could be dead by the end of it. The thought settled deep in his heart and so he kissed her and watched two figures in the trees do the same.

"I'm surprised this isn't an ambush," she said.

Santana shrugged, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "I gave my word."

"A person's word doesn't mean much these days," Rachel answered immediately. "And no offense, your word means even less to me than most."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Shit, I'm not heartless," she said. "I wouldn't do that to Tina."

"Good," Rachel nodded. She glanced at her watch and buttoned her sweater. There was a hole in the bottom hem and it hung loose about her hips. It looked like it might have been a shade of pink once, but it had long since faded into a dull tan. The wind blew past them, rustling the leaves. The ratty sweater did little to ward out the chill and Rachel shivered.

They stood in silence together, leaning against the trees. Across the field, Mike and Tina danced together, two silhouettes caught in the moonlight. It stole Rachel's breathe away and from the look on Santana's face, it stole hers away, too. These were their only calm moments together, and while Rachel didn't entirely trust Santana, she knew that the taller girl was just as struck by the beauty of Mike and Tina's romance as she was.

"If they knew we were out here, we would be killed," Rachel said. "All of us, including you."

Santana shrugged her jacket off, handing it to a shivering Rachel. "Then it's a good thing they don't know we're out here."

Rachel took the offered article of clothing, her fingers running across the fabric. It was leather, real leather. It looked and felt expensive; it was definitely the nicest thing Rachel had seen in many years. "Santana," she breathed, smiling. She always forgot in the heat of battle fighting that there was a real person underneath Santana's vicious exterior, that she was hesitantly sweet.

The other girl waved her hand at Rachel. "Don't say it," she said.

Rachel didn't say it. She didn't need to; they both understood what it was. "Thank you," she said instead, slipping the jacket over her shoulders. It smelled like Santana, like warm summer homes and perfume that cost more than the Puckerman and Fabray homes combined.

"You're welcome, or whatever," Santana muttered, eyeing the girl next to her. Her jacket was a little big for Rachel, its sleeves hanging down over her hands. But it looked good and it looked right, Rachel wearing her clothes. She sighed heavily and held her hand out towards the other girl, turning her head away to look at Mike and Tina.

Rachel gripped her hand tightly and moved closer to her. "I wish that we could have been different, all of us," she said, leaning against Santana. "Sometimes, I wish we could still just be rivals again," she admitted.

Santana said nothing for a long moment and Rachel knew that her silence meant that Santana wished for the same things she did. "If I see you tomorrow, you know I'll have to kill you," Santana said.

Rachel nodded, lacing their fingers together. "Likewise, of course," she replied. "Tomorrow."

Santana glanced down at their hands locked together and remembered when her life had been simple, when she had stepped into the role of a leader and then fallen in love with the one person she was never meant to. Santana thought of the first time she had heard about Rachel Berry, how much she had hated the girl on principle. And then she thought of the first time she had seen Rachel in person and everything about her life had changed.

Santana kissed Rachel then, clutching the material of her jacket and pulling her close. She needed to know what it felt like just once - kissing Rachel. Tomorrow, or any day after that, one of them could die. Rachel might have to put her gun to the back of Santana's head and pull the trigger. Or worse, she might have to do it to Rachel. And she needed to kiss her once before it happened.

"There is no Paradise. It only exists in your head!"
"God forbid! May God forgive you. I'd rather have Paradise in my head than live in this hell! In this life, we're dead anyway."
Paradise Now