A/N: This story has been milling around in my head for a while and I've finally plucked up the courage to write and post it.

So I hope you enjoy! If you would like me to post more, let me know!

-Elle

Chapter 1

You know she's gorgeous. You know she's the most beautiful little girl in the whole entire world. But it hurts. It hurts because she's not yours.

Gracie is very independent for a seven year-old, in fact, she always had been. Gracie is one of those children who knows way too much for her own good, you could ask her to tell you military time at the age of five and you would get a perfectly clear and correct answer. Something you know is not normal.

She doesn't look like you at all; Gracie has two deep pools of melted milky chocolate for eyes, quite hypnotizing to look at, in fact. Last Christmas you finally gave her permission to get the fringe she wanted, and to be quite truthful, she suited it well. Gracie's matching coloured hair flurried just below her shoulders, unusually straight, all the time.

Surprisingly, she's of average height for her age, but her slim, athletic figure, tricks the mind into making her look smaller than she really is.

You love her more than life itself. But it hurts. It hurts because she's not yours... and never will be.

"Gracie Maria Lopez, get your butt into these scarily small hipsters right this minute!"

You exclaim holding a pair of black, lycra shorts up in the air by your two hands. This is definitely not what you imagined your twenty-nine year-old self to be doing.
It's five minutes till six chimes on the big wall clock. It's five minutes till your kid is officially late for dance class and you're yet to take off onto your fifteen minute journey.

Seconds later the pitter-patter of tiny feet get louder and louder till Gracie swoops in, retrieving the clothing. "Sorry Mami, I couldn't find my pink leotard"

"I washed the blue one last night, why couldn't you just put that one on?" you ask incredulously, noticing that she was now sporting a pastel, strappy leotard with her matching dance bag plunked on the floor beside her.

Gracie pauses her difficult attempt to put on the shorts momentarily, "because I like pink better" she states, as if it's the most obvious thing ever known to man.

You sigh. Not necessarily on purpose. Just, ever since you became a mother you've noticed it's like it is all helpless. "Well we're going to be late now"

"Only by a couple of minutes"

"That's not the point Gracie, it would have saved you so much more effort and time to stop being awkward and just put the blue one on."

You know you shouldn't scold her now. Not when you're in a bad mood. It's not fair on Gracie. The little girl gulps with her eyes wide as saucers, just that look alone could solve wars, conceive rainbows and melt hearts. "Sorry Mama" she grumbles into her chest, putting a considerate amount of effort into tying the laces on her high-tops.

Help her Santana, help your daughter...

She smiles gracefully, while leaning back onto her two hands when you bend down to help her. Of course being the super-smart cookie she is, can easily tie the shoe laces with her eyes closed. But there's something about having Mami help her that creates comfort. "Are you going to watch me dance?"

Every Wednesday at six; ballet would start. It would last forty-five minutes before they changed over to tap which would also last that amount of time. Lastly, Gracie would participate in Jazz and acrobatics, all of them she'd done like a ritual for the past four months straight.

You weren't going to stick her in the entertainment, show world. However, after her first dance class when she conked out on your shoulder five minutes of leaving the studio, you realised there where positives to the robbing, snobby dance tutors.

"I'll stay for a little while, but then I have a few errands"

"But you will be there at the end though, won't you?" her innocence is smile-worthy.

You curl your hand around her cheek, admiring the soft plump-ness underneath, "of course beautiful, when have I ever not?" Gracie allows a midi-grin to press upon her lips, but goes no further.

In a way you like how people smile at the two of you, walking hand-in-hand down the New York streets. Gracie's on your right, her spare hand holding the her sports bag still on her shoulder. Yourself, in gym wear, comfortable in the humid, early June heat.

Gracie doesn't speak much on the way there. She's trying her best to do the whole 'cold shoulder' thing, but failing comically. Whenever she saw something to her appeasement in a store window or an attention grabber in the street, she'd go to blurt out something, but stopped herself before it was understandable. You try your hardest not to laugh.

"Ali!"

And she's gone. Just disappears completely, as if the building's swallowed her whole.

"Please tell me you're losing the will to live too..." Charlotte Main is probably the only Mother you can stand whose child also goes there. Probably because she's the only one with a sense of humour and enjoys the occasional bar-crawl.

You chuckle when the woman sighs tiredly, rubbing her forehead "I lost it a long time ago, I'm just a pretty awesome actress"

"Touché Miss Lopez-" you both turn in to walks up the stone steps, outside the Grande academy "-I swear, that kid is eight going on eighteen" Charlie's blonde curls are thrown into a messy blob upon her head, sort of proving how tiring she makes things out to be.

It's highly frustrating when you see those Moms that look like they just stepped out of 'Vogue' whole juggling a toddler on her hip and herding a bunch of under-ten year-olds like sheep. It's not only impossible, but sort of hurts a twentieth century Mother's pride.

"Well she's not the only one... Grey thinks my make-up vanity is fun for dress-up time"

"Ooh" Charlie giggles, "been there, done that- but I bet you didn't have brand new, crystal clear, white bedding mere inches away"

Now you have to laugh at that, just the image in your head seems hysterical. Charlotte's definitely the laid back type of Mom, if there was a choice between slaving in a hot kitchen for hours making home-cooked banquets or throwing a one-person meal into the microwave then there was no thought about it. You like Charlotte because she doesn't think she's better than everyone else, also she's a single Mother too.

It doesn't surprise you when nearly every door swings in your face upon entering the expensive building- little girls dressed in pink tutus and ribbons really don't care for manners these days.

Gracie and Ali's dance class is on the third floor, of course.

Which of course, is pretty much the only working out you two are going to do for today. "Ah Miss Lopez, Ms Main, so glad to see you could make it" the boisterous sarcasm physically hurts.

Mrs Jeroby seriously reminds you of the Trunchbull, just not as huge. She's more skimpy, skinny and rat like. Also ancient. Like, really ancient. Like you're convinced this building was built after she was born.

Mrs Jeroby steps aside for you to get a glimpse of Gracie who was currently warming up in a pool of other little girls. You smile.

"Good afternoon Sylvia-" she obviously doesn't care for Charlie's use of name, "-my apologies, there was some traffic on the way here" not sincere at all. And she knows it.

You can't help but stifle a chuckle at the ghastly woman's snarl, it's hard to believe anything could make her look any worse than she originally is. Mrs Jeroby waves you off, before locking the door firmly in place. Another thing about the woman is that any disruptions during her class and she will instantly kick you out, like, physically. You know this due to the 'great house-wife fight of two months ago'.

You do daydream a lot about kicking that woman's ass... but you're not that person anymore. That person was abruptly shook out of you when Gracie landed in your palms. But you don't care. She's way worth it. But whatever the situation, you can fight your own battles.

"Are you sticking around? don't you have anything to do?" you ask as Charlie slips onto the bench nearest the back.

The woman sighs, rather contempt "nope, not a thing. Ain't it great?" she winks overjoyed.

"I'm extremely happy for you, however..."

"Uh-oh"

"However, I do."

"Bummer" she replies. "I can keep an eye on Gracie if you'd like?"

You relax just a little bit at the thought, "that would be great, if you don't mind..."

"No! not at all, besides, they're someone else's problem for now" she grins wickedly.

You relay a tad longer before it's time to leave, with one last look through the window you see Gracie skipping across the floor like the perfectionist she is; holding up the sides of her lilac wrap and showing off her bedazzling smile. You smile. It's impossible not to.

The dark wrath of Mrs Jeroby near the window pane makes you move quicker than you would have liked, that woman could probably compete with the 'Grinch' and win an award. You can't do anything though, ever since the day she told Gracie she had extreme potential, the little girl loved her to pieces... though there where regular cry sessions when the witch told her off for something ridiculous.

"Bye" you say once more before taking off back down the large, open corridor.

Every Wednesday is different. Sometimes you'll sit in a trance watching your daughter's enchanted smile as she runs around behind the glass. Some days work duties keep calling and you're summoned to the even bigger building not too far away.

You enjoy being an English teacher, it's not necessarily the fulfilling career you once daydreamed about, but it's good enough to live by. Back in high school you would wonder to why people would actually become teachers, like, why would they ever want to be around a bunch of hormonal, annoying, immature teenagers? but there's something alighting about helping someone else succeed... something you do a lot of.

Today was the exception. Considering it's very nearly the summer break you can relax just a tad more and use the spare time for yourself.

"I have stood here for the past five minutes! do you not own a watch?"

"Shut up Hummel, let's go buy me some coffee..." yep, some things never change.

Not everyone left you know? though it sometimes feels like it, you realise the odd person might have genuinely cared about you. One of them being Kurt. He releases an overly dramatic sigh and rolls his eyes before snaking his arm around yours to link. You like it when he does that. But you'll never tell him.

"How's little Miss Grey? I hear she had a field day in your make-up bag..."

You stifle a slight giggle at the mental image in your head. Only five days ago did your daughter decided to go all artsy and paint her face- honestly, she looked like a clown. But you never told her that. She was so proud.

"Lets just say I'll be replacing a few things" you reply. "-And locking my bedroom door from now on"

"Seriously, are you that naïve? this is just the start of many incidents to come"

"And you know this because?" 'when did he become the child whisperer?', you think.

Kurt turns his head towards you as you both walk, "I have a nephew, remember?" he said referring to Cooper's son who was not much older than Gracie. Of course the man-slag got a girl knocked up on his climb up the fame ladder. Admittedly though, Theo was a beautiful child for the Father he has. The little boy inherited his Mothers golden curls, ocean blue eyes and pretty pink lips. Fortunately.

"Why? what's the little devil been up to lately?"

Kurt stalls, enveloping his lips trying not to react "...he dropped Coopers prized Lego millennium falcon out of his bedroom window"

Oh now you have to laugh at that, in fact you very nearly keel over in a fit of giggles. However, you're not too sure what you're actually laughing at; how Theo did what he did or the fact a grown man owned such a toy in the first place. "That kid's genius, though I'm surprised Cooper didn't jump out after it"

"Oh he very nearly tried to, except Jennifer grabbed him before he could lift a foot"

"Well thanks for the warning, I'll remember to lock away all my Lego battleships for future reference." he laughs at that. You both turn into the short-cut, AKA the park. It's a nice evening, so you're instantly crowded by running children with their parents and strolling couples. But you don't mind. At least you can be one of them.

"How's work?" Kurt asks you. He asks that a lot.

You gaze up at the still burning sun before meeting his own eyes, "good, the last term's over on Friday-"

"Are you taking Gracie anywhere over the Summer?"

It's not something you've really thought about yet. The thing is, your motherly method has always been very spontaneous, many a time you both started your day off eating soggy cheerios and watching old re-runs and by the end of the day you where lounging by your parents swimming pool back in Lima. The beginning of year pay-rise helps with that.

"I'm not sure-" you start honestly, "I need the sun though. New York summer's are good and all but you can't beat a beach in Hawaii"

"True, me and Blaine are looking into going to Europe for three weeks, I totally want to go see the Eiffel tower and the..." he goes on, but you seem to drown him out as you fall into your own thought.

Europe. Something you've never really thought about. Well, you once did, that time Quinn offered you to come visit her in Paris two Springs ago, but at the time the thought of travelling so long with a toddler seemed dire. But now Gracie was much older and more mature... maybe, just maybe, it was a possibility.

"-Actually Europe really doesn't sound too bad, I'd like to take Gracie to Spain... show her my heritage"

"That sounds like fun! I bet she'd love it there" he sounded way too excited for your liking, the only time he uses that voice is when he feels awkward about something. And you know exactly what it is.

You finally reach that oh-so-wanted coffee cart, your favourite one in New York city. Kurt knows to take you here whenever he gets the chance, probably a big reason to why you love him so much.

"The usual?" Roy the coffee guy quips seeing you step in front still linked to Kurt. Roy the coffee guy is one sound guy, he's a Latino who sells magic in a cup, what's not to love about him? he once asked you on a date, crazy as it seems you went. You went on a date with a guy. But even he knew it couldn't work out, you both laughed too much, and so instead you became good friends... and the free coffee he started distributing to you helped a lot.

Except that wasn't the only reason it never worked out.

"Please" you begin, "except really strong"

"If you make your coffee any stronger, it will blacken those perfect teeth of yours" Kurt comments, raising his eye brows as if scolding a small child.

"Well if I don't make it any stronger then I may not make the journey back to pick up my daughter"

Kurt smiles. The same smile he uses every time you say that word- daughter. It's no longer sympathetic, like it what it used to be. Now it's more pride and accepting,
he's proud of his best friend. He's proud of you.

"Is she still keeping you up at night?"

Ever since you could remember, Gracie went through odd bouts of severe nightmares and terrors. She'd wake up, screaming crying, absolutely drenched in sweat and chanting Mommy over and over again even though you held her to your chest. And every single time without fault, you'd leave the room and break down sobbing over how much it broke your heart to see your baby girl in any sort of pain.

"Not really, she went through a bad time about three weeks ago, just lately she's been reasonably okay"

"...So what's wrong?"

Why do differences always start off as 'wrong'? a question you regularly wonder about "nothing"

"You're a bad liar"

"I'm not lying, everything's fine, honestly" yah, you're a bad liar. Even you could admit that.

Kurt loosens his grip to fetch his own drink from the man, with a quick 'thank you' he turns, guiding you to a small wooden bench to the side of the park in rows. "so why are you tired? honestly, you look as if you haven't slept in a week"

"Gee, thanks Kurt" you spit, full of sarcasm and annoyance.

"No! no, not what I meant, what I'm trying to say is that I fondly remember those weekends back when we where in college, where you would sleep for forty-eight hours straight, and only get up to use the bathroom and eat a handful of dry cereal... and I know that as soon as something is off with you, you don't sleep"

You're quite amazed at how precise he is... also a little creeped out that he knows so much about you.

"I-I... I keep yelling at Gracie-" you cough, you're not too sure why your brain thinks now's the right time to spill the beans, but you can't help it, "a-and I don't mean too, I don't want her to hate me Kurt." In the moment you look so weak and hurt, not the Santana everyone else knows. If there's anyone on this planet who can make you weep like a baby, then it's your baby.

Kurt places down his now luke-warm paper cup before turning on an angle and wrapping his two arms around your daunt, tanned shoulders. Usually you would shrug him off and cringe at his love, but, you feel like this is what you need right now. Someone who might understand.

"Gracie doesn't hate you Santana. Gracie loves you more than anything on this planet... you're her Mommy"

And that is all it takes. A single tear bursts out of the banks and rolls down your cheek for him to see, it's quickly followed by a couple more "b-but she's going to find out Kurt, and then she will hate me"

It's sort of embarrassing how quick you became such a blubbing mess. In a way it concerns the man.

"She'll never hate you San, what you did for that little girl was amazing, and one day she'll know that too"

"What if she resents me for it all? I feel like I can't give her everything because one day she's just gonna walk out that door and never come back..."

He's astounded. You feel almost better at shrugging off the extra weights from your shoulders. It's true though. You do feel as if you can't love her too much, or as much as you want to. Because you know one day there's a chance she'll leave forever. And that would physically kill you.

"Hey, hey, hey-" Kurt coos hugging you closer, now ignoring the odd look from a passer-by, "where's all this coming from?"

"Because Kurt, it's getting closer and closer to the day I have to tell her"

"Who says you have to tell her?"

You'd never thought of it like that. And even though you know it's the right thing to do, not doing it at all is always an option. "It's just the right thing to do..."
your voice gets deep and low, "isn't it?"

"I can't tell you that" he says humbly with a gentle smile, "she's your daughter Santana, and you decide what happens with anything. Just know that right now, everything you're doing is perfect"

"But I yelled at her Kurt..."

"Moms yell at their kids, it never does them any harm" Kurt says as if it's nothing. You don't know why you feel the way you do. But you will do whatever it is to make it stop.

"What if I'm doing something wrong?"

"Okay, please do me a favour and breathe-" Kurt takes both of your hands and soothingly rubs them with the pad of his thumb, "I don't fancy having to carry your flaccid 'just passed out' body, back home"

That you smile at. "Sorry..."

You both sit in silence for a few moments; only the sounds of child-like giggles and dogs barking radiate in the background.

"Let me tell you a little story-"

"Oh God."

Kurt's eyes narrow before rolling back into his school comically, "shh-" he starts pressing his index finger to his lips, "Gracie I remember was about three years-old,
and it was Christmas eve" you smile. Just because you know where this is going. "I think it was around six-ish and you where just about to put her to bed when she wasted no time in projectile vomiting all over you shirt" he laughs and so do you. Though just mentally re-living the moment is truly disgusting.

"So you leapt up off the couch and then stood looking at her sitting in front of you, just, in complete shock! but... as the old Santana would have done (screamed violently before running in the opposite direction to probably puke up herself)" Kurt jokes pulling a face, "you watched as Gracie's face broke and she began to hysterically sob, still covered in puke right down her front. Something in you though, just, changed- you pulled your top right up over your head, even though puke dripped off right into your hair-" you both cringe at that.

"You throw it across the room, pick up the screaming toddler and pull her sick covered front onto your chest and rock her till she stops crying. You didn't care about the vomit, or screaming. All's you cared about was that little girl. That's when I realised you where an amazing Mother- not that you weren't before, I just always saw something, as if you could never commit. But I got it all wrong."

First thoughts: you where there throughout all of that and never thought to help?!

You quickly forgive that part, for that first time in a long time something Kurt Hummel said, made perfect sense. "Now, do yourself a favour and don't fall back into being unsure of who you are. You're Gracie Maria Lopez's Mom, you're a strong, independent woman whose a kick-ass teacher with a one-hundred percent pass record. Also I'm convinced your kid's gonna be the next Einstein."

It's refreshing for you to hear something over than criticism, not that you get that a lot. Well, not from actual people. From yourself.

"Okay, as cringe worthy as most of that was, thank you..."

"Hey, what am I here for?" he grins giving you a quick, relaxed side hug. Your coffee's gone cold, aswell as your goose-bump showered arms. Alarming you, it's time to go.

Brittany S Pierce once called Kurt a unicorn- definition: 'a mythical animal typically represented as a horse with a single straight horn projecting from its forehead', now Kurt Hummel may not stand on four-legs and have an ice-cream cone pointing from his head, but Kurt Hummel was certainly the most unicorn of all.

"So what's on the agenda for tonight then?" Kurt asked gently as you both stroll out of the park, the same way you came in. He secretly hopes you aren't going to fall back into the mood you where sporting an hour ago. He can't stand seeing you like that.

You think content, before allowing the corners of your lips to slowly rise, "uhh, I think I'm gonna do something with Gracie, not too sure what-" you say looking to the floor, "but definitely something."

"Good" Kurt smirks, "I'm glad"

"But Princess Gracie, Mumsy drank all of her tea and now needs a re-fill" you pronounce in your best British accent.

"We don't do free re-fills here, this isn't America Mom!" Gracie exclaims matter-of-factly, completely ruining the role you where both playing. You're currently squeezed into the worlds smallest chair while holding the worlds smallest, pretty pink, plastic tea-cup and eating the worlds smallest cupcakes. And as much as your butt aches for freedom, there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

Gracie tuts bemused while shaking her head, "now Princess Mommy-" now you seriously find that adorable, "it's time for the ceremony, so you have to put a tiara on your head" she states. Oh look, the worlds smallest crown... shocker.

You gently place the sparkly tiara in front of the scrappy bun your hair currently resides in, "beautiful?"

"Fantabulous!"

"Who taught you that?" you chuckle.

"Kurt, he said if something's fantastic and fabulous, then it is fantabulous! like extraordinary, if something's extra-ordinary then it's extraordinary. Like you"

You look over to the little girl, still wearing her pink leotard but now with the biggest matching coloured tutu she owns around her waist. She looks like her. But that doesn't necessarily mean she is her.

This little girl loves you Santana... your daughter loves you more than anything in the entire world, just like Kurt said.

You smile, probably the most genuine smile you've done in a long time. Gracie notices, but chooses to ignore it and just smiles back before reaching over with her purple tea-pot and pours pretend tea into a couple more tea-cups. Maybe this wasn't the life you once imagined your twenty-nine year-old self to be doing, in fact you never actually imagined yourself to be doing this at all.

But you wouldn't change it for the world.