AN - This is a sequel to "I've Imagined It All." It picks up immediately where the first left off.

MUSE

Clio - was one of the nine Muses, the goddesses of music, song and dance. Her name was derived from the Greek verb kleô, "to make famous" or "celebrate." In Classical times, when the Mousai were assigned specific literary and artistic spheres, Clio was named Muse of history. In this guise she was represented holding an open scroll or seated beside a chest of books.

"Only happy songs."

Those were the last words shared between them. Brittany had placed a tender kiss on her forehead, squeezed her tightly, stepped into her car and had gone home. Santana was pretty sure she knew what it all meant. Brittany had all but demanded that she play the song again. She'd nodded when Santana had asked her to be with her. She'd looked into her eyes like there were no others in the world. Santana was pretty sure that they were back together. But Brittany had just disappeared into her car and back to her house.

A day later, after typing out and erasing several text messages, Santana called her. As the rings came through, her heart thumped against her chest. It felt like the time she'd called Brittany after their first kiss.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Her heavy breath echoed against the receiver.

"Are we ok?"

"Santana, oh honey, of course we are." Brittany chuckled a little. "What would make you say that?"

"Well," she could feel the tears welling. It didn't help that she'd had a few drinks to build up the courage to call. "Well I was worried, you just left last night."

"I'm sorry. I needed a little time to think."

"And?"

"And I thought."

"Britt." Santana scolded mockingly.

"I want to be with you, Santana, I do." This was beginning to sound like a conversation Santana had heard before.

"But?"

"But I think we should take things slowly. I'm not really sure how we go from the mess that we were into something that's nice and clean. I think we should go back to the beginning. Date again. Get to know each other all over again. It will feel like high school, but without all of the fear of being 'discovered' or being 'outed.' It'll be better this time around, I know it."

"But how do we start over, Britt? We have so much history. We've shared so much. We can't just erase that."

"No. And I don't want to erase that. Our history has made us who we are, Santana, and I would never change who we are. But, we also need to move forward. We can move forward without forgetting our past."

"Yeah," Santana paused, thinking. Her fingers played with the hem of her shirt as she sat atop the bed. "Ok. Well if we're going to start over, can I take you out?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Santana could hear Brittany smiling through the phone.

They hung up with plans for Santana to pick Brittany up from her apartment and go to dinner at a sushi restaurant in Malibu, one of Santana's favorites. Santana knew three days would be a struggle, but their schedules wouldn't allow for a sooner time. She'd been tempted to ask Brittany if she just wanted to come over for a late night dinner at the house, or an early morning breakfast, but neither of those options seemed to be on the "slow route." Instead, she'd opted for a racing heart and a tumbling stomach for three days while she waited for the night.

The days were starting to get busy again. (Not that they weren't busy before, but when Santana was in her depths of despair, busy days didn't matter. She didn't engage in them in the first place.) Her manager had set up a meeting with the label following the MTV special. They'd be discussing her public persona, the fallout from the TV show, and the next steps with the label. While the new image hadn't had an impact on her yet - aside from some acquaintances calling to congratulate her on her success - the next steps part of things concerned her. She hadn't composed in months. The whole ordeal with Brittany had caused her to retreat so far into herself that she couldn't even put her feelings into writing or music. Now, she still couldn't put those feelings into writing because Brittany wanted 'only happy songs.' And 'only happy songs' she'd give her. She stayed up until nearly four in the morning, plucking at guitar strings, scribbling then scratching out lyrics. Only happy songs.

She met her manager at his office around noon with the intent of planning out their message to the label. She'd opted for a printed dress instead of the jeans and t-shirts of more recent days. The printed dress wouldn't scream "I'm here and I'm queer" quite as much as the jeans and t-shirt she'd thought about wearing. In any case, the MTV special had screamed that phrase for her; she didn't need to go scaring the label any more.

"What did you think of the show?" Her manager smiled as he asked, presuming that she'd answer in the positive.

"It was exactly what I needed. I can't thank you enough, really."

"And Brittany?"

"We're going to see each other in a couple of days. For a date." Santana broke into a full-fledged smile as she pulled her manager into a hug. "Exactly what I needed," she whispered again into his ear.

They took their seats and shifted gears.

"Tell me what you want for Santana Lopez next. Santana Lopez - the singer and superstar, I mean."

She'd been thinking about it. Since the special aired on television, aside from Brittany, it was all she could think about. "I want to write again. Ideally, I love to be back at the Grammys within the year, though this next time I go, I'd love to have a hot blonde on my arm and actually enjoy myself. I want to put out a new album soon. I haven't started on much yet, but I have some ideas. I was working on a song last night that is close to being complete. "

"Yeah? Another 'One and Only'?" He seemed to be sitting at the edge of his leather office chair.

"I don't know if I'd call it another 'One and Only.' Brittany's made me promise to write only happy songs from now on. So, I'd say it's a happy song."

"'One and Only' wasn't necessarily sad."

"It wasn't, you're right. But it was about a life I never had. A life that at the time, I couldn't have. I think it's pretty clear if you go back and watch the Grammy performance that it wasn't the brightest time in my life."

"So tell me about the new song."

"It's about the past. A good time in the past. It's about a day I would live again and again and again if I could."

"Like Groundhog Day, huh, Bill Murray?"

"Um, sure?"

"You're too young, I guess. It's a great movie. Watch it sometime." He smirked at her from behind his desk. "Ok, so we should scoot here soon. The message is: new album, Grammys again next year. Sound right?"

"Sounds perfect."

Thirty minutes later, Santana was sipping mineral water, her legs crossed delicately on a plush leather couch. Three men in business suits surrounded her and a few sat in the outer circle, taking notes. Her manager sat beside her on the couch, again leaning forward in excitement.

"Gentleman." Her manager nodded as the meeting began. "We'd like to propose funding for a new album, sometime in the next three months or so. Ms. Lopez has been working on some new songs. Consider the new album a more mature Santana, with roots in what makes her unique - an emotional voice, swelling choruses, talented fingers on the guitar and piano."

The pinstripe suit on the left spoke up first. "Do you have any demos of these new songs?"

"No." Santana chimed in. "I haven't been to the studio yet."

"I think before we can commit money to this project, we're going to need to hear a few of the songs."

"That's ridiculous." Santana could see her manager's face flushing. "You never asked for any of the new songs before the rerelease of her last album. What makes this one different?'

"Really?" The suits looked around at one another, eyebrows raised, the corners of their mouths upturned. "Do you really have to ask that question? Look, we're not kicking her off the label and we're not making any unreasonable demands here. You manage other artists. You know that this happens sometimes, especially after a tumultuous event in the talent's life."

"My name is Santana and you don't have to speak about me as though I'm not here. If that's what you want - a few songs - I can get them to you. Though I may get them to another label first." She stood. "We'll be in touch."

That night she couldn't resist as she plugged Brittany's number into her phone. She was tucked under her comforter in sweats and a t-shirt, her cheeks stained with nervous tears.

"Britt?" Her voice just barely surfaced.

"What's wrong, San? What's wrong, baby?" Concern oozed through the phone.

"The label."

"Did they drop you? What happened? One of the artists I'm choreographing for now is on that label. Pretty high-powered, too. I can get him to send those jerks a message."

"No, no, Britt. They didn't drop me. But they didn't exactly pick me up with rousing second-time endorsements either."

"What do they want?"

"For me to record some songs in order for them to decide whether or not to keep things going." Santana's voice broke on the last word.

"Oh, San. I'm sure that your songs will be fantastic. They always are. I mean, you do have me as your source of inspiration and I'm pretty awesome."

Santana choked out a laugh through her tears. "True."

"Have you been working on anything?"

"A little. Nothing I'm too happy with."

"Well, when you're happy with it, I'd love to hear it."

"Maybe after our date?" Her voice was hopeful. Taking things slow could fall by the wayside. The quickest way into Britt-Britt's heart (and other parts) was through song.

"With pleasure."

"Thanks for cheering me up, Britt."

"Anytime. I'm looking forward to seeing you soon."

"Me too."

Santana jumped out of her bed as she ended the call. Her guitar was resting against the piano in the main room. Tuning issues be damned, she stepped out into the muggy beach air and began strumming, reworking the melodies and rhythms of her latest song. A notepad sat on the wicker table beside her, lyrics scratched out and new lyrics penned in. She'd already decided on a title, she just needed to fix up a few of the lyrics. This song would be dedicated to a first. Brittany had convinced her to write happy songs. She went back to a happy place. Perhaps the happiest of places. The first time she knew she was in love. First Day of My Life. It was the perfect start to her new album. Her happy album. A song about the history of love.

The restaurant was no longer just a favorite. It was the best restaurant ever. Brittany's eyes sparkled in the candlelight of their walled off private room. Having removed their shoes upon entrance, their toes played together underneath the shortened table. Santana watched her hand shake as she used her chopsticks to feed Brittany another bite of her sushi roll. Dinner felt like it was lasting a lifetime, and Santana was okay with that. More than okay with that, she was thrilled to be spending a lifetime with Brittany.

"You said you were working with someone from my label now?" Santana realized that she'd been so wrapped up in her own drama that she hadn't had a chance to ask Brittany about the recent comings and goings of her life.

"Yep. Doing a little bit of this and a little bit of that. He's got a big video coming out. Originally, they wanted me to be the lead dancer in it and possibly go on tour, but the managers and agents and whatnot all sat down and had a little pow-wow and I got my way. So now I'm the choreographer for this video. And, I'm shopping around some other things. I heard about this reality show about dancers. Also, there's an opening for a full-time choreographer for a music video production group. So there's a lot going on." Brittany was gushing and Santana was all ears. Her heart fluttered as she watched Brittany pour out her passion.

"I'm so proud of you, Britt. You're such a talented dancer and you deserve everything that comes your way." She put down her chopsticks and snaked her hand across the table, intertwining her sweaty fingers with Brittany's. "I've missed this. I've missed us."

"Me too."

"So do you want to hear this new song I've been working on?" Santana bit her lip to stave off her nervous energy.

"I would love to. Should we go back to your place?"

"Sounds lovely."

After a few minutes of fighting over the bill, Brittany relented and allowed Santana to pay. She poked her head out of the door and quickly popped back in.

"San," there was concern in her voice. "Santana, there are a bunch of photographers outside."

"Shit. I don't know what...the last time this happened...what the hell, Britt!" Her face became more and more flushed as anger roiled to the surface.

Brittany put her hand on Santana's shoulder, rubbing a thumb back and forth over the bone that jutted out. "It's ok. It's gonna be fine. Let's just walk out there and walk to your car. Don't say anything, don't do anything, and remember I can speak and act for myself."

"What do you mean, 'you can speak and act for yourself'?" Santana could hear the sharp tone in her voice, but it was too late to pull back. Anger and a carafe of sake had gone to her brain and impaired her ability to think clearly.

"I know you. You want to protect me. Tonight, I don't need protecting. If one of them says something to either one of us, we just have to walk by, okay?"

"Whatever, let's go." She grabbed Brittany's hand and pulled her out of the door and onto the sidewalk. Her eyes hit the ground as she ducked her head and darted toward the car.

Santana!

Ms. Lopez! Anything to say to the fans?

Brittany! Make a comment.

Santana! What do you say to people who won't buy your album now that you're a lesbian?

Where's the afterparty, ladies?

If either of you want a real man sometime, I'll always be close by!

Santana's jaw clenched tightly as she raised her head and stopped in her tracks. Brittany continued walking, pulling Santana this time. "Please San. Let's just go."

She pulled her hand from Brittany's and paused, considering her options. "Whatever, man." She pulled the keys out of her pocket and continued walking, clicking the automatic locks for Brittany to climb in. Once in the car, she slowly pulled out, careful not to hit any of the photographers standing in front of the vehicle.

"Should we call the cops?" Brittany's voice was quiet, scared.

"Why? They're not going to be nice to us."

"Just to get these guys out of our way so we can move freely."

"No." Santana's jaw clenched itself again. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel.

After a few minutes, the paparazzi cleared.

"Want me just to take you back to your apartment?" Santana muttered, still gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Brittany turned to study her, pondering the right words. "No."

They sat in silence for the thirty minute ride to Santana's house, her knuckles gradually letting up the closer they got. As she turned off the engine, Santana stayed in the car. "Britt."

Her hand on the door handle, Brittany turned back to Santana.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if...I don't know...I'm sorry if in the past I did things that you didn't want me to do. I've always wanted to protect you from what's bad out there." Santana's eyes gently looked up at her, her breath heavy and loud.

"I didn't say what I said to get you to apologize to me. I just want you to know that I'm a different Brittany. I don't always need to be protected. I'm pretty good at handling myself. In the past, I let you protect me and I was okay with that. And I'm still pretty okay with you protecting me now, but I'm also just as good at doing it myself."

Santana could feel tears well in her eyes as her heavy breathing continued. "I guess we really are doing something new."

"We're moving forward, San."

"I don't know if you're going to like the song that I wrote then."

"Is it a happy song, like I asked for?"

"Very."

"Then what's not to like?"

"Well, it's about our past."

"I'm not denying our past. There were some great moments in there. Moments that we should celebrate. It's a moment we should celebrate?"

"Yeah."

"Then I can't wait to hear it, babe. Come on inside. We can start a fire and you can play me your next big hit." She pulled Santana's hand into her own and kissed her palm, steadying her breath and calming her nerves.

The orange glow of the fire danced around the living room, warming the soft white linens of the couches and chairs, reflecting off of the dark wooden floor. Brittany, legs tucked beneath her, sat on one of the white couches facing the fire. Santana emerged a moment later from her bedroom with her guitar in hand, then sat gently next to Brittany on the couch. Her fingers nervously set the tattered notepad at her side, in case she forgot the new lyrics. Her breath quivered. She felt Brittany's hand rest on her knee.

"San...it's going to be great."

"I'm not really nervous about that right now."

"Oh." Brittany's eyes fell to the spot where her hand rested on Santana's blue jeans.

"This song is about our history. It's about one of our firsts. I'm not sure you know about this one though. Remember that night that I sang, 'When the Stars Go Blue'?"

Brittany nodded, her lower lip between her teeth.

"We kissed for the first time that night. But this song isn't about that. That day was like the first day of the rest of my life. I knew that day. I knew that I loved you and that you were it."

Brittany's hand tightened just above her knee. "Sing it," she whispered.

Santana's fingers plucked at the guitar. She leaned over to take one last look at the lyrics she'd scrawled on the notepad.

This is the first day of my life
I swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don't know where I am
I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said "this is the first day of my life
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you
But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy"

So if you want to be with me
With these things there's no telling
We just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides maybe this time is different
I mean I really think you like me

Tears rolled gently down Brittany's cheeks. "It's beautiful."

Santana propped her guitar against the couch and tugged at Brittany's hand, pulling it into her own. Her other hand reached out and cupped Brittany's cheek, wiping away her tears.

"You're right. I do really like you."

"Despite our history?"

"Because of our history. It's a part of us and it has made us that much stronger, Santana."

Santana leaned forward, head resting against Brittany's forehead. "Britt," her breath tickled Brittany's face.

"San." Aside from the crackling of the fire, heavy breath filled the room. "I need to go home."

Santana's heart fell. It truly was a new day if Brittany wasn't falling all over her after a song.

Brittany clasped Santana's right hand the entire drive home. Even when she fell asleep, her hand firmly grasped Santana's, turning her knuckles white for another reason this time. Upon their arrival, Brittany slowly woke to find Santana's eyes on her, watching her wake.

"We're here."

"Thank you." Brittany shook off the sleep. "Thank you for an amazing second first date. And thank you for the happiest of love songs. I'm thinking this might be the first day of my life cause I could go anywhere with you and be happy." She leaned over and delicately placed her lips against Santana's flushed cheek.

"Goodnight, Santana."

"Goodnight, Brittany."

Song by Bright Eyes.