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One Day, We'll Have It All

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Santana was on one side of the room, Rachel on the other, Murdo in the bedroom, and the silence engulfed the rest of the apartment. The two of them had argued back and forth until their voices were raw, and then no more. All the pent up anger, all the vicious and venomous words that should never had been said ended up being spoken, and only now the tears had stopped.

The line in the sand had been drawn, there was no going back. It was over.

Seven years of being together, four of those married, and this was what it had come to; Rachel sitting on the floor by the window, Santana on the couch on the far end of the room, and broken promises laying at their feet.

Santana was sure she was numb to the pain. Her body was grieving with the tears running down her cheeks and the body shakes of despair, but emotionally she just felt numb. It was going to hit her hard later, but for now she had a level head, and with that, she did all she could do.

She took what was hers, what she needed to survive this.

"I get the apartment," the words were gravelly on her tongue but clear enough to catch Rachel's attention. It only took a moment before she responded, thinking over the possible outcomes.

"Okay," Rachel murmured, nodding as she looked down at her lap. If this was what Santana wanted to do now, then so be it. She wouldn't protest.

"And the dog." Murdo was still in the bedroom, hopefully sleeping soundly and not destroying everything, and God dammit Santana was not going to lose him too.

"No," was the firm response of Rachel, causing Santana to look at her in surprise. Yeah right.

"Fuck off, no way. You're not getting him. After everything you've done, do you really think you have the right to say you want him?" Conceding, Rachel nodded again and accepted that she really was picking the wrong battles.

There would be others, more important ones, but for now she needed to go through this. If it was what Santana wanted at that time, she'd go along with it, because in a few hours, she'd be walking out that door and never coming back. Best to get it sorted out before it was too late.

And they did, with a verbal agreement in place, Rachel rose to her feet, feeling the pins and needles set in as she tried to move her legs. She didn't dare say goodbye to Murdo, as it would break her heart to see his excited face and then have to walk away from it, so she avoided the bedroom and went straight for the door.

Now the harder part. With her hand on the door handle, she looked back to the woman she genuinely thought she would be spending the rest of her life with and knew this was the end of them. They couldn't go on anymore, and while it was torture to look at Santana's hurt face and teary eyes, it was killing her to open the door and make it final.

With so many scenarios playing in her mind, wondering if there was anything she could do to fix it, to make things right, to help them become them again, Rachel remained paused at the door. And it was this that unnerved Santana enough to react.

"Well, do you want me to actually kick you out or are you happy to do it yourself?" she spat, holding as tightly as possible to her mask, keeping everything at bay.

The words were enough, and Rachel knew that was a sign there was nothing to be done. She needed to go.

Only with the door clicking shut softly behind Rachel did Santana lose it. The numbness was gone, replaced by pure agony, her chest being ripped open by bare hands, her heart beating out of the gap left open, and then no more, just pain; excruciating and agonising pain.

And in the back of her mind, Santana knew this was only going to get worse. A wound like this, it would grow infected over time, leave scars, and never truly heal. There would be no coming back from it, no amount of time would mend her broken heart. All she could do now was just endure.

*0*0*

Broken Records looked like every other bar around that part of town, but this one was where Santana spent most of her time. Unlike her college days, she wasn't drinking, wasn't trying to get in front of a mic and sing, and wasn't trying to dance on the bar. Instead, she was checking it was all in working order for the night head.

It was her baby, her first project. While studying at college had been great, and had made her parents proud, she didn't want to follow that substandard career path. She wanted to make it big, but having lived in the shadow of a truly supreme voice, she knew that wasn't the way.

Instead, she teamed up with another to help make that dream come true. Dani, her business partner, was after the same thing. Originally, she wanted to sing and be known for that, but New York had been tougher to Dani than it ever had to Santana, and rather than working her hands raw for any old bar, she saw the merit in doing it for herself.

Dani brought the smarts, the business know all from having worked hard all over town, and Santana had brought the funds. And three years of hard work had earned Broken Records a sophisticated reputation for what was primarily a student hangout. And as every night was party night to the local students, that meant Santana was frequently inside, ensuring everything was running as it should be.

But on this particular occasion, Santana wished it had been Dani who was front of house, as she wanted nothing to do with the person that had just walked in. Of course, they had ignored the fact that the place was clearly not open at that point in time and wandered on in, and of course they strutted their way down towards Santana like they owned the damn place. As if she should expect anything less.

"I wondered when you'd show up," Santana drawled, wiping down the bar, making no attempt to look Quinn's way. She knew it was her by the walk, the wave of familiar perfume, the all too imposing presence that came with the other woman.

"Is that so?" Quinn replied, making no move to come closer.

"Dame right it is. Rachel's been clinging to you since we split, so of course you'd show up."

"She needed someone." The words were offhanded, a simple shrug of the shoulder to match them, but it was the wrong move on Quinn's part.

"And I didn't?" Santana spat back, glaring at her for even daring to think otherwise.

Quinn at least had the decency to drop her gaze to the floor and accept whatever was to come next. She hadn't been there for Santana when she needed her, and instead ended up picking sides without actually picking sides. She didn't agree with either Rachel or Santana's opinions on why the marriage broke up, but somehow she ended up being the confidant for Rachel, even though she had originally been closer with Santana.

It had played out messily and no one had been left clean. Quinn was just another dirty casualty caught in the mess.

Going back to what she was doing, Santana turned to check the fridges, eying stock and making Quinn wait. There was one question on the tip of her tongue, but perhaps it was best she removed herself from within reaching distance of anything sharp before asking.

Creating space between the bar and herself, Santana pointed at one of the booths at the back and indicated for Quinn to follow. She did just that, and sat opposite, watching carefully. Santana knew that Quinn had come with some kind of speech, so she expected to hear it already, but as that wasn't happening, she was going to have to be the brave one.

"So is it you she's marrying?" she asked, straight to the point, needing to know.

"What?!" Quinn blurted, looking more horrified than caught red handed.

"She's getting engaged, is it to you?" It could have all been an act, so Santana needed to know for sure.

"No, of course it's not. Santana, I would never do that to you. It's not me she's with," Quinn explained, shaking her head and frowning.

"I always assumed you liked her." That wasn't a question, but clearly Quinn felt that she had to give you something as she then opened herself up some more.

"I did, past tense, but she married you. I'm not going to be that kind of person, going after one of friend's spouse." That was reasonable enough, and with that answer accepted, it was time to move onto the more important one.

"Who is she trying to marry then?" Santana was doing everything possible to make it seem like she didn't care, but no one was buying it.

"Some photographer." Quinn's vague answer was enough for her to know she wouldn't get a name anytime soon.

"Does this photographer know about me?"

"Yes. Rachel was very upfront about it all. The second their relationship bordered on being serious she confessed to being married."

"And why didn't she push for a divorce then?"

"She thought it would send the wrong message in their relationship."

Santana rolled her eyes, trying hard not to let the words she was thinking spew forth. If she did, it would only lead to Quinn and her arguing, and most likely not talking for months on end. They had been there, they had done that. The rules of the friendship were now simple; as long as neither Santana or Rachel bitched about the other, Quinn could safely stay in their life. It was the only way she could cope with the difficulties of being friends with two people who could hardly be in the same room as the other.

But when Rachel had shown up at Santana's door, it was obvious what the next move would be. Quinn had to have known that Rachel was back from that stint in L.A. and she had to have known what Rachel was planning. Yet she hadn't hinted or said anything, leaving Santana open to being blindsided.

Clenching her jaw, Santana looked away, not wanting to start.

"Thank you," Quinn said softly, as if knowing exactly what Santana had stopped herself from doing.

"Whatever," she barked back, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "So what brought you here? Come to convince me to do this Rachel's way?"

"It's not Rachel's way, Santana, it's the right way." God, what a load of bullshit. Rolling her eyes again, Santana crossed her arms, and waited. Quinn had five minutes to state her case before she was going back to work. The bar wasn't going to ready itself.

"Why won't you sign the papers?" Quinn finally asked, her eyes full of confusion and curiosity.

"She's my wife." That was the cop-out way of answering that question.

"She hasn't been your wife in years, Santana. You're just holding onto a bad thing. Don't you think it's time to move on?"

She did, but it wasn't that easy, and now she had to make Quinn understand that.

"When did you stop loving her?" Santana asked, and her question caused Quinn to pale.

"What?" The silence of the bar rang on after her shaky response, but Santana had known about Quinn's adoration of Rachel for years so wasn't bothered in the slightest.

"You loved her, I know that, but when did you stop? Have you ever stopped?" she asked, and while this bordered on cruelty, it was a must to make her point.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Quinn's defences were going up, which was completely understandable.

"Do you really think I can just sign my life with her away and pretend it didn't happen? That's what she's asking me."

"You've moved on. She said you were with a blonde now-" No. Santana was not going to have that shit shredding around.

"Brittany and I are just friends. She comes over, eats my food, plays with my dog, and we watch movies. Her boyfriend is in Iraq and she gets lonely. So I'm being a good friend. Rachel may have decided our vows and marriage were worth shit, but I didn't." The iciness of her voice was a tone Quinn hadn't heard in years, but the words themselves were more important.

"So wait, what are you telling me here, San? Do you still love her?" Was it really going back to this?

"I married her. Do you think I would have done that if I didn't think things would work out between us?" Quinn looked as though she couldn't process what those words actually meant and shook her head, jumping back to the reason why she was there in the first place.

"You need to settle on the separation agreement."

"I don't want to." Santana shrugged, mind made up.

"What do you want? It can't be her, because you're still spitting venom at her."

"She left me, of course I'm still angry about that." Angry about that and so many other things, all equally painful and back to being as raw as they were when Rachel left thanks to her surprise visit the other night.

"Angry enough to punish and hurt her like this?" Quinn asked, frowning at how Santana could possibly be so wicked.

"She wants to erase me from her existence, as if I was never there – don't you think that is punishing me, hurting me?"

Quinn had no more words, because while she was sure that's not what Rachel was trying to do, she didn't have enough ammunition to safely navigate through this. She didn't know enough of what Rachel was trying to do, not in great detail, so knew it was safer to bow out now.

And the sound of heels walking their way gave her the perfect out.

"San, do you know what I did with the- Oh," Dani's voice stopped short, taking in the sight of the two of them sitting together, Santana's face giving enough away to know that this was no happy chat. "Sorry to interrupt, I didn't-"

"It's fine," Santana murmured, moving to get out of the booth, and having Quinn follow.

"Hi, Dani," she greeted, smiling politely.

"Quinn," Dani replied, nodding back. The two of them weren't exactly friends, but polite pleasantries were never too hard to come up with.

"I best be going," Quinn added in, before the silence dragged on. She moved towards the door, nodding her bye to Dani and was glad to hear Santana walking behind her.

Once closer to the door, Quinn turned and hoped to see the girl she once knew, once lived with, but there was someone else standing in her place; someone who looked like her, but had the harshness of betrayal and pain mixed in.

"I know you're still hurting, but maybe if you work on cutting Rachel out your life, the pain will finally stop," Quinn finished, her hand resting on Santana's arm, giving her a gentle squeeze. "Just give it a thought." And with that she made her leave; Santana watching her as she left.

While the words made a world of sense, they were impractical.

It had been six years since the break, since everything had fallen to pieces, and in that time Santana had certainly tried to cut Rachel out of her life. But how do you do that when she's everywhere? Not just in the world itself, with the press wanting every little bit of her, but when she was engrained in your memories?

Maybe Santana's attempts to hold onto what was left of Rachel were futile and petty, but she didn't know what else to do. She had never been able to take her ring off, even when it meant so little to Rachel. But if they divorced, if they actually went ahead with it all, Santana would have to; and she didn't know if she could stomach that.

It was one thing knowing her wife didn't want to be with her, but it was another thing altogether knowing that Rachel no longer wanted to be her wife at all. That heartbreak would hurt more than she could imagine, and even after all these years of preparing herself, she still wasn't ready for it, and she doubted she ever could be.

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