Santana stands outside Rachel's hospital room, occasionally glancing at the door, wondering what the other doctor is telling Rachel and if Rachel is taking it as badly or worse as she is, standing in front of Dr. Paulson, only half-listening to what she is saying in her monotonous, clinical sounding voice.

"...We don't really know the extent of the damage because of the extent of the brain trauma she experienced during the accident so it is possible that she may be suffering from some form retrogade amnesia, which means there quite possibly may have been some damage in her temporal lobe area, which is responsible for long-term memories, and that's why she doesn't remember you...but what's puzzling is the fact that her speech and motor functions and semantic memory seem unimpeded...so it's a bit perplexing. Traditionally, memories of habits are more preserved than memories of facts and events, especially facts and events about one's life. I guess this really depends on the extent of the damage on the hippocampus as well, that's why we'd had to induce a coma, have her brain heal, slow down the damage. I'm sure it's all fine, but we are not sure about that until we get some more brain scans. But I should think you shouldn't worry, this kind of memory loss is usually short-term and recovery happens in a short period of time..." Dr. Paulson intones.

"How long?" Santana asks mechanically.

"In most cases, amnesia is a temporary condition, so a few hours, a few days?" Dr. Paulson says. "But depending on the severity of the brain injury it could last a few weeks or months even. There have been rare cases of some kinds of amnesia lasting for a year or years even, but that's very rare, as I mentioned."

"Months? Years?" Santana asks incredulously now. "Are you kidding me? How...what...I can't even..."

Dr. Paulson purses her lips together, listening patiently to Santana rant and rave in irritation and anxiety and panic. Finally, Dr. Paulson speaks.

"I'm sorry."

Santana doesn't say anything to that.

"We'll, of course, conduct some tests, have some brain scans, confirm and verify speculations with more scientific methods, but as I said, it's mostly temporary, so we just need to be patient," Dr. Paulson says. "We just need to expect the worst, hope for the best."

"What do we do now?" Santana asks.

Dr. Paulson answers in that competent manner that Santana finds very reassuring – kind of like when a client talks to her and she is able to walk him or her through the case because she knows what she is doing. Dr. Paulson says, "The best thing to do now is just...give her space...not push her too much to do things that might help jog her memory...but also just get her right back into her routine...that might help remind her of the missing gaps in her memory..."

"That's like a whole chunk of her adult life, Doctor," Santana points out sarcastically. "What if she doesn't remember everything?"

Dr. Paulson says, "I can't promise you anything. The brain's a mysterious thing. No two brain injuries are alike."

Santana isn't even listening as Hiram and Leroy Berry come out of the hospital room, with Kurt Hummel in tow. Rachel had spent the better part of the day holed up in the room talking to her fathers and to her best friend as Santana paced outside with their daughters Suzie and Blue. Suzie's partner, Kate, had already gone home to let their children, Beans and Cody, get some rest, as it is a school night, but the minute they'd heard that Rachel was awake, Beans and Kate insisted on coming. Santana and Rachel's children both look as exhausted and sleep-deprived as Santana, worry, anxiety and fear etched on their faces. They'd all spent too much time in the hospital, wringing hands in worry, as Rachel spent some time in a coma in intensive care, before they'd moved her in a regular private room, even as paparazzi and journalists wanted to get statements, pictures and interviews with the immediate family. Thanks to Rachel and Santana's agent and publicist though, they haven't had to deal with it too much. They and Suzie and Blue had also been good at keeping gossip magazines, newspapers and blogs with leaked pictures of a Rachel on a stretcher being rushed to the hospital away from Santana. They already know Santana will have a fit, and she didn't want anyone seeing her Tony, Grammy and Oscar award-winning Broadway star and actress wife, co-composer and singer on the front or inside pages of magazines and newspapers in that way. Santana and the children already know Rachel would probably die rather than see her picture like that in the media as well. There have been plenty of well-wishers though, online, on social networking sites, wishing for Rachel to get well, fans keeping a vigil outside the hospital or by their Brooklyn home.

Santana had not slept a wink since Rachel had woken up. She barely slept when Rachel had been in a coma, and her children had to force her to get some sleep and eat, Suzie threatening that she will never get to see her grandkids again unless she got some sleep before she complied.

Everyone had been ecstatic when Rachel woke up. Jeffrey, who'd been in the driver's seat, had fared better than Rachel, the airbag having worked at the last minute, even though he'd suffered a lot of injuries and internal bleeding. He'd spent a few days in the hospital and had been able to go home to Lima with Quinn after. Quinn had gone back to New York to see about her best friend and Rachel.

But now everyone seems to be holding their breath, because Rachel seems to be manifesting some form of amnesia, unable to recognize Santana as more than her wife, best friend, confidante and lifetime partner, and just the high school Santana that she knew way back when. This meant that Rachel would probably not remember having spent most of her adult life married to Santana, as well as not remember both children she's raised with Santana, all the things they've done together, all the hopes and dreams they've achieved and trials and challenges they've both gone through and overcome. This means all the memories she's had with Santana, Suzie and Blue are all gone, albeit temporarily.

Santana really doesn't know what to do with that. Because what is family but a collection of memories one had made with a group of people one shared love and commitment and children with?

Santana feels crying.

It was a good thing the in-laws and Kurt Hummel had come. The doctor and Santana had decided having the in-laws, Rachel's fathers and her lifelong best friend, fashion designer Kurt Hummel, would do a better job of easing this Rachel into the present, with her new marital and familial status as well as the new developments in her life.

Santana isn't feeling hopeful that things will go back to normal. With what they have been through, in their long relationship and married life together, she doesn't think she can go through yet another challenge like this one. She feels too old and too exhausted for this. She can't even begin to imagine where she is supposed to start to help her wife regain her memory, and convincing her that they were married seems like a ridiculous thing to do now, since high school Rachel didn't even believe adult Rachel would ever consider, much less date, adult Santana.

As Dr. Paulson excuses herself when her phone rings, she nods and sighs, watches as the in-laws and Kurt approach her. Their expressions don't tell her what has happened inside the room, so she is expecting the worst.

So it surprises her when Kurt says, "She wants to talk to you" and she turns to both her in-laws and they nod and smile, confirming what Kurt has just said.

It confuses her.


When she opens the door and sees Rachel sitting on the bed, the blanket on her legs, smoothing the blanket with her bandaged hands and trying vainly to run her fingers through her bandaged head, Santana realizes she's fidgeting. Fidgeting about what, Santana doesn't know, until she sees Santana and a nervous smile breaks on her face and in a hesitant voice, she says, "Hey, come in," Santana realizes she's nervous as Santana is.

Santana takes a few uncertain steps towards Rachel, hesitates, unsure what to do next, before Rachel gives her an encouraging smile and motions for her to come closer, patting one side of the bed for her. Santana decides to sit on the chair beside the bed. There is still a bandage wrapped on Rachel's head, although thankfully they have not had to shave her head. There is a bandage on her left arm, faint scratches and bruises healing on her face, on her neck, on her arm, where the shards of glass have hit her. But despite it all she still looks like the naturally beautiful woman Santana fell in love with, the woman with smooth skin, luscious, dark waves of hair, perfect teeth, slim body, the utterly disarming, charming smile. Her eyes, dark and pretty, focused and intent, eyes that always seem to be scheming, eyes that seem to always be declaring that they are on a mission, are trained on her, and when she had entered, the eyes had registered that sense of familiarity, that recognition that Santana is someone she knows. But there's something else that seems to be missing. She cannot put her finger in it. Santana swallows.

"Hey," Santana says.

"Hey," Rachel says.

"How are you feeling?" Santana asks now.

"Like I've been mugged and in a car accident," Rachel says now.

Santana is looking down at her hands, unable to look Rachel in the eye, somehow feeling like this woman right now who doesn't remember her, is a complete stranger and she thus feels a bit shy and embarrassed sitting here when the woman in question doesn't even remember her. She doesn't want to have to work for this, work for this woman to remember her, but she detects a slight, light almost joke-y tone in Rachel's voice and so she looks and sees Rachel smiling at her.

"Hey," Rachel says again, this time really smiling at Santana.

Santana clears her throat, tries hard not to cry as she chokes on the "Hey" that she croaks out.

There is a momentary silence before Rachel says, "So...I'm told I have some sort of amnesia and a whole chunk of memory of my supposed life with you is gone...but I'm also told this might be temporary and that it might help jog my memory if the people directly involved in my life would help me in that department."

Santana doesn't know what to say, so she just smiles and nods, sighing a little in relief and confusion at Rachel's words.

"But first things first," Rachel says, "How's Quinn? And Jeffrey? I understand Jeffrey is Quinn's husband and that we were together when it happened?"

Santana nods.

"We weren't, like, doing any kind of funny business were we?" Rachel asks now.

Santana shakes her head firmly. "God, no, you were running to the grocery store to buy some wine. We'd run out of wine. But then you realized we've also run out of milk and some tartar sauce and bread and god knows what else and so you picked up a few other stuff, too and you got mugged on your way home and barely escaped and Jeffrey kind of tried to get you guys away and then you guys kind of crashed at an intersection and stuff..."

"But he's okay? Jeffrey?" Rachel asks now, concern etched on her face.

Santana nods again.

Rachel leans back, sighing in relief. "Oh, good. That would suck if something bad happened to him."

They sit in silence again, before Rachel looks to Santana again and out of the blue, asks her, "So, how long have we been married?"

Santana says, "Um, more than two decades?"

Rachel considers this before she says, "Wow."

Santana nods and shrugs. "Yeah."

"How long have we been together?" Rachel asks next.

"About thirty years?" Santana hazards a guess.

"Wow," Rachel says again.

"You're not freaked out by this?" Santana asks.

"I should be, but I'm not," Rachel says. "So, let's get to work. Help me jog my memory, help me remember. I'm sure there's some proof of this marriage of ours? Aside from this wedding ring? Video footage? Pictures? A diary perhaps."

Santana nods. "Yes. Back home. Meticulously catalogued and stored. I don't have access to all of them though. Your diary especially. I mean, that's private stuff, so."

Rachel nods. "Good. Maybe you can help me with them, then."

Santana considers in her silence, before she says, "I underestimated your resilience."

Rachel grins before she says, "I underestimated your ability to use big words."

Santana looks offended and indignant as she says, "I went to law school."

Rachel smiles. "Wow. That's amazing."

Santana studies her carefully. "You seem awfully calm for someone who can't remember your former life."

Rachel shrugs nonchalantly and says, "I kind of almost died. And at least one of the people I last remember before this amnesia thing came is you...and I'm pretty sure you're not some psycho stalker who's going to strangle me with the strap of my Prada bag, but yeah..."

Santana smiles.

"Unless you're planning to cut off my leg or make me eat my leg or something...you're not planning to do that anytime soon, right?" Rachel continues.

Santana rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Rachel says, "Anyway, plus I have stretch marks and wrinkles and a bit of fat in some places I never knew existed, and I'm pretty sure I've had work done, and I have this gold wedding ring on my ring finger that has your name in it and the words 'Never to fart' engraved in it."

"God, it says, 'Never to part' baby, it's a 'p', not an 'f', how many times do I have to keep saying that?" Santana says now.

Rachel looks surprised.

"Sorry, sorry," Santana says now.

They are silent for a few moments, before Rachel says, "Is that your term of endearment for me?"

"Huh? Sorry, what?" Santana asks.

"Your term of endearment for me..."

Santana considers this, before she says, "Oh, yeah."

Rachel screws up her face. "Do I like it?"

Santana smiles a little. "At first you didn't, but you kind of warmed up to it."

"Do I have a term of endearment for you, too?" Rachel asks.

Santana says, "Yes. Honey."

"Oh," Rachel says now. "Do we have sex?"

The question, random and so out-of-the-blue it catches Santana so much by surprise it makes her blush, but at the same time it makes her almost laugh out loud and choke at the same time and so she tries to cough to hide her amusement and mortification at the question.

Santana doesn't know what to answer, but she tries to open her mouth and say something else, but a child, about five or six, runs into the room, in blue overalls and sneakers, skin the color of light bronze, hair a wild profusion of curls, eyes almond and brown, a perpetual mischievous grin on her face and behind her, there's an anxious, chiding woman's voice saying, "Beans, no!" as if it has been said a lot of times, followed by a young woman, tall, lithe, beautiful and olive-skinned, almond eyes apologetic as she enters the room. The child is dressed in primary colors, and when she smiles, she grins, revealing two missing front teeth. She has hair that her mother seems to have tried to beat into submission but have given up on it.

"I'm so sorry, Mom, I know the doctor said we shouldn't, and I had my back turned for a sec and she kind of just...ran in here," the woman apologetically tells Santana now.

"It's okay," Santana says now, smiling reassuringly at the woman.

Rachel just looks at Santana then, a questioning look on her face.

"This is Kate," Santana says now.

If Kate feels pity or sadness that her mother-in-law does not recognize her, she doesn't show it as she smiles at Rachel. "Hi," she says.

Rachel smiles back, a little apprehensively. "Hi."

"Kate is...Suzie's partner," Santana says now.

Before Rachel can say anything else, Santana says, "And Suzie's..."

But before she can continue, Suzie is right in the room, and she completes the sentence by saying, "Right here. Hey, Suzie."

Suzie smiles, eyes anxious, looking a bit nervous, as she bites her lower lip, looking at Santana as if asking for permission. Before Santana can speak, Beans barrels towards Suzie and Suzie bends over and picks Beans up, speaking to her all the while. Santana takes this opportunity to lean over to Rachel and ask, "Is this okay? I mean, I know you should take it easy, and we were...supposed to ease you back into your old life and..."

"No, this is fine," Rachel quickly says, "Like ripping a band-aid, get it over with and all that."

Santana feels a twinge of pain at the casual way Rachel has said the last part, but she doesn't say anything.

"And Suzie's...?" Rachel asks.

"My daughter," Santana says quickly.

As she says this, Blue comes in and smiles at Santana and Rachel, before she says, "Hey."

"And this is Blue," Santana says now, as Blue comes up to kiss Santana on the kiss.

Beans then looks at Rachel then, and smiles so sweetly and with so much love and affection that it floors Rachel. "Hey, Grammy! I'm Beans!"

Rachel says, softly, "Hi."

Beans continues, "Grammy – you look so useful!" She then looks at Blue when Blue laughs a little. "What? Mommy Kate said I should compliment people."

Suzie clears her throat and says, "Yes, but honey I think you meant, youthful."

Beans leans over and says, "We've missed you, Gram!"

Blue says, "What she means is trying on your lipstick and clothes and pearls..."

"And those industrial strength girdles that Blue really likes!" Beans adds.

Santana is about to speak but then Beans says, "Hey, Aunt Blue, have you considered your retirement plan?"

Blue straightens up, looks behind her and says, "Nope."

"But, I think that's important, and if you're not going to date, you should at least think about your retirement plan!" Blue says anxiously.

Santana says, "What are you guys talking about?"

Beans gestures for her mother to put her down and she comes up to Santana who lifts her and sets her on her lap. Beans is talking non-stop during this time.

"Auntie Blue's dating prospects," Beans says matter-of-factly.

Santana looks at Suzie, who grins mischievously, Blue, who blushes, and Kate, who just shrugs and has that "I'm-staying-out-of-this-one" look on her face.

"Blue's dating prospects?" Santana echoes.

"Well, Auntie Blue hasn't been going out on a date in a while, and frankly Mommy Suzie and Mommy Kate are worried," Beans says. "Or well, Mommy Suzie is worried and she thinks Auntie Blue is picky and doesn't go out enough and Mommy Kate thinks Mommy Suzie worries too much and then they have that argument where Mommy Suzie always ends up sleeping on the couch. Just like that one time Kurt bit Mommy Suzie and Mommy Suzie wanted Kurt put to sleep and Mommy Kate didn't want that and..."

"Who's Kurt?" Rachel asks now.

"Kurt is our dog," Beans says now.

Santana lets out a soft laugh as she nuzzles Beans' neck. "And what do you think, squirt?"

Beans stops and thinks about this first, before she says, "I think it's time to go out there and ate again Auntie Blue. I mean, that last girl you went out with kind of had a duck's face and I don't think you're going to find it hard to find a date...I mean...since you're a bicycle and all that, it means you get to date more!"

"A...bicycle?" Rachel asks now, confused.

Blue is blushing so hard now she is actually matching her shirt. She also looks like she wants to disappear off the face of the earth.

"Bisexual," Santana whispers.

"Oh," Rachel says now.

"I don't get it though, because Mommy Suzie kind of got Auntie Blue onto this dating website but she says she isn't into anyone," Beans says now. "Auntie Blue, have you considered waxing?"

Blue blushes deeper. Rachel knits her eyebrows, even more confused and Suzie and Kate are trying hard not to burst out laughing.

"Because, you know, in Sports Illustrated, which is like, Uncle Sam's bible, waxing is important for first dates," Beans says.

"Oh, but shaving's where it's at, too," Suzie quips, earning her a jab to the elbow from Kate.

"And maybe, it's how you look at your date, too," Beans continues. "Sports Illustrated says you have to look, but don't look like a hawk, and you have to open your pupils when you're looking at your date..."

"What does that even mean?" Blue manages to ask now.

"And...and...Tyra Banks says you have to smize," Beans says.

"Geez, she's still alive?" Rachel asks.

Santana says, "Yes."

"What does smize mean?" Rachel asks.

"Smiling with your eyes," Beans says. "Anyway, I'm hungry now. Can we go that topless bar Blue and Mommy Suzie were talking about? Or are we going to get that born again chicken Mommy Rachel really likes?"

Rachel now looks positively scandalized and horrified, looking from Santana to Suzie, Blue and Kate and back.

"Tapas bar," Suzie corrects Blue as she comes over to pick the child up from Santana. "She can string along strange, inappropriate sentences but can't get tapas bar correctly. We'd best get going. Cody's over at Mommy Ru's – we need to go pick him up and this little one needs feeding."

"What's born again chicken?" Rachel asks.

"Free range chicken," Suzie automatically says. "It's what Mommy San calls your kind of food."

When Suzie, Kate, Beans and Blue all leave, Rachel had looked at Santana then, expression gentle and calm, smile soft, and she asks, "What now?"


Rachel stays a couple more days at the hospital, Santana dutifully bringing her some vegan food and change of clothes, before Dr. Paulson finally gives them the go-signal to check out of the hospital.

It is still winter and cold, windows registering frost on the glass and the panes, landscape covered in an all-encompassing sea of snow, everything covered in white when Santana drives Rachel out into the late Brooklyn wintry afternoon. There had been much discussion about where Rachel should go. Santana had been concerned that Rachel would be freaked out or overwhelmed by the sheer gravity of realizing that there is this whole other new life post-high school that she cannot remember and so she'd told Rachel and had made it known to the in-laws, Hiram and Leroy, that Rachel can spend a few weeks at the Berrys in Lima. It was Rachel who had refused.

"Absolutely not!" Rachel had said vehemently and defiantly after Santana and the Berrys recommended it to Rachel.

Santana, Hiram and Leroy had stared at Rachel in obfuscation.

"Um, baby," Santana begins, before she quickly shifts to referring to Rachel by name, "Rachel, considering you're suffering from amnesia and...whatever...don't you think you should take it easy?"

Leroy and Hiram nod enthusiastically in agreement and Hiram says, "Yes, uh, sweetie, things might be...uh...they can get...uh...overwhelming..."

Rachel nods and says, "It's okay. I'm kind of curious about what life I ended up having. And also...asking me to go back to Lima when my whole life's dream is to be in New York! I mean, I'm here, and apparently I'm famous and popular and I get to do what I want...I admit I can't wrap my head around...ending up with Santana and having kids...and grandkids...is kind of...weird...but...yeah..."

"Sweetie...uh..." Hiram starts.

"Dad," Rachel says. "I mean, I just checked myself in the mirror, I look really awesome for my age. I mean, I don't look like a retired porn star or anything..."

"Um...what does that even look like?" Santana asks.

Rachel shrugs. "Anyway, I'm going to be fine."

Santana thinks, yes, Rachel will going to be fine, but she isn't sure if she, Santana Lopez, is going to be fine.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Rachel asks.

Santana definitely did not want to answer that.


Now, having arrived at home, and having led Rachel into the house, taking her coat and her own, their house for the last however many years, Santana finds herself feeling nervous. Rachel does not remember this life. It stands to reason she would be looking at their life with new eyes. With high school Rachel Berry eyes. With, admittedly, judgmental eyes. Santana cringes at the thought. She never thought she'd see the day she'd actually feel nervous and cringe at the idea that Rachel Berry-Lopez, her wife, would look at all this and look at it differently from how they have been looking at it.

What was she thinking now? What she seeing now?

Santana imagines it as she follows Rachel from behind.

Santana takes in the hallway, the doorway leading to the living room to the left, and the doorway to the kitchen and dining area to the right. She follows Rachel to the living room, stops when Rachel stops, looks around the living room when Rachel looks up and around. There is silence as Rachel takes it all in, as if she is listening to music in another room, long forgotten, vibrating notes, a forgotten memory. She takes in the couch, much lived in, where people had perched and sat and napped and stood and, in the case of their kids and grandkids, jumped around repeatedly, the couch that Santana had, by default, slept in during those nights of unresolved fights with Rachel and she neither wanted to sleep beside Rachel or leave the house. The love seats, in which they had both sat to read or watch the news or just hanging out. There is evidence of the in-laws' influence here, a quilt given by the late grandmother Lopez, Santana's Abuela, a last minute gift from her before she passed, lying silently draped on the love seat, doilies on the table, crocheted by Mrs. Lopez herself, crocheted linen on the couch, little things that signify a life happily invaded by extended families.

There are the side tables with the vases and the lilies, Rachel's favorite, the large, plasma screen television on one side, the large, smooth black Steinway piano off on the far side of the room, where sheet music and paper are arranged neatly, the large expanse of windows street side, covered with dark curtains, the carpet they'd both picked out, the photos on a mantel near the piano, beside it, framed photographs of the family, photos of Rachel and Santana together, wedding photos, photos by the beach, photos of the couple with Suzie, with Blue, with Beans and Cody, with the Berrys and the Lopezes, with friends Quinn, Sam, Kurt and Mike. Photos that never quite capture the reality of the moment, the happiness, the candidness, the joy of it all.

There are primary colored toys strewn around, toy trucks and plastic pails and Legos, Beans and Cody's left from when they stay over or come for a visit. Rachel goes back to the mantel when she notices three important things on the mantel piece: the Tony, the Oscar, the Grammy she won, the Grammy she is sharing with Santana. She sees Rachel run a hand on the trophies, cold, shiny pieces of metal and gold, effectively summarizing a life devoted to art.

Santana knows Rachel can smell Pledge, Lysol, some lemon and ginger air freshener that Rachel had insisted on spraying in the rooms, giving the house a permanent spring garden smell. Santana remembers they'd had a long discussion about it – like they did with everything else when decorating the house. Santana had chosen a different scent, but Rachel had said it smelled like stripper perfume and that set off a long discussion in itself.

The house is homely, cozy, intimate. But standing there, watching Rachel take in the living room, Santana feels like it's less intimate somehow.

Santana, standing there, in the middle of their house, feels what she thinks Rachel is thinking – being confronted with what happens if you get what you wanted, if you lived your dream, but have had everything erased, even in your memories.

Everything is the same and everything is different.

What is Rachel thinking now, Santana wonders, away from the unforced mirth of their children and grandchildren, when a person is usually measured by what they do?

After a silence, Rachel says, "It feels different somehow...it's not..."

"What you expected?" Santana supplies.

Rachel doesn't answer, shrugs a little, before she says, so softly Santana barely hears it, "I was hoping it would be bigger."

Santana doesn't know if she means she is hoping the house would be bigger, or that her life would be bigger, or larger than life itself. Santana does not fail to register the disappointment in Rachel's voice. She manages to say, "We don't notice how much the trees have grown if we live in their shade."

Rachel says, "What does that even mean?"

It is Santana's turn to shrug. "Something my mom used to say."

Rachel nods, as if understanding, although clearly she doesn't.

They stand there, in the living room, not saying anything, looking but not really looking at each other, before Rachel says, "I'm kind of..."

"Tired, yeah, that's fine, do you want me to...?" Santana asks. "Are you hungry? I could probably fix you up some vegan stuff that you like."

Rachel shakes her head, understanding that Santana has meant to offer to help her, to cook for her and feed her, something of a novelty in itself, as Santana rarely cooks for Rachel or the rest of the family, a sure indication of familiarity and domesticity. Rachel does not register this however, but only indicates wanting to go up the stairs. Santana leads her upstairs, Rachel's hand sliding up the banister as she slowly makes her way up, negotiating the stairs, pausing at the landing as if to catch her breath, taking in the hallway, the two empty rooms down the hall, then after Santana indicates that their room is the one near the landing, taking a deep breath and taking a step towards it, pushing it back, seeing the master bedroom, their bedroom, for the first time. Except they've slept and argued and made love in this bedroom thousands of times, and the disappointment in Santana, knowing that the sight of it does not trigger anything in Rachel, a change in her facial expression, a hitch in her breath, a sudden movement. Rachel looks at the bedroom as she would look at an artifact: interested, but distant, detached.

Rachel takes it in as well – the queen-sized bed, with the special mattress they'd bought once their backs started complaining right around the forties mark. There are silk, taupe sheets, fluffy, taupe pillows, a warm taupe duvet, a bureau to the right where Santana and Rachel's make-up kits, lipsticks, moisturizers and other feminine accouterments, a small desk with a couple of Parker pens on it, a notepad, a maroon, hardbound legal book, a paperback copy of the play "Jeffrey", a small lamp, a laptop, keys, a half-open jewelry box the glint of things revealing pearls, diamond earrings, a heart necklace, a couple of rings, bracelets and anklets.

She watches Rachel go to the closet, one side containing Rachel's clothes, the other side containing Santana's clothes. She watches Rachel go to the bathroom, sees the bathroom lights turn on and Santana doesn't have to see it to know that like everything else,the bathroom reflects both their personalities, the tiles, bathtub, shower curtains, sink, neutral and unostentatious, each aspect of the bathroom, like everything else in the house, painstakingly chosen for maximum aesthetic utilization and minimum arguments. She can see, in her mind's eye, the bathroom implements lined up neatly, like soldiers, toothbrush (changed every six weeks), soap dish, paper towel, towels, rug – everything immaculately clean and proper.

She waits for Rachel to finish taking in everything, before Rachel comes out, not saying anything, as if contemplating what to do next.

Santana speaks up. "That laptop there – that's...where you've stored your diary. You have it on flash drive, too. You have a notebook somewhere, where you jot down your thoughts. I don't know where you've put it, so. There's some videos in the laptop, too. There's some hardcopies of videos, too and stuff, and there's a photo album, too, so..."

Rachel just looks at her, before she announces, "I'm really tired."

Santana nods and says, "Okay."

Rachel sleeps in the bedroom. Santana sleeps on the couch, downstairs.

Santana lies in the dark for what seems like forever, and when the first signs of dawn filter through the curtains, she decides she can't stay inside the house, that she has to do something, so she grabs her phone, scrolls through it, sends out texts and calls.


"I don't understand," Santana asks, staring at the squares of pancake on her fork.

Blaine looks up from the coffee he is sipping and waits for Santana to continue. Blaine was the last person she'd called and the first to show up. There are dark shadows on his face, he looks exhausted, having pulled an all-nighter at the hospital, and he scratches his beard, runs a hand through his curly hair, mercifully ungelled right now, and smiles an understanding smile at Santana. He had come to confirm what Dr. Paulson had just explained about amnesia. Later, when Sam and Mike come, she knows she won't have time to talk like this, and she wanted someone neutral, someone who didn't have the ties to their relationship and marriage like Blaine, someone who can thus be more objective than most. Sam and Mike would, of course encourage and make her feel better and tell her not to give up, but Blaine will tell her like it is.

"Why does she still not remember me? Us?" Santana asks, still staring at the pancakes.

Blaine sighs, before he starts to explain the mysteries of neuroscience, prefacing it with, "As I told you, Santana, I'm not actually a brain surgeon but..."

"Yeah, I know, I know about that stuff," Santana interrupts. "You've explained it to me like ten times or whatever. But I'm just wondering why she doesn't remember us, you know?"

Blaine doesn't have anything to say to that.

He just shrugs and sips his coffee. Later, a glint comes into his eyes, like he's come up with an idea, so he says, "It could be like, a very challenging thing for you, but this isn't like some kind of impossible thing to do, you know? You could take her out on dates, and get to know her again and...make her fall in love with you all over again...I mean, you probably did something right the first time, so I'm pretty sure you're going to get it right again the second time..."

Santana takes this in and nods. "Okay. But...you know...this is Rachel Berry. It took a lot of work the first time. A lot of work and a lot of time...and stuff..."

Blaine smiles. "Then you've got your work cut out for you."

Santana smiles in return. "Thanks for coming over, Blaine," Santana says.

Blaine smiles. "No problem."

When Santana doesn't say anything more, Blaine says, "You should just...tell her...or you know, make her remember...or something...it shouldn't be that hard, right?"

Santana shrugs. "I guess."

As she watches Blaine drink coffee her mind goes back to Rachel.

How could she tell Rachel? How it was? To have fallen in love with her? Could she understand? How she'd used to say Rachel's name over and over again, in her mind, sometimes out loud? How completely she'd fallen in love with her that she could probably literally tell her how her life passed from one life into another – one in which Rachel did not exist, and the other, in which Rachel did? How the truth of it made Santana feel herself grow lighter and lighter and lighter until it seems like she might fly? How the small sensation – the thought of Rachel – makes her stomach flip, makes her smile? The exquisite tenderness of it all? Of snatches of memory of the two of them making love? How could she explain their happiness? Rachel's happiness with Santana? Palpable? Tangible? Eclipsing everything else? Their love luminous and lovely?

She wonders now if Rachel finds nothing beautiful about a relationship and a marriage and a life that she no longer remembers. Santana wonders if Rachel finds beauty now as something one never had that one simply tries to recapture or wants back.

Did Rachel think their relationship, their marriage, their family, their life was now...absurd?

It felt strange that yesterday's truth has become today's lie.

Santana realizes what Rachel's eyes lacked when she'd entered the hospital room that day. Rachel's eyes never registered that love and affection that they always did when she saw Santana. They never lit up. She wonders, how could she do this? Rachel had become all there ever was. All there ever is. Becoming everything. Becoming Santana's whole life. Defining Santana's whole life.

Santana feels like Rachel's already left their life behind.