CHAPTER 1

If I asked you, would you close your eyes and imagine us somewhere else

NOW

The room smelt like pollen from all the flowers cluttered on the side table, the air was light but warm as Santana sat with her eyes glued to the small machine beeps. It was ticking over and over in her head, as she trailed her eyes over the body wrapped in tubes and white sheets. Their lips were slightly parted, and allowed for a tube to have been placed in their mouth, pumping oxygen into their body.

Beep, Beep, Beep

"Dear, you can go home you know. Shower? Sleep, come back later tonight?"

Santana didn't even bother looking at the nurse, she knew she would check the fluids, check the clipboard and then leave the room all within moments. The nurse hovered for a moment; Santana could feel her eyes tracing every outline of her.

"I'm not leaving," she muttered finally, anything to make the woman leave, just leave so she could be left alone with her finance.

"She wouldn't want this Miss Lopez,"

"I'm not leaving!"

The nurse sighed, fixing the clipboard back into its hold at the foot of the bed, before adjusting a cord and pressing a green button on the machine.

For a while Santana stared at her, she trailed her eyes over long blonde hair, as it lay draped over her shoulders. She could see both her arms either side of her body, lying as still as she had ever seen them. She could see the veins twisting down to her hands and all she wanted was to press her lips to her skin, just to taste her, smell that familiar scent that woke her up every morning.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and Santana absentmindedly reached for it, without taking her eyes off her finance.

She flipped the Samsung and glanced at the screen, she drew her breath as the name flashed before her.

San,

Enough. We're worried about you. Come home, the hospital will call if anything changes. Please San, it's been five weeks. Please come home.

Q

Santana shut the phone with a snap, before bringing her hands to her face and pushing her eyelids inwards until she saw stars behind her lids, she just wanted to see anything but the picture in front of her. She could feel the air from the open window seeping into the room, god she just needed to breathe, she needed to breathe and cut the rope that was suffocating her heart. She moved her hands from her eyes and trailed them up her fiancés arm, feeling her skin beneath the pads of her fingertips.

"Brittsticks," she murmured, "I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes".

Nothing

"Brittany," she said again, louder this time, "Britt please,"

Nothing

Santana cupped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from crying out, the pain welled itself at the pit of her stomach and clawed its way up to her chest.

There was no movement, there was nothing, she was staring at the girl she was supposed to be marrying in two weeks, and right now, the only sound she made, were beeps from the machine keeping her alive.

Five weeks, 4 days, 2 hours ago

Brittany's lips pulled at Santana's as she sat in her lap, holding onto the strands of her hair. "God," Santana muttered breathless, unclipping the small hook in Brittany's bra, "I will want you forever".

"No!" Brittany said in protest, "San, we are supposed to be shopping for dresses today!"

Santana groaned, "I think you should just go naked, we can snuggle at the altar, it will be fun,"

She playfully winked at Brittany, who pushed her back into the pillows, "Santana you promised me,"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Baby please, just one more time before we leave,"

"Santana you have been saying that every morning for the past two weeks," she huffed.

Santana smirked, "Britts you know I don't care if we wear raincoats to our wedding, I just want to say I do and finally call you my wife!"

Brittany hopped to their wardrobe and pulled her jacket around her shoulders, "Well I care!"

Santana sighed, "Okay we'll go,"

Brittany smiled and placed a kiss to her cheek, "Good, because Kurt's downstairs,"

Santana pulled her hair into a pony tail and laughed, "He's back from London?"

"Yes just for us. So hurry up already!"

New York City is wrapped in steel and glass that twist together towards the sky. Santana had moved here for college, four long years working towards a dream in the city that never slept. She's graduated and had no intention of leaving, and Brittany had been here all along, pursuing a dance masters and teaching at Westchester Dance Academy. The one thing Santana had found about moving here, straight from Ohio, was that even though it was such an endless city, buzzing with never ending crowds, you might just find that the people are just like you, trying to be someone, trying to find themselves.

. . .

"Santana, what are you so scared of?"

She looked at Kurt, sitting cross legged on the chair outside the change rooms. His hat tilted to the side, shoes clean and polished.

"I'm not scared," she replied.

"You are," he responded adamantly, "I can see it in your eyes, it's the same look I saw all those years ago, spill,"

Santana sighed; she could never slip anything past Kurt. Ever.

"I don't want the wedding to be this huge thing, I just want Britts, I've always just wanted Brittany,"

Kurt smirked slightly, "Santana, Brittany wants a big wedding, how can you not want that too, huge cake, glorious dresses, champagne! Oh champagne," he said distracted, "What the devil are you going to order? I'd go with Veuve Clicquot, Blaine says..."

"Kurt," she snapped.

"Sorry, continue,"

"It's not the whole worlds business you know, this should just be about me and Britts,"

"Santana," he reasoned, "It is about you two. This whole day is about you. But Brittany wants to share it with the world, you have to appreciate that,"

"I do!" she replied irritably, "Why do you think I'm here dress shopping,"

He smiled, "It will be a good day! I as your wedding planner, position allocated via Skype last week, will make sure everything is in place,"

Santana opened her mouth in protest, clearly unaware that Kurt and Brittany had made these plans, yet he held up his hand to silence her.

"You don't need to worry about a thing, other than being able to restrain from seeing your fiance the night before the wedding,"

"Oh god," she groaned, "That's too traditional, I'm not going to hide away like some diseased..."

"San!" He demanded, "It is bad luck! You will not see her!"

She slumped her shoulders a little, half annoyed, half wanting to hug the breath out of him because he was so good at calming her down. Kurt freaking Hummel. The out of the closet kid in high school who gave her a reason for gay jokes every other day. God how things had changed. Santana couldn't even bring herself to admit that's who she was back then. Brittany tells her it made her who she is now, but she's so scared she'll go back to be that angry adolescent who had no idea how to show kindness.

"Sweet Jeffery Campbell," Kurt suddenly whispered.

Santana looked up from where she had been staring at the hem fraying on the chair cushions, before she felt her jaw hit the floor. Brittany stood before her, in this dress that seemed to flow out beneath her like clouds. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear shyly.

"Well," she said, "What do you think?"

Kurt laughed and clapped his hands together, "It's perfect, oh so perfect, Britt you look wonderful!"

Santana gulped slightly, she wanted to literally rip it from her body and take her on the floor.

"San?" she said turning a little in a circle so Santana's eyes feel over the low riding back of the dress and consequently Brittany's porcelain skin.

"Marry Me," she choked out.

Brittany laughed and placed a kiss to her forehead, "In five weeks I will be!"

She disappeared into the change room and Kurt sat back down, next to Santana. He slapped his hand to her thigh and squeezed tightly, "Now, why wouldn't you want to show that off to the world?"

Santana smirked, "How about we just have the reception on a roof top?"

"Oh Christ!" she muttered, as Kurt's eyes lit up.