On Santana's forty-fourth day of treatment, she gingerly slid out of her coat – her left arm was almost impossible to maneuver. The previous day, she'd had surgery to remove the tumor from her left breast. Her entire chest and left arm was tender to every movement or touch against her clothing.

The nurse greeted her, and Santana took her usual seat. The hour passed – slowly. Rachel had worked the morning shift today, and Santana had missed her. She was more than a little saddened because of this – it'd now been two full days since she had seen Rachel. A new record.

And she secretly hated it.

This nurse was fine – she was great at her job, even.

But she wasn't Rachel.

OoOoOoO

On her drive home, Santana's phone rang. She stuck her knees up to the wheel to steer while she retrieved her cell with her right hand from her purse.

"Hello?" she questioned.

"Hello, is this Miss Pierce?"

"Yes, this is she," Santana responded. The woman on the other end of the line introduced herself as one of the nurses in Dr. Smith's office – Santana's surgeon. Santana only heard clips and phrases, her mind was on overdrive.

Surgery. Success. No residual malignant cells in the area. Chemo treatments working.

When Santana hung up, she was pleased to find that she had parked outside her apartment. So when she began crying tears of joy and relief and her vision became cloudy, she didn't have to worry.

OoOoOoO

She ascended the stairs to her front door and was surprised to see a pristine, white sticky note fluttering lightly in the breeze. It read: Don't be freaked out when you come inside and realize that someone else is in your apartment. It's just me! – Rachel

She hadn't thought her mood could get any better – but she was proven wrong as she literally laughed out loud, a huge smile covering her face as she hurriedly walked into her apartment.

Not immediately seeing Rachel, Santana didn't even bother shedding her coat at the door. She proceeded through her apartment, looking for the tiny woman. Living room, negative. Dining room, negative. Kitchen… Success.

There was Rachel – swaying her hips lightly to the beat of Santana's kitchen stereo, tasting some concoction that was simmering on the stove. Santana inhaled deeply – it smelled delicious.

As she took a few steps closer to Rachel, the other girl heard her footfalls and turned abruptly.

"Santana!"

"Hi there," Santana grinned shyly – embarrassed, hoping to God that Rachel couldn't read her mind. She's so beautiful. I'm so lucky to have her in my life. I feel like taking her up to my bed and –

"I realize that yesterday was a huge day for you, and I felt so awful that I couldn't be there – but my dads were visiting and they never visit and I just couldn't blow them off. Though, trust me, I considered it. And then today," she huffed. "Today, Terry wouldn't switch shifts with me! And so I decided to use the time to sneak over here, break in – though your spare key is not well-hidden – and cook you an early dinner."

Santana's eyebrows were raised – Rachel had hardly paused for breath.

"So anyway," Rachel smiled brilliantly – putting the past forty-eight hours of distractions out of her mind. "Hi."

"Hi," Santana repeated, taking another step towards the brunette. "Would it be creepy…" Santana trailed off nervously. "…If I said that I missed you? Like, a lot."

Rachel grinned, stepping forward and grasping each of Santana's hands in her own. "No," she replied. "Not creepy. I promise."

Rachel delicately helped Santana out of her coat and scarf. She asked to see the dressing over the incision, so Santana pulled back the low-dipping collar of her v-neck sweater. "I'll redress it for you after dinner, ok?" Santana had nodded. Rachel had gently pulled the sweater back up into place and cupped Santana's cheek in her palm, lightly caressing her thumb against warm skin.

During dinner, Santana shared her good news with Rachel – the surgery had been successful. Everything was looking good, everyone was feeling optimistic. Rachel had jumped up from the table and performed a Happy Dance on the spot.

After dinner, they curled up on the couch together and watched Sixteen Candles. "Can I kiss you?" Rachel whispered softly against her hair. Santana looked up from her position on Rachel's chest and, without any hesitation, leaned forward and did it herself. Afterwards, their eyes locked.

"Fireworks?" Rachel questioned. Santana nodded vigorously.