Things were looking up. Regionals had been a week after Brittany's party. Santana didn't come to watch, even though Finn had invited her and so did Brittany. New Directions had squeaked past the Who's Your Daddies by an uncomfortably tight margin. But a win was a win. Mr Schue and Miss Pillsbury surprised everyone by getting married after the performance, in a small, yet beautifully intimate ceremony. Seeing them make that commitment, and how in love they were, it gave Finn hope for the future. They were taking two weeks off for their honeymoon at Martha's Vineyard. So, Finn was front and center organizing all the numbers. And so, in another five weeks it was Nationals in LA.

The club had taken a break, and were snacking on dip, cheese and crackers. Finn was having Jake help him with the choreography since he felt no shame in admitting it wasn't his strong suit. They were about to get back to it when Kitty, blunt as ever, said to Ryder, "You look like Justin Bieber's forehead before he found Accutane."

Ryder, less than impressed tried to check what she was talking about, and turned on his phone camera and turned the lens, using it like a mirror.

"Oh," Was all he said.

Finn finally looked over. The footballer was covered in hives.

Sugar suggested, "Maybe you're allergic to dairy."

Ryder was dismissive, "I put milk on my cornflakes every morning."

"You can develop an insensitivity to foods you have too much of," Unique offered.

Ryder waved it off, "Yeah, right!"

"Santana's become allergic to coffee," Brittany chipped in.

Finn's ears pricked up at the mention of Santana. Allergic to coffee! Since when? Can you imagine how grumpy she'd been in the mornings if that were true?

Ryder ran has face under cold water, and was okay enough for them to keep going. They locked in the group number, though Finn wasn't entirely happy with it, but he didn't have the energy to change the whole thing now.

When rehearsal ended, he offered to drive Brittany home. She didn't have her license, and Santana wasn't there to drive her around anymore. So, he was saving her getting the bus. They sat in comfortable silence before he asked after her bestie.

"Why do you think Santana's allergic to coffee?"

Honestly, he just wanted an excuse to talk about her and Brittany was probably a gold mine of information about his elusive… friend? They weren't really friends at this point. He'd been thinking about Santana a lot. More than he wished he was, but at least he wasn't obsessing over the break-up with Rachel. Progress.

Brittany shrugged, "I offered her fondue, but she didn't want any."

That's just common sense. Brittany didn't seem to understand that you couldn't just keep reheating the same old melted cheese.

He couldn't connect the dots. "How does that make Santana allergic to coffee, though?"

Brittany was slow to contemplate.

"She was sick the other day, and when I asked her what was up, she said 'her tummy was just physically expressing how much she hates Blink182's music."

Finn couldn't help but laugh, because it sounded exactly like what Santana would say. "So, it was night time and you were watching MTV together?"

Brittany became confused, "No. We were getting coffee."

"In the morning?"

Brittany nodded.

That got his attention.

"Did she throw up?"

Brittany nodded.

Finn felt the churning in his stomach well up towards his throat. He tried to keep calm while he forced out the next question, "How long has Santana been allergic to coffee?"

"Um, a couple of weeks, maybe?" Brittany said absently.

His heart was racing, and he was trying and failing to slow his breathing.

Brittany must have finally noticed him, "Are you okay?"

Finn was gripping the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles were pure white, and between focusing on the road he forced himself to say, "Yeah."

Brittany didn't put any of it together. She thanked him for the lift, and skipped up her driveway. Finn remained still at the wheel. Not sure how to proceed. He didn't know anything for sure. He kept visualizing Santana's face at Brittany's birthday. She'd never actually said she wasn't pregnant, just that he was 'in the clear'. And she looked pissed off that he was relieved.

No wonder.

Even if he was right, and Santana was pregnant, she'd told him she wasn't. Ergo, she didn't want him to know. So, what exactly was he supposed to do with his suspicion now? He decided to sleep on it.

Finn had a missed call from Quinn he was eager to return.

"How goes Yale?"

"You know, things are looking up," Quinn said, "I'm leaving Lima behind and focusing on my future."

Fair enough.

"And what future is that?"

"Biff Macintosh."

"Is that a computer?"

She stifled a giggle at his expense, "No, he's a guy in my macroeconomics class, like Old Money in Philadelphia mainline society."

"Okay," He sounds snobby and boring.

"He's asked me out, we're going to the… get this, the opera on Friday night."

"Sounds fancy."

"Box seats!" Quinn definitely sounded excited.

He let her gush about 'boring Biff' for about a minute before changing the topic.

"Have you seen or spoken to Santana recently."

"No," Quinn sounded offended he'd asked, "why would I have?"

"Oh, no reason, I just thought… you two might be keeping in touch… since the wedding."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Quinn sounded pissed.

You know exactly what I mean. Don't play coy. EVERYONE knows you two got it on!

She was obviously touchy about it, so he made no mention of knowing anything about their post-reception hook-up.

"I just ask because," Finn tried to salvage the point of his call, "Santana's been a little… off the radar, I'm worried she's got some intense stuff going on."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Finn should have left it well alone, but he couldn't, "Brittany mentioned something. I thought Santana might have called you."

"She hasn't."

"All good, I'll try her myself," He tried to sound casual, knowing full well that he couldn't. All he could hope for now is that Quinn might enquire, and Santana might tell something to her. I mean who would understand an unintended pregnancy better than Quinn, right? And maybe if he called Quinn later on, he might be able to gauge the situation based on how evasive she was to his questions?

It was a shit plan, but it was all he had.

Seriously? Since when is Santana going to confide anything in you? But she didn't say anything to Finn. He was being sweet after all.

As soon as they hung up, Quinn couldn't help but wonder if Santana had taken their 'one night stand', well, 'lost weekend' to heart? Was she now sad about it? Quinn hadn't called, or texted since the mad dash to the airport. But it was agreed, they would keep their distance.

They both had lives in separate states. Quinn was going to make something of herself and, who knew what Santana was going to do? Shaking poms-poms seemed like a total waste. I mean the drawcard of being a professional cheerleader is the potential to date NFL stars, but if you don't swing that way… Santana was too academically lazy to be a scholar, but she was very capable if she set her mind to something, she was getting a four-year degree for free, hopefully she'd make the most of it.

Or, I'm self-obsessed, and it's something else. There was some drama going down with her parents? Her mom must be back from that holiday by now.

She decided to call.

"Well, hello," Santana sounded happy to hear from her, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, just been thinking of you," Quinn said, then regretted her flirty choice of words.

"Are you in New Haven?" Santana sounded hopeful that if Quinn was calling her, it was because she was back in town.

"Yeah, classes in full swing here," Quinn decided not to mention Biff, but she did say that she'd been getting out there, meeting people, rubbing shoulders with the country's future leaders.

Santana sounded bored.

"How's everything on your end?" Quinn slipped in the real reason for her call.

"Peachy," Santana said in an automatic way, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

"Have you seen Finn?"

"Huh?!" That got her attention, "No! why?" Santana sounded oddly defensive that Quinn thought she would be hanging around Finn.
"No reason." Quinn couldn't help but ascertain, "You didn't mention… the reception thing to Finn, did you?"

"No," Santana reassured her before sounding amused, "but I'm pretty sure he knows about it."

"How?"

"Hun, we were all over each other on the dancefloor and everyone saw us stumble upstairs together," Santana's characteristic plain talking was on display, "I haven't said squat, but I suspect people know."

"Horrifying!" Quinn stated. Goodness! She couldn't have rumors like that circulating about her, she was trying to impress the Macintoshes!

"That was weeks ago," Santana tried her best to soothe her, "I'm sure everyone's onto the next scandal by now."

Santana was trying to help, but calling their tryst a 'scandal', wasn't settling her nerves.

Well, at least Lima is so far away and crappy, no one in her new social circle would be caught dead there. And no one from Lima has any business at Yale. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure everything is good with you?" Quinn tried again.

"Fine. Why?"

Santana clearly wasn't going to give her anything.

"No reason, Finn just mentioned he was concerned."

"Finn?!" Santana didn't sound happy at the mention of Finn again. Strange. But Quinn didn't have the ability to decipher that right now, so she downplayed it, "Yeah, I didn't think you two stayed in touch."

"We don't really," Santana stated, "I mean he calls me every other week to show his New Directions 2.0 how it's done, but other than that…"

"Cool."

"Any plans for any… return to the home front?" Santana asked, wishing another hook-up was on the horizon.

"Not at this stage," Quinn admitted, "I'll keep you posted."

But she had no intention of taking Santana up on any more of her offers. Biff was her future, not Santana's magic fingers.

Santana was as a rule, a VERY guarded person. The only person who knew her intimately was Brittany, but since Brittany was so scattered, it was Russian Roulette as to whether or not Santana's secrets stayed that way, because Brittany wasn't the most reliable confidante on the planet. That's the only reason Quinn knew about her parent's splitting up, because Santana had no intention of telling anyone.

Before he left for college the next morning, Finn had settled on driving to Louisville to see her. Maybe if he showed her that he would support her no matter what, she'd tell him the truth? But he couldn't get there until the weekend. He felt a little bad, but he just kept giving Brittany lifts home from Glee and using the time to find out information. Santana was staying on campus, because the cheerleaders had a big meet the next weekend and they needed to prepare. Brittany had supplied the dorm and room number and the gist of her schedule. So, Finn had driven to Kentucky late on Friday night, spent the night in a cheap motel, and was at her dorm room, long black in hand at 8 am. Double Sweet N Low, no cream, just how she liked it. He just had to know for sure. He hadn't really figured the rest out.

Santana looked confused and a little annoyed, when she opened the door to him.

"Lumps? What are you doing here?"

She was already dressed in her Cards Uniform, and that brought back some fond memories.

"I was in the neighborhood, and thought I'd stop by," He tried to sound casual, to her 'yeah right' expression.

She happily accepted the coffee though.

"I have practice in like 20… mins," Santana let him in, while she stood at the mirror putting her earrings in, and applying her make up. She took a long swallow, before setting it on the basin, while she continued to preen.

Finn moved to sit on her bed. Her black satin duvet, with a faux leopard skin stripe down the front and was kind of sexy. He filed it away. He watched her. He wasn't sure exactly what signs he was looking for. Unless she had a bout of morning sickness in front of him, it was going to be a little hard to just ask.

Her roommate wasn't in, which he was grateful for. They appeared to have masking taped a divider on the floor across the entire room, a sign they weren't getting along. Santana's side was black, with lots of stuff, clothes, music, make-up. Messy, but full of personality. While the roommate's side was spartan and serial killer neat. Books lined up perfectly. And a Bible on her bedside table.

"So, how are you liking dorm life?" He asked.

She shrugged, "Well, Agnus, isn't exactly who I would have volunteered for roommate duty with, she's like some type of Christian that's half a step up from the Westborough Baptist Church and I have been shoving my gayness in her face," Santana sounded amused before becoming sarcastic, "So it's going well!"

Finn chuckled at that.

"Since when are you in the neighborhood?" She asked coyly.

He smirked, "I lied, I just wanted to see you."

She looked him up and down, "One time thing," She reminded him, clearly thinking he wanted sex.

He was a little shocked by that. "Oh, no, I wasn't…"

Her hand went to her hip, and she looked at him, expecting an explanation.

"Ever since the whole… condom malfunction… I haven't felt like doing that, like at all."

Her expression seemed curious and interested in that.

Finn kept babbling uncomfortably, "It really makes you… take stock of what you're doing. You know?"

She folded her arms but didn't say anything. Her face pulled into an impassive mask. A defense mechanism he was starting to recognize.

"I mean, if it had gone the other way," He felt his heart beating really fast, "I want you to know, I would have supported you no matter what."

She scoffed her disbelief.

He defended himself, "I would have."

"Fiinnn," She really drew his name out, and she never used his given name. She sounded really testy now, "why are you here?"

He locked eyes with her, "I figure it'd be scary if you found out that you were pregnant, and why you'd want to lie to me about it, if you were."

Santana remained silent, she looked away. Guilty maybe?

He just kept prattling his discomfit, "I wouldn't want to go through that alone."

"You're not going through it," She pointed out, annoyed.

He nodded his agreement, "You're right, I'm not."

He didn't see the point of concealing his source, "Brittany mentioned you have been feeling sick in the mornings. She thinks you're allergic to coffee."

Santana was shaking her head, pissed off, "Should have known."

He spoke first, "It's going to be okay."

Santana barely skipped a beat, "I'm having an abortion, so yeah, once they vacuum this thing out of me, I'm going to be fine," Her toned was nonchalant like she'd announced she was getting a manicure, but she couldn't look at him.

She is pregnant.

Then Finn felt this flood of feelings. Guilt, shame, but also protectiveness and worry.

"Good talk, though." She motioned for him to get out, because she was locking up and leaving herself now.

Finn knew he needed to say something reassuring. "I'll support you, no matter what you decide to do. I just want you to know that."

"Stop talking like the 'Children of the Corn'" Santana was angry again, "And I've already decided." She angry motioned for him to 'get out'.

He tried again, "We should talk."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"But…"

Santana exploded with panic, "YOU NEED TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

Finn was stilled by her outburst.

"Out!" She demanded, physically flicking him away with her hand motions.

He backed up towards the door, but was trying to delay her. He just needed to help, to make it better. But he was coming up empty.

"GO!"

He raised his hands in surrender, showing her, he was doing as she asked and leaving.

Her anger was flooding everything else out. He couldn't tell what she was really feeling beneath the fire right now. She closed the door on his face, and he heard her lock it from inside.

It was terrible circumstances. He was 19, and had nothing figured , there was no point in 'what if'… But he still felt a little bit sad, too.

He spent all morning concocting a text message to try and express the things he hadn't gotten to say. He'd come off pushy, he knew he had, and judgmental, and that was the exact wrong way to handle her. He knew that much.

She doesn't want anything with you. She barely wanted to have sex with you. She definitely didn't want this.

Santana, was all too aware of society's judgement at all times. Judgmental as she was herself, she hated other people's judgement.

ME: Santana,

I really care about you. And part of really caring about you, is that it pains me to see you going through all this stress alone. And I know you are only going through all of this because of me. I feel terrible. I promise to respect your choice. Please let me help you.

- Finn

Santana didn't go to Cards practice in the end. The whole Hudson anvil that had fallen on her head was too much. She didn't want him to know. And now he did. And now he'd made sure that she knew that he knew.

She'd already booked an appointment for just over a week away. She'd asked Elaine to be her person, the one to drive her home afterwards. Elaine had been more uncomfortable than Santana had expected and took a while to agree. But she was a trustworthy friend, and Santana couldn't tell anyone else. Maybe she should have asked Trish for help? But she was closer to Elaine, and the carrot top wasn't a Jesus freak. Way too many people already knew way too much!

And then she got his text message.

That caught her off guard. Santana stood, motionless, staring at her cell screen. Reading the words over and over until the meanings attached to them slowly sank in. A disobedient tear ran down her cheek. He was certainly saying all the things she wanted to hear. But she just didn't truly believe that he would be cool with her getting rid of it, no matter what he said. And nothing made it more real than being there. The sweeter and more supportive he was, the harder it was making everything.

She didn't write back.

I can't make it today. So sorry. -E

Santana had been staring at the message for 15 minutes. She couldn't reschedule. She needed this over with. And Santana couldn't shake the notion that Elaine was bailing because she didn't approve, not because she was miraculously busy this afternoon.

FUCK!

She would deal with the fallout of their friendship later. She froze with the gravity of the current situation. She either had to ask Trish or Finn. Santana had thought Trish would be less supportive than Elaine. But maybe not, Trish was a free spirit, she might understand all too well. And Finn, well, he said he'd support her either way, but he was so… duty-bound with a Superman complex. But she was her, not virginal nun, Sister Mary Berry. He didn't want to be bound to her. She was the tramp he regretted losing it to Sophomore year. Maybe he'd be just as relieved as her. But, maybe he wouldn't. But at least she wouldn't have to explain anything to him, he already knew.

FUCK!

Finn didn't hear from her for 9 days. He didn't know if that meant Santana had already taken care of it or not. He wanted to know, the guilt and the twisting of her silence was torture. He left a couple of messages. The first being 'Call me if you want to talk', the second being 'Just checking in, let me know if you want to talk or need anything.'

Then suddenly, that Monday morning, she did eventually text back, an address in Louisville, and a very succinct message 'meet me at 3 pm today.'

Finn had a final exam on that afternoon, but he didn't give a second thought to blowing it off. He knew she didn't want to talk, which is why she had texted, so he just texted back, 'I'll be there.' Then he added, 'Up for a talk any time. Let me know if there is anything else I can do.'

He wasn't surprised when no more messages were forthcoming. It was Santana's MO at this point.

Was he sad or relieved? A little bit of both? With a healthy side of guilt.

Finn got to the agreed upon location half an hour early. He didn't want to risk letting her down. It was a parking lot. He tried listening to music, but he was having trouble focusing. He saw Santana drive up in her yellow Rav4 with black interiors. She got into his car.

"The clinic is four blocks away, I'll direct you," Was all she said. She demeanor was cold, she didn't make eye contact, she didn't want to acknowledge this was happening. She pulled a cap and sunglasses out of her bag, and put them on. She was wearing an oversize pullover and baggy jeans.

"If you're just doing this because you're scared," Finn started to say, "just know that if you want to have the baby, I…"

"SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP." Was her very touchy response.

He did. He drove and parked, and walked across the street. It looked to be a quiet part of town and the building was non-descript, but the pro-lifers with the 'Abortion is murder' placards let them know they were at the correct address.

It didn't stop them, mostly middle-aged women, from yelling insults about how 'life began at conception', and some other stuff about 'seeing lights' and 'hell' he didn't quite catch. Santana flipped out when she saw them. Finn wrapped his arm around her to shield her as they walked in. She clung to his bicep, and in that moment, she seemed so much smaller and more fragile than he ever thought of her as being. Santana had always seemed larger than life.

Finn didn't usually rage to the point of wanting to hit people, but seriously. Today is hard enough without you fuckers making it worse!

Once they were safely inside, he pulled her into a tight hug. She turned her face away, and he felt her chest heave as she stifled a sob. He didn't know what to say. He just wanted to make it all better somehow, but everything was inadequate.

"I've got you," he whispered.

She retched away, wiped her eyes from behind the shades then went and spoke to the desk. Then they sat and waited. Santana was still and silent. And Finn was watching everything. Mostly the faces of the other women. The patients were a range of ages, which surprised Finn a little. Maybe he expected them all to be teens and early twenties. Most looked sad or nervous. He looked away. He didn't know their stories; it wasn't his business. The staff looked hard and frustrated. And everything in there was very sanitized. Pale, lifeless colors.

Eventually, it was her appointment.

Finn was asked to sign paperwork confirming that he believed himself to be responsible for the pregnancy and that he was agreeing to the termination. What if the guy doesn't agree? Does that mean women in Kentucky are forced to have babies they don't want?

He blocked out the implications of that. He had met his fill of difficult emotional shit for the day.

Santana went into a room, and Finn waited outside. He tried not to imagine a different world and a different choice. There's no point in 'what if'.

Santana wasn't in there very long. She stopped at the desk, and they gave her some supplies and some instructions. And then Finn put his arm around her, but she shrugged away from his touch. They walked back in silence, except for the same sexist, anti-choice fuckers screaming bloody murder at them.

"Not your body!" He screamed back at them, aggressively enough that the closest one, was speechless for a few seconds. Maybe he needed to repeat it to himself a few hundred times too.

Santana still wouldn't look at him, not that he could tell under those oversize Hollywood Starlet glasses. And he got back in the driver's seat of his Jeep and she sat on the passenger side, and leaned her head against the window, exhausted, weighed down by it all. She was rolling a pill between thumb and index finger.

Finn didn't understand the particulars of what was going to happen or what they did in that room. He didn't want to just drive her back to her car, he was sure she was going to ditch him at the very first opportunity. So, he just drove around, hoping they might talk. But he wanted her to initiate it, so he waited. And waited. Santana was upset and distracted, so she didn't notice what he was doing at first, then after it had been entirely too long, she'd gotten pissed.

"What the FUCK are you doing!?"

They'd run out of gas before Santana Lopez was going to bare her soul.

"I'm really sorry," was all he said.

She cut him off, frustrated, "please, just… don't."

He asked after another long, uncomfortable silence, "can I do anything?"

Was she going to start bleeding soon? Was that how it worked? Should he hold her hand while it all happened? Would it be painful?

"Just take me back to my car," she requested.

He did.

Finn had concerns, "I don't think you should be alone… for the next part."

She exhaled an irritated breath, before snapping, "I handle everything else on my own."

"I think… it's potentially like dangerous…" he tried to politely warn her.

"I'll be fine."

He knew it was hopeless, "will you send me a text every hour, it doesn't have to say anything, just so I know you're not bleeding to death."

"FINN!" She was super annoyed.

"I'm serious," he insisted.

"Fine!" She huffed, getting out of the car and slamming the door hard.

Santana texted a single word, 'ALIVE' after the first two hours, and then again the next day. Finn wanted to write something back, to help, to cheer her up, to make things better, but he honestly couldn't think of anything, and he was starting to think his guiltiness was making everything worse.

All he texted back each time was 'I'm glad you are alive.' But she probably wasn't okay. He started Googling, and was learning that what she was going through alone right now, was pretty painful, and that was just the physical toll.

Finn sent more messages over the next few weeks, but got no more replies. He just felt like shit. Glee wasn't satisfying the way it used to be. Even with Nationals so close. Mr Schue had taken the club back over, so that was good at least. He went to the rest of his exams having barely studied. Everything became dull and sort of all blended together. He wanted Santana to be talking to him again. But she wasn't and he couldn't find a way to change that. He kept driving Brittany home some nights, but she hadn't seen much of Santana either, so she had no new information.

New Directions came fifth at Nationals, which was still a good result. They were a young group, still working themselves out. They had sung and danced their hearts out. Mr Schue wasn't that bummed. He was focused on his new wife. The kids had mixed reactions. Finn had enjoyed going to LA for the first time. He'd met up with Puck who was out there, still cleaning pools, but in much more glamourous surroundings. And Mercedes, who was writing an album, and was signed to a record label and everything. She was proud to show off how well she was doing. And he had to admit, it was brag-worthy stuff.

When the college year ended he was expected back at his parents' house and to work full time changing tires. He just felt dead inside. It had been six weeks since he'd seen her last. He tried not to focus on Santana and what might have been. He wanted to be back in her life, and he just felt so awful about how it had all played out.

Santana opened yet another reminder letter from the university that she needed to maintain her grades and keep on the squad or she'd lose her scholarship and owe the university the tuition they had already invested in her. She couldn't get out of bed, whether that was depression or the alien invader she wasn't sure. She'd stopped going to Cards practice once her uniform became too tight. But so long as she wore baggy clothes no one could tell. She couldn't go home. She was still calling her mom, but it wasn't going beyond surface topics. She had to avoid Lima altogether, she couldn't run in to Finn. She couldn't face him. She just didn't want to deal with this. But not doing anything, was about to be doing something. Biology was forcing her hand and she didn't like it.

Santana finally went for the other kind of appointment. She had the gnawing feeling that since she hadn't done anything you were supposed to do, like vitamins and stuff, maybe they were going to tell her it had two heads or something. Then she could get rid of it, guilt-free.

"And?" She was testy, lying on that gurney thing for her sonogram, cold gel on her abdomen.

"Everything looks perfect," The gynie said. "Do you want to know the sex?"

"NO!"

Santana was so abrupt, the serious, middle-aged woman, almost lost her glasses.

"Um, am I passed the last turn back point?" Santana asked, seeing the look of shock on the doctor's face, didn't help.

The greying brunette recovered well, "What was the conception date?"

"7th of February," She replied automatically.

"That would make you what… 15 weeks?" The doctor was measuring the skull on the screen, "that looks about right."

Santana felt sick, and that wasn't symptoms of her current state for once.

"Kentucky allows for terminations up to 16 weeks for non-medical reasons," She said, disapprovingly, "we don't do them here, though."

Santana could feel the older woman's judgement upon her.

"Have you spoken to the father?"

More judgement.

Santana shook for 'no'.

She just wouldn't leave well enough alone, "Well, maybe he'll surprise you."

Santana didn't want to say that Finn wasn't the problem. It was her who didn't want it. But ever since he'd found out, it had just made going through with it, 1000 times harder. Because he was always going to know now. And he'd done nothing but try and be supportive about it, even after Elaine had bailed on her last minute. He was just so guilty.

"There are other options, if you're conflicted about it," the gynie suggested, "Have you considered adoption?" I'll grab you some pamphlets." She'd left the room before Santana could object.

Santana finally looked at the monitor, at the blurry image. There was a head alright, and a body, and feet, and hands… the forehead looked ridiculously big… like Finn's.

FUCK!

She looked away. Tears flooded her eyes.

"We offer counselling here, if you're still deciding," The doctor was back, handing her the pamphlets.

The top one had a cute newborn baby on it, 'Give the gift of life to an infertile couple.'

Fuck off!

Santana refused the pamphlets, waving them off.

The doctor finally said, "I'm sure there are plenty of couples who will want her if you don't."

Her.

It's a girl.

Fucking BITCH! Why did she have to tell me that!

FUCK!

And then the dam broke. She just started weeping.