The sight of Iliana Pierce-Lopez sitting on a swing in an empty park, not even swinging but lazily dragging her heels through the dirt beneath, was enough to send Kurt's heart into his throat. She looked so little, so helpless, and regardless of how badass her moms were, she was eight years old. How many creeps could have happened upon her in the time it took him and Blaine to get here? He shot a look over his shoulder at Blaine and they broke out into a jog to reach her. Ily looked up from under her bangs, big dark eyes so sad and worried that Kurt's scolding died on his lips and he just plucked her from the swing, scooped her up into his arms, and hugged her tight.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling her nod against his shoulder even though her arms were locked around his neck and she didn't seem willing to let go.

"I'm calling the girls," Blaine announced, walking away a few steps and fishing his phone out of his pocket.

Iliana looked up at Kurt. "Does he have to call them right now? I'm gonna be in so much trouble."

Kurt nodded. "Probably, yeah. But we can't let them worry any longer. Everyone has been looking for you; your moms and Aunt Rach are worried sick, Blaine and I almost killed ourselves getting here when you called. Ily, what were you thinking?"

"I just want them to be better," Ily said. "They belong together, Uncle Kurt. I thought if they were worried about me they'd have to talk, at least."

"How did you call us, anyway?" Kurt asked, frowning. "Don't tell me you conned Britt into buying you a phone at your age."

"No, there was a man here before, he asked if I was lost and let me use his phone."

"A man?" Kurt asked sharply. "Iliana Marie Pierce-Lopez, I know you know better than to talk to strangers."

"Of course I do," she said giving him a withering look that was so utterly Santana that he almost laughed. "But this was an emergency. Besides, I told him I'm a black belt in karate and I have a switchblade in my back pocket and I can scream super loud."

Kurt stared at the child, certain that she wasn't kidding. "What did he say to that?" he asked, curious.

"He laughed, because grownups think it's funny for some reason when kids threaten them, and then he promised to stay on the other side of the playground while I made my call."

"Okay, well, then I'm proud of you for using your head. I just wish you'd used it before you decided to run away."

"Uncle Kurt?"

"Yes, Iliana."

"Can you change the past? Do you have a time machine like my Mama says she does?"

Kurt sighed. "No, Iliana, I can't, and I don't."

"Well, then. How about we stop talking about what I should have done different and focus on what we gotta do now."

Kurt gave her an appraising look, lost for words momentarily. Just then, Blaine walked back to them. "We're taking her home. They're on their way back there now; they've been driving all over."

"Are they together?" Ily asked. "Like, together?"

Blaine smiled kindly at her. "I think the three of them are, yes."

"Oh. Rachel."

Kurt ruffled her hair and she ducked, scowling at him in a way that was utterly adorable but he wouldn't have risked telling her so. "I don't think it's the runaway's place to coordinate search party designations."

Iliana squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height, which. Wasn't exactly intimidating. "Uncle Kurt," she said exasperatedly. "Mami and Mama need to be alone together. They need to talk. I need you to help me."

Taken aback, Kurt looked from his little niece to his husband, brow furrowed. Blaine shrugged. The three of them stood there, staring at one another, until Iliana Marie Pierce-Lopez opened her mouth, a smaller carbon copy of her Mami's, and began to outline her terms.


"What the hell do you mean she won't see us? That is the most ridiculous—"

"Santana, just listen to me, okay? She's safe, she's perfectly fine, there's no reason to worry. But she wants … no, she needs … for you and Britt to have some time alone together, to talk things out. She's willing to come home, but only after you two have had a few hours. Alone. Those are her—"

"What, Kurt? Her demands? She's freaking eight years old, Hummel, she doesn't get to call the shots! Put her on the phone."

Kurt cringed, glad that, at least, this conversation was happening over the phone and not face to face. "She's not here, Santana."

"What? Kurt Hummel, I swear to God, if you're—"

There was a muffled conversation on the other end of the line, then Brittany's voice. "Promise she's fine? I mean really fine?"

"Brittany, of course she's fine, I wouldn't lie about something like that."

"And all she wants is for me and Santana to … talk?"

"Yes."

"And then you'll bring her home. No more addendums, no revisions; these are the terms."

"Yes."

"Then tell her she has a deal. We're sending Rachel away—sorry, Rach, Ily's orders—and San and I are going to talk. But Iliana needs to be here, at our apartment, by noon, no take-backs."

"You got it."

"And Kurt?"

"Hm?"

"Please tell her this doesn't mean anything is going to change, okay? Be nice about it, but … she needs to know this is grownup stuff, and there's a lot of—"

"I'll tell her, Britt."


"I can't believe you negotiated, Brittany. That kid does not call the shots. She doesn't get to scare the hell out of all of us and then tell us what we have to do to fix it."

"Santana, she's just trying to—"

"I know exactly what she's trying to do, and it's not her place to do it! This is not kid stuff, Britt; this is not something that a little girl has any business trying to FIX. It's our crap, not hers."

"She loves us."

"Yeah, no shit, Britts, I do too, but sometimes that's not enough. You proved that when you walked out."

"San."

"No, it's true. If love were this end-all-be-all that the romantic idiots of the world would have us believe, then you and I? We would've had smooth sailing all the way, because we were the best. And if we can't make it work, then you tell me how in the hell Joe Blow and Jane Doe are supposed to make it. Because they're not half as awesome as we are, and we screwed it all up anyway. We have the best love, the best story, the best kid, the best friends even if they're assholes who sometimes help our daughter screw us over, but Brittany? It wasn't enough, and that means it's all bullshit."

"Santana."

"Do you even love me anymore?" Her voice cracked on the words, and she bit down hard on her lip.

"That's an incredibly stupid question, and you know how I feel about that word."

"It's a fair question, given that you walked out on me."

"I did it for us. I did it for Ily."

Santana barked out a laugh. "Oh, you did it for ILY. Because, you know, she cried herself to sleep every night for the first month? She started swearing like a sailor and getting into trouble at school and doing everything in her power to piss me off because she blamed me for you leaving. So if that was your goal? And I think it probably actually was, Britt, because I know you and I know you do everything out of love. But I'm sorry, if that was your goal, you fucked it all up. All you did was break our hearts."

Brittany put her face in her hands and took deep breaths. Santana dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from reaching out to her wife, offering comfort even though it was her who had caused the pain.

When Brittany raised her head and pinned Santana with bright blue eyes that were shimmering with unshed tears, it was clear that they were going to fight. Santana braced herself, but at the same time she thought Good. That means there's something left to fight for. She waited.


Iliana was being plied with snacks at Uncle Kurt and Uncle Blaine's, and she was content enough to be there, where she could imagine that everything with her moms was going perfectly well and her not-really-a-plan was going exactly as it was meant to. When Rachel showed up after about an hour, she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, readying herself for being scolded, but Rachel just perched next to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. "Never do that again," she whispered.

"I won't," Ily promised. "I'm sorry, Aunt Rachel."

Rachel just held her tighter.

They all waited, and hoped.


Review, review, review! You know you want to! I'll love you forever because your review will make me write. That's how this works.