A/N: It started as a companion piece to lizzylizbian's Unconventional Assistance. But this collection of letters has long become a love declaration to lizzy's story and I'm grateful that I get to spend so much time with her Santana.

Fun fact: When I started editing this afternoon I noticed I had signed one of the letters with my real name. Oh Brittana, what are you doing to me? :D

The Latin phrases are taken from Catull's Carmen 5 (Go read it. It's beautiful.) The translation of the phrase I don't directly put into English you can find at the bottom of this entry.

Chapter 5:

Dear Brittany,

Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus.

We live, my Lesbia, and we love.

I know Catull's carmina have been set to music and if I could sing myself to you, I would. If you were just willing to listen, I would transform each letter of every word I've written into a note so they would form a melody, a tune I'd let both our hearts dance to in complete unison.

Da mi basia!

Da mi basia mille deinde centum.*

But, of course, we're not in love and I'm not a musician.

Was Catull as torn as I am? Did he get to be as lucky? Did he bathe in hallucinations, in sweet fantasies and beautiful nightmares?

At least he got to be with his Lesbia, even if it was only for a while. At least he was loved. And he never had to doubt.

Each time I call for you I am afraid that you won't come. Each second that passes until my office door swings open and you enter is the scariest moment of my life. It's wavering and pondering and wondering and thinking and over-thinking and questioning and reasoning back and forth and forth and back and just when I'm about to tell you it's ok, you stand there.

Sometimes you smile and I can see pure daylight reflected in your eyes, because your smile, even if it's tiny and shy, it lights up not only the room but the entire world.

Sometimes you don't look at me at all and you move so fast I almost don't see you coming and you duck and hide under my skirt and before I know what's happening you've made a heaven of my hell.

Sometimes you cross the room and you hesitate. You study my face as if you were searching for something. Just what are you searching for?

Maybe you are making sure you are safe, that I will never ask any more of you than your tongue on my sex. That it's just an unconventional assistance. Then I crumble inside, because I promised to keep the us in us alive, Brittany, so I lean back and close my eyes and hide within my shell and make sure you have reason to come back next time.

Sometimes I go back to questioning my mind. Have I gone mad and you weren't there? But whenever I'm about to convince myself of that, you stand there. You stand there and my worries vanish.

Every meeting imposes a threat and a skipped heart beat and a hurricane within my chest for I am never certain if this will be the last time I get to be with you.

These meetings with clients and contract partners used to always stress me out, but now I don't even think about them anymore. My thoughts are always with you instead. My schedule that always only meant work is now a timeline of my emotional rollercoaster. Even looking at it makes me hold my breath.

Wednesday 5pm: Brittany

Friday 9:45am: Brittany

Monday noon: Brittany

Tuesday 2:30pm: Brittany

A white skirt, a grey skirt, a black skirt, white slacks, purple pumps, a blouse, a blazer, a suit, a scarf, a headband, a bun, blue, beige, black, white, a different day, a different outfit, the same face, the same glance, the same Brittany.

Sometimes I panic. What if she doesn't get the hint this time? What if she gets it, but doesn't want me anymore? What if she has met someone over the weekend? What if I will never get to see her again, standing there in my office, piercing me with her blue eyes shortly before locking the door and closing the distance?

What if you don't come?

But then you do and then I do and for a few minutes my life is perfect.

Just come again and make me come again once more. Once more and maybe I can be happy. Maybe this one next time will be enough.

- S.

Dear Brittany,

How can you be so close and yet so far away?

It wouldn't take much to reach out and touch you, to stroke your hair, to fist your locks, to cry out your name in burning desire, to take your hands and pull you up to kiss those sugary lips of yours.

You're always just the length of an arm away.

Maybe I could let my fingers slip from the armrests of my chair, let them slightly graze your cheek and make it look like an accident.

Maybe if I was careful enough I could touch you and you wouldn't even notice.

Or I could just slide down from my chair, grab the back of your head, wrap my legs around you and press you against me and push my hand under your skirt and at least once, at least this one time, take you the way you are taking me before any meeting. I could give you back everything you've given me.

I could push you against my desk and make you come time and time again.

But of course, I will never do that. I cannot break the spell and risk losing the little that I have. I cannot let you know about me. I cannot scare you off.

You are always miles away.

Is it a matter of want?

My ex - not the one who I've told you about - once told me my biggest problem is that I'm unable to express what I want, what I wish for. She said there's always so much going on in my brain, but when I'm confronted with a real question, when I'm truly offered a choice, I cannot let myself have anything.

But, Brittany, she didn't know me that well. She was wrong about me all along.

Because I know what I want.

I want…

I want…

I can't.

Oh, Brittany.

- S.

Dear Brittany,

One moan, one touch and suddenly we're connected. I swear I could feel the earth stop turning.

I know that's not what you wanted and I promise you, that simple sound of mine, it didn't resemble the melody inside of me the slightest. It was a fluke, an accident! I didn't mean to break the rules!

I heard someone say your name. Please tell me it wasn't me! Please tell me it only sounded like my own voice had betrayed me.

After all this time I thought I'd become a master of disguise. I never thought I'd trip.

Please tell me I haven't ruined everything.

I haven't, have I?

Like the first time it was only a second and like the first time I find it hard to believe it's true. Oh, Brittany, just when I thought I was clear, it all comes crashing back to me!

I should have stopped, I couldn't stop, I should have said no, I couldn't say no, I should, I could, I might have, I may have and in the end I didn't. I thought I was through with that!

But… you touched me.

I know it was my voice that broke my promise to you, but you touched me, Brittany! You touched me and you looked at me and you didn't let go and you didn't look away! You didn't look away!

You didn't release your grip on me!

You didn't look away!

You, too, could have stopped, but you didn't.

Maybe there is hope for me after all. Maybe it wasn't just my imagination taking over my life, eating my life, moment by moment, second by second.

You touched me! Your hands around my heart!

You looked at me and, Britt!

You wanted me!

Sometimes you have to let go off your dreams before they can come true.

- S.

Dear Brittany,

I've thought this through and I decided:

If there's the slightest chance for us. If there's even the tiniest chance that I am not mistaken and that there was at least one moment since our first time that you truly desired me, wanted me, wanted to be with me, then I have to try.

I cannot have made up everything. The way you looked at me…. I know I'm right.

I have to try.

Maybe tomorrow night will be the night.

- S.

Brittany,

I wanted to thank you. You've done a wonderful job organizing everything. Please spend the rest of the day going over the details with Christine. She'll be taking over for you so you can enjoy all your hard work. See you tomorrow night.

- S

* Da mi basia - Give me kisses.

Da mi basia mille deinde centum - Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred.