Disclaimer: I don't own Glee nor its original characters (if I did it would probably be called The Brittany and Santana Show, and all the other characters would only be there to help advance their plot).

A/N: Wow, you guys overwhelm me with your reviews... Thanks for taking the time. I realize it's kinda of a pain to hit that button and write something, but (I'll have you know) it really makes a difference. Hope you enjoy this new instalment. Again, it's quite long )

** This chapter is dedicated to MattyBelkin and BasicsNlittlelove,'cause I really couldn't decide between you two. I guess I love a good anecdote (especially one that features random outbursts at innocent screens, yeah I'm looking at you Matty) as much as I love amusing ramblings (yeah, I'm looking at you Basics). Hope you're ok sharing the spot =D

** Oh, another thing, I apologize for making so many of you cry. Well, at least I hope it's a good cry :) And for those a bit, uh, confused with the timeline of things, Brittany actually got married to Jenna about 2.5 years after Santana got into a coma. So, don't be so hard on the lady. Besides, time really isn't the essence (not the real point) in this situation. If you haven't realized that yet, I hope you wind up getting around to it. Cheers!

Mischances, Stances and Stolen Glances
||Chapter Four||

Santana lay in bed, all tired and sweaty from another workout session with Danes. After Brittany and Zoey left, she felt a burst of energy and desire to get the hell out of that godforsaken place, and she took it all out on the physiotherapy. The only thing that could really get her out. Brad Danes was a real sadistic dick, and the Latina had told him that. He, on the other hand, informed her that she was the real masochist there, and to stop trying to make him out to be the bad guy. They had found their thing.

The brunette took the opportunity to inspect her body better. She already had done so after she woke up, but a further inspection couldn't hurt anybody. Santana had always been a vain person, and a simple coma didn't change that. The Latina had gathered many things along the days. She noticed that her nails were clipped neatly; they were in dire need of a proper mani-pedi, but they were taken care of. When she applied Quinn's, nay, her lip gloss earlier using a hand mirror, she noticed that her lips were a bit dry, but not nearly as much as they should be considering the 24/7 intubation. And she saw that her eyebrows were still perfectly shaped. Her skin still felt soft and hydrated under her touch, and there were no bedsores in her body to be found. Also, her hair wasn't down to her ass; they had maintained the same length she always sported since high school. When she forced a nurse to take her to the bathroom that first day she had woken up – Santana Pierce-Lo… well, Santana Lopez did not do bed pans, she had growled – she noticed with surprise that the hair on her head wasn't the only one that had been groomed. From all those things Santana concluded that she had been under professional, attentive, good care at that hospital, and for that she was grateful.

Once again her room's door being opened brought her back from her own mind. A nurse she hadn't seen before made her way inside, pushing a wheelchair. She was in her early thirties.

"The one time I take a couple of days off to look after my kid, you go and wake up on me, Santana," the curly haired brunette said enthusiastically, smiling brightly at the Latina.

"How are you feeling, woman?" she added, leaving the wheelchair behind and getting closer to the Latina's bed.

The plastic surgeon was taken aback by the woman's intimacy level as she addressed Santana.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Santana asked with reservation, furrowing her brows. The nurse really didn't seem familiar.

Taking in her favourite patient's confusion, the nurse replied with an easy laugh, "Not really, I guess. It's just that I've been your main nurse for so long that I feel we're like old friends," she shook her head. "Anyhow, I'm the one who's sorry, uh… I'll just introduce myself. I'm Maggie. Ross. Your nurse," Maggie ceremoniously put it, outstretching her hand.

Santana shook on it, a bit amused by the whole thing. "Santana Pi… Lopez," the Latina amended; damn, it was taking her time to get used to it. "Santana Lopez," she said more firmly, "but you already know that," the doctor finished awkwardly.

"That I do," Maggie said, letting go of Santana's hand. "So, you're ready for a nice, proper bath?"

Santana considered the idea of having a complete stranger give her a bath or, at least, help her with it. Yeah, it didn't go down well with her at all. Unless, you know, that person was Bri… There her mind went again! For fuck's sake…

Sensing the Latina's discomfort, Maggie playfully said with a smirk, "Come on, Santana? Are you getting all shy on me now? Who do you think has been keeping you in such nice shape, huh?"

Santana couldn't help but blush. This nurse was clearly very cheeky, and didn't seem to pussyfoot around. However, she did seem nice… enough. And she really did a fine job taking care of her.

Seeing the look on her patient's face get softer, nurse Ross added, "Trust me, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

Santana looked directly into the woman's eyes with hers narrowed, and then after a beat the Latina said playfully in return, "Fine. But no funny business."

Maggie chuckled, going to get the wheelchair, and said, "Now that's the spirit!"

She helped Santana transfer from bed to the wheelchair.

"Besides," Maggie added, undoing the wheelchair's safety breaks, "sadly for you, I'm happily married," she said smiling and showing Santana her wedding band. "And no one other than me and Danny can stand our three boys together at once. Trust me on that."

Santana smiled, subconsciously stealing a glance at her own wedding band. She needed to take off that thing one of these days. One of these days, she thought.

"Bring my chips?" Santana asked from bed.

Maggie threw a bag at her. "You're welcome," she said pointedly.

Santana shot her an annoyed look while opening the bag.

"Brittany and Zoey are not coming today?" the curly-haired nurse asked, taking a seat on a chair by the Latina's bedside, and putting her feet up on the bed. That was usually their time to visit.

"Zo has a friend's birthday party to go today," Santana said matter-of-factly, popping a chip in her mouth. "I told Brittany she didn't have to come," she added nonchalantly.

"Uuu, sounds tense," the nurse said in a playful tone, looking to her side at the Latina. "Should I even ask?" she pressed in a more serious manner. By then she knew the lady doctor wasn't exactly a born sharer.

Santana just shook her head vehemently, and Maggie uttered a simple 'ook, then'.

"How are the boys?" Santana asked, eager to change the subject.

"Oh, you know, they're their usual little banes-of-my-existence selves," the nurse said jokingly, stealing a couple of chips from the Latina. "But what can we do, right? We love the little monsters. It's like we're the ultimate masochists."

Santana smiled and nodded. She didn't know how Maggie could cope with having three boys under the age of ten. Zoey already seemed like a handful to her, and the kid had been only visiting. However, the nurse was right; to Santana they were like a fungus that just grew, and grew, taking over our hearts.

"Don't tell me about masochists," Santana pleaded through a mouthful of chips. "It reminds me of Danes, and that pussy should have had me running by now."

"Come on, San! You've been pushing yourself too hard," Maggie reproached lightly. "And pushing Danes too, I must add!" she said, receiving a glare from the Latina. "It's only been a couple of months and you're already walking with just a cane. He says that's remarkable."

"He clearly has really low standards," Santana scoffed.

"By the way, why don't you ask for a discharge? You're already walking really well with the cane, and if I had a penny for every time I hear you saying you want to 'get the hell out of here'…" Megan said, quoting the plastic surgeon.

"And I so do! But I'll be damned if I get caught walking out of here and around town with a fucking cane!"

Maggie laughed, shaking her head with amusement. Santana Lopez was indeed a real character.

They heard a familiar, cheesy tune coming from the television that had been on the whole time.

"Oooh, it's starting," the nurse declared, turning her eyes up to the tv set, and adjusting her body on the chair to get more comfortable.

"Finally!" Santana stated impatiently, grabbing the remote control to turn up the sound.

"What did I miss yesterday?"

"Uh, the good twin kept refusing to sleep with the evil twin's husband…" Santana informed her, grabbing another chip from the bag and with her eyes still trained on the television, "…who, as always, got really pissed about it. I mean, come on, sister, give the poor man some sexy times!" she quipped with a grin, causing Maggie to chuckle.

"Oh, and she also rebuffed the advances of the husband of the sister," Santana added with narrowed eyes as she paused to think, "…of the evil twin's husband, you know, the weirdo."

"With the awful braids?" Maggie deadpanned, and the Latina just nodded.

"The annoying granny hit the booze hard…" Santana said, trying to get Maggie caught up and still watch the new episode. "Again!" she added with annoyance. "The good twin tried to talk the old lady out of getting shit-faced… and that was about it," she finished, eating another potato chip.

"So, basically the same stuff that happened the day before yesterday?" Maggie asked absentmindedly.

Santana nodded again. "And the same stuff that happened throughout last week," the Latina stated in a flat tone.

"Right… Remind me again why we watch this soap religiously?"

"Because it's soo bad that it's good?" the plastic surgeon replied, looking sideways at Maggie, who was nodding her agreement.

So much for knocking day-time television a couple of months ago, Santana thought to herself.

Danes made his entrance at that precise moment.

"Ready for some sweating?" the Asian man asked Santana, smiling and rubbing his hands together. "Maggie," he shifted his look to the nurse, greeting her with a nod and the smile still in place, "good to see ya. How are you today?" the physiotherapist finished.

"Getting by, I guess," the nurse in pink scrubs answered simply, smiling back. "You?" she added in question, leaning further against the chair.

"Hmm, a little on edge. You know, that Santana can be quite a handful," the raven-haired man replied nonchalantly.

"Hello? I'm right here," Santana said after rolling her eyes.

"I know, sweetheart. You should see the things I say behind your back," he quipped grinning. "Right, Maggie?" he added playfully.

"Don't call me sweetheart, sweetheart," the brunette doctor quickly interjected.

Maggie nodded and deadpanned, looking at the Latina, "Awful things."

"Good. Now I don't have to feel guilty about the stuff I say behind you back," Santana quipped, looking at Danes. "Right, Maggs?" she added in the same fashion as him seconds before.

Maggie nodded and deadpanned, looking at the Asian, "Awful things."

The three smiled, and Danes asked Santana after a beat, "So… Ready?"

"More than you'll ever be," she replied with a smug smile on her face, standing up with the cane's help. "And just so you know, I plan on being out of here in a week, two the latest. With no cane. So, you better make, or let that happen," she added seriously.

"Oh, My!" Danes exclaimed while looking at the ceiling, foreseeing the amount of grief ahead of him.

"Tell me what happened later?" Santana asked, shifting her gaze from Danes to the television to Maggie.

"Will do," the curly-haired woman said, taking Santana's discarded bag of chips for herself. "Now go… kick some ass, or something," she finished grinning.

True to her word – and able to push through any strained regime in order to leave that hospital – 8 days later Santana had successfully regained full strength in her legs, and was about to be discharged.

Brittany and Zoey came to the hospital to give the Latina a lift home. The blonde and Santana talked near the window of her room, and the little girl played with the hospital's bed controls, making it go up and down, up and down while holding Sparkles.

Closing a drawer, with a bunch of sheets of paper neatly rolled up in the other hand, Santana said while stuffing them in a bag near her new ipod and books, "You know what? Let them keep everything else. I don't really want anything in here besides Zoey's drawings."

"What about all your pajamas?" Brittany replied with a crestfallen look in her eyes.

"Let them keep 'em," the brunette said offhandedly.

"But I bought you those."

"Yeah, I kinda figured the first time they dressed me in the one with all the ducks," the Latina replied, unable to contain a small smile.

The mention of said pajamas brought a smile to the blonde's previously sullen face, and she deadpanned, "My favourite."

And then Brittany looked at Santana expectantly. The brunette could see a small, familiar pout forming on the blonde's lips, and although she had been practicing saying 'no' when faced with one of Brittany's strongest guns against her, the results had been far from ideal. Santana still caved ultimately.

"Fine," the brunette said with a scowl. "I'll take all the fucking pajamas," she added.

"Language," Brittany scolded, Santana rolled her eyes, and both looked back at Zoey, who was too entertained playing with the bed to hear anything besides her own giggles.

"Here," the dancer said, handing the brunette a store bag. "I bought you an outfit. I figured you didn't have any real clothes to leave the hospital. It's nothing much, just some jeans, a sweater and a pair of flats," the blonde finished with a sweet smile.

Santana smiled back, taking the bag. She couldn't keep her stoic façade when the blue-eyed woman was being that sweet. Unfortunately for her give-Brittany-the-cold-shoulder resolve, that happened a lot.

"Thank you, I really didn't have anything," she said softly. "Where are all my old clothes, by the way? You guys probably donated everything by now, right?" the Latina added in question, not accusingly, or bitterly, just reaching the logical conclusion, all things considered.

"No, we didn't," Brittany answered quickly, but calmly. And then she added with a wistful tone, "At first, back in New York, I got a bit too obsessed with them. It wasn't a pretty sight," she chuckled nervously, and Santana winced a bit, "And then, after a while, I couldn't look at them without breaking down. So, when we started packing, mom was in charge of them. I think the boxes went to your parents' house when we got here. They should still be there in the garage, or the basement," she finished with welled up eyes.

Santana fought the urge to wrap Brittany in her arms, and never let her go. She settled for shooting the blonde a warm, empathetic look. As for the clothes, knowing her mother like she did, the boxes would definitely be properly stored in the cellar. Probably alphabetized and catalogued, if possible.

After a beat, Santana said, smiling and holding up the bag, "I'll go change into these." And she made her way to her room's private bathroom, winking at Zoey when she passed by the girl.

Danes opened the door of room 42, pushing a wheelchair in front of him, and was met with the surprising sight of Brittany and Zoey sitting on Santana's bed.

"Hey, you two," he greeted smiling, and both smiled back. "Where is the soon-to-be-released convict?" the Asian joked.

Just at that second the woman in question called from the bathroom, "Who arrived?"

"It's Danes," Brittany called back, before the man could answer for himself.

"She's changing," the blonde informed flatly while looking at Danes, who nodded his understanding.

"So, how is my favourite little assistant?" he asked Zoey with a wide smile.

"Good," the girl replied shortly, getting some hair out of her eyes.

"If only every patient had an awesome helper like you," Danes said.

"I'll say," Santana chimed in, surfacing from the bathroom in a pair of skinny jeans, striped black and white sweater, and red ballet flats. "You really helped me with those ball exercises. I couldn't have made it without you, bug," she added in praise, smiling widely at the kid.

Zoey swelled with pride. "That was my 'favrite'!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"It was my favourite, too," Santana replied, stressing the word her daughter had just mispronounced.

Approaching the bed, Santana added enthusiastically, "Hug jump!" And Zoey promptly stood in bed, letting Sparkles fall onto it, and hug jumped the Latina, both laughing loudly. The brunette was simply over the moon to actually be able to hold her daughter whilst standing on her own two strong legs.

Brittany watched the scene in adoration, and Danes stood there smiling.

"You look really pretty, mama," Zoey stated, pulling back a bit from the hug to face Santana.

"Aww, thank you, baby," Santana replied, touched by her daughter's compliment.

"Ready to roll?" Danes asked the brunette, pointing at the wheelchair with his head.

"I ain't leaving on that thing," Santana scoffed, holding Zoey on her hip.

"You know it's hospital policy."

"You know that I really don't care."

Zoey looked adoringly into Santana's eyes, "I can ride on your lap, mama," the blue-eyed girl stated sweetly, and Santana spotted 'the' trademark pout. The Latina knew then she was a goner.

Looking down at Brittany, who still sat on the bed, Santana asked with a crooked smile, "You totally taught her that, didn't you?"

Brittany just flashed her a coy smile.

"Fine… I'll sit on the blasted thing," Santana caved with a heavy sigh.

"We could have used you here more often, Zoey," Danes quipped, watching Santana sit on the wheelchair with her daughter taking her lap.

The brunette glared at him unimpressed before saying, "You better push, Danes. I won't risk getting my perfect soft hands all calloused."

The tall Asian man just shook his head dismissively and said, "Ready, then? Dr. Carson is waiting for us at the nurses' station so you can sign the discharge papers."

"More than ready!" the Latina proclaimed.

Brittany busied herself stuffing all of Santana's pajamas into the empty store bag she had brought with new clothes for the brunette.

"Ready too," Brittany said, finishing the task. "Here, you can't forget the pajamas," the blonde added, holding the stuffed bag.

"Of course not," Santana replied sarcastically.

"I'll carry it for you," the dancer said, also picking up the other bag, and going to grab Sparkles on the bed, handing Zoey the stuffed duck.

"Did he protect you, mama?" the blue-eyed girl asked Santana.

"With his life," the Latina replied seriously. And then she added softly, "Thank you again, cariño," and placed a kiss on top of her daughter's head.

"Ok, let's go," the raven-haired man announced, pushing the wheelchair into the corridor, with Brittany at his tow.

After a ride on the elevator, they reached their destination: the nurses' station. Dr. Carson was already there, talking to a guy in scrubs. Seeing the four of them approach, he sent the guy his way, and went to them.

"So, Miss Lopez, finally getting rid of us, huh?"

"Didn't come soon enough."

"Santana!" Brittany admonished.

Dr. Carson laughed, "It's fine, Miss… Pierce," the doctor chanced, continuing his speech after the blonde confirmed with a nod that was her name, "We've got used to Miss Lopez's…" the short man tried to find a word, one that would sound non-offensive, "…candor by now."

"In fact, we'll miss it. By the way, Dr. Hannover wanted to be here, but he's stuck in a meeting with the board," the doctor added. "Here is the discharge document you need to sign," Dr. Carson concluded, handing it to the Latina along with a pen.

Santana shifted Zoey on her lap a bit and started signing it, but she stopped mid action. With an awkward look in her face she said, "I… I think I'll need another. I messed this one up."

"Are you experiencing some hand shaking, Miss Lopez?" Dr. Carson asked with concern, looking down at the brunette. Brittany and Danes looked worried too. "Maybe we should run –"

Santana was hoping to avoid this awkward situation, but the doctor clearly wouldn't let her off the hook so easily. So, she had to come completely clean. "No! It won't be necessary. I just, I haven't got used to signing my new name yet," she said dejectedly, wanting to dig a hole and crawl into it. She was really, truly pathetic.

Brittany stiffened immediately. Danes felt awkward. Zoey was oblivious. And Dr. Carson was still confused.

Sensing his confusion, Santana added rapidly, "I signed some of my old surname."

"Oh," the short doctor finally got it.

"Can I have another one now, please?"

"Sure, I'll just…" Dr. Carson said awkwardly, grabbing another document behind the nurses' station. "Here," he handed it to Santana, taking the spoiled one back.

Santana signed fast, managing to keep the 'Pierce' out of it this time, and handed the document to Dr. Michael Carson.

"Ok, well, I have a surgery now. So, Miss Lopez, remember about the regular CTs and if you get any strong head –"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember everything, doc," Santana cut him off.

"I guess that's all then. Be well, Santana," Dr. Carson said.

"You too, doctor," the Latina replied sincerely. "Thanks for everything," she added, and with that Dr. Carson left.

Maggie came jogging from behind a corner.

"Great," she exclaimed, short of breath, "I managed to catch you," she added, smiling.

"Barely," the Latina replied playfully.

"Here," Maggie said, holding out a cupcake with a thin candle stuck in it. "I was shooting for a cake, but I could only find this. Happy getting-out-of-here, San!"

"Wow, a whole cupcake? For me?" Santana quipped.

"Let me light it," Maggie stated, lighting the candle with a lighter.

"How nice, Maggie," Brittany said, smiling brightly at the nurse. Danes was smiling at her too.

"I think I'll need some help with that, kiddo," Santana told Zoey, who still sat on her lap and smiled widely at the brunette's request. "On three, ok?" Santana added, smiling and looking at the cupcake Maggie held in front of her. "One, two, three!" and they both blew on the candle.

Zoey clapped enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Maggs," Santana said genuinely, taking the cupcake.

"My pleasure. So, you got my address, right?" the raven, curly-haired nurse asked, and Santana nodded.

"And you got mine?" the Latina asked, and it was Maggie's turn to nod.

"I'll visit, make sure to do the same. You've already met Danny, and Christian. Now there are only two more little monsters to go," Maggie joked. "I've got to change an IV bag now; so, sorry to rush out," she added. "Great seeing you again, Zoey. And Brittany. Danes…" the nurse finished, shifting her eyes from one person to the other before kissing Santana's cheek goodbye, and rushing away.

"Ok, now that the goodbyes are over…" Santana said ceremoniously, and then looking back she added, "Danes, ready to give me that ride?"

Brittany looked confused.

"Sure, boss," the physiotherapist quipped.

"I thought I was going to take you, San," the blonde said, still looking mighty confused.

"We never arranged anything, Brittany," Santana replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, I asked Danes ages ago. Well, I asked Maggie first, but she had a shift…" the brunette added. Another one of her resolves was keep-Brittany-at-arm's-length. It was painful enough as it was.

Brittany felt hurt that Santana had asked other people instead of her. And still only called her by her full name.

"Well, I just assumed…" the blonde said honestly, wearing her hurt look like a badge, Santana noticed. The blue-eyed woman had always been extremely transparent. The Latina used to love that. Now she could sense it would become a problem, since her first reaction at seeing the dancer hurt was always to do whatever she could to make it better. And at that moment, not only she was causing said hurting expression, her hands were also tied to make it better.

They stayed in awkward silence for a moment.

"So?" Danes had to awkwardly intervene.

Before Santana could say anything, Brittany stated, "Zoey was also really looking forward to take you."

Santana looked at her daughter sitting on her lap with an expectant look, and she gathered right then that her resolve was a lost cause. Brittany and she shared a kid; she would never be able to completely keep the blonde at arm's length. Not in the way she had firstly and radically planned in her mind. The thing was: she was never going to successfully move on if Brittany was always around. Reminding her of everything she once had, and no longer did. Bringing about memories that were once so sweet, and at that moment, considering where they stood, only left a bitter taste in her mouth. But it was too late. She didn't know exactly when it happened, probably when Brittany first got pregnant, but Zoey was her priority now. The little girl's needs came first. Even before her own. Yeah, welcome to motherhood, she thought.

With that in mind Santana said, "Thanks, Danes," she smiled, looking back at him. "But I'll be going with them," she added, causing the little girl to beam, and the blonde to flash a small smile.

She would have to have a little chat with the brunette later.

Brittany was driving to Santana's parents' home. The latter sat on the passenger seat looking out through the window absentmindedly. Zoey played calmly with Sparkles, buckled up on her car seat at the back.

Brittany couldn't keep her mind off of the latest events. Santana was clearly trying to push her away, and she couldn't deal with that idea. The Latina was her best friend. She had always been her best friend. That had never changed, and never would change. The blonde had already been forced to spend a long time without her. She didn't want that to ever happen again.

Never being one to filter any thought to come to her lips, the blonde said, "You're trying to push me away." It wasn't a question.

Santana was brought back from her own thoughts, and she replied defensively, "No, I'm not." And then she looked back to see if Zoey was listening to their conversation, but she appeared to be too busy with her own conversation with Sparkles.

"Yes, you are –"

Santana was about to cut her off to deny it again.

"Don't even bother denying it, San. I know you."

They fell silent for a while.

"I wish you didn't," Brittany finally said really softly, stealing a quick glance at the brunette beside her.

Another short silence.

"I've missed you," she added, barely above a whisper.

It was Santana's turn to steal a glance at the blonde. God, this will be hard, she thought as she turned her gaze back to the window without saying anything.

Looking at those familiar Lima streets that passed by outside, she thought about how much she hated that town. Thought about the terrible feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, self-loathing and doubt she associated it with. She hasn't been that person in a long time. She didn't miss her at all; however, she could already feel those feelings trying to regain their territory. Hello darkness, my old friend.

Santana looked again to her side at the blonde who have had a huge role in helping her overcome said feelings, and it pained her to conclude she didn't have her anymore. But then she looked back at her daughter, who offered her a sweet smile in return, and she could feel the strength making its way back towards her. With full force.

Moments later the sun was almost setting and Brittany pulled into Santana's parents' circular driveway. It was a big, all-white house with a beautiful, vast green front yard. They grabbed the bags, unbuckled an eager to explore Zoey, and made it inside through the red arched double entry doors.

Zoey stood briefly in the high-ceiling foyer, wondering where she should explore firstly. The little girl looked at the entrance on her right and spotted some sort of dining room, looked at the one on her left and saw a spacious living room, and looked in front of her – past the curved marble staircase – and spotted two further possibilities, even 'though she couldn't tell what lay behind them. She chose to dash towards the living room, it looked like there were more things to see.

"Baby, don't run around," Brittany called out worriedly. "And don't touch anything," the blonde added to the child who had already disappeared into the room.

"It's fine, let her be," Santana said softly, placing the bags on a round foyer table in the center of the room.

The Latina took in her surroundings, the familiar place she once called home. Nothing seemed to have changed considerably, not since the last time she had stepped foot there years ago when she and Brittany came to Lima for Christmas with their parents. It wasn't very warm, nor did it have that homey feel to it. It wasn't a place like the Pierces, with big comfy couches, where you could slouch down and put your feet on the coffee table to watch tv. It was the type of place where you sat up straight with your hands on your lap, where the focal point of the living room was a fireplace with a piece of art hanging above it, and where you could only find the big flat screen tv hidden inside a cabinet.

However, it was home for Santana. And even 'though for the brunette's taste the décor was a bit too stuffy, and too French oriented, one thing that Nina Lopez couldn't be accused of was lack of flawless, exquisite taste. The regal-looking, elder Latina had always been the type of woman who could, for instance, take a vase and a bunch of seemingly simple fresh flowers and turn them into the most refined flower arrangement you'd ever see. Their home was impeccable.

Seeing the peculiar look on Santana's face, Brittany asked softly, "Lots of memories?" and she tried and succeeded in capturing those brown eyes.

Santana smiled back, looking straight into blue eyes. "Some," she replied shortly.

"Is it hard? Being here, I mean," the dancer barely whispered, closing the gap between them a bit.

It took a while for Santana to ponder about it.

"Not as hard as I first thought," the brunette said sincerely. "I never thought I'd say this, but I guess it was a good thing having to stay in the hospital for a couple of months," the Latina added slowly, turning to face the other woman.

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Santana's eyes caught the top of the imposing staircase, and a smile took over her face.

"Remember when we were tweens?" the Latina began softly, "And we would sit on the top of those stairs for the longest of times, highly amused, just hearing the voices and the songs that came from downstairs as my parents threw one of those many fundraising parties for one of my mom's charities, or for the hospital?" she added, smiling wider.

Brittany looked at her and nodded, also smiling and feeling the warmth of nostalgia. "And when we were teens," the blonde replied, "we would sneak into the kitchen, snag one of the champagne bottles from under the caterer's nose, bring it up to your room and drink the whole thing," she added with a chuckle.

After a beat she looked sideways at Santana and concluded with a smirk, "And then we made out until our bodies were too tired to function."

Santana smirked back as those memories rushed back to her. Suddenly, their shoulders grazed one another's and it all seemed like too much tension. Of the sexual kind. So, Santana quickly moved.

"Should we, uh, go look for Zoey?" the Latina asked rapidly, running a hand through her soft brown hair.

"Sure," the dancer replied as quickly as humanly possible.

As they entered the living room Zoey found them first. She had a blue vintage crystal egg in her hands and a bewildered grin on her face.

"Look what I found! A duck egg," Zoey exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Zoey Pierce-Lopez, give me that," Brittany reproached, taking the thing from her daughter. "You could have broken it, baby," she added more sweetly after the initial alarm had passed.

"I just wanted to know if there was a baby duck in there," the little girl explained, causing both grown women to smile.

"No, munchkin," Santana replied, squatting down to her daughter's level. "That egg is just for decoration. Your Abuelo Martin brought it back from Russia for your Abuela Nina. There's no little duck in there."

Zoey's face fell momentarily, but she had more stuff to be enthused about. "Come see, mommy!" she soon said, dragging the blonde by the hand towards the other end of the room. Santana followed, taking the egg the blonde was passing to her.

"Mama's got a pool!" the blue-eyed girl added in frenzy, pointing at it through the white French doors that led to the back of the house. "Can I swim?" she asked, looking up from Brittany to Santana in utter expectance.

"Anytime you want," Santana offered with a wide grin.

"Now?" Zoey tried her luck.

"Not now, sweetie, we gotta go and let mama rest," Brittany replied, picking up her daughter. "But I promise to bring you another day, and you can swim as much as you want, ok?" the blonde added, and the kid seemed to have accepted it.

"We'll go now and let you get settled, and rest," Brittany told Santana, shifting her gaze to the brunette woman. Santana swore she could see sadness in those blue eyes.

The Latina nodded wistfully, and the three of them started to make their way back. The ladies reached Brittany's Focus, and Santana watched as the dancer carefully buckled up their daughter in her car seat at the back.

"See you later, baby," Santana said softly, peeking her head through the open back window, while Brittany took the seat behind the wheel.

"I'll miss you, mama," Zoey said, looking at Santana with sad blue eyes. The Latina's heart broke at that. Brittany's as well, as she looked back at the scene.

"I'll miss you more," the brunette said sweetly, leaning forward further to drop a light kiss on the kid's cheek. "But we'll see each other again in a blink of an eye," she added, trying hard to sound extra cheery and smile.

"San," Brittany called from the front, and Santana switched to the front open window.

She added, "I almost forgot…" Then the blonde woman smiled, got a wrapped present from the glove compartment and handed it to the brunette. "Open it," she commanded, seeing that Santana was taking too long.

Santana unwrapped the present, discovering a silver frame. Inside there was a photo of her mom holding a baby Zoey while her dad had one arm around her mom's shoulder, and his free hand held the infant's tiny one. Both adults looked adoringly at the baby.

"It's from her first birthday, the one I talked to you about. Can you see it too?" Brittany asked softly, looking at Santana who studied the picture.

The Latina tore her welled up eyes from the photo to look at the dancer.

"I can," she whispered, smiling softly. "Thank you, Britt," Santana added, letting the nickname pass through her lips. She could always reinstate her first resolve later.

Brittany felt jubilant to hear, once again, her nickname being spoken in that voice she loved so much. So, she smiled her best megawatt smile at Santana and said, "You're welcome, San." After a short stare on both ends, the blonde gathered up the strength to add, "See you later."

"Yeah, see you later," Santana replied, clutching the frame and waving at Zoey, who waved back.

It took another surge of strength for Brittany to finally be able to drive away from the love of her life with tears welling up in her eyes, and it took all that Santana had not to run after them, not to run after her family that was simply driving away from her. It didn't seem fair to the Latina, it didn't seem fair at all.

Santana did some exploring on the house of her own. And, at that moment, she thought that maybe it was true what they said about endings of explorations. That maybe we were to arrive where we started, and really know the place for the first time. Because – after exploring the kitchen, some guest rooms, the back yard, the living room, open some drawers and trace some objects with her caramel fingers – she certainly knew that house, and everything that said knowledge entailed. She wasn't ready to enter her parents' room yet, but she knew that sooner or later she would be. So, there she stood. In front of the closed door of her old room. Gathering courage to enter it. Santana was well aware of the amount of memories that room could trigger.

Eventually, she turned the golden doorknob, and was met with her old room in all its glory. Her parents never touched nor changed anything. But long gone were the black walls, replaced by a rich purple-ish blue around senior year of high school. She and Brittany were already officially together. Figures… Also gone was her reggae poster that hung above her bed, substituted by a black and white New York landscape. By that same time, she… they couldn't wait any longer to finally move. Go to college. Do their thing. Be independent.

Santana walked around the room slowly, inspecting some objects, leaning in to see some photos, stopping to touch her armchair's familiar fabric… And then she laid on top of her bed, on its left side, not by conscious choice, just force of habit since Brittany always lay on the right one. Her big, comfortable bed. That thing had seen some action, she thought with a smirk. Looking up at the white ceiling, the Latina caught a glimpse of the NY City landscape, and before she knew a memory came to mind.

Santana lay on bed in the middle of the night, almost drifting off to sleep when she heard a small knock on her… window? The Latina sat straight up in alarm, turned on her lamp by the nightstand, and looked at the suspected source of the noise: the window. She shouldn't be that surprised to see the top of a blonde, familiar head.

Getting up in a Cheerios sweat pants and white tank top, she made her way to the window with a scowl on her face, and opened it up.

"I told you not to come to my window! You'll end up breaking your neck, Britt!" Santana scolded the blonde, while pulling her up.

"You climb mine all the time," the blue-eyed teen protested, landing safely on the brunette's hardwood floor.

"Yeah, well, yours is way less high. And has a convenient lattice below," Santana countered, helping the blonde to her feet.

"How did you even do it?" the brunette asked, turning around to close the window.

"Tree, roof, ledge, your window," Brittany replied like it was the most obvious, and easiest thing.

"You're crazy," Santana said after closing the window, and then after a beat, "B, did you walk here?" she added in concern, after looking outside through the closed window and not spotting any mean of transportation.

"Yeah," Brittany said matter-of-factly, blue eyes finally meeting brown ones after Santana turned to face her.

"Why would you do that? It's fucking freezing outside," the Latina proclaimed, taking in her girlfriend's appearance for the first time. She wore the same thing as the brunette did, plus a Cheerios hoodie, which didn't amount to much against Ohio winter.

"I needed to talk to you," the blonde said simply, while Santana felt her cold face with warm hands.

"Couldn't you call?" the Latina asked, resting each of her hands on the blue-eyed teen's shoulders. "Get in there," she commanded, not waiting for an answer while pointing to her bed. "Jesus, your nose and cheeks are all red, and you feel as cold as a popsicle!" Santana finished, disappearing into her closet while Brittany did what she was told.

"I needed to talk to you in person, Santana," Brittany said ceremoniously, taking off her hoodie and climbing into bed.

Santana came out of the closet with an aubergine fleece blanket folded on her hands and a worried look on her face. Need to talk, in person, usage of her full name… Oh, oh! The Latina thought.

"In person?" she repeated Brittany's words while moving towards the bed. "Something wrong?" the Latina added with a slight hint of panic in her tone of voice, looking into blue eyes as she took a seat on her side of the bed: the left one.

"I'm mad at you," Brittany stated firmly from under the fluffy comforter, holding the brunette's stare.

"Why? What did I do?" Santana asked indignantly, with the blanket sitting on her lap; forgotten. She rummaged through her mind trying to remember something she had done wrong, but she had been in her best behavior ever since they started dating in the beginning of the year.

"You just ditched me there on my driveway, and got in the bus for New York. By yourself. And you laughed at me. Laughed, Santana!" Brittany said, mad and appalled.

"I didn't do any of those things, Britt."

"Yes, you did. Lord Tubbington was serving us tea at Breadstix and you were being really rude to him, then we were at my house's driveway and you had your bags with you, and you said it was time for New York. I asked you to wait while I grabbed my bags, then I went into my house and they were just by the couch, so I grabbed both of them and ran outside. When I got there you were already inside a bus with New York written all over it in giant letters, and you put your head outside the window and laughed at me. Like, mean-laughed at me. I tried to run after the bus, but it was too fast. So, I just sat on my bag in the middle of the street and cried," the blonde babbled without even catching a breath.

Santana shook her head, letting the smallest of smiles take over her features, then she said, "So, I'm assuming you had a dream."

"Don't smile. It was very real," Brittany replied with a pout.

Letting go of her previous worry, the Latina remembered the fleece blanket on her lap. "Here," she said, pulling down the comforter from around her girlfriend's sitting form and handing her the object. "Wrap yourself in it," the brunette told her, and Brittany did so before laying back down on the pillow.

Santana crawled under the comforter and pulled it on top of her, and a fleece-snuggled Brittany, while she lay down on her own pillow.

They laid there side by side for a moment without saying anything, both looking at the white ceiling.

Santana turned on her side, and said softly, "Look at me, B." After the blonde turned around and they came face to face, she added, "We're both going to New York in a few weeks after Christmas. Both of our plane tickets are already bought. You know I would never leave you behind, don't you?"

After a beat, the blonde nodded slowly, looking into her girlfriend's eyes. From time to time she would feel a rush of love for Santana so strong that she feared her heart would literally explode in her chest. That was one of those times.

"I'm sorry," the blue-eyed teen offered in a whisper.

Santana just took the blonde's hand in hers under the covers.

"I guess I just felt scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know… Maybe I'm scared that New York will change us. And I love us," Brittany let out, smiling at the end.

"I love us, too," Santana replied, smiling as well. "You don't have to be worried, babe. Nothing will ever change this," she added, bringing their joined hands from her body to Brittany's to signalize what she meant. Santana didn't know exactly when she had gotten so certain, but one thing she couldn't be more sure about was definitely them: she and Brittany together.

"But you're going to college, and you'll meet new people, smart people… unlike me," Brittany barely whispered.

"Hey! That's my girlfriend you're talking about!" Santana joked, hitting her playfully, and then assuming a more serious tone she added softly, "Just because you don't think like most people it doesn't mean you're not smart, Britts. Just unique."

"Still, everybody is going to college: you, Quinn, Rachel… except me, and –"

Santana cut her off and said firmly, "Unlike the rest of us, you know exactly what you want to do and you're going after it. People don't need pointless college mambo-jumbo to succeed in dancing. Not someone who's naturally talented like you."

Brittany seemed to be considering what the Latina had told her. "You know what you want to do," the blonde stated, picking apart her girlfriend's words.

"You know what I mean," Santana countered.

"Yeah, I do," Brittany conceded, flashing the Latina a sweet smile.

After a silent beat, Santana stated, "If anyone should be worried, that person should be me."

"What do you mean?" Brittany asked, looking deep into brown eyes.

Santana didn't respond, she just looked straight back and that was all it took for Brittany to read her answer.

"You seriously have nothing to worry about, San," Brittany said softly. "I love you…" she added, touching the tip of the brunette's nose with her index finger, and pulling it back quickly, "…with all my heart."

"And I can only love you with all my heart," Santana stated honestly. "There's a difference."

"Well, I know I never loved, and never will love anyone as much as I love you," Brittany said sincerely, cupping her girlfriend's cheek with adoration. The brunette leaned deeper into her touch.

Another comfortable silence fell upon them.

"Kiss me," the blonde said softly.

Santana smirked before saying, "You're feeling deman –"

Brittany cut her off, "Just… kiss me."

Seeing the raw vulnerability in those blue eyes, Santana quickly leaned closer, pressing their bodies together as she snuck beneath the fleece blanket with Brittany. And then she took her girlfriend's soft lips into hers, effortlessly… and she felt the blonde's tongue entering her mouth with a refreshing feel such as cold lemonade in the hot summer. Brittany's hand tangled in her soft brown hair, while her own held gently to the blonde's neck as their lips carried on with the familiar dance both were so used to by then. Backs arched, moans were uttered, toes got curled… Both pulled apart for air, lips swollen and red from the kissing.

Brittany leaned upward, towards Santana, who still lay on top of her, and whispered huskily in the Latina's ear, "Make love to me."

Santana looked into blue eyes, darkened with passion, and smirked back when the blonde smirked at her.

Santana shook her head as a way to shake off the memory. She looked sideways at the clock on her nightstand; it was late. And then she brought her hand to her forehead. Bringing the hand back, she spotted it again: her wedding band. The Latina took it off of her finger, still lying down on her bed. She read the inscription inside: Brittany Pierce-Lopez, followed by their wedding date. She felt angry. She felt mad. She felt shortchanged.

Sitting up, Santana opened her nightstand's drawer and dumped the item inside, closing the drawer with force and leaving her old bedroom.

…

After a couple of minutes Santana went back inside her room, opened up the drawer again and retrieved the discarded item, placing it back on her finger. Not yet, I guess, she thought.

Thanks for reading! Let me hear your thoughts...

Next chapter, picture the biggest fan you can imagine. Now picture the biggest pile of shit imaginable. Now picture the latter hitting the former. *Now* you've got an idea of what will happen! It's showdown time, and I ain't talking about Santana Vs. Jenna (that would be too easy, and too soon)! Santana 'got the hell out of that hospital', now things can get more... interesting ;)