Several hours, three orgasms in the bathroom of the plane, and a quick rebraiding of her hair later, Brittany found herself in a rented car riding shotgun as Santana drove down a beaten Georgia road. She had the window rolled down and her hand lazily flung out into the sunshine. It felt good here; it reminded her of home.

Within the hour, they would be on Grace's doorstep. The idea was thrilling.

Brittany was meeting a fictional character brought to life, and it was all because of Santana. She looked over at the brunette. Her window was also down, and the wind was tossing her hair about. She was wearing aviators, and Brittany knew she'd never see anyone pull them off better than the woman next to her. Santana looked good out here in the country.

Looking back out the window, she gazed at the hills off in the distance. They weren't like the mountains she grew up in, but they made her homesick anyway. She wondered how far she was from her parents. It couldn't be more than a few hours' drive. Then, she thought of them wanting to meet Santana, spending money they didn't really have to visit New York to do it.

"Hey Santana?" Brittany asked, still looking out the window at the hills.

"Hmm?"

Brittany turned back to her.

"I was thinking…after we meet Grace and give her the journal and get the story," she paused, trying to say it in a way that sounded tempting. "Well, we aren't far from my parents' house. I know they'd like to meet you, and I think you'd really like the mountains. Why don't we take the car up there and catch a flight out from there instead?"

Santana didn't take her eyes off the road. Bad sign.

However, her right hand left the wheel and rested itself on Brittany's thigh. Good sign?

"Brittany," she said slowly and sighed. Bad sign. Definitely bad. "I don't know…I don't think I'm ready, and they might not even like me, and I haven't 'met the parents' in a long time."

Brittany jumped in. The idea of her parents not liking Santana was absurd. "Baby, they'll love you. Just like I do." She rethought her sentence. "Well, maybe not exactly like I do. That'd be weird. But they will love you."

Another sigh. Then, Santana's hand disappeared.

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

Brittany frowned, ready to press on. "But—"

"Brittany. I said no."

Her words died in her mouth. She resumed looking out the window, fuming. All of a sudden, the hills didn't look so good anymore.

She was angry that Santana had just shut her down, had said no as if it weren't a discussion, as if going to see Brittany's parents required permission that she wasn't willing to give. This was the hard side of Santana, the side she'd initially met, the side she'd thought had disappeared for good after their big talk.

They spent the rest of their journey in silence.

When the GPS signaled that they'd arrived, they still hadn't said a word to each other. Santana parked the rental car on the curb of a short street lined with small houses. It was a retirement community, rural and quaint.

They walked up the sidewalk to a small brick house, the blonde two steps behind the brunette. There was no car in the driveway. Brittany imagined there was no need for one when you were almost a century old. When they reached the front door, Brittany looked at Santana's reflection in the glass. She looked more nervous than ever. Brittany wanted to reach out and take her hand.

She didn't.

However, she did nudge Santana's hand with the journal, and she took it slowly, then knocked on the door.

Moments passed, and Brittany strained to hear footsteps on the other side. Or a deadbolt sliding over. Anything at all.

She was beginning to think no one would come when she heard it — the squeaky turning of an old doorknob.

Suddenly, she was there. Grace Kirk stood in front of them. Her back was slightly hunched, and she was at least a head shorter than Santana. Her skin looked powdery and papery, like it would crinkle if Brittany touched it. Thin, white hair rested on her head in tight curls.

Despite her age, the woman's eyes were alert and agile. They were bright blue, almost the same shade as Brittany's.

"Mrs. Kirk, I'm Santana Lopez. This is my girlfriend, Brittany Pierce. May we come in?"

Brittany smiled at the old woman. It was a bit unsettling, looking into eyes so much like her own.

Grace nodded emphatically and ushered them inside.

"Please, come in. It's so wonderful you're finally here. And you can call me Grace, dear."

She led the way down a short hallway. Halfway down, there hung on the wall a black and white photograph of a young woman in a white wedding gown standing next to a tall man with a buzz cut. Maggie had been right; Grace was beautiful.

They were led into a sitting room. Grace walked slowly, but she used no cane or other form of aid. They all sat down, Brittany and Santana on a short couch, Grace in a high backed chair.

Her blue eyes latched onto the journal as soon as they were all settled. "Is that it? May I?"

Santana held it in both of her hands. Brittany knew a part of her didn't want to give it up.

"Of course. Grace, I need to be upfront. There are entries in here that Maggie didn't write."

Grace took the journal from Santana's outstretched hands and into her own mottled ones. Her knuckles were large, and her fingers were warped with arthritis, but she held onto the little book as if those things weren't bothering her.

"I take it those entries would belong to you, then, dear?"

Santana nodded. "Brittany wrote in it as well. That book contains more than one love story."

Then, Santana gave a brief version of their story — how they had come to love each other and how the journal had fallen into both their hands without the knowledge of the other. And how, eventually, they decided to find out what had happened to the old couple in the diary.

Now, Grace was nodding. She looked back and forth between them as if she completely understood. Without another word, she opened the book and began to read.

The young couple sat and waited in silence. They knew it would take a long time for Grace to read all the entries, but neither of them wanted to rush her. Brittany's ache to reach out and touch Santana did, however, grow stronger with each passing moment. Instead of acting on the impulse, Brittany focused on Grace. She watched her face as she read the words that had been written about her. A smile played across Grace's lips as she read the first few entries.

Soon, however, her smile vanished. She frowned at the pages, and she stopped at one entry for a long time. Her tears fell and joined the ghosts of all the other tears — Brittany's, Santana's, Maggie's.

After a few more minutes, Grace was finished. She shut the book softly and looked down at the worn leather.

"I broke her."

She said it so softly, Brittany almost didn't hear it.

"I knew that then. I knew what I'd done to her, but even now…it hurts so much to see that."

Brittany waited in silence. She was just going to let Grace say whatever she needed to say. Santana, it seemed, was not.

"Why did you do it?"

Her voice was loud enough for Grace to hear. The disdain was only barely concealed; the accusation, however, was not.

Grace let her blue gaze settle on Santana. "My dear," she began gently.

Santana wasn't in the mood for gentle. "She loved you. She was in love with you and would have spent her life with you. Why did you do that to her?" For a split second, it looked like she was going to let Grace answer, but she must have changed her mind. "You don't leave people you love on purpose. You leave people you love, because you have to, because you're ripped away from them. Not because you're scared or some other inexcusable reason."

Brittany looked down, knowing that Santana was thinking of her parents and brother leaving her.

"But you…you just threw what you had away. Like Maggie was some transient thing you could discard. Something you could trade in when you didn't want it anymore."

"Santana."

Brittany said it quietly, but she knew Santana could hear her.

Everyone was silent for a long time.

Finally, Santana spoke again.

"I'm sorry."

She didn't say it to anyone in particular, but Grace responded nonetheless.

"I deserve those things you said to me. As you said, fear is no excuse, but that's why I did it. To answer your question, it was fear." She took a deep breath and pressed on. Finally, the other side of the story.

"Times were different then. I'm not saying I did the right thing, but times were different then. I hated myself for what I did to her. The day I married Thomas, I felt her eyes on me every second. I felt her heart break when I kissed him. I could practically hear it shatter. My wedding day was one of the hardest days of my life, but I promised to love him, and I did."

Another deep breath.

"We hadn't even been married a year when he died. In a way completely separate from Maggie, I loved him. I was inconsolable when I got the letter. It took a long time for me to get back to feeling like myself. And then, yes, I thought of Maggie."

Moment of truth.

"She got married right after Thomas died. Engagements weren't long ordeals like they are these days."

She said the words without much inflection, but Brittany thought she saw a flash of pain in those blue eyes.

"She went on to have babies, and then grandbabies. I just didn't. I never stopped loving her. But I gave her up, as you said. She wasn't mine to take anymore."

The biggest sigh yet.

"She left this world several years ago. I went to her funeral. I stood with the rest of the old people there. Nobody knew who I was, and they especially didn't know who I'd been to her. It was just as hard to say goodbye to her that day as it had been in 1942. She was beautiful even as an old woman."

She looked down again, at the brown leather that housed the story of her love and loss. Brittany knew Grace truly believed the words she'd said — that she didn't deserve to take Maggie back, that Maggie's death had been one of the hardest things to live through.

As if she were able to hear Brittany's thoughts, Grace lifted her head to look at the blonde.

Blue stared into blue. Grace's conviction met Brittany's pity in the air between them. What must it be like to live your life alone, knowing exactly where your mistakes had been, knowing you couldn't fix anything? What must it be like to watch one love die, and another live without you until they inevitably leave this world as well?

Grace lifted her head higher and sighed. She'd resigned herself to this life long ago. "Your love story comes after our failed one, I suppose." She said it to Santana, and though her voice wavered, no tears fell.

"Yes."

A quiet word, but a strong one. Santana loved Brittany. Brittany loved Santana. That was all that mattered.

Finally ending her internal battle, Brittany reached over and took Santana's hand. Immediately, the brunette gripped back and lightly squeezed.

"Then, my dear, it is obvious that you should be the one to keep this."

She handed the journal back to Santana, who took it willingly, though her face was a question mark.

"It is important that we hold onto our love, as you said. Your love starts there."

Grace said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Brittany supposed maybe it was.

After sitting with Grace for a while longer, Brittany and Santana made their departure. Santana stopped at the door and gave Grace a hug — her way of apologizing again.

"Take care of each other," Grace said seriously, fixing Santana with her blue stare.

"Yes ma'am," the brunette said seriously. A few minutes later, they were back in the rental car and driving away from Grace's lonely house.

"Brittany, I'm sorry I'm such a jerk sometimes," she said quietly, watching the road.

The blonde smiled at her. "Santana, I love you. I just thought you should hear it again."

She looked over, confused. "You aren't mad at me anymore?"

Brittany laughed. "No, silly. I'm in love with you."

Brown eyes flickered to her for just a moment. "Love me forever?"

The blonde smiled again. "I will. There's this tether, you see, between me and you. So I'll get mad at you for being a jerk sometimes, but I'll love you anyways."

Santana laughed. "I sure am glad for this tether."

Brittany took Santana's free hand. "Me too."

Another few moments of silence.

"So, what's your parents' address?"

Brittany smiled her biggest smile, and they took off in a new direction.