Yes, there were different levels of tears. There was a special tear that you cried when you're 16, and had to give up your child, when the father of your child, the same man that Santana was saying fathered her child, looked at you for that first time after you two realized that you were both parents, but didn't have a child. And then you remembered something. Puck, while probably being the only male in the world Santana would ever, ever have sex with (and not because of attraction or for satisfaction, but solely because the two were horn dogs, and they had extended 'helping hands' to each other in the past), could not mistakenly get a woman pregnant.

There was a whole complete set of tears one cried at that realization. Those were the tears that fell from your eyes because you remembered in that moment that your wife really was a superhero, and you were being stupid for thinking that a woman who was once your best friend would ever keep something like that from you.

"Santana," Quinn said. "Don't be stupid. Puck got a vasectomy after Beth was born. I've also explored every inch of your body extensively and I have never come across any close to resembling a stretch mark, you lucky bitch, so please explain how you could have a child."

Santana almost wanted to cry herself, because Quinn was just so beautiful, and the two of them had traveled all over the world to get to this point but here they were right now. And it didn't seem like, this time, either of them were going to leave. "Like I said before, Phillip istechnicallymine. I have a legal claim to him, but the only thing that makes Phillip mine is that piece of paper you're holding in your hand." And invested emotions, but they weren't talking about that right now.

Quinn frowned. "Santana I am being patient, but I really need to understand this."

"I didn't give birth to a child; I committed a felony."

If Quinn had a scale of the things that she expected Santana to say, the words that she had just uttered had ranked nowhere even close to the list. It was a non-sequitur, it just didn't follow. She was all prepared to react to the things that Santana hadn't said, and so it took her a moment to adjust herself to what she had. "What?"

"Insurance fraud, falsifying government documents, tampering with evidence, possibly murder, and kidnap, depending on how shit falls if it comes to head."

Again, not what Quinn was expecting to hear, so she just repeated her question: "What?"

"A homeless junkie named Hazel Phillips passed away in Philadelphia around the same time that 'Hazel' needed to disappear. So the death certificate magically disappeared, and 'Hazel' assumed her identity. When Phillip was born, their last names both became Lopez for the sake of authenticity."

Quinn's mind was processing slowly, but still it processed. It felt like it had been running miles in just the past few seconds, but she could at least make deductions. "Like she's in WITSEC? Are you a Witness Security agent? A federal marshal? Is that what you couldn't tell me?"

Santana paused, and almost, almost smiled, but then she scowled. "No. You only qualify for WITSEC if you have information that the Feds want. You know like if you dime on a mob boss, or you have information about a drug lord, something like that. It's essentially to protect criminals from worse criminals. But if you're someone who needs to disappear completely because you're up against people that are simply too powerful, like your husband is a police officer or something, then you're just screwed. 'Hazel' needed to disappear, so she did. Since she's nobody, though, she didn't have insurance. We used mine. It sends up all kinds of red flags if 'Santana Lopez' gave birth, but the name 'Santana Lopez' isn't put in the place where Mother goes, so I became a mom."

"And Puck?"

"He was there the day that Phil was born. He was the one to fill out the paper work. We do everything together, so it just made sense that we would do this. The plan was for Hazel to stay in Colorado, and start over, but she just couldn't handle being in such a drastically different environment where no one knew who she really was, so she moved back here. She gained weight, dyed her hair, had a nose job and her jaw realigned. I was already helping to support her, but I guess she needed emotional support as well, so I go over every couple of days or weeks to visit. When Phil started talking, he called me mama, and I thought it would only strengthen the story, so we never made him stop. I'm his legal mother, but Hazel has custody, and it never sank in for me that there was ownership being transferred with that word that Phil uttered. I didn't mention him to you, because I'm not used to thinking about him, about them, unless I'm with them. I don't consider him my son because even though he's technically mine, I don't think of him that way for Hazel's sanity."

"What does that mean?"

"She's gone through hell and back. The last thing she needs to worry about is the idea of me thinking of her son as mine, because in theory I could always take him away from her and there's nothing she could do about it without risking people finding out. I don't have pictures of him, because there aren't pictures of him, except for the pictures Hazel takes with a disposable camera that she develops herself. Our friends don't know about him because they don't live in the same world that I do. They don't understand that secrets can mean the difference between life and death.

"That's why I got onto Phil when he said something about keeping something from mommy, because say some stranger offers him candy and asks him questions, and tells him not to tell. That just gives a PI enough time to find a way in. It reduces the amount of time that I have to go into action."

"But what's suddenly changed between you and her? Why does Hazel want you to be more in his life?" Quinn questioned. "Why now? Because we got married?"

"When Hazel was still pregnant, I offered. I offered to be there full time, to be the other mother, but she shut that down." Santana merely sped over those words, but for Quinn they were a gut check because Santana knew that Quinn might marry Martin, but Quinn didn't know that Santana had seriously considered playing house with someone. She had been a hair's width away from losing Santana and had never known.

"He's getting older, and the older he gets the more questions he's going to ask. I also think she wants more because I think that she's close to breaking. She didn't grow up this way; she imagined a very different future for herself. So she's upset, and she's tired of me being bossy, which I try so hard not to be, but whenever I'm around, I worry. And there's this element, too, that sees this kid, with my name, and that my money is helping to raise, and I want a say in how he's raised. I want him to be happy, and healthy, and well prepared for life, and-,"

"You want to have a claim to him?"

Santana gave an involuntary jerk. "I guess so." There was a pause, as the words had a chance to settle with Santana. "I guess that that's never stuck with me before because I have no romantic attachment to his mom, so I don't feel like I should be able to be there. Family is one of the most important things in the world to me; I've always wanted a relationship like the one that my parents, or my abuelo and abuela, had. I know it sounds uncool, but I want the family, and the kids, and I want that with someone who shares my heart.

"At the time that Phillip was born, I was willing to give up on that ever happening, because I left all of that behind the day I showed off in that bar. But even when you leave things behind, that doesn't stop you from wanting it; I still want it. I didn't realize how much that I would have to give up until I got a taste of what it looks like to have it. Being with you is the best thing I've ever known. You drive me so utterly insane, Fabray, but you make me happy. You honestly make me happy, Quinn. At the time of New York, I was feeling really isolated, and spent emotionally, and feeling so far from what you wanted, that I just couldn't handle the idea of being someone else for someone to lean on.

"I am confident. I am strong. I can subdue a man twice my size. I can do a fireman's carry for 52 ft. I can disarm an assailant, I can swim from Boston Harbor to the Piers Park Sailing Center. I am pretty, and I can sing, and I'm smart, and sometimes I don't feel like I'm any of those things. Sometimes I get scared and need to be held, or feel like the world is on my shoulders, and I need someone to help me carry just a little bit of it."

Santana thought of it in TV terms. "Like, I'm Jane Rizzoli yeah, but sometime she just needs Maura to be there for her and remind her that things are going to be okay." Santana sniffed. "And that there is always a time for fashion. Even at crime scenes."

"Santana-," Quinn said. Santana watched as Quinn put the birth certificate back into the book. "Come here," she instructed. Santana slowly covered the distance between them. Quinn held the book out for her to take. She took her hand and gave Santana a pitying look. "There's no way on this earth that you are as bad ass as Jane Rizzoli. And birth certificates should go in safes, not in Dr. Seuss look alike books."

"People break into safes. Have you ever heard of someone breaking into a book case? And what do you mean I'm not as bad ass?"

"She shot herself through the stomach to prevent a bad guy from getting to Maura. And Frankie."

"Well I…," she frantically searched for something that would one up that statement. "I make the good girls go bad," she delivered with a straight face.

Quinn's hand brushed up against Santana's, and she interlaced their fingers together. She pulled her down beside her on the couch. She kissed the side of her neck. "You're sexier than Jane," she breathed into Santana's ear. She pulled her into an embrace, kissing the top of her head. She shifted them so she could hold her wife, but still be able to look at her. Neither was surprised by the light tears in both of their eyes.

"I want it with you, too, Santana, but I only want all of you. I'm selfish, and selfish people learn to demand what they want. I want your love, and I want your revenge, and I want your secrets. What you've told me, it's scary to hear. I mean what if a SWAT team just showed up at our door one day? I'd be one of those women on the news that says stupidly, 'I never knew'."

Santana gave a sad but somewhat relieved smiled. "It's not going to happen. The SWAT team part of it. I don't actively go around flaunting the law…well, you know except the thing for Mercedes, but that was only because Ineverliked the guy, and seriously who breaks up with someone after you have sex with them first? And because I love Mercedes, and feel protective when someone hurts her because I know how much she wants and deserves to be someone's all."

Quinn smiled because she loved that Santana loved her friend. "What I did for Hazel, I might could lose my job over, but I won't go to jail for it."

"How do you know?"

"I know," Santana said confidently.

Quinn held on to Santana's face so she couldn't look at anything else but her. Her eyes smoldered. "I don't want you doing things that could get you taken away from me. The only thing I can imagine being worse than spending the rest of my life with you, is having to do it without you, and I can't imagine that, Santana. So please don't make me."

"I can't either, Quinn. I imagine whole nations would collapse if I was no longer here."

"Way to ruin a moment there, San."

"I'm here three nights a week. Don't forget to tip your waitress."

"You're insufferable," Quinn said fondly.

"You quote Lady Ga-Ga lyrics so you can't talk to me about how corny I am."

She kissed Santana on top of her head. "Do you know what I spent the ride home thinking about?"

"I can only imagine."

"How you would react if this was reversed and it was Beth that you were just finding out about."

Santana swallowed. "Yea?"

"Do you want Phillip in your life?" It took her a moment, but she slowly nodded. "If it were Beth, I'd hope that you would accept that she was a part of my life that I just couldn't give up."

Santana's smile was teary and hopeful. "Yeah?" Quinn nodded. That quickly, though, the smile vanished from Santana's face. "She's not going to stay here, though, Quinn. She's 30 minutes away from the person she's not supposed to run into, and even with the change in her appearance, it's not enough."

"It doesn't change the fact that he's still your son," Quinn said, evenly. "If she does leave…we'll get through it. I know what it feels like to not be able to see your kid, or to not have any say in how their raised. It hurts like a bitch, but if it happens, we'll get through that together."

Santana took a moment to appreciate all that was her wife. "You know that thing we never say? I do, you know, more than anything."

"Me too," Quinn readily agreed. She snorted. "We're some pair, huh? Stubborn, pigheaded,"

"Fierce, and don't forget flawless," Santana chimed in.

"Of course, flawless," Quinn said, placing more kisses on Santana's forehead. Santana leaned up the next time to steal a kiss. It took a second for Quinn to adjust to the softness of Santana's lips as opposed to the firmer surface of her forehead that she was expecting, but then she kissed her back.I love youwasn't said audibly, but it was mouthed into each other's lips, as they moved in tandem against each other. Santana shifted, moving from being embraced by Quinn's arms, to topping Quinn. Their hands ran over each other. Santana adjusted so she could settle between Quinn's legs. Quinn reached for the hem of Santana's shirt, while Santana's hands slipped beneath Quinn's.

Santana's tongue explored the inner depths of Quinn's mouth, somehow breathing assurance into Quinn. Quinn responded back by tightening her arms around Santana, by locking her legs around Santana's, holding her in place. She squeezed Santana's butt, pulling her closer. Santana moaned, and the sound broke the spell. They had been moving so leisurely against each other, that neither of them had realized what they were doing, but when Santana moaned, it came back to them. Quinn, however, was more than willing to carry on as if she didn't remember that they were supposed to be cooling it.

Santana chuckled. "Come on, babe," she coaxed, pulling Quinn's hand from beneath her shirt.

Quinn grunted. "You know, this is really going to put a damper on our honeymoon." She got a hopeful look on her face. "Unless…we get an exception."

"February is practically right around the corner," Santana tried to say with conviction, but all she could really think about was the taste of Quinn, and the taste that was like her second favorite thing in the world. "And I meant what I said when I said I want to fully connect with you baby. Falling back on sex is easy, and easy doesn't help us expand on our relationship or learn how to connect to each other. It just leaves us with this giant band of uncertainty, and when we're unsure we attack each other, and you've got some pretty long claws there, babe. You'd have to, to keep up with mine."

"I don't like this older, more mature Santana," Quinn pouted.

Santana placed a kiss on her lips. "That's a shame, because she adores this older, semi-mature Quinn. Even if she nitpicks about where I put my shoes."

"I wouldn't if you left them by the door where they go. There's even a convenient little bench for you to stick them under at my place,anda shoe rack in the closet, because there is a proper place for everything, and just out of curiosity, if important documents are hidden in the bookshelf, what's actually in the safe?"

"Paper work, contracts, and 10k in cash if I ever just need to leave in the middle of the night." Quinn felt the weight of those words settle with her.

She felt really small when she questioned, "Is your life in danger?"

"Not actively. It's more for Hazel than anything else."

Slowly, Quinn breathed out. "What kind of paperwork?"

"A 100 or so pages of everything you ever wanted to know about me."

"Meaning…?"

"My super secret job requires a security clearance. I kept a copy of the paperwork that I had to fill out. It essentially tells my whole life history, my drug use, where I've lived for the past 10 years, who I associate with."

"Am I in there?"

Santana nodded. "Yes. As a close association because obviously we weren't married the last time I had a security check. When I have to get it renewed later on this year, you will be."

"Renewed?" Quinn questioned curiously. "You've worked there long enough to have to have it renewed?"

"I've worked for the agency since I was 19 years old. I have to get my clearance renewed every five years."

"Five?" Quinn hit on, and Santana could tell by the tone of Quinn's voice that the time span meant something to her. "That means you have a top secret security clearance, which means that you revealing things could jeopardize the United States, which means you're a spy!"

Santana looked simultaneously amused and proud of her wife. "Why are you so set on believing I'm a spy?"

"Because, you totally sound like one. Are you?"

"What's your definition of a spy?"

Quinn's face wrinkled as she thought about it. "Someone who works for a secret government agency, who is trained to be able to kill someone with their thumb, and goes around protecting the union from foreign and domestic terrorists."

"You watch too many movies," Santana chided. "I don't know how to kill anyone with my thumb, but I do know several ways how to kill someone with my bare hands. I also know how to save someone's life in emergency situations, which I think is far more important. I have never killed anyone, nor do I ever express any desiretokill anyone. Yes, I have a top secret security clearance, and yes I work for a government agency, but not a top secret one. You can Wiki the one I work for. And by your definition, I am not a spy. I do freelance analyst work for the GSA, the General Service Administration."

Quinn frowned, because that didn't sound half as sexy as a spy did, though Quinn couldn't say that she'd actually want a spy for a wife. "The GSA is the agency that keeps track of,"

"All the pens, and pencils, and desks that go out to government facilities, yes," Santana said. "There's a certain chain of command that every government contractor has to go through; since they are receiving government money they have to be as economical as possible. When government facilities are decommissioned, there is all this equipment and stuff that's left behind, and government contracts are supposed to get their supplies like paper, pencils, desks, chairs, etc., from the GSA. It's like a giant supply store, and I keep tabs on the things that get moved around."

Quinn frowned. "That's it?"

Santana appraised the disappointed look on her face. "I told you, you'd be disappointed when you finally found out. I don't actually work for them, per se, but when they have discrepancies, they get people like me, analysts, to come in, look at the books, find where money went missing and what not."

"What about the combat class?"

"I was assaulted once; I don't want to be assaulted again."

"And the guns?"

"I just like the idea of having Bond's gun."

"So, you're just a loggy?"

Santana nodded. "Yep."

"And it's just freelance?"

"Yes."

Quinn wasn't sure if she believed that. It all sounded plausible, but that was the problem: it sounded plausible.

"You don't believe me, do you? You actually wanted me to be a spy."

She kind of pouted. "It would have been cool to tell people."

"Only you wouldn't be able to tell anyone anything." Santana chuckled. "I never said that it was glamorous."

"And that girl in the bar? The one who got between you and Jenna?"

Santana grimaced at that. "I am actually not legally able to answer any questions about her. I mean you could ask me if she was standing right in front of me, and I wouldn't be able to answer that."

"Isshea spy?"

Santana just smiled in amusement at Quinn. "You're more than welcome to read through the paperwork if you want."

"Will it tell me where else you work?"

"Our bank statements tell you where I work," Santana reminded her, but then she just thought she'd answer. I work for Little, Brown, and Co. In the children's fiction division. We're in the middle of a book launch, and I can't tell you for who, or rather anything pertaining to it, because, like I said…contracts. I do the book formats. I pick the weight, the background, the colors, the jacket cover, the font type, etc, etc…like I said, basically I pick out wedding invitations all day, hence why the last thing I want to come home to do was pick out more layouts."

"That's-,"

"I know," Santana agreed. "Unimpressive. When you say you work for a publishing company, especially one as well-known as Little, Brown, everyone has this grand idea of what you do, and it doesn't really live up to that. Besides, I have a future gift planned out, and I didn't want you to know where I worked for that reason as well. But there you have it, I work at Little, Brown, and Co. as my day job, and I do analyst work for the GSA."

"So if you're not a spy, why do you know five different languages?"

"I knowsevendifferent languages," Santana corrected. "Antillean Creole, English, Spanish, Yiddish, French, Latin, and German."

"Why do you know so many languages?"

"I grew up speaking the first three; it's part of my heritage. I know Yiddish because I had to help Puck get ready for his bar mitzvah and so I could say the prayer at his wedding. When I got to college I studied Latin because it's a root language, which made learning French easier, and I can understand, but not speak, Italian, because I know French and Spanish. I guess I'm just good at languages. If you buy me Rosetta Stone for Christmas I'll be well on my way to learning Mandarin Chinese, too."

"So, not a spy?"

Santana shook her head. "No. Any other questions?"

"I've got a million other questions," Quinn remarked. "But just one more, for now."

"Shoot."

"If Puck isn't Phillips father, do you know who is?"

Santana gave one quick nod of her head. "I do. You do, too."

Quinn gave a forced laugh. "Why is it one of the Glee kids?"

"I shouldn't have said that you know him, I should have said that you know someone he's related to."

"Who?"

"What did you tell me your reason for almost going home with Jenna was?"

Quinn sighed, feeling all of the ground that they covered disappearing. "Santana, if you're not over that we need to actually hash it out, but you can't-,"

"That's not what this is about. What did you tell me?"

"That the only reason I was going to go home with her was because she reminded me of…It'sJenna.Jenna is Phillips..."

"Intended mother, but biologically his aunt."

"Well, shit."

Indeed.