The Fourth, The Fifth

Part Four

She was shaking uncontrollably by the time Quinn answered the door. Without a word, Santana slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. Quinn looked completely confused, both as to why she was just showing up at Finn's house at midnight on a school-night and why she seemed so nervous.

Really, shouldn't she have figured it out by now?

"Santana, what's—" She was cut off by Santana surging forward, kissing her fully on the lips. It was full of passion, need, everything Santana wanted to say but just couldn't. It was her hopes, her dreams, everything she wished for.

It wasn't much more than a peck, but it felt like so much more.

Santana pulled away almost as quickly as she leaned in, leaving her mere inches away from Quinn's face, breath warm against her face. She was trying to gauge her reaction, trying to figure out what to say. What do you say after something like that, really? Before she could make any sort of plan, Quinn closed the gap, pressing her lips against hers again. It was slow, cautious, at first.

And then they were kissing all over and it was like they were fifteen again, drunk and stumbling up the stairs.

Somehow, they managed to make it up to Quinn's room without an incident, barely removing themselves from one another long enough to breathe. It was completely amazing and overwhelming and Santana was having a really difficult time focusing on anything when Quinn dug her fingers into her hip and kissed her like that.

They had been kissing up against her door for a good ten minutes before Quinn finally pulled away, her lips swollen and her flush spreading all the way to her chest. She was sure that she looked no different, and it was really, really difficult to breathe with Quinn pressed up against her like that. All she wanted to do was kiss her again.

"What does this mean?" It's the question she didn't get to ask the first time, not before Santana sealed herself off completely. Santana figures that she should have an answer by now, but she really doesn't.

"I don't know. I really wasn't planning on this to happen."

"You weren't?" Quinn looked adorable, and she could feel her heart skip a beat. "But you pushed your way in and kissed me. That's kind of planned."

"I think I came over here to talk, but I ended up kissing you instead. I'm not that great with words." Quinn's hands were still on her waist, clutching slightly, like she was afraid Santana would bolt at any second. She swallowed, hard, pushing back any feelings threatening to bubble forward. "What do you want this to mean?"

"That's not really an answer."

"I don't really have one. I just wanted to kiss you." Santana caught her gaze, and she looked different than she'd seen in a long time. Hopeful. Happy, almost. "I'm sorry."

She added it on because it seemed like the right thing to say. Because she felt it deep down in her gut, always, eating away at her, and she'd never said it before. Not like she needed to, to make things okay between them. So, she looked Quinn straight in the eyes and she said it, and she could tell that they both knew it was so much more than an apology for not having an answer.

It was not without hesitation, but Quinn smiled and kissed her again.

"You split from your investors?" This was not the conversation Santana had been expecting to have when her son called and asked her to come over for dinner. She'd been expecting to meet a girlfriend, or to get asked a question he wasn't comfortable asking Quinn, but not this.

"Yeah. They weren't really doing what I want to do with this whole thing." Gabriel set down a beer in front of her, his clutched in his other hand.

"What, they weren't taking it big enough for you?" She was joking around, but it barely drew a smile from him. It was actually serious.

"Actually, they were taking it too big. They wanted to sell it to the military in bulk as soon as we started production, when I explicitly told them that I want it to be exclusively available to cops for at least five years before it gets expanded. They wouldn't budge when I told them no, so I pulled out."

"That would make you a shit ton of money, you know."

"Yeah, I know, but you know it isn't about the money. None of this has ever been about the money."

"What is it about, then?"

"I don't like the way they did business. I couldn't shake the feeling that they were doing things and purposefully not telling me, like they had something to hide. I felt like I couldn't trust them, and it turns out I couldn't. I'm not gonna keep things quiet when they were trying to go against what I wanted on purpose, especially not over something like money." He sighed, a little with frustration and exhaustion.

Santana nodded, making a slight noise of agreement, content to sip on her beer instead of talking. Silence overcame them until Gabriel figured out what he wanted to say next.

"This nation was founded on one principle above all else: The requirement that we stand up for what we believe, no matter what the odds or consequences. When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth and tell the whole world 'No, you move.'"

It took her a moment, but Santana recognized it. It was a line from the comic book she'd given him, all those years ago, the one she'd said had been one of her favorites. Her heart swelled with pride faster than she could contain it.

"I just wanna help people, you know? I don't care about the money. These aren't even designed for the military, it would be a waste. Maybe I'll design a version for them, but this one is just for cops. Families shouldn't have to worry so much, especially not when they're out trying to help people, too."

"She's so tiny." Santana couldn't help the smile that was nearly splitting her face in two. She didn't care that Quinn was grinning at her like an idiot, a tired idiot, the way she always did when she thought Santana was doing something far too cute for her image. She didn't even care that Finn had called her at four in the morning, speaking so fast that she was worried he might pass out. It felt like things were finally falling into place, as she cradled the sleeping infant tightly against her chest. Like, for the first time, her dreams and her real life seemed to connect, fully connect. Like everything was going to work out.

She couldn't stop fucking smiling, and she just didn't care.

"Yeah, she is." Gently, Quinn reached out, grabbing her side and pulling her down into the chair next to the hospital bed. "I guess I could've done worse than Puck in the looks department. She's beautiful."

"She's gonna be quite the heartbreaker, kind of like her mom." Quinn playfully scoffed, and Santana just grinned back at her.

"Excuse me? I'm not the heartbreaker in this room."

"Touche."

Their conversation drifted off, Santana relaxing comfortably in the chair with the baby in her arms and Quinn's hand covering hers. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so at ease. Like all her problems were just so far away. It was nice, and she couldn't help but enjoy it.

"What do you think you're going to name her?"

For a moment, Quinn just stared at her baby, before reaching out to lightly touch her head. She didn't stir.

"I was thinking Isabelle. It was my grandma's name."

Santana swallowed painfully, trying to hold back the tears. She didn't want to have to explain why she was crying over a baby that wasn't even hers.

"I think it's perfect."

Puck disappeared after Isabelle was born. No one seemed to have any idea where he went, he just said that he needed to leave and took off. By the time he came back, Quinn had moved out of Finn's and back in with her mother, taking Isabelle with her. She wasn't there when Finn had to deal with Puck passed out on his front steps, looking like he hadn't slept at all since he'd left, a half-healed black eye the same color as the bags beneath his eyes adorning his face.

Santana would be lying if she said she wasn't really disappointed that he actually came back.

"Stay."

She said it with such insistence that it commanded Santana's attention completely. Gently, Quinn grabbed her hand, pulling her flush against her. A shiver traveled up her spine when Quinn's hands settled on her lower back. She repeated herself, quietly, with much less confidence and more fear.

"Stay."

What she wanted to say was 'please don't leave me again,' Santana could practically see it in her eyes.

"Okay." She breathed it out, watching the fear etched all over Quinn's face melt away. Slowly, Quinn pushed her backwards until her legs hit the bed.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

All it took was a gentle push to send her back against the bed, Quinn lowering herself down on top of her until they were pressed together. Santana couldn't resist the temptation to press her lips against hers, less about lust and more about need. Want. It was what Quinn had wished for all along, she wanted Santana to want her back. She wished that it was easy to say that she'd always wanted her, even then, but she settled for hoping that Quinn understood. It felt like she did.

Their kiss was languid, dragging on for ages, but Santana never wanted it to end. Her entire body was on fire, ignited by every touch and every little whimper Quinn made into her mouth.

Santana traced her hand up Quinn's thigh, finding a spot where her shirt had ridden up and clinging to it. In turn, Quinn pulled her lower lip between her teeth and she arched up against her, straddling one of her legs. She dragged a hand down Santana's side, slipping beneath her shirt and dragging her nails across her skin, light enough to tease. Beside herself, Santana gasped at the feeling, breaking their kiss. Quinn pressed kisses down her jaw and neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot and biting down on it.

Santana could feel herself starting to lose control as heat grew steadily low in her belly. She was making all kinds of noises that she would normally be ashamed of, but she just didn't care, not when Quinn was slowly lifting up her shirt and sucking on her neck.

"Fuck." She arched off the bed again, leaving enough room for Quinn to pull her shirt off. "Let me touch you." Honestly, she was a little surprised that Quinn listened, pulling away just long enough to strip off her top and throw it aside. As if on instinct, her arms returned to cover herself, and in an impressive move Santana managed to flip them over, pinning Quinn beneath her.

"You're so beautiful, I can't take it." She punctuated it with a kiss, before trailing hot, open mouthed kisses across her collarbone. Quinn rewarded her by digging her nails into her back.

It was completely overwhelming, and Santana didn't know what to think. She could barely remember how with her fingers tracing the waistband of Quinn's jeans, resulting in a gasp that shot heat straight to her core. It was muddling all of her senses, making everything hazy and startlingly clear at the same time, and she loved it. Suddenly, Quinn surged forward, one hand around Santana and the other preventing her hand from moving away.

"I want you to touch me." It was easily the sexiest thing Santana had ever heard. "Please."

It seemed foreign to find herself shaking out of nervousness as she struggled to unbutton Quinn's jeans. Quinn seemed perfectly content to kiss the column of her neck as she fumbled with them, finally managing to get them undone and off of her. It was impossible not to stare as she collapsed back against the pillows at the first touch, a tiny, needy whimper pushing its way past her lips.

She was quiet, all breathy moans and soft panting and dirty, dirty things whispered into Santana's ear. She didn't even know that Quinn knew words like that, and she felt absolutely helpless against her. All she could do was watch and move her fingers that much faster, making the moans she found so unbearably hot increase with them.

Santana pressed herself against Quinn, unable to resist claiming her lips once more, feeling every shiver beneath her. She was a little bit proud of herself, that she was the one doing this to her, making her completely lose herself under her touch. It was intoxicating.

As she came, Quinn surged forward, trapping her hand between them and letting out the longest and sexiest moan she'd ever heard. Santana took advantage of her parted lips, and Quinn kissed her back with just as much fervor. Like she needed her to be as close as possible. She didn't stop lazily moving her fingers until Quinn pulled away from her with a giggle.

"Stop! I can't take any more right now." She was out of breath and blushing and it was so, so hot. Santana grinned in return and wrapped her arms around Quinn's waist.

"I can't stop touching you." Quinn arched up against her in response, softly brushing Santana's nose with her own.

"Well, maybe I want to touch you." She gave her a look that succeeded in making her tremble in longing and anticipation, and for the millionth time that night, Santana couldn't help herself.

"Do it, then." Her heart was racing out of control, not helped in the least by the way Quinn reached around and unhooked her bra, discarding it. As always, her touch was light, teasing, tracing patterns and lines across her sides and down her chest. Santana could feel herself shake, again, and she was powerless to resist gasping the moment Quinn thumbed over her nipple.

"Fuck…fuck!" Quinn sunk her teeth into her shoulder at the same moment that her hand trailed down her abdomen, working its way into her pants. It seemed like far too long before she finally touched her, she needed it too much to be kept waiting like that, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was impossible not to roll her hips into Quinn's hand, much to the blonde's amusement, who seemed to be spending half the time watching her expressions and half the time passionately kissing her. It was unbearably hot and intimate and she'd never, ever felt this way. Not with anyone.

"I've wanted to do this since we were fifteen…" Quinn's voice was husky, and she accented the whisper by nibbling on Santana's earlobe. It was at that point that Santana completely lost herself, lost track of what she was doing and what she was saying. She was nearly certain that she was moaning things like 'harder' and 'oh fuck yes' far too loud, but she never stopped her.

"Say my name." Quinn's fingers were moving faster and Santana could feel white-hot heat spreading from her belly to her spine, so she moaned Quinn's name right before she came undone. She didn't even care that she'd lost it embarrassingly fast. It didn't seem to matter as she rode out her orgasm with Quinn's lips pressed insistently against hers. Finally, she pulled away, collapsing on the bed next to her.

"Fuck…" She was panting, trying to regain her breath, and Quinn was just watching her with a small smirk.

"Are you always that talkative in bed?"

"Shut up, Fabray." She was still breathless and it came out sound less than threatening, but she really didn't care. After all, she was nearly naked in bed with a far more naked Quinn Fabray, and she'd just had the best orgasm of her life. She really couldn't complain about anything.

"How about in Spanish, next time?"

"If you do that again, I'll say anything you want." Quinn rolled onto her side, throwing an arm across Santana's waist and pulling her in until they were spooning. It didn't take much work to get the covers out from under them and on top of them, to keep their rapidly-cooling bodies from getting cold.

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know."

"I hope you do."

They were silent for a while, long enough that their breathing evened out, so much so that Santana wasn't sure if Quinn had fallen asleep or not. She was warm against Santana's back, her hand sprawled out on her stomach, keeping them close. It was nice, to be held. It made her feel safe, protected.

"I love you."

Santana didn't realize she'd said it out loud until she felt Quinn stiffen behind her. Immediately panicking, she tried to come up with a way to play it off like she didn't mean it, which was surprisingly hard because she realized that she absolutely did mean it.

"Shh." Quinn gripped at her stomach, like she was trying to hold her there even though Santana wasn't trying to leave. "I've wanted you to say that since we were fifteen, too."

After that night, Santana's costume started to collect dust.

It was one of those dreams, one where she could actually talk to Isabelle as herself.

"Are these dreams ever going to stop?"

Isabelle shrugged.

"They'll stop when you don't need them anymore."

It was simple.

All she'd done was wake up in the morning and take a deep breath to clear away the grogginess, like she did every morning, reveling in the feeling of Quinn pressed warmly up against her. It didn't take long for her to notice the lightness in her chest, the way everything seemed to be going just right.

There were no burning questions, no answers left unspoken. There was no frustration or irritation. There was no anger. She was completely and utterly at peace.

All it had taken to let go was to go to sleep.

The sliding door opening released the muffled laughter from inside, noisy over the thudding bass. Santana didn't bother to turn and face the presence behind her, she already knew who it was. Instead, she pulled smoke through the filter and into her mouth, slowly exhaling before breaking the silence.

"You want a cigarette?"

"No." Puck sounded weird, raw. It was enough to make Santana uproot her feet from where they'd been settled for minutes and turn to face him. He was only a few feet away, somehow closer than she expected, deep purple bags hauntingly evident even in the glow of the shitty porch light.

"Have you been crying?" Even though Quinn had asked her not to, she couldn't resist. He had always been an easy target. Much to her dismay, she didn't even get a rise out of him. Nothing. He didn't even move towards her, or try to get in her face. By now he would usually be flaunting his size and his masculinity. Instead, he did something she absolutely did not expect.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He just seemed so exasperated, like he truly didn't understand. Like she was really out to get him.

"I'm not doing anything to you."

"Yes you are! You took my kid away from me!"

"No, I didn't. You didn't step up to help Quinn, and I did. You made a mistake, and that's your fault. Don't blame me just because you can't deal with that."

"Fuck you, Lopez. You've always been a fucking bitch, that's not gonna change." There was the Puck that she was so familiar with. He took a step forward, but he wasn't quite invading her personal space. "What will happen to them when you get bored and leave?"

"That won't happen."

"Fucking bullshit, and you know it. You're just a slut who likes a challenge." Santana clenched her fists, nails digging half-moon shapes into her palms. She wanted to slap him, punch him, anything, but she wasn't stupid enough to try and pick a fight with him. She knew he'd match her aggression in an instant, and he'd win. "Quinn doesn't even like girls, you're just her fucking sugar-daddy!"

"First of all, Quinn and I have been best friends since first grade. I think I know her better than you do. The first time we made out, which was totally fucking hot by the way, was a year before she made the drunken mistake of sleeping with you. So, actually, I think that means she doesn't like you." Apparently, she was still stupid enough to insult him. He curled his hands into fists, much like her own, but he still didn't attack her. He wanted something. If it was an apology, he sure as hell wasn't going to get it. "Secondly, I'm not going to leave them. I fought hard for this, harder than you've ever fought for anything in your life."

"People don't change. You're never going to be more than a selfish bitch."

"You're right, Puck, they don't change. I tried, and I couldn't. I tried so hard to be that perfect, popular girl. I tried to manipulate everything by being what McKinley wanted me to be, and it fooled you. It fooled everyone, until I got sick of keeping it up. I've been going back to how I used to be, before we really knew each other."

"You think you're fucking clever? I can see right through your bullshit, and I'll make sure that everyone else sees it, too!"

"You just need to accept that this is who I am, and I'm here to stay. I won't back down no matter what you do."

"Why don't you just leave Quinn and Isabelle out of your stupid fucking game or whatever the fuck this is?"

"It's not a fucking game, it's my life, and all I have to say to you is 'no.'" The severity of her answer seemed to put him off a bit, and he faltered. It was like he expected her to break just because he was yelling. He took a few steps forward, getting in her face, like that was going to help. "There's no fucking way I'm leaving, I love them way too much. So why don't you back the fuck off while you deal with it."

"No, you're gonna back the fuck off and give me my family back!"

"They're not your fucking family!"

Suddenly, Puck's hands were clenched around her neck and her back hit the wood of the deck with a painful thud. She scratched and punched, trying furiously to get him off of her, but it didn't seem to deter him.

"Isabelle won't remember you in a year." He hissed it in her face, tightening his grip that much more. Santana struggled until she just didn't have the energy. She was surprised at how long it took to lose the energy to fight back, leaving her unable to struggle. All she wanted was air back in her lungs, but there was nothing she could do.

It felt like forever, trapped between his solid body and the deck, feeling her life slowly drain out of her. It was different than any time before, more violent, and she couldn't help but feel uncomfortably vulnerable. Nothing was more unsettling than the fact that she was going to die with Puck's crazed look burned behind her eyelids, like it was going to be there forever, staring back at her every time she closed her eyes.

She really didn't want Quinn to see her like that. Dead.

As everything went black, she figured she didn't have a choice.

Santana was acquainted with the ground far too quickly for her liking, the pain blooming like poison from her shoulder until it's overwhelming. No matter how many times it happened, she never got used to the feeling of being shot, never, and all she could do was focus on the searing pain as her blood leaked out onto the pavement beneath her. Everything was muffled, the sound of more shots fired, the yelling, the sirens. It seemed like only seconds later when she was hauled onto a stretcher and loaded into the back of an ambulance.

The sound of incoherent babble between the EMT's and the distant roar of the engine nearly distracted her from the fact that she was bleeding out all over the stretcher. She could feel it, hot and sticky against her skin, soaking her clothes.

She was dying, and all she could think about was how mad Quinn would be that she broke her promise.

Suddenly, air was flowing back into her lungs and she was gasping and coughing beyond her control. Her eyes flew open, discovering Quinn's face where Puck's had been just moments earlier. The weight had been lifted from her completely, freeing her throat and her lungs, and all she could do was stare.

Quinn's lips were moving, but she couldn't quite hear her over her own ragged breaths and the loud ringing in her ears. Still, she could imagine what she was saying, concern etched all over her face.

"You're so stupid, you know that? You always get yourself into trouble."

"I'd do it over and over, for you."

Her voice sounded terrible and it hurt like hell to speak, but it didn't seem to matter. Not when Quinn was gripping at her hand, again, like she was afraid she would disappear.

"So, it was true?" Quinn sounded like she was close to fumbling her words, a rare occasion. Santana just nodded from her spot on the couch, Isabelle curled tightly against her chest.

"Yeah. I'm not actually that crazy. Who knew?" Her joke didn't really seem to take Quinn off the edge she'd been on since the night Puck attacked her, and she silently sank down on the couch at Santana's feet.

"Finn saw it. He just went into the kitchen to get another drink and then he started yelling for help as loud as he could and we all followed him out onto the deck. He couldn't get Puck to let go of you, all the guys had to help." She sounded like she was going to cry, and Santana extended a hand. "I was so scared…I just, Puck was acting crazy and I didn't know what to do. I thought you weren't going to wake up."

"But I did. And I'm here to stay. Turns out I'm the hardest fucking bitch to get rid of, so you lucked out." Finally, a smile.

"I can't believe you were actually telling the truth."

"You thought I lied?"

"I thought you were having some weird PTSD episode, I didn't take it seriously except to get worried about your wellbeing."

"You worry about me far too much." Quinn looked like she was going to respond, but Santana cut her off. "It's cute."

"I still think you should've let us call the cops."

"No way in hell. I can play off 'staying home until I heal' with New Directions, but definitely not the cops. Plus, I don't think Puck's gonna come back after that. He thinks he killed me." Quinn had told her that Puck had run off before she'd woken up, almost as soon as he'd realized what he'd done. She was thankful, because even though she couldn't die, she really didn't want to have another run-in with him any time soon.

"This is all so weird."

"What, exactly?"

"Everything. I mean, you can't say you expected any of this to happen." It was true. She'd gotten in a car accident, figured out she couldn't die, become a vigilante and gotten choked to death by Puck. On top of that, she and Quinn had gone from best friends, to not talking, to kind of talking, to dating. She could honestly say that all of it had come completely out of left field.

"Well, at least all this crazy shit made me finally pull my head out of my ass." Quinn finally seemed to relax, at least a little, taking a normal breath for the first time in days.

"I love you." She said it like it was the only thing that mattered. Santana figured it kind of was.

"I love you, too."

It was like she blinked and it was the end of their senior year. Everything had happened so fast. School, Glee, her home life. Even little Isabelle seemed to be getting bigger so quickly, even though she saw her pretty much every day. And Quinn, of course. Still, it was like everything went by too fast and too slow at the same time. She wanted to be out on her own with Quinn and Isabelle, but she was going to miss everyone. Even Rachel, no matter how reluctant their friendship had been.

As she crossed the stage and received her diploma, all she could feel was a mixture of excitement and pride. It marked both an end and a beginning, and there was so much ahead of her. She knew it, and she could hardly wait.

The acceptance letters were strewn across the table, Quinn's name emblazed across each envelope, the crests of each school standing out like they were in neon lights. NYU, UCLA, University of Washington and University of Chicago. She'd applied all over the country, anywhere but Ohio, and Quinn's fantastic honor-roll grades and list of award-winning extracurricular activities really paid off. Santana couldn't help but be proud.

"What are you thinking?" Santana couldn't help but ask, since Quinn had just been staring at the envelopes for the better part of ten minutes.

"Honestly? I have no idea which one to pick."

"Well, just weigh the pros and cons of each. Like, not just for the school but the city and stuff. We want it to be safe for Isabelle, and I have to be able to get a job. You know, practical stuff." Quinn nodded, thumbing through each of the letters for the millionth time. She walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I need to think about it more. I'll keep you posted, though."

"You better."

Quinn took right up to the deadline to make her decision, although Santana had a feeling that she already knew where they would be headed. They were curled beneath the covers when she suddenly spoke.

"I accepted at the University of Washington for winter quarter." Santana couldn't help but grin, not that Quinn could see it in the dark. "Seattle is relatively safe, when I googled it they were looking for people for the police academy, it's not as expensive as the other cities, and they offered me the most financial aid. It just makes sense."

She paused, to breathe, and it seemed a lot like she was worried Santana would be upset. Honestly, she worried way too much when it came to her.

"It does. I wasn't gonna say anything, but I was hoping you'd pick UW. I'd follow you anywhere, though."

It was weird to think that not long before she would've cut and run at the thought of being so attached to someone, especially Quinn. She never would've let herself be vulnerable enough, and she never would've admitted it if she was. It was amazing how much a person could change in such a short time. Back then, she'd always thought that death, like life, was promised by nature. She tried not to be conceited enough to think that she, more than anyone else, was meant for better things. Whatever it was, she was thankful.

"So, we're going to Seattle?"

"Yeah, we are."

FIN