A/N: Please forgive me for the heartache that ensues.

Wish You Well

Summary: You'll see her again, but it won't be the way you imagined. She'll have someone knew, she'll be happy. You give up, until one day she writes to you, but it's too late.

I remember feeling the dramatic pinch against my skin the minute the bullet struck me. It felt like a thick nail, surrounded by a fireball, had entered inside of me with no plan of escaping. I remember the cold wisp of air that escaped my lips on impact and the noticable arch in my back as I began to collapse.

When my back hit the clumps of dirt below I didn't think of where I'd end up after my eyes shut permanentaly. I didn't think of the bastard that pulled the trigger or that my men had yet to find me amidst the destruction. As soon as I was able to form an unblurred picture in my mind, I saw you.

You're 11 years old, worshipping a duck family, inhabiting a small pond by our homes. I never quite understood your connection with them, but I understood that was part of why you intrigued me so much. I watch you hand one of the smaller ducks a rashen of bread before it scampers away to feist on the treat. You look so happy.

The moment the ducks hesitantly approach you, light bulbs underneath your skin cause your face to light up. You're comfortable here and I find satisfaction in you being able to experience this simple activity. Then you wander backwards, away from the source of your joy. You tuck your legs under you as you sit idly beside me on a bench.

I'm not sure what's making me gravitate towards you, but it doesn't seem to matter once you return my kiss. It's short, light, almost invisible. You're aware we're in public but shift closer to me anyway. I tense under the touch of your fingers dancing along my open palm. You don't look as petrified as me. As if this is a natural thing for us.

I feel the pads of your fingers sliding up my palm, before you curl them between the spaces of my fingers. I can't tear my eyes away from the beautiful mix of colour we create. Caramel and Vanilla, our favourite flavor of ice creams.

My vision was blurred again, and I only saw specs of grey and black. There was something or someone tugging on my vest, desperate to bring me to safety. Although nothing was visible at the time, I was able to hear the mess around me. The hollers and explosions that told me I still had a chance to make it out alive.

We had been apart only a month before I was brought here. The moment I told you I enlisted, you swore that was the last straw for you. I had mentioned when we were 13 that I would fight for the country. When I turned 15 I changed the word country into you. My 15th birthday had brought me closer to you than ever before.

We swore that our bond was untouchable. We promised each other a lot of things.

In the end I did what I set out to do, which resulted in me lying helpless amidst tragedy and death. I could almost feel my fingers, but the chill in the air froze them once again. I liked feeling. It reassured me that I was alive.

After I was picked up and slapped several times across the face, the picture of you in my mind disappeared completely. I almost wished I were dead so I could see you again.

The air isn't as warm as it used to be in Lima. On hot days I was able to leer at your stunning figure without it being 'pervy'. Relatives and friends believed our friendship was built soley on trust and sharing common interests. But we shared so much more than that.

I wish we still did.

But you're not going to be waiting for me as I exit the terminal. I realised that long ago.

The turbulance is unbearable without having you beside me to whisper reassuring words in my ear. Airplane bathrooms had been such a huge turn on for you. I recall you dragging me into one on the way to New York with the Glee club.

I tried to act as nonchalant as possible as you tortured my virgin ears with your erotic words. Now that I think of that day though, I wish I could have it back. I would trade in my badge and rifle to have you back.

But I know it's far too late for that.

We've just touched down, it's rough but atleast we're on land. I poke at the large man beside me who had fallen asleep the entire plane trip. Getting to the bathroom wasn't an easy task with a 200 pound, snoring man blocking your way.

As my feet finally hit home soil, I'm taken aback by the rush of satisfaction I feel. Not only knowing that I'm finally home for good, but also knowing the fact I'm in the same city you're in.

I hoist my large duffle bag over my shoulder with ease. You always loved how strong I was, especially for my small frame. Small, laughing bodies sprint passed, reminding me of the time we spoke about having little Santana and Brittany's running around. I watch as their mother's push passed the crowds of people, frantically calling out their childs name.

It makes me giggle silently to myself. You would've been such a great mother.

You were probably contacted when I was shot in battle. I don't know how it affected you, knowing that I was tugging on the image of you to stay alive. If I had to think of you in the position I was in, I would've locked myself away from the outside world aswell.

All I needed was a letter in the hospital, or something that told me you were thinking of me. But nothing ever came, not one single letter. That's how I knew you were moving on.

I'm exiting the terminal now. There are squeals of joy as the people waiting outside notice a loved one arriving. I scan the area for anybody I know, like a family member or old friend.

Nothing.

And then my eyes peer passed the swarms of people towards someone awfully familiar. My feet pick up pace as I turn the corner to analyze this person.

The paper in my hand drops, along with the pen that makes a click sound as it hits the tiled floor.

There you are. Your golden hair falling passed your shoulders in waves, endless creamy legs flexing as you shuffle between your right and left foot. Your hands, god I miss those hands. I can barely make out the chipped blue nail polish, but I know it's there, because you never left the house without polish on. I imagine your hands to be soft, even after all of this time.

Your smile growing wide as if you're seeing someone you haven't seen in so long. I almost think you're looking directly at me and when I touch you I'll wake up on the battle field again.

But you don't see me. You're watching the entrance intently and I wonder why you didn't see me walking through. Maybe you didn't recognize me, or you just chose to ignore the fact I'm standing so close to you now, just staring.

Everybody is occupied and keeping to themselves while I stand between the bodies of excited people. I urge myself to walk up to you and greet you. But then your smile widens and your arms slowly spread as if inviting someone into them.

And you are.

There she is, some girl that I have never seen in my life. She leaps into your arms as though claiming you as her prize. You secure your arms around her back and I watch you inhale the scent of her hair, just like you used to do to me.

I'm frozen, staring at the interraction you two are sharing. When you pull back from eachother, she grabs your cheeks and kisses you forcefully on the lips. The lips that used to belong to me.

The lips I kissed when we were 11 years old by the pond. The lips that I allowed to venture down my body toward my most sensitive spots. The lips I could kiss forever.

I'm starting to think you didn't hear of my injury. Because you seem animatedly happy. I remember having a splinter and you rushing by my side crying because you thought it was hurting me.

I couldn't imagine a bullet to the gut would have made you this happy. So maybe you never heard of my near death experience and you never will. I was planning to visit you now that I'm back for good, but seeing you happy with another person makes me reconsider immediately.

I would've only asked for you forgiveness, nothing more. I would not have asked for friendship again, because that would have killed me as much you.

It would be selfish of me to expect things from you now, 4 years later.

If you can move on, then so can I. But I can't help but plead in the back of my mind that you still think of me. And when she does something you compare it to the way I did it. Because nothing would mean more to me than to know you were atleast thinking of me while I was laying unmoving, with no hope of surviving.

I wish you all the best and I realise I'm not even close to it. But you know I tried Britt, I really did try for you.

We were so close to having everything we ever wanted and now I guess you've gone and found it without me.

The girl showers your face in kisses, adoring every part of you. You seem so loved and comfortable with her. A smile spreads on my face, for the simple fact that you're happy.

I would never tell you I almost died on duty, I would never give you this letter that had me up all night figuring out the perfect way to tell you I still care. You will never know I'll love you for the rest of my life, because I ruined my chance 4 years ago.

I bend down to pick up the letter and pen that slid from my grasp and shoot you and your girl one more stare. Then I force my feet to walk my body towards the exit and when I pass a rubbish bin, I scrunch the letter into a tattered ball and throw it to the bottom of the bin.

As much as I want to believe you still reside next door to me, it's a long shot. You've grown up, you've found someone to provide for you. As the cab pulls up outside my old home, I don't pay mind to my house. My eyes instantly find yours.

But it isn't yours anymore, there are different people inhabiting it now. Kids are giggling and chasing eachother in the garden, while their parents drink coffee on the stoop. I pay the cab driver and head towards my front door.

I don't know how many months it had been since I saw you in the airport. I've lost track of time, dates, months. My wound had never been entirely dealt with at the hospital. It became infected last week and my first thought isn't to contact a doctor, it's to lock myself away from real life and drift away from the world slowly and peacefully.

I'm clenching my palm against my ribs, while slowly trudging towards the living room. The roar of an engine haults my movement and I carefully change directions.

Opening the door, I observe the mail man slipping an envelope into the rusting letter box. He turns to me, waves and then rides off. I slowly lift the hand that isn't occupied over my wound and wave back. It takes me a few deep breaths to make it down my front porch steps, but I eventually make it to my letter box.

I pull out the envelope and stare intensely at the name of the sender. My expression doesn't change however, I'm too weak to express the shock and nervousness that's itching to be shown. I wander back inside and place myself on the edge of my recliner.

The sting in my ribs as I bend my waist to sit down is excruciating. But I endure the pain, because I have felt a lot worse in the past.

I unseal the letter, dropping the envelope lazily beside me. The paper is folded into three sections and I begin to dread what's written inside.

As soon as I flatten the letter out I recognize your hand writing. You're so neat, with your letters curved perfectly and excellently spaced to make everything clear. The fingers holding the letter tremble and I realise that I'll need to read this as fast as I can.

Although I fear of what you'll say, I need to know.

Dearest Santana,

My girl. My only love. I saw you that day, at the airport. I hoped to approach you after my girlfriend returned from business overseas. I hoped to introduce you both, but you seemed anxious. I wouldn't force her into your life, knowing how much history we have, but I did want you to see how much joy she brings to my life.

I do not mean to be harsh, or inconsiderate. I'm just simply informing you that I'm doing well. I sincerely hope you are aswell.

After you left I watched you drop a piece of paper into a rubbish bin. It seemed unimportant so at first I simply ignored the nagging feeling in my chest, urging me to retrieve it. So I did.

I tucked it into my coat pocket until I returned home. When I was alone in the garden, I decided to open up the tattered paper and read it. I was thinking at first, that it was completely blank and unimportant, because you did indeed throw it away. But when I read the first sentence my blood refused to pump through my veins.

My heart felt heavy, knowing you were hurt and there was nothing I could do. It hurt even more I was finding this out months after it originally happened. I remember you always telling me things first, even before your family.

You rushed into my house one day, somehow knowing nobody was home but myself. I heard your hurried footsteps reach my door and when I opened it I saw you clutching your underwear. You seemed pale and horrified for some reason. And when you removed your hands I saw why.

I had gotten my period a year after you, and you were also the first one I told. We shared a lot of firsts together didn't we? But as time goes on and I move on with someone new, it feels like you and I happened a life time ago.

In saying that, do not ever think I will never love you until the day I fall permanentaly asleep. Ofcourse I care about you and thought about you every single day you were away. After a while I couldn't worry anymore San, I had to force myself to let go.

You're in my heart always. We were friends before we were lovers, so don't think that I won't give up on contacting you. Now that I know you're home for good, maybe we could go out for a milkshake sometime?

I understand if you need time to process everything that's changed in my life. I really do hope you're happy though and that you find someone because you deserve the best as well Santana. I relive the day at the pond every single night before I fall asleep. I kissed you back because I wanted too. I kissed you back because I loved you. I had fallen for you the day of your 10th birthday, the day we officially became best friends.

The look on your face when I gave you your present. It wasn't even the best gift you were given, but the look in your eyes told me you appreciated it because it was me that was giving it to you. And when you hugged me, whispering a cheerful 'thanks' in my ear, I knew. I knew we were going to be together, or connected in someway, forever.

Please write me back, or call me. I have the same number. I hope to hear from you again because it took me all the strength I had not to hold you in the airport that day. But I'm content with my life now, I'm happy, just like you want me to be.

Don't forget that I care, I always will.

Love your dearest Britt Britt.

The ink begins to smudge because of the tears I let fall onto it. I don't care. I'm too weak to send back a letter or treasure this one. So I leave it on my lap as my breathing evens out. My arms rest beside me, the letter being held between two fingers. My chest is rising slower than normal, because the infection is taking it's toll.

I'm dying. But it's not a bad thing, now.

All I had to know was that she still cares, she always did. Even when I left her.

My lids are heavy and the pain isn't so much as a slight throbbing. The sound of the doorbell ringing causes my breath to hitch, leaving the pain in my abdomen to sting more. I curse under my breath, but remain still. I literally can't move at this point, if I did, I would only fall to the floor - helpless.

The ringing stops and I pray silently hoping that this person has left. Then the handle on the front door turns with an audible rattle. I try to swallow but fail. This is it.

The weight is too much now, my body is shutting down and I refuse to fight it. I know everything I need to know. I'm finally happy just like she is.

When there is a slither of light I'm still able to see, I fight just a little bit. Because that light is you. You're the source of the door opening and the feather light footsteps down across the floor towards me. You're the voice that screams my name as I drift into a permanent sleep.