Title: Resolution

Synopsis: In part I of II, Rachel Berry didn't want to live anymore. However, after a hospital stay she meets an enigmatic person who becomes immediately an integral part of her life. In part II, they've become closer than Rachel would have expected and things begin to evolve beyond her or Santana's control.

Rating: M for suicidal themes, language, and sex.

A/N: So, I'm back to this story because I was driving tonight and listening to music, and that always makes me feel like writing. I just thought of Pezberry, and how much I wanted to finish this short 2-parter. There's something really lovely about this story that even I never expected to create. I hope you all enjoy the last part to this tale.

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4. Climax

"Silences have a climax, when you have got to speak." – Elizabeth Bowen

"Let's go out." Santana looked deliriously happy to suggest this. Rachel had opened the door to find the Latina standing there, dressed to kill in jeans and a black beater. With the curve of her hips, it was hard to pay much attention to anything else; she had to resist the urge to reach out and run her fingers over that curve before pulling her into the apartment. "I really wanna go out tonight and you've never been to my favorite bar."

Rachel had been having inappropriate thoughts about Santana for a good week now … or more. Depending on what you defined as inappropriate. She figured that Santana had caught her staring a little too much at her thighs or hips, because sometimes she'd see the dark-eyed girl smirking at her when she realized that she was staring.

"Yes? Out?"

The now-working Broadway star nodded, realizing she'd again lost herself in ogling her very good friend. "Of course. I haven't been out in a long time. At least not to a bar, since dinner with you doesn't count."

"Oh, thanks," Santana laughed a little, pretending to be insulted before moving into the apartment. "Go get changed into something really sexy," the words came easy for Santana, it seemed, but Rachel was a little more reluctant to say things that were suggestive in this way. Santana thought she was sexy.

Rachel blushed at the implication, closing the door to the apartment and glancing at the brunette. "Must you be so demanding?"

"Always have been," the answer came with a low-toned chuckle.

It was hard deciding on something satisfactory; Rachel Berry was picky and she was sure that she would feel decidedly unsexy beside Santana until she had a couple drinks in her system. Judging from the Latina's attire, they were going to a dance club. Probably a gay club. Rachel's heart pounded a little faster … maybe they'd end up dancing together? They hadn't been in a situation that was overtly sexual in any way, and if so dancing would be the first of these. Rachel held up a couple different shirts, looked at skirts and shoes, and could think of nothing that seemed 'sexy.'

Apparently impatient, Santana had come into the room. Her reflection startled Rachel. "Can't find anything?"

"I don't think I look sexy in any of these," Rachel murmured as she pulled the edge of her hoodie down over her hips, feeling a little overexposed in just her underwear and the hoodie she'd been wearing.

Santana laughed. As the raven-haired Latina examined Rachel, and then her clothing selection, she quickly came up with something Rachel wouldn't have picked out. She retrieved a black A-line skirt that showed a good portion of Rachel's thighs, handing her the garment in a way that said 'put this on,' and kept looking for a shirt. Soon she'd found a white blouse, handed it to Rachel, and started rifling through her necklaces.

Rachel got dressed while Santana was turned around, feeling vulnerable but somehow thrilled at the fact of being in this particular situation. She must have buttoned her blouse up too high, because when Santana finished draping a silver necklace around her neck, she spun Rachel around gently by the hips and gave her a once-over. Rachel felt everywhere Santana's eyes lingered. Her heart jumped into her throat when she felt fingers moving across her collarbone, fixing her shirt. Santana began to unbutton the last buttons Rachel had reached, and the shorter girl wondered what was going through Santana's mind.

For a second, her brain flashed the image of her own hands stopping Santana's and going in for the kill. Flashes of bare skin, lips matching each other. She'd probably stopped breathing, but felt the warmth of Santana's fingers leave her skin. "All done."

She was spun around to face the mirror, and aside from her hair, saw a sexified Rachel staring back at her. "Oh."

"Damn right," Santana murmured, her eyes darkly reflecting back at Rachel. "Let's go, I wanna get you drunk."

She couldn't tell if her friend was kidding or not, but she didn't want to think too hard on it. Rachel found herself smiling. "Let's."

###

The music was overpowering. Rachel could feel it travelling through her feet when they walked through the door. Lights flashed brilliantly, bodies moved and writhed, and the feeling was overwhelmingly vibrant. The energy was unmatchable. She felt Santana clutch her hand to move them safely through the crowd together, and giddiness washed over her as she looked around.

"Shots!" Santana yelled, mouthing the word a second time and miming the action. She showed Rachel how to do what they called a 'Brooklyn Hooker,' and by the time they'd done two or three Rachel felt herself flushed and a little tipsy. Finally, Santana seemed satisfied with the blood alcohol level between them and ordered a sweet drink for each of them.

They didn't hit the floor right away. Santana was leaning against the bar watching the crowd, and Rachel found herself doing the same until she realized that more than half of the time, Santana was looking at her. A spark lifted itself between them and made Rachel's stomach flip. She sipped her drink and tried to calm herself. There was something else in Santana's eyes today that was a little more than friendly. It was almost predatory.

Now she realized why Santana had wanted to bring her to the gay bar; this was her element. This was where Santana seemed more confident than ever (if possible). She felt a warm hand slip up her arm before guiding her away from the bar, a mouth near her ear half-yelling, half-speaking, "Let's dance!"

Rachel was definitely tipsy, because she felt herself swooning as Santana guided her hips to Rachel's. She lost herself in the movement, in the feel of moving so closely with Santana, dancing freely in a mass of bodies. She laughed aloud more than once, and as Santana's smirk turned into a grin, Rachel dipped her head against the warmth of Santana's neck. At some point, she lost track of the crowd and could only feel Santana's fingers sifting through her hair, her fingers sometimes grazing the back of her neck.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol, but she felt warm all over. Something in her wanted to take charge, so it did. Rachel caught Santana's hand and dragged her through the crowd, back to the bar, and ordered two more drinks. When Santana had moved to speak to Rachel, the brunette caught herself staring at the Latina's lips, her hands, and again the curve of Santana's waist, hips, and thighs.

"Do you really think I look sexy?" Rachel found herself asking, first too quietly to be heard and then picking up the habit of customers in any loud bar, she pulled herself closer to Santana and spoke against her ear. Rachel's hands found Santana's hips, probably fell a little too close to her ass, but she didn't move them. In fact, her fingers clutched a little to the firm body in their reach. She pulled away, eyebrow lifted a little in question.

Santana's smile came out of nowhere, and that supple bottom lip slipped out of sight. Not giving Rachel the satisfaction of an immediate answer, Santana seemed to lose herself in finding a way to give a good one. Rachel narrowed her eyes playfully before retrieving their drinks from the bar, handing Santana hers.

Putting off her immediate wants, that's what Rachel had to learn. She sipped at her drink, took a seat on one of the bar stools, and let her eyes wander the crowd. It had slipped her mind that she was wearing a short skirt until she felt fingers glide up her thigh; she heard herself gasp before glancing up. Santana had set her drink down and was trailing her fingers over Rachel's thigh, gently prying the diva's legs apart, and moving forward. Jesus Christ, Rachel blasphemed, noting the irony of a Jew thinking that first. Santana moved with purpose, her fingers stopping just short of the edge of Rachel's skirt and the diva thought her friend had certainly noticed the line of goosebumps there. I'm definitely not really breathing, the thought came and went.

This was her answer, for sure. She felt herself swooning inside as Santana seemed to drink in the sight of Rachel. "What do you think?" She'd moved close enough for Rachel to hear her.

As Rachel nodded, she felt her heart pounding. Santana's fingers were tracing the deep-cut line of her blouse, between her breasts without being particularly intrusive. There were waves of dizziness.

Santana retreated almost as quickly as she had come, taking Rachel's hand and leading her again into the crowd. The whole night went like this, drinking and dancing, playing with one another in ways they wouldn't have if they were anywhere else.

###

Rachel didn't really remember getting home. She woke up in her hoodie and boyshorts, and Santana was sprawled beside her. It must have been late-afternoon. The brunette wondered if anything had happened, remembering snippets of Santana toying with her, getting her a little too warm, and touching her thighs at the bar. Had anything come of the flirtation? Did it mean anything?

She tried not to worry. She'd make breakfast instead. Rachel heard the padding of footsteps down her hall about thirty minutes later, just as she'd finished plating a hearty breakfast for the both of them (vegan, of course). She was humming to herself when she heard Santana's warm voice greet her.

"Morning."

"Hey," Rachel tried not to blush as the raspiness of Santana's voice made her think of the night prior. "I figured this might keep away any hangover."

"Yeah, we drank a lot," Santana poured herself some orange juice; the diva liked that she made herself at home here. "How's your head?"

"Good." She sat down on the stool beside Santana, and they ate in relative silence. She wondered if she should say anything, ask anything, or just pretend they hadn't spent the whole night before trying to turn each other on. What did this mean for their friendship?

"D'ja have fun last night?" Santana spoke with a mouthful.

Rachel laughed at the sight, "I think fun is an understatement."

Santana nodded, another mouthful piled on a fork.

"Thank you for taking me," Rachel had finished not long after, and was washing her plate when she spoke her gratitude.

The Latina touched Rachel's back, grazed the curvature of her lower back as she put the plate in the sink, "We should do it again sometime. When you're not at the studio practicing your Broadway junk."

"We should."

"Gonna go brush my teeth. You wanna hang today?"

"Please," Rachel felt the word came out a little more pleading than she'd intended, but as she met Santana's eyes she saw a responding need there. Something that said last night wasn't just alcohol and playfulness.

She watched the Latina leave before she decided she'd stay in her pajamas today. She showered and changed back into them, brushing her teeth and tying her damp hair into a ponytail before plopping herself down on the couch.

"Bravo," Santana requested as she came back into Rachel's apartment, "There's a marathon on today.

Rachel grinned, "We are of one mind."

Something felt different as Santana covered them both in a blanket and pulled Rachel to her side. More flashes, ideas, and Rachel would dare say desires. At some point she became conscious of Santana's hand stroking her side, the warmth of Santana's skin near her cheek. The brunette reached up, traced her fingers over Santana's shoulder and collarbone, skipping over the fabric of the Latina's tank top.

"Last night … "

"Yeah?" Rachel breathed, nervous at the beginning of Santana's words.

"You asked if I really thought you looked sexy, but you didn't ask me when or in what."

A nervous laugh came from Rachel, and she buried her face against Santana's neck, listening for the continuation.

"Do I make you nervous?"

The question made her nervous. "I mean … sort of. Like this. When we're like this. But you're .. you're like my best friend," she spoke her words quietly, afraid to look into Santana's eyes.

"Bad nervous?"

A shake of the head, Rachel tried to let the scent of Santana's slightly damp hair and the fresh scent of shampoo soothe her nerves. As her fingers traced along the Latina's skin, she found a brave place within herself and started to push Santana's tank top aside, leaving bare shoulders, sun-kissed skin. She watched the vein in Santana's neck pulse quietly, a reminder that this attraction wasn't one-sided. Rachel pressed her lips softly there, fingers trailing over the bare skin of Santana's shoulder. She didn't know where the bravery came from, but suddenly she was lifting her leg over Santana's lap and straddling her waist, leaning down and pressing her lips to Santana's throat.

"Now who's nervous," she heard Santana say.

"Would it make you nervous to say I really like your hands on my skin?" Rachel had never felt quite so powerful as she did in this moment, pulling away to look at a clearly lustful Santana. She ground her hips down a little bit, encouraging a reaction – a groan – from Santana.

"Not nervous … "

Rachel moved her lips along Santana's throat after this, catching her earlobe as the trail ended, lips grazing the sensitive skin, feeling Santana's fingers clutch at her waist. "I need you to kiss me like you wanted to last night," the words came from somewhere deep and primal, somewhere that left Rachel throbbing though she was the one that spoke them.

Santana left no room for any more discussion as Rachel pulled away only slightly, kissing Rachel in such a hungry way that Rachel had to moan a little in between. Santana's hands wandered over Rachel's ass, squeezed in such a way that made Rachel grind down against her. "I'm not going to be able to stop here," Santana said, breaking the kiss momentarily, breathing heavily. "Is this what you want?"

Rachel let her lips hover a breath's distance away from Santana's, dragging her bottom-lip against Santana's, "What do you think?" The blanket had fallen from them, and she took Santana's hand in hers, guided it underneath her hoodie and to a breast. The feeling was so sensual that Rachel nearly burst as Santana's hand kneaded the skin, found a nipple and rolled it underneath her thumb. Her head fell forward against Santana's neck, and she bit back a moan as Santana continued to be just rough enough with Rachel's nipples. It wasn't enough for the Latina, who tugged Rachel's hoodie over her head; those dark eyes got darker somehow, before Rachel had to close her eyes at the sensation of a mouth latched on to her skin. "Fuck," she whispered, tangling her fingers in Santana's hair. She was rocking a little, getting too turned on to do anything else with Santana's hands kneading her ass and her mouth exploring her nipples and the goosebumps along her breast.

The exploration became mutual as Santana picked Rachel up and brought her into her bedroom, Santana's tank top slipping off her shoulders and eventually winding up on the floor. The sound of Santana's gasp was intoxicating as Rachel teased the Latina.

It became too much for Santana. The Latina was kissing Rachel's thighs before Rachel could protest, and suddenly Rachel felt things she'd never imagined before; Santana's talent was extraordinary and she knew it. Rachel was writhing under Santana's oral ministrations, crying out, and somewhere along the lines she felt like she was really seeing stars. "D-don't… don't stop," Rachel heard herself saying, rocking into Santana's fingers and her tongue, begging her not to, even though the Latina was clearly drawing her climax to an unbearable peak. "I need .. n-n.." Rachel was panting, pleading.

When she had gone over the brink, come back, and gone over again, she finally found the strength to top Santana. She'd stripped the girl bare of her clothing and surprised the Latina, who ended up begging just as heartily. "Come here," the request had surprised Rachel as she made her way up Santana's body, kissing her way along the trail of her ribs, breasts, and eventually her lips, catching them in a slower kiss as her fingers touched the deepest places inside Santana. When Santana came, she cried out and arched against Rachel's body, trembling all over. Rachel held the clinging Latina, kissed her back to planet earth.

As they lay entwined, naked, blissful, in the quiet of the evening, Rachel sat up a little, looked down into Santana's blissful gaze.

"I love you."

The words surprised them both. Rachel's eyes teared up a little, "Really?"

Santana nodded, looking equally emotional. Those dark eyes glistened.

Rachel leaned down, catching those full lips in a kiss that lasted for some time. When she pulled away, she smiled as large as she had ever smiled, "I love you."

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5. Falling

"All I'm saying is that I don't want to sort of fall in love with fifty different people. I'd rather find one person and fall completely, deeply in over my head." – Anna White

They were out to dinner the night after Rachel's premiere on her current project on Broadway when she caught Santana staring at her above the top of her wine glass. When Rachel caught her, Santana only smiled quietly and set her wine glass down.

"I've been thinking."

Rachel loved the earthy tone of Santana's voice as she spoke. She only sipped at her own wine, swished the flavor over her tongue, "Hmm?"

"What if I sell my apartment?"

Rachel felt a little panicked, "But what .. I mean .. we live next to each other and where would you move to, I like being able to … "

"I like waking up next to you."

Rachel lost a little bit of her breath, then blushed as she realized what Santana was proposing.

"If I can get out of my lease, I want to live with you. If you think you're ready, 'cause I feel ready and you know I'm the real commitment-phobe here," Santana's dark eyes shone in the dim lighting of the restaurant, hopeful. When Rachel looked in those eyes, she felt something deep stir within her to this day. "Rachel, I know it's a big deal," Santana must have mistook Rachel's stunned silence for hesitation, "but I wanna wake up next to you. I wanna eat breakfast with you every morning without having to get up out of an empty bed. I wanna fall asleep with you … every night. I wanna make decisions about decorating together and sneak a puppy into our apartment and … "

Rachel felt warm tears in her eyes, let out a throaty laugh. "Our apartment? You really want that?"

Santana looked a little embarrassed and Rachel suspected she'd never expected this of herself. The Latina nodded, and reached across the table to take Rachel's hand in hers. "I didn't think this would happen when I met you. I just knew you made me feel … something. Looking at you, I felt a kind of shock like … I dunno, like the universe hit me over the head. I still get that feeling sometimes, like when I wake up and you're buried against me in bed."

Rachel squeezed the fingers clutching her own before feeling a distinct urge to tackle Santana in a joyous hug. Instead, she waved to the waiter, requested their bill. She didn't take her eyes from Santana's, felt her heart hammering with a mixture of emotions. Once they'd gotten up and paid the bill, Rachel clutched Santana's hand in hers as they walked up the block. Rachel felt stunned to silence.

"So is this a yes?"

Rachel stopped in her place, glad that for once a New York sidewalk wasn't teeming with people, and grabbed Santana's face in her hands, kissing her passionately and with all the love in her heart. Her lips hovered near afterward, warm tears in her eyes again, "Yeah," the whisper was heavy-laden with emotion and Santana seemed to feel the same, her eyes glistened.

"Jesus," Santana whispered back, kissing Rachel again, "I love you," her arms wrapped tightly around Rachel, the brunette felt Santana bury her face against Rachel's neck. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

It's what Rachel had dreamed about her whole life. Finding someone who loved her so much that it made them feel overwhelmed with emotion. "Santana Lopez, you better love me, 'cause you're not getting rid of me now."

"Damn."

The laughter spilled from Rachel before she squealed in surprise, felt Santana pick her up and throw her over her shoulder. "What are you doing, Santana!?"

"Taking home my prize."

"Put me down!"

"Nope."

She didn't. Not until she unlocked Rachel's apartment door and dropped her on the couch, straddled her, and kissed her like she meant it.

###

When Rachel got home from a show one night, she found Santana baking brownies, covered in the baking ingredients, and she tried not to laugh at the fact that Santana (who was not a good cook) was clearly trying to be sweet.

"Honey, what are you doing?"

"Making you brownies." Santana looked at the clock. "Damn. Damn. I wanted them to be done before you got home."

Rachel laughed throatily, setting her purse on the counter before she brushed her fingers over Santana's powdery face. "Sweetie," she was charmed, adored the Latina in front of her, the way her black hair hung over her shoulders, the tan of her skin underneath the powder, her dimples, everything about her. Overwhelmed with feeling, she kissed Santana slowly, embers stoked over a fire. "What would I do without you?"

"Die," Santana winked. She lifted Rachel onto the counter and eventually they forgot about the brownies.

###

It was snowing in Central Park one morning and Santana had been insistent on going for a walk. Rachel thought she was crazy, but since her show had wrapped days earlier, she didn't really have any other plans. Snow in New York was a beautiful thing when you went to the right part of the city.

As they walked, she rubbed her gloved fingers over Santana's and thought it strange that the Latina wasn't saying much.

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm in love with you. Like … hopelessly. Like those stupid romantic movies where the person says they can't spend their life with anyone else?"

Rachel was caught off-guard, glanced beside her at the beautiful (and clearly shivering) Latina. Santana was bundled in a coat and her scarf only hung around her neck.

"God, please tell me this is a mutual thing."

Rachel laughed, "Oh," spoke sweetly, "I can't imagine my life with anyone else. I want to be with you til you're tired of me."

Santana looked surprisingly relieved, "I've never…really let myself open up for anyone and ... Jesus, fuck, whose idea was it to walk in this cold weather?"

Rachel laughed, wrapped her arms around Santana's neck, and tipped them into a snowdrift. "It was yours, dumbass," she laughed, then kissed her shivering lover. She got up afterward, and realizing Santana was out of the snow and ready to get revenge, Rachel ran, laughing through the trees. "Santana Lopez, you be nice!"

"I don't know what that even means!"

Snow pelted Rachel in the back, the arms, the legs, until she finally caught Santana from behind and jumped on her back, "You're such a bully!"

"Only for you, baby."

###

6. End

"Everything has to come to an end, sometime." – L. Frank Baum

Santana hadn't come home yet, and Rachel was starting to get tired. She'd said she was going out to get something, but wouldn't tell Rachel what it was. Just as the Jewish diva was about to call her girlfriend's phone in a panic, the apartment door clicked and opened.

"Hey, sorry, traffic is shit." Santana swept Rachel up in her strong arms, kissed her slowly.

There was a lump in her pocket pressing against Rachel's hip. "Baby?"

"Hmm?" Santana looked dazed from the kiss.

"What is that?"

A slow smile spread across her lips. "Close your eyes." Santana's fingers were gentle as they guided Rachel to the couch. Santana lay the mysterious thing behind her, from the sound of something being set on the coffee table. Her warm hands rested over Rachel's, traced up her arms, and Rachel felt warm lips on her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead. "You're beautiful, and every day I ask myself how in the hell I got so lucky. You've come a long way, become so much happier with life than you were when I met you, and I never, ever want to imagine my life without you."

Rachel opened her eyes, saw a teary-eyed Santana watching her.

Santana seemed out of breath as she held something in her palm, clicked it open. "Marry me."

Tears welled up, and Rachel dropped her head against Santana's neck.

"Is that a yes?" Santana sounded just as emotionally, her voice gravelly.

Rachel nodded, pulled away, and kissed Santana hard. "Yes," she breathed afterward, laughing tearfully before Santana practically lept on her, straddling her lap and kissing her, that thick black hair hanging around Rachel as they kissed.