Chapter 1

Saturdays were usually Santana's day off. She used to spend her Saturdays with her wife and beautiful little boys, sometimes at home in the pool, sometimes going to the park or when she was lucky and had the whole weekend, they would drive out to Santa Cruz and spend their time at the beach. Usually Santana loved Saturdays.

But for the past month she had been on a small tour round the Midwest, as commissioned by the label. So she had spent her Saturdays either doing interviews or performing. Working. It had Santana locked in her hotel room, lying on her back with a wet cloth over her forehead on most days, like today, trying to stave off her headache. In fact she had a headache so often lately that Eve had started telling the hotels to leave Asprins by her bedside table.

All she had was one more show in Michigan, and then she could finally go home. That was what was keeping her going. It felt oddly like when the twins had just been born and Santana had to leave them to finish her tour. The same anger and frustration at both the fans and her team had crept up on her a week and a half ago, and nearly made her quit the tour. But she'd called Brittany, spoken to her babies and calmed down.

Though, her babies weren't babies anymore. Of course they would always be babies to her, even when they were taller than her with deep voices and beards, but even she could see how much they had grown. They had taken being three as a serious responsibility, growing what Santana was sure was a whole foot and losing some of the baby fat in their cheeks. It made them look suddenly like toddlers, in a way that gave Santana and Brittany a hint into what their grown up faces would be.

Sometimes Santana could not believe how adorable her children were. She would look at them, and try to see them the way a stranger would, try to rid herself of her biased parental opinion, and she was convinced that the result was the same. Her sons were simply beautiful. Every day they looked more and more like her, and that too was something she could not wrap her mind around, though she'd long since stopped trying.

They both had the same dimples on their cheeks when they smiled, had the same cute button nose, Brittany's words not hers, and their skin started to darken somewhere around their second birthday so that they were now the same shade as her. Quinn was convinced they spoke like her too, but this she wasn't sure of. They talked like toddlers who just learned to talk. They both had slight lisps and the cutest pronunciations of the letter 'T' that melted Santana's heart every single time. She looked forward to every day because every day they would do something new that just made her sick with happiness, and she knew she was lucky.

She actually liked her kids' personalities. She and Brittany had read a lot of parenting books and the one thing they all said was that it was important for parents not to have any expectations on how their kids will turn out. Not to put pressure on them to be who you wanted them to be, because then they wouldn't be able to be themselves. Santana had been afraid that the older her sons got, the further they would drift from her, like she had with her parents, but she had been wrong. They were genuinely her best friends. Some of her favourite times were when she could just lay on the couch with them and discuss whatever show they were currently obsessed with in great detail. They made her laugh constantly, and sometimes it scared her to think that they were almost not a part of her life.

Santana was jerked out of her thoughts by a knock on the door. She peeled the cloth off her head and walked to the door, squinting against the light.

"Hey" she mumbled as she opened the door. She left it open for Eve to enter and went back to the bed, gently lying down on the fluffy comforter.

"Headache?" Eve asked.

Santana grunted.

"I wonder if maybe you should get them checked."

"You sound like my therapist."

"Santana I'm serious."

"So was she."

Though her eyes were closed, Santana could feel Eve's disapproving look from across the room.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"Depends on who you ask." Eve sat on the edge of her bed, prompting Santana to crack an eye open. "Do you want to cancel the show?"

Santana sat up gingerly, frowning.

"Are you kidding?"

"Your health is important Santana."

"It's just a headache Eve. Everybody gets them."

"Not every day for three weeks."

"I just miss my family." Santana sighed. "And maybe I'm getting too old for touring."

Eve cracked a smile.

"You're 27."

"Ah!" Santana clutched her heart, cringing dramatically. "Don't say it out loud."

Eve shook her head. "Alright, so you really are okay then."

Santana smiled, dropping her hand and looking sincerely at Eve.

"Just a headache."

"Okay." Eve nodded, standing up. "In that case, see you bright and early."

"Bright and early…" Santana lay back down. "Hey do you mind just dipping this is some water for me?" she held the cloth out to Eve.

"Did you take an Asprin?"

"Those things rot your liver."

"Santana-"

"Yes I took an Asprin."

Nodding, Eve left to the bathroom.

"Not too wet please."

"Of course your highness."

Eve returned a few moments later with a freshly wet cloth. Smiling gratefully, Santana took it without sitting up, this time placing it over her eyes.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome dear. Actually…I was thinking…."

"I'm sure it was a very interesting thought but can you tell me tomorrow?"

Santana heard Eve sigh, but didn't remove the cloth to look at her.

"Sure. Have a good night Santana."

The door closed gently behind Eve as she left.

Rubbing her temples, Santana took in a deep breath.

"One more show." She told herself.

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Santana had gotten used to the dull pounding in her temples, so she didn't even realise it was there as she walked off stage the next day, waving to the crowd of seven thousand people. She became aware of it when she was met backstage by a few kids who had all access backstage passes, and she stopped to chat with them, but she really began to feel it when Emma draped a jacket over her shoulders and ushered her to her changing room.

"Can I have a-"

Eve, who was already inside the changing room when they walked in, handed her a bottle of water.

"Thanks."

Santana drained the whole bottle before dropping onto the couch in the room.

"Want an Asprin."

"No." she shook her head. "It's not bad yet."

"You need to take some time off." Emma said, sitting next to her.

"I need to take time off or you need to give me time off." Santana frowned.

Emma pressed her lips together, clearly struggling not to say something.

"Santana you know I'm on your side. I advocate for you with the label, not the other way around."

"Mmhhh" Santana nodded.

"You had to do this tour."

"I know that."

"And you have to do one international-"

"I know." Santana said loudly. "You've already told me this I know."

"Emma…" Eve said, taking a step towards her. "Maybe now isn't the best time to talk about another tour."

Emma sighed, nodding. "You're right. My point was," she turned to Santana. "There isn't any rush. Take some time off, relax. Let me know when you're ready again."

Santana nodded.

With nothing else to say, Emma left the room.

"So the fridge is stocked with a bunch, take your pick. There are some sandwiches in there, some water, juice, energy drinks, the Starbucks Frappuccino that you say isn't coffee…"

"It's coffee flavoured milk" Santana said, holding up a finger. "But thanks."

"You're welcome. There's also a flask on the counter with water I had boiled just before you finished your last set so it should be perfect now if you want to make your own coffee or tea or something."

"Eve, you know you don't have to do all this?" Santana stood up and walked into the tiny kitchen space in her dressing room. She took out a cup from one of the cupboards and unscrewed the cap to the flask. The steam hit her face almost immediately, signaling the water was still very hot. She poured it into the cup.

"I know." Eve said.

"You're my assistant but not that kind of assistant."

Eve raised an amused eyebrow.

"Are there different kinds of assistants?"

"Yes." Santana flicked the coffee packet a few times, tore it open and poured it into her cup. "There are work assistants, whose job it is to make their boss' look good, and personal assistants, who are just professional bitches."

"Santana!"

Shrugging, Santana ripped open two packets of sugar and emptied them into her cup. She took a spoon from the drawer next to her and stirred her drink, turning to Eve.

"I'm too tired to be polite. That's the truth and you know it." She pointed the spoon at Eve, picking up the cup with her other hand and leaning her back against the counter. "Besides why are you offended? I'm trying to tell you that you're not my bitch."

Eve smiled, shaking her head.

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

Santana took her cup with her back to the couch.

"Okay" Eve laughed. "You don't really have anything to do here so. Rest up. Whenever you're feeling up to it we'll head back to the hotel."

Santana, who had been in the middle of taking a sip from her cup, hastily swallowed the burning liquid.

"I'm up to it. Let's go."

"You have to de-"

"I'll de-stress at the hotel. I'll be more comfortable there."

"You probably have tension headaches, you know that right? You're wound too tightly because you never properly wind down after a show."

Santana stood up, her coffee forgotten as she went to the corner to get the suitcase she always brought with her to her dressing room.

"Who told you that?"

"I just know."

"Oh?" Santana rolled her eyes. She flipped the suitcase on its side and unzipped it. "From all your years at medical school?"

"From all my years working with musicians."

"Whatever" Santana muttered quietly. She took out her navy blue sweat pants and matching hoodie and laid them on the couch, before stripping her basically non-existent fishnet top and made-of-leather cargo pants. In just her black bra and underwear Santana went around the room collecting all of the things she had unpacked throughout the day and throwing them into the suitcase. She only remembered Eve was there when she handed her two pairs of shoes. The extra ones Santana's stylist had made her bring in case something happened to the boots she had performed in. "Thanks."

"Why don't you let Emma and I help you?"

"You wanna help me?" Santana pulled on her sweat pants. "Get me the first flight home."

She put on the sweatshirt, having to pull her hair out of it once it was over her head. She debated for a moment before moving to the dressing table and picking hair tie, which she used to put her air into a high ponytail.

"I think I've got everything." She looked round the room and nodded. "Let's go."

**********************************************************************************

For the first time in a week Santana was asleep before midnight when she was being woken by her phone ringing. She got up quickly to answer it, assuming it was Brittany and afraid something was wrong if she was calling her so late, but then anger set in as soon as she saw the ID. She ignored it, throwing her phone across the room and burying her head under the pile of pillows on the bed.

Sleep did not come. Neither did a headache, which Santana was grateful for, but she would be more grateful for sleep. Since she'd thrown her phone, all she could do was lie in bed and think about all the sleep she was not getting. Imagine how many hours she had left before the sun rose. Even if she had been sleeping though, she was sure that her phone's constant ringing would have kept her awake.

She couldn't imagine what Eve needed so urgently, but she had no desire to find out.

After what felt like two hours of staring up at the now not so dark ceiling, since her eyes had adjusted, and listening to the kind of loud but nothing-compared-to-New-York traffic outside her hotel, Santana gave up pretending she was going to go back to sleep. She reached for the remote on the bedside table and flicked on the tv. She was halfway through an episode of a medical show she had never watched, since she had never watched any medical show, because seriously how many medical shows where there? When there was a loud knock on her door.

A million scenarios ran through Santana's head, her heart beating wildly as she tried to sort out the most reasonable one. It was 3:17 am according to the tv, so it couldn't be the hotel. Unless there was a fire and they were evacuating. No. If there was a fire she would have heard the alarms. There would be noise outside the door as people ran around either trying to put it out or to get away. And whoever it was would certainly have yelled, 'GET OUT, THERE'S A FIRE'.

The knock came again, louder than before.

A murderer would knock like that. Staying silent so you didn't figure out that you didn't know them, and waiting for you to go to the door so they could shoot you through the peep hole. Santana had seen that on a movie once. Nope. That was not going to be her. She was going to stay in bed where she was safe.

"Santana!" Eve's voice called. "Are you awake?"

All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through Santana's body drained instantly.

"EVE!" She called angrily. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE AT 3 AM?"

"Open the door."

"Go away."

Santana buried deeper into her bed, pulling the comforter up to her neck and turning the volume up on the tv.

"ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO MAKE ME WAKE UP THE WHOLE HOTEL?"

Santana ignored her.

"YOU'RE THE MOST IMPOSSIBLE PERSON I HAVE EVER MET."

Santana turned the volume up more so she could only hear a few words from Eve's sentences.

"…TOLD…HOME…DON'T ANSWER….YOU'RE….SS…FLIGHT."

Santana frowned.

"WHAT?"

"WHY DID….WERE GO…BE SO….DIFFICULT?.....FIRST FLIGHT OUT….AN HOUR AND…."

"WHA?-" Santana rolled her eyes at herself and muted the tv. "What?"

"Open the door."

Eve sounded genuinely annoyed, which Santana hadn't heard in a while, so she got out of bed and opened the door.

Eve thrust a few papers into her hands as soon as the door was open, turned on her heel and walked away.

"Eve!" Santana called after her. "What the hell?"

"Get to the airport in an hour and a half." Eve called over her shoulder, not turning to look at Santana.

Santana looked down at the papers in her hand, reading them. It was a boarding pass for a flight leaving at 5:45 AM.

"Shit" Santana hissed, scrambling back into the room to pack. She was going home.