A/N: This is sort of a newer idea. It's like future/what if. Tell me what you think, what I need to work on, what you like. I like criticism and stuff.

Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. This will include lesbian sex, maybe some hetero but it's not likely. Possibly Finn bashing.

Summary: At seven years old Rachel's fathers died in a car crash. Since most of her fathers families had been avoiding them for years Rachel was sent to her mother Shelby in New York. While Shelby struggled to gain her own stardom in New York she couldn't uproot the child who had come into her care. Rachel easily made her way onto the stage.

Santana had a relatively normal life in Lima, Ohio, but like everyone there she awaited the day she could get out. Her exit came in the form of a photographer approaching her and suggesting she could make it as a model. Now, as she makes the transition from the pages of magazines to the big screen she's found herself in New York.

Rachel

I looked out over the audience as I took my final bow, hand in hand with the rest of the cast. The tight pleather pants I wore squeaking lowly and sweat covering my face as I panted slightly. The curtains came closed as the lights on my face faded and I dropped the hands of my costars. I wiped my forehead with my arm and then sighed, my smile relaxing but hardly leaving my face.

"Getting tired of it yet Rach?" My costar, Eric, who played Mark Cohen asked as he passed me.

"Hardly," I grinned.

"Good, you'll need to be awake to hang out with me," the actress playing my love interest, Shay, asked as she pressed against me from behind and slid her arms around my waist.

I smiled and turned around, disappointing the taller woman when all she got was a hug, "And who said I was hanging out with you?"

"Um, my ego?" She made it sound like this shouldn't be the first I'd heard of it.

"You should get that fixed, it's lying to you," I giggled and moved away from her, heading to my dressing room.

In the room I fell to the small couch, now that I was away from the familiarity of my friends and the warmth of the stage, the events of the last month had settled over me. I wiped my eyes before anything could slip out and started changing out of my costume and wiping off my makeup. I exchanged pleather pants for comfortable jeans and a jeweled tank top for a plain t-shirt over a thermal. A slight knock at the door let me know I had to go, so I grabbed my purse before going to the door.

"Hey, baby," I looked up to warm hazel eyes and a mass of curly hair to match my own.

"Hi, mom." I pressed into the older woman and wrapped my arms around her waist, a feeling of anxiety that had recently surfaced was calmed by her presence.

"You were amazing tonight," She kissed the top of my head, and while I'd usually discourage it, tonight it was a comfort.

"You always say that," I shrugged,

"It's always true," she pulled the door closed and then lead me out of the building.

Outside fans crowded us, my costars had already been past, so I stayed awhile, signing pictures and autograph books. The flash of cameras had become so normal for me, it was second nature to put on my biggest smile and stand on my toes with my arm around some stranger who claimed to love me, I honestly couldn't think of any other way to live.

Eventually we were four blocks from the theater, my mother and I walking in a comfortable silence. This had become our habit in recent weeks. When I found myself unable to get in a taxi, or hail a bus, she'd taken up the task of finding her way to the theater every night, only to walk me home. She worried, but I assured her I was fine, and tried to look on the bright side. We got to spend more time together on these walks.

"Rachel," she sighed into the cool autumn air.

"Hmm?"

"You can't keep this up," she looked down at me, worry evident across her face.

I knew she'd hear me faking but I tried anyway, "Keep what up?"

"Rachel, this isn't healthy. You can't walk everywhere for the rest of your life." She urged, as we descended the stairs to be met by the sounds of the trains and the people waiting on them.

"It's healthy. This is New York, everyone walks," I argued.

"No sweetie, that's Paris. We take taxis, and the subway," she clarified as we passed the turnstiles.

"Luckily, I live near said subway," I followed.

"Rach," she pleaded.
"What do you propose then, mom?" I turned to face her, my frustration growing.

I knew I'd regret getting angry when I saw the worry on her face, "Maybe you could talk to someone about the accidents," I winced slightly, "Both of them."

"I talk to you," I sighed as I saw our train pull in.

"And you panic at the sound of a bus screeching to a stop," she admitted. "Maybe you should talk to a professional."
"I don't need therapy. I am not crazy." My eyebrows furrowed. I knew therapy was more than just crazy people, but when I was being told I needed it, I felt like maybe that's what I was.

"I know, Rachel, but you need to talk to somebody and I'm not cutting it," she pressed. I knew she wasn't giving up. Until now she'd dropped the topic as soon as I denied it, but I could tell she was over this. My mother was never one to dawdle, and yes she'd given me my time to grieve, but I had to pull myself out of this.

"I'll think about it," I offered, ending the conversation.

The rest of the ride and walk home were silent. When we got home I excused myself to my room, skipping dinner and just pulling my laptop to my bed. My twitter had plenty of posts from fans, professing their love for me, asking questions, and just dropping random comments. As I scrolled down I found an invitation to some party, Shay apparently thought I needed to get out. The party was too mainstream, some movie premier after party, I'd never find myself there.

I toyed around on the web for a while before I eventually just felt the draw of sleep. I shut off the computer and laid down. I toyed with the idea of going to the party, when I was younger I loved going to small get togethers, but lately I'd just been home. I couldn't call a taxi to leave, even if I could ride a bus they stopped running by the time most parties started, and most of my friends lived to far and I refused to be dropped off at any sort of social gathering by my mother. The more I thought about it the less I wanted to go to the party anyway.

}{

I woke up at seven to begin my usual morning ritual. A vegan protein smoothie and thirty minutes on my elliptical. My mother had already left to her singing lessons. Even when I'd assured her I'd be the one to take care of her she kept the job. My career took off quickly when I was young but I suppose I understood the job. It gave her something to do and she'd grown to love it. I didn't have much to do until tonight, so instead I just went to the couch, hoping something on television could hold my attention.

"Starlet Santana Lopez has made the jump from the pages of magazines to the big screen as she appears in the most recent action adventure movie," the voice over declared as a Hispanic woman, appeared on the screen. Her arm was wrapped around that of some star who'd been in his share of movies already. I found myself taking second glances at her as she walked the red carpet, smiling and waving to cameras while her long dark hair fell over her bare shoulders.

When my focus broadened from just the Hispanic girl I caught a bit of interesting information, "Might make an appearance or two at the after parties for her movie premier tonight in New York."

I had no interest in that woman. The reporter had said all I needed to know about her to know she and I ran with different crowds. She was a starlet, and a model. She was probably a snob who came from a privileged family and bought her way to success. Even her body must have been bought to assure her fame. I dismissed any interest in her, but the idea of going to the party persisted.

I ran through my daily routine as usual. Watching television, vocal warm ups, shower, hair, and I made my way to the theater, not in need of my mothers company until after dark. On my arrival Shay all but pounced on me.

"So, how about that party," she pulled me into her arms, "after the show?"

"Ask me then," I hugged her back before she preceded her usual show of trying to woo me.

Santana

I looked around the loft that I was expected to think of as my home. It was nice, but I still wasn't quite used to it. I contemplated leaving, maybe going out, but realized I had no idea about how to get around. Yes I'd spent my share of time around here, interviews for the movie and photo shoots, but I'd always had a chauffeur. The tile felt cold beneath my feet but my rugs hadn't arrived yet and I didn't want new ones. If I wanted this place to feel like home I'd have to wait for the trucks to arrive with my furniture and belongings. For now I settled for the sole furniture I had no other choice but to buy, the mattresses resting on the floor of my new master bedroom.

I missed California already, hell, I missed Lima. My mami and papi had left on some sort of anniversary trip to the Caribbean but I still missed the familiarity of it sometimes. Constantly being pushed to be better by Quinn, the innocence of Brittany, and, even though I'd deny it any day of the week, Puck's constant attempts to hook up. Just the simplicity of it. While, it hardly seemed like it then, I couldn't help but miss that time.

At that thought I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled through my contacts. I found the one I was looking for and hovered my thumb over the call button. I couldn't remember the last time this thought even occurred, or why it even surfaced now, but I dropped my thumb, pushing the button.

"'Lo," I heard the gruff voice over the other line.

"That's close enough to an adult greeting. I was expecting some stupid suggestion that I might actually want to get in my pants." I laughed slightly.

"I was getting to that. I mean, we both know you want me."

"Please, I'm actually famous now, I can't get anybody I want. What makes you think I want you?" I teased.

"Because you didn't call just anybody," he tossed out.

"Good point, so what would you say to actually coming over here?"

"San, you know I love you but Hoboken hasn't just magically gotten any closer to San Fran."

"See, I could have called anybody else and they would have known I was in New York."

"For real? I didn't know. When did you get in? How long you staying?" He sounded excited. We kept in touch but a musical venture had landed him in New Jersey, while cheer leading lead to modeling which lead to California.

"Just moved here, got off the plane last week. Thought a change of scenery might be nice but a familiar face might be better."

"I'll catch a train in,"I heard a rustling and a feminine voice asking, "Hey, where are you going?" but shook my head. Puck never changed.

"Manwhore."

I gave Puck the address and finally got up to get dressed. Answering the door in my underwear probably wouldn't be the best idea, even if I didn't care what my neighbors thought of me, Puck got handsy. Pants and a tank top seemed decent enough but that theory proved false as he pulled me into the mother of all bear hugs before grabbing my ass.

"So, did you get robbed already," he looked around the empty apartment.
"No, my stuff just isn't here," I shrugged, "all I have is a mattress."

I immediately regretted it as he swooped me over his shoulder fireman stye, "I can deal."

I groaned into his back, "No! Can't we like go out or something?"

"Like on a date?" he sounded confused.

"No, you oaf, just out, I've been here for days, and you probably know the area better." He put me down on the mattress where I scowled.

"I'm sure I know the area pretty well," he smirked at his own joke before trying to pounce on my lips but I ducked out of the way.

"Funny, now come on." I made my way out of the apartment, grabbing a jacket and my wallet.

"You were serious?" He stalked after me, disappointed.

I was wrong, Puck didn't know the area at all. We passed by everything as the afternoon loomed over us. Eventually, I just told the cab driver to drop us on Broadway, near a theater or something. I doubted it was very helpful but he managed. Puck, and I walked up and down the street for a while. He seemed the most excited by the magazine stands we passed.

"Please, San, I want it," he held the Maxim magazine forward.

"Jesus, you're like a five-year-old." I sighed. Paying the vendor, "Besides, you've seen much more than that, anyway." I grumbled slightly.

"Sign it." He held it out before asking the vendor for a pen.

"Shut up," I laughed before we continued.

We came up on a group of people crowding around some door. A couple of people in the middle were signing some stuff and taking pictures. Puck shoved his way to the front, claiming he wanted to meet some famous people, and ignoring my cries of annoyance. While the others left most of the fans remained. I was about to start complaining that they were all gone when two women came out, they looked oddly similar but I still kept my eyes on the younger of the two.

"Hey, who's she? She's hot." Puck questioned, his eyes on her as well.

"How the hell should I know?" I ground back.

Some girl behind us hopped up, trying to see past Puck, "That's Rachel Berry-Corcoran. She's one of the stars." She said it like it was the most obvious thing and held the play bill out for us to see.

"Hey, thanks." I snatched it, ignoring her upset cries, flipping through to see the girls name.

"Lemme see," Puck took it and when the girl came over he asked her to sign.

She had a gorgeous smile as she signed it, talked to the overgrown boy for a minute and then kept moving, the older woman following her closely.

"She signed my thingy," Puck shoved it in my face. A playful signature reading, "Rachel B.C." with a star underneath.

"Mhum, and you can touch your own thingy while reading what other shows she's been in," I pointed out. Heading off to find somewhere to eat.

Puck decided to spend the night at my house even if I didn't let him get past some heavy touching. We'd always been good friends even if we'd been able to find more in each other when we couldn't or didn't want to find it in others. As soon as he found out about the premier he all but begged me to call my manager and find out about going as my date. Actually, he did beg, and after thoroughly "convincing" me I had no choice but to call.

"No, he's gorgeous, nice body, used to play football." I hated to admit it but yes, Puckerman was definitely eye candy. My manager was hesitant.

"Yeah, he's in a band," I pressed the phone to my chest to muffle the sound before smacking his chest lightly, "What's the bands name?"

"Distorted memories," he rubbed the spot I'd hit.

"I hate you," I grumbled before pulling the phone back up to repeat, "Yep, based in Jersey."

"No, he's not orange." I clarified before hanging up.

"Please tell me you own a suit of some sort." I rolled over onto my stomach, lazily.

"Birthday suit," he grinned and slid his hand down my back to grope my ass.

I pressed my face into the pillow to groan out, "God, you fucking owe me."

"I can pay you back right now," he smirked and pulled me against his chest.

After keeping the promise with a bit more well placed touching, we finally got to sleep. We only woke up around noon, having to go out to find Puck a suit to rent. I had to call in a favor with a photographer I'd worked with to find a designer suit in Puck's size. It wasn't an easy task, made worse by us having to go across town to pick it up and getting lost along the way.

Eventually we actually looked like a decent couple. I had my dark hair flat-ironed and parted to the left. It was simple but elegant. My dress was less elegant, with low cut straps with flat black strips crossing over thin, almost see-through, material beneath and black heels to compliment it. Puck made it hard to get dressed but after a few, nearly, broken fingers we were ready to go and I got the call that the chauffeur was here for us.