A/N: Hey everyone! This is a story that has been rattling around in my head for AGES, and I finally decided to get it down now that I'm getting back into writing. For those of you that are following Nightingale, don't worry, I'm still working on that, but I wanted to get this done and hopefully get some writing mojo back. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

If there was one thing Brittany Pierce knew, it was that fate had a way of screwing with her. After all, it was fate that had opened up the doors for her and Sam to move to Los Angeles when they both finally finished high school. It was fate that had landed them an apartment when someone just happened to be moving out and didn't care that neither of them had jobs or money to their name. It was fate that led to Mike moving out to the city to join them, opening up a dance studio and giving Brittany a job. It was fate that had made her the one to get the call when a local television show needed a dancer to help choreograph a few scenes. And it was fate that had given her a job on that same TV show, meeting the creator that day and being offered a part by lunch time.

She'd never been one to fight fate, having learned to go with the flow many years ago, which is why she was standing off to the side of what was clearly controlled chaos, sipping on her coffee and waiting for someone to come up and direct her to where she needed to be. At least, that's what she'd been told was happening when she'd been ushered inside, someone with one of those blue ear things hardly acknowledging her when she'd asked where the music video shoot was. She supposed she should have been used to it by now, having worked in Hollywood for over four years, but it still took her by surprise when people didn't bother with common courtesy. People had always been mean, especially to Brittany when she didn't know what was going on around her, but Hollywood mean was a whole different level that she still wasn't quite comfortable around.

Her soft blue eyes scanned the scene in front of her, legs crossing as she leaned back against the cold stone wall. She was dressed casually in leggings and a loose t-shirt, solid black as per the instructions Mike had given her when he'd called her far too early that morning from his hotel room in New York. His frazzled and slightly frantic voice had yanked her from sleep into fully alert, Brittany listening when he'd explained that one of his dancers had broken her ankle the night before, and he needed someone to fill in for a music video shoot that day. He'd explained that it was a dance solo, that they had a general idea of what they wanted, but she'd have the time to practice and come up with her own choreography before the shoot started. He'd finished off his spiel with a few well-placed begs, knowing exactly how to get Brittany to agree to it. He was her very best friend, and after everything that he'd done for her since she moved to LA, she owed him ten times over.

And so, here she was, her coffee quickly cooling while she waited for someone to show her where exactly she could rehearse this dance solo. She sipped on it absentmindedly, not really tasting it but hoping that it would wake her up somewhat before she had to create a dance to a still unknown song. She didn't worry about it too much, though. She may have given up dancing professionally for her now starring role on one of the biggest teen dramas on TV today, but she could still move, and never seemed to struggle with dance coming back to her. It would come back to her just like riding a bike, or something.

"You must be Brittany!" a bright and cheery voice called out to her, eyebrows arching as her head turned to find the source. A young man, dressed fashionably in a clearly tailored and custom made suit, was grinning widely as he moved towards her. His curly hair was perfectly styled and shoes shining, and Brittany got the impression that he spent more time getting ready than she did on an average morning. "Mike called me not too long ago and explained the situation. Such a shame about Tiffany. She was a great dancer." There was something about the way he said it that made Brittany think that perhaps he wasn't too concerned, but she didn't comment. This was Hollywood, after all, and dog eat dog was pretty much the norm. "I'm Mason, and I'll be getting you all set up today. How are you? Do you need anything? Another coffee?"

Before she could answer, Mason was reaching for her elbow, tugging gently in a sign that he wanted her to follow as he led her around the massive warehouse space. "This is obviously where we'll be doing the shooting," he said as he gestured towards the middle of the room, where an elaborate stage was being set up, machines and lights rigged all around it. "You'll have pretty much the entire space to do what you need to, but I went ahead and measured out a box for you of what will fit in the cameras without making it too difficult for anyone. I've got someone marking that off in a room down the hall for you so you can practice."

Brittany wasn't quite able to get a word in, Mason's words coming rapidfire as he weaved in and out of people with an obvious sense of familiarity, as though he lived in this sort of chaos every day. "It's only…" He trailed off as he lifted his arm up into view, the watch suddenly coming to life and displaying the time, "9:45 now, so you've got about two hours in order to throw something together. Then everyone will want to see what you've got, and you'll have another hour to do some tweaking, if need be. Camera guys will need to make sure everything will fit and steady cams can follow you, and that the down times don't pull from our star. Sound like a plan to you?"

Brittany nodded silently, taking another sip of her coffee and coming to a stumbling halt when Mason stopped his quest to lead her through the chaos. "Oh damn," he muttered, dropping her arm and glancing around the room, "I forgot…Brittany, can you just hang tight here for a second? I need to go grab some paperwork before my boss gets here. She's super sweet but she can be hashtag evil if you get on her bad side and I am SO not in the mood to deal with that today." Brittany swallowed thickly while nodding, suddenly concerned about this job she'd agreed to. Mason hadn't even explained his connection to this whole ordeal, but it was obvious he worked for someone important. Brittany hated Hollywood big wigs and their nastiness and avoided it with a passion. She suddenly regretted agreeing to help Mike out, favors be damned.

Not wanting to be in anyone's way, Brittany wandered around the room, eyes lighting up when she saw the breakfast table laid out. That was one of her favorite parts about working on a TV set. Catered food was always delicious, and it was clear that this shoot wasn't going to be any different despite being a smaller scale than she was used to. "Score," she said under her breath, closing the gap and grabbing the tastiest looking pastry she could find.

"Oh, those are my favorite!" Mason chirped from over her shoulder, coming to stand beside her and smiling a wide smile that Brittany couldn't tell was genuine or not. "It's a shame I've sworn off all sugar, because I could so go for a pastry right about now." He rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh, Brittany seeing the longing in his eyes and feeling momentarily sorry for him. Before she had a chance to comment and try to get him to break his clearly miserable diet, he was glancing down at the papers in his hand, shuffling them until he apparently found what he was looking for.

"Okay, so like I said, two hours of rehearsal time, then another hour for tweaks. Your dance break is about 45 seconds in the middle of the song. For the rest of that, you'll be a featured part of the story, but it'll be super easy to catch up, so don't even worry. Here's the director's notes," he continued, handing her a few papers, "and there's already a computer in your practice room that's loaded with an mp3 of the song. Regular and half speed. Mike said you're good at on the fly choreography, so just do what you can and the boss will tweak whatever she wants."

"Oh, I doubt tweaking will be necessary," a voice spoke from behind her, Brittany's entire body standing on edge as goosebumps erupted on her skin. It was a voice she hadn't heard in years, at least not in person, and her stomach dropped as her mind worked into overdrive, connecting all of the dots with missing information before her tongue shot out to wet suddenly dry lips.

"Santana!" Mason said brightly, moving around Brittany to greet the woman behind them, her body still frozen in place and unable to turn around. "There you are. I was just showing your new dancer, Brittany, around, getting her acquainted before I got her into her rehearsal room."

"I gathered as much," the woman spoke again, Brittany swallowing thickly before taking in a shaky breath. "And like I said, I really doubt that tweaking will be necessary. If Brittany Pierce is the one doing the dancing, I'm sure it will be perfect the first time around."

There was something in the tone of voice that made Brittany ache, the tone distant and flat. It was a tone of voice Brittany hadn't heard for years, even before they had gone their separate ways. Her body finally waking up from the spell she'd been put under, Brittany forced herself to turn around, coming face to face with the woman she hadn't seen since she'd been in high school. Santana Lopez.