Hello!

Thank you all for the warm welcome and support for this first chapter. I certainly hope I can meet all of your expectations. ^_^

This chapter brings us back to the beginning of my story and Santana's personal journey through life, love, and hopefully the pursuit of happiness. Although I'm sure you are all desperately wondering when Brittany or other characters will be arriving, I promise laying down the story foundation will be worth it.

It's important to see just how Santana got to the point of Chapter 1.

And although I appreciate the enthusiasm, I don't plan on spoiling anything! Even though your desperate pleading makes me smile. (or cackle with evil laughter.)

I don't have a set schedule for posting but I am trying my best to post weekly. Just don't bite my head off if that changes sometimes.

Anyways, I hope you like the chapter!

~Kay

Five years earlier…

"New York is going to be the best." Santana reassured herself for the twentieth time that afternoon. After a fifteen hour train ride and sleep-worthy conversation with a returning NYU student, she finally made it to the big city. This was probably the part where she was supposed to feel super excited or at least borderline enthused.

It's the place where she supposed to find—what was it again?

People who were like her.

A community of her own.

A real girlfriend.

With a bitter snort, she climbed the last step out of Penn Station and into Midtown Manhattan. It was weird being there without the Glee kids prancing around here. Or maybe it was a just a lot better without them.

Of course she would be reunited with some of the choir losers very shortly.

"Not choir losers," She reminded herself, "Rachel and Kurt, Rachel and Kurt."

They would probably appreciate it if she held off on her favorite nicknames until after the first night. That was probably the most she could promise them though. She was a judgmental bitch and they knew it so what was the point in holding back anything. There would be too much to critique them on when she got there anyways. God only knew what they deemed appropriate apartment decorations. The loft was probably filled with buckets of glitter and shrines to Broadway.

Tightening the hold on her luggage, she flagged a waiting cab near the station and riddled off the address.

Who the hell thought living in Bushwick was a good idea anyways?

Standing around the creepy hallway made Santana suddenly afraid to see what type of student squalor she was about to walk into. Even though she visited a month earlier, she hadn't really taken the time to look around and inspect anything. She was too busy teasing Quinn about her professor drama and getting yelled at when she tried to throw Rachel's movie collection out a window.

Another quick glance had her wondering if the hanging light bulbs and decaying brick walls were always there.

She also worried if she would even be welcome inside their loft. Despite her rocky history with both Rachel and Kurt, she thought they were at least attempting to establish a friendship built on trust…or at least tolerance.

Hopefully that would be enough.

Taking a deep breathe, Santana lifted up her fist and pounded on the beat-up door with urgency. It only took a few seconds before the door slid open to reveal Kurt looking completely shocked in the doorway. Rachel looked equally frozen standing by the small kitchen table.

"Santana…what are you doing here?" Kurt asked quickly, his jaw hanging open.

Raising her eyebrows and smirking, she ignored the question and strutted past him, her luggage rolling behind her.

She paused in the middle of the room and twisted around, her shoulder rising nonchalantly at their equally baffled expressions.

"I'm moving in." She said simply.

It was beyond amusing to watch Rachel and Kurt's shared petrified faces.

"Moving in here?" Kurt squeaked, his hand pressed against his heart.

"No, next door." She replied slowly, her eyes rolling dramatically.

"Um, I think what Kurt means to say is…well…why here? I mean…why New York, why now?" Rachel quickly rephrased, already feeling the growing tension in the room.

"I dropped out of Kentucky. Where's your bathroom?"

Kurt raised a shaky hand and gestured to the bathroom, his eyes following her retreating form.

"There are more bags in the hallway by the way. Feel free to stop standing there catching flies." She shouted, her voice trailing away with every step.

Shaking out of their stupor, Kurt and Rachel shoved each other violently in a mad dash to leave the apartment. Kurt slammed the door behind him and almost tripped over the giant duffle bags that littered their hallway.

Rachel looked like she was about to cry.

"What…I mean…is this..is this real life?" Kurt sputtered, his hands waving frantically at the bags in front of them.

"I knew having Santana come visit me last month was going to haunt me. This is all your fault Kurt! Clearly she has just done some heinous crime and is hiding out in our apartment until the authorities come. Or..or maybe this is just a nightmare and I'm going to wake up any minute now." Rachel said, her eyes instantly shutting.

"A shared nightmare, Rachel?" Kurt hissed, forcing Rachel to open them and glare.

"Okay, well what do you intend for us to do, Kurt?"

Kurt wanted to respond with a simple yet elegant 'hell no' but something made him pause.

Clearly Santana left Kentucky and home for reason and there were plenty of logical ones he could sympathize with. After graduation, she chose a path that kept her close to everything she cared about, Glee club and Brittany.

And who could relate more to that than him?

It wasn't too long ago that he had committed himself to a life with Blaine that kept him slinging coffees at the Lima Bean and visiting the halls of McKinley like a pathetic ghost. And look how well that turned out.

Santana probably came here to start over and that was something he could understand.

"Hello, earth to Kurt! I asked you what we are going to do?!" Rachel screeched, shaking him out of his quiet musings.

"I think—I think we should hear her out and see what's been going on. I mean, Santana has gotten better over the years…maybe this won't be so bad."

"Although I agree that our relationship with Santana, though tumultuous in the beginning, has blossomed into one of equal—well somewhat equal respect, I really doubt we can all live together Kurt."

"She came all the way from Kentucky to save you the horror and embarrassment of going nude in a crappy student film."

"She also told me I have skeeter bites for breasts."

Frowning at that forced imagery, Kurt tried to go in another direction.

"Think of it as an acting exercise. This is probably only temporary. We'll just pretend to get along for a few days and then she's out of our hair. Maybe she'll be out before Mr. Schuester's wedding next week."

Huffing out a dramatic sigh, Rachel glanced at the door leading to their once peaceful loft and tried to picture a Santana she could live with. One who enjoyed her five a.m. vocal runs in the shower or creating new vegan dishes on their Tasting Tuesdays. Or would wait in line with her for student rush tickets to see a Broadway play, their breathless laughter filling the air after scoring first row seats to their favorite show.

Then she pictured the actual Santana throwing sharp razors from her hair while she ran away screaming.

In the spirit of becoming a new, better version of herself and fostering the tentative friendship she was trying to build with Santana, she finally agreed.

"Okay…we'll hear her out at least. But we will find out exactly when she's leaving and she better be satisfied with the sofa bed. I need at least eight hours of sleep on my temper-pedic bed in order to be at my absolute best for NYADA.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt nodded his agreement and lifted up one of the duffle bags at his feet. His shoulder immediately felt like it was going to pop out of its socket. With a grunt he didn't think he was capable of, he slid open their door and dragged the bag inside, wheezing with every step.

Santana was already waiting for them on the car seat they managed to turn into a functional living room chair. She appeared very unconcerned with Kurt's haggard appearance or Rachel's loud complaints behind him.

As soon as the rest of the bags were brought in they walked over to the couch and plopped down, their attention now focused on her.

"Since we just committed ourselves to a few days with icy hot after carrying in your thousand pound bags, I think you owe us an actual explanation now." Kurt said, rubbing his shoulders tenderly.

"First of all, I carried all of those bags in myself Lady Hummel, so excuse me if you and Babs have the combined arm strength of a doily. And secondly, I already told you that I quit school."

"Why?" Rachel asked, ignoring her insults.

"Because the lesbian community was severely lacking. The gay population went down to zero right after I managed to drive the hell out of there."

I really doubt that Santana. How about a serious answer before we seriously consider letting you live here."

Santana bit back a retort, her brain quickly registering that she needed them more than they needed her.

"Because…because I hated it, okay?! I hated everything about it. I left one hick town for another and at least we have the Lima Bean. The cheerleaders were bigger bitches than me and that is saying something. The weekends were nothing but keg parties with obnoxious jocks who couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. Oh, and my classes were bullshit. Why the hell would I pay for Calculus? When is that ever going to come in handy?!" Santana ranted, her arms crossing in front of her.

Rachel and Kurt just stared at her.

"Listen, I'm too talented and good-looking for Kentucky and Ohio, we all know that. I'm supposed to be doing something that's bigger than life in those shitty places. And I thought since I did you a favor last month, you could return it and let me stay here until I figure it out. There was nothing holding me back in Kentucky…and now there's nothing holding me to Lima." She said finally, her voice trailing off until a silence filled the room.

Rachel's heart clenched at the heartache echoing in Santana's voice. It was probably what her own voice sounded like when she mentioned Finn.

"Of course you can stay here Santana…for as long as you need," Rachel reassured her before continuing. "But there are a few rules I would like to establish in order to keep the peace. Starting with our individual morning routines. I get the shower—"

"Stop it! I just traveled on the train ride from hell and then took a cab to this loft in Bushwick Narnia. Can we save the lecture until I'm awake enough to ignore it properly?"

"I guess…" Rachel trailed off.

"Well we were going to grab a late dinner at this Italian restaurant down the block if you want to join us." Kurt offered.

"Sounds perfect, Wonder Twins."

After a surprisingly fun dinner filled with laughter and reminiscing, the trio made their way back to the apartment in one piece. With a tired yawn, Rachel gathered some blankets and pillows in her arms before dumping them on the couch and offering a good night.

Kurt stood silently in the living room and watched Santana get the sofa ready to sleep on.

Finally he spoke.

"So…you stayed in Lima for a few days before coming here, right?" Kurt asked quietly even though he already knew the answer.

"I did." Santana confirmed, trying not to roll her eyes at his predictability.

"Did you..um…see Blaine before you left then?"

"Did I see the other teen gay? Of course I did."

"How did he look? I mean..not that I really care. I have someone I'm sort-of seeing now anyways and—"

"He looked surprisingly great." Santana interrupted. "Not that I saw much of his face. He was too busy shoving it in front of some new guy in Glee club. They were making out the whole time. It was super gross to witness, trust me. His hair didn't move an single inch even though the guy kept jamming his fingers in it."

Kurt looked horrified.

"I'm kidding, Kurt. He looked annoyingly sad and pathetic. Pretty sure he was starting the first forever alone club at McKinley when I left."

"Good," Kurt said quickly before backtracking, "I mean, not that I want to him to be sad or alone or anything."

Santana just gave him a sad smile before lying on the bed and grabbing her laptop.

Seeing it as a sign he was dismissed for the night, Kurt felt oddly bold enough to ask another question.

"Did you see her too?"

"I did."

"….and how is she doing?"

"She wasn't sad…or alone." Santana said, her eyes never leaving her laptop screen.

Sensing he was treading on dangerous water, Kurt walked out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he left the room, Santana clicked on Facebook and waited for it to finish loading. As much as she pretended not to care about the Glee clubbers, she always secretly enjoyed seeing what they were up to. Not that it was ever interesting.

Mercedes was working with some hotshot producer in L.A.

Good luck with that Weezy.

Puck was shotgunning a Natty Ice for every page of his screenplay he completed. It was impossible to tell if his spelling mistakes were an example of his drinking or just being Puck.

Idiot.

Tina was asking how to get the smell of Vapor rub off her hands.

Gross.

With a tired snort, Santana scrolled down further for a few minutes until something caught her eye.

Brittany S. Pears. In a relationship with Sam Evans.

Seems like Brittany felt it was safe enough to post her relationship status online, especially now that Santana was officially out of the picture.

She instantly felt a familiar flash of anger flare up as she glared at the words in front of her.

How dare she?

It took Brittany no time to get over their unofficial break-up and throw herself at Sam like their entire senior year together was nothing. Like she was nothing.

Now she gets to redo the entire year with Sam by her side.

Why after all this time did it still feel like she was coming in second place to a boy that wasn't worth the ground Brittany walked on.

Eventually her anger subsided enough to reveal another emotion.

Complete and utter heartache.

"New York is going to be the worst." She thought bitterly before slamming her laptop closed and succumbing to sleep.