Piano's Point-of-View

A/N: So, from here on out, I am royally messing around with the timeline of episode events to fit the story. Everything major that happened, still happens, just in a different order.

Rachel

No! That can't be right. So I re-read the text message, and like last time, my conclusion is the same: Quinn is cheating on Santana with someone named Greg. That puts me in an extremely compromising position. I adore Quinn and appreciate everything she's doing for me to help with my current situation but Santana is also my friend, no matter how ill-mannered and disrespectful she is to Brody and I. Before I can further ponder my next course of action, Quinn reappears with my drink.

"Here you go Rach, one raspberry tea with crushed ice and a sugared lemon wedge," she places my beverage on the coffee table then sits sideways on the couch to face me. "Did San call while I was away?"

Her eyes are on her phone that is still in my hands, I purse my lips, knowing that honesty is always the best policy. "No, but you got a text message from Greg," I give her back her phone to see for herself. Her face transforms from the deer-caught-in-headlights look to the emotionless mask she would use in highschool as she reads the contents of his message.

"You shouldn't be going through people's phones, Berry," she states in her hardened HBIC voice.

"I apologize for that but it fell out of your pocket when you got up and when I retrieved it the message appeared," I implore her with my soulful eyes to say something, anything in her defense. To tell me that it's not what I think it is but she remains mute and grips her phone tightly. "Quinn, tell me you're not cheating on San," I say, not being able to take the silence any longer.

"It's complicated," she finally answers and I feel outrage rush through me.

"How could you? After everything she has been though for you, you would treat her like all your other failed relationships full of betrayal and lies. I thought you had changed into a strong woman who never gave up, into a woman whom I completely admired. If you could do this to someone who truly cared for you, and even fought for you, then Kurt's right. You're still the insecure girl you were in highschool."

At that moment, Brody finally exits the bathroom, fully clothed, and makes his way over to us. "Hey, Beautiful," he says as he leans over the couch to give me a sweet peck on the lips. With his appearance, my own dilema is brought back to the forefront of my mind and I don't know how to manage everything that's going on. "I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" Brody asks, probably picking up on the tension in the air and the light tear tracks down my cheek.

"No, not at all, Rachel and I were just sharing some girl talk," Quinn answers seamlessly, like a seasoned actress. Immediately after that thought, I realize that the two had never officially met yet.

"Oh, I am so sorry! Where are my manners? Brody, this is Quinn and Quinn, this is Brody." They smile, brightly, at each other and that's when Santana comes through the door.

"Step away from my woman, Donkey-face, before I ends you," she states while covertly taking the paper bag in her hands to the kitchen.

"Nice to see you too, Satan," Brody answers back but still manuevers away from Quinn and closer to me. "So, has anyone eaten yet? Not counting Santana and the souls I'm sure she just devoured."

Before any blood can be spilt between the two, I jump in. "No, not yet. I've been seriously craving some Chinese, though. Babe, do you mind getting everyone a few platters of the usual and bringing them back here?" I smile, weakly, at him and hope he doesn't ask any questions. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold back the stress and tears building up.

Brody looks at me, really looks at me, and I can see the concern in his eyes. "Sure, anything for you," he says and in the next minute he's out the door.

"Now that Plastic Man is gone," San brings the bag over and drops it onto my lap. "I wasn't sure which to get so I got one of each." There are pregnancy tests of every size, shape, and color and I remember having a similar problem when I had to get one as well. In the end, I just picked the closest one in reach when it felt like I had spent hours in that aisle and people were starting to stare.

"San, this one isn't a pregnancy test, it's a thermometer," Quinn says as she reaches in and pulls out a slim box for us to see.

"Oh, well it looked close enough," Santana shrugs then grabs my wrist with one hand, picks up the bag in her other, and leads me to the bathroom. "Since I bought all of these, I'm going to need you to use every single one."

"What! There looks to be more than twenty tests, I'm not sure I need the restroom that much," I argue in disbelief.

"Hey, I want my money's worth," she states before trying to close the door between us.

"San, wait!" I exclaim while my brain is going a mile a minute.

She turns and looks at me with caring evident in her eyes and it breaks my heart. "Rachel, no matter what, I'm going to be here for you. We'll get through this," I want to cry again over how much that means to me, but right now isn't about just me. I can't stay silent when a dear friend is being stabbed in the back, even if the betrayer is a friend as well.

"Thank you, Santana. I just want you to know that I love and appreciate you so much," she rolls her eyes and gags but I saw the smile she covered up. "And no matter what happens, I'm here for you also. You need to talk to Quinn, ask her who Greg is," she picks up on my deathly serious tone and the color drains from her face. I reach up and pull her into a quick hug before retreating into the bathroom and closing the door.


Santana

I can feel the anger slowly coursing through my veins. Like a snake, it slithers it's way across my body, surrounds me, and constricts me so I can not move. I'm almost scared to move, honestly. If I could, I don't know what type of damage I would cause. Snix demands that I tear down the walls with my bare hands, use a chair for batting practice against all of the furniture, fling every single cup, dish, and Barbra Streisand dvd in sight out the window; and scream at the top of my lungs: FUCK YOU!

I want to do all that, I yearn to destroy the world that feels like it's destroying me, but where will that get me? Thousands of dollars in debt for property damage and a crying mess of myself when it's over. Been there, done that, don't feel like doing an encore.

A few minutes ago, Quinn left after admitting that she never actually broke up with Prof. Patches, aka Greg. Of course, she gave me the "it's complicated" speech about how he needed emotional support to make it through his divorce but I didn't care for it. I told her to leave while I still had control over my anger. She's a smart girl so she left, just like that. I should probably also be angry at how easily she can leave me behind.

In truth, I'm not angry at Rachel for her discovery, or the world for being a bitch, or even Quinn for being who she is. No, I'm angry at myself. I knew what was going on, deep down I knew, but I ignored my gut feeling and took a leap of faith. Now, I fully understand how all gifts can also be curses. My psychic Mexican third eye is never wrong, even when I wish it to be.

"San?" I hear Rachel's voice being uncharacteristically small. I visualize all of this anger being shoved into a small room and I dead lock the door behind it.

"So, how are the results?" I ask nervously while I approach her. For a long moment, she is quiet as a mouse but then a small smile makes an appearance on her face.

"All twenty-six tests and a thermometer state that I am not pregnant. Now, tell me how it went with Quinn," she says as if a pregnancy scare were a normal occurence.

"Hold up, Rachel, you can't just blow past this like nothing ever happened," it seriously blew my mind that she could be so unaffected by this when, no more than an hour ago, she was bawling her eyes out like the time we heard of Mr. Rogers' passing. "This is a wake-up call. This is an opportunity for you to take a hard look at the choices that you're making, where your life is heading."

"I understand that and I know you speak out of caring but for now, could we please just drop the subject?" Half of me wants to say hell no but the other half, that sees Rachel clearly struggling to deal, relents.

"Quinn's still with the old guy so I told her to leave," I state plainly. "And no, I don't want to talk about it," I add before Rachel has a chance to ask.


It's been a couple of days now, and everyone in the loft seems on edge. I don't know if they're just waiting for me to finally explode over Quinn or if it's cuz their special edition of Les Miserables hasn't come in the mail yet. Either way, it's making me restless, and when I'm restless, I scheme.

In the past, my scheming may have caused an outbreak of mono, but this time it's completely altruistic. To protect Rachel and Kurt, I've been tailing the Ken doll to find proof that he's a drug dealer. So far, I've found nothing and it's frustrating the woman-loving ever out of me.

Right now, Donkey-face is watching a class of freshmen while the actual instructor is who knows where. The way everyone seems to adore him and his fake little smile reminds me of her. The anger that I locked in that room is banging on the door, demanding to be let free. I close my eyes and take a slow, deep breath then exhale. When I open my eyes, I feel nothing. I am comfortably empty, they same way I've been since I told Quinn to leave.

At first, the emptiness was so vast that it scared me. It felt like it echoed against my rib cage every morning I woke up, when I ate, when I thought, but now; I'm used to it. The only time I feel anything now is when I think of the one that left me jaded. Looking at Mr. Perfect reminds me of her and that anger keeps knocking on the door. I'm so done with watching this creep, time for a different approach.

"Come on, this will never cut it with Cassie," he says to the female class while I make my way near and lean on the door frame.

"Don't get to close to this one, girls, unless you're immune to the herps," I announce and he turns and looks at me with those, falsely, innocent eyes in surprise.

"Take five," he tells the class, quickly, then faces me. "How'd you get in here?"

"Don't apply logic to Lopez and if what I just saw is any indication, I could get in here any time I want. I've got moves your mannequin ass couldn't handle," I say as I step past him to survey the room more.

"Do you know what your problem is Santana?" He takes a step towards me in challenge. "You're loud and you're rude and you think that attitude equals talent."

"Another thing I am: a hardcore friend. Rachel and Kurt are my family and I can smell your sketchiness from here. So let me tell you how it's going to be," I challenge him right back, HBIC fully engaged. "You're gonna move out of our apartment tonight or I can dig a little deeper and destroy you."

"You're all talk and no proof," he says, more for his sake than mine.

"Don't need proof, I know exactly what you are," you're just like Quinn, I almost say but catch myself. "Yo, fly girls, can I get some back-up?" From there, I go into a performance of Cold-Hearted that would make Paula weep and want to adopt me as her child.

"Everybody out!" A voice I didn't recognize yells from the door and everyone obeys her order as if she were Hitler. Not wanting to get arrested again for trespassing, I make my way out also but she stops me. "Except you," she points her Madonna-like cane at me as I give her a once over.

She's blonde, probably closer to thirty-five than she looks, and has abs for days. The lesbian inside of me can't help but think she's hot, in a cougar type way, and I finally confirm that I definitely have a thing for blondes. Also, the authority oozing from her body helps me figure out that she is none other than Miss Cassandra July.

"You," she begins to address me, "are not a student here. I would've had you in my class if you were, but you are not so, that leads me to believe that you snuck in. Given that overly theatrical performance, with sloppy foot work, and you're apparent hatred of Superboy you are either one of two things. Either a pregnant ex-girlfriend of his that he left at the altar, or the roommate of the incredibly sheltered David Shwimmer and her gay lackey, Powder. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse."

The entire time, during her speech, she was circling and scrutinizing everything about me. I may be young, and she clearly older, but I know how to play this power game with the best of them. "My name is Santana Lopez, and the Hobbit and Porceline are mine to insult, not your's. Given the crow's feet wrinkles hidden behind concealer, Tequila Sunrise on your breath, and the dominatrix glint in your eyes; you must be Miss July. Was nice meeting but I have places to be that don't count as a waste of my time."

She is standing in the way of my exit and before I can walk past her, she laughs. It's not condescending or threatening, it's a laugh meaning that she was entertained. "Well, Santana Lopez," she looks at me with striking blue eyes, "I must say that you are an unexpectedly pleasant surprise from all the idiots and swine I have to deal with on a daily basis. I like you, you remind me of myself at a younger, and dumber, age," I lift my brow at that last sentence. "Just take it as a compliment," she reassures me and smiles for the first time, probably all day, and I smirk back in appreciation. "You're a resourceful girl, want to share in a round of Tequila Sunrise?"


A few hours later, a stroll back into the apartment, feeling accomplished and good about myself. It doesn't happen often, so when it does, I like relishing in it. I see Kurt and Rach sitting in the living room but they seem to be awaiting for my arrival. "Wonder Twins, what are you doing?"

"Santana, If you'd just take a seat, please, and join us for a little family loft conversation," Rachel says, in her long, drawn-out way of speaking.

"Creepy, but okay," I proceed cautiously and sit in the chair that was strategically placed in front of them.

"We just got off the phone with Brod," Kurt begins. "Did you confront him at NYADA with a Paula Abdul song?"

Before I could answer, Rachel adds her two cents. "You can't just march on in there and act all crazy. We go to school there!" I am taken back at how easily she believes the douche bag and doesn't even give me the benefit of the doubt. Even if I did, in fact, confront him with Paula.

"That was the best performance that place has seen in years," I answer and cross my arms, knowing that this conversation isn't going to end well.

"We want you to move out," states Kurt and I am genuinely hurt. From Rachel, I expected this, but for him to go along with her is shocking.

"You're joking."

"We're not," confirms Berry. I take a moment to gather my thoughts and make sure Snix juice is kept minimal.

"Olsen twins, let me tell you something, I have known you both for years and I don't like either of you 90% of the time. In fact, you're wide-eyed Keane painting approach of life makes my teeth hurt and my breasts ache with rage, but you know what, I have love for you. You're my family but if you want me to move out then that's fine."

Without looking in their direction, I grab my bag and head out into the night. When I'm walking down the street I pull out my phone and dial a new number. "Hey Cassie, wanna grab that drink now?"

We make plans to meet within the hour at JBE, she seems like the type to love that place. I wonder if I should hail a cab, but walking is helping me calm down. Taking a deep breath, I sigh. How did I get myself into this situation? I'm homeless, single, and going to meet and crazy, Broadway cougar. It's not even fair, but I should've learned by now that life sucks for no apparent reason. The icing on the cake, though, is that this weekend is Valentine's Day and Mr. Shue's wedding.


A/N: Dun dun dun! So, I would like to hear your thoughts and opinions on the interaction of Cassi and Santana. Also, for you Quinn fanatics, the next chapter will be entirely from Quinn's pov so we'll get the hear her side of the story... and we all know what goes down on V-Day!

Hope you're excited and will try to post it asap, the more comments, follows, and favs I get dramatically increases my motivation and inspiration so please: show me your love! And I love you all, too ;)