(Two weeks before Quinn leaves NYC)

Santana was amazed at Quinn Fabray's sudden kindness. The legal secretary was happy that she had gotten acceptance into the law school at New York University. She was accepted at other universities, but the most significant was in New York, a city where she didn't intend to leave. While Quinn lived with Rachel, Santana and Kurt, she was never one to make special meals for anyone, despite everyone knowing that she was a pretty decent cook.

"Roasted fish with strawberry sauce, and a side tropical salad." Quinn set the table.

"Everything seems to be very good." Santana took a good look at the colorful plate.

"Try it."

Santana looked once more at Quinn's small but comfortable apartment. It was a rented studio in SoHo, a region that Santana never dreamed of living due to her current economic conditions. Quinn's bed was on display: queen-sized and beautifully made. The dining table was small and round, comfortable for two. There was a well-equipped kitchen in the corner, the bathroom door was next to the bedroom. The apartment had a closet that was half wardrobe, half bookcase, with some books on one shelf, some ornaments on the other, and two picture frames: one of Quinn, the other of her family. No pictures of friends.

A strange person, who knew little about Quinn, would hardly notice these details. But friends who have known the blonde for years, and remember all the family drama Quinn endured as a teenager, know that photo was pure hypocrisy. It was different from Rachel and Santana's apartment, which had a framed photo of the two of them, and others with family and close friends.

"Excited to start law school?" Santana asked to start a small conversation as she tried the fish, which had a slightly different flavor than what she was used to.

"Yes, I am. I start next semester and it will be ideal to combine study with my work."

"I'm glad you're really excited about becoming the depressed version of Ally Mcbeal."

"Well Santana, I'm not that good with pop culture. I don't know exactly how to compare a social media manager with some lame character to detracting."

"You can be obviously unimaginative, like the kids at school and call me second-class J-Lo." Santana laughed to herself. "Of course I sing much better than her."

"You are full of yourself."

"Of course I am."

"Too bad you don't have the same initiative as a J-Lo."

"What you mean?

"That you call yourself the best singer, but don't chase your dream."

"I have a band..."

"Who plays covers in a bar every Saturday. If you think that's enough..."

Santana's appetite was gone. She placed the silverware on the plate and left the food half-eaten. The vocalist leaned her body against the back of the chair and sighed. Santana was genuinely confused. It was the first time Quinn had shown her the apartment she lived in, and after the memorable night the two had had the week before, Santana could have sworn that the dinner invitation would be an excuse for them to chat casually and then have senseless sex for the night. If it wasn't for that, the dinner with the expensive fish and strawberry sauce too sophisticated for Santana's palate was a completely wrong impression.

"It's honest money, Fabray. It helps to pay de bills and keep the band active." Santana decided not to escalate the discussion. "Then, if we weren't minimally competent, we wouldn't have this regular gig." Santana went back to eating the fish. "Our authorial songs aren't bad... we even recorded a demo with this material."

"So why doesn't your band work with your own songs?"

"We work on our own songs. You would know if you hadn't been away for so long. It's just that we don't always get a gig to show only our original songs. And then, we all have regular jobs, the ones that actually pay the rent, and there are only weekends to think about."

"Does that mean that tomorrow we don't have a chance to go out together?"

"After the gig, who knows? I've talked with Dani to work on some of our songs tomorrow."

"I honestly never understood how you and Dani never became exclusive."

"Me neither." Santana smiled slightly. "While I'm grateful that she never wanted anything like that with me."

"Why?"

"Because it took a while, but I understood that even though Dani and I are good friends with benefits, and creative partners in a musical sense, I don't love her enough."

"Right..." Quinn said cautiously.

"Have you been talking to Brittany?"

"Not much. We exchanged some texts two weeks ago."

"And how is Rachel? I haven't heard from her this week."

"She's fine... I think."

"You think?"

"Yesterday she came home very shaken by some racist comments that an asshole said to her."

"Racist comments?"

"Anti-Semitic ones. As I understand it, this guy suggested that Jewish women were only fit to be whores, or something disgusting like that. Of course, you have to make allowances between what actually happened and what Rachel told me, because she's a drama queen. Still, no woman should hear that sort of thing."

"And you comforted her by telling her some of your cruel truths?" Quinn smiled already imagining the scene.

"Nah... I actually kissed her."

"What?"

"Cruel truths are reserved for times when Rachel or anyone else needs a reality check. It wasn't quite the case yesterday. She was working when it happened, you know?"

"Looks more like a drama queen thing to me." Quinn rolled her eyes. "Rachel was bullied so much at school that she should have been anesthetized by now."

"Perhaps." Santana sighed once more. "But it doesn't change the fact that she was really upset."

"And kissing her was the only way you could find solace?"

"It just happened. It wasn't really intentional." Santana defended herself. "It wasn't serious and it's over."

"It's amazing how everything in your love life just happens, that it's never really intentional or serious."

"What you mean?"

"Apparently you have a fetish for eating your friends' pussy. Dani, me... now Rachel too. Do you have any other friends of yours on the list? Mercedes maybe?"

"Go to hell, Quinn. You speak as if you were in a position to demand something. Turns out you don't have the right to say anything, to charge anything about what I do with my life."

"I said I wanted to make things right between us!" Quinn raised her voice. "But you can't help yourself. You had to want to get into her pants."

"I did nothing! Nothing happened." Santana also raised her voice.

"But you wanted it to happen."

"Oh shut up Quinn." Santana got up from the table. She would get out of there before she lost her mind.

"Confess, Santana. Confess that you always dreamed of being with her. That's why you never left her, not even for Brittany."

"Wants to know? You must be bipolar, Fabray. You should see a psychiatrist to get your unstable, sick personality sorted out."

Santana got slapped in the face, but this time she hit back Quinn so hard that the blonde girl lost her balance and only didn't fall to the floor because she held onto the kitchen counter. Santana grabbed her bag and left the apartment, not even bothering to close the door. The vocalist didn't want things to end that way. Deep down, she really loved Quinn. That was why, unconsciously, she waited for the blonde.

...

Rachel was at the computer making a schedule between the few classes she still had in Nyada and the auditions she wanted to do. Everything was a little more difficult without an agent, so she was also carefully selecting a professional who was reputable, even if she couldn't afford (or even be accepted yet) at one of the main agencies in the market. Suddenly, the apartment door swung open, which surprised Rachel to see Santana walking across the room without a word, and heading straight for Santana's bedroom. Rachel knew that her friend was on a date with Quinn Fabray and that's why she didn't expect Santana to sleep at home that night. And for Santana to act that way, it was because something very wrong had happened.

"San?" Rachel knocked on her friend's bedroom door cautiously.

"Berry, leave me alone, please."

Rachel didn't, just as Santana ignored her pleas the day before. The actress found her friend standing with her arms crossed, crying. Without saying a word, Rachel hugged Santana from behind, and they remained that way for a few minutes, without exchanging a single word.

"Quinn went into gay panic mode again?" Rachel asked when Santana stopped crying. Rachel was still hugging her friend from behind, tucking her chin into Santana's shoulder.

"She was more in super jealous mode today. I don't understand, Rachel. Last week we... got together. And today she freaked out."

"Why did she freak out?"

"Because..." Santana thought it over, and it was better to omit the trigger from the fight. "Because I said I'd spend the day with Dani tomorrow so we can work on songs."

"Oh..." Rachel released Santana from the hug and sat on her friend's bed. "Is it just that? I mean, between you and Dani?"

"Rachel, you know the deal between Dani and I. I have no intention of doing anything other than an afternoon of music work. I'll go over to her house, we'll improve some songs, and we'll go to our weekly gig."

"You could have asked Quinn to come along."

"Yes, I could. But not this time. Not after this fight."

"You really like her, don't you? I haven't seen you like this fallen for anyone since Brittany."

"I like her, Rachel. I won't deny it. But Quinn is toxic, and she has this power to emotionally unsettle me. I know what it's like to be in a good relationship with someone. I had that with Brittany, and that's why we still love each other to this day. Quinn is beautiful, smart and sexy, but she is toxic."