AN: Really REALLY should not be doing this, as I already have too many unfinished fics in the fire so to speak, but I already have this one mapped out and its a short one. This was mostly born out of a desire to try a first-person fic, which I tend to really not like. Should be able to update it weekly.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

Part 1

"Do you ever wonder what your life could have been if you made different decisions?" I asked the question out of the blue, filling the void that had descended on the conversation. It was Saturday, and I was home alone, in a fit of boredom I had decided to give my long time friend a call.

Of course one of the things about long time friends is that you have probably discussed just about every topic under the sun, and before too long the conversation could run dry. Another thing about long time friends is that they could tend to keep up with sudden and abrupt shifts in topic.

"You know I don't like to do that introspective shit. It only leads to trouble." The other thing about old friends is that they also tended not to pull any punches, especially when they're Santana Lopez. I let out a heavy sigh, and could almost imagine her rolling her eyes. "Though by the sounds of it I take it you have wondered what it would be life if you had done things differently. What's up I thought all was happiness and rainbows in Munchkin Land."

I frowned and shook my head, not caring that she couldn't see the motion. "No it is, I mean everything is fine, it's great."

"Maybe you should get Berry to give you some acting lessons cuz that was one piss poor attempt at sincerity."

I huffed out an annoyed breath. I was already regretting my spur of the moment decision to try to have a semi-meaningful conversation with the Latina. If history had taught me anything it was that the other woman had an almost allergic reaction to even the mere hint of feelings or emotions. "Things are fine," I insisted. "I just…sometimes…wonder…you know?"

"Actually I don't know, so why don't you just go ahead and tell me already." It was Santana's version of emotional support, so I decided to take it.

"I just sometimes wonder what I would have done, or could have become, if I hadn't moved to New York when I did."

"Yeah see that sounds a lot like trouble in paradise, since the reason you came to New York when you did was to be with Berry."

I expelled a frustrated breath, not sure I was explaining myself, or my feelings properly. "It's not that anything's wrong, we don't really fight, have a good time together, I don't regret coming here. I just…I wonder what I would have done if I had followed my own path, independently. Maybe I would have decided to go to grad school, or joined the Peace Corps., or just…thrown caution to the winds and traveled the country for a year, no concerns, no responsibilities, just me and the open road."

I had gotten into Yale, early acceptance, and even though I didn't yet know what I wanted to do with my life, I had been ecstatic. Part of me had been terrified I was going to end up forever mired in the small town of my birth, going to the same places, seeing the same people, a life-long Lima loser. That letter, with its distinctive blue "Y" had changed everything in an instant. A weight that I hadn't even been aware of had lifted off my chest, and for the first time in a long time I had finally been able to breathe again.

Rachel had been the first to congratulate me. We had found a tenable position in our relationship, not exactly friends, but the constant animosity and one-upmanship that had defined us previously had faded. When I found out she had gotten into NYADA (as if anyone had doubted that eventuality) I purchased a metro pass for each of us. It was a wholly out of character move for me, I didn't typically make overtures, I let other people come to me, but something about it felt right.

Even when I bought it part of me doubted that she would stay in touch. Why, as she was embarking on her life-long dream of making it in New York City, would she want to be reminded of her past in a small town full of people that had treated her like she was nothing; less than nothing. Especially by the one person that had spear headed the campaign of humiliation and ostracization. But Rachel wasn't like other people, she was much better in a lot of ways, and she had kept in touch, both over the summer, and after we each settled in at our respective colleges.

Thinking back I'm still not sure how it happened. I had known for a long time that I was different. When you are surrounded by girls that are slowly losing all sense of reason over boys as they experience the first heady rush of hormones, and all you can do is sit back and wonder what the big deal is, even a simpleton could figure out something was off. I wasn't a simpleton, but I was deeply in denial. Being gay wasn't an option for me, so I refused to consider it.

I knew though; how could you not? Clichéd though it was I lashed out against the objects of my affection, Rachel most notably, and learned to close myself off, shut myself down, and I created the HBIC persona that all at McKinley grew to identify me with.

College was a whole new world though. Free from the constraints of small minded peers, parents, and even my own self imposed shackles, I was finally able to take my first tentative steps into the open. It was freeing, invigorating, and terrifying. I had spent years hiding who I really was away from the world, and to finally expose that to the light of day left me feeling vulnerable and defensive. Neither were emotions I handled well.

Somehow though Rachel saw all this, and instinctively understood what I was going through. At first I attributed it to her two gay dads, or her gay best friend, but I eventually came to realize that I hadn't been the only one to hide a piece of myself away in that small Ohio town.

The change from friends to more, so much more, was gradual, natural, and by Christmas break I had my first official girlfriend. We vowed that we would take it slowly, not put pressure on each other, just enjoy our time together and not get bogged down with expectations. I thought about her all the time, the college experience that I had been so eager for had become little more than an obstacle to endure until I could board the train at Union Station every Friday afternoon. By the next fall I had traded Yale blue for the lighter hue of Columbia.

"What are you Jack fucking Kerouac now? Since when do you want to chuck it all and become a drifter?"

"I don't," I huffed, annoyed. "I just wonder what paths would have presented themselves if I hadn't had someone else's dreams and aspirations to consider. If I would have become more than just someone in a supporting role."

"Like I said; trouble in paradise. I mean I get it; I get bored with a chick after a few weeks. I have no idea how you have managed to spend years with Berry without jumping off your apartment balcony. Plus the sex has got to be boring as fuck."

"The sex isn't boring," I defended hotly; sex with Rachel had never been an issue. "It's just..," I blew out a breath sharply, ruffling my bangs. "I don't even know what it is, I just wonder you know….What if. You never really wonder about how your life would have turned out if you had done things in a different way."

I was sure the Latina had to have regrets; her life had not exactly been smooth sailing. From our tumultuous high school years, to her family disowning her when they found out she was gay, to her seemingly endless stream of one night stands, Santana has had almost as many pivotal forks in the road as I have.

"No point. Playing the what if game is a waste of time. You can't change the past, and wondering about it will just drive you crazy. I just do what feels right for the moment, hasn't steered me wrong yet."

I laughed, my tone edged with disbelief. "Really? Hasn't steered you wrong? So you are totally satisfied with your life?"

"More satisfied than you by the sounds of it."

"I'm satisfied," I insisted defensively, and even I could hear the doubt in my tone. I was satisfied…to an extent. Part of me though couldn't stop wondering what could have been. I shook my head, maybe Santana was right, it's not like dwelling on the past would change anything. "Besides I can't just do whatever I feel like on a whim. I have responsibilities, someone else to consider." I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the time. "Speaking of, Rachel is going to be home soon and I have to get dinner started. Call you tomorrow?"

"Later, bitch."

I rolled my eyes at her abrupt departure, but after all these years I was used to it, and had long since stopped being even remotely offended. I tossed the phone to the other side of the bed and flopped backwards, hand draped over my eyes, trying to process the recent conversation.

I knew that I had made it seem like I was miserable in my life with Rachel, but I wasn't. I really wasn't. There was just this constant nagging voice, tickling at the back of my head that something was missing. I growled in frustration. No, not missing, just more. That there should be more, that I should be more.

Sighing I pushed myself upright. Whatever the feeling was I wasn't going to figure it out today; it had been plaguing me long enough, a little longer wouldn't make much difference. Standing I made my way out of the bedroom and down the short hallway to the living area. I stopped short, surprised to see Rachel wrestling with her coat by the door.

"Hey you," I greeted warmly, making my way over. Even after all this time I still get a happy little burst of adrenaline whenever I see her. "You're home early." I leaned in to give her a welcome home kiss, frowning slightly in confusion when she presented me with her back instead.

Rachel hung her coat and turned back to face me. "We finished the secondary casting a little earlier than expected so they let us all go early."

Rachel had recently landed her first real starring role and was over the moon about it. It was a smaller production, but it was a lead, and it was on Broadway, so she couldn't be happier. I had been so proud the day that Rachel had come home, practically floating, and told me that she had landed the part.

It was a modern rock opera, a kind of lesbian Romeo and Juliet, told through a modern lens, and with more modern music. So not only had Rachel finally landed her first starting role, but it was a story with a message she could get passionate about. Part of me was not particularly thrilled that my girlfriend was going to be paid to make out with some random chick on stage, but I kept that part firmly leashed. Rachel was finally achieving her dreams, and I was not about to let my jealously taint it for her in any way. I had left a lot of what made me the HBIC behind in Lima, but I had come to realize that not wanting to share was just a part of who I was.

Rachel brushed past me and headed towards the kitchen. I checked the dead bolt; Rachel was notorious for forgetting to set it when she returned home, before trailing my petite girlfriend.

"Well I was just about to start on supper, I didn't realize you were going to be home early or I would have started it a little earlier." Rachel retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge before turning to face me. Something about her demeanor seemed off, jittery, her eyes kept bouncing around the room, flitting about but never really coming to rest on any one thing for long.

Rachel twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swallow. "That's okay, I'm not that hungry anyway, so don't go to any special trouble for my sake."

I frowned and walked towards her. "Are you feeling okay?" Rachel Berry was a creature of habit. She liked routine, and order, and schedules. She always woke at 5:45 am, exercised for exactly 45 minutes on her elliptical, to the same sound track. She ate the same 3 things for breakfast, the only variety being which day of the week a particular item was consumed. For her to not want supper, especially when she was prepping for her first big show, told me that something must be off.

I reached out to feel her brow, yeah I know it isn't an indication of illness but it was instinct and it's what people do when they think someone else is sick. Before I could make contact Rachel edged a little further away and nodded her head.

"I'm fine, just tired." This only served to increase my worry. I knew that Rachel had been under a lot of stress with the show. She had been putting in crazy hours since being cast, and now I was concerned that the small diva might be over extending herself. It wasn't like Rachel, a veritable ball of energy, to suffer from fatigue, let alone admit to it. Nor was it like Rachel to be so subdued and quiet.

"Well why don't you go lay down on the couch and rest," I suggested resting my hand lightly on Rachel's back and rubbing a small circle. I noticed the small flinch and tightening of her back muscles when I made contact but just attributed it to the stresses of the day. Maybe I would offer to give her a massage later to help her unwind.

Rachel sent me a small smile, far dimmer than her usual mega watt grins, and gave a short nod. "I think that's a good idea."

I watched my girlfriend make her way into the living room a look of concern etched on my face. Rachel had been acting jumpy and distant since she entered the apartment, and I just hoped that she wasn't coming down with anything serious. My girlfriend usually couldn't wait to tell me all about her day, in exacting detail, but she had barely spoken five words since her arrival home. Biting my lip I turned to the refrigerator; Rachel had said she wasn't hungry, but I wanted to have something ready for her to pick at later in case her appetite returned. While I prepared the light meal I vowed to keep a close eye on her to make sure took better care of herself.