Technically it's for faberry week, technically it's just because. And maybe it's the Nyquil and Moscato I drank.

Frustrated.

Frustrated in every sense of the word.

If anyone were to ask Rachel how she felt about her show's latest guest-star, that would be her response. She was annoyed, she was distressed, and she felt very expressive of her need to convey those emotions.

Only, for all the fuss she thought she'd put up over the temporary contract, hardly anyone seemed to notice. And that, well, that just had Rachel stomping over to a certain guest-star's trailer and knocking a little too hard on its door.

It wasn't just who she was, and it wasn't just what she had done. Their pasts were tied together, for better or worse, and Rachel had planned to keep it that way for the rest of her life.

She'd moved on since high school, grown out of her old persona of always needing to prove herself.

Rachel Berry needed to prove herself to no one, and she was going to make damn sure that her old high school nemesis understood that to its full extent.

"Quinn Fabray," she practically growled, knocking sharply a few more times.

Hard.

It actually kind of hurt her knuckles but she ignored the pain in favor of snorting at the stupid, paper name-sign that was hanging exactly where her knuckles were hitting. Of course the blonde—if she was still blonde, seeing as she had dyed her hair brown for her last movie, not that Rachel had seen it—would replace the typed out one provided for her, solely to scrawl one in her own swirly handwriting.

When she immediately heard the sounds of someone inside the trailer moving, Rachel shoved her arms to cross over her chest and straightened her back. It sounded like the woman inside was talking to someone, but Rachel didn't recall having seen anyone visit her new—and very temporary—co-star.

Finally, the door opened slowly and Rachel heard a calm, yet so very recognizable, voice say, "Hold on a sec, someone's at my door."

Her chest tightened as Quinn's face, achingly familiar and still devastatingly beautiful, came into view. Though Rachel was positive it was connected to a body, her brain failed at managing to register anything other than the look of surprise on the other woman's face.

"Rachel?" she asked, her name breathy as if she couldn't believe it. Rachel wanted to roll her eyes as she purposely overlooked the tightness in her chest. Of course Quinn would act surprised to see Rachel on the grounds of her own show. The blonde—and she was indeed freshly blonde, Rachel was pleased to see—probably expected her to hide out and not have any friends, similar to the way she used to.

There was an extended moment where they both just looked at each other, broken only by Quinn raising the phone on her shoulder back to her ear and telling whoever it was that she "had to go," before hanging up.

Rachel tilted her chin up, steeling herself for torrent she was about to unleash.

"Quinn. I'd like to say I'm glad to see you, but my fathers taught me better than to lie," she started. The other woman blinked a few times in response, a slight frown forming at the corners of her lips. "That said, they also taught me that forgiveness is strength in that it 's refusing to allow my tormenters to live rent-free in my head—a lesson of which I remain very grateful for."

Going strong, Rachel stepped forward and into the trailer. Quinn's lips were parted and she seemed extremely caught off guard as she took a few steps back to allow her entry.

"The thing is, I forgave you for all the hell you put me through. I did not, on the other hand, forget a single moment. So here are the ground rules I set up for you, seeing as you are here to appear on my show. Are you ready?"

When it had come to planning her speech, Rachel hadn't known what to expect in return. She'd allowed that Quinn might scoff, roll her eyes, cross her arms, huff, tell her to leave, or even just brush all of her words off altogether. The silent nod and widened eyes that she actually received made her plan a lot easier, even if they threw her off a bit.

"One," she raised a finger in the air. "You are not to speak rudely to me at any time, unless it's in the script which, considering the plot, is highly unlikely. You may come to me if you have any genuine concerns but, other than that, I'd prefer you not talk to me at all on an off-screen level.

"Two: I would very much like it if you kept our history private. While you're here, we went to high school together and that's it."

The hand with the phone in it lowered with each passing word and Rachel hated that Quinn was just staring at her, hazel eyes clearly intent on what she was saying. She wasn't supposed to be listening and making Rachel feel slightly guilty—she was supposed to be cold and dismissive.

"And three," Rachel continued on, her ring finger joining the other two because it had to be done. "You came to my show, knowing you'd be working with me, and I expect one-hundred percent professionalism from you. After this conversation, the only thing we have in common is our job and if you have a problem with any of part of what I just said you can leave. Got it?"

Whether from incredulity or some other emotion, Quinn's face had lost most of its color after the first point, and now Rachel noticed it hadn't returned. She herself was riled up and could feel her nostrils flaring, her hand still raised with three fingers pointing to the ceiling of the trailer.

"Okay," Quinn said, her voice low.

It was Rachel's turn to blink and she stared at the woman in front of her. Quinn was oozing sincerity, her expression somber.

"Okay?" Rachel asked. "That's all you have to say? Okay?"

Quinn shrugged, a small rise and fall of her shoulders.

"I don't know what you want me to say, other than that I accept your terms."

The solemn way Quinn's words echoed in Rachel's mind drove her crazy. The blonde was acting as if-as if she was tolerable! As if she wasn't a cruel, sadistic teenager who lived to torture Rachel on a daily basis.

And, in all fairness, Rachel accepted that they weren't teenagers anymore, and that Quinn had obviously changed in the seven years since they graduated. Regardless, the past was the past and she wasn't willing to extend any branch of friendship to the blonde. She'd done so too many times to count in high school, and she'd been denied each time.

"Very well then," she said, crossing her arms again. "I see you've changed. For the better, it looks like." And, okay, maybe she shouldn't have added the extra dig, especially with the cringe the other woman shrunk on.

"I have. I'm glad to see you never lost your fire." Rachel glared at Quinn for the comment, but the blonde was too busy looking down to notice.

"Thanks to you," she retorted, finally feeling that small spark of fire that had always been present during their facedowns. "It's been too easy to brush off harsh words."

"You know, I didn't actually accept this job. My agent said yes to the offer before she even told me. I really am sorry, for what it's worth." When she finally looked back up, her eyes were hazy and Rachel's stomach dropped at the sight of the other woman clearly holding back tears.

She never had liked to see Quinn cry.

"Quinn," she sighed, ready to apologize were she not cut short.

"No," the blonde shook her head, waving her off. "I mean it. I know this is your show and I never meant to invade your territory. Katy—my agent—just assumed that, since I watch the show so much, I'd want to be on it."

Rachel didn't say anything for a moment, too caught up on the fact that Quinn just admitted to liking her show. Which meant she watched it, which meant she saw Rachel's face often.

"You watch the show?"

"Well, yeah." There was a faint pinkness to Quinn's cheeks, Rachel noticed, and she turned her head to the side when she spoke. "It has an amazing plot, and the acting is phenomenal."

"I hate you."

Quinn's head whipped in her direction at that, hazel eyes meeting brown with no hesitation. Her eyebrows were raised, perfectly sculpted as expected, but also pinched together in a way Rachel had never seen on Quinn's face before. She actually looked…hurt.

"You do?" she asked, her voice much smaller than Rachel foresaw. A lot of things about her confrontation with Quinn were going differently than she planned, in all truth.

"Yes and no," Rachel said. "You're not supposed to be…" Frustrated, she ran her hand through her hair and paced a few steps over the floor.

"When did you become so sensible?" she fired, halting in place.

It was Quinn's turn to sigh.

"When I got over myself in college," she admitted. "It took a lot of mishandled friendships and a few extremely toxic relationships for me to do it, but I managed."

"I see. Well, I'm happy for you." Rachel nodded, mostly to herself, and darted her eyes to the door. She debated on whether it was appropriate for her to excuse herself and just leave, but Quinn cut her hasty exit short with her next words.

"I can't change the past, Rachel. But I never hated you. I just want you to know that."

The words were sincere and Rachel took them to heart before turning back to the blonde.

"Quinn, you know our characters are love-interests, right?" she asked, not knowing seeing as Quinn apparently hadn't applied for the part. If her agent had just accepted it without her knowledge, it was just a coincidence that Rachel's old classmate was now playing the role of her character's only successful suitor.

"Yes," Quinn said, skin flushing again in what Rachel figured was awkward embarrassment. She wasn't exactly looking forward to acting romantic with the blonde, either.

"Well then, you better be able to convince our audience that you feel a lot more toward me than 'not hate.'" With that, Rachel headed out the door.

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