A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, I've had a hectic week and I decided to make a few changes to the direction of the story (a lot has changed since I started writing this a few years ago). This chapter starts to set up some of the relationships, complexities and motivations of some of the other characters in the girls' lives. Promise there will be much more Quinn and Rachel interaction in the next chapter.

Thanks again for all the favourites/follows and reviews - I really do appreciate them so please keep them coming!

The name of this chapter is after 'Punching in a Dream' by The Naked and Famous. Enjoy!

Punching In A Dream

Rachel walked down the halls of McKinley High on Monday morning feeling like she was walking to her own execution.

She'd arrived early like she always does (she likes to do vocal runs in the choir room before class after her neighbours started complaining) but for once she didn't even want to. Every time she even went to sing this weekend she felt as though she were going to throw up. She considered feigning illness, but even if her conscience could abide that then her daddies wouldn't fall for it after she'd spent most of the weekend moping in her room. She didn't even upload a video to MySpace this weekend!

She sighed when she reached her locker, nodding to herself as though to reaffirm her resolve: the consequences of what happened on Friday were going to hit her sooner or later, and the show must go on.

Quinn's reply to her text message had upset her but not particularly surprised her. Well, the part about being fed to Coach Sylvester's dogs was rather disturbing (she'd had a nightmare about that and woke up in a cold sweat) and she didn't particularly like being compared to a p-

"Hey Rach."

She jumped, half-expecting a deranged Quinn to pop up out of thin air.

"Oh, hi Finn." She relaxed, offering the tall boy a strained smile. At least with Finn at her side she was less likely to be kidnapped by the entire Cheerios squad and burnt at the stake for being a lesbian. She shuddered.

Finn must have expected her to create a conversation, because he just stood there dumbly for a few moments until he seemed to think of something to say. "So, uh, how was your weekend?"

"It was fine," she lied, "and yours?"

The quarterback frowned, running a large hand through his hair. "You don't really seem like youse-

"Excuse me, Finn – Treasure Trail and I have something to discuss."

Before the boy could finish his sentence, he was shoved aside with grace (wow, she really was strong!) by a glaring, prepossessing Quinn Fabray.

"What the hell, Quinn?" Finn exclaimed, throwing out his arms, "you can't just do that!"

Rachel couldn't believe that this was happening. For the time in her life (apart from that time she caught laryngitis), she was genuinely speechless. She literally couldn't take her eyes off of Quinn, who was now stood in front of her but had turned to face Finn, who she'd just shoved from that same spot, with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Are you trying to tell me what I can and can't do?" She posed the question as though she were asking what time it is, but that somehow made it all the more terrifying. Rachel knew that tone well.

Finn's face contorted with rage. "You can't just – just – just strut around here telling everyone what to do anymore!"

Now probably wasn't the time, but having the quarterback and the head cheerleader fighting over who gets to talk to her was really hot (even if the latter was probably only here to murder her).

"Finn, perhaps-

"Shut up, Berry," Quinn sneered, looking Finn up and down with disdain. "Maybe you're right; maybe I can't just strut around telling everyone what to do anymore." The blonde smirked and let out a humourless chuckle, "but what I can tell everyone is how it takes you less than a minute of making out to…finish."

Finn reddened and spluttered. "You…you…you're such a-

"Finn," Rachel rushed out, finding her voice again. "Quinn is just here to discuss a history assignment she and I have been paired up for." She had no idea why she was lying for the blonde, but she needed answers after Friday and Finn's presence would only turn this hallway into a bloodbath (and judging by the dangerous glint in Quinn's eyes, it would be Finn's). "Perhaps, considering our shared history, it's best that you leave. I'll catch up with you later."

The tall boy broke the staring match he and Quinn were in to glance at Rachel.

"Really, Finn. I'll see you in Glee."

Finn frowned before mumbling what sounded like 'sure', shooting Quinn one final glare before storming off down the hall. Rachel really didn't know why his retreating form filled her with relief instead of dread, but that was another thing she could address with her therapist.

She was about to turn her gaze back to Quinn and ask the girl what she wanted, but her back meeting the row of lockers behind her due to the blonde's strong hands clutching into her sweater did the job for her. Unlike the last time that happened, she was met by lips hovering by her ear instead of her mouth.

"I don't know what the hell you were thinking trying to text me, Manhands, but don't ever think about doing that again," the blonde hissed into her ear, loud enough only for her to hear. To the rest of the student populace it would look just like any other altercation at the lockers the girls often had. Rachel supposed that was the point.

"What happened the other day was-

"Was what, Quinn?" Rachel interrupted, shuffling uncomfortably against the cold metal and lock digging into her back.

"Was nothing. It was nothing, and if you ever say anything to anyone-

"I'm not going to say anything, I just want to know why you k-

"Do not finish that sentence," the blonde snarled, her nails somehow digging further into the fabric of Rachel's sweater. "Nothing happened on Friday. You need to forget it, or things will get a lot worse for you."

Rachel scoffed. "I fail to see how things could get much worse for me, Quinn. You've dug your own grave in that sense."

The blonde actually growled. "Do not try and play with me here, Berry-

"I'm not trying to play anything!" Rachel stomped her foot in agitation, wriggling against the locker. "You did the thing," she said carefully, worried that saying the 'k' word might give her a black eye, "and all I want to know is why! I was almost certain it was all part of some elaborate prank until you came marching up to me demanding I never tell a living soul!"

And she did! Most of why she'd been feeling sick to her stomach the entire weekend was because she was convinced the entire school was going to think that she'd kissed Quinn Fabray! Well, that and the fact that she'd enjoyed doing it (but again, that was a matter for her therapist).

Quinn paused for a moment, briefly losing the wind from her sails. Rachel watched those burning hazel eyes change for a moment, but it didn't take that dangerous sneer long to reappear.

"It doesn't matter why I did it, because it didn't fucking happen. Got it, RuPaul?"

Rachel looked up at the heavy-breathing blonde, absolutely perplexed. What on Earth was going on?!

"I was almost certain it was all part of some elaborate prank until you came marching up to me demanding I never tell a living soul!"

Quinn froze; she was pretty sure she'd just felt all of the blood drain from her body. Berry thought it was a prank? She thought she was going to have to talk the girl down and convince her that it was nothing, but Berry thought it was a fucking prank? She knew she should probably be celebrating because that made everything a whole lot easier, but she couldn't freaking believe it!

How could what happened on Friday possibly feel like a prank? How could Berry have her on the defence right now? In public! She was planning on having their little discussion somewhere more private until she saw that big stammering oaf stood at the brunette's locker, and now all she could think about was the moron staring down at Berry with some kind of white knight concern.

Quinn gritted her teeth and decided that was something to focus on later (or never!). It didn't matter what Berry thought and it didn't matter if Finn was still pining over her, it just mattered that she never bring their kiss up again!

"It doesn't matter why I did it, because it didn't fucking happen. Got it, RuPaul?"

She looked down at the small brunette who, for her part, was staring back up at her as though she'd lost her mind. Quinn was close enough to the girl to breathe in that same light vanilla that had filled her nostrils in a completely different way only three days before.

"Well, it did happen, Quinn, whether you want to acknowledge it or not," she said resolutely, still managing to hold her head high despite being trapped against a locker, "and I'm not going to forget it."

Quinn watched Rachel let out an indignant huff before sidestepping out of her lazed grip and setting off down the hallway. The blonde always found it secretly amusing (and adorable) when Rachel did one of her diva storm-outs, but right now she was anything but entertained.

After a brief moment of disbelief that Rachel had walked away from her, Quinn was hot on her heel.

"Don't just walk away from me, Manhands!"

"Why not? As far as I'm concerned, due to your dogmatism, our conversation appears over. I also have class."

"I couldn't care less if you have class; you can't just walk away from me!"

"Until you're prepared to have a mature conversation about what happened, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Quinn grabbed Rachel's arm and spun her around to face her. This was a dance they'd performed many times, familiar to both them and the students gawping at them. Another day at McKinley, another fight between Quinn and Rachel.

"Unhand me, Quinn," Rachel said calmly, as though speaking to a child. Quinn seethed.

"We aren't done here," she growled lowly, tightening her grip on Rachel's forearm.

"Q!" Rachel jumped at the harsh, obnoxious voice travelling down the hall. If Quinn weren't so used to it, she probably would have too. Instead, she turned her head sharply and manufactured a calm, obedient smile. "Stop making out with Yentyl and get over here!" The smile instantly dropped from Quinn's face – sometimes she wondered how much that woman really knew. "I need to talk to you about our pathetic squad of cry-babies and why their mouth-breathing parents don't think a thirty hour week is fair." Coach added air quotes at that last part.

Quinn forced herself to smile and nod; although she had far more leniency with Coach Sylvester than the rest of the squad, she was still treading precarious ground after last year. "Sure, Coach."

Left with little choice but to turn back to Berry and give her a parting warning glare, she was about to do just that until she realised the girl had used Coach's distraction to run off to class.

That sneaky little bitch!

Seething and definitely red-faced, Quinn stormed down the hall to meet the formidable woman in the black tracksuit, shoving some freshman out of her path on the way.

She was going to kill Berry!

Rachel could barely believe that after all these years of torment, Quinn could honestly think that Rachel was going to fall for whatever game the girl was playing. What kind of fool did that evil blonde take her for? She might be overly trusting at times and perhaps not well-versed in the social etiquette of her fellow peers, but she wasn't naïve enough to play Quinn's game.

She stormed into her class and took a middle row seat instead of her usual place at the front, earning an eyebrow raise from her teacher. She honestly would have preferred it if the blonde had just walked up to her and publicly announced her lesbianism to the whole school than whatever it was she was planning now!

Rachel tore a sheet of paper from her notebook and scribbled a brief title at the top of the page. It would be at least ten minutes before the last student stumbled into the class anyway, and she had more important things on her mind than geography right now!

What her evil plan is

She paused and tapped her pen against the desk.

Trying to trick me into falling in love with her so that Finn gets jealous and crawls back into her grasp

Rachel quickly scribbled that out when she realised that a) Quinn was ready to maul Finn just ten minutes ago so was hardly planning a rekindling of their romance and b) it was ridiculous.

Has decided to amp up her torment as previous methods were perhaps getting boring and she wants me to lose my mind!

She kept that one, because as far as the head cheerleader was concerned, that theory wasn't entirely implausible. It would explain why the blonde was so insistent she keep her mouth shut: Quinn probably wanted to drive her to insanity by denying the kiss any credibility so that she could then make a lovesick fool of her in front of the whole school!

Rachel narrowed her eyes and balled her tiny fists. The lengths that girl would go simply to make her life miserable was astonishing!

"What's that you've got there, Berrycuda?"

Rachel jumped out of her skin and immediately let out a squeal at the sound of that familiar voice right beside her.

"Nothing," she mumbled hastily, quickly scrunching up the paper in her hand and shoving it into her bag on the floor. "How can I help you, Santana?"

The fiery cheerleader smirked before taking the seat beside her. Today was going to give Rachel whiplash!

"I just wanted to confirm something."

Rachel felt her stomach drop. Whatever Quinn was planning, she was certain this was the beginning of it.

"Y-Yes?" She inquired politely, putting on her best poker face.

"You see, Tubbers told us," - when Rachel frowned in confusion at that, Santana rolled her eyes and corrected herself - "her majesty Quinn Fabray told us that she gave you a swirlie on Friday after you threw that slushie on her. Nice one, by the way – who knew Berry had balls?" She winked at a now very confused Rachel. "I just wanted to verify that."

Rachel blinked. "You wanted to confirm that…I have balls?" She winced at that last part.

Santana rolled her eyes. "No, moron! Everyone knows that already, Berry." Before Rachel could even respond to that, the cheerleader looked somewhere towards the back of the classroom and sighed. "Sorry, my bitch flag flies before I have a morning…coffee."

Although Rachel was certain 'coffee' was a euphemism for something else (and that Santana let her 'bitch flag' fly 24/7) she said nothing, continuing to stare dumbly at the girl next to her.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Berry. Did Quinn swirlie you or not?"

Rachel had never almost drowned before, but she was pretty sure this is what coming up for air must feel like. The girl wasn't trying to 'verify' if she had balls (something she wouldn't put it past Quinn to make up)! or that they'd kissed on Friday. After the relief settled in, she just frowned again.

"Why?"

"Because the bitch stole my spot as head cheerleader and I want to know if she's gone soft."

She considered that for a moment. It would make sense for Quinn to lie about what happened in the locker room to maintain her reputation as the school's merciless leader. But then again it would also make sense that she'd send Santana to ask her exactly this question in hope that she blurts out the truth and can thus unintentionally starts some vicious rumour about herself! She could just see it now: Quinn, smirking over her as she declares to the whole of McKinley High that she would 'never think about kissing Manhands even if it were to safe my own life' and that 'the freak must have a crush on me'!

A harsh clap in front of her face snapped Rachel out of her thoughts. "Answers, Berry. I don't want to be sat here any longer than I have to; I'm pretty sure the air around you is making my uniform turn argyle."

Putting on her game face, Rachel nodded and then did her best to look (dramatically) disturbed. "Yes, Santana. Unfortunately I cannot aid you in your endeavour in dismantling Quinn's dominance," for some reason Santana smirked at that part, "of the school, as she did indeed…swirlie me." Whatever game Quinn and Santana were playing, she wasn't going to indulge them!

What happened next flummoxed Rachel: instead of seething with barely concealed disappointment as she'd expected, Santana simply smirked and stood up from her seat.

"Thanks for that information, dwarf."

The Latina sauntered over to her usual seat at the back of the class without a second glance at Rachel, who was now left feeling even more disturbed than she was when she walked into school this morning.

"Yo, Tubbers."

Quinn gritted her teeth and continued walking, pretending she hadn't heard Santana. She'd just spent the last three hours stressing the fuck out and seething over Berry, and she did not need to deal with one of Santana's power plays right now.

"Talking to you, Tubbers! Did the pregnancy take away your hearing alongside your loyalty? Or is your head just so far up your own ass that you can't hear anything but the sound of-

The blonde growled and grabbed the girl by her arm, pulling her swiftly into a nearby classroom before Santana had the time to stop her. She wasn't captain of the Cheerios for nothing.

"I am not in the mood for-

"A make out session in the locker room? Damn, if only I had a slushie to throw at you – maybe then you'd be in the mood."

Quinn blanched. "What did you just say?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Fabgay."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted, a little too quickly. She knew she needed to get this situation under control, like, right now, but it was hard to keep her HBIC game face on when it feels like her whole world has fallen apart in the space of one weekend!

"Oh, so you didn't spend the lunch period lip-locked with the dwarf?"

Quinn's mind went into overdrive. She could do this. She could crawl her way out of this like she's crawled her way out of so many things before. She was Quinn fucking Fabray.

But how the fuck does Santana know? Surely Berry wouldn't have told anyone, least of all Santana…

"The only contact I'll ever have with that little freak's lips is my fist going into her face."

"Wow, 'cus I think you're more interested in your fist going somewhere else-

"Shut the fuck up, Santana," Quinn hissed, charging into the girl's space, "or you'll regret it."

Santana simply smirked, not moving so much as an inch at Quinn's advance. There was a reason Santana was simultaneously her best friend, biggest rival and second in command: she was the only person besides Coach Sylvester who Quinn couldn't intimidate.

"We both know you can't take me, Tubbers."

"You wanna bet?"

"No, I want you to tell the truth for once in your life."

"First of all, pot-kettle. Second of all, I don't know what you're talking about, so get the fuck out of my way before I have you put even further down the pyramid."

"Believe it or not, I'm not trying to fight you here," the other cheerleader said quietly, giving her a look that Quinn has only seen a handful of times.

"I don't care what you're trying to do. You're just pissed because I told Coach Sue about your-

"Oh please, even if the look on your face didn't give it away then do you seriously think I'd make this shit up?" Santana scoffed, "and I thought I was a closet case."

Quinn didn't even think when she slapped the girl in front of her. It all just happened at once: 'closet case', the blood draining from Quinn's face (or was it her whole body? she couldn't even tell anymore), the nausea in her stomach and her hand powering into Santana's cheek.

It was like a reflex.

What took her by surprise is that she wasn't slapped back. Instead, Santana simply shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

"I'm going to give you a free pass on that one, because I know what you're going through, but-

"I'm not going through anything! Not everyone is like you!"

Santana just shrugged. "Nope, but you are."

Quinn gritted her teeth. It took every ounce of self-control that she'd cultivated over the years not to scream right now. Or cry. Or both.

"Whatever Berry told you –

"Berry didn't tell me anything, but her bruised lips as soon as she left the locker room did and neither of your little stories involved a punch in the mouth."

Quinn's voice (and whole fucking world) shook. The only thing that stopped her from losing her shit right there and then was the knowledge that Berry hadn't said anything. Like always, that girl was the only dependable thing in her life. "Stories?"

"Last period I asked the dwarf if you swirled her on Friday when you dragged her off to the locker room like you told us you did."

"I never said I did –

"That's my point. After staring off to space and looking like some deformed, confused puppy for a few seconds Berry was only all too quick to corroborate your version of events."

That sneaky, conniving, freakishly clever fucking bitch!

Quinn did her best to scoff nonchalantly.

"Even if what you're saying is true, which it isn't, who in this school would believe you? Do you think anyone would honestly believe that Quinn Fabray - a girl who was pregnant only just last year and has dated some of the hottest guys in school - would make out with Berry, a girl she's only spent the last four years torturing?"

"I'm not trying to fucking out you, Quinn! In case you've forgotten, I'm not the one that sells my friends down the river! I wasn't the one that started the rumour about your pregnancy and I sure as hell won't be the one to start some rumour about you being a repressed d-

"The rumour would be that you're so bitter and jealous about losing captain that you'd make up something ridiculous and start spreading shit around about me. Maybe something to draw attention away from you and Brittany."

Defence and denial weren't working anymore; Quinn had no choice but to attack. Santana could be sneaky and vicious, but Quinn wasn't ruled by fire like Santana was. However hard the girl tried, she'd always be ruled by her feelings – by some sense of loyalty.

Quinn? She was pure ice.

"Fuck you, Quinn." The blonde ignored the tremor in her voice. She was ignoring a lot of things lately.

If the look on Santana's face bothered Quinn, now wasn't the time to think about it. She did what she had to do and she said what she had to say. She wasn't like Santana: her reputation was built on perfection and popularity and perfectly popular heterosexuality and not straying too far from the path laid out for her by her parents or God or society or whoever. Nobody would look the other way like they do with Santana and Brittany if Quinn Fabray were a lesbian, let alone if it were with Rachel Berry.

Quinn shoved past a still motionless Santana. "Don't be late to practice like you were last week or you'll be even further down the pyramid. And don't ever talk to me about this again."

Her voice didn't shake this time, even if the rest of her body did.

She needed to do damage control and fast, even if that meant fucking over Berry. After all this time it came naturally to her anyway.

Hope you enjoyed. Constructive criticism always welcome. More soon, promise!