Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Exposure

Exposure gets a bad rep.

It's always seen as a bad thing, something irreversible. And maybe that's true. But it also leads to new experiences—like that drop in the pit of your stomach as the roller coaster careens down and spirals. Once you feel that, live through that, there's no going back. But who wants to?

Of course, there is a sense of innocence, or naivety at least, that is lost with exposure. Whether it be that stomach flip or the realization that war isn't made by heroes, you lose something. With the stomach aerobics, perhaps you lose the contentment of living with both feet on the ground. And maybe you lose your optimism and faith in man as you attend more classes and lectures on The Vietnam Experience.

However, it can also be argued that you gain. The roller coaster opens your mind to taking risks and actually living, rather than walking through life with arms crossed. With the knowledge of war corruption, maybe you'll be moved enough to run a campaign and accomplish peace—if not worldwide, at least for your nation.

Exposure gets a bad rep. But without it, we'd never know what we were missing to begin with.

Quinn swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to melt into a pile of nerves under the brunette's steady gaze.

Rachel broke the stare, lifting up the back seat. She pulled out a pair of leggings and the spare helmet, handing both over to the blonde. "Uhm, I figured with the dress, you might want something underneath. You know, just in case." She smiled sheepishly.

"Oh," Quinn said, cheeks warming. "Right, I'll just go, uh, slip them on."

Rachel nodded, putting the seat back down. She leaned back and watched Quinn disappear back into the café. Once she was out of sight, the brunette glanced down at her phone, checking for any emails. Seeing none, she flicked the screen off and slipped it back into her pocket. She checked her watch. Quinn had been gone a while, now. Had she scared her away?

Just as she was about to go into the restaurant, the blonde stepped out onto the street. Her nose scrunched up as she adjusted to the bright sunlight. Rachel smiled softly. Quinn looked so goofy carrying around a large helmet while sporting a very feminine, very church-y sun dress, with the grey leggings poking out underneath.

"Okay," Quinn said, stopping in front of the bike. "Anything else?"

Rachel shook her head and slipped on her helmet. "Hop on."

The blonde wavered in place for a beat, then took the few steps behind Rachel. She tucked her hair back and slid on the helmet. Rachel gripped the handles, further stabilizing the bike. She glanced at Quinn expectantly.

Quinn muttered something to herself and swung a leg over the motorcycle. She put her hands on the space between them, tightening her hold when Rachel started up the engine.

"You're going to have to hold on," the brunette said. She let go of the handlebars for a moment to take Quinn's hands and move them to her hips. Rachel glanced behind her. "Don't be afraid to move closer. I don't bite."

She heard Quinn huff, but the blonde inched a little closer regardless.

"Ready?" Rachel asked, snapping down her visor.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Alright, here we go," Rachel said, and checked the corner for cars before turning onto it.

The engine roared to life, shuddering against their calves as it started up. Quinn's fingers further curled into the brunette's jacket. The bike leaned on the turn and Quinn let out a surprised squeak. Rachel chuckled, keeping her speed low at first to allow the blonde to grow accustomed to riding. She sped up after a few lights, and by then, Quinn's grip had slackened.

When they hit a red light, Rachel glanced over her shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"Good," Quinn said, eyes sparkling.

"Good," Rachel said. "We're almost back at the houses."

"Oh," Quinn said, forgetting the drive was so short. "Do you, uhm…"

"What?" Rachel's brow furrowed.

"D-do you think we could take the long way back?"

She glanced back at the blonde and laughed. "Yeah, sure. We could do a few more loops if you're up for it."

Quinn nodded quickly, grin spreading. "Can we?"

Rachel smiled and revved the engine. "Let's go."

As they moved through the intersection, Rachel felt the space between them disappear as Quinn's arms encircled her more firmly. Her heart fluttered at the warmth against her back.

"Hey, Q," the little brunette called over her shoulder.

The young Quinn looked up from the doll she was playing with in the yard. "Yeah?"

"Race you," she said, pointing to the pool.

Quinn stood slowly and brushed off the grass. "I don't know…"

"Come on!" she whined. "Are you scared or something?"

The little blonde huffed. "No. We both know I'm faster than you Babs."

"Then prove it," the little brunette said, throwing a grin over her shoulder before racing towards the pool.

"Not fair!" Quinn protested, but took off after her friend anyway.

Catching the brunette at the edge of the pool, her momentum carried her forward, and she wrapped her arms around Barbara, taking them both down.

The cold splash of water hit them both unexpectedly. When they surfaced, their hands were still connected, giggles rippling out onto the clear water.

The bike slowed to a stop, engine clucking. Rachel twisted the key, turning it off. She exhaled, turning in her seat slightly to look back at the blonde.

Quinn's arms dropped from around her waist, but she made no move to get off the motorcycle. Rachel watched her curiously. Her hazel eyes were a bright shade. "Wow," she breathed out, pushing up her visor. "That was amazing, Rach!"

A corner of Rachel's lips twitched upwards in amusement. "Yeah? I'm glad you liked it."

"Are you kidding? It felt like flying. I was flying." She smiled, gaze connecting firmly with the brunette's. "Thank you."

Rachel chuckled, pulling off her helmet. Her hair fell down into ringlets. "No problem, Quinn. If you ever need a ride again, let me know."

Quinn quirked her eyebrow. "Again? You know, I didn't need a ride today."

"Right, I just-"

The blonde smirked. "You just tricked Sam and his cousin into letting me ride with you, if I remember correctly."

"Please. You were about to jump on before they joined us," Rachel said pointedly.

"Only because you had turned on the charm and practically brainwashed me into-"

"Wait," Rachel interrupted, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You think I'm charming?"

Quinn smacked her arm. "That's what you got from that?"

The brunette shrugged. "Well, we're sitting in my driveway, the bike is off, and you still have yet to get off it. So, yeah. I'm charming."

The blonde blushed.

"Oi! Corcoran," an angry voice shouted from the cottage steps. Rachel glanced over to find Santana glaring at her. "Do you not answer your phone, anymore?"

"Uhm, sorry San," Rachel said, "I was a little busy."

The Latina looked over Rachel's shoulder and caught sight of the Fabray's daughter. "Oh, Quinn. What're you doing here?"

Quinn cleared her throat, finally slipping off the bike and handing Rachel her helmet. "I, uh, Rachel gave me a ride home."

"Weren't you at lunch with Sam?" Santana asked, narrowing her eyes.

The blonde raised her eyebrow in return. "Yes?"

The Latina took a few steps forward, nearing the pair. "Well, I would have thought he'd have taken you back."

"He would have," Quinn said evenly. "But we ran into Rachel and his cousin, and he hung back in town with her." She set her jaw. "Not that it's any of your business, Lopez."

Santana eyed the blonde. "I manage your family's affairs. It is my business, Miss Fabray."

Rachel looked between the two, and stood from her motorcycle. "Uhm, right. Santana, can you give me a second and I'll be right over?"

"Whatever," she responded, but complied and gave the two some space.

"Why is she here?" Quinn asked, still tensed from the encounter.

Rachel shrugged. "I'm not sure. But we are friends. We fundraised together."

Quinn snorted. "I don't know how you can be friends with someone like that. That would mean she has a heart." Her gaze flicked from the Latina to the brunette. "Oh, I meant to ask you—there's another event this weekend, and after it, all the kids are going to sneak out and have a bonfire on the beach by my house…You should come."

Rachel tilted her head with an amused smile. "I don't think there was actually a question in there."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

"I'll be there," the brunette assured her.

"Okay," Quinn said. "Well, I should, uh, probably go now."

Rachel nodded. "See you around, Quinn."

"Yeah. Thanks again for the ride."

"No problem."

When Quinn turned the corner, the brunette faced Santana. "Okay, who spat in your cheerios?"

"Come on, Rachel," Santana groaned. "I know you have needs and all, but her? Did it have to be Quinn Fabray?"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb," the Latina said, crossing her arms. "It doesn't suit you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rachel responded, putting away the helmets. "Quinn needed a ride, and I was heading home anyway."

"Right, so this is just about conserving gas," Santana mocked, quirking an eyebrow. "Of course, it has absolutely nothing to do with you wanting to get into a certain blonde's panties."

The brunette cocked her head in annoyance. "Must you always be so crass?"

"Hey, I'm just calling it as I see it," she said.

"Well, I'm not blind. Anyone with functioning eyes can see she's sexy." Rachel leaned back on the bike. "But I'm not going there. Anyway, she has a boyfriend."

"And she's a Fabray," Santana said, nose crinkling.

"What's your deal with her?"

Santana's eyebrows shot up. "Are you kidding me?"

Rachel stared blankly at her.

"Ay, dios mio. Where do I start? She's got a metal pole stuck so far up her ass that it's made her some kind of cyborg, incapable of any feeling. Seriously, I've tried to be civil—have normal, human conversations with her. But she's a fucking ice queen. And there's also the prude, snobbish nature. Or her bitchy, bossy mood. I mean, I'm not even her employee, for god's sake. Oh, and-"

"Enough, Santana," Rachel interrupted. "That's enough."

Santana furrowed her brow. "Excu-"

"Hey! There you are, Rachel!" Both sets of eyes flew to the tall blonde coming through the side yard to join them.

Santana lowered her voice, setting her hands on her hips. "What, you're here a day and suddenly you're everyone's BFF?"

"Oh, calm down Satan," Rachel muttered, before greeting Brittany. "You and Sam are back already?"

Brittany shrugged. "Yeah. Town got kind of boring, and Sam was missing Q."

"Gotcha. Quinn and I just got back, too."

"Oh, I bumped into her on the way over. It seemed like she had a good time." The tall blonde gave the Latina a bright smile. "Hi, I'm gonna guess you're Santana Lopez?"

"T-that would be me," Santana said, stumbling a bit when Brittany launched into a bear hug.

Rachel bit her lip to keep from grinning at the scene. Santana grew flustered, eyes flighty. She didn't seem able to figure out where to place her hands in the embrace, and settled on patting Brittany's back awkwardly.

When the tall blonde pulled back, grin still in place, Santana cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in the ground. "Uhm, it's nice to meet you. Sam's cousin, right?"

"Yep!" Brittany ducked her head to meet the Latina's gaze. "I don't know how we kept missing each other. I mean, you follow Mrs. Fabray around more than her shadow, 'cause of your job and all. And I'm always at their house, visiting Sam." She paused. "It's weird, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," the Latina replied, shifting her weight.

"Well, now that we've officially met, we should grab drinks sometime," Brittany said. "Oh, unless you like waffles more. Or ice cream. But if we get ice cream, you have to get sprinkles. It's like, a crime to eat ice cream without all that colorful joy."

Santana's gaze flicked up to her blue eyes questioningly. "Yeah, I-I'll get back to you on that."

"Okay!" Brittany said, bouncing on her heels. She whipped out a pen, and took Santana's arm. Scribbling out a few digits, she said, "Call me when you're free." Then, turning to Rachel, she gestured at the cottage. "Meet me inside after, R?"

Rachel nodded, swallowing the laughter bubbling up at the bright blush covering the Latina's face—the woman had never blushed before in her life, never mind stuttered.

When the tall blonde was out of earshot, Santana faced Rachel, narrowing her eyes. "Not a word."

The brunette pressed her lips together, dragging her fingers across them like she was zipping her mouth shut.

Rolling her eyes, Santana stalked off.

Rachel chuckled to herself and followed Brittany into her house. Not gay, my ass.

She found Brittany reclined on her couch, iPad in her lap and a bowl of sherbet in hand. The tall blonde glanced up at her with a grin.

"So, Santana, huh?"

Brittany smiled down at her ice cream. "Yeah. She's a puzzle I want to put together." Glancing back up at the brunette, she shrugged. "Anyway, I got into those files you wanted."

Rachel's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Already?"

"Well, yeah," Brittany said, and hesitated. "Should I have waited? I thought you'd want them right away."

"No, no, this is perfect. Thank you." Rachel sat down in the chair next to her and took the iPad offered to her. "It's all up here?"

"Yep, and I've got it backed up onto a flash drive as well." Brittany paused, pulling the spoon from her mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

Rachel scrolled through the video files. They seemed to be organized by date only, not name. "Sure."

She'd have to look through them all. The brunette let out a light sigh. There was a lot to do, and she still wasn't completely sure how she wanted to take the therapist down. But she knew she wanted to get creative.

"Why did you want everyone's sessions with Dr. Pillsbury? Some of the stuff in there is really private. It could ruin some of her clients."

Rachel's gaze centered on clear blue eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "Brittany, that's the point."

"But they didn't do anything to you!" she said, then paused, correcting herself. "Okay, well, most of them didn't, anyway."

The brunette set the iPad down on her knees. "Look, I appreciate your help. I do. And I understand that you promised Daddy you'd be there for me no matter what I chose. But it's going to mean causing people pain, and if you can't handle that, you shouldn't be here."

The blonde held her stare. "You're wrong. Just because you want revenge doesn't mean you have to take everyone around you down."

"So they become collateral damage," Rachel said, shrugging.

Brittany stood, moving to put her bowl in the sink. "I don't agree with you. I think there's another way. But if you want to take this path that's your choice and I'll follow you." Rachel opened her mouth to argue but she was cut off. "I've got to go take care of something for my company, but I'll be back later tonight to help. Just think about what I said, okay?"

Rachel bit her lip and nodded, watching the intuitive woman go.

Her phone buzzed beside her and she picked it up, seeing a text from Santana. She flipped it open to read.

Mother-daughter benefit noon Saturday – be there Corcoran.

The brunette rolled her eyes at the empty threat. But I don't have a mother to attend.

A few minutes went by before the Latina's reply arrived. In case u hadn't noticed, my madre isn't hanging around either

She bit her lip. Mrs. Fabray won't mind?

Fuck her highness.

Rachel chuckled, placing her cell off to the side. She knew having the Latina in her corner would come in handy, but she hadn't realized she'd hand her the therapist on a platter.

The annual mother-daughter tea would be the perfect place to use her new films and shake up the town.

Brittany caught sight of Rachel standing by the fountain, flicking through a tablet. She sighed, shaking her head. She still hated what the brunette was doing, but at least she listened when the tall blonde vetoed a few of the worse videos—some of the people here were struggling to breathe underwater, and Brittany didn't want to bring their trials to light. They were good people trying to hold onto the life they had.

When she reached Rachel, flipped a coin into the fountain, quickly making a wish.

The brunette glanced at her before returning her attention to the screen in front of her.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Brittany said, gaze still focused on the droplets of water flowing out, "but I smell the distinct smell of retribution in the air."

"You knew it would happen sooner or later," Rachel replied.

Brittany hummed. "But this is such a nice event, for once. I actually like it. It's just too bad my mother is stuck in LA."

Rachel gave her a small smile. "Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way."

"It's okay." The tall blonde sighed. "I mean, we're not particularly close, but it'd still be nice to have her here."

The brunette gave her arm a light squeeze. "Well, she doesn't know what she's missing."

Brittany smiled and looked over her shoulder to connect eyes with a certain Latina. She winked, and chuckled when the woman picked up her pace. She turned to Rachel. "You better get going. She just entered the tent."

Rachel straightened, handing the blonde her tablet. "Thanks!" Brittany nodded, wandering into the other tent to snack on a few appetizers. At least, the few that actually looked edible.

The brunette glanced around before pushing back a flap of the tent and entering. Santana's head whipped in her direction before she groaned, pressing a palm against her forehead. "Shit, Corcoran, I thought you were Ice Queen's mother."

"I wish you'd stop calling her that," Rachel replied, taking in her frazzled friend. "What's wrong?"

"Well, I'm hung over and I lost the fucking DVD," she said, rifling through a few bags under the table. "They're going to kill me. Like, actually hire an assassin to throw me into the Sound."

Rachel chuckled. "San, I'm sure you didn't lose it."

"I'm never drinking again!"

"Okay, I'll believe that when I see it," Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "Did you check the DVD player?"

"What? Of course I checked the fucking-DVD-player," she grumbled, still crawling around the floor hopelessly. Rachel clicked open the machine, and saw that her copy of the presentation was still on top. She turned to Santana, quirking an eyebrow. "You sure?"

The Latina pulled herself up, peeking at the player. Once she saw the pink and blue disk she let out a long breath and threw her arms around her tiny friend. "Literally saved my ass, Rachel. Thank you, thank you thank you!"

Rachel swatted at her arms, shrugging out of the hug. "Lopez, I think you're still drunk."

She nodded slowly, laughing a little. "Yeah. That makes two of us."

"Well, you don't smell or anything, so don't worry. I don't think you'll get tossed in the sea by some strange man with a hood." The brunette laughed.

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Ha ha, very funny. Now get out of here, I've got work to do. I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

Rachel gave a little bow. "As you wish, madame."

The Latina chucked a pen at her as she exited the media tent, catching her square in the back of the head. Rachel rubbed the spot, muttering to herself something about revenge and Latinas needing to get laid.

A waiter offered her a glass of bubbly liquid and she took it, taking a few large sips to empty the glass. She normally didn't allow herself to drink, but figured she'd need the sense of lost control to play her part this afternoon. The waiter looked at her in surprise and took back her glass.

"I didn't know you were a fan of champagne," a familiar voice said. Rachel turned to find Quinn looking at her in amusement.

She winced. "Oh, you saw that?"

The blonde chuckled. "Um, yeah." Then her eyes softened. "I didn't expect to see you here. I didn't think you'd want to come, because of…"

Rachel's brow furrowed. "Because of?"

Quinn fidgeted. "Er…"

A bell chime saved the nervous blonde from further embarrassment, and she gave Rachel a quick smile before disappearing to find her table.

The brunette shook her head in amusement and settled in her seat as Dr. Pillsbury took the steps to the stage. "Thanks to the outstanding actions of founding mother, Judy Fabray, your generous donations today ensure that special needs children receive top-notch care in mental health facilities close to home…"

She scanned the audience, finding Brittany standing in the back near the champagne. Quinn and her mother were a few tables in front of her. "…and now please, enjoy this very special video presentation that demonstrates just how vital an effort this is!" The therapist gestured towards the screen, clapping excitedly as the music began. She made her way to her seat as pictures faded in and out.

Rachel clapped along with the people at her table, looking bored. She counted in her head, shoulders tightening as the clip drew near to its break. Suddenly, as she approached ten, another file cut into the presentation with a loud crack. There were murmurs in the audience as the screen came into focus, revealing a woman sitting Dr. Pillsbury's office. Across the top of the screen was a website's address: .

The members at her table exchanged confused glances as the therapist's voice lit over the crowd. "And have you hit bottom?"

The woman in the video sighed, stare fixed on the clasped hands in her lap. When she spoke her voice was broken. "Close. I drove my children to summer camp loaded on pain killers and vodka."

The clip was covered by another woman's photo before shattering into the next clip. This woman, a blonde, leaned back in her chair, exasperated. "How can I tell my husband I slept with his sister? He's never going to forgive me."

Gasps arose in the audience, and the woman stood and rushed out of the tent, purse covering her face.

Judy stood, eyes narrowed and flicking over each table. "Turn it off," she growled.

Rachel watched as Santana jumped up from her chair, dashing towards the media tent.

The clips continued to play. Next was Rachel herself. The brunette sunk in her chair a little, hiding her face. She feigned embarrassment, mumbling a mortified, "Oh my god."

"I can't remember the last time someone expressed interest in me," Video-Rachel said, and hesitated. "I've been alone for awhile now, so there has to be a reason."

The clip cut to one of Judy, sitting stiff in the chair, unblinking. "How's your relationship with your daughter?"

Rachel watched as the older Fabray's mouth fell open in shock, eyes finding her confused daughter.

"Tense. Distant. Truth is I've never really felt close to Quinn. Sometimes I wonder if having a child was a mistake."

The young Fabray stood still, uncertain how to handle the information she had just been given. She glanced over at her mother, looking as if the woman had just yanked her heart out like an evil queen. The expression caused a pang of recognition in Rachel's chest.

"Daddy!" the little brunette shrieked, squirming in an officer's hands. The policeman scooped her up, holding her tight against his body as she squirmed. "Daddy! No!" She began to kick and the man dropped her accidentally.

She sprinted out onto the porch, eyes scanning the darkness. The lights from the sirens cloaked the driveway in eerie flashes. Spying dark forms moving towards the armored truck in her yard, she dodged the officers reaching for her and skidded against the stones, stopping before the van's doors.

"Daddy!" She spread her arms out, pleading with the men who had her father in cuffs. "You can't take him."

A man came up and dragged her roughly out of the way. "He's a villain, kid. We're doing you a favor."

Her arms grew limp and she stopped fussing to look over to her remaining father. His eyes found hers, no fight left in either of them. He gave her a small, sad smile, and it was then that she realized he wasn't going to do anything.

He was going to let them take him. He was going to leave her.

The screen blackened as the power was shut off, and Santana reappeared with a bundle of cords in her hand. But the damage was done. Rachel, still pretending to be horrified at her moment on tape, ducked her head and made to move out the side flap. On her way, Quinn rushed past her, grabbing her arm and tugging her along. Rachel quickly matched the blonde's pace and took in the glimpse of raw pain etched across her features before the daughter slowed and schooled her features. Then, she turned to Rachel, voice flat and eyes distant. "Get me out of here."