I returned to the locker room late, attempting to give Brittany the space she requested even at my own peril. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one with that idea and I should have known since she's been late to everything the past few weeks.

Her cheek still burns a little more brightly on the left side. She exhales through her nose in frustration at my arrival.

"I'll be out of your way in a minute."

I find that I haven't even started opening my locker, I'm just standing there watching her, trying to figure out how I feel right now. I only know one thing for sure.

"I shouldn't have slapped you. I'm sorry."

When she looks up at me, she has the strangest expression. Normally when you apologize to someone, you can feel the shift in power – In saying you were wrong, the other person can now pity and forgive you for your transgressions. But Quinn still looks forlorn, like the power remains with me.

"I shouldn't have told you how I felt. None of this would have happened."

I sit on the bench, resigned to being chewed out by Coach at any rate, so why not take my time. I'm thinking about if all of this mess, terrible as it is, wasn't inevitable on some level. Brittany and I couldn't stay together forever when we weren't in love. Quinn's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"I need to tell you something…and it's going to make you mad."

I turn my head and there are tears welling up in her eyes. They're red-rimmed, probably from tears I caused an hour ago. And that, combined with the pink of my slap, overwhelms me with guilt.

"Quinn, this is as much my fault as it is yours. In fact, I'm worse for lying to Brittany."

"You're not-"

"No, I am. Whatever you're going to say, I'm sure it's not going to help us win Nationals for Glee club or Cheerios, and honestly, that's all I've got left."

Quinn stares at me, her mouth twitching like every part of her still wants to confess whatever it is that she's done wrong. I'm sure it's just admitting that I was an experiment after all and as much as that might help me deal with my feelings for her, I don't think I can handle anymore hurt today.

"I need to win at something." I press her to stop fighting me on this.

She blinks and wipes away the tears that escape, nodding in agreement to my plea, before turning back to her locker. We get ready silently.

Just before we're about to face the music, or bullhorn as it were, she touches my arm to stop me.

"I'll tell Mr. Schue that we can't do the duet."

I turn to look at her, and even with skin slightly mottled by crying, she's so very beautiful. I decide instantaneously to be selfish.

"No, I need to stay on top or Berry will get all the leads at Regionals. Your voice sounds best with mine."

I didn't mean for it to sound like that, like more, but it did. Quinn is taken aback by my decision and again, I wonder at this power shift that still has me in control.

"Oh, okay then."

We walk into the gym and Coach immediately drops her bullhorn to the floor with a clatter.

"In my office, now!"

I had anticipated anger, but not this. We sit and look away from each other as though it will weaken her case against us.

"This is exactly what I warned you about. Exactly! And yet here we are! My two captains walking in 10 minutes late because of a love triangle that I strictly forbade! What do you have to say for yourselves?"

We glance at each other and then away again, but we both know there isn't anything we could say that would calm Coach.

"Brittany tells me you're in love but you won't admit it. Is that true?"

Now we look at each other, in shock at the blunt question, but also to read each other's reaction. It's unclear to me what Quinn is thinking, other than our shared instinct to always reply negatively when in doubt.

"No" We say it in unison, but it sounds flat, dishonest.

"We'll see about that. I orchestrated your little duet project this week and your Cupie Doll Schue fell right into my trap. Your consistent violence" Coach looks directly at me. "has only made him more convinced that you ladies need an intervention. Since I am a certified Couples Therapist, I'll be assisting you by picking your song for this Friday."

I bite the inside of my cheek, unwilling to show fear.

"I was still the hottest 'It' girl on the scene, traveling the world with oil tycoons when this was a #1 hit at Studio 54." Sue looks off and away, apparently reliving the past. "Your baby-breathed teacher isn't even educated enough to pay tribute to this legend in your classroom, so I'll be educating you both about life and music, my idiot captains." She pauses to let our idiocy sink in. "You'll be singing 'Heaven Knows' by Donna Summer."

Quinn scrunches her face in confusion, while I simply shrug. I know the song.

"I'm impressed, Sandbags, you've heard of it." I nod, with the slightest hint of pride. "Well, Donna's version, god rest her soul, is absolutely perfect and I would hate to hear you two ruin that, so I'd like you to do that thing you youngsters are so into these days where you take all the fun and vibrancy out of a song making it slow and depressing, like a funeral march."

"An acoustic version?" Quinn offers.

"There's my little Yale upstart." Quinn blanches and I quirk my brow at her.

"Yale likes well-rounded students, Quinn, did you think they wouldn't contact me, your long-time coach?"

"You applied to Yale?" I'm not entirely shocked that she applied, more so that I didn't know.

Quinn looks backed into a corner, which is odd because who really gives a shit where you apply. It only matters where you get in. I'm guessing this is a secret because she didn't want people to know if she didn't get in.

"Yes, I did." She's using that rigid, Fabray voice.

"And wouldn't I be lauded impossibly more for not only coaching excellent cheerleaders, but scholars to boot! You see ladies, as much as I insult you and tear away at every last shred of your confidence, I only want what's best for you. Whether that be going to pretentious universities or dating incestuously amongst yourselves." We scrunch our faces up at the description. "You'll be singing the duet and you'll be on time to practice and you'll win me my National Championship next weekend because what's good for me is what's good for you."

She leans forward and lifts her brows in that sociopathic sort of way. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, coach."

"Good, get back to practice!" We start to walk listening to her drone on. "If you come late one more time, I want you to know that I have already contacted the South African Exotic Aqualife Circus and my contacts there say they can fly me a great white overnight if they can have exclusive rights to the video of our performance. We'll just move the choreography to the tank…"

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Brittany isn't ignoring me, but she's keeping her distance and I'm trying to respect that. Meanwhile, Quinn and I are being forced to spend even more time together to get this duet ready. The song is, oddly, as good as Coach Sylvester described it to be, but we're struggling with making it acoustic. The band nerds have got the instrumentals down and they'd normally be complaining that it's taking so long, but their fear of me and the added bonus of watching two cheerleaders sing a love song to each other has them not only quiet, but grossly content.

Personally, I'm struggling with the lyrics. Both Brittany and Coach, it would seem, have this idea about Quinn and I that is so different from the reality. I wish it was like they see it, but a more fitting song would be 'Wicked Game'. I'm almost glad we weren't able to choose for ourselves because I don't know if I could have picked anything that didn't drip with unrequited love.

I don't love her. I might. It doesn't matter anyway.

"Santana, you're zoning out on me." She turns to the band nerds. "Guys, would you mind giving us 5?"

They nod, their eyes lingering on her pretty face. I would have told them to leave and come back in 5, not asked. We're different that way, I guess. She turns back to me on her stool.

"Are you sure you want to sing this? I know Brittany is being really mature about this whole thing, but I don't know how I feel about singing this in front of her and-"

"Brittany believes in fairy tales. She thinks we belong together. What bothered her was that I lied. Besides Coach says we have to."

"Yeah, but what do you want to do?"

"I want to win a National Championship. I know you don't care about Cheerios, but Coach would ruin your chances at Yale. You have to do this as much as I do."

"Yale isn't everything."

"Really? Is that why you looked like Coach had poured all the skeletons out of your closet?"

Quinn purses her lips. "I mean, yes, I want to go, but not if it means you and I can't get along."

"We're singing a love song for 'Reunited' week, how is this not getting along?"

"You know what I mean." She's frustrated by my pragmatic stance, so I'll take a different route.

"Do I? I know that you toyed with me and got bored."

"That's not true." She says it softly, but not without fervor.

"Well, what is then? Because you bailed on me after…after you made it seem like…" I don't want to share this with her. I don't want to feel the power shift.

"You needed space. You said it yourself."

"And it was so easy for you to give." My voice is laced with disappointment.

"It was not easy. I wanted you to win." It takes me a second to understand that she's talking about-Sectionals. I'm immediately angered by her pity.

"And we lost!" I see it in her eyes, that she's said too much, and it makes me replay it in my mind. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She's somehow whiter than usual. "It doesn't."

"Clearly, it does. What do you mean you wanted me to win?"

"You deserved the chance, I…"

"Quinn, what are you talking about?"

"I was distracting you. I wanted you to focus on Sectionals and I was a distraction."

She's talking like someone on the stand, picking her words slowly. I still don't understand her, but I'm trying.

"You ignored me because you wanted me to beat the New Directions? That doesn't even make any sense."

"I didn't want you to beat us, I just wanted you to be your best."

"You said you wanted me to win." Quinn takes in what she said as though it's the first time she's heard it and yet she doesn't take it back. I'm more interested in her decision to ignore me. "Well, Sectionals is long over. If staying away from me was so hard, why did you keep doing it?"

The band nerds walk back in sheepishly, the bushy-haired one speaking lowly. "My mom is, um, she's coming to get us in a half hour so if we're going to practice…?"

Quinn seems relieved at the interruption. "Yeah, we should get back to it. Only two days until we perform."

It's even harder than it was before to sing to her, knowing she ignored me in some misguided attempt to help me. All I thought about was her. I don't know if it would have been any different had she been around, but there was no avoiding the distraction.

As we walk to our cars she finally answers my question from earlier.

"I don't want you to hate me. I stayed away because the more I'm around you, the worse it will feel when you do."

We stop at her car. She always gets to school first when the close spots are available, mine is several rows back.

I'm so confused. "Why would I hate you?"

She's looking anywhere but at me and she's fighting back tears. What the hell did she do?

"I know I lie a lot, even to myself…mostly to myself, but I want you to know that how I felt…" She wipes at a stray tear. "...how I feel about you is not a lie."

I'm trying to process what she has said and in that time she has gotten into her car and started it up. I bang on her window.

"Quinn! Quinn!"

She pulls away and I'm left standing alone.

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It's like the reset button has been hit the next day. Something about the fluorescent lighting, the whir of conversations and slamming of lockers makes last night's revelations, or lack thereof, seem far away. I see Quinn at her locker, but it's like a different version of her, one not riddled with some unknown guilt.

We don't really talk until Glee and even then it's just about the song.

Brittany, eyes closed, has her finger pressed firmly to the ear closest to Rachel as she sings in their corner of the room. The diva looks offended and it makes me laugh. I take a moment to appreciate my friend. That's all she is now, maybe that's all she ever was.

"Santana" Quinn says it lightly, carefully.

I turn back to her and we start the song again. It's finally starting to sound right, if not emotionally charged. At times I can't keep the hurt from my voice. It's the one thing I hate about Glee, how easily my façade is dissolved.

I don't know what Quinn did and it's driving me crazy trying to figure it out. It must relate to Secitonals somehow, otherwise why did she mention it and why did she seem so caught up when she did.

I hate to even think it, but they won fair and square. Choosing Michael Jackson songs was ridiculously smart on Mr. Schue's part and they sounded good, even if they did get to do one song too many.

We lost, but she wanted us to win. Why? And why would that make me hate her?

I know Quinn won't tell me what she did. If I was her I wouldn't, but I have to find out.

We finish up eventually and plan one more evening practice with the nerds for tonight. Cheerios practice goes well and even with all the tumult, we're ready for next weekend.

Quinn is already in the choir room when I get there and she puts down the book she was reading. The girl will read anytime there's a free moment. I find it the tiniest bit adorable and I don't even use that word.

"I will not lose to Rachel or Sam." I don't mention Artie because he's partnered with Sugar.

Quinn chuckles. "I don't think it's a competition."

"Everything's a competition, you know that." And she does, it's why she doesn't object.

We sing and sing and sing and it almost results in making the words meaningless, almost.

The nerds head home after hugs from Quinn for staying so late. They would have stayed another 24 hours straight for a kiss on the cheek. They almost look disappointed that I don't swing over there with the same affection, but the moment I see it, they walk quickly out the door.

"You could've at least shaken their hands. They don't even get any credit for doing this."

"They get to stare at you for hours, what more do they want?"

"That's a prize?"

We start to head out ourselves.

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous. I'm sure they're going to have to change their underwear from that hug you gave them."

"I like how you make it seem like they aren't here for you too."

"Oh, they're here for me. That's a given and I'm willing to admit it, which is exactly why I don't touch them. I prefer to stay firmly in their wet dreams alone. I don't want to catch anything."

"You're so disgusting."

"Whatever. I'm just keeping it real."

We've made it to our cars, well, Quinn's, and the parallel universe we've been living in all day has disappeared.

"Quinn, you said-"

"I should go."

She reaches for her car door and I grab her arm, stepping forward.

"Don't. I let you do that yesterday. Today, I need you to explain yourself."

"There's nothing to explain. I felt bad that the Troubletones lost. I didn't want to make you feel worse by hanging around you and reminding you."

She's lying through her teeth and it's so textbook – she's chewing her lip and looking at me for only the shortest of milliseconds before looking away again.

"You mentioned lying last night, which is apt, because you're doing it right now. What did you lie about?"

She looks me in the eye now and she doesn't waver. "I really like you Santana, more than you know. I can't tell you about my lies right now. I just want you to know that truth."

I feel manipulated and as redundant as it sounds, lied to. "Tell me what you did!" My grip on her arm tightens.

"It's better if I don't. We're going to win. I need you to wait until then." She sounds so calm and wise, and my clenched fingers loosen.

"Next weekend, Quinn." It's a demand.

"Next weekend." She gets in her car and waits for me to walk to mine.

QSQSQSQSQSQSQSQS

Artie and Sugar sing 'Reunited' by Peaches and Herb and it's as uninventive as I would expect. Sugar has improved since her Glee Club debut, but not enough to hold a candle to the rest of us.

Mercedes and Sam sing Usher's "You Make Me Wanna" which is a thinly veiled attack on Mercedes boyfriend. I'm not sure how that relates to reuniting, outside of their personal lives, but Schue doesn't seem to mind. The begging and pleading ad libs make their performance a little humorous.

Rachel and Brittany, in huge, Elton John glasses take the stage next. Rachel shakes her head Britt before she starts, 'That's What Friends Are For". The whole room is singing along with them by the end and it would be a winner if it weren't so cheesy. I sang, but…whatever.

Quinn and I make our way to the familiar stools after the group hug ends. Quinn winks at the nerds and I roll my eyes. Sue walks in just as we're getting comfortable and takes a seat next to Brittany. They're both eyeing us expectantly and I glance at Quinn who clearly feels the same pressure.

The nerds begin playing and I look at Quinn because like it or not, the song sounds best when I'm thinking about her. The softer version of the song doesn't lose any of the urgency and I suddenly don't regret saying that she sounds best with me. It's true.

When we finish and look to the group, there's a brief, awkward silence. Then a slow clap starts up and they all shake out of whatever stupor they were in to chime in.

That shit was flawless! Ain't no need for a pause to think about it! I look bothered even well into the applause.

Quinn nudges me and we return to our seats. I don't miss Sue's abrupt exit.

Mr. Schue walks to the front of the room. "Wow, what amazing performances! Quinn and Santana especially. I feel like you two really took the assignment to heart, even after our rough start." He turns from us to the group. "I think you all already know this, but I'm so happy to have us back together and I can't imagine we'll be anything less than National Champs now that we're a family again!"

The group all cheers, hugging each other. Quinn is beside me so we do too, however awkwardly, and it's then that I see it – 'It' being Rachel. I normally call her that, but in this scenario it's doubly true because suddenly it clicks. No one likes to self-congratulate and pre-celebrate like Rachel, so why is she watching me hug Quinn with a scrutiny usually reserved for her mirror.

Rachel knows about Quinn.