Some jackass in the AV department was going to owe Quinn a new set of retinas if they didn't reposition that fucking spotlight. And fast. Because this glare was seriously too much. Already, speckles of orange darted in front of her like fireflies. Shutting her eyes only heightened the problem. Behind her closed eyelids, a myriad number of those orange fireflies multiplied. Again and again.

"Hands behind your back."

She wasn't sure who was speaking to her. Was it possible that those glowing orange flecks were real, tangible? And clogging her ears? She turned her head to figure out who had addressed her.

Brittany stood beside her, hands firmly locked around her waist and those annoying orange dots surrounding her. Brittany had joined the fireflies.

"Christ, who's running this show?"

"Don't be so loud."

"It's insanely bright in here!"

"Please, calm down!"

That was advice she badly wanted to heed. She was freaking Brittany out. Quinn could tell because Brittany had broken position. Shit, this was going to cost them the competition. Brittany swiped her hand across Quinn's cheek.

And Quinn relaxed into the touch.

(Break)

"Who was your first kiss?"

Brittany swung her legs against the side of the stage, looking questionably at Quinn, anticipating her response. The swirls of orange still hovered close to Brittany. But they were not nearly as intense. It was much less threatening this way.

Quinn grinned, maybe a little bashfully. She couldn't be certain. "That, my darling, is a question to which you already have the answer."

Quinn hadn't been interested in kissing boys. All of her friends at cheer camp could talk of nothing else. She was only thirteen. Wasn't that a little young to care about kissing…or boys in general? Was she already falling behind? Unaware of some major talent those other girls had seemingly mastered?

The only person she'd ever considered kissing was Brittany. And only then because her best friend was pretty and sweet and considerate. She imagined it would be very nice and uncomplicated, a kiss from Brittany. More importantly, one kiss wouldn't mess up their friendship. She'd much prefer to kiss a friend than some random boy.

So, on her first day back from camp, Quinn went over to Brittany's and unceremoniously asked for a kiss. Unfazed and willing, Brittany had remarked that this would be good practice for when she finally convinced Santana to kiss her.

Quinn looked past Brittany and up to the rafters past the stage. When would those infuriating spots stop darting around her? She lost herself in the orange haze until Brittany spoke again.

"All right, then, I can probably guess. How about this one? Who took your virginity?"

Quinn wasn't sure how to answer that particular question. Brittany was idly chewing on her thumbnail, again merely waiting on Quinn's reply.

She couldn't tell her that Rachel had been the one. She'd never mentioned it to Brittany. She suspected Brittany would feel sorry for her. Poor Quinn, still going after the girl who took her virginity. The one who tossed her aside. Nope. Brittany didn't need to know that information.

She finally resolved herself to another lie. "Some girl at cheer camp. You wouldn't know her. It was nothing special."

That answer must have appeased Brittany. She abruptly changed topics.

"Can you sleep?"

Brittany put her head down on the stage and rested her arms across her chest.

Quinn laughed at her. "Here?"

"Yeah, where else?"

Fair enough. Where else, indeed. Quinn positioned her body closer to Brittany.

But that fucking spotlight was back on her again! Quinn restlessly kicked her legs as the light grew brighter…brighter…brighter…

(Break)

"Quinn! Stop kicking! Stop it!"

Hands pushed her back on the bed and she briefly struggled until she realized it was Rachel. Only Rachel. Quinn rolled over on her side and closed her eyes again. She wasn't quite out of the dream. Her body felt like it did when she was floating in a pool. She was suspended somewhere between the ground and the sky. Mostly weightless. Mostly submerged. Still able to recognize the world above her. Not able to see or hear enough to care.

Quinn glanced up at the ceiling. She spoke through the buzzing which had taken up residence inside her brain. "Why is the overhead light on?"

Rachel heaved one of her patented, overly dramatic sighs. "We never turned it off, though God knows I tried. You kept pulling me back." Rachel stared at the light. "I don't find it as bright as you seem to think. You were intent on complaining about it. Over and over, I might add."

"Of course you'd add it," Quinn grumbled.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I'm simply explaining to you why we kept the light on - the one that clearly bothered you despite my attempts to turn it off and you continuously preventing me from doing so."

Quinn looked more closely at Rachel. Her underwear was back on and so was her shirt, though it remained unbuttoned. Well, okay, this was a familiar scene. It must be about that time for Rachel to blow her a kiss on her way out the door.

Rachel stood up from the bed but Quinn pulled at her arm. "Were you going to tell me you're leaving?"

"Yes…" Rachel hesitated, stopped talking altogether. She sat back on the edge of the bed and gazed down at her knees.

Quinn's eyes wandered around the room. She tried to spot as many pills as possible without appearing too obvious. Rachel's voice startled her, broke her count, and she once more directed her attention to the girl sitting beside her.

"I wanted to be, I don't know, a bit better prepared before I woke you." Rachel grabbed for Quinn's hand. Quinn let her. "None of this was a mistake, Quinn. In fact, this was really good for me…" Rachel trailed off and let her eyes focus on the window across the room.

Quinn sighed in the rather futile attempt to mask her irritation. She shifted in the bed and drew her knees up to prevent her legs from trembling. "I'm guessing we have once again reached the end of our journey? No more 'these are a few of my favorite things' texts? No more heavy breathing in my ear when you want to have phone sex?"

Rachel flinched, turned and faced Quinn. Their eyes met. Quinn dropped her gaze when the effort of holding on to something as small as that gesture between them became too much.

Rachel's voice was cautious, almost weary, when she spoke again. "Do you remember how you felt – during those weeks before we started sleeping together? When we were flirting with each other?"

Quinn was suddenly wary. "Vaguely."

"I spent so much of my relationship with David…"

Quinn held up her hand. She should've probably known the answer to this question, but: "Who's David?"

Rachel looked at her as if she'd suddenly turned stupid. "The guy I almost married! Did you not even read the wedding invite?"

Had she? Santana had been right: She'd shredded the damn thing pretty quickly.

Quinn nodded her head as convincingly as possible and motioned for Rachel to continue speaking.

"Anyway, I kept trying to reach that point with David, long after we'd been together. And it made me wonder – was it a tactic on my part? Was I using David as a placeholder?"

Quinn was lost. Her brain was entirely, wonderfully too foggy. "Placeholder for what?"

Rachel dropped her eyes, stared again at her knees. "For that…that awareness that someone wanted me – really wanted me – I never had that with David. I wondered if, maybe, I'd still get that from you."

Quinn decided to let her brain take a little walk away from this situation. Because things were already far, far beyond her control. Her body was gloriously floating – partly here and the rest in that other place Quinn found herself when the pills were at their most effective. She instinctively knew Rachel was about to reveal something important to her. But Quinn was in no position to be an active or invested participant in the conversation.

The buzzing at the back of her skull kept leaping forward to mingle and overlap with the sound of Rachel's voice. She heard Rachel but her brain couldn't make the shift from hearing to understanding: To actually feeling the intent behind Rachel's statements. Rachel's words were disconnected, fractured by the time they reached her. She comprehended them, sure, but their full impact remained well outside of her grasp.

Still, Quinn was determined to muddle through Rachel's story, her explanation. "So…what, exactly, was your brilliant plan? I show up at your wedding, see the gardenias and have a nostalgic, romantic flashback to the last time we fucked…and…what? I proceed to declare my undying love for you?"

Rachel suddenly found something every interesting to look at on the bedspread. Sighing, she said, "I expected maybe you'd shoot me smoldering glances at the reception or make a few snide comments about the décor. At best, you might try to find me before the wedding so you could yell at me."

The buzzing inside Quinn took over completely, grew louder, spoke for her. "How would provoking me have made you better able to magically conjure up emotions you'd last felt in high school? Any response on my part could easily have been explained as me being pissed that you stole my ideas concerning the choice of a wedding flower!"

Rachel's shrug was nonchalant but sure. "I would've known the difference."

Rachel sounded as if she were underwater. Or maybe behind a glass partition. It was taking Quinn forever to decipher Rachel's words into smaller, understandable bits of data.

Quinn rubbed furiously at her eyes. She let the words pour out of her like so much water down the drain. She didn't care where they ended up. "How? How would you have known the difference? Please, please enlighten me!" Quinn stopped, shook her head violently, gripped the edge of the pillow. "No, no, nevermind – It doesn't matter. In your sadistic little mind, you would've shaped any reaction into whatever image you needed to see. Just so you could feel wanted. Goddammit, you used me! Again! God, you really are still the same as you were in high school." Quinn hurled the pillow across the room and flung herself back on the bed.

Rachel exhaled loudly. "Excuse me, but we used each other in high school. Don't try to remember that one any differently." Rachel paused, shrugged again. "But you're probably right about the rest."

Something came unanchored in Quinn's chest, which only caused the buzzing to quicken – somehow lengthen - in an apparent act of sympathy. She grasped at the tangle of words caught inside her throat, found some, went with them. "And you were willing to let all this happen at your wedding? You took a chance that I might cause a scene…and you didn't care that it was your wedding day? Fuck me, Rachel, that's as twisted as it gets."

Rachel was turning shrugging into a real art form. "Yes, to be perfectly honest with you." Rachel's eyes searched the room but never met Quinn's. "The only thing I didn't prepare for was…was you fucking me against my reception tent. And then just…just leaving me there. You always get the better of me and I hate it." Rachel slammed her hand down on the bed.

Quinn watched her closely. There were questions she wanted to ask of Rachel. But it was as if she'd swallowed mud and her tongue was too busy with the clean-up to formulate words. And with her brain currently out of commission, she was, unfortunately, rendered momentarily mute.

One question briefly dislodged itself from the confusing mess that was her head: Why did Rachel go through that much effort just to get back at her? Frankly, it seemed absurd. Quick as heat lightening – elusive as those orange sparks - the thought dissipated.

Struggling for coherency of any sort, she heaved words at Rachel, hoping some would stick. "So, what now, Rachel? You're going to leave…because you have...what? Control again? Something over me?"

Rachel nodded, crossed her arms. "Exactly that…before you can regain the upper hand. I was truly stunned when I saw you in Lima." Rachel let her eyes linger over Quinn's naked body. "But I think you can agree that I recovered quickly."

Quinn absentmindedly pulled a sheet over her. The buzzing in her head was now a demented chorus that refused to quiet down, to lessen. "And the texts and the calls and getting Brittany involved?"

That shrug again. "Consider it a slow build. I was waiting for you to cave and agree to meet up with me in New York. Or I would've come to LA. As I just a moment ago informed you, location was not a factor."

Quinn was so, so glad that she wasn't entirely in this conversation. She was still as woozy and disoriented as when Rachel shook her awake and told her to stop kicking. And, really, the buzzing was as potent as any heated declaration of love she'd ever heard whispered in her ear. Nothing mattered outside that wall of noise. The whirls of sound upon sound only served to block out rational thought, actions, motives.

She bit down on her tongue before addressing Rachel again. "Why bother telling me all this? Or, wait…did you want me to know? Was this part of your 'I fucked over Quinn Fabray' victory speech?"

"Honestly? I'm not sure. How much does it matter to you?" Rachel's eyes locked on Quinn's.

How much did it matter to her? The buzzing, not surprisingly, supplied her with what she could only acknowledge was the most brilliant of answers. A shiver of lust swept its way inside her body, knocking the buzzing somewhat off-kilter. But she didn't need to worry. Everything would regulate itself soon. Of that she could be certain.

Quinn reached over and danced her fingers along Rachel's bare thigh. This appeared to both confuse and slightly entice Rachel, who unconsciously opened her legs a little wider. Quinn let her voice stay low, soothing. "I'll let you win, Rachel, because the outcome isn't all that important to me. This was your game, not mine. I got you good enough at your wedding." Quinn smiled at Rachel and tried to kiss the dubious look off Rachel's face. Rachel let her.

Her hand inching that much closer to her destination, Quinn said, "And I'm still getting something out of it. Just…let me have you one more time. Please?" There was that desperation again, creeping into the very tenor of Quinn's words. Rachel would delight in the sound of it. Of that she could be certain.

Rachel's head tilted back, eyes momentarily closing. She ran her fingers through Quinn's hair and looked at her skeptically. "I don't remember you being this wanton back in high school."

Quinn couldn't stop the laughter that worked its way languidly from her throat. "Wanton! That is such a Rachel Berry word to use. How does a healthy sex drive make me wanton?"

"From what I can gather, I'd counter that your sex drive is overly-healthy."

Quinn smirked, "Better that than the alternative." And with that, Quinn pulled Rachel closer with one hand and bent to the floor with the other to snatch up however many pills she found littered there.

Rachel stilled Quinn's hand from travelling up to her breasts, kept Quinn's wrist locked around her waist. She frowned at Quinn. "What is it with you and those pills? The one you gave me only made me sleepy. In fact, I'm still a little groggy."

Quinn grinned at her. "And that would be the point. You let me take a couple of pills, we have sex, and I'll end up asleep. You can make your grand exit without worrying that I'll wake up and we'll be forced into another awkward goodbye."

Rachel remained unconvinced. She leaned into Quinn's touch but not fully. Not enough. In a hesitant, searching tone, Rachel whispered haltingly into Quinn's ear, "Will you say it? Say 'I love you'…when you come?"

Quinn smiled before downing two pills with a quick flip of her neck backwards. She let the other three pills fall soundlessly back onto the mattress. She obviously hadn't taken enough to even get her part way to sleep, but the amount would be sufficient to keep her calm. Ah yes, she had Rachel now. She twisted her fingers in Rachel's hair and pulled the girl on top of her. "If you make me come hard enough."

(Break)

She didn't know if Rachel was easy to wake or a sound sleeper. This was a brand new state of affairs. Before, back during their grand ol' days of being McKinley High seniors, one of them always left almost immediately after the sex was over. There was never any actual sleeping involved in their arrangement.

She'd held out on Rachel last night. Quinn would come with a loud groan or a whispered sigh or a mocking burst of laughter. But she refused to tell Rachel that she loved her. And, of course, that just made Rachel want it more.

When Rachel's body grew heavier on top of her own…When Rachel's hands moved slower and slower…When Rachel kept jerking her head up from Quinn's neck, snapping her eyes open in the process…

Only then did Quinn lift her body high off the bed, surrender to one final orgasm, and pour out the words 'I love you' into Rachel's waiting ear.

Rachel had instantly collapsed on top of Quinn with a muttered "I thought as fucking much." And she had soon fallen asleep.

Now, Quinn was extra quiet as she crawled along the floor, swiping up however many pills she stumbled upon. Trekking backward, she hurriedly pulled on a fresh set of clothes from her suitcase. She grabbed at a handful of shirts and jeans, reached for her purse, snatched Rachel's car keys from the desk, and tip-toed – carefully, carefully - out of the room.

Unless she was mistaken – which she reluctantly admitted was, at this point, entirely possible – it was Sunday morning. Her parents would be at their cabin by the lake. They spent every weekend during this time of year at the cabin they'd bought several years ago as a retirement present to themselves. She was depending on their predictability. And her father's chronic back pain.

Sure enough, after letting herself in to the empty house by way of the spare key hidden under the mailbox, Quinn was rewarded for her efforts. There, in her father's medicine cabinet, was a recently re-filled bottle of Oxy-Contin. She could not have dreamed of better luck. She debated – albeit briefly – of only taking half or so of the contents. She settled on the entire bottle. Her parents would blame it on the housekeeper. Or the gardener. Or…well, she didn't fucking care who took the rap.

Back in the car, she noted that Rachel had not yet tried to call her. She must still be asleep. Sound sleeper, then, Quinn guessed. Glancing around, she couldn't be certain that this car belonged to Rachel. In all likelihood, it was probably one of her Dads' vehicles. Rachel was most likely just borrowing it while she was in Lima.

Quinn maneuvered the car in the direction of the interstate. She wasn't at all sure where she wanted to end up. Or how much time she had before Rachel realized she was gone. She wondered if Rachel would think that Quinn had simply run an errand or gone to get them coffee. Those thoughts alone made Quinn laugh more freely than she had in months.

Let Rachel explain to her parents how she'd come to lose the car. Let her tell them why she was stuck in a sleazy hotel room. Let Rachel clue them in as to why she never came home the night before. Let Rachel Berry try to track her down. Fucking let her.

Quinn rolled down the window, turned on the radio, and groped around for her father's pills. Your move, Rachel. Your fucking move.

Because Quinn Fabray once again had the upper hand. And it didn't matter all that much to her that her grip was already starting to falter.

AN: As always, I'd love to know how you feel about Quinn/Rachel/both girls at this point. Thanks for reading/reviewing/alerting. I really appreciate the feedback.