Disclaimer: Really? Don't own, don't sue. Plot is mine. Obviously.

A/N: Ok, so sorry this has taken so long. I can't really explain it. This chapter sort of maybe broke me a little bit, it was too close to home. And I'm sorry it's such a short chapter in comparison. But I am working on the next one right now. Anyway, enjoy and please review. Thanks

Chapter Eleven

Rachel had pounded her way up the stairs and into her bedroom without registering a single step of her run back home. Her windswept hair mirrored the disharmony between her thoughts and feelings, messily strewn about her shoulders, and her constricted chest strained against each breath she drew. Her hand ached and felt like it was on fire. The powder seemed to burn the skin of her palm as she clenched it tighter, causing the tendons and muscles of her fist to scream out at the abuse. She slammed the door and stalked her room like a caged animal, focusing on her breath filtering in and out of her lungs, chest heaving and mind racing. She didn't want to risk relinquishing her vice-like grip on the contents of her hand, unsure of where to put the demonic powder, and unwilling to let her eyes gaze upon the temptation. Why did I bring it home? Why didn't I discard it? The soft hairs on the back of her neck prickled with anxiety as the darkness in her mind answered for her. Don't you want it?

She paced the floor whirling around and pacing in another direction each time she met a wall, her closet, her dressing table. Thoughts swirled mercilessly in her head. I don't have a syringe. I don't want this. Just one more hit. Don't do this. You're stronger than this. One more hit. I don't have a syringe. The drugstore's still open. I don't want this. Get rid of it. Use it. One more time won't hurt. What are you doing? Stop this. I don't have a syringe. She heard the mingled voices of Quinn, Santana and her fathers. Sometimes they were commanding, sometimes desperate, as her mind worked to argue against the need blazing within her while her fist curled around the heroin in her hand.

Her head throbbed from the intrusion of so many voices and thoughts. She shut her eyes against the electric pulses shooting from her hand to the need in her head. Then two pain-filled hazel eyes burned into the chaos of her mind.

"I have Quinn." Her voice sounded foreign to her as she tried to adjust from the sounds of her thoughts to the external audio she produced. The pain in her chest lessened at the knowledge. "I have Quinn, and I don't need this," she said, her voice strangled by the tightness of her throat. She blinked away the tears pooling in her eyes. How foolish she had been to forget that she had something so much better in her life now.

She raised her right hand, opening it palm up to examine the contents that felt lead-like in her clammy hand. She shook her head at the demon clawing at the cage she had locked him in. She chewed on her bottom lip as her will battled his.

"I remember who I am now," she told him, "And you've got nothing on me." She walked to the bathroom, her hand free of the tension it had previously held; the powder-filled bag now just that: powder.

She crossed the threshold as her bedroom door flew open and Quinn's voice came spilling out of her mouth, apologies and regrets on her lips. Rachel whirled around to face the frazzled blond, her hands flying up to clutch at her chest in surprise. The motion dislodged the small plastic bag in her hand and it landed on the floor surprising both occupants with its seemingly deafening impact.
"Quinn, what are you doing here?" Rachel gasped, inwardly cursing the guilt chiselled into her voice.
"I came back," Quinn replied slowly, her voice breathless. Her eyes stayed glued to the evidence burning a hole in the carpet between them. "Is that–" she let the sentence plunge uselessly into the depths of hell, her heart inexorably following suit. She knew what it was. She closed her eyes, flexing her fists at her sides and willing herself to breathe evenly.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice struggled against the tension in the air. "Baby, can I just explain?" The moment the cliché left her mouth she regretted it. She'd seen characters in movies use the same line and not once did it work out in their favour. She steeled herself; waiting for whatever rage fuelled words would be speared into her. She knew she deserved them. What the hell had she been thinking?

"Okay, okay," Quinn whispered hoarsely. She sniffed and rubbed hastily at the tears streaming from her eyes as she struggled out of her jacket. Rachel was frightened to see Quinn visibly shaking, her eyes glassy pools that would not look at her. Quinn tossed the jacket aside and all but ripped off the sleeve of the blouse she was wearing in her haste to expose her arm. "Okay, okay." She kept repeating the words like a mantra. Rachel stared at her, unsure of what to do and unable to move from her current position. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold herself together. She didn't know what was going on. It felt like she was a spectator in the nightmarish sequence of events that was unfolding before her eyes. When hazel eyes finally turned on Rachel, she couldn't find any trace of Quinn in the tempestuous orbs pinning her with such agony and bewilderment.

"We're doing it together," said Quinn, her voice breaking on the utterance. She stalked towards Rachel, her arm bared and her jaw clenched tightly. Rachel's face paled as understanding dawned on her.

Coming unstuck from the floor she collided with Quinn before the blond reached the patch of carpet she had been targeting. Rachel grabbed hold of Quinn's wrists in an effort to restrain her, but Quinn jerked her arms away forcefully, choking on the violent sobs she fought desperately to control.

"Quinn no, you don't understand," Rachel pleaded, despair bleeding into the words as her own tears came hot and fast down her face. The pain in Quinn's eyes and the way she struggled against her touch like it burned, caused a chasm to spread through Rachel's chest, tearing at her heart as Quinn tore away from her.

"What's the matter Rachel? You don't want to share your stash with me?" Quinn spat, putting distance between herself and the brunette as she fired the words at her.

"No, I don't want to share it with you. It's not mine," Rachel replied, her voice soft and begging for understanding. "Please, I wasn't going to–" Rachel began but Quinn cut her off.

"It's good enough for you isn't it?" she snarled. "So come on, let's do it. You want this so badly, and I don't understand it. So we'll do it together," Quinn screamed, fury and desperation fighting for dominance in her voice. "If you're going to spiral into oblivion then I'm coming with you!" she yelled.

Sacrifice. It was all Quinn Fabray knew. And if she couldn't stop Rachel from using then she would follow her to hell just to stay with her.

The words were a white-hot knife plunged deep into Rachel's chest, nicking the fissure of anger she'd been working to force shut. She desperately wished for just twenty more seconds. She'd spent twenty seconds too long witlessly debating a choice that was never really a choice. She didn't want to use anymore. She wouldn't risk losing Quinn. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Quinn stoop to retrieve the heroin from the floor.

"Don't," she hissed. The sound of Rachel's voice, a clear mixture of ice and acid, caused Quinn's hand to cease its motion. Her delicate fingers hovered over the powder bag, her body frozen by the alien voice issuing from lips that were once so familiar. "You might not believe me but if you had arrived twenty seconds later you would've seen me flushing that shit," she continued in the same voice. Quinn turned her head to regard the small body with the voice of a demon. Her eyes took in her dishevelled appearance, the way her body quivered with unspoken emotion and radiated anger that was almost palatable on Quinn's tongue as it darted out to moisten her dry lips in anxiety. They locked eyes, a violent storm brewing between shades of hazel and chocolate.

"So you say," said Quinn, indifference laced with the anger she felt at being lied to.

"Do you want me to prove it? Here, you can watch me flush it right now," Rachel spat defensively, making her way over to where Quinn was crouched. The blond snatched up the bag and brought herself up to her full height.

"And what would that prove exactly, Rachel?" she asked, "How easy it is for you to get more?"

"No! I don't want it, Quinn. This whole thing was just a mistake, I want to explain wh–"

"I don't believe you," she interrupted, shaking her head slowly from side to side. It was broken and hollow sounding. The end of her sentence pinched tightly as the tears cascaded down her face. Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times, winded and wounded.

"Why would you? I'm just a junkie whore, right?" Rachel said bitterly.

The room fell silent as death laid its hand on their relationship. Both women stood resolute, emotions reigned in and only flickering in their downcast eyes. "I got the lead today," said Rachel. "Jason, the director, he replaced Jessica with me." Quinn shifted momentarily, halting her need to cross the floor and embrace Rachel. Rachel looked up hopefully for a split second before she realised that Quinn wasn't going to do much more. She continued to talk to the entrenched blond, hoping that she was listening. "After rehearsal I went to the restroom to freshen up and Nick and Carla were arguing and I saw something fall on the ground as I passed and I picked it up." Her voice was small as regret coated her rushed words. She needed to explain herself before Quinn walked out of her life forever. Her throat dried up at the thought. She shook her head, refocusing herself on the story. She explained to Quinn that she didn't know what it was until it was too late; that Jason had come down the hall before she had a chance to return Nick's stash; lastly she described her inner turmoil when she'd returned home. Rachel was honest. She spoke of the terror and the need that gripped her when she realised she'd brought it home, the demon stalking her every step from the hallway to the bathroom where she had planned to destroy it.

"Seconds, that's what we're fighting about right now, Quinn," she said remorsefully. "A few seconds and I'd be in your arms right now, instead of pleading with you across this immeasurable distance." She took a cautious step, dipping her head down to catch Quinn's eyes, willing her to meet her gaze. "Please believe me. I would never jeopardise what you and I have."

She watched the doubt play across Quinn's features, her heart slowly breaking when the blond remained impassive. Quinn lifted her eyes from the floor and regarded her with a wounded expression. Rachel crossed the distance between them and locked her eyes with Quinn's. Quinn looked away and crossing her arms over her chest she set her lips in a thin line. Her hazel eyes flickered from the door to the piercing brown eyes before her, then back to the door.

For Quinn it was more than mere seconds they were fighting about. She was caught in a tug of war between wanting to believe the brunette and needing to protect herself from a life of lies. She didn't know if Rachel was lying or not, her explanation was sincere and it seemed to be an honest mistake. However, she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal from her system, it made her blood run cold.

Rachel lifted her hand to touch Quinn's cheek, her other hand coming to rest on her hip, and whispered, "Please." Quinn unconsciously closed her eyes at the touch, leaning into the hand that pressed against her skin. She wanted to bury herself inside of Rachel, to go back to the feeling she had when she had woken up this morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. "Please," begged Rachel again, "It was a mistake."

Quinn unfolded her arms and wrapped them around Rachel's waist. She pressed her lips against Rachel's, a kiss so tender and so full of heartbreak she could feel herself unravelling against her. She felt Rachel shiver in her arms, soft tremors rippling through her body, and she knew that Rachel knew this was a goodbye kiss.

She pulled back slightly, brushing her lips against the softness of her mouth, savouring the tingling sensation that fluttered over them. Rachel relinquished her hold on Quinn, her body numbed by the pain of pending separation. She didn't turn to watch Quinn leave, she didn't want the memory of her retreating back locked into her mind to further torture herself. This last kiss would be enough for that. It was only after she heard the front door close in finality that she saw the heroin on the floor where Quinn had let it fall. And this time she didn't hesitate, stalking towards the bathroom she ripped open the bag and poured the sickening contents down the sink, flushing it down the drain with a torrential blast from the faucet. She gripped the sink and sobbed, her tears mixing with the powder and water circling into the darkness.