AN: Please keep in mind that this story is 100% crazy in tone and intent. No offense meant to any persons who are characters in the story. I readily admit that I "borrowed" from real life events, but I altered them quite a bit. Or a lot. However you want to view it.

Quinn pressed one jittery arm around Rachel's neck as she smashed their faces together. Airports always rattled Quinn, made her queasy and unsettled. And she'd just spent the past ten hours on a plane from London back to LA. In first class, granted. But still beside Rachel Berry, who was now more likely to have someone refer to her as Lea than as Rachel.

Glee was making waves for Rachel Berry. Small ones, so far. But Quinn sensed the tsunami coming for Rachel. And she wanted a beachside view for when the storm tide drowned Rachel in its wake.

Quinn's sunglasses pushed tightly, painfully against the bridge of her nose as she nestled her face against Rachel's collarbone. She let her nervous energy launch her performance. Let it guide her in her efforts to deceive Rachel.

Rachel's laugh was curious, a little tired-sounding. "While I'm always appreciative of your random displays of affection, what's with the hug? You all right? Do you need a Xanax?"

Quinn fashioned Rachel with her best attempt at a pout. "We had such a nice vacation and they want you right back on set. You can't even go home first."

Rachel tensed and pulled away from Quinn so that she could reach for her bags. Quinn reeled Rachel back in and clung to her.

It was really all another lever in Quinn's game: Hug Rachel. As often as possible. So long as they were in public – very public – places.

Rachel reluctantly pried Quinn's fingers from around her waist. Sighing, Rachel said, "We start filming the second half of the season today and I cannot be late to set." Mouth quivering, Rachel forced her eyes on Quinn. "It's…it's part of the contract."

Quinn bobbed her head in sympathy. "Sometimes, I wish you'd never signed that damn contract."

Rachel's smile was rueful, borderline strained. "But, Quinn, where would I be if I weren't Lea Michele?"

(Break)

Mere days after Rachel had learned of her new role, she'd flown to Lima to celebrate with her fathers. She'd claimed to Quinn that she "simply had no idea" when she'd next be able to visit them once shooting started on Glee.

Oh, and while she was away…could Quinn be a darling and pick up Rachel's contract? Give it a cursory glance until her return to LA would allow her to read over it herself?

Quinn instinctively knew that Rachel would pick apart every word of the contract, tear at each sentence until she unraveled it to its barest elements. She would have to read the contract through Rachel Berry's eyes but with Quinn Fabray's motives in mind.

Quinn didn't speak the language of contract negotiation, but she knew which clauses she sought. It was like a scavenger hunt with words. Dianna had been undeniably spot-on: This contract was utterly the worst.

Having carefully scanned it through twice - and knowing that Rachel would meticulously do so no less than twenty times – Quinn found her prize: The three golden passages to Quinn's freedom.

Quinn uploaded the document to a PDF file and removed the clauses that would surely have made Rachel hesitate, reevaluate, and ultimately refuse to formally accept her role on Glee:

Clause 1: The creators of Glee and FOX studios maintain the legal and binding right to retain principal actors/actresses under contract for a minimum of seven (7) years.

Clause 2: Any and all physical, romantic, and/or sexual relationships must be preapproved and/or supervised by the creators of Glee and FOX studios.

Clause 3: Members of the cast are required to endorse the show via – but not limited to – the following methods: Social media, interviews, photo shoots, touring, attending award shows, and pre-scripted responses to media questions.

Satisfied, damn near electrified by her alterations, Quinn was in all reality anxious for Rachel to come home. She didn't miss Rachel. That was certainly not the issue. She was merely already longing for that (hopefully) inevitable moment when Rachel Berry would become the puppet of "the creators of Glee and FOX studios."

(Break)

The first thing that Rachel asked for upon her return from Lima was the contract. Settling herself at the kitchen table to read, Rachel glanced up long enough to remind Quinn that the pills were in Rachel's suitcase. She could go ahead and take a couple. If she wanted. If she'd splurged over the weekend and prematurely used up the allotment that Rachel had left for Quinn while she was in Lima. Rachel went back to the contract. Quinn went for the suitcase.

Why not have herself a pill or two? Maybe even three. She'd only taken one daily during Rachel's absence. Quinn could count that as a record. More progress. But it would be so much more entertaining, liberating if she were a little washed out while she watched Rachel get nearer and nearer to those surging waves that were going to crash over her.

It took Rachel two days and thirty or so read-throughs (Quinn had once again underestimated Rachel) to decide that she was satisfied with the various stipulations and conditions set forth for her. Quinn smiled lovingly at Rachel when she proudly announced that she was ready to drive to FOX and make it official.

The contract Rachel authorized was the one handed over to her by a FOX executive. The contract that Quinn scattered on their bed later the same day was taken from Quinn's modified version. She was soon going to throw it away. It had only been from a "working" draft. The actual signed copy was most likely already stored in some vault at the FOX studios. But Quinn had one final use for hers. She'd duplicated all the printed segments that had included information that Quinn had deleted from the original. Because when Quinn fucked Rachel later that night, she wanted the girl to grab at the strewn pages surrounding them on the sheets. She intended for Rachel to come – over and over - on a bed of lies.

Quinn's smile was a gloating one. Get ready to ride the wave, Rachel. Get ready. Because it's going to come just as fast as you.

(Break)

"Ummm…did you reply to my Tweet?"

Quinn held out her empty hands to Rachel in a placating gesture. "My phone is on the other side of the room."

Rachel was in an awful mood that morning. "I still can't figure this Twitter shit out. I don't know how I could possibly have missed that section – all those parts, actually – of the contract. Using social media to promote the show…ha, my ass!" Rachel whipped her head up and leveled her gaze at Quinn. "They must have slipped in extra clauses – the really important ones – after I signed it!"

Quinn guided a visibly angry Rachel to the couch. "That's not entirely out of the realm of possibility."

Rachel scrolled furiously through her phone. "I only wanted to use this damn account to promote the show. But, oh no, not good enough! Ryan wanted me to add 'personal touches' to it." Rachel scowled. "Why does your name keep popping up in my timeline? And…Oh, sweet Lord, those comments!" Rachel thrust her phone at Quinn.

Quinn bit her lip, then the inside of her cheek, and then her tongue. She absolutely could not afford to laugh right now. But some of these replies were priceless.

msrachelberry tweeted she was going to rise and grind. QuinnFabray must be with her.

Rise and grind = code for when msrachelberry "works out" with QuinnFabray.

Rachel was near tears by the time Quinn tossed the phone back to her. Quinn's shrug was relaxed, apathetic. "Some people assume we are dating, Rachel."

"All I meant by that Tweet was that I'm getting ready to go to the gym," Rachel wailed. "Ryan is going to have another talk with me over this one, I can sense it!"

"You're being overdramatic," Quinn replied nonchalantly.

Rachel glared at Quinn. "They can't keep mentioning you like this, Quinn. Not connected to me."

Quinn played at bafflement. "Who are the 'they' in this equation?"

Rachel threw her phone at Quinn. "They! Them! The fans! Everyone!"

"Rachel, mostpeople probably suppose you're dating Chord. He plays the male lead. You're his love interest on the show. It makes for a great story. Fiction becoming fact. The fans eat that shit up."

Rachel wasn't mollified. "Ryan told me there are forums of you and me where people post pictures of us hugging."

Quinn let her face transform into one of total puzzlement. Even though she was very much aware of the sites that Rachel had just mentioned. And she had, after all, orchestrated each and every one of those very, very public hugs with Rachel. The one from the airport seemed a particular favorite on these forums that had so recently become a fixture of Rachel's life.

Rachel moved toward the bedroom. "I mean, since when can't you hug your friends? That's what I asked Ryan when he had his first 'talking to' with me. But he wants us to tone things down even more."

"We've had this discussion, darling. Yesterday, if I recall correctly," Quinn countered.

Rachel whirled around and stalked over to Quinn. "And as for you? You didn't help me any when you spoke to that reporter."

Quinn linked her hands around Rachel's back. "Rachel, I've explained this to you before. He caught me off guard. The guy more or less ambushed me right outside the studio! And all I said was that the rumors were funny and flattering and that you're beautiful."

Rachel rubbed her hands across her eyes. "Was it necessary for you to add the beautiful part?"

"You asked me, per Ryan's instructions, to keep my comments vague. I think I fully complied with your request. Besides, what's so wrong with complimenting your looks? Friends do that."

Rachel heaved her patented dramatic sigh. "I'm going to take a shower. Please find my phone for me. I expect that Ryan will call at some point in the very near future."

Quinn eyed Rachel cautiously. "Next time, try not to hurl your phone at your girlfriend. Would that be something you could work on?"

Rachel's only response was the slamming of the bathroom door.

(Break)

The first thing Quinn noticed after locating Rachel's phone – it had ended up in the hallway, Rachel was a good throw – was that she had not signed out of her Twitter account. An idea swarmed into her mind. A grin broadened on Quinn's face. Listening to make sure she could still hear water running, Quinn sent a Tweet before logging-out.

QuinnFabray I love you my lady.

Quinn danced across her apartment, hopped up on the couch, and plopped down with a satisfied grunt of achievement.

Rachel's phone rang not two minutes later. It chimed out again one minute after that. And again and again until Rachel ran out of the bathroom to answer the call.

Quinn hovered over Rachel, acting concerned.

Rachel's voice picked up, carried over to hysteria. "No, Ryan, of course not! I'd never Tweet something to the equivalent of being in love with Quinn. It's much too…obvious. I must have been hacked!"

"That one you probably can blame on a Faberry shipper," Quinn piped up.

Rachel shot her a dirty look before returning to her conversation. "Yes, I perfectly understand. Okay…give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there."

Rachel let the phone drop from her hand as she lowered herself to the floor.

"Guess you've got to change passwords. And fast, too." Quinn sat down by Rachel.

Rachel's voice was dazed, hushed. "Ryan wants to meet with me."

Quinn pulled Rachel to her feet. "That means you'd better get going. You're a contract girl now, Rachel Berry."

Rachel half-heartedly stood up and groped for her car keys.

Quinn called out to Rachel just as she opened the apartment door. "Hey, Rachel, you want a Xanax? It'll definitely calm you."

Rachel stopped, lingered on the stoop. Quinn crossed over to Rachel and kissed her. She slipped a pill into Rachel's hand.

Rachel blinked at her. "Can I have two? Just in case the meeting is exceptionally horrendous?"

(Break)

Quinn feared that Rachel's tears were never going to cease. She didn't think it was possible, but she kind of wished she was back at that coffee shop. Endlessly watching videos of Arthur Agron.

She rubbed her hand the length of Rachel's back. "Rachel, you're only gonna be twenty minutes away. And I'm sure that you'll be over here so often that it'll be like you never left. You can even keep a bunch of your stuff in my apartment."

Rachel's crying grew louder, sharper. "Listen to you! You're already referring to it as your apartment!"

Quinn suppressed a groan. "Well, grow a pair and tell Ryan you won't move out."

Rachel gripped Quinn's shirt. Rachel's eyes were blurry. Her face inflamed. "Quinn, they have so much they can use against me: Sending Sunshine to a crack house, my suspension from when I tried to rig the class president election for Kurt, my other relationships with women…" Rachel paused and looked pointedly at Quinn: "My arrest for assault and destruction of property." Rachel snapped her fingers. "Gone! FOX took care of it. Poof, my record is spotless! I cannot break the contract or they'll fuck me over."

Quinn allowed Rachel to snuggle closer against her. "Oh, Rachel, you need to concentrate on all the good that has come out of being on Glee: New fan base, singing and acting, the money."

As if Rachel hadn't heard her, she leaned further into Quinn and said, "I'm keeping the pills with me, Quinn. I might be moving out because Ryan Murphy doesn't think the public is going to buy our 'we are just roommates' story any longer…but you'll still have to come to me for the pills."

Quinn gritted her teeth but remained silent. She waited for Rachel to stop crying before she carried the girl toward the other side of the apartment, which Quinn was scant days away from reclaiming as solely her own.

Rachel locked her arms around Quinn's neck. "I don't think I can handle seven years of this, Quinn."

Quinn nudged her nose against Rachel's before depositing her on the bed. "As weird as the show is getting, I can't imagine it lasting more than, say, three seasons."

Rachel peered at her hopefully. "You think so?"

Quinn nodded empathetically. She honestly didn't give a fuck how long the show stayed on the air. The only thing that mattered was that Glee needed to take Rachel Berry down with it.

Quinn placed her head on a pillow and allowed Rachel to envelop her as they both went to sleep. Quinn's dreams that night were filled with the sound of waves breaking heavily on shore. And of Rachel's gasps as she struggled to breathe underwater. One of the swells - shaped eerily in the form of the letter G – blasted against Rachel until Quinn could see her no more.