It was nearly seven thirty and I wasn't sure what I was still doing here. Rachel said she'd be here. She said we should meet up for drinks. I didn't really understand why she'd want to meet up with me. I'd tortured the poor girl in high school. I single handedly made her life miserable. Still when we ran into one another she greeted me like an old friend. She took down my number and passed hers on to me and within twenty four hours she was asking me to have drinks.

She's not coming. We should just go. My alter ego said.

I contemplated my predicament. She could have done this as an elaborate revenge plot. In her defense I wouldn't blame her. It was deserving. I could picture her now sitting in a taxi outside laughing at me. Deliciously taking in my nervous fidgeting with unrestrained jubilation. If I hadn't been such a bitch back then my feelings would be hurt. Rachel Berry surely had a score settle with me and if making me feel like a fool gave her closure who am I to deny her.

Are we gonna just sit here like a fool?

Despite both of us living in New York I hadn't seen Rachel in years. Well that wasn't exactly true. She hadn't seen me in years. I saw her quite a bit. I took in her Broadway shows regularly and when she was finally cast in her first leading role I was one of the first people in line to buy a ticket. I was a fan, practically a groupie. I did internet searches and read Broadway Magazine. When she finally made the cover I collected as many as I could and sent them to all of our old friends in Glee Club. Santana and Brittany, who lived together in Boston, had drawn a mustache and eye patch on her face and sent the magazine back to me. Just like old times.

Okay, suit yourself. Sit here like a loser if you want. I'm gone.

I ran into Rachel at Starbucks believe it or not. It was the first time since graduation that she'd laid eyes on me, despite my stalker-ish behavior I'd managed to avoid letting her see me. The last thing she needed was me getting in her face trying to talk about the good old days that we never had because I was such a bitch.

To my utter surprise Rachel was extremely happy to see me. At least it seemed that way. In retrospect, given my current situation, maybe not. Maybe I was right. Maybe this was a set up. I don't know though, her excitement seemed genuine. I didn't approach her, I figured I'd give her some space. Tons of space actually to pretend like she didn't see me. Speaking would have to be her choice. She had no reason to be nice to me and I didn't want to corner her and force her to have to smile at me through thin lips and clinched teeth. If she wanted to play the 'that looks like a girl I know, but it's not her game', I'd graciously oblige her. She'd earned it.

She didn't avoid me however. The moment she saw me she rushed to my side and wrapped her arms around me. She smelled like Jasmine and the scent made me lightheaded.

"Quinn. Quinn Fabray what are you doing here?"

I began to stutter. Can you believe that, I actually stuttered? You'd have thought this wasn't the same girl I used to draw dirty pictures of in the girl's bathroom or call Man-Hands to her face and behind her back.

Pull it together loser. She's talking to us.

"Rachel. Hi."

She didn't give me a chance to speak before she started talking. Same old Rachel.

"I can't believe I ran into you. I mean all this time living in the city together and we never see one another."

I had to do everything in my power to keep from coming off like some crazed fan and telling her about all the shows of hers I've gone to. "You're busy. I don't want to be that girl from back home hanging around all the time." As soon as I said the words I regretted them. This wasn't high school, it wasn't like she was one of the cool kids and I was some loser hanger on. She was a celebrity, but I wasn't a loser. I worked on Wall Street. I made a truckload of cash and lived on Park Avenue. Okay, not really on Park Avenue but close.


"Quinn don't be silly. I need a little slice of home." She took a commanding step towards the counter and ordered her drink with detailed demands. When she finished she looked back towards me, her brow crinkled in thought.

"I heard you're working at a bank."

"An investment bank actually. Stone Holder." I told her. Stone Holder was one of the biggest and most well known Investment banks in the world. Even if you didn't know anything about finance you've heard of it.

Rachel began to shake her head. "So you're not a bank teller?"

A teller? "No. Why would you think that? It's not that kind of bank." I told her.

"Brittany." She said still shaking her head. "She said you guys do practically the same thing."

God do I miss that blonde airhead. She made life so fun.

I wanted to laugh. Rachel knew better than to listen to Brittany. Brittany was a teller at a bank in Boston. She kept the job to make ends meet until Santana finished her residency. Santana had gone on to medical school, Brittany in tow, and was a few months away from graduation.

"No I handle investments and stock market stuff. It's pretty boring."

She nodded. "So your like one of these masters of the universe I keep hearing about?" She asked me.


"No, far from it. I'm very low on the totem pole."

She looked me over, taking in my expensive black suit and leather briefcase. "You look like you're doing okay." She walked off towards the register and slipped a bill to the cashier then pointed in my direction, informing the cashier my over priced coffee drink was on her. "We should have a drink together."

That was nearly a week ago and here I was sitting at a bar I've never been to before, drinking a twelve dollar drink, and trying to convince myself I wasn't being stood up. She wasn't coming. I felt myself deflate just a tad.

Of course she's not coming. We were awful to her Quinn why wouldn't she want to get revenge?

I sat quietly at the stool and pretended to watch the ballgame on TV. I could see a few men ogling me on the end of the bar. Sorry fellas barking up the wrong tree.

"Oh thank God your still here I thought for sure you'd have gone home." I heard over my shoulder. Rachel. Her voice was music to my ears. She didn't purposely stand me up.

"No, I'm not busy tonight." I wasn't busy most nights but that wasn't any of her business.

"I'm sorry I'm late I just had the worst day. I even let the battery die on my cell. Totally irresponsible."

The Rachel Berry I remembered was always punctual and never forgot to do the small things like charge her cell phone. She had even kept a little heart shaped note pad in her purse and wrote everything down. Looks like she'd changed a little.

She pulled a light jacket off her shoulders and practically threw cleavage in my face. Her conservative sweaters and plaid skirts with knee socks were also gone. She was wearing a sexy red dress that hugged every curve on her tiny frame. Instinctively my heartbeat quickened.

Wow. Berry's got a nice rack. Was it that nice back in Lima?

She leaned into me and kissed me lightly on the cheek as if I deserved it and finally made herself comfortable on the stool next to me. The men at the end of the bar were practically salivating now and I could see them working up their courage to come and speak to us. They weren't bad looking guys, cute and clearly successful New York types. One of them was wearing a Presidential Rolex that I knew for a fact cost nearly twenty grand. I knew this because everyone in my office wore Rolexes. Even the ladies. It was like high school all over again. Everyone had to have the same stuff and if you didn't you were snubbed.

Rolex boy made a point of flashing his wrist as he took a sip of his beer and smiled in our direction. As a subtle dismissal I flashed my Ladies Presidential Rolex as I took my sip. Upon sight of this his buddy laughed.

Your not the only one with money jerk-off.

"Maybe we should go get a table or something. It'll be more comfortable." Rachel told me. I was relieved, it was the easiest way to keep from showing my fangs while dismissing the guys down the bar.

She was out of her seat and grabbing my wrist before I could agree. We ended up sitting in a dimly lit corner booth. Once we were settled a waitress made her way over and Rachel ordered us another round of drinks. I'd been here early like an eager beaver and another drink would put me at my three drink a night maximum.

Just because mom and dad are drunks doesn't mean we will be too. Drink up.

Will you be quiet and let me handle this. I'm trying to pay attention to her.

"Can I be honest Quinn?" Rachel said leaning into me. She still smelled like Jasmine. I loved the smell of Jasmine on women, it was my kryptonite.

I nodded. "Sure."

"I've seen you before. At my shows. Opening night, you're always in the audience."

I told you she'd catch you stalker.

Oh my God her stalker alert went off. My face turned a bright shade of red. I started to fumble through an explanation but she reached out and grabbed my hand.

"I always get your roses too. A dozen red roses with no card. Every opening night."


She stopped talking as the waitress dropped off the drinks. Once the woman walked away Rachel removed her hand from mine and took a sip.

"I always wait around for you to come backstage but you never come. You've never even tried to come backstage. I don't understand it. Why not?"

I shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want me to."

She laughed. "Because of high school you mean?" She ran her skinny fingers through her hair. "I don't hold that against you. It was high school Quinn. Hell, I would have tortured me too back then. I was quite annoying if I recall."

Did she just swear? I'd never heard Rachel swear before. At least not off stage. It made me tingle.

I wonder what other bad habits she's picked up.

"I think you're great by the way. I'm a huge fan."

She nodded. "I know." It wasn't said with arrogance like the old high school Rachel would have said it. It was said with confidence and familiarity. "I keep in contact with some of the Glee-clubbers. They told me you sent them all copies of Broadway Magazine when I made the cover. Mr. Schue even had his made into a poster and hung it in the Choir room. He and Mrs. Pillsbury came down a few months ago and we had dinner. He asked me about you."

Really? I emailed Mr. Schue all the time. "I'm sorry I missed them."

"He was under the impression we kept in touch. Why didn't you keep in touch with me?" She asked me.

Because we're lame.

I didn't have an answer. At least not a new one. I didn't think she'd want me around. I wouldn't if I were her. I was an evil and manipulative mini-sociopath. The only things important to me back then were reputation and making it out of Lima.

"Would you have seriously been my friend after all I'd done Rachel?"

She took another sip. "We're here aren't we?"

That was true. I pretended to drink my drink. "For what it's worth I'm sorry."

She dismissed my apology with a wave of her hand. She scooted closer to me in the booth and let her leg brush up against me. Her scent filled my nose and I found myself fighting the urge to scoot away from her. I didn't move. I got the impression she would have just followed me if I had anyway.

If you run from her I'll kill you.

"How long have you been out?" She asked.

"Out of what?" My head was still swimming.

"Out. As a lesbian." She asked. Her voice held a hint of playfulness.

No, out of Cocoa Puffs. Stupid.

My jaw hit the floor. She could tell that by looking at me? "What makes you think I'm a lesbian?"

She laughed playfully. "I've always known you liked me. In school it used to scare me to death. That's why I was so afraid of you back then. I was scared you were going to drag me into some closet and have your way with me." She sipped again. "I would have so been your bitch if you'd have made a move." She started to laugh. "I used to have this fantasy about you." She started to shake her head. "No. I better not say that."

NO. NO. NO. I told you she'd be into it. We could have nailed this chick years ago.

Rachel had fantasies about me? I really wanted to hear more about this. "No, tell me." I urged her.

She looked at me with puppy dog brown eyes. "No. It's too embarrassing. Besides you're not a lesbian right. You're not into it."

I shirked my shoulders. "I am. I'm super gay."

"Okay," she finally said. "I used to have this dream where the football guy who used to bully Kurt."

"Dave," I told her interrupting. "Dave Karofsky. Also gay by the way." I added.

She shook her head. "Of course he is. Homophobe. Well Dave would slushie me and you'd show up and take me into the shower room. You'd undress me, then you'd get naked and we'd take this long and sexy shower together. That's usually as far as it went because I had no mental reference to sex at that point."

How many times did I say we should follow her into the shower? You suck.

That was nothing compared to the fantasies I used to have about her. We'd mentally had sex in every place and in every way I knew how back then. I didn't go one day without thinking about another way to make her scream out my name. I finally had to admit to something that I'd been hiding from everyone for almost ten years. "I was in love with you back then. But my craziness wouldn't allow me to process it. The more attracted to you I became the meaner I was to you. Mentally I was sabotaging myself. On the off chance you'd be into it, I had to make you hate me so much it would never happen. It took a lot of therapy to figure that one out."

Bitch. Don't blame it on me. I wanted to have sex with her. You were the one who was scared.

Rachel nodded with understanding. "The meaner you were to me the hotter it made you seem. My own version of the bad girl. Nothing you did would have scared me off. I hid behind wanting to be your friend but I figured if we spent enough time alone you'd eventually make some kind of move. I was relentless in my pursuit to befriend you because of that. One night together, just you and me behind closed doors, and I knew I could make it happen." She laughed to herself. "I waited for you for so long you have no idea. I used every excuse in the book with Finn and Jesse to hold them off."

Wait, that didn't make sense. "What do you mean?"

She sipped again. "I wanted you to be my first. I wanted badly to lose my virginity to you."

I hate you so much right now. If we'd have taken her virginity she'd still be ours right now.

Oh my God. Was she serious? "Are you serious?" I asked her.

She answered with a nod.

"Why didn't you.." I cut myself off. Of course she wouldn't have told me that. We were kids. I would have ran for the hills anyway. It never would have happened.

Chicken shit.

"I was just a stupid girl. Anyway I moved to New York, met a nice boy and let it happen." She seemed to contemplate it then nodded. "My second first time was with a girl from one of my shows. She wined me and dined me for two months before I finally let her into my pants. She was sweet but she was way too serious. I had to break it off before she got hurt. She wanted a relationship and I wasn't into it. She swore she'd never speak to me again."

Sounds like a girl who doesn't know a good thing staring her naked in the face.

"What about you? Of course there was Noah, then." She asked.

This oughta be good.

Oh God was I really going to tell her about my first time? Seeing as how she had just told me, I was stuck. "Well I was in college before I finally stopped living a lie. I met a girl at the local chapter of my school's GLBT. We dated for six months before I slept with her. She was older, a grad student at the time. She finally moved to Chicago for work so we broke up. She's a lawyer now."

She's a partner at her law firm. Making six figures. We'd be on easy street had you not screwed it up.

Rachel nodded. "You dating anyone now?"

Ha. We're a nun now didn't you know.

I wasn't, not since I'd broken up with Liz. "No. I was with somebody but we wanted different things. She wanted to be a stay at home mother. I can't imagine turning into my dad though. I loved her but I want to be with somebody who wants to do things. Has ambitions. Her ambitions were taking care of me. If I were the same selfish bitch I was in high school I'd have been thrilled. I mean who wouldn't want a trophy wife?"

Us. Especially one who's lousy in bed.

Rachel's curiosity seemed piqued. "So she was pretty?"

I nodded. Liz was an ex runway model. She'd never made the big time but she was gorgeous. The type of woman who stopped traffic.

"She was a model." I said doing my best not to seem like the guys from work. The guys at work all dated models. Unfortunately that was my fault. The moment they found out I was with a model they all started looking to date them. Even the straight women had trophy male models they used as playthings. Everything was about status at the office. The fact that I was a lesbian didn't matter in the slightest. My alter ego, high school Quinn, handled work. She was an evil shark that fit right in. My therapist said it was a healthy way to relieve aggression. I thought it was insane but it worked. I was a star in my circle of co-workers.

"So she's femme?" Rachel asked.

I laughed. "Yes. Total femme. Can you believe it? I'm the butch in my relationships."

Hardly. Being a top doesn't make you butch.

Rachel nodded. "I totally believe it. Your more butch than most guys I know." She sipped. "I'm a femme in case you were wondering."

She's going to let us into her pants I already know where this is heading.

I could feel my face turning red once again. Was she flirting with me? My question was immediately answered by her hand suddenly resting on my thigh. What in the world was she doing? The contact was making me crazy. My heart began to pound and my palms began to sweat. I couldn't take it. This wasn't real.

"So tell me about your job. You work on Wall street."

I gathered my composure. "Yes. I went to NYU for undergrad and got into Stern Business School. Graduated first in my class and got a job at Stone Holder."

She squeezed my thigh forcing me to stifle a moan. "So your successful?"

"I'm doing okay. At least right now." I told her. The business world was fickle. The last thing I needed was to get a big head. One wrong move and I was out on the street.

Don't worry about work, I got that covered. Concentrate on Berry's rack.

"Where do you live? You live in the city?" Rachel asked.

Here we go with pretentious admission number one. "I live in Manhattan. On the upper East Side." I practically whispered it.

Don't say it like that. Our apartment is a total panty dropper.

Rachel seemed impressed by the admission. "Really."

Told you.

Okay defuse the self glorification. "Yeah, expectations are high at the job. They want you to project a certain image. It's not all it's cracked up to be believe me. You should see how some of these people live."

"I live in Chelsea."

"I hear it's nice there. Welcoming." I'd considered moving someplace more conducive to my lifestyle but I'd never hear the end of it at work. They'd take me as some sort of activist.

Some tree hugging, non shaving, money hater is more like it.

Rachel sipped. "It's great. You ever been?"

I had actually. I'd often go down on the weekends to shop and look around. It was my treat to myself after acting like an asshole during the week at work.

"I've visited."

"Want to see my apartment?" She asked me. It wasn't at all subtle.

What did I tell you? She wants us.

I swallowed hard. "I'd love to see your place."


She didn't give me a tour. Instead of showing me around her place she led me straight to her living room and attacked me. She showered me with kisses and let her hands roam my body. The second her hand squeezed my ass I wished I had shot gunned that last drink. A buzz would be nice. I needed help. I couldn't do this alone. I called upon that part of myself that took control of things. High School Quinn, or as my therapist liked to call her HSQ, my alter ego.

Okay. I need you to handle this.


I pushed my doubts and insecurities out of my mind and decided to let things happen. Okay, it was strange that we hadn't spoken in years and here we were making out in her apartment but so what. I'd known her forever. It wasn't wrong. I'd fantasized about having sex with her a thousand times. I was just nervous. I could fix that.

I decided to take the initiative and while she kissed my neck I let high school Quinn take control. HSQ was much more aggressive than I was and the first thing she did was unzip Rachel's dress.

Slow down! I protested.

Shut up you coward. We've been dreaming of nailing this chick since we were fourteen.

I know but don't scare her off. I told her.

Shut up and let me work. I'm not going to let you ruin this for us. If you could do anything on your own you wouldn't have called me. Now sit back and enjoy it. HSQ demanded.

Rachel didn't protest my aggressiveness. She stepped out of the dress and nibbled my earlobe. I pulled her face to my mouth and kissed her hard. It was every kiss I'd wanted to give her over the years all at once. Strong, forceful, and controlled.

She moaned and I felt her knees buckle just a bit.

See. HSQ gloated. She wants this. She wants us to screw her brains out. Watch this.

I felt myself reach for her bra and unclasp it. Rachel leaned back just enough to give me a full view of her uncovered breasts. I put my mouth to them, letting my tongue roam her nipples, exploring her body in a way I'd longed to do since I'd first met her.

WE ARE GODS! HSQ told me.

But we aren't even undressed. I said.

Figure it out Fabray. She told me. It's not brain surgery. Get naked already.

"Let's take this to your bedroom. We're gonna need a bed." I told Rachel.

I could see Rachel's head was still swimming. "Uh, okay." She told me.

I followed her to her bedroom intent to finish something I'd wanted to start over ten years ago. "I hope you don't have to get up early." I teased.

She shook her head. "No."

"Good because we have a lot of things to finish me and you."

~Home that next morning~

I woke up in my own bed. What the hell? Don't tell me it was a dream. NO! Goddamnit!

Calm down crybaby it wasn't a dream. HSQ said.

Why are we home?

I brought us home last night. We don't sleep over when we have a one night stand. This isn't Ohio, people are crazy here.

It was Rachel you idiot. She's not going to steal our wallet or lock us in her dungeon.

Maybe. HSQ said.

I wanted to stay over. You ruined it.

You know what, I was trying to help you. I'll see you tomorrow at work crybaby.

"Damn." I uttered softly.

My message light was blinking on my phone on the night stand. I brought it to life. It was a text from Rachel.

Where did you go? The message was left almost an hour ago.

I responded quickly. Home. Sorry.

You left your panties on my floor. Shesent back to me right away.

HSQ stopped hiding and took over again.

I wanted an excuse to come back over in the future. I typed.

Rachel responded with a smiley face. Then followed it up with two words. Call me.

I will. I responded then laid my phone on my nightstand. Anything more and I'd be sure to ruin it.

Happy now crybaby? HSQ asked me.


First off I have to give credit to a great writer, Stix04, who's story, I'll Be, is the inspiration for this. Her internal Quinn and Rachel dialog did something to my creative juices that I just couldn't ignore. So even if this story is jumbled and maybe a tad confusing please understand I couldn't not write it. I assume you all understand. That being said I want to assure you Quinn isn't crazy in this fic. Her mental process is just a tad different than normal. Either way I hope you're entertained.