AN: So…I was joking around on Twitter that an alternate ending to Taking Back What is Mine would consist of Quinn forcing Rachel to stay on Ryan Murphy's Glee. And that is the shortest of reasons behind how this "sequel" came about. Do I really need to tell you that I own none of the ladies and gentlemen (either real or imagined) that I mention in this story? Warning: This is a crack!fic if ever there was one. I mean, like, for real.

Quinn flattened her tongue against Rachel's inner thigh. She grazed with her teeth, soothed with her kisses. Quinn lifted her head only the slightest bit so that she could leisurely swallow the pill that she'd just a moment ago placed on Rachel's clit.

"Oh, wow, that's a new trick." Rachel's body showed its apperception by arching upward. The script dropped from her hand. Pages scattered like so many dominoes toppling over on the hardwood floor of their bedroom.

Quinn once again placed herself between Rachel's legs as Rachel slumped back with a sigh. Quinn bit back a scathing remark and, instead, she aimed to once again pacify Rachel. "Calm thy self, woman."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and dropped an arm over her face. "Those pages weren't numbered, Quinn."

Quinn scooted further up Rachel's body. She straddled Rachel's stomach and roughly pulled the other girl's hand from her face. "Rachel, I'm very, very interested in having sex with you right now."

"You're the one that brought me the script," Rachel protested.

Quinn arched her brow at Rachel. "Do you make it a habit of reading scripts while naked in your bed? With your legs spread, no less?"

Rachel jutted her finger against Quinn's chest. "You took off my clothes. You spread my legs."

"I was trying to get your attention. My guess is that you have that script memorized. Come and play with me a while." Quinn rocked against Rachel. Probably a little harder than was necessary.

Rachel grabbed her by the hips and halted Quinn's forward motion. "One can never prepare too much for an audition. And I haven't been on one in years. Not since I started writing my first novel."

With a grunt of frustration, Quinn rolled off Rachel and landed with a light thud on her side of the bed.

Rachel laughed and sidled closer to Quinn. "Help me read lines?"

"Not a chance. I have to help myself get off before I'll be of any use to you."

Rachel was already up from the bed and on the floor picking up pages of the script, her forehead tightened in concentration. "Did you know that the lead female character falls in love with a closeted gay boy?"

Quinn did not know. Nor did she care.

Rachel went on, "And he's hiding a very deep, potentially scarring secret. We don't find out about it in this script, though."

Quinn groaned and buried her face in a pillow. "Rachel, either join me on the bed or take your precious script somewhere else."

"I want to run through it one more time, okay? Give me twenty minutes. After that, I'm all yours."

Quinn suppressed a frown. "What a liar you are, Rachel Berry! You'll read that thing at least three more times before you even consider coming back in here."

Rachel hesitated by the door. "Auditions are in a few days, and while I haven't made up my mind about actually trying out for the part, I think it best that I at least over-familiarize myself with the material."

"Can you at least promise not to read all the parts out loud…in differing accents?" Quinn found that little quirk of Rachel's particularly maddening.

Rachel skipped out of the room. "No promises," she shouted back to Quinn.

Quinn grinned up at the ceiling. She could give a fuck if Rachel came back to bed that night. Or ever, actually. She was beyond pleased that Rachel was so enthralled with the script. Because that script was Quinn's golden ticket. She could already fucking feel it.

(Break)

Quinn's face ached from the effort of smiling. She'd been keeping up this façade for what must have been hours now. The fact that she'd only been in the coffee shop for twenty minutes was totally irrelevant. Forever probably wouldn't take up as much of her time. The grin on her face stretched tighter, managed to widen that much more. But, oh my God, look at that dog's eyes!

She reached into her jacket pocket for a pill. It was one of three Rachel had given her that morning before sending her out the door with a quick peck on the lips and a promise that she could have an extra Xanax that evening.

Quinn brought her attention back to the woman sitting across from her. Yeah, there was simply no doubt that she was going to have to numb herself at least a little to survive this conversation. She dry-swallowed the pill. She had no plan to take the other two, now or later in the day. She'd been tapering off, holding herself back. It was a real bitch. It wasn't always working. There were still too many days when Quinn surrendered, let Rachel keep winning.

But Quinn was determined not to remain the loser of her own life. Plenty of evenings now found Quinn with pills remaining in her possession. She'd taken to hording them in a safe that she hid in one of the dance studio's storage closets. She couldn't quite make herself throw the pills away. What if Rachel found out she was up to something? She'd need back-up supplies if that were ever the case. Quinn kept the key to the safe taped under her desk. Far, far under it. And, today, she was going to move it. She'd attach the key behind one of the framed photos in her office. Best if she made sure that the key never stayed in one location for too long…lest Rachel somehow discover it.

It was of paramount importance to Quinn that Rachel not figure out what she was doing. She was relying heavily on Rachel staying blissfully unaware that Quinn was working her way out of the dream.

(Break)

Dianna's squeal of excitement jolted Quinn back to her surroundings.

Dianna moved her laptop closer to Quinn. "I think this is my favorite of Arthur. Look, we matched on Halloween!"

This was the third video of that bug-eyed French bulldog that Quinn was going to have to endure. The first – titled Arthur Agron Chases a Bird – was cute, she supposed. The second – which one could find under the label Arthur Agron Catches His Reflection – was moderately tolerable. But a third video? Quinn eyed the script that rested on Dianna's side of the table. She'd just have to feign interest for however long it took.

She watched as Arthur, dressed as a pint-sized Ninja turtle, waddled closer to the camera – Jesus, his eyes! – and sat down by his owner.

Quinn fought back her laughter. "What are you dressed up as, exactly?"

Dianna glanced away from her laptop and over to Quinn. "You don't recognize Reptar? From Rugrats?"

"I…uh…didn't watch a lot of TV growing up."

Dianna waved her hands dismissively. "It doesn't matter. You're probably tried of videos of someone else's dog. We came here for a reason." Dianna pointed to the script.

Quinn sat up a little straighter. Now she was in business!

She'd only paid scant attention when she'd first heard this Dianna chick talk about a network show in development at FOX. Quinn's office was directly adjacent to one of the classrooms at the studio. She often listened in on conversations coming out of that room. It kept her from focusing too much on that Rachel voice inside her head.

She'd unconsciously absorbed quite a bit of information about Dianna Agron this way. Quinn knew, for instance, that Dianna had recently moved to LA from San Francisco. She was an actress but her true passion was her website. Yet what had piqued Quinn's interest the most was that TV show Dianna kept talking about with the other students in her ballet class.

Maybe Quinn had zeroed in on it because the show was about a Glee club. In Ohio, of all fucking places! Talk about the past colliding with her. It was enough to give her whiplash.

But what really and truly kept her attention was Dianna's depiction of the creator of the show and the rumors that the contract connected to it was absurdly restrictive. Dianna had off-handedly stated that you'd practically be signing your life away if you became a member of the cast.

And, in a rare flash of clarity, Quinn saw an opportunity. A potentially life-altering one.

Rachel was working on a new novel but had stalled out. And she was already bored of giving singing lessons at the studio. She'd moaned to Quinn for weeks that she needed a challenge, a new goal, something exciting in her life. Could Quinn convince Rachel that this TV show idea was "something exciting" enough to pursue? Of course she'd leave out all the bits about crazy bosses and off-putting contracts. That was the kind of knowledge that would only serve to deter Rachel. And Quinn didn't want that. Not at all.

Flipping through the script Dianna had handed over to her, Quinn asked the questions that had been on her mind for days.

"And you're sure about the contract? It's that bad?"

Dianna leaned forward. "I was going to try out for the lead role…but I have a girlfriend."

Quinn nodded sagely. "Don't we all."

Dianna gave her a questioning look. "Anyway, I know someone who already got a part and, well, I've seen the contract. They have a say in your personal life." Dianna lowered her voice. "I'd have to pretend I was straight."

Quinn was delighted by this bit of news. She could already see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. "And the guy in charge? He's that big of an asshole?"

"He's like a Mafia Don mixed in with equal parts crazed tyrant. Add a dash of pretentious blowhard and a pinch of egomania…and you have Ryan Murphy."

Quinn was impressed. "Do you always describe people as if they were ingredients for a recipe?"

"Not often. But some people truly deserve special categories. They are just that out there."

Quinn immediately thought of Rachel. "He sounds magical," she deadpanned.

"Uh-huh. Magical, but without the K."

Quinn's face creased into a frown. "Pardon me? Is that some form of Bay Area slang?"

Dianna played with the straw in her cup. "Nevermind. You're sure you want this script? I'm not over-exaggerating. They'll control most of your life."

Quinn was temporarily riveted by the contents of Dianna's drink. She struggled against the urge to ask the woman what could possibly convince someone to willingly ingest something that was so…green. It looked like goo. Quinn was mildly repulsed.

Shaking her head to clear her concentration, Quinn smiled at Dianna. "Oh, the script isn't for me. I'd like to pass it off to a friend of mine. She's a real up-and-comer. And I'm positive she won't mind any contractual restrictions."

Dianna shrugged. "Well, I already pity her if they offer her a role."

Quinn adopted her most comforting tone. "No need to worry about her. She'd make a wonderful addition to the cast."

(Break)

"You're going to have to pick me up. I wrecked the car on the way to the audition."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Jesus, again with the car, Rachel?"

Rachel's voice was muffled. "I think I still have glass in my hair."

Quinn paused a moment to regroup. "Were you late? Did you fuck it up? You know this is a great opportunity for you. So help me God, Rachel…"

Rachel interrupted, "No, no! I was on time. And I'm certain that I nailed it. But could you please hold off on your lecture until after you come get me?"

Quinn wanted to reach through the phone and strangle Rachel. She was about to tell her as much when Rachel said something that caused Quinn's mood to shift 180 degrees.

"I have to hang up. I'm getting another call. I think it's someone from the show!"

Well, that was quick, Quinn thought. This had to mean good news, right? Surely it must. Rachel had a certain impact on people. Quinn could never deny that. She could honestly see the casting directors and the creators being instantly charmed by Rachel. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that they'd offer her the part straight off.

By force of habit, Quinn took a pill. She needed to steady her nerves. She was on the precipice. She just needed to make sure Rachel jumped first. Ten minutes later, when her phone vibrated nosily on her desk, Quinn was barely beginning to feel that well-loved numbness blanket over her from the inside out.

Rachel didn't even bother giving Quinn a chance to say hello. "Quinn Fabray, you are officially speaking to the actress who will portray Lea Michele on the new FOX hit…Glee!"

Smiling dopily, Quinn sat back in her chair with a loud exhale of relief. Rachel had no idea what was in her future. And Quinn would find a way to keep her blind until after Rachel signed her contract.

"Quinn, are you hearing me? Let's celebrate. Take me somewhere fancy. I'm in the mood for oysters."

Quinn stood up and moved toward the door. Rachel was prattling on about her character arc. Quinn tuned her out. She stopped right at the studio's exit and turned back around. Rachel was saying something about a Journey song. She put her hand over the phone so that she could block out Rachel's voice. There was something she needed to do before she went after Rachel.

Quinn instructed her assistant to send Dianna Agron a bouquet of flowers. And, on a whim, she also asked her to order a dozen specialty made, gourmet dog treats for one Arthur Agron.

Let no one ever say that Quinn Fabray never paid her debts.