Dizziness May Occur

It was the loud wailing that woke Quinn up. She lay in bed for several minutes trying to pinpoint it. But it seemed to come from everywhere. Getting up, she stepped out of her room, and stood in the hall listening.

A stream of unintelligible words seemed to be coming from Rachel's room. The way Rachel's voice went up and down seemed almost musical with an undertone of sadness. Quinn knocked on her door several times, but there was no response.

Worried, Quinn entered Rachel's room for the first time without an invitation. In the dim light from her window, Quinn could see her huddled in a lump under her covers in the middle of her bed.

Quinn cautiously sat down next to her and tried to wake her up. "Rachel?" she said softly leaning closer, "Rachel?" Her head inches from Rachel, she could finally make out actual words.

"No, no, not her, please, no," Rachel was saying in her sleep.

"Rachel?" Quinn said again, carefully shaking her shoulder to wake her. She jumped in surprise when Rachel grabbed her around her waist.

"Quinn? You're okay?" Rachel asked, in a heart breaking voice before bursting into tears. "You're really okay?"

"So," Kurt said, watching Rachel idly stir her double dutch soy latte, "How are things?"

"Fine. Why?" Rachel asked.

"You've had a certain former cheerleader for a roommate for six months now," he said. "I believe it's time for a roommate reality check."

"It's too soon," Rachel protested. "I'd rather not."

"This is important, Rachel Barbra Berry," Kurt said. As her best friend, he knew that she would avoid the issue, going out of her way to not think about important things, like whether Quinn Fabray should continue being her roommate. "You've had plenty of time."

"Oh, alright," she said, "but I reserve the right to make the roommate decision myself."

"Stipulation noted," he said. "So, first question - does she respect your personal space?"

"Yes," Rachel said. "She's been in my room only when she's helped me to bed."

"Do tell," Kurt said, eyebrow raised.

"It was nothing," Rachel said, blushing.

"Okay, we'll return to that later," he said. "Neatness?"

"Ten," Rachel said. "She's compulsively neat."

"Food?"

"She respects my dietary preferences," Rachel said. "She even likes my cooking."

"Your cooking?" Kurt said, shocked.

"Yes. Mine," Rachel said, grinning.

"The woman is insane!" Kurt said. "She has to go."

"Kurt!"

Looking down at a sleeping Rachel, cuddled up to her on the couch, Quinn wasn't sure when the time they spent together had changed.

Sure, since becoming roommates they'd lived and often ate together. But something about it had changed. If she could pinpoint a time when their relationship started to become different? Just before Valentines Day seemed to be it. She'd arranged for flowers and vegan chocolates for Rachel's dressing room on a whim. It had just seemed like the right thing to do for her roommate.

Since then, she'd occasionally caught Rachel giving her a puzzled look, like she was something to figure out.

She was too comfortable to get up, though she would have to eventually. Neither of them did well the next day, after spending the night on the couch.

Rachel's hair looked so soft, spread out on the couch. Quinn had to work really hard to stop herself from running her hands through it. Leaning down to sniff it, on the other hand, she couldn't seem to resist. Rachel used some kind of animal product testing free shampoo and conditioner that gave her hair a unique fragrance. She could breath it in forever she decided.

"Quinn!" Rachel shouted, "It's starting!"

"Why are we watching this?" Quinn asked, handing the bowl of popcorn to Rachel and joining her on the couch.

"How can you not want to watch this?" Rachel said, giving her an astounded look.

"It's people walking, and being interviewed," Quinn said.

"It's the Red Carpet at the Oscars," Rachel said.

"And?" Quinn asked, before taking a large gulp of the gluten free, no calorie, alcohol free beer Rachel insisted they drink. It wasn't bad tasting but beer it wasn't, she thought with a grimace.

"It's the Red Carpet at the Oscars," Rachel repeated. "It's important to be aware of the competition," she said.

"You haven't acted in a movie yet," Quinn said. "Not even as an extra. How are any of them competition?"

"I will," Rachel said with utmost conviction.

"Did you actually see any of the nominated movies this year?" Quinn asked.

"Driving Miss Daisy," Rachel said.

"That remake with whats-her-name?" Quinn asked. "How'd that get nominated anyway?"

"Quinn!" Rachel gasped. "Barbra was wonderful in it!"

"They took a sweet, old fashioned movie and turned it into a musical," Quinn said.

"It's an amazing update," Rachel said, nodding. "Now shush!"

"Quinn."

Quinn clutched her pillow over her head and ignored the voice that seemed to be whispering into her ear.

"Quinn…" the voice said again. When she didn't respond, something started poking her in the ribs. She tried to ignore the poking.

"Quinn, I need a favor," the voice said. "Please wake up."

Quinn groaned and lifted her pillow just enough so she could see her alarm clock. "Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"It's six in the AM," Quinn said, from under her pillow. "This better be good."

"I have an audition next week," Rachel said.

"That's great, Rachel," Quinn said. "But why did you wake me up so early?"

"It's for a villain of the week, on something called 'City Guns'," Rachel said.

"City Guns?" Quinn sat up quickly, causing Rachel to squeak in surprise. "That's Santana's favorite show. Hot cops with guns."

Rachel frowned. "So you know what it's about?"

"Yup," Quinn said. "So, what kind of favor?"

"I need to know how to shoot a gun," Rachel said. "And look natural doing it."

"You've used prop guns, haven't you?" Quinn asked.

"I took a seminar in college," Rachel said, "but that's it."

"Okay," Quinn said, frowning. "Tomorrow afternoon?"

"Thank you!"

Rachel excitedly opened the door to the dressing room. This was one of her most favorite performances of the year. She couldn't wait to get out on stage, for the show to start.

Hanging up her coat after a quick hello, she thought about her day. It hadn't quite gone as expected, but if she had to celebrate the Holiday of Love unattached, she couldn't think of a better way to do it than with a friend.

She'd gone to bed, leaving Quinn absorbed in that game with Puck, Artie, and Santana. She'd woken up the smell of her favorite coffee blend and a warm, strawberry, vegan muffin from her favorite vegan bakery.

After a quick session at the gym, she'd then joined Quinn and the others for a decidedly odd breakfast, using Artie's new invention to talk. It had been an interesting experience.

For lunch, a similar experience. Followed by a quiet afternoon reading and observing Quinn as she continued with the game. She'd been aware that Quinn occasionally played multi-player games, having come home after a show more than once to find her locked in fierce battle over the Internet with Puck, but this was a revelation.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, watching Quinn plug bits of odd looking plastic together and running wires to their television.

"It's now February 14th," Quinn said.

"Yes, Valentines Day, though I believe midnight is a bit earlier than most celebrate it," Rachel said. "What does this have to do with a romantic holiday?" She waved at the mess.

"It's Lara Croft's birthday," Quinn said.

"Who?"

"Lara Croft. You know, Tomb Raider?"

"I thought that was Angelina Jolie," Rachel said, puzzled.

"No, that's who played her in the original movies," Quinn said. "She was the first kick-ass female video game hero."

"And you're celebrating her birthday? With this?"

"Yes."

"All by yourself?"

"Not exactly," Quinn said, pointing at two small cameras with blinking red lights.

"Quinn Fabray! Are those live?" Rachel said, looking down at herself in horror. She wasn't dressed for company.

"Not yet, Artie, Santana, and Puck should be online in a couple minutes."

"I need to go change," Rachel said, standing up.

"No need," Quinn said. "They won't see you unless you're wearing one of these." She tapped a small headset sitting on the coffee table.

"Oh. I'll be right back," she said, nodding to herself.

Rachel wandered through the small Hallmark near her favorite Broadway cafe. The year before, she'd found an online card shop that let her design her own cards, but they had to be ordered months ahead, if she wanted to apply her personal touch, such as a note in her own handwriting.

Which worked for her fathers. Flowery phrases to tell them how she felt came to her without too much effort. And the stagehands and her fellow actors were also easy to get cards for, since the goal was something personalized, not sentimentality.

But it was the other people that were the problem. Cards she waited until the last minute to find. Every year she spent hours picking out cards for Beth and Shelby, even though she never sent them. Something musical for Beth, and something humorous for Shelby. Purchased, signed, and then shoved into a box with other cards never sent.

And this year, there was Quinn. She didn't want to get her a 'roommate' card. That was too impersonal. But she didn't want something too intimate. She didn't want to give Quinn the wrong impression. She didn't want to scare her away when they were happily coexisting together.

Quinn stared at the business card, compulsively turning it over in her hand. She had no desire to get back into modeling, for any reason, but Rachel's agent hadn't taken no for an answer.

"Hey," Rachel said, sitting down next to her. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm happy with my life," Quinn said. "You know that, right?"

"I'd assumed so," Rachel said, "but it isn't something we've really talked about."

"I've modeled. No desire to do that again," Quinn said, ripping the card into small pieces.

"You didn't have to do that," Rachel said. "What if you wanted to go on a date? Now you don't have her number."

"A date?" Quinn stared at Rachel. "With your agent?"

"I'm pretty sure that's why she gave you her card."

"Where did you get that idea?" Quinn asked.

"The flirting?"

"She was just being friendly," Quinn said, thinking about the last hour.

"She couldn't take her eyes off of you!" Rachel said.

"Jealous?" Quinn asked, kiddingly.

"Me? No!" Rachel protested, jumping up. "Why would I be jealous?"

"She's scary tall, like Finn. Just your type."

"She's not my type," Rachel vehemently denied.

Quinn had a feeling she was missing something important.

Quinn hit the apartment buzzer with an elbow, while juggling the bags of takeout. She wasn't sure why Rachel had asked her to pick up dinner on the way home, instead of having it delivered, but she assumed there was a very Rachel reason.

"Yes?" Rachel's voice echoed tinnily from the speaker.

"Rach? Open the door before I drop dinner," Quinn said, loudly. Sighing in relief at the loud click from the door, Quinn pushed it open and slipped into the lobby. From there it was a simple matter of pushing elevator buttons.

Putting the large bags down while the elevator made its slow way up to their floor, Quinn rubbed her cold, aching hands. They weren't heavy but after four block her hands needed a break.

Grabbing the bags when the elevator door opened, Quinn stomped to the apartment door, quickly pushing the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" an unknown voice shouted from inside the apartment. The door swung open revealing a tall raven haired woman who made Quinn feel like she'd suddenly shrunk to Rachel size. "Rachel? You didn't mention the delivery girl was gorgeous," she said, winking at Quinn. "I'm going to have to order from there myself."