'Love is a many splendid thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"

Please don't start that again.

"All you need is love"

A girl has got to eat.

"All you need is love."

She'll end up on the street.

"All you need is love."

Love is just a game.

"Oh please sir! I'll have your money by next week at the latest. It's just that my job has unfortunately expired and now I'm spending hours each day searching for a new one. Do you know how hard it is to find a job that fits my skill requirements? It's almost impossible!" Rachel ranted to her landlord, tightening her jumper around her waist as she did so. Ever since she'd stopped paying the bills, her apartment (if you could call it that) was colder than she'd ever thought possible, all of the windows condensed fully and giving the place an unwelcome atmosphere. Then again, she always did like being on her own and the solitary that the apartment caused wasn't so bad.

Her landlord pursed his lips together, clearly unhappy with her pleads. In a last attempt of gaining sympathy, she began to make herself cry, one of her many talents, until he uncomfortably tried to comfort her. His large arm wrapped clumsily around her own arm for a second. "Don't cry," he said softly. When she looked up at him, tears blinding her, he continued, "I'm sorry Rachel, really. But it's been two months and I can't wait any longer." Releasing his hold on her, he took cautious steps back. Meanwhile, she stood by her tattered couch lifelessly, staring at his apologetic eyes. "If you can't pay by the end of next week, you'll be out on the streets."

And then he left.

She could hear him whistling as he walked down the hall, whistling a tune to make her bottom lip quiver and the tears to fall for real this time.

What was she supposed to do? She had nowhere to go, nobody to rely on. In the big lonely city of New York she was nothing, a mere speck on the enormous place and nobody cared about her, never mind loved her.

She needed to get out of her apartment, to be rid of the consistent reminders of her failures. Grabbing her coat, she rushed out as quickly as she could into the chilly air, walking wherever her legs carried her. Maybe it would clear her head and a solution to her problems would present itself in some shape or form. Rachel had however learned that this happening was as slim as her chanced of winning the lottery and she would be a fool to convince herself otherwise. As another stranger barged into her, adding an annoyed look, she was again reminded of the unwritten rule of the city: only look out for yourself. Yes, a sad truth that she'd learned within less than a week. In reality, nobody cared. There she was, crying in the middle of the high street, her pain stricken face exposed to every passer-by and what do they do? Nothing, not even a small "are you alright?" Rubbing her hands together, she tried to ignore the cold and focused on fixing her shattered breath, which always came out as a mocking croak.

The tears obstructed her view easily and so, she didn't see the man straight ahead of her, riding his bicycle cheerily. He rang the bell first, seeing the small girl in his path and again when she hadn't moved. Beginning to panic, his hand shot for the brakes which noisily halted the bicycle merely centimetres away from the girl. Startled, she jumped back from the close proximity of him and frowned, turning to leave.

"Well, aren't you going to say sorry?" he demanded to know, the anger seeping through his voice.

Head whipping around, her deep brown eyes, sore and wide, locked onto his, "excuse me? That's no way to talk to a lady!"

To his annoyance, she had a point. His mother had made it her mission to bring him up as polite as possible, despite the lack of a father figure to demonstrate and, over the years, he'd done her proud, opening doors, always remembering his manners, but she was hundreds of miles away and so this one argument couldn't exactly hurt. The tiny girl was smiling smugly at him with her comment, again making to walk away. He looked her up and down, scrutinising every detail of her. The clothes which, despite being aged, clearly had been taken good care of, along with her hair that had been neatly placed in a low bun. She was thin, no, extremely skinny. Frighteningly so. Girls and their crazy diets he thought. There was a strange feeling and he couldn't let himself watch her take the slow steps away from him. "Lady?" he scoffed, "you look like you've barely made it out of kindergarten!"

Her mouth widened in shock. He'd almost shouted the words and, ironically, it was then when the people bustling around the street decided to take any notice of her. Unlike her usual self, she couldn't even manage one word in reply, leaving him to sneer even further. "I know that it might be a little advanced for a kid like you, "he mocked, "but haven't they already taught you not to run in front of moving things at school? Pay attention or next time, I won't stop."

Who was this man? And why was he taking it in his stride to be so rude toward her? Holding herself awkwardly, she didn't bother to say anything back and fuel his growing anger. Instead, she felt her head shake slowly from side to side before she bolted off the way she'd just came. Rachel hadn't known why but there had been an overpowering feeling within her, a scary one at that and she'd found it much easier to run from it. She was walking in the familiar direction of the nearest bar, of which she knew like the back of her hand. Without even thinking about it, she turned her head to gaze at the man once more, the man who was cycling across the road, clearly more agitated than before.

She should have been angry: he'd been downright rude and she normally wouldn't stand for that, but all she could so was walked away. She wasn't angry; she wasn't sure what she was. Opening the door to the bar, she felt a little relieved to see that the barman tonight was Noah and not that little brat James. He noticed her and sent a smirk in her direction, his own take on a greeting, before picking up a glass and filling it.

Unhappily, she sat on the stool and gave an overdramatic sigh.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, placing down her drink before her. Closer, Rachel noticed that his Mohawk had grown longer, though it was really the only change. He still had his smug demeanour and, though she'd never tell him, was still as attractive as ever with his tanned skin and toned body. Though, Rachel thought that she was doing him a favour by not raising his already massive ego.

"Just some guy," she mumbled, taking a sip of her drink. Noah noticeably tensed at the thought of having the "guy talk" with her, but she was quick to reassure him otherwise. "I accidentally got in his way and he started yelling at me. And that doesn't help on top of the crappy day that I've had."

Noah rolled his eyes, "fuck Berry, why don't you just ask for my sympathy?"

"I'm being serious Noah!" she retorted, whilst frowning deeply at his choice of language. She thought for a second before adding, "Do I look like I'm from Kindergarten?"

At this, Noah burst out laughing, gaining the attention of many people nearby. When he'd finally calmed down, he leant closer to her, his elbows sliding over the bar, "some guy said that to you? You must have really pissed him off." His left eyebrow shot up, as if questioning her own actions in the story.

She shook her head instantly, prepared to argue her case. "I can assure you that I did absolutely nothing to provoke his harsh comments…except for maybe standing in the way of his bicycle."

Shrugging, Noah grabbed her drink and chugged a large amount down. "The guy sounds like a douche."

Taking the glass back, she gave him a warning stare, "yes, I believe so. I know a lot of guys that are like that…"

As usual, Noah picked up the hint in her voice and quickly knew what she was talking about. "Is your landlord treating you like shit again? I told you babe, I'll go down there and sort him out for you."

"Okay, there are three things wrong with the sentence," she began, throwing a glare at Noah, "your foul language which I feel like I'm mentioning in every conversation. Two, the fact that you called me 'babe' don't ever do that again! And your threat? How many times have I told you that violence is not the answer?"

"Fine, fine," he sighed loudly, then beginning to tease her. "You're no fun Berry."

She drowned a large amount of her drink. "No, I'm not. But that's what happens when you grow up. How about you try it some time?"

"Nah," he pulled a face, "tried it once, didn't work out. Anyway, I'm gonna be like that kid. What was his name? Peter something…"

"Peter Pan?"

"Yeah! That's it. And you can be my Tinkerbell. Those two so had it going on before the Wendy chick came in."

Rachel shook her head with disbelief, "I'm sorry. I didn't hear the last bit. The image of you in green tights is actually quite sickening yet difficult to ignore." Scrunching up her nose, she brushed aside his wink and pretended to be occupied with her drink whilst Noah served another customer. By the time he came back, it was completely gone.

He gestured to her empty glass, "Want another?" She pushed it forward, a silent yes. As he filled it, his eyes fell upon her slumped posture and miserable mood, "so, your landlord? What did the bastard say this time?"

She was hesitant for a second, but found herself bitterly replying. "He said that I have one week before he kicks me out. I may as well start packing…not that I can take much if I'm going to be living on the streets."

"I told you," Noah said, uncharacteristically in a sincere voice, "you can stay with me. You could sleep on the sofa."

Through a forced smile, she said, "thanks Noah, but I don't think that your Neanderthal roommates like me very much and I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin your friendship with them. I'll be fine…I'll just try harder to find a job."

There was a pause. "Berry, you've been looking for over a year. You can't do it in seven days."

"I can!" she said, a little too loudly, "I hope that I can. Anything is possible." Noah didn't seem convinced. He passed her back the now full glass and watched as nearly half of it disappeared before his eyes.

"You've gotta pay for that one," he said, adding a fake smile.

"You've got to be kidding me!" she shot back, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her purse which was, surprisingly, empty.

She watched as Noah stood with a stony expression, finally sighing and rolling his eyes, "fine, I'll just put it on my tab. Like usual."

"Thank you," Rachel said gratefully.

"Whatever," he mumbled, catching sight of his watch, "looks like my shift is over and el puckerone has a date tonight. And 'cause I feel sorry for leaving you in this depressed state, you can have one more drink on me, one more drink. See you Berry." He picked up his jacket, swinging it over his shoulder and heading to the door, winking at her before he left.

Her sudden loneliness brought back the night's memories, from the conversation in her apartment to almost getting knocked over by that bicycle. And the she felt angry again, finding it hard to dismiss said anger without Puck's carefree attitude around. This remained as she took her usual seat in the far corner and, furthermore, it stayed as she drowned herself in alcohol, welcoming he burn at her throat. Each empty glass put her one step away from her rent money. She didn't care. Her landlord could go screw himself if he thought that she was going to pay up so easily. As if he needed the money urgently! Sure, she hadn't paid for a few weeks, but he wasn't exactly poor, owning many apartments around the area. Rachel knew that, with the right attitude around him, she could bribe a few more weeks out of the old man. After all, she'd done it before.

Unsteadily holding the glass in her hands, she forced it upon her lips and gulped down the liquid, which no longer tasted of anything to her. It fell back down to the table, shattering over the surface in a piercing second. Shocked, she stood up and tried to keep balance. Clearly, with the amount she'd drank, it was an impossible task and she was soon stumbling back towards her seat. One of the workers had taken notice of her and attempted to "escort" her off the premises.

"But I'm not drunk!" she declared stubbornly, "you're just being sexist!" Her finger was pointed accusingly at him as she spoke, almost spat out the words, "you're one of them. You're all making my life hell. All of you!" Now her attention was turned on the rest of the people, who ignored her and, if they did look, it was one of pity or disgust.

He happily rode around the city. Finn knew that some people considered it strange but, on his days off, he would just ride his bicycle endlessly, seeing the sights and feeling the cold city air rush against his skin. Not to mention how beneficial his hours of cycling had been to his now powerful leg muscles and great stamina. Today, the city was as beautiful as ever. He loved it here, ever since moving to take on role as CEO in his dad's company. His dad, however, had passed away a few years ago, and he became the full time manager of the company. Finn felt powerful but also lonely, always lonely. People only saw him for his job or the money that he had when, truly, he sometimes wanted to know what it would feel like to have nothing at all. Then people would like him for him. He knew that it would be much easier to find a girlfriend that way and stop his mother pestering him about it.

Looking down at his second hand clothes (commonly used for this day off) he smiled at how ordinary he appeared. That was exactly the way he liked it. Ordinary. Slowing down slightly, he turned the corner to take a shortcut through the alley, realising that maybe it was time to go home. Somewhere off in the distance, he picked up the sound of a dumpster being hit and moved forward with caution. It was probably just some homeless dude looking for food, he thought, trying to calm himself. Yet, the second time it seemed much fiercer, especially when the gruff voice came beside it. "I said, give me your money."

"I don't have any," the words were slow, slurred and he was sure that he recognised the voice, even if the person was clearly drunk. Stepping from his bicycle with ease, he placed it against the wall and neared the corner, poking his head around the wall. Surely enough, the same girl from hours ago was, forced up against the dumper by a filthy man wielding a knife. He held it shakily, inches away from her face. As he watched the scene, unsure of what to do, the girl looked, well, she didn't look like she was scared or frightened, nor was she sporting a brave face. She just stood there…doing nothing. There was no time to dwell on her as the man managed to inch closer again, forcing the rusty blade nearer her skin.

"You're lying!" he told her angrily.

She shook her head, "get off me! Or I swear that I'll press charges." Unfortunately for her, the words didn't come out as threatening as hoped and he just laughed in response. Noticing a discarded pipe, Finn picked it up and held it firmly in his hands before advancing behind the man. His steps were slow and shaky, his heart pumping wilding underneath his ribcage.

"Oh no sweetheart, by the time I'm done with you, you-"

In an instant, Finn forced down the hard pipe to the back of his head, causing the man to fall to the floor in a heap. He heard a sharp intake of breathe from the girl before locking his eyes onto her bewildered ones. He raised up his hand slightly, confused when she flinched. Following her gaze, he saw that the pipe was still in his firm grasp and dropped it with a loud clatter of the metal. They stood for a moment, frozen. What was he supposed to say? He didn't know anything about her. "Err…are you alright?"

There was a tense moment between the two before her enter body noticeably stiffened and her lips locked together tightly as she glared at him. "I'm fine." Her bitter words were followed with a storm off, one which didn't have quite the impact she'd hoped for. Instead, her uncoordinated muscles let her fall to the cold ground in an embarrassing trip. Finn was immediately by her side, lifting her up as gently as possible which was easy considering how little the girl weighed. Her limbs hung towards the ground as he noticed she was unconscious.

"Great," he muttered to himself, hoisted her in his arms. The smell of alcohol on her was almost unbearable. Somehow, he managed to push his bicycle whilst carrying her down the street until they reached his apartment. His dog Jerry, named from his love of Ben and Jerry ice cream, ran up excitedly as he entered the door, jumping up and down. "Shh," Finn said, patting the dog's head and then moving to the guest bedroom. As he carefully placed her onto of the silk covers, he took the time to get a better look at her now that it was no longer dark. He thought that she was quite beautiful, in spite of her worryingly thin appearance. Her skin, though freezing cold at that moment, was soft and a wonderful brown colour, one that most girls yearned for, making him think that she was of Italian heritage. She had thick brown hair that brushed down her back in silky waves, curling softly at the ends. And, above everything, he remembered her eyes. Even though she'd been angry when he'd insulted her, her eyes were so rich and wide that he'd been immediately drawn, like rich chocolate, the taste of which he could never get enough of. She stirred slightly when Jerry nipped at her fingertips and Finn grabbed his dog by the collar, forcing him into the living room. He was about to go there himself when he thought of the girl and her stench of alcohol. Grabbing a bucket from his kitchen, he placed it beside the bed where, hopefully, she would find it in the morning.

Stretching his long arms into the air, he sighed and sat in his father's old armchair, which had been positioned directly in front of the TV set. Jerry loyally sat beside him, sitting up proudly. Finn couldn't say how many times he'd come home to this mundane activity, not bothering to make any change in the routine. What was the point? He thought about what would happen if somebody had seen him "attack" the other man and hoped that, if they had, they didn't phone the police. That man had deserved it! He was about to hurt the girl and his mother had always taught him that there was no excuse to hit a girl. If only she was here now… Maybe she could guide him to the right decision regarding the mysterious brunette. He feared the morning when she woke up, especially since she'd most likely be sporting an intense hangover. Chances are that her mood would be much, much worse than it was this afternoon.

A strained sound escaped his lips as he stretched once more, his heavy eyelids drooping ever so slightly. He jerked himself away. It was strange: he had no idea who this girl was but here he was, staying awake all night to make sure that she was safe and protected. He even tried convincing himself that it was because he'd been brought up to do such a thing, however, he knew that with any other girl he probably would allow himself a few hours of sleep. What was going on? Heading to the kitchen, he began making a coffee, preparing himself for the love night ahead.

Her head was banging, throbbing with pain in a steady beat. Groaning, she rolled onto her side. Not a good idea. The next second, she felt the overwhelming sensation to throw up and her eyes flew open as she searched for the bathroom. In all honesty, she didn't realise that she wasn't in her apartment, still scanning for somewhere to be sick in. Beside the bed, she found a bucket, to which she decided was good enough in which to puke her guts out and felt a little bit better afterwards, laying on the bed. "Shit!" she shot straight up when it finally hit her that she was somewhere else…in somebody else's bed. She hadn't gone home with anybody last night, not that she remembered anyway. She didn't even remember leaving the bar. Rubbing her aching temples, she tried to assess the situation. Rachel knew that she had to leave here, somehow without the person knowing. Maybe she could sneak out (hopefully they were showering or something) and forget about this whole thing.

Standing up, which again caused her a somewhat large amount of stomach upset, she headed nearer the door. As she opened it, the hinges creaked slightly, ruining her 'don't attract attention' plan. When the gap was big enough, she glanced at the room outside, seeing a large hallway, across from which was a glass door heading into what looked like the living room. And, down the hallway, she saw what appeared to be the front door. Tiptoeing, she quickly reached it, turning the handle and finding herself stumped when it hardly rattled, never mind opening the door. She tried again, before letting out a desperate squirm.

"It's locked," she spun around when she heard the voice, flattening herself against the door. She knew it. The man from yesterday was staring at her, no, smiling. In his right hand, he spun the keys around his finger, "how about some breakfast?"

"Let me out!" she insisted, "It's illegal to keep someone against their will." Finn walked through the doors into the living room, ignoring her shouting. "Hey, where are you going? Are you even listening to me?" Proceeding to not listen to the girl, he whistled to himself before walking through into the kitchen. She followed after, angrily yelling but soon trailed off as she glanced around the apartment, which was lavished with rich furniture and gadgets.

The open window caught her sight and she practically ran over, standing on the edge of it whilst staring down at the city below her. His eyes widened when he noticed her and reached out toward her small body. "Get down! Are you crazy?" She smacked at his hands, further moving toward the edge. The sight of the world beneath her caused a sickly dizziness (which didn't at all help with the hangover) but she held on firmly before facing the man with a stony expression.

"No!"

"This is my apartment! That's my window. Come down or I'll make you come down."

"No," she growled, "open the damn door! You're being barbaric."

"I am? You're the one threatening to jump out of a window from the tenth floor!"

Insulted, she took the energy to send him her most evil glare, hoping that it would somehow cause him fear. "if you don't let me out of here, I swear I'll jump."

"Just climb down, please. You're going to fall."

She clenched her fists, remaining in the same position and keeping on a brave face: she didn't want him to see that she was more than terrified. "No, not until you let me out. Who do you think you are? Keeping me trapped in here!"

He had never known someone to overreact so much over a locked door.

Finn found his heart beating once more, or maybe that was the feeling of a premature heart attack. What was this girl thinking? They were ten floors up! If she jumped, she'd surely die and, if not, she was sure to be one lucky girl. Judging by the events yesterday, she was no such person. Jerry jumped wildly on his hind legs, barking at full volume as she waited for him to unlock the door. Unfortunately for her, he wasn't about to give in to her threats, despite how dangerous they appeared to be.

Anger was evident on Finn's face and his voice cracked as he yelled, "this is what I get for trying to help you? I could have left you, you know. Left you to be beaten up. But no, I had to be the fucking hero. And what do I get in return? This! Yeah, maybe I should have just walked away." Beginning to walk away, he cursed again at his own stupidity for bringing her back to the apartment. He didn't know what he'd expected, but definitely wasn't anticipating this scene.

"Jump," he replied quietly.

Astounded, she was at a loss for words. Eventually, she found her voice. "I-I'll do it."

"Go ahead then. Jump!" he threw his hands up in the air, "end your life because, you know what? The life that I saw you have yesterday isn't worth living." Rachel froze, completely shocked at what he'd just said. It was all so…true.

"You're right."

"What?"

She sighed, "I-everything you said. It's right." She wrapped her vulnerable self within her own arms and let her legs drop off the ledge. "My life is worthless…"

Finn knew that he'd stepped in it big time. "No, I didn't mean that. I was mad, okay? I err, please don't hate me. I'm sorry."

"What are you apologising for?" she looked in his direction, "it isn't your life that's screwed up.

For a moment, he found himself lost in her chocolate eyes, looking past the tears which blocked them quickly. Guilt quickly suffocated his chest, almost devouring him from within. She looked like a child, a child who'd accidentally fallen over and hurt themselves, but this was real pain. It was the sort of pain that you couldn't physically see, the pain that was just there and surrounding this one girl. He gently placed one of his oversized hands on her shoulder, glad when she placed her own hand over it. Her hand, unlike the night before, was finally warm yet still as soft. "Please close the window," she whispered to him, not moving her gaze from the wall ahead. Finn did as she asked and sat down beside her, unsure of what move to make next.

After what felt like the longest minute of his life, she spoke again. "Thank you," her eyes met his, watery and sad, "for not leaving me there." He felt his body finally relax, all of the tension that had built up slipping away with her words.

"No, it's fine. I mean, it would've been wrong to just leave you there because you were pretty out of it and the guy could've woke up at any moment. And then when you passed out, I kind of just picked you up and ended back here somehow…"

She was silent again, a thoughtful expression plastered over her features.

Finn slowly stood up, noticing how she watched his every movement and felt more self-conscious that ever. "Do you want that breakfast now?" The brunette nodded, awkwardly standing up after him. She followed hesitantly, feeling out of place in his apartment. Everything was just so clean and cut, certainly something that she would expect from a man who was supposedly living on his own. What if he had a girlfriend? Rachel didn't like that question very much and avoided answering. It was completely irrelevant anyway…

He turned, seeing that she'd stopped somewhere in the living room and smiled encouragingly at her. "Are you coming?"

Quickening her pace, she ended up right behind him, almost bumping into his large frame. It was then that she realised how tall he was, easily towering over her. Usually, she found it intimidating, but the way he carried his height made her feel…well, comfortable, like he was a big friendly giant (she smiled at this image). Hurriedly, she chased after him into the kitchen, which was just as magnificent as the rest of the apartment. As she came to stand beside him, she glanced up and actually smiled. Finn couldn't have been more shocked. "I'm Rachel," she told with a newfound confidence, "Rachel Berry."

He found himself smiling in return. Of course she'd have a name like that! It suited her perfectly.

"Finn Hudson," was the nervous reply.

"Finn," he heard her whisper to herself. She liked B.F.G better…Maybe she could just call him that in secret.