Across These City Streets

Author's note,

Summary: Four years after graduating from William McKinley High Quinn finds herself living a peaceful life in a small New York condo. Her studies at Yale have come to an end and she can include a Master of Fine Arts degree from the acting program in her resume. However, life doesn't care about your accomplishments and hard work. It is unpredictable that way, and sometimes very brutal.

Fabrevans-story with a large dosage of Faberry-friendship and the Unholy Trinity thrown into it.

Rated T for language, violence and sexual references. The story will contain spoilers from the first three seasons of Glee. Most of the main characters from the hit show will be mentioned in the story, but it focuses mainly on Quinn, Sam, Rachel, Finn and Santana.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee nor do I own any of its characters.

End of author's note and now on to the story, but don't forget that reviews are highly appreciated!

Chapter 1

I had not heard from him, let alone seen him, since I graduated from McKinley High in May of 2012, so I was a little surprised when his name was unexpectedly brought up by my dinner table.

It was late April, and Finn and Rachel had dropped by my small New York apartment to discuss details about their wedding, that would take place next summer. Well, it was mostly Rachel doing the talking. Finn just sat there and looked confused while nursing a cup of hot black coffee. You see, he finally learned to drink the coffee bean based beverage. Yay, adult points to Finny!

Anyways, if you ask me, I would say that it was a little early—emphasis on the word 'little'—to start talking about specific details, such as what colors the table cloths or bridesmaid's dresses should have, but Rachel has made it very clear that everything has to be absolutely perfect. 'It's all about preparation' I remember she told me once; I think it was right after we booked the cute little chapel in which the wedding would take place. Honestly, I had no idea it was possible to book a place one and a half year in advance! But when it comes to Rachel Berry I guess everything is possible . . .

Finn and Rachel were sitting side my side at the other end of my small dinner table. In front of them sat two cups of coffee—Finn's almost empty and Rachel's barely half filled, or half empty, depending on how you see it. I bet she would pronounce it half filled—and a plate of cookies and cupcakes, all homebaked. My mother would have been so proud – if she ever bothered to call.

Finn scratched his jaw thoughtfully, two or three days' worth of stubble covered the smooth skin, and I could almost see the mechanic wheels in his head turning as he tried to come up with an answer that would make Rachel believe that he had at least tried to listen to what she had been saying the past thirty minutes. I almost felt sorry for the lanky guy as I watched him open and close his mouth a few times in what I have to admit was the undoubtedly best fish impression I had seen so far.

"So what do you think, Finn?" the brunette girl repeated the question as she observed her fiancé with dark chocolate eyes from under long black lashes.

The tall ex-football player squirmed awkwardly in his seat as he pressed his lips into a thin line that only helped prove the fact that he had no idea what his girlfriend was talking about. "Uh . . ." he managed to breath after a moment of pressing silence. "I, uh, think you're doing a great job, Rach. So . . . go with whatever you like." I guess his answer would have worked just fine with almost any question Rachel could possibly ask concerning the preparation of the wedding – well, except this one. I felt kind of sorry for the tall guy; he was in so much trouble.

"You want me to write your vows? Finn Christopher Hudson, you have got to be kidding!" the short brunette woman scolded, her intense stare practically burning a hole in her fiancé's face, as if the use of his full name wasn't enough to indicate he was in deep trouble. Poor Finn . . .

The scene was almost entertaining, that is if I hadn't had tons of experience on how their 'funny' arguments tended to end – with Finn coming up with some cheesy and lame apology, Rachel overreacting and, finally, them breaking up. So, therefore, I decided to intervene before the love quarrel got real ugly. "Rachel, I think he might have been busy thinking about who he should ask to be his best man. That is a huge deal, you know." Actually it wasn't. Finn would pick Kurt. End of story.

The former New Direction co-captain snapped her head in my direction, and for a short moment I almost thought she was going to slap me. She didn't though, thankfully, and instead she sucked her bottom lip in between her even, white teeth and begun to chew it thoughtfully. After a few long seconds of complete and utter silence—I didn't think it was physically possible for the short Jewish girl to be quiet for such a long period of time. She is like a shark that needs to swim to be able to breath, except instead of swimming she talks—she parted her lips with a distinct pop. "Quinn is right," she sighed in defeat, and I almost wanted to hit her for sounding so damn disappointed when she admitted that someone else was right. "I am sorry, Finn. I know it must be hard for you. There is a lot going on right now. You just recently learned how to tie your tie, and how to properly make chicken soup without burning down the kitchen. And now you have to decide who should be your best man . . ."

The tall boy smiled sweetly, happy that his fiancée was no longer mad with him. But then his smirk slowly started to fall as he got around to process what Rachel had really said. "Did you just . . ." he began asking but soon trailed off.

She never did claim to love him for his brains, I reminded myself as the ex-quarterback stared dumbfounded out into space.

We continued to plan the wedding for an additional thirty minutes, with Rachel bouncing different ideas off of me as Finn continued to pretend he was intently listening, while he was really just thinking about which team would take home the game later that night: Baltimore Ravens or Pittsburg Steelers.

"There is just one more thing I'd like to ask you, Quinn, before we put the wedding plans aside for now," Rachel said and offered me a sweet and sincere smile. Barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes I instead arched an eyebrow as if asking 'what could we possibly have missed?' and the brunette girl must have understood the grimace because she begun to chuckle heartedly. "I am a perfectionist, Quinnie Bear, if you haven't noticed yet," she quipped in a singsong voice and yet again a strong impulse to punch her on that crooked nose of hers washed over me. No one calls me Quinnie Bear unpunished!

"Anyways, while I expect Finn to ask Kurt to be his best man, which in my opinion is the best choice of best man one groom can possibly make; Kurt is close family, incredibly sweet, good-looking and has a stunning sense for fashion, I have had a more difficult time figuring out who would be the most appropriate pick for maid of honor. But after a lot of thinking it just hit me! It is you, Quinn!"

I was shocked. Never had I imagined that Rachel Berry would ask me to be her maid of honor. Before I could find words to form a reply, the short brunette started to talk again. "I know we haven't always gotten along – hell, I hated you! I apologize for my language. But everything about you was so freaking perfect and still you were so rude and mean to everyone." I opened my mouth to protest—to tell her that I wasn't perfect, to say that I had my reasons and so forth – but I was prevented once again by Rachel's singsong voice. "But that is all in the past. We are friends now, and I cannot think of anyone who I would rather have as my maid of honor than you. So, Quinn Fabray, would you please be my maid of honor?"

I blinked in confusion as I tried to wrap my head around what my former nemesis had just said. "Pretty, pretty please?" she begged with puppy-dog eyes and offered me a sweet and somewhat shy smile.

All of a sudden I found myself nodding and the next thing I knew Rachel jumped out of her chair, grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me in for a tight hug. With the table still positioned between us, the sharp edge of it digging into my thigh—I was fairly certain I was going to wake up tomorrow with an ugly purple bruise—she rocked us slowly from side to side with a wide smile plastered on her lips. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Finn smirking contently.

"It is going to be so amazing," Rachel mused aloud in a dreamy voice as she finally let go of me. I gasped for air for a few moments before I slowly nodded. Rachel, I tell you, is an expert on bone crushing and breathtaking hugs.

"I bet it will," I mumbled under my breath as I rose to go get the pot of coffee that was waiting on a trivet on the kitchen island. I honestly wasn't sure that I had made the right decision when I agreed to be Rachel's maid of honor, but someone once told me that if you give someone your word, you keep it. I wonder who that person was . . .

The pot was still half-filled with coffee and it was more than enough to fill Finn's, Rachel's and my own cup up to the rim. As I placed the purple porcelain pot down on the counter I figured it was time to change the topic of conversation. "So what's happened since last time I saw you?" I asked and walked back to the table.

"A lot," Rachel said with a wide smile.

"Nothing special," Finn noted at the exact same time.

I let my gaze skip between the two brunettes for a few moments, my eyes narrowing in confusion. Were they screwing with my head?

"I talked to my agent yesterday," Rachel explained with a smile. "He said that the performer originally intended to play the part of Elphaba was forced to turn the role down when she discovered she was pregnant, with triplets." Finn whistled quietly beside her. Triplets, wow, she wasn't going to get a quiet moment in years . . . Let's not even get into details about how exhausting the actual birth of the children must be. Ugh!

Tilting my head slightly to the side, I asked, "Are we talking about Wicked now? Like Broadway Wicked?" The short brunette woman nodded intently and it was obvious that she had a hard time to restrain herself with all the happiness that was bubbling inside of her. I smiled sincerely and grabbed her small hand. "I'm so happy for you, Rachel. I really am."

"Thank you!" she breathed and beamed. "This is so wonderful! It's my dream come true."

Next to her, Finn nodded slowly in agreement. "You've totally deserved it, Rach." He grabbed her other hand and squeezed it lightly. The scene made something warm spread through my body – I was actually genuinely happy for the two of them. I never thought I would feel something like that for my former nemesis and my ex-boyfriend.

"Not that I want to ruin this happy moment, because I don't, but what about you Finn? Are you sure absolutely nothing special has happened?" I teased, but the tall ex-quarterback just shook his head.

Since he came back from his short tour to Afghanistan—a clavicle fracture sustained while playing ball with some men from his unit put an end to his four months stay at a US base north of Kandahar thirteen weeks too early—he had seemed a little down.

"I get out of bed, go to the bathroom, take a dump, eat breakfast, go to the bathroom, pee, eat lunch and watch TV," he informed in a monotone voice. "Nothing special." I watched him closely for a few long seconds. Was he joking with me?

"For real?" I asked slowly.

Finn went quiet for a long minute, and then he shook his head slowly. "I met someone the other day," he said, sounding a little more cheerful, and glanced over at his fiancée. She nodded as if to confirm that it actually happened.

God, I never realized just how whipped Finn Hudson had become.

Nevertheless, he began his telling of the event. "Last Tuesday—"

"Finn, it was Monday. . ."

"We went down to Freddie's, you know the little shop down by the park opposite our apartment building, to pick up some corn—"

Rachel sighed. "Bernie's . . . for canned sweet peas . . ."

"And guess who we ran into?" the tall ex-football player queered excitedly.

"How is she supposed to know? She wasn't there," Rachel said and rolled her eyes. "And we didn't run into anyone. Now she will think that you hit someone with the car, which by the way wouldn't surprise anyone, considering how you drive . . ."

Visual images of how Finn accidently hit a post officer while learning to drive suddenly came into my head. I don't remember who told me about it, but I think whoever told me did so somewhere around the same time as all the boys in Glee Club started picturing Coach Beiste in lingerie, chopping up meat, when they needed to take their minds off of us girls.

Across the table Finn was crossing his long arms over his chest defensively. His bottom lip puffed out in a sullen pout. "Hey, I'm a good driver! It wasn't me that accidently put the car into reverse instead of putting in the first gear during our trip to Cincinnati last summer. You know how much the repairs on the car cost me? Not to mention the picket fence and that weird looking garden gnome . . ." the tall lanky brunette muttered with a frown on his pale face.

I rolled my eyes theatrically. Finn and Rachel could be the sweetest couple, but they could as easily be counted as the most annoying people I have ever encountered. "Hey, guys! I'm still here!" I called out and waved my hands in front of their faces in hopes that it would distract them from continuing the argument. I wasn't interested in knowing what the heck happened to the creepy garden gnome. Those little things have always kind of freaked me out. I shook my head slightly to chase away the small humanoid creature wearing a pointy red hat, and an evil smirk, that had appeared on the windowsill right beside the potted hibiscus. He was winking to me and seductively licking his lips. With a wrinkled nosed and a disgusted look on my face, I turned to Finn and asked, "Who did you run into Finn?"

For a short moment the pale, tall man looked very puzzled, that is until his fiancée nudged him in the side and mouthed 'At Bernie's the other day.' A barely audible 'oh' escaped his lips and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes in annoyance. Yeah, that's right Finny. You were telling a story, I inaudibly groaned. "When we went to McKinley High, there was this dude; I think he transferred to our school during, like, junior year or something," Finn started. "He was, like, really blonde and had this huge mouth, Kurt wouldn't shut up about how he could not possibly be straight . . . I mean, I was unsure too, at first, but—"

"Finn," Rachel interrupted in a hushed voice as she tugged at his long sleeved tee, "I think she remembers Sam. They did date, remember?"

"Yeah, right . . ." the lanky man mumbled and used his steak of a hand to rub at the nape of his neck, something I have learned he only does when he is uncomfortable with the situation of feel stupid, or guilty about something. "Anyway, we met Sam Evans."

"We saw Sam Evans, honey," the petite brunette woman, to his left, corrected while she reached for the milk.

I had not heard his name in months, maybe even years. Last time I saw him was during the graduation ceremony in the auditorium of McKinley High in May of 2012. Okay, that was a lie . . . I had seen him at the Lima Bean, with a guy I thought I recognized from the football team, two weeks after graduation. I didn't speak to him though, I didn't even say 'hello'. I just made my order—the regular, a latte macchiato—grabbed my Styrofoam cup and left the coffee shop.

So where was I supposed to start when his name was suddenly brought up over coffee in my apartment, with Finn and Rachel.

How did he look – had he changed a lot? Where did he go to college or did he even go to college? What about his family, were they still poor and working double shifts to manage the rent? Did he have a job and an apartment, maybe even a pet or a girlfriend? Would he remember me, if we miraculously ran into each other? Was he still taking his clothes of for money? Did he still have those beautiful ocean colored eyes that changed color depending on the light in the room and what he was wearing? Had he forgiven me for cheating on him in junior year? And did he still sport that adorable boyish smirk that made my breath hitch in my throat the very first time I laid eyes on him?

The questions were many, but I wasn't even sure I wanted some of them answered, depending on what the answer would be. So instead I raised a hand to my face, tucked an escaped strand of blonde hair behind my ear and asked, "He's still a dork?"

Finn shrugged and wrinkled his forehead. "I don't know . . . I didn't get around to talk to him. Just saw him as he got into his car. But he's Sam Evans, you know, and he's still got that ridiculous haircut, so I guess he's still quite a dork."

"He had on one of those Captain America T-shirts," Rachel chimed in.

I smiled wearily and absentmindedly let the hand not occupied by a cup of steaming hot coffee travel up to my neck were it soon found the thin golden chain I still carried. Slender fingers, with nails painted a dark metallic purple, traced the fine gold chain until they reached where the small pendant was attached. The tiny golden cross my mother and father had given me the day I was born. It had become somewhat of a nervous habit of mine to pull at my necklace. I don't remember when I picked it up or exactly how many chains I had broken during the years.

Sam used to point out to me that whenever I was thinking real hard I would reach up and touch the small pendant, as if making contact with the shiny metal with my fingers would help my brain work faster. I told him he was being stupid and that I did not do such a thing. I also told him that it could not possibly make my brain work more efficiently – it was just a necklace.

As my eyes registered movement in front of me, I snapped back from my thoughts to observe what was happening. Rachel was waving a petite hand in front of my face, with an inquisitive frown painted on her neat features. As I looked eyes with her, she smiled and put down her hand, the single golden band decorating her left ring finger reflected the few rays of sunlight that sneaked through the semi closed blinds that covered my windows. "You were daydreaming," she said in a curious voice. "What were you thinking about?"

For a few seconds I considered whether I should tell her the truth or not, she was after all one of my friends now. I ended up deciding against it though. What made me make that decision I am not entirely sure of. Maybe it was the old, pre-senior year, high school Quinn that decided to show up, the girl that kept not only her first name, but also her previous life as an obese girl with braces and glasses a secret from everyone.

"I was just thinking about school," I lied; well actually it wasn't really a lie, more like a semi lie, a half-truth. The BAU profilers on Criminal Minds always say that half-truths are the best lies. I truly was thinking about school, just not the same school I made Rachel believe I thought about. "I can't believe I'm graduating in less than a month!" I added to further sell the lie, ahem, half-truth.

The brunette girl parted her lips into a wide toothy smile. "It's crazy! You're graduating, from college, from Yale!" With a Master of Fine Art degree from the acting program, I added quietly to myself. Maybe it was not that big of a surprise that Rachel swallowed line and sinker and everything on the little bait I threw out to get her to change the topic. The short diva has always been kind of naïve.

"You know," Rachel exclaimed after a short moment of causal chatting about what I want to do after I graduate, where I see myself in ten years and so on. "We should really throw a party, like a huge graduation party just for you, with all your closest friends invited. Doesn't that sound like an absolutely amazing idea?" she asked while skipping her gaze between me and Finn, who was finishing his fourth cup of coffee in less than one and a half hour. Poor boy would have to run to the bathroom to pee every ten minutes if he continued like that . . .

Capturing my bottom lip between my teeth I began to ponder the ex-New Direction co-captain's proposition. A party was a great way to meet and catch up with old friends I had not have seen in a while. Thinking through that aspect made the idea sound like an awesome initiative. However, parties with the Glee kids tend to derail . . .

I winced as memories of the awful hangover I got after Rachel's party in junior year came rushing back to me. That was the worst headache I have ever had! Pictures of Lauren throwing up all over poor Mike's shirt, a wasted Rachel kissing a completely intoxicated Blaine, a devastated Kurt trying to burn Rachel's head off with his stare alone, Puck grinding against a floor mop, Santana basically shoving her tongue down Sam's throat, and the reflection of myself in Berry's bathroom mirror as I tried to wipe the smudged mascara from my cheeks where it had, mixed with tears, trickled down.

Maybe a party wasn't that good of an idea . . .

Rachel gave me those puppy dog eyes though, the ones I guess she gives Finn every time she wants something that she knows he doesn't really approve of. Well, perhaps not the exact same puppy dog eyes—that would be creepy—but something similar at least. "It will be so fun, Quinn! Think about how long ago it was since we last met Mike, Tina and Artie. And don't even get me started on the others!"

With a heavy sigh and a roll of the eye, I turned in my seat to glance at Finn. "Does this always work on you?" I asked blankly and he gave me a sheepish shrug in return. Obviously that was a 'yes'.

Author's note,

Hi guys! First chapter is up and I am super excited to see what you'll think about it :)

I just want to let you know that I have been trying to find out how long you stay at Yale if you study acting or theatre, but I haven't managed to get a proper answer. So in this story people study acting/theatre at Yale for four years and then they graduate.

The next chapter will probably be posted about a week from now.

Finally, I hope you liked this first chapter and please post a little review and let me know what you think! Thanks in advance! :)