A/N:

Hello, all

This is my first attempt at writing this pairing and in this fandom. I have little knowledge of theatre, or Broadway shows, or New York, so apologies for any inconsistencies with that. Any reviews/opinions are always welcome. Other than that, enjoy.

"E-excuse me, Ms Berry, could I… Could I please have your autograph?" Turning at the sound of the timid voice, Rachel Berry put on her most winning smile as she was confronted with a girl who couldn't have been much older than sixteen, and who reminded her strongly of herself at that age. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, and the sweater she was wearing looking like it could have come straight out of teenage-Berry's closest.

"Of course you can," she murmured, taking the proffered pen and taking the programme that the younger girl was holding. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Sarah," the girl replied, struggling to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds. With another smile, Rachel signed the programme for Spring Awakening with her usual flourish, adding her signature star after her name. She handed it back and the girl took it with a whispered thank you before she turned and was lost into the crowd of New York traffic.

Still smiling, Rachel pulled her coat tighter around her to ward off the chill in the air, and began the short walk to her apartment. The theatre where Spring Awakening was being put on was in the centre of Times Square, and she'd managed to luck out and get a great (somewhat affordable), deal on an apartment just a few blocks away.

The show had finished over two hours ago, but she never went home right away. She liked to reflect on her performance, both alone and with her castmates, before she left each night. She liked the streets at night – even at one in the morning there were still people about, still many lights on in the tall buildings, blotting out the stars in the night sky above.

When she reached her apartment building she stopped briefly to check the post, noting with interest the larger brown envelope with a handwritten note from her agent on the front:

Managed to get an early copy, turn to the theatre page and enjoy! Todd.

Curious as to what could be inside; she hurried to the elevator and clicked the button for the eleventh floor. She was in the hallway before the doors had even opened fully, only pausing briefly to admire the view offered by the large windows on either side. Even after she'd been living in the city for years, New York still managed to take her breath away some days.

Her apartment was dark, which didn't surprise her. She heard the loud snoring of her fiancé, Finn, coming from their bedroom, and laying the envelope on the table in the sitting room she went to stand in the doorway, wondering at what point their relationship had gone so… Stale.

He'd used to go to every one of her shows, back when she'd first started out, and sat in the front row. After a few months he'd only come once a week, and then once a month, and now… Now she barely saw him. He was always working, or out with friends, or doing something to avoid her. She could barely even remember the last time that he'd taken her out on a date.

With a wistful sigh she turned and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and an apple to eat before throwing herself onto the sofa, switching the TV on quietly. She opened the mysterious brown envelope eagerly, astounded when a brand new copy of the New York Times fell out.

She leafed through the section indicated on Todd's note and had to keep her squeal of delight contained when she saw what was top of the contents – Spring Awakening. The headline read Broadway's newest rising star, Rachel Berry, blows audience away in stunning performance.

Grinning, she turned to the page and read, her excitement growing with each word. The New York Times were a big deal – to be heralded in a review was huge, especially for someone who was relatively unknown. Rachel had been in a several shows since she'd finished at NYADA two years ago, but they had all had smaller audiences - Spring Awakening was her biggest break yet, and she'd been over the moon when she'd landed the main part. It had only been running for two weeks, so to get so much recognition so quickly – it was a big deal.

She was so happy at the acclaim in the review that she almost overlooked the writer of the article – but when she did her jaw dropped in shock.

Written by Quinn Fabray.

She stared at the name for a few seconds longer, finger absently tracing the print. Quinn Fabray. She hadn't heard of Quinn for years. Their tentative friendship at the end of senior year had quickly faded as they both started new lives, with Rachel at NYADA and Quinn at Yale. She could hardly believe that the ex-cheerleader had done well enough for herself to be writing for the NYT at such a young age.

On impulse, Rachel switched on her laptop and opened google, searching Quinn's name. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for – an email address. She copied the address and logged onto her own email, typing a quick message:

I have to say, I'm impressed and surprised by your review. It's a startling difference from the days where you used to mock my singing on my Myspace videos. Hard to believe we've both come so far since then, I must say – the New York Times? Colour me impressed.

She sent it before she changed her mind, her heart racing slightly, though she couldn't place why. It had been a long time since she'd thought about her fellow Glee clubbers from McKinley High - aside from Finn, obviously, and Kurt, who was also starring in a Broadway show, she had no idea what the others were up to.

It made her curious, but googling the names Mercedes Jones, Santana Lopez, Brittany Peirce, and the rest didn't come up with many results. She checked her email one last time before she logged off, realizing she should probably go to bed – it was nearing half two, and she should get a good night's sleep to be fully prepared for the next night's performance.

Flipping the lights off as she went, she stripped down to her underwear once she was in her bedroom and glanced again at Finn. He was splayed across the bed, wearing only boxers, one arm by his side and the other above his head, still snoring like a train.

With another sigh Rachel pulled on the shorts she wore for sleeping, as well as a tank top in replacement of her bra. She slid under the covers next to Finn, curling up in the small space he hadn't taken up, turning her back to him.

Once upon a time his arms would envelope her as soon as she lay beside him, but not anymore. Back then it had been almost instinct, but now if they woke up in each other's arms it was purely accidental.

She reflected again on the past, trying to pinpoint exactly when things had gotten this bad, but she couldn't recall. They'd broken up after senior year, only to get back together shortly into her first year at NYADA. Finn had moved out to New York to live with her as she began her second year, and had worked several jobs to be able to afford the rent. He'd been exhausted each day, but he'd still had the energy to make an effort to spend time with her.

Now he co-owned a garage about fifteen minutes away from their apartment, and chose hours that had him up early in the mornings (the alarm woke her at eight each morning, but she fell asleep again as soon as he'd left), and got him back at around five thirty, which was exactly half an hour after she had to be at rehearsals.

She often wondered if he'd done it on purpose, so that he would have to see her for as little time as possible. It was an easy assumption to make, and it was one that haunted her regularly. He'd proposed in their last year of high school, and had again when they'd gotten back together, but they'd decided to postpone the wedding until they'd saved up enough money, or until she'd finished at NYADA.

Both of those instances had passed, and they barely ever talked about the wedding. Her fathers harassed her about it practically every week when they called, but she couldn't bear to tell them about their relationship troubles – that would make them seem far more real. She hadn't told a single soul that some days she wondered if Finn didn't want to be with her, if he was cheating on her. That some days she herself wondered if the only way she'd ever feel alive again was to end it with him, or to have sex with someone else.

But she never voiced them to Finn. Not that she had much opportunity – she had one day off from a show per week, and that was the only time saw him for more than a few minutes. She didn't know if she had the strength to do it, though.

How had she, Rachel Berry, managed to get everything she'd ever wanted – starring in a Broadway musical, on the verge of becoming the next stage star – and yet still feel so empty inside?

She glanced at the clock and cursed her mind – another half an hour had passed, and she was still awake. She closed her eyes and willed her brain to quiet down; it would only add to her troubles if she turned up to rehearsals tomorrow after only a handful of hours sleep. No matter what else was happening, she could not, would not, allow anything to affect her performance.

x-x-x

The alarm woke her up just a few hours later, right on schedule. She heard Finn groan and felt him roll over to shut it off, but she didn't move herself. The bed creaked as he stood, and she waited until she'd heard the bathroom door shut before rolling over so that she was in the centre of the bed – she liked her space in the mornings.

When Finn emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later with only a towel wrapped around his waist, she was still awake. His eyes flickered over to her absentmindedly and then away, straying back when he noticed that Rachel's were open.

"Rach? What are you doing awake? You usually go straight back to sleep."

"I had trouble sleeping."

"Oh," was all he said in reply, looking lost that his regular morning routine of not having to speak with Rachel interrupted. He turned his back to her to leaf through his closest to find his clothes for the day. "Well, you should try to get some more hours in. You don't look so good."

The offhand comment stung, and she felt tears spring to her eyes, immediately chastising herself for allowing it to get to her. It was early morning, after all, and she'd had barely four hours of sleep – no-one would look their best after that.

On impulse, she rose from the bed and padded over the where Finn stood, placing her hands on his shoulders gently. He jumped and spun around, frown on his face as he looked down at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I just…"

"Rach, I have to get to work, I don't have time to mess around," he said wearily, removing her hands from where they'd come to rest, on his chest. "Just go back to bed." He grabbed the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing for the day and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her standing in-front of the open closest, stunned.

Never, ever, had Finn turned her away so readily. So easily. That stung even more than the jab at her appearance, and she felt a tear track across her cheek. She wiped it away hastily, retreating back to the bed and burying her face in the covers as she cried. She didn't even know why exactly it had affected her so much – it wasn't like it was a shock to discover that Finn wasn't as interested in her as he'd used to be. But that didn't really make it any easier.

When he emerged from the bathroom once more, a little while later, Rachel didn't raise her head form the covers, and he shut the bedroom door behind him without so much as a word of goodbye. Her tears dried, Rachel lay back against the pillows. She lent to the side of the bed to where Finn had abandoned his shirt from the day before and pressed it to her chest, wondering if this was the only way she'd be able to get close to him from now on.

Curling up onto her side she checked her phone to see that she had no messages, and double-checked her alarm was set before she curled up again in an attempt to get back to sleep. Usually she found it easier after Finn had left for work, but she wondered if today would be different after what had happened…

But apparently not, because her alarm woke her up several hours later, at noon. She sprang out of bed and headed straight for the shower, using the hot water to cleanse all memory of what had happened that morning – she'd rather be focused on the day ahead, rather than the past.

Her morning (well, technically afternoon), routine hadn't changed that much since high school. It still took her an extremely long time to get ready – after all, she was a star, and had to treat her body and skin as such.

She was finally finished in the bathroom an hour later, and traipsed to the kitchen to prepare a healthy lunch while she tried to relax. These few hours were her alone time, where she could chill out and not have to worry about anything else. Some days she practised her solos, others her dancing, and on others she simply went for a run.

Central Park was one of Rachel's favourite places to go in the city, but a quick glance at the clock told her that she didn't really have enough time to explore it the way she liked; so she regretfully settled in-front of the trashy afternoon television as she tucked into her salad.

She'd completely forgotten about the email she'd sent last night until an advert for a new make of laptop came on the TV, and she nearly dropped the glass she had in her hand at the time in her rush to log into her account.

She was notoriously bad for checking her emails, so she couldn't tell immediately whether she had a reply – but sure enough, when she clicked on her inbox, there was a message from one Quinn Fabray. It seemed to her to take an age from the message to load, but when it did she read the few lines of text eagerly.

Well, I only wrote the truth – you deserved that review, Rach, you were amazing up there. And I only mocked you back then because I was jealous, I thought you knew that? Yeah, I've managed to do rather well for myself, I'm still have convinced they made a mistake when they hired me, but I'm not going to complain.

Rachel read the response a few times, pondering what to send back. While she'd hoped that Quinn would reply, she hadn't been counting on an email correspondence. One thing got her attention though, something he hadn't realised at first – Quinn had seen her show. She'd been in New York, in the audience, and Rachel hadn't noticed. That was just unacceptable.

The praise was also unexpected, but it was welcome after Finn's comments that morning. The fact that someone thought that about her, even if it was from someone who had used to give her hell, meant a lot – maybe it even meant more so, coming from someone like Quinn.

Hesitantly, she wrote her answer.

Thank you, Quinn, it means a lot to me. And you were jealous? Of me? Why? So, does this mean you've lived in New York for all this time and I never knew about it?

She hit send and went on a few other websites while she whittled down the time before she'd had to leave. She checked her account one before she logged off to go and get ready, on impulse, and was surprised to see that there was a reply there already.

Well, it's true. You're spectacular, not that that's any surprise. You were always going to be a star; we all knew that, even back then. And yes, I was jealous – what shouldn't I have been jealous of? You were all about confidence in your own ability, you knew you were better than everyone else, and you weren't afraid to show it, or to work for it. And you were beautiful, in an effortless way. You didn't even need to try.

And no, I've never, and still don't, live in New York. I live in LA, or at least I do for the next couple of weeks. I work for a magazine over here; the editor got me a shot with the NYT – that article was my test piece, to see if I was good enough. They hired me on the spot and published it straight away. They're moving me over there on the 14th to start working for them.

Rachel glanced hesitantly at the clock, noting that she should really start getting dressed if she wanted to be on time, but the email was too tempting. The first paragraph, in particular – she couldn't stop re-reading it. The words left a funny feeling in her chest, and brought a smile to her face – it was exactly what she needed after this morning. She wrote a hasty reply, one eye still on the time.

It is a surprise, actually, especially coming from you.

So, you'll be in New York soon? Do you need a tour of the city? I know where all the best places are, after all. ;)

Rachel wanted desperately to inquire more about the other things Quinn had written – mainly about the jealously part, and of her finding her beautiful – but time wouldn't allow it. Besides, she wasn't sure if that would make their tentative correspondence awkward. She didn't want to give Quinn any reason to stop replying, like she'd eventually done during their freshman year of college. Rachel still didn't know what had happened, why things had fizzled out between them. She hadn't even thought about it for years, but thinking back, she'd been content in those few months where they'd been friends – even without Finn.

Perhaps that had been the reason for the abrupt end to their friendship, Rachel mused as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a thin purple t-shirt. Her trusty black boots came next, and she ran a brush through her hair before grabbing her bag and her coat as she left the apartment.

She'd gotten back together with Finn about a week before Quinn had stopped replying to her texts and phonecalls. Such a delay had happened a few times before, but as the days turned into weeks, Rachel had realized that she wasn't going to get an answer.

And that had been the end of that. Until now.

The October air was chilly, and she was glad for the warmth of her coat as she exited her apartment building, burying her hands in her pockets to ward off the cold. The streets were bustling, and she blended in perfectly with the other New Yorkers around her. She wondered how many others of them were like her, relatively unknown but on the cusp of stardom – she wondered how long it would be until she couldn't walk down the street without being recognised. She longed for those days, but not for the fame – just for the opportunities it would bring, the chance for her to have everything she'd ever wanted.

The theatre door was locked when she got there, but she slid out the key that they'd given everyone acting in the show, and pushed open the heavy door. Inside the sound of voices echoed, and Rachel locked the door behind her before stepping through into the interior.

Several of her castmates were already on the stage, running through a few of their numbers. She stood and watched for a few minutes until one of them noticed her standing to the side.

"Hey, Rach," Jake called, jumping down from the stage and pulling her into a hug. He was her co-star in Spring Awakening, playing the Melchior to her Wendla. He was the same age as her, twenty-three, with messy brown hair and bright blue eyes. "What are you doing after the show tonight?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Good, because you're coming to celebrate your New York Times review with us."

"How did you guys know about that?"

"How could we not?! It's huge!" She grinned at his enthusiasm, as a few other members of the cast came over to congratulate her. She'd almost forgotten about her earlier excitement about the review after her conversation with Quinn, but it all came rushing back the more they spoke about it.

The director of the show, Evan, finally called them all to order as they began their pre-show preparations – they did one whole run-through and then went over a few of the more difficult choreographed scenes before retiring to their dressing rooms to get their hair and make-up done ready for the show.

Rachel had brought her phone with her, and as she waited for her make-up artist to meet her in her dressing room she logged into her email, realizing that she was getting a little too obsessed with her correspondence with Quinn.

She was left disappointed though when there was no new message, and it must have shown on her face because when Jake popped his head into the room a few moments later he asked her what was wrong.

"Oh, nothing," Rachel replied, trying to force a smile. He narrowed his eyes at her but shrugged, coming into the room and perching on the dressing table in front of the chair where she sat.

"If you say so. Are you inviting Finn to drinks later?" Rachel bit her lip, still undecided about whether to or not. Then again, she doubted he'd accept the invitation, and if he did, well, then at least they were spending time together, right?

"Yeah, I will do. He might be busy though, he works so much these days."

"I noticed. I haven't seen him around here in a while." She could feel Jake's eyes on her, scrutinizing her for a reaction, perhaps assuming that Finn was the reason for her earlier expression or disappointment.

"Yeah, well… He's been busy."

"Are you guys okay? You just… seem a little upset lately. Not yourself. And you don't talk about Finn as much as you used to."

"We're fine," Rachel murmured, looking away from his intense gaze and instead fiddling with the engagement ring that sat on her left hand. It was the same one that Finn had proposed with back in high school, the tiny diamond catching the bright light in the room.

"Are you sure? Rach, you know you can talk to me, right?" She chanced a quick glance up at him, to see genuine concern on his face, and she wondered how she'd managed to make such a good friend – she rarely went out with her castmates, her only regular interaction being in the theatre itself. She was amazed that Jake had even managed to notice that anything was wrong. Finn certainly hadn't, and he'd known her for years rather than months.

"Yeah, we're fine. I'm fine." Lily, her make-up artist, walked in then, sparing Rachel from being questioned any more about her love life. Jake departed soon after to get himself ready, and Rachel relaxed into her chair, making idle conversation with Lily as she got her ready for the performance.

She typed a quick text to Finn after Lily had left to let her get ready for her pre-show warm-ups and to get changed, asking if he wanted to come with her tonight. He replied five minutes later, with a response that didn't surprise her:

No. Don't want to stay out late with being in work early.

And that was it. No apology, no have fun, no nothing. She turned her phone off with a huff, vowing to forget about Finn for the rest of the night.

The show that night was a huge success, as always. Rachel sung, acted and danced her heart out onstage, thriving on the reactions of the audience – this was what she lived for. The applause when they did their curtain call made her heart race in a way that nothing else could, and she took it all in, wishing the moment could last forever.

But alas, it couldn't, and it was over too quickly, as always, when the lights dimmed and they walked back off-stage, praising each other on their performances. Jake told her to get ready to go out, and she met him and several of their other castmates outside their dressing rooms ten minutes later.

She hadn't dressed for the occasion, not knowing that they'd be going anywhere afterwards, but she saw to her relief that she wasn't the only one wearing jeans. They left the theatre as a group, heading the nearest bar.

"First round's on you, Jake!" Called Sarah, who played one of the minor characters. Jake groaned but headed off to order a round as the rest of them headed towards the empty table at the back. It was busy inside, and a few curious glances were sent their way as they sat down.

"So, Rachel, what does it feel like to be in the NYT?"

"You guys realise that it's about the show, not me."

"Yeah but it's mainly about you."

"Rumour has it that you could be up for a Tony."

"How great would that be?"

And so the conversation went, but even though the focus was on her, Rachel wasn't feeling very talkative. Her issues with Finn were still bothering her, as was Quinn's lack of reply – and why that was on her mind she didn't even know.

So as it happened, she ended up drinking quite a lot that night.

Jake had apparently taken it upon himself to get her to drink as much as possible, and the others only encouraged him. Maybe he was just determined to see her completely trashed, or maybe he was just trying to help her forget about what was troubling her, but by her fourth shot of tequila Rachel wasn't really concerned about his motives.

"Hey, you're Rachel Berry, right?" She turned at the sound of her name, stumbling slightly, her head starting to feel fuzzy, she see a guy stood behind her, gorgeous smile on his face as he regarded her. She absently wondered how long it had been since Finn had looked at her like that, like she was actually worth something, and she took a step closer to him.

"Yeah I am, who are you?"

"Tyler Abraham." He held out his hand and she shook it, the name tickling a memory in the back of her mind.

"You're that guy," she managed, and he grinned in amusement, the expression making his green eyes sparkle.

"That guy?"

"From… the TV. You're in that new TV show. The one about the kids with the singing. But how do you know who I am?"

"I'm a big fan of Broadway."

"You are?"

"Yeah. And I'm also a big fan of yours, after your show tonight. Can I uh… Can I buy you a drink?"