Hello my dears!

I got this idea for a Faberry AU, not actually from the movie 21 Jump Street, but from a true story I heard a while back on This American Life about a young female cop going undercover in a Florida high school to make a drug bust, and the innocent, sweet and slightly geeky boy who fell in love with her, thinking she was a real high school student. It screamed, "Faberry me!" And since it's been too long since I've written a new Faberry story, I just couldn't resist! Hope y'all will enjoy.

Synopsis: Quinn is a 23-year-old cop with a dark past. While undercover at McKinley High, looking for a drug bust, she meets Rachel Berry, 18-year-old glee star, and sparks fly, despite Quinn's ongoing efforts to ignore her feelings for the dark-haired starlet and stay on the job. But when a much bigger and more frightening crime goes down at McKinley, where will Quinn's loyalties lie—with the police force that sent her undercover, or the girl she can't help loving?

…...

21 Jump Street: Faberry Style

Chapter 1

…...

"Okay Quinn, here's your school registration, ID and course schedule. All ready for your first day of high school?" Chief Beiste laid the paperwork on the immaculately organized desk of her youngest officer, and gave her an encouraging slap on the back. At 23, Quinn had more arrests and more closed cases on her docket than many other officers who'd been on the force twice as long or more. It didn't exactly help her win any popularity contests among the old boys' club that made up most of the Columbus Ohio police force, but the blonde girl didn't care about that. All she cared about was doing her job, and cleaning up the streets; making sure that what happened to her sister would never happen to another kid in Ohio. Not on her watch.

"It's not my first day of high school, Chief. I did graduate, y'know," Quinn replied wryly, cocking her head with a little smirk as she pulled the documents toward her and examined them.

"Quinn Fabray is a high school graduate," Chief Beiste corrected. "Dianna Anderson is not. Time to get your head in the game, Fabray. No more dress rehearsals." The stocky police chief had a very kind nature, but she also knew how to be tough to get results from her officers. She leveled Quinn with her best 'no nonsense' stare now, trying to gauge—one last time—whether her star rookie was really up to the challenges of going undercover.

"The name's Anderson. Not Fabray," Quinn said seriously; but she gave the chief a little wink. Then she took a closer look at her new driver's license and school ID, and frowned. "Wait a sec, Chief, I think someone made a typo on these. Isn't Diana supposed to be spelled with just one N?"

"Usually," the chief shrugged. "But this is what they sent us, and it's all in the system now. Maybe your fictional parents were hippies or something. Is that really your biggest concern about this operation?"

"No, of course not. I'm ready, Chief. I won't disappoint you." The blonde girl stood up and shoved her papers into her new school backpack, slipping the straps over her shoulders. Chief Beiste's eyebrows went up questioningly.

"What?" Quinn asked defensively, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she got used to the feeling of having a backpack on her back again, five years after graduating from high school.

"Is that what you're wearing?" The chief asked doubtfully, nodding to Quinn's ensemble of flip-flops, faded jeans and a v-neck t-shirt.

"What? This is exactly how I dressed every day in high school," Quinn shrugged. "I promise you, I look more like a teenager in these clothes than in my detective's button-downs." Beiste sighed and shook her head.

"You're not just trying to pass for a teenager, Fabray. You need to get in with the popular crowd asap, so you can find out where the hell this drug pipeline is coming from. You're not showing up at McKinley High as you; you're showing up as Dianna Anderson, and Dianna Anderson does not wear flip-flops to school. You think the band geeks and the Mathletes are gonna lead you to the top dog in the drug chain? Football players and cheerleaders, Fabray. That's who you're cozying up to. And I sure as fuck do not want you showing up for cheerleading tryouts looking like some loner burnout."

"Cheerleading tryouts?!" Quinn whined. The chief just eyed her dispassionately, and sent her to the undercover wardrobe office to change.

…...

An hour later, Quinn stepped out of her beat up red Mustang (the only thing in this whole operation that was actually hers) into the parking lot of McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio. It was far enough away from her precinct in Columbus that she was safe from being recognized; but not so far that she couldn't go back to the station to report as needed. As she locked her car and slung her backpack over her shoulders, she surveyed her fellow students, milling around and showing off their first-day-of-school outfits and greeting each other after summer vacation. "Greeting" might be too strong a word for what some of them were doing, actually.

The blond girl's eyes narrowed instantly as she took in the sight of a pack of thuggish football players in varsity lettermen's jackets, taunting an impeccably dressed, fair-skinned boy, and backing him up against a large, industrial dumpster. Either her gaydar was completely on the fritz, or this kid was about to get gaybashed.

"Quit looking at me, faggot," the biggest and burliest of the football players snarled as the blonde girl approached them from behind, their attention focused on the skinny boy in the Alexander McQueen sweater set who stood trembling but defiant in front of them. To his credit, he refused to run away, or even look away; even though he must have been terrified. Each of the football goons was easily double his weight, and there were three of them.

"Don't flatter yourself, Karovsky," the well-dressed boy said haughtily back to the glowering bully, drawing himself up to his full height and staring the alpha-male jock asshole straight in the eye. "I don't go for sweaty apes in football jackets anyway." The bully—Karovsky— took a step forward, fists brandished. That's when Quinn jumped in between them, hazel eyes blazing. Even though she wasn't wearing her standard issue Glock 42 revolver on her hip, her hand automatically reached for it, forgetting for a moment who she was supposed to be and why she was standing in a high school parking lot without her weapon in the first place.

"Is there a problem here?" She asked smoothly, her voice deadly calm as she covered her tracks by putting on hand on her hip, staring up at the sniggering jocks. A light breeze lifted the hem of her sundress (not hers, really, but one of the many outfits Chief Beiste had forced on her from the undercover wardrobe before she left), showing off a little more of her toned, tanned legs. One of the leering jocks wolf-whistled.

"Damn girl, which cloud in heaven did you fall from?" The head bully crooned, apparently under the impression that he was being charming. "You must be new here, 'cause I know I'd remember seeing you before. You need a tour guide, baby?"

"Maybe," Quinn replied smoothly. "What's your name?"

"Dave Karovsky," the bully replied proudly, puffing out his chest. "Starting linebacker."

"Well Dave Karovsky, now that I know your name, all I need are directions to the principal's office so I can get you suspended for harassment. Or were you just leaving?" Quinn cooed, her lip curling slightly into a sultry grin. She may not be able to cuff this asshole, but watching his face turn red as the other boys sniggered at him was almost as satisfying.

"Bitch," the heavyset boy muttered loudly, turning and walking off without another word. The rest of his jock cronies followed, leaving Quinn alone with the fair-haired boy, who she still had her back to protectively. Sighing softly, she turned to face him.

"Well that's one way to start off senior year," she smiled weakly, taking in the boy more closely now. He had crystal blue eyes and was impeccably dressed, right down to the sparkling brooch on his designer sweater. She admired his boldness; in a small town like this, he had to know this outfit was going to draw attention, and not the good kind. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Thanks," the boy grinned at her, picking up his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "That was kind of amazing. I've never seen a popular kid stick up for a fabulously gay glee geek before."

"Well this is my first day here," Quinn shrugged, a genuine smile spreading across her face now. "I'm not popular yet."

"Oh don't worry, you will be," the fair-skinned boy smiled with one eyebrow raised at her appraisingly. She knew that look; it was the same look her gay best friend Marco gave her back home in Columbus anytime he wanted to give her a makeover or take her out dancing. That look that said, "girlfriend, you are a hot commodity whether you want to be or not." Quinn felt herself blush a little.

"Based on those football fuckwads, I'm not sure that's such a good thing," she joked, even though she knew it was the only thing that mattered in reality—she needed the popular assholes to lead her to the drug pipeline coming into this damn school.

"Maybe you can begin a new era," the boy shrugged as they fell into step together toward the school entrance. "With that face and that body, plus the whole new girl mystique, I think you're going to find that you have pull in these halls." He stopped and stuck out his hand formally. "I'm Kurt Hummel, by the way. I'm a senior."

"Dianna Anderson," Quinn smiled without missing a beat, taking Kurt's porcelain hand in hers and giving it a little squeeze. She did have to have friends to fit in at this school, after all, even if they weren't all secretly drug mules. "I'm a senior too. Just transferred here from Columbus."

"Very nice to meet you, Miss Di," Kurt beamed, looking genuinely delighted as he escorted her into the main hallway of McKinley High. "I'm sorry you had to leave Columbus to spend your senior year in this cesspool. But for a hick town, it's not so terrible, really; I'm in Glee Club and Cheerios—that's our cheerleading squad—and we're planning to win two national championships this year, which will cinch my acceptance to Julliard. I'm going to be on Broadway, you know." He raised one hand above his head dramatically, as if there were already a spotlight shining on him from an invisible stage, and gave a little bow. Quinn giggled.

"Well you'll have to save me a ticket on opening night," she grinned. "You're a cheerleader? Thank God I'll at least have one friendly face when I embarrass myself at tryouts."

"Ooh, cheer buddies! We'll be just like Kirsten Dunst and Eliza Dushku in Bring It On. But I doubt you'll embarrass yourself at tryouts; I can tell you have a dancer's body. You've got nothing to worry about, Di, I promise." Kurt winked. Quinn liked the fact that he had already given her a nickname two minutes after meeting her; it helped her flesh out this idea that she really was a seventeen-year-old cheerleader named Dianna, not a 23-year-old undercover cop with a shady past looking for a drug bust.

"Thanks, but I'm still really nervous. Cheerleading's not really my thing...but my mom is, um, forcing me to try out," she shrugged, slightly nervous as she laid the groundwork for the lies she'd have to stick to in the coming weeks and months. It had to come out just right; she couldn't afford any inconsistencies in her story later on.

"I understand, it wasn't really my thing at first either. My first love is Glee Club. But Coach Sue offered me the chance to take the spotlight in Cheerios, and I just couldn't say no. So what do you like, if not cheerleading? What clubs were you in back in Columbus?"

"I ran track and did photography club," Quinn said firmly, which was perfectly true. She had done those activities in high school.

"Well you can do those things here if you want," Kurt shrugged. "But I think you'll be a smash in Cheerios. Santana and Brittany—they're squad co-captains—will cream the second they see you. They're a couple, you know. Officially they're just friends, but pretty much everyone knows the truth. See, this school isn't entirely run by redneck assholes."

"Yeah?" Quinn brightened, then hastily tried to rearrange her face into an expression of mild indifference. Kurt chuckled, but didn't push.

"Yeah," he nodded. "So, Miss Dianna, shall I show you to the guidance office? Miss Pillsbury is a doll, she'll give you a locker and help get you settled in."

"Yes, thanks," Quinn nodded back with a smile. "Thanks for being such a good welcome committee, Kurt."

"Thanks for defending my honor with the football goons," Kurt smiled back. "See you at cheerleading tryouts?"

"Definitely," Quinn smiled.

…...

The rest of the morning passed quickly, as Quinn ran around campus trying to find all her classes, and blend in with the student body while subtly listening in on as many students' conversations as she possibly could. Not that she expected to hear a student say, Hey everyone, I've got some drugs to sell! But still, it was her job to have her finger on the pulse of this school for the next three months, and that meant plenty of eavesdropping.

Almost in the blink of an eye, it was lunchtime, and as she slid her tray down the cafeteria line, Quinn felt surprisingly nervous about where she'd sit and whether anyone would talk to her—like she really was back in high school, all other concerns momentarily forgotten. Luckily, Kurt appeared like an angel of light just as she reached the end of the line, and invited her to come sit at his table, which she gratefully accepted.

"Look everyone, I found a stray and brought her home," he announced delightedly to the group as he sat down at the table and patted the spot next to him for Quinn. "This is Dianna Anderson, new student and future Cheerios star. Di, this is Mercedes and Tina and Mike and Artie and Rachel." He nodded his way around the table, each of them giving Quinn a polite wave or head nod in greeting. When he came around to the last girl—who, coincidentally, was now sitting right next to her—Quinn felt her heart give a spastic little squeeze in her chest, and plummet straight down into her stomach.

"Hi," she managed to squeak, feeling her cheeks flush bright pink as she tried to make equal eye contact with everyone, even though the dark-haired girl sitting beside her seemed to be sending out some kind of psychic-magnetic traction beam that drew Quinn's eyes directly to hers. "It's, um, really nice to meet you all. Thanks for letting me sit with you."

"Well any friend of Kurt's is a friend of ours," the beautiful girl—Rachel—said with a wide, easy smile spreading across her perfectly glossed lips. Quinn grinned back dopily, completely losing track of herself for a moment. "What brings you to McKinley?"

Quinn launched into her cover story all over again; divorced parents, Mom transferred to Lima from Columbus for work, new town, first day of classes, blah blah blah. When she mentioned cheerleading tryouts, the group collectively rolled their eyes, which actually endeared them to Quinn enormously.

"If it's a chance to be in the spotlight you're looking for, Dianna, you should really consider trying out for Glee, too," Rachel said seriously, her dark gaze fixed intently on Quinn, who felt her face flushing pink again. "Several of the top Cheerios are also in Glee Club, and it's an excellent chance to expand your repertoire as a performer. Isn't that right, Kurt?"

"Calm down, diva queen," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Not everyone cool has to join Glee. We don't even know if Di sings."

"Of course she sings," Rachel waved him off dismissively. "I can tell just by listening to her speak. We need a nice, smoky alto to round out our sound this year if we're going to take Nationals. You want to join, don't you Dianna?" She was turning her smile on Quinn again, which made it very hard to form the word no in her brain, let alone actually say it out loud.

"Well...I dunno, I never really thought about it before. I guess I can sing, but I've never actually performed, like on stage," Quinn shrugged shyly. Drug bust, drug bust, she reminded herself silently.

"You really should think about it," Mike Chang piped up from his spot next to Tina. "I never thought I'd be the type to join Glee either, I was all about football. But now I do both, and it's pretty awesome. I never knew what a kick-ass dancer I was before." Tina beamed and kissed him on the cheek, while the rest of them laughed and threw popcorn and told Mike not to get too full of himself.

All of Kurt's friends seemed incredibly welcoming and nice, though sadly Quinn could tell right off the bat that these kids weren't going to lead her anywhere productive for her investigation. These were not the popular kids. Still, she had three months of cheerleading hell to eavesdrop on the cheer bitches and football goons, so for now she wasn't going to worry about who she ate lunch with.

Except for the girl sitting beside her, whose hip was brushing hers and filling her entire body with tiny sparks of nervous energy that felt like a million hot peppers dancing around inside her. Get it together Fabray, she told herself sternly. You're not really a teenager. Remember why you're here. Remember Charlie. That thought sobered her up quickly, and she went back into stealth mode, turning her head firmly away from the sexy jailbait sitting beside her and refocusing on her orders: find the popular kids. Find the drugs. She had to make it through stupid cheerleading tryouts; she just had to. If only Charlie could see me now, she thought with a sad grin.

The jangling of the end-of-lunch bell brought her out of her reverie, and she smiled at her new friends as they all stood and gathered their things for afternoon classes. "What's your next class, Di? I'll walk you," Kurt offered with the same welcoming smile he'd worn all day.

"Um..." Quinn hastily dug her schedule out of her backpack. "AP US History with Mr. Schuester."

"Ooh, me too!" Rachel said excitedly. "We can walk together." She beamed at the blonde girl, who gave a little inward sigh. Being a fake high school student wasn't going to be quite as easy as she'd expected.