Author's Note: This is my first published Faberry fic. Really, I'm just trying to get into writing again after taking a few years off (seeing as college seemed to have drained all my creativity - who'da thunk it?). This came to me as I was listening to my iTunes and trying to think up fun and quick prompts for myself with my best friend. This will really only be 5 chapters, at most, if that. But we'll see where this takes us.

I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to review and give comments or criticisms. I'm very open to everything. :) Now, without further ado, please enjoy the story.

xxxxxxx

Rachel tugged her leather jacket closer to her shivering body. It was merely a cool October night, and she just happened upon the gates of her football stadium. Sure, if you asked her if she had this planned, she would have denied it until her dying breath. Or until you threatened one of her many copies of Funny Girl; almost all of them signed, of course.

She had pawned off one of those precious signed copies for cash, because her bank accounts were heavily monitored by her fathers. "We don't want you spending it on frivolous things. We trust you, but we know that you are impulsive; albeit a heavily researched impulsive buyer. We're just looking out for you so you can prepare for New York." She remembered her father Leroy telling her as he held out her bank statement. She had seen one of those expensive, extremely rareguitars in the local guitar shop. And there had been another person eyeing it, and being Rachel Berry, she wasn't about to lose to someone else. So she bought it. And she still hasn't heard the end of that – nearly 2 years later.

With a shake of her head, she tightened her grip on the lock cutters in her hand. She took a long glance around, to make sure there were no patrolling officers coming around. When she saw that she was alone – which, who was she kidding? In this small town, everyone is in bed by one in the morning – even the police officers.

The lock made a satisfying thud on the ground as she pulled it from the gate. She smiled and pulled her backpack up to her shoulder before slowly opening the gate, to minimize the noise, of course; she was a rule-breaker, but she wasn't stupid.

Once she was inside the football stadium, she took a deep breath. "You can do this, Berry." She whispered to herself as she half-drug her feet across the grass. It made a satisfying squishing noise because of the dew that was starting to collect. One of the many reasons she loved autumn was because of the dew in the morning. If she thought about it, she could probably go on a thirty minute lecture to you about what it signified about herself and her dreams – but that was for another point in time. She had to finish what she came out here to do, lest she back out at the last second like last time.

But she had to give herself credit. This was the furthest she'd gotten so far in this plan. She'd bought the supplies; she had packed them carefully for easy and quick access. She also made sure she had many escape routes in case someone happened upon her in the middle of her act – but seeing as it was three in the morning, she didn't see that happening. But Rachel Berry was always prepared for any situation that could come about.

xxxxxxx

Rachel Berry was prepared for almost all situations.

Currently, she was hiding in the Choir Room. Of course, as she was hiding, she was also practicing for her solo in the upcoming Sectionals that she and her Glee Club were going to perform in.

She hadn't expected anyone to figure out it was her doing, of course; at least, not this soon – not even 8 hours after she had performed the act. She had already been cornered by one Finn Hudson, in the hallway before school had started.

Really, she tried to listen to him yell at her. Typically she took all criticisms with stride to get better, but there was something about his monotone voice and baby-constipated face that didn't allow her to concentrate on what he was saying – or rather, yelling.

And then the bane (and only reason for) of her existence walked up to her. Okay, walk would be an understatement. "Sashaying. That's what she's doing. Sashaying down the hallway. No, still not right." She internally sighed as she tried to think of the right word for the way that this girl – no, woman – moved through the halls of McKinley High. She took a deep breath, as she waited for the most popular girl in school to approach her at her locker.

"What possessed you into thinking this was some funny stunt, Berry?"

Rachel shivered slightly at such the harsh tone. She should have expected this, once everyone found out what she did. She figured she'd try and postpone her punishment for at least a couple of hours – at least until the school day was over. "Why, my dear Quinn, I'm not quite sure I know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Man Hands!" Quinn slammed her hand on the locker to the left of Rachel's head. She pulled out her phone and showed the resident nerd and loser of the school the picture she had taken of the football field as she awaited Cheerio's practice that morning. "This! I know this is your doing!"

Rachel reached out to grasp Quinn's phone to get a better look at the aforementioned picture. The corner of her lips twitched as she tried to hide her smile at her handiwork. "Quinn, I assure you that I have no idea who committed such a heinous crime on school property." She let go of Quinn's phone and smiled at the Head Cheerio. "But whoever did it, has a large set of, what is it that Santana would say? Cajones? Anyway, they must have had a large set of balls to deface our school's football stadium, wouldn't you say, Quinn?"

Quinn stepped forward, pressing Rachel into her own locker. "I know it was you, Berry."

"And what proof do you have that I committed this crime, Quinn?" Rachel smirked as her eyes drifted down to Quinn's lips. She enjoyed when the girl – no, woman – was angry.

"Who else would use gold spray paint?" Quinn narrowed her eyes on Rachel. She watched as the girl shrugged her shoulders. "And there's a star instead of a dot in my name. Who else do we know that uses stars frequently?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders again, looking Quinn directly in the eye. "Maybe someone wanted to frame me. Clearly, everyone knows how unpopular I am in this school; I'm the easiest one to pick on. So why not make it so that I, Rachel Berry, did this crime. Did you ever think about that, Quinn?"

Quinn watched as Rachel closed her locker after grabbing her things for her classes. The Cheerio was seething. She knew Rachel did this. Yet what the smaller girl had said seemed to make sense. She furrowed her eyebrows and let out a loud growl. She glared at anyone who dared to meet her gaze as she stomped down the halls of McKinley High to make it to her first class. "This isn't over, Berry. I will figure out how it was you managed to pull this off." She thought to herself as she slammed a lower classman into the lockers. Served him right, he didn't get out of her way fast enough.

xxxxxxx

Rachel rested her head on her arms that were resting on the cover to the piano keys. It was nearing four in the afternoon and she knew she had to leave soon because the janitor would be in here soon to kick her out. She had managed to forge some sort of weird friendship with him over the past few years. He had always been in at exactly 4:10 in the afternoons to clean up, as it was shortly after Glee Club had ended, as well as the other extracurricular clubs that were hosted inside the school. The sports, of course, were in their own caliber. She had heard plenty of horrific stories about what he managed to find in the afterhours when he went to go sweep and mop up the locker rooms. But sometimes, she heard valuable information that she was sure the janitor told her just to help her out. Her unpopular status was very well known to everyone in school, which had carried over into every other aspect of her public life.

The squeaky wheels of the mop bucket caused her to sit up with a bright smile. "Hello, Mr. Roberts. How are you this fine evening?"

"I'm doing quite well." The janitor replied as he started to stack the chairs to get them out of the way so he could clean. "How are you, Rachel?"

"Very well, Mr. Roberts." Rachel stood up and accompanied him with moving the furniture. "I just finished practicing for the day. I think I'm going to leave as soon as you get all this moved."

Mr. Roberts smiled. He hadn't had a student stay late to help him in his entire career at this school. So the first time he saw Rachel still in the Choir Room, he was taken aback and shocked. He wondered what it was about this girl that was different; there was something that reminded him of his own daughter who had recently moved out of the house to go to college a few states away. He missed her immensely. Maybe that's why he struck up a friendship with the girl after a few weeks of catching her staying late. Shortly after, he learned how talkative she really was, and learned about almost everything about her life. He felt somewhat guilty because she was so alone, even if she did have two loving parents – two fathers, he learned as well; not what he expected, but he praised the men for raising her to be such a caring young woman. "You seem distracted today, Rachel. Is something bothering you?"

Rachel let out a dramatic sigh. Mr. Roberts also quickly learned how much of a theatre person she was and how she absolutely adored the arts. "Just thinking about something I did last night is all, Mr. Roberts."

"This wouldn't be related to the spray painted, "Quinn Fabray: 419-492-1840, Call for a good time," on the 50-yard line of the football field, would it?"

"How did you hear about that?" Rachel gasped and her eyes wide as physically possible as she stared at the janitor.

Mr. Roberts shrugged. "Word travels fast, Rachel." He chuckled and pulled the mop bucket to one corner of the room. "And it was on the news this morning. They don't seem to have an idea about who did it, seeing as how the locks were replaced after being cut – which they figured out because Coach Sylvester tried her keys on it and they didn't work. And there were no fingerprints anywhere, at least not to the knowledge of our local police."

Rachel smirked. "Was Coach angry?"

"Absolutely livid." Mr. Roberts replied with a large smile. "You know she'll find out it was you sooner or later, right? And with her lackeys all over school, it will probably be sooner than later."

"I think that her lackeys already know, Mr. Roberts." Rachel sighed, sitting atop the piano bench. She watched the janitor mop, enjoying his company. He seemed to be her only friend in this horrible place they called McKinley High. "At least they think they know it's me. They just can't prove it."

Mr. Roberts laughed. "You're a sly one, Ms. Berry." He glanced over and saw that she was nervously picking at her skirt. "Why did you do it?"

Rachel sighed dramatically loud and long. "Because I adore her?"

"Well that's one way of showing her that."

They both let out a soft chuckle. "I know. But she either picks on me or ignores me. And yet I still find her to be the most gorgeous girl in the entire high school. Even my celebrity crushes pale in comparison to her. It's like, when I see her, my heart clenches in my chest until I move closer to her." Another sigh left Rachel's lips. "When she confronted me this morning before classes-"

"Wait a minute, Rachel." Mr. Roberts set his mop back in the bucket, making sure it didn't tip over. "She confronted you this morning about it? She is one of Coach Sylvester's lackeys, Rachel! If she thinks you did this, then you know Coach Sylvester will be punishing you come tomorrow!"

Rachel lifted her hand to calm the older janitor. "I know, Mr. Roberts. I'm fully prepared." She looked him directly in the eye, same as she did with Quinn earlier in the day. "But when she was right up against me, I could feel her breath on my face. When her arm was propping her up against the locker, I could just feel her completely and metaphorically surround me. It was surreal, like it was meant to happen." She cleared her throat. "One day, I will get over one, Quinn Fabray. And she will regret that she ever let me go."

Mr. Roberts walked over and pulled Rachel into a hug. "She will regret not giving you a chance, Rachel. You will be so wonderful once you get out of this godforsaken town. You will make it and everyone who has known you will be envious and jealous that they couldn't be like you. You will show them up like you keep saying you will. I just know it. You will be successful and you will be a star, Rachel Berry. I can feel it in my gut."

"Daddy always says to trust a gut feeling." Rachel chuckled, pulling out of the hug to wipe her eyes. "Maybe it's because it's where you digest food. He is always a sucker for a good home-cooked meal."

"Well your father is right, Rachel." Mr. Roberts smiled and made his way back to his mop bucket. "The heart lies in the stomach." He gave her a wink. "You be careful tomorrow, Rachel. If you need anything, don't hesitate to go to the principal's office or a teacher you trust. I don't want you getting hurt because of all of this."

Rachel grinned. "As long as they don't harm my nose, I will be okay with whatever punishment they seek fit." She pulled her backpack over her shoulders before making her way to the door. "Thank you, Mr. Roberts. You always make my day exponentially better."

"Likewise, Rachel." Mr. Roberts replied. "You have a good night, dear. I will see you tomorrow."

"Same time, same place." Rachel giggled as she practically skipped out of the Choir Room and to her car.