**Hello Lovelies; I seriously can't thank you enough for reading and reviewing, it is a pleasure to write this story and your interest is an added bonus :) I am writing multiple fics, at the moment, so my updates for this story will always be spot on, but I intend to upload a new chapter weekly.

IN OTHER NEWS: I now have a tumblr: loveisforlovelies and it's strictly for my fics. It will contain music, photos and hopefully artwork *hint, hint* to all you artists :) and also previews and etc. So please check it out, I posted a pic of the burger joint I used in this chapter!

Also, I just want to acknowledge the fact that several of you have asked me to include Rachel's POV because you're wondering how she really feels about Quinn. After much thought, I decided that I want to keep this story set in one POV, which is Quinn's…I hope you don't hate me for that. I will, however, try to work in an angle that will allow you all to see what's going on in Rachel's head/heart, so please bear with me. Anyway, on we go…

RECAP:

"You can stand up, now; and take the binder out. I don't want the neighbors to think I hired some mutt as a gardener; although, you do look like one."

I frown at that, remembering the vast differences in us…in our lifestyles. Being called a mutt isn't as bad as what other people have called me. I've heard plenty of insults, trust me; but when I think about how unworthy I am, in all aspects, of this affair…it just hurts. Not wanting to be reminded of how undeserving I am of her, by her, I quickly leave, practically still hanging out of my truck, as I drive off.

CHAPTER 4:

"What'cha looking at?"

"Nothing!" I slam the binder shut and hunch over it like a greedy carnivorous savage hovering over its prey.

"Calm yo' tits, Q; geez!" Lauren laughs and takes a seat across from me, at the wobbly table that never seems to stay balanced, no matter how many old books we use to prop up the shorter leg of the four. "I don't really care what you're looking at; I rather not know to be honest." She smirks and leans back in her chair, "No offense, of course. I'm sure those cheap porno magazines you're hiding inside that fancy college-student-looking binder will fool anyone into believing that you're actually reading something important." She cackles when I flip her off and try to fight the smile I'm holding back. "Alright, alright! So, what are you really looking at, then? 'Cause your non-blushing and non-sweaty face tells me that I didn't just catch you jacking off in your…" she looks around the area "simply, marvelous kitchen."

"Ha ha ha, asshole. How did you even get in here, anyway? I locked the door." I snort, shaking my head at her sarcastic tone and throwing a thumb over my shoulder at the front door. She throws a nod in the same direction, telling me to turn around. I do, and sigh immediately when I see that she somehow managed to pick the two locks on the damn thing and the latch, which is now broken. "Really?" I ask, not expecting an answer. It's time like this when I hate the fact that Lauren is a well-trained locksmith. She can pretty much break into anything and not make a sound while doing so.

She shrugs and picks up the stolen salt shaker from the low-budget movie theatre we all go to very blue moon. "So, let me ask you, again, Q. If you're not bustin' a nut over what's in that binder then why are you guarding that binder with your strange, poor, little life?"

"Ha! Don't forget we're cut from the same…Uh…"

"Cloth, Einstein."

"Whatever, you're just as dirt poor as Puck and I. Shit, even Joe is struggling; and he's still getting "I'm sorry for leaving you with your fucked up mother" money from his dad, every month" I say, gripping the binder that's pressed against my chest. "So, quit trying to steal my damn salt shaker!" I half yell and half laugh as she takes the item from out of her raggedy coat pocket.

"You really need to learn to share, Q. Then again, this salt is probably all you got to eat in this dump, anyway. So, go ahead keep it." She tosses the shaker on the table, spilling some, earning a scowl from me. "Matter of fact, let's get out of here. This place is worse than mine," she gets up, waiting for me to follow suit.

"I can't go out. I'm broke; plus, I got some work to do for a new project," I explain, lifting up the binder a little to show her that it's not some secret porn book, but actually something important.

"You have all night to work on your "project" or whatever you call jerking off, Q." Her smile emits a laugh when I throw some salt grains at her. "I'm kidding! I got my share from the store break-in, I was part of, last night and I was actually thinking we can grab one of those burgers from the Burger Bar. I know you don't have shit to eat for dinner, so you wanna go or what?"

She doesn't have to ask me twice.

We decide to walk instead of taking my truck because I'm low on gas, but mainly because it's nice to just breathe in the night air and absorb the noises and scenery. We're both bundled up in old, over-sized coats that weigh us down, but we're warm so we don't complain. My hands are stuffed in my coat pockets, as I survey the area and see people who look like us: tired, hungry, a little sad and angry, and definitely bitter. People who tired their hardest to achieve some life goal or some well drawn-out plan and failed; and now we're all here. Some of us are picking through garbage bins for recyclable bottles and cans, some are talking to themselves because there's no one to listen to them, some are plotting their next crime, desperately hoping for success, and then some are like Lauren and I and Puck and Joe…just trying to be better but have no idea how to be.

"What was in the binder?" Lauren asks, with her eyes looking onward as we slowly stroll down the dingy blocks we call our neighborhood.

"Just some yard layouts and notes from a client." I answer, praying that it'll be sufficient for her to be satisfied and thus drop the subject.

"Then why were you so quick to hide it? I mean, unless these layouts include some kind of sex swing inside of a play yard swing set, then I see no reason why you were embarrassed." I see her brow furrow and I know that she's actually very curious as to why I reacted the way I did.

"I wasn't embarrassed," I refute. She scoffs. "Okay, maybe I over-reacted a little, but it was because you scared the shit out of me, sneaking up on me like that." I say nudging her with my elbow. "And you gotta stop doing that. I don't really mind, but you know Puck hates it." I add, as a warning.

"And I hate Puck, so I'll just keep doing it," she laughs, drawing a chuckle out of me. I always find Lauren and Puck's relationship entertaining. They used to date, but after a year of being on and off, due to stupid, childish disagreements, they decided to end their romance…for the sake of the band. Ever since then, they're always at each other's throats, always quick to find new ways to bug the hell out of one another; but I see the longing glances they steal and I hear the flirty tones disguised by insults. They're really dysfunctional, but something about their dynamic is perfect…then again, I'm seeing a therapist, so my opinion probably shouldn't be taken so seriously.

"Oh, and don't tell Puck, I'm buying you dinner," she says turning to face me. "I don't want to hear him whine about not being invited. We'll just say that we went out for a smoke."

I smile and nod, "Don't worry, he's working late tonight; probably won't be home until after ten, anyway."

"Oh okay, sweet." Her voice carries a sound of disappointment.

"You know, you can stay over until he gets home, if you want." I offer, knowing that she was hoping to see him when we get back to the apartment.

"Yeah. Alright," she responds, sounding less disappointed and more eager. I smile to myself until she says, "Maybe while we wait you can show me those secret layouts, huh," she suggests as we finally approach the Burger Bar.

"Sure," I croak out, hoping she'll forget by the time we head back.

I wait at one of the small round umbrella tables in front of the burger joint, as Lauren orders. I don't know why I'm so anxious; I can just take out the pages that show the layout of how Rachel wants her and her husband's names etched in the stone fountain and the pages that have pictures of the yard, where either Finn or Rachel are seen in the background. I'd have to do it without Lauren noticing, though; and at that thought my stomach twists…I'm sure some of the twisting is due to the cramping of my empty stomach, wanting something to digest, other than its self.

"Order up!" Lauren exclaims, dropping the white bag on the table and taking a seat.

I grip the stool I'm sitting on to keep my hands from tearing the bag open, as Lauren fishes through it, pulling out napkins, salt packets, ketchup packets, hot sauce packets…all things that aren't the burger I need in my mouth and stomach.

"OHHH, thank you!" I cry out, as she hands me not one, but two, burgers and a fries and drink. "Lauren, you didn't have to get me all this," I say, feeling guilty that she spent some of her money on me. "I would've been happy with just one burger."

"Don't worry about it, Q." She says, smiling and digging into her own food.

"I'll pay you back or you know return the favor when I get paid, again." I insist, as I hold a hand over my mouth to keep from spitting out any crumbs.

"It's cool, Q. You don't have to pay me back or anything, just enjoy the damn food," she says, tossing one of her fries at me and laughs, but slowly stops as her face turns from happy to serious. "Look, don't tell anyone, but I got something like an advance."

I raise an eyebrow and mumble out a "What do you mean?" around the chewed up burger in my mouth.

"I mean…" she leans in a little closer and lowers her voice, "These two guys heard about me and they want me to help them break into this popular check cashing place."

I swallow and frown, "What? Like a bank?"

"No! I mean, it's more like a place that only cashes checks for people who don't have a bank; they hold enough money to be worth the hit."

"Lauren, I-"

"Q, c'mon! I'm telling you because I trust you. This is big! It's not some liquor store or run-down shop that only holds a few thousand, which makes my cut like barely 1,000 if I'm lucky. It's starting to not be worth the risk of getting caught…But this; I can get at least 10,000 if we pull this off. I can finally move out of that sardine can of an apartment and put a down-payment on something half-way decent."

"And what about after you burn out your 10,000? How are you going to pay the rent, which will be higher, especially since you won't have any roommates?"

"That's why I'm telling you first, Q. I think that if you, Puck, and Joe move in, we can definitely get something better. It only makes sense that we live together since we're a fucking band and see each other almost every damn day of our lives, anyway. You just have to convince Puck. I'm not worried about Joe because we all know he'll be glad to get out of his mom's place."

I rub my neck and sigh, "What if you get caught? How do you know that you can even trust these guys?"

"I'm not trying to worry about that. I know they're not cops because they gave me 1,000 when I agreed to help, and that would be entrapment if they were cops. Plus, I've worked with one of them before, so I know I can trust him; and he seems to be the brain of the operation. He's smart and he's hit one of these places before, so…" she trails off when she sees that I'm still not approving of this.

"Well, you already agreed; and I doubt you can back out now, since they paid you, so I hope it all goes according to plan and you don't end up in a prison cell…Trust me, it's no picnic." I mumble, before putting some fries in my mouth.

"So, you'll talk to Puck?"

I roll my eyes and nod.

"Sweet!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As soon as we step back into the apartment, my eyes are set on the binder, until Lauren knocks me over and heads straight to it, grabbing it and fighting me off, after I get back up and try to wrestle it out of her hands. We both have a tight grip on it, so I step on Lauren's foot to try to get her to reach down to rub it, thus letting it go. A glimpse of a smile ghosts my face when she drops one hand, but instead of reaching for her foot she slaps the underside of my balls through my jumpsuit.

I yelp and release the binder, so I can cup my sack before doubling over.

"HA! Works everytime!" She laughs; she's right…It does work every time, just ask Puck and Joe. She's got the "slap 'em on the balls" trick mastered.

"Asshole!" I reply, groaning at the ache and at the sight of Lauren flipping through the pages of the binder, until she stops and scoffs.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me, Q?" She shoves the open binder in my face, showing me the pictures of the backyard, where Rachel is standing off to the side, in the background. "What the hell is this shit?"

"None of your damn business; so drop it," I smack the binder out of her hand and straighten up my posture. I can feel the anger threatening to raise my blood pressure the second Lauren doesn't back down from this.

"Are you working on her yard?" She asks pointing at some of the layouts that are scattered on the floor.

I scowl at her and move to the binder and start picking up the ripped out pages, and shoving them back inside. "Lauren…Please," I beg from my dropped down position, not turning to face her as I hold the book to my chest.

"The yard that belongs to her and her husband? !" She's done trying to be calm about this and it's obvious in her voice. "Are you insane, Q? ! What the fuck is the matter with you? !"

I quickly stand up and spin to meet her angry eyes. "Nothing! Nothing is the matter with me!" I shout back, "I didn't ask for this; it's my job! I told her I would find her another worker, but she said no!" I explain, trying to defend myself.

"So? ! Who cares what she said, Q!" Her hands are waving about crazily. "They're married! You don't go to the house of a married couple and fuck the wife!" I'm about to respond, but she cuts me off, "Oh, excuse me, you don't fuck her…You don't fuck her because she doesn't even want to touch your dick! She treats you like crap, Q!" She steps closer and places her hands on each of my shoulders. "Do you understand?" She asks; her voice dropping in volume and in intensity. "Rachel is married and she doesn't even treat you like you deserve to be treated."

I don't even feel the tears that fall until they drip into the gap of the binder, wetting the pages that are inside. The pages that have the layouts of something that I can study and turn into something beautiful for her; I need this…

"I need her," I whimper out, before I even realize what I'm saying.

"You don't need her, Q. Me and Puck and Joe…We can help you find someone who will love you and treat you right."

I push off of her when she goes in to hug me. "No!" I shake my head and the binder at her. "This is something I have to do! I have to!"

"Why? ! So you can go over to their house every day and work your ass off then get your ass scratched up by her, before she sends you home with your tail between your legs and a boner that you'll just whack off, imaging that it's her…when in reality she's probably getting fucked by her husband while you're alone in your room touching yourself!"

"Fuck you!" I throw my weight at her, ramming my body against hers until she backs off.

"No, fuck you, Q! You need to hear this shit! And if I have to be the one to hurt your feelings then I'm sorry but I will until you realize that you-"

"I love her!" I yell out, over her. "I love her! I love her, Lauren. I love her…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I wake up in my bed, in just my boxers and a worn-in wifebeater. I look around and don't see anyone, but my door is agape. I roll over on my back and rub my eyes, groaning at how sore they feel.

"Fuck," I curse, as the memories of last night come back to me. I was crying uncontrollably, saying "I love her, I love her, I love her," over and over again, to Lauren, as she hugged me. I remember after what seemed like an hour, I finally drifted off to sleep. She probably waited until Puck got home, so he can help her get me to bed.

"Quinn? You up?" I hear Puck ask, as he waits outside my door. "I found some bread in the cupboard, if you want a slice."

"Yeah; save me a slice," I sit up and reach over to the one dresser I have for my wardrobe and pull out some clean clothes. After I shower, I head down the short hall and into the tiny kitchen. Puck is leaning against the small counter and quickly looks up from the table when he sees me enter the area, wearing my work uniform. I look down at the table and see the binder set on top of it with a paper plate and a piece of half toasted, half burnt bread.

"Thanks," I say, as I sit down and take a bite, eyeing the binder and waiting for the inevitable.

"So, how you feeling?" His voice isn't judgmental, like I was expecting, instead it's caring.

"I'm okay, thanks." Only the sound of the crunchy bread is audible, but I can feel the tension in the air.

After a few more seconds of silence, Puck sighs and sits down in one of the empty folding chairs, we have as kitchen furniture.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do or what you should do. You already know how I feel. I just hope that you're careful…I mean, I know you're already in pretty deep with her, but you don't know if she feels the same." He's staring at me, but I don't return the look. "Do you think that she feels the same way that you do?" The question isn't met with an answer right away, as I pick at the black crust, that easily breaks away from the rest of the bread…It's so fragile; quick to crumble at a single touch…just like me when I feel her on my skin.

"Do you?" He asks, again.

This time I shake my head; he sighs at the motion, "Then why are you torturing yourself?"

"This…" I reach for the binder and hold it in my hands like a delicate promise that I will never break, "…if I do this…maybe I can prove that I'm good at something; that I'm not just a screw-up. This…I can't fuck this up."

He looks at me; his brow furrowed and his mouth a tight-lipped line. When it's clear to him that I am not going to back out, he runs a hand over his short Mohawk and sighs.

"Just be careful."

/END CHAPTER\

**Alright, I know there was no Faberry in this chapter, but I needed Quinn's pals to understand why she refuses to let go of Rachel; and also I wanted to present a future plot point (Lauren's next break-in) that will benefit several of the characters journey to finding a better life. Next chapter will have mostly Faberry, along with a more appearances from Finn and Ms. Lopez; and quite possibly Puck, Lauren and Joe. (BTW what do you think of her bandmates?)

Oh, and do you guys have any guesses as to what landed Quinn in prison? I've mentioned her past: the court order to go to therapy, the probation, the fine that she's still paying off, the difficulty she has finding a job that will earn her some real money, due to her record. No one has seemed to notice or be curious enough to ask lol For all you know, Quinn could be a axe-wielding psycho ;)

Anyway, Thanks for stopping by, Lovelies! Hope you enjoyed :)