DISCLAIMER: I neither own Glee nor the characters. They are the property of Ryan Murphy and FOX. This is purely for fun. Enjoy. :)

A/N: You know you write too much fanfiction when your Mom starts giving you prompts.


Chapter Four: Party Animal

Finn weaved his way through the sparse traffic that still lingered in the LA streets at this time of night as he drove fluidly through the lanes without error. LA cops could be huge dicks when they wanted to be, so he didn't want to drive too fast and draw attention to himself when he knew he was in a hurry to get to Quinn. He swore to himself lightly when he sped through a yellow light, hoping he'd gone through it unnoticed. When the tall, ornate building he was driving towards finally came into view down the road, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that he'd made it over there in record time, all in one piece.

He drove around the side of the establishment through the service entrance, towards the back of the famous Chateau Marmont, Quinn's favorite place to party. She had a suite there where she liked to crash after her all-night binges, and Finn wondered what kind of shape she'd be in when he arrived inside. After parking the car, he approached the back doors feeling like there was lead in his gut, anticipating the worst. He nodded his head towards Azimio, Quinn's bodyguard, who was waiting at the back kitchen entrance for him to arrive. The tall, broad, intimidating black man looked relieved, while Finn felt like punching someone already and he hadn't even seen her yet.

"Where is she?" Finn demanded, without even saying hello. He was in no mood to be polite.

"She locked herself in the bathroom of Karofsky's VIP lounge. She won't come out." As soon as the name Karofsky was mentioned, Finn went on full alert and couldn't control the overwhelming anger that coursed through his veins.

I wish I had never met that motherfucker. . . He swore liberally to himself as he made it through the kitchens with Quinn's bodyguard, working his way through the back hallways of the exclusive hotel. Azimio led the way as Finn fell back into old memories of his past and his ex-friend, Dave Karofsky. Finn had met him through Puck after he'd moved out to LA, and Dave had welcomed him into his group of friends with open arms. For a while things had been great; he had a new crew to hang out with and he had started one of his many bands with Puck which had seemed promising at the time. It didn't take too long to figure out that Dave sold coke; his ragers would last for days and Finn enjoyed living the fast life he'd always dreamed of back home in Ohio. Sex, drugs, and music were what his rock star dreams had been made of before he'd learned the harsh realities of life, and he would be lying if he said he'd never tried the dangerous drug in his less-than-stellar past. However, after what had happened with Quinn he'd stopped doing it altogether and cut off ties with Dave and his crew. It was bad enough that he'd been the one to introduce Quinn to Dave after they had finished recording her debut album, and she had dragged her musicians down a path that he never wanted to revisit again, ever. Her problems were a constant reminder of his terrible decisions and his crippling guilt.

That was why he could never turn his back on her if she needed him. He was the reason she had spiraled so badly down this dangerous road, and he owed it to her to be there for her. He only wished she would get some professional help instead of constantly relying on him and the other guys to clean up her messes. How much longer was this going to last?

He made his way into the dark, loud VIP section and Dave immediately caught Finn's eye, waving him over to his table that was littered with empty drink glasses and ripped plastic baggies. Just months ago, Finn would have been sitting at this very table partying alongside of them, but now the mere thought of it all made him ill. He needed to find Quinn, get her to her suite, and get the hell out of here, fast. He'd never been as addicted to blow as Quinn obviously was right now, but the temptation would always be there, a constant nagging thought that would never fully go away no mater how much time had passed.

"Hudson! Long time no see, dude!" Karofsky gave him a sloppy, uncoordinated handshake and Finn wanted to snap his fingers right off. He was nothing but a bad influence and an enabler, and Finn secretly wished that Dave would just fall off the face of the planet altogether. "Why don't you join the party? We were about to do another line." He pulled out a small bag of the expensive white powder and waved it in front of Finn's face. "It's on me, bro." Finn shook his head and looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

"No, that's alright. Where is Quinn?" Dave shrugged his shoulders and looked at Finn with glossy, unfocused eyes.

"I dunno, man. Probably powdering her nose." Finn had to resist the urge to punch Dave as he turned around on the spot and walked away from the table, trying to find Quinn in the dark back rooms of the VIP section. He saw a familiar face out of the corner of his eye and approached Santana, Quinn's backup singer, who was leaning against a door-frame and knocking against the door with minimal energy.

"Come on you crazy bitch, people actually have to use the bathroom!"

"No! I'm not leaving until Finn gets here!" He could hear Quinn's muffled voice bleeding through the walls as he approached Santana. When the Latina spotted him, she started to pound on the door wildly, her hair extensions swinging around and whipping Finn in the face.

"Your fucking stallion is here, Your Highness, now get the hell out of the bathroom!" Her screeching voice was even louder than the pounding music, and Finn already had a headache before his conversation with Quinn even began. The door burst open and Quinn came running out, heading straight for Finn's arms while he braced himself for the impact. She squeezed him so tightly around his midriff that he had to catch his breath, and he already knew that she was higher than a satellite. When she pulled away from him, her eyes were unfocused and bloodshot, with pupils as big and black as the night sky.

"Hey baby," she purred, and her breath reeked of alcohol. She nuzzled against his chest and sunk into his embrace, boneless, like a strong gust of wind could knock her over. "Let's go upstairs and continue the party in my room." She held up a bag of the white drug that had ruined her life and he could feel his anger reach it's boiling point. How dare she just flaunt her addiction in his face when she knew how uncomfortable it made him feel!

He pulled the baggie out of her hand and shoved it in his pocket, taking Quinn into his arms and lifting her limp body so he could carry her upstairs. She didn't argue, and he was glad she didn't put up a fight this time like she normally did. Part of him was glad that they didn't have to record tomorrow; he didn't want anyone to witness the aftermath of a night like this, especially the people who didn't know about her issues, like Will and Rachel. Tonight was bad, even for Quinn.

He nodded towards Azimio, who was waiting for him by the entrance to the VIP lounge, and the bodyguard stood watch while Finn carried her into the staircase, avoiding the crowded lobby and the prying eyes of the privileged few who frequented the establishment. If she was ever caught by the paparazzi while she was partying this hard then her career would be ruined, and Finn definitely didn't want that to happen. He would keep her secret from the press, but how much longer did Quinn expect to live like this unnoticed? He was almost at his breaking point with the entire situation they were in, and it killed him to see Quinn so strung out in comparison to how healthy she'd been when they'd first met.

And it was all his fault.

Carrying her up the three flights of stairs to her suite, Finn stopped thinking about the passed out singer in her arms and started thinking about the girl he could have spent the evening with, Rachel. He hadn't been playing nice with her in the studio; he'd really wanted to get coffee with her, and now he was stuck cleaning up another one of Quinn's messes. Looking down at the stringy hair and smudged makeup of his ex-girlfriend, he couldn't help but compare her to Rachel in that one moment. Sure, Quinn was a beautiful girl, but would Rachel ever allow herself to get this trashed? Would she ever throw away her shot at super-stardom just to get high? He already knew what the answer was as he approached Quinn's suite, and Azimio opened the door for them as he carried her over the threshold. He placed her gently on her bed in the master suite and joined Azimio back in the common area, trying not to think about the talented songwriter and trying to focus on the main issue at hand.

"Is there anything else you need, Finn?" He was on decent terms with Quinn's bodyguard and he knew the guy meant well, but it just wasn't enough. He was paid to protect her from other people, not to protect her from herself, and there was nothing Azimio could do about her 'problem', especially since Quinn threatened to fire him every time he brought it up.

"Yeah, stay in the suite and make sure no one comes in or out until the morning. Especially Dave." The bodyguard nodded his head and Finn immediately went into the bathroom and flushed the bag of blow he had taken from Quinn down the toilet. He went to check on her once more and she was texting someone on her phone in a haze. He took the phone from her and the texts were all for Dave, asking him to come upstairs with more junk.

"Give that back to me, Finn." Quinn said, her voice low and serious. Normally when she used that voice it meant trouble, but at this point, he couldn't care less. Instead of returning it to her, he threw it towards Azimio, who caught it immediately and slipped it in his pocket. She dug through the pockets of her outfit wildly. "What happened to my stuff?"

"I threw it away." He said, his tone even despite the anger that coursed through him. "You'll get your phone back in the morning."

"You asshole!" A loud, screeching yell erupted from the blond superstar, and she lunged at Finn who had to hold her by the wrists to keep her from attacking him. "I need that!"

"No, Quinn, you don't."

"I thought you loved me!" She said, trying to play the sympathy card to it's fullest. As easy as it was to fall under her spell, he knew he had to find some way to break this cycle of destruction and bring back the old Quinn, but how? Being there for her just wasn't good enough anymore, and he hated feeling guilty all of the time for things that he couldn't control. To be honest, what he felt for her wasn't even love anymore; he would always care about her, but these days it was more like he felt responsible for her, like a glorified babysitter. He told her that he loved her because that was what she needed to hear, and he couldn't deny the fact that he resented the position she put him and the other guys in. This couldn't continue for much longer, but he had no idea how to get her help without forcing her to go to a clinic, and that never worked.

"I do love you," he lied. "Which is why I'm trying to help you." He said, as he pushed her backwards onto her bed with minimal force. She was already weak, so the tiny bit of force he'd used knocked her down easily; her butt bouncing on the mattress as she huffed indignantly. She was so strung out she was practically feral, and he turned his back on her while she was momentarily distracted so he could walk out of the door, slamming it closed behind him and barricading it with a small dresser. Quinn could be heard screaming and pounding like an animal behind the door, but Finn refused to budge. When he started hearing loud crashes, he knew that she was trying to trash the room from the inside for attention, but he refused to stoop to her level as he tried to steady his breathing. He turned around to Azimio and looked him straight in the eyes, holding his gaze while more screaming could be heard from inside of the master bedroom.

"Stand watch at the front door to the suite. If anyone comes knocking besides Sam and Puck, you get rid of them without question." Azimio nodded while Finn pulled out his cell phone, calling the only two people he knew he could trust in this situation. He didn't want to leave Quinn alone with her bodyguard, and he was grateful that they were both in the area so he didn't have to go through this alone.

It was a little after 1am when the two musicians showed up at Quinn's suite; Finn had been standing guard at Quinn's bedroom door for what felt like eons while the singer destroyed every piece of furniture in the room. He refused to go in and see her, but Puck and Sam both took turns trying to calm her down, to no avail. She would start to relax and appear to calm down until she asked for her phone, and when they both refused to give it back to her she would flip out all over again. No one knew what to do.

Finally, at around 7:30 am the next morning, the drugs left her system and she calmed down long enough to pass out in the middle of the mess she'd made in her suite. Finn allowed Azimio to go home, and Sam and Puck promised they would take care of her when she finally woke up from her drug-induced stupor. Finn walked out of the Chateau Marmont as the sun steadily rose over the horizon, and there was so much adrenaline still pumping in his system that the last thing he wanted to do was sleep. When he entered his car he let his head fall forward onto the steering wheel with a loud thud, welcoming the pain it caused as he relived the night over and over again in his mind. When he finally lifted his head back up again, he had made his decision.

Last night was the last time he would ever come running after Quinn to fix her mistakes. If she wanted to act like a raging coke-fiend, she would have to deal with the consequences herself. He was tired of acting like an obedient dog and feeling like he had no control over his life. As guilty as it made him feel, he knew he was only making her problems worse by not getting her the help she needed, and if Puck and Sam wanted to continue supporting her lifestyle they could do it without him.

The bright, shining California sun was blinding him as it poured into his car windows, and he tried to push everything about Quinn and his horrific night out of his mind. He idly wondered what would have happened if he'd gone out to coffee with Rachel and ignored Quinn's phone call completely. Now that he didn't have to worry about Quinn, the urge to see Rachel again was growing, and he couldn't deny the fact that he had a bit of a thing for the petite brunette songwriter. Her talents amazed him more and more with every moment they spent together, and he was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her. Things with Rachel were just easier; with Quinn he had to bathe her in love and affection, and every other girl he knew cared more about his bank account than his needs. With Rachel, however, he was just plain Finn, and he didn't have to hide anything or pretend to be as fake as everyone else was.

And right now all he wanted to do was feel normal again.

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, staring at the little business card she had given him not even twelve hours ago. Her name was printed in bold letters across the front, and he stared at her number like it had the answers to all his problems. Pulling out his cell phone, he knew he was being ridiculously rude; she had just mentioned the night before how much she'd wanted to sleep in this morning, but Finn felt like he deserved to be the selfish one for once. When a groggy, sleepy voice picked up on the third ring, he was waiting for her to either start yelling at him for disturbing her, or at least for her to hang up on him in frustration.

Instead, the sleepy voice said, "Hello, this is Rachel Berry speaking, how can I help you on this fine Saturday morning?"

"Hey, Rachel?" He asked, hesitantly. "It's me, Finn."

"Finn!" She said brightly, with all traces of drowsiness gone. "I was so worried about you! I mean, Quinn, of course; I was worried about you both after you drove off." There was a slight pause and just the sound of her voice was making him feel exponentially better. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing is wrong," he lied, still feeling shaken from last night and a bit uncertain about calling her so early. "Are you still up for that cup of coffee?"


"I must admit, I was quite disappointed when we couldn't do this last night." He sat across from Rachel in one of the back booths of The Muddy Cup, watching her as she added some Splenda to her drink. She was nursing a chai latte while he stared at his black coffee, needing the caffeine but not drinking a sip of it. "But I am thrilled that you decided to seize the day and get an early start to your Saturday. Your work ethic is something to be admired." She smiled at him warmly while he had to tamper down the feelings of guilt that still flowed like a river under the skin. There was no way he could tell her the whole truth about Quinn, but there were things he needed to get off his chest and he felt like Rachel was his only hope.

"Actually, I haven't slept all night." He peeked up at her before returning his gaze to the simple wood table that was adorned with sugar packets and stirring sticks. "I was helping Quinn all night long."

She shook her head, incredulous. "What could she possibly need that much help with?"

"I. . ." He looked up at her again and the trust in her gaze was so implicit, he felt even more terrible for concealing the whole truth from her. "I can't tell you." For a moment, a look of disappointment flashed across her features, but it immediately melted back into her compassionate gaze as she stirred her latte. "But I don't want to talk about Quinn, Rachel. I want to talk about you."

"Me?" She asked, confusion clouding her gaze. "What about me?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he tried to keep the subject off of Quinn Fabray and focus solely on her. There were so many things he wanted to know about her. She was still practically a stranger but he couldn't stop thinking about her. He had to know more; this girl was an enigma and he wanted to figure her out. "I don't know, tell me about where you come from. You definitely weren't born in LA."

"You're right about that," she said with a smile. "I'm an East Coast girl to the bone. I was born and raised in New Jersey, but I went to school in New York City."

That caught his attention. He'd always wanted to visit New York while he wasn't on a tour or promotion or something to do with Quinn. "The Big Apple, huh?"

"Yup!" She said brightly, and he could swear her attitude was infectious. A few minutes ago he'd been so frustrated he didn't think he would be able to function in normal society, and now he felt as if last night didn't even happen. "It was my dream to always be on Broadway."

"Well what happened? Why did you come out to LA?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story. You don't want to hear it."

"No, I do!" He said, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically. She looked completely shocked that he even cared at all but he couldn't help it; the curiosity was killing him! "I mean, you're such a great singer, I want to know what got you here instead of on stage."

She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear shyly before she started to explain. "Well, you see, when I was growing up I was a bit competitive with my other classmates, and it didn't help that I went to a performing arts high school." She sighed deeply before continuing. "You could say that I was a 'diva' of sorts." She shook her head wildly, her smile bittersweet. "Who am I trying to fool? I was a terror. Everyone hated me and I couldn't even blame them. I was an overbearing perfectionist who tried way too hard at everything and I had no friends or social life because I knew I was going to be a star." She looked away from Finn and lost herself in her old memories. "Then I was accepted to Juliard on a scholarship and I thought I was only going to go up from there. I had a 4.0 GPA and I double-majored in Music Theory and Vocal Performance. Graduated at the top of my class." Her eyes got very sad then, and he could hear the despair seeping into her tone.

"So what happened?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"I can't act!" She said with pure agony lacing her tone. "I can't act my way out of a paper bag! I can sing, sure, but acting is something I was not born to do. When I started to get frustrated with my personal failures, I began songwriting, and knew that there was still a chance to make it as a star, just a different kind of star. So I packed up everything and moved out to LA."

"So what happened to the New York attitude? You seem pretty chill to me."

Smiling ruefully, she took a long sip of her latte before answering. "When you work your way up from the bottom in this town, you learn that manners mean everything to your clients. No one wants to work with a bossy diva with control issues, so I had to tone down my attitude in order to get more work. It was for the best, I know that now, but behind closed doors you better watch out!" She emphasized while she snapped her fingers playfully. "I still have quite the temper when provoked." He was grateful that she had learned to control her attitude or else working on this album with two divas would have been torture.

"You could teach Quinn a thing or two about how to work with people in LA," he said angrily, feeling hostile. As much as he wanted to focus on the interesting songwriter, part of him was still in that hotel room, hoping Quinn would snap out of it and revert back into the girl she'd been before he'd introduced her to Dave. Rachel peered at him from over her coffee, fixing him with a sympathetic look as she reached over and covered his large hand with her tiny one.

"Finn, I know we haven't known each other for a long time, but I hope you know that you can talk to me about anything. I would never betray your trust, especially if it concerns Quinn."

The dam of emotions were starting to overflow, and after the night he'd had, he didn't know how much more he would be able to take. Rachel was offering him the consult he so obviously needed, and part of him just wanted to get it all off his shoulders already.

But if he told her the entire back-story about Quinn, she would know about his troubled past as well, and he didn't want anything tainting the way Rachel perceived him. He liked her too much, and she was too good a person to be dragged through the sordid details of his history.

He could vent about some things, though.

"I feel like Quinn owns me." He said, hesitantly while Rachel sat there patiently, waiting for him to continue. "I know that I have to be there for her, but I feel like I'm not my own person anymore, and I don't know what to do to feel like me again."

"Well, what do you like to do for fun?" Rachel asked. "What makes you happy?"

"I don't even know anymore." He said, honestly. "I used to skateboard on the boardwalk, I used to surf, even though I sucked at it. I came out here from Ohio so I could be a huge rock star and even after everything I've done it's still not enough." He stared down into his cup of coffee and realized that he hadn't even taken a single sip of the liquid black drink. "To be honest, writing that song with you last night was the first time I've been that happy in months."

A wide, glowing smile perked up the corners of her lips and he could feel himself growing more and more attached to her by the minute. Rachel was officially his last ray of sunshine after Quinn had clouded his world in darkness. She was beautiful, she was talented, and she was here with him when he had no one else.

"I'm glad you're seizing this opportunity to be creative and happy, Finn. You deserve it." He shrugged and looked away from her.

"You don't even know me." He said, thinking about Quinn and how he had ruined her life. He deserved nothing.

"I know you well enough to know that you have a big heart. And that you try to make sure everyone else is happy before you take the time to worry about yourself." She grabbed his hand again and this time he was the one to curl their fingers together while he lost himself in the compassion that shone in her eyes. How could she trust him so implicitly when he was nothing but a monumental fuck-up? If she knew the truth about his past she wouldn't be saying half the things she was telling him now, but part of him just needed to feel loved, if only for a moment. He watched, in awe, as she lifted up the hand she was still holding and kissed the back of it, like he had done to her the night before. His heart jumped in his chest at the small action, as his feelings for her grew deeper. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a girl really cared about him.

"Do you want to go to the studio and do some writing this afternoon?" He was hoping above hope that she would say yes and continue their songwriting endeavors together. The last thing he wanted to do was retreat to the solitude of his shitty apartment, and part of him just did not want to be alone today. He wanted to be with Rachel, and feel happy for once instead of wallowing in all of his mistakes. He definitely had feelings for this girl, and the last thing he wanted to do is lose the small bit of happiness that had creeped back into his heart. She hadn't let go of his hand yet, and he secretly hoped she would hold on.

"I would love to." She said with a smile, and the two songwriters headed over to the studio on foot with their hands still entwined.


Salut mes amis!

Their romance is building step-by-step! But will Quinn find out about it?

Until next time. . . sings. . . Don't Stop Reviewing!

Merci mille fois!