A/N: Enough of the Fabang stuff, here's what you all actually want.

Finn gently tightened the final spark plug, reconnected the cable connecting it to the engine, and cleaned his hands on the rag hanging from his pocket. As expected, the engine fired up when the key was turned and he listened to it run for a while, waiting to see if there was a problem with the new spark plugs that he installed. Seeing and hearing that there was no problem he killed the engine and closed the hood.

There wasn't much time before lunch and, so there was no point in starting a new job and Finn took a seat behind the desk in the office while waiting for Puck. He quickly realized that this was a terrible idea since he was left alone with just his thoughts and like they had for the past week, they invariably went to one Broadway star. This also meant he invariably wondered what she was up to. The only problem with this was the fact that she was a Broadway star and that meant it was way too easy to find out what she was up to.

When he first discovered what she did for a living, all he had time for was a quick five minute search. Then they had gotten together and did whatever it was that they did and it didn't really matter what she had done or what she was like back in New York. Now, when it absolutely didn't matter how her life was going, he had all the time in the world to stew about it. After the first time he checked a half a dozen Broadway news sites, he promised himself that would be the last time he did it. He made that same promise after the second, fifth, and sixteenth time too.

And as he opened the laptop sitting on the office desk, he was pretty sure that he was making that same promise for the hundredth time now and this time he was really, really going to keep it. Really, he was. He fired up the internet browser, quickly typed her name into Google, and found out there were things he didn't want to know about her. The title of the first news result didn't make him want to read it, but there was just no way he could stop himself from clicking on it.

Rachel Berry and Co-Star, Jesse St. James, Back On?

The rollercoaster ride of a relationship between Rachel Berry and her Spring Awakening co-star, Jesse St. James, appears to be on the upswing again as they were spotted entering Per Se hand in hand for dinner early yesterday night.

This sighting comes a mere week after Berry was spotted back in New York after a month long absence, which her manager described as personal time off. Though rumor has it, the theatre company forced her to take time off after her incidents during and after the Tony Awards, but not even unnamed sources will confirm that.

The tipsy pair stumbled their way out of one of the finest restaurants in New York a few hours later with Ms. Berry hanging onto Mr. St. James as if her life depended on it, once again proving true the Tony Award winner's reputation of enjoying the finer things in life.

Course, there's no telling if this version of their relationship will last, but who knows? Maybe the tenth time's the charm. All this writer knows is that Spring Awakening fans must be jumping for joy because their favorite couple is back together.

Finn reread the article for no other reason than to get as much info as possible, not that there was much, about Rachel because it sure as hell didn't make him happy to read. The photos taken by the paparazzi didn't help either since they showed big, bright smiles on both of their faces as they made their way into the restaurant. The video on the side of the page showing Rachel giggling and Jesse laughing as they left the place and got into a cab definitely didn't help.

He was watching the video for the third time when a flying pen nearly took out his eye, making him look up from the laptop.

"You looking at porn?" Puck asked.

"Fuck you dude."

"Then what the fuck are you looking at?" Puck walked over and grabbed the screen, stopping Finn from slamming it shut. "Dude, are you really looking at this? What is your—"

"Jesus F. Christ," Santana said as she walked into the office. "What is taking you two pussies so long?"

"Nothing." Puck slammed the screen shut, almost crushing Finn's fingers, before punching Finn on the arm. "We were just getting up."

Santana glared at them, looking as though she didn't believe a damn word that came out of Puck's mouth and then jutted her chin out at the laptop. "You closed that pretty quick."

"We were getting up," Finn said, because Puck knowing about what he was looking at was one thing. Santana finding out about it was completely different.

She kept looking at them like she didn't believe them, then a grin broke out and she said, "Porn right?"

"Yea, that's right," Puck said as he walked away from Finn. "When does Quinn get back?"

"Why?" Santana smirked. "Gonna fail at getting into her pants again?"

"No. I'm fucking sick of eating lunch with you," Puck said as he walked out of the office.

Santana smacked Puck upside the head as he walked past her then turned to look at Finn and raised an eyebrow. "Move it. I'm hungry." And as Finn walked by her she said, "And don't think I don't know what you were looking at. That bitch dropped you like a bad habit. You need to do likewise."

"I wasn't looking for news on Rachel."

"Please," she said as she gave him a withering stare. "I'm not fucking stupid. You've got that same dumb look on your face when you knew you did something retarded and were trying to hide it from Quinn."

"No, I don't."

Santana rolled her eyes. "You may think you're all hot shit thanks to poker, but don't forget who you're talking to."

"I know who I'm talking to, which is why I know you don't fucking care."

"Fuck you Finn," she spat out as she glared at him, right before she walked out of the office.

He deserved that. He knew she cared about her friends and he was one of her oldest. She just had a hard time showing anything that resembled kindness. Her bitching was her own special way of showing that she cared about people which he just threw back in her face.

God, he was being a giant asshole, he thought to himself. People said he was pretty mean back when Lisa dumped him and he kinda believed them after they told him some of the shit he pulled. There wasn't any reason not to after he had stopped moping around.

This time he didn't think he was moping around —it might have had something to do with the fact that he wasn't also dealing with a ruined football career this time around — but apparently that asshole part of him was coming out again.

He rubbed his face as he walked out of the office and almost crashed into Santana as she stood there, tapping her foot and with a look on her face that was daring him to run her over.

"Hey San."

"Douchebag."

"Sorry about what I just said."

"Whatever," she said as she walked out.

He quickly caught up with his long legs. "I was looking at stuff on Rachel."

"No shit."

"She's back with Jesse now."

"Do I look like I care?"

"No, but—"

"Look, I don't give a rat's ass about who's she's banging now. I just want to make sure you don't turn all emo again because that shit ain't cool and I don't want to deal with it again."

He made sure not to stick his foot into his mouth by saying she'd be back at Ohio State in a month and wouldn't have to deal with it all that much.

"I don't even know why you're pining for her and shit. You knew her for a month and dated for a week. I mean did you two even bang?"

"Does that matter?"

Santana shrugged. "No, not really." She smirked. "But at least you woulda been able to tap that hot piece of ass."

"Santana…"

"What? She's hot."

The conversation stopped as Finn and Santana slowly made their way to the deli since Puck had left them behind. The silence didn't bother Finn since Santana was so much like a dude and he would have been fine walking the rest of the way without speaking again, but he really didn't have anyone else to talk to about this stuff. He didn't want to sit around and stew about it like with Lisa and he usually talked with Quinn about things like this but she was off on her family vacation and her dad didn't want her to spend all of it on her phone, so Santana was pretty much it. It wasn't exactly the best situation.

"I know we only knew each other for a month, but something was different with her, you know? It's like…" He shrugged. "I don't really know how to explain it."

When she didn't say anything, he figured that she didn't have anything to say to him because Santana always spoke her mind and he was fine with that since he just needed to talk. So he was surprised when she said, "I get it. I can't really explain me and B either." She shrugged. "We just…are. We just fit together. And get your head out of the gutter."

They took a few more steps before Santana spoke up again.

"If that's what she really is to you, you should go after her. I know your ass has the money. You're a fucking baller compared to the rest of us."

"She doesn't feel the same way. I mean she got back with Jesse after a week."

"Oh please, those two break up every other week to date other people. That shit ain't real."

"What if it is?"

"What if it isn't?" He looked at her and she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, enough of this shit. We sound like a pair of chicks."

"Uh, Santana?"

"What?"

"You are a chick."

They both laughed before she punched him on the arm and said, "Fuck you. You're buying me lunch."

Goodbye
Should be saying that to you by now, shouldn't I?

Rachel drummed her fingers along with the beat of the song as she stared out the window of the little café she was in, waiting for her lunch companion. It was raining, again. It had rained almost every day since she returned from Lima and she might have thought she was in some romantic comedy if she didn't know any better. Some heavy-handed director would have used the rain as a metaphor for the sadness in her heart, but she did know better. The meteorologists said there was a low pressure system sitting on top of the Tri-State area that showed no signs of moving anytime soon, so she was pretty sure she wasn't in some deity's idea of a movie.

And I tell myself to let the story end
That my heart will rest in someone else's hand

The rain was the one thing that made it hard to pick out tourists from New Yorkers —this was one of her favorite pastimes — as they walked past the café. Tourists were usually easy to spot since they were always looking up at the skyscrapers towering over them. Now she had to look for people walking around aimlessly which a true New Yorker would never do. This took much more effort than she wanted to spend right now.

Ooh, how am I gonna get over you?
I'll be alright, just not tonight
But someday

She looked down, checked her watch, and remembered why she was late to almost everything. She always hated waiting for other people.

Oh, I wish you'd want me to stay
I'll be alright, just not tonight
But someday

Tiring of playing her people-watching game, she noticed herself nodding her head and drumming her fingers to whatever song that was playing throughout the café. Thinking that an upbeat and happy song would be a temporary reprieve from her thoughts and feelings, she began to pay attention to the lyrics and quickly wished that she hadn't.

But no more
I won't beg to buy a shot at your back door
If I'm aching at the thought of you, what for?
That's not me anymore

Whatever singer/songwriter decided to set these awful lyrics to such an upbeat melody should have their instruments taken away and banned from every recording studio in the world. The worst part about the song was that those awful, awful lyrics were making too much sense and hitting too close to home.

"Sorry I'm late," Jessica said as she dropped her things onto the extra chair of the table.

"You should be. I have been forced to sit here and listen to this awful song."

Jessica sat down and cocked her head, listening to the music. "This song's pretty good and I'm surprised that you got here before me. I'm usually the one who has to wait for you."

"That's because I usually have important things to do."

"And I don't?"

"What's more important for you than meeting your best and favorite client for lunch?"

Jessica sighed and pulled out a Moleskine notebook and pen. "Finally ready to talk about that—"

"No, not that."

"Of course not." The pen paused right above the page. "Then what would you like to talk about?"

"Nothing. I can't just want to eat lunch with you?"

"And when have you ever wanted to do that without asking me for something?" Jessica put away the notebook. "Plus, it feels like you've been avoiding me ever since you got back from Lima."

A glare was shot at Jessica. "I have not been trying to avoid you and I can fire you, you know that right?"

"Promises, promises," Jessica said with a grin.

The waitress came by to take their order before Rachel could mouth off a reply. They made small chat, mostly about rumors on current Broadway productions and what fashion accessories had caught their eyes, as they ate their respective salads and soups.

"So, why did you really want to have lunch with me?" Jessica asked as she sipped on her coffee.

"We've barely seen each other in the two weeks since I got back and I felt like seeing you." Rachel shrugged and took a sip of tea. "Is that so hard to imagine?"

"Yes, it kind of is."

Rachel gasped then laughed and was quickly joined by Jessica. It felt good to laugh this hard because it seemed like she hadn't done it since she arrived back in New York.

"I looked at the numbers; your little thing with Jesse seems to be working."

"Of course it's working. When have I ever come up with a plan that hasn't worked?"

Jessica stared at Rachel. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Of course not," Rachel said as she rolled her eyes. "It was rhetorical."

"Of course it was." Jessica took another sip of coffee. "He doesn't mind being a part of this plan of yours?"

"No, he sees the reason behind it and agrees with me."

"You two are—"

Rachel's phone interrupted them. She pulled it out of her handbag and checked who was calling then shoved it back inside.

"Who was that?"

"The devil we were speaking of."

"Didn't feel like talking to him?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Just because we're doing this… thing together doesn't mean I want or need to speak with him every day."

Jessica shrugged and sipped at her coffee then said, "So, what happened in Lima?"

"See, this is why I've been avoiding you."

"Thought you said you weren't avoiding me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and turned her head to look through the window again. She heard Jessica sigh and the rustling of a handbag told her that her manager had found something to do, like she always did when Rachel pulled something like this. Rachel knew she was being childish but sometimes there was no helping that part of her personality, so she stared out the window while Jessica did whatever she was doing.

"How long have you been with Josh?" Rachel asked, breaking the silence but still looking out of the window.

Rachel heard what sounded like a newspaper being closed before the answer came.

"Two years, five months, and twenty-four days. And if I think about it a little, I could give you the hours and minutes."

"No thank you," Rachel said as she rolled her eyes.

"Why'd you wanna know?"

Even though she knew Jessica was waiting for a response, Rachel fell silent again as she continued to stare out of the window because she didn't know why she asked that question. Her imagination told her that Jessica rolled her eyes before the rustling of pages said that Jessica had gone back to whatever it was she was doing.

Rachel finally turned to look at Jessica again and asked, "You love him right?"

Jessica put down what turned out to be a magazine and gave her a look.

"You're right, that was an idiotic question."

Jessica picked up her magazine again.

"It's just that I don't think I've ever been in love, but I'm constantly singing and listening to songs about the subject when I have no clue about the first thing about love and I've realized that this is really strange."

"Mmm hmm."

"It's just that— How do you know when you're in love?"

The magazine was placed back on the table.

"You know those songs you sing and listen to?"

Rachel nodded.

"They all start to make sense."

Finn cracked open another can of beer as he watched the baseball game. Not that it mattered but the Indians were losing, again.

"How are we doing?" Burt asked as he came in with his own can of beer.

"The usual, down by three."

"At least they're consistent."

Finn raised his beer. "Here's to consistency." Burt raised his own beer and they both took a long drink from their cans.

The rest of the game went same way, with the Tigers getting a scare in the seventh inning, giving the Indians one of their many losses for the season. Burt asked him to flip the TV over to ESPN to catch up on the other games before calling it a night.

"Are we still meeting with that parts supplier tomorrow?" Finn asked.

"Yea, if you're up for it."

"I am."

"You're gonna have to wear something nicer than your coveralls."

Finn grunted in acknowledgement.

"By the way, what's with the sudden interest in the business side of things?"

"Dunno, I guess I figured I should be learning about this stuff."

"Huh."

They watched the highlights of the Yankees and Red Sox crushing the teams they played and Finn wondered for the thousandth time what it'd be like to root for a team that didn't suck every year.

"Finn, you sure you want to learn about the business side of things?"

"Yea, why wouldn't I? I mean, I can't just be working on cars forever. I need to learn about how to actually run the shop."

"I might be overstepping here, but I never thought that's what you wanted to do."

"Why wouldn't I want to do it? It's a good living and, like, it feels nice to do things with your hands."

"Hey," Burt said after he chuckled. "I'm not knocking it. It's an honest job and it's putting Kurt through college, but I never thought it's what you wanted to do."

"So, it's good enough for you but not for me?"

"Whoa, that's not what I'm saying. Even though we never talked about these kinds of things — and I get why we haven't — I always thought you wanted to get out of Lima."

"Mom loves it here and you love it here. I can't love this town too?"

Burt took a drink of beer as if he needed to gather his thoughts. "I'm sure you love this place as much as the rest of us, but if me and your mom live out the rest of our lives without leaving this area too much we'd be just fine. I think you're different. I think you've got bigger dreams than living your entire life in Lima."

Finn drained whatever was left in his can. "What if… what if I can't make those dreams happen?"

"Finn, you're a lot of things: a hard worker, a good mechanic, a heck of a football player, and from what I hear a damn good poker player, but I'm pretty sure you're not a quitter." Burt finished off his beer and stood up. "Don't forget a nice shirt for tomorrow morning."

They said their goodnights, leaving Finn sitting on the couch to wonder what the hell that conversation was about. Well, he knew what the conversation was about; he just had no clue why Burt would bring that stuff up now. It wasn't like he was doing anything different besides asking to be included in the business stuff because he was already doing pretty much everything else in the shop.

He needed a nice shirt. This was why he was standing in front of the closed door to his old room wondering why he was being such a coward. He hasn't been in this room since she left because he never had a reason to go in and because she left. Now, he has a reason to go in and he was pretty sure he was a dumbass for not keeping any nice clothes in the basement.

He shoved the door open and the first thing that he noticed was how neat the bed was made, probably neater than how Kurt left it. The second thing he noticed was the fruity smell of her shampoo and body wash filling the room. This made him hurry over to the window and throw it open because, just, no. The third thing he noticed was a stuffed monkey sitting on top of an envelope in between the two pillows at the head of the bed.

The ratty condition of the monkey told him it was the one he gave her all those years ago, not the new one from July 4th. Ever since she told him the story about how she got this thing, he'd been racking his mind to remember his side of it. Annoyingly, he could barely remember his mom crying back then, much less some random little girl he didn't know at the time.

Whatever.

The envelope has his first name written in elegant cursive and there's no question as to who it's from. For a second, he thought about throwing the envelope away but really, there was no way he would ever do that. That didn't mean he was in any hurry to rip it open and find out what was inside because anything in there was probably bad news, so he sat on the bed tossing the stuffed animal back and forth between his hands.

He kept doing that until the monkey was fumbled and dropped to the bed and as soon as that happened he lunged across the bed to snatch the envelope from its place. Happily, he found it unsealed and pulled out the, perfectly folded, letter from inside. The letter was written with the same elegant cursive and his eyes picked up bits and pieces of the letter as he skimmed over it, putting off actually reading the damn thing. But he couldn't put it off forever, so he started to read.

xxx

Finn,

While we didn't leave on the best of terms, I wanted to let you know I enjoyed my time with you in Lima and I hope you did as well. I won't rehash the argument we had because I would like to you to remember me as fondly as I'm sure I will remember you.

I will leave you with this thought: Burt and Carole believe in you, all of your friends believe in you, Mr. Schue and Coach Beast believe in you, in fact, everyone who I have talked to believes in you, and I believe in you. The only person who doesn't believe in you is you.

Finally, you may have noticed that I have returned the stuffed animal you once gave me because I have come to the conclusion that someone at my age should no longer need it.

Wishing you well on all of your future endeavors,

Rachel

xxx

He finished reading the letter and saw that the elegant cursive slowly got sloppier and sloppier near the end. He was sure that she had cried as she wrote the end of the letter because there were small, wrinkled spots on the paper where her tears fell and it made him feel like shit.

Rereading the letter doesn't help, but he did it anyway, especially the part where she wrote about people who believed in him. He doesn't know when he stopped believing in himself, but he figured it was probably when his football career was over. He also doesn't understand why he stopped believing in himself. It wasn't like his leg just stopped working and even if it had, Artie wasn't moping around and he had two legs that didn't work.

Finn rubbed his face, got up, and closed the window. Tucking the stuffed monkey under his arm, he grabbed a dress shirt from his closet and felt even shittier when he realized that Rachel hadn't taken one of his shirts home with her.

Later on that evening after a shower, he sat in front of his laptop playing poker in the basement while the TV was on ESPN. He lost a few hands then won a few more when heard the familiar sound of a World Series of Poker episode come from the TV. It was a rerun of the Main Event, the biggest poker tournament in the world, where thousands of players from around the world played for millions of dollars. This episode was of the Final Table which he was happy about because he wasn't able to catch it when it premiered thanks to all the crap of the past month.

As he watched and listened to the episode, he played fewer and fewer hands of poker and eventually just logged out of the game. He'd never really paid attention to who the actual players were when he watched these things unless they were famous players, but tonight he did. Eight of the nine players at the finale table were around his age and all of them had gotten their starts in online poker. When the last man standing was some guy who was exactly his age, Finn scrolled through the contacts on his phone while logging back into his account.

He found the person he was looking for and called them.

"Dude, it's me."

He clicked over to his account info.

"Yea, I know it's late but I gotta ask you for a favor."

Then to his balance info.

"Oh, how much is your tuition for next semester?"

Finn raised his eyebrows and said, "That much?"

He cradled the phone with his shoulder so he could type the amount he just heard into the balance transfer page and clicked okay.

"No, that wasn't the favor." He waited until the he got the transfer notice email before logging out again and closing the laptop.

"I'm coming to New York and I need a place to crash."

A/N 2: The song that plays in the café is "Gonna Get Over You" by Sara Bareilles.

And here I was just kidding about the Moonlighting curse. Shows what I know.

By the way, I'm getting real sick of this site removing my formatting.