Story: Freefall
Author: MikoAkako
Beta: The absolutely fantastic nightingale mistress.
Rating: M
Warnings: This is not a light story. The rating is as much for adult themes (male/female as well as female/female) as it is for portraying an abusive relationship. Read the triggers in bold below before reading, please.
Pairing/Character: Rachel/Jesse, Kurt/Blaine, Rachel/Puck (friendship)
Word count: 6,861
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. This contains a few lines of dialogue and a basic subplot of the show Nip/Tuck (no spoilers for that show, though as the endings differ greatly). (Thank you to Nicole for pointing out that I forgot to add this!)
Summary: Future AU. Rachel's in New York living her dream when she runs into Jesse St. James, the boy she passed over in High School. Will their relationship be the missing piece in her otherwise perfect life or will it be the thread to lead to her unraveling completely.
Triggers: Emotionally Abusive Relationship, Anorexia, Severe Depression, dub-con sex.
A/N: Special thanks go to my beta, nightingale mistress. Without her, this never would have been finished. Of course, any and all mistakes are mine. Also, I need to thank Holly-Anne Rivers, who listens to me complain about writing this. Again, I couldn't have written this without her support.
Freefall
Rachel Berry was in a free fall long before she had even walked into that doctor's office. There was no reason for the slow spiral out of control – she had everything she had ever wanted in life. Sure, she'd dropped out of Julliard after only two and a half years, but she'd landed a role on Broadway. Leaving Julliard had been worth it because after six years in a minor role, she'd gotten an opportunity to take the lead. For the past five years, she'd received nothing less than the raving reviews that she'd expected.
Her love life, on the other hand, was nothing short of disastrous. Rachel never had the best taste in men, and it hadn't improved as she grew older. She attempted to do long distance relationship with her high school boyfriend, but it wasn't even three weeks into the school year when she'd been texted pictures of him with another girl. Since then she'd bounced from one relationship to the next without waiting for the wounds to heal. Some sick part of her didn't want them to heal – she needed the pain to be fresh just so she could feel something, anything.
The building, with its shimmering glass windows extending to the heavens, looked as if it were on fire as it reflected the sun on the New York street. Rachel hesitated just outside; the hand that was poised to open the door could be lifted to smooth a stray strand of hair from her face. If she went inside, she would just be one more step closer to the edge of the abyss she'd been dancing towards her entire life.
It wasn't the first time she had considered surgery to solve her problems, but in the past she always had someone to stop her. She had no one now. No one to tell her she was beautiful, no one to tell her she was worth it and make her believe it. The last time Rachel had considered surgery she was still in high school, surrounded by people who loved her. Most of them had fallen away over the years until the only person she saw regularly was so busy with his own fairytale life, he didn't have time to notice that hers was falling apart. Not that she could blame him.
It was so easy to take that step, much easier than it should have been. One minute she was standing on the streets, letting the constant motion of the city glide past her, and then she was in an office, standing in front of an aquarium and trying to look past the horrible reflection that haunted her every morning when she got ready for work, and every night when she got home. It made her want to hide her face in shame, run away from the world and just live in darkness.
Before, it hadn't been so bad. She could put on a smile and pretend there was nothing wrong, pretend that she wasn't falling to pieces every time someone looked at her. Like she didn't want to turn and run, but that she actually believed that ridiculous façade she put on every day. She wasn't sure when she began acting more in her day to day life than she did every time she took the stage. At least after two hours on the stage she could take a break. The only time she got a break in life was when she was curled up alone in bed, hugging her midsection so tightly she felt like if she let go, she would just disintegrate into thin air.
When her name was called, she ghosted through the halls behind the beautiful blonde receptionist. Her surroundings barely registered, but she remembered casting a smile at the girl, hoping it wasn't as shallow looking as it felt. It had been so long since she last smiled and meant it. She couldn't even remember the last time she truly smiled. Perhaps when she was given the job, her first job on Broadway. Or maybe when it finally sunk in that she had made it to the city that held her eye since before she could remember. Maybe it was further than that – at high school graduation before Finn broke her heart. Or was it when she met those familiar eyes across the desk as she walked in to the office where she shouldn't have been.
"Jesse?"
"Rachel?" She saw his eyes widen in surprise and knew he recognized her.
Her insecurities were forgotten as she ran around the desk and threw her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace, spinning her easily before setting her down and holding her tightly. She lingered for a moment, breathing in the smell that was distinctly masculine and all Jesse. She loved the way she felt pressed against him, so close that his heart beat was in tandem with hers. If she just closed her eyes she could be in high school again, with the whole world open before her, waiting for her to reach out and take it. The moment passed, as moments had to, and she pulled away. It took all her strength to remain standing without his arms around her to support her, and she had to grip the desk to keep upright.
"When did you move to New York?" She asked, searching the office. It had a modern feel that suited Jesse, with the door set in an ice glassed wall, and the other three painted dark blue. The wall behind the stainless steel desk had a large fish tank set in it, housing many multi colored tropical fish. The only other decorations in the office were the diploma's set on the wall, and what looked like a picture of Vocal Adrenaline from when he was the lead singer.
"I did my residency in the area, and then set up a private practice about three years ago," He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms. Her gaze was drawn back to him, admiring the way his muscles pressed against the confines of his jacket. "Are you still with the witless wonder?"
"Finn and I broke up at the end of senior year, if you must know," She said. "I thought of you often." She realized that the words were true. Every man she'd been with had been compared to Jesse, even Finn. None have, or rather could have, lived up to the standard he'd set. He had swept her off her feet when she'd been vulnerable, sinking in to her very existence like a stain on her soul.
"I've thought of you as well," he said, closing the gap she'd put between them and taking her hands. Moving even closer, he locked their hands between them, setting hers against his chest so she could, once again, feel the soft thudding of his heart. She looked up at him through her lashes, swallowing deeply. Rachel had dreamt of their reunion for ages. She'd dreamt of words of love spoken softly and feather touches that set her very core on fire. Seeing him again, she had almost forgotten that her life was falling down around her.
"I'd like to kiss you," Her words were hesitant, but her actions weren't. She stood on her toes, lips crashing into his. He met her halfway, letting go of her hands in favor of wrapping them around her waist. Her hands in turn traveled to his hair, her fingers twining through it and pulling as his nails dug into her sides.
It was a frantic kiss, bordering on violent. She felt her lips bruise as he bit them, and she opened them slightly to allow his tongue access. He dominated her, bending her to his will as easily as if she was made of rubber. And for him she was. She tasted blood in the kiss, mingling between them and she didn't know if it was hers or his, and it didn't even matter. Rachel moaned into the kiss, hands pushing frantically at his shirt, but there were too many buttons and she was too intoxicated by his presence to make any progress.
He matched her passion touch for touch, hands ghosting over the light fabric of her summer dress. His touch melted her and set her on fire at the same time, making her forget why she hated herself. She hitched a leg up over his hip and he secured it with one hand. She felt his growing arousal pressed against her and became uncomfortably aware of her own reaction to his presence. He lifted her easily, setting her on the desk sending papers and pens flying as he lay down across her, his weight comfortable.
"We can't do this, Jesse," She said, trying to gather an argument and order her thoughts as he slid her dress up and around her shoulders, following the path with feather-light kisses that gave her chills. When her dress was removed, his hands were back, caressing her all over and setting her on fire. His tongue drew patterns on her pale skin and she couldn't help but arch her back to his ministrations.
All further complaints were lost as his hand slid down, hooking his thumb and exposing her completely to give him further access. She was far from the innocent doe she'd been in high school, but nothing could prepare her for the overwhelming pleasure Jesse was giving her. His hands were skilled, bringing her to the edge and then stopping; torturing her into soft mewls of pleasure that fueled his passion.
"Jesse," She said, trying to compose herself. He'd stopped his ministrations, focusing again on dominating her lips. She slowly regained use of her body, using her hands to push his coat off his shoulders and onto the floor, his shirt and tie quickly followed. She reached down to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, unable to miss the obvious sign of his desire.
"Fuck me," She whispered into his lips, taking hold of his erection and moving her hand slowly up and down, building friction. His hips bucked against her hand, and his harsh breath was hot on her neck. "Fuck me, Jesse St. James." He needed no further urging. He started slow, building in a tempo to match her quick gasps of pleasure. She felt their hearts keeping time, a metronome that bound them together even in the throes of passion. They came together, muffling their cries of pleasure in each other's shoulders and feeling a strange thrill in the knowledge that someone could walk in and find them at any moment.
He pulled away from her, leaning his weight against the wall, covered in a faint sheen of sweat. Once again his absence was physically painful, and without the support of the desk below her she felt as if she could have sunk into the earth. She could still feel where his body had been pressed to hers, the warmth slowly leaving her and making her feel cold and empty. They stayed like that for several moments, trying to absorb the effect of what they'd just done and what it meant. As the deep satisfaction faded, Rachel suddenly felt exposed in more ways than just physically. Jesse's eyes seemed to rake her body, looking into her very soul and reading all her faults and fears. As if clothing could help, she scrambled to her feet and pulled her dress back on.
"You could be perfect, Rachel," She'd kept her eyes on him the entire time, waiting for him to speak. His voice was smooth, almost musical. She could get lost in that siren's voice. "I could make you perfect. You're only an 8, but with me, you could become a 10."
"I'm…only an 8?" She hated the way her voice sounded, so childlike and fragile, but he'd caught her by surprise. She was only in for a nose job, but the way his eyes scanned her body hinted that she needed so much more. "What can I do?"
"Rhinoplasty, obviously. Your eyes are slightly uneven, but that's easy to fix with a cheekbone enhancement. You'll need botox here, here and here," He touched three spots on her forehead gently, clinically. There was no passion in his touch now, no fire in his eyes. "Some abdominal lipo, a breast augmentation and you'll be a perfect 10."
"Am I really so ugly?" She asked, holding her arms around her midsection as if she could cover up all her imperfections or make them go away. She longed for the dark and her bed and a locked door so she could hate herself without anyone there to witness her humiliation. Her lips trembled as she tried to shrug out of Jesse's grip when he came behind her to hold her. His grip was confining, and their hearts beat out of sync. He refused to let her go and after a moment she gave in, falling limp in his arms and resting her head back against his chest. She tried to match her breathing to the steady rise and fall of his abdomen, hoping it would put them back in tune.
"You have to work for perfection," He said, whispering the words into her hair. She shivered as his breath raised bumps on her neck, shooting down her spine and even to her feet. "The Rachel Berry I knew always did. Don't settle now." She twisted around in his grip, looking up at him.
"Make me perfect, Jesse," She whispered roughly, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him sweetly. His lips molded to hers perfectly, gently. There was no violence this time. No desperate fight for control that she would always lose. She sent a prayer up to whatever God existed that when she was perfect, he would love her.
-
Jesse's entrance into her life felt like a reprieve, a strong port in the storm that was her life. She clung to him as if her life depended on her ability to find a happily ever after with him. It was different with him than it had been with any of her past relationships. He had known her in the 'before,' he had loved her in the 'before'. If she had just chosen him, then there never would have been an After, because the Before could have lasted forever. So she let him fix her.
With each cut of his knife, he stripped away the scars and bruises. The physical pain that accompanied it couldn't hold a candle to the emotional pain. The façade she'd adopted crumbled down with each drop of blood until she felt like she was an open book. It terrified her to be so exposed, but she made herself trust Jesse. She handed him everything he needed to fix her or destroy her.
She would sit up at night long after he'd fallen asleep and just watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Sometimes she would run her hands through his hair and admire the smoothness, softer than silk. When she was sure he was asleep, she would talk about everything, letting it all out.
In those moonlit sessions, she could admit to her deepest fears and worst failures. Finally she could tell someone about her immediate and overwhelming regret of choosing Finn at the end of junior year. Not that she had been unhappy with Finn. Finn was wonderful, in that high school boyfriend kind of way. He carried her books to class, waited for her at her locker and defended her against the school bullies even if it meant that he had to take slushies intended for her. But when they'd made out, she never felt like he was the one.
She told him about her whirlwind romance with a film actor who'd eventually moved away, leaving her devastated but not completely broken. Then came a five year fling with a critic, Kevin, who waited outside her dressing room for a week before she agreed to go out with him. She never loved him, but he wrote good things about her and she needed the favorable reviews. It was while she was with Kevin that she'd been promoted to the lead role. He proposed twice, but she had to turn him down – he was just a place holder until she found someone else.
She went a whole year before finding someone else – this time a co-worker. He was beautiful, with a voice that reminded her of a boy she knew in high school. When she closed her eyes, she could pretend that her lover had brown hair instead of blonde, and blue-grey eyes instead of green. She'd never slipped, never called him by that forbidden name, but it was always that name on her lips when she reached a peak, not George. George was a bulky name that hurt her tongue and had a hard time getting passed her lips. Jesse was smooth, like a drink of water.
He never gave any indication that he heard her nightly confessions, but she felt herself being glued back together with every word. Sometimes, when he had to work late, she would go out on the balcony of the penthouse apartment they shared with the latest script or song for an audition and pretend that all of New York could see her perform. It was exhilarating to hear her voice echo off the surrounding buildings, crescendos and diminuendos that put her heart and soul on display. Singing gave her a high that no drugs or alcohol could ever top.
But even the brief reprieve from the fall wasn't everlasting. She could only cling for so long before her grip had to slip again, sending her spiraling down even quicker. Rachel had always cared about what people thought, but now she craved Jesse's satisfaction. When he wasn't home, she would strip off her clothing and stand in front of the mirror, cataloguing all her failings.
Her nose was beautiful now, like a blonde girl she'd once envied but better because Jesse had chosen the model. From there her eyes trailed down to her breasts, fuller after the augmentation. She'd wanted to go for the C cup, but Jesse convinced her that it would unbalance her, so they were only marginally bigger, but there wasn't even a hint that gravity pulled at them. She moved past those quickly to her abdomen, hands tracing over her skin lightly and raising bumps. There was the promise of abs under a thin layer of fat that she pressed roughly, as if she could will it away. In the end, she had to turn away, disgusted with her body and nursing a deep desire to be perfect.
The worst was that she could see she was losing him. His gaze lingered a little too long on other women when they went out. He'd pretend otherwise, but she wasn't stupid. He made off hand remarks about her clothing, or joining a gym that felt like he slapped her. Soon he stopped coming home at all, claiming he had to spend more and more time at work. But Rachel Berry wasn't stupid. Plastic surgeons didn't operate in the middle of the night – his was a scheduled profession, not one born from necessity. Sometimes he did get calls from the local hospital – a celebrity came in with a nasty cut or a burn and requested him. He wasn't the best, but he was well known.
She had to try harder to keep him. She spent every spare moment at the gym, but nothing erased the softness around her abdomen and hips. She pushed herself so hard she had to run to the bathroom to succumb to dry heaves, but since she no longer ate there was nothing to come up.
Her performances started to flag; she just didn't have the stamina to sing and dance and act at the same time, hour after hour. Makeup could only do so much with the bags under her eyes. Wardrobe constantly had to take in her costumes. But it wasn't enough.
She knew instantly when he came home smelling like another woman. He had the same smile on his face as always and he greeted her with a warm kiss that sent shocks down her body and made her toes curl. But today it was just a little too insistent; as if he was trying to say something, to apologize for something and then sheknew. She knew, but she didn't say anything. She let him pick her up, wrapping her legs around him and clinging to his neck as he stumbled towards the bedroom.
She ground her hips into his, feeling his almost instant reaction. He lay her gently on the couch, unable to make it as far as the bedroom. What started with a passionate kiss became anything but passionate. He tore at her shirt, popping the buttons and revealing her pale white skin underneath. He slid her skirt up, nails digging in to her sides and tearing tender flesh. She whimpered as he impaled her, pounding harder and faster until he came.
He didn't apologize or even acknowledge her after. He merely slid off her and into the shower, leaving her shaking in the living room. When had she become so ugly? When had he stopped being able to look at her while they made love? Rachel gathered up her ripped shirt and dirty skirt and flung them into the trash. She barely mustered up the strength to pull on a robe before falling into bed.
-
It wasn't long after that when she lost her job. They'd been warning her, but she was so busy trying to hold on to Jesse, to become perfect for him, that her dream had fallen to the wayside. The director's expression was set even when she begged and pleaded – the decision was made and until she pulled herself together, she didn't need to bother showing up. There was no pain at the loss of her dream, only the absolute dread at what this would do to her relationship. How could she possibly win Jesse back when she couldn't even keep a job?
The party was at an exclusive mansion, and she can't even remember how Jesse got her to pose for the picture that is required of anyone fishing for an invite. She does know that it's the biggest house she's ever seen, with a staircase out of a princess movie leading to the upper floors and a wet bar that looks like it could get all of New York drunk. Everyone was so glamorous, dressed as if they were movie stars and, judging by looks alone, they could be.
Rachel felt out of place, one hand looped through Jesse's arm as he guides them through the rooms. She put on a silver dress, the metallic of the thread glinting in the lights of the hall and casting a shadow on her skin. Her hair fell in loose ringlets around her face as if she could hide behind it. Jesse looked flawless in a white suit paired with a light blue silk shirt. One look at his face and Rachel knew he was in heaven, but the pounding music gave her a headache, a dull throbbing that started in her temple and ended in her stomach.
"Let's go," She whispered, tugging on his arm gently. He turned to her, pulling her further into the house.
"What's wrong?" He asked, smiling at the people they passed. Before she could answer, an elegant blonde standing at least a head and a half above Rachel approached them, offering them each fluted glass filled with champagne.
"New here?" Rachel let Jesse do the talking. It took all her strength to just keep walking as the thought of what they came here to do was crashing over her, emphasized by the way the people they passed – men and women alike – ogled her. She tunes back into the blonde woman's introduction in time to hear the end of her rehearsed speech. "That room is for orgies, back there is voyeur. The one to the right is role play and that one," she pointed to a room hidden by curtains but through which a pulsing blue light could be seen. "Is for girl on girl. Each room has an array of condoms for safety, and even though everyone is thoroughly screened, we cannot be held liable for any accidents. Enjoy." She walked away, intercepting another couple with wide eyes and beginning her speech again.
"I don't want to do this, Jesse," She said again, stopping. This time, he stopped with her, pulling her to the side so they weren't in the path of people. The music was too loud, the people too brazen for her. She may not have felt broken anymore, but she didn't feel whole either. She couldn't expose herself to everyone here. Jesse kissed her softly once, twice.
"You're the hottest girl in here," He whispered, mistaking her hesitation. "And no matter what happens, you're her with me. I just…If I'm going to do this one girl thing it can't be with just one girl." He kissed her again and she melted into him. Part of her was still tense, but his hand, strong and warm against her cheek made her melt.
"Okay," She acquiesces, part of her lighting up at his smile. It's been too long since he looked so happy, and she was determined to do anything in her power to keep him that way. Even if it meant selling her soul. His intention was obvious as he pulled back the curtain and exposed a mass of bodies, most female and almost all naked. She cowered against his side, her gaze torn between the beautiful women and Jesse's wonder stricken face.
"Can she play?" A tall black woman approaches, eyes appraising Rachel's body, stripping her down. She glanced up at Jesse, who looked like a different person with eyes clouded in lust. He takes her glass and her purse and kisses her on the cheek before pulling out of her grip. She has the disorienting impression that for the moment after he lets go of her hand, she's falling through an endless abyss with no end in sight but the knowledge that she'll shatter when she hits the bottom. But then she feels a distinctly softer hand take her own and it almost feels like she's safe again.
She never learns the woman's name, and the woman never asks for hers. The black goddess, because in the creamy white dress inspired by Greek toga's that's what the woman looks like, leads her to a plush white couch, pushing her down and straddling her legs. Rachel is at a loss for what to do, letting the woman plant wet kisses on her neck, sucking and biting at her skin in a way that should be arousing but isn't. Her hand is grabbed from where it set to rest awkwardly beside her, and is lifted to cup one of the woman's breasts, pressed roughly on the outside.
Rachel's eyes meet Jesse's across the room, pleading with him to come and save her, but he must have not been able to see her desperation because he remained rooted in place. She blocked out the rest, gluing her eyes to the wall in front of her and letting the goddess lead. She was brought to the edge by skillful hands and an even more skilled tongue, and is vaguely aware that she reciprocates.
When she's aware again, her mouth tastes like bile and she's leaning over a toilet holding her hair out of the way. She can hear others in the stalls beside hers, but no one comes in to help. When she's emptied the contents of her stomach, she continues to dry heave until she's just too exhausted to do anything but lay there, face pressed to the public toilet and body shaking. There are no tears, and all she feels is emptiness.
Finally she stands, leaning against the wall for support but even that feels flimsy beneath her hand. Her dress is back on, slightly lopsided but she can't bring herself to care. She wants to rip it off and burn it, but then she wouldn't have anything to wear for the ride home, and her skin is too dirty anyhow. She cleans up the best she can in the sink, scrubbing her hands and her face until her skin is red and raw. Then she uses the soap in her mouth, as if it can erase the memory of what she did.
She wanders around the club for a while, staying far away from any of the doors, before finding an empty chair near the door and sitting there. A few people approached her, but the hallow look in her eyes must have dissuaded them, because no one says anything to her. She tries to scan the crowd for Jesse, but everyone looks the same and none of the sameness exposes the man she should be with. Just when she's about to give up, she reminds herself why she agreed to go.
-
It should be a surprise when he breaks up with her, but it isn't. Her hold has been slipping for too long, and she doesn't blame him for being unable to love the ghost of a girl she's become. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself into the 10 he deserved.
Instead, she slowly slipped backwards. If she started as an eight, by the end of the first year she was lucky to have been a six. When he broke up with her right before their two year anniversary she would have been lucky to have been considered a four.
She's not used to failing. She's still Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry who signed her names with a gold star. Rachel Berry who sang her heart out and won Nationals in her senior year. Rachel Berry who got into Julliard with a full scholarship. Rachel Berry who won a Tony for her performance on Broadway. She should have been good enough for him. She tried so hard to be perfect, but the suitcase dragging behind her and the few dollars in her purse told another story.
The day was beautiful, Central Park full of people smiling and laughing and loving each other. She felt separated by a barrier, as if her presence repelled everyone around her. It had been six months, but she still saw Jesse's face everywhere she turned. Every morning she woke up in the spare room of Kurt and Blaine's apartment thinking she was back in his apartment, and when she turned over he would be there smiling at her. But his smile had been absent for more than six months, and even the memory of it was foggy. She sat on the bench looking out at the lake and replaying the end over and over, as if by analyzing it she could figure out what went wrong and how she could fix it.
She had spent the day with Kurt, planning for his upcoming wedding. He'd expressed concern over her decline, but she brushed him off, telling him that she was fine, even though he could see it was an obvious lie. She remembered how it all ended, how she fell even further to the abyss.
When she got back to Jesse's apartment, she knew something was wrong. Jesse's coat was flung on the floor, the rest of his clothes forming a path to the bedroom. She heard them before she saw it. He was lying on the bed, hands clenched in red hair just as they'd once done to hers, hips bucking. She must have made a sound, because they both turned to face her.
"I didn't think you'd be home this early," Jesse said, no hint of regret in his eyes. She tried to gather her wits. She needed to say something, anything, but words failed her as she saw the chasm between them stretch further and further until nothing could bridge the gap. "You must have known."
"What did I do wrong?" She asked finally, clutching the doorframe for support. The girl had the decency to pull her clothes back on and slip out, her eyes meeting Rachel's in a silent apology before brushing against her. The touch freezes Rachel down to her core, and she knows the words she hears next will break her.
"I wasn't ready for a relationship," Jesse said, pulling his pants on. She closed her eyes, forcing each breath even though it felt like someone plunged a knife into her chest. It takes all her strength not to start crying right then, but she's never been one for tears. Besides, she's too numb to cry.
"But I love you." His silence spoke more than any words can, and she knew it was over. She only stayed long enough to gather her things, and then she left, even though the sun was down and she had nowhere to go. After standing there numbly, looking up at what used to be her home, she pulled out her phone and called Kurt.
She thought that maybe if she stayed she could have fixed things, but her head tells her otherwise. It's the same as when she saw that text with Finn, except a thousand times worse because she tried so hard to make it work. She let him into her body and heart like she hadn't let anyone else and he'd broken it into a thousand pieces. So every day she pretends to go job hunting, but she only goes and sits in the park and replays those last minutes.
Its torture, but she needs to do it. She needs to cling to every memory she has, even if it's painful because the good ones have already slipped away. What few good ones there were. She can't remember his smile, or the way his lips tasted. She can remember the fire his touch ignited, but that's coupled with the horror of letting herself be used by another woman until the two feelings are indistinguishable.
"Rachel Berry?" Her thoughts are interrupted by a familiar yet completely foreign voice. She glances up sharply, breath hitching as her eyes meet the hazel ones looking down at her. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Noah?" She almost doesn't recognize him without his Mohawk. His hair is shaved like it had been that one time in Sophomore year, and he's bulked up since their High School days. He looks amazing, standing there in an army uniform. His voice is jarring as always, not smooth like Jesse's. It echoes in her head and forces her to pay attention.
"Who else?" He asked, sitting down beside her without asking. She slides away, afraid to touch him. She wants to run, but she knows he'll catch her even though she has more energy since Kurt and Blaine started forcing her to eat again.
"I…I didn't know you were in New York," She said, looking at her hands curled in her lap. If she didn't look at him, then he wouldn't be able to see the pain in her eyes.
"Just here for some fancy diner thing," He said, shifting his uniform as if he had a reason to be uncomfortable. "Just did my last run in active service. The idiots even put me in charge. I'm Major Puck now." His smirk was infectious and when she glanced up at him, she found herself returning it.
"Congratulations," She said.
"So like I said – what the hell happened to you? You got a nose job? And a bit more, by the looks of it," His gaze wasn't as judgmental as Jesse's had been, but she wrapped a hand around her waist anyway.
"I…I wanted to be perfect for Jesse," She whispered the last part, but Noah heard it. He cursed loudly, drawing attention that she desperately wanted to avoid.
"Why the hell did you need to change? You were the most smokin' Jew I've ever met," His question was simple, but it made her blush a deep shade of red. She wanted to believe him, but she didn't.
"I wasn't. I was only an eight. Jesse said…He said he could make me a ten."
"Jesse St. Suck doesn't deserve you," Puck said sternly. "You've always been an eleven to me."
"You don't have to patronize me," She said, pushing away the hand he set on top of hers. He let her, resting his hands in his lap but turning so his whole body was facing her. "I'm not pretty. I thought I'd accepted it but then..."
"Look at me, Rach," She was shocked by the strength of his voice so she looked at him. His gaze was strong, laying her open as Jesse had done, but instead of making her shrink, it was like he was the sun and she was a flower that had been smothered in darkness. She leaned towards him, drinking in the compassion in his eyes. "You are beautiful. If Jesse couldn't see it, that was his fault, not yours. I don't know what he did, but obviously he fucked you up. I mean, the Rachel Berry I knew wouldn't have just rolled over and done what some jackass told her. The Rachel Berry I knew was one confident Jew that didn't need some snooty idiot to make her like herself…"
"Noah…"
"I mean it," He said, taking her hands again. This time she let him, too shocked by his words not because they were wrong, but because they were right. She hadn't realized what he saw right away. She hadn't noticed how much of herself she'd surrendered in her relationships.
"Thank you," she whispered, a tear unshed in her eye. She focused on her hands, wrapped strong in Noah's. He held on to her, warm and comforting.
"Come to the diner with me tonight," He said suddenly, pulling her up as he stood. He was still taller than her, but his strength wasn't menacing. He hadn't let go of her hands, but she tugged them away, wrapping them around her midsection once again. Realization wasn't a solution, and she still felt like she was cracked and flawed. "I could use a friend there, and you look like you could stand to eat more." She flushed, holding herself tighter at that.
"I don't know, Noah. Don't you want to take someone beautiful?"
"You are beautiful," He said fiercely. "I wish you could see how beautiful you are. Say you'll come with me, then I'll walk you back to wherever you're living so I know where to pick you up tonight at six. Say yes."
"Yes," She said softly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. They talk about nothing serious on the way back to Kurt's apartment; the weather, reminiscing on their High School days. It's easy to talk to Puck, she realizes suddenly. By the time they're half way to the apartment she's almost forgotten about hiding herself. She feels a smile tug the corners of her lips and stops in surprise for a millisecond, recovering before anyone can notice. By the time they're standing in front of the building, he's made her laugh, a sound she hadn't heard in far too long.
She's afraid that he's going to try to kiss her, and while she wants nothing more than to fall into his arms, she's still too broken. Maybe one day she'll piece herself together enough to be worthy of him, but for now she's fragmented and he's whole and beautiful. When she realizes where her thoughts turn, she has to force them into a new path, but it's hard. She's so used to thinking of herself as lacking that it's become second nature to do so. But she isn't, because he told her she's beautiful. But she still isn't ready to kiss him, and to her relief, he doesn't try.
His hug is strong and warm and she relaxes against him instantly. His arms encase her, holding her up and she realizes that Jesse was never the one to hold her. She held him. She'd clung to him. With Puck, it's equal. He's holding her just as much as she reciprocates. It's a new experience to be needed. Finn never needed her. Jesse never needed her. But Puck, from the way he holds her she knows that even while he holds her up, she's holding him up as well.
"See you at six," He says, pulling back and smiling down at her. She returns the smile hesitantly, still in shock at the newfound knowledge. She waves, disappearing into the building. Her smile lasts all night, and she knows it could be the first of many. She finds herself slipping back into her shell several times, but Noah's hands are always there to lead her back out. For the first time, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, her downward spiral has ended and that instead of shattering, it made her stronger.
A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts on this, and also - would anyone be interested in reading a sequel (possibly multi-chaptered) about Rachel's (slow) road to recovery. (It would be endgame Puckleberry romance).