A/N: So, this is my first Glee fic. After not writing for more than three years, Rachel/Puck yanked me out of my comfortable cocoon of Not Writing and threw me head first in to writing the longest frucking intro I've ever written for a fanfic, ever. It's rated M for now because I highly anticipate a lot of Mature things happening in chapters to come. It will most likely become MA later on. Its title is from Pink Floyd, as I have an unhealthy obsession with all things Pink Floyd. And, I really like titling fics with "Crazy", apparently.
It has not be beta'd and I am saddened by this fact, I do hope it isn't terribly obvious, though.
I have a vague sense of where I'm going with this but I'm open to ideas. ;) Enjoy.
Crazy Diamond
The city was at her feet. Literally. As she gazed down at tops of cars, taxi cabs, umbrellas, she felt a sense of relief. The paparazzi couldn't possibly zoom this high up from all the way down there, could they? Rachel peeked down suspiciously at the building across from her, noticing the curtains swaying with the strength of the wind. Once satisfied a camera wasn't peeking through the blinds, she sat down on her chaise lounge and flipped through the latest tabloid stating in big bold letters how "Rachel Berry and the Giants' Finn Hudson were secretly meeting every night at Ritz Carlton Hotel while his pregnant wife was nowhere in sight." With a snort, she threw it in the trash and shook her head. Why her cast mates thought it was funny to leave this trash in front of her dressing room door was beyond her. Why she brought it home in the first place? Well, fact or fiction, she was always curious what the media would make up when she was a big star. Now that she was, she realized they weren't very imaginative. Or smart. Rachel and Finn had been best friends since middle school; could the media blame them for keeping their friendship? If Quinn didn't, she couldn't comprehend why the reporters wouldn't leave it alone. Every interview, no matter what, she had to answer whether or not they have ever "dated" and how brilliant her and Quinn Fabray got along. What did it matter? Didn't they care about the rave reviews "Jubilee" got? Playing the cold daughter of a couple separating on their 50th anniversary was no small feat. Rachel Berry was used to playing the upbeat, optimistic character…not a cynical woman who doesn't even mourn her parent's divorce. The songs she sang were quick and angry, nothing like Rachel ever studied…did the media even mention she might be nominated for the Tony Award "Best Performance of a Leading Actress in a Musical"? No. When Finn was scouted by the NY Giants, she couldn't be happier, her best friend moving to New York? A dream come true…aside from being the lead in a hit play, of course. Now, she couldn't even be seen with him alone without rumors flying of his imminent divorce.
When the media first got wind of her performance in "Jubilee", she got her first real two-page spread in "New York Arts Magazine". Little did she know it would be the last time anyone interviewed her about her career and not her non-existent love life. Every newspaper or gossip blog these days only cared about how much she went out with Finn. They would crop Quinn out of the picture and pretend she was sitting at home twiddling her thumbs while her husband went rampant on the town with Rachel. It was repellent and she couldn't take any more of the lies, Quinn didn't deserve this…none of them did. Looking at her watch, she wondered what was taking Quinn so long. It usually took her 10 minutes from their place on the West Side to travel through Central Park to Rachel's condo on the East. They had plans to order in and watch A Chorus Line (for the hundredth time,) usually Friday nights included making appearances at certain gallery openings or celebrity charity functions. Tonight they were too exhausted and fed up with the tabloids splashing their faces on every cover for the wrong reasons. Quinn Fabray-Hudson was, other than Finn, her best friend. Of course, they hated each other in High School. Quinn was the snobby cheer leader and Rachel, the drama geek. One day auditions opened up for Glee Club and they were both standing in line, funny enough…Quinn was only there because she had a crush on the Glee director, Mr. Shue. Now Quinn was her co-star in Jubilee, playing her father's mistress and doing a phenomenal job at it. The angry duets they did every Tuesday and Friday night only made the fictitious stories about them spread even more. The door bell rang, breaking Rachel out of the loop her thoughts were stuck in and she jumped up to open the door. Quinn stood there, soaked to the bone with a broken umbrella in one hand and a bag of Chinese in the other.
"Hungry?" Quinn asked, laughing as she threw what was left of her umbrella in the trash.
Rachel ran for a towel, "Oh my god! I didn't realize how bad it got out there! Why didn't you take a cab?"
Quinn shrugged off her jacket and took the towel from Rachel to dry off her hair, "I did! This was from the walk from the curb down that damn mile long entrance this building has in front. Why couldn't you move in to a place that had the doorman closer to the street?" she laughed and kicked her shoes off.
"I love that entrance. I can sneak out without the paparazzi even realizing I left!" Rachel gathered a change of clothes for Quinn and set the tea. "Did the wind do that to your umbrella before you even got in?" she asked.
"It got caught in one of those thorny rose bushes your maintenance people haven't taken care of yet," Quinn's words were muffled through the cloth of the sweatshirt she was sliding over her head. "You know, there's a guy that fixes the heat in my church that can totally take care of that for you." Quinn winked.
"Is that another euphemism?" Rachel arched a brow.
"It's whatever you want it to be," Quinn chuckled and started to unpack the food on to the coffee table. "I am a little serious, though; remember how you said you wanted to date a normal guy? One without all the dramatic flair from theater and the ego to go along with it?"
"I suppose I did say something to that effect, yes. I didn't, however, allude to the idea of dating maintenance men, thank you very much." Rachel huffed.
"Hey, don't knock it 'til you tried it. He's actually pretty damn hot. And he's just a super by day, anyway. At night he plays with his band at places all up and down the city." Quinn nodded, "Yeah, I tried to get him to lead Guitar Lessons for our church once but he turned me down, said it wouldn't feel right since he was Jew-"Suddenly Quinn's eyes flashed. "He's Jewish!"
Rachel laughed and shook her head. "And?"
"Your parents would absolutely adore a Jewish Son in Law." Quinn stated, nodding enthusiastically.
"Yes and their parents would have absolutely adored them bringing home Daughter in Laws." Rachel dead panned, "Look, you bring up my garden's messy rose bush and suddenly we're discussing my future Jewish husband who can't decide between fixing pipes and strumming guitars?"
Quinn made a face, "Well, when you put it that way it just sounds weird."
"Do you even know this guy's name? I mean, what if he's some psycho and you're just perfectly willing to send me off with him so I can end up like Natalie Wood but except for drowning, I would be murdered at dusk in Central Park." Rachel took a breath and continued, "How cruel to die across the street from your own home?"
"Dramatic much?" Quinn picked up her chopsticks and started to fumble with her Chow Mein, "I think his name is Noah. Does that sound like a psycho stalker killer to you?"
"I said nothing of stalking, just killing. And just because he has a beautiful name does not imply he won't hesitate to end my life." Rachel nodded and took a sip of her tea, thoughtful. "Though I suppose if the media caught wind of my little tête à tête with Mr. Noah, perhaps they would desist from fabricating all those stories of Finn and I. Even if in the end it does shorten my life."
Quinn coughed on her food, laughing at her friend's dramatic solution to their ever growing problem with the tabloids. "How about you just meet the guy first? I mean, before you start creating the playlist to your own funeral."
"If you insist," Rachel clicked the TV on, "Pretending to be in a relationship to get myself out of a made-up relationship is just the only next logical step, I suppose."
"If this works, we might be able to go out in public again…" Quinn sighed, lost in the fantasy.