Chapter 1: The One That Got Away

Rachel

Rachel is in such high spirits tonight. Walking along the streets of New York, Rachel wonders how she ever lived apart from this place. Apart from the bright lights, boisterous noise, and bickering people of this city. It's everything Lima was not, and never would be. Her heart seizes at the thought of the few happy memories she holds from Lima. But New York City quickly lifts her. She can feel the pulse of the city beat long with her footsteps even as the crisp wind whips around her.

Yeah. She'll never leave. That's what she decides. Not ever. Not a movie role or failure on Broadway (she chuckles at the ridiculousness of the thought; she was BORN for this) or even another Finn Hudson will pull her away from this place. Away from her home. She breathes in deeply to steady herself, as she always has to when her thoughts stray to a young Finn Hudson. She's able to look back now, of course, and see his faults. But she knows that Finn loved her like no boy before him had, and like no one had since.

Things are pretty good with Noah, though. She'd met him after securing a standing Friday night spot at a club called Rumba. No, he wasn't a performer like she'd dreamed (though he could carry a tune surprisingly well), and he was just the club's bouncer, but Noah was a catch. Women practically undressed him visually when they were out together; his eyes never strayed from her. He made her feel so loved and protected. She knew she was a lucky lady. What he lacked in what younger Rachel would have called "leading man potential," Noah made up for in charm, swagger, and overall attractiveness. Aside from the fact that he insists that everyone call him "Puck," Rachel is pretty sure she's finally found someone she could build a life with. Rachel smiles and snuggles her scarf more securely around her neck as she continues to brace herself against the wind. Yes, her eyes water, and her nose is numb, but she lives in New York and she's in a relationship with Noah Puckerman. Life is grand.

She heaves a sigh of relief as she reaches Noah's building. He'd invited her over earlier, but she had planned to stay at her place tonight to catch up on rest. But now she's just buzzing with energy after her audition today. No, she doesn't know if she's won the part yet, but she just feels it. She'd absolutely knocked it out of the park. They will hear no one better. She stops to ring up to Noah so he can buzz her in, but thinks twice since this is a surprise, and he had given her a key.

Rachel makes her way up to his apartment, 418, and stops, suddenly shy. Underneath her perfectly respectable outfit, silky white lingerie hugs her curves. She and Noah already had a pretty colorful sexual relationship but she wanted to do a little something extra for him tonight. He'd been endlessly supportive of her lately while she readied herself for a slew of auditions. Though she was worried about what the lack of quality time together would do to their relationship, Noah had reassured her over and over that nothing would change, that he understood her dreams, and that she should have them. God, she loved him. Tonight, she'd let him have his way with her. Whatever, whenever. She couldn't wait to close their distance tonight, and claim one another again. It honestly felt like forever.

Banishing the remaining nerves, she pulls out the sparkly gold key he'd gifted her. She smiles as the key glints in the low light and unlocks the door. The apartment is dim, but by this point, Rachel knows the place like her own. She noiselessly sheds her scarf and jacket at the door. She expertly sidesteps what she knows is Puck's gym bag in the hallway and drops her overnight bag down next to it. Nerves resurface, but Rachel Berry is most definitely not one to back down from a performance. She slides off her sweats, t-shirt, and shoes, and musses her hair sexily (she thinks) as she tiptoes to Noah's bedroom.

Looking like sex on a stick, Rachel pushes the door open gently. Her heart melts at the sight. Noah is fast asleep. He's so large, a tad intimidating, actually, but he looks so cute and harmless in this moment. She slides onto the foot of the bed to wake him up with a little surprise, when her nose catches a peculiar scent in the air. Noah's room reeks of sex. Hot, fresh sex. Rachel quickly repels from the bed as if scalded. Her mind begins to race. To justify the presence of this unmistakable smell on a man who is unmistakably hers.

She knows she has a tendency to overreact. She knows this. Her life is theater, for crying out loud. She knows this so she reasons with herself to remain calm. Her heart is imploding, and her eyes are watering. He wouldn't. He always swore he'd never cheat on her. Her resolve begins to leave her body as she realizes she's wearing lingerie. For the first time since she entered the apartment, she feels cold. The cold air is stinging her nearly naked body, and she feels ridiculously stupid. From the far corner of the room, Rachel notices the bathroom door open to reveal a blonde goddess.

Well, fuck. She gives this woman a once over, and her first thought is that she can't really be mad at Noah. I mean, this woman is gorgeous. Without contest, the most beautiful woman Rachel's ever seen. So beautiful, Rachel would instantly feel self-conscious even if she were fully dressed. Her second thought is that this woman can do so much better than Noah. She should be on the arm of Johnny Depp. Or Leo. Or Brad. Or Angelina. Not some no talent, New York club bouncer who calls himself Puck! That was mean; surely these are her emotions talking. Her emotions are all over the place, and she's thanking the gods for her impeccable theater training, hoping her poker face is on point. She drags her eyes back up to this woman's face. My goodness, she's gorgeous, Rachel thinks. What kind of woman is she to even be thinking like this right now? All logical signs are telling her that her boyfriend of nearly two fucking years just cheated on her with some random (absolutely gorgeous) blonde, and all she can do is ogle the woman?! Startled hazel eyes land on her. The blonde is on high alert, obviously frightened by Rachel's sudden appearance, and then, as she takes in Rachel's lack of clothing and her crushed facial expression, her eyes soften. She sways a little and holds up an unsteady hand. She's drunk.

Rachel gets the distinct impression that this woman has been here before. Here, as in this situation. Not here, as in this room. Though, who knows? She obviously doesn't. Because the woman shouldn't even be here now. The woman looks heartbroken, as if she'd just caught her boyfriend with a woman ten times more beautiful than her. Her voice is delicate and broken as she whispers, "I swear I didn't know he had a –"

Rachel's bravado comes out to play as she folds her arms across her chest. She interrupts coolly, calmly, "But he did."

The two women stare at each other, each at a loss for words. Rachel's struggling to not be angry at this woman. But shouldn't she be? How could she not be?! She's angry at someone, damn it.

As they hear the bed sheets rustle, they both turn their heads. Rachel remembers who's earned her anger. Noah stretches his stupid, over-sized arms in the air as his vision focuses on Rachel. "Babe?" he inquires sleepily, but warmly, and she can see that he loves her. She can hear it in his voice, see it in his sleepy face as his eyes take her in. That's why this hurts so much. Why would he do this? He seems bewildered by the heated look of pure anger that has taken over Rachel's face. Never. If this is angry, he's sure he's absolutely never seen her angry before. Not like this.

The blonde woman probably feels out of place. As she should, Rachel thinks, with an imperceptible head nod. "Yeah, you guys need to…talk."

At the sound of the woman's voice, Noah's head whips over to where she stands near the bathroom. Realization dawns as his head bobs dumbly between the two women. "Quinn…shit. FUCK." He scrambles up and out of the bed as he positions himself in front of Rachel, presumably preparing to beg.

Rachel feels the wind move through the room as the woman – Quinn, apparently— makes her way out of the bedroom. Rachel listens as Quinn gathers some things from the living room, perhaps, and quietly lets herself out of the front door.

"It didn't mean anything. Rach? Rachel, baby, you gotta believe me. That didn't mean anything and I fucking love you. You're the only one I want, Rachel Berry." He's really hysterical. He obviously thinks he means it.

"That obviously isn't true, Noah!" She cries pathetically. "Who is she?" If Rachel was the Rachel she was ten years ago, she'd let him grovel for the drama of it all and grant her forgiveness after being publicly serenaded. For who knows if she'd ever find someone else to love her. THIS Rachel does not give a fuck. This Rachel knows that she deserves better, and she shall have it. She looks at him on his knees, and the rage boiling in her subsides, leaving only pain. I'm done, she realizes as she feels the tears falling from her brown eyes.

"You know what? Don't answer that. I cannot do this right now." She runs into the hall and quickly redresses so he can't follow her. By the time he gets a pair of boxers on, she already has her hand on the front door.

"Little Star, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'll do anything," he pleads. His eyes are full of truth and tears. She actually believes him, but it doesn't make her reconsider leaving. His hands are in the air, and he cautiously approaches her like one would an animal in the wild. Rachel simply looks back at him, and shakes her head. She's so hurt. So. Fucking. Hurt. Her eyes lock onto his and she says sincerely, "Screw you, Puck," and exits the apartment. She takes a deep breath, but the tears keep coming. They keep coming, and they won't stop. She usually walks to her apartment, but not tonight. She's not about to stumble blearily through the streets of New York City at night looking like some blubbering raccoon. Even in the depths of her mind, Rachel is aware that her public image will be vital someday soon. She keeps it together long enough to hail a cab, and she barely gets her address out before she collapses into a fit of uncontrollable sobs.

Puck

Puck knows he's fucked everything up. Everything. He knows it, and for the first time in his life, he truly regrets something. He knows that he and Rachel had barely seen each other lately, and he had needs. Needs Rachel had apparently come over to attend to. But he never planned to cheat on her. It was one of the only things he's always promised her. To never cheat, and to always support her dreams. God, he's such an idiot.

He ran into Quinn, and things just sort of happened. Quinn Fabray had always been THE girl for Puck. Not the girl, like his one and only, or whatever, but the girl, like the one he wanted in high school and never got. Everyone's got one. His ability to bag this woman was like the measure of his success in life. How far have you come Noah Puckerman? Can you finally get THE Quinn Fabray? Quinn Fabray was flawless. A dream. She was legendary. And time had been very good to her. Where she was popular and polite in high school, she was now successful and confident, sexy. She's grown into her utmost potential, and the world had made room around her. That girl was amazing. His high school crush, the one that got away. And he'd fucked her. And now he felt grossly disappointed in himself.

Whatever Quinn was to his teenage self, Rachel is to his current and future self. He's always known Rachel is too good for him, and still, she gave him a chance. No matter how far he'd come, what kind of man he'd become, he'd disappointed himself in the same way his father had disappointed him and his mother. What a shame. He knew Rachel was it. She was it, and she was everything. But his pride would not settle. His pride would not let Quinn Fabray walk away without trying his luck. His new persona, Puck. He'd worked out relentlessly, ate right, worked long hours, it felt, all to become a man that could bag Quinn Fabray. He was successful. He thinks he would have rather made all those changes, and ended up being the guy that deserved Rachel Berry. But he knows deep down that perhaps he'd never deserve her.

He was sure he could explain this away; grovel and make it up. Maybe even sing heartfelt song to her in public. But as Rachel looked at him that last time, with such hurt and disappointment clouding her eyes, his certainty dwindled. She looked at him like he was unrecognizable. And then she'd called him what she never had…Puck.

Quinn

Quinn leaves the room, grabs her purse, and reaches for the front door, all in haste. No way does she want to be a part of the cry and beg fest that's sure to commence. As the door shuts behind her, she hears those words she hates. The ones that reduce her to a common whore. It didn't mean anything.

Of course, she knows it didn't; they'd both been drinking. But she never thought the man she remembered as the sweetest guy on their high school football team would ever use those words to describe a night with her. I mean, right? She's Quinn Fabray. People always said that like it meant something. It does mean something. To someone, maybe her father. It honestly doesn't feel like it means shit to her.

She'd literally bumped into Noah Puckerman, who now insisted that his name was Puck, outside of some club called Rumba. She'd gone in to dance a little with some girlfriends, and when the club closed, she'd stayed behind, having spotted him again. He'd seemed nervous. She thought it was cute, because he didn't really need to be. He was not who she remembered in high school. He had grown into his looks exceptionally well, gotten taller and more muscular, and stopped sporting that ridiculous Mohawk. He was handsome. She knew why he was nervous, though. Because no matter who he grew up to become, she was still Quinn Fabray. It seemed everyone was allowed to grow into actual people, except her. She was stuck as some figure, some ideal, some goal from her peers' high school years. She did her best to put him at ease as they shared a cigarette outside of the club. He slowly began to relax, and she could see him for what he was. Still the same sweet, funny guy from high school, only now he was confident and attractive.

Quinn wanted him to understand that they could be the people they are today, that she liked the man that he had become, and secretly, she had hoped that he liked the woman she had become. But, no. It didn't mean anything. His claim showed her that even Noah Puckerman still saw her as Quinn Fabray. Some notch above his best post, she supposed. He'd risked his relationship to fulfill a teenage dream. What an idiot. His girlfriend was beautiful, stunning even. The type of girl a guy would marry, not just fuck, and then claim, "It didn't mean anything." That's who she wanted to be. Not some bucket list goal for the three hundred odd guys in her graduating class. Hello? They'd graduated like ten years ago. Could these people not just get with the now?

For some reason, the sight of Puckerman's girlfriend had devastated Quinn. She owed the girl nothing, after all. She had honestly not known he was in a relationship. Still, she'd never forget the woman's beautiful face as she pieced together what had happened tonight. Regret and guilt flood Quinn's body as she walks the long way home, letting the cold air sting her skin and sober her up. It was the first walk home during which she'd truly felt ashamed.