Disclaimer: Don't own Glee or anything related to it. I'm just borrowing for the time being.

This is based, somewhat loosely, on the song "Let Her Cry" by Hootie and the Blowfish. It's somewhat AU, because I like the idea of Puck and Rachel growing up together, but the fact that he's a total a-hole in high school remains in tact so… I guess it's partially AU and partially canon. Sort of. It is what it is.

Part One – Chicago, January 2017

If anyone had told Noah Puckerman six years ago that he'd graduate with honors and be accepted with a music scholarship to Columbia University, he might have just laughed in that person's face. But, that's just what happened. Then, six weeks into his first semester his roommate suggests that he go to an open mic night at a nearby club. Puck, of course, thinks this is the most moronic idea in the history of ideas, but decides to go anyone. After all, chicks totally dig a guy who can play a guitar and play it well. The next morning he's contacted by a scout from the, then, up-and-coming label, Kerosene Records. The rest, they say, is history.

He spends the next two years in a writing room, working with vocal coaches and building a local following. The next eighteen months are spent laying down track after track, making changes wherever may be deemed necessary and playing several small concerts. The fact that he does all of this while still maintaining A's and B's at Columbia makes him, for the first time in years, the apple of his mother's eye. Of course, this also means he doesn't have as much time for the ladies but he finds he doesn't mind all that much. He gets to take a semester off from the studio while the finalities are made and four days before he graduates with a Business degree and a minor in Music Composition, Puck's debut album is blaring through the stereos of every major music retailer in the country.

Now, roughly a year and a half after his album dropped, he's taking the stage as an opening act. He, Noah Puckerman, is an opening act. His first stop on the forty city tour is Chicago, and he doesn't think he's ever seen a crowd this big (they say over fifty thousand). If it wouldn't make him such a pussy, he'd willingly admit that he was terrified. He knows he has no reason to be, because really, if all else fails he could just rip off his shirt and all the ladies (and the dudes, if they're into that) would still get their money's worth just staring at him. But, still, the fact that over fifty thousand people are in this arena to hear his music, it's almost a dream come true.

He steps on to the platform that will bring him up onto the stage from the trapdoor and take a deep breath. The tech guy lets him know that there's five minutes to show time and the only thought crosses his mind is that he needs to hear his mom's voice before he goes deaf from the screaming and cheers of the audience. Whipping out his cell, he speed dials number two and hears three rings before she answers.

"Noah! Aren't you supposed to be on stage?" Naomi says excitedly into the phone.

"Yeah, Ma. I'm bout to go on right now." Puck chuckles softly, hearing the muffled chants already filling the stadium. "Just wanted to let you know that the house on the beach in Miami you've always dreamed about? This crowd is paying for it. And tell Kara she's coming with me to New York with me when I go next weekend."

"Noah, don't spoil her."

"It's not everyday your bratty kid sister turns thirteen, Ma." Puck whines and can practically hear the eye roll his mother is giving him. "I wanna do something nice for her."

"Do your show, Noah."

"I'm not gonna fuck this up, right?" Puck asks, letting his nerves get the best of him for the first time all night.

"Noah, you've done enough of that in your life. I've seen you perform, there's no way you can mess this up." Naomi answers honestly, and Puck breathes a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Ma."

"I'm so proud of you, Noah." Puck beams as she says this, doesn't care who can see that he looks like a complete moron. "Go get 'em, baby."

Puck hangs up the phone as the techie tells him there's only two minutes til show time. He cracks his neck, then his knuckles and stretches his arms one last time before the platform starts to rise and the roar of the crowd blasts his eardrums into oblivion. He almost hates the way that his stomach flip-flops in his stomach, except that it's completely awesome and the only feeling that rivals hearing his mom say she's proud of him.

He lets it cross his mind, as it often does when he's about to perform, that if he'd known in high school that it could feel like this, performing and singing and stuff, he would have been a lot less of a jerk. The thought is gone almost as soon it pops up, though, because well over ten thousand other women are totally screaming his name on the floor in front of the stage and they're at the forefront of his mind now. Them, and not forgetting the lyrics to the songs he's about to sing.

"Good evening, Chicago!" He shouts into the microphone and the show begins.

Five days later it's Friday and he's picking Kara up from the Kennedy center airport and he can't remember the last time he saw her look so excited. He swears she looks about five inches taller than she did when he saw her last month, or maybe that was a few years ago when he left for school. Either way, she's practically skipping up to him and before he knows it her arms are flung around his neck and she's screaming "thank you" over and over again as people around him start snapping pictures. He's pretty sure those will be on the internet later, and he's also pretty sure his mom won't be too happy that there's pictures of her thirteen year old online, but it's worth it to see his baby sister so happy.

They grab her small suitcase and then head out to grab a cab. As they step onto the sidewalk, her eyes light up about a thousand times more, but that could also just be a reflection of all the lights. It's only six, but it's already dim enough that the windows are all lit up and until now, he'd never appreciated it that much. Puck had just planned to go to the hotel and order room service and spend the next day being a tourist before soundcheck. But, there's no way he can see her that excited and not take her out to do something tonight.

As they get into a cab, she rolls down the window and starts snapping pictures of the buildings and signs and he takes out his cell and starts making calls. Kara seems pretty annoyed by this until she hears the words "one of the Disney ones" and "yeah, she wears a size three". By the time they've pulled up to the hotel Puck's secured them two tickets to "The Little Mermaid" and is having a dress brought to her to change into. Kara squeals in excitement and tells him he's the best brother ever before running to the bathroom to check her hair and put on make up. He's not sure when she starting wearing make up, but when she steps out with just mascara and lipgloss he decides it doesn't really matter.

On their way to the theatre she starts chattering on and on about whatever and he just nods and smiles where he thinks would be appropriate until…

"And then Melissa told me that Aaron Mitchell likes me! Can you believe it? Then-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Puck cuts her off and the look on her face tells him she knows she's said too much. "Who the fuck is Aaron Mitchell?"

"Don't tell Mom, ok?" She says quietly, as if their mother can hear their conversation all the way from Lima. Puck doesn't say anything so she continues. "He's the cutest, most popular boy at school and he plays baseball and he's so nice and he asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with him when I get back from New York!"

"I think I'm gonna have to tell Ma, Kar, because I'm gonna kill that little shit."

"Noah…"

"Nope, no way you're winning this, Kara. You ain't going out with some little fuck with a name like Aaron Mitchell. Scratch that, you're not going out with anyone. Just… nope, not gonna happen."

"What ever happened to siblings being on each other's side?" Kara folds her arms over her chest and Puck's positive the whole "best brother ever" business is all out the window now.

"What ever happened to Barbie dolls and unicorns and whatever the hell else little girls like?" Puck shoots back, the whole conversation pissing him off more and more by the second.

"I'm not a little girl, anymore!" Kara snaps, but she's pouting and Puck wants to point out that it's a pretty childish thing to do. He doesn't get to, though, because she doesn't stop talking. "I'm not, I'm a teenager. And you can't tell me what to do!"

"The hell I can't." Puck's flat out glaring at her now as she huffs and turns to face out of the window. "You're too young to date, Kara, that's all there is to it."

"You had a girlfriend when you were thirteen!"

"And you're not gonna be a whore like her, Kara."

"You are such an asshole." Kara huffs as she slumps lower in her seat.

Puck smirks because though he knows he'll eventually lose the war, he definitely just won the battle. Within minutes they're pulling up to the theatre and Kara forgets she was mad at all when she jumps out of the cab and smiles at the lit-up sign that reads "The Little Mermaid". Puck tells her in no uncertain terms that she is not to sing along no matter how tempted she is. They walk hand in hand into the theatre and Puck is silently grateful that the show is able to render her speechless for a couple hours.

The next day, after they've already spent close to six hours shopping (her picking whatever and him paying for it), they're back in the hotel getting ready to leave for sound check and then the concert. Kara's in the shower while he's flipping through the channels when there's a knock on the door.

"Housekeeping!" A female's voice says from the other side of the door, but Puck's sure it's some bitch paparazzi trying to snap a picture so he doesn't respond.

"Housekeeping!" The voice says again and Puck still refuses to answer. He's learned that if you don't give them what they want, they'll go away eventually. But this woman, whoever she is, doesn't seem to be doing that because in a matter of seconds he hears the lock click and before he has a chance to react the door is opening and a maid is walking into the room. She's got her back to him as she pulls a cart of cleaning supplies, so she's obviously unaware of the fact that the room is not unoccupied. He's checking out her ass (it's nice, he notices) and not paying much attention to anything else until he hears Kara say.

"Perv, much?"

The maid stops dead in her tracks and doesn't move for a good thirty seconds and when he finally whips around, Puck swears he's gotta be seeing shit because there is absolutely, positively no way that he's seeing who he's seeing.

"Rachel?" Kara is squealing and then running up to Rachel and wrapping her arms around her and jumping excitedly. Rachel just has a deer in headlights look on her face and says nothing. If the situation weren't so messed up, Puck would laugh at the fact that his thirteen year old sister is already taller than a twenty-three year old Rachel Berry. It's a few more minutes before Rachel actually says anything and Puck is shocked when all that comes out of her mouth is a single syllable.

"Hi." She's not looking him in the eyes, and it doesn't escape Puck's attention but when he starts to really look at her, he thinks saying something about it will makes things more awkward. She's thinned out, how he doesn't know because she was a twig in high school. Her cheeks aren't as full, and her eyes don't shine. She just looks tired and broken and Puck's so confused by seeing THE Rachel Berry like this that he does all he can think to do.

"How are you doing, Berry? Haven't heard from you since… Christ, since you left for this damn city."

"Not many people have." Rachel says and finally looks at his face. He sees the dark circles under her eyes the slight redness to her eyes and can just tell she spends a lot of time crying these days. "Heard from me, I mean. I hear you're doing well for yourself."

"Just lucky, I guess." Puck shrugs starts to move towards her slowly. She reminds him of a dog they'd known when they were kids. It had been beat so much, and starved so often that it flinched when you started to move towards it. That's exactly what Rachel does when he moves to wrap his arms around her, she flinches. Immediately he wants to know who the hell has ever hurt her so he can introduce them to his fists, but instead he just squeezes her tight and rubs her back.

"What are you doing?" She mumbles against his chest, her arms still at her sides and her whole body visible stiff.

"You look like shit, B." Puck says, looking at his sister over Rachel's shoulder to see that she's got a confused look on her face. "You look like you could use one of these."

Rachel doesn't say anything, just lets him hug her until he's done hugging her. When she pulls back and looks at him, her eyes are glassy and Puck silently prays to God that she doesn't start crying. Instead, she just apologizes and pushes her cart out into the hallway as quickly as possible and then she's gone. Puck just stares at the door until Kara informs him that they need to be at sound check in forty-five minutes and he still needs to shower. He spends the next forty-five minutes, and really the rest of the night, trying to figure out why the hell Rachel Berry was working as a maid and what had caused her to be so… broken.

After he drops Kara off at the airport and has everything packed and ready to get back on the road, he goes to the front desk of the hotel and asks is Rachel Berry is working. The concierge looks at him as if he's lost his mind, but has Rachel paged anyway. Its fifteen minutes later that Rachel finally shows up and Puck feels his heart constrict when he sees that she's got a bruise on her face that she's tried feebly to hide with makeup. She freezes when she sees him and he can tell she wants to run in the opposite direction but she continues towards him.

"Good morning, Noah." She says quietly, her eyes on the wall behind him. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting you to play hooky." Puck says seriously. He means it; she's going to explain some things to him.

"We don't all have the luxury of a career that allows us to frolic through the city just for the hell of it, Noah." He's sure she means for this to sound angry and spiteful, but she just sounds sad.

"Well, I've already talked to the manager, you've got the rest of the day off." Her eyes snap to his and for a fraction of a second, her eyes light up. "And you're coming with me, and we're gonna catch up."

"Noah, I don't think-"

"I didn't ask what you thought." Puck cuts her off. "I'm telling you, you're coming with me and we're gonna catch up. So, as sexy as that maid outfit is, go change."

Rachel looks him over for a second; he assumes she's trying to decide if he's serious. She's must come to the conclusion that he is because she does as he says and in twenty minutes she's back in the lobby and he can tell she's applied more make up to the bruise on her face. He offers her his hand, but she just folds her arms across her chest and heads for the revolving doors.

Once out on the streets Puck hails a cab and practically dives into it to avoid being snapped by the paparazzi that are waiting for him outside of The Plaza. Rachel seems terrified of the cameras, which Puck knows is a complete 180 of the Rachel he'd known since he was two. She's always loved the cameras and being in the spotlight. The Rachel he'd known would have been so excited that she'd be in a tabloid, her name out there in the world. But this Rachel, she's so unsure of herself that it makes him sick to his stomach.

He waits until the cab pulls away from the curb before he says anything to her.

"What the hell, Rachel?"

She puts her head down, but doesn't say anything, so he continues.

"I've known you since we were two years old, Rachel. What the hell happened to that girl because this," he says as he waves his hand up and down her body "is not her. And why the fuck do you work at a hotel? What happened to Broadway? You should be ruling that stage by now."

"Well, you can't always get what you want, Noah." He's sure this is meant to sound bitter and angry, but she just sounds sad. "And I don't know why you care so much, you hated me most of our lives."

"I never hated you!" Puck shouts before he remembers they're in a cab. "Sorry, I don't wanna yell at you, but shit, Rachel! I'm not the same asshole I was in high school. If I were, don't you think I would have just pretended to never see you at the hotel? I mean, fuck."

Rachel rolls her eyes and stares out the window. Before either of them knows it they're at central park and she's out of the cab so fast he almost doesn't have enough time to pay the driver and catch up. Thankfully, she's still a good foot shorter than him and he's in top shape.

"Hey!" he grabs her firmly by the elbow and she jerks away from him so hard it makes his shoulder hurt.

"Don't touch me!" She shrieks and everyone around them turns to see what's going on. Puck raises his hands in submission but he knows she can see the look on his face.

"Who hit you?" He doesn't expect her to answer, he's not shocked at all when she just keeps walking. "Rachel, it's not like I'm gonna go tell anyone if you don't want me to, but you don't deserve to be treated like shit. Whoever this guy, you don't need him."

"It's not like that…" She mumbles. He wants to ask her what the hell that means, but she doesn't give him a chance. "You wouldn't understand, Noah. You got to have all your dreams come true, I got told I wasn't good enough. Over and over and over again, audition after audition there was always someone better. That's all I've heard since I've been here! 'You have a beautiful voice, but so do thousands of other girls' and 'you're very talented, but you're just not what we're looking for', and my absolute favorite, 'you don't really look the part.' And you can only hear the words 'you're not good enough' so many times before you stop caring. My only dream for as long as I can remember has been to be a Broadway star. That's all I know, all I've ever been good at, and it's never enough."

"Well, whoever said that to you is a fucking moron, Rachel." Puck can't hear anymore of this. Rachel's probably the single most talented person he knows and when he tells her this she just scoffs.

"Noah, you don't get it and I don't expect you to. Can you just leave it alone? Please?" She doesn't give him a chance to answer, though, because in a flash she's gone. He's on a tight schedule, or else he'd follow her and keep asking until he figures out what's going on, but as it is he needs to be on the road in less than an hour and needs to get back to the hotel and check out. He's thankful, in that moment that the tour is only three months long, because there's no way he's letting this go forever.

The tour's been over for three weeks and he's already tired of being at home. Everyday for the past three-and-a-half months he's wondered what's happening in New York. More than once he's thought about saying something to her dads, ask if they know anything, but he doesn't want them to worry if they don't. So instead, after three weeks too long with his mother and sister, he calls the information hotline to see if Rachel is listed. She is and, according to this lady, she lives in the Bronx. He writes all of the information down and books a flight immediately.

Two days later he's landing in New York and catching a cab to Rachel's building. He doesn't have an exact plan of action, but he needs to see for himself that she's ok. When the cab drops him off, he makes note of the fact that the neighborhood Rachel lives in is a lot more ghetto than he'd pictured, even for the Bronx. He checks to see if her name is on the list of occupants so he can have her buzz him up but she's not there. Well, fuck. He sits on the steps for almost an hour before someone finally comes out, allowing him to slip in. He goes to the super's office and asks what apartment belongs to Rachel Berry's and is shocked by what he's told.

"You better not be bringing none of them drugs and shit into my building! What she does is her business but I won't have dealers coming in and out of here!"

"I- uh, no, sir, nothing like that. I'm a friend from high school is all."

"Better be telling the truth, boy. She's in number 4E." Puck thanks the old man and hopes he has Rachel confused with someone else, her roommate perhaps. Those hopes are thrown all to hell, though because her door's unlocked and when he walks in, she passed out on the floor with an empty bottle of Jack in her hand and a bag of weed on the coffee table in front of her. He wants to cry, if he's being honest, but he doesn't. He just picks her up and goes down the hall until he gets to her room (the only room in the house besides the bathroom) and lays her on her stomach. When he starts to look around, he sees a pain pill on her bedside table split in half and crushed for snorting, and a few more empty bottles of various alcohols. "Holy fucking shit…"

He goes around the room picking up the bottles and tossing them out, and without hesitation goes through her drawers and is horrified to see how many empty pill bottles he finds. It pisses him off that she hates her life so much that she's doing shit like this. He hasn't even had a proper conversation with her since running into her and he can tell she's miserable. When he gets to a drawer filled with bags of weed and a few of white powder, his stomach drops. He just stands there staring at the contents of the drawer forever. He doesn't move a single muscle until he hears Rachel stirring in her bed.

"Noah?" She asks when she first sees him, and Puck turns to face her. When she's done rubbing her eyes, she sits up slowly and it's clear she's used to hangovers. She grabs the uncrushed half of the pill and dry swallows it before actually looking him in the eyes. "Don't hate me, ok?"

Puck sighs and runs a hand down his face before he moves to sit on the foot of her bed. He wants to yell, tell her she's stupid for fucking up her life like this. That just because some directors are douche lords who don't know how phenomenal she is doesn't mean she needs to resort to shit like this. He really, really, really wants to yell, but he doesn't. He pulls her so that she's wrapped in his arms and lets her cry, lets the tears flood through his cotton shirt and soak his skin. This new Rachel is broken and hurt and for whatever reason, he just wants to absorb all of the pain that she's been carrying around. Instead of asking questions or demanding she give him an explanation, he just sits there and lets her cry.

This is written in three parts, and I'd love to hear what you guys think of it. Part 2 will pick up in December 2017.

I would just like to note that I do not advocate the abuse of illegal substances, perscription and over-the-counter drugs, or alcohol. If you have an addiction or are depressed, I strongly urge you to talk to someone, anyone, that you trust. The first step to healing is admitting that something's wrong, the next step is to talk about it.