A/N: If you're not familiar with the train system in the tri state area, Penn Station is the big train station in New York City – some of the major subway stops run through it as well as trains going to and from the rest of the country. It also houses "commuter trains" between NY and NJ that most people use for jaunts into NYC. That's all ya need to know for this one!


It's just...that song, that song, always makes her think of Noah. And when she goes and starts thinking of Noah, she kind of gets melancholy, for one of two reasons:

1. She's completely lost touch with most of the people from McKinley. A "like" status on Facebook, a retweet here or there, maybe a paragraph email a few times a year that gets forwarded, everyone adding their little tidbits along. There's an element of guilt here on her part. She gets so wrapped up in NY that she often only goes back to Ohio for a few days around the holidays and that's it. High school friendships fade out when internships, sororities, fraternities, sports, and dorms come into play.

2. Her and Noah have always had this...something...between them. There was always a Quinn, or a Finn, or even a Lauren, to come between them, and that was fine, by her. They came close to...something...that night before she left for New York. And she honestly got so wrapped up in moving into the dorms and settling in to her new life, her dreams, that she really forgot about that moment. She chalked it up to just getting caught up in the patented Noah Puckerman spell, that sexual attraction she's always experienced when she was around him, and nothing...more.

Right?

Right.

Because Rachel doesn't always like to face things she can't understand, label, or explain, and her relationship with Noah fell (falls? present tense? past tense?) into all three of those categories. They're not friends. Maybe? But she always just...it's always been just...

Something.

She shook her head out of her thoughts and smiled encouragingly at Andy, who was making moon eyes at some guy across the bar.

Back to twirling around the bar straw and trying to forget...

Something.


He was outside long enough and when he swaggered back into the bar, he ignored Redhead McHerpeskirt and went to get another drink.

Brad was still talking with gay boyfriend Mike Smith or whoever the fuck the dude was. Guess he better go over and be social.

Brad threw his arm around Puck's neck. "PUCK! This is MIKE. Mike SMITH!" He slurred. "Motherfucking MIKE SMITH!"

Puck gave a half nod and a cautious smirk. "Umm, ok." He gave Mike, this douchey looking dude in a tie (a TIE?) and jeans and dude, Pauly D called he wants his hair back, the once over. "And Mike Smith would be...?"

Brad grinned in drunken elation. "Here! MIKE MOTHERFUCKING SMITH IS HERE!" He clapped Mike, again, on the back and Mike just nodded and smirked.

Puck doesn't like that smirk. HE smirks. "Mike Motherfucking Smith" cannot smirk.

"Mike, this is my cousin from Ohio, Puck," Brad introduced Puck to Mike. "Puck lives in Cleveland but he's here for the wedding."

Mike nodded. "Yeah? And what does Puck do in Ohio?"

Fine, talk about him like he's not there, that's fine...dick. "Right. I'm a personal trainer," Puck explained. Short answers, he's not into playing conversation roulette with this joke.

"I was Brad's freshman year roommate at Rutgers," Mike explained. "We did some cray shit on College Ave, man," Insert second douchey smirk. "Shit you wouldn't even dream of in smalltown Ohio." He emphasized the "Ohio" in a doofy voice.

Oh, okay, so that's how this is gonna work. You wanna go there, douchenozzle? "'Kay," Puck nodded and turned back to go to the bar. "Cool story, bro."

Family, Puck. Brad is family. Behave.

"Dude, driiiiiiiinks!" Brad interjected (thankfuckfully) and dragged Mike to the bar as Puck watched the rest of the guys in their group, also Brad's college buddies, swarm around "Mike Motherfucking Smith". Puck's a few years younger than these guys; Brad graduated last year, but he feels like he's the grown-up. These guys are all acting like they're high school freshman drinking beer for the first time, worshipping this greasy frat boy.

He's totally over this scene, but he's gotta wait it out; it's only midnight. He can't bail this early, and Brad's supposed to come back to Jersey with him anyways.

Fuck his life.

And fuck Mike motherfucking asshole Smith.


"Sooo...whatcha thinkin' bout, B?" Andy was a little more sober by this point, and he noticed Rachel's far off stare, her chin resting in her palm. "Pensive little diva, here."

She sighed and, again, twirled the bar straw. "Just reminiscing."

"You twirl that straw any more it's going to disintegrate."

She bit her bottom lip and looked up at Andy. "Do you keep in touch with your high school friends?"

Andy literally guffawed. "Hells nah!" He shook his head, smiling. "Growing up in Texas in the closet is hard enough, I sure as shit ain't revisiting that."

"You didn't have anyone, anyone at all, back at home that you wantedto keep in touch with?"

"Nope. That time is left far behind us. Far, far behind, with good reason. In the land of bell bottoms and fringed vests." He finished his water (a thankful transition from his Cosmos). "Why?"

"It's funny how you don't think about anyone or anything from home forever, and then all it takes is a few notes of a song to bring you back," She looked at Andy. "You know?"

He just nods. Andy knows Rachel well enough to not interrupt. This is going to be one of those hypothetical monologues where she just needs to talk it out, and eventually she will come to the conclusion that the lack of conclusion is conclusion enough.

"I just regret not following through on certain chances," She helplessly stares at her hands. "Not just professionally, but emotionally, socially. I see so much more now than I did when I was in high school, I understand a little more now about who I am and what I needed and didn't need."

She still doesn't see...everything, though.

"Ahh, yes, Rach, but hindsight is twenty twenty," Andy points out gently . "That's how growing up works. Your past is your past because it shapes you into the person that can look back and see the unseen in situations. It's not a bad thing."

"Don't you ever play the what if game, though?" She asks.

"Course I do. We all do. But, really, why beat yourself up over missed anything? Whatever happened in your past, it got you here, to this present. To your present, which is exactly where you've always wanted to be, yes? You're being rather vague, Divalicious."

She's quiet.

She had all about forgotten of that memory at the playground with Noah. And she's starting to wonder if it was really forgetfulness over the years, or if it was selective memory. Selective avoidance.

Because she should have followed up with him. She should have, could have, emailed or called or texted. Because that was an almostkiss. And, yes, Noah is (was?) her friend, but friends don't almostkiss, right? And she's not sure who initiated that kiss in the first place (you know you made the first move, Rachel) and she's not sure why she just up and left (because it was raining, right? Umm...right?) and friend or not, she never really helped Noah like she had promised him, after their little peptalk/conversation/almostkiss. Frankly, judging by that, whatever relationship they have (or is it had? Does he ever have these moments, too?), she is pretty crappy at maintaining it.

She doesn't even know what he's doing with his life. He doesn't update his Facebook, he hasn't used Twitter in years, and she hasn't seen him around Temple the few times she's returned to Lima.

In this day and age of social media, she thinks, I have no excuse to not reach out to him. She straightens herself. So that's that. Almostkiss or not, I will text Quinn or someone tomorrow to verify Noah's cell number remains the same and I will call him for a friendly "how have you been" chat and then this nagging guilt about...our...something...will dissipate and I can chalk that almostkiss up to those incredible arms and his sexy jaw and that gorgeous smile and those hazel eyes that you just get lost in and -

"Hellooooo, earth to Rachel!" Andy waves his hand in front of her eyes. "You left me, girl!"

She shook her head out of her reverie. "Sorry Andy," She gave him her patented Rachel Berry smile. "Just got lost in my thoughts and getting all existential on you."

Andy rolled his eyes. "Well, while you were getting existential on me, that dark haired stunner bought you a drink," He gestured to a full Cranberry and Vodka in front of her. "He's making sex eyes at you right now and I totes think you should go tap that."

She followed his nod towards the stranger at the bar and her heart flopped into her feet, her breath hitching in her throat, eyes as wide as saucers.

Is that...?

No. It can't be.

That's just too...

No. Too ironic. Too coincidental.

But...hazel eyes...toned, muscular arms leaning back on the bar...the confident smirk she'd recognize anywhere...?

That...that's...

Noah Puckerman.


Their group was dwindling; a few of the guys were gyrating on the STDs on the dance floor, half were already gone, and Brad and Mike were catching up like fucking girls. Puck expected them to start braiding each other's hair.

It was 1am, and Puck was ready to fucking BOUNCE. He's done his time, he's dealt with fucktard Smith, and they need to make the last train back to Jersey anyways. Time to round up Brad, the rest of these tools can figure their own ride home.

He clapped Brad on the shoulder. "Come on dude, time to get outta here," He said. "Train's leavin'."

Brad was still hanging on Mike's every word. God. "Mike's got an apartment in the city, Puck!" Oh, the excitement. Puck rolled his eyes. Mike also makes Brad grow a vagina apparently, because he's legit squealing right now. "He said we could crash on his floor tonight! Keep the party going, yo!"

Fuck. No.

Behave, Puck.

"Naw, man, that sounds cool, but I need to get up early tomorrow," Think of an excuse, Puck. "Nana Connie's flying in and I said I'd pick her up from the airport."

"Oh." Brad's face fell.

Seriously, Brad? SERI-fucking-OUSLY?

"Dude, you go ahead and stay. I'll get you from the train tomorrow. 'Sallgood."

"Fantastic, bye Puck," Mike steered Brad away from Puck within 2.7 seconds, and Puck could tell the distaste is mutual. "Let's go see if Boobtacular Blondie and Brunette HotAss over there will buy us some shit."

Loser, Puck thought. He pushed open the door to the club and checked out his watch. Nice enough weather tonight and Penn Station is only a few blocks away. He'll just walk there. Plenty of time to make the last train.


In a daze, Rachel walked up to Puck. "H-hi," she stammered shyly. This was all too much. This is Noah. Noah from home. She doesn't need to be shy. She stiffened herself and plastered on that Rachel Berry Broadway smile. "Noah!" She threw her arms around him. "It's so great to see you!"

The man chuckled. "I don't know who Noah is, but I'll be whoever you want me to be if you keep your arms around me."

She pulled back and stared at the man's face. Horrified, she saw blue eyes, dark hair, and a downright lecheroussmirk that was most definitely not Noah Puckerman's smirk.

The man continued to talk. "I'm George, I work in accounting, and I think you would look lovely in my t shirt tonight."

She pushed him away. "No thank you." Rachel turned on her heel and stomped back to her table, flopping back into her bar chair.

She is going crazy if she's seeing visions of Noah.

Certifiable.

This fact is mildly terrifying. Because it was only sexual attraction, it was, and the song just made her think of that almostkiss and it was just sexual attraction, right?

But if all it was was attraction, why is she seeing visions of NOAH PUCKERMAN?

Andy looked surprised. "Girl! Did you see what you just walked away from?"

"Andy, he was gross and disgusting and caveman-like and I refuse to spend any time with someone who is obviously in receipt of only three brain cells to rub together!"

"Oh, so he used a pickup line, and you immediately demote him to subhuman species?"

"Yes." She set her jaw.

"Whatevs. Your loss. You really need to get some ass, Rach."

She threw him an indignant look. "For your information, I absolutely do not," She shot back at him and stood up. "I'm leaving."

Andy looked hurt. "Aww, Rach! Come on," He pleaded and grabbed her arm. "I didn't mean to tease you and make you mad. Stay? Please? Don't be mad."

"I'm sorry, Andy.," She rubbed her eyes. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just really tired. It has nothing to do with you. I just want to get in my jammies and call it a night."

He pouted. "All right," he sulked. "Do you mind if I stay here with Julia? There's a guy over there that's most certainly playing for my team and I think I just about grew the cajones to talk to him."

"Course, Ands," Rachel smiled, using her pet name for him. "I've walked these streets alone before, and Penn isn't that far from here. I can pick up the A train no problem."

They hugged and Rachel threw a wave to Julia, who was up in her elbows with customers (apparently her dark haired bar fly found three very willing ladies to wear his t shirt and he was in the process of inebriating them).

She threw open the doors to the bar and started on the few short blocks to Penn.