"I can't tell you anything, Rachel. You know that," Noah said, lifting his glass and taking a sip of wine. It had been a day since Brittany's body had been discovered in the woods.
Rachel hadn't been able to get the image of her lifeless body out of her head. If she had any sense, she'd pack up and leave. She wasn't cut out to be here, covering the worst crime Lima had ever seen.
The only thing really keeping her here was Noah, she supposed. She had fallen right back in love with him. All it took was him looking at her. He had been the love of her life when she was in high school, and he still was.
The two of them were out to dinner at Lima's nicest restaurant (which wasn't really that nice). Rachel had been pressing him for details about the case, but he wasn't telling her anything. He kept bringing up the words 'conflict of interest' and 'lose my job' whenever she asked him about what else they had figured out.
"You know, you're supposed to be helping me out," she protested. "You're the one who told me to write this damn article, and now you're stonewalling me every time I ask for help," she complained, poking her dinner with her fork.
"Come on, Rachel. You know I can't. I'm the sheriff. I have to set a good example for everyone else who's working this case. If I start running my mouth to the press, that's going to make everyone else think they can too."
Rachel sighed. "Yes, but now I don't have any information about Brittany. I left when she was seventeen. I don't know about her anymore. My boss wants me to email him my progress every day, and no one is agreeing to talk with me about this. It's like they all hate me."
Noah shook his head, reaching his hand across the table to take Rachel's hand. "They don't hate you, Rach. They're just scared. No one here has ever had to deal with someone being murdered. The sad thing is, someone in this town is the one who did this. That's off the record," he added, causing Rachel to make a face at him.
"Come on, you have to give me something," she protested.
"I can give you a sleepless night," he muttered, lacing their fingers together.
Rachel's face went red as she looked down at her plate. "You know what I meant."
"Look, I'm sick of talking about this. It's all I talk about all day. I just wanted to take a beautiful girl out on a date and enjoy her company, not talk about a brutal murder."
"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked, looking up at him. Noah always used to tell her she was adorable or sexy, but she couldn't think of a time he actually called her beautiful.
"Of course I do. I always thought you were beautiful. Why else would I have dated you for two years?" he asked.
"I always thought it was because of my sparkling personality and the fact that I took your bullshit and never called you on it," she said, covering her mouth as she laughed.
"Well, I kept you around for those reasons, as well as the fact that you were willing to do every depraved sexual thing I wanted in bed," he teased.
"You know, talking about nailing me on our first date in seven years isn't going to make it easier for you to talk your way into my pants," she said, leaning forward a bit.
"Well, what can I do to get into those lovely pants of yours?" he asked.
"Tell me something I can use in this damn story," she said.
Noah gave her a look, letting out a sigh. "Rachel…" he warned.
"Compromise, darling," she said. "You want something, you have to give something."
"Talk to Santana. She and Brittany were really close. You didn't hear this from me, but there were rumors floating around town that Brittany was planning on running away with Santana."
"But I thought she was engaged?" Rachel asked, crossing one leg over the other underneath the table.
Noah nodded his head, finishing the wine in his glass before picking up the bottle and pouring himself another.
"She was. Her fiancée has put up a large reward for anyone with information about who killed her. They were supposed to be married in three weeks. But there was talk about Brittany not being so into the wedding. And then there were the bruises."
"Bruises?" Rachel asked. "What bruises?"
"Brittany was always showing up with dark patches on her arms. She said she was just clumsy, but a lot of people thought her fiancée was beating the hell out of her."
"So, you think he killed her?"
"I'm not allowed to talk about an open case," he said, shutting the discussion down. "But if I were you, I'd bring all my questions to Santana. If anyone knew what was really going on in Brittany's life, it's her."
xxxxx
Rachel and Noah wound up at his apartment after they had finished dinner. Rachel unlocked Noah's door for him, supporting him as she helped him inside. He'd finished the majority of the wine and seemed to be feeling it now.
Rachel laid Noah on his bed before slipping off her shoes. She hardly ever wore heels, but a first date with an old boyfriend seemed to be the time to wear them. Of course, her feet were hurting now, but it had been worth it. After all, she'd gotten a lot of information from Noah during dinner.
"Where do you think you're going?" Noah slurred, sitting up and pulling her onto the bed with him.
Rachel laughed, falling on top of him. She looked down at him, her dark hair falling into her face. He brought a hand up, tucking the hair behind her ears. Rachel smiled at him, her hands resting on his chest.
Noah moved his hands to her waist before flipping her onto her back, hovering above her. "You can't leave tonight," he said, kissing the side of her neck.
"Noah, stop," Rachel murmured, trying to push him back a little. "You're drunk. I'm not letting our first time in seven years be while you're drunk on wine," she said, though she responded when he started kissing her neck.
"Come on, Rach," Noah slurred, planting wet and sloppy kisses over her neck, his hands running over her body. "You teased me all night with this fucking dress and those fucking shoes." He grabbed a handful of the fabric she was wearing, the silk running through his fingers before he released it. "You can't leave me hanging like this."
Rachel bit her lip before sitting up. At first, it looked like she was going to walk out. Instead, she pulled the zipper on the side of her dress down, pulling the upper half down so her chest was exposed. "Nothing below the waist," she warned before lying back down, her upper body exposed save for her white, lace bra.
Noah looked like he had just won the lottery. Without missing a beat, he placed his hands on his chest, his fingers caressing the lacy material of her bra. He leaned his face down, capturing her lips with his.
Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back. She couldn't believe she'd gone so long without him. Right here in this moment, it felt like he was her other half. She'd always known that Noah Puckerman was her soulmate. She always figured they'd end up married with a bunch of kids.
But then he'd gotten her pregnant. Granted, it was her fault too. They had never been very careful when they fooled around. Rachel thought she'd be okay, but the positive pregnancy test told a different story.
It had been her dads' plan to send her away. They weren't going to let the whole town know that their teenage daughter had gotten pregnant by her loser boyfriend. They'd never liked Noah—they always thought he was a screw up and a loser. From the moment their daughter brought him home, they'd been trying to think of a way to separate them. That had been their excuse.
Rachel's mind was filled with what had happened seven years ago, not about Noah's clumsy effort to take her bra off. Turning her thoughts and attention back to his apartment, she sat up and pulled her bra off for him.
Puck grunted some kind of thank you before letting his hands move across her chest, squeezing as he pleased. Rachel fidgeted underneath him as he moved his lips away from hers.
Noah began kissing down her neck again, his lips moving towards her chest this time. He allowed his left hand to move off her one breast, leaving it completely uncovered to the cool air of his apartment.
Rachel wanted to press him for more information about Brittany and her murder. Now was the perfect time to ask him—he was drunk and probably wouldn't remember telling her in the morning.
But her mind was buzzing with what Noah was doing to her, what his fingers felt like scaling across her smooth skin. She let out a loud moan as her small breast was enveloped by his wet mouth.
His tongue grazed over her nipple, it instantly becoming erect. Her hands moved over his back, her fingers clawing at his shirt.
Rachel could feel Noah pressing against her thigh, his manhood hard. She moved a hand away from his back and reached down, rubbing him through his pants.
Noah moaned, her breast still in his mouth. She'd never said anything about his lower half being off limits.
Noah reached a hand down, unbuckling his pants and sliding them down to his ankles. He climbed on top of Rachel, kneeling over her as he continued his assault on her chest.
Rachel ran her hand across the front of his boxers before slipping one of her hands into them, grabbing him.
Noah paused, pulling his mouth off Rachel. She used that moment to her advantage, grabbing him and flipping him onto his back. Rachel took a seat on his chest, her breasts bouncing with the movement.
She leaned up for a moment, pulling the dress completely off so she was left in just her black underwear.
Noah seemed content with his position, admiring the view of a mostly-naked Rachel seated on his chest. Rachel crawled off him, unbuttoning his shirt as she kissed over his chest.
Once his shirt was open, she kissed down his chest slowly, trying to drive him crazy. Rachel had always been a bit of a tease, something Noah had always loved and hated about her.
"Babe," he used to say back in high school. "Quit fucking around and just get on with it. I'm going to cum before you even make it to my dick."
"Rachel," Noah moaned, his erection causing a tent in his boxers. "Please Rachel. I need you," he said.
Rachel paused her trail of kisses at the waistband of his boxers. She hooked her thumbs inside the elastic, pulling them down so he was exposed. Rachel had almost forgotten how big he was.
Suddenly, she started feeling nervous. She hadn't been with Noah for seven years. She hadn't been with anyone for over six months. She couldn't remember how Noah really liked it. What if she screwed up and he thought she was a girl who was bad in bed?
Closing her eyes and pushing her nerves aside, Rachel leaned her head down and took Noah in her mouth. His loud moan was assurance that she was doing it just the way he liked it.
She bobbed her head back and forth, her tongue flicking over his tip. She placed her hands on his thighs, squeezing them as she continued moving her mouth.
Noah tried to remain still, but he began thrusting into her mouth, unable to believe his luck. Of course, he had planned for the night to end this way, but the Rachel he remembered had been a bit of a prude. Well, she had been when they first started going out. Rachel would barely let him see her in a tank top, let alone without a shirt on.
But he'd managed to change that until she was comfortable without anything on when she was with him.
Noah groaned, feeling Rachel's hot breath moving around his shaft. He wasn't sure how long he was going to last. He wasn't getting it regularly anymore—he hadn't really gotten it regularly since she had left. There were girls he kept around just so he wasn't reduced to using his hand, but this was different.
Noah continued moving his hips up as she kept sucking. He felt her one hand move to his balls and tilted his head back as her fingers massaged him. She still kept the bracelets on her wrists which was a bit annoying when they jingled, but he supposed he could put up with it for now. After all, Rachel Berry was giving him a blow job.
Three minutes later, Noah pushed her off as he felt himself ready to explode. He flipped her onto her back, him over her. Rachel reached up, moving her hand up and down his shaft until he came onto her chest. He collapsed on top of her once he had finished, both of them breathing heavily.
Rachel smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his neck before kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Good thing you remembered I don't like you coming in my mouth," she teased.
Noah laughed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over both their bodies, his arms wrapped around her small frame. "Of course I remembered," he yawned, ready to pass out. "You started crying the only time I did it. I'll never forget after that," he promised, burying his head against her shoulder as he fell asleep.
Rachel smiled as Noah passed out, her fingers running up and down his back. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. She was feeling attached to him again. And if she was attached, how was she ever going to leave?
xxxxx
Rachel awoke to an empty bed the next morning. She was wrapped in Noah's blanket in his bed, but he was gone.
Rach,
Had to go to work. Coffee's in the pot in the kitchen and cereal's in the cabinet. Call me if you need anything. Thought we'd get drinks tonight—I'll pick you up at seven.
Noah xx
Rachel smiled as she read the note he had left on his pillow. She sat up, grabbing her bra off the floor. She quickly got dressed, feeling dirtier than she should have.
She hadn't slept with him even though she had wanted to. Besides, they were both consenting adults. There was nothing wrong with what they had done last night.
Rachel dressed in her outfit from the night before, pouring herself a cup of coffee in one of Noah's travel mugs. She was going to see him later—she'd return it to him then.
Luckily, they had taken her car instead of his last night. Rachel climbed into her car, driving back to her house. She just hoped her dads were out—she didn't want them to see her doing the walk of shame.
Rachel made it into the house and halfway up the stairs before being spotted.
"Rachel?" she heard Leroy call. She mentally cursed before taking a few steps back down the stairs, giving him a smile.
"Hi Daddy," she said, her voice full of fake cheerfulness. Rachel wasn't on good terms with either of her dads. They had deserted her while pregnant and never bothered to get to know her daughter, after all.
"You just getting in?" he asked, taking in her appearance. She was in a dress clearly meant for a date, her makeup was smudged, and her hair was a mess.
"Uh, yeah. I stayed at a friend's house last night," she lied. She knew it was silly. It wasn't like she was in high school, but she still knew her dad would be livid if he found out she had been at Noah's last night.
"I wish you'd have called. Your father and I were worried sick."
"Sorry Daddy," she apologized. "I'll remember to call next time," she promised. "I need to shower," she said, trying to get away from him. "I have an interview I need to do today…"
"Oh Rachel, how can you?" he asked. "Your father and I have always been proud of you, but this makes us ashamed. Your exploiting that poor Pierce girl for your own career."
Rachel felt her face go hot as she got the desire to defend herself. She had to remind herself that he was her father and not to get too angry.
"I'm not exploiting anyone," she said, her voice relatively calm. "I'm trying to get the truth."
"I've never liked reporters. They're leeches. They thrive off the tragedy of others. Why can't you just leave this alone and let the police handle it, though I don't know how they're going to solve this when that idiot Puckerman is in charge. How he ever go to be sheriff is a mystery."
"Noah's smart, Daddy. People like him. He's going to figure out who killed her."
"He couldn't solve this case if he was the murderer himself. Though, it wouldn't surprise me if he was the one who actually killed her."
"Look, I know you never liked him, but Noah could never kill anyone. He's sweet and kind. He liked Brittany."
Leroy Berry snorted. "Don't be so naïve, Rachel. I know you loved him once, but the Noah Puckerman you knew was a saint compared to the one who's sheriff of Lima."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"You're the reporter—figure it out yourself," he snapped, turning away from her. "And you should shower—you smell like a prostitute," he called to her.
Thinking about what her father had said, Rachel headed upstairs, locking the door to the bathroom before climbing into the shower. Rachel made sure to clean herself completely, scrubbing the area Noah had shot his load the night before for a good ten minutes. It made her feel slightly degraded when she remembered him doing that, but she shook it off.
Rachel climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body. She dried her hair and applied some makeup before layering the bracelets onto her wrists. She had started doing that ever since she tried to kill herself. She didn't like people seeing the scars.
Rachel changed into a skirt and blouse with a sweater overtop, pulling a pair of black flats on. She grabbed her tape recorder as well as her notepad and a pen. She threw them all into her bag and grabbed her keys.
She just had to hope Santana would be willing to talk to her.
On the drive over to Lima Heights Adjacent, Rachel started to think about what she would say to Santana. She'd never officially done an interview before. She'd talked to people who had seen a fire or a robbery, but nothing like this.
She pulled up in front of a rundown apartment building, making sure to lock her car before heading up to the door. She located Santana's name on the list of tenants and buzzed her apartment.
"What?" came Santana's harsh voice over the intercom.
This was a mistake. This was a huge mistake. She should just turn around and head back to Noah's apartment and wait there for them. It seemed to be the only place she was welcome in this town.
"It's Rachel Berry. Can we talk?" she asked, trying to sound confident in herself.
"What do you want, hobbit?" Santana asked, not buzzing her in.
"I wanted to talk to you about Brittany," Rachel said. The intercom went dead.
Great, Rachel wasn't going to get Santana to speak to her, just like—
The door opened and Santana was standing there dressed in a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt. "What do you want to know about her?" she asked.
Santana didn't look good. Rachel suspected she was a coke addict, but it was more than that. She was clearly taking Brittany's death hard.
"I know you know I'm writing about her death. I heard you two were close, that you knew her better than anyone. Maybe you'd be willing to talk to me, so people could know the real Brittany?"
"Go talk to her fiancée then."
"Anything he tells me is going to be a lie to make himself look good," she said. "I want to know the real Brittany."
Santana seemed to hesitate for a moment before sighing. Without a word, she gestured for Rachel to follow her, leading her to her apartment.
The place was small and messy. There were takeout boxes everywhere and white powder covered the kitchen table.
"I'm going to ask that you not bring up that in your article," she said, gesturing to the powder.
"Why would anyone care about flour?" Rachel asked, playing dumb. Santana looked at her suspiciously before taking a seat on the couch. Rachel sat down beside her.
"I don't trust you," Santana said. "I know you're doing this to make a name for yourself—"
"I'm not, I promise," Rachel said.
"Then why do you show up back in town right after Brit gets killed?" she asked.
Rachel bit her lip. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Depends what it is," Santana said, her arms crossed over her chest.
"I'm going to tell you why I came back to get you to trust me, but you can't tell anyone. If anyone knew what happened, it would be really bad."
"Whatever," Santana muttered.
"I tried to kill myself."
"What?!" Santana asked, shocked. That had not been what she was expecting.
"When I left Lima before, I was pregnant and—"
"I knew it!" Santana shouted. "I knew you let Puckerman knock you up."
Rachel rolled her eyes but continued. "I was pregnant, so my dads went me to live with my aunt. It was fine—I had Caroline and finished school there. I went to college and graduated, then got a job working for a paper in Philadelphia. Everything was great for once."
"What happened, then?" Santana asked. "People don't try and kill themselves because their life is going great."
"I was seeing this guy—Aiden. I'd been dating him for a few months, and he asked me to come to a picnic with his family. I brought Caroline, my daughter, with me. We were about twenty minutes away when a pickup truck hit us and forced us off the road. My car flipped over and the next thing I knew, I was at the hospital. The doctor told me I had a concussion and a few bruises, but I'd live."
"What happened to your daughter?" Santana whispered.
"She was dead when she got to the hospital. The glass from the window went through her heart. She died quickly, they said." Rachel wiped a tear away. "I was okay for a week, but then I couldn't take it anymore. I slit my wrists, but Aiden came to see my right around then and found me. He took me to the hospital, then left me. I haven't heard from him since.
"I was at the hospital for a few weeks before they figured I wouldn't try it again. I managed for a few months before I decided I needed to get out of the city. So I came here instead."
Santana placed a hand on Rachel's hand. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I had no idea.' Does Puck…"
Rachel shook her head. "He doesn't even know Caroline ever existed. I'm not ready to tell him yet. I will eventually, but not yet. I'm still grieving."
Santana nodded sympathetically. "I believe you. And I also believe you want to do this for Brittany. I'll tell you what she was like. I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Rachel pulled out her tape recorder and flipped it on. "Okay, I'm listening."
Sorry about the long absence—I got a bit busy there for a while. I'm going to try and update this regularly. Please review!
