Author's Note: So, most of my reviewers in last chapter said they like the way I'm building the relationship in this story. One or two 'Guests' (anons) said Puck's still behaving like a brat, but thanks to reviewers like aussiegleek18, Noel Puckerman (Katie), Lina and Becca and a few others, I know I'm doing okay.

To those who just want Puck and Rachel to kiss and make up, I'm sorry, but I can't have them do that. It wouldn't seem real, not when Puck was a bastard most of the time and Rachel's like a scared cat. I could do it, yes, but it wouldn't seem real to me and ultimately it wouldn't please me – or you. Someone (I think it was a guest) said the story felt more like St. Berry than Puckleberry, but I assure you – Jesse and Rachel won't be anything more than friends, at least not in this fic.

For those of you who asked for more romance for Puckleberry, I tried to deliver in this chapter. As always, please tell me if you think I did okay. The song is The Script's For The First Time.

woman in the rain.

12

The interview with Will Schuester brought even more attention to the movie, which made the cast and crew work even harder. Rachel had no idea where she found the energy, but she loved the hard work. Having to focus her attention in something else helped her forget Noah and the memories and feelings he arose in her.

Watching Rachel work, for Puck, was a learning experience. He, who often accused Rachel of being an ice princess because of her emotional distance, found out he was sorely mistaken. When the cameras were rolling, Rachel was pure emotion, and he found the cast and crew with tearful eyes while watching her in action.

Quinn was also keeping her distance, which, in turn, helped ease the tension between him and Rachel. They stopped fighting as often as they were, and every now and then Puck would catch bits and glimpses of the sweet, innocent girl he had first met. Kurt had taken over costumes when it came to Rachel, and more often than not the two were seen giggling together while Rachel switched clothes.

That Saturday night, Parksville's City Council threw a dinner party for the cast, crew and press. Even with Kurt's help, Rachel took a long time choosing what she was going to wear. Eventually, she settled on a lacy cherry red cocktail dress with rose gold strappy heels. Feeling slightly nostalgic, she added a gold necklace with a ruby pendant that Noah gave her on her first birthday after their wedding.

Kurt styled her hair in a high ponytail, all slicked back from her face, while Mercedes did her makeup. Once they deemed her ready to go, she stood in front of a body-length mirror and looked carefully at herself. Mercedes' talent as a makeup artist really worked wonders: Rachel, who had dark circles and seemed exhausted before Mercedes did her magic, seemed refreshed and glowing, like a teenager. When the trio hopped in Mercedes' Sentra, Rachel felt confident and happy.

The Parksville Hotel looked like it hadn't changed at all since his opening, in the earlier years of the 20th century. All the modernization work it had gone through had been carefully planned to keep the original style. The two ballrooms reserved for the dinner party were connected by a tiny hall. One of them had been filled with tables that were set up for the dinner part of the evening, but the other was empty except for the tiny orchestra who had set up on a corner. Both ballrooms had dark wood, polished floors, which sparkled intensely under the lit-up crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.

The food was amazing. Rachel found a spot between Kurt and a reporter, with Mercedes and Shane, her boyfriend, across them. The foursome talked cheerfully all through the meal, and Rachel was famished by the time the cold melon salad and the pasta were served. Sebastian was far away from them, busy with dodging an obviously flirting Cassandra.

Noah, who had seated on the head of the table, showed he was a great host, making sure each and every one of the guests was very well served and talking constantly to the press. Much to Rachel's chagrin, Quinn took a seat at Noah's right, in a pale orange satin dress that adhered to her curves like a second skin, her long blonde hair falling in gentle waves. Every now and then, when their eyes crossed, Noah would smile, and Rachel believed she hadn't ever seen him smile so tenderly. It wasn't a surprise that Quinn looked so radiant.

What Rachel didn't know, though, was that Quinn's joy had a different reason. Sam, her former fiancé and a longtime friend of Puck, had flown in earlier that week and had begged her for another chance to work things out. Quinn happily agreed, but had asked Sam to keep the engagement on hold, since one of the reasons for their breakup was their rush to make a deeper commitment for each other.

After the meal, it was time to dance. Even though she had plenty of offers, Rachel chose to be Kurt's partner for the night. He was as fashion-crazy and flamboyant as she remembered her father Hiram to be, and he was also a perfect gentleman. Sebastian hovered nearby, trying to score a dance with Rachel and making sure her glass was always full, but Kurt discretely stole her flute and put it on a passing waiter's tray, which earned him a grateful glance from Rachel.

Sebastian, though, wouldn't know when to quit, and eventually Rachel tired of his overwhelming attention. When Cassandra dragged Sebastian for the dance floor, she snuck out to a glass side door that led to a beautifully tended garden. She found a quiet spot on a little stone bench, where she sat down and took off her heels. Thanks to Kurt's providential interference, she hadn't drunk as much as everyone else, and so she sat there, relaxing and enjoying the songs, which she could hear softly playing in the distance. The orchestra was wonderful and Rachel spent a long time in her refuge, enjoying the music.

A voice broke through her reverie, whispering in her ear, "Where's your mind at right now, Rach?"

The tiny brunette startled and blinked, seeing Noah standing behind her. He looked amazing in his black slacks with white shirt and a black blazer. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "At the music, I think." Earlier that night, she had decided she wouldn't let Noah upset her that evening. She felt so good about herself that not even he would ruin that night for her.

Noah nodded and after a beat of silence held his hand out for her. "Shall we?"

She looked hesitantly at his hand, then back at his face. "Noah…"

"C'mon, Rach," he cajoled, "it's just a dance. I'll be in my best behavior, I promise."

That will be a first, she considered, but relented, putting her slim hand on his. He tugged her up and wrapped his arms around her waist, while her arms found their way around his neck, and the estranged spouses began to sway gently to the slow beat. Someone had made their way to the stage, and a soft, soulful voice began to sing.

She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart

While I'm drinking jack all alone in the local bar

And we don't know how

How we got in this mad situation

Only doing things out of frustration

Trying to make it work, but, man, these times are hard.

Puck began to hum softly along to the song as he swayed and twirled with Rachel, whose cheek was pressed against his shoulder. Tilting his face down, his lips brushed against the delicate shell of her ear and she shivered slightly against him; squeezing his arms tighter around her, he began to sing in time with the person in the ballroom.

She needs me now, but I can't seem to find the time

I've got a new job on the unemployment line

And we don't know how – how we got in this mess

Is it God's test?

Lord, help us, cause we're doing our best

Trying to make it work, but, man, these times were hard

Rachel blinked up at him, startled at the smooth, deep singing voice that was Noah's. He gently pushed her away and then pulled her back, twirling her and dipping her slightly. She also didn't know he was such a good dancer, and her heart broke, yet again, for all the things that made Noah and were yet undiscovered by her – and would remain that way since they would soon part ways.

But we're gonna start by drinking old, cheap bottles of wine

Sit talking up all night, saying things we haven't for a while

A while, yeah.

We're smiling, but we're close to tears

Even after all these years, and we've just know got the feeling

That we're meeting for the first time

Puck had no idea who was singing – he suspected it was Mercedes, but he couldn't be sure – but whoever had picked the song had hit the nail on the head. He had met Rachel almost four years ago, and still, sometimes, when he looked at her, he still felt like they had just met, because there were so many layers to her personality that he still didn't know, just like he knew there were things about him that she didn't know either.

"I didn't know you could sing," she whispered, and he nodded.

"I know. There's – there's a lot about me that you don't know, Rach."

Immediately after he finished speaking he knew she would take it the wrong way, which she did. She stiffened against him and shrugged off his arms, a bitter tone to her voice. "And whose fault was that, Noah? I wasn't the one who walked out of our house and spent the entire night out doing only God knows why!" She hissed.

His temper flared to life and he glared at her. "You're right. You just packed up and went to only God knew where leaving no way for me to contact you!" He took a deep breath and then added, more calmly, "Why did you vanish from the world, Rach? Was it because of the fame? What happened to you three years ago that you felt you had to quit the game altogether?"

Rachel, who was ready for yet another fight, was surprised by the soft, almost concerned tone of his voice, and by the spark of guilt that the first part of his speech caused on her. "No. It wasn't because of the fame," she answered just as quietly. "I was sick, Noah. I was seriously sick and that was why I left the biz."

Puck felt an icy shiver of fear making its way down his spine. "Sick?"

She nodded. "You've seen me during the filming. Playing Hannah drains me, emotionally speaking, every single scene. Imagine doing that almost every hour, of every day."

"I know it's hard, but I never thought you could get sick because of it."

"Several actors and actresses take long breaks in their careers. Why should I be different?"

He took a deep breath and looked away. "You always seemed so strong."

Rachel let out a bitter laugh. "Well, I wasn't, so I eventually broke down."

He looked her up and down. "You seem to have recovered quite well."

His wife shrugged. "I was away for three years. The break did wonders for me and my health."

"I don't doubt it." He looked back at the lit up ballroom, and then back at her. "I think the party is still raging on, but I'm outta here. Do you want a ride?"

She shook her head negatively. "I came with Kurt and Mercedes, so I'll just wait for them."

"Whatever," he muttered, feeling secretly pleased that she hadn't come with Sebastian.

"Didn't Quinn ride with you?" She blurted out.

"I wasn't thinking of leaving her behind," he replied dryly. "I just offered you a ride."

"Don't bother. I'm sure the two of you would love some time alone," she shot back with false sweetness, and stood up. "Have a good night, Noah." Turning her back on him, she made her way back to the ballroom, intent on finding Kurt.

Puck stood behind, watching her with his mind whirling as it tried to process the new information he had been given. So Rachel had been sick. Since the PI he had hired to locate her hadn't found any medical records for her in any hospital, it surely hadn't been a physical ailment. Depression, maybe? It made sense.

For the first time in years Puck considered the toll the end of their marriage had on Rachel, and a thick feeling of guilt bubbled in his chest. Sure, she had wronged him by not trusting him and then leaving their home, but hadn't he done the same to her when he refused to tell her the real nature of his relationship with Kitty and then leaving their home and not coming back?

to be continued

Author's Note (part two): These two-parted notes are becoming quite a fixture here. Well, an author gotta do what an author gotta do. For those of you who asked for Puckleberry romance, I think I delivered. For those who said they needed to talk (I agree), I know I delivered, at least partially. And for those of you who said Puck should acknowledge he also had part of the blame on the end of their marriage, I think I delivered too. The chapter was short, so I apologize for that. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review!