"Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives." – Richard Bach

I find myself not in the least bit surprised that Britt and Santana have just let themselves into our apartment. It's been such a long time since I have seen them and I can feel the tears burning at my eyes as I grab my discarded shirt, throw it over me and then literally throw myself at them. My arms are around their waists literally squeezing them to me when I hear Noah behind me.

"Fucking A, you guys couldn't have waited five more minutes?"

"Not like we haven't seen it before, Puck," Santana snipped back, a smirk on her lips as she raised her eyebrows at me. I can feel the blush rising on my cheeks, so instead of acknowledging the awkwardness I make my way down the hall to grab some clothes. I can hear the hum of their conversation through the paper thin walls. I would give anything to take a shower because I know without a doubt that I smell like sex, but I don't think that I should make Britt and San wait any longer so instead I wet a rag and do a quick clean up.

When I'm finally dressed, I come out of our room to find Noah lounging on the couch his sweatpants back on. Brit and San are standing by the door, trying to not look impatient. I'm expecting Noah to try and pull some shenanigans to get me to stay, but he just smiles and sheepishly waves his hand as we walk out the door.

"Please tell me what you said to him to get him to be that cooperative because I swear to all that is holy that could be a lifesaver."

Laughter fills the car and I can't help but grin at my two best friends. I momentarily think of Tina and realize that I haven't talked to her in awhile and will have to call her soon. Thinking of Tina makes me think of Kiah which ultimately makes me think of Aden.

I picture the way his hair would curl under slightly when it was wet. I picture the way he would stick his tongue between his teeth when he was trying to concentrate. And I picture the day his father walked out promising to be home soon and he crumpled in front of me. For these past few years he has been my sanctuary, my rock, and in so many ways I miss him more than I miss Finn, as strange as that sounded.

I look up and realize we are at the spa and that Britt and San are looking at me in concern. I'm not sure how long I have been spacing for or how long we have been sitting in the parking lot but if their looks are any notion then it's longer than I am thinking. I open my door and step out into the sunlight, leaning my face back to soak up the rays.

"You were gone for quite awhile there, Rach." It's not a question but I can hear the concern behind it. I know what Britt is asking (Is everything alright with you and Puck? Did something happen? Did you guys have another fight?).

"Just thinking about this morning," I lie and can't help but smile as I get a flash of him pushing me up against the kitchen counter.

Santana seems to buy my response but I look at Brittany and see the quirk of her eyebrow. No one really gives her as much credit as she deserves. The girl could be clueless about so many things but she was observant as all get out. She tended to notice things that other people wouldn't. It was kind of both a blessing and a curse depending on when it came into use. Silently I shake my head at her and she nods in acknowledgement. The other nice thing about Britt was that she didn't pry.

We pile into three of the changing rooms, pulling on the plush white robes before meeting in the main room. We go for pedicures first, each sitting next to each other so that we can gossip while the workers buff and scrub our feet.

"So that was some screaming this morning," San whistles, her smile growing as my blush spread across my face. Britt just chuckles and shakes her head her eyes watching the interaction with amusement. "And on the kitchen table too," San continues and I know that she isn't going to stop until she gets some sort of response.

"Technically," I reply my eyes on my fingernails as I try and repress my blush, "it was the kitchen counter and then the kitchen table." I look up to see San's mouth literally open and Britt clapping her hands, her head thrown back laughter escaping.

"Lucky bitch," San growls before laughing with Britt. I don't take it personally because I know that is her way of saying that she 'approves' of my 'deviant' behavior.

"Did you know," Britt mused, "that it's impossible to lick your elbow."

"I've never really thought about it," I replied, trying to hold my smile in.

"I've tried," Britt admitted, "it literally can't be done."

"Well then," San responded, "that's good to know." I can hear the amusement in her voice, but we've just come to learn to love the things that come out of Britt's mouth so neither of us says anything about the absurdity of it.

After our toenails are finished we split up for facials, mud baths, and massages. I choose to get the pore refining facial and lean back, listening to the classical music playing through the speakers. The music is supposed to be soothing but it makes me think about my old life, which only seems to make me tenser. Music, no matter what kind, normally soothes me and I'm a bit surprised when I find myself asking the tech to turn it off.

For some reason I enjoy the quiet more than I normally would.

As the technician massages the oil into my skin I find myself thinking about the morning with Noah. We had never had problems with sex; in fact that was one of the best things about our relationship. We were so passionate, so fired up for each other that other aspects of our relationship got pushed to the side. This morning, though, things seemed so wonderful and as hard as I try, I can't help but think about the last time.

#

I can't begin to explain how our relationship fell apart; it literally just crumbled before my very eyes. Noah and I had been fighting constantly over everything and the relationship seemed so hard. At the time I remember being so upset over his inability to communicate, in his unwillingness to make anything of himself.

We had been screaming at each other for an hour and his hand was literally yanking on his hair, his nostrils flaring. My throat felt raw and I remember flopping down on the couch, tears of frustration falling down my face. There was a thick silence in the room, neither of us looking at the other. I remember hearing his grunt of frustration as he picked up the TV remote and chucked it at the wall. When I think about it now, I wonder if that was his way of getting my attention, of trying to explain the part of him that he was hiding inside. Instead of sitting and dealing with him, though, I had grabbed my purse and threw on some shoes, storming out of the apartment hoping that when I came back later he would have cooled off.

I had made my way down the stairs and out into the chilly weather. There were tons of people that I could have called, a multitude of friends apartments that I could have crashed at for a few hours until we both had our heads wrapped around the fight. Instead I punched in the one number I knew that I probably shouldn't have called.

Finn and Noah had resolved their differences after the drama of baby-gate. Their friendship had slowly repaired itself through the years, but they were never really back to where they were before the baby-bomb had been dropped. Finn and I had dated our junior year of high school, something which still seemed to piss Noah off for reasons he never really explained. The summer before my senior year Noah and I had rekindled our brief romance and had been together ever since.

And in my anger, in my frustration over our constant fighting, I called the one person I knew Noah wouldn't want me too. We didn't say much on the phone, but I knew that Finn could tell from my sniffling that this was an epic fight. Hopping on the subway, we met up at a small, dingy diner that was approximately half way between our two residences. We had sat in silence, drinking coffee, as he watched the tears drip down my face.

My phone never rang, so I didn't bother calling Noah either.

I ended up going back to Finn's with him. As we sat on his couch, I told him about our fights. About how Noah was so closed off and a lot of times I felt like it was my fault. I told him that I didn't feel good enough and probably never would (something my therapist told me was a residual effect from all the tormenting in high school.) I told him about how I was pushing Noah to play his guitar and work on his music and how angry that made him. And he sat and listened as I talked for hours without interrupting or judging or even saying a word.

If I were to justify it now, I would say I didn't want to be alone. But I think part of the reason that I chose Finn was because I knew, in some way, that it would hurt Noah as much as he was hurting me. Nothing happened that night, I ended up falling asleep on Finn's couch sometime early in the morning, but just the fact that Finn had been there for me when I really needed him planted seeds of doubt in my brain.

When I woke up the next morning all I could think about was getting home to Noah and finishing our fight so that everything would be alright again. I remember sitting on the subway, the worry showing through the constant biting I was doing to my nails. I hesitated outside our door for just a moment, before shoving my key in and entering the war zone.

Noah was sitting on the couch, an empty bottle of jack on the floor next to him. There were empty beer bottles scattered across the coffee table along with a few fast food wrappers. His eyes were red and bleary and I could tell that he had been up all night drinking and was most likely still drunk. Walking past him I made my way down the hall to our bedroom, trying to avoid a confrontation when I knew that he was clearly not in his right mind.

I could hear the sound of his stumbling as he followed me down the hallway. When he reached our room, his eyes scanned over me a glower on his face.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he questioned, his words slightly slurred.

"Noah," I grumbled, "you're drunk. Why don't you sleep this off and we will talk about it later?"

He had crawled into bed growling under his breath and had quickly fallen asleep. I made my way into the living room, cleaning up his mess and trying not to think about how I had bared my soul to someone other than him. The tears fell shortly after that, and I spent the day lying on the couch and staring at the ceiling, thinking about where our relationship went so wrong.

When he finally woke up he stormed into the living room, something having lit a fire under his ass.

"Where the fuck were you?" he questioned his voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He took a look at me, noticing the tears on my face, and his seemed to soften a bit. "I called Britt and Santana and they said they hadn't heard from you. So then I started calling everyone we knew in this city and no one knew where you were. Do you know how worried I was? How worried we all were?"

I remember being so utterly irritated, though now looking back I'm not really sure why. I remember rolling my eyes at him and throwing my hands in the air dramatically before responding. "You must not have called everyone."

His brow furrowed and then realization seemed to dawn on him and I watched as he leaned against the wall, his knees buckling a bit. "You wouldn't do that to me, Rach. I know you. You wouldn't run to him. You wouldn't." There was a desperate tinge to his voice and for some reason I felt vindicated.

"I was with Finn."

His back hit the wall and he slid down it, his head in his hands. I watched as his shoulders trembled, watched the way he slowly fell apart in front of me and I didn't say anything. I looked at the hole in the wall where the remote had smashed the previous night. It was a perfect metaphor for the hole that was slowly forming in my heart.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore, Noah. It just hurts too fucking much."

His hands had dropped from his face, so that I could clearly see the tears streaking down his face. His head shook as he looked at me and I could see the devastation on his face. "Please, Rach, please don't do this. Please. I'm so sorry."

"If it means anything," I felt the tears fall down my face, "nothing happened last night. We just met for coffee and talked. Talking to him made me realize that I'm just not happy anymore. I just, well we are always fighting and I'm just so tired."

I expected him to fight, expected some sort of begging or groveling, but instead he just nodded his head with a dejected look on his face. He got up off the floor, went to the key bowl and pulled his keys out. "I'll be back in a bit."

I waited until the door closed behind him to truly fall apart.

I now know all the mistakes we made that got us to this point, know after years of analyzing our relationship the errors of our ways. Instead of talking about our problems, they festered and grew until they became so big that neither of us could overcome them. This time around is going to be different, this time around we're going to work.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed, added to your favorites, or alerts! You guys are rockstars ;0)

Coming up next: A surprising phone call changes everyone's lives

Until then

N