"The Bodyguard Job" - Part Three
Title: The Bodyguard Job
Chapter: Three
Characters: Puck/Rachel, Blaine, Finn, Kurt, Santana and various others in unexpected places.
Rating: R
Word Count: ~7000
Genre: Romance, Drama, Future AU
Warnings: Language
Summary:
Noah Puckerman is used to being noticed; but when he begins to get the
wrong kind of attention his team hires the least likely bodyguard
imaginable. Now he has to convince the world that she's his girlfriend
without actually falling for her in the process.
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy, Fox, et al. own Glee. I own nothing (quite literally) and am making absolutely no profit from this endeavor.
Prompt: Puck is a celebrity with a stalker. Rachel is his unlikely bodyguard. -
puckrachel drabble meme (by:
shaesweetie)
------
Rachel followed closely behind Noah once they turned off of West Sunset Boulevard and onto North Crescent Heights Boulevard. She was a good driver, had been taught to drive in extreme situations even, but she didn't for one second believe she wouldn't get lost in the twists and turns of the Hollywood Hills. And GPS or not, if he got too far ahead of her when they got to Mulholland Drive she knew she'd never find his driveway off of the famous road.
She turned a tight right when she saw his red 1958 Porsche speedster whip off the road and begin to ascend a hill and grumbled as her own rental, a 2025 Camry, made the turn no where near as neatly. She had seen him approach his car in the parking lot and when she raised an eyebrow at the bright red sports car he had only shrugged and said, "I was going to get a '55 Spyder but then Finn got all paranoid. One critic compared me to James Dean and suddenly I can't have the car I want."
A short trip up the private, turning, shrouded in bushes and trees, drive at a slow pace led to Rachel having to wait as the tall black iron gate cycled opened and left her to glance around the surrounding property with a feeling of dread. She could see the house from the road, but there was absolutely no way through that foliage and the fence itself stood almost seven feet high. She remembered what she had read about the property in the brief she had been given and not for the first time wondered how she was supposed to protect a 14,000 square foot lot on her own. According to the property report the fence ran three quarters of the property and the fourth side of it was a canyon. The fact that someone had managed to enter, even just the property lines, was highly disconcerting.
"At least they haven't gotten into the house yet," she muttered and tapped the gas to follow him through the gate and up the rest of the drive. A few yards past the gate and Rachel whistled as the trees cleared and they drove up towards the three car garage on the side of the house. The property itself wasn't what she had been expecting after seeing the gate and the near forest that surrounded the front of the house. From the road all that was visible was the top of a white roof and a few windows on the side of the house. It sat high due to the hill it was on and it gave the impression that it was a tall, multi-floor structure. But instead of a huge mansion, sitting in front of Rachel was a lovely one story white ranch that she knew was approximately 3,500 square feet of living space. That amount of space she could handle solo with no problems.
"Nice house," she called as she stepped out of the her car, leaving it in the driveway and watching as Noah exited one of the three garages tapping a button on his keys to lower the door behind him as he went. He had mentioned he also had an SUV and she briefly wondered what the other garage housed.
"Thanks. Other then the Porsche and my school loans it's pretty much the only thing I've spent any real significant money on. I didn't want to go too big since it's only me here; and there were probably better choices, but the view is fucking boss."
Rachel let out a laugh at the excited tone his voice had taken on, privately agreeing with his statement as she had seen the real estate information on the property, and followed him up the short walkway to the front door of the house.
She knew he had purchased the house just about two years earlier and that it was a two winged ranch; three bedrooms all with ensuite bathrooms in one wing and the 'main' wing of the home featuring a mostly open floor plan, the kitchen and dining room were slightly separated from the split level living room, and a half bath for convenience of guests who were not staying in the home. Unfortunately, you could only get so much information from a real estate package, despite the presence of pictures, so Rachel wasn't sure what to expect when she walked inside.
"I thought you weren't married," she joked when they walked through the all glass, french style, front door and into a pristintely decorated living area done entirely in white and black with any color being brought into the room through the art on the walls. She noticed a set of dark wood french doors, that perfectly matched the floors, at each end of the room and in front of her and to the right a few feet were two large cut out doorways that were three steps up and appeared, from what she could see, to lead into the rest of the house.
"I'm not," he replied smirking at her. "But Kurt sort of kicked me out of my house after I'd been here for three months. Said he wanted to give me a false sense of security before he made me move in with Blaine for two weeks while he re-did the place. Apparently, college dorm room chic didn't impress him."
"You had a milk crate coffee table didn't you?" she asked, laughing as she pictured it and watching as he hung his keys next to the front door after keying in a series of numbers on the security pad.
"And tapestry's hanging on the walls interspersed with bikini model posters," Noah explained, his tone telling Rachel he wasn't completely joking, pointing around to various points of the room.
"Classy," she shot back dryly.
"I try, really I do," he responded and then nodded towards the rest of the house. "Come on, I'll show you why I bought this place and then we'll get your stuff from the car."
Rachel followed him across the rectangular room that stretched across the front of the house and up that small set of stairs to enter the second living room. This one was decorated in the same color scheme as the front room, though she noted it seemed much more formal, and included a fireplace and and three sets of all glass french doors that stretched the back wall of the room and led into the yard.
"Did you really have to buy a house with so much glass? I thought you said you liked your privacy?"
"You're kidding right?" Noah asked her laughing. "Who the hell can even see into my house from back here? The only place anyone can even really approach is from the front, that's what the gate and trees are for. Follow me."
Rachel sighed, pushing her own ingrained paranoia down, and did as she was told by following him through the middle set of doors and out onto the patio. The red brick patio stretched a few feet, encompassing just enough space for a table, chairs and a fairly extensive grill set up. The rest of the yard was a perfectly manicured lawn that sloped down a slight hill and minimal desert style bushes and trees framing the property line. She took in the reasonably large pool that sat near the edge of the property, lower then the house due to the hill and nodded. This would be doable; even if she had to upgrade his security system.
"Rachel," she heard Noah's voice softly in her ear and jumped. "Welcome back. You're being far too analytical right now."
"I'm trying to figure out how to protect your house and by extension you."
"And I appreciate that; but, you're staring at the property like it's going to bite you. Instead, why don't you take just one minute, breathe and look out."
Rolling her eyes slightly Rachel did what he asked and picked her head up to look around over the foliage that framed his property; her breath caught. Now she understood what he said about why he wound up buying the house.
In front of Rachel was one of the most stunning views she had ever seen on a residential property. The house faced west and since sunset was approaching the colors she was seeing were indescribable. Also, the angle of the house gave the view, without the sight of the city itself to distract. Instead of buildings (and Rachel had been in the Hills before, just usually closer to the city center) like she was used to Rachel was staring at mountains.
"Wow."
"Told ya," he responded. "It was totally worth the two million."
"Two...million? Shit, maybe I should have stuck with acting."
"On that note," Noah interjected. "Let's go get your stuff and I'll start dinner and you can tell me all about it while I cook."
"Can I get a full tour of the house first? I need to get my bearings in place before I'm exhausted. It's been a long day."
"Oh, yea, okay we can do that too," he muttered and seemed to think for a second. "We'll finish this side of the house, go get your stuff and you can see what Kurt calls the 'residential wing'. Which is just a fancy way of saying, that's where all the bedrooms are."
"I figured as much," she replied with a light laugh and followed him back into the living room, making sure to close and lock the doors behind her while choosing to ignore his eye roll at the action. "Lead on MacDuff."
"Right, anyway, the kitchen's through there," he pointed to their right, now that they were facing the front of the house. Rachel poked her head into the room to see an all white kitchen that was decked out in things she was fairly certain would only be found in a restaurant. "Kurt went a little nuts in here too. He found out I could actually cook, said that was a miracle in and of itself, and went a little crazy."
"It's nice," she assured him, noticing the small table that would seat four in the corner.
"Yea, he almost didn't put a table but I told him there was no way in hell I was using the dining room unless I absolutely had to once I saw the monstrosity of a table he put in there. I mean, when the hell am I ever going to want to feed sixteen people in my house? That's what restaurants are for."
Rachel chuckled and followed him back across the formal living room to poke her head around another corner for a glance at the apparently formal dining room. Privately she had to admit he was right; the room was a bit over the top and screamed opulence. While it went with the rest of the house's decor, even the formal living room seemed to mesh with what she had seen of Noah so far. The dining room just didn't.
"Ready for the fun rooms?"
"I thought we were saving the bedrooms for last?"
The fact that he almost seemed to blush at her comment had Rachel bottling up her laughter and proved he was still stuck on thirteen year old prissy Rachel Berry somewhere in his mind. Rather then answering her he silently led the way through the living room and down the steps into the front room before heading towards the set of doors she had noticed on their left when they walked in. Sliding them open Rachel was surprised to find themselves in a huge room that was completely devoid of the white and black color scheme that fell over the rest of the property.
Instead, she was standing in a very dark red and wood room that held a pool table, a bar, book shelves, ridiculously comfortable looking couches and chairs and an entertainment system that was almost as impressive as the screening room she had seen in the White House.
"Okay, I thought you said your car, the house and your loans were your biggest expenditures?"
"Oh, yea, well, I count this as work related," he replied and smirked. "This is my man cave. Roar."
"Roar?"
"Uh-huh," he agreed. "Don't roll your eyes at me."
"Oh that I can roll my eyes at," she shot back. "I'm impressed Kurt managed to style a man cave so, well, man-cavey."
"Nah," he disagreed. "I told him I wanted a study that could double as a screening room and he pulled it off. Blaine warned me against using the term 'man cave' around him 'cause I might have wound up with a strip club look. Which, wouldn't completely suck now that I think about it."
"Oy vey," Rachel muttered, laughing over the whimsical tone his voice had adopted on that last thought.
"Right, let's get your stuff," he finally spoke, shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts and ushered her out of the room and then out the front door.
A half hour later Rachel had comfortably unpacked and was heading back into the main part of the house from the 'residential wing', which was located behind the other set of wooden french doors on the other side of the front room. The 'wing' was really just a wide hallway that had a series of french doorways in it - one bedroom on each side of the hallway with the master bedroom at the very end of the 'wing', one set that hid the washer and dryer and a one set that hid a large walk in linen and storage closet.
Her room was done in shades of green to off set the white and the other guest bedroom had been done in chromatic greys and white. Noah hadn't offered a viewing of his own room, and having remembered what he said about his privacy Rachel hadn't asked. She'd give it a few days before approaching the subject if he didn't offer soon.
Not that she wanted him to offer to show her his bedroom or anything; Rachel was a professional after all.
She carefully ignored her inner voice calling her a liar. Because once she had been left alone in the bedroom that was to be hers for the time being she had finally been allowed to process a grown up Noah Puckerman. The rest of the day had been spent constantly keeping track of their surroundings, looking for anyone that was paying too much attention to him and cataloging the history he was giving her while looking for anything suspicious in his past that could crop up now; she hadn't been able to fully register the fact that she was falling into a comfortable flirtatious banter with a man who had been placed on People Magazine's Most Beautiful list for the last four years. Ironically, it wasn't even his looks that had her in knots over the situation; the looks she had gotten used to over the years of having seen him in movies and magazines. No, the problem was that this was an adult version of the boy who had tried to get her to eat worms when they were seven. This was the same boy who had dared her, at five, to climb to the top of the tree in his backyard and then given her a lollipop when she did. This was the same boy who had been her first kiss when she was twelve.
And what really bothered her was knowing that if it was any other circumstances bringing them back together as mature adults Rachel would have been turning on the charm to full power and been working on a way to get him out to dinner and into bed. Instead, she had to sleep down the hall from him and make sure some psychopath didn't get into his house or harm him until the LAPD could figure out who said psychopath was.
In short, she was fucked.
This was reinforced when she entered the kitchen to see Noah standing there chopping up vegetables, obviously having changed since he was now dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top, and her first thought was that he deserved to be at the top of the Most Beautiful list.
"Hey," she greeted and walked around the center island counter top. "Can I help with anything?"
"No, I'm good," he replied and seemed distracted. "Hey, are you still a vegetarian?"
"Huh? You remember that? Wow. No, I'm not. But thanks for asking."
"So chicken is okay?"
"Chicken's fine. I try to avoid red meat for health reasons but I couldn't afford an all vegan diet in college since my father's had the brilliant idea that I should support myself and learn to be an adult."
"Ouch."
"It wasn't that bad. I lived in the dorms and later an apartment with some friends. Plus, DC's cuisine is very southern and mid-Atlantic. So it doesn't exactly lend itself well to vegan. Try telling someone you're vegan when they're planning on having crabs for dinner."
"Oooooo," Noah practically moaned. "I filmed in Baltimore a few years ago. Crabs are all you need to say anymore and I'm ready to salivate. Well, providing you're talking about food."
Rachel laughed at took a seat at the table to watch him work, and possibly avoid disclosing her entire life story.
"You want a beer? Wine? Anything?" he asked a few seconds later, popping his head out of the fridge.
"Got any soda? I shouldn't be drinking since I'm technically working."
"You're at my house."
"Your stalker has been here."
"Point," he muttered and pulled out a can of coke. "This okay?"
"That's fine. Thanks," she accepted the beverage and popped the top of the can before taking a sip. "So what are you making?"
"Chicken with vegetables in terriyaki sauce. It's getting late so I wanted to do something simple."
"So, you're a successful actor with a gorgeous house and you can cook."
"You sound like my mother and if your next question is when I'm going to find a nice Jewish girl to marry I'm going to throw raw chicken at you," he interrupted.
"Hey! I remember your Mom. She was nice."
"To you," Noah muttered. "Enough about me," he added. "Get talking shorty."
"Do I need to remind you about the gun?"
"The gun that I don't currently see on your person," he interjected and gestured up and down at her with the knife he was using to cut up the vegetables.
Rachel chuckled and casually pulled up the leg of the yoga pants she had changed into, laughing louder when he cursed upon spotting her small ankle holster.
"I'm pretty much always armed Noah. I brought a lock box for my Sig; but this is easier to wear around the house and I'll be keeping it in my nightstand while I sleep."
"So no sneaking into your room for a panty-raid. Got it."
"I should shoot you for reminding me about that."
"I was ten!"
"I was mortified!"
They both stared at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the memories and Rachel couldn't help but smile at the thought of one of the few friends she had when she lived in Ohio. They had always had a weird dynamic. On one hand she could probably call him her first best friend. But on the other hand they never been exceptionally close the way some friends were. They never called each other to specifically hang out, Noah never introduced her to anyone from his public school and vice versa with Rachel and her private school; but, whenever Noah's mother and Rachel's fathers got together (at least two times a week not counting Saturday's at Temple) the kids were dragged along and had been since they were in diapers.
Needless to say two bored kids could get into some interesting situations when there weren't any 'reputations' to protect.
"I'm still waiting Rach," Noah prompted and raised an eyebrow while Rachel exhaled loudly. "Dinner's gonna take a little while so you might as well entertain me."
"Fine," she grumbled and quickly ordered her thoughts even though she knew that the first part of her story could be completely candid as opposed to the last few years wherein she'd need to edit significantly.
A glance at Noah showed that he was waiting, albeit not very patiently, for her to start talking so with a deep breath she began, "The whole moving thing was actually unexpected but when my Dad got that job offer he wasn't about to turn it down."
"Actually, stop there for a second," he interrupted. "What job offer did your Dad get? All my Mom said was that it was political."
Rachel chuckled at the explanation given to his thirteen year old self and explained, "A friend of his from college got elected as a senator from Indiana and Dad was offered the spot of Chief of Staff for him. Dad never wanted to run for office himself; but he enjoyed politics. Senator Jennings is now Secretary of State and Dad still works for him; he's brought Dad with him with every move he's made since they started working together."
"Huh. Cool I guess."
"Yea I guess," Rachel muttered. "Dad's been trying to insert himself in my career since though."
"How so?"
"You heard a vague outline of my career right? I know what's in my file with Athena."
"Yea?"
"It took me just about two years to actually get onto a Secret Service detail because it took me almost a year to get accepted to FLETC."
"Fletcey?"
Rachel laughed at the way he sounded the acronym out and explained, "Federal Law Enforcement Training Center. Basically it's a ten week program for college graduates to attend to join any federal law enforcement agency except for the FBI or the CIA. Bureau agents train at Quantico. Spooks train at The Farm."
"Oh," Noah mumbled, still looking slightly confused but Rachel brushed it off as she didn't feel like getting into the intricacies of the various agencies. "I haven't done any political thrillers so, I can admit I don't have a clue what you're talking about."
"That's not the important part, so it's okay. Anyway, I was lucky to get hired by the Department of the Treasury right out of college. Then, since the Secret Service used to be part of them, once I graduated, top of my class by the way, from FLETC the Secret Service already knew who I was and snapped me up."
"So how did your Dad interfere?"
"He didn't want me getting shot at. Once I had decided to go to psychology route in college I think my fathers were expecting me to go to law school like they did. They were a little shocked when I told them, point blank, I wanted to carry a gun and if I was going to be a cop of any type I was going to be the most elite possible. So there I am my senior year of college and magically there's no room in the Metro or Baltimore PD academy's; I was going to apply to get a few years under my belt first. When I found that out I decided to go straight for FLETC and I find out somehow there's no room in their upcoming class either. What there was available was slots waiting for me at Harvard and Georgetown in their Law Schools. One of which is the alma mater of both my father's and the Senator that my Dad works for and the other is the school my Daddy teaches at. I figured out what was up really quickly."
"That sucks," Noah agreed and Rachel just shrugged to tell him she was over it.
"It was years ago. They've accepted things since then. Sort of. Last year, what with the whole getting shot thing, was filled with 'I told you so's' until I was turning blue."
"So, now that we understand all politicians kind of suck. What happened when you first got to DC?"
"Well, Dad was working for Senator Jennings and Daddy had gotten a position at Georgetown teaching. For some reason we actually moved into the District; a lot of my friends lived in Arlington, Virginia because it was right over the Potomac and was a nice residential area. Instead my Dad's got a nice townhouse in Georgetown. I was quickly enrolled in a private school for a few reasons. The most obvious one being that DC is not a very safe city even in its more affluent areas, which I always found ironic considering it's our nation's capitol. So they didn't want me in a public school. The other reason being that basically all the kids whose parents worked high up in the Congress and Senate sent their kids there. We also had a lot of kids who were the children of high ranking players in the alphabet soup agencies. My Dad's considered it the safest place I could go to school."
"How safe are we talking? 'Cause, those ritzy private schools are usually drug havens."
"Oh believe me, we had our usual high school BS. But we also had kids with bodyguards in class. It was...interesting."
"Interesting?"
"Yea. My eyes were opened to this entire other world very quickly. I had always only surrounded myself with Broadway stuff and I had never really had any friends and suddenly I had friends and their interests ran a lot different then mine. And to be honest, I wanted to keep those friends." She scowled as Noah chuckled at her comment; she didn't need the reminder that she had been more then a little annoying in her early teens. "Now don't get me wrong, I joined our Drama Department and I got really involved in it and no one was going to put me off my dreams; but, I realized by my Junior Year that all of my friends could care less about theatre. They all supported me and went to my shows and loved my voice; but they all played sports or were on the newspaper, among other things. It wasn't until I fully realized that fact that I was able to take a look at the kids were involved in theatre with me."
She glanced up and realized Noah was studying her as he continued to cut things up for dinner. She hated remembering how oblivious she had been when she was younger, but she was going to have to fess up to that short term stupidity.
"Once I looked at them closely I realized, that despite the fact I kept insisting they were my friends for those first two years of high school, they were more apt to try and shove me off of a stage then ever actually want to be around me. And by that point I had mellowed significantly, thanks to my real friends and kickboxing, so it had nothing to do with my personality it was just that venomous dog eat dog mentality of the theatre."
She glanced up and noticed Noah's shocked expression at her words and raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever it was obvious he wanted to say. She didn't have to wait long.
"I never experienced anything like that. Did you go to school with insane asylum recruits? And kickboxing?"
"You went to High School in Lima and judging by where you are now you were probably the most talented person at McKinley. I'm not sure what college theatre is like, but high school theatre in a school that's full of spoiled, rich kids? Hell on earth. The kickboxing was a way to relieve stress. I took kickboxing, karate and judo from my friend Josh's dad. He was a retired marine."
"Damn," Noah muttered and tossed a handful of chicken into a wok.
"So anyway, I stuck it out. Dad said my stubborn nature wouldn't let me give up because I had those dreams for so damn long. And even though I never had the lead, my friends kept me going 'cause they reminded me how good I was."
"Sounds like you had some really great friends."
"I did," Rachel agreed with a bright smile. "I still keep in touch with a few of them. We were a small group and really varied in our intrests but we clicked. We were all kind of outsiders in what our cliques were supposed to be. It was a nice, comfortable high school experience overall. I wasn't what would be considered popular, but I was far from a loser."
She looked up to see Noah nodding along as he tossed the food around in the wok and inhaled appreciatively at the smells filling the kitchen. He wasn't kidding when he said he could cook.
"So?" he asked, prompting her along.
"So it was high school. I don't really know what you expect me to say," she added, shrugging. "Things didn't really change for me until my senior year. My best friend Betsy's Dad was an SAC with the FBI based out of the Hoover Building and somehow over those four years of school I started absorbing things and my senior year I took a look around my room and realized that while I was still immersed in Broadway and the theatre I had also accumulated a lot of things on psychology and true crime. It's like my interests had changed without me realizing it. Now Betsy was a year older then me and was attending Georgetown that year; she asked me to go to a lecture with her that a forensic psychologist from the Behavioral Analysis Unit down in Quantico was giving on campus and I, of course, said yes since she was my best friend. I don't know what else to say other then it was amazing," she paused and ordered her own thoughts, thinking back on that one moment where she suddenly thought she might have found something else that could make her happy without stressing her out on a constant basis. Listening as that man talked about the psychology behind crime and why people commit atrocoties and the things he had seen over the years. However, still to this day, the one thing that stuck out in his mind was how he explained the feeling of knowing you had saved countless lives every time you put one of those psychopaths behind bars.
"Amazing?"
"Huh? Oh, well, I mean...I had theoretically been studying psychology for years. You're an actor, you understand. Both professions are essentially a study of the human condition. Different emotions and how they effect a person; whether that person be real or an imagined character that you're supposed to portray. Now, I'll be the first to admit that it's a little weird that I became fascinated by what boils down to studying broken brains but criminal psychology is far more intense then anything else in the field. Figuring out why someone who seems so normal could turn around and chop up their neighbor and bury them in the yard just fascinates me more then figuring out why someone wants to wash their hands eight times a day."
"You're a little twisted you know that?"
"Yep," Rachel agreed and shot him a slightly maniacal grin on purpose. "College was an easy decision. I went to Georgetown where I initially declared a major in Visual and Performing Arts with a minor in psych. I thought I'd minor in it and get it out of my system. And Georgetown was pretty much the only choice for a school since my father's got a significantly lowered tuition because I was the child of a faculty member. By November I realized that every friend I had was from my psychology or Gen Ed classes. Again, I just couldn't click with the theatre kids, even at the introductory level where there wasn't any real competition yet. So during my winter break I did a lot of soul searching and research. That part of me never changed, I couldn't do something without knowing all the pros and cons. I talked to Betsy's Dad and my own father's and finally my Daddy told me something that made me change to a dual major in Psychology and Mathematics without even a hint of regret."
"What'd he say to you?" Noah asked, looking far more interested in what she was saying then the food he was putting onto plates.
"He sat me down and said, 'Rachel, your Dad and I will be proud of you no matter what you do in your life. What you need to think about is what really makes you happy. Don't base it off of what made you happy when you were six or even when you were sixteen. Dreams change and that isn't a bad thing.' When he said that I knew what I had to do."
"Good for you," he told her seriously, setting a plate down in front of her and then taking the chair across the table. "No one should be miserable their entire life."
"I don't think I would have been miserable," she disagreed quickly. "I just think I would have had an ulcer before I turned twenty-five."
"Well, I don't think anyone should have that either. But I gotta ask, why Math?"
"Psychology and criminal behavior focuses heavily on statistics. I was always good at Math and the logic in Mathematics helps immensely now." She laughed at how he wrinkled his nose as she explained and smiled at him softly, "You still hate Math huh?"
"I'm a very successful actor. Don't think I didn't go to my ten year reunion and point out that I have yet to need algebra to my high school math teacher. Don't think just cause I fed you that you are done talking either."
Rachel groaned, took a bite and immediately moaned, "This is really good."
"You're welcome. Nice sound too."
"Pig," she muttered after she had swallowed. "Anyway, fast forward to college graduation and the pain in the ass of trying to get into law enforcement. I finally sucked it up and took the offer to be a cog in the wheel at the Department of the Treasury while I was working on my master's part-time. To elaborate on what I got into earlier, it took nine months for me to get a slot in a FLETC class. I graduated at the top of my class and thankfully managed to get into the Secret Service. For my probie year I just worked where I was needed. I protected visiting dignitaries, worked on counterfeiting cases and things like that. It gave me more time to finish up my masters though so that's good. I was afraid it'd take me three years instead of two; despite the extra credits I had taken during undergrad."
"And after those two years you were assigned to the first daughter?"
"Yep. I have never been more thankful then when that kid went to Northwestern either. They almost relocated me to Chicago but I begged and pleaded and for once my Dad's pull in Washington didn't annoy me that much."
Noah laughed when she added that last part and mockingly shook a finger at her while she blushed, "Bad girl."
"Hey. It got me onto the First Lady's detail, which was a hell of a lot more traveling but it was also a hell of a lot more interesting. There are only so many times one can listen to a teenage girl wax lyrical about the boy who was your first kiss," she shot at him and smirked when he almost choked on his dinner.
"Watch it there Rach. You're supposed to be protecting me. Not killing me yourself."
"Sorry. I told you she had a crush on you."
"A crush on me is one thing; waxing lyrical or whatever the hell you said is another."
"She was fifteen when I met her, I wasn't that surprised by the behavior. Didn't mean it wasn't annoying. So yea, first lady for two years and finally, finally I got promoted to POTUS. I literally can not tell you anything other then that. Then last year I took a slug in the shoulder shoving him into the car and spent the last six months recovering, filing a leave of absence to finish my Ph.D. and registering with Athena so I could have some income while I did so."
"So that's it huh? That's Rachel Berry in a brief history lesson?"
"That's me," she agreed. "This is really good Noah."
"You said that already," he replied with a slightly evil smirk. "But I noticed you left something out in your little description."
"Oh?" she questioned, cursing internally and knowing immediately what he was getting at.
"Don't 'Oh' me, Ms. Adler. See, I'm being protected by Rachel Adler, not Rachel Berry. So spill, what's the deal with the name change?"
"Would you accept, the stupidest mistake I ever made in my life, as an answer?"
"Not a chance in hell."
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. "Alright, alright, quick and dirty 'cause the less I have to think about it the better. I met Ethan Adler my junior year of high school and completely fell in love with him. He was the captain of the soccer and baseball teams."
"HA!" Noah interrupted. "I knew that'd be your type."
"Would you let me finish? Cause I'm only going over this once."
"Sorry," he mumbled looking slightly sheepish; though she had a feeling it was more to do with being nervous over his chances of finding out more information on her then anything else.
"We dated on and off through our last two years of high school. I wouldn't have kept getting back together with him but whenever we broke up it was mutual and amicable. He was actually a really good boyfriend and while I know most girls will say that, it's not an excuse. I just figured that we weren't ready for each other yet. We did the same thing throughout college, mostly because he went to Stanford and the distance sucked. Every single break we were totally happy, if a little casual, together and as we got older things were really good. Our senior year of college we didn't bother breaking up and decided we were absolutely together despite the long distance. We got married the summer after we graduated college because I had just started my job and he was going to be starting at Georgetown Law that August. I divorced his ass and took him for everything he was worth when we were twenty-six because I found out he had been cheating on me since our senior year of college. He claimed it was because I loved my job more then him and that I was never there for him; which I am happy to say is the biggest load of bullshit ever."
"Good for you," Noah almost growled and Rachel was surprised to see that he actually looked pissed. "Want me to kill him?"
"No that's okay Noah. No bloodshed necessary. Mostly because he was right, I did love my job more then him. The bullshit was that I was never there for him. I was married to him while I was on the first daughter's detail; I never left DC."
"So why the hell is your last name still Adler?"
"That's the part that sucks. I had already gotten my Master's under Adler and been published enough times that a name change would have been more frustrating then it was worth. Also, I have to admit, not having the last name Berry causes me to get less looks implying I got my job through nepotism."
"So you dating anyone now?" he asked in a tone so curious that Rachel had to remind herself of the rules. He could be as curious as he wanted; she could not reciprocate.
"Nope. I've dated a little but in the long run nothing's panned out. I've got some trust issues now and most guys don't like a girlfriend who has accepted the fact that she might have to give her life for someone. Working in the Secret Service is different then just being a cop. They'd prefer us not to get killed; but if it comes down to me or whomever I've been assigned to? My ass best be in between that bullet and my charge."
"Jesus," he muttered and looked shocked. "Do me a favor?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"Don't throw yourself between any bullets and me okay?"
"Noah," Rachel groaned out the word in frustration. "I was hired for a reason."
"No! You do not get yourself killed on this. This woman or whoever isn't that nuts."
"The dead dog on your stoop tells me different."
"She thinks she loves me. She doesn't want to hurt me."
"She will, eventually. Once that shred of reality kicks in and she realizes that she's never going to have you? Then she'll want to hurt you so that no one else can have you instead. And if it comes down to it I will protect you with my life. Even more so because it's you."
"What do I have to do with anything? I don't want that on my conscience Rach," he replied in a painfully serious tone.
"Well, let's put it this way; the last guy I took a bullet for? I didn't even vote for him and not for one second did I hesitate. If it was you? I'd probably be there before the shot was fired."
"That makes no sense."
"It wouldn't to you. It's kind of something those of us who consider this type of job our calling say. You tend to move faster the more you care about the person who's the target. It's why parents can lift cars off of children."
"Adrenaline response."
"Yea."
"We haven't seen each other in years Rachel.
Rachel laughed a bit sadly at his words and shrugged, "Years maybe. But you're the first person I could have called a best friend Noah. And to be honest, I don't want to be the one to tell Deborah Puckerman that her baby boy is dead 'cause I didn't move fast enough."
"Yea, well, I don't want to be the one to tell Deborah Puckerman that Rachel Berry can't give her Jewish grandchildren 'cause she took a bullet for me. Believe me, that shit comes up once every two or three years."
That time it was her turn to choke on her dinner.
Part Four - to be posted.
A/N: There's Rachel's side of what she's been up to since she was in Lima. I hope that answered any questions anyone had. And I'm sorry if anyone was disappointed that her career path changed for such an undramatic reason. Truth is, sometimes dreams just change as you grow older and experience what you thought you wanted more.
I'm trying not to let this get lengthy - mostly 'cause I've got 2 other multi-chaps going. I hope everyone liked this.
Chapter: Three
Characters: Puck/Rachel, Blaine, Finn, Kurt, Santana and various others in unexpected places.
Rating: R
Word Count: ~7000
Genre: Romance, Drama, Future AU
Warnings: Language
Summary:
Noah Puckerman is used to being noticed; but when he begins to get the
wrong kind of attention his team hires the least likely bodyguard
imaginable. Now he has to convince the world that she's his girlfriend
without actually falling for her in the process.
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy, Fox, et al. own Glee. I own nothing (quite literally) and am making absolutely no profit from this endeavor.
Prompt: Puck is a celebrity with a stalker. Rachel is his unlikely bodyguard. -
puckrachel drabble meme (by:
shaesweetie)
------
Rachel followed closely behind Noah once they turned off of West Sunset Boulevard and onto North Crescent Heights Boulevard. She was a good driver, had been taught to drive in extreme situations even, but she didn't for one second believe she wouldn't get lost in the twists and turns of the Hollywood Hills. And GPS or not, if he got too far ahead of her when they got to Mulholland Drive she knew she'd never find his driveway off of the famous road.
She turned a tight right when she saw his red 1958 Porsche speedster whip off the road and begin to ascend a hill and grumbled as her own rental, a 2025 Camry, made the turn no where near as neatly. She had seen him approach his car in the parking lot and when she raised an eyebrow at the bright red sports car he had only shrugged and said, "I was going to get a '55 Spyder but then Finn got all paranoid. One critic compared me to James Dean and suddenly I can't have the car I want."
A short trip up the private, turning, shrouded in bushes and trees, drive at a slow pace led to Rachel having to wait as the tall black iron gate cycled opened and left her to glance around the surrounding property with a feeling of dread. She could see the house from the road, but there was absolutely no way through that foliage and the fence itself stood almost seven feet high. She remembered what she had read about the property in the brief she had been given and not for the first time wondered how she was supposed to protect a 14,000 square foot lot on her own. According to the property report the fence ran three quarters of the property and the fourth side of it was a canyon. The fact that someone had managed to enter, even just the property lines, was highly disconcerting.
"At least they haven't gotten into the house yet," she muttered and tapped the gas to follow him through the gate and up the rest of the drive. A few yards past the gate and Rachel whistled as the trees cleared and they drove up towards the three car garage on the side of the house. The property itself wasn't what she had been expecting after seeing the gate and the near forest that surrounded the front of the house. From the road all that was visible was the top of a white roof and a few windows on the side of the house. It sat high due to the hill it was on and it gave the impression that it was a tall, multi-floor structure. But instead of a huge mansion, sitting in front of Rachel was a lovely one story white ranch that she knew was approximately 3,500 square feet of living space. That amount of space she could handle solo with no problems.
"Nice house," she called as she stepped out of the her car, leaving it in the driveway and watching as Noah exited one of the three garages tapping a button on his keys to lower the door behind him as he went. He had mentioned he also had an SUV and she briefly wondered what the other garage housed.
"Thanks. Other then the Porsche and my school loans it's pretty much the only thing I've spent any real significant money on. I didn't want to go too big since it's only me here; and there were probably better choices, but the view is fucking boss."
Rachel let out a laugh at the excited tone his voice had taken on, privately agreeing with his statement as she had seen the real estate information on the property, and followed him up the short walkway to the front door of the house.
She knew he had purchased the house just about two years earlier and that it was a two winged ranch; three bedrooms all with ensuite bathrooms in one wing and the 'main' wing of the home featuring a mostly open floor plan, the kitchen and dining room were slightly separated from the split level living room, and a half bath for convenience of guests who were not staying in the home. Unfortunately, you could only get so much information from a real estate package, despite the presence of pictures, so Rachel wasn't sure what to expect when she walked inside.
"I thought you weren't married," she joked when they walked through the all glass, french style, front door and into a pristintely decorated living area done entirely in white and black with any color being brought into the room through the art on the walls. She noticed a set of dark wood french doors, that perfectly matched the floors, at each end of the room and in front of her and to the right a few feet were two large cut out doorways that were three steps up and appeared, from what she could see, to lead into the rest of the house.
"I'm not," he replied smirking at her. "But Kurt sort of kicked me out of my house after I'd been here for three months. Said he wanted to give me a false sense of security before he made me move in with Blaine for two weeks while he re-did the place. Apparently, college dorm room chic didn't impress him."
"You had a milk crate coffee table didn't you?" she asked, laughing as she pictured it and watching as he hung his keys next to the front door after keying in a series of numbers on the security pad.
"And tapestry's hanging on the walls interspersed with bikini model posters," Noah explained, his tone telling Rachel he wasn't completely joking, pointing around to various points of the room.
"Classy," she shot back dryly.
"I try, really I do," he responded and then nodded towards the rest of the house. "Come on, I'll show you why I bought this place and then we'll get your stuff from the car."
Rachel followed him across the rectangular room that stretched across the front of the house and up that small set of stairs to enter the second living room. This one was decorated in the same color scheme as the front room, though she noted it seemed much more formal, and included a fireplace and and three sets of all glass french doors that stretched the back wall of the room and led into the yard.
"Did you really have to buy a house with so much glass? I thought you said you liked your privacy?"
"You're kidding right?" Noah asked her laughing. "Who the hell can even see into my house from back here? The only place anyone can even really approach is from the front, that's what the gate and trees are for. Follow me."
Rachel sighed, pushing her own ingrained paranoia down, and did as she was told by following him through the middle set of doors and out onto the patio. The red brick patio stretched a few feet, encompassing just enough space for a table, chairs and a fairly extensive grill set up. The rest of the yard was a perfectly manicured lawn that sloped down a slight hill and minimal desert style bushes and trees framing the property line. She took in the reasonably large pool that sat near the edge of the property, lower then the house due to the hill and nodded. This would be doable; even if she had to upgrade his security system.
"Rachel," she heard Noah's voice softly in her ear and jumped. "Welcome back. You're being far too analytical right now."
"I'm trying to figure out how to protect your house and by extension you."
"And I appreciate that; but, you're staring at the property like it's going to bite you. Instead, why don't you take just one minute, breathe and look out."
Rolling her eyes slightly Rachel did what he asked and picked her head up to look around over the foliage that framed his property; her breath caught. Now she understood what he said about why he wound up buying the house.
In front of Rachel was one of the most stunning views she had ever seen on a residential property. The house faced west and since sunset was approaching the colors she was seeing were indescribable. Also, the angle of the house gave the view, without the sight of the city itself to distract. Instead of buildings (and Rachel had been in the Hills before, just usually closer to the city center) like she was used to Rachel was staring at mountains.
"Wow."
"Told ya," he responded. "It was totally worth the two million."
"Two...million? Shit, maybe I should have stuck with acting."
"On that note," Noah interjected. "Let's go get your stuff and I'll start dinner and you can tell me all about it while I cook."
"Can I get a full tour of the house first? I need to get my bearings in place before I'm exhausted. It's been a long day."
"Oh, yea, okay we can do that too," he muttered and seemed to think for a second. "We'll finish this side of the house, go get your stuff and you can see what Kurt calls the 'residential wing'. Which is just a fancy way of saying, that's where all the bedrooms are."
"I figured as much," she replied with a light laugh and followed him back into the living room, making sure to close and lock the doors behind her while choosing to ignore his eye roll at the action. "Lead on MacDuff."
"Right, anyway, the kitchen's through there," he pointed to their right, now that they were facing the front of the house. Rachel poked her head into the room to see an all white kitchen that was decked out in things she was fairly certain would only be found in a restaurant. "Kurt went a little nuts in here too. He found out I could actually cook, said that was a miracle in and of itself, and went a little crazy."
"It's nice," she assured him, noticing the small table that would seat four in the corner.
"Yea, he almost didn't put a table but I told him there was no way in hell I was using the dining room unless I absolutely had to once I saw the monstrosity of a table he put in there. I mean, when the hell am I ever going to want to feed sixteen people in my house? That's what restaurants are for."
Rachel chuckled and followed him back across the formal living room to poke her head around another corner for a glance at the apparently formal dining room. Privately she had to admit he was right; the room was a bit over the top and screamed opulence. While it went with the rest of the house's decor, even the formal living room seemed to mesh with what she had seen of Noah so far. The dining room just didn't.
"Ready for the fun rooms?"
"I thought we were saving the bedrooms for last?"
The fact that he almost seemed to blush at her comment had Rachel bottling up her laughter and proved he was still stuck on thirteen year old prissy Rachel Berry somewhere in his mind. Rather then answering her he silently led the way through the living room and down the steps into the front room before heading towards the set of doors she had noticed on their left when they walked in. Sliding them open Rachel was surprised to find themselves in a huge room that was completely devoid of the white and black color scheme that fell over the rest of the property.
Instead, she was standing in a very dark red and wood room that held a pool table, a bar, book shelves, ridiculously comfortable looking couches and chairs and an entertainment system that was almost as impressive as the screening room she had seen in the White House.
"Okay, I thought you said your car, the house and your loans were your biggest expenditures?"
"Oh, yea, well, I count this as work related," he replied and smirked. "This is my man cave. Roar."
"Roar?"
"Uh-huh," he agreed. "Don't roll your eyes at me."
"Oh that I can roll my eyes at," she shot back. "I'm impressed Kurt managed to style a man cave so, well, man-cavey."
"Nah," he disagreed. "I told him I wanted a study that could double as a screening room and he pulled it off. Blaine warned me against using the term 'man cave' around him 'cause I might have wound up with a strip club look. Which, wouldn't completely suck now that I think about it."
"Oy vey," Rachel muttered, laughing over the whimsical tone his voice had adopted on that last thought.
"Right, let's get your stuff," he finally spoke, shaking his head as though to clear his thoughts and ushered her out of the room and then out the front door.
A half hour later Rachel had comfortably unpacked and was heading back into the main part of the house from the 'residential wing', which was located behind the other set of wooden french doors on the other side of the front room. The 'wing' was really just a wide hallway that had a series of french doorways in it - one bedroom on each side of the hallway with the master bedroom at the very end of the 'wing', one set that hid the washer and dryer and a one set that hid a large walk in linen and storage closet.
Her room was done in shades of green to off set the white and the other guest bedroom had been done in chromatic greys and white. Noah hadn't offered a viewing of his own room, and having remembered what he said about his privacy Rachel hadn't asked. She'd give it a few days before approaching the subject if he didn't offer soon.
Not that she wanted him to offer to show her his bedroom or anything; Rachel was a professional after all.
She carefully ignored her inner voice calling her a liar. Because once she had been left alone in the bedroom that was to be hers for the time being she had finally been allowed to process a grown up Noah Puckerman. The rest of the day had been spent constantly keeping track of their surroundings, looking for anyone that was paying too much attention to him and cataloging the history he was giving her while looking for anything suspicious in his past that could crop up now; she hadn't been able to fully register the fact that she was falling into a comfortable flirtatious banter with a man who had been placed on People Magazine's Most Beautiful list for the last four years. Ironically, it wasn't even his looks that had her in knots over the situation; the looks she had gotten used to over the years of having seen him in movies and magazines. No, the problem was that this was an adult version of the boy who had tried to get her to eat worms when they were seven. This was the same boy who had dared her, at five, to climb to the top of the tree in his backyard and then given her a lollipop when she did. This was the same boy who had been her first kiss when she was twelve.
And what really bothered her was knowing that if it was any other circumstances bringing them back together as mature adults Rachel would have been turning on the charm to full power and been working on a way to get him out to dinner and into bed. Instead, she had to sleep down the hall from him and make sure some psychopath didn't get into his house or harm him until the LAPD could figure out who said psychopath was.
In short, she was fucked.
This was reinforced when she entered the kitchen to see Noah standing there chopping up vegetables, obviously having changed since he was now dressed in basketball shorts and a tank top, and her first thought was that he deserved to be at the top of the Most Beautiful list.
"Hey," she greeted and walked around the center island counter top. "Can I help with anything?"
"No, I'm good," he replied and seemed distracted. "Hey, are you still a vegetarian?"
"Huh? You remember that? Wow. No, I'm not. But thanks for asking."
"So chicken is okay?"
"Chicken's fine. I try to avoid red meat for health reasons but I couldn't afford an all vegan diet in college since my father's had the brilliant idea that I should support myself and learn to be an adult."
"Ouch."
"It wasn't that bad. I lived in the dorms and later an apartment with some friends. Plus, DC's cuisine is very southern and mid-Atlantic. So it doesn't exactly lend itself well to vegan. Try telling someone you're vegan when they're planning on having crabs for dinner."
"Oooooo," Noah practically moaned. "I filmed in Baltimore a few years ago. Crabs are all you need to say anymore and I'm ready to salivate. Well, providing you're talking about food."
Rachel laughed at took a seat at the table to watch him work, and possibly avoid disclosing her entire life story.
"You want a beer? Wine? Anything?" he asked a few seconds later, popping his head out of the fridge.
"Got any soda? I shouldn't be drinking since I'm technically working."
"You're at my house."
"Your stalker has been here."
"Point," he muttered and pulled out a can of coke. "This okay?"
"That's fine. Thanks," she accepted the beverage and popped the top of the can before taking a sip. "So what are you making?"
"Chicken with vegetables in terriyaki sauce. It's getting late so I wanted to do something simple."
"So, you're a successful actor with a gorgeous house and you can cook."
"You sound like my mother and if your next question is when I'm going to find a nice Jewish girl to marry I'm going to throw raw chicken at you," he interrupted.
"Hey! I remember your Mom. She was nice."
"To you," Noah muttered. "Enough about me," he added. "Get talking shorty."
"Do I need to remind you about the gun?"
"The gun that I don't currently see on your person," he interjected and gestured up and down at her with the knife he was using to cut up the vegetables.
Rachel chuckled and casually pulled up the leg of the yoga pants she had changed into, laughing louder when he cursed upon spotting her small ankle holster.
"I'm pretty much always armed Noah. I brought a lock box for my Sig; but this is easier to wear around the house and I'll be keeping it in my nightstand while I sleep."
"So no sneaking into your room for a panty-raid. Got it."
"I should shoot you for reminding me about that."
"I was ten!"
"I was mortified!"
They both stared at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the memories and Rachel couldn't help but smile at the thought of one of the few friends she had when she lived in Ohio. They had always had a weird dynamic. On one hand she could probably call him her first best friend. But on the other hand they never been exceptionally close the way some friends were. They never called each other to specifically hang out, Noah never introduced her to anyone from his public school and vice versa with Rachel and her private school; but, whenever Noah's mother and Rachel's fathers got together (at least two times a week not counting Saturday's at Temple) the kids were dragged along and had been since they were in diapers.
Needless to say two bored kids could get into some interesting situations when there weren't any 'reputations' to protect.
"I'm still waiting Rach," Noah prompted and raised an eyebrow while Rachel exhaled loudly. "Dinner's gonna take a little while so you might as well entertain me."
"Fine," she grumbled and quickly ordered her thoughts even though she knew that the first part of her story could be completely candid as opposed to the last few years wherein she'd need to edit significantly.
A glance at Noah showed that he was waiting, albeit not very patiently, for her to start talking so with a deep breath she began, "The whole moving thing was actually unexpected but when my Dad got that job offer he wasn't about to turn it down."
"Actually, stop there for a second," he interrupted. "What job offer did your Dad get? All my Mom said was that it was political."
Rachel chuckled at the explanation given to his thirteen year old self and explained, "A friend of his from college got elected as a senator from Indiana and Dad was offered the spot of Chief of Staff for him. Dad never wanted to run for office himself; but he enjoyed politics. Senator Jennings is now Secretary of State and Dad still works for him; he's brought Dad with him with every move he's made since they started working together."
"Huh. Cool I guess."
"Yea I guess," Rachel muttered. "Dad's been trying to insert himself in my career since though."
"How so?"
"You heard a vague outline of my career right? I know what's in my file with Athena."
"Yea?"
"It took me just about two years to actually get onto a Secret Service detail because it took me almost a year to get accepted to FLETC."
"Fletcey?"
Rachel laughed at the way he sounded the acronym out and explained, "Federal Law Enforcement Training Center. Basically it's a ten week program for college graduates to attend to join any federal law enforcement agency except for the FBI or the CIA. Bureau agents train at Quantico. Spooks train at The Farm."
"Oh," Noah mumbled, still looking slightly confused but Rachel brushed it off as she didn't feel like getting into the intricacies of the various agencies. "I haven't done any political thrillers so, I can admit I don't have a clue what you're talking about."
"That's not the important part, so it's okay. Anyway, I was lucky to get hired by the Department of the Treasury right out of college. Then, since the Secret Service used to be part of them, once I graduated, top of my class by the way, from FLETC the Secret Service already knew who I was and snapped me up."
"So how did your Dad interfere?"
"He didn't want me getting shot at. Once I had decided to go to psychology route in college I think my fathers were expecting me to go to law school like they did. They were a little shocked when I told them, point blank, I wanted to carry a gun and if I was going to be a cop of any type I was going to be the most elite possible. So there I am my senior year of college and magically there's no room in the Metro or Baltimore PD academy's; I was going to apply to get a few years under my belt first. When I found that out I decided to go straight for FLETC and I find out somehow there's no room in their upcoming class either. What there was available was slots waiting for me at Harvard and Georgetown in their Law Schools. One of which is the alma mater of both my father's and the Senator that my Dad works for and the other is the school my Daddy teaches at. I figured out what was up really quickly."
"That sucks," Noah agreed and Rachel just shrugged to tell him she was over it.
"It was years ago. They've accepted things since then. Sort of. Last year, what with the whole getting shot thing, was filled with 'I told you so's' until I was turning blue."
"So, now that we understand all politicians kind of suck. What happened when you first got to DC?"
"Well, Dad was working for Senator Jennings and Daddy had gotten a position at Georgetown teaching. For some reason we actually moved into the District; a lot of my friends lived in Arlington, Virginia because it was right over the Potomac and was a nice residential area. Instead my Dad's got a nice townhouse in Georgetown. I was quickly enrolled in a private school for a few reasons. The most obvious one being that DC is not a very safe city even in its more affluent areas, which I always found ironic considering it's our nation's capitol. So they didn't want me in a public school. The other reason being that basically all the kids whose parents worked high up in the Congress and Senate sent their kids there. We also had a lot of kids who were the children of high ranking players in the alphabet soup agencies. My Dad's considered it the safest place I could go to school."
"How safe are we talking? 'Cause, those ritzy private schools are usually drug havens."
"Oh believe me, we had our usual high school BS. But we also had kids with bodyguards in class. It was...interesting."
"Interesting?"
"Yea. My eyes were opened to this entire other world very quickly. I had always only surrounded myself with Broadway stuff and I had never really had any friends and suddenly I had friends and their interests ran a lot different then mine. And to be honest, I wanted to keep those friends." She scowled as Noah chuckled at her comment; she didn't need the reminder that she had been more then a little annoying in her early teens. "Now don't get me wrong, I joined our Drama Department and I got really involved in it and no one was going to put me off my dreams; but, I realized by my Junior Year that all of my friends could care less about theatre. They all supported me and went to my shows and loved my voice; but they all played sports or were on the newspaper, among other things. It wasn't until I fully realized that fact that I was able to take a look at the kids were involved in theatre with me."
She glanced up and realized Noah was studying her as he continued to cut things up for dinner. She hated remembering how oblivious she had been when she was younger, but she was going to have to fess up to that short term stupidity.
"Once I looked at them closely I realized, that despite the fact I kept insisting they were my friends for those first two years of high school, they were more apt to try and shove me off of a stage then ever actually want to be around me. And by that point I had mellowed significantly, thanks to my real friends and kickboxing, so it had nothing to do with my personality it was just that venomous dog eat dog mentality of the theatre."
She glanced up and noticed Noah's shocked expression at her words and raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever it was obvious he wanted to say. She didn't have to wait long.
"I never experienced anything like that. Did you go to school with insane asylum recruits? And kickboxing?"
"You went to High School in Lima and judging by where you are now you were probably the most talented person at McKinley. I'm not sure what college theatre is like, but high school theatre in a school that's full of spoiled, rich kids? Hell on earth. The kickboxing was a way to relieve stress. I took kickboxing, karate and judo from my friend Josh's dad. He was a retired marine."
"Damn," Noah muttered and tossed a handful of chicken into a wok.
"So anyway, I stuck it out. Dad said my stubborn nature wouldn't let me give up because I had those dreams for so damn long. And even though I never had the lead, my friends kept me going 'cause they reminded me how good I was."
"Sounds like you had some really great friends."
"I did," Rachel agreed with a bright smile. "I still keep in touch with a few of them. We were a small group and really varied in our intrests but we clicked. We were all kind of outsiders in what our cliques were supposed to be. It was a nice, comfortable high school experience overall. I wasn't what would be considered popular, but I was far from a loser."
She looked up to see Noah nodding along as he tossed the food around in the wok and inhaled appreciatively at the smells filling the kitchen. He wasn't kidding when he said he could cook.
"So?" he asked, prompting her along.
"So it was high school. I don't really know what you expect me to say," she added, shrugging. "Things didn't really change for me until my senior year. My best friend Betsy's Dad was an SAC with the FBI based out of the Hoover Building and somehow over those four years of school I started absorbing things and my senior year I took a look around my room and realized that while I was still immersed in Broadway and the theatre I had also accumulated a lot of things on psychology and true crime. It's like my interests had changed without me realizing it. Now Betsy was a year older then me and was attending Georgetown that year; she asked me to go to a lecture with her that a forensic psychologist from the Behavioral Analysis Unit down in Quantico was giving on campus and I, of course, said yes since she was my best friend. I don't know what else to say other then it was amazing," she paused and ordered her own thoughts, thinking back on that one moment where she suddenly thought she might have found something else that could make her happy without stressing her out on a constant basis. Listening as that man talked about the psychology behind crime and why people commit atrocoties and the things he had seen over the years. However, still to this day, the one thing that stuck out in his mind was how he explained the feeling of knowing you had saved countless lives every time you put one of those psychopaths behind bars.
"Amazing?"
"Huh? Oh, well, I mean...I had theoretically been studying psychology for years. You're an actor, you understand. Both professions are essentially a study of the human condition. Different emotions and how they effect a person; whether that person be real or an imagined character that you're supposed to portray. Now, I'll be the first to admit that it's a little weird that I became fascinated by what boils down to studying broken brains but criminal psychology is far more intense then anything else in the field. Figuring out why someone who seems so normal could turn around and chop up their neighbor and bury them in the yard just fascinates me more then figuring out why someone wants to wash their hands eight times a day."
"You're a little twisted you know that?"
"Yep," Rachel agreed and shot him a slightly maniacal grin on purpose. "College was an easy decision. I went to Georgetown where I initially declared a major in Visual and Performing Arts with a minor in psych. I thought I'd minor in it and get it out of my system. And Georgetown was pretty much the only choice for a school since my father's got a significantly lowered tuition because I was the child of a faculty member. By November I realized that every friend I had was from my psychology or Gen Ed classes. Again, I just couldn't click with the theatre kids, even at the introductory level where there wasn't any real competition yet. So during my winter break I did a lot of soul searching and research. That part of me never changed, I couldn't do something without knowing all the pros and cons. I talked to Betsy's Dad and my own father's and finally my Daddy told me something that made me change to a dual major in Psychology and Mathematics without even a hint of regret."
"What'd he say to you?" Noah asked, looking far more interested in what she was saying then the food he was putting onto plates.
"He sat me down and said, 'Rachel, your Dad and I will be proud of you no matter what you do in your life. What you need to think about is what really makes you happy. Don't base it off of what made you happy when you were six or even when you were sixteen. Dreams change and that isn't a bad thing.' When he said that I knew what I had to do."
"Good for you," he told her seriously, setting a plate down in front of her and then taking the chair across the table. "No one should be miserable their entire life."
"I don't think I would have been miserable," she disagreed quickly. "I just think I would have had an ulcer before I turned twenty-five."
"Well, I don't think anyone should have that either. But I gotta ask, why Math?"
"Psychology and criminal behavior focuses heavily on statistics. I was always good at Math and the logic in Mathematics helps immensely now." She laughed at how he wrinkled his nose as she explained and smiled at him softly, "You still hate Math huh?"
"I'm a very successful actor. Don't think I didn't go to my ten year reunion and point out that I have yet to need algebra to my high school math teacher. Don't think just cause I fed you that you are done talking either."
Rachel groaned, took a bite and immediately moaned, "This is really good."
"You're welcome. Nice sound too."
"Pig," she muttered after she had swallowed. "Anyway, fast forward to college graduation and the pain in the ass of trying to get into law enforcement. I finally sucked it up and took the offer to be a cog in the wheel at the Department of the Treasury while I was working on my master's part-time. To elaborate on what I got into earlier, it took nine months for me to get a slot in a FLETC class. I graduated at the top of my class and thankfully managed to get into the Secret Service. For my probie year I just worked where I was needed. I protected visiting dignitaries, worked on counterfeiting cases and things like that. It gave me more time to finish up my masters though so that's good. I was afraid it'd take me three years instead of two; despite the extra credits I had taken during undergrad."
"And after those two years you were assigned to the first daughter?"
"Yep. I have never been more thankful then when that kid went to Northwestern either. They almost relocated me to Chicago but I begged and pleaded and for once my Dad's pull in Washington didn't annoy me that much."
Noah laughed when she added that last part and mockingly shook a finger at her while she blushed, "Bad girl."
"Hey. It got me onto the First Lady's detail, which was a hell of a lot more traveling but it was also a hell of a lot more interesting. There are only so many times one can listen to a teenage girl wax lyrical about the boy who was your first kiss," she shot at him and smirked when he almost choked on his dinner.
"Watch it there Rach. You're supposed to be protecting me. Not killing me yourself."
"Sorry. I told you she had a crush on you."
"A crush on me is one thing; waxing lyrical or whatever the hell you said is another."
"She was fifteen when I met her, I wasn't that surprised by the behavior. Didn't mean it wasn't annoying. So yea, first lady for two years and finally, finally I got promoted to POTUS. I literally can not tell you anything other then that. Then last year I took a slug in the shoulder shoving him into the car and spent the last six months recovering, filing a leave of absence to finish my Ph.D. and registering with Athena so I could have some income while I did so."
"So that's it huh? That's Rachel Berry in a brief history lesson?"
"That's me," she agreed. "This is really good Noah."
"You said that already," he replied with a slightly evil smirk. "But I noticed you left something out in your little description."
"Oh?" she questioned, cursing internally and knowing immediately what he was getting at.
"Don't 'Oh' me, Ms. Adler. See, I'm being protected by Rachel Adler, not Rachel Berry. So spill, what's the deal with the name change?"
"Would you accept, the stupidest mistake I ever made in my life, as an answer?"
"Not a chance in hell."
"Fuck," she muttered under her breath and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. "Alright, alright, quick and dirty 'cause the less I have to think about it the better. I met Ethan Adler my junior year of high school and completely fell in love with him. He was the captain of the soccer and baseball teams."
"HA!" Noah interrupted. "I knew that'd be your type."
"Would you let me finish? Cause I'm only going over this once."
"Sorry," he mumbled looking slightly sheepish; though she had a feeling it was more to do with being nervous over his chances of finding out more information on her then anything else.
"We dated on and off through our last two years of high school. I wouldn't have kept getting back together with him but whenever we broke up it was mutual and amicable. He was actually a really good boyfriend and while I know most girls will say that, it's not an excuse. I just figured that we weren't ready for each other yet. We did the same thing throughout college, mostly because he went to Stanford and the distance sucked. Every single break we were totally happy, if a little casual, together and as we got older things were really good. Our senior year of college we didn't bother breaking up and decided we were absolutely together despite the long distance. We got married the summer after we graduated college because I had just started my job and he was going to be starting at Georgetown Law that August. I divorced his ass and took him for everything he was worth when we were twenty-six because I found out he had been cheating on me since our senior year of college. He claimed it was because I loved my job more then him and that I was never there for him; which I am happy to say is the biggest load of bullshit ever."
"Good for you," Noah almost growled and Rachel was surprised to see that he actually looked pissed. "Want me to kill him?"
"No that's okay Noah. No bloodshed necessary. Mostly because he was right, I did love my job more then him. The bullshit was that I was never there for him. I was married to him while I was on the first daughter's detail; I never left DC."
"So why the hell is your last name still Adler?"
"That's the part that sucks. I had already gotten my Master's under Adler and been published enough times that a name change would have been more frustrating then it was worth. Also, I have to admit, not having the last name Berry causes me to get less looks implying I got my job through nepotism."
"So you dating anyone now?" he asked in a tone so curious that Rachel had to remind herself of the rules. He could be as curious as he wanted; she could not reciprocate.
"Nope. I've dated a little but in the long run nothing's panned out. I've got some trust issues now and most guys don't like a girlfriend who has accepted the fact that she might have to give her life for someone. Working in the Secret Service is different then just being a cop. They'd prefer us not to get killed; but if it comes down to me or whomever I've been assigned to? My ass best be in between that bullet and my charge."
"Jesus," he muttered and looked shocked. "Do me a favor?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"Don't throw yourself between any bullets and me okay?"
"Noah," Rachel groaned out the word in frustration. "I was hired for a reason."
"No! You do not get yourself killed on this. This woman or whoever isn't that nuts."
"The dead dog on your stoop tells me different."
"She thinks she loves me. She doesn't want to hurt me."
"She will, eventually. Once that shred of reality kicks in and she realizes that she's never going to have you? Then she'll want to hurt you so that no one else can have you instead. And if it comes down to it I will protect you with my life. Even more so because it's you."
"What do I have to do with anything? I don't want that on my conscience Rach," he replied in a painfully serious tone.
"Well, let's put it this way; the last guy I took a bullet for? I didn't even vote for him and not for one second did I hesitate. If it was you? I'd probably be there before the shot was fired."
"That makes no sense."
"It wouldn't to you. It's kind of something those of us who consider this type of job our calling say. You tend to move faster the more you care about the person who's the target. It's why parents can lift cars off of children."
"Adrenaline response."
"Yea."
"We haven't seen each other in years Rachel.
Rachel laughed a bit sadly at his words and shrugged, "Years maybe. But you're the first person I could have called a best friend Noah. And to be honest, I don't want to be the one to tell Deborah Puckerman that her baby boy is dead 'cause I didn't move fast enough."
"Yea, well, I don't want to be the one to tell Deborah Puckerman that Rachel Berry can't give her Jewish grandchildren 'cause she took a bullet for me. Believe me, that shit comes up once every two or three years."
That time it was her turn to choke on her dinner.
Part Four - to be posted.
A/N: There's Rachel's side of what she's been up to since she was in Lima. I hope that answered any questions anyone had. And I'm sorry if anyone was disappointed that her career path changed for such an undramatic reason. Truth is, sometimes dreams just change as you grow older and experience what you thought you wanted more.
I'm trying not to let this get lengthy - mostly 'cause I've got 2 other multi-chaps going. I hope everyone liked this.