Prompt by maggiequeen.

Disclaimer: Suspension of disbelief is necessary for the remainder of the story. Just hold on tight and enjoy the crack ;)

By her calculations, it's only 34 minutes until the ceremony starts and she starts to walk down that aisle. Well, she sighs, that's 34 minutes more hiding out in this bathroom. She stares at herself in the mirror and a very different Rachel Berry is staring back out at her. Wan smile, pale skin, circles under her eyes, nerves shot to hell.

And she's not even the one getting married.

She takes a deep breath and steels her spine. She is Rachel Berry, Juilliard-trained, Broadway-honed actress. She can go out there and deliver the best performance of a bridesmaid the combined Daniels and McLeary families have ever seen. She owes it to Miranda; after all, without her old college roommate, she wouldn't have survived past orientation. Nodding firmly at her reflection, she gathers up her flowers and smoothes out the pale pink chiffon of her dress before walking out the door…

…and right smack dab into a considerable bulk of a someone.

She ends up flat on her ass (pretty damn thrilled with the poufy skirt now) and when she looks to see who she ran into, she notices the tell-tale black trousers, black shirt and white clerical collar. Her eyes widen in dismay. Practically assaulting a Catholic priest in their house of worship could not be considered a good thing, no matter what your religion. Her view of his face is obscured though by the illusion in her stupid headpiece falling into her face but she does see the hand stretched out to assist her and she accepts it gladly.

"I'm so sorry, Father," she gushes as she rights herself to a standing position. "I didn't mean to run into you like that. Well, I didn't mean to run into you at all, in any other manner, but I was a trifle preoccupied and this dress is a little bulky so I really am inclined to blame the dress and—"

The priest had taken the time to brush off the illusion and hair off her face in a surprisingly gentle manner and, freed from the encumbrances to her vision, Rachel finally takes the chance to look up and thank the man. Only to see the last person she would ever have thought would come waltzing into her life in a priest's garb.

Noah Puckerman. Her ex-boyfriend. The love of her life. The man she last saw when he had broken up with her out of the blue four years ago. He had never given her a good reason for throwing away their 3 years together, only walking away and leaving her in tears in the snowy sidewalk outside her apartment. Since then, he had practically disappeared off the face of the earth . And now he was here. In front of her. Like nothing had changed (well, except for his faith, apparently). As she looks into the eyes of the man who had broken her heart so spectacularly, she knows there is really only one thing to do.

"FUCK, Berry! Did you really have to do that?" he cries out, one hand on his stinging cheek.

She is shaking her hand out in pain and glaring at him. Half of her is scandalized that she actually laid a hand on a man of God; the other half just wants to do it again. "Oh believe me, there are plenty of other things I'd like to do but I have a wedding to attend and I'd really hate it if your blood got on my dress."

She pivots, all set to do a dramatic exit as was her wont, when his firm grip on her arm stops her. "Let go of me," she snarls.

"No, I need to talk to you," he very calmly replies.

"You're 4 years too late, Puckerman." Suddenly, this is just the straw that broke this very fragile and emotional camel's back. She shuts her eyes and wills herself not to cry.

"Rach. " His voice sounds just like it does in her dreams and her heart stutters in her chest. "I'm here because of Leroy."

Unexpectedly, she is being hugged as he whispers into her hair, "Baby, I'm so sorry about your dad."

The sentiment, as well as the tone it was delivered in, nearly brings her to her knees. It does, however, open up the floodgates. Almost automatically, he enfolds her in his arms as she cries for her dad Leroy, who passed away only 2 weeks before.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he murmurs into her ear, lightly swaying them from side to side. "Guess you could say I've been busy."

"Busy becoming a priest?" She can't help it if her tone is a little bitter. "Noah, what on earth did your mother say?"

"This?" he laughs in surprise. "Fuck no, I didn't convert. You know me, baby, I'mma live and die a badass Jew." At that, she manages a watery giggle. Good to know some things never changed. His tone turns serious. "No, I had to dress like this to get into this place. Security's tighter than a duck's ass around here."

She leans back to look at him, her brow furrowed. "What—?"

They are interrupted by the appearance of Andrea Smith, Miranda's wedding planner. "Ms. Berry, the ceremony's about to start. We need to have all the bridesmaids in the anteroom. "

"I'll be right there," Rachel replies. "Noah, I—"

His grip on her arms becomes tighter and she turns to him in alarm. "Rach, you're in danger," he warns her, the urgency in his voice making her pulse skitter.

"Ms. Berry, I'm going to need you to come with me," Andrea interrupts.

"Noah, that's preposterous," she scoffs despite the feeling of dread creeping in. "It's a wedding, for heaven's sake."

"Ms. Berry, you really have to come with me right now."

"Rachel, listen to me—," Puck insists.

"Look, Puckerman, I don't know why you're here dressed up like a priest but no good can come of thi—"

There is a metallic clicking sound from behind her and it's like the world stops. Years of watching crime dramas have given Rachel a sense of what she would find when she turned around but seeing the gun cocked at her still made her blood run cold.

Andrea's voice is eerily calm. "You really should have listened to me, Ms. Berry."

Of all the possible scenarios she had expected to encounter her ex-boyfriend, having an apparently insane wedding planner pointing a gun at her while said ex-boyfriend was impersonating a Catholic priest was not one of them. For a minute, she is wondering if maybe someone slipped a little LSD in that champagne she had earlier to calm her nerves.

"I commend you on your dedication to making this wedding go on without a hitch but don't you think the gun is a bit much?"

Andrea is looking at her coldly as she steps closer towards them, her gun steady. "I'm going to need you to give me the girl, agent."

Rachel's head whips to her side to look at Puck, whose jaw is set and tense. "Agent?" She curses the shakiness of her voice. "Noah, what's going on?"

Although he looks at her (and don't think she doesn't miss the softness in his eyes when he does), he doesn't say a word, only moving her behind him as he faces the wedding planner from hell straight on.

"Give me the girl," Andrea demands.

Puck merely ticks an eyebrow as she watches in horrified fascination. Then faster than she thought possible, he has grasped the barrel of the gun with his right hand, pointing it away from either of them, before twisting Andrea's arm and using his left to deliver a hard blow to the back of her neck. Rachel finds herself watching in a trance. What was going on? The power and the style in the way Puck was moving spoke of years of training, not high school fight club. Before she can say '007', he has disarmed the woman and incapacitated her. As the tall blonde lay on the floor, Puck takes no chances and cold-cocks her on the head for good measure.

"Noah!"

"What? She just pointed a gun at you!" he growls. "She's just lucky I didn't shoot her in the head."

She takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of her nose. "Noah, I'm not moving an inch until you tell me why my friend's wedding planner just tried to take your head off!"

"Please, just trust me." His hand is still holding onto hers tightly and his hazel eyes are boring into hers. "You trust me, don't you?"

Puck is mussed and sweaty, the clerical collar he has on askew and his other hand still clutching a gun. He certainly doesn't look like a priest now, the rogue voice whispers in her brain. And despite the very dangerous look on his face and the sheer insanity of last couple of minutes, Rachel cannot help but nod. She trusts him with her life. He smiles at this and wraps an arm around her, tucking her against his side before he turns to lead her out the side exit.

Once they get outside, Rachel stumbling slightly over her bulky dress, Puck stops abruptly. She is about to ask him why they stopped when she looks around his body and sees the reason.

A group of men dressed in dark suits and guns are advancing towards them with intent. She gulps in fear. She could understand how Puck could deal with one armed person, maybe even two. But 6? She has tears in her eyes as she looks at him, ready to say her last goodbye looking into the eyes of the man she has never stopped loving.

Instead of panic, she is faced with an air of calmness radiating from him. "Rachel," he whisper in her ear. "I'm gonna need you to duck."

"What?" she asks, confused.

"Duck!"

With those words, she can feel him grasp something in his hand and in an instant, several of the cars lined up along the street in front of them exploded violently in a million pieces, throwing the men nearest to them several hundred feet away and showering the rest in shrapnel. Puck has her running before she could think to look at the aftermath. Encountering a straggler fortunate to escape the blast but unfortunate enough to cross their path, Puck shoots him in his leg to prevent him from following. Hearing the groan of agony from the man and the shouts of the rest of the wedding party behind her, she could only look down at the pink confection she had on and think, Well there goes the 'no-blood-on-the-dress' plan.

He thinks she's in shock. It's not every day random members of the Russian mafia crash your friend's wedding with the mission to kidnap you. He looks over at her as she sits in the passenger seat, her updo in disarray and her lower lip in danger of being gnawed off entirely. He can feel his face softening as he looks at her in her ugly pink dress. Even when she's dressed like a pastel marshmallow, she's still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Noah," her soft voice cuts through his thoughts. "I've been exceedingly patient considering the circumstances but I think now would be a good time to start with the answers."

He almost smiles at her tone. Rachel Berry certainly had not changed. "Okay, shoot."

"What the fuck is going on?" she practically shrieks and he actually winces at the curse. Okay, so maybe some things had changed.

"Do you want the long version or the short one?"

She takes a deep breath and drops her head back against the back of the seat. "At this point, the short version would probably be the only thing my brain can process."

He nods, understanding. "Short version is basically, your dad Leroy made some enemies through his work and because of that work, and all the information on it, those enemies had him killed. They didn't get what they wanted when they offed him so now those people are after you."

She blinks at him with huge brown eyes. "Noah, what are you talking about? Dad was an accountant for a paper company. He died in a car accident. I doubt he was ever part of anything that you accuse him of."

He barks a laugh even as he monitors the rear and side mirrors for any activity behind them. "You know of any other accountants who fly back and forth to Virginia as often as he did?"

"Primatech has a branch there," she counters.

He snorts. "Really? How about going out of the country practically every week? I don't think some podunk paper company would have offices in Zurich or Moscow."

From the corner of his eye, he can see Rachel settle back in her seat with that information. There is a look of numb realization on her face that he hates to have placed there. "I knew your dad pretty well, Rach," he continues softly. "He was a good man and yes, he was a company man. Just a different kind of company."

Silence reigns inside the car as she processes this information. Puck puts his focus back on driving his car, still paranoid that they were being followed. After a couple of minutes, she speaks up again. "Are you a company man, Noah?"

His joyless smile is enough of an answer and he can see her close her eyes in comprehension.

"Is that why you left 4 years ago?" she continues.

"Rach. Don't do this," he pleads.

She explodes at him. "Do what? Ask you to tell me the truth for once?" She shakes her head in anger. "Noah…please."

It is her plaintive whisper that breaks him. He quickly pulls the car over into the parking lot of a McDonald's. Taking a thorough survey of their surroundings, he unclips his seatbelt and turns to face her. For once, he isn't an agent relating to an asset. He's just Noah Puckerman talking to the woman that he had left behind.

"I never wanted to leave you but I didn't have a choice back then."

She turns her back on him and it kills him when he can hear the sound of her crying. He wants to comfort her but doesn't know if she'd allow it. Eventually, her sobs die down. "So what happens now?" she asks hoarsely.

First, he reaches inside his coat and grabs the handkerchief there. After giving it to her (and hearing her meek "Thank you"), he answers the best he can. "Now we go report to my bosses and try to not get you killed. Your dad was working on something big and the Russians killed him for it. But he died before they could find out anything. Which is why they're after you."

"Me?" she exclaims, surprised. "What do I have to do with anything?"

"We don't know yet but we can't be too careful. You are now under our – well, actually my – protective custody until this matter gets resolved."

"But, but...I'm Mary Poppins," she sputters, the shock of the news drying up her tears. He almost laughs at her reaction to leaving her show and Broadway. "I mean, I have a job. I can't just leave it!"

"You're gonna have to. Don't worry, we have ways of covering up why you had to leave," he says placatingly.

Her gaze is furious when she turns to him. "Do you realize what you're asking of me? This is my career, Noah. It's important!"

"Your life is important, okay? So back the fuck down!" he counters, his temper getting the best of him.

They are at an impasse, two stubborn people refusing to submit to the other. He can see her pouting like a 5 year old who'd just been told playtime was over and he just wanted to shake some sense into her. Couldn't she see how important she was to him? He growls under his breath and prepares to launch into another argument when he catches sight of her. Her shoulders are hunched over as she buries her face in her hands and he can tell she is trying to get a hold of her herself with the way her chest heaves as she takes deep, calming breaths.

That's when he remembers. That this isn't just some job and Rachel isn't just another nameless asset or some daughter of a dead agent that he can just order around. She's…Rachel. With that in mind, he makes a split-second decision.

Reaching over the arm rest, he somehow manages to maneuver her out of her seat and into a hug. After her initial surprise, he can feel the tense lines of her body soften as she clings to him and buries her head in his chest. He rubs soothing circles on her back and before he is aware of what he is doing, he is humming Sweet Caroline in her ear.

The sound of her giggle makes him grin. "Sweet Caroline? Really, Noah?" she teases, her voice muffled in his shirt.

"Hey, I know what works, aight?" he replies.

She looks up at him then with a smile on her lips and in her eyes. He looks into those familiar brown eyes and suddenly can't remember why he had left all those years ago in the first place.

"Everything's going to be okay, Rach," he manages to whisper in her ear.

She sighs and tucks her head in his chest once again. "I believe you."

Looking at the time, he realizes that they need to get going if he didn't want the AD riding his ass. She seems to realize this in the change in his posture because she looks up at him apologetically before moving back to her seat. But before she can leave where she was practically sitting on his lap, he snags her arm. "Oh and Rach, one more thing." Before she can ask, he kisses her, slow, soft and sweet. "I missed you," he murmurs.

Within minutes, both of them are back in their seats, buckled in and ready to go. Puck is all business, despite constantly taking peeks at the woman beside him as she occasionally puts her hands to her lips with a stunned look on her face. Once in a while, she even smiles.

"You ready for this, Berry?" he smirks as he revs the engine.

Her answering grin is enough for him. "Bring it, Puckerman."