"Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it.
Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it.
Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it."
- Martin Luther King


If you asked Noah Puckerman how he'd successfully obtained the librarian's lacy underwear that one time in his sophomore year, he would reply that it was simple; chemistry.

If you asked Noah Puckerman how he'd managed to dangle Jacob Ben Israel by his suspenders on the school's flagpole, he'd tell you that a badass couldn't reveal his secrets.

However, if you asked him how he'd ended up shirtless, bleary eyed and stranded on an unknown beach with seaweed in his crotch, he would be absolutely speechless.

And that was exactly what he was now. For the second time in his life – the first being when he was a baby and he hadn't known how to talk yet – Noah Elijah Puckerman couldn't think of a damned thing to say.

Blinking the sand from his eyes, Puck groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunlight as he stared out at the unflinching ocean, its rolling waves now calm and almost blissful. Hours ago – well, he assumed it to be hours ago – they'd been unforgiving, pulling him under their grey clutches, forcing his lungs to struggle for air.

His head throbbed. Leaning to one side, he winced as water leaked from his ear canal. The afternoon sunlight was hot on his back. It warmed him, stopped him from shivering on the sandy surface. As he moved to sit cross-legged, he noticed the leg-rope still tight around his ankle. It had snapped in his struggle against the current. "Damn it," he couldn't help but choke out. His new surfboard had been his seventeenth birthday present. His ma was going to kill him.

As Puck furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the severed leg-rope, trying to remember the exact order of events, his mind flowed with images. There were those that he remembered easily; Finn and Santana, his best friend and his current girlfriend, had been mucking about on the shoreline. He'd been jealous, he recalled. Finn's easy flirtation with Santana just wasn't kosher. There were the images of the ocean; at first warm and inviting, and finally, cold and terrifying. The sky had darkened first, and then the ocean had almost trembled. For a moment, his eyes had connected with Santana's. Then he'd been pulled under.

The other images were blurry. Fantasy or fact, he wasn't exactly sure. He had known that he was drowning. His lungs had felt like lead weights. No matter how hard he had tried to swim, he had felt like his legs were floating there without any real purpose. He had given up.

Then, just as his eyes had fluttered closed, he had felt the strangest thing. Scales; not rough, but smooth, against his leg. If he hadn't been so tired, he might have screamed. He'd been able to open his eyes in the slightest, only to glance at those shiny blue scales, shining bright right in front of his eyes.

They'd disappeared.

Again, he'd felt something brush against his arm. This time, however, it did not feel foreign in texture. Human hands wrapped around his biceps – smalls hands, warm hands – and pulled him upwards. He should have been afraid. He should have been terrified. Yet, somehow, the touch of the hands had soothed him.

From then on, he could remember nothing. He didn't recognise any of the land surrounding him; not the sandy shore or the wooden steps leading up to a pathway covered by overgrown shrubbery. He was well and truly fucked.

Sighing, Puck slowly pulled himself to his feet. He stumbled slightly before righting himself, a hand automatically flying up to rest on his forehead. He was going to have to find some sort of pay phone. Moving slowly, as if he were afraid that we would fall, he began to make his way towards the wooden steps. Whilst he was doing so, he noticed a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. A girl.

His chest tightened. "Hey!" He found himself yelling, suddenly running toward the girl currently trying to get up the stairs. She was stumbling, her footing unsteady. "Hey you! Stop!"

The girl ahead of him looked back, her eyes wide and her mouth ajar. Upon noticing him advancing toward her, she began to move faster. There was something about her that forced Puck to hurtle up the stairs and catch her by surprise.

As his fingers curled around her wrist, Puck felt a shock of electricity run up and down his arm. It was her. The hand that had pulled him up and out of the water; to safety. Somehow he just knew. She looked back at him, her face weary. She tried to gently pull away and he complied. However, when their hands dropped back down to their sides, she continued to stare down at him from the step above. He didn't move away. "You… saved me," he whispered.

The girl wasn't traditionally beautiful. However, there was a certain life and energy in her step that drew him to her in the strangest of ways. She had deep, haunting brown eyes and long, wavy brown hair. Her skin was olive and dotted with small, almost invisible sun-spots on her arms and legs. She held a white sheet around her body, her knuckles white and her knees shaking slightly.

Puck coughed awkwardly. "Thanks."

The girl didn't say anything. Instead, she nodded and began to make her way up the steps once more.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, hurrying after her. They scurried over the overgrown plants, all the while breathing in the salty, sandy air surrounding them. The girl moved with a gracefulness that Puck had never seen before. He was entranced; not himself. Noah Puckerman didn't think of girls like this. They were meat. "Wait!"

He chased her. It didn't take long to catch her again; although she seemed to be getting better at it, she still wasn't very adept at moving without uncertainty. They darted back and forth; like they were playing a children's game. Every once in a while, the balance of power would change. Puck would be winning, and then she would be. Eventually, he managed to corner her against a tree.

She was smiling slightly, a light blush on her cheeks as she looked up at him. He ran a hand through his 'hawk and looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say. What did you say to the girl who just saved you from almost certain death? Thanks, I'll see you around sometime, babe?

"What's your name?" He settled for.

She wrinkled her brow and gave him a confused look. He repeated himself, though his question only produced the same reaction. Puck frowned. "You speak English, right?"

The girl just smiled at him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Right. Well, I'll… I'll take you home, 'kay?" Turning his head, he surveyed the area. They were situated at the top of a cliff, just next to a road. Houses lined the opposite side, flanked with white picket fences and rose gardens. Luckily, Puck recognised the area. He hadn't washed up too far from the beach that he, Santana and Finn had begun their afternoon at.

He looked back at the mysterious brunette, gestured for her to follow him across the road. She walked forwards slowly, though not as if she were afraid.

At this moment a car drove past, startling her. She squealed; in excitement or fear Puck wasn't sure. She backed away, pressed her back against the tree once more. Puck resisted the urge to groan. "You've never seen a car before?" He asked her. She shook her head. That, at least, he found himself thinking, is a step.

"Come on."

After some more encouragement on Puck's part, the girl followed him across the road. They walked a few hundred metres, down a hill and further into the mainland, away from the beach. He noticed that the further they got from the ocean, the more distressed the girl became. She cast worried glances back toward the coastline every few seconds. Fuckin' weird.

They reached the bottom of the hill. Puck paused, sighed as she stared at a nearby seagull as if she knew the creature. Amazingly, she knelt down beside it and stroked its feathers. Puck couldn't believe his eyes. "I-I wouldn't touch those if I were you," he spat out, unsure what else to say, "They're covered in germs and shit."

She beamed at him; her eyes filled with laughter.

His own eyes wide and confused, Puck exhaled deeply. "So, this is how it goes… Thanks for, you know, saving my life or whatever…" He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly uncomfortable. The white sheet draped around her body had slipped slightly, revealing the top of an olive-skinned breast. He felt like he should look away for some reason that he couldn't really explain. Something about… respect. "But I need you to tell me where you live so that I can walk you there…"

The girl pressed a light kiss to the forehead of the seagull, which hadn't moved an inch since she had started petting it. Puck raised his eyebrows. "Or, uh… well, I guess you should borrow some clothes first."

He gently grabbed her arm and led her away from the seagull, who squawked at him. The seagull's pissed at me? It really was a strange day.

They reached his house. An empty police vehicle was parked out the front. Puck gulped and looked back at the girl. Realising how hard it would be to explain her presence, he pulled her away from the front of the house and down the side of it, through a wooden gate and toward his bedroom window. He peered inside, checking that his family weren't in there.

"Alright, then. You wait here, 'kay? I'll be back in five minutes to open the window and let you in," he told her firmly once he was assured that the coast was clear. She didn't respond. Instead, she stared, enraptured by the water tap attached to the side of his house. Her arm stretched out for it. Sensing what she was going to do, he quickly blocked her hand and got her to look him in the eyes. "Don't do anything, don't touch anything, don't go anywhere... Got it?"

Slowly, she nodded once more.

Shaking his head, he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look as composed as he possibly could. Surfing accident? No big deal for the Puckerone. He did shit like that every day.

Upon opening the front door, his mother screamed and pulled him in for a hug, crushing him in her fragile arms. "Noah…" she whispered. Her breath was familiar and comforting against his neck. His little sister, Sarah, enveloped her tiny arms around his legs. "We thought that something terrible had happened."

His ma released him from her iron grip, though Sarah remained attached to her older brother. "Well, I'm fine," he told them, suddenly anxious that the mysterious girl had already ran away. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do if she had. He turned to face the two police officers standing a few metres away from the family of three. "Aren't I, officers?"

"Seems so," muttered one of them, eying him with distaste. Puck couldn't say he liked the guy either. They'd been the officers who had arrested him after stealing an ATM and driving off with it attached to his truck. It hadn't been a good day. "Still, we'd like to ask you some questions-"

"Can it wait?" Puck interrupted brusquely, ruffling Sarah's hair as he gently untangled her arms from around his legs. He made an attempt to move past his mother and further down the hallway, though one glare from the woman who had raised him stopped him in his tracks. "I just got back from a near death experience."

"You don't seem like it," one of the policemen muttered, his eyes narrowed.

"Adrenaline," Puck replied, shrugging. This time, when he tried to move past his mother, she only sighed, slightly disappointed that he hadn't really changed following his brief stint in juvenile detention. She had thought that he would have learnt his lesson.

"Santana called," she told him sternly. "You should get back to her immediately, Noah."

He wasn't really listening as he hurried down the hallway. "Yeah, I will!" He called over his shoulder; a hand raised in a gesture that could almost be described as dismissive. He left his mother and sister with the two middle-aged cops, who they presumably let outside.

Puck reached his bedroom and slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. He rushed over to the window and peered out. At first, he didn't see her. Panic filled him and for a moment he was considering running back to the beach to find her. The connection he felt to the girl was strange. He'd never felt anything like that before.

Unexpectedly, her head popped up out of nowhere. Puck, at first shocked at her sudden appearance, collected himself and grimaced at her. "So, you actually listened to me this time..."

She beamed.

Letting her inside through the window, he watched, transfixed, as she stared at the photographs of himself and his friends. There were photos from parties, from football matches, and even from Junior Prom. He couldn't help but notice as her face fell slightly upon noticing the photograph of him and Santana wrapped in an intimate hug.

"Oh. You need clothes," he mumbled under his breath. He flung open his closet door and searched for something that seemed alright for her to wear. Tossing aside anything that seemed too smelly or too large, he ended up handing her a black t-shirt and a pair of cotton boxer shorts. He realised that that was slightly creepy, but he really couldn't think of anything else to give her. His pants would swamp her tiny frame.

She stared at the clothes, unsure of what to do with them.

"You put them on," he attempted to explain. "It's simple. You just… you know, pull the shirt down over your head and the shorts up and over your legs."

The girl, although still slightly confused, nodded mutely. He began to make his way out of the room so that she could change.

"Thank you, Noah."

He stopped, frozen, at the sound of her voice. It was stilted, like she was still insecure when using words. Still, it was English all the same. Puck said the only thing he could think of saying; "My name isn't Noah… Well, it is, but… people call me Puck now."

She shook her head shyly. "Noah."

"Puck," he said again.

She laughed. Her whole face was alight. "Noah!"

"Seriously," he affirmed, "It's Puck."

"Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah, Noah, No-"

He ran across the room and pressed his hand against her mouth to stop her from chanting his name. "Shut up," he hissed, though not too harshly, "Ma will hear you."

"Noah?"

Puck froze again, though not at the sound of the girl's voice. Instead, it was his mother that he had heard. He could hear her footfalls echoing in the hallway beyond. Fuck, he thought, hastily dropping his hand from the girl's mouth and leading her over to the curtains. He pushed her gently behind them and covered her with the fabric as best as he possibly could. She giggled. He rolled his eyes.

"You have to be quiet," he warned her. "She can't know that you're here."

Puck didn't know how to explain the presence of a practically naked girl who could barely speak English in his room – especially when he had a girlfriend. Besides, the girl would be gone soon. He wouldn't have to explain anything at all as long as she remained quiet.

His bedroom door opened slowly. Mrs. Puckerman poked her head inside, her face wrinkled with suspicion. "What's going on, Noah?"

"Nothing," he said a little too quickly. Hastily realising this, he tried to relax himself. "Why?"

"I heard… someone," she replied, narrowing her eyes. They darted about his room, looking for any sign of trouble. They lingered on the curtains for a while, and Puck was sure that she had seen the tiny olive feet sticking out from underneath the blue fabric. However, she soon looked away, instead focusing her attentions on her only son. "Never mind. I must be getting old," she muttered. With that, she shut the door behind her.

Puck exhaled, relieved. The girl jumped out from behind the curtains, still holding his clothes. "Okay. That was good. Now, I'll get out of here and you can change."

He left her to figure out how to dress herself for a good ten minutes. Upon his return, he found her jumping up and down on his bed. "Are you trying to get me grounded?" He hissed, pulling her down from the mattress. She laughed and poked him in the ribs, much to his annoyance. "Just stop! For one second!"

She stared at him blankly.

"I gotta take you home now. So, where's it gonna be?"

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at him again. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on. Where do you live?"

She paused. Her eyes flickered across his face and landed on the far wall; which was covered in surfing posters. She walked over to one and pointed at a giant, blue wave. Puck had to fight back a wince as he thought about his earlier experience. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he stared at her, unsurprised.

"You live… in the ocean?" He questioned sarcastically.

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah… right. You're crazier than I thought you were," he uttered almost sadly, running a hand through his hair. Sighing, he realised what he was going to have to do. "Alright. You'll have to stay here then. Until tomorrow, at least, when I can figure out what I'm going to do with you."

"Noah," she said again, smiling. He noticed, absentmindedly, that she had put his shirt on inside-out. Well, what did you expect? His conscience reminded him.

"I told you. Puck," he replied. He automatically began peeling the bed sheets backwards on his single bed. He took the top-most layer and placed it on the floor. Tonight, he would not sleep well. But he had known that anyway. Who slept well following their almost death? "You can sleep in my bed tonight. I'll take the floor."

He went out into the living room and pinched a cushion from off of the sofa. Returning and placing it gently on the sheet he'd prepared for himself, he noticed that the girl had already made herself comfortable in his bed. It was only five o'clock. Yet, he understood her fatigue. His muscles were screaming out for a rest.

He locked his bedroom door and settled into his own makeshift divan, allowing himself to relax. Today, he should have died. In actuality, he had been saved by a mysterious girl; the girl who rested just above and to his left. That warranted an extra four or five hours sleep.

As he let his eyes fall closed, he listened to the sound of her breathing. In the tender rhythm he could discern the calm rise and fall of breaking waves, and the undertone of a beautiful, melodious singing voice.