He wrote her letters.

Yeah, it was kind of a pansy thing to do, like Romeo & Juliette kinda crap, but he did it.

2 letters to be exact.

See, at juvie, computer time was a reward for good behavior. He couldn't just log onto facebook and comment on Quinn's new photos before bed, like he used to. Nope, he was back to pencil and paper at juvie; and it turned out he had a lot to say.

He wrote the first one and waited six days for a reply. Nothing came. He even wrote the address perfect, he knew. So he wrote a second. He didn't have time to write a third one. When he got back to school, he knew why she didn't reply. Sam had performed a robbery on his girl.

Quinn knew what the letter was when she saw Puck's distinctive scrawl on the envelope. He always wrote her name the same - the capital Q looping into itself like an 8, the "uinn" tiny next to it. He used to write her name all the time when he passed her notes in class. She ran upstairs and lay on her bed to read it, like a little girl.

He started off with complaints about the food, and his bunkmate, and said he'd rather be "sucking off coach Beiste" than stay in juvie any longer. Quinn had rolled her eyes at that part. Then he told her he missed her. Well, he said he missed seeing her in her cheerio's uniform. But then he really did tell her he missed her. And Beth. Quinn stared at the name, imagining Puck writing it just as carefully as he wrote hers. A tear fell onto the letter. Before he signed his own name, he wrote, "I love you."

And there aren't any girls here. Even if there were, it wouldn't be the same. I think about you all the time, like over the summer, when I saw you by the park pool. I know you saw me too, I was riding past on my bike. Your hair was soaking wet and dripping. You were laughing at Santana but I know you saw me, and you stayed smiling. I know it's not really a Puck thing to say, but things changed since Beth. I can't stop thinking about you, about us.

No one at school cared. They'd toss him around from juvie to class, from football practice to glee practice. His mom wanted to see him in synagogue. She wanted to see him at home before 8. He was just a body in motions, tossed from place to place. Sometimes he had to sing just to remind himself he had a soul. He tried to remember the last time someone saw him, really looked through him and saw.

He remembered it was every moment he spent with Quinn. The way she'd see through his lies, his excuses, and his games. How she'd call him out on everything. And yeah, it was frustrating, and yeah, he wanted her to just shut up sometimes, but sometimes just so he could kiss her. Even if she was pissed, she really did care where he was when he didn't get home until midnight. She didn't let his time in juvie become a bragging, storytelling romp about waffles, like Santana or the guys on the team. She wouldn't even talk to him about it. She was so mad, and in some deep, twisted way, that's how he knew she still cared.

"This is why we couldn't have kept her," Quinn hissed at him at her locker while pulling out her geometry book, "Because I'd be using all her diaper money on bailing you out of jail!" He reached for her arm, but she pulled it away. Reluctantly, she did stop digging through her locker to look up at him, her eyebrow arched in question.

"If we kept her, we'd still be together." He said simply.

"Exactly," she said and slammed her locker door shut.

Babe, I know you didn't write back from the last letter but that's ok. I know I've fucked up, a lot. And I'm not just saying this stuff because I'm locked up and it sucks…I should've told you all this stuff awhile ago. I'm sorry I didn't. I'm sorry for everything. I wish we could've kept Beth. I wish we could've had a life together, a little family. It's too late for Beth now. It's not too late for us.

She got the second letter a few days before Puck's return to school. She was reading it on her bed when Sam nudged the door open and Quinn jumped, shoving the letter under her pillow and wiping her eyes.

"Sorry...is this a... bad time?" he asked awkwardly. She looked over at him, wiping her eye again and faking a smile.

"No, I was just, uh...I was praying," she said quietly. Sam nodded and sat on the edge of her bed. "I need to talk to you about something," she told him. He looked up at her with questioning eyes.

Puck actually used his call in the jail to call Quinn. That whole thing about only having one phone call really is true, and Puck was thrilled because he had thought about it before. He knew he'd want to call Quinn. For awhile, he thought it'd be pretty badass to call Principle Figgins, or to just prank call anyone, but when the time came, he knew who he wanted to talk to. Of course, Quinn was pissed. They barely spoke all summer. At the end of the conversation, which was limited to her incredulous shouting and his curt replies, her voice lowered and she asked,

"so I was your call?"

"Yeah, babe," he said to her. "You always have been." He heard her sigh, and then the phone clicked. His mom showed up fifteen minutes later. No matter how mad Quinn was, she wouldn't have left him in jail alone. His mom wasn't even that angry. She just kind of rolled her eyes, like this is what she's come to expect -to bail her sixteen year old son out of jail. It pissed Puck off...but mostly it made him sad.

"I got your letters," Quinn approached Puck, who was putting his guitar in its case after glee rehearsals.

"You didn't write back," he said, still bent over the case, not looking up at her.

"I...I didn't know what to say." He looked over at her as he snapped the lock closed.

"You could've told me about you and fishlips," he said. Quinn smiled slightly at the nickname.

"I couldn't. I didn't know if anything would happen, I just..." she sighed. He could tell she was thinking carefully about what to say next, and her words came out very thoughtfully. "I broke up with Sam." Puck's eyes shot up at Quinn.

"When?" he asked eagerly.

"A few days ago," she said quietly. She stepped closer to Puck and put her hand on his arm. "It wasn't fair for me to give someone else a chance...when we didn't really get a chance." "

"So...does that mean we're...together?" his eyes were so hopeful. Quinn missed it, when Puck actually tried. When he cared.

"I'm scared," she said in a whisper. Puck took her hand and squeezed it. "Things between us have never really been..."

"Normal?" He said, laughing. She giggled too. "Look," he said in a more serious tone, "I want to try this time. Really try." A smile was still on Quinn's lips.

"No sexts?"

"No sexts."

"No juvie?"

"No jurvie," he confirmed. Now, they were both smiling. He pulled her into a hug and Quinn was surprised to notice that he smelled exactly how he did before -same body wash, same laundry detergent, same spearmint scent of his tobacco.

"I've missed you," she breathed.

"I never want to miss you again," he said, holding her closer.