A/N: I've had major writer's block, but I hope this tiny little story marks the return of my muse. More or less canon through "Extraordinary Merry Christmas"
Fair warning. No happy fluffy Puckleberry ending. It's a little bittersweet and in keeping with current (icky) plot development.
"Noah, can you please come get me?"
It was odd for Rachel to be calling him in the first place. Add to that the slight tremble in her voice, and the way she spoke, barely above a whisper, and Puck was immediately on alert.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" He jammed his feet in his shoes even as he asked.
"I-I'm fine Noah, I just . . . I m-might have done something a little, um, rash . . . I didn't want Finn to overreact, but I thought you'd . . . just come, Noah, please?"
Her words were soft and rushed and not making him feel any better. He was already down the stairs and heading for the front door.
"I will. I am. But you're kinda freaking me out. Where are you?"
"I'm hiding in Sarah McAlister's treehouse. Just pull up behind her house, and I'll run down. Hurry. Oh, and don't come down Pine. I don't think Bo or Skeeter saw me, but be careful."
And then she was gone. It was 11:30 on a Thursday night, and nothing about this sat well with Puck. Rachel should be at home. She should be one and a half hours into her eight hours of sleep. She should not be hiding in a broken old treehouse, sounding scared shitless, and she definitely shouldn't be anywhere near Bo and Skeeter.
As Rachel huddled in the treehouse, trying not to jump at every sound, she wished she'd thought this through a little better. The reality of her own foolishnish was setting in and she was beginning to shake. For weeks someone had been breaking into cars in the McKinley High School parking lot. Most of the thefts had happened in the evenings while extra curricular activities were going on, so many of the members of Glee had been hit. Principal Figgins had stomped and shouted about the whole thing, but his efforts to catch the perpetrators had been utterly ineffectual. She was livid when her ipod was stolen (bedazzling it to her liking had been no small task). She was angry when Finn's duffel bag, and Kurt's leather satchel had come up missing. None of that was what sent her on her stakeout. It was the harmonica.
Puck hadn't taken it well when Shelby left again. Rachel told herself it was't really about Shelby, and for the most part she believed it. If he was given to talking about it, which he wasn't, he'd probably credit a lot of his pain to losing Beth again, but she doubted he'd acknowledge that a big piece of it belonged to his father as well. He wanted a family. The kind of solid family he hadn't had since his father left. The kind he'd really only had glimpses of before that.
He'd taken to spending lunch alone in on the outskirts of the parking lot. He'd sit in the back of his truck playing his green aluminium harmonica and staring out at nothing. He had a history of lashing out when he was hurt or upset, and surprisingly, Rachel wished he would return to that pattern. Anything was better than the sad hollow thing he had going. Several times she thought about going to talk to him, but considering Finn and all the water under that bridge, she thought better of it.
She remembered the harmonica, even though she hadn't seen that thing in over a decade. Didn't know he still had it. The summer they were 6 he brought it to JCC Day Camp every day for two weeks. He'd always had an affinity for instruments, and it didn't take him long to figure out how to make music rather than noise with it. His father had given it to him and he practiced every day. Once his dad even took him to play music with "the guys" and he was over the moon. To say his father was inconsistent would be a generous description, so that summer, with him mostly sober and home more than usual, Puck had soaked up the attention like a sponge. That fall his father left.
Puck scowled at her as he dropped Finn's duffel bag beside his bed.
"What the hell were you thinking Rachel? Bo and Skeeter are no joke. If they'd have caught you . . ." Unwilling to finish the sentence, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly before hauling her against his chest. Still quite rattled, she leaned into his strength and allowed him to hold her for a few minutes rocking subtly back and forth. After a bit she pulled her self together, stepped away, and started to pace.
"I didn't think it through. It was just supposed to be a stakeout. I was going to call the police as soon as I found out who was responsible for the thefts, but when I saw them skulking away from Brittany's car I was so mad I just didn't think. I followed them and waited in the bushes. When they left I picked the lock - thanks for that skill, by the way. I was going on adrenaline or instinct or something and I wanted to get some of our stuff back. I didn't expect them to come home again so soon."
All her pacing gave puck a chance to take in her outfit and for the first time his scowl gave way to the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Not that you don't make a hot cat burglar, but damn Rach, don't ever do anything that stupid again."
Rachel sighed and rolled her neck, willing the tension from her body before dropping her gaze and fiddling with the edge of her pocket. "Thank you for coming to get me. I was afraid to walk any farther, in case they were looking for me."
He didn't really want to think about it anymore. He wanted to put his arms around her again, but he could see that she was deliberately keeping her distance. Now that she was calming down she was, no doubt, thinking about the fact that they were alone in his bedroom. Shit. It's not like he'd try anything. She ought to know that. But still, Finn wouldn't like it and that was enough to make Rachel uncomfortable.
For a minute it was just awkward and silent, then she pulled her hand from her pocket and thrust it at him. When he reached out she grabbed his hand and pressed the harmonica into his palm.
"You'll have it one day, Noah. You will. You'll be an amazing father."
He squeezed her hand for just a moment then looked away, fighting down the tightness in his chest. After a couple of deep breaths he voiced the fear that had been eating him alive. "She was here, in my life, and I just . . . I don't ever want her to think I left her on purpose."
This time it was Rachel who hugged him. She didn't really know what to say to that so she tightened her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.
Rachel turned her haul over to Figgins the next day. She couldn't come up with a way to turn the thieves in without explaining what she'd done, so she'd come out with it. She left Puck's part out since both Finn and Figgins were likely to skew the story to fit their own notions, but otherwise she came clean. Finn, of course was not happy about the whole thing, but really, Puck couldn't blame him. He hadn't been happy either. He listened to the story as if he hadn't already heard the whole thing, and watched Rachel settle Finn down and assure him she would never do such a thing again. As Finn slung an arm around Rachel's shoulders he murmured in her hair.
"I'm just glad nothing happened to you. All that stuff is just stuff. It can be replaced."
Rachel's eyes flicked briefly to Puck. "Not all of it." Then she squeezed an arm around Finn's waist and headed for the door.