so, first timer in fanfiction here. persuaded by the lovely cLeoo and anniepear to actually do something with the horde of writing on my laptop.

hopefully this works out better than my love life…

moving on, here is my go at a sisters grimm story – unlike my lying friends, I actually will update consistently, because I already have these chapters all written down and just need to edit them up a bit before posting.

im the overachiever of the group obviously.

but enough about me being the superior fanfiction writer to my two friends (which yeah, I am (just kidding they're amazing)). let's just concentrate on the story, shall we?

disclaimer: yeah, it's pretty obvious, I'm not micheal buckley - is that even how you spell micheal?

also, this fic is rated T for, um, language definitely, as well as stressful moments and medical things that i guess could be seen as violent to some people. so dont read if that stuff makes you uncomfortable.

Ch.1: The Day Puck's Life Explodes

"Well that was fun."

Sabrina rolls her eyes at him, which Puck knew would be her reaction to his comment, but he has a reputation as Sabrina's number one source of annoyance to keep up, and he's not going to do it by taking near-death scenarios seriously.

"I don't know if I'd classify almost getting killed as fun," she returns easily. There are a few stray strands of blonde hair dangling in front of her eyes, no doubt pulled out of her ponytail in the chaos of the past few minutes. She blows them out of the way, but they fall right back into place. Part of Puck is sappy enough to want to tuck them behind her ear.

The other part of him is well aware that Sabrina would punch him for doing something so stupid and that he is above such things as feelings and showing them. So instead, he makes another comment that is sure to earn him a glare.

They don't call him a masochist for nothing.

"That's your problem. Life's all about finding joy in the simple things," he says.

Sure enough, Sabrina shoots him an annoyed look. "Like how much I want to throw you out of this building?"

He smiles. "Exactly."

Sabrina intensifies her glare by pursing her lips together before she just lets out this long sigh, like it takes all of her patience to even be in the same room as Puck.

"Sometimes I actually do want to throw you out of a window, you know," she says.

Puck does know. It's fairly obvious that, even without trying, he is an object of nothing but irritation in Sabrina's life. "No, I didn't."

She crosses her arms and gives him a doubtful look, but her lips are twitching up in a slight grin. "Then I hate to say it, but you're more of an idiot than I thought."

He nods. "Can't say I'm surprised."

Then she's actually grinning, teeth and everything, and her eyes crinkle up like they always do and Puck has to try his hardest not to make any sort of reaction that would let her know how much he's affected by something so simple. They're quiet for a bit, and he's thinking of saying something stupid, just to see if it'll make her smile too, but before he can she's clicking the small band on her wrist, courtesy of Uncle Jake.

"Mission accomplished. All of the Everafters here are currently unconscious and ready for questioning. We didn't get their new Master, but I'm sure one of them will fess up."

"Good job. Are you both alright?" Veronica's voice answers. Puck grew up surrounded by magic, so the ability to communicate through the simple wrist-band is not one that is altogether impressive to him. If anything, it reminds him more of technology than magic – couldn't they just use walkie-talkie's as opposed to rare, magical communication bracelets?

The only thing really impressive in this situation is Veronica's ability to still ask that with so much worry in her voice after Sabrina and Puck's umpteenth time of executing missions like this. Ever since the Everafters got let out of their dome, the Grimms put it upon themselves to keep the peace between the sometimes irritable Everafters and the ever-oblivious humans. Puck and Sabrina had been labeled too-young to do anything intense at first, but four years later and the Grimms had them pegged as good fighting material. Now, they got tasked with most of the hands-on peace keeping. They'd been doing it for a year now, but only recently had things gotten really serious with the rumors of a new Scarlet Hand rising. The mission they just completed was actually taking out one of the so-called "bases" of the organization. If a worn-down building could count as a base, and if a group of violent radicals could be called an organization.

Either way, they had accomplished their goal with flying colors, besides that there hadn't been any signs of the whispered about Master of this new Scarlet Hand. Puck is certain that he can get one of the Everafters currently scattered unconscious throughout the building to talk though.

"We're all good here," Sabrina answers, a bit of the tension in her shoulders sagging away as her mother lets out a breath of relief. Puck, already bored, starts walking around the room they're in, the topmost one of the building. Some of the furniture is knocked over, and there is a desk in the center of the room that has all its drawers open and empty.

Puck would bet his entire meager allowance that this was where the Master worked. He (or she, for that matter) was probably here only minutes ago, and grabbed all his important stuff before fleeing the scene.

Puck balls his fists together at his sides. They had been so close. There probably wouldn't be another opportunity like this for a while now, and when there was, the Everafters would no doubt be more careful because of what happened today.

Out of frustration, Puck kicks at one of the still standing pieces of furniture in the room, a tall cabinet of sorts. It falls over much more easily than he anticipated, crashing to the ground with the sound of breaking wood. Sabrina whips around, and Puck gives her his most winning smile.

"Just checking for booby traps," he says. She raises one eyebrow before going back to the conversation with her mom, something about "we'll be back soon" and "wish we would've got him" and "bring them in for questioning." Puck just watches her for a bit. It's something he's been doing a lot recently, much to his annoyance. Honestly, how obvious is he going to make this? But it's kind of hard not to. She's dressed in their standard outfit, a black getup that looks right out of a spy movie, and it's form fitting in a way that just isn't fair to Puck. Her ponytail is sagging against her neck, those few pale blonde strands dancing in front of her eyes. There's some dust and grime smudged on her face, and she's still sweating from the exertion of their fight, droplets of perspiration making her skin slick and shiny.

Puck thinks that in that moment, she may be she the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's a thought he tries to banish, because he got punched in the stomach that one time he did try something (even if it was five years ago), but it's kind of hard when she's standing there in all her ridiculous beauty and kick-ass-ness.

So instead, he just tries not to stare and promises he'll sort through his confusing feelings once they get home. She catches him looking and crinkles her eyebrows together in a question, hand still hovering beside her face as she listens to her mom talk about how they'll get him next time and how she's proud of Sabrina and all the customary motherly pride. Puck just shakes his head and turns around, acting like he actually is checking for booby traps or something.

That's when he sees it. At the base of the wall, previously covered up by the cabinet he'd tipped over – a large metal cylinder bolted onto the floorboard, and on top, a tablet with colorful wires running out of it attaching to both ends of the cylinder. And, most importantly it seemed, the big red numbers counting down on the tablet's screen. Puck's watched enough action movies to know what this is. His insides go cold and, with her back to him, Sabrina doesn't see a thing. The numbers reach 0:01.

Puck moves before his thoughts have even fully formed, shouting out a "get down!" and throwing himself in Sabrina's general direction. She doesn't even have time to look surprised, to turn around, before Puck is wrapping himself around her, pressing his body full-flush against hers and throwing them both as far from the bomb as possible and-

The world explodes. The noise is deafening, a roar that swallows up everything else, and there is heat licking Puck's back, heat and pain and the white hot color that has engulfed what was previously the room. It's earth-shaking, ear-splitting, shattering. Everything is fire and agony and the world boils around him, searing his blood and his body as if to leave no trace of him behind. He feels tears burning down his cheeks, and he tries to scream but the air in his lungs, in the entire room, has boiled too and there's nothing he can do with it. It hurts, holy shit does it hurt, more than anything he's felt before, hurts and hurts and hurts-

His arms are still around Sabrina, and he feels her curled tight against his chest, and they're falling and crashing when suddenly Puck's head hits against something too hard, too sharp, and in that moment nothing hurts anymore.

Everything fades into black.

*.*.*

The first thing that registers is what Puck assumes is light. It's disorienting at first, because he forgot what it was to see light, to actually have any means to see anything for that matter. But after an indeterminable amount of time passes, he decides that yeah, light's the only good explanation for the muted glow behind his closed eyelids.

For a few moments, it doesn't make sense. The light, the confusion, the thick haze surrounding his mind; and then it all comes back to him.

Scarlet Hand.

The bomb.

Sabrina.

He goes to open his eyes as the sudden panic flares up inside him, only to find that he can't. Which is honestly not reassuring. He tries to, really does, but as hard as he strains nothing seems to happen.

Fucking useless he's become.

But slowly, as his mind gradually begins to fit together the pieces, he becomes aware of other things. The sound of various machines beeping. The sharp scent of antiseptic hovering around him. A thin blanket draped across his arms, and yes, he's slowly starting to feel the rest of his body as well. But with that comes the pain. It's not too bad, not like before, just a dull ache that he has a hunch would be much worse if he weren't in his current state. It's stronger in certain places – his legs, arms, his head – but not so bad that he can't focus on anything else, like the thin sting of something sharp – needles? – stuck in the back of his hands, the crook of his elbows, and his left wrist, or the heavy feeling of bandage wrapped over basically everything.

It's then that he realizes with this crawling feeling of horror that there's a tube inserted into his mouth, hard plastic that – shit – goes way further than anything solid ever should. He feels himself beginning to panic with the need to breathe, and fuck this thing is gagging him and choking him and why the hell is it here in the first place when – oh. He feels the gentle, rhythmic rise of his ribcage, perfectly in time with the whooshing, puffing sound he hears coming from the general direction of the rest of the machines. It takes him a while to grasp the concept of letting a tube breathe for him, and it's not altogether something he finds he enjoys, rather uncomfortable and intrusive and a bit fucked up.

It's then that he tries to open his eyes again, because he really wants to know what the hell is going on here and as helpful as touch and smell and all of that shit is, sight is a really big factor in knowing if Sabrina is here as well, but it's to no avail. He attempts moving other parts of his body, maybe just stirring a bit in what he assumes is a hospital bed, or just twitching one of his fingers, but nothing happens.

Which doesn't entirely surprise him, but isn't welcome news either. Instead, he's stuck lying in the bed, trying not to get too irritated at the fact that he can feel his hands resting on his chest but can't do anything to move either.

So instead, he thinks. Where am I? What's going on? What happened? Is Sabrina ok? His brain pushes and strains to make up for the lack of his body being able to, and that's all he can do, lay there and think and let the breathing tube do what his lungs should be doing.

He doesn't know how much time has passed, but suddenly, there's the sound of a door opening and the clink of footsteps meaning someone is walking in. Normally his body would tense up, but instead it just sits there, so he lets his mind do all the tensing instead. He's just starting to think that maybe this is just some random nurse when he hears a sigh and yep, that's Veronica all right.

The two are silent for a bit, before Veronica sighs again. "Oh Puck."

There's this choked up sadness in her voice that Puck can't imagine is there because of him – unless it is, which is as shocking as it is confusing.

And somehow, touching.

The door opens again, and there is another set of footsteps, these slower and more hesitant.

"Daphne," Veronica says. "Are you ok?"

There is no response, so Puck assumes she either nodded or shook her head. See, this is the sort of stuff he misses without control of certain things like his fucking eyeballs.

"I just wanna know if he'llbe ok," a voice that is undeniably Daphne's responds. It's softer than usual, and Puck can't help but feel bad for making it that way. "What even happened?"

"Well, judging by what managed to transmit through Sabrina's band…"

There is a clicking sound and the shuffle of Daphne walking closer before what he recognizes as Sabrina's voice fills the room. He has a momentary second of relief so strong he's sure his body will react somehow to it, because fucking Jesus Sabrina's alright. His body doesn't move though. And a second later, he realizes the voice is just a playback of the conversation between Sabrina and Veronica… yesterday? Two days ago? Puck has no idea how much time has passed, and it's probably that that kills him the most.

"Good job. Are you both alright?" a scratchy version of Veronica's voice says.

"We're all good here," Sabrina's equally as metallic voice responds. There's a bit more talking, nothing Puck hasn't heard before, and then he's listening to himself shriek "get down!" and the tinny but still cataclysmic roar of the explosion consuming everything before the recording descends into static.

"A bomb?" Daphne asks.

"Something of the sorts, I'm assuming. And judging by what we hear through just a simple recording device… a big one at that. They're lucky to be alive."

Puck already knows about the bomb and how big it is, but it's the last part that he latches onto. They're. Meaning multiple people. Meaning Sabrina's alive. His mind begins to spin as the sentence shoots through it in every variation possible: Sabrina's ok, Sabrina's safe, Sabrina's gonna live.

"Throwing himself on top of 'Brina though… jeez," Veronica adds. "I'm grateful of course, but I don't know what he was thinking, that crazy son of a…"

Veronica trails off, no doubt for Daphne's sake, but Puck gets the general gist of the comment.

Yeah, well, fuck you very much, Veronica.

"He was just trying to save her," Daphne says, and he really loves that girl, always there to defend him.

"Yeah, by throwing his own life to the wind," Veronica returns. "It's like he has no self-preservation instincts whatsoever."

Puck can't help but feel like the conversation is about to turn to berating his life choices, but it's not like he can do anything about it, so he just sits there pathetically and mentally gets himself comfortable for a talk that could last for a while when the door opens, effectively cutting off all talking and saving his ass.

This time, it's not footsteps but the unmistakable squeak of wheels that enters the room. There is a palpable shift in the atmosphere – Puck doesn't have to be completely, well, alive to feel it.

"Sabrina," Veronica says, her voice an equal mix of surprise and disapproval, "you shouldn't be out of your room."

"Yeah, well, I am," is the snapped reply, and shit is she feeling a little feistier than usual. None of the others respond, besides who he assumes is Daphne making this little whimper-y noise, and the wheeling sound comes closer, accompanied with the sharp breathing of someone obviously in some serious pain.

The noise hurts some part of him, or maybe that's just the pain from everything else, but either way, he doesn't like it. He was supposed to save her, for fuck's sake. Can't even do that right either, it seems.

At least she's alive though. It could've been worse.

"How is he?" Sabrina asks, voice much closer than it was seconds ago.

"Sabrina," Veronica says, voice low and cautious with an obvious warning.

Sabrina either doesn't pick up on it or doesn't care, because she only wheels a bit closer and says again, with a tone that brooks no argument, "How is he?"

There's this tense silence for a few long moments, filled only with the continuing whir and beep of machines, and Puck thinks for a second Sabrina's mom is going to banish her back to her room, but then Veronica's sighing (again) and there is the rustling of papers from above him and then, she's talking.

"Well, the burns are pretty severe, as are the other physical injuries, but my – our – main concern is this."

The annoying part is, Puck can only hear the rustling of the document being passed from Veronica to Sabrina. So he doesn't know what "this" is. Judging by the monumental silence, it's not good though.

"What do they mean?" Sabrina's asking, and her voice is quiet where it once was firm.

"The CTs show considerable swelling in parts of the brain, here and here," Veronica says. "With the sound of that bomb, I'm actually surprised it's not more than that. We've managed to relieve some of the pressure, but there's most likely been some degree of brain trauma inflicted already."

For a second, Puck's confused about how Veronica seems to know all of this fancy doctor stuff before he remembers that she graduated in the medical field and has been working as the Grimms' personal doctor for a while now. The fact that he couldn't remember that off the bat is a little bit concerning, but he blames the drugs no doubt in his system, not the speculated brain trauma.

"But he will get better, right?" Sabrina asks.

Veronica doesn't say anything at first, which doesn't give Puck a very good feeling at all. When she does speak, she sounds more sorry than Puck's ever heard her.

"Sabrina, I don't want to have to make assumptions based on-"

"I want to know."

There is more silence, and Puck can practically feel the stare down happening above his useless body.

"Please," Sabrina says, and her voice isn't supposed to sound like that – tired and afraid and broken.

Veronica sighs for the third time and answers carefully. "He might recover. He might not. It's hard to say at this point, but I've seen people recover from worse. Puck's young and healthy, but even if he does wake up there may be significant impairment of cognitive function, among other things."

The fuck? Puck can cognate just fine, thanks, traumatic brain injury or no. If he could just open his eyes and give them all one of his signature eye rolls than Veronica would stop spouting this nonsense and see how very wrong she is.

But as it stands, Puck can't even raise an eyebrow.

"I did this," Sabrina all but whispers. Her voice sounds dead, which is scary, because Puck worked so hard for the exact opposite. "This is all my fault."

"You can't think like that, 'Brina," Veronica says immediately, voice hard. "Don't do that to yourself."

"I should've seen the bomb, should've been smarter than to just sit there and assume we were ok. I should've done something before it was too late."

"Sabrina, listen. Puck stumbled upon it completely by chance. You can't blame yourself."

Which, Puck agrees, is true. If he hadn't kicked that cabinet, Sabrina would be lying beside him too right now, with all sorts of wires and tubes coming out of her as well. And while he can totally hang with the imagery of lying next to Sabrina, the very idea of her in his place makes him that much more happy he did what he did.

Because the thought of Sabrina hurt is just complete and utter bullshit, at least as long as he can help it. He knows she wouldn't approve, would give him one of her 'I can take care of myself, thanks' looks, but still. Puck's always been rather good when it comes to caring about others more than himself.

"But I should've," Sabrina says, and her voice is a weak tremble. Veronica apparently has no words for that, and neither of them speak again. There's the squeaking sound of Sabrina rolling herself away and Daphne's voice close behind, offering to help her back to her room.

Veronica sighs (she really needs to stop with that) and Puck can't help but think that he needs to have a serious talk with Sabrina when he wakes up.

When. Not if.

Fuck if.

well that was that! as you can see this story has a pretty laid out plotline (puck in coma sabrina not in coma medical shit etc etc), but i'm gonna throw in some twists and turns and everything to keep things exciting.

cheeky, i know.

but seriously. brace yourself for lots of puck whump and angst and pining over sabrina, as well as maybe some fluff and romance and stuff. you're probably wondering how this is all gonna happen while puck's in a coma. oh, you just wait and see.

you just wait and see.

i hope you guys enjoyed that, please review if you did and tell me what you liked, what you hated, what ways you want to kill me now that ive actually posted that horrible excuse for an opening chapter on the internet...

*hides in corner*

see you guys next week for chapter two!

-quinn the finn