Lima looked the same and yet Quinn felt entirely different as the cab drove her through the town that used to be her home. The car passed the High School where new unsecure girls and boys surely tormented each other. She passed lanes and lanes of houses; Rachel's, Brittany's, her own. The driver stopped the car outside the hospital. It looked smaller and shabbier than she remembered.

"There you are, miss" the driver said.

She paid him and stepped onto parking lot. She hadn't been to Lima in three years and moreover, she hadn't been to this hospital since she gave birth to Beth. Ages and ages and ages ago.

"Oh, honey" her mother whispered. "Oh, honey. I'm so glad you're here."

Judy Fabray looked disheveled in a way that an ex-wife shouldn't have to be. Her mother and father had been divorced for nearly five years and yet, here Judy was, at her former husband's bedside.

"Of course" Quinn lied. "Of course I'm here."
"He hasn't woken up yet. Oh, honey."

Quinn looked at her father. Russell Fabray. The man who had made her childhood a living hell. The man who had kicked her out her house at sixteen. The man who she actually had sworn and vowed and promised herself to never talk to again. And yet, here she was. Just like her mother.

"Will he wake up?" she asked, rather boldly.

Her mother almost flinched. She had cried for hours and hours it seemed by the look of the redness of her eyes.

"Oh, honey, the doctors don't know. He's… He has swelling in the brain and…"

She broke down, strangled cries the only thing escaping her throat. Quinn took her hand and held it. Her father was hooked up to numerous chords and wires and they all ticked and beeped. His face was blue and black and his eyes were closed. Quinn tried to stop hating him and almost succeeded.

…

The wreckage of her father's car was easier to look at then his wrecked body. It was still in the police office parking lot since no one had moved it in the almost twelve hours since the crash. The other driver was dead, a policeman told her softly. Quinn didn't ask who it was. She didn't ask whose fault it was. She just nodded.

"It's repairable" the policeman told her. "If you think it's worth it."

"I don't" she replied. "But my father does."
"I can call a mechanic. He can give you a verdict."
She thanked him and walked away. Not until he had gone inside to make the call did she realize that it was Mike. He must have thought she was crazy for not recognizing him. Three years at each other's side and still she hadn't reacted at the sight of this face.

"Hey."

She turned around. Mike was coming back towards her. How could she not have known it was him? Next to him walked someone she did recognize. Very well. Too well.

"I found the best mechanic in town" Policeman Mike told her.

"Thanks" she said.

Puck grinned at her. He looked uncomfortable and she looked away as to not spot any pity on his face. She wanted nothing less than to see him feel sorry for her. She was the one who should feel sorry for him, for not leaving this town, not making anything of himself.

"Can you fix it?" she asked.

"The car?"

"Yes."
"Well, hello to you too, miss Fabray. The prodigal daughter has returned at last."
"Puck…" Mike mumbled warningly.

"I guess I have" she said and wondered if maybe he didn't know about her father.

She looked up and met his eyes. No, he clearly didn't know. He was smirking at her in the way that had always irritated her.

"Took you long enough. Three years since the last time?"
"Have you been keeping count?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Puck, the car" Mike reminded him nervously.

"Right."

He inspected the completely dented right side of the BMW that her father had driven ever since the divorce. The most expensive car in Lima. Even if that wasn't' saying much.

"It'll cost you" Puck said finally. "Might not be worth it to be honest."

"My father would want it fixed" she said, as if he was already dead.

"Is it old Russell's car then?" Puck asked. "Might try to dent it some more then, after how he treated me. Evil son of a bitch."

Quinn said nothing. Julian shifted nervously.

"Puck. Mr. Fabray was in an accident. He's in the hospital" he said finally.

Quinn closed her eyes.

"Just fix it. I don't care about the price."
And she left before he could say anything to try to make up for calling her father, who might be on his death bed, evil.

…

Michael's voice was soft in her ear. Like a hot bath after a cold day or honey on a sore throat.

"I'm sorry" he said. "I wish I could make it all better."
She leaned against the white hospital wall. She had been up since three am and was so impossibly tired. All she wanted was to go home and sleep but her mother wouldn't leave. She sat on a stool and held the hand of the man who had cheated on her with multiple women, always degraded her and then left her flat.

"I just want to go home" she whispered. "I don't belong here anymore."

"You belong with me" he said.

"Yes. Only with you."

She wanted desperately for him to say something that would make her feel better. His voice and the sound of his breathing were soothing, but not enough. She wanted to be with him DC. She wanted to sit in their apartment and he would read up for something he was doing in the office and she would read the paper with her feet on his lap. A normal day. A day when no one was on the brink of death.

"I miss you already" she confessed.

"I miss you too."

"I don't know how long I'll be here. Tell your father-"
"Don't worry, Quinn" he told her. "Go be your family."
"Okay" she said reluctantly.

She hung up the phone and went back into her father's room. A nurse was there, checking the digits on the three monitors. She looked familiar too.

"Marley, right?" Quinn asked.

The girl nodded. Quinn nodded back. She had nothing to say to this girl, didn't know her and never had. But it struck her that everywhere she turned, there were ghosts from her past. Mike, Marley and Puck. She wasn't invisible here. Everyone knew her and she knew everyone.

"Your father is doing the same. No worse" Marley said softly.

And no better, Quinn thought.

"The doctor will be here in a few minutes. He will discuss your options with you."
"Options?" Judy echoed.

Quinn sat down on the floor next to her mother's stool. Her father's chest rose and fell. She noticed that Judy had imitated with rhythm so that they were breathing in the same pace.

"Is there anyone we should call?" Quinn asked.

"Gran? Jeff? Anyone else?"

"I called your gran. She's too weak to fly. Jeff's in Shanghai, I haven't been able to reach him."

"He must have someone else."

"He has us."
"An ex-wife and an estranged daughter."
"Neither of that matters now."

Quinn didn't protest. She clamped her mother's other hand but refused to breathe in her father's pace.

…

They were still waiting for the doctor when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Sorry" Puck said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Judy said nothing. She gave Quinn a look that could mean anything but did mean very specific things.

"What do you want?" Quinn asked.

"It's about the car."

Judy seemed to relax or at least exhale. Puck was that much of a threat to her. Even with Russell in the hospital, Puck's appearance made her uncomfortable. He was the person who had torn their family apart, at least by Judy's definition. Quinn never fought her on it. Everyone needed a scapegoat.

"Let's go into the hallway" Quinn said, getting up from the floor. "I'll try to find the doctor."

Judy nodded and Puck followed her way into the sterile, white corridor. He looked older. Of course. So did she. They weren't kids anymore. Quinn was turning twenty-five on Friday. She wore reading glasses now. Puck had let his hair grow out, just an inch. He was wearing a black leather jacket and a white t-shirt and jeans that he probably wore in High School. He was her biggest ghost of all. Every part of him had once been hers. Her body seemed to remember that.

"I'm sorry about before" he said.

"It's fine."

"I didn't know."
"I know."

He stretched out his hand and touched her shoulder. She instinctively backed away from his touch.

"Sorry."
She nodded. She turned her head, trying to spot someone in a white coat to talk about options with but the hallway was deserted.

"The car" she reminded him.

"Right. I towed it to the shop and took a better look. It won't be impossible to fix it."
"I already told you to go ahead."

"Okay."

He never took his eyes off her. It scared her in an entirely different way than her father maybe dying. He hadn't come here to talk about the car. He had come to apologize. And maybe see her again.

"I didn't mean the thing about your father being evil."

"Yes, you did" she said plainly.

"No-"

"He's not dead yet" she said. "Save the lies for the funeral."

"He might not die" he told her, which didn't sooth her like he probably had intended.

She just nodded and wanted him to go away. He was nothing to her anymore. Nothing. Once upon a time, he had been everything. She had been naïve then. They were nothing alike. She didn't need his apologies.

"I'm glad to see you" he blurted out.

"Please don't."
"You don't call anymore" he smiled, as if it was all a joke.

"Don't."

"Dating the son of a congress man? Nice."

"Please don't do this" she said. "This has nothing to do with my father."
"You hate your father."

"Just leave me alone" she whispered.

…

Her father's doctor was Santana's father. Of course. The man who had watched Quinn grow up, in their kitchen, drinking Kool-Aid and painting his daughter's toenails. The past was everywhere. He made small talk with Judy about his wife and her book club. Judy replied something in such a low voice that no one heard it. He asked Quinn about DC and told her about Santana's "career" in New York. At last, he exhaled and picked her Russell's chart.

"Your husb-, well, your father, Quinn, has severe swelling to the brain. If it doesn't go down, it will injure the brain permanently" he told them.

"Can't you operate?" Judy asked.

"Yes, and we will probably have to if the swelling does not go down on its own. However, Mr. Fabray is very unstable and we would rather not operate him in this state."

"So we have to decide?" Quinn asked. "Either we wait and he might die? Or you operate and he might die on the operating table?"

"Actually, you decide, Quinn" Dr. Lopez said. "You are his daughter, his closest family."

He looked almost embarrassedly at Judy who had put her head in her hands. Perhaps she regretted the divorce now. Or perhaps she had relieved that she didn't need to decide. All the pressure on Quinn. Just like old times.

"I don't know anything about medicine" she said.

"But you know your father. What would he want?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"You're wrong" Quinn said. "I don't know him. I haven't spoken to him since High School."

The doctor looked pained and like he was searching for words. Quinn decided to save him. It wasn't his fault, any of this.

"I have to sleep" she said. "Even if it's just for an hour before I decide."
Dr. Lopez nodded. He left the room and Judy began to cry again. Quinn tried to sooth her but her exhaustion was bringing her down. Her mind was spinning. Yesterday had been a perfectly normal day and here she was, back in Lima, with father hooked up to machines and her mother crying her eyes out. And with Puck at her heels, always there to remind her of his existence.

"Mom, let's go home" she whispered.

"I don't want to leave him here. All on his own."

"He's asleep, mom. They are keeping him under. He won't wake up until the doctor's decide too."
"But he might die" Judy whispered.

…

"I'll call Marcus, my father's friend, he's a neurosurgeon. He will know what to do."

"I don't think anyone knows what is best" Quinn whispered. "I think it's a gamble."
"Nonsense. Did the doctor tell you that? I'll ask Marcus to fly over and do the surgery himself."
"Don't" she whispered.

Just like her mother didn't want to leave Russell, Quinn didn't want to leave her mother. She spent the late evening walking up and down hospital corridors. In all honestly, she thought of a lot of other things than the choice she would have to make. She thought of Lima. Of her friends who had left and those who remained, trapped within the town, never getting out. She couldn't picture anything worse. And she thought of Puck. The father of her only child. The only person she had ever loved, except for Michael and perhaps that child. And she thought of how she had ignored his existence for years and years and yet, the second he stepped in front of her, it all returned.

"Quinn, are you listening to me?" Michael asked.

"Yes" she lied.

"I'll call you in an hour with more information. Okay?"

"Okay" she echoed.

"Get some sleep."

"Okay."
She heard him hung up on the other end. Michael was resourceful. Michael knew people and things. He wouldn't be wandering aimlessly around the hospital. She thought of going back to room but stopped herself. She couldn't stand the sound of her mother's sobs and those machines for another second. Instead she googled Lima + mechanic, trying to find where Puck worked, probably at Burt's shop. Burt's shop, she found out, had changed its name. It was called Puckerman's now and the contact info included a cell phone number. She dialed it without thinking.

"Hello?"

"Hi" she said. "It's me."

"Quinn?"

"Yes."
There was quiet. She thought of everything that was already messed up. This was just another thing.

"What's up?" he asked, as if they were back in High School and she called him to pick her up from the dentist or something.

"I do hate my father."
"I shouldn't have said that either. I'm just… You just bring out the worst in me."
"That was always our problem."

"One of our problems" he joked.

"Right."

Silence again. She checked the time. Almost midnight.

"I hate him and I have to make the decision that decides if he lives or dies."

Her voice broke. She hated when her voice broke.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Still at the hospital."
"Want some company?"

She said nothing and he knew that that meant yes.

…

He had left the leather jacket at home and wore a thick sweater instead. It made him look softer, less scary, less like he would hurt her.

"It's not right for them to put this on you" he said.

"Who else?" she asked.

"I don't know."
They sat on the floor in the entrance hall. Visiting hours were over but no one threw them out. A security guard paced some distance away, otherwise it was completely quiet.

"You, me and this hospital, eh?" he said, nudging her and smiling.

She actually smiled.

"Always ends in tears."
"Don't say that."

"My mother won't leave his side. Loyal to her death, or his, I guess."

"She's a good person."

"She still loves him. She got a divorce, stuck up for herself and still, loves him."

"What about you?" Puck asked.

"He made my life hell."
"I know. Mine too."
"Yeah. I never thought I would ever see him again. Now I'm deciding his fate."
"My father abandoned us and still when he came back, I gave him all my money."

"We're better off without them" she decided.

"Are we really?" he asked.

"No. Yes. I don't know."

For over three years, no, even longer than that, she had thought of Puck and only thought of the way that he differed from her. How he was rash and sometimes violent and hated school and never had voted in an election. And now, when she sat with him on the hard floor, she could only remember in the ways that they were similar.

"Your phone is ringing" he said.

She hadn't noticed. It was Michael.

"Answer it" he told her.

She did. Michael told her that his family friend had told him that it was case to case and that Dr. Jones would be on the next flight over to help her decide. Quinn thanked him and thought of what Dr. Lopez would say.

"The congressman?" Puck asked when she hung up.

She nodded, not bothering to correct him. Michael was the son of a congressman, not one himself, but her father was dying so who cared?

"What did he say?"

"Nothing that helps me right now."
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
He put his arm around her should and it was platonic so she let it rest there. It felt nice to be touched. She hadn't realized how tense she had been until someone else's touch was soft.

"I might fall asleep" she told him.

"Okay" he said simply.

…

She woke up forty-five minutes later with her head on his shoulder. He was sitting there, not moving, next to her. He wasn't even fiddling with his phone. She had never seen anyone be that still.

"He called" he told her as he spotted her open eyes. "I think it went to voicemail."

She straightened her back and flexed her neck out of its cramp. Michael had called twice. She was too exhausted to call him back. He would understand. He always understood.

"I'm sorry I called" she whispered. "I had no right."
"Not everything is about what's right" he replied.

"I don't love you anymore. You know that right?"
The exhaustion made her blunt and unkind. Or maybe she was too tired to mask her real personality. He would probably argue for that one.

"Not everything has to be about love" he said which was stupid.

Everything was about love. Love was the reason for her being back here in the first place. Love was the reason she hadn't gone home to sleep. Love was the reason that Michael was sending her a surgeon from DC.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, nudging her again.

"Don't."
"You brought it up."
"Well, I take it back."
She got to her feet and stretched her aching muscles against the ceiling. The forty-five minute rest felt like nothing. Her mind was not any clearer. Thank God for Michael's friend. Thank God for Michael.

"You should go home" she told Puck. "It's late."

"It's not that late."
"I have to go back to my father's room and my mother's there."
"You mean the woman who hates me?"
"I don't want to upset her."

"Is my very presence so disturbing?"

She nodded, bluntly and coldly. She hadn't been this mean in years. Perhaps he really brought out the worst in her.

"I'm glad you're back. For whatever reason" he said and she wished that she hadn't.

When she didn't respond, he left. She felt a sliver of cold air from the opened door before he was gone. She took the elevator back to the third floor and her father's damaged body. Judy was half-sleeping, but sat up straight when Quinn entered.

"Oh honey" she mumbled, her voice full of motherly sympathy.

"Michael's sending one of his father's friends is on the next flight out of DC. A doctor. He will make us decide."

"Thank the Lord for Michael."

Despite Quinn thinking almost the same thing mere minutes ago, she felt annoyance with her mother's complete faith in someone she had never met. All she knew about Michael was that he had a good family, a nice apartment and a Harvard education. And evidently, that was enough.

"I haven't spent this much time with your father since the divorce" Judy sighed.

"Isn't that what a divorce is for?"
"Don't be so harsh. Life isn't black and white."

"Never?" Quinn asked doubtingly.

"Almost never."

"Right."

Her mother was still clutching his hand. They had never been the hand-holding kind of couple. More like kisses on the cheek at parties and one with tongue on New Year's. Hand-holding felt more intimate. Quinn wondered, if the roles were reversed, if Russell would hold Judy's hand like this. She couldn't picture it.

"What did Puck tell you?"

"What?"
"Before. About the car?"

"He towed it to the shop. It's fixable. Might be expensive though."
"Your father loves that car."

"I know. I told him to do it whatever the cost."

"He didn't have to come here to tell you that."

"I don't think he has my phone number."

"Oh" Judy said. "Right."

"Don't worry about Puck, mom."

"Oh honey, I don't worry about Puck. I worry about you when he's around."

"Come on" Quinn tried. "You make me sound weak."

"Quinny, you are human. We all have weaknesses."

"Well, he isn't mine."

Her mother nodded as if she agreed. Quinn stared at the monitors that showed her father's heartbeat. And she thought of all the times that she had thought of him as heartless. Apparently she had been wrong.