The last two days of school this week are terrible and go much too slow for Quinn's liking. She hasn't been sleeping much since Wednesday night, ever since she suggested that she and Sadie take a break. She knows she's doing the right thing, she really does, but that doesn't change how much it hurts.

It was weird, having to explain on Thursday why Sadie didn't show up to the choir room. The club has gotten so used to having her there; Quinn has gotten so used to having her there, and explaining the reasoning for her no longer being there had been uncomfortable because she knows it's mostly her fault.

Still, them being apart is what's right. It may not be what's easy, but Quinn has to deal with what she's running from. With who she's running from.

She promises herself that she will, after glee rehearsal. It's lunchtime right now, though, and she's trying hard to focus on whatever Santana and Brittany are saying rather than the brunette sitting diagonally from her.

Just because she's not sitting in on glee meetings anymore doesn't mean that Sadie stopped sitting at the table. Quinn doesn't think she should have to because the glee kids are her friends now, too, and it wouldn't be right of her to ask Sadie to leave the table because it makes her uncomfortable having her there.

"What're you thinking about, Quinnie?"

The use of her mother's nickname for her drags her out of her own little world. She glares at Santana and says, "Don't call me that, San."

"Don't be so mean to S, Quinn," Brittany says in her usual innocent Brittany tone.

"Sorry, B," she apologizes because she can't stand it when Brittany pouts. It makes her feel extremely guilty, even when she's done absolutely nothing wrong. "I was just thinking."

"'Bout what, Q?"

"... Stuff," she answers eventually. She doesn't want to lie, so she hopes 'stuff' is good enough for Brittany.

Thankfully, it is, but not for Santana, unfortunately.

"This 'stuff' has three names." It's not a question. Nothing Santana says regarding Quinn's personal life is ever a question.

"Stop acting like you know everything," Quinn snaps.

"Psst. I am the all-knowing, Quinnie."

"I do not want to talk about this with you," Quinn mutters, choosing to ignore that Santana called her 'Quinnie' again.

"Come on, Q. Let this Latina be your Yoda."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Yoda? Really?"

"Shut it," Santana spits out. "You're scarring my feel goods, Q. Spill, or do you just not trust me?"

"Don't be so dramatic," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I want to tell you, okay? Just not here."

"Where, then? 'Cause I'm seriously dying of curiosity here."

Quinn resists the urge to once again roll her eyes. "The auditorium. I'm sure we can convince Mr. Schue or someone to let us go there now."

"Then what are you waiting for? Move your ass."

Quinn scoffs as she and Santana stand up after explaining to Brittany that they're going to talk in the auditorium. Santana's not as irritable as usual, for which Quinn is grateful, and she know it's because of Brittany. Though Britt is still with Artie, she's at least started hanging around Santana a lot more lately and that's a start, Quinn thinks.

After asking Mr. Schue for permission to go to the auditorium for the remainder of lunch, and receiving said permission, Santana and Quinn leave the cafeteria and head for the auditorium. They're quiet during the short walk, but once they're inside and seated on the edge of the stage, Santana starts talking.

"What's with the 'woe is me' attitude, Q?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows she's acting childish, but she doesn't particularly care. She's in an awful mood. With her lack of sleep and all her thoughts revolving around how she always manages to screw up the good things in her life, that's to be expected.

"Look, I'm no expert on relationships and love or whatever, but I'm sure if you're missing someone, you're supposed to tell 'em."

She wants to say she doesn't miss Sadie, that their 'break' doesn't bother her, but merely thinking of saying something even remotely close to that makes her feel horrible.

"If it isn't the pot calling the kettle black," Quinn remarks snidely. She immediately feels guilty after, but tries not to let it show.

Santana glares at her. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" she snaps.

"It means that you're always off screwing guys that don't matter to you when you should be telling Brittany that you want her back," she says, and she feels even more guilty, but she doesn't care because she's desperate to take the focus off her. Even if only for a few minutes.

"That's stupid," Santana scoffs. "Because I never even had her to begin with. So, shut it. And it's not like I even care that she's off fucking some guy who can't even use his legs."

"Hey!" Quinn exclaims, quick to defend Artie. "That was out of line and you know it, San."

"Right, whatever," Santana mutters, but Quinn can see that the brunette feels guilty for what she just said. She's not completely heartless, contrary to popular belief. Santana's spent a lot of her life building a wall between herself and the rest of the world and the way she sees fit to keep that wall up is if she's a bitch. Because she knows that if she's a bitch, no one's likely to want to be her friend. And if no one wants to be her friend, she doesn't have to worry about letting someone in only to have them stab her in the back.

Quinn knows this because, a lot of the time, she does the same, but she never quite takes it to the level Santana does.

"I guess I do miss her," Santana admits, "but tell anyone, and I'm gonna have to end you."

Quinn attempts to glare, but ends up grinning. "So, do something about it."

"Only if you stop running and face your issues so you can stop being all mopey dopey," Santana says. Quinn knows she's not kidding. She won't tell Brittany she misses her unless Quinn stops running and faces her problems head on.

"Okay, I'll stop," she promises. She thinks she means it. "I'll talk to Puck, I swear. Today."

"I got your back if you need me," Santana says sincerely.

Quinn knows she's not lying; Santana doesn't say that to just anyone.

"Thanks, San."

"Yeah, whatever."

They both laugh.

"Sadie, I'd like to speak with you, if you don't mind."

Emily looks up, dropping her plastic spoon onto her tray by accident. She's been in her own little world the entire lunch period. It doesn't help that she's overly curious as to what Santana and Quinn are talking about in the auditorium. She thinks she knows, and she's not sure how she feels knowing that she's being talked about.

She hasn't said much during lunch, either. Partly because of her own volition and partly because no one's said anything to her until now. They all know about her and Quinn's 'break', of course; she can see it every time she looks at them and vice versa. She's assuming Quinn told them, or maybe they just guessed it because she normally sits in on Glee meetings. She hasn't missed one since the first day she attended McKinley High School, so, of course, they know something's off.

"Uhm, okay, sure," she says after a moment, trying to focus all of her attention on Rachel and not on her thoughts.

"Not here," Rachel says. "Would you care if we moved to an unoccupied table, such as the one a few tables down?"

Emily shakes her head. "Of course not," she says. She'll take any excuse to get away from this table. Puck keeps glancing at her and it's making her uncomfortable because she hasn't spoken to him once since Quinn told him about the two of them.

"Fantastic!" Rachel whisper-shouts as both girls stand up with their trays in hand. It takes only a few seconds for them to be seated across from one another at the table Rachel pointed out.

"So, what's up?" she asks after a few seconds of neither of them saying anything.

"I don't mean to stick my nose in something that is certainly none of my business, and though I'm sure you do not want to speak of Quinn, I'd very much like to give you some advice."

It takes a second for Emily to process all of that, but once she does, she simply says, "Shoot." She may not want to talk about Quinn, but she's in no place to be turning down advice. Besides, Rachel knows Quinn, a lot better than Emily does and maybe the brunette can help her find a way to fix this. Or at least give her some idea of how to fix this.

Even though she knows the only way to truly fix this is to stop running and come clean.

"Last school year was a very tough year for Quinn," Rachel explains, "and this year, she's spent a lot of her time attempting to rebuild the reputation she lost. She presents herself as a snob, as someone who could care less about others, but that's far from who she really is, as I'm sure you're already aware. With that said, you need to know that you met her when she was running from so much more than what she was running from previously, and I'm assuming the two of you taking a break has something to do with her still running."

"Something like that," Emily says, not wanting to admit that she's running, too.

"She plans on speaking with Puck tonight," Rachel says. The words surprise Emily a little. Okay, a lot, actually. "About what, I can't say because I've hurt her with my somewhat big mouth before, but I can say that everything will be much better after she has a very much needed conversation with Noah."

"Something big happened between them, huh?" Emily asks, though she already knows the answer.

Rachel nods. "You've no idea."

Awkward. That's truly the only word Quinn can use to describe how the club meeting went today. She spent the entire meeting half-listening to whatever Mr. Schue was ranting about and attempting to coax Puck into looking at her at least once. This was awkward because at one point, while he was practicing 'Dirty Diana', she jumped up and started dancing around him, but he didn't spare her a single glance. Not one.

She supposes she doesn't really deserve his attention, but she's not exactly used to having to vie for it. It's usually the other way around.

Currently, she's standing outside the boy's bathroom. That's where he went after Mr. Schue announced they could all leave. She feels like a stalker, following him through the halls and whatnot, but she has to talk to him before she convinces herself otherwise. It's not going to be easy for her, she knows that, but life isn't easy and she feels ridiculous for ever having tried to convince herself that it could be.

"Puck," she says, stopping him just as he exits the bathroom.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns to look at her, a mixture of emotions playing on his face as he does so. There's confusion, anger, curiosity, and a few other emotions she can't identity. More like, she doesn't want to identify. She knows she's hurt him. She hopes she can fix it before it's too late. If it's not already too late.

"What are you trying to prove, Fabray?" he snaps.

Now, it's her turn to be confused. "Huh?"

"Leave me the hell alone, okay?"

She sighs, grabbing his arm just as he turns to leave. "Please, just listen to me."

He yanks his arm out of her grasp, but, instead of leaving, turns to look at her again.

"Well, guess the shoe's on the other foot now, huh?"

"Stop doing that." She's not as mad as she sounds. She's merely frustrated. She wants him to listen.

Which is probably why he's right. The shoe is on the other foot.

"I know what I did was a pretty bitchy thing for me to do," she starts, while thinking, that's the understatement of the century, "and I'm sorry. It's just that I knew if I told you about me and Sadie, you wouldn't push me to talk about Be-her." She almost spoke her name, almost, but it's still too hard.

She thinks Be-her is a start, though.

"I know that wasn't fair. It's not fair. I'm just asking for you to understand so we can talk because I want to now. I'm ready to listen." Not completely ready, but maybe she never will be. Maybe she doesn't have to be. "I don't want to avoid you anymore."

His facial expression softens; he doesn't smile, but he rarely smiles, so it's not such a big deal.

"We can talk," he says after a moment.

She smiles. Not because the words make her happy, but because she's relieved. And that's a good feeling.

"Not here, though," he adds. "The park?"

She hesitates; she hasn't been to the park since the last time she went with Sadie. She doesn't think of it as their place, not really, because it's just a park, but she doesn't want to feel any weirder than she already does. She doesn't want this to be any harder.

Then again, she thinks maybe this will be hard no matter where she is, so it probably won't make a difference.

"Only if you drive," is her reply.

Puck surprises her by chuckling softly. "Yeah, okay," he says before turning and heading towards the exit. She follows.

"Want some coffee?" Mrs. Fields asks as Emily enters the kitchen. She's been home since about three-thirty, but she's been avoiding her mother for the past couple of days, so she decided to stay upstairs when she realized her mother didn't have to work.

However, she can't stay upstairs forever, so, she may as well quit avoiding her. It's just that she really doesn't feel like explaining why she isn't with Quinn anymore. Okay, so, technically, they haven't broken up, they're just taking a 'break', but she doesn't think there's much of a difference.

"No, thanks," she says, grabbing a bagel off the saucer on the counter by the sink.

"Aria called earlier."

"She did?" Emily asks after taking a seat on one of the stools at the island counter. "When?"

"About three," her mom answers, also seating herself on a stool.

"I don't understand why she didn't just try my cell," Emily mutters, more to herself than her mother.

"That's the thing, Emily..." Her mom pauses and takes a sip of her coffee, as if trying to think through what she's about to say.

"What's the thing?" Emily asks. Her heart's beating a little faster. She doesn't know how, but she knows she won't like what her mom is about to say.

"Whoever 'A' is has apparently texted the girls saying that he or she is getting 'warmer'. They think that may mean 'A' knows they've been calling you and they're afraid if they call you now, he or she will be able to track you down."

Emily sighs. "Is it all right if I use the home phone to call her back?"

"Absolutely, sweetheart," Mrs. Fields says. "Before you do, though, I wanted to talk to you."

Emily saw that coming. "About Quinn, right?"

Mrs. Fields nods. "Yes, about Quinn. You haven't been yourself the past couple of days and I was wondering if that had anything to do with her."

"I haven't been myself since we moved here, mom." She doesn't mean to snap, but she's so frustrated. 'A' could have found her, if not for Aria. "My name isn't Sadie Field. My name is Emily Fields, but no one can know that. I know it's my fault, but..."

"It isn't your fault," Mrs. Fields interrupts. "Someone is playing a very cruel game with you girls, and despite what you four may believe, that is not something you deserve because of the secrets you've kept."

Her mom knows some of the secrets. Mostly Emily's. She doesn't know about Aria and Mr. Fitz, which is for the best, nor does she know about the financial problems Hanna and her mother are experiencing. The stolen money is part of that. Emily doesn't think those secrets are something her mother could simply turn away from and forget.

"The secrets I'm keeping are the reason Quinn and I are taking a break," she says. "Secrets are like poison, mom. They destroy."

"I'm sure you and Quinn will work it out," Mrs. Fields says.

She wishes that were true. "I can't fix this, because I can't tell her the truth."

"You can," is her mom's response. "You should. This person that is torturing you and your friends will not find you because your friends are looking out for you. You do not have to protect Quinn from this twisted person." Emily doesn't say anything; she doesn't have anything to say. "I get the feeling that's not even the reason you haven't told her who you are."

"It is." She doesn't know why she sounds so defensive when she says that. Then again, she thinks maybe it's because part of her knows that her mom is right.

"No, it's not," Mrs. Fields counters. "You're terrified of what she'll think of you. These secrets do not make you a bad person, Emily, and I've... I've seen the way that girl looks at you. She seems to care about you very much. Your past will not change her opinion of you, I'm sure of that."

That means a lot to her coming from her mother. She knows how hard it's been for her to accept that her daughter is gay. She doesn't think her mother will ever truly understand it, but she knows she doesn't really need to; a person's sexuality is not something that can be understood. It simply is.

"I'm scared," she admits. "This will change everything."

"Life is full of changes, sweetheart," Mrs. Fields says, placing her hand on top of her daughter's. "Embrace the changes, don't run from them."

"You wanted to talk, so talk," is the first thing Puck says to Quinn when they arrive at the park.

She plops down beside him on the grass. It's a little damp, but she doesn't mind it. It feels good outside - not too hot, not too cold.

She smooths out invisible wrinkles on her jeans, attempting to buy herself some time. She doesn't know where to start, not really. There's so much she has to say to him and she doesn't know how to phrase any of it.

"I was with Finn," she starts, not sure where she's headed with this, but not really caring because it's a start. She can feel Puck's eyes on her, but she doesn't look at him. "I went to a party and got drunk with you because I felt fat. We had unprotected sex and I got pregnant, and then I lied about who the father was."

"I know this already," Puck says, confusion obvious in his tone.

"Just let me finish," she says, annoyed. "I lied about who the father was. I made up some ridiculous story and Finn believed me. I decided you were a Lima Loser and you wanted to prove me wrong, and eventually, you told Mercedes you were the father. Then the rest of the club was told. Not long after my father kicked me out of my own home, the truth got to Rachel and she told Finn. I decided then that I wanted to have the baby alone. I didn't want any help."

"I still fought," Puck says. "I didn't believe you."

She flashes him a pointed look then. "Then," she emphasizes, hoping that's enough to let him know she doesn't want him to say anything more; not yet, "we started to date, but we broke up because I wouldn't have sex with you. I'd given up all hope on you, pretty much, but then we did those Lady Gaga and Kiss songs and you sang..."

She pauses, not ready to say it. Not yet. Soon, she thinks.

"'Beth'," he finishes for her. "I sang 'Beth' because I wanted us to name her. I wanted her to have something from us."

"Then came Regionals, and I gave birth to a very beautiful baby girl." She can feel tears in her eyes now; the memory is clear as day in her mind. Those tiny feet and tiny hands and those beautiful eyes. "Our very beautiful baby girl. Then, Shelby came along and we gave her up. We let her go."

"I was pissed," Puck blurts. For the first time, she meets his gaze. "At myself, mostly, for not fighting harder to convince you to keep her." The words make her feel slightly guilty, even though she knows that's not his intention. "I stayed pissed for a real long time. I punched walls. I couldn't even look myself in the mirror because I knew I was like my dad."

She interrupts him then. "You're not like you're dad. You're not."

"Thanks," he says, "but I know that now. I didn't then. I forgave myself. I didn't give her up for me. I gave her up for her, so she could have a better life than I could ever dream of having. You did the same, so it's about damn time you forgive yourself, too."

She looks away from him; focuses her gaze on her feet and picks at the grass. She thinks over what Puck just said; everything about how he was mad and how he punched walls and hated himself. That whole time, she should have been there. She should have been helping herself and him, but she hadn't. What she'd done instead was put up those walls that had been up before she'd been pregnant. She became a bitch again; she avoided him, for the most part, and she never dealt with what they'd done.

She had cried herself to sleep for the first couple weeks, but the tears stopped eventually because she knew they wouldn't change anything. She could either deal with it or run from it, and she did what she does best and ran from it.

She's sick of running. She's sick of hating herself for what she did.

"She'll understand, won't she? Be-" She sighs, frustrated. She needs to say it. She has to. She takes a deep breath and after exhaling, she starts again. "Beth will..." She doesn't finish her question, doesn't think she has to.

She did it; she said her name.

"Beth will understand," Puck assures her, a small, crooked smile playing on his lips. "Forgive yourself."

She can't help but return his small smile. "I will," she whispers. "I do," she corrects herself, louder this time.

She looks at Puck again. "Thank you, Puck. And I'm really sorry, for everything."

He nudges her and she leans into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her as she rests her head on his shoulder. It feels nice, comfortable. She's missed him.

"Did you mean what you said that day, Quinn? Even a little bit?"

She doesn't have to ask what he's referring to. "I did," she assures him. "I still do. I'm just not in love with you, but I'll always love you."

"I'm still in love with you," Puck admits. She already knew that, but it feels weird, hearing him say it. "It fucking sucks."

"You'll get over me," she promises him. "I'm nothing special."

He chuckles. "Oh, you are so wrong. You're pretty fucking awesome, Q, which is why, if you really care about cool chick, you need to tell her everything."

"Her name is Sadie," Quinn says out of habit, "and I know."

"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it a hundred times over, but I really just want you to be happy."

She smiles and leans into him a little more. He wraps his arms tighter around her.

"You're a lot sweeter than anyone gives you credit for," she compliments. It's true. There really are two sides to Puck. The sweet guy and the guy who is sweet deep down, but acts like a jackass and a man slut.

"Yeah, don't tell anyone," he jokes.

She laughs. "My lips are sealed, Puckerman. My lips are sealed."

author's note: i feel like those two are finally getting somewhere. so, puck, and quinn had the talk. short, sweet, kind of mushy... i really wish they'd had some kind of talk on the show. i'll always be convinced that the writers handled it the wrong way.

there's only going to be a few more chapters, probably. i don't have much else to say, so...

thanks again for all the reviews. they're very much appreciated. :)

- kara.