AN: I'm back and with another update! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I realize that neither Glee nor Leaving Paradise belongs to me. I'm simply borrowing the characters and the plot to create a brand new story.

Puck

I hurry over to the car and open the door. Offering my hand to Mrs. Sylvester I wink at her. "You look hot."

She chuckles softly. "If only I were sixty years younger, sonny boy."

I laugh with her. "So, how did it go?" I whisper softly.

Mrs. Sylvester laughs again. "I had Rachel say that ridiculous sentence we came up with."

I smirk. Mrs. Sylvester and I are partners in crime tonight. I had her stalling Rachel all day today so I could make everything perfect. I've been putting this night together in my head for a week already.

When I catch sight of Rachel I'm speechless.

"Don't look so startled, Noah." Mrs. Sylvester nudges me. "It doesn't suit your face."

Rachel walks up to me, her dress showing off her curves. I wonder if my jaw is on the ground.

"The gazebo looks great." She smiles shyly.

I don't look away from her. Hell, I can't take my eyes off of her. I'm practically salivating. These two unlikely women are my saving grace.

I've set a table inside the gazebo, complete with a three-course meal, compliments of all the money I saved from my pool-cleaning business. I added a little spot heater to keep the gazebo warm, and have a portable radio with music playing softly in the background.

After I've pull our chairs for both ladies I wince as I bend down to sit.

Rachel notices immediately. "What's wrong, Noah?"

"Nothing," I say after everyone has been served but I can tell neither of them are buying it. "Okay, okay. I played in the big football game last week."

"I didn't know you were back on the team."

"Well, it was a one time thing. I think."

"Are you sure your alright?" Rachel asks.

"I'm fine, baby, relax. Just a bit bruised is all."

Rachel gives me a look but brushes it off. "I can't wait till the daffodils bloom." She says changing the subject. "You'll have to send me pictures while I'm in New York."

I still can't believe she's leaving, right when I fell for her.

"Speaking of New York." Mrs. Sylvester says. "Have a safe trip but don't forget where you came from."

Rachel smiles. "Who could forget Lima?" She says and we clink our glasses together.

After dinner, I open the boxes of pie from the diner. You'd think Rachel and Mrs. Sylvester were related by the elated expressions on their faces when I set the pie in front of them. We all take a fork and dig in.

"This has been the most magnificent day of my life since my husband passed, may he rest in peace. Thank you both. But these weary bones need a rest."

"Are you okay?" Rachel asks, concern lacing her voice. We both get up to help her.

"No, you two sit down and enjoy. I just need to rest a bit."

Regardless to what the old lady is claiming, Rachel helps her upstairs while I clear the dishes. "She okay?" I ask when Rachel comes back outside.

"I think so. She went to the doctor yesterday. He wants to run some tests on her, but she's too stubborn to go."

I watch Rachel. God, anyone who's with her is infected by her humility and honesty. "Care to dance?"

"I can't," She says. "Not with my leg."

I take her hand in mine and lead her back into the gazebo. "Dance with me, baby." I urge as I put one arm around her back and pull her close.

We sway to the music. Slowly she relaxes into my arms. "I never imagined it would be like this." She says into my chest.

When her leg starts to hurt, I clear a place on the floor and we lie side by side next to each other.

"What did you ever see in Quinn?" She sits up and asks.

"Hell, I don't know." She was popular and pretty. Someone who all the guys wished they could date. She used to look at me as if I was the only guy who could ever make her happy.

She nods softly and lies next to me using my arms as a pillow.

We watch the candles burn down one by one. When there's only one candle left, I kiss her soft lips and trace her curves with my hands until she's breathless.

"Let me see your scars," I say when we're both panting and coming up for air. I take the hem of her dress in my fist and slowly slide the material up.

She stills my hand with her own and pushes the material back down. "No."

"Trust me."

"I...I can't," She stutters. "Not with my scars."

Her words hit me like a cell door slamming closed. Because even if she thinks she forgave me, even if she made promises of forgiveness, even if she kisses me like I'm her hero, I finally realize she can't get over her anger inside. And never will fully trust me.

I lie back, totally frustrated, and lay my arm over my eyes. "This isn't going to work, is it?"

Rachel sits up. "I'm trying," She says, her voice full of regret.

I want to tell her I wasn't responsible for hurting her leg, but I can't. What if Sarah was right? I can't let my sister go to jail when I've already paid for her mistake. I'm committed to living with that blame forever.

The night of the accident, I was supposed to drive Sarah home. But I was too drunk and enraged from Rachel's accusations. Staying with Quinn and making sure she didn't go home with any other guy was more important than anything else. God dammit, my stupid fucking ego. I had no idea Sarah took my keys until she came back to the party ranting like a lunatic about an accident.

The rest, as they say, was history.

Rachel

I had everything I could ever ask for and I screwed it up. Noah loved me and all I had to do was show him my scars to prove how much I loved and trusted him.

But I couldn't. Something was holding me back.

I told my mom I was sick and couldn't go to school. The light green dress peaks out of my closet, a cruel reminder of how I won Noah and lost him just as quickly.

We he took me home, he promised we'd remain friends. That's the most important thing right? If that's so why have I been crying my eyes out all morning.

I call Mrs. Sylvester to see how she's doing after last night.

Sue Sylvester answers the phone. Her voice is flat. "Hello."

"Hi it's Rachel. Is Mrs. Sylvester there." I ask.

Sue doesn't say anything for a long time and my throat gets a huge lump in it.

"My mother died this morning, Rachel."

"No," I whisper as my life comes crashing down on me. "It can't be true. We were together. Last night she was dancing and laughing and–"

"Calm down, Broadway." She says in her usual Sue Sylvester tone, then she takes a deep breath. "Look Rachel, you should know that my mother was so grateful to have you. She loved you like the granddaughter she never had."

"Where is she? Was she alone when she died?"

Sue clears her throat. "They just took her away in an ambulance. She died in her sleep, no pain. Her heart has been bad for years, Rachel. It was only a matter of time."

Tears roll down my cheeks as I remember the times we spent in the past few months. She taught me so much about life. "The daffodils, she'll never see the daffodils come up," I say, stifling my emotions.

I don't know what else to say. Mrs. Sylvester had so much still planned. Having my mom and me over for dinner, watching the daffodils bloom in the spring, eating pie at the diner.

"I'll miss her."

"I know you will. She never wanted a funeral. She said they're just an excuse for depressed people to make senseless chatter."

I smile wistfully. "That sounds like her."

"Listen, if you want to come over and take something from the house before we sell it, you can."

She can't sell the house. The daffodils, the gazebo, everything she cared about in the last two months are for nothing.

In the evening my mother and I drive to Mrs. Sylvester's house. She's holding my hand as we great Sue at the door. "Take what you want." She says curtly.

I nod and make my way to the laundry room. Inside, all clean and folded, is the muumuu.

I pick it up and clutch it to my chest. It was Mrs. Sylvester's way of protecting me, covering my clothes so I wouldn't get dirty. "Can I have this?" I ask.

Sue seems surprised I'd want it, but says, "I was serious when I said anything."

There's two more things I want. I head to the kitchen and open cabinets until I find it. My mom is shrugging to Sue, who is as baffled as her. "It's got to be around here somewhere. There we go." I open one of the top drawers and on a piece of old, stained and ripped linen paper is her favorite snicker-doodle cookie recipe.

"Anything else?"

"One more thing."

I head up to the attic and pick up the picture frame inside the trunk. "This is the last thing."

I stare at the picture of two people madly in love on their wedding day.

May they both rest in peace.

Puck

Rachel wasn't at school yesterday and I haven't seen her all morning.

During third period I can't focus. So I take the bathroom pass and head out the door. But I don't head straight to the bathroom. I turn the corner and go down the hall where I know her locker is.

It's official, I've turned into a stalker.

"Looking for someone, Puck?" It's Quinn, with a hall pass of her own dangling from her fingers. "Rachel Berry, maybe?"

"Go back to class Q." I say. I'm really not in the mood to deal with her mind games.

Quinn rolls her eyes but keeps following me. "No seriously, I don't get what you see in her."

"Nothing." I say just to get her off my back. "I see nothing in Rachel Berry.. If anything she's been a distraction because I can't have you." The bullshit is flying because I need to protect Rachel and my sister at all costs.

The sound of someone behind me makes me turn around. It's Rachel. She's heard every lying word out of my mouth.

Quinn slinks toward her. "Oh Puck, did you tell Rachel the truth about the accident?"

"Quinn, don't." I say in a warning tone. "Or I'll clue Finn in about what's been going on between you and me."

Rachel limps toward me. "What's been going on between you and Quinn, Noah?"

Quinn puts her hands on her hips and lets out a cruel laugh. "Noah? Seriously? That rich. But anyway, Puck, who don't you tell her how many times we've been together since you came back."

What can I say? I want to tell Rachel the truth, I'm going to tell her the truth. About everything. But not here, not in front of Quinn.

"Say something," Rachel orders, her eyes on fire. When I don't, she slaps me and limps away.

About a half out later I see Rachel again when the entire student body of McKinley High is packed into the gymnasium. I fucking hate pep rallies. The entire time I try to make eye contact with Rachel but she absolutely refuses to look. At the end of the pep rally, Rachel is standing with the rest of the mob pushing through to get out. She looks so fragile standing there.

There's some pushing and shoving. Two junior guys are fighting. And it's right where Rachel is. "Rachel, watch out!" I yell, but she can't hear me. She doesn't notice the commotion behind her, but I'm too late. The bigger guy is pushed into Rachel, who trips over two steps and lands flat on her knee.

"Rachel!" I yell, pushing people out of the way to get to her. I finally reach her and kneel next to her. "Are you alright?"

She blinks, looks like she's going to be sick, and sits up.

People are starting to stare and point. Some of the assholes are laughing. I grab Rachel's elbow. She tries to pull away but I hang on tight. "Are you okay?" I ask once she's standing.

Karofsky grabs my shoulder and pulls me back. "Puck, what are you helping her for? The bitch was responsible for putting you in jail."

I take my fist and slam it right into Karofsky's face. He charges me and we're at each other's throats, fists flying, until Coach Beiste and Mr. Schuester break us up. "Where's Rachel?" I shout.

Coach gives me a long hard look. "She went to the nurse."

"I've got to see her."

"The only thing you're seeing is the principal's office, Puckerman. What the hell is wrong with you?"

I'm escorted to Figgins' office. I have no choice since Coach has my wrists pinned behind my back. "Wait here for Principle Figgins," She barks.

As soon as she leaves the office, I hop over the front desk and open the nurse's door. Rachel's pants are rolled up just above her knees.

My gaze immediately focuses on her scars.

The angry lines from where the doctors must have sewed her up are pink and look like her leg has been clawed by a pack of wolves. By her knee, where the biggest sets of marks are, I think is a skin graft, because it's a different shade and doesn't match the rest of her soft tan skin.

Tearing my gaze away from her leg, I look up at her. "I'm so sorry, Rachel.".

Her expression is hard, her eyes shuttered. "Go away, Puck." She spits and I wince. Or do you want to take a picture so you could show Quinn? Then you'd both have something else to laugh about."

AN2: Whoops! Looks like a cliff-hanger. Guess you'll just have to wait to find out what happens. Maybe if you leave a review I'll have the next chapter out as quick as this one came.