Quinn's fingers were white from holding onto the steering wheel with such effort. She pulled over, stopping on the side of the road and turned the engine off. Her chest was hurting. She couldn't breathe. Out of her purse, she pulled her acceptance letter, that hope of a better life, a new start. She would never make it. Tears built up inside her but she swallowed them down. She tore the letter apart with fury and threw the pieces out of the window. She was stupid to have believed that she could escape all of this so easily. There was no way out. She was stuck with this feeling all her life. There wasn't anything she could really do about it.

"I'm trapped" she whispered.

She closed her eyes before starting the car again. The road was dark and empty. She had never felt so alone.

…

He looked everywhere for her. He called every person she had ever known. He called the police and asked the radio station to put out a message about her. But still nothing. The day turned into night and he had no idea where she was.

"Where is she?" he asked his mother.

"I don't know."

He hated himself even more now. He had hurt Santana and Quinn and Brittany with simply telling a truth. Maybe a lie had been more kind.

"She might be hurt" he said.

"I know."

He could see the lines of worry on his mother's face. She wasn't just concerned about some girl, she was worried about Quinn, a girl she loved. It gave Puck strangely enough some comfort, he wasn't alone in this.

"What are you doing up?" Hannah asked, coming down the stairs.

She was wearing her PJs and looking sleepy.

"Just talking, honey."

"Where's Quinn?"

Puck swallowed. He didn't want to hurt Hannah too.

"She's staying the night at a friend's" he lied.

"Did you fight?"

"No."

She nodded.

"Okay."

"You should go back to bed, Han."

"Okay."

She turned and went back to her bedroom. Both Puck and his mom watched her.

"If Quinn comes back, she can't stay here" his mother said.

"Because of Hannah?"

"Yes. We can't risk it. We have to protect her."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Puck nodded.

"Quinn won't wanna stay here anyway."

His mother patted his cheek.

"Let's find her first, 'kay?"

He nodded.

"'Kay"

…

"Have you heard from her?"

He knew Santana so well that he could hear the worry even though her tone was nonchalant.

"No."

"Where the hell can she be?"

Puck crammed his phone between his shoulder and his ear so that he could drive and talk at the same time.

"I don't know."

"Do you think she did something stupid?" she asked, letting go of all pretence.

"I hope not."

He passed the Lima Lake. She couldn't have drowned herself? No. Of course not.

"We fucked up, Puck."

"I know."

Her voice cracked.

"I keep fucking her up."

"San, it's going to be okay."

She exhaled loudly.

"Don't lie" she whispered.

"Sorry, bad habit."

She snorted.

"Did you talk to Brit?"

"Yeah."

"What did she say?"

"Let's not talk about it."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

…

Puck spent the night the police station. It was the first time he did so out of free will. The officers kept telling him that they would call if they heard anything, but he didn't leave. He couldn't just go home and do nothing. He would rather suffer on a wood bench than be warm in his bed. Maybe it was self-punishment.

"Excuse me" a man said.

Puck looked up. The policeman who had once arrested him for stealing an ATM stood in front of him.

"Yes?"

"There's been a car accident. A car has hit a tree, a girl was driving" he said.

Puck went cold. He literally went cold. He couldn't move his arms or legs and his heart froze.

"Where?"

"Outside of town, near the highway."

He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He couldn't speak.

"You okay, son?"

He shook his head. Everything was spinning.

"Was it her?" he croaked.

"We don't know. I just sent a couple of guys out to check it out."

"She's dead?"

"We don't know yet."

Puck leaned back against the wall. His body had stopped working.

"Look, should I call someone? You look ill, son."

Puck handed him his phone.

"Call Santana" he mumbled.

He knew that she would be freaked out by being called by a cop from Puck's phone, but he couldn't muster the strength to talk. Everything was cold.

…

"Maybe it was an accident" Santana whispered.

She had been crying hysterically for hours. Puck just felt like ice, watery and cold.

"Perhaps" he whispered back.

He wished they could just tell him. Yes, Quinn is dead. It would be better than not knowing, anything was better than this.

"We should call her parents" Santana said.

"They don't give a shit about her."

"She's their daughter."

"Just wait a bit longer, San. I can't deal with them yet."

She nodded and placed her head on his shoulder. He was glad she had come. He would have hated to be alone. Santana shared his every fear.

"If she dies, I'm not going to make it" he whispered.

"Don't say that. I couldn't do it if I lost you both."

She took his hand and entangled their fingers. Hers were warm and slim, his were icy and stiff.

"I thought things were going to be okay."

"Me too" he breathed.

He leaned in to smell her hair. It helped. She was here. He had her.

"Have you prayed?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"I thought you only went to church for the free wine."

"This is a special occasion."

They shared a strained smile.

…

"Beatrice Scott" the policeman said.

Puck flinched, he almost fallen asleep.

"What?" he asked.

"That's the girl's name. The one in the car."

"You sure?" Santana asked, sitting up straight.

"Her ID said so."

Puck squeezed Santana's hand.

"Not Quinn Fabray?"

"No. And she had red hair."

"It's not her" Santana whispered.

"It's not her" Puck repeated.

"It's not her?" the policeman asked.

"No."

Something melted inside Puck. She wasn't dead.

"We still don't know where she is" Santana reminded him silently.

"But she's not dead."

He felt like laughing, but he didn't.

"I'm sorry about Beatrice" Santana said. "We're just happy that she died and not Quinn."

The policeman frowned, but smiled too.

"Guess I have to find her family."

He left. Puck kissed Santana's forehead roughly.

"There's hope" he whispered.

"Yes."

Just then, his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number but answered.

"Hello" he said.

"Noah Puckerman?"

"Yes."

"My name is Dr Bailey Henderson."

"Okay."

"I thought you might be worried about Quinn Fabray."

"Yeah, is she okay?"

"She came here yesterday, checked herself in."

…

Quinn stared into the ceiling. She was taking strong pills against the anxiety and felt drowsy. Bailey had been in to speak with her, but Quinn had been to out of it to respond. She watched the ceiling and counted nails in the dresser and didn't think.

"You're back too?" Kayla asked, walking into the room.

Quinn mustered a smile.

"Yeah."

Kayla lay down on the other bed. She looked worn out and pale. Actually, she looked like Quinn felt.

"I feel like shit" Quinn whispered. "I thought I was better."

"I feel like I'm better every time."

"I'm sorry, Kay."

"Me too."

Quinn directed her eyes to the paint on the walls.

"You came here voluntarily?" Kayla asked.

"I drove myself."

"Then, you are better."

"You think so?"

"I've been in therapy for three years. I've learned a few things."

Quinn nodded.

…

"It was nice of you" Quinn said. "Putting Kayla in my room."

"I thought it might be comforting for you."

"It was. Thank you."

Bailey nodded.

"Hold that thought because I did something you might not approve of."

"What?" Quinn asked.

"I told him where you were."

Quinn swallowed.

"I asked you not to" she whispered.

"I know, I know. But my husband is a police officer and he told me about a boy who wouldn't stop looking for this girl. This boy thought she was dead and my husband was worried that the boy would go nuts if she turned out to be. He asked me for help."

"It was Puck?"
"Yes."

"Well, I'm not dead."

"No, you're not."

"Was she with him?"

"Santana?"
Quinn nodded.

"Yes."

Bailey inspected her cautiously, but Quinn let no emotions show.

"They obviously care about you very much."

"Obviously."

She couldn't completely drain her that word from sarcasm.

"I doubt that they slept together to hurt you" Bailey said carefully.

"I know they didn't."

"Alright."

Quinn didn't know what to say, what to feel, what to admit.

"I know I don't have the right to be upset by this and that is what scares me even more. It's not a big deal and I still broke."

Bailey leaned forward and placed her hand on Quinn's arm.

"But you came here. You could have done something stupid, but you didn't."

They shared a moment of silence.

"Do I have to see him?"

"No, of course not."

"But you think I should?"

Bailey shrugged.

"It's up to you, Quinn."

"That was what I was afraid of."

…

Santana drove, she had insisted. Puck hadn't slept in 48 hours and felt shaky all over. He nursed a huge cup of coffee in the car.

"Don't spill that" Santana growled at him.

But he knew that she didn't really care. They were just pretending to be mess with each other.

"You can tell me what happened with Brittany now" he said.

"She cried. A lot. Screamed. A lot. Her mother threw me out. Not much to say."

He watched her profile. She was a very pretty girl, she could find someone else.

"Maybe she'll get over it."

"No, she won't and that's okay, I guess. I got my acceptance letter last week, I'm going to Berkeley."

"Wow, San, that's great!"

"And she's moving to Arizona for some dance school."

"Long distance could work."

Santana sighed.

"I can't keep faithful when she's right here. God knows what I'm going to do when we're in different states."

"Well, I won't be there so you might have a shot on this lesbian thing."

He snickered as she rolled her eyes.

"You should see her first" Santana decided, suddenly serious. "Alone."

"Why?"

"Because you have to tell her the truth."

"The truth?"

"You know what I mean."

He knew. He just didn't want to face it.

"And you're going to wipe her tears afterwards?" he asked, frowning.

"Maybe."

"I hate this."

"I know."

…

His hand felt heavy as he knocked on the door. A girl opened, not Quinn. She smiled and disappeared into the hallway. The room was small and dark. He could just make out the form of a girl on one of the beds. She appeared to be sleeping.

"Quinn" he said carefully. "Are you awake?"

She didn't stir. He made his way closer. It was her, but she was sound asleep. Maybe it was some medication they used, maybe she was just exhausted. He knew that feeling all too well. Well, he wasn't going to wake her. Instead, he clambered down on the narrow bed beside her and cradled her from behind. She nuzzled closer in her sleep, he kissed her hair. He could sleep for a bit too, it wouldn't matter.

…

Quinn woke up and knew it was him holding her. She didn't say anything, she didn't turn. She just lay there and let him hold her. It was nice and she knew, it would be the last time for a long time, maybe forever.

"You awake?" he asked softly.

She wanted ignore the question, to be with him a bit longer, but it was time.

"Yes."

He didn't move and neither did she. Maybe they could play pretend for a bit longer.

"You scared me" he whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"For what? Having sex with someone? It's none of my business."

"I shouldn't have done it" he murmured.

"I know you. And I know her. You needed comfort because I had gone crazy. It's my fault, really."

"Don't say that."

She could feel tears burning in her throat but it wasn't time for them yet. She had to be strong for a few more minutes.

"I ripped my letter up" she confessed.

"Why?"

"I'm not strong enough yet, this just made me realize it."

A single tear escaped her eyes. He stroked it away his thumb.

"You need to get away from here."

"I can't. I'm not ready."

"There's help there too, Q. I mean, California is like therapy capital of the world."

She let herself smile.

"I don't know…"

"Santana's going to Berkeley. You won't be completely alone."

"She doesn't have to baby me. I've put her through enough."

She felt Puck entangle his fingers with hers.

"Give it a shot. Think of the sun and the beaches and smart people."

"You think I can make it?"

"I'm sure of it."

She exhaled silently. He pulled her closer. The tears burned hotter.

"We're over now?" she said, but it turned into a question.

"I think we have to be."

"Yes" she agreed. "Yes."

"I love you, Quinn. I love so much it literally hurts me when I think about you. Love isn't supposed to do that. Love is supposed to make you feel good. But it doesn't because I'm so scared and worried about you."

"I'm sorry" she whispered.

She let the tears loose now. She couldn't fight them anymore. They made paths of wet down her cheeks, damping the pillow. Puck didn't try and wipe them away. She was thankful.

"You need to get better somewhere where I can't hurt you" he told her.

It sounded rehearsed, like a speech, but she was thankful. She wouldn't have had the guts to do it.

"Maybe one day" he began, but his voice trailed off.

"Maybe."

"But…" he began again. "I'm not going to wait for you. And you shouldn't wait for me."

She was pleased that he sounded so certain, even if he wasn't. She was too weak to cut the cord herself.

"Okay."

"Maybe one day, everything will work out for us."

"So this is it?" she said and again, it came out as a question.

"I guess so" he agreed.

"I love you" she whispered for the first time.

She felt his lips brush her cheekbone.

"And I love you. I can't imagine not loving you."

She nodded. He held her for a few more minutes before leaving.

…

Puck closed the door behind him and had to lean against the wall for support. Every last drop of strength was gone. He was sleep deprived and empty. He slid down the wall when his legs wouldn't carry him.

"You did it?" Santana asked.

He nodded, not being able muster any other action. She hesitated in front of him.

"It was the right thing."

"I know."

"Doesn't feel like it right now though, I bet."

"No, not really."

"Wanna hold the cat?"

She had brought the kitten to see Quinn. He snorted.

"Nah, thanks."

"Your loss."

She opened the door and stepped into Quinn's room. He watched it close behind her. He was helping her in the long run, he knew that. And he was helping himself. But it felt wrong. Weren't you supposed to fight for love? She had finally said it; I love you, just seconds after he had ended them for good. All he wanted was to back in and take it all back, but he had heard it her voice too. It was the right thing. They were just kids in the end, stupid kids in love. Puppy love couldn't cure mental illnesses.

...