A.N. Sorry for super late update; school = time eater. Last Friday was our last day of Finals, so now, it's goodbye First Year of college and hello, glorious Summer Break! Anyway, this is another one of those written-under-pressure chapters, so I hope you guys like this anyway despite the fact that it's a big mess. Thanks for everyone who reviewed the last chapter (I'm really sorry I can't reply one by one—I've barely have time to sleep these past few weeks, much less have time for non school-related stuff.)
Read, review, and enjoy!
Jigsaw Pieces
Chapter Eleven
Rachel doesn't know who's more surprised to realize that she's been spending more time at the Puckerman's lately: her or Noah.
The reason, of course, is none other than Noah's adorable sister, Gabby. She'd somehow overhead him talking to Rachel on the phone one day and had snatched the phone away to ask if she wanted to come over. Rachel had accepted, and things had just snowballed from there—not that she minds though; she's always wanted a little sister.
"You're here again?" Noah groans, although not unkindly, when he walks inside his house one afternoon and sees them sitting in the living room. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were homeless, Berry."
"Hello to you too, Noah," she replies, her tone sugar-sweet as she gives him a grin. True, he'd apologized and she'd accepted, but he wasn't entirely home free yet—but he was getting there, and that, she thinks, is what matters most. "Most people say that when they first see someone, but then again, you're not exactly most people, are you?"
"Yeah, like you're one to talk," he grumbles. Nodding at the mess on the coffee table, he adds, "What crazy thing are you two midgets up to this time?"
"I'm doing homework and Rachel's helping me," Gabby says. "But you probably don't know what homework looks like, seeing as you never do any."
"There are other ways to pass a class, squirt."
"Underhanded ways, I'm sure," Gabby retorted, sticking her tongue out at her brother.
Noah groans again. "'Underhanded'? You've been spending way too much time with crazy chick over here—you're practically turning into a mini-Berry." He gives Rachel a direct look. "I blame you."
"If you're referring to the expansion of your sister's vocabulary, then you can put the blame on me," Rachel replies. "I'll gladly accept it."
Noah laughs. "Dude, that was like a messed-up version of an Akon song," he says as he disappears into the kitchen.
"Akon?" Rachel calls after him, confused.
"Look him up, Berry!" he merely says from the kitchen. She rolls her eyes.
Gabby's in the middle of explaining who Akon is (see, it's a teach-teach and therefore win-win situation) when Noah emerges a few moments later with a sandwich in hand. "I'll be in my room killing space aliens. Yell if there's a fire." And with that, he makes his way upstairs.
Gabby sighs and turns to Rachel. "I have no idea what you see in him."
(Rachel's made it clear that they are not in a relationship, but these little comments still slip past from Gabby from time to time. Tired of explaining, Rachel doesn't bother correcting or answering her this time around.)
She doesn't notice how late it is until the front door opens and a dark-haired woman enters the house. Her expression looks tired, but she smiles when Gabby runs and hugs her, exclaiming, "Mom!"
"Hi, sweetie," the older woman says, returning the hug. Mrs. Puckerman is a tall, slim lady with the same dark hair as Noah and Gabby. Rachel stands and smiles politely, waiting for Gabby to introduce her. This is the latest she's stayed at Noah's house, and this is most definitely the first time she's met his mother.
Straightening, Mrs. Puckerman takes notice of Rachel and asks Gabby, "And who is this?"
"I'm—"
"Mom." It's Noah's voice that makes them all turn to see him going down the stairs. "What are you doing home? I thought you were working late tonight."
"I managed to get off early. I don't spend nearly enough time with you two," his mom replies. Turning to Rachel, she says, "You were saying, dear?"
Rachel ignores the sudden wide-eyed look that Noah gives her and says, "I'm Rachel Berry. I'm in Glee with Noah and I help out Gabby with her homework sometimes."
Gabby, still holding on to her mom's arm, adds enthusiastically, "She's really cool, mom! Rachel's smart and she can sing really well."
"Speaking of which," Noah cuts in, giving her a look as he walks towards her. "Weren't you just leaving? Don't you have to upload a Myspace video or something?"
Raising an eyebrow at his look, which strangely seems pleading, she, confused, only says, "I can do that later tonight. Besides, what's one day without a new video?"
He's standing close enough to her now that he's able to mutter, "You are choosing the worst time to act like a normal person, Berry."
Rachel rolls her eyes. And he accuses her of being confusing.
Noah's mother smiles at her. "How wonderful, Rachel. You can call me Marie, it's—" She pauses suddenly, and then she's looking at Rachel so intensely for a moment that she becomes curious.
"I'm sorry, is that…a star of David necklace you're wearing?" Marie finally asks, giving Rachel a look.
"Oh, yes," Rachel replies with a smile. "I wear it as a symbol to show that I'm proud of being Jewish."
There's a pause for one teeny, tiny moment. And then, two things happen at once: Noah groans and mutters, "Shit," and Marie starts to smile widely, like she's just seen the fulfillment of her life's aspirations before her.
"Jewish," Marie says, almost like she's savoring the word. Recovering quickly, she glances from Rachel to Noah and back again before saying delightedly, "Oh. Well, it's wonderful to meet you, dear. Would you like to stay for dinner, Rachel?"
"Mom, you don't have to—" Noah hastily says, but Marie cuts her off.
"Nonsense, Noah. I bought food, and since we're about to eat and she's a guest—well, it'd be better if she just had dinner here."
"But—her dads—"
"I can call them to inform them that I'll be home late." Turning to Marie, she says with a bright smile, "I'd love to stay for dinner, as long as I'm not imposing."
"Oh, not at all," Marie assures her. Smiling warmly—and Rachel already knows that she likes this woman—Marie takes her by the arm and leads her to the dining room, saying, "So, tell me about yourself…."
The last thing Rachel sees before she disappears into the next room is Noah's extremely pronounced scowl.
"You," Noah tells her in an irritated tone as he drives her home later that evening—on orders from his mother--, "You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into."
"Excuse me? I don't get you," she says, frowning. "You were being so sullen during dinner. I don't understand why you seem so upset about me meeting your mother and sister. Your family is lovely—"
"They're also batshit crazy," he tells her flatly. Making a sharp right turn, he adds, "Don't get me wrong, I love them and all that crap, but sometimes they're just…like you."
A beat later, and he adds, "Huh. No wonder you get along."
She's pretty sure he just insulted his own family (and her), yet for some reason, it warms her heart all the same to hear him say that he loves them anyway. "You should consider yourself lucky. You have a mom who works really hard—"
"It's not like she's had much of a choice," he points out, "ever since dad walked out."
Although he's playing it cool, there's a distinct bitterness in his voice that tells her that this is a sore topic for him, so she lets it go and merely says, "Why exactly do you have a problem with your mom meeting me?"
"Because she was practically estimating your measurements for the wedding dress during dinner!" At her incredulous look (honestly, he can exaggerate so well) he adds, his tone actually grave, "I'm serious, Berry. There's nothing my mom wants more than for me to date a Jewish girl—a nice Jewish girl with good grades and talent. And guess what? She seems to think you fit the bill just right."
"But we're not in a relationship."
"And we told my mom that, but does she care? Nope. She takes one look at you and sees, 'Nice, pretty, Jewish future daughter-in-law.'"
Rachel can't help but laugh at that, but his previous adjectives finally register and she gives him a look. "You think I'm pretty?" she asks, honestly quite surprised.
He shrugs, but he doesn't look at her. "Wouldn't have hooked up with you in the first place if you weren't. And anyway—totally not the point, Berry."
It's a very classic Noah move, to bury compliments beneath insults and brush-offs, but strangely Rachel can't help but feel flattered anyway. There's silence for a brief moment before she says, somewhat unsure how to broach the topic, "Speaking of your mother, I'm guessing you haven't told her yet about Quinn?"
"I'm still living at home and she doesn't look like she's going to burst into tears when she sees me, right?" When Rachel nods, he says, "Then that's a no. Mom doesn't even know Quinn's pregnant—she's pretty behind on news like that."
"Noah," she says slowly. "I know it's not my place, but you have to tell her sometime. Secrets have a way of getting revealed—no matter how well you hide it, the truth will come out sooner or later. Would you rather someone else told her instead of you?"
"Dude, you cannot imagine the blow-up that's going to happen if I do that." It's a red light, and he runs his hand through his mohawk—an action that, Rachel notices he does when they're talking about topics he doesn't like. "Look, the first time I got called into the principal's office 'cuz I punched some douche's lights out, she cried the rest of the day and barely spoke to me. Do you have any idea what telling her that I got a chick pregnant is going to do to her?"
"Noah—"
"She's going to be torn in two, Berry. Mom doesn't show it but she's already fucked up over dad leaving. This is going to kill her."
"And what if she finds out from someone else?" She challenges. She understands where he's coming from, really, but it's still not the right thing to do. "That's going to hurt her even more. If you tell her first, at least you'll get the chance to explain."
"Why do you want me to tell her so badly?" he groans.
Her response is simple. "Because it's the right thing to do. And more importantly, because, despite your actions, I know you're heart is in the right place when it comes to the people you love."
He scowls. "I don't know what the hell made you think that, but here's the thing, Berry: I'm not some sort of saint, and I'm definitely not a nice guy"
"I never said you were a saint," she retorts, irritated that he thinks so lowly of himself despite the bravado he shows. "I don't care how many times you try to dissuade me into believing it, but the fact still remains that you are a good person."
"Don't talk like you know me so well, Berry," he snaps. "You don't know a fucking thing."
"I do know we're more alike than you care to admit," she says, quietly this time. "That day at the bleachers…it was true, what I said. We both want everything too much. It's not a bad thing, but…sometimes I think we just need to let go. Especially when they weren't really ever ours to begin with."
"Yeah, well, why don't you apply that to yourself instead of psychoanalyzing me, since you seem to have that all figured out? Word of advice: don't try fixing someone when you can't even fix yourself."
She doesn't say anything to that, so they spend the rest of the drive in silence. When he finally pulls over in front of her house, the front lights shining brightly out of the corner of her eye, she doesn't move for awhile, taking in the tension in the car and wondering why it makes her feel like this.
He grabs her hand just before she makes a move to get out, and his hand is warm against her skin and she doesn't know why but she feels a thrill shoot through her spine. "Wait. Look, I didn't mean to snap at you, okay? I'm just pissed at everything."
"You always seem to be," she points out, but stays in her seat anyway.
"Yeah, well, this is different." He lets go of her hand and stares straight ahead. He's avoiding having to look at her, but there's a distinct edge in his voice that makes her turn to him. "Everything's just going to hell right now, and…I have no fucking clue what I'm supposed to do."
Rachel resists the urge to throw her arms around him and hug him. She's fully aware that he'd rather eat a canister full of nails than admit something like this—admit feelings—to other people, and the fact that he did just now shows a definite step towards personal growth.
So she compromises by laying a hand over his, and she's rather surprised how small her hand seems in comparison with his.
"Tell your mother and be there for Quinn. You can start from there."
He lets out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, except that Quinn basically told me to get lost."
"And you're just going to take that lying down?" She raises an eyebrow. "It's sweet that you're respecting her wishes but you're still that baby's father and you have rights. If you want to help her and the baby, you can."
"Look," she continues, straightening. "Quinn has an ultrasound appointment next Saturday. You could come with us if you want. Thank you for the drive home, and please tell your mother thank you for the food." When he doesn't say anything, she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out.
She's about to walk up to her house when he calls out, "Hey, Berry!"
Pausing mid-step, she turns around "Yes?"
"Do yourself a favor: no more dinners at my house, okay? If you eat there again, she might bring out invitation samples."
(She has dinner there again twice during the next week. After her 4th meal there, Noah seems just about ready to murder someone.)
When Rachel Berry opens her front door next Saturday, she's a little surprised to find Noah Puckerman standing on the other side, hand in pocket and the same lazy grin on his face.
"'Sup, Berry," he greets.
You honestly can't blame her for staring. A week has passed since that initial conversation in his car, and apart from a few conversations while she was at his house, they haven't really talked much and he certainly hasn't ever come by her house.
"Hello, Noah," she says, not bothering to mask her pleasant surprise. "I'm glad you decided to come."
"Hey Rachel, who's—Puck?" Quinn's voice says from the stairs and they both turn to see her walking towards them. "What's he doing here?"
"It's your ultrasound appointment, and that's my kid. I'm going with you," he tells her flatly.
"You don't need to do that."
"I know," he shrugs. "But I want to."
"How did you even know?" Without waiting for an answer, Quinn gives Rachel an accusatory glance. "You told him, didn't you? Seriously, what, are you two friends now? That's…weird. No offense."
She brushes off the blonde's last few words. "I might have mentioned it," Rachel admits, not feeling the least bit guilty. "Come on, Quinn. Noah has his car—he can drive. Besides, you'll be late if you keep standing here arguing with us."
Quinn, looking very much like she wants to throw something at them both, says nothing but follows them to Noah's car. As he starts the car, Quinn, who's sitting beside Rachel in the backseat, whispers, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Give him a chance to prove himself, Quinn," Rachel says softly. "Give him a chance to be a father."
"But I'm not even sure if I want to be a mom."
Rachel fully understands, so she just says, "Then at least give him a chance to help you. You're going to need more support, Quinn, and anyway, you managed to look past our differences and accept my invitation to help, right?"
"You didn't really give me much of a choice," she points out, but there's a small smile on her face, and really, who would've thought there'd come a day when Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray became friends?
"True," she says with a laugh. "But still, Quinn, think about it. If you managed to give me a chance to help, why not him?"
Quinn is silent throughout the rest of the ride, her hands resting on her belly. The clinic of Quinn's obstetrician, Dr. Camden, is a small but cozy establishment. It's surprisingly empty save for one other couple, considering it's Saturday afternoon.
They make the necessary arrangements but before Quinn steps inside the room she says, "Puck."
He turns and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
She bites her lip, looking as though she really, really doesn't want to do this, but will do it anyway. "I was just…do you want to come in with me during the ultrasound? So you can see her?"
It's almost amazing, the sudden spark that comes into his eyes and Rachel's heart warms, happy that Quinn is giving him this opportunity. He tries to look impassive, but he shrugs and says, "Yeah. That'd be cool."
Quinn nods, then they both glance at Rachel. "I'll wait out here," she assures them. "Go on."
The moment the door shuts, she seats herself down on the nearest couch and smiles.
"The baby's fine, then?" Rachel asks once Noah exits the room, an odd expression on his face. When he doesn't say anything and instead just sinks beside her on the couch, she waves her hands in front of his face. "Noah!"
"Huh? Oh." He snaps out of it quickly, but the expression is still there. "Yeah. The kid's fine—the doc said a lot of stuff I didn't get, but I didn't hear the word 'mutant' while I was there, so everything's probably all good. They're just finishing up in there."
"Oh." Rachel nods. "And are you alright?"
"Fine. Just a little freaked though." He blows out a breath and Rachel wonders why, ever since he apologized to her, he's been getting better at admitting things. "There's really a kid growing in there, my kid and—I'm gonna be a dad at sixteen. That's insane." Slowly, she's beginning to decipher the ingredients that make up his odd expression—a little bit of happiness, mixed in with caution and a whole lot of fear.
"Have you talked with Quinn yet? About what you're going to do when—"
"Nah." He shakes her head. "I got her in this mess, so I'll go along with what she wants, but we haven't talked. I mean, I just saw the kid now. One step at a time, you know?" Rachel nods, and for a moment, it's quiet.
"Hey, Berry." When she doesn't reply—she's far too engrossed in her thoughts—this time it's him who snaps her out of it. "Rachel."
Him calling her by her given name startles her out of her reverie and it sounds so foreign, coming from him, but it's nice to hear. Strangely nice. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"
"Nothing," he shakes his head but gives her a look all the same. "Just…you should really learn how to mind your own business, but thanks. For this. You know, even if I've been such a screw-up lately—"
"Will you stop demeaning yourself?" she demands with an eye roll. Softening her look though, she smiles and clasps his hand, wondering why she keeps doing this action lately. "But you're welcome, Noah."
He doesn't say anything to that, but he doesn't draw his hand away and neither does she, and they sit in companionable silence, and Rachel can't help but think that this feels nicer than she's comfortable with. It's an absurd thought—it's just a touch of hands, and with Noah Puckerman for crying out loud—but still, it can't be denied and that, in itself, worries her slightly.
It's still quiet, the only noise the faint hum of conversation from other people and the soft strains of music. And then they hear a familiar voice that shatters the silence completely.
"Noah? Rachel?"
Alarmed, the two of them suddenly stand, let go of each other's hand and look up to meet the somewhat surprised stare of Marie Puckerman as she stands by the clinic's entrance. She glances at them and at the plaque on the wall that clearly says, "Janine Camden, M.D., Obstetrician", then back again, her mouth slowly falling into the smallest of 'O's.
From where he's standing beside her, Rachel can hear Noah distinctly mutter, "Oh shit."