Don't kill me, I'm not done with the story yet, so don't get any ideas.

Thanks, Review please!

Noah Puckerman listened to the heavy crunching of the snow beneath his feet as he walked.

He had walked down this same pathway 10 times now. Once a year, he came to this exact same spot.

As he walked he clenched the beautiful bouquet of flowers that he was carrying in his hands, tighter, dragging his fingers along the thorns of the stem.
They were lillies, her favourite. He remembered the day he found out they were her favourite. It was her birthday in 10th grade and he made the mistake of getting her roses, thinking she would find him romantic, but instead she gave him a lecture on how beautiful lillies were.

He lifted the flowers up to his nose, and took in a deep breath.
The things he would do to hear her ramble about lilies again, blew his mind.

This day was always the hardest day of the year for him. December 14th, the day the love of his life passed away.

As he neared the grave, he thought back to that day.
The heartbreak, the anger, the devistation.

He stopped right infront of the grave.
He read the words that were neatly engraved into the large stone; In loving memory of Rachel Berry. Daughter, friend. and of course, there was Rachel's favourite quote written off to the side.

Right below the bundle of words was a date written, 1994-2011.

Puck felt his heart swell.

He leaned down and reached for the dead flowers he had placed the year before. He ran his fingers through his trimmed hair and sighed. The mohawk look had soon died down about 2 weeks after she died. He didn't want to be feared anymore. He remembered when he cut his hair the year before that and no body feared him anymore,
no body even noticed him. He wanted that again, he needed that.

He knew that he'd better hurry, the others would be arriving soon and he wasn't ready to face them yet.

He always told himself "I'll finally see them this year". But whenever it came around to it, he chickened out.
He knew he shouldn't have just cut them out of his life. He stayed in touch until graduation, then the next day he vanished. He ran off to New York, hoping to do something with his life, to be able to feel what Rachel wanted to do, but it only made it worse.

He hadn't even stayed in touch with Finn.

The only person he stayed in touch out of everyone was Santana. Which was only because she had somehow hunted him down in New York, and her and Brittany showed up on his doorstep one evening.

He leaned down on one knee and placed the flowers down against the grave stone, along with a candle.
He pulled out his lighter and lit the candle, before placing it on top.

He knew that his friends would want some sort of reminder that he was okay.

He smiled at the grave and ran his fingera long the rocky stone.
"Hey you" He started. "It's been a while. 365 days to be exact. 365 days since I've been in Lima, actually. I know that if you were here right now, you would probably be yelling at me, telling me that I shouldn't be so distant with everyone, but it's hard, you know? You were everything to me Rachel, I will never stop telling you that. See you next year. I love you" he said, kissing his hand and placing it on the grave one last time.

He heard the faint sound of squeaking wheels behing him, and he turned to see Erica pushing a stroller towards him.

She smiled sweetly at him.
"Hey, I knew I'd find you here" she said."Do we really have to come all the way to Lima every year just for this?" she asked.

Puck smiled back.
"Yes, and I won't stop until the day I die" he said seriously.

She nodded in understanding and pushed the strolled a few more centimetres forward.

He smiled adoringly and lifted the small brown haired baby out of the strolled and into his muscular arms.
"Hello Rachel" he said softly.

She smiled back up at him. "Hi dada" she said.

Puck felt something tug at the inside of his chest, and he had to force back the lump in his throat.

As they walked away from the grave Puck took one last look behind him, sending one last final prayer.

He would do the exact same thing next year, and the year after, he would do it every year, until he couldn't anymore.

This isn't the end.