AN: As the great Samuel L. Jackson once said..."Hold on to your butts!" Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 13

The recording device played in Puck's hospital room. Will sat in a chair by the door; Sam had taken a position near the window. A female voice was talking steadily into the microphone, occasionally interrupted by Will as he asked Quinn another question.

"What's so funny? How did you send these messages? We found no records on phone or computer," Will spoke from the small black device on the tabletop.

"Of course not. That's because Rachel carried them in person," Quinn replied.

"What do you mean? Are you saying Rachel was involved?"

"…Well, she was involved, whether she liked it or not, but to be fair, she didn't know she was carrying the messages."

"Please explain," Will commanded.

"Gladly. See, first, Jesse and I had to get Rachel and Finn together. The agreement, to my understanding, was that Finn was allowed to date Rachel, but it didn't have to be exclusive. However, Jesse strictly forbade Finn from laying a hand on her. Dating was fine, but not sleeping together. At first, it didn't seem to be a problem, but then we could tell Rachel was getting to him. Eventually, we found out from the Governor that Finn broke his word, and well, you know…gave into temptation."

"Stop," Puck said from his place on the bed. "You realize you caused this whole disaster by doctoring those photographs, right, Schue?" Puck spat at his superior.

Will sighed. "Yes, Puckerman, I'm well aware that you are terminally pissed at me for ruining things with your girlfriend. I'm sorry. But, I also know that she has to be a very forgiving person to be with you in the first place, so I'm sure she'll come around eventually. Can we get on with this?"

Puck glared, un-amused at Will's dry comment, and he silently promised himself he'd get revenge – once the damn doctors let him out of this place.

"Fine," he growled.

Will pressed the play button on the recorder and once again, Quinn's voice filled the room.

"Jesse was incensed by this…"

Will interrupted her. "We're aware of this part of it, Miss Fabray. Please tell us how you managed to get Rachel to unwittingly carry messages back and forth between Berry, Hudson and St. James."

"Well, that was where I came in. I befriended the poor lonely girl before she was set up with Finn, so that I could build her trust in me. I've always had a certain flair for fashion, and I was finally able to put it to good use. We sent signals via Rachel's wardrobe."

"Excuse me? I don't understand."

"It was easy, set up a code, a certain color ribbon was easily coerced into her hair, or I'd suggest the purple dress instead of the green one – at the last minute, depending on the message we were sending."

"You're kidding."

"No. It was quite clever of us, actually – you had no evidence, no record of a relationship. That is until Berry crumbled under the pressure."

"How did Finn send messages back?"

"Oh, that was easy enough. Rachel would tell me all about her dates with Finn. I just got her into the habit of telling me about what he wore, what restaurant they went to. His response could be the color of a tie, the cut of a suit, or even wearing a hat. It was simple, yet it worked so well, don't you think?"

Will stopped the recorder and looked across the room at Sam.

"Man used by her girlfriends, her boyfriends. Is it just me, or does anyone else feel sorry for the poor girl?" Sam asked, shaking his head; then he glanced over at the figure lying on the bed. Puck lay there with his eyes closed, presumably in thought.

Sam turned back to the window. He heard Rachel's voice echoing in his ears. "All you people seem to be able to do is use me." His train of thought was derailed when Will grabbed his shoulder and motioned his head to the door. Glancing at Puck, Sam saw that he had actually fallen asleep, having been able to battle the painkillers pumping through his system for only so long.

Outside in the hallway, Sam glared at Will.

"You didn't even tell him the worst part!"

Will winced. "I know. But what could I do? He's already pissed about the photographs, and the doctors said he needs to rest."

"Yeah, but he deserves to know."

"Oh, so you want me to go in there and tell him so the surgeons can accuse me of upsetting the patient? The way he acted today, this could send him into cardiac arrest!"

"I don't know…"

"Besides, it could all amount to nothing and then he'd be upset for no reason. I think we should talk to her first."

"Don't you mean I should talk to her first? Since she won't talk to you anymore."

"Yeah, but you can't influence her decision, Evans. I won't allow it. No matter what you think is best for your friend in there; this is her decision, not his. You just keep that in mind," Will warned.

Sam put on his most innocent face. "Whatever you say, boss."

A knock sounded on the door to her hotel room. She groaned and sat up in bed.

"I need to get an apartment soon," she grumbled as she padded over to the door.

Rachel looked through the peephole to see…

"Noah! What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the hospital!"

"I need to talk to you, Rachel," he shouted through the door, loud enough for the whole floor to hear.

"If you're on official business, I've already told you people to talk to my attorney!" She said firmly, trying to ignore the way her heartbeat had sped up at the sight of him.

"Rachel, it's more personal. Let me in," he growled.

"I don't have anything to say to you or the Bureau, Noah. It's late, and I'd rather you just leave," her heart cried out against the words, but she forced those feelings aside. He doesn't care, she told herself.

"I can't do that, Rachel. Open this door," he said, his voice sounded grimly determined.

"I told you that all FBI business should be taken up with my lawyer," she said defiantly and turned away.

Frustrated Puck pulled something out of his jacket pocket and kneeled down. Rachel thought that he has taken the hint and left. Slowly, she started to walk back to her bed, when she heard a shuffling noise coming from the floor. She turned and looked down; a small white envelope with her name written in a familiar scrawl caught her eye. Curious, she bent down and picked it up, turning the packet over in her hand before opening it.

Dear Rachel,

I've never been very good with words, but despite our differences in the most recent past, I love you with all the heart I never had to give…

Rachel swung the door open, and Puck stood up and moved forward, taking in the sight before him. Rachel stood there in pale pink pajamas with tears welling in her eyes, threatening to fall down pallid cheeks. She brought her hand up to cover her mouth as she choked back a sob. The look of pain on her face was unmistakable, and he moved to take the woman that had a permanent grip on his heart into his arms in a gesture of comfort. But she turned away.

"Rachel..." he said, struggling to keep his voice even while his mind reeled from her rejection.

"Why? Why this? Why me? Why everything? I don't understand what I've done to have all this thrown onto my shoulders. I can't handle this too. I just can't," she said, gaining control of her emotions and turning back to face him.

"Rachel, I can't answer that, but I do need an answer to take back to Schuester," Puck said flatly.

"Yeah, and I'm sure I know what you want me to say," she said bitterly.

"No, I don't think you do," he replied seriously. Something flickered in his eyes for a moment, but it passed quickly.

"Oh as if you care. You've certainly never said as much in all the time I've known you..." Her voice had taken on an angry tone, but then it softened wistfully, "or thought I knew you…"

"I'm not allowed to say anything to sway your decision, Rachel. If Schue were to find out I said anything for or against the offer – at this point, I'd probably be suspended. But I do care Rachel…" I've always loved you. He wanted to say the words, but they wouldn't come.

"I could start over…a whole new life…" She said softly, her face set in a thoughtful expression.

"Rachel," Puck's voice held only a hint of warning, despite the fact his duty and his emotions clashed in an intense internal battle. "You know that's no reason to take the offer. It won't make you happy."

"Nothing about my life has ever made me happy, Noah. Everyone's always thought my life was so perfect…the daughter of a wealthy politician…and look at me now!" She shouted. "Look at this mess! You people want me to testify against my father, against Jesse when they are the only men who have ever cared for me. You and your FBI, what have you done but use me to get to the people that love me?!"

Puck hated himself for what he was about to say, but she had the right to know. He couldn't look her in the eyes; instead he focused on the stained and tattered carpet of the insipid hotel room.

"I know this will probably make you hate me, Rachel…but St. James and Finn and even your father were using you too."

Rachel's mouth dropped open and she became quite pale.

"No…no," she began to shake her head. "You're lying to get something you want. What is it you want now, Noah?"

"Listen to me!" He spoke loudly and glared at her. "Jesse and Quinn set you up with Finn to send signals back and forth that were untraceable. Your father even approved until he saw those pictures that Schue doctored, and thought that Finn had double-crossed Jesse. You were their pawn all along, Rachel. They don't deserve your protection!"

"No!" She yelled, shaking her head, and refusing to let the words sink into her heart. "I don't believe you," she said softly, trying to keep her tears at bay. His eyes glittered with sincerity, but she knew better than to trust her supposed instincts anymore. It was the same feeling in the pit of her stomach that had deceived her the night she spent with him…anger flared and hardened her resolve.

"Get out." She said firmly, her dark brown eyes glaring up at him.

He knew he had stretched what was left of his credibility too thin. She didn't believe that he cared, and he couldn't find the words to make her understand. He had spent the last ten years pushing away his emotions; not wanting to feel the heartbreak of having to leave the only two people who had ever cared about him, his sister and his…Rachel. But Sam had been right; he was making the same mistake all over again; letting others decide what was best for her regardless of feelings involved. It may cost him his job, but he couldn't just walk away.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me you're not going to marry him."

"Get out!" She yelled.

Puck crossed his arms defiantly. Rachel took a step forward, and pushed him backward towards the door. He caught himself, but she kept shoving, her anger fueling her strength.

"Rachel," he said, trying to steady himself as her fists pummeled into the tender wounds in his chest.

"Get out!"

"Not until I hear what I came for!"

"And what was that, Noah? What did you want me to say?"

"Say you won't marry him. I don't care if that's the only way he'll take the deal; we'll find a way to prosecute Jesse and Hummel without him!" His hazel eyes were a mixture of pain and fury, just like his voice. "I don't want…" He started to say, then softened as he looked at her, truly saw her and her strength for what it was and had always admired. "I can't….I won't lose you again."

Pain, like a knife stabbing her heart seared her chest. But she pushed it away ruthlessly. How can it be love if it hurts this much?

"Perhaps that would have meant something before, but I can't believe you now. I don't believe in anything, anymore. Now get out."

Sam groaned and sat up. He was in a hospital bed…again. Why was his head pounding like that? He wiped a hand over his face and tried to concentrate. Suddenly it all came rushing back to him.

Sam started to drive over to Rachel's hotel, but his conscience was nagging him the whole way over there. Before he knocked on her door, he lost his nerve and went back to the hospital. More internal debate ensued, but he finally gathered the courage to tell Puck about the situation.

"He's threatening not to take the deal unless she agrees to go with him, which means marriage – you know the rules."

Puck closed his eyes tightly, little wrinkles forming at the corners from the muscle contraction. Sam was sympathetic, but continued…

"Schue is pissed. He's blaming you, of course, for suggesting he offer the deal to Finn. But he agreed that we should inform her in a very neutral manner." He reached into his pocket and produced an envelope with Rachel's name written in Finn's messy handwriting. "This is Finn's explanation – my instructions were to deliver it and bring back an answer."

"So what does that have to do with me?" Puck asked, his face deadly pale, his expression stricken.

"Oh come on!" Sam yelled, suddenly very angry. "You can lie to everyone else, Puck, even yourself, but not to me. I was there that day – the day she saved you from yourself, and the day you let her go! I promised to never step aside again, and I'm keeping that promise. You may never get another chance!" Blue eyes danced with a blazing fury directed solely at his friend's cold behavior. "You know you don't want her to walk out of your life forever. Come with me."

"No, Sam. It's not appropriate…if Schue found out you let me go with you, we'd both be in trouble. You've stuck your neck out too far for me already. Besides," he said flatly, waving an arm at the room around them, "the doctors won't release me."

Sam had to turn away from the calm expression on his friend's face. He was going to be sick – the stupid moron idiot was going to lose the only woman that would ever put up with his moody, insensitive, emotionally scarred bullshit.

"Well, I'm still going to try…" he said to himself and started to walk to the door. But he blacked out before he ever opened it.

Why? Sam wondered, and ran his hand through his bangs and continued the movement to the back of his head.

"Ow!" He exclaimed as his fingers raked over an impressive bump on his skull. "Geez, Puck, ya son of a bitch, couldn't of taken it a little easy on me – I'm just the messenger!" He said to no one in particular. Payback is gonna be hell, he thought as he fell back on the pillows and grabbed the remote. Flicking through some channels before deciding on Monday Night Football, he looked over at the buttons on the side of his bed and grinned.

"Oh nursey…I think I'm in need of some painkillers….or a sponge bath…"

He sighed and went back to watching the football game; mind focused on where Puck was and what he was doing.

"Jesse," Rachel greeted her oldest friend and ex-lover curtly as she stepped into the small interrogation room at police headquarters the next morning. He was wearing a prison uniform, his brown curls lank and slightly frizzy. His dirty appearance reminded her of the stains he wore on his hands and soul.

"Rachel," he responded with a guarded expression. She turned to her attorney and the guards at the door, dismissing them from the room. She then focused her full attention to the fallen officer.

"How dare you!" She started as soon as the others had left. He looked surprised at her angry expression, fire illuminating her eyes despite the lack of light in the cold dank room that chilled them both. "You and my father think you can just manipulate my life like I'm some damned puppet on a string?! Tell me why!"

By the determined way her jaw was clenched he knew that she meant business, and for some unknown reason, he'd always been a little nervous when she became angry. He never understood why – he'd served a tour of active service in elite fighting forces, and faced down death more time than he could count. But here he sat, Jesse St. James, afraid of a twenty-six year old woman that was so gentle and forgiving towards everyone she'd ever met. And perhaps that was the key to his fear – he was afraid he'd lose her love, and her forgiveness. That never again would she look at him with the love and admiration she had always held for him since she was young. He shook his head and tried to focus on her question.

"Why?" His usual smooth tone sounded raspy as he formed the word.

"Yes, why, Jesse? Why did you and my father send Noah away? Why did you use me in your schemes – setting me up with Finn to send messages?"

"Is that all?" He asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"No. I want to know why you did this – why you, of all people, would turn your back on the people you swore to protect for some filthy money! And then, while you're at it, tell me what happened to you to make you become this…thing in front of me," Rachel's voice quavered with emotions as she said the last sentence. She could see the hurt flash across his face for a moment before he gained control. Unable to withstand her gaze, he stared down at his clasped hands on the metal table.

"Rachel, I have no excuses for my behavior, and I don't expect you to understand my motivations. I did what I had to, and that's all you need to know," Jesse began unwisely. He shut out the world with his inner reflections on his past. It turned out to be a mistake.

She slammed her hands on the table, making him jump.

"That's not good enough!" She yelled, her actions unnerving him.

"Fine! You want to know why we sent Puckerman away? We got rid of him so that he wouldn't drag you down, Rachel. We wanted better for you than a worthless, no-good street punk…" the rest of his sentence was cut off by the impact of her hand against his cheek.

"You had no right, Jesse. I'm not yours to give and take at will. Would you have done this my whole life? Picking and choosing who I can and can't be with?"

"Yes. I would have," he said firmly, but still unable to meet her eyes.

Rachel pursed her lips together to contain her fury. "You're sick, Jesse." She was so baffled at this claim he felt he had on her, but instead of delving into his psychology she needed more answers regarding the situation at present.

"Tell me about Finn Hudson," she pressed him.

"I don't even want to know what you two have been up to," Will railed at his two subordinate agents later that same morning. "I got a phone call at 6:00am from the Berry girl's attorney. 6:00am. What the fuck those people were doing up at that ungodly hour of the day, I have no idea. I don't want to know. But they demanded to see Jesse immediately. She's been in there for an hour, now…"

Sam grinned sheepishly at his boss, "No coffee this morning, Schue?"

"No. Some idiot janitor broke the damn machine, and I won't drink that vending machine crap! I've got a headache – and you two…"

"What are they talking about in there?" Puck asked, focused on the interrogation door that separated them from the conversation.

"How the hell should I know? It was part of the agreement that we would allow a private meeting between them," Will sneered.

Puck glanced at Sam, who nodded slightly then slung an arm casually over Will's shoulder.

"What do you say I take you over to Starbucks and treat you to the biggest mochaccino on the planet? Plenty of caffeine, triple espresso shots!" He said with a smile.

Will glared at the arm on his shoulder, then at Sam.

"You're mocking me."

Sam looked innocent, "No! I'm not. I think you've been working too damn hard, and deserve a cup of joe."

Will's suspicious glare went undaunted. "I don't trust your motives, Evans, but frankly, I don't care. I need some damn caffeine, so let's go. Your car or mine?"

Sam grinned. "I'll drive."

"Puckerman, I trust you can handle things here," Will tossed over his shoulder as the two moved towards the exit.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Puck burst into the observation room to watch the meeting in progress. He was surprised by what he heard.

"Hudson," Jesse sneered. "He's a dead man when I get out of here."

"It's your own damn fault, Jesse. You can't blame Finn for your own mess," Rachel said angrily.

Jesse's eyes widened. "What? You're going to blame me, but not him? His thugs are the ones on the streets out there, Rachel…"

"His thugs that you and Hummel pay. That you, despite your position, allowed to operate, Finn's as much a pawn in this game as I am."

"You believe that? Maybe you believe that Puckerman's clean too, one of the good guys – that he didn't work for the organization. That he doesn't have blood on his hands…"

"Is that why you tried to kill him? Because you wanted to be the good guy?" She mocked him.

Jesse's face reddened with anger as he glared at the young woman he had so fondly grown up with.

"I don't answer to you," he snarled, crossing his arms and looking away.

They sat in heated silence for a moment, each trying to get their own tempers under control. Rachel mastered hers first, the anger subsiding somewhat despite his harsh tone and demeanor.

"Jesse…how did you get mixed up with this? What happened to the boy I watched grow into a man and had been so proud of? What happened to you?" Her voice took on an almost pleading tone.

Jesse met her eyes, taking in the pain he saw reflecting in her still-innocent orbs. Memories of them growing up flashed in his mind. His pompous demeanor finally cracked.

"I don't know, Rachel. I have no excuses. I've had time to think since going to prison – that's all I can do, now, is think. And I still don't have any answers." Jesse's voice reverberated in the small room.

Rachel's stern gaze softened at his words, but she did not lose focus.

"Why did you do it? How could you use me like that, Jesse?"

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I shouldn't have. I never wanted to get you involved with Hudson," Jesse said with real regret. "I wanted to keep you out of it, but I had no choice."

"You had a choice, Jesse, and you made it. You cared more for yourself than you did for me or even for what was right."

He clenched his jaw at her words, but remained silent for a moment. "I know what they're asking you to do. And I understand."

Rachel frowned, "Jesse, I can't. I won't testify against you." She had thought long and hard about this and had come to the only conclusion that wouldn't haunt her for the rest of her life.

Watching through the two-way mirror, Puck's eyes widened. She forgives him? How could she? He felt like banging on the glass door, but thought better of it.

Jesse stared at her, not believing what he just heard.

"But Rachel…"

"After this moment, I will never see nor speak to you again Jesse St. James," She placed a gentle hand on top of his clasped ones. "Just…take care of yourself, Jesse."

He grasped her hand tightly in both his own, overcome with emotion.

"You take care, too," he whispered.

As Rachel started to leave, he asked her where she was going.

"I'm going to talk to Finn," replied softly.

Jesse's face darkened with a seething hatred.

"Stay away from him, Rachel."

A sad smile played on Rachel's features. "Your opinion is irrelevant, Jesse, the strings have been cut."

Jesse couldn't help the sneer that played across his lips.

"What about Puckerman?"

Puck's ears perked up at the mention of his name, and he looked over to where Rachel was standing at the door. Her posture was one of defeat as she gazed at the floor, brown hair floating around her face, casting shadows across her eyes underneath the dim florescent lighting in the room. She met Jesse's gaze in a look of loss and started to say something that was lost to Puck's ears as Will burst into the observation room with more veracious fury then he had for the broken coffee machine.

"I love him, Jesse," she said softly and then exited the room.

"This was supposed to be a private conversation, Puckerman, I could have you suspended for this!"

Puck looked his commander straight in the eye, angry with the man for drowning out Rachel's words.

"Do what you have to, but get out of my way – I need to talk to her."

He tried to walk past Will, but his superior reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Puckerman, you were the most promising agent that had ever come through the academy, but you've let your emotions for this girl get the best of you. Get it together, Puck, this is an order, not a request."

Puck glared at him. "Don't worry, I will," he sneered and left the room.

Puck caught up with her in the hallway.

"Rachel," he called out.

She stopped and turned around to face him.

"Agent Puckerman," she addressed him formally.

His heart sank at her greeting. He stopped and stared at this woman that had always been so caring and concerned for his welfare, but was now only cold and distant. And it was his own fault she was shutting him out.

"Rachel…"

She looked up at him; he appeared so hurt by her formality – the formality she needed to keep her heart at bay. There was something that she still needed to do, that she was doing for him – the only thing she could do for the man she loved. Save his career. She had to make sure that Finn would take the deal and testify to send Jesse and Hummel to jail for life. But she couldn't do what was necessary if he was going to look at her that way – the same way he looked at her ten years ago, pain and heartache clearly etched on his street-hardened features.

He stared at her a moment, trying to read what was behind her mask, but couldn't.

"What did you decide?" He finally breathed.

She couldn't look at him and stay hardened to her resolve. In a huff designed to disguise her inner conflict, she turned away and left him standing in the hallway.

"Finn," she greeted him as she sat down at the table facing him.

His face was expressionless, but she could see a dim spark of hope behind his eyes. He carefully considered her movements and motivations.

"Rachel, thank you for coming to see me," he returned quietly.

"Finn, I never knew you felt this way. You know I care for you," she said softly, avoiding his intense stare.

He watched her carefully, could tell that she was uneasy, his letter to her not unwelcome, but the feelings avowed not fully reciprocated. She made no attempt to disguise her emotions, and so the tiny creases at the sides of her eyes expressed the concern she had for hurting him; the softness of her voice designed to show her pity, her remorse; the quiet pleading in her almond-colored orbs requesting he make this easy on her, and her posture one of resolve. Her next words were somewhat surprising, yet not wholly unexpected.

"Yes, Finn, I'll marry you," she said firmly.

Finn felt a self-deprecating smile lift the corners of his lips.

"No, Rachel," his eyes flicked up to meet hers but then darted back down to the floor. "I won't marry a woman in love with another man. I think you'd agree that despite who and what I am, I deserve better than that. And so do you," he replied solemnly.

"But Finn," she pleaded softly, pushing aside the slight stinging sensation that his refusal had brought upon her heart.

"Rachel, it's obvious why you're here. And knowing Puck like I do, he's probably climbing the walls right now, trying to get in here and tear me limb from limb."

Rachel shook her head. "He doesn't care, Finn."

This did surprise the young man. He narrowed brown eyes as he scrutinized her face, looking for signs of what she was truly feeling. She believed her last statement, which meant his friend was a fool. Maybe he should take her with him after all and teach Puck a lesson.

"Rachel…he does care for you – as much as you do for him."

"Finn, I care for you, too. I'd make you happy and we could start a new life together. You love me, so take the deal and let's leave this place, leave it all behind."

The smile he had this time was genuine. She was such a beautiful human being with a heart purer than his had ever been. Her eyes could melt his heart and his resolve; cause him to feel something in her presence that he had never known. He never wanted to let her down, never wanted to see disappointment in her eyes. He could not refuse anything that she deigned to ask of him, despite monetary or moral cost alike.

"Rachel…" he said softly.

Puck stood outside the door to the little room where Finn and Rachel were having their discussion. Another agent was blocking his entrance to the observation room, infuriating the young man who so desperately needed to know what was happening between the concealed pair. Consequences be damned, he was about to pull a gun and demand access to the guarded room when the door opened and Finn's head peered out. He saw Puck and smirked.

"Tell Schuester, I'll testify," he said quietly and shut the door.

Puck lunged at him, but the guards caught their fellow agent, pushing him back against the wall opposite the door. One of the men radioed Will.

"Requesting assistance with handling Agent Puckerman," he said into his mouthpiece.

Puck couldn't hear the reply.

"Yes sir, over," he said into the mouthpiece again, then turned back to Puck. "Agent Puckerman, get your ass back to interrogation room one right now, and turn in your badge. You're taking a vacation."

They let him go, and Puck stood up from the wall they had pushed him against, ignoring the pain that had ignited in his shoulder.

"Fine," Puck said flatly, straightening the collar on his white dress shirt, and shooting the guards a nasty glare. An all-too familiar ache descended on his heart as he marched down the hallway to meet with Will; he had a score to settle.