A/N: Insomnia continues.

Rachel had never been one to give into self-pity. She'd been dealing with the fact that people had been letting her down her entire life for her entire life now. When something unfortunate happened, she quickly picked herself up off the floor and moved on because her eyes were always focused squarely on what really mattered – her future. She was alone in the house a week after graduation, folding her clothes when it hit her: right now, she should be in New York City, searching for her first apartment. Her first audition for Broadway would be right around the corner and she would practically be able to taste her breakthrough. Prior to graduation, the fact that her dreams were gone hadn't really hit her. Yes, she obviously knew that life would be different now that she was pregnant and married to a man she didn't really know all that well, even if she did love him. Yes, she had realized that the dreams she had were gone and she'd have to find and chase new dreams. But while she was busy with school, it still felt like not all that much had changed. Graduating, however, left Rachel with far too much time to think. With no studying to do, no papers to write, not tests to cram for, Rachel had started to reflect on life and how much it had changed. She realized, even as she sat cross-legged on the bed she shared with Noah, that having to give up dreams she'd worked toward since she was four years old was one of the worst things anyone should ever have to do. The past several days, as the blues had settled over her, she'd been able to keep it from Noah. She didn't want him to realize that her heart was breaking for what couldn't be because she did love him and relished in the fact that he'd told her that he felt the same. She did love the little boy growing inside her. She dreamt about him most nights. But she still loved Broadway…she still loved the feeling she got when she belted out a song…she still craved the heat of the spotlight as it warmed up her skin. They were just things that, as much as she tried, were hard to forget.

As she looked around the house she shared with Noah, which was meticulously clean because she had spent the past week sanitizing everything out of boredom, she realized that she needed to occupy her time. Sitting at home, thinking about lost dreams wasn't going to change anything. And in all honesty, she couldn't admit that she wanted them to change, really. She hadn't imagined this life and it wasn't what she had been planning for but Noah...Noah made it all worthwhile. She was married to one of the best looking men she had ever seen and he loved her. That's not the kind of thing an intelligent woman like herself would want to be rid of. Life was simply different than Rachel had planned on it being. But she would adapt. In close to four months, she would have a new title: Mommy. And that? That was more thrilling than even the brightest spotlight. So Rachel sucked up her tears, put away her folded socks, and decided to start making lists. Lists meant she had things to do to keep her occupied.

By the time the afternoon had rolled around, Rachel, with the help of a huge bowl of ice cream, had pulled herself out from her self-pity and had two lists going: one for baby preparations and one of questions she wanted to ask Noah about his life prior to her arrival in it. She knew his heart well, she knew every curve, every muscle, every smooth spot on his body, but there was still so much inside his head that she was not, as of yet, privy to. So now, she was going to focus on pulling those things out into the open. She wanted to know everything that made Noah Puckerman into the wonderful, maddening man he was.

That same morning that his daughter was feeling particularly conflicted, Marcus Berry was still incensed. He had expected to hear from Rachel in the past week. And when she called, he was going to calmly, not accusingly, ask her why his visit was ignored. And he would calmly remind her that his own daughter was not to ignore him. But she had yet to call. So Marcus made a call of his own that morning. He had many favors out there to use and on that day, he called one in.

Puck and Finn were working on a '68 Camero when it happened: His boss walked into the body shop with four police officers in tow.

"Guys…I need you to stop working. The police are here with a search warrant," his boss, Jeff, announced to the six workers in the shop at that moment.

"What the hell for?" was Puck's response, looking slightly alarmed.

An officer stepped forward. "We have received reliable information that there is drug activity originating out of this business. Now, please stay where you are so that we can search you…."

The next half hour passed by in a blur. The other five workers were gently padded down. Puck was shoved face-first into a wall and frisked for five minutes, even having to remove his shoes. Next, Puck stood to the side, unmoving but with knuckles balled and jaw clenched, as his toolbox was emptied and inspected. Once they were finished with the inside, they inspected everyone's vehicles. Puck noticed that they spent three times longer on his car than they did on everyone else's. This whole thing was bullshit and something didn't feel right. Drug raids on businesses in Lima, Ohio in the middle of a weekday afternoon? That shit just didn't happen there.

When Puck walked in the door from work three hours early and with a horrible look on his face, Rachel knew something was wrong. He flopped down on the couch and pulled her into her lap, absentmindedly slipping her hair through his fingers without saying anything.

"What's wrong, Noah? You look awful."

"There was a drug raid at work today," he said solemnly. Rachel's hand flew to cover her mouth.

"What? Why?"

"Fuck if I know. All I know is that they spent triple the amount of time investigating me and my shit as they did anyone else's. That didn't go unnoticed by my boss, who hauled my ass into his office after the cops left and accused me of bringing the shit down on the place. The cops didn't find anything, of course, so Jeff had no recourse but he was pissed and I was their target so he took it out on me. Then after he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere because I hadn't done anything wrong, he closed the shop down for the rest of the day. I'm sure he's at the fucking bar by now." Puck rubbed his face with his hand. "What a fucking disaster," he added.

"That's horrible! Why would they focus on you? You don't do drugs!"

"Why the fuck are they raiding the place anyway? This is Lima, not Miami!"

Puck pushed Rachel off his lap and dropped a kiss on her lips. "I'm going to go for a run to try to burn off some of this rage."

She watched him go, her stomach fluttering in a way that couldn't be blamed on the baby. What in the world was going on?

After Puck's run, he showered and flung himself down in front of the television. Rachel fixed lasagna and breadsticks for dinner and as they sat down, Rachel desperately wanted to distract Noah from the awful events of the day so she pulled out her list.

Puck saw the piece of paper, full of Rachel's familiar scrawl, and pointed at it with his fork. "What's that, babe?"

She smiled at him as she took a gulp of iced tea. "I realized today that there is, of course, still a lot that you and I don't know about one another. We're doing this whole thing backwards, you know…baby, marriage, falling in love, and then really getting to know one another. So this list…this will answer some of my burning questions about you." She leaned back in her chair, satisfied.

Puck stared at her and then down at the list. He wasn't sure what he was getting himself into but Rachel was looking at him with those eyes.

Finally he smiled at her and said, "lay it on me, babe."

She grabbed the list and skimmed down the questions. Looking up at him, she said, "Okay, first question: What is your favorite birthday memory from childhood?"

Puck took a bite of his lasagna, chewed, and swallowed. "That's easy! When I was seven, I wanted a pair of cowboy boots and a pool table for my birthday. Mom said I couldn't have both and that I had to pick one. But I refused because…well…they were both so bitchin'. But she kept telling me that I had to pick and I totally refused. She just didn't get that they had to come together. So on my birthday, I came downstairs and there it was: one of those child-sized pool tables with a pair of gray cowboy boots sitting in the middle of it. It was so awesome! I remember putting the boots on with my Superman pajamas and playing pool for most of the day." Puck replayed the day in his mind for a moment and then added, "Damn, that was a great day."

Rachel grinned, her smile making her eyes shimmer. This was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to know about her husband.

"Next?" he asked her, shoving half a breadstick into his mouth.

She glanced back down at her list. "What's your biggest fear?"

Puck scowled. That wasn't an easy question. He feared a lot of things: failure, impotency, snakes, impotency, losing his hair, impotency.... "Umm…more than anything? I'm afraid of letting you and our baby down. I'm afraid of turning out like my dad, I think. "

Rachel said quietly, "You won't, you know…."

"I won't what?"

"You won't let us down…and you won't turn out like your father."

Puck cocked his head at the beautiful woman across from him. "But how do you know?"

Rachel stood up from the table and walked over to his seat. He pushed his chair back and she settled into his lap. "You won't be like your father because you're so aware of him and what he did to you and your mom and your sister. No, Noah Puckerman, you won't be like your father…or my father…you're going to be your own wonderful type of father and our son is very lucky to have you already."

Puck fisted Rachel's hair and roughly kissed her, afraid his emotions were going to betray him. He didn't feel like being a huge pussy in front of Rachel today, even if it had been an awful day. But with her on his lap and lasagna in his belly, the day was slightly better now.

Rachel popped off his lap and went back to her own side of the table.

Puck looked at her as she looked down at her list. "Now you, babe."

She looked up. "Me?"

"Yup…I wanna know this stuff about you, too."

She thought for a moment. "My biggest fear is that I'm going to be a bad mother. I'm afraid I'll drop him or forget to feed him or leave him alone in the house or something awful. Or what if I try to force him to walk too soon...or I sing to him too much and he goes deaf?" She watched Puck's lips upturn as he started to laugh. She scowled at him. "It's not funny. What if I force too many show tunes on him and he grows up to be a serial killer?"

Puck continued to laugh, loving the way she bit her lip when she was stressed. Puffing up his chest, he spoke, "But if I'm going to be such an awesome dad, you don't have to worry about that. I got your back, babe."

She grinned, blowing him a kiss. "And my favorite childhood birthday memory?"

"That would be for my sixteenth birthday, when my dad took me to New York City and we spent a weekend at six different Broadway shows. That was an amazing weekend."

Puck watched her talk about Broadway and didn't miss the sadness that flashed into her eyes momentarily. And even though it was gone just as fast as it had come, it left a burning in his chest because he knew she still thought about Broadway a lot. His deepest hope was the he could give her a life that made her not regret the choices she had made. That's all he could do, besides love her.

After dinner, Puck helped Rachel clean up the dishes and then they snuggled under the blankets and watched TV until he saw Rachel starting to nod off. He shook her awake and then wrapped his arm around her to guide her sleepy form into the bedroom. He sat on the bed, watching as she changed into her nightgown. He loved looking at her…she was beautiful. And the bigger her stomach got, the more breathtaking she became.

Once she was changed, he shucked his own clothes and they snuggled under the plush comforter. Puck leaned over and kissed Rachel deeply before flipping off the light.

In the darkness, he whispered, "love you, babe."

"I love you too," she whispered back before rolling on her side to face him.

They lay quietly for a few minutes, both still thinking about their day. Rachel heard Puck suck in a breath like he was going to say something but didn't. A few minutes later, he did it again.

"Noah, what's wrong?"

Puck tucked an arm under his head, staring out into the darkness of their bedroom.

"This may sound crazy but I…I think that what happened today had something to…"

She cut him off. "…with my father. Yes, I know."

Puck flipped on his side so that he was now facing Rachel. "But why would he do something like that?"

"Because he can," she said quietly. "The police chief has always been in his back pocket. I've heard him reference their "relationship" several times when he's leveling threats. Perhaps he used it this time…."

"But why? I just don't get it. He wanted me to marry you, remember?"

Rachel scooted close to Puck so that they were practically nose-to-nose. He threw his arm over her waist, pulling her as close as the baby bump would allow.

"But he didn't plan on us getting along. And he definitely didn't plan on us falling in love. I've been thinking about this since the graduation blow-up. By me marrying you - being forced into it - he was still able to control me. But now that you and I have a real marriage, he has a lot less pull….So maybe he hoped they'd find drugs and you'd go to jail. Or maybe he hoped the whole thing would get you fired. That gives him the power back...."

Puck exhaled, thinking about the anger Marcus Berry showed at Rachel's graduation, then leaned forward and brushed his lips against Rachel's softly. "He's not coming between us…You know that, right?"

She nodded in the darkness and kissed him again. "He can't."

Her two simple words went a long way to soothe him. Feeling less tense than he had all day, Puck nudged Rachel to roll over the other way. She scooted back against him and he tucked the long lines of his body against hers and threw his arm around her, his hand lying protectively over his son. In the quiet, he stroked her belly with his thumb until they both were lulled to sleep.