Don't Answer

"Do we bash it in?" Phil asks once they reach the apartment door, he turns to face his still fuming boss, Russell was angrily adjusting his black leather gloves, determined not to leave a trail that could lead back to him.

Russell stiffly shakes his head with a grunt; he glances over his shoulder to see the remnants of his group. He could only trust a few to actual get the job done, so people like Hudson, Hummel, Anderson and the Puckerman's were out of the question, they were all too emotionally involved.

The greying blonde grinds his teeth before stepping towards the front door, he looks up and down the hallway one last time, his men on either side, prepared for whatever came next. Russell knocks his clenched fist against the wood after removing his handgun from the inside of his jacket.

The five men all unconsciously hold their breath in anticipation, all but one thinking the same thing; 'Don't answer'.

"Karofsky and Hart still outside?"

Azimio nods, placing his phone back into his back pocket, "They're checking out the fire escapes… nothing yet."

Russell sighs, he steps back from the door and gestures for Phil to commence with his earlier plan. Phil Lipoff gulps, he moves to stand in front of his boss, his shoulders tensing, he tries to shake it off but it's no use. After a few more seconds of mentally preparing himself and feeling Russell burn holes in the back of his head, Phil lifts his leg and surges towards the area of the door by the handle.

The sound of his boot colliding with the wood ricochets loudly down the corridor, everyone but Russell winces at the noise; all scared someone will have heard.

"Get on with it."

Phil wastes no time in kicking the door again, he does this repeatedly and after several more attempts, the frame finally cracks and the piece of wood is blown off of its hinges.

Brody and Rick barge through the wreckage, guns raised, prepared to attack. Azimio follows next after a moment's hesitation.

"Keep watch." Russell growls before moving into the quiet apartment, Lipoff sighs in relief, his leg tingling painfully but he chooses to ignore it and instead focus on the task at hand.

"Sam?" Brody calls out, trying with all his might to remain calm.

Russell steps further into the open plan apartment, his stern gaze examining every inch of the place. To an outsider, it would look pretty normal, they wouldn't notice the ammo stash taped under the kitchen cabinet, or the near invisible flesh of white power on the carpet.

"He's not here." Rick states loudly from the bedroom before exiting it, his hand scratching the back of his neck, "Now what?"

Russell says nothing as he storms past the red head in the direction of Sam's bedroom. Rick quickly dodges his boss, holding his hands up in semi-mock surrender. The Fabray patriarch glances around the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight of a duffle bag half packed, clothes strewn across the bed. "He left in a rush." He states indignantly before stalking over to the bedside table, he rips open the drawers, not caring about making a mess.

The top-drawer contents consisted of a loaded gun, with two extra magazines, a silencer, three spare bullets, a phone charger, a pocketknife and a box of condoms. Russell's nostrils flare at the sight of the latter; he slams it shut before pursing the bottom drawer, which looked more like a meth head's medicine cabinet.

Inside lay several packets of clean, unused syringes with another packet containing their needles, along with transparent baggies with more coke. Russell rummages around in it, careful to avoid getting stabbed by a needle. He only finds a few foil slabs enclosing sleeping pills, a lighter, four large pouches of weed and a packet of unopened cigarettes.

Russell hisses, he straightens back up, prepared to leave until he notices the object on top of the bedside table; he reaches out and picks up the photo frame. The image was relatively old; somewhat faded like it had been manhandled one too many times. Sam and Quinn were sat on the side of the fountain in front of Bethesda Terrace, both laughing at something that Quinn had taken a picture of, her new camera that she'd got for Christmas, held delicately in her small hands.

The photograph had been taken at Cooper Junior's fourth birthday; the party had been thrown in central park. Judy, Holly, Penny had ordered the guys to help spend hours blowing up balloons and then help tie them to anything and everything. The place looked like some sort of fairy-tale movie scene, the police had kept their distance for the majority of the time, mainly so that they could keep an eye on Fabray and his gang from afar; waiting for one of them to slip up.

Russell bangs the frame down on the table top, a small flicker of guilt threatening to seep into the back of his mind when he hears the glass crack. He's able to ignore easily however, anger bubbling up within him once again when he remembers why he was even in Sam's bedroom. "Where the fuck is he!?"

"If we find him, he'll kill him," Azimio nods in the direction of the bedroom, "and if we don't…"

"He'll kill us." Brody swallows.

"Where're are you taking me?" Sam asks, his hood pulled up over his recognisable blonde head. He was following another hooded figure, they couldn't look any dodgier, even if they tried.

"Shhh." The slightly taller man replies, his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets, his dominant hand desperately clutching his gun.

Sam rolls his eyes, he too was holding his weapon in his pockets, but he didn't feel the need to have the safety off like his comrade. They had been slinking through the back streets of the city for more than an hour now, avoiding every busy area and doing their best to move in the shadows.

"We're getting close."

Sam sighs, heaving his heavy backpack higher up his back, his shoulders aching due to the immense weight. He had packed a few items of clothing along with the majority of his guns, he left a few back at his apartment just in case he had to return.

Puck freezes in front, his gaze fixed on a group of men thirty or so yards ahead. "Stop." He flattens himself against the dark brick wall to his left; luckily the only working street lamp was illuminating the men and not Puck and Sam.

The group were chatting by an overly flash sports car that definitely didn't belong in this side of town. The car was parked up outside of a shut garage door that had illegible Chinese symbols sprayed across it.

"You have got to be kidding me." Puck growls under his breath.

Sam squints across at the men, they all had jet black hair, slender bodies and tattooed sleeves. Sam glances back at the car, it had been modified with a thickset bumper, red lights under the base and tinted glass but it was the paint that made both men's blood run cold. On the hood of the car was a golden dragon breathing red and orange flames that stretched down the sides and across the doors.

"Fuck…" Puck starts to frantically look around for another way but all the other side streets led off behind the group, they either tried to sneak on through or head back the way they came and go the long, much more defenceless way.

"If one them recognises us, we're dead."

"You're not helping."

The garage door is suddenly wrenched up; the metallic sound is like a chalkboard having nails scraped down it. Sam and Puck hold their breath at the sight of Michael Chang Junior ducking under the door.

"Now we really are fucked."

"You still got your gun?" Puck steps closer to the blonde, using subtle, slow movements, trying his best to remain unseen.

Sam shakes his hooded head, "No way. No fucking way Puck." He hisses.

"Just have it at the ready, we're gonna just try and slip by them. They won't shoot right away, just keep your head down and be prepared to run."

Sam gives his friend a strained look, but Puck ignores him. They pull their hoods as low as they will go, trying to shield as much of their faces as possible before moving forward.

Sam holds his breath, his head down but his green eyes frantically scanning the group of men, his gaze fixed mainly on Michael Chang Jr. The last time he had seen him, he had woken up unconscious, beaten to a pulp.

"Has he figured out their true intentions yet?" Wes Leung asks.

Puck ducks behind a car, the flickering streetlight above his head momentarily fixing itself; illuminating the area beneath along with Puck.

"No, we got so little out of them that time, I guess," Mike shrugs, oblivious to the two men attempting to sneak past. "Pretty sure he thinks they're both FBI, but, he's not about to steak his life on it."

Puck waits anxiously behind the car, his eyes pleading with overhead light to switch off.

Sam exhales quietly; he was crouching beside the car behind Puck's. Cramp was beginning to spread down the back of his calves, the grip on his gun tightening with pain.

The lamp begins to flicker once more, Puck wastes no time in surging forwards, in his quick haste, he doesn't notice the discarded soda can on the sidewalk and he accidently kicks it. The metallic noise clanks across the road in the direction of Chang's modified car.

"What the?" Mike and the rest of his cronies glance up in suspicion.

Sam flattens himself against his vehicle, his heart pounding with fear. He looks to his right to see Puck crouching behind a trashcan, looking like a rabbit caught in headlights.

"Who's there!?" Wes barks.

Sam pulls his gun out from his pocket, ready for whatever is about to come. 'Go!' he mouths to Puck.

Noah shakes his head, refusing to leave his friend behind.

"It's probably just a cat or something." One of Chang's men interjects, flicking the butt of his cigarette carelessly onto the damp sidewalk, the heavens slowly beginning to open.

Sam shifts awkwardly, the cramp in his legs becoming unbearable. He lowers himself onto one knee, sighing with relief as the discomfort subsides to be replaced with an odd tingling sensation. The moisture from the wet ground seeps through his jeans and the droplets landing on the back of his neck start to get heavier.

"Go look then." Mike nods for two of his men to go investigate, whilst he remained under the garage's shelter.

Sam attempts to control his now erratic breathing; he had about twenty seconds before he was discovered. He looks back over to Puck but he's shocked to see that Puck's gone. Sam goes to call out for him but he quickly stops himself, mentally scolding himself for being so idiotic.

Wet footsteps draw closer, Sam daren't check to see whom they belonged to. Instead, he props himself up once more, one hand on the sidewalk, keeping his balance whilst the other continued to clutch his gun. He looked like an athlete at the starting line of some race; the only real similarity between the two scenarios was that they both started with the sound of a gun going off.

Sam releases a shallow breath, preparing himself to sprint at the next opportunity, he just had no idea if said opportunity would ever come. The man closest to Sam barks something in Chinese, having no idea what he's said, Sam flinches with fear; the man didn't exactly sound happy.

Before anyone in Chang's gang can respond, an ear splitting gunshot rings in the air followed closely by the sound of smashing glass. Not caring if the bullet was meant for him or not, Sam scrambles to his feet, deciding that this was the closest thing to an exit opportunity he was going to get.

"Do you think that he blames him?" Quinn whispers, her voice hoarse from all the crying and vomiting. After Russell left, Quinn got herself into such a hysterical state, she ended up making herself violently sick.

Anna Fabray turns away from watching her great grandson play around on the floor with his new best friend Doug, she was sitting on the couch beside Quinn whilst Frannie and Judy sat at the other end of the room. Anna tilts her head to the side, nodding for the younger blonde to elaborate.

"I mean, I've seen pictures and I can kind of remember what Dwight looked like when he was about Sam's age… Do you think dad subconsciously blames Sam for what happened to Uncle George?" Quinn's gaze flickers in the direction of the mantle piece where a family photo stood, it was of her father and two deceased uncles, both murdered before their time.

Anna remains quiet, contemplating her response, she purses her lips before saying, "I think he's trying to protect you."

Quinn fights the urge to scoff.

"You were out Q…"

Quinn's eyebrows quiver in confusion, unsure of what her grandmother was getting at.

Anna lowers her voice, "You got out of here, your father was upset at first but once he realised that you were no longer in danger…" she sighs, "he was overjoyed. You only came back for the funeral, but you stayed because of Sam. Russell believes that he's the reason you're back in danger."

"If that's really how he feels, then maybe he should quit doing the things that cause not only me but our entire family to be at risk."

"You think I haven't said that to him?" Anna shakes her head. "And regarding Dwight and George… I don't think Russell blames anyone more than himself for what happened that night."

Quinn bites her lip, her eyes beginning to sting with tears, "Then why won't he let Sam and I be happy? We're having this baby whether he likes it or not. H-he can't hurt him." She gulps, her hand resting on her now small yet obvious bump. She desperately wanted to change after being ill, so after showering, she decided to dress in a pair of comfy sweats, a tight tank top and knitted cardigan. She was done hiding.

Anna had no response to that, she desperately wanted to tell the broken girl that it was all going to be ok but she knew deep down that she couldn't; she had never seen her son so angry. There was no telling what Russell would try and do.

Sam dashes down the sidewalk, refusing to look back, his shoes slamming painfully against the hard wet ground. More shots go off around him, mixed with the loud pattering of rain and yells of both anger and confusion. Sam continues running, forcing himself to keep up the pace and not falter. Sam's eyes squint desperately through the heavy flurries of rain, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse of Puck.

The yells begin to fade and Sam remains very conscious that he can no longer hear gun shots, figuring that that was a good sign, the blonde darts down a side street, hoping to god that he wasn't being followed. He jumps over some fallen over trash cans, rebuffing the idea to slow down in case he tripped, which luckily he didn't.

After another few minutes of constant running, Sam ends up on a busy main street, he doesn't recognise it in the rain but he takes full advantage of the steady stream of angry new Yorkers who were huddled together under various umbrellas. Sam slows his face and slips in to a horde of commuters, keeping his head down and gun safely stuffed back in his pocket.

"Hey watch it!" A gruff man's voice travels up from behind Sam, he glances over his shoulder to see a hooded figure barging it's way through the crowd, heading straight for him.

Sam ducks down to slip by the men to his left, anxious to get as far away from his pursuer as possible. But before he has the chance to make a break for it, a pair of strong arms wrap round his middle, the sheer force causes both men to topple onto the ground.

Angry yells and gasps from the men and women above them don't deter Sam from aggressively defending himself. He spins around, his gun raised and his hand pressed firmly against the neck of the man below him.

"S-SA-SAM!" the hooded figure splutters, his arms waving around in the air.

Sam suddenly pulls away, instantly recognising Puck's voice, he rips away the hood to reveal a red faced Puck. "Fucking hell Noah!" Sam shoves his friend hard in the chest, shaking his head in both relief and rage.

Puck falls back against the concrete, a large smirk appearing across his lips, a low rumble of a laugh escaping from his mouth.

Sam quickly stuffs his gun back in his jacket pocket; very aware of the horrified stares he was receiving. He stands and reaches down to help Puck get up. "Don't do that again."

The brunette nods with amusement, before leading Sam through the gawking crowd.

"What the hell happened back there? Did you get hurt?"

Puck shakes his head, "No, I'm fine, I shot the light above Chang's head, freaked the fuck out of him." A proud expression spreads over his face, "I saw you start running so I fired a few more random ones before attempting to catch up with you." Puck sighs, his chest heaving still with exhaustion, "Jesus Evans, you could be a track star mate, I nearly passed out back by the trash cans."

Sam laughs at the idea of his friend wheezing over a dustbin. "You go to the gym more than me." The duo slide from the street into the nearest alleyway.

"Yeah, but all I do is weights and check out girls. Hardly much cardio." Puck pulls his hood back over his head.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, the only noise coming from the raindrops slamming against the ground and landing in the already made puddles.

"I told you to leave."

Puck rolls his eyes, "Oh shut up. There was no way I was about to leave you."

Sam looks to right, a small smile appearing on his large lips, "Thanks."

"I didn't do it for you."

Sam stops walking, waiting for Puck to continue.

"If I left you to die, I'd have a murderous Quinn Fabray on my case. No thank you." Puck winks, dodging a half-hearted swipe from Sam.

"Jesse, Jesse please," Quinn quietly begs, she was standing alone with him in the foyer, her eyes wide and glossy with fresh tears.

Jesse gulps, shaking his head, "I-I can't…"

"Why?" Quinn spits back furiously. "I just want my phone."

"He'll find out." Jesse glances over his shoulder at the closed front door; scared it might burst open at any second.

"No, no he won't, you all widely overestimate him."

Jesse's expression turns from one of fear to one of pity, "You really have no idea what he's like Q."

Quinn's brow furrows, "W-what's that supposed to mean?"

"He's bugged your phone, you try and call Sam, it'll only lead Russell straight to him."

"Then give me yours," she holds out her hand desperately.

Jesse step back, keeping the blonde at arms length. "I can't, but-"

"Please," Quinn whispers, highly aware of being overheard, "I just need to know he's ok." Jesse exhales, his eyes darting around. "Please Jess, they're not back yet which means…" Quinn runs a shaky hand through her hair, "if they never got to him, they'd be back by now." Her chest heaves up and down but she's able to stop herself from breaking down entirely. "And they're not back."

"What's going on out here?"

Quinn whips around to see Bobby Surrett making his way down the corridor from the kitchen, a beer in his hand.

"Back off Bobby," Jesse sidesteps Quinn to stand in front of her.

"Boyfriend not back yet?"

Quinn goes to open her mouth to respond but Jesse beats her to it. "Bobby, I suggest you fuck off outside before I beat some sense into you." He moves closer to the sneering blonde, "Say another word, I dare you." He hisses.

Bobby glares across at the curly haired brunette, he takes another swig of his beer before barging past him and out through the front door. Quinn recoils away, believing that if the bottle had been any emptier, Bobby would have smashed it on the side and stuck it in Jesse's neck.

"Sam is fine."

Quinn looks up in confusion, "W-what? How can you be so sure?"

"After Russell found out about…" Jesse gestures to her baby bump, "I tried calling Sam but he didn't pick up, I'm guessing it was because you were with him, but at the time, I thought someone may have already got to him, so," Jesse glances over his shoulder, "I called Puck and told him to go grab him. You must've left a few minutes earlier, but, Sam is currently with Puck, ok? So, please, stop freaking out."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"You needed to be believable, if Russell finds out I warned Sam," Jesse runs his hand over his face, "I'm fucked. So will Puck be if they find out about him too. No one else knows."

Quinn nods, releasing a sigh of relief, "T-thank you," she bites her lip, unable to string more than those two words together.

Jesse straightens up, "For what?" he shrugs casually, his expression relaxing, he then turns and moves in the direction of the kitchen.

A sudden thought pops into Quinn's head. "Wait," Jesse reluctantly stops but he doesn't turn to face her. "Who told him, who told him about our baby?" She needed to hear him say Frannie for it to solidify her earlier accusation.

"Russell had us ransack your room…"

Quinn's eyes widen in shock, "What!? Why?" she suddenly lowers her voice, remembering that they might be overheard.

Jesse looks over his shoulder, "Western found a pregnancy test box, he's obliged to tell Russell, he feels really bad about it but Bobby was with him and forced him." He then opens the kitchen door, revealing it to be empty; he then gives the blonde one last look. "Frannie tried to say it was her test but Russell didn't believe her."

Guilt washes over Quinn like a bucket of icy water. The door shuts and she's left alone in the hallway, she glances towards the front room door, her mother, sister and grandmother were all behind it, Cooper was now in bed but Quinn didn't have the energy to try and apologise right now, she was exhausted from everything. So the guilty feeling twenty something year old trudges up the stairs and heads for bed where she didn't have to act like Sam was either dead or dying.

"So…" Sam stares around at the dreary looking apartment. "Who owns this place?"

"Me." Puck scratches the back of his neck, an odd look appearing on his face.

Sam's eyebrows rise with surprise, "Really?"

"It's not much, I-I was going to fix it up for…" Puck drifts off, his gaze falling to his sodden shoes.

"So... we sharing?" Sam forces a playful smirk, gesturing to the mattress on the dusty wooden floor. It was hardly a subtle change of topic but he knew Puck would appreciate it.

"No, I'll stay for a little bit longer but I'll then have to go… Russell will probably want a head count soon. I can't be late."

Sam nods in understanding, he looks around the apartment again; he had a mattress with two pillows and a sheet, along with three bags of shopping set down by the fridge, which Puck assured still worked. In the room next-door, he had a small, basic bathroom with enough amenities to last him for next week or so.

"Sorry, it's not much… but it'll keep you well hidden, no one else knows about it." Puck shuffles over to their shopping bags and begins to unload them.

"Hey," Sam makes his way over to the brunette, "it's more than I could need, ok? I can't thank you enough."

Puck nods, opening up the bare fridge to place a carton of milk inside. "It won't be for long. Just… Just give the boss some time to adjust."

"How long do you think that'll take?" Sam grabs the six-pack of beer.

"Why not wait till the kid is old enough to talk to him?" Puck sniggers.

"Don't tempt me."

Puck doesn't respond, instead, he anxiously searches his body for his buzzing phone. He finds it in the inside of his jacket pocket. He pulls it out, the illuminated screen lighting up his shadowy features; the dimly lit apartment had only two lamps, one by the bed and one in the bathroom.

"What's it say?" Sam tentatively asks, taking a small swig from his beer.

"What I thought it would." Puck shows the blonde the screen.

MEETING TOMORROW – 8:00am

DON'T BE LATE

"Does he know that using capitals makes it seem like he's shouting?" Sam remarks, trying to make light of the serious situation.

Puck flashes him a grim look, "Pretty sure he wants us to know he's shouting." He runs a hand over his sombre expression, "Look, I better go, I think I'm gonna swing by the house, check everyone's alright. It'll look better if I see him tonight…"

Sam purses his lips, "Sure." He nods, placing his beer on the counter.

Puck pulls the lonely looking blonde in for a half hug, "It'll all be over soon."

Sam scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Puck pulls away and makes his way over to the front door, "No phone calls." He calls out over his shoulder. "No texting. Just," he turns to give his friend one last look, "try not to blow your cover. I'll make sure Q is alright, don't panic over her, okay?"

Sam nods, clenching his jaw in frustration at not being able to go see her himself. "Don't worry about me, I'll just be here, living the dream. Levelling up on Candy Crush… can't wait." He waves as the brunette leaves, the door clicks shut, locking itself automatically and Sam allows his arm to fall limp at his side.

"Where you been?" Bobby asks when he sees Puck approaching, he and Rick were currently stationed outside of the Fabray household.

"What's it matter to you?" Puck replies gruffly, not in the mood to deal with the egotistical blonde.

"The meeting aint till tomorrow." Rick points out sarcastically.

Puck brushes past the thick duo, "Thanks," he grunts. He pushes open the front door, half expecting to find Russell pacing the hallway, prepared to tackle Sam in case he walked into his firing line. But instead, he's greeted by no one. The foyer was empty and silent.

Puck slowly moves through the house, the floorboards creaking under his heavy footing. He stops by the dining/meeting room door, his ears pricking up for any sound but he hears nothing. He carries on down the hallway and reaches the sitting room, the door was slightly ajar, he pushes open more to find Blaine Anderson seated on the couch, watching TV.

"Blaine?"

The dark haired man looks up in surprise. "Puck?" He quickly mutes the television, beckoning the standing brunette inside.

"What're you doing here?" Puck whispers, silently shutting the door.

"I came over to see Fran…" Blaine says. "We haven't spoken in a while but she didn't exactly feel like talking, I thought I'd stick around for a bit. What about you?"

"Uhhh… yeah same…" Blaine gives him a weird look. "I mean, I just wanted to come check on Quinn, I hear Sam's still missing…"

The shorter man nods with a sigh, "Yeah, I arrived just before Russell, shit really hit the fan. He started throwing things, shouting…" Blaine pauses, his expression darkening, "he woke up C.J after he… after he hit Judy."

Puck's hazel eyes widen. "What?"

"Yeah, we heard the entire thing… I guess she must've had enough; she started yelling about not wanting to loose another child… I was in here with Frannie and Anna. You should've seen the look on Anna's face when we heard the punch. We literally heard it."

"Is she alright?" Puck had never really had a close relationship with Judy Fabray, he thought she was timid, narcissistic and seemingly oblivious to everything her husband did. This was the second time he felt truly sorry for her, the first was when he saw her reaction to being told that her son, Daniel, was dead. She crumpled right in front of him and the rest of the guys; she no longer cared how she looked.

Blaine shrugs, "I got a glimpse of her when Anna rushed in to see what happened, she was curled up against the cupboards, her half her face red and already swollen. C.J came down to see his grandma crying on the floor, I took him back up to bed whilst Frannie tended to Judy."

Puck lowers his voice. "What about Russell?"

"He stormed out straight after, he came back once everyone else had gone to bed, he's still in his office…"

"Where was Quinn? Did she see it all go down?" Puck asks, remembering his true reason for coming by.

"No, she was already in bed, but when I took C.J back up, she was standing in the doorway of her room, she didn't say anything, I tried to talk to her but," Blaine shrugs again, "it was like she couldn't hear me. She just kept staring down the steps."

Puck checks the time on his phone, twelve thirty two, "Look, I'm gonna go check on her, if she's asleep, I'll just see you tomorrow." He backs out of the room.

"Alright," Blaine sits back down on the couch, "don't let him see you, you don't wanna get in his way tonight."

Puck nods, he slips out of the room before silently making his way up the steps. He reaches the first landing and makes his way over to Quinn's door; he pauses momentarily before lightly knocking. He receives no response but enters anyway, inside; he finds Quinn sat up in bed, hunched over her laptop.

The blonde glances up from the lit up screen. "Hey…" she croaks, her voice hoarse and tired.

"You alright?" Puck whispers, padding over to her bed and sitting on the edge.

Quinn closes the laptop. "I've been better, how's Sam?" Puck flashes her a confused look. She sighs, "Jesse told me…"

"That boy can't keep anything secret." Puck grumbles, but Quinn can tell he's not angry. "He's good and he's safe. He can't contact you yet, but I'll find a way that'll allow you to speak without being tracked."

Quinn nods in thanks, "How long before I can see him?"

The brunette huffs, his shoulders hunching over with anguish. "I don't know Q."

Quinn surveys the sullen looking muscular man, many would assume that because he had entered her room so freely and he was one of the few to call her Q, that they might be or have been something more than just friends. Quinn would be lying if she said she didn't find Noah attractive, he was handsome, funny and protective but they had always treated one and other like siblings.

During school, Puck had kept his distance because of who she was and who her father was, but once she started dating Sam, Puck had gotten to know her, becoming protective of both Sam and her. He had always been a loyal supporter of the relationship, him along with Finn, Rachel, Kurt and now apparently Jesse.

"We need to leave Noah."

Puck avoids her eye; Quinn was one of small collection of people who he allowed to call him by his first name.

"Noah?" She repeats, like a mother scolding a child.

"Yeah, I heard you." Puck grumbles, though he wanted their relationship to work, he also didn't want to loose one of his best friends. "He'll find you…"

"He hasn't found Sam yet, we won't stay close, we'll grab our stuff and get as far away as possible."

"Is that what you both want?" Puck hangs his head.

"Huh?" Quinn pauses, slightly put off by the question. "Uh-of course it is."

Puck glances over his shoulder. "You sure?"

A sudden feeling of uncertainty floods through Quinn's veins, a feeling she really didn't appreciate. "We've both agreed on leaving. We both don't want this life. You out of everyone should understand."

Puck tenses, "What's that supposed to mean?" The blonde doesn't answer; she pulls her knees up to her chin, knowing she had pushed it too far. Puck abruptly gets to his feet, his fists balling up at his sides. "I'm still here because I know that me and my family are safer here than if I tried to move them." He turns to face Quinn, "Now I know that must sound pretty dumb but it's the truth. The guys are my family. I like my life. Sam liked it too. While you were away, he was living it up right here."

The last comment hits a nerve with Quinn; she looks away from the standing brunette, not wanting him to see her upset.

"Don't bring up Cedes unless you want me to spit everything you've put that boy through back in your face." Puck goes to leave, "You may not believe in what we do, but you're not perfect either Q, don't judge us until you've walked in our shoes. I really hope you and Sam work out but don't expect me to be happy with you taking him away and never looking back." He then swiftly leaves.

Quinn gulps, releasing a shallow breath, unsure of what to think.