A/N: I love everyone that reads, I really do, but I get hits and no reviews and it just makes me sad. Review if you like something, or you don't, or whatever – they make this worth it :) PS, I'm infuriated to even think there would be such a thing as Sam & Quinn. It actually pains me – literal physical pain. OH, and I'm thrilled with my life because emilyforprez (a wonderful author, check her out if you haven't yet) alerted me! I was pumped, so thanks! This one makes me sad, but what else is new?
Title: Fleeting Moments
Author: sparklinglemonade
Rating: M
Summary: Noah Puckerman isn't a good person – he's an ass, a studly sex-shark – but when it comes to Quinn Fabray he tends to have his moments.
Genre: Angst/Drama
Chapter: Twenty Nine
Purple
He puts the only picture he has of Beth in her locker – a shot of the baby screaming, face purple, her small hands balled into fists on the side of her chest. He thinks it will help – little does he know it makes it worse.
She finds him in his car, where he's been waiting for her, and he watches her get in, waiting for the door to be shut and her to settle before he starts talking.
Unfortunately, she beats him to it. "How dare you leave this for me," she says quietly, sadness dripping from her words as she throws the picture at him, "when I've been trying so damn hard."
He laughs, "Right, you telling me to help you is the same as you trying." Is she kidding? He wanted her to realize he hurts just as much as she does, but she clearly hasn't gotten what he wanted out of the picture – she seems to understand very few things as of late (mostly personal attacks, and betrayals).
"I'm asking for your fucking help," she keeps her voice steady, even though there are tears running down her cheeks, "and you're saying no. You always fucking say no, now, and I don't know what the hell I did to deserve it."
He manages to hold the laugh back this time, "I've been trying to help you, even though at this point you really don't deserve it," he throws the words in her face and she cringes at their harshness, "and every time you either push me away, or make me feel terrible about it. I told you, I don't want to help you anymore – I want you to help yourself. The reason I put that picture in your locker was to show you that I'm upset too, I feel terrible about this too, and you're not the only person this is fucking effecting."
"It's not the same," she growls, "she didn't grow inside of you for nine fucking months, Puck," his name comes out of her mouth like a poison arrow, piercing him and paralyzing him on contact, "you didn't bond with her like I did, you didn't sit around for hours and talk to her, and just feel her move, it wasn't the same for you."
"It wasn't the same," he agrees, "but it was just as fucking powerful, okay? I understand you're going through a lot of shit because of this, and I know why – I get it, and I'm the only fucking one who's going to get it."
"No," she cries, her words barely making it up past the surface of her tears enough to be heard, "you don't get it, you don't."
"You believe what you want," he says, "but I fucking understand, and until you get that through your thick fucking skull, you shouldn't even bother. Just drink your fucking booze and slash your damn wrists for all I care – until you get it, you can't expect me to fix you." He thinks for a second, "as a matter of fact, you can't ever expect me to fucking fix you. You're going to have to fix you, and I'm going to have to fix me – it won't work any other way."
"Fuck you," she grits her teeth, "I fucking never want to talk to you again."
"Only so many times you can say that before the threat wears off," he mumbles and she glares at him.
"I mean it," she says, "don't fucking talk to me. Don't look at me. Don't even think about me, you jackass."
"Do you understand how much easier my life would be right now if I were doing that?" he doesn't really want to say it, but he does and he can tell she's surprised, "do you? You don't think there have been moments where I want to tell you to go the fuck ahead and kill yourself? I know you fucking want to! Clearly my better self knows better than to just tell you to do these things but Jesus, if you don't think I've fucking thought about it, you're stupider than I thought."
"Fuck you," she remains calm, tears racing down her cheeks, "I fucking hate you, I wish you'd never spoken to me. Have a wonderful fucking life, you dick." She gets out of the car and slams the door, he bangs on the steering wheel and lets out a scream. He looks up and notices she's watching him, eyes aglow in anger and sadness and pain.
He stares right back at her and wonders what the fuck just happened, then throws the car in reverse and backs away, wondering if this is really how it ends.
