Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay. I started handwriting this chapter and found that typing it all up was a bore. Here's the new chapter. Mentions of Funk toward the end and it will hint at certain events of the last few episodes, but may play out a little differently. Please read and review. I am already working on the following chapters, and the final chapter will be announced in the author's notes. Look out for my next story (Puckleberry) titled "A Lesson in Trust", coming soon after the conclusion of this story. Enjoy.

Oh: NRNRNRNRNRNRNRNR Is supposed to be a line break, but won't show the underscores and asterisks online.-

They took his statement as soon as Rachel was admitted to X-Ray. He recounted what happened, admitting proudly to beating Rachel's father to pulp. The officer smirked at him, quickly regaining the stone faced composure he'd had through most of the recollection. He explained that Mr. Berry could actually file assault charges—but quickly dismissed his ability to actually do so anytime soon. They ended the interview, and decided to go back to Rachel's room. She'd been gone for close to forty minutes, and he assumed that she too was giving her statement to the police. He got up, stretching his long limbs and dragging his feet languidly to the CVS across the street, hoping that a teddy bear would make Rachel feel better (girls liked that kind of stuff he was sure). He searched the store for a get well star or balloon and found none. He was about to leave empty handed when he saw something he'd hope she would like. He paid for it, hoping she would be in her room when he returned. She was, sitting upright in the hospital bed, three pillows tucked behind her back, staring blankly at the public access musical production on the mounted television set.

"Hey…" He said, sitting in the bedside recliner, putting the frilly yellow gift bag on the bed beside her.

"What's that?"

"Why don't you open it, Sherlock?"

She rolled her eyes, pulling the crescent moon shaped stuffed toy out from the bag, pulling on the star hanging from its coned shaped night cap. She smiled.

"I couldn't get you a star so I got you the moon instead," he told her, realizing after he'd said it how sentimental it had come across.

"And if you tell anyone how sappy I've been to you, I can press a little button and it'll self destruct." She chuckled then, a hearty healthy chuckle that he couldn't help but appreciate.

"What did your Dad say?" She sobered at his inquiry.

"He's on his way, he caught the redeye and he will be back tomorrow morning."

"How are your ribs?" He nodded to the space on her nightgown above the belly button, below her collarbone.

"The doctor said it's just bruised, and not to over exert myself. I can't leave here until Daddy can sign the discharge papers. "

"Maybe I can call my mom?"

"It's awfully late, Noah, I'll be okay here."

"Well I'll stay too." He said, pulling the lever on his recliner, and stealing the jello off Rachel's food tray. She didn't protest. They stayed quiet for a while, switching between the seven channels the hospital cable provided, settling on cartoons. She broke the silence first.

"Thank you Noah. " He shook his head in acknowledgement, wondering if she was ready to talk or cry or all those other things the emotional creatures did after trauma. She didn't. She fiddled with the star on the moon's hat. He turned to her sharply—

"You know you have to name it." She laughed, closing her eyes and contemplating choices. She bit her lip.

"What's your middle name?"

"Nope Berry, can't do that, it's a girl moon. "

"How do you know?" He shrugged.

"She has long eyelashes and yellow skin."

She leaned her head back shaking her head dismissively.

"He also has on a blue sleeping cap. He could be a boy moon." She refuted.

"Nope it's a girl. I'm sure and besides, all sleeping caps are light blue; it's—like—a rule or something." She was grinning now.

"Maybe it's just a really pretty boy moon?"

"Nope it's a girl moon, Berry, so name her." She sat back, tilting her head toward him,

"Luna. Luna M. Puckerman." He rolled his eyes at her, a small smirk still tugging at his lips.

"Why does she have my last name?"

"Because you gave her to me."

"Fine. Will you cuddle up with Luna every night when you go to bed?"

"Maybe." She quipped.

"Good. Make sure to make sure she's got a good view, want to put that camera to good use."

"Noah!" She slapped his arm playfully.

They settled back into the cartoon they were watching, Rachel's hand snaking with his as she drifted off to sleep on her side, Luna snuggly tucked beneath her chin. He pulled out his cell phone, ignoring the seven missed calls he had, and snapped a picture of the scene He slept soon after.

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He woke up the following morning to the sounds of the room door clicking open. Rachel's Dad barged in, jostling Rachel awake as he sat beside her, pulling her up into a tight hug. She let go of Noah's hand then, letting her Daddy rock her gently, patting her semi flattened bed hair. He pulled away from her, surveying her body,

"Starshine, why didn't you say anything?" Rachel looked away, shaking her head from side to side.

"I didn't want you to worry…I didn't want to ruin things."

He pulled her toward him again, rocking her like the action alone would sooth all of her bruises. Noah stood then, making his way to the door before the other Mr. Berry stopped him.

"Noah, may I have a moment?" He agreed and watched as Mr. Berry kissed Rachel's forehead and lead him into the corridor. They stood there, Noah uncomfortably tucking his sweaty fists into his pockets. Mr. Berry pulled him into a hug then, patting him generously on his back.

"I have no words of gratitude that can describe my immense appreciation."

He nodded, rubbing the crook of his neck as he stared at the male version of Rachel Berry.

"If there is ever anything you need, son, you need not hesitate to ask." He nodded again.

"Now, do you know how long any of this has been going on?"

"No, sir," he said honestly, "I don't think she's ready to talk."

"I see…well Noah, Alan is going to jail until his court date. I saw his face, and I must say, I never condone violence, but thank you. He hurt my baby and you hurt him." Jonah Berry straightened his stature, squaring his rounded, heavy shoulders and clearing his throat. "Will you be joining us today, or are you heading home?"

He thought for a moment, rubbing his hands together.

"My mom's probably wigging out; I haven't been home since yesterday. Do you mind if I say bye to Rachel?" Mr. Berry nodded and offered his hand for him to renter the room. Rachel had already changed out of the hospital gown, opting to wear the shirt he'd put over her the night before.

"Hey Berry, I'm going to head home, just wanted to say bye. If you need me, just call."

She shook her head.

"Is it okay if I call even if I don't need anything, you know, to talk?"

"Yea Berry, that's cool too." He paused not knowing if a hug was appropriate. He squeezed her hand instead, heading home soon after…he even thought about doing some homework.

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"Noah Puckerman where have you been?"

"Some stuff happened with Rachel, Ma, I had to help."

His mother's demeanor changed instantly.

"Rachel Berry? How is she? And her Dad?"

"Lot's of stuff, Ma, I'll tell you after my nap."

He kissed his mother, going upstairs and stretching out on his bed. He intended to shower, but wound up falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. He woke around five, his little sister jumping on his bed to get him for dinner. He took his normal place in front of the television set, devouring the hamburgers his mother put in front of him. They ate in silence until his mother sent his sister to do her homework.

"Barbra Stein called. She said your name came up on a police report she was filing at the station today. She told me she saw your name but couldn't tell me why you were on it. What's going on now, Noah?"

"Ma, it's not like that-"

"Here I am, trying to raise a good honest boy by myself and he just keeps getting into so much trouble!" She threw her hands up above her head.

"I work my ass off day in and day out only to find out that my son is out committing arson, or my son is out getting girls pregnant, or my son is out there—"

"MA!" He interrupted.

She turned to him then, her arms crossed in front of her as she tapped her foot impatiently. She quirked her brow.

"Well, Noah, what is it this time?"

"It's not really my business to tell."

His mother opened her arms, palms up, still waiting. He grunted, shaking his head, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth, his eyes shifting away from her as he crossed his arms in front of himself.

"Rachel got hurt. I had to go back to her house for something and went to the hospital with her. I had to give a statement."

His mother sat down next to him on the couch, her hands bunched at the top of her chest, clenched under her chin. She unfolded his arms and rubbed his back.

"Is she okay?"

"She'll be alright. Can I go shower now?"

His mother hesitated. Finally she shook her head and moved for him to go past her.

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Her day had been uneventful. Her Daddy tried twice to coax answers from her, but she wasn't ready to talk. The shock had yet to clear. She wanted to think about other things. He'd already given her permission to miss school, and reassured her that he'd be in Lima for at least a month without interruption. She was happy about that, at least. They spent the day lazing around the house, watching musicals and eating take out for dinner. By the time eight o'clock rolled around, she was thinking about where Noah was. He'd been so nice to her lately. Tutoring him filled her schedule, and they always winded up talking about some odd theory he had about the origins of the video games he played or the diverse breeds of dinosaurs there would have been had they not gone extinct. She was often slightly amused. They rarely talked about serious things, taking the carefree time they had everyday in her bedroom and turning it into the reprieve from her normal everyday issues.

She realized in hindsight that he always asked her if she was alright. And she'd shake her head and tell him a lie about which solo she'd been shot down for or some upset in her life that was insignificant enough to not be mentioned again. He always settled that she told him the truth, and he'd swivel around in her chair and finish the homework he was working on. She started to think about what would have happened had he not come back. She honestly didn't know why he came back period. She didn't want to think about the gravity of the what if's. She sniffed his shirt. She didn't know why she kept it on. The sleeves came below her elbows; it smelled like Axe body spray and Noah's deodorant. She expected him to ask for it back, she was secretly happy he didn't, she needed the wool to pull over her eyes for a bit.

"Why don't you ask him over Rachel?"

Her Daddy snapped her out of her trance.

"Who?" She asked, trying to pretend he hadn't caught her in her thoughts.

"Noah Puckerman. You've been sniffing that shirt since you got home. Tell him to come over, he can even stay late." Her Daddy beamed. She called him then.

"Sup Berry."

"Hi, Noah. I was wondering if you'd like to come over and maybe watch television, or play board games."

"Just got out of the shower. I'll come hang."

"Okay, I await your arrival."

"Cool. You got snacks?"

"I can arrange that, yes."

"K. Bye."

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She'd sat out cookies, pretzels and the disgusting cheese puffs her Daddy insisted on stocking in the pantry. She put out vegetable dip and carrots for herself and waited for Noah to ring her doorbell. He knocked instead, and Rachel went over to the door, straightening her pale yellow pajama pants before opening it. He was leaning on the outer door frame, a straw behind each ear, and two white Styrofoam cups in his hands. He shoved one into her hand and headed for the couch. He gave her the straw when she sat, opening his cup and swallowing the cold creamy mixture in gulps.

"Strawberry banana." He mumbled after he shook off his brain freeze. She poked the straw into the container, sipping on her own and nodding her head in thanks.

"Is that my shirt?" He said, as he poked his own straw through the top.

She stopped drinking her smoothie, putting the cup down and pulling the open shirt aside, a slew of words barreling out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, if you want it back I could wash it and return it, I didn't think you'd mind."

He stopped her as she began tugging her arms out of the shirt.

"Berry, calm down. It's cool. You look like a midget."

She smiled.

"I do not."

"Whatever Shorty."

He plopped back down on the couch, grabbing a fistful of cheese puffs from the big bowl on the coffee table. He suggestively patted the couch with his free hand. She sat.

"So what do you want to do, it's still early."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Want to sing?"

She shook her head then.

"My throat's still resting."

He nodded, grabbing the remote and switching through the channels, settling on the Office as he swiped his hands free of crumbs.

"You like this show?"

"Yea, Pam's hot."

She rolled her eyes.

"I thought she was supposed to be the average girl on the show. I thought the blonde would be the prettiest."

"Nah. That's Angela. She's got a stick up her ass. Pam's hot because she's real. Like she doesn't know she's hot, but she kinda is with her girly shirts and no makeup. Jim's totally in love with her and he wanted her even when they were just friends."

"Oh…" She sipped her smoothie again, leaning back and settling into her seat.

"So you don't watch tv?"

"Some shows I watch. Mostly reality shows like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. I TiVo One Tree Hill, and Gossip Girl. I never have time to watch them when they come on, so I watch them when I can plan them in my schedule."

He smirked.

"You plan to watch shows? So you don't watch regular stuff like Family Guy or Robot Chicken."

"Well I usually have lessons or shows of my own, and I am also active in Glee Club, Speech Club, Mock United Nations Club, Renaissance Club, Muslim Students Club and Black Students Union and when I get home I have homework so I'm always busy."

"Muslim Students Club?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I like to expand and diversify the company I keep. And diversity is a must if I want to get into Julliard. And besides, those shows are vulgar and random."

"But they're funny, Babe. That's all that matters. So is The Office. "

"Well, The Office seems like a fun show. I just never have time to watch it. I know the background though."

"So how can you know the background, but not know Pam is hot?"

She stared at the screen.

"So you're saying that her demeanor and they way she dresses, even if it is modest and quaint, is actually appealing."

"Yup. You know. Like she doesn't even know she's hot, so she's not a bitch. And on top of it all she likes to do fun stuff like pull pranks on Dwight and she backs Michael up even when he knows he should be put out to dry. Like her badassness is subtle, and it makes her hot—and the way she dresses just leaves all the more to the imagination. "

"I see."

"Yup." He finishes his smoothie. She sips hers.

He looked over at her then, comparing her to what he'd just said. She was sitting in his plaid button up, her pajama bottoms, blue sweat socks and a tank top. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and her slightly bruised lip was still plump and pink. She was modest- or whatever—and he knew she was hot. He wouldn't have dated her otherwise. Her kiddy clothes magnified her lack of fashion sense, but the skirts did her body justice. Over the last few weeks they spent time together, he'd noticed on more than one occasion when he thought that she was pretty. And then she'd mention Finn, and he'd pretend like his homework needed his undivided attention.

They sat in silence then, laughing as Dwight and Angela signed their contract to make babies.

"Want to go out, Berry?"

"Okay where?"

He shrugged.

"Well I can't drive my car after nine. So, let me go tell Daddy I'll be with you and I'll change."

He watched her leave then, taking the bowls of snacks into the kitchen and finally deciding that the refrigerator would be the best place for open containers. He made his way back to her living room, looking over the pictures that littered every open wall of her house. Beauty pageants and dance competitions. She held a first place trophy in a lot of them. She had missing teeth and pigtails in some photos, chestnut curls and tiaras in another. There were a few debate team pictures and the others she held roses in her arms center stage. He frowned at the family pictures as she headed back down the steps, loose fitting sweatpants and sneakers on.

"Where'd you get those from?"

"Contrary to popular belief I do wear pants, Noah. There is such a thing as winter."

He shrugged.

She grabbed her cell phone as they made their way to his truck. He helped her in and slid in after her, and began to drive.

"So where are we going?"

"Wherever we end up."

She stayed quiet for the ride, every so often bringing the collar of his shirt to her nose.

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"Why do you wear pants when you're in a funk?"

"I don't know. I love skirts but they make me feel vulnerable sometimes. So when I feel like I'm unprotected, I cover up and throw on jeans."

"Your turn."

He watched as she closed her eyes, squeezing them tight and trying not to bite her bottom lip. She smiled brazenly when she opened them again.

"What's your middle name?"

He rubbed his face, tugging downward as he shook his head from side to side.

"Malachi."

"Awe Noah—"

He cut her off before she could continue.

"When you came here that night, and I asked you what was wrong, were you upset because your Dad hit you?"

She was quiet. She stared around the Temple then, sitting on next to him on the traditional woman's side of the building.

"Yes."

It was simple. He wasn't going to push, and he waited for her to come up with her next question.

"Why do you think the genders still separate when they come in here?"

He shrugged.

"Well, this is Lima. People like the routine. They like having something familiar so they don't have to play new roles and play these little games. My mom is only Jewish when she wants to improve my character, so it's like people try to keep up appearances. This is the only Temple for miles from here. It was an Orthodox church when they started it, so I guess some things just stay the same for the hell of it."

"It's your turn, Noah."

"Are you still in love with Finn?"

She sighed. A heavy, breathy, deep sigh. He twisted in the pew, turning to face her as she stared ahead of her.

"No. I only chase him because I need a goal in every facet of my life. After Jesse I just realized that I fall in love with what people are perceived to be. Jesse is so self absorbed. Every compliment he makes is backed up by a compliment more superior to himself. But he was the leading man, and so is Finn. I'm starting to shatter my fantasies one by one, I guess."

"Your turn."

"Are you still in love with Quinn?"

"No fair you can't ask the same question back!"

"Okay, answer and I'll ask another one."

He sighed himself.

"No. I never was. She was a trophy. I loved my baby though. It's still your turn, Berry."

"Ummmm."

"What does your hair look like when you grow it out?"

"Shaggy, curly, wavy."

"I don't have anymore questions." Noah flat out decided. "These games usually head toward the sexual side after you run out of questions." He waggled his eyes suggestively, leering at her mockingly. She just rolled her eyes.

"Do you think you're going to pass math?"

"I hope so. I don't feel like another year of it. I can fill that space with a fun elective—like Woodshop."

She laughed, and they sat in silence together. Trying not to speak the questions that floated around them like thick air.

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She'd returned to school a few days later, just in time for Glee. Noah brought her homework to her, and she was not shocked to hear that everyone at McKinely High had known about her trip to the hospital the previous weekend. They were greeted later by Jesse, and the entire crew from Vocal Adrenaline. They performed their funk number and Rachel was nervous as they walked out of the auditorium and headed for the Glee room. The toilet paper draped around the room reminded her of the funk that she was in.

She never expected the egging that she'd receive later…

End of Chapter six.