AN: I'm thankful for those of you who have expressed how you feel about the story and I'm also thankful for your suggestions, but I'm embarrassed to send you a proper reply because it's been so long. Thank you so much and I apologize for the lack of time to update and send out replies.
"Don't worry about failure. Worry about the chances you miss when you don't even try." Unknown
In the emergency room, Puck stands at the front desk barking demands at the airhead receptionist who has her eyes on the clock and doesn't give a damn about him. The look on her face says she thinks he's just another arrogant asshole trying to ruin the glorious end of another exhausting shift.
"Can't you see she's bleeding all over the floor? She's got a piece of glass stuck in her foot. A HUGE piece of glass, by the way," he argues, his tone growing frantic. He seems unable to comprehend why this bitter old hack with unfulfilled needs (and he's one to talk about unfulfilled needs) is making it her goal to piss him off.
"Do I look blind to you, Sir?" She asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Because I can certainly see the blood stains on your clothes and on the floor. What I'm trying to make you understand is that there are six other patients waiting to be seen by a doctor and they have been waiting for hours. Your friend just got here and she'll be taken care of once the doctor is done with the patients who got here first," she tells him unceremoniously.
"Thanks for nothing," he mutters with his characteristic anger.
"My pleasure," the unpleasant receptionist retorts, causing Puck to curse under his breath before stalking out of the Emergency Room
Outside he paces like a mad man. He's consumed by a feeling that's just too damn familiar to him. Being the responsible one is always more painfully excruciating than one thinks possible. He's also worried about the extension of Rachel's cut and about the fact that he has to get away from this hospital, - or any hospital, really.
He's fed up and needs to let some of his feelings out, but he can't bring himself to head back in and bother Mercedes. She's already doing more than she should.
He pulls his cell phone out of his jeans and makes a call. He doesn't even stop to consider the fact that the recipient of his phone call (and his anger) is probably fast asleep.
It rings twice before he gets an answer.
"Rachel?" He hears on the other end.
"You wish," he replies harshly.
"Oh, it's you," the interlocutor says with disdain.
"Fuck you, Fabray. You were my friend first."
"Great! Now we're waking our friends up in the middle of the night to have pissing contests over who's better friends with whom. Grow up, Puckerman. I'm going back to sleep because I'm sure your stupidities can wait a few more hours."
"Try Rachel's stupidities," he retorts in a sharp tone. "Fucking bitch's making me spend the night in the ER."
"Emergency Room?" Quinn asks, panicking and pushing her anger aside. She loves Puck and often defends him, but that doesn't mean she agrees with some of his latest actions.
"Yeah."
"Oh my God... what happened? Please tell me she's okay. Please, Puck-"
"It''s nothing major, Quinn. She stepped on some glass and cut her foot. Nothing to go crazy over," he says reassuringly.
"Thank God," Quinn breathes relieved.
"Don't get too happy, Fabray. From the looks of it, she's not going to be able to walk on her own for awhile and there's no way in hell I'm babysitting. So you either call her folks to come get her or wait for her in the airport, or you do it yourself. I'm shipping her off to one of you people."
"She's not a piece of luggage, Puckerman. And I suggest you stop being an asshole before it's too late," Quinn scolds Puck for the way he's treating Rachel.
"I'm the asshole? Come on, Quinn," Puck argues, defending himself. "You want to curse and lash out? 'Cause if you do, I suggest you start with your dear friend Rachel. She's the one who's always fucking things up. And let's not forget about the little stunt you just pulled."
"Excuse me? You're the one going all kinds of crazy on the phone, in the middleof the night."
"Don't act so innocent. You knew Rachel was coming to Florida and didn't bother to fucking call me. That's a shitty thing to do. She's your best friend and I get it, but you're not supposed to pick sides."
"You're the one who forced your current situation. The blame lays on you,buddy."
Quinn's declaration causes Puck to gasp in shock and disbelief. He cannot believe that she of all people has just spoken such words.
"I didn't know you had undergone a lobotomy," he blurts out in astonishment.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I expected more from you. Saying I'm the one to blame is just...it's icing on the cake. I-I-" he's so shocked he can't find the right words. "I-I don't fucking deserve to hear that from you," he's almost breaking down. "I've done everything in my power to help Rachel, to bring her out of her depression, to convince her we didn't do a fucking thing wrong and now I'm to blame? I can't believe you just said that. She jumped the ship, not me."
"I never said any of those things. I was only implying that you're to blame for her being in Florida," Quinn reasons with him. "You're the one who initiated the papers and sent Kurt and Finn to doyourdirty work."
"Hummel and Hudson were heading to New York at the time and I sent them because I didn't want any lawyers knocking on her door."
"I don't care. Your approach was mean and inconsiderate. You didn't even give me some warning."
"We're talking about your feelings now? You're bitching at me 'cause I told Finn not to tell you until I was ready to discuss things further? Is that what this is about?" He asks, unable to stop himself from laughing at the absurdity of the possible situation.
"No, dumbass. That's not it at all! We're talking about the fact that you should have let Finn tell me what you were doing so that I could prepare myself for what was coming. The day after Rachel got the papers she left New York and called me from Lima, begging me to spend the weekend back home with her. I didn't find out what was going on until I got there and I couldn't find ways to console her because it was so out of the blue."
"Out of the blue? It was three year too late," he says, his frustration getting the better of his self-control.
"Maybe it was, but you still should've told me or even let Finn tell me you were considering sending out divorce papers. I'd have prepared her or something. I'd have prepared myself, too. And I also think you should've gone to New York or waited for the holidays to break the news to her in person. You may not like her very much right now, but she's married to you, not to Kurt or Finn. And not to some fancy lawyer your step dad hired."
"I haven't seen or heard from her in years, Quinn. What kind of marriage is that? It's a fucked up one that ended a long time ago. The reason I didn't consider going to New York is clear as day to me. Rachel and I have nothing left to say to one another," he speaks, but he's deaf to his own words. There's no conviction and Quinn can tell.
"Do you actually believe that? Why would she have gone to Florida looking for you if there's nothing left to say?"
"I don't get why she's here and I don't really care enough to find out."
"Now you're just full of shit," Quinn admonishes. "I defend the idea that you should have talked to Rachel before ambushing her with divorce papers and I'm not even going to get started on that fucking confidentiality agreement. I know what she did sucks in many, many levels, but one mistake doesn't justify the other. If she's there, it's because she has something to say to you. Something that could've been said if you had delivered the papers yourself. So suck it up and listen to her. It may be your last chance of getting an explanation and we both know you've been hoping for one for the past three years. Don't think I forgot the endless conversations in which you said you loved her and missed her and a bunch of other crap. Take this chance and hear her out."
"Now you're just living up to the dumb blonde title," he says offensively. "You're delusional if you think I'm wasting my time listening to Rachel's sorry excuses."
"It's her sorry excuses or my foot up your ass," she says sternly. "I'm leaving her under your care for the time being. When she is ready and healed, you can drive her to the airport and get her on a plane to New York. If you so much as hurt her feelings, I'm clearing my schedule and I'm flying to Florida to kick you in the groin. It's your choice, Puckerman."
"I don't know why I'm friends with you. You're an unreasonable bitch, just like your friend Rachel."
"Just deal with your shit, Puckerman. There's no running from this. I'll call you and I'll check on Rachel in a few hours. Goodbye."
He's left with his thoughts once Quinn hangs up the phone. He paces for what seems like an eternity before leaning against the hospital walls with his head in his hands. That's the way Mercedes finds him when she walks outside.
"You're still pissed off? You really need to chill out. That receptionist is a class A bitch, but she's not the one you're mad at," she points out the obvious while toying with the pen she's been using to fill the ER forms with Rachel's information.
"But it's not Rachel either. Of course that given the shitty circumstances I'd rather have her in New York, as far away from me as possible, but it's this place that's driving me insane," he admits in a low voice. His hospital memories are the ones he wishes to erase (like most people, obviously).
"I know," Mercedes sympathizes. "The things I do for you, Puckerman. Go, get out of here. You can wait in the truck if you want. I'll stay inside with little miss sunshine," Mercedes declares, trying to sound as positive as possible.
"Nah, I should probably call you a cab. It's almost three in the morning and you should get some sleep before meeting Josh at the airport." Puck says, referring to Mercedes' boyfriend, who's coming home after spending two months at a recovery facility in Boston, taking care of a knee injury he suffered when the Gators played Ohio State.
"I'm not leaving," she insists. "I'm available 'til seven. Josh's flight lands at nine. Now you can either go wait in the truck, or you can go home," she orders. "You can't fool me, Puckerman. Don't think I didn't realize you could hardly breathe in the waiting-room."
"I appreciate you doing all this, but I can't leave. Rachel's drunk, incoherent, hurt and in a town she barely even knows. I can't be the scumbag who ditches her at the hospital with someone she barely knows, even if this person is one of my best friends."
"Life's a bitch, isn't it? She nearly destroyed you and you're still a man of your word. You don't exist, Puckerman."
"Sadly, I do. Sometimes I wish I didn't," he says somberly, but Mercedes thinks it's better to pretend she didn't hear him, at least for now.
Back inside, Rachel has her attention shifted to the television. "Runaway bride" is showing and even in her drunken state she can't stop thinking it's just horrifically fitting!
Mercedes rejoins her after leaving Puck outside with his thoughts. She was able to convince him to go and get them some coffee because thanks to the receptionist, their night's only just beginning.
"We have to fill in these forms," Mercedes says flatly. "Name?"
"Rachel. Duh..."
"Full name, diva," Mercedes says, sending a nasty glare in Rachel's direction.
"Rachel Berry-Puckerman. It's P-U-C-"
"No need to spell. I've seen his jersey on my washing machine one too many times.
"Oh...right... You're one of Noah's roommates. You and some girl named...er-I don't remember," Rachel says, trying way too hard to remember Tina, the girl who shares the house with Puck and Mercedes.
"Tina Cohen-Chang. And now Artie Abrams's also living with the three of us. Not that it's any of your bussiness." Mercedes says curtly.
An awkward silence takes over before Rachel finds a way to break it.
"It makes perfect sense for you to despise me. You're Noah's friend, sort of his sidekick and you know all about how I nearly destroyed his life and what a heartless bitch I am."
"You're the one saying it."
"I'm just point out the obvious..."
"I do despise what you've done, but I don't know how Puck really feels. He's only given me facts; he kept his thoughts and opinions to himself. Not that you deserved to know that."
"So he's not bad-mouthed me? That's...that's somehow comforting."
"Enough with the heart-to-heart. Let's fill in the forms. Your best friend's name's Quinn Fabray, right?"
"You know Quinn?"
"Nope, just talked to her once or twice over the phone, when she called Puck."
"I didn't know that. But why are you asking her name?"
"For your contact info."
"Wouldn't it be easier to write down Noah's name and phone number? Quinn's miles away and whether Noah wants it or not, he's still my husband, in sickness and in health," Rachel points out, knowing she's being a hypocrite for bringing up their wedding vows. She's the who failed miserably to follow them.
"And sadly, he's well aware of that," Mercedes mutters, not really caring if Rachel heard her of not.
She did, and even in her drunken state, she can't help but think Puck's not the only overprotective nag in their relationship.
At approximately five in the morning, Mercedes is bored out of her mind, Rachel's asleep and Puck's calm and back inside the Emergency Room, thinking that desperate moments call for drastic measures. The thought occurs to him while he's looking to the front desk, observing a younger and happier receptionist starting her shift.
Thinking it can't get any worse than it already is, he decides to use some of his dead and buried high-school days badassness.
He walks toward the newly arrived girl and starts flirting with her. He feeds her ego with compliments that make no sense whatsoever and explains that "his cousin" needs to be seen by doctor because he has to take her home and get some sleep before his football practice, or the Coach will chop his head off. There are giggles from the girl and she even scribbles her phone number on a piece of paper and hands it to him, saying she'll make sure Rachel's the next patient because it'd be a shame if the Coach hurt him and made it impossible for him to call her.
He finishes their interaction by smiling at her and walking back to his seat. And as he does so, he seems to be thinking two things:
1- How predictable some girls are.
2- How deep down there's still an asshole hidden somewhere in him, waiting to come out at any given chance.
Ten minutes later, the doctor is calling Rachel's name, but she's still sleeping like the dead and Puck has to carry her and place her on the gurney inside the room where the doctor's working. She stirs, but doesn't wake up.
"Are you related to her?" The doctor asks while washing his hands.
"She's my wife," he says quietly, looking down to the ground.
Puck's discomfort is evident and the doctor doesn't ask other questions. He removes the glass, cleans the wound area and stitches Rachel's foot. As soon as he finishes the small procedure, he gives Puck several instructions such as to keep Rachel from stepping on her foot for a few days and to bring her back to remove the stitches in a week. He also tells Puck to get the prescription that will be left for him at the front desk.
When Puck walks back to the reception with a still sleepy Rachel in his arms, Mercedes walks in his direction and they go to the front desk, where the receptionist has the prescription. She doesn't seem pleased.
"The doctor said you should make sure your wifetakes her meds every twelve hours," she keeps a professional tone, but her anger is plain as day.
"Anything else?" Puck asks, avoiding her hateful gaze.
"No, jackass," she shoves the piece of paper in his face, disgusted by his behavior. He takes the paper from her, mutters an apology and leaves, feeling guilty for using such a nice girl, and like a pussy for even caring. The old Puck was a badass. Badasses don't care about the means to conquer results.
Without much of an option, Puck and Mercedes come to the realization that they don't know where Rachel's staying and that leaving her on her own when she's unable to walk without crutches is a coward move. So they take her home with them and Mercedes tells Puck she'll find Josh's old crutches. They are hidden somewhere around the house or maybe they're at his apartment.
On their way, Puck reflects on what he said to Quinn. He told her he wouldn't take care of his soon to be ex-wife, but he knew he was lying the moment the words came out of his mouth. There's no way he'd be able to ditch her at her hotel room without worrying.
When asked by Mercedes what he thinks they should tell Tina and Artie, Puck mumbles almost inaudibly that they should tell them the truth.
At home, Puck takes Rachel to his bedroom and lays her on his bed. He covers her with his bedspread and checks to see if she has his phone number on her contact list. Surprisingly, she does. So he leaves a note on his nightstand next to her mobile phone saying to call him if she needs anything. He leaves Mercedes' phone number on the note, too.
Deciding there's no way he'll make it to practice, he calls the Coach and leaves a message on his answering machine saying something happened to a member of his family and that he won't be able to make it today. He's not telling a complete lie.
Finally, he showers, puts on a change of clothes and lies on the living room couch. Sleep is elusive and uncomfortable at best.
Hours later, he wakes up and heads to the kitchen, looking for coffee. He sees Josh and Mercedes having lunch with Tina and Artie. He's completely forgotten it's Saturday and is completely clueless about what time is it. They greet him and he shares a manly hug with Josh, saying he's glad his teammate's back.
"Grab a plate and try Tina's new invention," Artie suggests.
"I'm not really hungry, but I'll join you guys anyway. I just have to-"
"She's still asleep. I checked on her twenty minutes ago when Tina finished cooking. I'm not a fan of her or anything like that, but I'm not denying her food, water or helping her to the bathroom," Mercedes tells Puck.
"Have you told them about her?" He asks, looking at his friends and wondering what they know.
"I told them she's someone from your past; someone you cared about deeply. They respect your privacy enough not to ask questions," Mercedes answers his question, giving him a reassuring smile.
"And I respect them enough to give them the truth," Puck says, grabbing a plate and taking a seat. As Mercedes and Tina serve him some food, he comes up with the Cliff's Notes version of his and Rachel's story. And as his friends listen, they try their best not to pass judgment on Rachels actions or make any assumptions.
Later on, he takes a plate upstairs and knocks on his own bedroom door. He finds Rachel staring at her foot and on the phone with who he assumes to be Kurt.
She sees him, invites him inside and hangs up the phone.
He shifts from one foot to the other as he appears to be choosing his words very carefully. He offers her the plate and she takes it, smiling softly, saying she's dying to pee and for food, in that order. She even admits she's called Kurt looking for suggestions because she's uncomfortable to ask for his help.
He's not happy about the entire situation, but he says she's being silly and helps her up. Once they reach the bathroom, he excuses himself and shuts the door behind him. She takes her time and with some difficulty she manages to jump on one foot to the sink and takes the chance to wash her face, hands and her mouth. She also curses herself for not having a tooth brush, or a bag.
He waits patiently outside and once she's done, he carries her back to his bed, takes a seat on his desk chair and tells her she should eat before it gets cold. She takes a few bites in silence until Puck feels he can't take it anymore. He is, as Quinn pointed out, full of shit. Even though he denied being curious, he's dying to know Rachel's real reasons for being in Florida. It can't be just the fact that she's not signing the confidentiality agreement and he can't see why she wouldn't sign their divorce papers. It's what she wanted all along.
"Now that kicking you out is no longer an option, can I ask you why you're here? Honestly?" he says, letting his walls down even if just for a moment.
She takes a deep breath and stares at her plate for a second before meeting his eyes. Things can't become any worse and she decides it's time to take the chance to try to get him to listen to what she wants and to her plans regarding their relationship before he decides she's not worth his time.
"I love you," she says quietly and watches for a reaction, praying for a positive one.
"Sometimes that's not enough," he instantly says back, shaking his head in sadness and misery. He can't understand why she's saying those words now and he can't really bring himself to discuss it further.
"I don't need you to throw my words back in my face," she comments, keeping her voice neutral and dragging her eyes back to her plate.
"I'm not. My decision to send out divorce papers wasn't a reckless one. It was a long time coming, we both know it, and I didn't send the papers to you until I was finally able to grasp the meaning of those words."
"I was wrong when I said them."
"No, you weren't," he says softly as he shakes in head.
"But I was. I was angry at myself and, even though I know I shouldn't, I was so mad at you. I lashed out, Noah."
"You nearly destroyed me that day, Rachel. I spent hours on the phone begging your parents and Quinn for your address and they wouldn't give me. And then I went out to Cincinnati and I think Quinn gave it to me out of pity. I was naive enough to expect a better reaction than the one you had when you saw me and-" and as he tries to continue, his voice cracks. He takes a moment to regain his composure before continuing. "You blamed me for everything, didn't you? You don't have to tell me, I know that already. I could see it in your eyes the day of our accident and then the day you left Texas and when I went to New York. The sad thing is that at some point, I even blamed myself. I actually blamed myself before and after the accident, thanks to you," he finishes in pain.
"None of the things that happened were your fault. The accident was something beyond our control and the rest... before and after...well, it wasn't your fault either. It was no one's fault, really," she admits. "I'm deeply sorry for the pain I caused you, Noah. I know I made you hate me. When you told me about your fears and how maybe certain things weren't meant to be for us at the time I just... I just lost it. And you were there and you were the easy target," Rachel tries to justify her past actions, but she breaks apart. "You were telling me the truth and my actions only proved you right. Like I said, I'm so sorry, Noah. I really am. And I understand it if you hate me."
"I don't hate you," he says as he laughs a pained laugh. "Hating you is just... it's the one thing I know I'll never do. If only you could reciprocate."
"Noah, I know I-"
"I don't get it, Rach," he says softly and she smiles. He hasn't called her Rach in a long time and she misses the sound of it coming out of his mouth. "I finally find the strength to ask you for a divorce believing it's what you want and instead of signing the papers you show up, claiming you love me. How fucked up is that?"
"I already told you I love you and-and-"
"Just say it. You never had a problem with words."
"I don't think you'll like what I have to say."
"It hasn't been about my likes/dislikes for the past three years. It's been about-"
"Me. I know."
"So? Care to tell me why you're here other than to tell me you love me?"
"I'm here because I'm sorry. I'm trying to listen to my heart. I can't let things end like this. I have believed that for almost a year, but I just couldn't bring myself to face you and face the pain I caused you."
"A year? That's.. wow.. I'm sorry you waited this long, I really am. But you're sorry and I'm sorry and still...well, it doesn't change anything," he ponders patiently.
"Why not? I'm sorry, I love you and I'm willing to put the past behind and fight for us, but I need you to meet me halfway."
"I can't, Rachel. This..this is insane. What you're aking of me. The past few years have been complete hell, but I'm ready to move on. I really am and I can't go back. I can't open up to you. I-I-"
"You?"
"Forget it, Rachel. Just... just let it be. Please let it be."
"No, Noah. You're not the only one hoping for honest answers here. Say it, I don't care. Just say the words you were going to say."
"My honesty drove you halfway across the country."
"I can't walk, remember?" she jokes, trying to lighten up the mood.
"I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have."
"You didn't hurt me. It was the other way around and we both know it. You were saying you can't open up to me. Why not? I won't make the same mistakes again, I promise."
"Rach-I...I really can't open up to you,"
"I love you and I know a part of you still loves me."
"It's not just a part, Rachel," he admits against his better judgment.
"You just gave me reason to believe I can get you to forgive me and let me in. We'll be happy again if you give me the chance, Noah. It's going to take time, but we can be us again."
"There is no us," he says with no uncertain amount of sadness.
"Don't say that!" She practically begs him to take back his words.
"I'm not saying it to be mean. I don't like hurting you, but you let go of me three years ago and it took me a long time anda lot of heartache to look into a divorce. I've been stuck long enough and it's time to move on from this mess we created."
"We can move on together."
"I don't think we can."
"Come on, Noah. I'm willing to do anything in my power to get things back to the way they were. I'll even leave New York behind if I have to and-."
"And give up your dreams of becoming a Broadway star like you did last time? You can't do that. You're good enough to be up on the stage singing and dancing and I don't think you'd be happy if you didn't at least give it a shot. Actually, I know for a fact that you wouldn't be happy. You'd have the same regrets you had three years ago."
"It's different this time, Noah. And you know better than that. I didn't leave you just because I thought I wouldn't be able to explore my potential."
"Rach, it's not different. You married me knowing you were putting your dreams on hold and you didn't do it because you were ready, or because you really wanted to. You just went along with my plan. You felt like you had to do it, like that was your chance of having the perfect little family neither of us had, even if the timing sucked. And then, when it all went to shit, you realized that being married to me and studying in Texas were never part of your plan. It's the one thing I regret the most. Trying to get you to do what you weren't meant to."
"You're so wrong, Noah. I wanted to be your wife. I still want that, if you give me the chance. I was just immature and angry. About the accident, about all that happened before and after it. The accident was a major contributing factor to my decision and-"
"It wasn't the accident, Rach. You know we had nothing to do with it. We were just there, at the wrong place, at the wrong time. It was the discussion we had before the accident. You hated hearing the truth coming out of my mouth."
"I won't lie and say I was happy about what you said."
"It's okay to say that you hated me for those words. I know you did. I even hate myself sometimes."
"The feeling's mutual, Noah. I could never hate you. I just wrongly blamed you until it became so painful to even breathe the same air as you."
"And then you left."
"And that's the one thing I'll always regret."
"We all have regrets," he says, but it's just a failed attempt to console both of them.
"But we can stop regretting things, Noah. It's not too late. Are you really willing to keep fighting us? To fight what we feel, what we need?"
"You just got here, Rachel. You just got here and professed your supposed love for me and you expect me to change my entire plan? I can't. It's not that simple."
"I don't see why not. I'm willing to move, to follow you and I'm not asking for much. I'm asking for a chance, to start slow and see if we can get back on track. Why can't you let me in, Noah? Why can't you wait and see if things won't work out for us? You waited three years to ask me for a divorce. What's a few more months?"
"Remember you asked for it. I wasn't going to give you the truth because I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have, but you pushed for it," he warns her.
"I want nothing but your honesty."
"It's just..." he struggles before finding the strength to say the words out loud.
"Just?"
"It's just that I can't trust you, okay? I just can't," he tells her, expecting her to be surprised, which she isn't.
Feeling there's nothing more to be said for the time being, he leaves his chair and walks out of the room, leaving Rachel sad and heartbroken by her own actions.