Chapter three! Sorry for the delay, I've been crazy busy. Thanks for the great reviews. There were fewer for Chapter 2 than in Chapter 1, but the reviews were better quality. :) I love it when you guys tell me specifically what you like or dislike, hint hint.

He'd been in this situation before. Realizing he had no grip at all on either reality or his own life, that is.

"Man, Puckerman. You've put me in a tough position," his commanding officer, Sergeant Bryce said. Puck had great respect for a man like Bryce. He had character, strength, authority- all things Puck aspired to have.

"I know, Sir. I know," Puck affirmed. It was nobody else's fault other than his. It's not like he was forced to beat the shit out of O'Malley. Something had came over him, and he'd felt the need to punch O'Malley's face in, that was all.

"I can't just sit around and let my men be assaulted under my watch, by their own comrades no less. So you can see that I'm at a loss for what to do with you," Bryce continued. Puck nodded. Puck understood discipline. In fact, he understood it real well. He'd spend his entire life in and out of trouble- first the timeout corners, then the principal's office, then juvie. The way he saw it, you do some stupid, you get punished. It was the only way the universe could work without collapsing. It explained why his deadbeat dad died alone in a bar brawl a couple years ago. It explained why he'd gotten a girl pregnant in high school after he cheated on his girlfriend with her. It made so much sense that it was almost a science.

"No, I understand Sir. You do what you need to do" Puck was certain everything would work out eventually for him. He'd stopped caring about being proactive in his life choices and decided to let God "do his thing" a few years back when he saw an innocent little girl die from a AK-47 held in American hands.

"You know, it's not like you to burst out like that. But you were crazy back there. What the fuck got into you?"

"I don't know Sir. I really don't"

"Well neither do I, and that scares the shit outta me. If you can just snap like that for no reason, it makes me wonder if you can keep your cool when we go into the field in a couple of days. And with the operations we need to pull off, I can't risk it. Which is why you're being discharged from the forces today as of 1800 hours, honorably of course. Uncle Sam will never forget what you have sacrificed for this country, son. Good luck, Noah," Bryce finished. Bryce got up and headed towards the door.

Puck was dumbfounded. He hadn't expected such a harsh punishment. But this was the third time in his life that a man he had looked up let him down. The first being his father and the myriad of disappointments that followed of course. The second, after Mr. Schue let Santana give up and walk out that day senior year. And now, the third, at the ripe old age of 25.

He'd devoted the last years of his life to the military, working day and night. He had no hobbies anymore, no interests at all, no skills other than an expert aim and a newfound knowledge of military codes.

"Where am I going to go?"

"You need a future, Noah. I won't let no son of mine throw away his life because of some girl. You've already done enough," his mother said, and Puck immediately felt a little bit of guilt for all the grief he'd caused his ma over the last four years. Parenting a juvenile delinquent wasn't easy, and it wasn't a job for everyone. But somehow, Allison Puckerman had pulled it off. Kind of.

"I don't know what chick you're talking about, and I'm not doing throwing away my life," he said without looking up from his video game.

Allison sighed. Ever since his son had met his match in Santana Lopez four years ago, her stress levels had blown through the roof. Allison was only 40, but her graying hair and emerging wrinkles aged her a good fifteen years.

"Yes you are. You haven't done anything this week. Anything. You act like a slob around the house, play video games all day. You need to take initiative, responsibility. You're going to graduate in a couple of month, or at least your classmates will. You need to pull up your grades Noah, or else you're never going to get the hell out of here." It wasn't a truth she liked admitting, but Allison Puckerman had a terrible life. She worked 80 hour workweeks to get food on the table; she had no husband; and her only solace was her two beautiful children. But her son didn't have that joy, and she wasn't sure if he ever would.

"But if I leave, who's going to take care of you and Sarah?" he asked, looking up. It was a dilemma he had been facing for the last couple of months. He couldn't just abandon his family like Santana had abandoned hers, like his father abandoned his. He was the man of the house; he had an obligation.

"Oh, baby. You don't need to worry about that. We'll manage. Lima, Ohio is no place for a boy as smart as you to stay in. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Now I know you're hurting, but you have to try. Try for me; try for Sarah. Hell, try for her if it gets you off the couch. She's gone, Noah, but you're still here. She's going to have this amazing life, and you need to too," she griped. He knew who his ma was referring to. But fuck it if she thought that he was going to try for a future because of Santana. Fuck Santana. She was the one who let him down, and now he was going to go to college because of her? No way. He wasn't going to allow her that privilege. He was going to try because he could. He was going to try because he was too good for this place. It had nothing to do with Santana Lopez. Nothing at all. Well, maybe a little.

"Okay, ma." And that was that.

But who were they kidding. He ended up with a 1.8 GPA, barely passing. He had nothing going for him. Rachel was going to tour the world singing, Quinn was going to Wellesley, Kurt to RISD, even Finn had landed a scholarship to UCLA.

"I'm sorry ma, I'm sorry I let you down," he whispered the night of graduation. He was no better than his deadbeat father.

"It's okay, we'll figure something out," Allison said. After the year of betrayal, abandonment, and disappointment her son had experience this year, it was all that she could say. Mother knew best.

"No it's not. Where am I going to go?" he asked.

"I don't know, baby. I don't know." There was no point in lying to her son. He was a man now. She just didn't know.

But he did. There was one thing he was good at, and that was fighting. Noah Puckerman was a warrior. He was going to fight, and prove everybody wrong. Make his ma proud.

So naturally, he joined the military.

He hadn't realized he had said that out loud. Bryce turned around and gave him a look of sympathy, like he was some lost boy left on the freeway or something like that.

"You gotta place to go, son?" Bryce asked.

Puck couldn't go home. There was nothing left for him there. His sister was gone to London to backpack all throughout Europe, and he surely couldn't face his ma. What would she say if she found out he'd been kicked out of the military for fighting, the one thing you were supposed to do in the armed forces?

"Yeah, yeah. I know a place," he said distractedly. He took his hand and brought it up to his shirt pocket, and pulled out the creased ad depicting the only girl he'd ever loved.

The next day, he packed his few belongings, said goodbye to his few buddies, and got on the next direct flight to New York City. He had a couple thousand dollars to his name, but his ambitions were bigger.

He knew exactly where he was going.

He arrived in the Big Apple in the middle of the night. Puck was immediately drawn by the busy, energetic vibe he felt from the city. It was the city that never slept, after all. He hailed a cab out of JFK, and as the cabbie through Times Square, he felt a surreal feeling overwhelm him. He felt a little intimidated. It was like everybody in this city was doing something. No one loitered, no one was bored. There was always something to do. It was perfect for a military boy who had done nothing for the last five years of his life.

"So you new in town or what?" asked the cabbie, who was fiddling with the radio dials.

"Yeah. Just got discharged from the service. Trying to get back to civilization, you know?" Normally, he wouldn't have made small talk to people like cab drivers, but he'd been without new company for the last couple of years. And anybody who would listen was as close enough to a companion as he would get.

"Well, you sure have come to the right place for that. You from here originally?"

"Nah, Ohio"

"Oh I see. Why'd you come to New York? You got family here?"

"Something like that" He left it at that, and the cabbie seemed satisfied with the answer, because he didn't press for details.

Suddenly a familiar tune blasted throughout the cab, the quality of the sound revealing the age of the taxi. He found himself singing along.

"There's nothing you can't do, now you're in New York/These streets will make you feel brand new/Big lights will inspire you, let's hear it for New York/New York, New York"

"Hmm, look at that. What a perfect song for you. You a musician too?

"Used to be"

They'd worked so hard to get there. After falling short last year, it was almost a dream. At him, they were a couple of bum Glee Clubbers. But here on this stage? They were performers. They were going to sing their hearts out, knowing very well that this could be their last chance to all be together, sharing a passion. A passion that was more important to some more than others.

Man, they were in fucking New York City. Getting ready to sing on a stage for thousands of people. With the best glee clubs in the whole nation. That's a lot of glee clubs.

Still, with the stage lights warm on his back, he still felt like something was wrong, like something was missing. More like someone was missing. Quite possibly the most important member of the glee club, most important to him at least. The unsettling feeling he had must have been apparent in his expression because he overheard Kurt and Sam arguing in the corner. They weren't do a very good job being secretive anyways.

"You go talk to him!" hissed Kurt.

"No, you! Why does it have to be me?" replied Sam.

"Because you're straight and you can relate to girl issues!"

"Fine." Sam left the conversation and walked over to him.

"Hey, it's her loss okay? Don't worry about it, man. We're going to rock it, just let yourself have some fun," said Sam, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah. I will," he said, shaking the feeling. They were on in a couple of minutes. Rachel was yelling directions left and right.

"Noah! You're on stage left! Not right! What's wrong with you?" she shrieked. He trodded his way across the stage. "Gosh, you'd think with her gone, he'd focus better," he heard her mutter under her breath. Rachel had a point. He should have been paying better attention with Santana gone, but her absence had the completely opposite effect. He supposed he would get used to the idea in time. Once again, he tried to clear his mind and prepare for the performance. The curtain was being raised. They were on.

Finn and Rachel started singing their ballad, with the rest of them chiming in. Then they launched into their classic rendition of "Don't Stop Believin'." What else?

He could tell the audience loved it; everyone was getting up on their feet clapping along. Puck scanned the balcony for Mr. Schue, and Puck found him in the front row, his eyes brimming with tears of pride. He was about to turn back when a spot caught his attention. He squinted, and the spot turned into a fleck, which turned into a blob, which turned into a person.

And there she was. In the very back row of the balcony. She was very far away, watching from a distance. She looked different, like she'd lost a lot of weight and gained a lot of worries. The look on her face was indecipherable; he couldn't tell if she was happy or sad. She looked…wistful.

He had to turn around for the last bars of the song. They ended with a grand finale, and the curtains dropped. Sam and Quinn ran out to hug each other, and Brittany did a happy dance.

"That was so great!" squealed Tina, "We're so going to win! Vocal Adrenaline is going down!" He was sure a couple of others said words somewhat along those lines, but he wasn't listening. He had to find her. He might never get the chance to ever see her again. This was it. He pushed past Finn and Mike, and headed for the door.

"Noah! Where are you going? They're going to announce the results!" Rachel yelled.

"I don't care," he said. It wasn't a complete lie, but he had more important things to do. He ran out and looked up to see if she was still there, to see if he hadn't just imagined her. From the floor, his eyes met hers. Her brown eyes widened in alarm. She had seen him coming. She started to get up, and gathered her program and her coat. She hurried out the back. He dashed out to lobby, trying to see if he could catch her before she left. He found her just in time.

"Santana, wait!" he yelled, grabbing her arm. She turned around. "God, what are you doing here? Jesus fucking Christ, Santana. You could have at least told us you were coming, after what happened." The disbelief was apparent in his voice.

"Please stop. You guys were amazing, but I shouldn't have come. Goodbye, Puck," she said, looking straight him in the eye. She gave him one last glance and walked out into the New York rain.

It was only after he returned on stage (where they had placed second, after all) that he realized what the indecipherable emotion on her face was.

Regret.

He got off at the motel, and cursed himself for spending so much on transportation. He had come to New York with good intentions, the intention of finding Santana Lopez. But now that he was sitting in a dinky motel that had peeling wallpaper and a leaky faucet, he questioned what he was doing here.

What was he thinking? He couldn't find her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to her. He had no idea where to find her, no less. In such a big place, where was he going to start? He'd lost his way. Again.

And if he did find her, what was he going to say? Would she even remember him? Would she even want to see him? She was a supermodel now. She probably didn't have time for old high school friends anymore. He knew that if he was in her position, he would have wiped all traces of Lima, Ohio from his memory already.

But he was stuck here. If he didn't find her, maybe he would just get a job selling hot dogs in Central Park. He could handle that.

No, no. That would be silly. He was going to find her, if it was the last thing he'd ever do in his pathetic life. All he would have to do was ask around. Fashion Week was coming up; he'd seen ads for it on the way over. That was a thing for models to do, right? It couldn't be that hard.

He had no plan, but he had a feeling it would all work out. It always did.

Not my fav chapter, but whatever. Let me know what you think. Rate it even if you hate it, and dont be afraid to call me out. You too, silent readers!~