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Chapter 5
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It was a weekend that felt like it lasted forever and Puck didn't talk to anyone throughout it. At least until Kurt and Finn showed up at his door on Sunday.
"What the hell?"
Finn shouldered his way in, Kurt following on his heels. There were no words said, no punches thrown his way. Puck watched as they walked into his living room and then turned to face him, crossing their arms and glaring. In almost the exact same way. It was eerie. He could only imagine what they'd be like once Mr. Hummel finally popped the question to Carole.
Puck shut the door with a slam, crossing his own arms over his Queen band shirt, completely unselfconscious about standing there in his boxers – he'd been wearing the same clothes for two days and he did not give a crap who saw him or what they thought.
It was forever and day until someone spoke, and it was Finn who kicked off the conversation, levelling Puck with a neutral sort of a stare. "Okay, so, you and Quinn, you're pretty messed up right now. And we figured that all Quinn needed was some Glee bonding time away from her mom, and you needed time alone. Well, time's up. Now what the hell is going on, Puck?"
Puck moved past them towards the kitchen, reaching for a beer, but his hands twitched at the last second and he grabbed the neck of a bottle of Coke instead, twisting the lid and gulping down a mouthful before he faced them again. They'd turned in their places to watch him, but other than that they hadn't moved or even changed their posture. He rolled his eyes – was he supposed to be scared of a Frankenteen and his Princess sidekick?
Puck leaned against the entryway that separated the kitchen and the living room. "You really want to know? Didn't you get enough from –"
"We understand – Quinn opted for a closed adoption without discussing it with you . . ."
"You don't understand a Goddamn thing, Kurt," Puck growled out. "You don't fucking understand what it is like to have a child, something that is only yours – that's part of you and then she's gone, to be with someone else, and everything in you says that it's wrong even when you know it's for the best . . . but I expected something – pictures or . . . she took that away and she didn't even ask me about it. Tell me what of that you think you understand?"
Kurt's expression softened, but his voice came out firm all the same. "I understand what it's like to lose someone important, Puck – I know it isn't even close to comparable, but I understand loss."
Puck wanted to say something about how dead mothers weren't anything like lost daughters, but even he could not sink to that level of lowness. He swallowed hard and stared down at his brown carpet. Kurt sighed and tried again. "Quinn is dealing with her life as best she can, with what she's got – which is her own innate strength and her friends."
Puck's head jerked back up and he stared at Kurt incredulously. "Friends?"
The boy in front of him actually smiled – not smirked, not sneered – then laughed and rolled his eyes. "You've been working with me and my father for the past couple of weeks. You drove all over and out of town to look for me when you all went temporarily insane and thought I was missing. We're friends. And friends don't let friends treat their baby-mommas like you've been treating Quinn."
Which was all well and good, and sure, maybe Puck did get a little warm at knowing that Kurt, despite everything said and done between them, didn't hold a grudge – actually considered him worth knowing and being friends with – but what about Finn?
Once Mercedes and Quinn had impressed upon Puck why what he did was so wrong, Puck had been pretty sure that his friendship with Finn was over. So, when he was randomly asked out to shoot some baskets? Totally unexpected and . . . well, yeah, really awesome.
Puck hadn't really wanted to ask or think about why the tall boy was suddenly willing to let things go this summer, and act like they could be buddies. Puck was a wuss in that sense, and he could now admit to himself that he'd missed Finn – missed having the ridiculous, good-natured guy around. Finn had always been his sort of Jiminy Cricket (except when they were both being stupid together, which was often) and kept him from stepping into juvy territory. He'd never even let himself think that Finn would let them be best friends again because . . . that was too much to hope for.
"Dude, I can tell what you're thinking, and stop." Finn was smiling too, the goofy, honest one that Puck couldn't stand, because it only reminded him of how much of a good guy Finn was and how much Puck wasn't. "You think I'd be hanging out with you and stuff if I didn't still think of you as a friend? I mean yeah, what happened was pretty damn serious and it hurt like hell, but I know you're not, like, really bad. I want you and Quinn to be good again – I hate seeing you two so . . . so screwed up."
"You stopped Davis from throwing me into the dumpster and you issued a rather frightening warning to others – as a result, my dry cleaning bill has been significantly reduced." Kurt smiled. "And maybe I can forgive you for all the other things you used to do and say to me, Puck, if you keep trying to be the better guy we all know you're capable of being. If you keep working at the garage and let me boss you around, and be respectful to my dad. If you defend the other geeks in the hall like I know you've been doing. And if you find a way to deal with losing Beth that doesn't involve drinking or violence."
Finn nodded along to this and Puck found himself at a loss for words again. It was like everything he ever understood about the world was totally wrong, and someone had handed him a new guide to life and stuff. The gay kid he used to be such an asshole to was here (and had been for a couple weeks now), trying to help him figure his shit out, and the best friend he'd screwed over so badly was officially on his side again and fuck. He wasn't tearing up, damn it.
Beth was this ache in his heart he figured would always be there, but he couldn't be pissed off about it for the rest of his life. He wasn't going to be like his old man – a broken person that couldn't help but break the people around him.
"Okay," he said shortly. He turned back to the fridge, grabbed another soda and a bottle of water. He handed them to Finn and Kurt, and sat down on his couch. "I'm gonna talk to you guys, but you gotta promise that this shit never leaves this house. Because I'm still a badass, and –"
Kurt waved off his words. "Right, Puckerman, you're hot shit." Puck blinked at the swear word. "We get it. Now, tell us – tell us about Beth." Kurt's own eyes were a little misty as he said her name, his voice a little wistful. Puck had a quick flashback to hanging with Finn: "I wasn't the only one planning and imagining. I think Kurt was designing, like, a whole wardrobe for her."
He cleared his throat, glancing away to blink the sudden blurriness away.
"Right. Hot shit. Good that you get that. So, uh Beth . . ."
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Quinn was staring at her phone, contemplating calling her mother for the twentieth time that weekend. It was late, Sunday night – she should be home. She would be home.
"Girl, get over here – you're missing the best part."
She flicked her eyes back to the screen – it wasn't the best part, it was maybe the third or fourth best part in 10 Things I Hate About You. She smiled faintly as Kat flashed the teacher to get Patrick out of detention. However, the best part, in Quinn's opinion, was when Patrick sang to Kat during her soccer practise – that was the moment that Quinn fell in love with Heath Ledger.
Mercedes put an arm around her, and Quinn leaned into the touch. Mercedes' mom put her hand on Quinn's head as she passed by the couch on her way to the kitchen. "I'm going to make us a fresh batch of popcorn – you guys want something more to drink too?"
"Sure, thanks mom." Mercedes smiled brightly up at her mother. Quinn simply nodded.
Once Mrs. Jones was gone, Mercedes leaned into Quinn's side, fixing her with an open and sincere look of concern. "I know I said I wouldn't push, but honey, this is your favourite movie, and you've barely cracked more than two smiles."
Quinn blinked at her. "I don't think I want to have this conversation here, while your mom is making us popcorn and . . . later. Just later. I promise."
"Okay. But listen – Kurt's worrying, and the girls have been blowing up my phone. They're all about respecting your space, but that just means they've been taking total advantage of my unlimited texting and bugging the crap out of me instead." She flashed a teasing eye roll and Quinn laughed shortly.
A few minutes after that, munching on some fresh, hot popcorn, she managed a few giggles as the movie wrapped up, and sang along to 'I Want You to Want Me' at the end. She surprised herself with laughing long and hard as Mr. Jones skidded into the living room, belting out lyrics and rocking out in a spectacularly embarrassing (albeit on-key) parental manner.
"It's such a good thing that you decided to switch from music theory and performance arts to dentistry, baby." Mrs. Jones was wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, I think I cracked a rib."
"Thank you for your support, wife," Mr. Jones dismissed. "I know my girls won't disappoint."
Quinn felt warmth lighting up her insides, coupled with a twisting discomfort. The Jones family had been her blessing during the last couple of months of her pregnancy. They had never asked questions, never demanded anything of her other than good grades and behaviour. She had volunteered to work herself into the chores' schedule and, though it had been rare while she was still carrying Beth, she checked in with them if she was out of the house for anything other than school or Glee practise.
Now it was exactly the same, except without the initial awkwardness from her first stay. She loved it and hated it and was so, so grateful that she could have it, despite the horrible feeling that she was betraying her mother, who hadn't done anything wrong this time – she was sick and Quinn had left. God. There was nothing she could do right – girlfriend, mother, daughter – Quinn had sucked at all of them.
"You would totally have a spot on the New Directions, dad. You know, if it wasn't wrong and totally humiliating for me." Mercedes grinned.
"Don't say that." Quinn smiled up at Mr. Jones. "The way Glee goes, we may actually need you, Mr. Jones."
"And that's why you're my favourite, Quinn." He squeezed her shoulder. "You see, Patricia? These two clearly have better hearing than you. You must be getting old."
"Oooh," Mercedes and Quinn sounded out together, watching Mrs. Jones' eyes narrow.
"Abandon ship!" Mercedes called as she grabbed Quinn's hand and yanked her to her feet, and they ran, laughing.
Quinn called over her shoulder. "You better run for it, Mr. Jones."
"Ain't no shame in it, dad!" Mercedes added as they hit the stairs.
By the time they reached Quinn's bedroom, Mercedes had stopped laughing, and she was watching her with those dark, worried eyes again. Quinn pushed the door open, flicking the light on and turning to her friend with a sigh. "Okay, so this is going to be a short talk, because I'm tired and there isn't really much for me to say."
"Whatever you feel," Mercedes agreed.
Quinn guided Mercedes to sit on the bed, and then took a few steps back, crossing her arms and inhaling deeply. "Okay. So, I'm pretty . . . hurt, and angry, because of what Puck said to me. And part of me wants to punch his face out. Or scratch up his face. Or make it really hard for him to ever father another child."
Mercedes waited and Quinn kept quiet, wanting her friend to comment on this.
"Quinn, I think Puck was way out of line to say that crap to you . . . but did you really sign away Beth without even telling him?"
"He knew I was giving her up – we agreed it was better for her!" Quinn said defensively.
"Right – but you could have done that thing where you got pictures, where you got calls on her birthday or something. I know that's what Puck would have wanted – and if I know that, then you do too, girl."
She had known that. She knew it damn well when she signing the papers for Shelby. But damn it, Puck he was so . . . She assumed he'd get over it – that he would be back to being the badass, the 'sex shark', and maybe that had been a mistake on her part. But she had given birth to Beth, she had carried her, felt her grow for nine months in her belly and, wrong or not, that made her feel a little more entitled than Puck – she knew seeing updates on her little girl would hurt, hurt so bad.
Quinn took a breath. "This is the next thing I wanted to say, and the last, I guess. I've been thinking about it. And I realize that I was wrong about not talking to Puck about it. I still feel I did what was right for me – for both us – but I should have had that discussion with him first. I should have been honest about what I did."
"Great, so I don't have to tell you that much." Mercedes sighed heavily before patting the place next to her the bed, moving over so she could at least half-face Quinn as she sat down. "Okay, Lady Fab – you know I love you, and with what's happening with your mom right now, I don't know if I'm doing or saying the right thing . . . but this thing that you did with Puck? You gotta make it right."
Quinn had not expected anything less from Mercedes, though she had selfishly hoped that the girl would come down completely on her side. But Mercedes would not be the amazing person she was if she had.
"What do you think I should do?" Quinn asked quietly.
"I think apologizing to Puck is a start. After that . . . I don't know – but maybe if you talk to him, you two can figure something out. And don't forget about the rest us – we're all here. For both of you."
Quinn opened her mouth to say something, but found her breath hitching and her eyes getting wet instead. It hit her, out of the blue, how much everything sucked, how hard it was to wake up every morning, knowing where her life was now and knowing how damn lucky she was too, because there were these amazing people in her life, people like Mercedes and her family, like Kurt, people who she had bullied and belittled, but were now willing to stick by her, help her, even when she didn't think she deserved it.
Mercedes wrapped her up in her arms and held her close. It took less than a minute for Quinn to return the embrace, crying silently, and whispering 'thank you' whenever she had enough breath in her lungs to do so.
When she managed to get herself under control, Mercedes leaned over to the nightstand, grabbing a few tissues and handing them Quinn. "Okay, I say that we call Tina, we call Kurt, and we ask them to come over for some emergency primping. Actually, let's call Rachel too – maybe she'll feel bad enough about everything to allow us to redo some of her wardrobe or something."
Quinn laughed hoarsely at that. "I know Kurt would think he'd died and gone to heaven if she let him at her closet again."
"And hey, why not make it a total girls-plus-Kurt, night? Do you think Santana and Brittany would be down with that? Lord knows watching Brittany hit on Kurt all night and him be a total doofus about it would be pretty entertaining."
"I think I saw on Facebook that Brittany's over at Santana's right now . . . Which might mean we're cutting on their own, uh, 'ladies' night'." Quinn gave Mercedes a look and Mercedes blinked in response, her mouth forming an 'o'.
"Huh. Okay then. That's cool. Still – you, me, Kurt, Rachel and Tina. How about it?"
With one last dab of tissue under her eyes, and after quickly blowing her nose, Quinn grinned at Mercedes, trying her best to keep any other tears at bay. "Call them up, and get them over here. I'll start up the fireplace – I think burning a few animal sweaters will do me a world of good."
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Puck chewed on the inside of his cheek as he finished off the oil change for the Ford truck engine he was currently bent over. Kurt was standing next to him, arms crossed, silently observing.
"So, what do you do on a ladies' night?" Puck asked casually, knowing perfectly well Kurt would see the question for what it was – a real unsubtle way of seeing how Quinn was doing. He cast a half glance over his shoulder. "Like, uh, a couple of days ago, you and the girls were all over at Mercedes' house, right?"
"Naked pillow fights and painting each other's toe nails," Kurt answered flatly, arching an eyebrow.
Puck let his head drop, because of course Kurt wouldn't make this easy – wouldn't let him get away with anything lately – and the damn annoying thing about it was that Puck couldn't even work up enough frustration to be annoyed. Because he actually liked the boy. He really did.
"Can't see Quinn being into that." Puck stood up straight, turning his back on the car, tilting his head towards Kurt. "Well, I totally can picture it –" and he ducked the open handed smack aimed for his shoulder, and the rag that was whipped at him immediately afterwards. "But, uh, I'm just curious about what you guys get up to."
Kurt wiped his hands on another rag. His hair was perfect and Puck had to resist the urge, hourly, to mess it up. As if he could sense this, a now clean hand came up to check on it. Puck flicked at his own nose, feeling an itchy smudge of grease; Kurt passed him the rag, shaking his head. "We get up to endless gossip, make-overs that may or may not involve painting one another's toe nails, and discussions over whatever boy issue is predominate at the moment."
Puck flicked the most honest and pleading look he could muster at Kurt, while not being a total wuss about it.
"She's okay, Puck – and so are you. She doesn't hate you. And you don't hate her, right?"
His head was shaking before Kurt finished asking the question. "No, I never . . . okay, I did, when I first found out. And I still hate what she did, but I don't hate her. I can't. We're both screw-ups, and we were both wrong about . . . Beth. There's no way I could handle raising her – she deserves better, and I think Ms. Corcoran is it. But, man, that doesn't mean that I want to forget she ever existed. I can't, Kurt. She's mine – she's like, this piece of me, out there, and maybe I can never be with her, but I need to know that she's doing okay. And Quinn took that away without even telling me about it."
Kurt inhaled deeply through his nose, blowing out his breath through parted lips. "Yes. And Quinn thinks the same, about Beth. We've covered this over, and over, ad nauseam."
"So why do you keep asking about it, then?" Puck challenged.
"Because you're still not telling me what you plan to do about Quinn," Kurt pointed out. "And at some point, we would like to have two of our friends in the same room without running the risk that one or both of them will try and kill the other, or burst into tears."
Puck snorted lightly but said nothing and they worked in silence for a while. Then, "I think Quinn and me have let loose all the dirty laundry there is. The next time we're together, it's gonna be awkward, but . . . I think we'll be okay. I'm not gonna start shit again – there's been way too much of that lately."
Kurt's smile was wide and genuine. "That's wonderful to hear. Now rewire that transmission – it's all wrong and I'm not letting you near the pizza I ordered until it's done right."
He scowled at the boy but he did what he was told, even as Finn came down to mock him, telling him how it only took Kurt one afternoon to teach him how to rewire the transmission in a car. Of course, Kurt scoffed at this, and proceeded to tell Puck all about Finn's screw-ups involving oil changes, and it was all going to hell in hand basket when Finn threatened to get grease all over Kurt's pretty coveralls, Hummel yelling that he would skin him alive if he came near him. Puck was debating which side to take when Kurt's phone blasted Beyonce's Diva. Kurt dashed for it, ducking under Finn's arms, laughing into his cell, "Mercedes, I'm being threatened by a giant – what?"
His face fell, and both Finn and Puck exchanged glances as Kurt's eyes widened. "Oh no – oh shit. Okay, are you – okay, we're on our way. Finn and Puck – I know, I'm sorry, but there's no way they're going to just stay behind. I'm right in front of them. Tell Quinn . . . right. See you in ten."
Kurt hung up and was reaching for his car keys. "We need to go now."
"What's happened?" Finn asked, though he was falling in line behind Kurt without hesitation as they made their way out to the boy's car. Puck took an extra few seconds to ditch the rags he'd been holding before doing the same.
"Quinn's mom is in the hospital."
Puck froze as he was halfway into the car. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that our friend's alcoholic mother is in the emergency room, and we have to go right the hell now, because who knows what Quinn is going through. She needs us."
Puck said nothing more as Finn gave him a shove, jerking him from his what now? funk. He flung himself into the vehicle, slamming his door shut at the same time Finn did. Kurt ripped out of that parking lot seconds later.
"I know you say things are going to be okay between you and Quinn, dude," Finn said a little breathlessly as Kurt cut someone off viciously – the cussing that followed might have been impressive to hear, but Kurt was tearing through traffic quick enough to make even Puck a little queasy. "But you seriously need to, like, not be angry at her right now."
"I can feel whatever the fuck I want, Finn," Puck growled out. "But even I'm not douche enough to come down on her when her mom's in the hospital. Like, really? How can you even think I'm that much of an asshole?"
Kurt slowed as they finally reached the hospital. "Give Puck some credit, Finn – even on his worse day he wouldn't sink that low. I think I see Mercedes' car from here, maybe – let's move."
Kurt was parked, somewhat crookedly but within the lines, and they were out the door and rushing in. Puck was still feeling nauseated, but now it was all about Quinn, and all the times in the past little while he'd wished that she could feel just a fraction of all the crap she'd put him through. He wasn't stupid enough to blame this on himself, but the feeling of guilt, of shame, wasn't letting up. Maybe they both deserved everything the universe decided to throw at them for being the selfish, self-absorbed jackasses they'd been. How could he have ever thought they'd been worthy of Beth?
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Quinn was not here right now. She was in some other room, some other state, some other life, because this was too much for one person, and thus could not be happening. Not to her, not to her mother.
"Babe, you've gotta breathe for me – the doctors haven't told us anything yet, so please, stop panicking," Mercedes was whispering into her ear, her hair, holding her tightly to her side. But her brain was blank, words were useless, and she couldn't say or do anything because nothing made sense. Except that this was all her fault. It was easy to see how she wasn'tentirely to blame, but easier still was to trace all the horrible things that had happened to her and her family, and it all lead back to her, it was always her.
Either she said some of this out loud, or her thoughts were clearly displayed on her face, because a moment later someone else moved in close to her. "No, no sweetheart." That sounded like Mrs. Jones, and another arm came around Quinn. "Oh, please don't, this is just an accident, I'm sure. Wait – here comes the doctor."
She raised her head, her hair falling back from her face, and she saw a tall woman, caramel skin, lightly freckled, and curly brown hair. She stopped in front of them with a kind, business like smile. Quinn knew those kinds of smiles well – her mother was the best there was at flinging them out on a moment's notice.
"Hello, is this – are you Quinn?"
She nodded, her throat and tongue maintaining her silence for her. She couldn't have choked out a note even if threatened at gunpoint.
"Listen, we're sorry if we made you worry – your mother is fine. My name is Dr. Moreau." The smile became a little softer, a little more genuine. "She just suffered a fall – slipped in the kitchen, hit her head on the counter and got herself a nasty concussion, some pretty spectacular bruises, and couple of cuts from some broken glass. She's just come back from a CT-scan, and it all looks to be in working order. We're going to keep her here overnight, to be safe, but she should be fine to go home tomorrow."
Quinn absorbed this information, understood what was being said, but it took another minute for the relief to fully hit. Even then, she didn't get to bask in it, because there was an explosion of noise and people calling her name. She turned as best she could in the embrace she was in, and there was half her Glee club – Kurt, Finn, Rachel, Tina . . . and Puck.
"It's fine, guys," Mercedes called as they rushed over. "She's fine. She just slipped and fell at the apartment."
"Can I see her?" Quinn asked hesitantly, and her own voice sounded strange to her. Very timid and raspy.
"Of course – one or two of you can go in with her, if you want – the rest will have to wait," Dr. Moreau addressed the crowd standing behind Quinn. There was murmured agreement and she turned to face her friends, swallowing before speaking.
"I'm going to go in alone, if that's okay with everyone?"
"Oh sweetie, you do whatever you need to." Mrs. Jones squeezed her close for a moment before stepping back. Mercedes had stepped away to allow her mother to hug Quinn, and now she moved back in to give a firm, warm hug of her own.
"We're right here, if you need us," Mercedes said loud enough to encompass everyone. Quinn found herself looking over at Puck, who ducked his head in a nod, and offered up a faint, hesitant smile. Her own lip twitched upwards – it was an apology and an acceptance of an apology, or she'd like to think that was the case. Kurt gave her a wave and an encouraging smile, and with that final bit of wordless support she turned to follow the doctor to her mother's room.
"Here we are – she's awake and anxious to see you," Dr. Moreau said. "Did you have any other questions?"
Quinn shook her head and the doctor left her. She lingered in the doorway before fully stepping into the room. Her mom looked up instantly and Quinn gasped. The bruises were awful – encompassing the right side of her face, and then there were cuts on her arms and she was flinging herself at the bed before she knew what she was doing.
"Mom, oh God, mom," she cried, wiping at tears futilely. Her mother lifted her injured arms and Quinn was in them, burying her face in mom's chest like she was six years old and had just fallen from the monkey bars.
"Quinn, my baby – it's okay, I'm fine, and it looks a lot worse than it really is. Shhh, sweetie, okay, it's fine." The steady murmur of reassurances actually didn't do very much to reassure Quinn – she just felt that same heavy, sick feeling of guilt well up in her.
She gasped out, "It's my fault. Oh God, you probably had something to drink as soon as I left, and I don't blame you! How could your own daughter abandoning you help with anything!"
"Quinn, Quinn." Her mother had been struggling to say over the top of Quinn's rambling. "God, sweetheart, no. I forbid you to think that way. This wasn't anyone's fault. It was just a silly accident."
"It's okay, mom, you won't disappoint me," Quinn said softly, sitting back and trying to scrub the tears off her face. "You can tell me the truth."
Her mother looked tired all of a sudden, but her smile – it was there, it was real. "Of course you don't believe me. I've been such a terrible mother to you this past year – for the past few years. Oh Quinnie."
In the place of the guilt, cold and sweeping, a crackle of hope burst to life in Quinn's chest. She took in her mom's injured face and arms, the limp strands of her hair, and her clear, lucid eyes.
"I . . . I didn't drive you to this? I was afraid that maybe you'd hurt yourself – because of me." It hurt to say the words, but that pain was fleeting as her mother shook her head vehemently.
"Oh, oh no, baby." Her mother held her close. "No, no, it wasn't anything like that! I would never leave you that way, ever! Today I was thinking about everything, and I just was so angry at myself for putting you through so much that I threw the scotch against the wall . . . and then started throwing everything else too – eventually I calmed down enough to start emptying the bottles in the sink, but I didn't think to clean up the other mess first and well . . ." She indicated the cuts on her face and her arm. "I slipped and landed on the broken glass. I was a total and complete stupid klutz, but Quinnie – I'm a sober one."
Quinn let out a laugh, wet sounding and probably inappropriate, but it was just a gut reaction – because she believed her mom. For the first time in a long, long time, she believed that things might actually be getting better.
She threw her arms around her again, mindful of the injuries, and pressed her face into her mom's hair – it smelled strongly of hospital, but underneath was that faint scent of dish detergent, lemony and fresh, and absolutely nothing of scotch or whiskey or anything alcoholic. It made a smile break out onto her face, and she laughed again, for the sake of laughing, and felt her mom do the same.
They pulled back and the same wide smile adorned their faces. Quinn bit her lower lip before speaking. "I, I can come back if you want."
Her mother's smile faded. "Quinn, I don't want you to feel as though you have to. And a few days sobriety isn't anything to brag about – there's still a long way for me to go."
"I know that, but I think it would be better if I were there to help you," Quinn insisted.
Her mom reached out to tuck some of Quinn's loose waves behind her ear, then cradled her face with that hand. She smiled and her eyes gleamed a little. "Everything is better when you're with me, sweetie. And I will always want you with me – but I also want you to be happy and comfortable – if you want to spend the rest of your summer with the Jones family, that is completely fine with me. Our house will be finished by then, and we can move back in together and have ourselves a fresh start."
Quinn still wasn't sure if that was what she wanted – not after this. That this wasn't the result of her mom's drinking was wonderful, but Quinn could have been there and helped her get to hospital sooner, or even prevented the accident altogether.
"Stop blaming yourself," her mom chided gently. Quinn ducked her head, refusing to admit that was exactly what she was doing. "Did you come here with Mercedes?"
"Yes, and Mrs. Jones."
"Great, that's even better. Do you mind getting her for me, sweetie? We can talk more after, I promise, I just need to talk this over with her."
Quinn frowned. "If I want to come home with you, neither of you can stop me."
"I know." Her mother straightened her blankets as she spoke. "But I need another adult's opinion on the situation, and I want to give you some time to think about it. Go on, go be with Mercedes and whenever you're ready to come back and talk some more, you do that."
She reached forward and Quinn met her halfway – they hugged tightly and for a good, long while. Eventually, Quinn found her way back to her friends and Mrs. Jones.
"She's fine," Quinn said, repeating the doctor's words. "It's all perfectly fine – she wants to speak with you, Mrs. Jones, if that's okay?"
"That's great," the other woman replied, giving her shoulder a squeeze once she'd stood up and walked over to Quinn. "Will you be hanging out at the hospital for a while longer."
"I think so." Quinn accepted Mercedes' hand as it slid into her own.
"Good to know," Mrs. Jones said, and Quinn told her the room number before she disappeared down the hall.
When she'd left she turned to Mercedes, and to Kurt who had come over to join them. The others lingered a little further back. She smiled widely. "She's sober. It wasn't . . . it was just an accident, she slipped on something she'd spilled – she's trying to get better. I think she might actually get better."
"That's great!" Kurt said at the same that Mercedes cheered happily and wrapped Quinn up in a hug. Kurt joined in a second later and Quinn was thrilled with all the hugs and smiles and just everything that was happening. Then she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.
"Where's Puck?"
Finn shifted nervously. "I . . . I'm not sure. He just sort of disappeared once you left."
"I think he went upstairs," Tina offered, and the look she gave Quinn . . . Quinn remembered what was upstairs, on the fourth floor, specifically. It filled her with a new sort of heaviness, and a brand new wave of guilt and sadness, but this was old and familiar – and it was time she did something about it.
She turned to Mercedes, who was watching her closely and concernedly. "I'll be right back, guys – if your mom gets back before I do, tell her I'll be up in the maternity ward."
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Beth was way cuter than any of these babies. Puck felt that, even though he was biased, this was an indisputable fact. His baby girl could win prizes for how pretty and adorable she was. Still, there were definitely some contenders for second place. He watched the small, red-faced bundles, some of them only hours old. He wondered if any were the result of a mistake, like the one he and Quinn had made . . . and then he shook his head, because however fucked up he and Quinn were, his daughter was not a mistake.
Suddenly, Quinn was there; he could feel her even if he didn't turn and see her. It was déjà vu to a couple of months ago, with her sweaty and wrapped in a flimsy hospital robe, having just given birth to Beth. He'd told her that he was in love with her – which was true then, but he wasn't sure about now. But even if he wasn't in love with Quinn, he definitely loved her.
No matter what Quinn had done or said, then and since then, she would always be the second half of Beth – the woman that delivered his baby into this world. And she was hurting just like he was that they couldn't keep her. His anger over what she'd done had pretty much faded – Kurt and Finn had sort of helped him see the light, helped him deal. Quinn messed up, but the whole thing was so, so messed up. He couldn't say what he would have done if he'd been in her shoes with her parents and all that screwed-upness.
"Our daughter is definitely way prettier than any of these babies," she said decisively and Puck let out a short laugh.
"We made one beautiful baby, that's for damn sure," he said with a grin.
They were quiet after that, but the ice was broken at least. Puck hadn't really turned to look at her, even when she moved in close enough for her reflection to appear in the glass. Quinn rested two fingers on the bottom edge of the glass, and Puck watched out of the corner of his eye as she stared at each baby in turn. After a while, he offered, "I'm sorry about your mom. That's . . . really shitty."
"It's not that bad – it wasn't a drinking too much thing, it was a slipping on a wet floor thing." Quinn smiled brightly at this. "Maybe things are finally going right for her – I'm not even afraid to jinx them by saying that." A baby started to fuss a little, soft cries bringing a nurse over. Puck watched and he could see Quinn's reflection shift. The smile was gone, and her eyes were shining.
"You . . . you really don't want to see Beth at all?" he asked, his voice cracking and it was so hard to get the words out.
"I do," she whispered. "Puck, you have no idea. I'm her mother. That's my baby I had to hand over. But I had to. The idea of only being allowed snippets of her life – of only getting pictures or phone calls once a year – oh my God." Puck felt lousy for bringing her down from her high over her mother, but he also felt relieved. He'd needed to hear those words – he'd been pretty damn sure Quinn felt that way, but hearing it made all the difference to him.
"So you thought if you never got to see her, you could –"
"Not forget – I know I'll never forget. But pain – if you don't expose yourself to it, sometimes you forget how much it hurts. I'll never forget Beth, but maybe the pain of losing her . . . maybe that I can forget, someday."
Puck didn't think that would ever happen. He didn't say as much, because he hoped he was wrong. He stared at a little baby girl that had dark fuzzy hair and hands that were so small that it did something to his insides just seeing them.
"I get it, why you did what you did. I hate that you did it. But I'm not angry anymore. Can you forgive me for . . ." He stopped. He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask forgiveness for. The horrible crap he'd thrown at her last week? The whole getting her pregnant in the first place?
"I already did," she said, and he wasn't sure what she was specifically talking about, but it felt good all the same.
Another baby cried out, but it took less than a minute for him to settle down, little face going relaxed in sleep despite being all scrunched up and pouty. Puck let loose a little huff of laughter even if this was some kind of weird torture – why had he come up here again? He should stop listening to some of his impulses – maybe even all of his impulses. They had never done him any real good.
Quinn made a little noise, somewhere between a small laugh and a repressed sob. Puck wanted to hug her, but he still wasn't sure that she'd let him. He settled from standing closer to her, their shoulders almost touching as they stared at the babies, wrapped in their pink and blue blankets, tiny and fragile.
"Rachel said I might find you here."
Puck and Quinn whipped around and there was Ms. Corcoran. She smiled at them, soft and sympathetic. Maybe. Puck was tense all over and not too sure about what he was seeing. "Hey you two. Listen, don't think too much right now – just follow me, I want you to . . . to have some tea with me. Let's go."
Quinn took a halting step, and Puck could feel her nervousness – it was in tune with his own. "I . . ." she croaked out, and then cleared her throat. "I need to be with my mom, tonight – can we . . . tomorrow, in the afternoon?"
Miss Corcoran turned to Puck. "That okay with you?"
"Sure, yeah, I guess," Puck said uncertainly. He could reschedule his garage time with Kurt and his dad without any problems.
"All right, I'll see you two tomorrow – at three, after Beth's nap."
She left Puck and Quinn alone, looking directly at each other at last, not knowing what to say. Puck wasn't a guy to use his words too often – so he just reached out a hand and smiled. Barely a moment's pause, and then Quinn smiled back. She reached out too, and entwined her fingers with his.
OOOOOOOOOOOOO
Author's Note: And once again, I have no excuse that would serve, so I'll just apologize from the bottom of my heart – I'm so sorry for the eternity between updates. I lost my mojo for writing this story – and then Glee went along the same path I was planning to go on (though my Quinn didn't go crazy, obviously), and I wondered if I should completely change my idea, but eventually I just decided to keep going :)
I am definitely still planning on finishing this fic – I just have one more chapter to go, I think. Many thanks to the few of you that read this, and if you're still reading, even more thanks and apologies and hugs!