Warnings: A couple of non-graphic mentions of abuse

Summary: Puck's day goes from bad to worse when he gets jumped by three pissed linebackers.

.***.

"Life really only has one beginning and one end and the rest is just a whole lot of middle." Will Schuester

.***.

Puck was having a truly crappy day.

It had started that morning, when he was woken up by his mom's boyfriend. The broken bottle didn't really do much damage to his stomach, thank god, because that would have been embarrassing, but it did leave a nasty bruise and a couple of cuts that he would have hid if Finn hadn't turned up in the exact wrong moment when he was trying to fix the Band-Aids in the bathroom.

Finn was talking before he was even in the door. "Hey, man. Heard you got reamed out by Figgins for being late again. You know you can call me if your car is acting up – woah." He stopped, stared at Puck's side which was a mess from football and the swings Harold got in before Puck could make it up the stairs. "Dude, that looks bad."

"It's nothing. You should see the other guy." He winced as he pulled up the Band-Aid. The bleeding had stopped, but now there was some dried blood to add to the black and blue and green effect of the bruises. He looked like a fucking Picasso.

"Is the other guy named Harold?" Finn guessed, taking the Band-Aids. Puck jerked away – he didn't need anyone's help. He'd been doing this alone long enough. "It's on your back, man. No way you can reach it alone."

"Whatever. Thanks." Puck stared at the wall while Finn smoothed the Band-Aids over his various cuts. He felt fingers linger over scars so old he couldn't really remember getting them. His mother had always had shitty taste in men. "I can't wait for this year to be over." Puck said, his voice quiet, rage-filled. "I'm getting out of that house the second I turn eighteen."

"Where will you go?" Finn murmured. He had been thinking about the next year, too. For a lot of reasons – college applications showing up at his house. Kurt and Rachel's high-flying plans to go to New York. The fact that Blaine was going to take over his role in the glee club. He'd been asking himself where he wanted to go a lot lately.

Puck pulled his shirt back down and leaned against the sink. "I dunno. Away from here." He passed an arm over his eyes so fast that Finn couldn't even see the moisture there. "I'm getting out of this fucking school." He winced when the bell rang, "Maybe I'll start now."

"What – no, Puck, c'mon. We have the first game of the season tonight. No way the Beaste will let you play if you bail on school." Finn caught Puck's arm. "We can't win without you, Puck."

"We're not going to win. We're the worst team in the division."

"We have to try."

They stared at each other, two almost-men in a school bathroom. Two almost-men who still couldn't figure out how to stop getting beaten up by their mother's boyfriends, who were so worried about the future it actually made them sick. Two almost-men who weren't really talking about football at all.

"And maybe," Finn said, breaking the silence, "Maybe you can talk to Mr. Schue? He's decent at working the system. Maybe he can help you with Harold."

"Schue has no idea what shit we go through." Puck said, almost smiling at the thought. "Who am I to wreck his little bubble?"

.***.

They ended up winning. Cherokee wasn't exactly a hospitable field to play at – the crowd booed every time they started a play, and Santana later told the boys about some of the lewd things they yelled at the cheerleaders. But they won anyway, mostly because Puck decided to focus all his frustrations on the Cherokee quarterback and had personally sacked him five times. Partly because Finn threw for three touchdowns, one to Mike Chang, who was becoming a really decent receiver.

But they paid for their win in blood. Cherokee was huge – even the kicker was bigger than their biggest player. And they went back to the locker room happy with the results, but with pulled muscles and bruises and cuts and insults still ringing in their ears.

"God, can you say sore losers?" Finn stripped off his jersey and winced as he pulled his arm out of the sleeve. He would later swear that the red spot on his elbow was from where a particularly nasty linebacker had bitten him.

"I can say sore." Mike assured him. He was actually happy to be distracted by the dull throb of his sore body. And it was like Puck was reading his mind…

"I heard what that guy said to you," Puck hadn't taken off his jersey yet. He didn't like showing off his scars to the world. "Want me to mess him up?"

"It doesn't matter." Mike muttered, even though it did matter, even though when he heard what the guy said he'd turned red with shame, as if his slanted eyes and flat face was something to be ashamed of. "They were saying stuff about everyone."

"Still…"

"Forget about it. You don't want to risk juvie again."

Puck nodded, trying to believe that Mike was really okay with the really racist things that were said, trying to believe that juvie would be worse than living with Harold for the next nine months. And somehow time passed, and Finn kneeling in front of him, looking concerned. "You okay man? Can you get out of your pads?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Look, I'll catch a ride home. Tell the bus to leave without me."

"Huh? Puck, no, come on. Everyone's gone. I don't care about the scars." Finn said, guessing correctly that the reason Puck hadn't started stripping off the heavy, sweat-stained uniform when he came off the field was because he didn't want anyone to see his back.

"It's fine, Finn. Maybe I'll hitch home." Finn still looked skeptical, and Puck rolled his eyes. "Look, I'll call you later mother hen. I can take care of myself."

"You're badass, I get it." Finn slapped him on the shoulder. "Good game, man. Don't even think about going after the Cherokee guys. Like Mike said, it's not worth it if you go to juvie."

"I'll be a good boy," Puck said, and now he took off his shirt, the shoulder pads, because there was no one to look at his back and sides except for the only person in the world he honestly trusted. "See you tomorrow. Glee, right?"

"Right."

.***.

People were still leaving the stadium when Puck came out, thinking that he might catch a ride home with some hot McKinley girls heading out of the stadium. He was walking over to them when the hand caught his shoulder and shoved him into the trees. "Think you can come to our field and disrespect us like that?" A voice said, and Puck recognized that voice as the same one that had said that Mike should get back on the boat with all his other Ching Chong friends and die in the next tsunami.

To be fair, they probably would have jumped anyone. To be fair, Puck got a couple swings in before one pinned his arms to his side. To be fair, they stopped when Puck was a bloody mess, when they'd ripped his letterman jacket to shreds and broken two ribs.

And then they left him huddled in the dark, which wasn't fair at all.

.***.

Will Schuester finally extracted himself from the conversation with the principal of Cherokee. "Yes, our glee club was disbanded years ago. I was thinking of starting another one when I heard an Ohio club made it to Nationals, but after listening to that Sue Silvester talk about how we mustn't support the arts I thought 'why bother?'"

Schue tried to be polite, but listening to a half hour of this after the football game was a little much. He'd gone to support his students, and Finn and Puck especially had played a nice game, but he'd had to step in when some of the Cherokee students started harassing the cheerleaders. "Thanks Mr. Schue." Britney had said, looking a little shocked at what the boys had said to her, and Will was sure that Britney Pierce had had more than a couple of rude comments hurled at her by boys. "The crowd's really fierce here."

He left her with Santana, who was more than capable of kicking a boy where it hurt, before clambering back up the bleachers to see the truly remarkable touchdown pass Finn through to Mike to secure the game. Tina, who was sitting in front of him with Mercedes, Kurt, and Blaine, jumped up and down and blew kisses at her boyfriend from the field. Schue smiled, glad he had come to see this.

But still, by the end he'd wanted to head to his empty house and get some sleep. Emma was gone for an all-state counselor's conference, so it was like being a bachelor again for the weekend. And sometimes he liked that – it meant he could sleep in the next day, than get something unhealthy like a donut and coffee before heading over to Glee rehearsal.

He was starting to look forward to a warm shower and late-night tv when he turned around the now-empty parking lot and his headlights flashed over something huddled in the grass. He didn't want to get out. He didn't want to walk over to find out it was a jacket, or a six pack. He didn't want to do anything to delay HOME and BED. But he did, because he heard his father's voice in his head, reading him the story of the Good Samaritan at least once a week. "If you can save just one person's life, Will." He used to say to little Will Schuester, "Than yours will have been worth living."

Damn his father and his moral compass. He put the car in park and went to investigate.

"Puck?" He would have recognized that Mohawk anywhere, and quickened his pace. Sure, the Mohawk looked like Puck, but the blood, the bruises, the scars… "Puck, are you alright?"

The mass groaned and moved feebly, and Schue fell to his knees next to it, already taking off his coat to cover the student's naked torso. The kid was shivering, and flinched violently at Schue's hand. "Hey! Hey, Puck, it's okay. It's Mr. Schuester. Can you look at me? Puck, can you tell me how hurt you are? Can you tell me who did this to you?"

"Not that hurt," Puck muttered, "They punch like pussies."

"It looks bad," Schue said uncertainly, but Puck's voice was strong and he was lifting his head now, clutching Schue's coat around his shoulders. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No!" Puck said, sitting up suddenly and wincing as the world spun. "I don't need a hospital."

"Some of this looks bad. You could have broken ribs."

"So? Isn't like I haven't had them before." Puck sounded like his usual self, and he looked right in the teacher's eyes when he said, "I know what being really hurt feels like, Mr. Schue. I'm not going to die on you. Scout's honor."

"Okay," Schue said, thinking that he would drive Puck to the hospital at the first sign of distress. "Let's talk about this in the car. It's freezing out here."

.***.

Will was driving, so he had to stop shooting Puck these sidelong glances. "You want to tell me what happened?"

"Cherokee was pissed we won. Some of the guys took it out on me because I stayed late. It's no big deal. I got a couple of punches in."

"You could report them."

"They'd just say I started it. I'm the one with the record. I'd be the one in juvie." Puck was still trying to decide if juvie or Harold was worse. He hadn't quite made up his mind. "I'll survive."

"You shouldn't have to. What they did was wrong."

"Seriously, it's okay. I would have found them if they hadn't found me. They said some seriously nasty stuff to some of our players. We were all looking for a fight." Puck was still in pain, but he managed to wave a hand at Schue when he said, "And don't tell me fighting never solved anything. It's solved a hell of a lot on my side of town."

"Well, if you're insisting on not going to the hospital, I am most certainly not taking you to your side of town." Will stopped at a light and took the opportunity to look at Puck, who was resolutely avoiding his gaze. "I saw the scars, Puck. I'm not a complete idiot."

"It's nothing. I'm out of there when I turn eighteen. I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can. But not while you're like this." The light changed, and Schue turned back around. "I'll take you back to my place. I've got it to myself for the weekend."

"I'm pretty sure teachers can't have students crashing at their houses." Puck said, but his voice was quieter now. He hurt everywhere, and suddenly it was like he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"I won't tell if you won't." Schue said, looking over at the teen. It didn't matter. Puck was already asleep.

.***.

"French toast?" Puck said incredulously, lingering in the doorway of the kitchen. "You can cook French toast?"

"I can only make breakfast foods, so don't be too impressed." Will paused with his spatula out in front of him like a sword. "You okay? I heard you coughing last night."

"Yeah. The ribs are definitely busted, but there was no blood. I think I'm good." Better than he would have been at home. He'd woken up in a nice bed to find that he was still wearing the jeans from last night, but the dried blood had been washed away and he was decently bandaged. There'd also been a towel, a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a note that said he was welcome to the shower as soon as he woke up. The hot water had helped more than he could have imagined, and the clean clothes made him feel human again. The only problem was he'd had to take off the bandages and look at his ugly body in the mirror. Man, he was just one big scar. "I just…I can't put the bandages back on. I can't really bend that way." He held the t-shirt in his hand, and felt embarrassed by the scars on his back as he stood in the well-lit, clean kitchen.

"No problem." Will flipped the rest of the French toast onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave to keep warm before going over to Puck.

Puck shuffled around so his whole bloody back was exposed, trying to get the words out. "Thanks for last night, Mr. Schuester. For picking me up, and not taking me to the hospital, and letting me crash here. It was really…thanks."

"I hate seeing you kids like this." Schue said, staring at the minefield that was Puck's back. "I wish I could do more." He passed a hand over old scars, some that looked like belt marks. "Is everything okay at home, Puck?"

"You're being really chill, Schue. Don't ruin it."

"I'm a teacher too. I have to file a report if I suspect one of my students is being abused."

"I'm too old for foster care. I'll run away first." Puck felt Schue touch that scar, the long one from a knife he'd gotten Freshman year, before Glee, before everything. That was the last time he'd contemplated running away. He thought he would die that night. "Just leave it."

"Puck…you don't have to live like this."

"I don't. My mom's boyfriend gets in a few good swings now and then, but I crash at Finn's a lot. Kurt's dad is cool. And I sleep in my car some nights." Puck shrugged. "I'll make it until I'm eighteen."

Will didn't know how to handle this. He knew the protocol, but something told him that exposing this would do more harm than good. Still, he couldn't in good conscience leave Puck in this living situation.

"If things get bad, you can stay here." He said, handing out the offering as if it was no big deal, as if he didn't care if the teen took it or left it.

"You taking in all the strays, Schue? You can't save everyone."

And Will again remembered his father, and the story of the Good Samaritan. No, he couldn't save every abused kid. But he could save one person. His life will have been worth living if he could keep Noah Puckerman safe until the end of the year.

.***.

so we haven't had anyone tell us they hate it yet, which we take as a good sign. again, we say that if you want something truly terrible to happen to a glee character, drop us a line and we'll try to write the story for you. honestly, we're taking out our frustrations on these poor guys. they're tough. they can take it.