A/N: So, I didn't exactly intend for this to go over one chapter, but it did anyways. This seems to happen a lot.

Sun Gone Lost

Will wasn't quite as nervous on his second visit to the psychiatric hospital. It was Artie and Kurt's turn to see Puck, Kurt having filled Tina's spot when she backed out after hearing about Finn and Quinn's trip. Artie expertly maneuvered himself out of the front seat of Will's car and into his chair once Kurt had removed it from the trunk, and together the three of them headed along the same route Will had followed the previous week. A guitar case had been slung over the handles of Artie's chair – Will had called ahead to see if they were allowed to bring him a guitar just for their visit, so long as they didn't leave him alone with it, and when he got the O.K. he borrowed one from the band equipment stores.

After receiving their Visitor Identification cards, they proceeded to wait in the Day Room, Artie staring morosely at a half-finished page of a coloring book left forgotten on one of the tables as Kurt anxiously checked his appearance in his pocket mirror, though Will could tell the action was more from needing something to do than vanity.

It wasn't long before the now-familiar doctor appeared, nodding a greeting to Will as he approached. "Some more of Noah's friends, huh?" he said. "Popular kid. I have to warn you, sir – Noah's on a higher dose of medication than he was last time you were here. His episodes have been growing more frequent, so we have him on a new regiment, and he'll be a little more out of it than he was last week."

Will felt his heart sink, and he could practically feel Kurt's frightened stare. "Is he still up for a visit?" he asked.

The doctor's thin moustache twitched in thought. "I don't see any problem with it, but it's going to take some extra effort on your part to keep him awake enough to talk."

Will nodded wordlessly, hearing Artie gulp behind him. They followed the doctor through the corridor and found Puck at the same place at the corner table where he'd been the week before. Artie wheeled up beside him and Will took a seat. Kurt stood rigid a good three feet away, staring at the back of Puck's shaved head. For a split second, he wondered why Puck hadn't regrown his mohawk, but then realized that even if he'd wanted to the nursing staff probably wouldn't have allowed it. They'd never have let him near a razor.

"Kurt," Will prompted softly. "Sit down."

Kurt snapped back into reality and dropped into the seat on Will's other side, clutching his shoulder bag tightly. Puck's head was resting against his fist, and he was staring at nothing, his eyes almost closed. His mouth was twitching slightly as he chewed the skin on the inside of his lip.

"Puck?" Will said. "Puck." He placed a gentle hand on Puck's shoulder, making him jump, his eyes fluttering all the way open for a brief few seconds.

"Hi," he said.

"How you feeling?" Will asked.

Puck didn't answer, his eyelids sliding shut again.

"Puck."

At the sound of his name, his bleary eyes finally opened as far as he could make them.

"How are you feeling?"

He coughed, blinking slowly. "Numb."

Artie spoke up next, trying valiantly to keep his voice from trembling. "We…we heard that they wouldn't let you have a guitar in here, so…we brought one with us."

Puck's glazed stare slowly worked its way over to Artie – the most prominent body language he could give through the haze of the drugs to show he was interested. Artie seemed to understand, though, and he pulled the guitar off his chair handles and unzipped the case, laying the instrument on the table. Puck coughed again and reached for the neck of the guitar, his hand shaking and missing by nearly three inches before he was able to latch his fingers around the smooth wood. He seemed to be having a hard time maneuvering the guitar off the table and into his lap, so Will reached forward and helped him scoot his chair back to make enough room and then settle it in the right position on his legs.

"Sorry," Puck mumbled. His voice was hoarse and his lips were chapped. "'m little f-foggy."

Will gave his shoulder a pat before resuming his seat. The three of them watched as Puck leaned over the belly of the guitar, a deep frown carved into his face as he concentrated on covering the right combination of strings with his fingers and getting his hands into the right places. After a few minutes that were tense on the visitors' end, he strummed an awkward-sounding note. The frown grew deeper and he tried again. And again. And again. With each attempt, the note sounded worse and his hands shook more, until finally, he grimaced and Will helped him set it back on the table.

"Not in the mood for music today?" Will asked. Obviously.

Puck shook his head, looking upset even though the effects of the medication were still heavily present.

"Well, do…do you want me to play the guitar and you can sing something?" Artie suggested, desperately trying to think of anything for Puck to do that could help him stop looking so goddamn depressed.

He closed his eyes, exhausted. "Can't sing. The – the med'cine makes m-my throat dry."

The hopeful look on Artie's face melted away as he re-packed the guitar.

Puck slurred something incoherent. "Can you say that again?" Will requested gently.

"'S a goddamn mess."

Artie and Kurt looked slightly confused, but said nothing. Will laid a hand on Puck's arm, trying to send him some form of comfort. "Don't worry, Puck. It might be a mess, but you'll get out of it. You'll make it through this."

Puck shook his head again. "No," he said, his teeth clicking in frustration. The pronunciation of each syllable was strained; it was taking him nearly twice as long to form each word. "Not mess. M-meds."

Oh. It's the goddamn meds.

"Th-they make me sick."

Will sighed. "Puck, you know that the meds are there to make you better."

His eyes squeezed shut and he covered his ears. "They…they're tryin' gill me."

Artie went white as a sheet, and Kurt hastily used his kerchief to wipe away a couple of tears that had caught him by surprise. Will tightened his grip on Puck's arm. "Hey…nobody is trying to kill you, Puck. Understand?"

"Yes, they are." Puck chewed on one of his nails. "They k-keep givin' me pills…"

"They're trying to make you better," Will repeated patiently. "I promise, it's for your own good."

As sharply as he could manage under the influence of the heavy medication, Puck pulled his arm away from Will's touch. "That's what-what the docs told me—" His breathing was growing rapid, his eyes red. He was on the verge of tears.

Will swallowed and turned to Kurt and Artie, afraid that Puck was having another episode. "Um, I think it'd be better if you guys went and waited in the car," he said in an undertone.

Kurt didn't need to be told twice, immediately standing up. As he passed, he stopped and turned back, wrapping his arms around Puck shoulder's. Mr. Schue could see the tears well up in Kurt's eyes again when Puck gave no reaction – he neither leaned into the embrace nor shrugged it off, nor made any indication whatsoever that he was aware he was being hugged. When Kurt finally realized that Puck wasn't going to do anything, he withdrew, sniffing and turning away so that Mr. Schuester couldn't see him crying, and headed for the door, walking faster than usual.

"Artie," Will said. The wheelchair-bound boy hadn't moved. "You should go."

"I'm fine," Artie said absently, his eyes not leaving Puck's face.

"You sure?"

Artie nodded wordlessly.

"Hey there, Noah," said a cheery-sounding nurse approaching with a tray of tiny paper cups, her voice syrupy sweet. "Time for your meds, hon."

Will and Artie's eyes widened. Wasn't he doped up enough as it was?

The nurse noticed their expression and said in her too-sugary tone, "It's his new regiment. The effects are starting to wear off, and he's got to take them every four hours."

Artie gulped. If this was what Puck was like when the effects were wearing off, then he was scared of what Puck was like when they were at their peak.

The nurse placed one of the pill cups on the table in front of him with a cup of water. "Come on, Noah, drink up. We can wait all day if we have to." She smiled as if she was telling a toddler to finish his dinner.

Puck grimaced and pushed the cup away.

"Noah…" the nurse said, her voice condescendingly warning. She was still smiling, but she was looking at him in a way that reminded Will distinctly of Sue. "What's the problem this time?"

"They're bitter."

"You still have to take them," she said, adding "Sweetie" almost as an afterthought, making Artie wince. This was a woman who hated her job.

When Puck still made no move to take them, the nurse place a meticulously manicured hand (that Kurt would have been proud of) on his shoulder. He recoiled, but her grip didn't lessen. "Honey, if you don't take your meds on your own, I'm going to have to call Rick and Ted."

Will and Artie had no idea who Rick and Ted were, but judging by the way Puck's fingers curled into fists, they were both men who were stronger than he was.

Several seconds ticked by in taut silence before the nurse let go of him, motioning for two of the orderlies to come over. Puck tried to stand up, to get away, but before he could take a step, Rick and Ted each grabbed one of his arms. He wasn't going anywhere.

The nurse picked up his pills. "Open your mouth, sweetie."

Puck clenched his teeth, glaring at her with as much animosity as he could manage through the haze of the last dose they gave him. She gave a curt nod to one of the men, and he reached up and got ahold of Puck's jaw, forcing it open with a hand on Puck's forehead. Despite Puck's struggles, the pills were dropped onto his tongue and then before he had a chance to defiantly spit them out, the man pressed his jaw shut, tipping his head back to make him swallow. They didn't allow him to move until they saw his trachea bob up and down, and he was dropped unceremoniously back into his chair.

The nurse patted him on the back. "Good job, Noah."

"Fuck you."

"We don't tolerate that kind of language here, sweetie," she replied smoothly before turning smartly on her heel to deliver the rest of the pills to the other patients milling about.

Artie and Will wore stunned expressions, and they stared as Puck dropped his head into his hands, his face pinched as he focused on not breaking down and crying in front of them. Neither of them had ever seen him so vulnerable, and it was unsettling, mental illness aside.

"Puck, are you—" Will's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat before starting again. "Are you okay?"

Puck gritted his teeth. "I told you they're tryin' to kill me."

It wasn't long before the latest dose began to really take effect, and Puck soon had much more trouble staying connected to the present. His movements were minimal and executed as if he was underwater, and Will and Artie constantly had to repeat his name to remind him they were there, often having to say things twice for him to understand. Finally, the nurse came back (Puck flinched when he noticed her presence) and sweetly informed them that their hour visitation was up and that Puck had to return to his room.

"Sure," Will said, standing up. "Um…would you mind if we came with him? Just to the room."

The nurse forced another sickly-sweet smile. "Of course. I'll have Ted accompany you."

Will helped Puck stand up, bracing him against his shoulder so the dizziness wouldn't take over, and followed Ted through a door that had to be unlocked before they passed and locked up again after. The new hallway was narrow and lined with doors on either side, floored with linoleum that made Artie's wheels squeak softly as Ted led them to the last door on the right, unlocking it and stepping aside so there was room for Will and Puck to go through. Artie stayed in the hall.

The room was bare. White walls, white sheets. Just…white. There were two beds, one on each side, and no windows.

"Okay, Puck, which bed is yours?"

Puck didn't seem to hear the question, so Ted answered instead. "It's the one on the right," he said gruffly.

Will gently lowered Puck into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress, and Puck, seeming to sense where he was, lay down and rolled over to face the wall. Sighing, Will gave Puck's shoulder a solid pat (gaining still no response from Puck) and said, "I'll try to come back next week." He straightened up and rejoined Artie in the hall, Ted locking Puck into the room before he escorted them back.

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. And again, add me to Author Alert to be notified when the other fics in the series are posted.