Sun Gone Lost

"So, Noah," started Dr. Lanning during their Friday afternoon meeting. "It's now been a week since the incident—"

"Why do doctors always do that?" Puck snapped, not meeting the psychiatrist's eyes.

"Do what?"

"Gloss over shit like that." Puck shifted in his seat, the plastic shackles chafing into his wrists. "You can just say that I attacked her; I know that that's what happened."

Lanning studied him, making Puck squirm a little. He didn't like being confined to both the psychiatric shackles and Lanning's office at the same time – it made him feel claustrophobic and more on guard than usual (which was really saying something).

"All right, you attacked her," Lanning conceded. "However, you've done very well since then. Have you given any thought to moving back into the ward with the others?"

"I didn't think that was up to me."

"Well, ultimately, it's not, but your opinion on the subject is important for me to know," Lanning explained, cleaning his glasses on the hem of his sweater. "In order to evaluate your mental state."

"My mental state?" Puck echoed. "Huh."

"So? Do you think you're ready to go back?"

Puck shrugged. "I dunno. I've gotten so used to rooming alone, I'm starting to enjoy it."

Lanning chuckled. "Your teacher called," he said. "He asked if you were up for a visit."

"And?"

"I told him that you weren't up for it until you'd moved back to the ward, at the very least. But it's crucial that you remember that there are friends and family members out there who care for you – you do have a support system."

Puck exhaled and leaned back in his chair, looking out the window.

"Look, Noah," Lanning said, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers in front of him. "I know it seems hopeless, but there are many people in your situation who, with the right kinds of therapy and medication, make it out of the hospital and lead very fulfilling lives. They hold down good jobs, they have families. It's tough, but they make it through."

Puck sighed. "Yeah, and how many of those people have it as bad as I do? I've already accepted that this is my life now."

"You don't want to be rid of the paranoia and hallucinations?"

"Sure I do, doc, but I have a hard time believing that taking pills is gonna make them go away."

Lanning nodded. "That's understandable." He leaned back in his chair again. "Do you hear them now?"

Puck swallowed. "Yeah. Always."

March

Will was now more than familiar with the routine of getting a Visitor's ID, walking down the long hallway to the Day Room and then waiting until a doctor or nurse came to escort him to the ward to see Puck, but this was the first time he was doing it alone, and it felt strange. Rachel, Finn, and Quinn had all wanted to come with him, but after what had happened with Santana, Will wasn't willing to put any of the kids in that sort of unpredictable situation again. Santana had been acting distant for the past two weeks, and Will made a mental note to have Emma schedule an appointment for her. Now, he was gazing out of the dusty window in the Day room and trying to think of what he was going to say to Puck when he saw him.

"Sir?"

He turned to see a male nurse standing by the door to the ward.

"You can come in now."

Will nodded and followed him, shoving his hands into his pockets. He silently prayed that this was one of Puck's better days.

To his surprise, Puck wasn't sitting at the table in the corner this time. Instead, he was curled against the arm of one of the sofas in the common area, holding a cushion to his chest and staring at the wall. A nurse was standing watch over him. When Will awkwardly took a seat on the other end of the couch, the nurse left, but not before ordering Puck to behave himself. Once she was gone, Puck let out a long, slow breath as his shoulders visibly relaxed.

"You really don't like her, do you?" Will said.

Puck shook his head, still looking at the wall.

"Me neither. I get creepy vibes from her."

Puck sighed again. "Yeah, she's kind of out to get me, and I'm pretty sure that that's not in my head." He shifted his grip on the cushion. "So where's the others?"

Will swallowed. "Well, uh… after what happened with Santana…"

"Oh."

"Look, Puck, I'm sorry—" Will started.

"It's fine," Puck cut him off. He let out a hollow chuckle. "My own damn fault, right?"

Will had no response to that.

Finally, Puck looked at his former teacher. "I know I'm crazy, Mr. Schue." His voice cracked slightly. "I just don't know it all the time."

Puck woke with a start in the middle of the night tangled in his bedsheets and staring at the crack in the ceiling. There was a putrid stench clogging the air that burned the inside of his nose with the scent of wet copper and iron. The hairs on the back of his neck were prickling uncomfortably and, for some reason, his heart was beginning to speed up. Then, over the murmur of his voices in the back of his head, he heard a steady drip… drip… drip… coming from Tyler's side of the room. He twisted around in his bed, his eyes searching in the shadows, and saw Tyler sprawled in huge splotches of black.

Puck jumped and sat bolt upright, pressing against the wall and just staring at his roommate as the drip… drip… seemed to grow louder and louder.

A smug voice cut through the pounding blood in his ears. Told you he'd look good in red.

April

"How are you coping?"

Dr. Lanning's question forced Puck's attention away from the office window. "With what?" Puck asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"With Tyler being gone."

Puck frowned, his leg jiggling. "He didn't die."

"Probably thanks to you, actually," Lanning said, watching his patient and evaluating every movement. "If you hadn't yelled for the nurses, Tyler would be six feet under right now."

Puck shrugged. "Yeah, well, maybe he'd be better off."

"Tyler is in a more secure facility now."

"You mean he's in another hospital where they keep him so drugged up that he can't bite through his wrists again."

"Well…yes," Lanning allowed. "So? How are you coping with it?"

"There's nothing to cope with."

"If you say so," Lanning said, his tone indicating that he'd probably bring the subject up again in their next meeting. "Do you miss your family?"

Puck leaned back in his seat and looked out the window again, watching the clouds. "Not really."

"Do you think they miss you?"

Puck pulled a flake of skin off his lip. "I really don't give a shit."