3
These Lines of Lightning

"Hey, asshole."

Puck seriously wondered if rebuking her in the name of the Lord would work.

"Don't you have a lake of fire to tend to, Satan?" Puck growled, brushing past her and heading into the seven-eleven.

"As a matter of fact, I'm here to drag your ass down there with me," she shot back, trailing after him down the aisle. "Porcelain spilled about Finnderella's delusional meltdown in the hallway yesterday."

"That wasn't a breakdown," Puck said. "That was Finn being Finn."

"No, that was a sorry excuse of a human acting like a lobotomized troll," she corrected him. "Anyway, it got me thinking."

Puck's mouth dropped and his eyes widened. "Holy shit, you can do that?"

It was a testament to his superior sex skills that the four scratch marks that appeared on his arm didn't even warrant a hiss of pain. He was so used to that shit by now.

"Why did the hobbit run away from you?" Santana continued flexing her red-polished claws. "I mean, yeah, the decomposing chinchilla that died in the middle of crawling out of your skull would give anyone nightmares, but we've all gotten used to it, so it's gotta be something else."

Puck threw his hands up in exasperation. "How 'bout you ask the girl who did the running? Damn, how did y'all not have to repeat junior year?"

"She's not talking to any of us, whore," Santana said drolly. "That's why I'm asking you."

Puck just rolled his eyes. This town was jam-packed with morons. "Why the hell are you so interested all of a sudden?"

"Because I want in on anything that can rescue the Jew from the T-Rex and then ultimately de-flesh that monster and put his bones on display."

"Jesus Christ, San, you've been hanging out with Sylvester for too long."

"I'm tired of being subjected to the torture that is the Finchel show every week, and as soon as Berry says 'yes,' it's gonna be a never-ending shitfest. So just answer the question," she persisted, ignoring his comment. "What happened with you two?"

Puck sighed and shrugged. "I have no fucking idea, okay? She came up to me in her little throwback outfit—"

"What? The hell is a throwback outfit?"

Puck faltered. Okay, so what if he remembered what she was wearing the day he first caught a slushy in the face—the day he gave up football for her? He also remembered what his asshat of a father wore when that motherfucker left and exactly what song his ma was singing along to when Bekah first fell down the stairs. Remembering Berry's pink cardigan, white shirt, and black skirt wasn't anything new.

"It was an outfit she wore when we ditched football for glee," he said simply.

She actually gawked at him—full, open-mouthed wtf expression. "You remember that shit? Jesus Christ! I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning."

Puck snorted. "If you've got that kind of shitty memory, then you're the last person to judge me about what the fuck I remember, Satan."

"Get on with the rest of it, Fuckerman. Why'd she come up to you?"

"She asked for help with singing on a lower key," Puck replied, only hearing the stupidity of that at the very last second.

"She—asked—for—help—with—singing?" Santana echoed through her teeth, eyes closed in disbelief.

Oh, Jesus.

"Uh, yeah," Puck said flatly. "I mean, I don't know why 'cause she kicked that song's ass—"

"What song was it?" she asked suspiciously.

He frowned at her warily. "A song I got stuck in my head. I think I heard someone humming it or whistling it the other day."

Her eyes narrowed threateningly. "What song?"

"The fuck do you care?"

"WHAT SONG?!"

"'Love Me Tender!' Christ! I swear to God, Santana, someone is gonna punch you in the face, and I will fucking laugh," Puck barked in frustration.

She waved her hand dismissively. "And then what? You said something douchebaggish and she ran off?"

Puck glared at her. "No. We finished the song, she thanked me, complimented my badass guitar skills, and walked out. I honestly do not have a fucking clue why she ran away from Finn. Now can you just go fuck off? You're beginning to piss the shit outta me."

"Well, she wouldn't just run off for no damn reason, and considering this new contribution of random-as-fuck information, I'd say you've got the best guess as to why."

"What—"

"Guess, Fuckerman. Why the fuck would Berry come up to you in that outfit, ask for your help in singing, and then avoid you like the plague the next day?"

Oh, he knew. Fuck y'all—he wasn't stupid. He just wasn't gonna say it out loud 'cause that would mean shit just got real and that he'd have to deal with fucking Hudson again. He was gonna take her running away as a gift from the good Lord that he could use as an escape from the inevitable shitstorm that would be the demise of Finchel.

He didn't want her, and she was gonna deny that she wanted him. The world would be a happier place and his face would remain intact.

"I know you know, Puck," Santana suddenly said evilly.

Puck glowered at her. "Then why the hell are you harassing me?!"

"Because there is only one person in the world who could break up that revolting mess of a relationship," she said. "This is your fucking destiny."

"To be the fucking shit disturber of Lima?! I ain't breaking up shit—you go do it!"

"You broke them up last time, you can do it again!"

"The hell?! No!"

"Is this out of some jacked-up loyalty you have to Frankenteen?!"

Puck turned to face her full-on with a glare that made her actually take a half-step back. "Hudson can go fuck his own insecure ass and bask in the sunlight that shoots out of it. I don't owe him anything anymore. He and I are done."

"Then why won't you do it?!"

"Because for one thing, Berry's pretty cool. God knows she can talk until my brain melts and pours out my ears, but she's fine. I ain't gonna mess with her feelings like that. And another thing is that I don't want any part of y'all's stupid-ass drama. If you so desperately wanna break them up, go recruit St. Dipshit and Fabray."

"You are gonna look me in the eye and tell me you don't want her?" Santana hissed.

He leaned in so close that their noses were two inches apart.

"I don't."

"Then you know she's gonna end up being stuck here, right?" she said quietly. "Hudson is a selfish bastard, and she'll follow him to Jupiter because she thinks that he's her reason for life. You heard that dumbass song she sang. You wanna know what Kurt told me—what must've inspired her to sing to that asshole? That son of a bitch sat in Breadstix and complained about how he had nothing special in his life with the two of them sitting right there. If you like Rachel even just a little bit, you'd wanna save her from that life-sucking abomination of a organic creature."

"If you care about her so much, why are you trying to convince me do it for you?" Puck asked just as quietly.

"Because you're the only one she'll listen to."

"How do you know that?"

"Because she dressed up—for you. She asked for vocal lessons—from you. She got scared half to shit and ran away—because of you. Consider this Rachel Berry's cry for help."

"No."

"The fuck, Puckerman?!"

"Berry is a big girl. She needs to do shit by herself so that she knows she can stand on her own damn two feet. She doesn't need anyone else to fight her own battles. Now if you'll fucking excuse yourself, I'm thirsty and I want my fucking slushy."

She glared at the back of his head as he grabbed a slushy cup and started to fill it up. "So you're just gonna walk away and let everyone deal with their own problems?!"

"She ain't gonna learn it any other way," Puck said simply.

"So what if she makes the wrong decision? What if she ends up staying in Lima? What if she never sets foot on a stage outside of Ohio? And you knew that you could've helped her but you didn't."

He paused the lever to glare at her. "Do not pin someone else's problems on me. I have been blamed for a shitload of things that I didn't even do, and I'm fucking sick of it, you understand me? I'll admit that I've pulled my share of dumbfuckery, but don't ever fucking accuse me with what-if's and could-have's."

He filled up the rest of the cup, chucked a five at Trey the Stoner Clerk, and turned to Santana one more time. "She's gotta learn when to stand on her own two feet and figure out what the hell is good for her and what isn't. You especially should know that not everyone needs a goddamn knight in shining armor."

As soon as he disappeared out the door, Santana's phone was out and Brittany's number had been dialed. Even though she was an über-bitch sometimes, Siri was the shit.

"Phase two complete," she announced, walking out to her car. "Rachel's done—hook, line, sinker—and Puck is right where he's supposed to be."

"What did he say?" Brittany asked excitedly.

"That he won't be her knight in shining armor," Santana said smugly. "You were right; he totally believes in her."

Santana heard Brittany clap happily from the other end of the line as she started up the car.

"They're right where we want them," Brittany said gleefully. "Are you getting the marshmallows for phase three now? 'Cause I think we're gonna need more Hershey Kisses than we thought."

"I know, Daddy," Rachel sighed wearily.

"And what if he forgets about locking up the dog? It might eat the baby!" Leroy persisted, turning down Presidio Boulevard.

"Dad, why do you keep dragging this back to babies?! I'm not even planning on getting pregnant!"

"You weren't planning on losing your virginity 'til you were married or twenty-five either!"

At that, Rachel blushed, and Leroy sighed in defeat. "Honey, I'm sorry."

"I know, Dad," she murmured.

Leroy sighed again and reached over the console to envelop one of Rachel's hands in his own.

He loved his daughter and would live and die for her, but this was the exact reason why he originally wanted a boy. He knew he'd eventually have to deal with her period, her virginity, boys. Good God.

"I know you just want to protect me, but you have to trust—OH, MY GOD!"

"HOLY FUCK!"

The car screeched to a halt on the side of the road, and both of the Berries hurtled out of the car at top speed. Working on an unspoken command, Rachel launched herself at Puck and Leroy dragged Elijah Puckerman away from his son.

"Noah, calm down!" Rachel shrieked, grabbing his shirt and trying to haul him away from his father. "Stop!"

"You better learn your place, boy!" Eli screamed as Leroy hauled Eli back toward the street.

"You better learn yours, asshole!" Puck roared, surging forward and almost dragging Rachel after him, but she planted her feet and pushed against his chest as hard as she could just to keep him from stepping forward again. "You have no fucking right to be here!"

"This is my property!" Eli shot back.

"You gave up that fucking right years ago!" Puck cried. "You gave up the right to the house, the property, the fucking family the moment you abandoned us!"

"Noah, please!" Rachel screeched as he nearly lifted her off her feet.

"You're still carrying my name!"

"It's not your name anymore, fucktard! You're not worthy of having Nana Connie's name! Fuck you! Just fuck you!"

"I am still your father, Noah!"

"BULLSHIT!" Puck thundered, forcing Rachel to actually climb up him, wrap her arms around his chest, her legs around his hips, and bury her face in the crook of his shoulder. She could feel every yell reverberate through his body and felt the tears and the sticky blood against her shirt and skin. "BULL-FUCKING-SHIT! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM US! YOU STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ANYONE IN THIS FAMILY UNLESS YOU FUCKING WANT ME TO RIP YOUR SPINE OUT AND BEAT YOU WITH IT! YOU ARE DEAD TO ME! YOU ARE DEAD! AS FAR AS I KNOW, MY FATHER FUCKING DIED WHEN I WAS BORN! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!"

"Stay back, Elijah!" Leroy barked, shoving Eli back again. "You're better off just leaving now, man. Go."

As Leroy tried to talk to the father, Rachel pulled back from the son's shoulder and held his face between her hands as he wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

"Calm down, Noah, please," she murmured, gently brushing the blood of his lip and using her sleeve to wipe away the angry tears that still kept falling.

"Get off me, Rachel, please," he gritted out.

"You're not going to attack your father?" she asked quietly, still trying to clean his face as best she could.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I need to…go take a walk."

She nodded and detached herself from around him, and he gently set her back down on the ground before turning and walking down the street. She watched his back fade into the distance, vaguely listening to her father trying to calm Eli down. Puck didn't look back, and he didn't unclench his fists even as he disappeared around the corner.

And then she remembered.

She peeled off the bloodstained oversized shirt—they didn't need to see it—and dashed into the house in just her tank top to find Aviva sitting on the floor of the kitchen, clutching Bekah against her chest and sobbing quietly.

"Rachel!" Aviva gasped in relief, releasing Bekah from her mother's stranglehold. "Rachel, where's Noah?!"

"He took a walk," Rachel said calmly, grabbing a dry dishtowel and wiping Aviva's face and then Bekah's. "He'll be fine. Daddy has everything under control."

"I-Is he hurt? Is he okay?" Aviva asked, swallowing her sobs.

"Eli?" Rachel asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Holy shit, no," Aviva hissed. "Noah! Is my son all right? Did he hurt Noah?"

"Is Noah okay?" Bekah echoed in a small voice, latching onto Rachel's side that reminded Rachel of the five year-old instead of the twelve year-old she really was.

"He's fine," Rachel said. "He's a little beat up, but he's definitely gotten worse from his fights at school."

Aviva let out a strangled whine and dropped her face into her hands again. "H-He just showed up out of nowhere. I hadn't even said anything, and Noah was already out of the couch and shoving Eli back and off the porch."

"Aviva—Aviva, look at me," Rachel commanded softly, cupping the older woman's face in her hands the same way she'd done to her son. "Did he hit you? Did Eli hit you?"

Aviva shook her head, and Rachel felt Bekah grip her tighter. "No. Noah hauled him out onto the lawn before he could even say another sentence to me."

Rachel nodded and helped Aviva to her feet, pulling Bekah up with her too. "Go into the living room. I'll call Daddy and then I'll bring you some water or tea. Would you like tea?"

"No, honey, no. I'll be fine. I'll take care of Bekah. You go. Go find Noah before he decides to take his anger out on something else," Aviva urged, straightening up to her full height and wiping her face. "If you leave him alone with his thoughts for too long, he'll start dwelling. Please go and find him."

Rachel glanced back and forth between Bekah and Aviva before nodding obediently. She kissed Bekah's forehead and then Aviva's cheek before walking out of the house. She almost ran into Leroy on her way out, and he reached out to hold her before she toppled back. She gasped when she saw that his nose was bloody and his lip was busted.

"Where's Eli?" she asked worriedly, peering around her father to see if the other man was still on the street.

"He's gone," Leroy said darkly, wiping the blood off on the back of his hand. "He threw me off and made a run for it."

"I need to go find Noah," she said frantically, different scenarios flaring in her mind of Noah encountering his father and having an all-out brawl in the middle of the street. "Dad, I need the car! I need to find Noah!"

He quickly handed her the keys. "I'll stay here in case that bastard comes back. Be careful. If you see him, don't hesitate to run the bitch over. Do you understand me?"

As she sprinted back to the car and pulled away from the curb, flicking on the windshield wipers against the first drops of the thunderstorm rolling above, she couldn't help but wonder if her father was actually serious.