"Technicolor Wishes & Hi-Def Dreams"

20. Newlyweds

If he was in pain, and he knew he was supposed to be, he didn't feel it. He felt the dizzying disorientation he did every time he woke up in another world, but that was it. As soon as his senses had started coming back to him, his memories did as well, and he remembered the last moments, right before they had been transported out of the world of 24. He'd been outside, dealing with kidnappers, not so bright ones, from what he saw, and she'd been inside, to get the girl out. And he'd heard gunshots. Had she been doing the shooting, or was it aimed at her? Before he'd been able to go and find out, they had been transported, and now here he was, and she wasn't there.

"Rachel?" he called out, looking around. He didn't give a damn if anyone heard him at this point. He needed to know she was okay, that he hadn't gone and gotten her hurt, or…

"Sir, please come and sit with the other gentlemen while you wait to return to the stage," a short woman came up to him. Her clothes, hair, and makeup all screamed seventies.

"I have to find…"

"It'll only be a few minutes, go on ahead," the woman would not have him, and so he was forced to go where she made him go. He found himself in a room with three men, all of them waiting. There was no way around it. His heart was going a hundred miles a minute, but he was having to remember the clause of 'do what you have to do and you get to move on.' For all he knew, she could be fine and he would be overthinking things.

After the longest minutes of his life, he and the other men were walked off to what he finally learned was the stage of the Newlywed Game. And there was Rachel, sitting in one of the booths. Her eyes found him the same time his found her. He barely had time to sit, had no time to ask her a single word before the insistent woman was back again, telling them what they had to do. Rachel had a stack of blue cards in her lap. Before they knew it, the game was in action.

Looking at her, she looked fine, unharmed. He told himself this, over and over, hoping it would help his nerves to unwind. He was so focused on her that it took him a moment to realize the host was speaking to him. Finally he looked over to the man, who gave a playful smile.

"Still smitten with his bride," he commented. Puck tried a smile and a nod. "I'll repeat the question. We asked your wife to rate your morning breath. Did she answer 'just fine,' 'so-so,' or 'atrocious.'" He didn't know what to say, freezing for a moment. She smiled at him, trying to encourage him, although she looked just as nervous. Was she afraid they wouldn't get to move on if they didn't get these right?

"Well… I'll be the first to admit it's not that great…" he had to go with honesty. Maybe she would have it figured out. "Atrocious, I guess," he answered, and he caught a distinct sigh of relief at his side as he looked and saw Rachel's card – it was a match.

They looked to each other, and he only just remembered from seeing the show here and there that a correct answer meant a kiss a second before Rachel leaned in and planted one on him.

She let out a soft sound as she did, and for a moment he thought it was good, but it sounded more like pain. When they pulled back, he met her eye again, and that's when he understood: she was hurt. He couldn't say how much, but stretching out to him had been enough to cause her pain. Concern flashed over his eyes, but she shook her head: don't do anything, we have to finish this. So he took a breath, and he waited for their turn to come again. The next question had come along: Who is better at handling money?

"That's… debatable, but I can be kind of out of control with some… I'll say her."

Rachel had said the same. With the applause, he had decided to lean himself, so she wouldn't have to. His back was hurting, but he could deal with it. She breathed out when he pulled away. They'd been going through the motions, but now it was as though they were realizing they had kissed… again. As much as it was part of their 'game,' this was Rachel, not any other girl.

He had no idea how many questions there would be. From what he saw, they were in the second part of the game, because there were already points on the board when he showed up. Was this it, did they have another round? He needed to get her out of there as soon as possible, but he couldn't rush it; the whole thing was out of his hands.

The next question had been asked. "How many boyfriends did your wife have before you?" Puck sat up at this. If she'd answered truthfully… There'd been Finn… Jesse… Did he count in this? They had sort of dated, very briefly, but… No, he wouldn't count, so was that it? He couldn't see there being any others. He said two, trying to stretch the word enough so he could sneak a look at her and if he needed to up into 'three' she might let him know. She didn't, so he said two. He got applause again, and when he leaned to kiss her, he only realized he was smiling when she smiled back.

They had started to gain up confidence. He was feeling it, and he could see it on her face, too. He really didn't want to mess it up. They had missed the next question, but they both had the same attitude about it: it was their only mistake so far, and the other couples had missed some, too. It wasn't a big deal. The question after their miss had earned them another kiss, as had the one after. If not for the other things at stake, they could have lost themselves into the game, but he wasn't forgetting that she was hurt, and she wasn't going to forget it either.

It had caught them completely by surprise then to find out that they'd won. He looked at her, reaching to put his arms around her. She did the same, only as his hand landed on her side, she trembled. He looked down, and he saw his hand: there was blood. Their eyes were locked when they heard the shrill sound, and with his free hand he grasped hers. She squeezed, and they closed their eyes. He needed to get her home. He would get her home.

TO BE CONCLUDED (TUESDAY)