Puck wished he could say he didn't know why Dr. Shuester had gotten his secretary to call him up to the office. But he had a feeling that it had everything to do with the fact that Santana had promised to alert the head of the school to Quinn's apparent closet-dwelling behavior.
His suspicions were confirmed, when the girl walked into the waiting area, where he was seated. It took every shred of self-restraint to stay where he was, and not run and hide, at the sight of her.
Quinn had assumed the meeting she'd been summoned to was a private, one on one sort of meeting. That notion was quickly dispelled when she saw Puck waiting outside the office. If he hadn't already seen her, she might have tried to make a quick exit. As it was, she stayed as far away as she could while still remaining in the room.
Puck had to remind himself not to be hurt by Quinn trying to avoid him, by loitering on the other side of the room. She didn't know that he was still utterly unable to be angry with her, no matter how he tried. She almost certainly believed that he hated her.
He took a deep breath, and hoped that his voice wouldn't shake. "I won't bite. I promise," he tried to smile at her, but he wasn't entirely sure he'd managed. "I'm pretty sure he's torturing us on purpose. Apparently he's making an important phone call. You should have a seat," he offered, moving his bag from the seat next to him, to the floor, so she could sit.
Quinn nodded hesitantly, offering the closest thing she could manage to a smile. She clutched her purse to her chest and took the seat he indicated, still leaning away from him as she sat down. If he was going to be furious with her, she'd rather not be too close.
Okay, the leaning away, like she was afraid that he might hit her, or something? That had hurt. Still, he knew enough about her past, that he almost understood the action. But he thought that she trusted him, so her fear did sting. He'd already tried to show her that he wasn't angry - not with her, anyway - and he had no idea how to let her know that, but to come right out, and say it.
"I'm not mad at you," he stated simply in a quiet voice. "I wouldn't go near you, if I was." He carefully reached out and placed his hand over where she'd rested her own, on the arm rest of her chair. He moved slowly, afraid she'd flinch away. He wouldn't be able to take it if that happened. It might literally break his heart, if it did.
It was a very near thing. If he had moved faster, been even the slightest bit more aggressive in his movements, she couldn't have stayed still. As it was she was nearly redlining with tension, every nerve feeling like it was on fire. She was still just beginning, after her time with Rachel the previous night, to start to feel like herself again, and any hint of anger or violence from him could easily have sent her running.
But he was slow, and gentle, and she managed to keep her hand still, without pulling it away from him. She still didn't trust her voice, or even know what she'd say if she did, and she gave him a tiny, sad smile that barely turned up the corners of her mouth.
He tried to smile back, but all he managed was a cheap, dull imitation of the expression he'd intended. He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand and dropped his gaze to the space where the wall opposite them, joined the floor.
"Okay, Quinny," was all he could say. He gave her hand a tiny squeeze. It was all he had left to give her, at that point. He'd hoped the contact would reassure her, and would give them both some much-needed comfort. But the tension she was still carrying, and the lack of any real, positive response from the girl, stopped that from happening. This was just so uncomfortable, and after a moment, he considered pulling his hand away, but he didn't want her to take it as some kind of slight. So, he just continued to stare straight ahead, and stay relaxed, as best he could.
Quinn knew she had to try and say something. He'd done his best to assuage the fear that had paralyzed her, he'd told her (even if she suspected it wasn't true) that he didn't hate her. He deserved more than sullen silence. She opened her mouth, trying to find words. "She," it was a bad start. She thought she'd moved past that with Rachel, the night before. "Thank you," she tried again, quietly. She put her purse in her lap and put her other hand over his, cradling it between them.
She? Not that again. That meant things were worse than he'd imagined. But Quinn had pulled herself out of it - quickly enough that he couldn't be 100% sure that was what she was doing, so it was a good sign, he supposed.
He didn't really know what she was thanking him for... Not being angry with her? Trying to make this whole thing as painless as possible, maybe? That part was for both of them, but she was still totally welcome. He gave her an actual smile - it was sort of faint, and still kind of sad-looking, but it was real - in acknowledgment of her words.
"It's okay, you know. This is okay," he said, referring to just sitting there. "You don't have to talk." He was okay with the silence, now that it was a little more comfortable.
Her head was a mess. He was being more than polite - almost nice to her, and she didn't deserve it. Not from him, not from anyone.
She returned his smile as best she could, sitting back in her chair and closing her eyes, but she didn't move her hands from around his. "It's okay to hate her." She didn't notice the slip-up this time. Her time with Rachel had lessened her need to be outside of herself, but it hadn't driven it totally under. "She hates herself." The second one she did notice, but she didn't feel up to correcting herself. She just hoped that Dr. Schuester would see them soon, so he could leave. He couldn't really want to be there with her. Not anymore.
Puck nearly started crying when Quinn started using third person pronouns when talking about herself, again. He pressed his hand more firmly to hers and rested his forehead on her shoulder. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, her scent washing over him and bringing a sense of calm with it, as always - he had never really understood why - and it allowed him to finally try to tell her exactly how he was feeling. He had to make her understand everything.
"I don't hate you, I never could have. I love you way too much for that" he told her, starting with the easy stuff. "I'm really sorry for making you feel like you couldn't be around me... Both times. Whatever I did to make you feel like you couldn't tell me, or let me take my share of the responsibility... and help you decide what we'd have done... Whatever I did back then, I'm... I'm so, so sorry... I didn't mean to make you go away... I'm sorry if it's that I'm not good enough, but I would have tried. I'd have tried so damn hard to be better, for you, and f-for Beth... if I'd just known…" Once he'd gotten started, months of bottled up pain and self doubt just came tumbling out of him, without his permission. He actually needed to open his eyes, to see if he was crying against Quinn's sleeve. He wasn't, and he couldn't figure out why not. This - the talking about it - hurt... But he also felt like getting all of this out, might be helping. He closed his eyes again, before continuing.
"And I'm sorry for making you think that I was angry... I don't know why I thought I might be, but I'm not... Well not with you, and I shouldn't have made you think that... I know you don't want me around, but if you did, I'd be there to help you with this... I'll do whatever you tell me to, I'll leave the school, or I'll be here with you, if that's what you want..." He said the last part quietly, not daring to hope that she might still want anything to do with a screw-up like him. He didn't know why she ever did, now he thought about it. "... Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it," he promised.
His presence, the touch of his head on her her shoulder, it made her ache. With sadness, with loss, with grief, with things she'd spent months trying to repress. She felt herself check out, completely now, because the only way she could have this conversation - the only way she could get hope to get through it - was to be outside of it. To be able to speak about emotions, but not feel them. Feeling them would destroy her.
"She - she loves you too. So m-much," she faltered. "And it w-wasn't your fault. Not like that. You didn't make her go away, and she never thought you weren't good enough. She was scared. More scared than when she was tied up in her closet, more than when she thought her dad was going to kill her. She - there was this life in her, this life she'd created, and she couldn't handle the thought that she would treat that life the way she was treated. And so she ran, as far away as she could. She was already halfway down the coast before she even thought of anything but her own fear. And it was too late by then. S-she," it was a struggle now to stay out of herself, where it was usually the other way around. "You would have been a good dad. She knows it. You're amazing, and there's no part of you that wasn't good enough."
Quinn swallowed tears. "She never said she didn't want you here. She was just so scared of how much you'd hate her," she was crying brokenly now. "If you can be around her - she wants you here. Please."
"Please... Please stop doing that," he whispered, bringing his other hand up to rest on her arm. "Quinny, I'm worried about you... Have you really been sleeping in the closet? Quinn?" He opened his eyes and lifted his head, to look at her.
"You'd never have hurt that little girl. I know that, and you need to realize it too. You're not them, Quinn. You're good, and kind, and you love her, and they are cruel, and hateful, and they couldn't love you, just for being you... That's on them, not you. You'd have been a great mom..." He wasn't really sure whether that assessment of her potential parental ability would help or make things worse, but he hoped it would help.
"Of course I'll stay," he promised. "I'll never leave you, unless you want me to. Never."
"Yes," she met his gaze and blinked, hard, trying to ground herself without completely surrendering to the pain. "Sh - I - have." She didn't elaborate or explain, only conceded the fact.
"They're in me," she whispered, looking down again. "Every time I close my eyes, I feel them. That anger, that hate. It's in my blood, Puck. I don't know how to get rid of it. I couldn't - I wasn't ready to be responsible for a baby. Even with help. Maybe someday, when my head's right, but it was too soon." She blinked back tears. "But I'm so sad about leaving her behind. She - fuck, I'm sorry. I - I don't know how to make this better. Not for me, and certainly not for you."
"Thank you," she whispered, sitting back in her chair. "I don't know...what we are now, but I don't want you to leave."
Puck felt like he was going to be sick, when Quinn admitted that she'd been sleeping in her closet. "Oh, God..." he whispered. "I'm sorry that you're hurting so bad, Quinny."
"Hey, hey..." He reached out and wiped the tear tracks from her face, with the pad of his thumb. "Listen to me very carefully, ok? What they did to you, was bound to leave a mark... But you're an amazing person anyway. You're too strong to let them win, like that, I know it. I know you. You'd be a great mom, Quinn. You won't get the chance to prove it to yourself with Beth - neither of us will, and that sucks - but one day, you will. And then you'll see what I see... You'll see why I can't be angry with you, even though you hurt me so badly." There, he'd finally been able to say it. He'd been able to acknowledge that she had made him that sad. It didn't feel good, but it was progress, apparently. "You don't have to even try to make things better for me. I'm ok," he lied. "And you will be too. I'll help you figure out how. I'll always be here for you," he reiterated. "Always."
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't be sorry for her. Me. She's not worth it." It didn't stop her from leaning into the touch of his hand.
"Puck," she started hesitantly. "I don't even know what kind of person I am. If I'm a person at all. I just...I drift. I don't let people get close, and I run when I'm scared - I don't even know if she - if I'm a person at all anymore. I'm just - some entity called Quinn, but I don't even know..." she shook her head. "Ignore me. I don't even know what I'm saying."
She had to blink, hard, to clear the tears from her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she looked away. "I never meant to hurt anyone. Least of all you. And I know you're not okay. I might be a bitch, but she's not a stupid bitch." She caught herself. "You know what I mean. "I wouldn't blame you, if you didn't want to be - but thank you. I can't make it any better - but thank you."
"You are worth it. That, and so much more, too," he brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek, before letting his hand fall. "You'll never convince me otherwise."
Puck listened to her borderline-nonsensical rambling, with a frown marring his features, before it morphed into a warm smile. "Well, it's a good thing you've got me, to remind you how special you are, then. And one day, you will believe me. You know what I'm like when I'm determined," he joked, weakly.
"I know you didn't," he said, honestly. "It's okay... I might not be alright, just yet..." he conceded. "But I know I will be. As long as I have you, I can cope, until I get there... So you're welcome."
Just then, the door to Dr. Schuester's office, finally opened.
"I'm glad one of us thinks so," she smiled humorlessly. "And yeah," she conceded, "I do know what that's like - so I'll just wave a white flag and say I'll wait for you to convince me."
She squeezed his hand, not sure she could form a proper reply to that, and settling for the nonverbal gesture in the hopes that it would convey what she didn't have the words for.
She jumped a little at the sound of the door opening, but managed not to jerk away from him - she knew that would hurt him, and she didn't want to do that.
"Atta girl," he offered her a small smile, and squeezing her hand back.
Puck snapped his head toward the door when he heard it open.
Dr. Schuester hadn't really been on the phone. He'd been waiting in his office for the teenagers sitting outside, to sort things out, and telepathically eavesdropping.
"Good morning," he greeted, as he opened the door. "Sorry about that. Quinn, would you like to come in? Noah, you're free to go, now."
Quinn let go of Puck's hand and gathered her purse. She stood and looked down at him, wondering what to say now. With nothing coming to mind, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, giving him a sad smile as she walked away toward Will's office.
"I'm sorry, I'm free to go? The hell you mean, I can go?" Puck frowned. "You called me up here, a half hour, before Quinn, and we've both been here at least that long on top of that. I thought we were gonna talk about this?"
"This doesn't concern you, any further, Noah. I don't want to keep you here any longer, unnecessarily." Dr. Schuester was stoic.
This felt too familiar. Too much like conflict, too much like home. Quinn started to back away, looking for a safe exit while keeping her eyes darting between both men. "I, uh," she stammered, "I'll come back."
Puck noticed Quinn getting antsy and didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable. He took a breath to calm down. If Doc didn't want to talk to him, he never had to again. It was fine.
"It's okay, Quinny," he headed past her toward the door behind her, stopping to kiss her on the forehead. "Call me later. Just to check in. I worry."
Quinn took a few deep, centering breaths and leaned up to whisper in Puck's ear. "I'll call you as soon as I'm out," she promised. "To let you know I'm okay. I swear."
She gave his hand a hesitant squeeze and turned her attention back to Dr. Schuester. "Are we...do you want me to come in, then?"
Puck squeezed her hand back, before letting go and heading to the door. He cast one last glance at his "father" and stepped though it, closing it behind him.
"Of course," Dr. Schuester held his office door open for her, gesturing for her to go inside. He didn't even look at Puck as he left.
"I'm sorry about how Noah's behaving, Quinn. I don't know how he found out. I certainly never told him." He told her, as they say down.
Quinn sat down hesitantly in the chair on one side of the desk. "I did," she whispered, arms held defensively around herself. "I just couldn't...I couldn't keep it a secret forever. It wasn't fair to him."
"I see..." He said hesitantly. Well, that wasn't what we agreed. Now I look awful. "... Well, I'm sorry about his behavior, nonetheless. I will speak with him later, to get him off your back, if you would like me to."
He shuffled some papers around on his desk, before looking back over at Quinn. "So, how are you doing, since your return to McKinley?"
"I know it's not - that wasn't the deal," Quinn sighed. "But I broke down the other night, to Rachel, and she confirmed what I'd been thinking ever since I got back. That I had to tell him sometime. He was bound to find out sooner or later, and better it come from me. I thought."
That made her hesitate. That he'd asked for the meeting told her he already knew something. "Sh - I'm okay," she corrected hurriedly. "I've honestly been wondering whether I should have come back. There's just so much to deal with. It's been - overwhelming, honestly. If it wasn't for Rachel - I may have already left again, to be honest."
"Doesn't concern me any further..." he mumbled as he walked down the hallway. He got to the stairwell, stopped dead, and put his fist through the wall, before continuing down the stairs.
Dr. Schuester frowned at Quinn's disregard of his suggestion about Noah. Then his frown deepened as he picked up on some thoughts that the boy had to be deliberately projecting, from down the hall... Why had he taught him to do that?
He tuned Puck out and began reading Quinn's thoughts, instead of listening to her words. This was how he conversed with people, more often than not; he'd give them a verbal prompt and then listen to their involuntary thoughts on the subject. It was just more accurate.
"I see…" he told her. "And how are you coping with... everything else?"
Quinn frowned. If he was reading her - hell, even if he wasn't, then he knew the answer to his question already. But if he was really going to make her say it, then she would. "Not as well as I'd hoped. I thought it was over, that I could just put it behind me and not think about it anymore. But being back - seeing Puck, and finally telling someone...I thought it would make it better."
She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with one hand. "There's not many people around here that like me anyway, and the way I've driven away Puck now on top of everything else...I'm just alone, I guess. And normally I don't mind that. I don't trust people anyway. It's just hard to go through this - to deal with it alone."
"You're not alone Quinn." He told her, offering her a box of tissues. "You do have friends who care, and..." He didn't want to tell her this part, but the girl needed to hear it. "... You haven't driven Noah away. Quite the opposite. That boy is more infatuated with you, than ever." He refused to call it love.
Quinn took one and pressed it to her eyes. She wasn't going to make them both uncomfortable by blubbering in his office. "You're sweet," she gave him a half-hearted grin. "But I think we both know I don't do friendship very well."
Was that something he'd picked up via telepathy, or just an educated guess? "I don't know if that's better or worse," she confessed softly. "I don't know if - or how - we could ever be the way we were. There's just - a lot of baggage there now, and I don't know if I'm ready to be that...vulnerable again."
"Well then, you're alone by choice, Quinn." He told her. He was a busy man, and there was only so much time he had for people, when they refused to accept his help.
"I understand. Trust me, I'm not saying you should try, but he'll always be there for you, if you let him. He wasn't lying to you." He told her, not really caring that she'd know he had been listening in.
Quinn recoiled as if struck. "Yeah," she bit off. "I guess I am." If that wasn't a brush-off, she didn't know what was. She was already standing before she heard the rest of what he'd said.
"You know, for someone who's supposed to be teaching other people how to be responsible for their powers, you sure don't hesitate to use yours whenever you feel like it."
She didn't slam the door, but she did give herself the satisfaction of freezing the lock shut on her way out. She didn't look back as she thought, hoping he was still listening, I'd rather be a bitch than a prick. You have a good day, Doctor.