Quinn would have been lying if she said she wasn't nervous. What he'd blurted out at the end of their phone call - it was nerve-wracking. She didn't want to go back to that place with him - she couldn't. But she still loved him too, and she chose to interpret it as platonically as possible. She had painkillers in her purse and a bag of ice in her hand, and she used the other to knock on Puck's door.
Puck stood from where he'd been lying on the bed, when he heard Quinn knock on the door. He'd intended to meet her at the door, but he was feeling light headed and nauseated - thanks to the pain of his injury - and had to flop back down.
Instead, he called out, hoping she'd hear him, from behind the doorway, at the top of the stairs. "S'open!"
The shout was muffled by the door, but she was fairly sure she'd caught the gist of it. The knob, as expected, turned freely under her hand and she nudged the door open. Once she was through she pushed it shut again with her foot, looking around for Puck. "Are you in bed?" she called softly.
Puck made some kind of sound of confirmation, distracted by a particularly painful throb in his hand. Why had he picked a part of the wall with a concrete support behind it? Why?
Quinn made her way through the room, stepping over a few scattered videogame controllers and the like, and found her way to Puck's bedside. "Hey," she whispered, kneeling beside the bed. "Take this," she offered the bag of ice. "I've got some painkillers, I just need to go get you some water."
He nodded and took the ice, secretly amused that a walking ice machine just carried a bag of the stuff downstairs. She'd probably gotten some strange looks. "Thanks" he gave her a dopey smile, not quite with it, in the moment. He didn't feel right, at all.
"R'they strong?" He asked, as she headed for the bathroom. "I hope they're strong." He mumbled that part to himself, but it came out louder than intended.
Quinn found a decently clean-looking glass and filled it half full before bringing it back and kneeling beside him again. "They're for migraines," she said softly, "they should be strong enough. I hope." She poured a couple in her hand and passed them over, watching him worriedly.
"Are you okay?" she looked nervously at him. "You look - really rough, Puck. Shouldn't you be getting better already?"
Puck took the pills and swallowed them, gulping the water down like he was dying of thirst, before setting the glass down.
He looked at the clock on the wall, and then down at his knuckles, that were still bleeding slightly. If anything, he was healing rather slowly. Even for someone who was - well, not him. He nodded. "Yeah, much," he agreed, with a frown.
"What can I do?" she asked, following his gaze at his injured hand. "I mean - if you need me to call a doctor or something, I can do that. Or more water, or," she trailed off, feeling helpless. "Can I do anything? At all?"
"Just..." He was having trouble focusing on what he was trying to say. "...can you get the first aid kit from that draw?" He pointed with a shaky hand. "Looks like I'm actually gonna... gonna have to patch this up."
Quinn was up in a flash and rifled through the drawer until she found the kit he meant. Kneeling beside the bed again she put a hand on his arm. "I can't," she confessed, "I don't know how to do this. I'm not really...I'm not good with blood. I can freeze your hand a little while you work on it, though, if you want. Should hurt less."
Puck gave her a weak smile, and sat up, as best he could. He put his uninjured hand over hers, on his arm. "It's ok. I can do this. You don't... you don't have to look... or stay, if you don't want to. I'm... I'm fine." He took the kit from her and began to struggle with the catch, on the plastic box.
"Don't be ridiculous," Quinn muttered, without any sting behind the words. She took the case back from him again and opened it. "Tell me what you need. I'll do as much as I can." She moved her hand from under his and put it on his wrist, willing cold through herself into his injured hand.
"Tell me if it's too much," she bit her lip, "I just want to numb it so you can work on it."
Puck nodded and set to work, fixing his hand. He'd cleaned the cuts and was halfway through splinting his broken finger, when he suddenly faded out, fading Quinn - who was still touching him - out too.
"Whoa," Quinn whispered, looking down at - well, nothing but an empty bed. "I take it you're not doing that on purpose. Seriously, Noah, you're scaring me now. I wish there was someone I could call, because I don't know how to help."
Puck shook his head, even though she couldn't see him. There really was nobody to call. Neither of them was on particularly good terms with the one person who might know what to do about all of this.
If Quinn was scared, he was terrified. He didn't know why this was happening. What if he stayed this way forever? The lack of superhuman healing ability, he could handle. But being invisible?
"It's ok." He carefully slid his wrist out of her chilly grip, so she became visible again. Good. At least he hadn't done any permanent harm to her. "You've helped me as much as you can. You don't have to stay with me, or anything..." She may not have picked up on it, but he was giving her an out. He'd promised to be there for her, whenever she needed him, forever - but she'd done no such thing. She was free to leave him to his own devices at any time, and he wouldn't complain. She didn't have to be anywhere near him. "I'll be okay, alone."
She let out an involuntary sigh when she turned visible again - she felt invisible as it was, without it being a literal condition. But any relief she felt disappeared when he didn't turn visible himself. It would be a lie to say she didn't want to leave - she was scared, and having a hard time breathing, because she honestly didn't know what to do. Her powers weren't a whole lot of good in a situation like this.
But if she was going to leave the school soon - and that was the plan, she'd decided after her "discussion" with Dr. Schuester - then she wanted to do everything she could to make things right first. She shook her head. "Don't be a dummy. I'm not leaving you alone when you're like this. Move over and I'll lay down with you. You'll have to tell me when you're ready, though, I don't want to lay on your hand or something."
Puck nodded - still not realizing the futility of the action. He was grateful that she wasn't leaving him alone, right now. He was scared that if nobody could see him, and there wasn't anyone there to even hear him, he might stop existing. "Okay," he mumbled, shifting over as far toward the wall, as he could. He'd heard the sigh of relief, when he'd stopped touching her, so he wasn't going do it again, if he could help it. "There."
Quinn kicked off the pumps she was wearing and crawled under the covers. There was a chill in her that she knew was mental, not physical - she was honestly frightened for Puck, more frightened than she'd been since the day she looked at a positive pregnancy test. Being under the blankets wouldn't make her warmer, but it felt nice.
"C'mere," she motioned with her head. "You don't need to be all the way over there. Let's just lay here and talk about stupid stuff. No more serious discussion allowed today." She leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I want to cut my hair," she threw out as something to start.
Puck did as she said, shifting closer and doing his best to push his fear, and his anger toward Dr. Schuester, his sadness about Beth, his uncertainty about the situation with Quinn - all of it - away. He tried to keep from touching her nonetheless, despite her instruction. He didn't want to cross any lines that he wasn't aware existed - which could easily happen, with Quinn.
"Yeah?" He replied, turning his head to look at her. He really liked her long hair. He thought it made her look like... No, it was too girly to even think it. "You'll look beautiful, whatever," he replied, diplomatically.
He really was having trouble trying to keep his fears at bay. He clenched and unclenched the fist of his good hand and tried to slow his breathing.
Quinn decided to make things easier and reach out for him. With both of them being invisible, it might be easier. She didn't like it, but at least it might make him feel a bit calmer - at least, she hoped so. She found his arm and moved her way down until she'd taken his hand. She promptly faded, but she took a deep breath and went on.
"Yeah," she murmured. "Short. Maybe dyeing it too, I don't know. This haircut just feels like it belongs to someone else now. And thanks." She gave his hand a squeeze, trying to calm him down. "It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here. Just breathe. Everything's going to be okay." She sighed, trying to think of another neutral topic. "How's your roommate? Do you guys get along okay?"
Puck felt a little calmer, almost instantaneously, when she took his hand. It was having a similar effect on him, as the smell of her perfume did. He moved, so that their arms were pressed together, from wrist to shoulder, and was reveling in the warmth coming from the girl.
"You're still you," he pointed out, like it was that black and white. To him, it was. "But you should do whatever you feel you need to." He squeezed her hand back.
"Sam?" He asked, like he had another roommate that she might be talking about. "Yeah, he's good." He suddenly had an idea. Using his bad hand, he carefully reached down the side of the bed, to retrieve Sam's pillow, and pulled it to his chest, for additional comfort. "We get along pretty great, actually. I mean we kinda have to, really. As long as he's not trying to convince me that Superman couldn't actually be harmed, by a lightsaber, we don't argue too much, or anything." I mean seriously, who was Sam trying to kid. Lightsabers can harm anyone. They're freakin' lightsabers.
"Maybe," Quinn smiled sadly before remembering he couldn't see her. "Just - not the same me. Not anymore. I just need - a change." She didn't mention that part of the change she had in mind was disappearing - for good this time. She gratefully held his hand for now, though.
"You know you're actually speaking another language now, right?" she teased him lightly. "I have no idea how to decipher that from Nerd into English. But I'm glad you're getting along."
"Starwars? Superman? No, nothin?" He joked, nudging her gently. He was surprised at how easy this actually was, once he'd calmed a little. He was alright, as long as he didn't try to look at her, and remember that they were invisible... that he was stuck that way. "I guess nerdiness is contagious." He injected mock horror into his voice. "Run! Save yourself! It's too late for me..." He cracked up laughing. Honest to God, real laughter, and it startled him a little. He handle felt anywhere near ok enough to laugh, since Quinn had made her confession.
"Anyway. Like I said; It'd be super awkward if we hated each other. Still haven't saved up enough to get him his own bed, yet."
"I've...heard of them? In that I know they exist," she grinned. "Beyond that, I got nothing." She laughed along with him, grateful to hear some actual humor in his voice. She wasn't sure she could find it in herself right now, but she was infinitely grateful that he could.
"Yeah," she agreed, "it'd be a lot of sleeping on the floor for one of you. I'd have to buy you an air mattress or something."
He did what he'd told himself not to, and turned his head to try and look at her like she was nuts. "The floor?"
"Well, yeah," she chuckled, "if you hated each other, the whole bed sharing thing might be a little awkward. Unless you sawed it in half or something."
He laughed again. "Nah, if I hated him, I'd make him sleep on that torture device, over there, that's pretending to be a couch."
That surprised a quick laugh out of her. "Mental note," she said, "don't ever sit on that couch." She lay there for a minute, just enjoying the quiet. "What about pink?" she mused. "For my hair, I mean."
"Oh, it's fine to sit on," he told her. "But my back still hasn't forgiven either of us for me sleeping there, the other night." He laughed again, determined not to dwell on why they'd been there, in the first place.
"Pink?" He frowned at the ceiling, as he imagined her with pink hair. "You'll look beautiful, whatever," he repeated, putting on a monotone voice, as if reading the words from the How to Survive Tricky Questions from Chicks handbook, and not understanding them. "I'm sayin' nothin'. I like my balls attached to my body."
That froze her for a split-second, as she remembered why they'd been sleeping there. But she recovered quickly. "Good to know," she nudged him. "I'll put up a sign warning everyone not to crash on your couch."
"Well, I think it'd look pretty good," she mused. "Kinda badass or something."
He squeezed her hand in an effort to encourage her to shake it off, just as he had. He'd apologize, but the not talking about serious stuff, thing... It mostly seemed to be doing them at least a little good. So he just ignored it.
"You know better than I do," he shrugged. "The Y chromosome makes me wrong. I know that."
After a few more moments, he became acutely aware of the fact that his ability was "switched on". Any time he used it for too long, he started to not feel very well. "I feel funny," he whined, sounding a little like a five year old, and he turned his head once more, to bury his face in Quinn's invisible sleeve.
Quinn didn't linger on the subject. It was important, she knew, that they stick to surface things for now, to help calm him down. The fact that she didn't want to talk about it anyway just made it a bonus.
"Finally, a boy who understands," she nudged him again.
"It's okay," Quinn whispered, reaching over with her other hand and putting it on his head. "Just try and sleep, okay, Noah? Maybe that'll help. Just close your eyes, and breathe nice and slow, and try and rest. I know it won't be easy, I know you're not feeling good, but just try. I'll be here, I'm not going anywhere." Yet, her mind added. "Shh," she whispered, trying to soothe him as much as possible.
Puck nodded against her shoulder and plastered himself flush to her side, in an effort to seek out her body heat - too out of it to worry about the boundaries that he'd set himself. He felt like he was suddenly freezing, and had to grit his teeth and tense up, to avoid shivering. If anyone cared to take his temperature, they'd find that it had gone from a fairly normal one, to through the roof, within seconds. As it was, Quinn could almost certainly feel that he was burning up.
He hated this. He hated being so out of control. Last time he'd not been able to switch his power off, he'd been 12, and as soon as it had started to make him feel ill, he'd been able to snap back out of it. His mentor had told him that it was his body's way of warning him, that it was changing, to adapt to his physical state, on a long term basis. That if he got used too it, he might not be able to turn back at all... Not ever. This renewed his panic. He knew full well that Quinn was right, and that if he could just get to sleep, he might be able to calm down and regain enough control, to become visible once more. But he was just too frightened, for there to be any use trying. He was running a fever, he was aching all over, and his hand still hurt like hell. But that wasn't what bothered him the most.
"Quinny," he whispered, still clutching Sam's pillow, tightly to his side. "I'm... I'm kinda scared."
"I know you are, sweetheart," the term of endearment felt natural given the circumstances. "I know." She could feel the heat of him against her side, and she knew he must be running a sizable fever. "Wait here, okay? I'm going to get something out of my purse, and I'll be right back." She kissed his head and slipped out of his grip, turning visible again as she did. She rooted in her purse and came out with what she'd been looking for.
"I honestly don't know if this is going to make you feel better or worse," she whispered, "and I was never going to show you this, but I think you need something to focus on." She crawled back under the covers and laid it down on the other side of him so he could see it before pulling him to her side again. "That's the only one I have. The only picture. I'm not even supposed to have that, but one of the nurses felt bad for me and took one of her. She snuck it into my purse. That's Beth."
It was a calculated gamble. If she could stop his worrying, even if she had to replace it with anger, then maybe she could help him find himself. In the meantime she radiated cold, trying to soothe his fever. "Come on back to me," she whispered in his ear. "Let yourself rest, Puck. You'll be better when you wake."
He let out a pathetic whimper and grasped at thin air when she moved away, his reactions far too slow to grab hold of her. He buried his face in Sam's pillow, while she was looking in her purse, for something, genuinely feeling like he was going to die.
He lifted his head from the pillow and forced his eyes open, when her words finally computed. Beth. He was going to see what she looked like. He blinked until his eyes were able to focus on the photograph. She was perfect. A tiny version of her mother, and that knowledge simultaneously made the aching in his heart worse, and caused him to gasp as he stared in wonderment.
"She's..." He hadn't quite found a word to describe her that would sound adequate, aloud. "Wow..." he breathed. "We made her..." He announced quietly, partly like it was news, but it sort of sounded like a question.
He felt suddenly even colder, as Quinn dropped her temperature and it actually reminded him that he wasn't feeling well. "Okay," he reluctantly closed his eyes, wanting to look at the photo for just a little longer.
"Yeah," Quinn shook as she tried to hold in her tears. "Yeah, we did. She looks like you." She held him tightly. "It's okay," she promised. "You can keep it, if you want. It'll still be here when you wake up again. Just rest, and you'll feel better. I promise."
"Nah-uh," he mumbled. "S'just like you," he told her, letting himself start to drift a little.
"She's too pretty to look like me," she whispered, snuggling closer and hoping that he was near sleep now. And that she was right, about sleep being what he needed to snap out of his current state.
"Now y'talkin shit," he told her sleepily, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he stiffened, trying not to pull away from her cool body. Logically, he knew the cold was helping him, so he made himself relax enough to cuddle back up to her, more or less wrapping himself around the blonde.
After a few minutes, he stopped shivering, not feeling so cold, and the embrace felt comfortable again. He made a content little noise, mumbled "love you, Quinny," and let sleep drag him under.
Quinn stiffened a little at his declaration, but didn't let him go. He finally drifted off, and she breathed a sigh of relief and planted a small kiss on his cheek. She stayed awake, hoping that before long his body would revert to its normal state.
About fifteen minutes after he finally drifted off, Puck started to fade in and out, in his sleep.
About thirty minutes after that - having been visible for a solid ten - he woke with a start. "No!"
Quinn jumped - she'd been gratified to see him fade back in, but afraid to go to sleep just in case anything happened. She nearly pitched sideways off the bed, but managed to keep hold of him.
"Hey, hey," she whispered. "It's okay. I'm right here. You're okay. I can even see you again, it's okay. Everything's alright now."
Puck was disoriented for a moment, but feeling physically much better after his nap. He closed his eyes again, breathing slowly and trying to slow his heart back down to match it.
Once he'd done that, he opened them again, looking down at his hand, to verify what she'd just told him. Then it registered that Quinn was there to have said it. Thank God. It was just a dream... Just a dream.
He picked the picture of Beth up from where it was lying on the mattress. Almost everything was alright. "Yeah" he murmured, before dropping a kiss to the fabric covering Quinn's shoulder.
"Thank you."
Quinn rubbed his back, watching him to make sure he wasn't going to fade out again. She smiled when he kissed the sleeve of her dress.
"You're welcome," she murmured. "I'm just glad you're okay." She stretched, arms above her head. "I was serious before," she gestured to the picture in his hand. "You can keep it. I don't need it anymore."
She had a few things to do, she knew. She wanted to get her hair taken care of. She needed to talk to - or at least talk at - Rachel, and she needed to pack the few things that mattered. But even with all that, she could be gone by the end of the week. For now she'd stay here as long as he needed her, to make sure he was okay before she left him behind. This would be the last time, after all.
"Sorry about being such a pansy, too," he chuckled a little. "Would it help or hinder my case if I told you I was just playing it up to get you to stay? That's probably more pathetic, huh?"
"No," he told her. "Of course you do. It's yours, not mine." She was hers. She was never his. "You've been carrying it around with you for a reason. You should keep it," he told her.
Quinn laughed softly - there wasn't much humor in it, but she tried. "I'd say your case is just fine. I was scared too."
She shook her head, swallowing around the lump in her throat. "I really don't think I need it anymore," she said softly. "I'd rather someone who..." nope, her brain interjected. Wrong way. Back up, try again. "I'd rather you keep it. I think it's better off with you."
"That shit hurt, too," he announced pointlessly. "Was like I was being burned up and frozen solid, at the same time." That was the only way to describe it, but it wasn't quite accurate. It was worse than that.
He frowned, but squeezed her hand. "Alright," he told her, leaning over her and slipping it between the pages of a well-worn copy of The Call of the Wild. "I'll keep it safe. You can get it back, any time, if you change your mind," he told her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know I was part of making you feel that way, and I'm sorry." She tightened her grip on his hand.
She watched him tuck the picture away, ignoring the pang of her conscience and the ache in her chest. "Thank you. I don't know if I ever will, but thank you. I know it'll be safe with you."
"It's okay. Really," he told her, rubbing his thumb across the inside of her wrist. "You made me feel better, too." He sighed in contentment, snuggling further into her, just enjoying the moment. He wasn't delusional; he knew things weren't anywhere near okay. But the room was quiet, and she was so warm now; it felt good, and it was easy to pretend, for now. "You always make me better." That had several meanings, but he wasn't sure she'd realize that. "So glad you're back," he told her truthfully. Even with her dropping the bomb on him like that, he was glad he finally knew, and even more glad to have her around. "I really missed you," he confessed. He knew he had ventured well and truly into pansy-ass territory now, but Quinn was pretty used to him being a giant freaking girl, when they were alone.
He looked down at her, confusedly, for a moment. He didn't really get what the expression on her face was about. If she wanted the photo, she could have it. He didn't need it either. It was already etched into his memory. He'd never forget that beautiful little face.
He gave a mental shrug, and leaned down to kiss her temple. "If you say so," he sighed, settling back down.
This was so hard. She knew what she had to do, but she couldn't possibly let on. She needed to be as natural, as careful and composed as she could manage. So she moved closer to him, closing her eyes. "I'm glad," she whispered. "I'm glad I can do that - and it's nice to be back. It was - is," she corrected herself, "good to stop holding on to all of it for a while. You deserved better than that, and it's kind of a relief. And I missed you too." That wasn't a lie, not by any stretch of the imagination. She honestly had, more than she could even have admitted to herself.
"I do," she smiled tremulously when he kissed her head, and pulled him a little closer. "You should probably sleep more," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, I think. I don't know, but I'm sure it couldn't hurt."
"Good," he smiled, slightly. "I'm glad things are a little easier, now you're home." He recalled his nightmare, suddenly and it reminded him of when she'd left. He hadn't noticed anything about her behavior, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that was tugging at his gut. "When – if," He shook his head. "If you leave again... Just say goodbye, this time. Ok?" He didn't know why he was worried about it. She was here, with him now, wasn't she? But he had to ask her to do that, just in case.
"Yeah, probably should..." He sighed, but he didn't close his eyes. Even with everything that had happened, this was the first time in a year when he didn't feel completely hopeless, and he didn't want to waste it sleeping.
That was a little too close to the mark. She had to take a few slow breaths to calm her suddenly racing heart before she could manage an answer. "Of course," she promised. "Of course I will - I would."
"I can stay a while longer if it'd help you get some sleep," she offered. "I don't have anything important, class-wise, this afternoon." She was already trying to decide how best she could keep her promise. She didn't know how she'd be able to say goodbye in person, but she'd keep her word somehow.
Puck wasn't the sharpest knife in the kitchen drawer, but the slip of the tongue was enough to tip him off that she wasn't going to stick around forever. He hadn't really expected her to, but it didn't stop the discovery from making breathing suddenly difficult. "Well, thanks for the warning." His voice had a forced, nonchalance to it. Before he could stop himself, he'd leaned over the small space between them and stolen a brief kiss. One minute, the random thought that he couldn't remember the last time they'd kissed, and the next he was pressing his dry lips against hers. He knew it would be the last time, and it sucked.
Not acknowledging what he'd just done, he stood up on the bed, stepped over Quinn, and jumped off the bed. "No, I have to get to the bunker. Berry's probably already waiting for the moving punching bag to get there."
The kiss felt - well, there really weren't any words Quinn could use, even in her head. Like goodbye, and hurt, and loss, and a million futures that could never be. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to stop herself from crying. He'd seen right through her - just like he always had before. He knew what she was going to do. There wasn't anything she could say to take it back now.
"You're in no shape," she whispered. "Stay here and lay down. I'll go. If you push yourself now, you don't know what that's going to do."
She was right. He was still aching horribly, and he didn't want to make his body freak out on him again.
He shook his head. "You're right, but stay, please?" He climbed back onto the bed. "Sam's gonna be a while, and I'd still rather not be alone." He tried not to be embarrassed about being so pathetic, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't even help the way he was behaving. He felt like he was darting all over the place, emotionally.
"Of course I will," she promised, wrapping an arm around him. There wouldn't be any sleep for her, but she'd stay for as long as he needed. "It's probably best if you're not. Alone, I mean. Just in case anything happens. I'll stay until Sam gets back."
He settled back down, in the same place and position. Everything was the same, but the feeling of peace had left him, leaving nothing but despair behind. "Thanks." He really had meant to sound grateful - he was grateful - but it just came out flat and disinterested.
He fell into a long, sullen silence, before he finally spoke. "I was gonna leave too, you know. Before, when you told me... I still might." If she was going, he had nothing to stay for, anyway. What did he have here? A father who'd betrayed him... A job that was mostly paid in food and accommodation; the small wage being saved up, to buy a bed that Sam wouldn't need, if he left... Friends? They wouldn't miss him for long.
The tone of his voice made her sigh despondently. She hadn't been trying to hurt him. He wasn't even supposed to know yet.
"I wish you wouldn't," she admitted softly. "There's kids who need you. You're the best trainer this place has. If you leave, there are going to be a whole lot of people who never learn control, the way that I did from you. And I know you're probably not interested - in that kind of way - but Santana would be heartbroken. I'm not," this was the closest she'd come to actually saying it out loud, "I won't be totally off the grid. And I can come visit."
She looked seriously at him, quirking an eyebrow. "There are people who need you here, Noah. I hope you'll think about that before you make a decision, that's all."
"They don't need me," he sighed. He wished he thought that somebody would miss him if he left, but he knew they wouldn't. "Nobody needs me."
He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in. It's not working. Why isn't it working? I need it to...
"They really do," she assured him, rubbing a circle between his shoulder blades. "Noah, if it wasn't for you, I'd never have learned to control mine the way I have. And there's people - like Rachel - that really need your help, even if they don't think they do. Even Santana - she'd miss you, of course, but she needs your help too. That thing she does is going to kill somebody some day."
"Even the Doc," she went on, "as stupid and pigheaded as he is, he'd be lost without you around. You balance out the dumb things he does and keep this place going." She held him tightly, taking shaky breaths. "There are so many people who need you, and you have no idea."
He shook his head and mumbled into her neck. "I don't even train Rachel - not really. Pseudo kickboxing all the way with that one. And Santana needs a trainer with some form of psionic power, not me. I don't know what I'm doing. I mean she's come a long way, but she's progressing way slower than she should, and it isn't her fault, it's mine. I couldn't even get four of my charges to show up. They switched mentors back to the ones they were supposed to have, before I stupidly decided I could do it. And Sam still won't use his ability, like at all... Helping you was different." He wasn't sure why, but it was. He hadn't realized how stressed he was about the whole thing, until he couldn't stop the self-doubt from pouring out.
"I... I just feel like I don't have a purpose anymore, Quinny." Not there, maybe not anywhere.
"She'll get there," Quinn promised. "She's really scared, Puck. She doesn't like using her power. But she'll get there if you help her. And Santana - it's only her second year. With your help, she'll be something amazing. Training with you, it's the best part of her day." She shook her head. "I don't know about Sam, or why the others didn't show - but that's their loss. You're the best one here, Noah. By a long shot."
She sighed. "I know the feeling. But I swear, Noah, the kids here need you. You have a purpose. You can make them better. Help them become who they're meant to be. And keep Dr. Schue from turning them into copies of himself." She gave him a squeeze. I think it's who you were meant to be - to raise all these kids who are scared of what they can do."
He wasn't convinced, but Quinn seemed to have genuine faith in him - more than he'd earned - and he wasn't going refuse to listen to what she was telling him, so he let her think she was helping.
"Well, I think I do know how to help Sam," he admitted. "He's just scared too. He just needs time to -" he faded out, mid-sentence. "- realize that it's ok to use them. It's just gonna take patience. Then again, you know how patient I am," he chuckled.
"Noah," she nudged him gently. "Come on back, you're gone again. And you see? This is why you need to be here. So you can help kids like him. And I know you can be patient when you need to."
He made an annoyed groan and hid his face against the crook of her neck. "Thanks for telling me," he said, trying to keep he situation light, with the jocular sarcasm.
"Sorry," she murmured, rubbing his back. "I wasn't trying to scare you. It'll be okay. Just close your eyes and breathe."
"M'not scared," he lied, still hiding his face - which was exactly what he did, when he was worried - against her. "Just tired of being out of control. It's... annoying," he understated. He hated nothing more, than losing control.
"I know," Quinn soothed. "A solid rest, though, and everything will be back to normal." She had no idea, of course, but it was the best guess she could offer. "Just close your eyes. You'll be okay."
"Mmhmm," he agreed, as something occurred to him. "I can see you," he announced enthusiastically, before kissing the underside of Quinn's jaw, in celebration of the small triumph. Stop it, a voice in the back of his mind piped up. She's leaving. Don't make it worse, when she does.
The gesture lasted a second or two longer, before he managed to make himself drop his head back down to where it had been resting in the crook of her neck. He hoped that the possible intent behind the kissing, hadn't had time to register.
"Sleep," he told himself aloud, and closed his eyes, trying to do just that.
"That's good," Quinn managed with a smile, before shivering when his lips met her jaw. It had always been a sensitive spot - one of her most sensitive spots, honestly - and she couldn't deny that he felt good, felt familiar. But it couldn't happen between them, it never would again, and she was relieved when he laid his head down again.
"Yeah," she murmured, a hand in his hair. "Sleep, Noah. Close your eyes, let yourself drift. You're warm, you're safe, and you just need to rest now. You'll be better when you wake, I'm sure of it."
Puck nodded, keeping his eyes closed. "I..." He started to say the words that usually replaced "goodnight" or "goodbye" when talking to Quinn. But he managed to close his mouth, refusing to finish the sentence. He hadn't been about to tell her anything she wanted to hear, or anything she didn't already know. He didn't know how to stop feeling that way about her - or if it was even possible - but acknowledging it, aloud? He could stop doing that.
"I know," was the best Quinn could manage in reply. "I know." She held him against her tightly - they may never be in love again, but that didn't mean she'd ever stopped loving him.
"I'll try not to, anymore" came a murmured promise. With any luck, having her gone would make it possible to be mad at her, so he could work things out.
"You don't..." she bit her lip, trying to think of how to finish the sentence. "You don't have to. Even after...everything, I do too. I probably always will." It was the closest she'd probably ever come to saying it aloud.
"I do have to... I have to try. This - being with you, but not being able to be with you - is just too hard... It mustn't be the same for you." He'd suspected as much for only a few days now - since realizing that she didn't care about him enough to consider his feelings at all, let alone first, when she found out about the pregnancy - and it still really hurt. "If it was, then you would be struggling with this..." He sat up and gestured between them. "...too. You'd have kissed me back before. If you'd ever felt the same way about me, as I do about you, you wouldn't have been able to leave me... I couldn't have been away from you that long, on purpose. Not then, not ever."
He suddenly faded back in to visibility, tears rolling steadily down his cheeks - not that he'd noticed them. "And that's fine... I can't make you love me back, at least not like that... But call it what it is. One-sided. I am completely, 100%, in love with you, Quinn. Before you left, I'd wake up every morning and wonder if you were awake yet, and I'd have to resist the urge to call you, in case you weren't. I wanted to be with you all of the time, and when I wasn't, I'd miss the hell out of you. I'd lie awake at night, planning stupid shit to do the next day, just to hear you laugh... And the feeling that made me wanna do all of that girly crap? It's still there, just as strong as ever. You're pretty much my whole world, Quinn."
He sighed and picked Sam's pillow back up, hugging it to his chest. "I'm not... I'm not telling you this to make you feel bad about not feeling the same way about me," he told her. "But I need us both to know, for certain, that you don't. Because half-telling me that you love me - when you can't even say the words - isn't helping me. It'd destroy me if I kept believing it, to find out later, that you don't." He wiped his tears on the pillow, only just noticing them. "I'm sure you like me... care about me, even. But you don't love me, do you?"
"You have no idea," she slammed her eyes shut against the tears that were burning them. "And that's my fault - we both know I'm not very good at emotions. But don't pretend you know how I feel, okay? Of course I struggle with this. You think I'm not," her voice hitched, "picturing her, laying between us, right now? Picturing some future where we're just a happy little family? I am. And if you think that it was easy to be away from you - that I enjoyed it, or that I didn't punch your phone number into my phone a million times - then I guess you must think the same things about me that everyone else does. That I'm just a heartless bitch."
She didn't notice, given that her eyes were still shut, that he'd faded back in. She was too preoccupied trying to order her thoughts. "I..." she stopped, trying to disguise a sob as a cough, "I'm not in love with you, Noah. I wish that I could be - I'd give anything to have that again. I was - god, I can't even express how much I was. But that Quinn - that version of me - she's gone. I can't go back. That doesn't mean that I don't love you, though. If I didn't, I wouldn't have come back at all - although I guess it would have been better for you if I didn't. I'll always care for you, you'll always be my first love and the one I miss when I shut my eyes." She couldn't stop her sob this time, and it was a good thirty seconds before she could speak.
"But you're right. It's...it's not the same anymore. It won't ever be." She sat up as well, drawing her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry." She bowed her head, shrinking away from him as if expecting a blow - he'd never, she knew that, but her subconscious had a hard time differentiating the sort of pain she was feeling from the fear that had always gone along with it when she was younger.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't think that about you, I swear." He was barely holding in the sobs now. "I guess I just don't understand how a feeling that strong, can just go away... Hell, I pray to whoever might be listenin', that I find that out, pretty soon, because I sure as shit wish it would go away." He went quiet for a long moment. "I think... I think I wanted to believe you never loved me. I thought it would be easier to let you go, that way... Easier to let go of us."
"Hey," he said, quietly. "I know your brain knows I won't hurt you, Quinn. So tell your body that, yeah?" He gave his words a moment to sink in, before reaching over and pulling her into his lap. "I'm sorry," he repeated the apology, whispering it into her ear. "I just needed to know."
"I don't know either," she whispered. "It's not that it goes away. It's just...different." It wasn't a helpful explanation. "And I'm sorry I can't make it easier. But I loved you - I'll always love you. Never doubt that."
She almost flinched, but managed to force herself to stop. "It's okay," she cried, the tears finally escaping her eyes and dripping in slow streams down her cheeks. "I needed to say it. To make it real. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry I can't be that person for you. That I made such a mess."
"Sshh... It's okay. It's okay... You don't ever have to apologize to me, about any of this. You did what you had to for you and for Beth. I can't ask for any more than that. You two are all that really matter to me , so I'll be ok."
He then noticed that he could see the hand he was wiping his tears away with. "Hey... C'mere," he turned her around in his lap, so she could see him. "Look at me... Notice anything?"
"I do, though," she whispered. "Because I didn't do the right thing by you. And you deserved better."
She looked at him, blinking tears out of her eyes. "Yeah - you need a haircut," she joked weakly, but what she'd meant to be a laugh came out a sob instead, one with so much force that it felt like it was going to rip her in half. She tried to pull away from him - he didn't need to see this. She hadn't cried like this since she'd walked out of the hospital, and she knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant thing to see.
"It's done now. She's where she needs to be, and that's what counts. If we'd have kept her, we'd have been able to give her a safe place to grow up, a decent education, and a lot of love... but that's it. Who knows? Maybe that would have been enough, but I'm sure that now she'll have opportunities. Being raised by such young parents can't be the best thing for a kid, no matter how much they're loved. You did the right thing by her- something that I'm not 100% sure I'd have been strong enough to do - and I'm grateful for that."
"Go ahead, Quinny," he told her, pulling her to him, instead of letting her go. "It's alright. I'm here. You can let it out, Babe. It's fine." He began to rub soothing circles into her back.
She tugged at his grip one more time, trying to spare him - and then it hit her like a truck. Everything she'd tried to bury, everything she'd tried to leave behind her. She knew she was losing control, and she could feel her hands, her skin, her tears, freeze and thaw in impossibly random patterns as she beat weakly at his chest. There were apologies, pleadings, a million other things she wanted to say, but all of them were swallowed by the tears, the sobs that wracked her whole frame. She was pretty sure she managed to say "sorry," a few times, but she had no idea if that was only in her head or not.
The fuck? he thought. Okay, Quinn losing control is almost as scary as when I do it. He continued to cling to her frozen frame, rubbing her back, and making quiet, comforting sounds, into her ear.
"That's it. Good girl," he all but cooed. He moved Sam's pillow, so that it was behind them, before leaning back on it, pulling her with him. "Shh... rest," he whispered.
"Was supposed to be making you feel better," she whispered, but didn't fight it when he pulled her down with him. She just closed her eyes and hoped that her sleep would be dreamless - but she feared she wasn't anywhere near that lucky.
"You do," he told her, running his fingers through her hair, as she drifted off. He knew he shouldn't... that it would do more damage than good, but he couldn't help but let himself pretend, for a while...