I do not own Glee, I only play with the characters and create others to play along.

Chapter 33: I Promise… Not

"It makes me feel better. And I needed one good day. There were so many bad ones. I needed one good one; just one good day."

"And today was a good day? Because it was pretty sucky for me." His tone was indignant and angry. How could she believe hurting herself, and by doing so hurting those that cared for her, would make any day better? It was an inconceivable notion. He just couldn't understand it or her. This wasn't her. The real Rachel Berry was obnoxious in the best way. She told it like it was though she wasn't even aware of it. And sometimes she was rude, but it was rarely her intention. The real Berry was confident in her abilities, was strong and fierce and extremely outgoing; willing to fight for her place at the top. And maybe she was still that person, maybe under the mask she was, but the girl in his arms was a broken, shell of the Rachel he once knew. He wanted to be an ingredient in the glue that put her back together again.

"Sucky isn't a word Noah."

"Berry… Rachel… I'm trying to be serious here."

"I know." She didn't want serious. She wanted to pretend the day, week, month, the whole year, hadn't happened. She was uncomfortable with his concern. The amount she exposed herself and the words that just seemed to be pouring out of her mouth… It was pathetic. She was pathetic. That was neither the first nor last time she'd think that. But it was true. Puck was never supposed to know anything. No one was ever supposed to know. But he did. He knew about the cutting and there was no denying that. But she couldn't let him tell. And the more she spoke, the more he knew, and the more ammunition she gave him to ruin her life. She couldn't let that happen. She had to stop it before it could be anymore than an idea.

"Today wasn't a good day." It would've been great if he hadn't tried to help her she mused. She didn't need help. She didn't want help. She didn't deserve help even if she did want it. Beyond that, the point was there was no helping her. There was no help… "It wasn't a good day Rachel." His voice seemed sad and weighed down. He wasn't good at the emotional crap and he never knew what the right thing to do was. On occasion he'd figure it out, but the only crying girls he was around were his sister, whose problems were not getting ice cream or something else easily fixed, or vulnerable girls that he wanted to be with. Those problems were easy. Rachel's problems stretched far beyond his teenaged brain could comprehend. How could he help her if he didn't understand?

"Noah… Can we not talk about this? I don't want to talk about this." She whined.

"We have to talk about this. What you did…"

"What happened, happened Noah. It's over." She hoped her groveling was working. "Let's just let it go."

"Let it go?"

"Let's just forget this ever happened. I'll get the stitches out and then we'll put it behind us forever."

"How can I do that?"

"Just do it! I don't want to talk about this; not now, not ever."

"You said this helps you? Hurting yourself helps you?" He couldn't just let it go. At the very least, he needed a few answers and some reassurances.

"What?" How was she supposed to answer that? Nothing she could say would change what he knew, but she wasn't giving up. She still wanted to believe she could alter reality a little. She'd make him believe it was nothing. And to her, that was true. It was just another day in the life of stupid Rachel Berry.

"How? Tell me how it helps you. How can that possibly help you?"

"I don't know Noah. It doesn't." She lied. "I… I only did it a few times. I… I just got carried away."

He was susceptible to her lies because he so wanted it to be true; he so badly wanted her to be ok, for it to only be a few times like she claimed, and for all to be right again, but he wasn't yet convinced. "Yeah, I'd say. Nearly frickin' dying is more than 'a little carried away'. You could have died!" His voice was slightly raised.

"But I didn't die. I didn't die because of you, because you were there." And she couldn't decide whether she should be thankful or not. Truth was she wasn't. She tried to be, but she couldn't find it within herself to see it as a good thing. Why'd he help her? She didn't want him too. Things would've been better if he just let her bleed out; not that she actually thought that was going to happen.

"And what if I wasn't there? What then? Who would've helped you then? Would you have gone to Shelby? Would you have called Kurt? Would you have gotten any help at all?" No.

"Yes Noah, of course. I'm not stupid." Debatable. "I don't want to die." Well… also debatable. "I would have gotten help. I assure you." Lie; absolutely nothing to debate about that.

He held her tighter, pulling her as close to him as he could get her. It was like if he let go, it was all over; that he lost her. And he couldn't lose her. He didn't understand it; it was a feeling he only ever felt for his family. His ma, the brat, Beth… he felt it for all of them, but it was different with Rachel. He couldn't lose her, and he had a nagging feeling in his gut that it was a real possibility. He just didn't want to believe it because he couldn't. "You would have gotten help?" He asked again. He just needed to hear it once more.

"Yes, I would have."

"Ok." Yeah… Ok…

"You believe me right?" It was manipulation, she knew. It was something she would soon become acutely aware of, something she'd have to learn to be flawless at. It was something she inherently became good at over the previous year or so; that and lying. It all seemed to go hand in hand. In so many ways, she was grateful for it, though, she rarely realized she was doing it.

"Yeah Rachel. I believe you." It was unconvincing, even to himself, but Rachel believed him. She needed to hear that so she did.

"Thank you." She whispered into the darkness as she attempted to fall asleep. Her eyes were closed. The fragments of light from the night sky flittered through her room. Sleep hadn't come easily to her; not in some time, but she was exhausted. The day took its toll on her and with Noah there, even though she still couldn't understand why he stayed, she felt safe. She felt like she could sleep. There, in his arms, she was safe and sleep was obtainable. It was a welcomed feeling even if it was fleeting.

Well after midnight, in the wee hours of the morning, sun rays peeking through the slightly drawn blinds, the silence overwhelmed Puck. He spent an hour after Rachel fell asleep watching her. He was aware that, if anyone else was there, it appeared creepy, but he had to do it. It was a long day, and he was terrified she wasn't going to wake up if he stopped watching her. So he did. He watched. He looked for her breathing and checked her wrist every so often to make sure she didn't pop a stitch until finally, the day caught up with him too.

It wasn't unlike one of those all nighters he had to pull so he could pass a test by studying as long as he could; all very last minute, just so he kept eligibility for football. Like all those times, and they happened more than he cared to admit, he stayed awake until he couldn't keep his eyes open. And once he fell asleep, he didn't stay that way for long. Maybe he got a few solid hours, but that was it.

The sounds of birds chirping in the early morning air stirred him awake. It was more than that. It took more than a few chirps to wake him up from his heavy sleep, but the point was he was up. His eyes blinked as he took in his unfamiliar morning surroundings. He wasn't home. It wasn't his room. Rachel. Rachel's room. Yesterday. Blood. The cuts. Lots of blood. Everything he seemed forget in post sleep state was flooding back, made even more real when he found his arm was still holding Rachel, his hand protectively sprawled over her barren midsection. Their baby was there once. A part of him was living in there, but it was gone. It was gone and the other half of their creation was a mess.

The weight of it all was hitting him. The accumulation of the previous day's revelations was a lot. He lost a baby; another one only permanently that time, no visiting or meeting of any sorts ever. And he lost Rachel. That last thought wasn't final though. Maybe he didn't lose her. She wasn't physically gone and she wasn't completely changed. So there was still a chance she'd be her again. Right?

Then, though, that wasn't his main concern. She was asleep and alive. That was all he could really hope for at that very moment. On the other hand, he felt he lost something he never knew he had. With Beth, she wasn't physically his; not anymore. But, even so, he could always check on her. Shelby allowed him into his daughter's life in a more passive role, and that was enough simply because it was something. He knew she was loved and cared for and he would always be there. With this child, boy or girl, he would never get that. It was gone; permanently gone. Finally grasping that was like a stab in the chest. His baby was gone forever. He hadn't had the chance to think about it much since learning of the loss, but in the solitude of Rachel's bedroom, however ironic that may have been, the loss and the feelings and the sheer pain of it all was catching up to him. He was feeling it. He was grieving it; like he should. It just… It hurt. It hurt him to know that it was there and just like that it was gone. It hurt him to know that he'd never get the chance to see what would have been. Like Rachel, he was stuck thinking about the what ifs; thinking about the possibilities, the way it would have looked, boy or girl, hazel eyes or brown, dark hair or darker hair… he'd never know. They'd never know. It was just thought left to the imagination, a flip of a coin; all up in the air. Everything felt so uncertain. He felt uncertain about the future and even the present. Rachel sure as hell was uncertain. All he had to do was look at her to see that. And uncertainty wasn't a great feeling to have. It made matters worse that that was all he felt.

So he couldn't help himself. Rachel was sleeping and there was no way he could get back to sleep with all the thoughts in his head; more than he ever thought possible. He laid there allowing the thoughts to take over; a hand gently running over, caressing, Rachel's stomach like his kid was still there. He wanted it to still be there. He needed to make himself better and he needed to do it whatever way he could. Since Rachel was asleep, it was the only time he'd actually be able to say the things he needed and do what he wished he could have done. "I know you're not in there." He spoke to the home in which his child lived for merely weeks. "You're gone. I get that." He exhaled, keeping his emotions in check. Badasses didn't cry. "I wish you weren't. You would've been a girl I think." He pictured it in his head. "Perfect like your mama, a voice to die for, but a little bit of a trouble maker too. Knowing Rachel she'd probably want to name you Barbara… or Maria… And I'd try to tell her those were too ordinary for you. I mean Barbara? You wouldn't have been a hundred years old. It just wouldn't be badass enough for you. But you'd have been able to pull it off. You would've been awesome. My eyes, your mother's smile… Beautiful. I wish we got the chance to know you."

Rachel was awake at that point. She had been awake the moment he stirred in her bed. She felt his hand around her. She felt him rest it on her stomach. It took all that she had not to flinch. She loved his touch, the way it made her sexually fulfilled but she usually controlled it. And that touch was different. It was more intimate, less about the sex and more about the connection. That scared her. Not to mention, she didn't want him touching where she felt fattest. Her stomach was bloated and huge and she was disgusted with the thought of him feeling that, but she allowed it. She had to because she was asleep. When he started whispering, seeking to their unborn, deceased child, she just wanted to cry. She did, in fact, not able to keep the water works at bay. She gripped on to every word that came from his mouth, hoping and praying she could keep her composure. She would not make a sound. She would not flinch. She was asleep… She would stay that way… She'd listen, silently cry, and pretend to sleep.

"Rachel would've been great with you too. She would've loved you. And I would've loved you. We do love you. I don't know how big you were in there or if you were more alien than baby or even if you could've heard me. I'm not into all that biology crap." Rachel wanted to laugh; a moment of reprieve amongst the tears. "But Rachel would've known and even if you couldn't hear me, I would've talked to you just like I am now. Wherever you are, in heaven or wherever… I guess I should've paid more attention in temple… But wherever you are, I know you can hear me now." He exhaled again, loudly still just trying to keep some semblance of badass to his appearance. "Maybe you're all grown up there, like a little kid instead of the tiny start of a baby you were. Whatever… doesn't matter. It's just, we would've loved you. And… and even though you aren't here anymore and you won't ever be… we still love you." He believed that. He knew that. Whatever was going on with Rachel, he knew she felt that way too. "Hey, you would've had a big sister. I mean… I guess she'd kind of be your aunt… your sister aunt? She would've loved you too. So many people would've loved you. Just know that. Wherever you are, know you would've been loved. Look out for us ok? Look out for your mom, she's… well she's struggling and, um, she, she just needs you to look after her." He took a moment of silence. "We won't ever forget you." How could they? "Not ever." He couldn't help it anymore. In the manliest way possible, he let out a sob; just one, containing it so not to wake Rachel, and he cried. He let the tears go, slowly letting it lull him back to sleep. "Bye baby. Daddy loves you." He whispered just before the final sniffle and sleep overtook him.

Rachel, however, wasn't ready to go back to sleep. Hearing him talk like that, so honest and open, though he didn't know she was eavesdropping on such an intimate conversation… It broke her. And hearing him cry, not just seeing tears, but hearing him cry… That set her over the edge. She was freaking out. Her cries were less than silent; not too loud, but loud enough. He was so great and she just wasn't…

Their baby was gone. It wasn't coming back. She was empty and it was her fault. She deserved it. She deserved to suffer. She was an embarrassment and a loser and she didn't deserve anything as precious as that life would've been. And it was just Puck's bad luck for ever getting involved with her in the first place. Even knowing that, she felt the grief. She was grieving. No one ever really wants to be a teenage mom unless they're delusional, but when it happens the love is there. The mother instantly loves the child. And Rachel would've loved hers. But at the same time as learning about the pregnancy, she was learning about the demise as well. And she thought it before, she'd think it again, but she loved her kid. She would always love the life that was once inside her, and ready or not, she would've been there for it; for her since Noah thought it was a girl. And as twisted as it was, she was thankful that Puck was grieving too; that she had someone, just on this one occasion, who felt what she felt and grieved the loss only she knew. No one else would hurt because of it. No one else would feel the hole burn in their heart. That tissue… the collection of cells that was their baby was gone and no one but them would ever feel anything about that.

Everything just added to her sadness. She was sad. She was depressed. She was desperate for a fix, for the run of the cool blade against her burning flesh. She wanted that, but just this once, she needed to feel the pain of life the way it was meant to be felt. And she was doing that, not because she had to or wanted to, but because she knew leaving Puck right then to cut herself, to heal herself, was unfair. It was unfair to him because she shouldn't get a reprieve when he couldn't; especially not when it was her fault he was hurting. And, to top it off, she was embarrassed enough. Getting caught once was plenty. Getting caught again wasn't an option; there'd be too much shame to survive that.

She didn't know what time it was. She didn't care and she didn't bother looking. She simply laid there allowing Puck's hand to unconsciously thumb across her empty stomach; her empty stomach that was bloated with the food she was literally forced to eat, the food she tried really hard not to focus on though seemed to be a thought majority in her brain. There was no escaping her reality, not even when she tried and there were valiant efforts on her part. But no matter how she looked at it, what angle she approached it from, or what she thought she saw, all she was, was pathetic. She was a mess, she was a walking disaster, but mostly, she was a shame. Her actions were embarrassing. Everything about her from her looks to the scars on her body… everything was all so embarrassing. And as much as she tried to hide that, the more she felt it. She didn't understand how anyone could look at her, couldn't fathom how anyone could love her, and didn't believe anyone could ever want her. So the loss of her baby, possibly her only chance to ever experience that was gone, weighed on her just a little bit more.

And all that aside, she had been ignoring a big issue in her life because she was preoccupied and distracted by Puck and blood and getting stitched up by a stranger who kept looking at her with pity eyes that day that she couldn't escape those thoughts in the craziness and odd moments of the morning. She was dealing with everything else, so she figured she might as well focus on that too. Her journal was still missing. Her livelihood was AWOL. That was a problem.

She spent the next few hours, really just a block of an unknown amount of time, thinking, stuck in the prison of her mind. Her journal had the ability to destroy her, but at the same time, it was her saving grace. It had been an outlet for so long; a process she took part in since she was a little girl writing Dear Diary, Noah pulled my hair on the playground. And in her teen years, her present, it held deeper secrets; darker secrets, more significant tales of her life, but the purpose was still the same. It was a personal form of expression. Her journal was a place to let out what she couldn't physically bring herself to let out in song and didn't have enough room on her body to carve it out. And that solace was gone. It was missing and she had no idea how to deal with that. It was a constant burden every second it was away from her, threatening to blow whatever foundation she had in her life to a million tiny shreds.

Her life was in ruins without that threat looming over her head. Her own words, the things she wrote meant only to be read and shared in her own personal space, was floating about who knew where being read by who knew who… If that wasn't a catastrophic event, Rachel didn't know what was. And having that weigh on her along with everything else just felt like too much and all her vices were temporarily unavailable. With Puck there, she couldn't run down stars devour everything and purge it all away. Cutting was an option, but she really had to consider it. She did lose a lot of blood and doing that again was a serious risk. She would have to decide if dying was an option to really consider and the last shard of life she had in her made her think about that carefully. Not to mention, if it didn't kill her, having Puck find her all bloodied and opened wasn't something she ever wanted to relive. And the last thing she normally did, the sanest of her vices, just wasn't an option either for it had vanished. Her journal had vanished. What the hell was she supposed to do with herself when she had no means of release? She was lost and stuck with all the misery and nothing but time to think.

And think she did… All she did was think… Way too much thinking… And then she felt like crying again, but that was weak. She was weak. She wouldn't. She couldn't. It wasn't allowed. But there was just so much on her mind that she swore her internal voice could be heard from a mile away.

"What are you thinking about?" His voice startled her. He was supposed to be sleeping. She was supposed to be the only one awake. Not only that, but there were so many answers to that question that she just had to pull the most relevant. She thought of the one thing he reminded her of; the one thing she heard when he spoke… Their baby.

"I was scared to tell you about the baby." She said quietly, burying her head deeper in the pillow, not letting him see the tears that were falling once again. All she had been doing was crying and hurting. That seemed to be all she was capable of; hurting and crying, crying and hurting, rinse and repeat. It sucked, but it was a process to which she had become accustomed to.

"You were? Why?" He sat up in the bed enough to be leaning on his side, almost hovering over her.

"I didn't know I was pregnant and it was gone. I lost it. How was I supposed to tell you that? How was I supposed to tell you our baby was dead because of me?"

"It didn't die because of you. It didn't. The baby…" She wasn't going to let him try to sway her from the truth. She knew it was her fault. His lies weren't going to change that.

"That baby, our baby, died because of me. It died because of me, because of my body… Because of me." She insisted.

"No, no it didn't. It just… It just happened. And it sucks. I know it sucks. But we can't change it."

"Would you?" She asked calmly. She was afraid of the answer, anticipating the worst; knowing that even if he took the noble road and said what he thought she wanted to hear, it wasn't the truth. He didn't know she heard him talk earlier. And she didn't know if it was an act. It affected her like everything did, but she needed to hear him say it to her; to tell her, when she was awake, that he really did want it… and maybe her too.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Anger… That was anger right? Rachel wasn't sure. Well, she was sure, she just didn't really understand why. And hell yeah he was angry. It kind of felt like a Quinn situation all over again. He spent half the night imagining what could have been even though he knew it never would be and the other half worried about Rachel and whatever, and it felt like Rachel was throwing it back in his face. It was like Quinn calling him a Lima Loser and a deadbeat dad all over again. It wasn't right. "If I could change it Rachel," he started to speak through clenched teeth, hands balled into anger containing fists. He wasn't a deadbeat. Just like he wanted to do with Beth, he would've been the best dad he could and supported Rachel through everything. "If I could bring it back, you'd still be pregnant. Instead of lying here heartbroken and having this shit ass conversation…"

"Language Noah." She stood a few feet from him, curiously watching him as he paced, his face concentrating on her.

"Shut it Berry and listen."

"Oh… kay…" She was taken aback by his tone, she wouldn't lie, but it was what she had been asking for since he stopped by the house less than 24 hours earlier. She was finally getting the anger she wanted.

"You would still be pregnant and I'd be telling you all about how we were going to get through this and how we'd be bad ass parents. Then, instead of spending the day like a scene from asylum or some shit like that, I'd be talking to you about what came nest. We'd be talking about how disappointed my ma would be that this happened twice before I graduated high school; that her 18 year old son got a 16 year old girl…"

"I'll be 17 very shortly Noah. It's not my fault I was born a year later than the rest of you and my fathers wanted to push me to be the best so they enrolled me in school as soon as they could."

"Berry, you're missing the point."

"Then what's the point?"

"Point is, it doesn't matter how old we are, I wanted that kid. She would have been my second chance. She would've been everything we wanted. And it would've been scary. It was with Beth. And it would've been hard. And Shelby would've had my ass and my ma would've wanted to get me circumcised or castrated or whatever it's called when the doctors' neuter a guy."

"A vasectomy?"

"Whatever. She would've did that, but she would've been lit up with Jew pride because you're Jewish too. And she would've tried to help us out. And right now, instead of me trying to convince you that I would've wanted this baby and I would've been here for you, we would be trying to figure out how to tell our parents and how to not feel like life was over. And once we did that, we'd be great." All that was sweet and Rachel needed to hear it. Maybe one day she'd process it; really let herself hear it, possibly believe it, but, then, all she could think about was what he wasn't saying. She wanted to know how he didn't blame her. Even after everything, he didn't blame her. How?

"Why aren't you angry at me? Why aren't you yelling at me? Screaming that it was my fault?" She didn't understand it. How could she? As vain as it sounded, though it wasn't meant that way, the world's problems all seemed her fault. Global warming; her fault. World hunger; her fault. It was all her fault. So how was the death of a life she was an active participant in making, the passing of something she created, not her fault?

"Because it's not Rachel. It's not your fault. You didn't take drugs or drink the baby to death. You didn't get an abortion or anything like that… It wasn't your fault. It wasn't my fault. It just was. And I really wish you'd get that." He really needed her to get that because a part of him felt it was his fault too. They were quite a pair.

"It is my fault Noah. It's my fault."

"It's not." He insisted again.

"It is." She looked like she wanted to hit him again. He could see it in her eyes. She was fighting it, but he could see she was desperately fighting the breakdown. They were in this dangerous pattern of emotion and calm that made the storm that much worse.

"It's not." He practically whispered into her ear as she approached him. Her hands were ready to pounce again and he wouldn't allow that. He saw enough blood to last him a lifetime. "We're not doing this again." He said as he grabbed her arms, holding them so she couldn't hurt herself, so she didn't bleed. "Last time you opened a cut and nearly killed yourself. So we're not doing it again." But she didn't care. She never wanted to hurt him; just herself. He just happened to be a vessel to make that happen. "I'm just going to hold you."

She physically couldn't say anything. She just let him hold her, pinning her arms to her sides as she cried into his chest, until she settled a little and he was able to let her go. She moved her arms to wrap around him and he moved his hands so one was keeping her close and the other was running through her thinned hair. Thankfully it was all blood free and his fresh shirt wouldn't be ruined; not that that was really the biggest thing on his mind.

Looking at the clock for the first time, he realized how late in the morning it was getting. They had school. Stupid school. Leaning down so his mouth was near her ear, he said, "Promise me you'll stop. Promise me you won't hurt yourself anymore."

"Noah I didn't…" She leaned back so they were face to face, inches from their face touching like they were about to kiss, though they weren't. She couldn't break his hold though, and she didn't know if she wanted to.

"You did. It's ok." Embarrassment colored her cheeks. "Well, it's not, but I get it. Or I don't but… Just promise me."

"I promise I won't hurt myself." In her mind, that promise would hold true because, to her, the cutting and everything else wasn't hurting her. It made her feel better; feel good. How could that possibly be hurting herself?

"You need to stop." His voice was firm. If he wasn't trying to whisper, Rachel was sure it would've been yelled at her. She almost preferred it if it were.

"I already promised I would Noah." She sighed. What more did he want? Did he not believe her?

"We have to get ready for school."

"Oh." She was almost relieved he was leaving. "Are you going to go? If you leave now, you could probably use the front door without Shelby noticing."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"What about school Noah? You're wearing dirty clothes. You didn't get the chance to shower last night."

"No one saw me in these clothes but you. I got it from the car before I snuck in and I only wore it to bed, and I washed up when I made your bath. It's like I had my own sponge bath, but I could always shower here. Right?"

"Wouldn't you rather do it at your own home?"

"No. I'm not leaving Rach. I texted ma. She thinks I spent the night hat Finn's. My school crap's at school. Everything's set. Once I shower and you're ready, I'm going to hop out that window, head to my car, and come pick you up to drive you to school."

"People will see us together." She was self-conscious. She didn't want to ruin his rep. She knew what it meant to him.

"It's cool Berry."

"What about breakfast?"

"Doesn't Shelby feed you?" It didn't look like it, but he assumed she did.

"Of course she does."

"Then grab double and if you can't, I'll steal some when we get to school. No big."

"Stealing is a crime."

Rolling his eyes he responded, "Do what you got to do Berry. We don't want Shelby coming in here."

Needless to say, explaining to Shelby what she was doing with so much food was both embarrassing because she looked like a gluttonous pig and annoying because it was coming from a woman who constantly had something to say about her food consumption. But she managed it. She got enough to feed an army and made sure to take her time so it seemed like she ate while she was down there. And, somehow, her long sleeves managed to fully cover the bandage and she got no questions. That was good because she was a little disoriented and too tired to make her lies believable.

As she dressed and readied for school, understanding that a morning run or walking to school were two unfeasible options, Noah showered. Walking out of the bathroom all manly in his post shower glow made her yearn for him in a way so different than before, but it was a feeling she didn't know how to welcome. And sometime during her stare fest, Noah started talking to her.

"What?" She asked.

"Are you ready to go? I know how you are about being on time and crap. I hate it, but you like it."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good." He said and moved to the window. "I'll honk when I get out front."

She nodded as he made his leave. It was time to go back to school. And she was petrified of facing the real world. There was Quinn and Santana and classes with Shelby and glee and Sue and so many complications…

Back to school…

After the next chapter or two, things will be moving along much faster. There was just so much I wanted to happen in this short amount of time that it consumed a good chunk of chapters. This chapter was actually supposed to have more content, but I feel the Noah/Rach stuff was an important step. Puckleberry is a natural progression… Romance is not the man plot, but it's part of life and it's part of this story.

I apologize for any grammar and spelling errors. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Until next time…

Guests Fires are traumatic, but I am ok. My family is ok. We're all dealing. For the one reviewer who said I've had a sucky year, I'm inclined to agree. Since I've started writing this story, two family members lost homes and things that were important to them. I've had family die. I've been sick. I've ended up in the hospital… So yeah, my year sucked. But I know it could've been worse so I'm really trying to look on the bright side. I've lost things, people I love lost things, but in the end, we're all still here and that's what's important. Thank you all for reading this story, and enjoy this update.

CarolineSC Puck has his moments too, but I definitely feel like he is a separate entity from Noah. One's real and one's an image. I like the guy behind the façade; and let's be honest, what girl could resist Mark's face… I think this chapter was a major stepping stone for them too. Not so much for Rachel, but for them as a couple, rather, a unit… and thank you for having my family in your thoughts. We are extremely fortunate to have only suffered material damage.

gleeluver101 I updated! I know it was a wait, but it's here now and you can know what happens. Thanks for reading.

Tearrer I honestly don't think Shelby has the strength or courage to force Rachel to get that kind of help, at least not at this point, but that's what Casey is there for. That's her role. Her opening up at this point is more out of necessity than actually allowing someone in. She just let it out. And it's more than her being saved or caught. It's the process. People can try, but she has to admit there is a problem. Casey will have her moment too. She and Shelby are still trying to understand their place in Rachel's life; their limits and things like that. Not a lot of time has passed in the last few chapters and it's annoying (to me) because I need to get beyond it to move onto the good stuff, but I promise, I have a big explosion (or two) coming up. Just be patient with me. And thanks Dana, for reviewing. I'm not greedy, I don't need constant comments from everyone, but it is very nice to hear what people have to say and I' glad that my story has kept you engaged.

adilamgp Everyone was doing well. Thank you for the concern. And I will always try to keep you informed. I have a very OCD personality and I like to be punctual, so if I know that I'm going to take a long time, I will always try to check in with the readers.

Ajunebuga It's ok to be a little selfish every now and again, and who am I not to enable that. It's a little later than I said it'd be, but the update has arrived!

BT It is amazingly sad to know that there are people out there suffering like this; some worse off than Rachel, some dying, but, thankfully, there are some out there surviving. And it breaks my heart too because this situation is so real to me and to people I know. It's a hard thing to deal with, and, in so many ways, it's just as hard on those who have to suffer alongside the one with this disease. I think that's why I wanted to tell this story; because it is real. It does affect people and I needed to tell it realistically. I'm glad you feel I have accomplished that.

stephlorhaze I'm sorry you had to experience any part of this disease. It's not something I would wish on anyone. I hope this story; this struggle does connect with people out there and if they are struggling, that they find some comfort in knowing they are not alone. If this story helps them, then I've done something to be proud of. So many people write stories about this topic and include such an easy fix when in reality, it's a lifelong battle. Even well after recovery and treatment, the thoughts are still there. I wanted this to be as close to reality as fiction would allow. This story is important to me. The content is important to me. And as odd as this may sound because you don't know me and I don't know you, I'm proud of you for getting help. That makes you strong. It makes you a survivor…. Fires are devastating, but it could have been so much worse. I am terribly grateful that everyone was safe and there were a few salvageable items. Thank you so much for this review. The more personal ones mean so much to me.

delkis . gonzalez Real life does happen. Thank you for being understanding and patient. I hope you enjoy the update.