A/N: I don't want to spoil the chapter, but a few timelines have never added up for me. So, this is my explanation.

Finn POV

Sometimes, I think my mother might be a pod person. Most of the time, she's like the greatest Mom ever, like some superwoman who's a Mom and a Dad all rolled up in one, which just might be the most awesome thing in the universe. Superwoman, though, not Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman is hot, and if I think about Mom in that outfit, I start feeling like I might throw up. So, yeah, Mom is great and awesome most of the time.

But sometimes she goes on these weird binges where she decides the house is a disaster area, and we need to clean it, and that means right now, Finnegan. I hate it when she calls me that (but not when Kurt does it. He says it like it's a little nickname, and she says it like I'm about to be grounded), because it means she's pissed off with me, even when I didn't do anything wrong. Even if most of the mess was mine, she could just ask me to clean it up, rather then deciding the curtains need to be washed and the basement rearranged. Yeah, the basement. You know, the one that was damp and creepy and we never allowed people in? Yeah, that basement.

But I knew way better then to try and get out of it. She would just get upset and yell some more, and then make me get back downstairs and do it anyway. Personally, I think her sudden obsession with having a clean house was coming from the fact that she had had a really good date with Mr. Hummel, and she wanted to invite him over and show off our house or something. I was still a little confused about what they might want to do in the basement, other then laundry, but you know how chicks are, so I went along with it.

Plus, sometimes you could find awesome stuff in our basement. Not just our stuff, but stuff from the last people who rented it, like old magazines and newspapers and best of all, sometimes I found porn. Mostly that antique stuff, like from the '40's, where the girls all wore one piece bathing suits and kept their legs together, but, hey, it's free and it's there. Except for this one magazine that had a bunch of naked men together doing things that not only looked painful, but like you might need to be double jointed or some shit before you could even try it. I had been so freaked out that I tossed the thing and washed my hands twice afterwards. Turns out, that was a pretty stupid thing to do, since that thing would sure come in handy for things with Kurt.

Ah, Kurt. Things had gone really good last night, which I think is pretty awesome. I've been on dates before, but I knew that this was his first one, and I tried as hard as I could to make it right. Luckily Sean had picked the places we were going to go, because I would have probably screwed that up. Also luckily, he had been late with Mercedes, so I didn't have to sit through three hours of him fussing with my hair, only to have it come out looking not much different then when we started out. I mean, it's short, there isn't that much you can do with it. But he likes to try, so I put up with it.

I had been really, really worried that people would stay stuff and wreck our night. I would like to claim it was for Kurt, and a big part of it was, but it bothered me, too. I'm used to being top of the heap, and it hurts to get knocked down a few pegs. Plus, before Kurt, I had said 'fag', too, even if I didn't really mean it like that. I've never actually thought there was anything wrong with being gay, even if some of the other guys did. It was just a word you used, like 'stupid' or 'lame' or 'retarded', even though I think that lat one might be pretty mean, too. I mean, stupid and lame could be about anyone, but 'fag' or 'retard' meant a definite person, so they were worse. Or something like that. I don't know, I'm not that smart, but I do know that thinking those words makes me feel really sick now, and it never did before.

Because before you weren't the fag, and now you are. Moron.

Well, that was part of it, too, even if it wasn't the biggest part. The biggest part was that it was a really cruel thing to say. It wasn't racist, but it was whatever the gay bashing form of racist was. It would be just as bad as using the N word, and I would never do that. So, yeah, I felt pretty bad about ever using the term, and I sure as shit was never going to tell Kurt that I had. Cause really? Kurt is pretty damn scary when he gets pissed.

But the night had gone really well. Even when our waitress had found out that Kurt and I were on a date, she had thought it was cute, rather then saying something ugly. I had been a little tense up until then, but that helped me relax.

Then we went bowling, which was all sorts of awesome. For once, I could show Kurt that I was good at something besides singing, even if it was just a game. I mean, I'm not a great dancer, and I suck at homework, and I still can't tell my left from my right 100% of the time, but I really, really like him, and I want him to see that I can do something.

As it turns out, Kurt isn't a good bowler, which kind of surprises me. I thought he was good at everything, except sharing his dad, of course. That was cool, though, I'm not really sure I want to share Mom either. She's kind of all I have, you know?

But I kind of liked that Kurt sucked at bowling, because then I could help him and kind of feel him up and that was always fun. Much more fun then when I did it with Rachael (what can I say? I go with what works.). The added bonus was that Kurt actually snuggled backwards into my body, instead of leaning away like Rach did. When he hit a pin for the first time all night, he gave me one of those smiles that made me feel like I was having a heart attack at age 16. Then he had to announce that he hadn't been paying much attention to what I was saying because he was too busy looking at my ass, and I almost had another sort of attack. God damn the fact that A) I let Kurt pick my jeans, which meant they were way too tight and getting tighter all the time, and B) that we weren't the only ones there, so I couldn't just screw around with him on the lane.

Real romantic, Finn, on a bowling lane? Why don't you just take him out to the football field and do him on the 50 yard line? It seems to work for Puck.

Oh, really? Is that how he tricked you? I couldn't believe I was being mean to my own inner voice, but she was mean to me first. The mental argument might have continued, except Kurt had tossed himself down into my lap, and I wasn't able to resist giving him a quick kiss. Yep, those jeans definitely weren't getting any looser.

We played another two games, which I think I won, but I'm not sure. Sean was keeping score because I wasn't very good at the math part of the game. I was starting to get sleepy, and I kind of wished that the date would be over so I could go to bed. It would be best if I could go to bed with Kurt, but being alone was looking better and better, too. I never thought I would say it, but I was kind of glad to be getting back to Lima.

I tried to look all perky and shit, but Kurt's pretty smart, and he wasn't fooled by the act. Without saying anything, or even warning me that he would cut off sex forever if I drooled on his million dollar whatever designer sweater, he let me put my head down on his shoulder and sleep.

Sean's car was old and the ride was kind of rough, so I kept flitting in and out of a light doze. Eventually I must have fallen into a deeper sleep, because Kurt was shaking me gently and telling me to wake up. I really just wanted to curl up and go back to sleep, but he started tickling my ribs and that woke me up enough to get into the Navigator. I think I told Mercedes and Sean goodnight, but I'm not positive on that. I hope so, though, because Sean was really cool, and Mercedes might kill me if I'm not polite to her.

It had gotten cold out, and that helped wake me up a little more. I really wanted to make sure that Kurt had actually had a good time, but I was having a hard time making my arms and legs and brain and mouth all work together. It happens to me a lot, but especially when I'm tired. It took so long for me to get on track the Kurt must have thought I was still sleeping, because he jumped when I asked if he had had a good time.

As it turned out, he had, which made me feel a lot better about stuff. Even though he wasn't a girl, I was still the one with dating experience, so it was my job to make sure the date went well. I was pretty hopeful that the date might continue on up into the my bedroom, which would do a lot for a few fantasies of mine, but, when we pulled up, I could see Mom's car, which meant no fooling around tonight. I felt kind of pissed of about that, but then I though that at least it meant that she wasn't fooling around with Mr. Hummel either, so I felt a little better. If I wasn't getting any, no one should be getting any.

I gave Kurt a kiss goodnight and went inside. Mom was up and waiting, just like she always did when I went out for the night. I gave her a goodnight kiss (but not like I kissed Kurt, because that would be, you know, gross) and passed out on my bed, not even bothering to get undressed.

Which brought me back to the basement, where I had been cleaning for the past few hours. By 'cleaning', of course, I meant moving some stuff around and going through the boxes looking for anything interesting. I had already found a bunch of baseball cards that had probably been mine when I was younger, some stuffy old clothes that looked like something Kurt would love, and my black long sleeved shirt with the star on it that I had lost a few months ago. All in all, it was shaping up to be a pretty good day. There were only a few boxes left to push around, then I could sweep down here and pretend that I had actually been doing something important.

"Finn? Lunch!" Mom sounded happy, which meant that my torture might be ending soon. If I could get out of the basement early enough, I could probably lie and tell her that I needed Kurt to help me with my homework. Then he and I could study some biology before the actual work. Yep, life was pretty good.

Mom had already made me two sandwiches with lots of chips and a cup of milk. She gave me a quick kiss on top of my head, and smudged the dirt off of my face with her thumb. "You've been a good sport about cleaning down there. Sweep and then take the last few boxes up to my room and you're free for the day. Go see Kurt or play video games or something."

See? I have the coolest Mom in the world. "Thanks." I shoveled the food down as fast as I could, just so I could get back to work and finish up. If Kurt couldn't hang out, and my dick was really, really hoping that he could, then Call of Duty 3 was waiting for me, and that would be pretty awesome as well.

I swept up as quickly as I could, even though the basement really didn't look much different now then it had before I spent all morning in it. The boxes were in different places, but it was still just a basement, nothing to get excited about. The boxes Mom wanted moved were all sitting in the living room, and I took them up one at a time, since all of them were clearly marked "Fragile". That means 'if you break it, Mom will cry' in Italian or some shit.

It wasn't until I brought the last box up that I noticed her closet was open, and so was the safe that she kept in there. I know, I know, it's wrong to go prying though your mother's things, but I couldn't help but be curious about what was actually in there. I knew that there were important things like my birth certificate and Mom's passport and her wedding photo and stuff, but I couldn't help but kneel down in front of it to get a better look at the rest of the stuff.

It was mostly kind of boring. There was some jewelry, probably the stuff with real diamonds and whatever you call those green ones, instead of the fake stuff she wore sometimes. A few pins that looked kind of old. There huge wad of cash in there, more then I had ever seen, but I didn't touch it at all, even to count it. I might not be that smart, but I do have some morals and that money didn't belong to me.

There were some of those big brown envelopes on the bottom. They had the tack I pushed through in them, but they weren't licked closed, so I opened the closest one. It was filled with pictures from her and Dad's wedding. Not just the one with them and the cake that was downstairs on the wall, but a bunch of other ones, where they were both laughing and Mom's veil was on crooked and Dad looked like he might want to throw up, which meant it was probably taken before the wedding. Mom always says that I have my fathers smile, and these pictures were the first time I had actually seen the resemblance. He did the same thing I did, where one side of the mouth was higher then the other. I really wanted to keep at least one of the pictures of them together, but then Mom would see it and I would have to explain where it came from and it was probably better if I didn't.

The next envelope had all sorts of important looking pieces of paper in it. I shook them out into my lap and ran a hand through them. One was Dad's discharge papers, which I skimmed over quickly. He had left the army on June 16th, 1993, before I was even born. Mom always said that he did it because he knew he wanted kids, and he didn't want to miss seeing them grow up. It didn't end up happening that way, but it still felt good to know that it had been that important to him.

. My birth certificate was next, all cool looking on green paper. Finnegan Jacob Hudson, 11 pounds 14 ounces, which I think is a pretty big baby. Father: Christopher William Hudson, Mother: Carol Marie Hudson. Single birth, no siblings. None of that was a surprise, but I still read it a few times. After all, this was the first piece of paper that was mine.

Underneath my birth certificate was a will. More specifically, it was my mother's will. I shoved it away from me as fast as I could, not even wanting to touch it. I mean, I know it's a good thing to have, especially since I was still young enough to need a guardian if something happened to her, but the thought of Mom being dead made me feel like I couldn't breathe. I looked away from the paper as I hurriedly stuffed it back into its envelope. There, now it couldn't get me and make me turn into stone or salt or whatever the hell you turned into when you looked at things you shouldn't.

I decided that I had had enough snooping for the day. I was just going to put the stuff back in the safe, then go downstairs and call Kurt. It was nearly 2, so he should be done with whatever weird beauty rituals he went through on a Sunday morning. Then I could have some company, and hopefully Mom would be making tacos for dinner.

I was almost out of the room before something told me to look back and take one final check. There was a piece of paper on the floor that must have fallen out of one of the envelopes when I wasn't looking. Shit, if Mom had seen that laying there, she would have known that I went through her stuff and then I would be in for a long lecture, if not a total grounding.

If I had been in a little more of a hurry, I would have just stuffed the paper in on top and closed the safe. Then Mom would think that she was the one who took it out and forgot to put it back, because she won't give me the code to it. If I had been in a hurry, things would have turned out a lot different.

But I was still in kind of a lazy mood, so I squinted at the paper in my hand. It was a death certificate. More importantly, it was my father's death certificate. My hands started to shake, and I had to fight the urge to drop it right there and run like a scared little baby.

It's just a piece of paper, Finn. It's not going to bite you, and it's not going to tell you anything that you don't already know. Now put it back and leave.

Sometimes, ok, most of the time, I think that Quinn-voice is just a bitch. But this one time I asked Kurt about what it meant if you have a little voice in your head that talks to you and tells you stuff, and did that make you crazy? He had stared at me for a really long time, long enough that I think he might have a little voice of his own, and told me that unless the voice was scaring me or telling me to wear a tinfoil hat or something, it was probably normal. That that voice was my instincts telling me when something wasn't quite right. I thought about that right now, because Quinn voice sounded scared for the first time that I could remember.

Finn, if you do this, there's no going back. You have Kurt, you have Glee club, and your mother has Burt Hummel. Things are finally good for your family, and why would you want to screw it all up? Put that thing down.

There would be plenty of time later for me to wish I had done exactly that. But you know what they say about curiosity and the cat, and I found myself looking over the paper. Hudson, Christopher William. Age: 27. DOB: 1/29/68. Date of Death: 3/1/95. Cause of Death: Single Gunshot Wound. Manner of Death: Suicide.

My lunch flipped over in my stomach, and I had to take a deep breath to keep from throwing up on the floor. That was wrong. Dad didn't commit suicide, he was shot overseas. Mom didn't like talking about it, but I knew that for a fact. Why would the paper be wrong like that?

I looked again, and saw that you had to check a box for manner of death and 'suicide' was right next to 'homicide'. See, it was just a mistake. The guy had checked the wrong box. It was just a mistake. That was all it was.

I was breathing too fast, and everything seemed like I had suddenly gotten too bright and shimmery. If this wasn't a mistake, then Mom had lied to me for 16 years, and that just wasn't possible. I looked over the rest of the paper, trying to find anything that might confirm what I already suspected. There was a second page stapled to the first, a photocopy of lined paper with handwritten notes on it.

The paper rocked and jiggled because I was shaking harder and harder, but little bits of sentences still jumped out at me. "Found in the nursery of his apartment"…."On Prozac and lithium for depression and PTSD"…."Found by his wife"…"No forced entry"…"Alone with 15 month old son"….

The last bit was what finally made it hit home. Not only had my father committed suicide, he had done it right in front of me, even though I was too little to remember. The paper was right and I was wrong. Mom had lied to me for my entire life.

This time I knew I was going to throw up, and I barely made it to the bathroom in time. It wasn't so much that he had killed himself, but that everyone had hidden it from me. Not just Mom, but everyone. My grandparents, who were his mom and dad, my aunts and uncles, everyone who was old enough to know the truth. They had all looked me in the face and repeated the worst lie in the entire world.

I told you not to look at it. Can't unring a bell, Finnegan Jake, what are you going to do now?

I had no idea. I was pissed of and scared and wanting to cry and still feeling like I might throw up again and absolutely nothing made sense. Mom was the bad guy, but she was still Mom, and I had no idea how to rek-, recon-, reconsil-, the word slipped from my brain, but I meant make those two things work together. She couldn't be the bad guy and the good guy all at once, this wasn't the comic books.

Maybe you could pray for guidance?

If that was the best that my instincts could come up with, I was in big trouble. I couldn't just put the paper back where it had come from and pretend I had never seen it. If I could have gone back in time, just 5 minutes, I would leave the paper on the floor, but that only happens in the movies or on TV, so I couldn't do that either. I had to talk to Mom, so I could see what was really going on.

What do you think its going to happen? Do you think that she'll look at that piece of paper and tell you that it's wrong? That she left that fake paper there on purpose just in case you ever went peeping in her things? Because, let me tell you, Finn, that isn't going to happen.

Deep down, I knew that. But I couldn't help it. Mom was always there for me, and she fixed every mess I got myself into. She would be able to fix this, too, or at least explain it in a way that didn't sound quite so horrible.

Even though I knew it was gross, I wiped my mouth on my sweatshirt sleeve and forced myself to stand. I could do this; I could go down there like a man and demand an explanation.

Except when I actually made it down the stairs, I could hear myself whimpering more like a little puppy then a man. Mom was still in the kitchen, cleaning up from lunch and humming happily to herself. I could barely even hear the noises I was making, and there was no way that she should have been able to, but she turned anyway. "Finn! Baby, you're absolutely white, come here." Her arms were out for me, but I backed up a step instead. "What's wrong, honey, did you get sick?"

Honestly, when I opened my mouth I wasn't sure if I was going to puke again, or if I was going to start screaming horrible things at her, or even if I was just going to start crying, but my voice came out surprisingly calm and steady. "How did Dad die again?"

There was something there in her eyes when I asked, the same look that had been in Quinn's when I asked how she could have possibly gotten pregnant in a hot tub, or when Kurt was trying to tell me that the other guys on the team were not the ones who slushied him this time. It's a sneaky look, one that means the other person is trying to figure out if they can lie and get away with it. Maybe she always made that face and I had been too fucking stupid to realize it before. Her hand came up to toy with her collar. "Finn, your father was shot, you know that."

"By who?" I kept my hand, the one with the death certificate in it, behind my back, so she wouldn't know I knew the truth. "I mean, by a guy from Iraq, or from Iran, or from Africa? Or was it one of his own guys?"

She drew back and looked at me for a long time, long enough that we both knew that it was over, the game was up. So instead of lying, she sat down at the table and nodded. "Why are you suddenly asking this?"

"Because I want to know. Who. Shot. Dad?" I spoke each word slowly and clearly.

Her eyes got all shiny and stuff, and I suddenly felt really bad, which just pissed me off. She was the one who had lied, so why was I the one feeling like an asshole? This was Quinn all over again. Kurt was right, all girls did was lie and cause problems.

Moving so slowly it was like I had been sleepwalking, I pulled out the piece of paper and put it down in front of her. "What's this?"

She knew what it was even before she looked. I could tell, because she gasped really loud and put her hand over her mouth. "Is it true?" I sounded like some stupid little kid who had just heard that Santa isn't real. Of course you already know it's true, but there's a part of you that can't help but wish they would tell you that of course it's not true, would they ever lie to you?

Mom didn't say that though. Instead she squared her shoulders and looked up at me. "Yes, Finn. It's true."

My heart dropped down, somewhere even lower then my feet. "Why?" It came out all strangled and soft, and, holy shit, I know I'm going to pass out, or at least puke again. Maybe both.

Mom really was crying now, big tears running down her face, but I couldn't make myself feel bad. She was the liar, and she deserved to suffer. "Finn, it wasn't like that. Come here so I can tell you the whole story."

I didn't want to hear it. Puck had a big long explanation for why he fucked Quinn, too, and I didn't want to hear his story either. But I couldn't just punch Mom's lights out like I had done with him, so I did the only other thing that I could: I ran. I was out the door and across the lawn, totally ignoring her shouting after me. If I could just get away from all of this and give myself a little time to think, I could fix it, I was sure.

Say what you want about dumb jocks, but I've always loved running. It's the only time that my brain actually seems to work, rather then starting and stopping like a car that's about to run out of gas. I only kept enough focus on what was in front of me to make sure I wasn't about to run into something or get hit by a car. I might be miserable right now, but not miserable enough to want to become road jerky either.

By the time I was out of breath and feeling sick and dizzy and had to stop, I had no idea where I was. You wouldn't think that you could get lost in a town as small as Lima, but I was totally turned around. I sat with my back against a tree and tried not to barf.

Now that I had stopped for a minute, the sweat was drying on my clothes and I was starting to get cold. I quickly went through my pockets and came up with $43 in crumpled up bills and a piece of paper that turned out to have Sean's phone number on it. That was it. No cell phone, no change for a pay phone, even if I could find one, and no energy to care about it all.

I couldn't stay here, underneath a tree, though, so I started walking again. If I went far enough, I was bound to find something that looked familiar. Plus, it gave me something to do other then think about how my life had suddenly gone from being just about perfect to sucking so much ass.

Sure enough, it didn't take long before I started seeing buildings, then things I recognized. Great, I had not only managed to make it nearly four miles from home, but I had headed straight into the trashy part of town. The good news was that I wasn't that far from Puck's place, so at least I knew how to get home.

Only I didn't want to go home. I mean, I know I have to eventually, because I can't live on the streets or anything, but I wasn't done being mad at Mom, and I was too hurt to face her right now.

"Hey, kid, you look lonely." The voice came out of nowhere, and I almost screamed like a little girl. Shit, shit, shit! I had seen too many horror movies not to know where this was going.

If I looked carefully, I could see a kinda human form near the back of the store we were close to. I backed away carefully. "No, not really."

A man emerged, all old and homeless looking. "I can get you something, if you like. For a price, of course."

I was pretty sure that I didn't want whatever he was offering, but I had to admit I was kind of curious. "Like what?"

He pointed at the building. "Whatever you want. Jack, Vodka, Wine Coolers for your lady, Beer. You ask, I can get it."

Oh, fuck, we were outside a liquor store. This was the sort of situation that Puck kept hoping would happen, where someone offered to buy booze for us, and I had no idea what to do. I was already cold, and tired, and making really bad decisions, so the last thing I needed to do was get drunk and make everything worse.

Which was exactly why I fished all of the money out of my pocket and shoved it into his hand. "Bottle of Jack and keep the rest."

I know, I know, it was a bad thing to do. This man was obviously desperate, and I should have just given him the money no strings attached. But I didn't call him back and tell him that. I just stood there and watched him go inside and pick me up a bottle, which he brought back in a paper bag. "Here you go, champ, have fun tonight."

Yeah, because it had been so much fun so far. "Thanks."

Now that I actually had the precious booze, I had no idea what to do with it. Obviously, I had to drink it, but I hadn't sunk low enough yet to actually want to sit on the curb and do it.

Luckily, I remembered that the elementary school wasn't that far away, and I decided to take my new treasure there. It's not like there were going to be any little kids there, and I could sit on the playground and wonder exactly how things had gone so wrong.

Even before I opened the bottle, I already felt like I was on the tilt-a-whirl at the fair. Booze didn't make me mean, but it didn't make me happy either. I wasn't the guy who danced around with a lampshade on his head and sang opera. I was more of a 'sit in the corner thinking about the state of the word' kind of drunk. Honestly, though, I would rather sit here and think about the state of the world, then have to sit here and think about the state of my own life right now.

So that's kind of how I ended up where I was right now, on the side of the sandbox. I had started out on the swings, but I had moved down after I almost fell off. Plus, my stomach kind of didn't feel like swinging much any more. The bottle was mostly finished, and I really needed to start thinking about how I was going to get home, since I was freezing and it was dark, but none of that seemed important any more. Maybe if I came home drunk, I could say all the mean, nasty things I wanted to say to my mother, and not feel bad about them. Puck's a nasty drunk, but he's also a very honest one, and I had to admire the way he would tell you exactly what he thought of you until the booze wore off and the hangover set in.

Being mean to Mom wouldn't solve my problems, though, even if I kind of wanted to be. She's the one person I thought I could totally rely on, and now I find out that I can't do that either. What's a guy supposed to do?

The problem was, I wasn't really that angry. I was mostly just hurt, and even though a terrible part of me wanted to hurt her back just as badly, the bigger part just wanted some questions answered. Why he had done it, and why she had covered it up after. Why hadn't his wife and his baby son been enough for him? Was whatever had been wrong with him going to go wrong with me, too? Would Kurt come in one day and find my brains all over our living room?

That thought made the bottle fall out of my hand and spill all in the sandbox. Well, shit, there went the rest of my $43 booze. Now I had nothing, and I just wanted to lay my head down and rest.

Oh no you don't. The booze had done nothing to quiet down Quinn-voice, who was as bossy as ever. If you go to sleep right now, you're going to freeze to death tonight. Get up, and get to a phone. You can make a collect call to someone, even if it isn't your mother. Why don't you try Mr. Shue? He'll come get you. Or Kurt? Or-

"Finn!" The voice was kind of familiar, but I really didn't have the brainpower to think about it right now. "Finn, what is wrong with you!"

A body slammed down next to me and I started to jump, but then decided it was too much effort. A fist came forward and hit my shoulder. It wasn't that hard of a blow, but I was already kind of off balance and it knocked me to the side. "What the fuck, Noah!" Wait, was I pissed at him still or not? I couldn't remember.

He punched my shoulder again. "Do you want to explain why you mother called mine, crying hysterically, because she can't find you? Or the fact that Hummel did the same thing? Not that I care that much about Hummel, but, dude, why would you do that to your Mom?"

Because she deserved it and a lot more.

I'm not as mean as Quinn voice, though, and the thought of Mom crying, no matter how much she deserved it made those stupid, traitor, tears pop up again. I couldn't tell Puck the truth though; I could barely even admit it to myself. So I shrugged and wished that there was still alcohol in the bottle.

Puck must have followed my eyes, because he reached out and picked it up. "Dude, please tell me you didn't drink this whole thing."

I shook my head. Most of it, yes, but not the whole thing. Puck reached out, surprisingly gentle, and cupped my face in his hands, pulling it up so he could stare into my eyes. "Finny, what is going on?"

I couldn't remember the last time he had called me that. Not since high school started, that's for sure, and probably not since elementary school. So 5 years or more, and it was familiar immediately. He nudged me with his knee. "Come on, Finn, talk to me. Otherwise I'm just going to take your drunk ass home, unless you can give me a good reason not to. Cause, come on, Carol's pretty great."

He wouldn't think that if he knew what I knew. But I didn't want to tell him the truth either. Puck's mom drinks, and even through she still takes care of him and his little sister, she doesn't do much in the way of affection. He has to rely on my Mom for hugs and kisses and pep talks and scoldings. If he found out what she had done, then he wouldn't have anyone. Just like I didn't have anyone right now.

You have Kurt.

Well, duh, of course I had Kurt, but Kurt wasn't Mom. Kurt was just Kurt, and this was kinda what I meant when I had originally told him that he was better off not getting involved in my drama. Anyway, Kurt wasn't going to offer me a place to live, and even if he did, Mr. Hummel was probably going to say no.

Puck pulled me to my feet. "Come on, you pansy, you're freezing."

I tried to brace my feet so he couldn't drag me over to his truck, but Puck's stronger then I am, and, plus, I was having a little trouble making my body listen to me right now. So it was easy for him to pretty much toss me in the passenger seat. He turned the engine over and grabbed both of my hands, pressing them against the vent. "If you get frostbite, I'm not taking your stupid ass to the hospital. Now talk."

"It's my Dad." I was barely talking loud enough to be heard over the engine of the truck, but Puck nodded anyway. "Okay…" His voice told me that that wasn't anywhere near enough of an explanation for him.

"Well, you know how Mom always said that Dad got killed fighting Osama Bin Ladan over in Iraq?" He nodded and I kept going. "That's not true."

"Holy, shit, your dad's still alive?" Puck's eyes were huge, even bigger then when I told him I was joining Glee club. "But that doesn't make any sense, how come he never comes around?"

"No, he's dead. It just didn't happen like she said it did." The tears were back, clogging my throat and streaming down my face. It wasn't so much that I was ashamed to cry in front of Puck, we were way beyond that by now, but I was just too tired and drunk and heartsick to give any more energy to them.

He reached across me to pop open the dashboard and retrieve a handful of napkins. "Here you go, Finnessa, blow your nose."

It was the closest Puck was going to come to a hug, at least for right now, so I accepted the napkins with a muttered thank you. The air coming out of the vents was too hot now, and making my stomach feel even worse. But Puck's already heard part of it, so he might as well hear the rest. "He killed himself. He shot himself in the head, while I was in the same room and Mom just lied about it. She made me think that he was this great guy and a real hero and it turns out he was crazy enough to do that and what if I turn out crazy, too?"

I really hadn't meant to blurt all that out to Puck, but there wasn't anyone else to tell, and I was so tired of trying to figure things out on my own, and just screwing them up worse. "I don't want to go home."

Puck shook his head, and I could tell if the gleam in his eyes was sympathy tears, or if he was sad about losing his hero worship of my Mom (and probably my Dad, too, since Travis Puckerman was a grade A asshole and I wouldn't want to claim him either), or maybe if it was just a reflection from the playground lights. "It's ok; you can come to my place and get sobered up. Then we'll figure out what to do from there."

See, this is the good thing about Puck. He might be a jerk who got my girlfriend pregnant, but, when it counted, he was there with minimal snarking. Only he wasn't what I wanted right now. I wanted Kurt to rub my back and give me a kiss and tell me that I wasn't going to go crazy because he wouldn't let me.

But I couldn't say that to Puck. Not only would it lead to me totally getting my ass kicked, but I wasn't ready to share Kurt with anyone else. So I just nodded weakly and let him pull out of the parking lot. I closed my eyes and rested, too tired to do much else. "Finny, if you feel sick, let me know, ok? That much Jack sloshing around in your stomach can't be good and I will kick your ass if you puke in my truck."

It really wasn't, but while the nausea never went away, it didn't get worse either. Instead I just felt tired, and when Puck lightly laid his hand on my knee, I didn't shake it off. Even he was better then nothing, which was what I had without him. He patted gently. "Just so we're clear, this is a totally non-gay knee pat."

He always did know how to make me laugh a little. "Don't worry, you aren't my type." He had the right equipment, but my type currently came with an attitude and big blue eyes.

It was a short ride back to Puck's house, but long enough that I lost my sense of balance and needed help getting out of the truck and upstairs to his room. He dropped me down on the bed and sighed deeply. "Well, Hudson, you've gotten yourself into a mess."

"Yeah."

"Finn!" It was only Sarah, but her voice was an excited squeal and it made me jump. Puck quickly grabbed her before she could do her usual 'jump up in my lap and give me painfully tight hugs' routine. Not that I usually minded, but I just wasn't up for it tonight. "Back off, baby girl, Finn's not feeling good."

She looked at me with eyes far too serious for such a little kid. "Did have a little too much?"

You wouldn't think it was possible for a little kid to make you feel so ashamed of yourself, but Sarah Puckerman had pulled it off. The poor kid already had to deal with her mother's drinking; she shouldn't have to deal with her brother's drunk friends on top of it. Puck rolled his eyes. "Yes, he did something very stupid. Now go downstairs and get me three blue Gatorades, ok? Leave them on the bed; unless you want to see Finn here start puking"

Only Puck would remember that blue was my favorite. He waited until she was out of sight, then tugged my arm. "Come on, Finny, let's get this over with."

It was only then that I remembered exactly what 'sobering up' meant. It meant clearing your system of alcohol the fastest way possible, which meant a lot of puking. Puck pulled out the little brown bottle of ipecac, and held it out. "Chug."

God I hated this stuff, even the name made me feel like gagging. But it was better then the hangover that would come tomorrow, or, worse, the alcohol poisoning that I was probably on the verge of. I obediently forced down three quick swallows, nearly gagging at just he oily slickness of it. It was now about 5 minutes to the spew-fest. Puck came up behind me and tugged off my sweatshirt and the t-shirt underneath, just in case. "Thanks, man."

"No problem." He rested a hand on my back. "Jesus, you're still freezing. How long were you sitting out there, anyway?"

My stomach gave an uncomfortable rumble, telling me that it was pretty pissed off about what I had just shoved into it. "I dunno. A while I guess."

"Why didn't you just call someone?" He already knew the answer, but he was trying to take my mind off of what was coming next.

"No phone. Plus, I'm still pissed with you about Quinn." I couldn't tell if it was anger that was making my stomach churn like that, or if the ipecac was doing its job."

"I know." He pushed me down in front of the toilet. "Deep breaths now, it's almost over."

Easy for him to say. I was just about to tell him that when my stomach tightened painfully and I started heaving. Puck sat down next to me and rubbed my back, the same way he always did. This was pretty much the only time we touched each other without having to announce the non-gayness of it immediately before or after. I'm not exactly sure when that rule came into effect, but, right now, I was really, really glad for it.

After what felt like forever, and two false alarms where I thought I was done and turned out not to be, I was shaking violently but a lot more sober then I had been before. "Ow." I tried to get up, and swayed dizzily.

"Hang on a minute, stupid, and I'll help you. Or did you puke your brains up with everything else?" Puck steadied me enough so that I could make my way down the hall and into his bedroom. "Now drink this, because you are probably really dehydrated right now."

I didn't want a Gatorade, blue or any other color, but it just wasn't worth fighting about, so I took a cautious sip. My stomach wasn't real happy, but it didn't try and get sick again either. Puck sat down next to me and wiped my face and neck off with a damp washcloth. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Like, ever, dude. Really." It was what he always said, and it was nice to know that not everything had changed in the past two weeks.

We were quiet while I drank the first Gatorade and took a few sips of the second. I was getting really tired, and I pushed the bottle back at him. "Done."

"Nope, you have to drink all three." He pushed it back.

There was no way that was happening. "You can't make me." Puck might be stronger then me, but he couldn't force me to swallow if I didn't want to.

He thought about that for a minute, then nodded. "Make you a deal then. You finish that one, and I'll take you over to Hummel's and he can be the once to force you to drink the last one. I'm sure he has much more…interesting ways of convincing you to listen."

Even though I didn't have anything in my mouth, I still managed to choke. Puck knew about Kurt? How? "What?"

"You and Hummel, you're fucking, right? If you have to go gay for someone, he's not a bad choice. Kind of pretty, you know?"

I wondered if I had gone through a worm hole in the basement, and everything that had happened since was just a weird hallucination. I never thought that Mom would lie to me, or that I would actually find someone to buy booze for me, or that Puck would find out about Kurt and totally not care. "What?"

He chuckled. "Dude, you're repeating yourself. I already know about you and Hummel. Shit, you've been hot for him since we were like 6 years old; I'm amazed it took you this long to figure it out."

"What?" I knew I was starting to sound like a parrot, complete with screeching, but I was so horrified that I couldn't help myself. "I have not been hot for Kurt for 10 whole years. I didn't even know who he was until freshman year!" Right? Too bad my brain wasn't working very well at the moment, or I would have had a much better comeback."

Puck laughed in that way that always made me feel like a complete moron. "Finny, you used to moon all over him in Cub Scouts. Wanted to sit by him, shared all your cookies, told me to quit being mean when I made him cry, which, by the way, was always. He's sure grown a set since then, because you can't make him cry any more. But yeah, you had a little gay crush on him then."

I was pretty sure that I had made Kurt cry, even if he hadn't done it in front of me. But Puck might take that as a challenge, so I didn't tell him that. "Really?" Even as I said it, a fuzzy image took place in my brain, of Kurt, looking all tiny and defenseless, trying his best to stand up to Puck's teasing. Holy crap, Puck was right. This thing with Kurt wasn't new, it never had been. "Weird."

"You're telling me. I mean, not only is my bro scamming on other guys, but he's been pervving on the same guy for years. It's downright chick flick." He pulled me to my feet. "Come on, now, you're done."

I had drunk the rest of my Gatorade without realizing it. Puck called Kurt while I got my clothes back on, telling him that he had found me and I was safe and we were on the way. I leaned in close, wanting to hear Kurt's voice for just a minute, but Puck had already snapped the phone closed. "Come on; let's get you over to your boy's place."

We were in the car before I had the courage to ask the question that had been bouncing around in my head every since I first touched Kurt. "So, are you ok with Kurt and me?" It didn't come out sounding as tough as I had wanted it to.

He grinned. "As long as you remember that this-"He pointed downwards. "-is ladies only, and I don't have to listen to you and Hummel sing Disney shit to each other, we'll get along just fine."

"Thanks, Dude. I needed to hear that."

But not as much as you need Kurt.