Never Again

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

Chapter 1: Saving Kurt

By the summer of 2024, Staff Sergeant Noah Puckerman was used to noise—the hum of engines at the Air Force base in New York, the clatter of boots, the occasional roar of jets overhead. But the noise that rattled him most came in the form of voicemails from Kurt Anderson.

They started quietly. One or two missed calls late at night, followed by awkward silence or static. Then came the messages. Fragmented, desperate.

"No… please… stop…"

The words never change. The same fear laces Kurt's voice every time.

At first, Noah chalked it up to nightmares. He knew Kurt had struggled with anxiety. But when the calls kept coming—every other night, like clockwork—something in Noah's gut twisted. It wasn't just fear. It was a cry for help.

And then, one night, Kurt showed up at his apartment.

He had Tracy with him.

Noah opened the door, still in uniform, and nearly dropped his phone. Kurt was cradling the five-year-old as if she was breakable—and maybe she was. Her curls were tangled, her arms covered in deep purple bruises. And Kurt? His face was swollen, his eye blackened, his wrist wrapped in a makeshift bandage. He looked like he'd been in a fight with a hurricane and lost.

Noah stepped aside in stunned silence and let them in without a word. His apartment, usually cold and sparse, suddenly felt like the only safe place on Earth.

Kurt tried to lie.

"Silly accident," he said, voice tight. "I tripped on the stairs."

But Noah had seen bruises like those before. On himself. On his mother. He wasn't a kid anymore, and he damn sure wasn't blind.

He made Kurt tea. He tucked Tracy into his bed with her stuffed frog. Then, once the apartment was quiet, Noah started making calls—friends, family, anyone who might know something.

And the truth poured out.

Whispers of shouting matches, of unexplained absences, of Kurt wearing sunglasses indoors. Even Rachel had noticed—but Blaine always had an excuse. Stress. Work. Medication side effects. But Noah connected the dots. It wasn't a headache. Blaine was medicating. It was a temper.

Fueled by rage and a protective instinct that ran deep, Noah confronted Blaine in person.

Blaine denied everything.

Noah didn't believe a word.

With the help of his commanding officer and a JAG attorney, Noah moved quickly. Within 48 hours, Kurt and Tracy were placed under protective watch. Blaine was served with a temporary restraining order and was removed from their shared apartment. Noah wasn't just reacting anymore—he was fighting.

He hadn't saved Beth. He would not fail again.

A week later, Kurt lay in a hospital bed beside Tracy, unconscious but breathing. The doctors said it would take time. Time Noah was willing to give.

A nurse entered the room, glancing at Noah before grinning, "Her Papa's in the ICU now," she said, a touch of fire behind her tone. "And I gotta say—nice work on his face, Uncle Hulk."

Noah chuckled, but there was no real humor behind it. "Figured she'd call me that. How long have they been coming here?"

The nurse sighed, her expression softening as she looked at Tracy. "A year. He came in alone at first. Then with her. She said she wanted to live with you and your wife."

Noah swallowed. "We're not married, yet."

The nurse shrugged. "Still. You're family." Then she left, her shift ending, but the weight of her words stayed with him.

When Blaine finally woke up in the ICU, it was to the sight of Noah standing over him, arms folded, face unreadable.

Noah leaned in, his voice low and cold. "I could kill you right now, Blaine. But I won't. Jail's better. That's what you deserve. You lied to Rachel. You beat your daughter. Kurt might survive—but even if he doesn't, you'll live knowing I'm the one who made sure you never see Tracy again."

He paused, cracked his knuckles, and added, "One way or another, you'll pay."

Blaine trembled. His monitor beeped wildly. He wet the hospital bed.

Back in Kurt and Tracy's room, familiar faces had gathered—Quinn, Santana, Rachel, and even Noah's little sister, Sarah. Rachel stood and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thanks for saving them, Puck."

"Anytime, Rache."

He glanced at Tracy, who was still sleeping. Then he pulled Rachel aside. "We didn't date long. Mostly just hung out. But… did Jake ever tell you anything about our dad?"

Rachel blinked, confused. "Your dad was the one hurting you?"

Noah didn't answer. He didn't have to. Rachel's face fell, and she stormed out.

Noah followed her to the ICU.

Inside, Jake was already there, glaring down at Blaine.

"You know, man," Jake said, voice even. "We used to be friends. But I think I'm about to be a better friend to Rachel right now."

Then he decked Blaine—hard. The sickening crunch echoed. Two black eyes bloomed instantly.

"I did that for Tracy," Jake told Rachel. "You're too good for this."

A text chimed on all their phones.

Tracy was awake.

When they returned, Tracy looked up at them with tear-stained eyes and said, "Auntie Tana told me stories about your dad, Uncle Hulk. That's why I called you so much."

Then she turned to Kurt and whispered, "That's why he made you my only godparent."

She looked at Burt, who had just entered. "It started after he fell. The doctor gave him pills. He turned into Mr. Hyde on a bad day. He hit me first, then Dada. Then more after that. Dada joked once that you was like Grandpa Burt. That's when Papa started hitting him."

Tracy's voice broke. "I tried to save Dada… I got hit while trying to call Uncle Hulk. I didn't tell you 'cause of your heart, Grandpa."

Burt's face turned ashen. He stormed out, shaking, and Noah followed.

In the hallway, Burt's voice cracked with fury. "I trusted that son of a bitch with my son! I should've known! He could die, Puck… and I—God, I didn't protect them."

Noah didn't say a word. He just held him, letting the man cry.

Soon, they were stopped by a young, sharp-eyed nurse. "His parents are in the waiting room. Tracy doesn't need Grandpa Hulk dying on her today. No, she never called you that, but her papa said you two were alike."

She added, "My name is Stacie Young, Jr." My dad's Michael. He told me about Tracy's grandparents. Met them in France, before Tracy's papa was born. Now go. I'll keep you posted."

When Noah walked into the waiting room, Blaine's father, Patrick, looked up.

"I know why you're here. Shelby told us about Beth. I know this hurts. Blaine may not want to give her up, but we both know Tracy loves you most."

He paused. "I'm guessing you're the reason my son needs surgery."

Noah didn't respond. He didn't have to. Patrick's face told him he understood.

Later, as Burt tickled Tracy and Kurt rested beside her, Noah sat quietly at their side.

"The others went to Quinn's baby shower," Burt said. "Rachel told me there was never a godmother chosen. Said Kurt didn't want to pick one because Rachel was Tracy's mom. I guess he thought she didn't need anyone else."

Noah placed a hand on Burt's shoulder. "He'll live, Mr. H."

Outside in the hallway, Burt finally let go, his voice a mixture of guilt and grief. "How did I miss this? How could he let Blaine hurt Tracy and stay with him?"

Noah didn't have answers—only the strength to let Burt fall apart.

When Noah crossed the hall into Blaine's room again, he saw his parents sitting at the bedside. Noah didn't say a word at first. He just stood, arms crossed, lips tight.

"I used to think if I'd been better, my dad wouldn't hit my mom. Or me," he finally said. "I thought all dads were assholes. Then I met Mr. H."

He looked at Blaine, disgust curling in his chest. "I don't know what turned you into this. But I promise you—I'll be a better dad to Tracy than you ever were."

He leaned in close, his breath hot against Blaine's ear.

"It doesn't matter if Kurt lives or dies. You're done. I'll make sure you never see her again."

Then, with a wicked glint in his eye, he whispered:

"Puck smash."

And walked out, never looking back.

Chapter 2 is coming soon.