Not Quite Gone
Title: Not Quite Gone
Character(s)/Pairing: Quinn, Puck
Rating: PG
Word Count: 745
Status: Complete
Notes/Warnings: It's officially an art and fic series. Apparently, I just really like making ghost!Puck arts and then I decided the new arts needed fics to go with them, so... This was born. Don't kill me, guys. The art that started all of this can be found here. Anyone on tumblr that wants to follow the series can just track the "ghost!puck verse" tag I made. As for WARNINGS...um...the character death is kind of obvious. Do I really need to warn for that?
Summary: Before, she could pretend. Pretend that this last week had been nothing more than a bad dream. Pretend that she'd wake up and he wouldn't be... She couldn't pretend anymore. Not when Puck's ghost was standing in the middle of her bedroom.
The first time she saw him, it was a week after the accident. Six days after Mr. Schue called them into the choir room to tell them that there had been an accident and that, no, Puck didn’t make it. Two days after the funeral where she watched his sister sob and his mother scream for someone-anyone-to give her her baby back. One day after she finally broke down and cried as she told the baby in her belly how much her daddy loved her.
It was a flash as she walked down the hallway, hands clasped over her tiny bump. She froze, eyes glued to the corner where she could have sworn…
No. Not possible. He’s dead, Quinn.
She shook her head and continued down the hallway even as her vision swam.
The second time, it was in the mirror later that day. She caught his face in the reflection and spun around to yell at him for being in the girls’ bathroom.
“Puck-”
He wasn’t there.
She was alone.
But she still could have sworn she’d heard his voice.
The third time was unmistakable.
“You look hot in blue.”
She turned so fast that she fell on her bed, eyes wide and a scream halfway up her throat before it got stuck. She just stared at him, still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing when he snuck off campus to get a lunch that wasn’t provided by the school. The clothes he’d died wearing, because he never even made it to Wendy’s, let alone home that day.
He looked… God, he almost looked normal. There wasn’t a mark on him. If it weren’t for the fact that she could stare right through him, she could have told herself that this last week had been nothing more than a bad dream.
“You can see me?”
He sounded as shocked as she felt and she watched as he rushed forward and walked straight through the pile of clothes she’d tossed on the floor.
She nodded at him stiffly as she forced herself to her feet. Brought her hand to his face when he was close enough and flinched.
It was like ice.
“I’ve been trying since… No one else can see me. I…” He looked frazzled. Lost. Scared.
She watched as he started pacing, rambling on about how he’d woken up on the side of the road and saw them taking his body away. About how he’d tried to get someone to respond to him but couldn’t.
“For a second, I thought Sarah saw me, but…” He shook his head and let his hand phase through the stuffed lamb lying on her pillow. “I’m not dreaming. I’m really…”
He couldn’t seem to find the words and she didn’t supply them. She still hadn’t found the strength to say them aloud yet. She could barely admit it in her head.
He stared at her and she watched as his face crumbled. Watched as he ran a head over his mohawk and as a tear slid down his cheek. It dripped off his chin and disappeared.
Hers just made wet spots on the dress he’d been complimenting minutes earlier.
She stepped closer to him, bracing her body against the chill as she put a hand to his cheek again. It did nothing to wipe away the tears, but he composed himself anyway, shoulders squared as he rubbed his face clean.
“I’m dead.”
The words were whispered, but he may as well have screamed them. The final nail in the… She couldn’t bring herself to finish the phrase. It was too real.
Seeing him, this ghost in front of her, she couldn’t pretend anymore. She couldn’t pretend that she was going to wake up to another text from him, begging her to tell Finn the truth.
She couldn’t pretend that he was coming back.
“Quinnie!” her mother yelled. “Finn will be here any second! Come set the table!”
“I’ll be there in a minute!” she called back.
Turned back to where Puck had been standing and realized she was alone again.
She forced a smile when Finn got there and watched as he announced her pregnancy to her parents.
Watched as her life fell apart again.
Puck reappeared in midst of all the yelling and stood behind her while her father stopped being her father. Shouted back as if Russell Fabray could hear him.
His hand phased through hers and she didn’t shiver.
The End
Character(s)/Pairing: Quinn, Puck
Rating: PG
Word Count: 745
Status: Complete
Notes/Warnings: It's officially an art and fic series. Apparently, I just really like making ghost!Puck arts and then I decided the new arts needed fics to go with them, so... This was born. Don't kill me, guys. The art that started all of this can be found here. Anyone on tumblr that wants to follow the series can just track the "ghost!puck verse" tag I made. As for WARNINGS...um...the character death is kind of obvious. Do I really need to warn for that?
Summary: Before, she could pretend. Pretend that this last week had been nothing more than a bad dream. Pretend that she'd wake up and he wouldn't be... She couldn't pretend anymore. Not when Puck's ghost was standing in the middle of her bedroom.
The first time she saw him, it was a week after the accident. Six days after Mr. Schue called them into the choir room to tell them that there had been an accident and that, no, Puck didn’t make it. Two days after the funeral where she watched his sister sob and his mother scream for someone-anyone-to give her her baby back. One day after she finally broke down and cried as she told the baby in her belly how much her daddy loved her.
It was a flash as she walked down the hallway, hands clasped over her tiny bump. She froze, eyes glued to the corner where she could have sworn…
No. Not possible. He’s dead, Quinn.
She shook her head and continued down the hallway even as her vision swam.
The second time, it was in the mirror later that day. She caught his face in the reflection and spun around to yell at him for being in the girls’ bathroom.
“Puck-”
He wasn’t there.
She was alone.
But she still could have sworn she’d heard his voice.
The third time was unmistakable.
“You look hot in blue.”
She turned so fast that she fell on her bed, eyes wide and a scream halfway up her throat before it got stuck. She just stared at him, still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing when he snuck off campus to get a lunch that wasn’t provided by the school. The clothes he’d died wearing, because he never even made it to Wendy’s, let alone home that day.
He looked… God, he almost looked normal. There wasn’t a mark on him. If it weren’t for the fact that she could stare right through him, she could have told herself that this last week had been nothing more than a bad dream.
“You can see me?”
He sounded as shocked as she felt and she watched as he rushed forward and walked straight through the pile of clothes she’d tossed on the floor.
She nodded at him stiffly as she forced herself to her feet. Brought her hand to his face when he was close enough and flinched.
It was like ice.
“I’ve been trying since… No one else can see me. I…” He looked frazzled. Lost. Scared.
She watched as he started pacing, rambling on about how he’d woken up on the side of the road and saw them taking his body away. About how he’d tried to get someone to respond to him but couldn’t.
“For a second, I thought Sarah saw me, but…” He shook his head and let his hand phase through the stuffed lamb lying on her pillow. “I’m not dreaming. I’m really…”
He couldn’t seem to find the words and she didn’t supply them. She still hadn’t found the strength to say them aloud yet. She could barely admit it in her head.
He stared at her and she watched as his face crumbled. Watched as he ran a head over his mohawk and as a tear slid down his cheek. It dripped off his chin and disappeared.
Hers just made wet spots on the dress he’d been complimenting minutes earlier.
She stepped closer to him, bracing her body against the chill as she put a hand to his cheek again. It did nothing to wipe away the tears, but he composed himself anyway, shoulders squared as he rubbed his face clean.
“I’m dead.”
The words were whispered, but he may as well have screamed them. The final nail in the… She couldn’t bring herself to finish the phrase. It was too real.
Seeing him, this ghost in front of her, she couldn’t pretend anymore. She couldn’t pretend that she was going to wake up to another text from him, begging her to tell Finn the truth.
She couldn’t pretend that he was coming back.
“Quinnie!” her mother yelled. “Finn will be here any second! Come set the table!”
“I’ll be there in a minute!” she called back.
Turned back to where Puck had been standing and realized she was alone again.
She forced a smile when Finn got there and watched as he announced her pregnancy to her parents.
Watched as her life fell apart again.
Puck reappeared in midst of all the yelling and stood behind her while her father stopped being her father. Shouted back as if Russell Fabray could hear him.
His hand phased through hers and she didn’t shiver.
The End