(no subject)
Detective Winchester walked slowly toward the front door to the call he'd received, almost unable to believe something like that would happen in Lima, Ohio. Walking into the house, he saw brunette woman sitting calmly on the couch, staring out in front of her. The blue bathrobe she had on stained with blood. On the coffee table in front of her was a blood stained butcher knife in a plastic bag. He felt bile rise when he saw it and smelled the metallic smell of the blood, but he choked it down. He'd been on the force for 15 years, he didn't need to be acting like a rookie. "Mrs. Puckerman, did you kill your children?" He asked, and tried not to wince when the woman looked up at him, a blank expression on her face.
"Yes." She said calmly. "I was tired of doing so much wash. Do you know how hard it is to keep a 13 year old and a 16 year old in clean clothes?"
"Sir, one of them is still alive!" Winchester heard from upstairs, and he looked up, stunned. How could one of the kids with multiple stab wounds still be alive?
"Get them to the hospital!" He yelled as the paramedics came down with the 16 year old boy, pumping oxygen into his lungs to keep his heart going and trying to hold compressions onto his wounds until they could get him sewed up.
---------------------------------------------------
Noah Puckerman woke up disoriented, blinking as his eyes got adjusted to the light. The first thing he noticed was that he was in the hospital, the second thing was that Burt Hummel was sitting in a chair beside his bed, head back, asleep. Puck had to think for a minute, but everything came rushing at him, making tears come to his eyes. He remembered being in his room strumming on his guitar as he heard his mom ranting about doing the wash downstairs. The next thing he remembered was her charging into his room with a butcher knife. Everything after that until he woke up wasn't there. It was then that Burt woke up and noticed Puck was awake as well. "Don't try and talk." He said gently, patting Puck's arm and looking at him sympathetically. "You have stitches." Burt's eyes, although calm, were red like he'd been crying and the slight tremble of his lower lip made it seem like he might again. Burt reached over and grabbed a pen and pad of paper, putting them in Puck's hand. "Are you sore?"
'Little.' Puck managed to scrawl on the paper, feeling a little weak. 'Throat.' Burt reached over again and grabbed a small cup that had a straw sticking out of it and let Puck take a few sips, smiling when Puck licked his lower lip when he pulled away as if it quenched his thirst. 'Bad?' He wrote and Burt shook his head.
"It didn't hit anything important." He said, figuring Puck wouldn't want a lot of coddling. He knew the boy well enough to know that. "You shouldn't talk for a couple of days but they say once the stitches are removed you'll be just fine." He patted Puck's arm comfortingly.
'Sarah?' He asked, and tears definitely filled Burt's eyes.
"I'm sorry." He said, and Puck knew. He knew. His little sister. His peanut. His buttercup. Gone. Tears filled his own eyes and his lips set into a stubborn scowl as he wrote something else.
'Want Kurt and Finn.' He wrote, showing Burt. The older man nodded and stood, walking out of the room. A few minutes later the smaller diva of a boy and his taller step brother walked in, Kurt making a b-line toward the bed while Finn hung back a bit. Puck wrote something on the pad and held it up for Finn to see. 'No one comes in.' The taller brunette nodded, understanding. Puck wanted him to keep an eye out. He pulled the chair away from the bed and closer to the door, sitting down in it and taking out his phone, starting to play a game on it.
"I'm so sorry." Kurt said softly, his voice rough, as if he'd been crying for a long time. He had. Reaching out a slender hand, he ran his hand gently over Puck's head, his thumb rubbing over the bald side on the side of his mohawk.
'Now?' Puck wrote, hoping Kurt would understand.
"You get better." He said, trying his hardest to sound firm in his conviction. "After that, you get out of the hospital and come to live with us. Dad and Carole are already working on getting temporary custody. He's going to put a spare bed in Finn's room. But just think, you can sneak down after everyone's asleep and we can make out." He smiled down at Puck who smiled back a bit and pulled Kurt down, kissing him softly. It was all he could manage.
'Look bad?' He asked, and Kurt was shaking his head before he even finished writing.
"You look just fine." He said, stroking Puck's head again. "And hey, this is my excuse to get you into those turtlenecks I keep trying to get you to wear." Puck rolled his eyes but smiled a bit, glad that Kurt was trying to treat him like normal. He didn't know how he'd cope without it. "You're going to be fine, Noah. I swear that to you. It may take a while but you'll be ok. Just think, at least we're keeping Rachel from barging in. She's been making a list of appropriate songs to sing to you as soon as someone lets her."
'Might be nice.' Puck wrote, smiling as he thought of Rachel's voice. Sure she could be all kind's of crazy at times, but she was a good friend. 'In the mean time, will you sing?' He was getting tired then and Kurt took the pad and pen from him and put them on the night stand, humming softly as Puck fell asleep.
------------------------------------------------
As Puck walked into what was now his and Finn's room he guessed, he felt his emotions overwhelm him as he looked around and saw a mix of their things. He'd been in the hospital for over a month and his stitches had finally come out. Everytime Kurt looked at him, Puck swore his eyes darted to Puck's throat for a second. It made him feel self-conscious, something he didn't ever think he of all people would feel. He almost considered the emotion a myth. Almost. Sighing, he grabbed his journal, that his therapist he'd been forced to see said might help him keep track of his feelings, and walked out to the back porch, Gaga, the little greyhound puppy Kurt had convinced Burt and Carole to let Puck get, following him. Kurt, of course, had named her. Puck sat down in one of the chairs there and invited the brindle puppy into his lap, settling her after curling a leg under him. Once the small puppy had curled up to go to sleep, Puck opened his journal and started the entry off the same way he did them all, finding it easier to write that way.
Kurt,
It's hard again, I guess I'm having one of those days. The one's I always tell you about. I've not had one in a little while, which I guess is good. I guess I just remembered that Sarah's birthday would've been Wednesday. She would've been 14. I miss her, just as much now as the first day. Will it ever stop? Will it ever get better? I hate my mom for what she did. She was never the best mom, and most of the time it was me taking on the load of responsibility but nothing can excuse what she did. I'm glad she's getting help, though. I'm glad the judge decided to put her in a mental facility instead of jail. I know in jail she would've gotten the death sentence and I don't want that. As much as I hate her, I don't want that. I guess this means I'm getting better since I told my therapist our first appointment 'screw that bitch, I hope she rots in Hell'.
I don't know what I would do without you, Finn, Burt and especially Carole. Sometimes, and I know you won't judge me for this, sometimes I feel like crying when I look at her. She's how I remember my mom being...before dad left she could've been Carole. But she's not, and that makes me sad. I envy Finn for having a mom like her. Sometimes I ask myself what I did to have a mom like I had. But I guess it's obvious when I look back on things what I did. All those people I bullied...hell, you were one of them. Stealing from the ATM. It's all right there in my memory. Every bit of it. That's my burden and I don't know that I can get rid of that. Maybe one day.
Noah
After writing, Puck stood, holding Gaga with one hand and his journal and pen with the other and went inside. He put the small puppy down once he'd let the screen door fall closed behind him and smelled dinner cooking. Wandering into the kitchen he saw Kurt and Carole cooking together, and it made him smile. Walking over, he handed his journal to Kurt before wrapping his arms around Carole, who to her credit seemed shocked, but willingly hugged him back tightly as Kurt took the journal and sat down at the kitchen table to read. This was their routine. Puck let Kurt in on how he felt, and everyone left him alone unless he wanted to specifically talk out loud about something. It wasn't very often and if it happened most of the time it was with Kurt or Carole. But that was ok since Finn and Burt weren't big talkers a lot of the time. That's how they preferred things.
Once dinner was over, Puck went upstairs and looked over, seeing his guitar sitting in its case. He hadn't picked it up or attempted to sing ever since that day. Biting his lip, he heard Finn call out that he was going over to the Berry's for a bit, and that cemented things. He walked over and picked the guitar up, sitting on his bed and strumming experimentally before a song came to his mind. As he began to sing quietly, tears stung his eyes, the words hitting a little too close to home.
Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you now
You got someone to blame
You say...
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you baby if you
Don't care for it
Did I disappoint you
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's...
Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One...
Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
As he sang, Puck struggled for breath, the sobs threatening to tear themselves out of his body, his hands shaking on the guitar. He could barely get the words out, but he couldn't make himself stop either. Another voice joined him and he looked up to see Kurt leaning against the door frame.
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
Well we
Hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt
One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One...life
One
As the song finished, Kurt walked over and moved the guitar off of Puck's lap, and sat down, wrapping his arms around Puck's neck, just gazing down at him. Finally he leaned in and kissed him before letting Puck just cry everything out while he rubbed his back gently.
"Yes." She said calmly. "I was tired of doing so much wash. Do you know how hard it is to keep a 13 year old and a 16 year old in clean clothes?"
"Sir, one of them is still alive!" Winchester heard from upstairs, and he looked up, stunned. How could one of the kids with multiple stab wounds still be alive?
"Get them to the hospital!" He yelled as the paramedics came down with the 16 year old boy, pumping oxygen into his lungs to keep his heart going and trying to hold compressions onto his wounds until they could get him sewed up.
---------------------------------------------------
Noah Puckerman woke up disoriented, blinking as his eyes got adjusted to the light. The first thing he noticed was that he was in the hospital, the second thing was that Burt Hummel was sitting in a chair beside his bed, head back, asleep. Puck had to think for a minute, but everything came rushing at him, making tears come to his eyes. He remembered being in his room strumming on his guitar as he heard his mom ranting about doing the wash downstairs. The next thing he remembered was her charging into his room with a butcher knife. Everything after that until he woke up wasn't there. It was then that Burt woke up and noticed Puck was awake as well. "Don't try and talk." He said gently, patting Puck's arm and looking at him sympathetically. "You have stitches." Burt's eyes, although calm, were red like he'd been crying and the slight tremble of his lower lip made it seem like he might again. Burt reached over and grabbed a pen and pad of paper, putting them in Puck's hand. "Are you sore?"
'Little.' Puck managed to scrawl on the paper, feeling a little weak. 'Throat.' Burt reached over again and grabbed a small cup that had a straw sticking out of it and let Puck take a few sips, smiling when Puck licked his lower lip when he pulled away as if it quenched his thirst. 'Bad?' He wrote and Burt shook his head.
"It didn't hit anything important." He said, figuring Puck wouldn't want a lot of coddling. He knew the boy well enough to know that. "You shouldn't talk for a couple of days but they say once the stitches are removed you'll be just fine." He patted Puck's arm comfortingly.
'Sarah?' He asked, and tears definitely filled Burt's eyes.
"I'm sorry." He said, and Puck knew. He knew. His little sister. His peanut. His buttercup. Gone. Tears filled his own eyes and his lips set into a stubborn scowl as he wrote something else.
'Want Kurt and Finn.' He wrote, showing Burt. The older man nodded and stood, walking out of the room. A few minutes later the smaller diva of a boy and his taller step brother walked in, Kurt making a b-line toward the bed while Finn hung back a bit. Puck wrote something on the pad and held it up for Finn to see. 'No one comes in.' The taller brunette nodded, understanding. Puck wanted him to keep an eye out. He pulled the chair away from the bed and closer to the door, sitting down in it and taking out his phone, starting to play a game on it.
"I'm so sorry." Kurt said softly, his voice rough, as if he'd been crying for a long time. He had. Reaching out a slender hand, he ran his hand gently over Puck's head, his thumb rubbing over the bald side on the side of his mohawk.
'Now?' Puck wrote, hoping Kurt would understand.
"You get better." He said, trying his hardest to sound firm in his conviction. "After that, you get out of the hospital and come to live with us. Dad and Carole are already working on getting temporary custody. He's going to put a spare bed in Finn's room. But just think, you can sneak down after everyone's asleep and we can make out." He smiled down at Puck who smiled back a bit and pulled Kurt down, kissing him softly. It was all he could manage.
'Look bad?' He asked, and Kurt was shaking his head before he even finished writing.
"You look just fine." He said, stroking Puck's head again. "And hey, this is my excuse to get you into those turtlenecks I keep trying to get you to wear." Puck rolled his eyes but smiled a bit, glad that Kurt was trying to treat him like normal. He didn't know how he'd cope without it. "You're going to be fine, Noah. I swear that to you. It may take a while but you'll be ok. Just think, at least we're keeping Rachel from barging in. She's been making a list of appropriate songs to sing to you as soon as someone lets her."
'Might be nice.' Puck wrote, smiling as he thought of Rachel's voice. Sure she could be all kind's of crazy at times, but she was a good friend. 'In the mean time, will you sing?' He was getting tired then and Kurt took the pad and pen from him and put them on the night stand, humming softly as Puck fell asleep.
------------------------------------------------
As Puck walked into what was now his and Finn's room he guessed, he felt his emotions overwhelm him as he looked around and saw a mix of their things. He'd been in the hospital for over a month and his stitches had finally come out. Everytime Kurt looked at him, Puck swore his eyes darted to Puck's throat for a second. It made him feel self-conscious, something he didn't ever think he of all people would feel. He almost considered the emotion a myth. Almost. Sighing, he grabbed his journal, that his therapist he'd been forced to see said might help him keep track of his feelings, and walked out to the back porch, Gaga, the little greyhound puppy Kurt had convinced Burt and Carole to let Puck get, following him. Kurt, of course, had named her. Puck sat down in one of the chairs there and invited the brindle puppy into his lap, settling her after curling a leg under him. Once the small puppy had curled up to go to sleep, Puck opened his journal and started the entry off the same way he did them all, finding it easier to write that way.
Kurt,
It's hard again, I guess I'm having one of those days. The one's I always tell you about. I've not had one in a little while, which I guess is good. I guess I just remembered that Sarah's birthday would've been Wednesday. She would've been 14. I miss her, just as much now as the first day. Will it ever stop? Will it ever get better? I hate my mom for what she did. She was never the best mom, and most of the time it was me taking on the load of responsibility but nothing can excuse what she did. I'm glad she's getting help, though. I'm glad the judge decided to put her in a mental facility instead of jail. I know in jail she would've gotten the death sentence and I don't want that. As much as I hate her, I don't want that. I guess this means I'm getting better since I told my therapist our first appointment 'screw that bitch, I hope she rots in Hell'.
I don't know what I would do without you, Finn, Burt and especially Carole. Sometimes, and I know you won't judge me for this, sometimes I feel like crying when I look at her. She's how I remember my mom being...before dad left she could've been Carole. But she's not, and that makes me sad. I envy Finn for having a mom like her. Sometimes I ask myself what I did to have a mom like I had. But I guess it's obvious when I look back on things what I did. All those people I bullied...hell, you were one of them. Stealing from the ATM. It's all right there in my memory. Every bit of it. That's my burden and I don't know that I can get rid of that. Maybe one day.
Noah
After writing, Puck stood, holding Gaga with one hand and his journal and pen with the other and went inside. He put the small puppy down once he'd let the screen door fall closed behind him and smelled dinner cooking. Wandering into the kitchen he saw Kurt and Carole cooking together, and it made him smile. Walking over, he handed his journal to Kurt before wrapping his arms around Carole, who to her credit seemed shocked, but willingly hugged him back tightly as Kurt took the journal and sat down at the kitchen table to read. This was their routine. Puck let Kurt in on how he felt, and everyone left him alone unless he wanted to specifically talk out loud about something. It wasn't very often and if it happened most of the time it was with Kurt or Carole. But that was ok since Finn and Burt weren't big talkers a lot of the time. That's how they preferred things.
Once dinner was over, Puck went upstairs and looked over, seeing his guitar sitting in its case. He hadn't picked it up or attempted to sing ever since that day. Biting his lip, he heard Finn call out that he was going over to the Berry's for a bit, and that cemented things. He walked over and picked the guitar up, sitting on his bed and strumming experimentally before a song came to his mind. As he began to sing quietly, tears stung his eyes, the words hitting a little too close to home.
Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you now
You got someone to blame
You say...
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you baby if you
Don't care for it
Did I disappoint you
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's...
Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One...
Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
As he sang, Puck struggled for breath, the sobs threatening to tear themselves out of his body, his hands shaking on the guitar. He could barely get the words out, but he couldn't make himself stop either. Another voice joined him and he looked up to see Kurt leaning against the door frame.
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
Well we
Hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt
One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One...life
One
As the song finished, Kurt walked over and moved the guitar off of Puck's lap, and sat down, wrapping his arms around Puck's neck, just gazing down at him. Finally he leaned in and kissed him before letting Puck just cry everything out while he rubbed his back gently.