It's Your Song That Sets Me Free - Puck/Rachel - R - Part Fourteen
Title: It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Hold On)
Category: Glee
Genre: Tragedy/Angst/Romance
Ship: Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC17/R
Warning(s): Coarse/Sexual Language, Sexual Content, Themes of Depression, Substance Abuse, Character Death, Suicidal Themes
Word Count: 7,400
Summary: Rachel Berry had no idea what events would transpire that day. How standing up for someone she didn't know would eventually lead to tragedy. And Noah Puckerman was the unfortunate boy who had to deal with the aftermath; only he had no idea how. And coping was never his strong suit.
Previous: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen,
dhfreak
It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Hold On)
-Novel-
XIV.
Finn woke him up. Puck didn't know when Carole left or how long he'd been sleeping, but the others were gone and Finn was ushering him out of the house and into the truck for his meeting with Miss Pillsbury.
He was still tired and his body still ached whenever he moved, but at least his headache was long gone. The drive to McKinley was uneventful; even Finn, who was always trying to force him into some kind of conversation, stayed quiet, not even fiddling with the radio. He watched the scenery fly by the window, everything getting more and more familiar the closer they got, until finally they were pulling into the school parking lot.
Puck was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he sat down in Miss Pillsbury's office, a yawn cracking his jaw.
She rearranged random items on her desk; her pencils, a few notebooks, some folders. "How was your morning with Finn and the others?" she asked, smiling at him hopefully.
He raised a brow but didn't say anything. His mind flashed back to Carole and how she smelled like mom. It was one of those scents that just permeated certain people. Like it had no distinct flower smell or anything; it was just one of those smells that only moms had. It was comforting and warm. He kinda missed it.
"Finn was very eager for you to have some time with the boys…" Her eyebrows rose impossibly higher. "He said it might be cathartic."
Puck snorted. No way Finn Hudson used the word cathartic, and especially not the right away.
He could see Miss P deflating before his eyes, her gaze darting around, color filling her pale face, her fingers knotting together.
There was a time when making people uncomfortable, when asserting his badassness and making others cringe in fear, was like a game to him; a boost to his already inflated ego. But now, there was just a tiny bit of remorse as she stuttered over pleasantries and searched for a way to get him to talk. Not enough for him to actually sit back and play patient to her under qualified psychiatry, but still…
"Finn said you talked to his mother too…" She stared at him straight forward then. "I've been getting calls from Mrs. Hudson-Hummel for awhile now…" She frowned, her lips thinning and turning down. "She's one of a few different adults that have been checking in with me on your progress…"
He vaguely kicked the bottom of her desk then. "What happened to doctor-client privileges or whatever…?" He raised a brow.
She cleared her throat. "Well, that was… It was before you had your mandatory meetings with me… And since then…" She played with her pencils, lining them up and turning them over until the writing on the sides were upright. "There's not a whole lot to tell, is there?"
He still frowned, wondering what they asked and what she told them. His first thought was of the Berrys. Did Leroy and Hiram call? Did they care?
But he didn't ask, because he knew the answer, really. He just didn't like the guilt that came with it.
"You have a lot of people who care about you, Puck…" She leaned forward in her chair to stare at him meaningfully. "A lot of people who want to help you." She shook her head. "You should try letting them in."
He picked at the arm of the chair, brows furrowed.
She sighed then, chin falling, resolve in place. She checked the time and then sat back again. "Okay… Have you given any more thought to writing it all down in a journal?"
He raised a brow at her that basically said, 'Yeah fucking right.'
The rest of their counseling session was a whole lot of the same.
../..
When Finn dropped him off from school, Puck was tired. Seemed the nap he took at the Hudson-Hummel house had kicked his exhaustion into action and he thought he might just be able to get some shut eye.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow," Finn said as he reached for the door to let himself out.
Puck vaguely nodded at him.
Shifting uncomfortably, he offered, "Santana's having a part tomorrow night…" He raised a brow. "Maybe… I dunno, maybe it'd be good for you… Blow off some steam…"
He stared at him, lips pursed. Yeah, because partying at Santana's really sounded like where he wanted to be. He hadn't been into that scene much for awhile now. Every once in a while, if the party wasn't too big, he and Rachel would swing by. But the bigger the crowd, the nastier the people. And even if Rachel had him on her side, the others, save for most of the glee club, just didn't like her. So it always turned into something and things were broken and people's faces were smashed, and Puck was being dragged away by his girlfriend before the cops could be called. Not his best memories by far.
"Don't sign me up," he told him, hopping onto his lawn and reaching back to close the door.
Finn frowned. "What about Saturday?" he asked. "You could come over, have dinner with the family…" He stared searchingly. "Kurt'll be back in town; he's coming back from Dalton for the weekend."
Puck knew what he was doing. He was trying to force himself into Puck's life on the weekend too, lowering the chances he'd have to get good and dead.
"I'm free Saturday," he told him, before shutting the door and walking backwards up the lawn.
Finn half-smiled hopefully, waved, and then drove off.
Puck's eyes darted to the grass before he turned on his heel and walked inside. He told himself he wouldn't feel regret, but it welled up a little anyway.
When he walked into the house, he could hear his mom in the kitchen. He hadn't bothered checking the driveway, but he knew her humming and under-the-breath cursing in Yiddish anywhere.
Sarah was on the couch in pretty much the exact same place she'd been when he left. Her legs were curled up beneath her and she had the remote in her hand, her other hand holding her head up, her hair tangled and ratty from no doubt playing around at school like the worriless kid she could be. He missed those days. When the biggest thing he had on his plate was homework. Felt like a lifetime ago, but then maybe it was.
There are a lot of people who care about you, Puck... You should try letting them in.
As he kicked his boots off, Puck stared at his little sister a long moment.
Sarah was young and naïve and she didn't understand most of what had happened. She was worried; about him. And every time she reached out, he'd shoved her back.
He ground his teeth together and walked toward the stairs.
"Sarah, turn off the TV. Why don't you get your homework out?" his mother called from the kitchen.
Slumping lower on the couch, she cast her head back and crossed her eyes. "I don't wanna…" she whined.
"Sarah Marlene Puckerman!"
She huffed, groaning as she threw herself sideways down on the couch cushions. "I hate Math…" she complained, kicking her feet up into the air.
For just a split second, Puck felt an amused smile tug at his lips. Brows furrowed, he looked from her to the stairs and then sighed. "Grab your books, Squirt…"
Sarah looked up, her eyes wide and her eyebrows hiked. "Really?" she said hopefully.
Guilt reared its ugly head again but he tamped it down. "Meet me in my room, bring snacks," he said, and not bothering to wait for her, he climbed upstairs.
So much for that nap.
../..
Ten minutes later, Sarah pushed his door open a crack and asked carefully, "Noah…?"
"Yeah." He turned around in his desk chair, resting his arm on the back. "C'mon… I don't got all afternoon."
Biting her lip as she smiled, she rushed into his room, leaving the door wide open and dragging her princess backpack behind her, bumping at her heels. Her other arm was full of random snacks; juice packs and granola bars, an individual pack of Oreos, and some fruit snacks.
She dropped it on the top of his desk and then hauled her backpack up and dropped it in his lap.
He unzipped the top and grabbed out her grade four math book and her binder to drop it all on his desk. "What else you got?"
"Spelling," she said, reaching inside and pulling out her spiral notebook. "I have to practice 'cause we're having a spelling bee tomorrow."
He grunted and then stood from his chair. He grabbed her up under her armpits and dropped her in his chair, turning it back around so she was facing her books. "Math first, then we'll get to the other crap."
Sarah nodded happily, kicking her feet back and forth. "Your desk is big. I thought mine was big at school. Mine's the biggest in the whole class. But this one's bigger," she told him, happily.
He rolled his eyes slightly, shaking his head. "What page?"
She leaned forward. "Umm…" She flipped her book open and searched around a little. "Here. I'm on this one. I have to do…" She stuck her tongue out thoughtfully and then pointed. "From here to here."
"'Kay… Do you know what you're doing?"
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "Maybe you should do it and I'll watch."
That tugging at his mouth reappeared. "Nice try, brat."
She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, but turned back around. "I think I know…"
"Show me."
She nodded.
For the next hour, Puck hovered over her shoulder, helping her here or there, finding himself proud when she figured things out on her own. She tried to convince him he could do it for her a couple more times, that Puckerman charm of hers kicking in, but he wasn't going for it.
They were halfway through her spelling, when she turned to look at him, hands curled around the back of her chair, legs swinging, staring at him thoughtfully as he lay sprawled on his bed.
"Spell 'whistling'," he told her.
She wrinkled her nose. "Whistling," she repeated to herself. "W-H-I-S…" She frowned. "Whis-ling…" She shook her head. "Um, L…" she dragged out, narrowing her eyes.
He frowned.
"No! Okay, um… Oh, T!" she cried.
He nodded.
"Then L." She smiled in satisfaction. "I-N-G!"
"Not bad."
Her eyes fell as she picked at the top of the chair. "Noah?"
"Hm?" he replied distractedly. Her next word was 'consistent,' which seemed kind of big for a nine year old.
"Does this mean you're not sad anymore?" she wondered.
He paused, his eyes falling away from her spelling bee list. Licking his lips, he sat up, resting an arm on his upturned knee. "Why?"
She frowned. "I don't like it when you're sad…"
Dropping her list to the side, he dragged his fingers down his head, scrubbing the stubble there. His jaw ticked as he let out a long, heavy sigh. "Sarah…" He cleared his throat. "Do you… D'ya know what death is?"
Her brows furrowed. "Kind of…"
He nodded, closing his eyes briefly. He really didn't want to have this conversation. "C'mere."
Hopping down from the chair, she crossed the room and climbed onto his bed, crossing her legs and staring at him.
"What'd ma tell you happened to Rachel?" he asked, picking at his jeans.
"That she got hurt and now she was in a place where she wouldn't hurt anymore…" She wiggled in her seat. "But when she's all better, she can just come back, right?"
His jaw ticked. "It's not like that…"
Her brows furrowed.
"You remember…" He paused, clearing his throat. "You remember when our dog Kingsley got really sick and mom took him away and you never saw him again?"
She nodded.
"Kingsley died, Sar… And when something or someone dies, they don't…" He ground his teeth, swallowing tightly. "They don't come back and they don't get better." He shook his head. "Kingsley was old and he… P-People die when they get old. Shit stops working and their heart gives up or just…" He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "It's just how it goes. One day when you're old and wrinkly like Nana Connie, even you'll die."
"But Rachel wasn't old." She gripped the blanket beneath her tightly, wadding it in her fingers. "She was young and pretty and she was gonna go to New York and sing there!"
"I know. But sometimes…" His voice cracked. "Even when you're young…" His throat burned. "And you had your whole damn life ahead of you…" His hands shook violently so he furled them into fists, closing his eyes tight and willing himself to calm down.
"Was Rachel sick?" she wondered. "She didn't look sick…"
He shook his head jerkily. "No, she… She was perfect."
"I don't understand," she cried. "Rachel was really nice and she wasn't sick or old. So why did she have to go, Noah? Why can't she come back?" She hiccupped on a sob, her eyes filling with tears and her face mottled in angry confusion.
"It doesn't…" He let out a shaky breath. "It doesn't matter how, okay? What matters is you need to know that when people die, they don't come back anymore… So you have to… You have to stop waiting for her, okay? And asking for her or looking for her…" He shook his head. "'Cause when they're gone they-They stay gone…" He stared at her searchingly.
"No." She shoved off the bed and whirled around to glare at him and balling her hands at her sides. "That's stupid! And you're stupid! And you probably made her go away because you were mean and she didn't like you anymore!" She pointed at him angrily. "But she was my friend too, Noah! And I want her back! And she'll come back for me 'cause she said-" She hiccupped painfully. "She said I was her sister, okay?" She stomped her foot, sniffling.
"I know… I know she did and she meant it, okay?" He shifted to face her better. "Rachel loved you. And she didn't want to go."
"Then why…" She shook her head, her shoulders quivering. "Why'd she go, Noah?" Sniffling, she ran at him and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. "I want her back," she whimpered. "Please. Please can she come back? I'll be really good, okay? I won't-I won't play with your guitar no more, I pr-I promise!"
Swallowing thickly, Puck wrapped his arms around her slowly. "I'm sorry," he breathed, shutting his eyes against his tears.
Twenty minutes later, she'd cried herself to sleep, murmuring over and over, "She'll come back. She will."
He didn't have it in him to argue with her anymore.
../..
When dinner time rolled around, Puck had already put her homework back in her bag and dropped in her bedroom. Sarah woke to hear her mother shouting her name. Rubbing her eyes, she climbed out of his bed and walked to the door. Pausing, she looked back at him. "Are people happy when they die?"
He glanced at her and for a moment, all he could think of was Rachel falling down those stairs, her head cracked wide open. Was she happy? Living would have made her happy. New York and Broadway would have made her happy. Spending her life with him would have made her happy. But death… There was nothing happy about death.
"Some are," he said, and before she could ask anymore, he said, "Dinner's waiting."
She nodded faintly, turned on her heel, and walked out the door.
Hearing her footsteps stomp down the stairs, he stood up from his desk, tossing his pen vaguely toward the cup that usually housed it.
He could smell dinner as he followed his sister down and his stomach rumbled appreciatively. When he walked into the kitchen, his mom looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide. He hadn't eaten with them in what felt like ages. Taking his usual seat at the table, he ignored her incredulous staring and started filling his plate. Despite the way his stomach ached for food, his head told him he wasn't hungry, didn't need food.
Sarah was quick to fill the silence. "I got all my homework done," she told her mom. "I did all my math and my teacher's gonna be really surprised because I even did the bonus questions."
"Good," their mother said, nodding. "You clean your room yet?"
She deflated some. "Kinda…" she muttered.
Puck stared at his plate a long second and scooped his fork full of mashed potatoes. But when he looked up, he found himself staring at the extra chair and where Rachel used to sit. Where she'd go on and on about her day and her dance classes and vocal lessons. She'd charm his mom with stories about aceing some test in school or getting a solo in glee and then she'd praise him and his efforts and how much hard work he'd put into his schooling, or she'd talk about college and New York in the fall and how close it was, how excited they were. She'd reach for his hand and squeeze it or she'd rub her foot against his leg and then she'd smile at him, big and bright.
But the chair was empty and there was no plate there. There was no tofu substitute cooked up and she wasn't trying to convince Sarah that being a vegan or even a vegetarian was a much better lifestyle. There was no hand clasped in his and no smile turned in his direction. There was nothing but a spot where she used to be, a place where her plate used to rest, a coaster that only she used.
"Puck?" his mom's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you okay?"
He looked back at her, the crease at her brows and the purse of her lips. "No," he replied simply. Without explaining further, he dug into his meal. "Tell mom how to spell whistling, Sarah," he told her.
Sitting up straighter in her chair, Sarah lifted her chin proudly. "W-H-I-S-T…" She grinned at him, "L-I-N-G." She nodded in triumph.
His mom eventually dragged her gaze from him and turned a brittle smile on her daughter. "That's… great, Sarah," she offered.
They spent the rest of the meal avoiding the obvious.
../..
That night, Puck put Sarah to bed for the first time since the night before Rachel died.
Sitting up in her bed, with her pink princess lamp on and her nightlight flashing in the corner, she stared up at him hopefully. "Will you sing to me?" She pressed her hands together pleadingly and stuck them under her chin. "Please, Noah, please!"
Sighing, he walked back to his room, grabbed up his guitar and brought it with him to her room, taking a seat on her bed. "Any preferences?"
She pursed her lips, turned her eyes up, and then shook her head. "Nope!" she said, popping the 'p.' Wiggling further under her blanket, she smoothed it out and put her head back on her pillow. "Okay!"
He half-smiled and then turned, resting his guitar in his lap and dragging his thumb down the strings. He'd had to replace them the other day, when Finn gave his guitar back, the strings broken and stained in blood from the memorial assembly.
Taking a deep breath, he started picking at the chords to a song he'd heard Johnny Cash sing a number of times.
The haunting tune of his guitar filled the room.
Sarah never took her eyes off his fingers.
The other night dear,
as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed I held you in my arms…
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried…
Puck licked his dry lips and dropped his gaze to his own hands, watching as they moved easily and knowingly across the strings.
You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are gray,
You'll never know dear, how much I love you,
Please don't take my sunshine away…
He clenched his teeth tight as he picked away, closing his eyes and just feeling the tune melt into him.
It filled the silence; a melancholy tune that he felt from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.
I've always loved you and made you happy,
And nothing else could come between…
In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me
When I awake my poor heart pains…
So when you come back and make me happy,
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame…
Brows furrowed, he opened his eyes to see Sarah's falling closed.
She gave a gentle sigh before falling peacefully to sleep.
He finished the song still.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away…
As he sat there, hand pressed over the chords to still them, he half-smiled at his sister. At her gentle face, not a worry in sight, her dark hair falling over her cheek.
Climbing off her bed, he bent down to kiss her forehead before he flicked the light off and walked out of her room.
He hoped, when she looked back on him, she remembered him like this; like the big brother that loved her, screwed up as he might have been.
../..
Puck laid in his bed that night, a shaft of light from the street lamp crossing his floor.
His body felt heavy and his eyes dry. A headache was clawing its way closer, just on the fringes of his temples.
One hand was furled in her pink nightgown while his other was spread across his chest, fingers tapping over where his heart lay.
Sometimes, he wondered if he could make it end by sheer will; if he could just quit breathing or tell his heart to stop beating.
He fell asleep trying.
../..
Friday morning seemed to go by quickly. Puck went through the same routine of sitting in class while doing nothing but staring out the window, ignoring Finn who met him when each period ended, and eventually making his way to the stage at break.
"So you're sure you don't want to come to Santana's?" Finn asked, picking the label off his apple.
He shook his head.
"Everybody from the glee club's gonna be there," he told him, brows hiked. "Well, I mean, except Mr. Shue…"
"You ever get tired of it, Finn?"
He frowned. "Of what?"
"Tagging along after me everywhere… Worrying I'll off myself any second…" He stared searchingly. "What's the point?"
Finn's face hardened. "I know you don't get it and maybe you have given up on yourself, but I care… And I don't want you to do something stupid, Puck. Something you can't take back…" He leaned forward and shook his head. "Do you get that? You can't undo this!"
Puck turned his eyes back out to the room of empty chairs. "So let's say you do it… Let's say you talk me out of it… What then?"
He shifted in his seat, shaking his head slightly. "What d'you mean?"
"What happens after?" He shrugged a shoulder. "I go to New York and, what? Go to college, open my club, settle down with some chick I don't love half as much and pop out some kids?" He turned to look at him. "Spend my whole life looking at those kids and wondering what they would have turned out like if they were Rachel's…" He clenched his teeth. "Sing at my club every night, always searching for her face in the crowd…" He shook his head. "Wake up every morning reaching for her…" He swallowed thickly. "I had it, y'know… I had all of it…" His eyes darted to and fro, but they were unseeing. "I had this amazing girl that I…" He fisted his hands. "I love her so much, Finn…" He turned to look at him. "I can't…" He licked his lips, digging his teeth into one as he tried to control how his mouth shook. "I can't see myself living that life anymore… I can't see myself without her…"
Finn's eyes fell. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah…" He scoffed under his breath, reaching up to wipe at his face. "I know."
They sat in silence the rest of break.
../..
When Puck walked into the counselor's office, Emma raised her chin stubbornly. "I know you don't want to talk to me and I know you're probably looking forward to the weekend so you'll get away from me and my questions. And I know I probably haven't been as helpful as you need or as I'd like to be, but I'm trying and I hope you know that I'm only doing this for your benefit. I just want you to-"
"My dad was a deadbeat," he interrupted her.
She paused, mouth agape, and stared at him with wide, bright eyes. "I-I'm sorry?"
He nodded, taking a seat in front of her, dropping his bag by his feet. "He ran out on us when I was pretty young. Not so young I didn't remember him, but young enough that I still needed him, y'know…" He nodded, leaning back in the chair. "Him and my ma used to fight all the time, about stupid-just dumb ass shit…" He tapped his finger against the arm rest anxiously. "And I hated it. I hated all the screaming and yelling and I used to pray for it to stop. Sometimes I even got in the middle and I'd yell at them, I'd beg them to stop…" He licked his lips, eyes darting away. "And he'd shove me out of the room or they'd just use me against the other. My mom-" He smiled cynically. "She was always saying, 'See what you did? See who you're hurting?' It just-It never stopped…"
He shook his head. "I used to wish my dad was more like Finn's, y'know… Dead." His jaw ticked. "'Cause then I'd just have a memory and not this flawed, fucked up, asshole that was always complaining about how me and ma screwed up his life…" He sniffed, tapping his foot. "Sometimes… I could tell. I could feel it when he looked at me. Like it was all my fault and it'd be so much better if I wasn't around… He'd be on the road with his guitar and no bratty kid at his heels…" He ground his teeth. "And I'd think, 'whatever, doesn't matter, 'cause I am here and he's like, stuck with me…'" He snorted. "And then one day he just wasn't there and y'know… I missed him. I-I missed that guy who taught me how to play guitar and charm girls and who watched cartoons with me… The guy who always let me be the superhero when we played good guys and bad guys… The guy who taught me how to throw a punch and how to dodge one… Who used to sing to me, every night before bed…" He shrugged. "I even missed the fighting. 'Cause at least then I knew he was around. That he cared enough to stay…"
She was staring at him, her hands spread out on the top of her desk, that pitying look on her face he'd known all too well.
"And my mom…" He scoffed bitterly. "My mom wasn't the same after that." He shook his head. "We had Sarah then, she was just a baby, she always wanted attention, always crying… And without dad around to help pay the bills, ma took on more shifts at the hospital. We spent a lot of time at Nana Connie's, but she was getting old, she didn't have the energy for us… So I had to grow up and fast. Ma said I had to be a man now. And I tried to, y'know? I-I tried to be a man for her…" He ground his teeth. "But I could see it in her eyes…" He blinked rapidly. "She hated me… She… She hated that I looked like him and I-I was the reason she even married him, so, it was my fault…" He swallowed tightly. "And I got it. I-It didn't always bug me, even. I just… I got really good at not caring…" He dropped his eyes. "I got really good at looking for other people to care about me, to love me…" He squeezed his hands into fists. "And when they didn't, I thought maybe it was them, y'know?" He glanced at her. "Maybe I needed to be more like my old man. Maybe I just needed to stop needing it so damn much. So I told myself-I said, 'Puck, man, you don't need this shit. You don't need a wife or a-a girlfriend.'" He shook his head, his brows furrowed. "'Some nag of a ball and chain holding you down…'" He nodded. "So I slept around and I started up my pool service and met a whole lot of women who didn't want a boyfriend or a husband, just somebody to make 'em feel good, y'know? And I was good at that. I could do that…"
Emma's face suffused red at the implication, eyes darting away.
"And y'know, when I was done that, when I didn't have to be badass, sex shark, Puck, I went home and I pretended it didn't hurt that she couldn't look at me or that all she had to say was another speech about how I was just like my dad and going nowhere… And when she finally stopped yelling and went to work yet another double shift, I took care of Sarah… I made her dinner and I helped her with her homework and I put her to bed every damn night." He stared at her hard now and stabbed a finger through the air. "She might not have had a dad to do those things, but I never let her feel like she was missing out. I was there. I read her those bedtime stories. I sang to her. I taught her to ride a bike and shoot a hoop and what good music was. I was there the first day of kindergarten and every parent/teacher meeting…" He nodded. "So maybe I wasn't the smartest or the nicest kid around, but I was a good damn brother." He fisted his hands on the arms of his chair. "I was the best brother I could be."
Miss. Pillsbury nodded, her head bobbing agreeably, eyes still wide in surprise, but listening intently.
"And when Rachel came back…" His voice cracked. Licking his lips, he looked away and tried again, "I tried to be good enough for her…"
"Oh, Puck, I'm sure that you were!" she assured, finally inserting her opinion.
"Sarah loved her," he said, glancing back. "My ma loved her…" He laughed bitterly. "But then she always told me to settle down with a nice Jewish girl and Rachel definitely fit that bill…"
She smiled faintly.
"She was the best thing to ever happen to me… The only good thing I ever got in my life…" He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. "When she told me she loved me, I thought, 'Maybe this is it… Maybe this is when I stop being such a fuck-up…'" He licked his lips. "'Maybe I can be loved…'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I started to believe it, too. That she was it for me… Be all, end all, y'know?" He scratched his neck, scoffing lightly. "She was loud and crazy and yeah, sometimes, she was selfish… But she was a better person than a lot of people I know… She helped me with Sarah, every day, and she never complained. Hell…" He laughed under his breath. "She wanted to load her up and take her to New York with us…" He half-smiled to himself, scrubbing a hand over his hair. "Because she loved her, and me, and she just…" His face fell, lips shaking. "You don't know what it's like… I was finally- I finally had somebody who just, who got me and loved me and they didn't… There was no judgment, she didn't talk down to me, and she wanted me to have everything. She-" He closed his eyes tight for a second. "I was gonna make it, y'know? I was gonna get outta here and we were gonna be happy in New York…" He nodded. "We were gonna have all of it…" He looked up at her fiercely. "And not my dad or my mom or anybody who thought I was just another Lima Loser was gonna stop us…"
"You still can," she tried, staring at him carefully.
His eyes fell, a faint, humorless smile turning up his lips. "You ever meet someone and just know… You just… You look at them and you know that they're going to break your heart some day…?" He stared at her. "I always thought she'd leave me…" He shrugged. "For Finn or Jesse or somebody like them… Somebody who fit her vision of Prince Charming… And then, when I finally figured out that she didn't want that, she wanted me-" He pressed a hand hard against his chest. "I still… I still thought I'd lose her somehow… I just never thought it'd be like this…" His eyes brimmed with tears and one dribble down his cheek. "The thing is… I could handle it if she just left me… 'Cause I was expecting that. I was waiting for her to see that I was nothing, not worth it…" He shook his head. "But she didn't. She didn't leave me. She was taken…" His teeth ground together. "And I want to kill him. If I ever get the chance… If I ever see Karofsky…" he trailed off.
Miss. Pillsbury shook her head, red hair bouncing.
"She was the only thing I ever did right… The only person who loved me as much as I loved them…" Eyebrows high, he stared at Miss. Pillsbury a long moment and then nodded. Standing from his seat, he wiped at his face and grabbed up his bag. "Thanks… For listening…" He walked out the door without looking back.
Emma sat in shock, staring at the place he used to be. She tried to take in everything that was said, but it felt like she'd just been handed they keys to a room of information she couldn't begin to process. She was blown away; not just by the person Puck had become before her very eyes, but the stark emotion in his face, mannerisms, and words. She could admit, if only to herself, that she'd labeled Puck a long time ago and kept him in that category in her mind for a long while after. And sure, her view of him did change some when he started spending more time with Rachel and working on his schooling and planning his future. But she had no idea of the depths of the boy who'd been hiding behind a shield of jock and badass for far too long. And now that she got a real look at him, she feared it would be the one and only she ever got.
She was still staring when there was a knock at the door and Will stuck his head in. "Hey…" He smiled slightly. "I just saw Puck; he said he talked to you and got some stuff of his chest…"
Nodding faintly, she told him, "Yeah, I… We talked about his parents, his sister, even Rachel…"
"That's great!" He walked further in and took Puck's place in the chair in front of her desk. "You've made a breakthrough, Emma, be happy!"
Shaking her head, she raised her eyes to look at him. "Will… Have you ever been afraid that you would die and nobody would care?" she asked quietly, her voice heavy.
His brows furrowed, smile fading.
"Or worse, if they did, they wouldn't' remember you right…?" She played with the pencils in front of her, lining them up from tallest to shortest. "Like nobody ever really knew you, the real you…" She swallowed tightly, expression stricken. "Or maybe one did, but she died…"
Will stared at her. "Is that what you think it was? Why he finally talked to you?"
Her shoulders slumped, face falling rapidly. "If you could see his face when he talked about her…" She shook her head. "What if he can't be saved, Will?" She stared at him, eyes wide and tearful. "What then?"
Closing his eyes, Will let his head fall, chin hitting his chest, and for once, he let himself truly wonder if that was true.
../..
After school that day, Puck had Finn swing around the bank. Relief set in when he realized his plan really was coming together.
It was almost four when they finally got back to his place, idling just short of the yard.
Shifting in his seat, Finn tried asking him again, "You're sure you don't want to come to the party? I could pick you up early; we can hang out with the others…"
Puck hauled his bag up on his shoulder and shook his head. "Not interested."
With a frown, he nodded, waving goodbye as Puck closed the door and started up the lawn.
His mom's car was there again; she must've traded shifts with somebody so she could be home more.
When he walked inside, Sarah was watching TV upside down. Legs thrown over the back of the couch, she laid with her head dangling over the cushions, a Hannah Montana re-run playing.
The washer was going and he knew it was off-kilter because it was bumping against the wall. He'd wedged something under it to keep it from doing that but eventually it always came loose. Frowning, he crossed the room and through the kitchen to the laundry room to fix it. His ma was folding towels at the table; she glanced at him warily, tipping her head questioningly.
He didn't bother saying anything; instead, fixing the washer before leaving to his room again.
He didn't think anything of it when he first walked in; she'd done his laundry too. A basket of his folded clothes were on the floor by the bed.
But then he realized his bed was made. And his ma always did the sheets and blankets when she made beds.
Rachel's night gown wasn't there anymore. It wasn't spread out on her side of the bed, exactly where he always left it.
His heart thudded.
"No."
He grabbed up the basket and dug through it, heart pounding in his ears.
When he felt the familiar soft fabric under his fingers, near the bottom of the basket, his knees gave out.
When he pulled it free, he stared at it, pink and soft. He rubbed his thumb over it and shook his head. When he raised it up to his face and breathed in, his heart broke. He couldn't smell her. It smelled like laundry detergent and Bounce but not her. Not Rachel. He breathed harder and he balled the fabric up in his hands, but it was gone.
A sob welled up in his throat but burst out of him on a yell. He stood and threw the basket of clean, folded clothes across the room, where it slammed into his stereo and knocked it off its perch on his dresser. And when the crash and bang reverberated around the room, it actually made him feel a little better. So he threw his lamp next and he tore his basketball hoop off the wall. He ripped down his posters and he pulled every single sweater and jersey out of his closet. He toppled his dresser and he threw his bedside table across the room, where it made a dent in the wall before it crashed to the floor and splintered. He cleared off his desk of the small lamp and the cup of pens and pencils. He threw her jewelry and his notebook of song lyrics. He ripped down his curtains and punched a wall until his fist bled. It went on and on and on, chaos all around him, his throat burning and hoarse from his screaming.
Faintly, he could hear his mother, banging on his door, asking him if he was okay, what he was doing. And Sarah, crying.
But he didn't stop. He pulled the closet door off its hinges and threw that across his bed.
It felt like it went on for hours.
Until the door cracked open and then was shoved forcefully open. And Puck could hardly make Finn out as he stood there, just short of the devastation he'd made of his room.
Finn's eyes darted around, wide and shocked. "What-What the hell, man? What are you doing?"
But all he could see was his mother just over Finn's shoulder. "You did it on purpose!" he screamed, stabbing a finger through the air and rushing toward her, tripping over debris but catching himself before he fell. "You knew! You knew!"
Finn caught him, wrapping him in his arms and keeping him from going any further. He banded himself around Puck, holding his arms down. He grunted against the struggle, but wouldn't let him go.
"You knew…" Puck cried, shaking his head.
Finn shook his head. "What happened?"
"It doesn't smell like her… She washed it… It doesn't… She knew…" he panted, his face red with exertion, veins sticking thickly from his neck.
"Okay… Okay…" Finn nodded.
And Puck shattered, his head dropping, his knees giving out. He slid to the floor, the weight of him bringing Finn down too.
"Okay." Finn held onto him as he knelt in a daze, eyes staring sightlessly at the floor.
Vaguely, reaching down beneath the mess he'd made, Puck's hand wrapped around the soft, pink nightgown, and he dragged it up into his lap, wrapping bloodied fingers around it tightly.
His mother ushered his sister away and Puck shook his head. "She knew."
../..
"I'm taking him with me," Finn said.
Puck felt sluggish, outside of his body. He could see his mom and Finn, he could hear them, but he couldn't react.
"I really think I should commit him to the hospital," his mom argued, fiddling with the Star of David around her neck. "He's out of control and he's suicidal…" She shook her head. "It's not safe, for him or us."
Finn frowned. "He wouldn't hurt you… He's just-He's depressed."
She glanced at Puck warily before looking back at Finn. "If he doesn't show any improvement by Sunday, I'm having him committed."
"Fine, I… I get it, I just… I think he'd be better if he was around friends… I just want him to be okay."
She sighed, but nodded.
"Thank you!"
Finn wandered back into the bedroom and knelt down next to Puck. "Hey, man, look… Your room's pretty much toast and I was thinking… You should come with me; we can hang with the gleeks… Kurt wants to see you anyway, right?"
Puck didn't say anything; he wasn't sure he could.
Carefully, Finn hauled him from the floor and took his arm over his shoulder for balance. "All right, let's go…"
In a daze, Puck walked with him, right out of his room and down the stairs and out of the house.
Finn dropped him in the cab of his truck and climbed in the other side. "Look, I know you said you didn't want to, but…" He put the truck into gear. "If I take you home, my mom will have you committed to the hospital…" He pulled away from the house. "So we're just gonna hang out at Santana's, okay? The others are helping set up anyway… Maybe… Maybe they can help…"
Puck never replied, instead he stared down at his hand, dry with blood, still clutching Rachel's nightgown.
Nobody could help, he thought silently.
Nobody.
[Next: Part XV.]
Category: Glee
Genre: Tragedy/Angst/Romance
Ship: Rachel/Puck
Rating: NC17/R
Warning(s): Coarse/Sexual Language, Sexual Content, Themes of Depression, Substance Abuse, Character Death, Suicidal Themes
Word Count: 7,400
Summary: Rachel Berry had no idea what events would transpire that day. How standing up for someone she didn't know would eventually lead to tragedy. And Noah Puckerman was the unfortunate boy who had to deal with the aftermath; only he had no idea how. And coping was never his strong suit.
Previous: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten,Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen,
dhfreak
It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Hold On)
-Novel-
XIV.
Finn woke him up. Puck didn't know when Carole left or how long he'd been sleeping, but the others were gone and Finn was ushering him out of the house and into the truck for his meeting with Miss Pillsbury.
He was still tired and his body still ached whenever he moved, but at least his headache was long gone. The drive to McKinley was uneventful; even Finn, who was always trying to force him into some kind of conversation, stayed quiet, not even fiddling with the radio. He watched the scenery fly by the window, everything getting more and more familiar the closer they got, until finally they were pulling into the school parking lot.
Puck was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he sat down in Miss Pillsbury's office, a yawn cracking his jaw.
She rearranged random items on her desk; her pencils, a few notebooks, some folders. "How was your morning with Finn and the others?" she asked, smiling at him hopefully.
He raised a brow but didn't say anything. His mind flashed back to Carole and how she smelled like mom. It was one of those scents that just permeated certain people. Like it had no distinct flower smell or anything; it was just one of those smells that only moms had. It was comforting and warm. He kinda missed it.
"Finn was very eager for you to have some time with the boys…" Her eyebrows rose impossibly higher. "He said it might be cathartic."
Puck snorted. No way Finn Hudson used the word cathartic, and especially not the right away.
He could see Miss P deflating before his eyes, her gaze darting around, color filling her pale face, her fingers knotting together.
There was a time when making people uncomfortable, when asserting his badassness and making others cringe in fear, was like a game to him; a boost to his already inflated ego. But now, there was just a tiny bit of remorse as she stuttered over pleasantries and searched for a way to get him to talk. Not enough for him to actually sit back and play patient to her under qualified psychiatry, but still…
"Finn said you talked to his mother too…" She stared at him straight forward then. "I've been getting calls from Mrs. Hudson-Hummel for awhile now…" She frowned, her lips thinning and turning down. "She's one of a few different adults that have been checking in with me on your progress…"
He vaguely kicked the bottom of her desk then. "What happened to doctor-client privileges or whatever…?" He raised a brow.
She cleared her throat. "Well, that was… It was before you had your mandatory meetings with me… And since then…" She played with her pencils, lining them up and turning them over until the writing on the sides were upright. "There's not a whole lot to tell, is there?"
He still frowned, wondering what they asked and what she told them. His first thought was of the Berrys. Did Leroy and Hiram call? Did they care?
But he didn't ask, because he knew the answer, really. He just didn't like the guilt that came with it.
"You have a lot of people who care about you, Puck…" She leaned forward in her chair to stare at him meaningfully. "A lot of people who want to help you." She shook her head. "You should try letting them in."
He picked at the arm of the chair, brows furrowed.
She sighed then, chin falling, resolve in place. She checked the time and then sat back again. "Okay… Have you given any more thought to writing it all down in a journal?"
He raised a brow at her that basically said, 'Yeah fucking right.'
The rest of their counseling session was a whole lot of the same.
../..
When Finn dropped him off from school, Puck was tired. Seemed the nap he took at the Hudson-Hummel house had kicked his exhaustion into action and he thought he might just be able to get some shut eye.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow," Finn said as he reached for the door to let himself out.
Puck vaguely nodded at him.
Shifting uncomfortably, he offered, "Santana's having a part tomorrow night…" He raised a brow. "Maybe… I dunno, maybe it'd be good for you… Blow off some steam…"
He stared at him, lips pursed. Yeah, because partying at Santana's really sounded like where he wanted to be. He hadn't been into that scene much for awhile now. Every once in a while, if the party wasn't too big, he and Rachel would swing by. But the bigger the crowd, the nastier the people. And even if Rachel had him on her side, the others, save for most of the glee club, just didn't like her. So it always turned into something and things were broken and people's faces were smashed, and Puck was being dragged away by his girlfriend before the cops could be called. Not his best memories by far.
"Don't sign me up," he told him, hopping onto his lawn and reaching back to close the door.
Finn frowned. "What about Saturday?" he asked. "You could come over, have dinner with the family…" He stared searchingly. "Kurt'll be back in town; he's coming back from Dalton for the weekend."
Puck knew what he was doing. He was trying to force himself into Puck's life on the weekend too, lowering the chances he'd have to get good and dead.
"I'm free Saturday," he told him, before shutting the door and walking backwards up the lawn.
Finn half-smiled hopefully, waved, and then drove off.
Puck's eyes darted to the grass before he turned on his heel and walked inside. He told himself he wouldn't feel regret, but it welled up a little anyway.
When he walked into the house, he could hear his mom in the kitchen. He hadn't bothered checking the driveway, but he knew her humming and under-the-breath cursing in Yiddish anywhere.
Sarah was on the couch in pretty much the exact same place she'd been when he left. Her legs were curled up beneath her and she had the remote in her hand, her other hand holding her head up, her hair tangled and ratty from no doubt playing around at school like the worriless kid she could be. He missed those days. When the biggest thing he had on his plate was homework. Felt like a lifetime ago, but then maybe it was.
There are a lot of people who care about you, Puck... You should try letting them in.
As he kicked his boots off, Puck stared at his little sister a long moment.
Sarah was young and naïve and she didn't understand most of what had happened. She was worried; about him. And every time she reached out, he'd shoved her back.
He ground his teeth together and walked toward the stairs.
"Sarah, turn off the TV. Why don't you get your homework out?" his mother called from the kitchen.
Slumping lower on the couch, she cast her head back and crossed her eyes. "I don't wanna…" she whined.
"Sarah Marlene Puckerman!"
She huffed, groaning as she threw herself sideways down on the couch cushions. "I hate Math…" she complained, kicking her feet up into the air.
For just a split second, Puck felt an amused smile tug at his lips. Brows furrowed, he looked from her to the stairs and then sighed. "Grab your books, Squirt…"
Sarah looked up, her eyes wide and her eyebrows hiked. "Really?" she said hopefully.
Guilt reared its ugly head again but he tamped it down. "Meet me in my room, bring snacks," he said, and not bothering to wait for her, he climbed upstairs.
So much for that nap.
../..
Ten minutes later, Sarah pushed his door open a crack and asked carefully, "Noah…?"
"Yeah." He turned around in his desk chair, resting his arm on the back. "C'mon… I don't got all afternoon."
Biting her lip as she smiled, she rushed into his room, leaving the door wide open and dragging her princess backpack behind her, bumping at her heels. Her other arm was full of random snacks; juice packs and granola bars, an individual pack of Oreos, and some fruit snacks.
She dropped it on the top of his desk and then hauled her backpack up and dropped it in his lap.
He unzipped the top and grabbed out her grade four math book and her binder to drop it all on his desk. "What else you got?"
"Spelling," she said, reaching inside and pulling out her spiral notebook. "I have to practice 'cause we're having a spelling bee tomorrow."
He grunted and then stood from his chair. He grabbed her up under her armpits and dropped her in his chair, turning it back around so she was facing her books. "Math first, then we'll get to the other crap."
Sarah nodded happily, kicking her feet back and forth. "Your desk is big. I thought mine was big at school. Mine's the biggest in the whole class. But this one's bigger," she told him, happily.
He rolled his eyes slightly, shaking his head. "What page?"
She leaned forward. "Umm…" She flipped her book open and searched around a little. "Here. I'm on this one. I have to do…" She stuck her tongue out thoughtfully and then pointed. "From here to here."
"'Kay… Do you know what you're doing?"
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. "Maybe you should do it and I'll watch."
That tugging at his mouth reappeared. "Nice try, brat."
She sighed, shoulders slumping slightly, but turned back around. "I think I know…"
"Show me."
She nodded.
For the next hour, Puck hovered over her shoulder, helping her here or there, finding himself proud when she figured things out on her own. She tried to convince him he could do it for her a couple more times, that Puckerman charm of hers kicking in, but he wasn't going for it.
They were halfway through her spelling, when she turned to look at him, hands curled around the back of her chair, legs swinging, staring at him thoughtfully as he lay sprawled on his bed.
"Spell 'whistling'," he told her.
She wrinkled her nose. "Whistling," she repeated to herself. "W-H-I-S…" She frowned. "Whis-ling…" She shook her head. "Um, L…" she dragged out, narrowing her eyes.
He frowned.
"No! Okay, um… Oh, T!" she cried.
He nodded.
"Then L." She smiled in satisfaction. "I-N-G!"
"Not bad."
Her eyes fell as she picked at the top of the chair. "Noah?"
"Hm?" he replied distractedly. Her next word was 'consistent,' which seemed kind of big for a nine year old.
"Does this mean you're not sad anymore?" she wondered.
He paused, his eyes falling away from her spelling bee list. Licking his lips, he sat up, resting an arm on his upturned knee. "Why?"
She frowned. "I don't like it when you're sad…"
Dropping her list to the side, he dragged his fingers down his head, scrubbing the stubble there. His jaw ticked as he let out a long, heavy sigh. "Sarah…" He cleared his throat. "Do you… D'ya know what death is?"
Her brows furrowed. "Kind of…"
He nodded, closing his eyes briefly. He really didn't want to have this conversation. "C'mere."
Hopping down from the chair, she crossed the room and climbed onto his bed, crossing her legs and staring at him.
"What'd ma tell you happened to Rachel?" he asked, picking at his jeans.
"That she got hurt and now she was in a place where she wouldn't hurt anymore…" She wiggled in her seat. "But when she's all better, she can just come back, right?"
His jaw ticked. "It's not like that…"
Her brows furrowed.
"You remember…" He paused, clearing his throat. "You remember when our dog Kingsley got really sick and mom took him away and you never saw him again?"
She nodded.
"Kingsley died, Sar… And when something or someone dies, they don't…" He ground his teeth, swallowing tightly. "They don't come back and they don't get better." He shook his head. "Kingsley was old and he… P-People die when they get old. Shit stops working and their heart gives up or just…" He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "It's just how it goes. One day when you're old and wrinkly like Nana Connie, even you'll die."
"But Rachel wasn't old." She gripped the blanket beneath her tightly, wadding it in her fingers. "She was young and pretty and she was gonna go to New York and sing there!"
"I know. But sometimes…" His voice cracked. "Even when you're young…" His throat burned. "And you had your whole damn life ahead of you…" His hands shook violently so he furled them into fists, closing his eyes tight and willing himself to calm down.
"Was Rachel sick?" she wondered. "She didn't look sick…"
He shook his head jerkily. "No, she… She was perfect."
"I don't understand," she cried. "Rachel was really nice and she wasn't sick or old. So why did she have to go, Noah? Why can't she come back?" She hiccupped on a sob, her eyes filling with tears and her face mottled in angry confusion.
"It doesn't…" He let out a shaky breath. "It doesn't matter how, okay? What matters is you need to know that when people die, they don't come back anymore… So you have to… You have to stop waiting for her, okay? And asking for her or looking for her…" He shook his head. "'Cause when they're gone they-They stay gone…" He stared at her searchingly.
"No." She shoved off the bed and whirled around to glare at him and balling her hands at her sides. "That's stupid! And you're stupid! And you probably made her go away because you were mean and she didn't like you anymore!" She pointed at him angrily. "But she was my friend too, Noah! And I want her back! And she'll come back for me 'cause she said-" She hiccupped painfully. "She said I was her sister, okay?" She stomped her foot, sniffling.
"I know… I know she did and she meant it, okay?" He shifted to face her better. "Rachel loved you. And she didn't want to go."
"Then why…" She shook her head, her shoulders quivering. "Why'd she go, Noah?" Sniffling, she ran at him and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. "I want her back," she whimpered. "Please. Please can she come back? I'll be really good, okay? I won't-I won't play with your guitar no more, I pr-I promise!"
Swallowing thickly, Puck wrapped his arms around her slowly. "I'm sorry," he breathed, shutting his eyes against his tears.
Twenty minutes later, she'd cried herself to sleep, murmuring over and over, "She'll come back. She will."
He didn't have it in him to argue with her anymore.
../..
When dinner time rolled around, Puck had already put her homework back in her bag and dropped in her bedroom. Sarah woke to hear her mother shouting her name. Rubbing her eyes, she climbed out of his bed and walked to the door. Pausing, she looked back at him. "Are people happy when they die?"
He glanced at her and for a moment, all he could think of was Rachel falling down those stairs, her head cracked wide open. Was she happy? Living would have made her happy. New York and Broadway would have made her happy. Spending her life with him would have made her happy. But death… There was nothing happy about death.
"Some are," he said, and before she could ask anymore, he said, "Dinner's waiting."
She nodded faintly, turned on her heel, and walked out the door.
Hearing her footsteps stomp down the stairs, he stood up from his desk, tossing his pen vaguely toward the cup that usually housed it.
He could smell dinner as he followed his sister down and his stomach rumbled appreciatively. When he walked into the kitchen, his mom looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide. He hadn't eaten with them in what felt like ages. Taking his usual seat at the table, he ignored her incredulous staring and started filling his plate. Despite the way his stomach ached for food, his head told him he wasn't hungry, didn't need food.
Sarah was quick to fill the silence. "I got all my homework done," she told her mom. "I did all my math and my teacher's gonna be really surprised because I even did the bonus questions."
"Good," their mother said, nodding. "You clean your room yet?"
She deflated some. "Kinda…" she muttered.
Puck stared at his plate a long second and scooped his fork full of mashed potatoes. But when he looked up, he found himself staring at the extra chair and where Rachel used to sit. Where she'd go on and on about her day and her dance classes and vocal lessons. She'd charm his mom with stories about aceing some test in school or getting a solo in glee and then she'd praise him and his efforts and how much hard work he'd put into his schooling, or she'd talk about college and New York in the fall and how close it was, how excited they were. She'd reach for his hand and squeeze it or she'd rub her foot against his leg and then she'd smile at him, big and bright.
But the chair was empty and there was no plate there. There was no tofu substitute cooked up and she wasn't trying to convince Sarah that being a vegan or even a vegetarian was a much better lifestyle. There was no hand clasped in his and no smile turned in his direction. There was nothing but a spot where she used to be, a place where her plate used to rest, a coaster that only she used.
"Puck?" his mom's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you okay?"
He looked back at her, the crease at her brows and the purse of her lips. "No," he replied simply. Without explaining further, he dug into his meal. "Tell mom how to spell whistling, Sarah," he told her.
Sitting up straighter in her chair, Sarah lifted her chin proudly. "W-H-I-S-T…" She grinned at him, "L-I-N-G." She nodded in triumph.
His mom eventually dragged her gaze from him and turned a brittle smile on her daughter. "That's… great, Sarah," she offered.
They spent the rest of the meal avoiding the obvious.
../..
That night, Puck put Sarah to bed for the first time since the night before Rachel died.
Sitting up in her bed, with her pink princess lamp on and her nightlight flashing in the corner, she stared up at him hopefully. "Will you sing to me?" She pressed her hands together pleadingly and stuck them under her chin. "Please, Noah, please!"
Sighing, he walked back to his room, grabbed up his guitar and brought it with him to her room, taking a seat on her bed. "Any preferences?"
She pursed her lips, turned her eyes up, and then shook her head. "Nope!" she said, popping the 'p.' Wiggling further under her blanket, she smoothed it out and put her head back on her pillow. "Okay!"
He half-smiled and then turned, resting his guitar in his lap and dragging his thumb down the strings. He'd had to replace them the other day, when Finn gave his guitar back, the strings broken and stained in blood from the memorial assembly.
Taking a deep breath, he started picking at the chords to a song he'd heard Johnny Cash sing a number of times.
The haunting tune of his guitar filled the room.
Sarah never took her eyes off his fingers.
The other night dear,
as I lay sleeping,
I dreamed I held you in my arms…
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried…
Puck licked his dry lips and dropped his gaze to his own hands, watching as they moved easily and knowingly across the strings.
You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are gray,
You'll never know dear, how much I love you,
Please don't take my sunshine away…
He clenched his teeth tight as he picked away, closing his eyes and just feeling the tune melt into him.
It filled the silence; a melancholy tune that he felt from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.
I've always loved you and made you happy,
And nothing else could come between…
In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me
When I awake my poor heart pains…
So when you come back and make me happy,
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame…
Brows furrowed, he opened his eyes to see Sarah's falling closed.
She gave a gentle sigh before falling peacefully to sleep.
He finished the song still.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away…
As he sat there, hand pressed over the chords to still them, he half-smiled at his sister. At her gentle face, not a worry in sight, her dark hair falling over her cheek.
Climbing off her bed, he bent down to kiss her forehead before he flicked the light off and walked out of her room.
He hoped, when she looked back on him, she remembered him like this; like the big brother that loved her, screwed up as he might have been.
../..
Puck laid in his bed that night, a shaft of light from the street lamp crossing his floor.
His body felt heavy and his eyes dry. A headache was clawing its way closer, just on the fringes of his temples.
One hand was furled in her pink nightgown while his other was spread across his chest, fingers tapping over where his heart lay.
Sometimes, he wondered if he could make it end by sheer will; if he could just quit breathing or tell his heart to stop beating.
He fell asleep trying.
../..
Friday morning seemed to go by quickly. Puck went through the same routine of sitting in class while doing nothing but staring out the window, ignoring Finn who met him when each period ended, and eventually making his way to the stage at break.
"So you're sure you don't want to come to Santana's?" Finn asked, picking the label off his apple.
He shook his head.
"Everybody from the glee club's gonna be there," he told him, brows hiked. "Well, I mean, except Mr. Shue…"
"You ever get tired of it, Finn?"
He frowned. "Of what?"
"Tagging along after me everywhere… Worrying I'll off myself any second…" He stared searchingly. "What's the point?"
Finn's face hardened. "I know you don't get it and maybe you have given up on yourself, but I care… And I don't want you to do something stupid, Puck. Something you can't take back…" He leaned forward and shook his head. "Do you get that? You can't undo this!"
Puck turned his eyes back out to the room of empty chairs. "So let's say you do it… Let's say you talk me out of it… What then?"
He shifted in his seat, shaking his head slightly. "What d'you mean?"
"What happens after?" He shrugged a shoulder. "I go to New York and, what? Go to college, open my club, settle down with some chick I don't love half as much and pop out some kids?" He turned to look at him. "Spend my whole life looking at those kids and wondering what they would have turned out like if they were Rachel's…" He clenched his teeth. "Sing at my club every night, always searching for her face in the crowd…" He shook his head. "Wake up every morning reaching for her…" He swallowed thickly. "I had it, y'know… I had all of it…" His eyes darted to and fro, but they were unseeing. "I had this amazing girl that I…" He fisted his hands. "I love her so much, Finn…" He turned to look at him. "I can't…" He licked his lips, digging his teeth into one as he tried to control how his mouth shook. "I can't see myself living that life anymore… I can't see myself without her…"
Finn's eyes fell. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah…" He scoffed under his breath, reaching up to wipe at his face. "I know."
They sat in silence the rest of break.
../..
When Puck walked into the counselor's office, Emma raised her chin stubbornly. "I know you don't want to talk to me and I know you're probably looking forward to the weekend so you'll get away from me and my questions. And I know I probably haven't been as helpful as you need or as I'd like to be, but I'm trying and I hope you know that I'm only doing this for your benefit. I just want you to-"
"My dad was a deadbeat," he interrupted her.
She paused, mouth agape, and stared at him with wide, bright eyes. "I-I'm sorry?"
He nodded, taking a seat in front of her, dropping his bag by his feet. "He ran out on us when I was pretty young. Not so young I didn't remember him, but young enough that I still needed him, y'know…" He nodded, leaning back in the chair. "Him and my ma used to fight all the time, about stupid-just dumb ass shit…" He tapped his finger against the arm rest anxiously. "And I hated it. I hated all the screaming and yelling and I used to pray for it to stop. Sometimes I even got in the middle and I'd yell at them, I'd beg them to stop…" He licked his lips, eyes darting away. "And he'd shove me out of the room or they'd just use me against the other. My mom-" He smiled cynically. "She was always saying, 'See what you did? See who you're hurting?' It just-It never stopped…"
He shook his head. "I used to wish my dad was more like Finn's, y'know… Dead." His jaw ticked. "'Cause then I'd just have a memory and not this flawed, fucked up, asshole that was always complaining about how me and ma screwed up his life…" He sniffed, tapping his foot. "Sometimes… I could tell. I could feel it when he looked at me. Like it was all my fault and it'd be so much better if I wasn't around… He'd be on the road with his guitar and no bratty kid at his heels…" He ground his teeth. "And I'd think, 'whatever, doesn't matter, 'cause I am here and he's like, stuck with me…'" He snorted. "And then one day he just wasn't there and y'know… I missed him. I-I missed that guy who taught me how to play guitar and charm girls and who watched cartoons with me… The guy who always let me be the superhero when we played good guys and bad guys… The guy who taught me how to throw a punch and how to dodge one… Who used to sing to me, every night before bed…" He shrugged. "I even missed the fighting. 'Cause at least then I knew he was around. That he cared enough to stay…"
She was staring at him, her hands spread out on the top of her desk, that pitying look on her face he'd known all too well.
"And my mom…" He scoffed bitterly. "My mom wasn't the same after that." He shook his head. "We had Sarah then, she was just a baby, she always wanted attention, always crying… And without dad around to help pay the bills, ma took on more shifts at the hospital. We spent a lot of time at Nana Connie's, but she was getting old, she didn't have the energy for us… So I had to grow up and fast. Ma said I had to be a man now. And I tried to, y'know? I-I tried to be a man for her…" He ground his teeth. "But I could see it in her eyes…" He blinked rapidly. "She hated me… She… She hated that I looked like him and I-I was the reason she even married him, so, it was my fault…" He swallowed tightly. "And I got it. I-It didn't always bug me, even. I just… I got really good at not caring…" He dropped his eyes. "I got really good at looking for other people to care about me, to love me…" He squeezed his hands into fists. "And when they didn't, I thought maybe it was them, y'know?" He glanced at her. "Maybe I needed to be more like my old man. Maybe I just needed to stop needing it so damn much. So I told myself-I said, 'Puck, man, you don't need this shit. You don't need a wife or a-a girlfriend.'" He shook his head, his brows furrowed. "'Some nag of a ball and chain holding you down…'" He nodded. "So I slept around and I started up my pool service and met a whole lot of women who didn't want a boyfriend or a husband, just somebody to make 'em feel good, y'know? And I was good at that. I could do that…"
Emma's face suffused red at the implication, eyes darting away.
"And y'know, when I was done that, when I didn't have to be badass, sex shark, Puck, I went home and I pretended it didn't hurt that she couldn't look at me or that all she had to say was another speech about how I was just like my dad and going nowhere… And when she finally stopped yelling and went to work yet another double shift, I took care of Sarah… I made her dinner and I helped her with her homework and I put her to bed every damn night." He stared at her hard now and stabbed a finger through the air. "She might not have had a dad to do those things, but I never let her feel like she was missing out. I was there. I read her those bedtime stories. I sang to her. I taught her to ride a bike and shoot a hoop and what good music was. I was there the first day of kindergarten and every parent/teacher meeting…" He nodded. "So maybe I wasn't the smartest or the nicest kid around, but I was a good damn brother." He fisted his hands on the arms of his chair. "I was the best brother I could be."
Miss. Pillsbury nodded, her head bobbing agreeably, eyes still wide in surprise, but listening intently.
"And when Rachel came back…" His voice cracked. Licking his lips, he looked away and tried again, "I tried to be good enough for her…"
"Oh, Puck, I'm sure that you were!" she assured, finally inserting her opinion.
"Sarah loved her," he said, glancing back. "My ma loved her…" He laughed bitterly. "But then she always told me to settle down with a nice Jewish girl and Rachel definitely fit that bill…"
She smiled faintly.
"She was the best thing to ever happen to me… The only good thing I ever got in my life…" He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. "When she told me she loved me, I thought, 'Maybe this is it… Maybe this is when I stop being such a fuck-up…'" He licked his lips. "'Maybe I can be loved…'" He scoffed, shaking his head. "I started to believe it, too. That she was it for me… Be all, end all, y'know?" He scratched his neck, scoffing lightly. "She was loud and crazy and yeah, sometimes, she was selfish… But she was a better person than a lot of people I know… She helped me with Sarah, every day, and she never complained. Hell…" He laughed under his breath. "She wanted to load her up and take her to New York with us…" He half-smiled to himself, scrubbing a hand over his hair. "Because she loved her, and me, and she just…" His face fell, lips shaking. "You don't know what it's like… I was finally- I finally had somebody who just, who got me and loved me and they didn't… There was no judgment, she didn't talk down to me, and she wanted me to have everything. She-" He closed his eyes tight for a second. "I was gonna make it, y'know? I was gonna get outta here and we were gonna be happy in New York…" He nodded. "We were gonna have all of it…" He looked up at her fiercely. "And not my dad or my mom or anybody who thought I was just another Lima Loser was gonna stop us…"
"You still can," she tried, staring at him carefully.
His eyes fell, a faint, humorless smile turning up his lips. "You ever meet someone and just know… You just… You look at them and you know that they're going to break your heart some day…?" He stared at her. "I always thought she'd leave me…" He shrugged. "For Finn or Jesse or somebody like them… Somebody who fit her vision of Prince Charming… And then, when I finally figured out that she didn't want that, she wanted me-" He pressed a hand hard against his chest. "I still… I still thought I'd lose her somehow… I just never thought it'd be like this…" His eyes brimmed with tears and one dribble down his cheek. "The thing is… I could handle it if she just left me… 'Cause I was expecting that. I was waiting for her to see that I was nothing, not worth it…" He shook his head. "But she didn't. She didn't leave me. She was taken…" His teeth ground together. "And I want to kill him. If I ever get the chance… If I ever see Karofsky…" he trailed off.
Miss. Pillsbury shook her head, red hair bouncing.
"She was the only thing I ever did right… The only person who loved me as much as I loved them…" Eyebrows high, he stared at Miss. Pillsbury a long moment and then nodded. Standing from his seat, he wiped at his face and grabbed up his bag. "Thanks… For listening…" He walked out the door without looking back.
Emma sat in shock, staring at the place he used to be. She tried to take in everything that was said, but it felt like she'd just been handed they keys to a room of information she couldn't begin to process. She was blown away; not just by the person Puck had become before her very eyes, but the stark emotion in his face, mannerisms, and words. She could admit, if only to herself, that she'd labeled Puck a long time ago and kept him in that category in her mind for a long while after. And sure, her view of him did change some when he started spending more time with Rachel and working on his schooling and planning his future. But she had no idea of the depths of the boy who'd been hiding behind a shield of jock and badass for far too long. And now that she got a real look at him, she feared it would be the one and only she ever got.
She was still staring when there was a knock at the door and Will stuck his head in. "Hey…" He smiled slightly. "I just saw Puck; he said he talked to you and got some stuff of his chest…"
Nodding faintly, she told him, "Yeah, I… We talked about his parents, his sister, even Rachel…"
"That's great!" He walked further in and took Puck's place in the chair in front of her desk. "You've made a breakthrough, Emma, be happy!"
Shaking her head, she raised her eyes to look at him. "Will… Have you ever been afraid that you would die and nobody would care?" she asked quietly, her voice heavy.
His brows furrowed, smile fading.
"Or worse, if they did, they wouldn't' remember you right…?" She played with the pencils in front of her, lining them up from tallest to shortest. "Like nobody ever really knew you, the real you…" She swallowed tightly, expression stricken. "Or maybe one did, but she died…"
Will stared at her. "Is that what you think it was? Why he finally talked to you?"
Her shoulders slumped, face falling rapidly. "If you could see his face when he talked about her…" She shook her head. "What if he can't be saved, Will?" She stared at him, eyes wide and tearful. "What then?"
Closing his eyes, Will let his head fall, chin hitting his chest, and for once, he let himself truly wonder if that was true.
../..
After school that day, Puck had Finn swing around the bank. Relief set in when he realized his plan really was coming together.
It was almost four when they finally got back to his place, idling just short of the yard.
Shifting in his seat, Finn tried asking him again, "You're sure you don't want to come to the party? I could pick you up early; we can hang out with the others…"
Puck hauled his bag up on his shoulder and shook his head. "Not interested."
With a frown, he nodded, waving goodbye as Puck closed the door and started up the lawn.
His mom's car was there again; she must've traded shifts with somebody so she could be home more.
When he walked inside, Sarah was watching TV upside down. Legs thrown over the back of the couch, she laid with her head dangling over the cushions, a Hannah Montana re-run playing.
The washer was going and he knew it was off-kilter because it was bumping against the wall. He'd wedged something under it to keep it from doing that but eventually it always came loose. Frowning, he crossed the room and through the kitchen to the laundry room to fix it. His ma was folding towels at the table; she glanced at him warily, tipping her head questioningly.
He didn't bother saying anything; instead, fixing the washer before leaving to his room again.
He didn't think anything of it when he first walked in; she'd done his laundry too. A basket of his folded clothes were on the floor by the bed.
But then he realized his bed was made. And his ma always did the sheets and blankets when she made beds.
Rachel's night gown wasn't there anymore. It wasn't spread out on her side of the bed, exactly where he always left it.
His heart thudded.
"No."
He grabbed up the basket and dug through it, heart pounding in his ears.
When he felt the familiar soft fabric under his fingers, near the bottom of the basket, his knees gave out.
When he pulled it free, he stared at it, pink and soft. He rubbed his thumb over it and shook his head. When he raised it up to his face and breathed in, his heart broke. He couldn't smell her. It smelled like laundry detergent and Bounce but not her. Not Rachel. He breathed harder and he balled the fabric up in his hands, but it was gone.
A sob welled up in his throat but burst out of him on a yell. He stood and threw the basket of clean, folded clothes across the room, where it slammed into his stereo and knocked it off its perch on his dresser. And when the crash and bang reverberated around the room, it actually made him feel a little better. So he threw his lamp next and he tore his basketball hoop off the wall. He ripped down his posters and he pulled every single sweater and jersey out of his closet. He toppled his dresser and he threw his bedside table across the room, where it made a dent in the wall before it crashed to the floor and splintered. He cleared off his desk of the small lamp and the cup of pens and pencils. He threw her jewelry and his notebook of song lyrics. He ripped down his curtains and punched a wall until his fist bled. It went on and on and on, chaos all around him, his throat burning and hoarse from his screaming.
Faintly, he could hear his mother, banging on his door, asking him if he was okay, what he was doing. And Sarah, crying.
But he didn't stop. He pulled the closet door off its hinges and threw that across his bed.
It felt like it went on for hours.
Until the door cracked open and then was shoved forcefully open. And Puck could hardly make Finn out as he stood there, just short of the devastation he'd made of his room.
Finn's eyes darted around, wide and shocked. "What-What the hell, man? What are you doing?"
But all he could see was his mother just over Finn's shoulder. "You did it on purpose!" he screamed, stabbing a finger through the air and rushing toward her, tripping over debris but catching himself before he fell. "You knew! You knew!"
Finn caught him, wrapping him in his arms and keeping him from going any further. He banded himself around Puck, holding his arms down. He grunted against the struggle, but wouldn't let him go.
"You knew…" Puck cried, shaking his head.
Finn shook his head. "What happened?"
"It doesn't smell like her… She washed it… It doesn't… She knew…" he panted, his face red with exertion, veins sticking thickly from his neck.
"Okay… Okay…" Finn nodded.
And Puck shattered, his head dropping, his knees giving out. He slid to the floor, the weight of him bringing Finn down too.
"Okay." Finn held onto him as he knelt in a daze, eyes staring sightlessly at the floor.
Vaguely, reaching down beneath the mess he'd made, Puck's hand wrapped around the soft, pink nightgown, and he dragged it up into his lap, wrapping bloodied fingers around it tightly.
His mother ushered his sister away and Puck shook his head. "She knew."
../..
"I'm taking him with me," Finn said.
Puck felt sluggish, outside of his body. He could see his mom and Finn, he could hear them, but he couldn't react.
"I really think I should commit him to the hospital," his mom argued, fiddling with the Star of David around her neck. "He's out of control and he's suicidal…" She shook her head. "It's not safe, for him or us."
Finn frowned. "He wouldn't hurt you… He's just-He's depressed."
She glanced at Puck warily before looking back at Finn. "If he doesn't show any improvement by Sunday, I'm having him committed."
"Fine, I… I get it, I just… I think he'd be better if he was around friends… I just want him to be okay."
She sighed, but nodded.
"Thank you!"
Finn wandered back into the bedroom and knelt down next to Puck. "Hey, man, look… Your room's pretty much toast and I was thinking… You should come with me; we can hang with the gleeks… Kurt wants to see you anyway, right?"
Puck didn't say anything; he wasn't sure he could.
Carefully, Finn hauled him from the floor and took his arm over his shoulder for balance. "All right, let's go…"
In a daze, Puck walked with him, right out of his room and down the stairs and out of the house.
Finn dropped him in the cab of his truck and climbed in the other side. "Look, I know you said you didn't want to, but…" He put the truck into gear. "If I take you home, my mom will have you committed to the hospital…" He pulled away from the house. "So we're just gonna hang out at Santana's, okay? The others are helping set up anyway… Maybe… Maybe they can help…"
Puck never replied, instead he stared down at his hand, dry with blood, still clutching Rachel's nightgown.
Nobody could help, he thought silently.
Nobody.
[Next: Part XV.]