Even Louder
Title: Even Louder
Chapter: 1/1
Warning: Sensitive subject matter.
Pairing: Puck/Rachel
Summary: School shooting a la One Tree Hill. For xxxalexandraxxx's prompt at the drabble meme.
Word Count: 3,780
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Of all the days to show up late. Well, he does show up late every day, but he's really fucking regretting that right now.
Someone's in the school with a gun and shots have been fired, and all he knows is that not everyone got out.
The first people he looks for are the tallest and the shortest. He doesn't see Finn, and usually where there's Finn, there's Rachel, but he keeps looking anyway and doesn't see her either.
Fuck. Fuck!
Santana and Brittany are hugging each other and crying, and everyone's in this one corner of the parking lot. There are police around and trying to keep everyone calm. As far as they know, no one's dead, but they're not going into the school and Puck doesn't fucking understand any of this shit.
His two best friends are inside and no one's doing a fucking thing about it? What the fuck is that?
He gets from Santana that Quinn is inside, too, and Tina. Mike's sitting on the grass alone with his head in his hands. Artie's just sitting there staring at the school helplessly. Mr. Schue is talking with Figgins and Sylvester, and it actually looks like they're all getting along. About fucking time. Puck thinks it's bullshit that it took something like this.
He needs to get inside. He can't stop thinking about Rachel. She's just so little. And like, Finn's not the most coordinated guy, but he plays a lot of video games and he and Puck started teaching each other 'self defense' when they were in the seventh grade and neither of them had hit their growth spurt yet. They talked about stupid shit like this, stuff they never thought would happen.
He wonders if they're together right now, Finn and Rachel. They're always together, right? At least when Rachel's not with Puck. Finn'd take a bullet for that girl. He would. Only Rachel's so fucking dramatic and hardheaded that she probably wouldn't let him or something. Or she'd push him out of the way so he wouldn't get hurt.
Puck's torn between hating her and wanting to puke his breakfast up at the thought of her being hurt. She's not even supposed to be his friend, but she just is. She's...Fuck. She's the best person he knows, and she's got to get out of here. Not even just the school with the demented shooter inside, but this town and this state. She's supposed to get everything she wants. She's probably in there crying right now and that's bad for her voice. He can't let her keep doing it. She'll be pissed for days if she's on vocal rest, and...
"Is Rachel inside?" Puck asks Artie. He never kneels down to talk to Artie, 'cause that's patronizing and he respects the guy more than that. But you know what? It's not about that, it's about being eye level with the kid so he can try and figure out how serious this is.
"Puck..."
"Is she inside?" he asks again, louder this time. "Don't fucking lie."
"Yes." Artie's voice shakes. "She was with Mercedes, but they got separated."
"Fuck," Puck mutters. He swallows down the bile threatening to move up into his throat. "Fuck, dude."
"Puck, don't...
"Shut up." Puck gives Artie a glare and stands upright. "Don't even fucking try to stop me."
Yeah, there are police around, and he is totally fucking aware of how stupid it is to do this, but he splits away from the crowd without anyone noticing and runs around to the back of the school. Honestly, of all people to 'break in' when the school's on lockdown, he's probably the only one who can do it without getting himself shot. He doesn't know how many people in here have guns, or why, but he can probably bet that he bullied them at one point or another, which just makes him feel like shit. Then he realizes he hasn't even done any of that since sophomore year, so he cannot blame himself for this shit, and he's not going to bother trying.
Walking towards the Spanish room, he hears voices. Finn's voice, then Tina's. He's not really listening to words. It's really just sounds to him. He wants to look through the window, but he doesn't want to get shot at, and fuck, what if the guy with the gun is in there? What if that's who they're talking to?
Then he sees blood on the floor at the end of the hall, with broken glass all around it, and ducks down under the windows in the doors of the Spanish room so he can go past undetected. He follows the blood drops - and holy hell, it looks like a lot - until he gets to the choir room, and his stomach sinks even more, because fuck there's only one person he knows who's first instinct it'd be to come here.
Both doors are locked when he tries them. That means she locked them herself. Well, fuck, no it doesn't. It means that the school is on fucking lockdown. But she's in there. She has to be. There's blood going in there and she's not outside, so she didn't get out of the school. She's inside that room and she's bleeding. Or, fuck, someone is. Maybe she's with Finn and Tina in the Spanish room. That'd make the most sense.
Except he knows that some mornings she waits for him by his locker, hoping he'll show. He knows, 'cause sometimes she leaves him bitchy notes telling him he really should come to school before second period some day. And sometimes she goes to the caf with Mercedes. Fuck, that's probably what she was doing today.
And see, his whole problem is that she's his best friend. Like, no substitutions. Finn's supposed to be, but really, it's Rachel who trusts him and does all this stupid shit, like believe in him and push him to be better and whatever the fuck else a best friend is supposed to do. And yeah, she's Finn's girl, but that doesn't mean she doesn't treat him pretty much the same way she treats her boyfriend. Just without the making out and stuff. She hangs out with him one on one twice a week. Like, they have standing dates. She'll fall asleep on his bed or she'll lean her head on his shoulder in a movie theater. And fuck, she has this way of looking at him that...God, he swears half the time she forgets she's got a boyfriend.
He's not ready to lose that. He can't fucking lose her.
He moves down the hall a little bit, until he's at the doorway to Mr. Schue's office, which is connected to the choir room. That door's locked, too, but it's an older knob and he knows it'll be easier to pick. He pulls his student ID out of his wallet and slides it between the frame and the door. Honestly, this isn't the first time he's used this card to break in someplace, but it's definitely the most appropriate.
He gets the lock jimmied and pushes the door open quietly, right before he hears a sob - her sob, one that she's trying to hold in - and sees the blood on the floor. He pushes the door closed and locks it behind him, then walks around the desk and finds her underneath it.
His heart stops because she's hurt and because she's alive. Her eyes are closed tight and she's crying so, so hard, and he kneels down.
"Baby, it's me. Rachel, it's..."
Her hand comes out to hold onto his shirt and pull herself towards him. Her hand which is red with blood. There are tears streaming down her face, and they're sitting on the linoleum floor there and she's crying even harder and grabbing onto his clothes. He puts his hands on her face and pushes her messy hair back. She's sweating and shaking.
"Rachel." He moves his hands to her arms, but she cries out and he pulls them away, and one of his palms is bloody. "Fuck. You're..."
"I thought it was glass, but it's..." She whimpers again when she tries to move her arm. "It's not glass."
"Okay," he breathes. "Okay. You're...It's gonna be okay, baby."
He hasn't called her this since they dated. Ever. Not once. He does not give a fuck right now. In the past like, 20 minutes he's had to face the reality of losing her, and it is not a fucking option. He'll call her what he wants.
He pulls her against him and they lean back against the wall. His hand moves to her head and he cradles her against him and sneaks looks at her arm. Her sweater - the fucking adorable one with the daisies with happy faces on the front - is soaked with blood and he knows he's gotta get her out of here. He doesn't know how much blood a person can lose and still be okay, but he's not gonna risk it.
He needs to put pressure on it. That's what they do on TV and in movies and shit. Like a field dressing. He can do that. When he tells her this theory, she shakes her head. "I don't have a shirt under this and I couldn't...There's nothing..."
He's wearing a tee shirt under his plaid. He pulls his button down off and twists it a few times, then lifts up her arm and she shakes her head.
"It'll hurt," she whimpers.
He looks her right in the eye. "Rachel, baby, I gotta do it, okay? I know it hurts, but I'm gonna get you out of here, and..."
"But there's...The shooter, he's..."
"I know," he whispers. He brushes her hair back again, because he knows she likes that a lot. She leans into his hand. "I promise, I'm gonna get you out of here."
She nods her head as she cries, and he stands up and rifles through Schue's desk for a pair of scissors.
He needs to know how bad this wound is.
"I gotta cut it."
"I love this sweater!"
It actually makes him laugh. Considering it's got a bullet hole in it and blood stains on the green wool, chances are she won't be wearing it again.
"Either I cut it or you take it off," he tells her. She thinks about it for a second and just nods. He snips along the seam of the sleeve where it meets her shoulder, then pulls the sleeve down off her arm and drops the scissors carelessly. The fabric makes a wet sound that churns his stomach when he lets it fall onto the floor. He lifts her arm carefully (she whines in pain anyway) so he can get a better look. There's definitely a bullet in her arm. "Okay. Okay, it's not that bad."
She laughs tearfully and wipes her nose on her remaining sleeve, which is something she'd never do normally. "You're a liar."
He smiles at her because he doesn't want to admit it. "It's gonna hurt, but you gotta try and stay quiet, okay?"
She nods and he wraps his shirt around her little arm twice, then watches her face as he ties it off. She's digging her fingers into his side, and biting her lip so hard he thinks she'll make that bleed, too. There are more tears, and then she presses her face against his shoulder and he feels like an asshole for hurting her, even though he knows it's for the best.
"Noah..."
"I know, baby," he murmurs with his lips against her temple. "Just c'mere."
She leans against him and he wraps his arm around her waist as they lean back against the wall.
She hasn't asked about Finn or anyone else, and he is definitely not gonna tell her that her boyfriend is still in the school. He's not gonna tell her that anyone else other than the shooter is in the school. And fuck, for all they know, the shooter left and the only people still in here are people who don't know that.
Her head rolls a bit, after a while, and he pinches her side to wake her up. This is really fucking scary, and mostly - selfishly - because it's Rachel who got hurt. It'd still be scary if someone he didn't know had gotten shot, but this is on another level. This is his girl.
"Daddy asked if I'm cheating on Finn with you," she says, her words a little slurred.
It's enough to make him laugh. "What?"
She nods, slowly. "He saw us the other night when you were teasing me about my hair."
"It was pigtails, Rachel. It was bad."
She laughs quietly. "He said you look at me sometimes. He notices a way."
His heart kind of stops. Maybe that's true. "Your daddy hates me."
She's shaking her head faster than she should. "No, he doesn't. He sees himself in you, that's all, and..." She makes a little humming sound, and he shrugs his shoulder gently to get her to keep talking, as he looks down at her face, her eyelids opening and closing slowly. "He likes you."
"That's good to know," he says, even if he thinks it's partially bullshit. Her daddy is always looking at him like he's up to no good. "What else?"
"What, what else?" He laughs quietly and she weaves together the fingers of her good hand. He checks on her wounded arm and sees the blood seeping into his plaid shirt. Fuck.
"Well, what'd you tell him?"
"That you're my best friend," she confesses, tilting her head back so she can look up at him. "Sometimes you're my best friend even before Finn. I didn't tell Daddy that."
"No?" He moves her hair away from her bloody arm. "Why not?"
She just blinks, twice, in what seems like - or may be - slow motion. "Noah," she whispers, eyes locked on his. He licks his lips. She looks so fucking tired, but he can't let her sleep. He has to get her out of here. Soon. "If I said I love you right now, would you hold it against me?"
What?
"Rachel."
"Because I've lost a lot of blood, and..."
He pulls his fingers through her hair and watches her start to cry again. "Hey, stop that. Don't say shit like that. Just..." She blinks at him, her eyes looking brighter than they have since he found her. "Come here," he whispers.
He puts his hand under her chin and tips her head up, then lays his lips over hers. She's cold, and her lips are wet with tears, but her hand curls into his tee shirt and she makes a little sound from the back of her throat right before he pulls away.
"I do," she says, her eyes still closed. "I mean it."
"Okay." He has no fucking clue what else to say. "Baby, I gotta get you out of here."
She nods. He needs her to open her eyes right fucking now. It's like she's settling in against him and doesn't plan on moving any time soon, even though he just told her they have to go. "I'm just really tired."
"Don't." he says, shaking her face a bit, her chin in his hand. Her eyes open and then she looks pissed at him. "Stay awake for me, 'kay? I'm..."
Her eyes close again, even as she nods at him, and he's not fucking taking any chances with this girl.
No one else has ever told him they love him, and for some reason this fucking incredible girl thinks he's worth it, so no, he's not going to fucking wait around in this school any longer.
He scoops her up in his arms and manages to pull the door open as he's carrying her, and he starts one direction down the hall, then remembers the Spanish room and that there are people in there. He doesn't know where the fuck the shooter is, but if the guy's in that room, Puck's doesn't want to risk walking past. He was probably lucky not being seen the first time. He turns and doubles back the other way, past the empty science hall and towards the faculty area; Figgins' office and the guidance counsellors' offices. If he can get to the gym without being seen or heard, he can get her out the side door, where the ambulances were parked when he got to the school.
When he gets into the gym, he can't stop the door with his foot fast enough, and it slams behind him. Rachel flinches and makes a noise, but otherwise doesn't move. His shirt around her arm is almost soaked through, red with blood, and he really needs to get the fuck out of here.
If whoever's got the gun just heard that door, Puck's totally fucked. He knows he can make it across the gym pretty fast when they're doing drills and shit, but then he's not holding dead weight in his arms. And fuck, he should have thought twice before thinking about her like that. He pinches the back of her thigh just to get her to make some kind of noise as he walks as fast as he can across the gym. He really has only one endgame here, and that's to keep her alive. He doesn't even know if it's possible to die from a gunshot wound to the arm, but he's not fucking around.
He pushes open the heavy door leading outside and there's immediately way too much attention on him. Police officers and medics rush over, and Rachel's taken away from him - which seems really fucking unfair, considering - and he's pushed onto the ground as he's patted down and asked a bunch of questions. Mr. Schue is there and telling the cops Puck can't be the shooter because he was seen outside after the school was put on lockdown.
Puck manages to tell them there are people in the Spanish room before they shove him into an ambulance for no good reason whatsoever, and the only questions he even thinks to ask are ones about her.
When they get to the hospital, he's put into an emergency room and they take Rachel off to surgery. He only knows that because he overhears doctors and nurses talking about it.
He's got a bandage on the palm of his hand, covering a bunch of stitches. He didn't even notice, but he must have cut himself on the scissors when he was trying to cut her sleeve. There's a three inch gash on his left palm. His hand had been so covered in blood that he didn't realize it was his, too.
They call his mom over from the geriatric floor where she works, and she flips the fuck out about him and Rachel, and she asks him how he could be so stupid as to run back into that school.
He just looks at her and says, "It's Rachel, mom," like that explains everything. Because that explains everything.
He's discharged around the same time Rachel gets out of surgery. He hears, too, that the shooter was some freshman JV football player who's totally popular, which boggles Puck's mind a bit, but apparently the kid had some mental problems or whatever and stopped taking his meds. At least that's what people are saying, so who knows what the fuck is actually the truth. Finn, Quinn and Tina were all in the Spanish room, with like five other students, and they're all okay.
Puck apparently carried Rachel right past the office the shooter was in and didn't even notice. Obviously the kid didn't want to hurt anyone, or he would have had a pretty fucking clear shot at the two of them. Either that or he started feeling remorse over having already shot one person.
He's not leaving the hospital until he sees Rachel.
He gets to the waiting room and her dads are there, and they shake his hand like he's some kind of hero, which, fuck, whatever. Maybe he is or something. They're both crying, and Finn looks about two seconds from losing it himself.
So Puck has to wait another hour after she's woken up for his turn to even see her, and when he walks into the room, she's got IVs hooked up to her and she's laying in a hospital gown under some blankets. There's more colour in her face than he's seen all day. Her eyes are glassy - probably from whatever's in that IV - and her hair's in a messy braid he knows one of her dads did for her.
She smiles when she sees him, blinks all slowly again, and takes a deep breath. He sits down next to the bed and hangs his head a little bit.
"You ruined my sweater," she tells him.
His first reaction is to laugh, and when he looks up and sees that she's smiling, all he can think is that yeah, he loves her, too.