A/N: Hello - I'm back with another story! This will be the last time I update for a few weeks due to exams and the holidays. If you haven't read one of my stories before, welcome! My name is cxe128 and I primarily write Glee fanfics about Quick (and sometimes Finchel, Brittana, Samcedes, or other ships will be included). Feel free to check out my bio for other stories. For this story, I decided to try something new. I chose to write this chapter in the second-person point of view ("you") from Quinn's POV. Let me know what you thought of this in the reviews.

"If you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second."

~Johnny Depp

Nobody ever thought you'd end up together. You are the girl who spends your weekends volunteering at the soup kitchens and leading youth groups, he is the boy who hangs around 7-Elevens vandalizing property and smoking weed. You are the squeaky-clean Yale student who downed a grand total of three drinks in your time there. He is the boy who had barely managed to graduate high school and had finally found his calling in the Air Force. You are the hopeless romantic and he is the playboy. People call you a star; they call him a Lima loser. But you and Noah Puckerman have one tie that will forever bind you: your daughter Beth.

"I love you. Just tell me to stay," Puck tells you as the two of you look at Finn's memorial. You stand there, shellshocked that someone told you that they love you and actually meant it. As you stand there stupidly and fiddle with the pockets of your dress, he leaves. You choke back the tears that come to your eyes and dash after him, desperate not to let go of your only chance with him.

Oddly enough, coming home to Lima helped you see sense and you got rid of that snobbish Biff - with a name like that, you can't believe you ever dated him. You chase Puck down the same hallway where you told Finn you were pregnant and marvel at the changes in your life since then. Finn…you can't believe he's gone already. Someone as kindhearted as him is gone and a girl who only values status - you - are still here.

You finally reach Puck, out of breath, your meticulously styled blonde curls bouncing. "Stay," you tell him, and that one word conveys a world full of promises. Your lips capture his and you taste the sweetest taste you've ever known - pure love.

Your whirlwind romance with Puck is a waking dream after that. You e-mail him and call him every other day that he's away on one of his Air Force missions in the Middle East, sometimes more if your schoolwork load is light (you're trying to get enough credits for your theater major). Your heart twists over and over when you don't receive a reply and your worries are never truly gone until you hear the phone crackle and his husky "Hello, babe" on the other end of the line. "When are you coming back?" you ask him over and over, and he always sighs and says he doesn't know.

You feel like one of those army wives in a World War II romantic drama, just helplessly sitting around and waiting. Waiting for your sweetheart to return.

And when Puck finally does return, you drive to Hartford to pick him up and spend hours making love on every surface in your dorm room. You take him around Yale and he teasingly mocks all of the "preppy, sex-deprived nerds". You share a popcorn bucket at the movies and hold hands across the table at an Italian restaurant, just as if you two were a normal couple.

But you and Puck are anything but a normal couple, and you know this and you suspect he does too. It isn't easy, always starting the cycle of worry and anxiety over his safety again and again.

But you'd rather do hard with him than easy with someone else.

You graduate from Yale with honors and he is right there cheering for you with your mother and Frannie. You weren't sure he was going to complete his Air Force duties in time for it, but here he is, grinning at you and looking so downright hot in that uniform. You grin back and straighten your black cap and gown. Angela, your bubbly roommate, clutches at your hand. "You're such a lucky girl, Quinn," she enviously sighs.

And at this moment you certainly feel that way.

Your graduation party is rowdy yet fancy - just you and your wealthy friends enjoying one of the swankiest clubs in New York City. Your dark red dress reflects that theme: it is low cut and leaves little to the imagination yet its flared out skirt is elegant enough for it to be considered classy. You feel as if you are floating due to a combination of the numerous cocktails you've enjoyed and your exhilaration at the fact that you've finally graduated from Yale. You are excited for your plans to perform in dramas in Boston, the city you've selected to move to. You've already gotten a callback for a lead in one play about the Salem Witch Trials, The Crucible.

Puck finally gets a chance with you alone, without all of your college friends. He tucks your golden hair behind your ear and tells him how lucky he is to have you and that he doesn't deserve a girl of your caliber. You play the role of the dutiful girlfriend and tell him "Of course, you deserve me!" And he does - you always wonder why he thinks he isn't good enough for you.

The conversation becomes more alarmingly serious and you ditch your party and grab his hand anxiously, leading him out onto the gaslight-lit street. "I love you," you say, meaning every word. "Please don't break up with me because you don't think you deserve me!" Your voice squeaks and you turn away from him, shedding a single tear. You can't believe he would travel to Connecticut for your graduation just to break up with you.

Puck looks puzzled. "Why would you think I would ever break up with you, Q?", he asks. You let out a sigh and giggle, immensely relieved. "I came here for a completely different reason".

He gets onto one knee and opens a ring box. A sapphire-colored ring, you notice. Your heart accelerates faster than it does when you are about to perform on stage.

"Quinn Fabray…Q…darling, will you do me the favor of making me the happiest man in the world?"

You roll your eyes - although blissfully- at Puck's cliché method of proposing, but then he looks at you pleadingly with those clear, piercing jade eyes, and you smile.

"Yes, Puck. I will."

The hardest part of your nine-month engagement to Puck isn't planning your dream wedding. It's telling both sets of parents (well, telling both sets of mothers - his father left when he was little and your father pretends you don't even exist) that you two are going to be married.

You take a flight from Boston back to Ohio one weekend when Puck is on leave from the Air Force and you aren't performing in The Crucible. Your first professional play and you are already one of the lead actresses - you play Abigail Williams, a fiery and manipulative seductress. God, it embarrasses you to think about the fact that so many people from high school would think that is such a fitting part for you. The scheming slut.

Puck meets you at the Dayton airport. He smiles that dreamy smile of his and leans in for a kiss before you've even managed to put your bags down. You laugh and link your arm with his, happy to see him.

An hour later, you arrive at your mother's house in Lima. On the drive from the airport, the two of you went over who to tell first and you decided on telling Judy first. She so far has been the most supportive of your relationship with Puck. Your mother seems happy when she meets you at the door and serves you tea in the living room. You clasp Puck's hand for support and excitedly tell her that you will be marrying him in six months. You are too nervous to look at her reaction.

Then you hear her say, "My goodness! I'm going to have two sons-in-law now!" And you sigh with relief as you realize that she is happy about your engagement - and you're even happier that she offers to help you plan the wedding. You have no idea where to start with that.

Telling Puck's mother, Deborah, is much scarier. You know that she loathes the idea of her Noah marrying anyone other than a good Jewish girl - she mentioned this many times when you stayed with Puck when you were pregnant with Beth. Deborah greets Puck with a hug and you with a glare. You nervously swallow and look at Puck for help. He confidently tells Deborah - right there on the doorstep - that he is going to marry you, an unspoken whether you like it or not accompanying it.

Deborah stands there, shocked and silent, for what feels like forever. She taps her foot and crosses her arms and then turns to Puck. "Noah, how could you? You are my only son, yet you dare to dirty the Puckerman name by marrying a Christian?"

Your cheeks flush an angry bright pink and Puck looks disgusted. "Mama." You love that he still calls his mother "mama". "You are no better than the Christians you despise by saying something like that. God, Mama, you're no better than Russell Fabray!"

You stiffen at your father's name. Even after six years, the shame and sadness you feel when you think about him haven't gone away.

"I -." Deborah looks taken aback by the comparison to one of Lima's most prejudiced citizens and immediately softens. "I'm sorry. I am better than him. You have my blessing - just please don't make the ceremony completely Christian. Or I won't come!"

Puck assures her you'll blend the two cultures, the two religions. You smile and nod, relieved that Deborah isn't completely opposed to your upcoming wedding. But you have stopped listening at this point because you keep thinking of your father and what he would say.

That night, you muster enough courage to call Russell. You find his number in the Lima telephone book and punch in the numbers, your fingers shaking. Puck stays with you for moral support and rubs your shoulders. It's a nice gesture, but you tell him that you have to face this particular demon from your past alone.

"Hello?" The low, sultry voice definitely isn't your father. You realize it's probably that whore of a secretary that he left your mother for. Hypocrite. He cast you out for being a slut while he was simultaneously screwing the secretary.

"H-hi." Your voice stammers and you wince in embarrassment. Keep it together, Quinn! "May I please speak to Russell Fabray?"

The woman - your father's lover - replies, "Yes. May I tell him who's calling?" She sounds suspicious that another woman is calling her lover and you hesitate, trying to think of something. "Someone from business to discuss a package," you lie, and she tells you he'll be right there.

"Hello?" You want to cry at the sound of his voice as all of your painful childhood memories resurface. "Daddy?" The other line crackles. "It's your daughter, Quinn", you say, sounding way more confident than you feel. "Quinn?" Russell sounds like he is a trance.

"Daddy, I know you left me homeless and all and I don't forgive you for that," you say, a false hint of confidence creeping into your voice. "But I'm also not going to apologize for getting pregnant. Because, in the end, it got me into Yale. And I'm getting married to the man I had my daughter - your granddaughter - with."

"Yale?" Russell asks, puzzled. "Even Frannie didn't get into Yale!" You detect a tiny hint of pride in his voice and revel in the revelation that your older sister isn't so perfect after all. "I know. It was amazing, Daddy. Really, it changed me so much. I am no longer a blind participant in your prejudice." "How dare you, young lady!" Russell roars. You flinch and tell him, "You lost the right to parent me the day you turned me away. But that's not why I called. I just wanted to tell you I'm marrying Noah Puckerman. I told Mom, so I guess it only felt right to tell you since your name is the other one on my birth certificate."

Russell sounds surprised to hear this, saying that he thought "that Hudson boy" got you pregnant, not "that no-good Jew". He clearly states that a Christian-Jewish "mutt" has no place among his family line. He adds, "Aren't you two a bit young for marriage anyway? Shouldn't you marry when you're at least twenty-five? You can't even abstain from sexual relations, what makes you think you can raise a child?"This stings so hard as you think of your beautiful Beth - your perfect daughter that you gave up. All you wanted from this phone call was closure from Russell - and you clearly aren't going to get any.

You say tearfully, "All I ever wanted was to make you proud of me. And for you to accept me for being me, not being a carbon copy of Frannie. But that's never happened. I tell you I'm marrying the man I love and you criticize every aspect of it. At least Mom tried to make amends for leaving me to fend for myself when I was an immature 16-year-old. You never have. I just can't have this level of toxicity in my life." "But, Quinn - ", Russell starts to protest. "Have fun with the whore who replaced Mom. Good-bye, Russell."

You hang up the phone, tears pouring down your cheeks. It was hard to confront a man who mentally - and sometimes physically - abused you. Puck hears your muffled crying and rushes in. "Babe? Are you okay? I can go beat up that asshole for you!" he offers.

Thank God for Puck. As he kisses your hair and cradles you on the floor of your mother's house, you verify that he is "your person", as Rachel said it. You always thought there could be no real soulmate for someone - but now you know that Rachel, as annoying as she may be, is right.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am planning for this to be a three-shot. The next chapter will be about Quinn and Puck's wedding and their first few years as a married couple. Beth will also come into the story at that point. WARNING: if you want fluff, this story will not be about that as much as it will be about the complicated, imperfect, passionate relationship between a couple. I haven't decided yet whether the next chapter should be in Quinn or Puck's POV. Let me know, and follow/fav/review.