She feels like a fugitive, a runaway, yet she's finally home.

The sea air is clean and fresh in her lungs, and she inhales it desperately, almost forgetting how it felt to taste the salt and hear the waves and feel the sun on her face. It's such a big world, such a wonderful place, yet she was living underneath a box.

"And here I thought you came back for me," a familiar voice remarks from just behind her, warm and guttural and gut-wrenching.

Quinn whirls around and wonders how long he's been standing there, how long he's been watching her raise her arms to the wind and twirl in drunken circles. She wonders how long he's been watching her make a total fool out of herself with no one around, just her and the sand and the gulls to laugh at her.

She folds her hands behind her back and smiles. "I came back for me, actually."

He smiles, too. "Same difference, isn't it?"

Quinn can feel the stretching distance before them, though they mustn't be that far away from each other – she can still see him perfectly, as if he's merely an inch away. "How long have you been watching?"

Puck cocks his head. "Always."

"Always?" Quinn reaches his side in an almost instant, and he twists his fingers through hers, curls his palm into hers, like it's the easiest puzzle in the world.

He nods. "I always stood here and watched. Waiting for you."

Quinn presses her nose into the plaid fabric of his shirt, inhaling the elusive cologne and the salt forever stained into his clothes. She wonders how she managed at all without him.

He kisses the part of her hair. "Love you. Missed you."

She feels like she'll cry, but then she remembers she's not sad.


(might be an epilogue)