Glee 1. Flashbacks and Fairylights

**So, this is my first ever fanfic. It probably sucks, and you might want to kill me for messing with your favourite characters, but I shall try. It's set the year after Season 3, when Finn, Rachel and Kurt have gone their seperate ways from the rest of the New Directions. Well, not just them - I've aged a few of the characters, like Quinn, Mercedes and possibly Puck, but I haven't decided yet. It's the Christmas holidays, if you don't manage to work it out, and Rachel and Kurt have planned a reunion in New York for most of New Directions.**

**I don't own Glee, or anything mentioned that belongs to anyone else. Just my little ideas xD**

1. The Party

Rachel Berry was sat on her bed, reading through song lyrics and making herself remember them. She was halfway through her first year at New York Academy of Dramatic Arts, and she'd recieved the part of understudy to an older girl, for the part of Maria. Rachel had already performed the part back at McKinley, and so had dived straight in for the part at NYADA. Okay, so she hadn't got the lead _quite_ yet. But that was fixable, as she often told her best friend Kurt Hummel, when she was planning the untimely demise of her older rival.

Rachel frowned as she walked down the stairs of her and Kurt's penthouse New York apartment. Her dads had owned it, having met each other in New York, and had been more than willing to offer their old home to their daughter and her friend. Rachel and Kurt been sharing it ever since getting into NYADA - well, Rachel had got into NYADA. She still remembered what had happened...

*flashback! :D*

_"Rachel, I can't believe you got in! I'm so happy for you!" Kurt had said excitedly at the airport, as the two of them waited in the luggage queue of the airport, waiting for Rachel's plane to arrive. She could tell the excitement was false, but only just - she knew how much it would have meant to him to get into NYADA, and what it meant that he'd been refused._

_Rachel sighed. "I just wish you could come with me..." she said, trying to sound disappointed for his sake, but she was so nervous and excited and madly, madly happy that it sounded as fake as Kurt's words just a second before. NYADA was the first step toward making her very, very ambitious dreams come true. She'd got in, regardless of the amount of applicants and how amazing the competition - namely that irritating Harmony kid - and that was a good first step. A small one, perhaps, but still a vitally important one. Although it was partially ruined for her by the fact that Kurt wasn't going with her, she wasn't going to let it bring her down._

_"Don't worry, you don't have to pretend." Kurt said miserably, playing with the straps on the large bag he had a large bag over one shoulder that was full of Rachel's things to entertain herself with on the plane - she had known that she'd be too excited to sleep, and so needed something to do. "But I honestly am happy for you. I just don't seem to be able to show it right now."_

_The two of them stepped forward as the queue moved forwards, Rachel literally bouncing up and down on the spot in her dark brown shoes with excitement and Kurt staring at the floor and trying to avoid having to look at the labels that covered the suitcase in front of him, reading simply 'New York Academy of Dramatic Arts'._

_Rachel glanced sideways at him, took one look at his expression and burst into tears. "God, Kurt, I'm so sorry." she sobbed. "I'm just really, really excited, but I can't stand the idea that you're not gonna be there too. I mean, what if I need a last-minute wardrobe change? Or I'm not good enough and need a makeover? What'll I do then?" she almost wailed, not caring how shallow she sounded._

_Kurt almost laughed, and pulled her sideways so they could sit down on one of the free benches. The airport was almost totally deserted, and, as he reasoned, a little delay wouldn't make Rachel miss her flight. After all, she'd planned it so that they arrived six hours early, 'Just incase!'. Meaning that neither Finn, or Blaine, or any of the New Directions were there; not wanting to get up at three in the morning to drive for an hour and a half to get to the airport, then wait another six hours for Rachel's ten-thirty AM flight._

_Also, he knew that the woman who had accepted or declined the NYADA applications was there, and Rachel Berry wasn't going to miss a chance to add some extra drama so that she got noticed._

_He made himself smile and not look at the planes leaving outside, knowing that in just under five hours he'd be driving back home to his dead-end life in Lima, forced to work in the Lima Bean, or worse, having to do the paperwork for his dad's tyre shop. He shuddered slightly at the thought, then said "I can tell you what to wear over the phone, Rachel. Please, don't worry about me...Just enjoy it, okay?" he told her, feeling like he was about to cry himself. "And photos. I need many, many photos. Of everything. The streets, the morning rush hour, the lights at night, the huge billboards that you see in the movies, NYADA itself - especially the stage. Did you know that you get to go on a trip behind the scenes of Wicked? And see all the costumes? And meet the actors?" he asked wistfully, then remembered he wasn't going and went silent again, eyes suspiciously shiny although he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry._

_Rachel wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her ever-present reindeer sweater. "R-Really? Wicked?" she asked curiously, then perked up a little. "I get to meet Elphaba?" she asked in an awed whisper. "Wow..this is going to be amazing, Kurt! And when we get there, we'll go shopping _straight away_ and you can help me pick out a dress, then I'll take you to that place where me and Finn went for dinner that night when we were at Nationals and..." she trailed off, realising that she was talking like Kurt was going on the plane with her, too._

_Kurt smiled too politely, and bit his lip, tears in his eyes. "Rachel...I'm staying, remember? We opened the letters and I'm not going. I'm not going." he repeated, more for his benefit than Rachel's, to remind himself not to think too much about the fact that his ambitions probably were going to end after the flight left. "I'm not going and I'm going to be stuck in this damned t-town and there's n-nothing I can do about it." he blurted, descending into sobbing on the last few words._

_Rachel frowned, and took Kurt's hand. She stood up, and walked to the large viewing window, dragging him with her, and along with him all her luggage. When they'd stopped, she dropped her bag on the floor - Kurt winced slightly as he heard the glass in the photo frame containing the photo of the whole of New Directions that he'd helped her stuff into her already over-filled suitcase shatter as it hit the floor - and hugged him, hard._

_"Of course there is." Rachel said comfortingly, staring past Kurt's shoulder and at the tall, red-haired woman with glasses who was walking toward them. She smiled ever so slightly, then continued. "Look, Kurt. You're an amazing singer. Your fashion choices are fantastic, you're a great performer and you've got a fantastic future with Blaine in Ohio."_

_Kurt scowled slightly through his tears, glad that Rachel couldn't see and get the wrong idea. "I know, but I don't want that! Okay, I love Blaine, but Ohio's going nowhere. I can't be stuck in Lima for the rest of my life...I mean, look. Mercy's going to the school in London, Finn got his football scholarship, Quinn got into Yale, Mike's at his dancing school, Puck...I don't know, but he's probably got his pool-cleaning mafia out there somewhere...But that's beside the point. They all got to follow their dreams, why not me?" he asked sadly._

_At that point, someone tapped him on the shoulder and he stepped back from Rachel and span around to face whoever it was. Rachel smiled mischeviously._

_In front of them both was the red-haired woman. "I heard your problem." she said casually. "Rachel Berry, am I correct?" she asked Rachel, smiling politely. "I saw your audition tape. You sang 'Funny Girl'."_

_Rachel nodded, suddenly nervous. Her idea was riding on this moment, and although it was only a very, very sketchy idea - nothing of the perfectly-thought-out calibre that she usually came up with before even trying anything out - it was still important. "Yes. This is Kurt." she said, gesturing to the miserable-looking boy in the bright red scarf next to her. "He applied, too, but he was declined."_

_The woman switched her analyzing gaze over to Kurt, who stepped from foot to foot anxiously. "Ah, yes. Kurt Hummel. Auditioned with 'Don't Cry For Me Argentina'."_

_Kurt nodded mutely, realising who the woman was - the one who had accepted or declined the applications to NYADA. Now he knew, he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed - her New York accent and bag inscribed with N.Y.A.D.A should have been a dead giveaway, if he was looking closely enough._

_"Anyway. I saw the little scene between you two back there, and remembered something." the woman said, getting a clipboard out of her bag. "Ah, here it is...A record of a phone call that took place about an hour ago. A boy called David Westfield cancelled his application. Turned out he couldn't follow through after being accepted because of family issues. That makes us one applicant short this year."_

_"Um..." started Kurt, slightly dazed. The whole situation reminded him of some movie, but he hadn't figured out if it ended happily or in disappointment. His ideal ending would be that the woman would offer him the place and he'd fly off on a plane with Rachel and live happily ever after. However, he knew that was a _very_ fairytale idea, and tried not to think about it._

_The woman handed him a letter, and waved dismissively before he even had a chance to look at it. "Don't thank me. I'll change the name on the database and nobody will know the difference." she said airily, and walked back into the main airport._

_Kurt stared at the folded-up paper in his hands, unwilling to open it incase it was just an apology letter. 'Sorry, Kurt Hummel, but you're not good enough. Try again next year.'_

_Rachel, who'd been previously silent, leant across and swiped the letter out of his hands. "Oh, come on." she said, rolling her eyes, before Kurt had a chance to protest. "You were never going to open it. I appreciate dramatic pauses, but this is just too much." she stated, and unfolded it. _

_She read it quietly, then proceeded to scream in pure excitementand throw her arms around Kurt's neck, jumping up and down. "You got in!" she shrieked, not caring that she was probably deafening him. "You got in!"_

_"Give me that." said Kurt uncertaintly, not knowing if this was another one of Rachel's drama practices. He took the letter off her, and read it quickly. He dropped it on the floor as soon as he read the word 'CONGRATULATIONS' printed in bold, red type and hugged Rachel back hard, chanting a high-pitched "I'minI'minI'min!" with happiness._

_"Wait..." said Rachel, pulling back and looking at Kurt worriedly. "You haven't got any luggage. I know how long it takes you to pack, we won't have time to go back and get things sorted. And you've got no ticket."_

_Kurt gave her a signature 'bitch, please' look. "I've had a spare suitcase in the local TravelInn for the past three weeks. And a ticket. I wasn't entirely unhopeful, you know. A guy can dream."_

_"Kurt, don't pretend that you planned this. While it's an odd coincedence, I'm not buying it." Rachel had laughed, pulling him back toward the luggage queue with a new, even more ecstatic beam on her face._

Rachel smiled to herself at the memory, then let the frown replace it again. "Kurt...You told me you'd have this place decorated." '_Well, more than it is already.' _she added in her head. The boy had already gone Crazy Christmas Decorating Mode on the aparment already. But even still, for the party, she'd been expecting a little more.

"Just wait, Rachel-I-Doubt-Your-Decoration-Skill-Berry." came a voice from behind the large Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.

"What're you doing over there?" Rachel called, confused, as she went over. She pushed some of the branches aside, careful not to knock them too much so that the pine needles dropped on the floor, and peered down.

Kurt was knelt on the floor messing with the plug points, bits of Christmas tree stuck to his sweater, just as bits of tree were starting to stick to Rachel's arms and hair. He barely looked up at her, and instead flicked a switch.

Suddenly the apartment was even brighter than before, illuminated by fairylights that were wrapped around the staircase banisters, and pinned across the ceiling. Other bright sparks of light were coiled around lampshades, the old-fashioned fireplace and the cupboards in the kitchen. Rachel didn't bother checking the other parts of the apartment, knowing that Kurt wouldn't have stopped at just the obvious places. Knowing him, there'd be lights on the small balcony that was between their rooms.

Rachel opened her mouth to make a comment, but was interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by a call of "Kurt? Rachel?" from a voice that was very familiar to them both.

**~livyceegee**


	2. Old Friends and Uninvited Guests

**Note: I don't own Glee...although that'd be totally awesome. But I don't own it xD**

Chapter 2 - Old Friends and Uninvited Guests

-Kurt-

Kurt's face lit up, and he darted out from behind the tree and to the door. He fumbled with the catch in his excitement, and Rachel caught up with him and slid it open with ease.

"Step back, the door opens outwards!" she said through the door, and there was a sound of shuffling feet. Three pairs of shuffling feet.

Rachel glanced across and Kurt, and he could see the hopeful look in her eyes. He could tell she was hoping that her special guest would have turned up, too. Neither of them had seen any of their family or friends since the night before the two of them for Rachel's plane for NYADA, unknowing that Kurt would be going along with her. The only methods of communication they had were Skype, letters, texts and phone calls, so they hadn't actually been face-to-face with anyone from Lima since the start of the school year.

Kurt pushed the door open, and it swung back. He leant forward and caught it before it slammed into the concrete of the wall outside the apartment, then straightened up, only to be hug attacked by a boy with dark, almost-black curly hair and wearing a long, dark coat. The boy looked a little older than Kurt remembered, and his hair had less product in it, but otherwise he was the same person that Kurt had met on the staircase at Dalton Academy.

"Blaine!" he gasped, all the breath going out of him from the force of the hug. "Haven't...haven't seen you in a while..."

"You're ruining the moment." Blaine said, and stepped back, smiling so widely that Kurt was slightly worried for his boyfriend's mental health. His dark brown eyes had dark circles beneath them, like he hadn't slept at all the night before he was due to travel, added to the effects of jet lag. "Let me be happy, I've missed you. It doesn't help that I didn't know you were here until I got a particularly cheerful phone call three hours after you were due home." he said, but he didn't sound angry.

Kurt laughed. "I missed you too...Seriously. Our webcam is awful, it kept cutting half of your head off." he said, frowning slightly, then smiled again, happier than he'd been for a while. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed Blaine, but now it felt like part of him that he'd left behind in Lima had come home. "Come on, I have to show you around the apartment!" he chirped, taking the shorter boy's hand and starting to lead him into the apartment. Blaine followed, but when he stepped into the apartment, Kurt froze, staring at the boy behind him with narrowed eyes.

When he spoke, his voice lost it's previous cheerful tone and became flat and emotionless.

"_Sebastian_."

-Rachel-

As soon as the door opened, Rachel saw the person she'd been waiting for. A tall boy, with dark hair and light brown eyes regarded her, and she was hit by regret all over again.

Just before she and Kurt had left for NYADA, Rachel had been reading too much, and watching too many TV shows and thinking too much into the whole long-distance relationship thing. She'd come to the conclusion that Finn would end up cheating on her with Quinn Fabray, the Yale-bound ex-cheerleader and ex-girlfriend of said Finn Hudson, and the time that Rachel didn't see him would only make it easier for Finn to keep the inevitable truth from her .

She'd mentioned it to Finn the night before she left, the night where she'd hosted a small gathering of family and friends, sort of a celebration party, and he'd been offended. Rightly. Then Rachel had made what she considered to be one of the biggest mistakes of her life so far. She'd broken up with Finn.

She'd even stood there, and let the information sink in to him, trying to remember the expression on his face so she could remember it in her more selfish moments, before fleeing to her bedroom and crying the rest of the evening away in regret and misery. He hadn't come upstairs, hadn't even tried to protest, which had just made her cry harder. So she'd choked it down like burnt toast, knowing it was her own fault and he had right to not want her anymore, and continued with her life, not letting anyone know about her real emotions when leaving Ohio.

Of course, she'd told Kurt. She'd told him on the plane, and he'd been slightly shocked, but promised not to tell anyone. Pinky promised her, something which she was sure neither of them had done since third grade.

Finn had tried to phone her a few times, but every time his name flashed up on her caller ID, Rachel had just let the phone ring, too proud to pick up the phone no matter how much it hurt to listen to the voicemails he left. After the third or fourth unanswered call, he stopped leaving messages. After the sixth or seventh, he stopped calling altogether.

And now Rachel was here, trying not to smile up at Finn as he looked down at her blankly. Like she was a stranger, and meant nothing to him.

So she swallowed down all the apologies she'd prepared and everything she'd wanted to say, and invited him inside politely, walking past a annoyed-looking Kurt and into the apartment, biting her lip to keep away the tears.

-Kurt-

Kurt stared blankly at Sebastian Smythe, trying not to let his hatred for the other boy show too much.

Sebastian's cold blue eyes stared back at him, one eyebrow raised as if to say 'What're you going to do about it?'.

Kurt stared back, then abruptly looked away and back at Blaine. The younger boy smirked triumphantly, as if this was another small battle won, and said "Good evening, Kurt. I hope you don't mind me...tagging along with your amazing boyfriend here."

"Kurt..." said Blaine warningly, seeing the expression on Kurt's face and knowing trouble was brewing.

Kurt broke off from his mental rant of hatred at Sebastian, and smiled brightly at a spot just above Sebastian's head. "Of course not. To what do I owe this...unexpected visit?" he asked, not sure how to term it.

Sebastian smiled a shark-like smile, and stepped inside. Kurt was tempted to yell at him to get out of his house, but decided it would just ruin the time he could be spending with Blaine. After all, he cared more about seeing Blaine than hating on Sebastian. If Sebastian had come with Blaine, then Kurt would just have to put up with it.

"Well, as it happens, Blaine brought me along." Sebastian practically purred, sauntering around Kurt and Blaine and into the house, disappearing from view around a corner, but not before he had a chance to send a flirty smile Blaine's way.

Finn passed the two almost straight after, and Kurt smiled slightly at his step-brother. Finn smiled back wryly, and mouthed 'Creep', followed by a pointed look at Sebastian. Kurt laughed quietly, deciding to talk to him later, and Finn went into the apartment, heading straight for the kitchen, typical Finn-style.

"Where were we?" asked Kurt, smiling at Blaine.

"A tour." supplied Blaine, squeezing Kurt's hand.

Kurt laughed again out of happiness at seeing Blaine again, and started to lead him inside.

"Hey, Anderson! I hope you're not running off with my boy before the party's even started!" came an indignant voice from the doorway. Kurt turned around, and a smile broke out across his face.

"Mercedes!" he almost sang, excited to see how his friend had changed in her six months in England, at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts.

The girl had grown , now standing at about two inches taller than she had been when Kurt had last seen her, although he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination. Her hair was longer, but her front fringe was still there. She looked older, too, but he couldn't decide whether that was just the tiredness from the jet lag.

"Hey, Porcelain." said Mercedes tiredly, then yawned. "Gawd, I'm tired. My plane left at six this morning. So I had to get up at five to get down to Heathrow on time. And you know how much mornings play havoc with this girl's beauty sleep."

Kurt tilted his head and looked at her closely, aware that something was different but not saying anything. "You can crash on the couch, if you want?" he offered, then Blaine burst out laughing from beside him. Mercedes and Kurt gave him identical confused looks, and Blaine raised a finger while still laughing, a signal to wait until he could talk straight again.

"Mercedes...you have a British accent." he managed, then doubled over laughing again.

Mercedes scowled. "Not funny, Prep Boy." she told him, and Kurt paid extra attention to her accent, only to find Blaine was correct. Mercedes' usual Ohio twang was still there, but less obvious behind her slight British accent that Kurt assumed she'd picked up while at RADA.

" 'S'not my fault." she muttered, her cheeks turning a shade of pink. She folded her arms over her red dress, and tapped her shoes on the floor.

Kurt just laughed, and linked his free arm through hers, pulling both her and the still-in-hysterics Blaine into the apartment, all thoughts of Sebastian forgotten. For now, at least.

-Rachel-

Rachel frowned to herself, stood in the centre of her perfectly-clean, pale pink and cream bedroom.

After a few minutes of glaring at her own reflection in the window, visible among the bright city lights below the apartment, she turned on her heel only to see a familiar figure stood at the door. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned back, arms folded, trying to pretend she hadn't seen him.

Because there was no doubting it was him. The same piercing blue eyes, the same confident smile, and the same ridiculous hair that everyone but her seemed to hate. Even the way he was casually leant against her doorframe reminded her of when she'd first met him.

"Hello, Rachel." he said, and Rachel shut her eyes and fisted her hands tightly by her side. She was still trying to get over Finn...or at least, that's what she was telling herself. She couldn't deal with another boy in her life, particularly one who she might still have feelings for. '_Might._' she told herself firmly, refusing to believe it for certain.

"Hello, Jesse." she responded, trying to make her tone as icy cold as possible, but the words just came out as hopeful. Hopeful that he'd talk back.

Jesse laughed quietly. "Something wrong, Rachel? I see Hudson downstairs and you're not in his arms, so something must have gone wrong in your New York fairytale."

Rachel scowled suddenly, and rounded on him. "What happens between...Finn, and I, is none of your business." she snapped, hesitating before she said Finn's name for reasons that she couldn't quite figure out. "You can't talk to me about my life, seeing as you just left it."

She didn't have to look up from his polished, black shoes to know that her scowl was mirrored on his face. "I wasn't allowed back at McKinley after the dance. You know that." he said pointedly. "I saw you at Sectionals, didn't I?"

"Yes, but that was almost seven months ago!" Rachel mumbled. She could give the date more specifically, if she wanted to - to the day, in fact, but she wasn't going to let him know that. Jesse, being Jesse, would take it the wrong way, and the whole old drama would start up again. Finn and Rachel and Jesse. Always the same arguing. "A call wouldn't hurt, would it? Or maybe even a letter?"

"And what do you care?" asked Jesse, raising an eyebrow skeptically. He stepped inside her room, crossing from the dark red of the staircase and hallway - Rachel's own little red carpet - into the white-covered floor of her room.

Rachel glared at him, knowing she should probably yell at him to get out, but finding she didn't want to. "You could have been dead!" she accused. "Not one little message to congratulate me on getting into NYADA? At all? I _know_ you know that guy who keeps pigeons."

There was a brief sound of laughter as Rachel turned around again from Jesse, and she went over to the door that lead to the balcony, silently fuming. She unlocked it with a click, and stepped outside into the cold night air.

Jesse followed here, and she tried not to growl at him.

"Rachel, you underestimate me. If I'd have died, I have such a complicated system in place that you'd have been one of the first to know." he said loftily, sounding proud of himself.

"Your ego is as big as the Empire State Building." huffed Rachel, staring down at the bright lights of New York. The aparment was five floors in the air, on the top floor of one of the smaller apartment blocks. The four floors below Rachel and Kurt's borrowed apartment were filled with a troop of theatre performers, who were currently in Kansas as part of their country-wide tour of schools, so the building was pretty much empty apart from the party and it's inhabitants on the top floor.

"And I know you love it." said Jesse mischeviously, resting his arms on the balcony next to Rachel. She tried not to blush at his comment, and failed, causing more laughter from the curly-haired boy.

"Why are you here, Jesse?" she asked in a small voice, slightly nervous to ask the question incase he vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Because you're out here, and if you freeze to death in that dress and fall off the balcony, then at least someone will be able to set the story straight." he responded, smiling.

Rachel suddenly felt a little self-conscious in her knee-length black-and-white dress. It was sleeveless, and so quite cold, but it had recieved the Kurt Hummel seal of approval and she'd wanted to dress up for Finn. She started guiltily as she thought Finn's name, remembering that she was meant to be trying to spend time with him and Jesse had just...got in the way.

"No." she said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, why here? Why are you in New York and when did you get here?"

"Kurt invited me. He told me that you two were having 'a small party, and would you like to come?'" Jesse told her, imitating Kurt's voice. "Besides," he continued, returning to his normal tone, "I'm not going to pass up a chance to see you, am I?"

Rachel frowned, making a mental note to ask Kurt about it when she next saw him. "...Right." she said suspiciously. "Because you didn't come to make trouble because you knew Finn would be coming too _at all_."

"Don't be sarcastic, it doesn't suit you." Jesse said, frowning at her, then there was a sound of footsteps and when Rachel next looked, he had vanished inside, shutting the glass door behind him.

She sighed, and took the other door that lead to Kurt's room and headed back to the party.

**Yeah, I know, this isn't so long. So, do you all want to kill me? Bearing in mind I have commited the awful sin of not seeing most of the middle episodes of Season One, mainly the Jesse episodes, so I may have failed to capture him completely. It's a hard life for a fourteen-year-old writing fanfictons... *JOKE!* It's fun ^_^**

**~livyceegee**


	3. Things Said and Traps Set

**As usual, I don't own Glee, but if I did it would be the St Finchel-Klainastian show...I don't own Finding Nemo either, much as I'd love to xD**

Chapter 3 - Things Said and Traps Set

-Blaine-

Blaine looked around the now-mostly full apartment and smiled to himself.

Santana had arrived soon after Mercedes had, followed by a rain-soaked Mike and Tina, who had been caught in a short rainstorm. They'd settled in quickly - Rachel insisting straight away that Tina use her ensuite and have a hot shower, Mike having dried off more quickly because he hadn't got as soaked as his girlfriend had. Soon after, a Quinn with slightly longer hair than Blaine remembered had arrived, carrying a tired-looking now-just-past-two-years-old Beth, with the explanation of '_Shelby said I could take her on a weekend away. So no drinking for me.'_

The next guest to arrive was a confused looking Brittany, who'd apparently got lost on the bus system. She told them all that Artie hadn't been able to make it, and that he wanted to know if the next gathering could be back at Lima, because he couldn't afford to go on a plane with disabled access.

Puck had arrived a few minutes later, and immediately found Quinn and Beth, and the two of them had descended into Beth-related conversation, if a little awkwardly from not seeing each other for so long. About half an hour later, Puck had left to go and explore town, and Mike and Tina had left to go and pick up a package to take back to Mike Chang Senior and then go and get a meal, after which they would return to the apartment.

Now Blaine was sat on the couch in the living room next to Mercedes, and Kurt was on his other side, sat cross-legged on the couch arm and talking animatedly with Santana, trying to explain the concept of how skyscrapers stayed up in the air to Brittany.

Brittany folded her arms. "I just don't see how it works! I mean, if the wind blows, why don't they fall over? If I was that tall and the wind blew, I'd fall over." she stated frustratedly.

"It's _because..._"started Santana, then trailed off and cast a desperate glance at Kurt.

"It's because they're so big, Britt." explained Kurt. "And they're made out of concrete, so they're heavy."

"Yes. That." added Santana, seeming a little annoyed that she hadn't been the one to explain. "So the wind doesn't affect them much. Look, like if I did this-" she took a breath and blew it out in a whistle in Kurt's direction "-Nothing would happen to Kurt. However, if I did that to a beetle, it'd probably flip over. It's the same with a skyscraper, what affects us doesn't affect them."

"So this place isn't going to fall down?" Britt asked skeptically.

Kurt laughed, and shook his head. Blaine smiled slightly at the sound. "No. We're only five floors up, so this place is actually quite low down for New York."

"Brittany, don't worry about it." Santana told the blonde girl kindly, seeing the embarrassed look on her face. She glared at Kurt, clearly seeing that his laughter had worried Brittany that she was being stupid. "It can be confusing."

"I'm just going to go and get a drink." said Mercedes cheerfully. "No, Blaine, not alchohol. It's only half eight..." she added, smiling, and stood up, heading into the kitchen.

Her seat was almost instantly taken by a dark haired figure with a permanent smirk. "Hello, Blaine. Nice party, don't you think, Kurt?"

Blaine tuned out of Santana and Brittany's conversation, and didn't even have to look to know that Kurt's smile had frozen on his face and his fingers had tightened around his empty coffee mug. His distrust of Sebastian wasn't exactly subtle, but he had never really been good at hiding that sort of thing.

"It's more of a gathering. But...Yes. Very nice." Kurt said, the words sounding like he wanted to add 'until _you_ arrived' on the end of his sentence.

Blaine sighed inwardly, wishing that Kurt would understand that the younger boy wasn't a threat to them and never had been. Blaine had chosen _Kurt, _and that was the truth, and he kept on choosing him even though he'd gone to NYADA and Blaine hadn't seen him for months. And that was true, too. Sebastian had asked him out repeatedly since Kurt had left, and seemed to have been getting more and more frustrated until around Halloween, when he apologized profusely and seemed to back off. Although Blaine wasn't entirely sure of Sebastian's honesty, but seeing as his behaviour had changed and he'd only stopped flirting with Blaine in words... He'd just have to trust him not to ruin the one weekend he had with Kurt, the boy he loved, until Easter break.

But now Sebastian _was _ruining it, being more flirtatious than he'd been before he'd 'backed off'...although it wasn't all his fault. If Kurt just got over the fact that Sebastian had changed, grown up a little - at least, he told Blaine repeatedly he had - since the last year at McKinley, then the whole time could be a lot less awkward for all three of them.

"Something wrong, Blaine?" Sebastian asked, sitting a little too closely to Blaine for comfort, and certaintly for Kurt's peace of mind, because although he seemed to have been trying to ignore Sebastian, his gaze flickered sideways then back to the fairylights on the Christmas tree that were so bright that Blaine was sure looking at them for too long must give people a headache.

"Nothing, nothing." said Blaine absentmindedly, turning to look at Sebastian, who smiled back in a way that made the ex-Warbler nervous. Sebastian's eyes flicked between Blaine, who looked unsurely at him, and Kurt, who was sitting statue-still on the arm of the couch, a false smile on his face as he stared into space, obviously thinking. Blaine could tell without asking what was running through his boyfriend's mind: '_Blaine brought me along.'_

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" snickered Sebastian. "Oh, I'm _sorry_...Hm, what's this? Blaine is actually talking to me, and Porcelain over here is looking like he wants to stab me...Oh, look! Your black friend is coming back." he said, seeing Mercedes and getting smoothly to his feet. "I better leave for the minute. See you, Blaine...Oh, and Kurt? Take off the scarf. It turns your already-disasterous outfit into a complete trainwreck."

Kurt frowned to himself, fingers playing with the tassels on his blue scarf and looking slightly offended. "The 'black girl's name is _Mercedes_." he said pointedly, then muttered something that sounded like '_meerkat'_ when Sebastian passed him, walking into the kitchen.

"Kurt..." sighed Blaine, patting the couch next to him as Mercedes took a seat in an armchair, blowing steam from the top of a hot drink. A faint smell of chocolate and marshmallows drifted through the room, and Blaine smiled slightly at memories of the Lima Bean the years before.

Kurt slid silently off the edge of the arm in a practised motion, and took the seat next to Blaine, leaning back against the soft material and drawing his knees up to his chest in a half-relaxed kind of way. Blaine couldn't help but notice the unusually large space between them. "Yes?"

"You're not still _worried_ about him, are you?" Blaine asked, studying Kurt's expression to make sure he was telling the truth when he answered.

Kurt had seen the analytical look in Blaine's eyes before, and decided there was no point in lying. "Yes, I am." he said to the Christmas tree at the other side of the room, not meeting Blaine's eyes. "He...worries me. He has a bulldozer personality." he said simply, not explaining.

"Meaning?" probed Blaine, wishing he wasn't spending the time with Kurt like this, but feeling like it was neccesary to get the Sebastian thing out of the way.

"Meaning he's like a bulldozer. He'll do anything to get what he wants. And he's convinced he'll get it, no matter how many people he has to bulldoze through to get there. He'll break anyone who gets in his way and take pleasure in it, because every person he takes down is just another step closer to getting what he wants." Kurt explained, looking a little miserable.

"And what does he want?" Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You. He wants you." stated Kurt, looking sideways at Blaine, a defeated look in his eyes.

"Hey...Is this about the scarf comment? It's just a thing that's been said. It doesn't mean it's true." Blaine said quietly, reaching out to put his arm around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt leant into him instinctively, and Blaine smiled in quiet happiness.

"Of course it's not about the scarf comment..." Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes. "It wasn't even that offensive. When I had chance to think about it..Did you not listen to a word I just said? Sebastian doesn't exactly make himself unobvious."

"Kurt, can we just stop talking about him?" Blaine asked suddenly, glancing across at the TV as Brittany searched the stack of DVD's that were stacked up there. One pile was labelled 'Kurt's', and the other 'Rachel's', a gold star sticker after Rachel's name on every disk. However, there was a third pile that was much bigger than the other two, which was a mixture of labels that Blaine guessed was the most-watched stack. "I love _you_, okay? You've got _nothing_ to worry about, Kurt. Honestly."

Kurt blushed slightly, and nodded against Blaine's shoulder, still leant sideways. He seemed unwilling as Blaine was to move from his spot on the couch, which wasn't an issue seeing as Rachel's dads seemed to have bought the longest couch they could find. Blaine and Kurt only took up about a quarter of it, and that free space quickly began to be filled as Brittany found a disk and passed it to Santana, then sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

"What movie did you pick?" Kurt asked Brittany, who smiled brightly.

"Finding Nemo." she said, the disk case in her hands. "You have a lot of Disney movies..."

Kurt laughed. "Me and Rachel like Disney. Well, more me. I'm a sucker for animated talking animals, too..."

Blaine smiled. "Britt, you don't know how many times he's cried at Bambi." he said teasingly, and Kurt elbowed him in the side. Blaine good-naturedly played along and pretended to be in pain, even though it had barely hurt.

Santana, who'd figured out how to work the DVD player, pressed play and folded herself up on the couch in front of Brittany, her head leant against Britt's knees. As the opening tune started to play, Quinn entered with Beth, holding the little girl's hand to make sure she didn't trip over.

"Can I join you?" she whispered, standing in the doorway, sillhouetted in her yellow dress against the bright light of the kitchen. "Beth likes movies, and I need to get her to sleep."

"Sure. It's _Finding Nemo_." Mercedes whispered back, speaking up from her seat in the armchair.

Beth's face lit up, seeing the screen. "Fishies." she managed to say, not quite a confident talker yet.

Quinn smiled. "Thank you..." she said quietly, and sat on the sofa, sitting Beth on the side closest to Blaine and Kurt because it was the easiest space to fit her into.

"No problem." Blaine whispered, and the room fell silent as the movie played.

-Sebastian-

Sebastian watched the scene from the kitchen, glaring at Kurt. An overwhelming hatred for the pale-skinned boy overcame him, and he crossed his arms.

One thing Sebastian was good at was understanding people. However, with these two, he'd got it wrong for once. When he'd first met Blaine, during that performance of Uptown Girl, he'd immediatley put him down as _weak_. Easy to confuse. Manipulatable. Kind and sweet, Blaine was the one he'd set his sights on from the start. Not to mention the fact that the boy was the hottest thing that Sebastian had seen in a long time...and his talent didn't hurt, either.

Then he'd found out about Kurt, and things had taken a different turn. It had become almost like a game for Sebastian, less about actually falling in love and more about _winning_. From the start, Kurt - seemingly icy cold, oh-so-annoyingly-superior Kurt - had been in his way, and that meant he had to be taken down. It looked so _easy_; Blaine was obviously the weaker link, the one who could be tricked into falling head over heels within a matter of months. Maybe even weeks, or days.

But as Sebastian's game to win Blaine had progressed, things had changed. No matter how much he flirted, or turned on his disturbingly effective powers of persuasion to change the situation and prise the two apart, Blaine had stayed utterly faithful to Kurt, his soft outside personality giving way to an iron core. Kurt, on the other hand, seemed to be getting easier and easier to annoy and to manipulate into being his own romantic destruction. Hummel's at first seemingly inpenetrable confidence was easily shattered, and from that point onwards it was just a simple matter of chipping away at his faith in Blaine to break him.

Then, suddenly, things had been going so _well_ for Sebastian when he'd found out that Kurt had got into NYADA. What better opportunity could there be to steal Blaine right out from under Kurt's irritating nose?

But, of course, no such luck. Even though he wasn't actually there in person, Kurt still somehow managed to ruin everything. No matter how many times Sebastian asked Blaine out, the idiot still seemed to be ever faithful to his non-present boyfriend. It was enough to make Sebastian want to give up altogether.

Which, of course, would never happen. He never gave up. Ever. There wasn't one time when Sebastian hadn't got what he was after, and Kurt Hummel wasn't going to be the one to ruin his streak.

"So, what's your problem?" came a voice from behind Sebastian. He turned around, but not before he'd wiped the expression of surprise from his face and replaced it with his usual smirk.

It was that annoying footballer that Blaine had ranted to him about at the start of the year, just after Blaine had transferred. Sebastian had only seen him from a distance once or twice, and the way that Finn Hudson was so much taller than him made Sebastian hesitate for a moment before speaking.

"Ah, nothing that your brain could comprehend." Sebastian said loftily, imaginging himself as a king and this indimidatingly tall boy as just a servant. Or maybe the kid who mucked out the horses in the royal stables.

Finn Hudson frowned. "Geez, I only asked, dude. No need to insult me. I was just wondering why you were sending your daggers of hatred at Kurt." he said, gesturing between his own eyes and the two boys on the couch. "You're not homophobic, are you? In which case if you are, you can get straight back out on the street." he added, a dark expression crossing his face.

"I'm gay." Sebastian said bluntly. "Really, I thought it was obvious. Perhaps not compared to Ghost Boy over there though, who literally has a sign above his head screaming it to the world." he smirked again, even more than his natural expression.

"Just checking. Those two have been through a lot because of homophobia, Kurt especially, and I don't want it to happen ever again." said Finn Hudson, narrowing his eyes at Sebastian for reasons that Sebastian hadn't quite worked out yet, even though he got the feeling that Finn wasn't the brightest bulb in the box, so to speak.

"Well, it's not like he's not asking for it." said Sebastian pointedly, meaning Kurt. "I've heard he wore a skirt to Prom. What person in their right mind who doesn't want to get picked on does that?"

Finn Hudson's light brown eyes flashed with anger. "It was a _kilt_." he snapped protectively. "Leave him alone. What's your problem, anyway?"

Sebastian didn't understand why anyone would actually care about the grey-eyed demon who had taken Blaine from him, so scowled in return. "My problem is him. He walks around like he owns the place with his superior attitude and his bad dress sense and one of us is going to get Blaine, and it won't be him." he said calmly, barely betraying how irritated he was.

"Let me tell you a story." said Finn Hudson, his voice dangerously quiet. "It's a story about a boy called Kurt Hummel. His mom died when he was eight, at around the same time that my dad died in Operation Desert Storm. He came out in a high school that didn't really care much and got crap for it by almost everyone there, me included. Mainly because he wore better clothes than us, had a 'better-than-thou' attitude that reminded us of the English Queen before she got old, and most of the football team thought that gay was a disease that was catching. But the whole time, he just ignored us all and let all the insults roll of his back like water to a duck, and stuck at Glee club. I mean, at one point, I nailed his lawn furniture to his roof. And although it might not be for the right reasons, he matchmaked his dad and my mom. And eventually it turned out to be an amazing decision, because they got married."

Sebastian shrugged. "So? Doesn't bother me."

"Let me finish. Anyway, after a while, I got used to the fact that we were now step-brothers, although I didn't really accept him fully, just put up with him because my mom was with his dad and she was happier than I've seen her since Dad died." said Finn Hudson in the same quiet tone. "Then the bullying got worse, and this kid called Karofsky started picking on him. You know, shoving him into lockers, calling him names and generally making his life hell. But I was too scared to stand up for him because I was already terrified of falling out of my popularity as the school quarterback, and I was already pretty close to getting kicked out because I lived in the same house as a queer. So I ignored it. It got to the point where Kurt had to leave McKinley and his few friends and the small group of people, the New Directions, who actually accepted him because nobody, not even me, cared enough to try and stop it. And the upshot of that is that Kurt now has a step-brother named Finn who isn't prepared to sit back and watch as someone else tries to screw up his life."

"You don't scare me." said Sebastian blithely, not really caring what Finn Hudson had to say in defence of Kurt Hummel because nothing would change Sebastian's view of the world except from himself. After all, things said didn't bother him at all.

"He went to Dalton, which is where he'd met Blaine before, who seemed to be the only person who wanted to help him." continued Finn Hudson, seemingly in full flow now. " And eventually, they started dating. Blaine's like Kurt's one reward for putting up with everyone else's crap, and now you've just come in and you hate my step-brother because Blaine's actually a decent guy and isn't going to run to you straight away. And that's low, Sebastian or whatever your name is. That's the lowest thing I've seen in a while."

At this point, Sebastian was developing a real loathing for this footballer player who thought he was smarter than Sebastian was. Finn Hudson seemed to sense this, smiled, and walked out of the kitchen, talking a seat between the two blonde girls, the one with the baby and the stupid one. Although the one with the baby must be pretty stupid too to have a kid so young, he reasoned, and left the kitchen to sit in the study, plotting his revenge on Finn Hudson. And of course, setting traps for that equally annoying step-brother of his...

-Rachel-

Rachel stood at the door of the living room, feeling like she was looking in from the outside.

The only light in the room came from the dim glow of the strip lights in the kitchen, the fairylights coiled everywhere and the light of the TV. She could hear the voice of the little stripy fish laughing because he'd found his dad, and smiled slightly. _Finding Nemo_ was a particular favourite of her and Kurt's, and never failed to make either of them smile.

She surveyed the room in front of her, seeing Santana and Brittany curled up in almost identical positions, Santana on the floor and Britt on the couch. At the opposite end of the sofa was Blaine, his arm around Kurt's shoulders still, smiling down at him as Kurt tried to gently free the tassels of his blue scarf from the fingers of Beth without waking her. The little blonde girl who looked so much like Quinn had fallen asleep against her mother while clutching the long tassels of Kurt's scarf, which he was still wearing, close to her chest like a blanket. Quinn was laughing silently, her mouth open and a smile on her face, but no sound was coming out because she was determined not to wake up her daughter. The scene was like something from a slightly dysfunctional family, and reminded Rachel of the New Directions, just with added Beth.

And then...Finn. Finn was smiling at the four of them, and to Rachel's eyes, Quinn in particular. The paranoid idea of Finn cheating on her with Quinn came back into her head, then she remembered that Finn couldn't cheat on her because they weren't together anymore. She frowned to herself, trying to shake the idea from her head because it didn't _sound_ right, even though it was true.

"Hey, Rachel!" Mercedes whispered. "Come to watch the movie?"

Quinn and Finn turned around at almost the same time. Quinn was still laughing without, and Finn's expression was the same blank, flat thing that Rachel had been greeted with at the door.

Kurt looked up from his failed attempts to get his scarf back and pointed down at Beth. "Help..me.." he mouthed in fake desperation, and Rachel would have laughed if it wasn't for Finn and Quinn sitting so close together on the couch.

"She's two, Kurt." Quinn whispered. "It can't be _that_ hard."

"You're her mom." mumbled Kurt frustratedly. "You would say that. Ah, you know what, kid?" he told the still-asleep Beth quietly. "Hold the scarf. Just don't throttle me."

Rachel rolled her eyes at the two of them, and sat on the edge of the sofa next to Blaine, who just shook his head at her as if to say 'I'm worried, too'.

The eight of them - Rachel, Blaine, Kurt, Beth, Quinn, Finn, Brittany, Santana and Mercedes - watched the rest of the movie in silence, and were joined at the end of it by Jesse St James, who pulled up a chair next to Rachel. Rachel stiffened, aware of the awkward and occasionally violent consequences that Jesse and Finn and her in the same room had caused before.

"Hey, Rachel." Jesse murmered, smiling at her. Finn's head turned to face the sound of his voice quickly, an odd expression on his face that could have been annoyance, but Rachel couldn't tell because of the bad lighting and the speed at which he turned back again, pretending not to care. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but smiled anyway.

"Hey, Jesse. Shh, Beth." Rachel replied quietly. "Oh, and movie, too. I love this song." she said, listening as the movie ended and _Somewhere Beyond The Sea _started to play.

Quiet returned for a few minutes, then Jesse started to sing along. "_Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere, waitin' for me...My lover stands on golden sands, and watches the ships, that go sailin'..."_

Rachel turned and gave him a quizzical look.

"You said you liked it." he whispered in the instrumental gap, then started to sing the next verse.

Rachel turned to see the rest of the room's reactions. Blaine was tapping his fingers against the side of the couch, and Kurt was smiling. Beth hadn't woken up, and Quinn looked like she was bracing herself incase she did. Brittany had fallen asleep, her little finger linked with Santana's as they often used to do in McKinley, and Mercedes was watching Jesse, looking confused. Rachel tried not to join in, and to her surprise, it was Quinn who chimed in, halfway through the verse.

"..._She's there, watching for me...If I could fly, like birds on high..."_

Rachel watched as Mercedes glanced across at Santana, and the two joined in with "_..Then straight to her arms, I'd go sail-in'..."_

Jesse smiled proudly, looking more than a little pleased with himself to have started up the sing-along. He sent Rachel a smug smile, and continued to sing along with the others as Kurt added his voice to the small choir.

"_..It's far beyond the star, and near beyond the moon...I know, without a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon..."_

Blaine joined in at the word 'without', harmonising with the others perfectly.

The music at the end of the movie stopped as someone moved their feet accidentally against the pause button - either that or Rachel's DVD player had picked up it's annoying habit of cutting off the last five minutes of a movie - and the song continued, sounding almost eerie in the silence of the night, and still Beth didn't wake up. Rachel was surprised to hear Finn's voice as the next verse started - she hadn't expected him to know the words to a song like that.

"_...We'll meet, beyond the shore, we'll kiss, just as before...Happy we'll be, beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sail-in'..."_

Rachel watched as Beth's eyes opened and she looked around, confused. "Mm?" she mumbled, still not fully able to talk yet, and smiled as she heard the singing. Quinn obviously heard, because she stopped singing. The voices of everyone else died away slowly, seeing they'd woken the toddler, and Beth's face screwed up slightly in dismay. Quinn made frantic 'keep singing, keep singing' motions with one hand while she stroked her daughter's hair, trying to coax her back to sleep as the little girl tugged on Kurt's scarf tassels and he tried not to make strangled sounds.

Jesse started to sing again, quickly joined by Blaine and then Santana and Kurt. Brittany didn't seem to have woken up at all.

_"I know beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon, we'll meet I know we'll meet..."_

Mercedes seemed to remember that she was meant to be singing along too, and joined in as Beth shut her eyes again. Finn seemed to realise the same thing, and started to sing along, too.

_"...Beyond the shore, we'll kiss, just as before...Happy we'll be, beyond the sea..."_

Rachel realised she was the only one in the room who could talk and who wasn't asleep who wasn't singing, something that was out of character for her, so she joined in for the last main line:

_"And never again, I'll go sail-in'..."_

**So, yes, I stuck a song in there. I know, right? Cheesy as anything. But I couldn't help it...Finding Nemo is my favourite Disney movie. Seriously, Tangled, the Frog Princess, WALL-E and everything else since by Disney or Pixar can go die, because Finding Nemo shall forever be my favourite. And now I'll stop ranting...Pay attention to the next chapter. It's where the inter-est-in' stuff starts to happen..**

**(Oh, and I do so much like writing Sebastian. He's irritating and manipulative and it's fun to write him as he slowly plans to take Kurt's life apart stage by stage. If I've managed to write him well enough, that is xD Oh, and pretty much everyone elses's life too on his quest to win Blaine. Sebastian's like an antivillan. You naturally HAVE to hate him, but it's kinda funny when he fails. And he shall always fail...*shifty eyes* PROTECT THE KLAINEBOWS! :D And please, don't ask what's gonna happen with Jesse, Rachel and Finn. I currently have no idea... Who needs a decent plan, apart from most good authors and anyone who wants to succeed in life? Pfft. Not me...)**

**~livyceegee**


	4. Hooks, Lines and the Jolly Green Giant

**Okay, this is going to suck. Majorly. It's just a filler chapter, so pretty short, and I'm really not good at writing St Finchel drama.. . so, sorry people, and I just hope you don't want to kill me by the end of this chapter because of my bad writing...**

**Once again, I don't own Glee :D**

4 - Hooks, Lines and the Jolly Green Giant

-Finn-

Finn tried not to glare at Jesse as he sang, and tried to ignore the look on Rachel's face. She was looking at Jesse like a little kid meeting Santa Claus, in other words, like she was completely amazed. And it made Finn want to yell at her.

It was stupid, really. Jesse had dated her just to get the New Direction's secrets, egged her, taken her to Prom and then left her alone there..._Like you did with Quinn at Prom_... a small voice in his head told him, which he then ignored.

_Yeah, you're not exactly innocent yourself in the Saga of Making Rachel Berry Miserable._ the voice continued, and for at least the fifth time in his life Finn wondered what the point of a conscience was because really, it just made people feel guilty. _Most of the time that _you_ were dating her you were either wondering why or wishing you had Quinn back instead. You slept with Santana - really, Santana? You never even liked her, not in that way, at least - then you got offended when Rachel kissed Puck and broke up with her, then got Quinn to cheat on Sam...And you let Quinn walk all over you and drag you off to Prom in her insane quest to be popular, while the whole time you wanted Rachel back. Then you realised what an idiot you had been, dumped Quinn at a funeral and almost got to the point of begging to get Rachel back and expected her to trust you completely - again._

But then why did she have to go and think that he would cheat on her with Quinn? He'd learnt his lesson with the ex-cheerleader, and wasn't try _that_ again... But he shouldn't have got offended. But seriously, what else could he do? Did she really think that he was that dumb? But then that meant that Rachel should just deal with him not talking to her, even if he really did miss her ambitious craziness...

_'But, but but...Get a grip, Finn. You're arguing with yourself. That's like, majorly screwed up. Schizophrenic screwed up.'_ he thought to himself, frowning.

"What's wrong, Finn?"

That was Brittany from next to him, tilting her head in concern.

"Nothing, Britt. Nothing." he replied, only half-concentrating on what she had to say in his conflict about Rachel.

Brittany shrugged and returned to plaiting and unplating Santana's hair, obviously not really caring about what he had to say, either. Quinn stood up and excused herself, saying she had to put Beth to bed. Rachel offered the two of them her room (as Kurt was forced to take off his scarf because Beth still hadn't given it up yet), saying that her bed was big enough for two of them, then returned to her conversation with Jesse as Quinn and Beth left.

He turned to look at Rachel and Jesse again, and saw the way the two of them were discussing Rachel and Kurt's movie collection, smiling and laughing.

"I don't see why you hate Disney." Rachel was saying persistantly, not wanting to give in. She was still balanced on the arm of the already-full couch."It's really sweet..."

"But it's just odd, Rachel. You're what, eighteen now? Disney movies are for eleven year olds." said Jesse, folding his arms and giving her a 'you're totally insane' look.

Finn decided to butt in to the conversation. "Leave Rachel alone, there's nothing bad about Disney movies. Not that I watch them or anything." he added hurriedly, seeing the odd looks that he was being given.

Rachel looked slightly stunned that he'd even acknowledged her existance, and she hesitated before replying. "...Yeah. There's nothing wrong with Disney!" she declared, seeming to regain her usual confidence. "Thank you, Finn. And Jesse, if you didn't feel sad when Bambi's mom died, or when WALL-E was all broken, or when Cinderella couldn't go to the ball, then you just don't have a heart. "

Jesse turned his head to narrow his eyes at Finn and mouth 'Good going, Frankenteen' before standing up and leaving the room.

Rachel stopped ranting mid-word, watching Jesse go with wide eyes, looking more than a little confused. Then she frowned, and shook her head like she'd been expecting it to happen sooner or later.

Finn rolled his eyes. "I'll deal with it." he said, getting up, following Jesse into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

That had been five minutes ago, and it hadn't taken more than a few words for the two boys to descend into arguing.

"Just back off, Hudson!" Jesse hissed, arms folded. "You gave her the cold shoulder for _months, _and now you go and talk to her? Why?"

"What's so wrong with me talking to her?" Finn shot back. "From what I've heard, you weren't exactly social, either!"

"Yes, but at least I actually _bothered_ to apologize and try to make up for it!" muttered Jesse, tapping his overly-shiny shoes on the wooden floor of the hallway.

Realisation gradually dawned on Finn. "I get it...Dude, are you _jealous_?"

"No, I am not jealous!" the other boy snapped, looking a little embarrassed. "Why should I be jealous? I actually _have_ a future that won't be a job as a lamp post!"

Finn frowned. "You're jealous because I talked to Rachel, aren't you? Why didn't you just say so? Besides, you just argued with yourself. You yelled at me for talking to her, then yelled at me for not talking to her. That's just weird."

"Says the next poster child for the Jolly Green Giant." Jesse said irritably. "Leave me alone, will you?"

"That's just harsh." Finn replied, his frown deepening as be started to get more and more sick of Jesse St James. "Stop insulting me because of your own problems!"

"Who said I had problems?" snapped Jesse, glancing into the living room at Rachel, who was watching the two of them worriedly. He cast one last look of hatred at Finn, and stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming behind him.

Finn jumped back slightly at the surprisingly loud noise the door slamming created. "Well...that was..eventful." he said to the empty hallway, and went back into the living room.

-Kurt-

Kurt raised an eyebrow at Finn as his step-brother sat back on the couch again. "That sounded...interesting." he said, curious to know what the argument between Finn and Jesse had been about.

Finn waved dismissively. "No, not really. Nothing happened." he said, although Kurt could tell that it was a lie.

Rachel frowned. "Door-slamming and yelling is not 'nothing', Finn."

Kurt laughed, then made a zipping motion over his mouth when Rachel glared at him.

"Why is he here, anyway?" Finn asked. "I mean, who in their right mind would invite _him_ to a party?"

"Hm...Kurt?" Rachel asked, turning to face him.

Kurt swallowed. He'd been hoping that Jesse wouldn't tell Rachel who'd invited him. Truth was, much as she'd tried to hide it, he could tell that his Streisand-worshipping friend was still struggling to get over Finn. Kurt hadn't known that Finn would actually turn up after Rachel broke up with him, so he'd gone ahead and invited Jesse, much as he hated to, to try and take Rachel's mind off things. He'd been thinking of waiting until after the party and explaining to Rachel why Jesse was there - spilling the beans while Finn was in the room definitely hadn't been part of the plan.

Rachel frowned. "Jesse told me you invited him. Why?

"Out with it, White Boy." Mercedes instructed Kurt after another moment of silence.

Kurt sighed, and sat up reluctantly from his position leant against Blaine. "Because...I met him on the street earlier last week. He asked me why I was carrying a load of Christmas decorations, I accidentally mentioned the party and he wouldn't leave me alone until I invited him." he lied. Well, it wasn't fully a lie - Jesse had purposely walked into him, and then wouldn't go away until he got an invite, hearing that Kurt lived with Rachel. It would have been easy for Kurt to refuse, and just keep walking; but it was obvious that Jesse still had feelings for Rachel, and he might be the best way to pull Rachel out of the funk that she'd been in ever since she'd broken up with Finn.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, and Kurt could tell that at least one person had seen straight through him.

Luckily, nobody else seemed to find anything odd about his story, because Rachel smiled. Kurt relaxed instantly, because if he'd got past Rachel, who had learnt to spot a lie told by him from a mile off, then he'd got past almost everyone else in the room, too.

"Why didn't you just say so, Kurt?" Rachel asked, still smiling.

He shrugged. "Because it sounds pretty ridiculous when I say it out loud. 'Jesse St James managed to beat Kurt Hummel in an argument'...I'm a little ashamed, actually." he admitted, doing a fairly good impression of being embarrassed. _'Thank god for NYADA and acting classes.'_ he thought to himself slightly guiltily.

Sebastian chose that point to saunter into the room, a wicked grin on his face. Kurt tried not to glare at him, because he knew it would annoy Blaine. And if there was one thing that Kurt didn't want, it was to upset Blaine when he'd only been in New York for a matter of hours.

"Also..." started Finn, watching Sebastian warily, "Who invited _him_?"

Kurt struggled not to smile at Finn, glad to know that he wasn't the only one who saw Sebastian as who he really was - which was, in Kurt's opinion, a creep.

Sebastian's grin shrank to simply a dangerous-looking smile as he sat in the space between Blaine and Kurt, giving the latter a malicious smirk. Kurt shuffled away, scowling slightly.

"Yes." he heard himself say, much as he just wanted to ignore the newcomer, who had now transferred his attention to Blaine, sending him a flirty smile. "Why _is_ he here?"

Blaine frowned suddenly. "I can't deal with this. Kurt, I can't believe that you _still_ don't trust me! I've told you time and time again about this and-" he stopped midsentence, seeing that he was getting confused stares from around the room, then continued. "- Forget it. Don't try and follow me, please." he finished, and all but stormed out of the room and into the hallway. Kurt heard the balcony door open and then shut again, but all he could do was stare at the lights on the Christmas tree and try not to scream at Sebastian in frustration.

The evening had been going so _well_ until Sebastian had arrived. Blaine had been happy to see Kurt, and he'd been happy to see Blaine, until Kurt had known an univited guest had come along. And from that point onwards, the evening had gone downhill.

Kurt turned to glare at Sebastian, and the smirking boy stood up rapidly, looking smug. "Yes, Kurt...Why don't you trust Blaine? He's the most trustworthy person I know."

At that, he left the living room, and Kurt didn't need to get up to know he was following Blaine. Instead, he folded his arms and wrapped his hands around the still-warm mug of hot chocolate that Mercedes had gotten up to make halfway through the movie and then decided to donate it to the charity of Kurt Hummel, holding the mug so tightly his fingers hurt.

It wasn't that hard to work out, really. Sebastian had obviously been trying to provoke Kurt to make him alienate Blaine and therefore give himself more of a chance by being the 'comforting friend'. It had been a well-thought out but ridiculously simple trap, and Kurt had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

**Yes, I know, it's short compared to my last chapter - just over 2000 words as compared to just over 4500 - but I have writer's block tonight. So far I've done one chapter a day (usually afterschool), and seeing as I spent most of today at IKEA looking for furniture that did. not. get. bought. *annoyed growl* I haven't had much time.**

**And I know that I said the dramatic stuff would happen this episode...but I realised I had to write this first xD**

**~livyceegee**


	5. Burning Up

5. Burning Up

-Tina-

Tina scuffed her white converse along the concrete of the New York pavements and through the puddles left over from the previous rainstorm as Mike frowned down at her, confused.

"I told you." she explained, trying not to laugh. "I'm making them _cityworn_."

A cold breeze whistled through the trees of the park they were walking past - Tina had forgotten the name - and she shivered, pulling her coat closer around her shoulders. Well, it was actually Mike's coat, but he'd lent it to her as the night had chilled off. The two of them had decided to start heading back to the apartment when she'd noticed that Mike's watch read half past eleven, and realised that they'd been walking aimlessley around the city for at least five hours.

"And I'm telling you, I have no idea why." Mike said, rolling his eyes. His own shoes, a pair of dark blue sneakers, were practically clean compared to hers.

"White converse just don't look good unless you can make them look unclean. Splashes from puddles and paint look great." she insisted, carefully making sure not to splatter her knee-length, long-sleeved red dress with the white collar.

"Tina, I'm not getting into a conversation with you about fashion..." started Mike, and Tina interrupted him.

"...Because you know I'd win." she finished, smiling up at him. She'd had this same conversation a dozen times before at McKinley with him, where they both still attended, being two of the youngest members of the New Directions - along with Santana, Brittany, Artie, Puck, and Rory; at least, before he'd gone back to Ireland.

"Because I know you'd win." he confirmed, and leaned down to kiss her.

Tina smiled, and kissed him back, then broke off as her phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket, and frowned. "It's Santana." she said, wondering why Britt was phoning her at this hour.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Answer it!" said Mike curiously.

Tina shrugged, and answered it, clicking on the loudspeaker. "Hello, Santana?" she asked.

_"T-Tina? Is that you?_" Brittany's voice replied, sounding thin and scared. Tina had never heard her stutter before, and it was a strange thing to hear from someone who was usually so confident.

"It's me." Tina responded, raising an eyebrow at Mike. "Mike, too. What are you doing on Santana's phone?"

_"San's still in the...the building. I told them that skyscrapers weren't good."_ Brittany's voice crackled down the phone, sounding miserable and slightly choked.

"Brittany, what's happening?" Mike asked, sending Tina a concerned look. '_What's happening?'_ he mouthed at her, and she shook her head, equally confused.

_"The fairies exploded." _Britt said, her tone almost conversational apart from the fact that she sounded like she was crying.

"The fairies?" the confusion hadn't left Mike's voice as he frowned to himself.

"The fairylights?" guessed Tina, starting to walk as fast as she could toward the apartment, forgetting about artistically ruining her converse. Britt's mind could be a confusing place, but this one wasn't hard to figure out. "Kurt's fairylights?"

"_Yes. Kurt's fairies...the ones on the tree. And the ceiling. And everywhere...We were in the kitchen, all of us, apart from Blaine and Sebastiankat...One just went...BANG!" _Brittany raised her voice on the last word, and let out a sob. _"And the tree burnt..."_

Tina frowned. "Sebastiankat? Who's that?"

In response, Brittany hummed the Compare the Meerkat tune in a rather desperate fashion, then hung up.

"You know, the kid that Blaine brought along." Mike whispered as the rounded the corner and started to head down the street where Rachel and Kurt's apartment was, set apart from the rest at the end of the street. "Kurt calls him a meerkat."

Tina coughed suddenly, and realised that there was smoke drifting down the street. She turned to Mike, who's dark eyes were wide.

"You don't think that..." he whispered. "Oh, God. Britt. Santana. Mercy. Blaine. Kurt. Finn. Quinn. Beth..."

Tina shook her head mutedly in disbelief, and Mike grabbed her hand, starting to run down the street, pulling her with him. He was fast - faster than she'd expected - and Tina stumbled along behind him, trying not to trip on the uneven pavement. She could see a group of figures huddled together, and a small crowd of people a few meters behind. As they ran, the group came into focus, and she recognised them as her friends, staring at something that she couldn't quite see yet.

Mike suddenly stopped, and Tina crashed into him, her momentum keeping her moving. He caught her and steadied her, and that's when she saw what everyone was looking at.

Rachel and Kurt's apartment building was on fire.

Bright flames licked at the concrete walls, illuminating the area around them and throwing out heat. Fire danced in the windows, beautiful in the way that a particularly deadly snake is beautiful - absolutely gorgeous, but not something to go too close to for danger of getting hurt.

As Tina watched, the figure of a girl stumbled out of the door, and a blonde girl who Tina vaugley recognised as Brittany through the smoke ran to catch her, dragging her into the open where the air was clearer. Tina identified the figure as Santana when she started to scream, yelling curses in a different language at the skinny-looking boy with his arms crossed tightly who had to be Kurt.

"Muchacho estúpido, estúpido! ¿Qué demonios reales estabas pensando cuando te decorada ese lugar? Ah, ya sé, que fueron barridos en la madre maldito espíritu de la Navidad y todos los arco iris espectáculo fue en la cima! Apuesto a que pensó quemar el apartamento al final sería bonito! ¡Idiota!" the Latina screeched, waving her arms around in incredibly animated fury while Kurt looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

Mike, who'd been staring at the flames in awe, suddenly snapped out of it and pulled Tina forward, apologizing profusely as she almost tripped. "What happened?" he shouted above Santana's voice and the crackling fire.

It was Quinn who answered as she hugged Beth to her, tears in her eyes. "The fairylights set the tree on fire." she said, her voice sounding numb. "I was asleep on Rachel's bed when Blaine came crashing into my room, yelling that there was a fire. I was still half asleep, so Kurt got Beth, shouting something about fairylights, and Santana was screaming at him about over-decorating and Blaine grabbed my hand and they dragged me downstairs, and when I looked up at the building it was on fire and that was about three minutes ago." she babbled, barely stopping for a breath.

Santana had now returned to English, but she was still yelling as loudly as she could at Kurt. "Why?" she screeched. "Why do you have to be so damn picky with your stupid decorations! You could have gotten us _KILLED!_ You _idiot!_"

Mercedes frowned. "Santana, it's not Kurt's fault!" she objected.

"Yes, it is!" cut in Kurt, then paled even more than he was already and mumbled something, before tearing his hand out of Mercedes' and darting back into the building. Tina had never seen him move so fast.

After a hesitation, Blaine tried to follow him, but Brittany caught his arm and shook her head. Blaine yelled something at her, which made Santana turn her fury on him, resulting in an even bigger argument as Blaine kept trying to get free of Britt. The two girls grabbed a wrist each, and kept him still, yelling something about 'fire brigade, he'll have to turn back soon enough'.

Tina surveyed the whole scene as though she was behind a pane of thick glass. She could see and hear everything, but her feet just wouldn't move. Or like she wasn't really there, just watching her friends' panic from another world, unable to help.

There were flashes of light as a fire engine drew up on the pavement beside her, and men who were much taller than her got out and started unreeling hosepipes. She barely noticed Mike repeating her name, and when he pulled her into a tight hug, she just stared past his arm at the burning building.

She'd never felt so powerless in her whole life.

-Rachel-

"Finn! _Finn! _Finn, wake up, please, wake up..."

Rachel was aware of herself yelling the same sentence over and over again to the still form of Finn on the floor. She'd checked his pulse as soon as he'd passed out, so she knew he wasn't dead. He was just unconscious, but he wouldn't _wake up._

She was knelt down by his side, shaking his shoulder. She knew that she should have been freezing cold in her knee-length sleeveless dress, but the heat of the burning building and the fear of Finn dying on her made sure that she didn't even notice the late-night chill.

She briefly thought that her dads would absolutely kill her because of this mess. But then again, it had been an accident, hadn't it? She ran over the events of the night in her head for the hundreth time since she'd left the building, soot-covered but otherwise relatively unharmed.

_"What time is it?" Mercedes had asked, leant on the kitchen counter. She looked absolutely exhausted, and Rachel guessed that had something to do with jet lag and the time change from England to New York._

_"Twenty-past eleven." she'd responded, and Mercedes had yawned. _

_"That's...about seven AM back in England. Hey, I've been up twenty-four hours!" Mercedes said brightly, and Kurt laughed._

_"I offered my bedroom before, and I'll offer it again. Mercy, would you like to go and crash in my bedroom? It's actually really nice in there, if you get past the dozens of photos from when me and Rachel went backstage at Wicked." Kurt said, smiling at the memory. Rachel could tell he was trying not to think about Blaine and Sebastian out on the balcony._

_Santana rolled her eyes, and piped up from the other side of the kitchen. "You two have a strange obsession with that show." she commented, but not unkindly. "Actually, with Broadway in general."_

_Rachel had stood a little straighter at that, frowning. "Broadway _is not_ just an _obsession_. It's a way of _life_." she said bluntly, emphasising her words by waving her hands above her head dramatically._

_She smiled as Finn tried not to burst out laughing. His mood had improved considerably since Jesse had stormed out, and although she'd tried not to worry about Jesse, she had. What if he got run down by a cab? Those things stopped for literally _nothing_... What if he'd just gone home? The idea made her shiver slightly. She hadn't seen Jesse in so long that she'd forgotten how much she missed him when he left. Almost as much as she'd missed Finn..._

_But not quite. Although it was still a close call._

_Mercedes smiled tiredly. "Thanks, Kurt. I think I'll go now, actually...I'm shattered." she yawned tiredly._

_"Come on, I'll show you." smiled Kurt, heading out of the kitchen. Mercedes followed at a decidedly slower pace, going into the hallway and following Kurt to his room._

_At that point, there had been a loud _BANG_ from the living room. Brittany jumped back, and Rachel had shrieked. _

_"What was that?" Finn asked, confused._

_Santana let out a yell. "Rachel! Kurt! Su exceso de hadas árbol iluminado se está quemando!" she shouted, slipping into Spanish in her distress. She coughed, looking a little embarrassed, then repeated herself in English: "Rachel! Kurt! Your overly fairylighted tree is burning!"_

_Kurt was back in the room in seconds. "What?" _

_"She said your tree is burning!" yelled Finn as the fire alarm started to wail._

_There was a sound of footsteps, and Blaine appeared just behind Kurt, eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something, then jumped backwards. "The tree!"_

_"Yeah, we already established that." Santana snapped. "Everybody out! Now!"_

_It took a moment to register, but after a few seconds Rachel had jumped down from her seat on the kitchen side and was pulling Finn along with her as the room started to fill with smoke._

_She saw Brittany stare at the tree for a few minutes, the open the door and yell Santana's name. Sebastian tore past them and down the stairs, almost knocking Kurt over, who had turned around and was yelling for Mercedes, Beth and Quinn, seeming to be the only one who realised they were still in bed._

_Rachel watched as Mercedes got up sleepily, and looked around, dazed. "Huh?" she mumbled. Rachel ran in and pulled her to her feet, Finn pulling both of them out of the apartment and down the stairs as smoke filled the room._

_Blaine, who was in front of them, looked around, mouthed Kurt's name and ran back up the stairs. Rachel sidestepped to let him pass, focused on getting a coughing Finn and an exhausted Mercedes down the stairs without either of them passing out._

_She could distantly hear Blaine and Kurt yelling at Quinn to wake up in the smoke-filled apartment as Finn tripped on the stairs. She watched in horror as he flailed to regain his balance, then tripped down eight stairs. Rachel let out a shout of warning, and Sebastian, who had stopped to see what the noise was about, just sidestepped and let Finn tumble past. _

_Rachel screamed some foul names at the Warbler, before running after Finn, dragging Mercedes behind her, and tried to shake him awake. Finn didn't respond, and Rachel, with Mercedes' help, had to half-drag him down the stairs and out of the apartment..._

Rachel snapped out of her flashback. "Fi-inn..." she sang desperately to the still-unconscious boy, wiping at the tears that threatened to spill over and down her cheeks with her fingers and wishing she was wearing her usual, familiar reindeer sweater. "Please, Finn! Wake up, wake up..." she sobbed, shaking his shoulders.

Yet again, there was no response. For the first time that she could remember, he wouldn't listen to her.

-Blaine-

Blaine stared at the doorway of Rachel and Kurt's apartment building, willing Kurt to walk out completely unharmed.

They'd laugh about this, later, he told himself. Later, when everything was fixed and Kurt was safe, not a hair of his coiff out of place. They'd sit in a coffee shop, in the New York equivalent of the Lima bean, and laugh at Blaine overreacting. Well, Blaine would laugh - Kurt would find Blaine's worries sweet, in the way that he always did. And then Blaine would smile, and finish his coffee, and realise what an idiot he had been to ever doubt that Kurt would return from the burning building.

But that was just a daydream. In reality, Kurt was in the building and there was _nothing_ Blaine could do about it because Brittany and Santana were holding him back. All he wanted to do was run into the building, find the countertenor and get him out of there, regardless of how burnt he got in the process.

"Please." he begged Santana. The Latina girl was tougher than she looked - as usual, her excuse was '_I'm from Lima Heights Adjacent'_ - and although Blaine knew she just didn't want anyone else to get hurt, her insistance that he stayed where he was was beginning to get on his nerves.

"No." snapped Santana firmly, but there was a doubtful edge to her dark eyes. "He'll be out of there in thirty seconds. Just. You. Watch."

Blaine wanted to believe her desperately, but he just couldn't trust her word against the horrific scenarios running through his head. Kurt choking on the smoke. Kurt getting trapped and burning. Kurt dying, when the last time Blaine had spoken to him was to yell at him...

"Imagine if it was Brittany in there." he said suddenly, and watched as Santana flinched. "You'd be in there no matter how dangerous the situation was, am I right?" he continued.

Silence. Santana looked away, which Blaine took as a 'yes'. She sighed, and released Blaine's wrists, stepping aside. "Go." she instructed bluntly.

Blaine didn't need telling twice. He ran into the apartment, and almost had to stop straight away as he took a mouthful of smoke. He doubled over, coughing, and pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around his face and over his mouth. It was uncomfortable, but blocked out most of the smoke and made breathing a little easier. Besides, he wouldn't be needing it - the heat that the burning building was throwing off was already hard to bear.

For some reason, all he could think of was if Kurt was there, he'd be smiling with a slightly distant look in his eyes that told Blaine that he was thinking the shorter boy looked like a terrorist with particularly good dress sense, but didn't want to point it out. Or maybe like Santa Claus with beard thought almost made him laugh, but then he remembered why he was there.

He shook his head slightly, and started up the stairs, trying to remember the way up to the apartment. When he'd first found out about the party, Rachel had spent about ten minutes describing exactly how to get up to the apartment, what keycodes to press to work the elevator, and which corridors to walk down quickly and then which neighbours caused this. But now, all he remembered was the way to the main staircase, which was good enough for him.

Blaine kept the jumper pressed to his face as he reached the foot of the staircase. The smoke thickened as he took the stairs two at a time, getting to the point where he thought that even if Kurt was there, Blaine wouldn't be able to see him. The idea of coming all this way only not to notice the person he was searching for was frustrating and more than slightly possible, so he stopped and yelled out as loudly as he could.

"Kurt! K-" Blaine broke off, coughing, and grimaced. Speaking obviously wasn't a good idea, even behind the thick jumper. He closed his mouth and tried not to breathe too deeply, feeling light-headed.

He didn't make another sound until he was three floors up, at which point his chest was burning and his eyes were streaming from the smoke. '_Whatever Kurt went back for better be worth it.'_ he thought grimly, stumbling forward.

He came to a clearer patch of air, finding himself next to a window, and breathed in deeply, before plunging back into the darkness of the smoke. He waved his arms around in front of him, trying to clear his view.

His hand collided with something, and there was a yelp, followed by a bought of coughing.

Blaine carefully covered his mouth with one hand and spoke past it, allowing himself just a little bit of hope. "Hello?" he asked, his voice sounding muffled. He was painfully aware of the flames licking at the staircase that he'd just stumbled up, and the speed that he needed to locate Kurt before he had to escape the building.

"Blaine?" came a distant-sounding reply, like the speaker was only half-awake even though they were stood right in front of him, followed by a cough that could only come from one person. Blaine narrowed his eyes against the smoke, and managed to make out an outline of a slightly ash-covered boy wearing a once-white shirt with a black waistcoat, and black skinny jeans.

"Kurt!" Blaine all but yelled with joy, thinking that he'd never been so relieved to hear someone cough like they had a bad chest infection in his life. He stepped forward and pulled the taller boy against him, pinning Kurt's arms to his sides. Blaine could feel him shaking slightly, but he wasn't sure if that was because of the smoke, being hit in the face accidentally, or fear of being trapped in a burning building. Guilt overwhelmed him suddenly as he realised that the thing his hand had collided with had to have been Kurt. There was nothing else it _could_ have been, and why would Kurt cry out if nothing had happened?

Blaine felt something sharp and square jab him in the side as Kurt tried to move his arms, and stepped back. He finally noticed what Kurt was holding, and what had jabbed him - a red square, with a photograph that Blaine remembered Mr Schue taking with Blaine's camera after the New Directions had won Sectionals the year before taped onto the front. Blaine remembered keeping the picture and finding a good enough, thick-paged book to attatch it to, and then giving it to Kurt as a Christmas present.

"You...you ran into a burning building...for a _scrapbook_?" said Blaine, slightly horrified that Kurt, ever the romantic, had risked his life for a bunch of photographs, movie ticket stubs, notes and song lyric sheets. He shook his head - the whole idea was stupidly, even dangerously sentimental, and so..._Kurt _ that it made Blaine want to smile and smile.

Well, until he remembered the situation and snapped back to the burning heat, choking air and the rest of reality.

At least Kurt had the decency to look a little sheepish before crumpling to the floor with coughing. Blaine darted forwards, suddenly afraid that Kurt would pass out and not wake up again, and shook his shoulder, because the boy curled up on the floor looked dangerously close to falling asleep.

_It's not fire that kills, it's the smoke._ Blaine remembered someone telling him, and he motioned to Kurt to take off his waistcoat and use it to keep off the smoke. Kurt looked at him like he was insane, which Blaine found somewhat comforting - at least his boyfriend still had a clear enough head to worry about fashion.

Blaine frowned, and his hands went up to his neck to take off his scarf before he realised he wasn't wearing one. Kurt copied, seeming to have the same train of thought, then frowned, remembering he'd taken it off to give to Beth before the toddler had chance to inadvertantly strangle him. He scowled, and reluctantly took his waistcoat off, wadding it up and pressing it to his mouth.

" 'Mon." Blaine said urgently, meaning _Come on,_ but the words were lost in his jumper. He growled frustratedly, and took Kurt's hand, pulling the smoke-dazed looking boy after him and to the top of the stairs. Blaine stopped suddenly, seeing the way the flames were dancing in front of him, but Kurt continued, most of his face covered by the waistcoat.

Blaine watched as though he was a million miles away as Kurt saw the flames, but was too late to stop his momentum caused by running from making him slide forward across the polished linoleum floor.

Then, all too late, reality came crashing back and the countertenor was falling, falling down the flight of eight steps before crashing into the side of the banister and managing to hold on. Blaine heard a loud, sickening crash as the side of Kurt's head hit the metal railings.

Blaine opened his mouth in a wordless yell, and stumbled down the stairs to the form on the stairs that was Kurt.

Tears blurred his vision, and he heard himself repeating Kurt's name desperately as he lifted him off the stairs, knowing that he'd never be able to get back on his feet and run down the stairs fast enough by himself. He didn't weigh as much as Blaine had expected him to, even being the taller of the two, and felt oddly light in Blaine's arms.

The smoke had risen now, and the air was clearer, but Blaine still didn't dare take the jumper away from his face out of fear of taking in too much smoke, passing out, and being of no use to either of them.

Kurt replied with a faint moan, lifting one hand to the side of his head. His expression changed to one of slight horror when he pulled his hand away suddenly and stared at it in shock. Blaine tried not to sob out loud with hopelessness as he saw the pale hand was covered in blood, far too much to be stopped without stitches.

"Oh my God Blaine, my head." whispered Kurt, grey-blue eyes wide. Blaine could see that his fingers on one hand were clasped so tightly around the now-darker red-smudged scrapbook that his knuckles were white.

Blaine sobbed out loud this time, hearing the fear and pain in Kurt's voice as he carried on trying not to trip as he ran shakily down the stairs. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening...

_Second floor third flight._

Blaine repeated the thought over and over in his head as he reached the next flight of stairs, trying desperately not to think of the consequences if he was to trip.

_Second floor second flight._

Kurt made an odd hiccoughing noise in the back of his throat, and Blaine felt guilty for the millionth time. But his footsteps were clumsy as he crashed down the stairs in his panic to escape the building, and every stair he descended made Kurt's fingers tighten, one hand on the scrapbook and one hand on Blaine's own, to the point that Blaine's hand ached with the pressure of it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he chanted as he tried not to tumble down the next two flights.

_First floor third flight._

Blaine coughed into the jumper, feeling like he wanted to scream and scream and scream as Kurt cried out for the second time, yet again caused by him._ 'Blaine Anderson, you are such an idiot.' _ he thought to himself, tears openly running down his cheeks now. This was his fault. If he hadn't given Kurt that life-ruining scrapbook, then he wouldn't have run back in. If Blaine hadn't let Santana and Brittany get the better of him and push him around, he could have chased Kurt faster and dragged him out of there before things ever got to this stage.

And now, because he, Blaine, was stupid and slow-thinking and so, _so _insensitive, Kurt - the only person Blaine had left who loved him unconditionally; because, and he had to face the truth here, his parents didn't really care - was covered in blood and in such pain that he couldn't speak without making a sound that made Blaine's heart twist.

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that he was being ridiculous. That blaming himself and the red scrapbook would get him nowhere, that this whole situation was the product of some freak, freak accident.

Blaine ignored it, and kept running.

_Ground floor._

Blaine could see the light ahead, and raced for it, tearing into the cooler air as fast as he could, out of the building that was literally burning up around him. He took deep, gasping breaths in the cold, amazingly smoke-free night air, and suddenly the pain of breathing in all the smoke hit him at once. Like his lungs were actually burning.

Figures in fluorescent suits descended on him, taking the pale form of Kurt out of his arms and pushing a mask over his face. He tried to struggle away, but whatever was coming through the mask - and he suspected it was most likely oxygen - just made him feel suddenly so, so tired.

He heard the voices of Mercedes, and ever so faintly Sebastian, then everything went black.

**So, YES! I finally finished this! And it's returning to the around-4500 words category! Yay! *proud grin***

**Although, on the downside, I'm kind of sucky at writing, so it's not perfect. And I am a perfectionist on only a few things: Art and writing. Especially with this, for some reason. I've gone all obsessive...I'm really sorry if my spelling is terrible. WordPad has no autocorrect that I'm aware of, and if it has, I'm yet to discover it yet...**

**Credit goes where credit is due, so I must give credit to the amazing CarlyLeeHunt for Jesse's insults against Finn last chapter! I totally forgot, and I'm really sorry for that!**

**Also, last chapter, I put 'episode' in my authors notes. Don't worry, I cringed too...I meant chapter. And speaking of last chapter's authors notes, more specifically, my promise of drama..Is this chapter a total anticlimax? Are you all wanting to kill me for talking about unwritten drama? Remember, people, I always appreciate hate mail. As long as it is con-struct-ive (note the crucial word 'constructive' - yes, that means no just randomly telling me I suck and not explaining yourself) hate mail telling me how to fix my writing screwups...**

**~livyceegee**


	6. Smoke and Mirrors

**You incredibly smart people have probably worked this out already, but Glee does not belong to me. Neither does Disney, if I mentioned it, or any of the characters. They all belong to Ryan Murphy and the rest of the Glee writers (not Disney, obviously. But you get my meaning, right?) Just please don't be expecting much, because I have to say I've written much better things in my life...But then again, read it for yourself. I do overreact sometimes.**

6 - Smoke and Mirrors

-Finn-

Finn could see nothing. See nothing, say nothing, feel nothing, but hear..._everything_.

The ticking of the clock. Footsteps as people passed close by, but always, always just out of reach. A girl's voice sobbing his name. A few different voices talking to him, voices that he couldn't name and couldn't answer. An almost constant beeping that if he could, he'd protest against and yank whatever annoying electrical equipment it was straight out of the wall so the irritating beeping would stop.

Even if he'd wanted to respond to the voices, he couldn't remember how. He couldn't remember how to move, only how to think - endless, endless thinking, more words than Finn was sure had ever passed through his head ever.

Not that he'd be able to remember not being in this eternal state of half-wayness. Just thinking and listening was all he could recall doing, and the time dragged like a minute was going to last forever. Perhaps even longer.

He wanted to open his eyes, but he couldn't, like a heavy weight was pressing down on them. He wasn't even sure how his eyes worked any more, not certain how to blink them open and let the light in that he was wishing for.

"Can...can he hear me?" asked a new voice, one Finn hadn't heard before. It had an accent, one that his brain classed as recognisable, but slightly different at the same time.

"I don't know, Mercedes." said a voice that he'd heard many times before. It was almost familiar to him - as familiar as you can get when the present seems to extend forever and the past is a blur. The voice sounded tired of answering the same question over and over - _Can he hear me?_

_Yes._ Finn wanted desperately to reply, but couldn't seem to find his mouth, let alone make it move. _Yes, I can hear you..._

He repeated to himself the same facts that he'd been telling himself for as long as he could remember in his current state. _My name is Finn Hudson. I'll be twenty in a couple of months, I come from Lima, Ohio, and I don't understand what is happening to me._

"Although I hope so." the second voice added. It was a girl's voice, and there was a slight, hopeful edge to it. "I've been sat here talking to him for hours on end. Seriously, if I lose my voice and it turns out he hasn't heard a word, I'm going to kill him."

There was an awkward silence, before the second voice spoke up again. "At least, more than he is already."

The first voice, who the second voice had called...Mercedes, let out a humorless laugh. "Very funny, Berry. Although kind of the wrong place to be making jokes, don't you think?"

"It's called gallows humor. Humor that still manages to be funny when the joke-maker is on the brink of death." the second voice said in a know-it-all tone that Finn recognised clearly. Even though he still couldn't put a name or a face to the voice.

"You're not exactly dying." commented Mercedes dryly.

"No..." said the second voice uneasily. "But he might be."

And somehow, Finn knew that she was referring to him.

-Sebastian-

A cold breeze drifted through the window just above Sebastian's head. It was a refreshing feeling after spending so long inside the dull, overly-sterilized walls of the hospital that he and the rest of the party members had been taken to after the fire. Sebastian had escaped perfectly unharmed, thanks to his fast-moving escape, but some of the others hadn't been so lucky.

The black girl with a name like a car - Sebastian couldn't imagine what her parents had been _thinking_; probably absolutely nothing, - had a few scrapes on one arm and a minor burn on the back of her left hand after she'd fallen over, and a still-burning ember had landed on her hand.

Without a doubt the worst off was the clumsily tall Finn Hudson, in a coma after Sebastian had stepped aside and let him fall. The idiot boy had been unmoving for over six days now, and was still knocked out. Sebastian didn't feel any guilt over the issue, in fact, he was relieved that he wouldn't have to talk to Finn Hudson again for a while longer.

The Latina; Santana or whoever; had been coughing for almost three days afterwards, and could still barely talk. So had Blaine, but Sebastian had always been there, much more than the grey-eyed demon had. Kurt hadn't helped at all, and still Blaine hadn't moved from the taller boy's bedside, sleeping in the old wicker chair in the corner of the room while Kurt was unconscious.

Almost as soon as he had been admitted into the hospital ward, covered in blood (and looking, in Sebastian's opinion, rather unnatractive), Kurt had been diagnosed, along with the rest of his cuts, the cast on his arm and his bruises, with something that involved the words 'severe head trauma'. Sebastian hadn't really been paying attention, not caring, but apparently, when he woke up, Porcelain could experience anything from minor brain damage to amnesia.

_Amnesia_. At that word, Sebastian had started to pay more attention as an idea had formulated in his mind. Blaine had had the opposite reaction, he'd seemed to tune out of the conversation, eyes distant and troubled.

Now, six days later, Blaine was curled up in the chair, which had been pulled up next to Kurt's bed, eyes shut and hair ungelled. (Sebastian personally preferred the older boy's hair with the product, and had said so numerous times, but Blaine didn't seem to care in the slightest). One hand was resting on the whiteness of the bedsheets, fingertips which had been wrapped around the paler hand while Blaine was awake were now barely brushing against Kurt's.

Sebastian turned away, keeping the open doorway of the hospital room out of his line of sight. He glared at the wall in front of him, suddenly jealous. It was the apartment all over again...Kurt was knocked out cold, and had been for over two days now after a very brief spell of wakefullness, and _still_ was getting more attention from Blaine than a still-awake Sebastian ever could.

He just wished that Blaine would realise that Kurt wasn't the only one in the world, so Sebastian would actually have a chance.

_No._

Those were losing words. If Sebastian wanted Blaine, he'd have to fight for it and he knew it. Or, even better than fighting, he'd have to put his talents at manipulating people to good use and bypass the whole 'fighting' concept quite easily with the use of metaphorical smoke and mirrors. Many people would probably say that this was cheating and loathe him for it.

But then again, Sebastian had never bothered playing by the rules.

There was a small sound from inside the hospital room, and Sebastian ignored it.

"Hello?" a voice drifted through the corridor from the room, slightly hoarse from underuse. There was a cough, then in a more recognisable voice, the same word was repeated.

Sebastian was on his feet in an instant, a wicked smirk on his face. This was the chance he'd been hoping for... A chance to change things in his favour. And he wasn't going to miss it for the world.

He sauntered into the hospital room, and glanced across at Blaine to see if he was fully asleep, then turned to Kurt, who's hand was at his head, realising there was stitches there, covered by a bandage. Then he seemed to realise that Sebastian was in the room, and he edged further to the back of his bed.

Sebastian faltered slightly. The reaction was normal for someone, if they had amnesia, but what if Kurt did recognise him and he was just more preoccupied by the fact he was in a hospital?

Then again, as he thought about it, Sebastian realised that if Kurt Hummel remembered everything, he'd:

a) Be demanding when he'd be able to get up again, because, '_really, it was only a bump. I'll be just. Fine. Seriously, who designed these scrubs? This blue is awful.'_

b) Have noticed Blaine almost immediately, and would be panicking that his boyfriend had sustained damage, too, totally ignoring the fact that the calendar on the wall read six days later than when he'd last seen it and that he himself was hooked up to a drip.

c) Be glaring at the cast on his arm, trying to work out how he could possibly work it into an outfit, because, as Sebastian was convinced, he was just that shallow.

Sebastian snapped back to reality and smiled a wide, tooth-showing smile at the countertenor, then quickly changed it to something a little warmer and more friendly.

Kurt eyed him warily, but it wasn't his usual 'I don't trust you' expression, but rather the expression that small children reserve for large, unfamiliar dogs. Like he was scared Sebastian was going to bite him, but unsure if he would. Sebastian just had to hope that would be enough to let his plan run smoothly.

"Afternoon, Kurt." he said cheerfully, using a tone that he usually used on the people he actually _liked._

Kurt frowned, and pressed himself up against the wall his bed was resting against. "How do you know my name?"

A thrill ran through Sebastian. This...this was it. The perfect opportunity. He arranged his features in a surprised expression, before saying "What? You don't recognise me, Kurt? It's me..." he said in feigned shock, before plunging in with the word that would either make or break his plans. "...Sebastian. Your friend?"

Kurt's expression stayed blank. "No...Should I?"

Sebastian froze, pretending he was the black girl or Berry on hearing the words. "What?" he whispered, eyes wide and neutrally innocent, not overly fake and definitelynot reflecting the wicked glee he was really feeling. Natural. "You honestly don't..."

"No." said Kurt firmly. "I've never seen you before in my life."

Sebastian wanted to laugh out loud.

Kurt looked around, and sat up a little straighter, seeming to realise where he was. He threw a sidelong glance at the drip he was hooked up to, and Sebastian watched with more than a little sadistic amusement as his face paled a degree further. He suddenly seemed to notice for the first time the curly-haired boy asleep beside his bed, and frowned. "Why...why am I in a hospital...Sebastian? And who's that?"

Meaning Blaine. Obviously. There was nobody else in the room, unless the blow to the head had made Kurt delusional as well as blanked out part of his memory. The whole idea of Kurt not knowing who Blaine was made Sebastian want to dance, as ridiculous and Disney-like as the notion was.

This was going to be easier than he had expected. Much, much easier. Just like smoke and mirrors, distracting Kurt before dropping the bombshell of lies would be half the fun.

Sebastian's face was a mask of misery. A fake mask, but a perfectly convincing one all the same. "There was a fire. At yours and Rachel's apartment. You fell, and hit your head. I think you have amnesia, Kurt. Actually, I know you have amnesia." As he spoke, he was more and more aware that Blaine would wake up soon, as he had barely slept more than two hours at a time since the fire.

"I have an apartment with Rachel?" Kurt asked in disbelief, either not hearing or choosing to ignore the fire comment. "But honestly, who _is_ that? He is asleep in a chair by my bed after all, almost holding hands with me, and I have no idea who he is."

_Oh, amnesia._ Sebastian thought to himself, keeping a sad look in his eyes for the benefit of his story. _Such a beautiful word..._

The Warbler decided he could get used to this sort of thing.

-Kurt-

Kurt tried to keep a neutral expression as he looked at the boy asleep in a chair next to his bed.

He was shorter than Kurt was, that much was obvious, even though he wasn't stood up. His hair was dark and madly curly, but in a good way. There was a faint smell of ash surrounding him, that Kurt found oddly familiar but thought nothing of it. Kurt stared at him, sure this was someone he was supposed to know, but no matter how much he studied the boy's face and features, nothing struck him. No memories like the word 'Rachel' set off, memories of a girl who Kurt knew as his rival-slash-friend, if a rather ambitious and slightly crazy rival-slash-friend, from McKinley.

"Kurt?" Sebastian's voice snapped him out of his daydreams.

"Yes?" he replied absentmindedly, the word echoing in his head. _Amnesia._ He, Kurt Hummel, had amnesia. It didn't _feel_ like he had amnesia. He could remember everything that he knew...Or was that a symptom of the amnesia? Like he remembered some things, but had forgotten everything else so completely that he didn't _know_ there was anything else to remember? He felt like a puzzle to which someone only had half the pieces, but they'd never had those pieces in the first place so didn't know that they were missing...It was a hard feeling to describe.

Some things, however, were easy to remember. Just over ten years ago, sat in a very similar hospital, except he wasn't the one in the bed...

_Kurt had been eight at the time. A lot shorter, and a little skinnier; but then again, he'd always been skinny compared to the other boys at school. He'd looked younger, too, but other than that, round about the same as he did now._

_He was in the car when his dad had been phoned. The two of them, Burt behind the wheel and Kurt sat up as straight as he could in the over-sized Scouts uniform the tall boy from down the street had given him, trying to see out of the high-set windows in the low-set seat._

_"Kurt, sit down." Burt said, focusing on the road._

_"I _am_ sat down." eight-year-old Kurt protested, pushing the too big hat up and out of his eyes. "I hate Scouts, Dad, so why do I have to go to this stupid award ceren...ceremny...show thing? The other kids laugh at me for talking to their sisters about Disney and singing, and you know the leaders only gave me those badges because they felt sorry for me. It's not fair."_

_Burt sighed. "I know. But your mom's waiting for you, and you know how excited she gets..."_

_"Want to go home." muttered Kurt, lapsing into silence._

_There was a ringing sound, and Burt motioned for Kurt to answer it, which he did, the screen lighting up his face._

_"Hello?" he asked, then nodded. "Yes. My dad's in the car...'s wrong?...You sound sad. Why do you sound sad if nothing's wrong? I'll hand you over to my dad now."_

_He leant sideways so he was closer to Burt, and whispered "Dad. It's Aunty Dana. She wants to talk to you."_

_Burt took the phone, and after a few minutes a grim expression crossed his face and he pulled into someone's driveway, turning the car around and heading back the way he'd come. _

_"Scouts is that way." Kurt told his father, frowning in confusion._

_"Yeah, I know, kid. Change of plans." _

"That's Blaine." Sebastian said, waking Kurt up out of memory-mode for the second time. "Why do you want to know?" His voice had an odd tone to it, something somewhere between jubilation and hopefulness.

"There's something I should know about him, I'm sure of it..." Kurt replied honestly, trying not to sound as distracted and distant as he was feeling. "I don't know what it is, but I feel like I should know who he is. It's...frustrating."

"He used to be your boyfriend." Sebastian explained simply, shrugging.

Kurt just stared at him. He had a boyfriend? He used to have a boyfriend...And the boy in the chair, too, gorgeous as he was. It must have been like winning the lottery... What planet had he been living on to find someone in Lima, possibly the most ignorant town in Ohio? Certaintly not the one he was used to, where he got picked on daily and slushie facials were as familiar as waking up in the morning.

And then to _forget_ about something that amazingly lucky?

Only Kurt Hummel could pull off a messed-up story like that.

"...Used to?"

Sebastian smiled slightly, but it was obvious it was fake. Something designed to make Kurt feel better, but with a little venom behind it. "You heard me right. You started dating three weeks after your dad and Carole got married, and you two were so happy..."

"My dad and Carole are MARRIED?" Kurt almost yelled, then covered his mouth, remembering Blaine was asleep. _My dad and Carole are MARRIED?_ he repeated in his head, eyes wide. _I mean, it's not a bad thing, they were really happy together, but...I forgot a _marriage_? I better have been allowed to plan it..._

"Yes." said Sebastian bluntly, starting to look a little impatient. "They were married. Last year. They're on their one-year honeymoon at the moment."

"What happened?" he whispered, glancing between Blaine, who was somehow still asleep, and Sebastian, who looked like he was practically glowing with excitement for some reason.

"It was at Prom, just this past school year, while you were still at McKinley-"

"-I forgot _Prom_? Oh my Broadway, what did I wear?" Kurt demanded, realising how much he'd missed. Small parts of what Sebastian was saying nagged at the corners of his mind, things like 'while you were still at McKinley'. As in, he didn't go to McKinley anymore?

Well, he couldn't say he was sorry without lying.

"A kilt, from what I've heard." Sebastian replied dryly, raising one eyebrow. "May I continue?"

Kurt felt himself blush a little at his almost shouted, sudden fashion-related question, but nodded. He'd worn a kilt? Doubtless Finn had gone on about a gay Braveheart. Or something along those lines.

"And you were going with Blaine. He went to go meet you, but it turned out you'd ditched him and gone with his best friend." said Sebastian, while Kurt looked at Blaine, wide-eyed. He'd shrugged off this curly-haired boy for someone else, even though Kurt had the positively perfect luck at dating him? At _Prom_?

_Oz, Kurt. That's low._

"Naturally, he was heartbroken." the blue-eyed boy continued, a little too breezily. "Absolutely devastated. He turned to me as a last-minute date, and I accepted. I mean, looking at him, who in their right mind wouldn't? I stood there and supported him when you didn't, and follwed him after he ran out when you and your date got Prom King and King. Then halfway through the summer, he asked me out. So now we're dating."

Kurt swallowed, unable to imagine himself doing such a thing. '_Yeah, but it wouldn't be the first time you've been a manipulative bitchy jackass, would it?' _a small voice said in the back of his mind, and he remembed dressing up Rachel in the catsuit so that Finn would hate her. Now, that had been pretty mean. But leaving someone at Prom for their best friend? In Kurt's opinion, that was just...evil. If evil actually existed. "Oh." he said in a very, very small voice, suddenly ashamed. "So why is Blaine even here if I did that to him?"

"Because he's Blaine. You could have shoved him off a cliff edge and he'd still be here." Sebastian said pragmatically, the most honest-sounding remark Kurt had heard him make so far.

Kurt sighed, trying not to sound as miserable as he felt. "I could have sworn...I thought he was someone special." he said despondently, staring at the white sheets on the bed he was sat in.

"_Was_ somone special." emphasised Sebastian, turning to leave. The hesitation was there, even if it was barely noticeable. "Remember the _was_."

After he had left, Kurt returned to the memories - almost, but definitely not quite, gladly.

_And then Kurt was sat in the Accident and Emergency area of the hospital, on a chair that was too big for him, wedged between his dad and his Aunty Dana. Aunty Dana looked a lot like her sister, Kurt's mom, with her wavy blonde hair and her eyes (like Kurt's own, they were sometimes green, sometimes blue, but more often than not grey) which stood out prettily from her pale skin. She reminded him of his mom in the way she spoke, too; quietly, with a slightly musical voice, always a kind word for everybody - although Aunty Dana was a little more impatient. They had been twins, which is why they were so similar._

_He'd asked at least eight times now what was happening, and each time he got the same answer from his dad: _

_"I don't know, kiddo. But it's your mom. Something's happened to Mom."_

_And that was strange. Burt _always_ knew what was going on, mostly because he knew lots of people in Lima due to his tyre shop. So Kurt had come to the conclusion that something bad was happening. He watched the clock hands tick around slowly, slowly, slowly, waiting for the doctors to come out of the room his mom was in, swinging his feet above the floor._

_After the small hand had crawled around the circular face three times, a woman in blue scrubs emerged. "Mr Hummel?"_

_Burt stood faster than Kurt had ever seen him move before."Yes?"_

_The nurse smiled an overused-looking smile, and said "She just woke up. Be warned, though, she's very disorientated and tired."_

_"Dad, can I-" Kurt started as his went in, but Aunty Dana cut in. _

_"Just wait a minute, Kurt honey." she interrupted distractedly. "Daddy and Mommy need some alone time, okay?"_

'It's Dad and Mom'_ Kurt felt like saying, but stopped himself. Aunty Dana was worried about Mom as much as he was, possibly more... because it was seeming more and more obvious that she knew something he didn't. And that annoyed him. Why would nobody tell him anything?_

_(_Of course, now he knew that Dana had just been trying to protect him from the truth, as many adults do with children when something bad has happened. The too-sunny smiles he'd been treated to by the whole community were based on a similar idea, as if by being overly cheerful they were helping make the death easier for him. They weren't, but by pretending that he was helped even the smallest amount, it seemed to make them happy and got them to leave his eight-year-old self alone to mourn in peace.)

_After twenty minutes, Burt's voice drifted out of the room. "Kurt? Come in here, bud? Dana, too?"_

_Aunty Dana stood up, taking Kurt's hand and pulling him with her. She was tall, and although she looked the same as Mom, she wasn't. She was more rough-handed, not pausing when Kurt almost fell on the linoleum floor, instead yanking him upright and carrying on her almost-run down the corridor and into his mom's room._

_Eliza Hummel was sat up in a hospital bed, dark circles under her eyes and scary-looking tubes sticking out of her ghostly pale skin. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she'd been crying, and she looked exhausted. To the bone tired, like she hadn't slept in days. But at least she was there._

_"Hey, sweetie. Hey, Day." she said weakly , using Aunty Dana's nickname as Kurt perched on the end of her bed and Aunty Dana sat in the chair next to Burt's._

_"Hi, Mom." Kurt responded automatically, then frowned. "Why are you linked up to a machine? Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. He'd never seen anyone look so sick in his life._

_"I'll be fine." Eliza insisted, pushing a strand of messy-looking blonde hair behind her left ear. Or it could have been her right ear; Kurt hadn't bothered to remember the very, very small details, much as he regretted not remembering everything later, when there wasn't anything left _to_ remember._

_"What happened, Elle?" Aunty Dana said suddenly. "I just got a call, and...and..." she started to sob, gesturing around the room as if to say 'this happened'._

_Eliza smiled sadly, and reached across to squeeze Aunty Dana's hand. "I was driving up to Kurt's award ceremony - congratulations, sweetie, by the way - and my engine cut out. The van behind me slammed into me, and I hit my head and the rest of me pretty hard against the steering wheel. I'll be fine."_

_"So why the tubes?" Kurt asked, confused. "You don't need tubes if you just hit your head, do you?"_

_"The windscreen shattered at the impact. So I got cut just a little. I needed new blood, honey." she explained._

_Kurt thought that there was a lot of tubes for 'just a little', but didn't say anything. Aunty Dana had only just stopped crying as it was, and he didn't like to see her cry because it was so much like his mom crying. His dad looked a little scared, which was strange, because he was never scared. But he looked relieved, too, so Kurt guessed that everything was going to be okay._

_At least, he hoped everything was going to be okay._

_"So, what happened with you today?" Eliza asked Kurt, trying to neaten his hair, which was a mess because he'd fallen asleep for a few hours at the end of the bed. Now it was the middle of the night and he'd just woken up, whereas Aunty Dana and and Burt had gone to stay in one of the hospital's guest rooms a few hours before. The nurses had said that if anything happened, Kurt was to get up and press the red button over at the other side of the room and yell for help._

_("But nothing _will_ happen, will it?" Kurt had asked one nurse, who smiled down at him._

_"Of course not, Kurt. Your mom will be just fine." she'd replied, sounding like she was struggling to remember his name, then left with the other nurse.)_

_Kurt yawned. "A lot. At school, the mowhawk boy and 'Cedes fought over one of the bikes. 'Cedes was riding it, and he wanted it because it was green. He said she should ride the pink one because she's a girl, and she shouted at him for five minutes straight." he told Eliza, staring at the wall and trying to avoid looking at the tubes and stitches covering her arms that could only be seen from close up but still looked slightly horrific. _

_Eliza caught him not looking, laughed quietly, and said "I look like Frankenstein, don't I? Anyway, finish your story."_

_She'd told him a lot that day that she loved him, a lot more than usual, and he wasn't sure why. So every time he'd just smiled and said 'I love you too, Mom' and tried not to look confused._

_"So he threw a rock at her and 'Cedes yelled even more, so he threw another rock and I got annoyed because you shouldn't throw rocks at people." Kurt continued, still focusing on the wall. "I yelled at him, and he told me to shut up and that I was a fairy princess. So I told him if I was a fairy princess that he was a troll." he said proudly. _

_Eliza started to laugh, but it turned into a cough, so hard that she doubled up._

_"Mom?" Kurt asked worriedly, skittering backwards to the other end of the bed but still holding her hand as he had been for the last hour or so._

_She paled a shade further, and coughed again, followed by a moan of pain. Something red dripped onto the too-white sheets, and Kurt stared in horror as he realised that his mom was bleeding, blood flowing steadily from her nose._

_"Just...just a nosebleed." Eliza managed, her hands shaking. "It hurts like h- It hurts." she mumbled, changing her words for Kurt's benefit._

_"Mom? Should I hit the red button?" Kurt's eyes were wide as he asked the question, looking quickly between his mom and the red panic button on the wall._

_"No, honey, it's fine." she said faintly, lying back. "Actually, can you? Please? I feel..awful..."_

_Kurt nodded quickly, trying not to look as scared as he felt. He squeezed Eliza's fingers once before getting up and running for the red button, pushing it in and waiting for a second as alarm bells started to ring quietly, too quietly._

_"Thanks, sweetie." his mom mouthed at him, seeming to be physically unable to say the words aloud as he tripped over a wire while he hurried back over, taking her hand again._

_"What's wrong?" he asked, and Eliza just smiled dazedly._

_"Love you, Kurt. Tell your dad I love him too when you see him."_

_Kurt couldn't quite put his finger on why the words sounded so, so wrong, until he realised she thought she was saying goodbye. He repeated his 'I love you too, Mom' ritual again, and looked down at her worriedly as she closed her eyes as if he was in some dark nightmare, a million miles away from the rest of the world._

_Eliza's breath came in short, shallow bursts as blood coursed its way down her face. Kurt wanted to yell out for help, but he couldn't make his voice work as he watched his mom's closed eyes flicker from side to side then stop moving, slowly, slowly._

_He found his voice again and started to scream for help, suddenly terrified that Eliza wasn't going to open her eyes again. "Dad! Dad! Help! Someone, come quick, _help me_! Mom! _Mom!"

_There was no reply from his mom, but the sound of footsteps out in the hallway as a nurse burst in, the same one who had told him that everything was going to be okay. She yelled at him, asking what was wrong and what had happened in a suddenly too-loud voice._

_"She started coughing and then her nose started bleeding and now she's all-all-all..." Kurt waved a hand wildly in the same way as Aunty Dana had before as if to say 'this happened'._

_He felt the pressure of his mom's hand around his lighten, and time seemed to slow down. Doctors rushed around the bed, and someone picked him up and pulled him away as he just stared at the still form on the bed. Words and phrases he didn't recognise or understand like 'haemorraghing', 'undetected organ damage' and 'internal bleeding' were said around him as the doctors wheeled his mom's bed out of the room and down the corridor, moving it as fast as they could._

_He was aware of being left in the room alone, then handed over to a emotionless-looking Burt and a sobbing Aunty Dana. Burt picked him up and just hugged him, saying nothing because there wasn't anything to say, no way to fix things or undo what had happened. He could hear someone crying other than Aunty Dana, and he wasn't sure which of them it was. Whoever it was, they were doing enough crying for the both of them._

_Kurt hadn't felt like himself for the next few weeks after his mother's death. He had felt like the real Kurt was hidden away somewhere, and what was left behind was just sadness, confusion, hurt and loss left walking around in his body. It had been a nightmare-like time, with people feeling sorry for him and not knowing what to say. Most people had just left him alone when he really wanted someone to help him, out of fear that they'd say the wrong thing._

_He didn't mind that. The only issue was that sometimes silence is worse than facing the truth._

And now, as the empty, deserted corridor that he remembered faded away to be replaced by the hospital room he was in currently, the same feelings came back to him. Not as strong, but still horribly familiar. He sighed, and looked past the still-sleeping form of Blaine and out of the window, lost in his own thoughts.

**Author's notes:**

**Finally! I finished the chapter!**

**And yes, I know. I was going to try to avoid mentioning Kurt's mom, but let's face it, him being in a hospital makes it pretty much inevitable. I had to get it over with sooner or later...I tried not to make it too badly written, because it's meant to be really sad, but I know nothing about hospitals. I make a point of avoiding knowing about illnesses and ways to die because I can be a little bit of a hyperchondriac when it comes to that sort of thing _ I also make a point of avoiding hospitals, especially the A&E wards, because I don't like seeing people covered in blood and hurt and such. I'm super squeamish. *points to self* Never gonna be a doctor. Ever.**

**I'm sorry to all the Finchel (apologies for putting Frankenteen in a coma, but still) and Klaine shippers (yeeaahhh...about that...*runs*) for sowing the seeds of ruin for said couples...But as you've probably worked out, this is a very Finchel/Klainecentric RP, so I naturally can't destroy them forever...**

**But this is fanfiction.**

**So I'm allowed to get very, very close.**

**~livyceegee**


	7. Silence, Lights and Illegal Cats

**Thank you to **_**Glee-Girlxo**_**, **_**Lone-Angel-1992, mhlvsfinchelmonchele **_**and **_**QueenOfTheLabsAssistant**_** for favouriting! Much appreciated, just saying :D**

**Oooh, and credit goes yet again to CarlyLeeH. Sorry for spelling your username wrong before, and thankies muchies for the inspiration on how to write Santana XD**

7 - The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

-Rachel-

"Nothing much has happened to me today. I woke up in the hotel down the street in the same room as Mercedes, Quinn, Brittany and Santana to find Beth playing with Kurt's scarf and I burst into tears all over again. Because you know, I could have gone for a whole morning absolutely not remembering a thing about the fire. It was almost like a sleepover, because there's still feathers everywhere from Britt and Santana's pillow war from the night they were discharged from this place. I don't think I've told you yet, but Kurt woke up about two hours ago. He doesn't remember much after your mom and Burt's wedding. Can you imagine losing a whole year of your life? I can't. Oh, and Santana can talk again. We've all had to listen to so much ranting about fairylights that it's almost as bad as when we kissed at Nationals." Rachel told Finn, sat on the edge of his bed. The memory of Nationals almost made her smile, but that time seemed so far away that it was difficult to take comfort in it any more.

She'd been there almost all day every day since the fire, just talking. Sometimes she sang, but mostly she just talked and talked, about everything and anything, hoping that somethine would get through to Finn enough to wake him up.

But, as usual, everything she said met absolute silence. No response, no recognition, nothing.

She sighed, letting her eyes travel to the box beside Finn's bed which contained all her remaining posessions in the world. She'd taken _everything_ with her to New York, absolutely everything, and the cardboard box was full of everything that the firefighters had been able to salvage or that didn't totally burn to a crisp.

The first thing she'd done when she had chance after the fire was to call her dads. They'd been furious, of course...but she knew that most of their anger was fueled by the fact that Rachel had been in danger. So she'd insisted that _'I'm fine. It's Finn I'm worried about...'_ Of course, after that, it had descended into a conversation about why Finn had seemed to drop off the face of the planet when it came to talking to them, and Rachel had to explain - rather awkwardly - the whole situation...Then she'd said goodbye, told them she loved them and hurriedly hung up before they could give her a 'that's not how good relationships work' talk.

"I found Kurt's scrapbook, you know. The one he ran back in for, that red one that Blaine gave him? Wait, you don't know about that, do you? You were knocked out at that point becase that stupid, _idiotic_, son of a-" she paused out habit, then continued in a small voice. "Anyway... I got all the magazine clippings from Wicked and related to things we've done over the last year and I added them. I gave it to Mercedes for her to take and try and help him remember. Kind of like what I'm doing here, really." she continued, in the same desperately hopeful tone. "Talking my vocal chords off just incase you remember anything and decide to wake up...I know this has to be the millionth time I've said this, Finn, but I'll just sit here for the rest of my life saying whatever comes into my head if I have to. I'll just stay here until you wake up...Apart from when I need to eat, of course. I won't be much use to you dead, and Quinn can't keep bringing me and Blaine meals all the time, it's just unfair on her. Shelby's let her keep Beth until everythings' fixed. She's gone on vacation for a month and a half to Wales, to visit family. So Quinn's happy. It's unfair that I should take away her time with her very small family, don't you think? So I'll go fetch my own lunch today, I think. Apparently there's a vegetarian option in the hospital kitchen...

"Do you remember your family, Finn? Carole, and your real dad, even though he was killed in Operation Desert Storm...And Burt and Kurt, too. Do you remember them? Do you remember me? It's me, Finn. Rachel. Rachel Berry?" Rachel tried, leaning over to see if the words made any difference.

They didn't. Her expression crumbled from forcedly cheerful to despondent and hopeless, and she leant back slowly in her chair, the waterproof behind her making rustling noises. "Finn?" she whispered, the words feeling thick in her throat as she spoke them.

No answer.

Rachel pulled her knees up to her chest, the ends of her shoes poking over the edge of the chair. She rested her chin on top of her knees, surveying the world around her in absolute silence through tear-blurred eyes.

She didn't know how long she was there for, sat in the deafening silence, before someone joined her, sitting in the chair beside hers. There was no need to look sideways to see who it was.

"Hello, Jesse." She was amazed at how depressed her voice sounded, and tried to cover it up with a bright smile.

"Not buying it, Rachel." Jesse told her bluntly. "That's obviously one of the show faces we showed you when you were at McKinley."

Rachel scowled. "Why are you even here? Come to try and win me back while the love of my life is so obviously and brightly awake?" she said sarcastically.

"What have I told you about sarcasm being unnatractive? And can I be honest with you?"

"Why bother asking? Whatever it is, you'll tell me anyway." Rachel remarked, raising her eyebrows.

Jesse hesitated, blue eyes glancing at his shoes then back at her, then blurted out: "I miss you, Rachel."

"So why the total lack of contact after I left for NYADA?" she demanded, trying not to let how much those words affected her show when really her head was spinning. _So you never really did get over Jesse, did you?_ a voice in her head remarked. _This whole time you've just been kidding yourself. And you're not over Finn, either._

_Oh my Streisand, girl. There's something wrong with your head._

"I...I was scared. I was scared that you'd moved on and found someone new...Then when Kurt phoned me and told me about your issue with Hudson, I wanted to try and help." Jesse admitted, not looking at her although he now had her full attention.

"Kurt _phoned_ you?" Rachel asked, her voice dangerously low. "He told me you bumped into each other on the street and from the sounds of it, you practically forced him to invite you."

Jesse smirked, a hint of his usual self returning. "What can I say? He's obviously more manipulative than you can give him credit for."

"It's not just him though, is it?" Rachel retorted, instinctively defending her best friend. "You're not exactly innocent either. _You're_ the one who accepted. Stop steering the conversation away from yourself."

A laugh. "See, there's the Rachel I know. Glad to have you back, Miss Berry. I've missed you."

Again, those words. _I've missed you. _They echoed around Rachel's head, offering just a little bit of hope that seemed to be always just out of her reach.

Maybe...maybe this time he was actually being truthful? She almost snorted out loud at the idea. Jesse St James telling the actual, in-the-flesh truth?

Not likely. But maybe...Maybe would have to be good enough, because Rachel could feel herself wanting to trust Jesse more and more by the second.

"I...missed you too." she said after a few seconds of silence, then glanced guiltily at the comatose Finn. His hair, which should be too short to be messed up, somehow was, and he looked almost peaceful. Almost. "But..."

Jesse followed her line of vision with his finger. "...Hudson." he finished in a flat tone. Rachel could see the expression on his face change as he came to the conclusion, and guilt swept down on her. She was always thinking about how hard he was to trust, but what about her? Jesse had left, and she'd gone back to Finn. How hard must that have been for him to come back and see she already seemed to have gotten over him, to see her back in Finn's arms?

_Very hard. That's how hard. _

"...Hudson." confirmed Rachel, the guilt showing through in her voice as she screwed up her nose in an attempt not to cry, not caring how childish it looked.

Jesse obviously saw, because suddenly his arm was around her shoulders. "Hey, hey...Rachel...Don't cry.."

That only made it worse, knowing that Jesse felt sorry for her. Rachel turned her head slightly and hid her face in his shoulder, sobbing quietly. Jesse said nothing, just let her cry herself out while he held her - which took almost fifteen minutes, and by Rachel Berry standards wasn't much - until she could speak.

"Sorry, Jesse..." she mumbled into his sleeve. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Doing what?" he asked, sounding almost puzzled.

"Making everything about me." Rachel muttered, stitting up straighter and wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater. "I like being the centre of attention, but now diverting the spotlight onto myself is just a habit."

Jesse sighed. "I know, and I don't mind, okay? I like you just the way you are. I love you just the way you are."

Rachel smiled through her tears. "There's a song about that, you know?"

He took her hand and squeezed it softly, then let go and stood up. He smiled down at her, and turned to leave. "I know. Of course I know." he replied, and when Rachel looked up from blushing like a little kid who'd just been paid a particularly good compliment, he was gone.

And Rachel was left alone in the room with nothing to keep her company except a comatose boy and a box full of memories from a life that she was sure she'd never get back.

-Blaine-

Darkness. Total darkness. So much that Blaine felt as if he was drowning in it, surrounded in a empty, cold blackness that seemed to extend forever.

Then a light...A small light, like a light at the end of a tunnel, shining in the distance. Blaine could make out a figure, silhoutted against the almost blinding light that now seemed to take up his whole world.

The figure started to call his name, over and over again, and there was no way to doubt who it was even through the pain that filled the words.

Without hesitation, Blaine bolted for the light, his bare feet painfully hitting the sharp stones beneath his toes, but he kept running. The movement was hard, like running through treacle, or like someone was holding him back, and he didn't seem to get any closer to his goal. In fact, the elusive light, and the figure with it, seemed to be getting further and further away, smaller with each second that passed. A light at the end of a tunnel that he would never reach.

Blaine started to shout a response, to apologize to the figure for his failure, then-

-Then the empty blackness was gone, replaced by the too-bright lights of the hospital room. Blaine let out a long breath that he hadn't realised he was holding, looking unfocusedly at the woven material of the old-fashioned wicker chair he was curled up in.

Nightmares like the one he'd just had were becoming more and more frequent, filling the few hours of sleep that he managed to snatch with darkness and fear. It was always the same theme; always the same figure that Blaine could never reach and could never help.

"So, you're awake, are you?"

If he'd have looked up any faster, Blaine was sure he'd have broken his neck.

Kurt looked down at him from the slightly raised hospital bed, grey eyes so wide-awake that it was almost sickening becase Blaine himself had got barely any sleep. Almost. But Blaine wasn't in the mood to sulk about who had gotten the most sleep, because _Kurt was awake and talking to him_. He was on his feet and out of the chair faster than he was sure that he'd ever moved in his life.

"_Kurt!_ " Blaine exclaimed, ignoring the drip and throwing his arms around the boy in the bed, crushing him close in pure relief and happiness.

There was a moment's pause, then: "Ow, Blaine, that sort of _hurts_-"

Blaine released Kurt and stepped back in an instant, terrified that he'd hurt him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just that I've been so - _God_, Kurt, I've been so worried and...and...and..." he babbled, unable to find the right words to describe the constant tension and worry he'd subjected himself to since waking up in the Accident and Emergency ward. He painfully aware of the way that Kurt was trying to rearrange his cast-covered left arm inside his sling, a small scowl on his face as he tried not to wince.

Kurt seemed to wait for a few moments for Blaine to pull himself together, a blank expression in his eyes. Blaine opened his mouth to apologize again, worried that he'd done something wrong, but the countertenor interrupted him.

"There's no need to apologize." he said, the formal tone to his voice the first indication - for Blaine - that something was wrong. "After all, I've done enough to you that I should be apologizing for."

Blaine frowned, confused. He wasn't aware that Kurt had done anything worse than worry about Sebastian...

_Oh. _If those moments in cartoons where a lightbulb appears over a character's head could happen in real life, Blaine was sure that he'd have a little glass orb hovering above his curls. _Back at the apartment. He's still thinking about when I yelled at him for panicking about Sebastian.._

"The...Sebastian thing?" Blaine asked, watching Kurt carefully to see what his reaction would be.

"...Yes. And there's something else, too..." Kurt hesitated, and glanced up from his cast to look at Blaine quickly, then back down again. The whole action was so nervous and un-Kurtlike that it threw Blaine off for a second, confirming his earlier thoughts that something was wrong.

He frowned, then asked: "What is it?"

"The past." Kurt responded plainly, no other explanations.

"What about it? Did I do something wrong?" asked Blaine worriedly, knowing he was probably wearing his 'wide-eyed lost hobbit' look. Santana had taken it upon herself to name the expression - while everyone was still totally healthy and back at what used to be Rachel's dad's apartment - when Rachel had told him about the time when Kurt got lost in the backstreets for more than four hours. Blaine had worried for a moment until said person had reminded him that '_I'm sat right here thanks, Blaine. I'm not completely hopeless, I did eventually find a very small grimy takeout place that gave me directions'._

"You don't get it, do you?" Kurt said, shaking his head slightly. He winced, and mumbled something like _'Don't shake head.'_ "It's not something that was _done_ in my past. I just don't _remember._ I don't remember you, Blaine. You're just like another face in the crowd to me..."

Blaine stared at him blankly, the words not making sense. "You..don't remember me? _Me? _After _everything_?"

Kurt had to be joking. He _had_ to be. He had to remember Blaine, he just..just couldn't forget him. It wasn't how things were supposed to go-

-_Oh, like I had a plan anyway?_ a voice in the back of his mind said. _I just wing it and hope for the best, then run away when something goes wrong..._

"I have amnesia, Blaine. I don't remember 'everything'. I don't remember anything at all after..." he frowned slightly, as if trying to remember a particularly difficult calculus equation, or maybe how to say something in French instead of trying to think of the last memorable point in his life. "...New Direction's performance of Rocky Horror. I was Riff-Raff. I remember starting to sing Time Warp with Quinn, who was being Magenta and then Finn-as-Brad joined in, and I remember Artie-as-Dr. Everett saying his lines once, but not the second time and I know Dr. Everett says 'It's just a jump to the left' then everyone else sings _'And then a step to the right'_ - " he sang the line, in tune but sounding more than a little desperate, then finished the small speech by blurting out: "-then Dr. Everett joins back in again with 'Put your hand on your hips', but I only remember those lines being said-slash-sung once when I _know_ that they're meant to be said-slash-sung _twice_ and that means I've lost more than a year of my whole life and I'm only seventeen so that's one seventeenth of my life that's gone for good and I'm n-"

"_Kurt!" _Blaine interrupted, worried both for the countertenor's sanity and the fact that he had barely taken a breath. He tried to appear cool and collected, but in reality, his thoughts were spinning wildly out of control.

Kurt stopped talking midword, looking terrified. Almost like a lost child in a crowded place, and like he was about to burst into tears. Blaine wanted to go over and hug him, and explain that everything was going to be okay...Except that he couldn't. Kurt would just find being hugged by a random stranger slightly creepy, even though Blaine wasn't just a random stranger. Blaine was so much more than just a random stranger, but Kurt didn't know it. He didn't know him at all.

There it was again. That thought. _Kurt doesn't know who I am. He thinks he's never met me before. All that time...To him, he never moved to Dalton - he doesn't even know the place _exists_, he's never met me, never joined the Warblers, he never got Pavarotti so Pavarotti never died, meaning he doesn't know we kissed...He doesn't know what happened on Valentines day, he doesn't remember Baby It's Cold Outside, or Animal, or Teenage Dream, or Candles..._

Blaine snapped back to reality and put a stop to his mental babbling as Kurt made an odd hiccoughing noise that was sort of a halfway sob.

"Calm down. And you're _eighteen_. Not seventeen. Eighteen." Blaine said much more calmly than he felt, watching Kurt worriedly as the other boy took a deep breath.

"Blaine..d-do you mind just leaving for a while, please?" he asked in a too-polite tone that suggested to Blaine that he was on the verge of experiencing a Major Kurt Freak Out Moment. Blaine was about to decline with the excuse that _Maybe I can help?_ when he realised that Kurt probably didn't want him around. Blaine didn't blame him. He wouldn't want a stranger to see him in tears, either...

"Of course." Blaine replied distantly. He picked up his bag and left the room which he'd barely been out of since the fire, disappointment crashing over him like a tidal wave.

-Santana-

"Well, this is a cheery situation, isn't it?" Santana commented, falling into step on one side of a heartbroken-looking Blaine. Brittany stepped into place on his other side, keeping step perfectly with the other two as they walked.

Blaine didn't respond, only clutched his bag tightly and kept walking, replacing the 'wide-eyed lost hobbit' expression on his face with one of grim determination as he walked more and more quickly down the corridor.

Brittany reached out and caught his arm. She dug her heels into the linoleum floor, effectively stopping him in his tracks after he tried and failed to pull her along with him. "Where're you going, Dolphin?" she asked confusedly, tilting her head. Her high ponytail fell sideways, hitting the side of his face. Blaine made a coughing sound as he got a mouthful of blonde hair, and he stepped back. Brittany giggled, and high-fived Santana over his head.

"And why are you running away from Porcelain down there?" Santana added, raising one eyebrow.

Blaine seemed to realise that they'd just follow him around the hospital and generally harass him until he gave an answer, so stopped trying to get away. "I'm going to find Rachel, Bicorn." he told Brittany, who smiled widely at the unexpected use of the nickname. "Can I go now?"

Santana frowned. "Uh, no. You didn't answer my question."

He sighed, suddenly looking defeated. "Kurt has amnesia, and he's currently freaking out because he's lost over a year of his life."

"Not good enough, Short Stuff. Why aren't you in there un-freaking him out? He's your boyfriend, right? Go do boyfriendly duties." Santana instructed, spinning him around. Blaine didn't seem to be in a state to put up much of a fight; looking physically exhausted - not that he would have been able to fight back anyway. _Hobbit boy versus two cheerleaders trained by the ruthless Sue Sylvester? Good luck, munchkin._ she thought to herself, almost smiling at the thought.

"No..I can't..." Blaine protested halfheartedly, and the two girls turned and linked their arms through his, pulling him along and back down the corridor.

"Sure you can." Brittany said cheerfully. "You have to make sure the Unicorn's happy, right Eric? So go make your boyfriend happy."

Blaine stopped suddenly, and when Santana practically yanked him forward, sending him stumbling, he regained his footing and span around. "Did you listen to a _word_ I said?" he snapped, folding his arms. Brittany frowned slightly, and stepped back, looking offended.

"Ignore him, Britts." Santana murmered to Brittany, then shot a glare at Blaine. "Was anything you said _worth_ listening to, Hobbit?" she asked bluntly, starting to walk toward Kurt's room again.

Blaine didn't move. "I can't go back there!" he almost shouted, then swallowed. "Look, he doesn't remember. Got it?"

Santana didn't even blink. "So get him to remember. Put that dreamboat accapella mouth to good use and _make_ him remember. Talk to him. Sing a song. Freaking kiss him if you have to, he won't put up much of a fi-"

"-He doesn't _know who I am!_" Blaine interupted, yelling now. "He has no idea who the hell I am, okay?" he muttered in a small voice, staring at the floor.

There was a moment of silence, then Brittany chimed in with "Mercedes has a scrapbook. You could take that to him."

He looked up, a spark of hope in his eyes. "A...a scrapbook?"

Brittany looked around as if to see if anyone would overhear. "A _magic_ scrapbook. Rachel said he'd _definitely_ remember _everything_ if he saw it." she whispered into his ear like it was a huge secret, which Santana was sure to her it was. Much as she adored Brittany, the blonde could be fooled so easily it was almost funny - you just had to look at Wheels Mc Vest's trick with the Magic Comb for proof. "It's red, with bits of dark reddish-brown smudged on the front." Brittany continued. "With a picture of us all in little silver bracket things. And everything on the inside is written in silver and gold."

Blaine recoiled like Brittany had pulled out a gun, a horrified expression on his face. "I'm not going near that thing!" he declared, shaking his head from side to side so rapidly that his curls actually bounced, something Santana had been sure only happened with guys in movies.

Brittany frowned, confused. "What's wrong, Dolphin?" she asked worriedly. They were outside Kurt's room now, and quiet sobbing noises could be heard coming from behind the closed door. Blaine stared at the door with a pained expression, looking like he was only just stopping himself from running inside.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I'll double that, Britts. Blaine, you look like someone just attacked you with garden shears and tried to cut off your suspiciously ungelled hair."

"That scrapbook...the smudges are _blood_, Brittany...Not touching it. No way. No way. No way..." Blaine trailed off, still shaking his head.

"I'm starting to wonder if your IQ drops if you don't have a stupid amount of product in your hair." Santana remarked, raising an eyebrow again.

"..No way..._Not the time, Santana._" Blaine retorted vehementley, sending her a look so potent that Santana was sure that if looks could actually kill, her head would be several feet away from her body.

Brittany glanced between them worriedly. "Who's blood, Dolphin?"

"_Kurt's_!" Blaine burst out, pacing the width of the corridor while keeping his eyes on the floor. "That's what he went back for. The scrapbook. If I'd have been a minute later, he probably would have _died_ up there!" he stopped suddenly, and raised his head to look at the two girls.

"And if _you two_ had let me go sooner, I wouldn't be in this mess at all!" Blaine blurted furiously, eyes oddly shiny. "The firefighters would have been no help, you didn't _see _him! He couldn't even speak, he was coughing so hard! If you'd have just freaking stepped aside and gotten over that stupid fairylight grudge you were holding against him none of this would have _happened_!"

Santana drew herself up to her full height. She'd grown a little over the summer, allowing her to stand a full three inches above the top of Blaine's head. "Now _listen_ to me, Anderson. You think you can yell? Try me. I'm-"

"-From Lima Heights, I know!" Blaine cut in angrily. "I've heard it all before, Santana!"

"_Actually, _I was going to say 'I'm Santana Lopez. I was _raised _on insults.'" Santana said in a cold voice. "So get over whatever little tragedy happened back in the apartment and. Get. Over. It. Forget it happened."

"You can't just _forget_ something like that! I was terrified! I know I'm reusing this one, but you weren't there! You didn't see the flames everywhere and you didn't see him go down! I _did_, and it was like some slow-motion horror movie. He tripped and went crashing down the stairs, and his head...collided...with those metal railings down the side of the stairs. And then he was just laid there, like some sort of broken doll, and there was blood _everywhere_, Santana. On me, on him, on the scrapbook, on the floor..." Blaine shook his head again, as if trying to clear the memories out. Santana just watched him, waiting for the rest of the story, morbidly fascinated.

"You didn't hear him when I was trying to get down those stairs without killing either of us even though we were both choking on smoke and I could barely see straight...Every step, for nearly three flights of stairs, he had this awful expression on his face and I could tell that he was trying not to cry out, and half the time, he didn't. It was just the other half that felt like hell, because I couldn't get us both out of there without hurting him..." he glanced up at Santana, as if daring her to contradict. She was sure he wasn't actually intending to challenge her, but she stepped up all the same.

"I could handle that." she scoffed before she had chance to re-evalute her words.

"See, that's just the thing. Could you? Think of someone you care about."

_Brittany._ Santana thought immediately, but didn't let anything show on her face.

Blaine continued, looking at her levelly as if he was gauging her reactions. "Someone who means the absolute world to you. The person who you worry about almost constantly when you're not around them. So much so that if something happened to them and you didn't help, you'd never forgive yourself. Someone who, if they were miserable, you'd do just about anything to see them smile again. Run to the end of the world, so to speak, then gladly run back again several times. Someone that, if you were in a situation where only one of you would get out alive, you'd automatically choose them."

Santana stared back, checking off everything he said in her head. She was convinced that she _would_ choose Britt in the hypothetical 'only one gets out alive' situation, and knew that nothing he said would change that.

"I know it sounds cheesy, and that's because it is, but that's the way I feel about Kurt. I love him, and I still feel the same way even though I'm basically a stranger to him. I think I always will. Now, I don't think that you have anyone you care about that much, because I think you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but let's pretend you do. Get _your_ special person, whether they exist or not, and yourself in a life-and-death situation, then talk to me." Blaine said flatly, turned, and stormed off down the corridor.

There was a couple of minute's silence in his absence as Santana thought things over, ignoring the, in her opinion, pretty weak jab at insulting her emotional depth. She would never admit it, but she was actually rather touched by Blaine's declaration of his love for Kurt, and for some reason, suddenly determined to fix things for them. Or at least help a little.

_Santana, it's finally official. That tiny hotel room has finally driven you off the edge. But then again, maybe trying to fix those two up will bring a little entertainment to this place..._

"He quoted Harry Potter at you." Brittany stated from behind her, speaking up for the first time since she'd asked who's blood was on the scrapbook.

"Did he?" Santana asked absentmindedly, mentally plotting.

" 'Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have.' " the blonde quoted, nodding. "Who's your special person?"

Santana turned to her, looking a little surprised. "Who do you think?"

"Um...your _abuela_?" Brittany guessed, pronouncing the Spanish word for 'grandmother' perfectly.

"_You_." Santana told her, a grin spreading across her face, her plans set aside momentarily.

If it was actually possible, Brittany looked like she would have been glowing, her smile was so wide. "Thanks, San. You're my special person, too...I was going to say Lord Tubbington, but he's a cat. Why do you look kind of sneaky?"

Santana laughed. "Because I have an idea to fix those two. Blaine moping around is depressing, and although when the two of them eventually get back together there'll be so much fluffiness that I'll be forced to stay at least a mile away from them, I'd prefer a cheerful hobbit to one that spreads doom and gloom everywhere his unfashionable shoes take him. Do you mind talking to Kurt? I'd like to know _exactly _how mentally screwed up he is before I put Santana's Master Plan into action."

Brittany was still beaming when she spoke next. "Of course I will! I wanted to talk to him anyway. I need a makeover - hey, do you think hospitals sell make-up? Mine got burnt. Next time I see Lord Tubbington I'm going to steal all his cigarettes. He doesn't get rid of them properly and it's a fire hazard...Then I'll hug him to make him feel better." she added randomly, a faraway look in her eyes as she gazed down the corridor.

"We can go shopping later?" Santana suggested, turning Brittany around to face the door to the hospital room. "Porcelain's room is that way, Britts. That way. Now, go be your usual magical self and figure out how his sanity's standing, and stop making me jealous of your cat."

"Sanity stands?"

"Figure of speech, Britt, figure of speech." Santana told her firmly, smiling as Brittany bounced into Kurt's room, singing out 'Hey, unicorn!' in a cheerful voice.

Santana turned and started to walk down the corridor, turning what she hoped was the right corner, when she practically walked into the blue-eyed boy that Blaine had brought along with him to the party. The boy looked like someone had just hit him in the face, even though he had been alone in the corridor. At least, until Santana walked into him.

Something clicked in her mind. This was the guy - Sebastian, was he called? - that creeped Kurt out because he kept hitting on Blaine. _And that will just not do._ she thought, in the light of her new mission.

She glared at him as she passed, and he glared back, obviously having overheard her and Brittany's conversation, before walking straight past her.

"Good afternoon, Santana." he said icily, taking care to inconspicously jab his elbow into her ribs as he passed her.

"Good afternoon, Sebastian." she replied sweetly, taking care to very obviously and purposely dig her heel into his foot, letting herself smile when he winced.

"Don't worry, Dolphins." she murmered to herself when Sebastian was out of earshot, using Brittany's nickname for Blaine and Kurt. "Aunty 'Tana's gonna fix this."

Five minutes later she was walking through the mental ward of the hospital, counting the doors on the left-hand side of the corridor.

"...Five, six, seven, eight, _nine_..." she stopped a few paces back from the door, and knocked on it.

"Who is it?" came a wary-sounding voice from directly behind the door.

"Santana!"

The door swung outwards, revealing a small, red-haired girl who couldn't be more than fifteen armed with an impressive looking water pistol. She had a cat by her ankles. The girl relaxed when she saw Santana was actually Santana, and made 'come in' motions with one hand. At the sound of the door closing, the cat half-darted, half-hobbled inside and hid under the bed on one side of the room.

"It really is you!" the girl said cheerfully, loweing the pistol and shutting the door quickly behind Santana, who raised an eyebrow.

"And why wouldn't it be me?" she asked, slightly confused.

The girl scowled, her freckled nose wrinkling. "Some of the boys down the corridor like to come here to cough in my face. They don't seem to get that I get sick really easily, and it takes ages for me to get well again. You don't have flu or anything, do you?" she asked worriedly, raising the pistol again. " 'Cause I'm still getting over a cold I've had for six weeks now. The only good thing about being on the same ward as the crazies is that none of them have any illnesses."

Santana raised both hands and glared at the diminutive girl. "I'm disease-free. I'm not stupid, Camille. I wouldn't come in if it wasn't for a reason. I need your help."

"What with?" Camille asked warily, putting the pistol down on her unmade hospital bed and sitting beside it.

"Oh, nothing. Just the small task of getting a couple of guys back together while another guy with a major crush on one of the two guys tries to keep them broken up." Santana said airily, like it was no big deal. She sat on the other side of the pistol to Camille, knowing the girl didn't like people coming too close.

The girl in question raised an eyebrow in an almost perfect mimicry of Santana. "I'm listening. Details. I want details."

Santana sighed inwardly. Camille was irritating, but she'd have to be put up with for the plan to work. "Okay, so, the story goes like this. You have Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel, both from Ohio. Blaine and Kurt date, and they're so cute together that it's sickening and you can practically _see_ rainbows surrounding them, and then Kurt leaves Ohio goes off to NYADA. Then Kurt and his little hobbit friend - no relation to Blaine, they're just both irritatingly short - decide to throw a party. Blaine comes. I come. Pretty much all my friends come too, and all those people that I'm forced to be around because they're in the same year as me. Then-"

"-Is this going anywhere?" Camille interrupted.

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Don't make me cough on you." she threatened.

Camille shrank back a little. "Continue."

"_Then_," Santana continued, "There's a fire. The building the apartment was in burns down. I scream at Kurt because it was his fault - the boy has an obsession with overdecorating at Christmas - and he runs back into fetch something. I stop Blaine from running in because a) Kurt deserved some comeuppance for burning the whole place down, and b) I didn't want Blaine to totally burn to a crisp. After a while, I cave and let him go in after his boyfriend. Long story short, Blaine comes out about ten minutes later carrying a blood-covered Kurt and passes out on the sidewalk. Blaine wakes up about three hours later, and waits like Greyfriar's Bobby by Kurt's bedside-"

"Kurt _died_ ?" Camille exclaimed in a horrified tone.

"God, no! Did you not listen _at all_ to the short version?" Santana snapped.

"It's just that Greyfriar's Bobby waits by his master's _grave_-"

Santana glared at her. "Let me finish, Soulless!"

Camille relented, muttering something like '_goddamn gingerists_'.

"-Until Kurt wakes up. Everything's happy, and then _BAM_! Hummel drops the ultimate bombshell, saying he doesn't remember Blaine. I don't know what happened next, but the upshot is that Blaine left Kurt's room looking pretty miserable, which is when me and Britts cornered him and harrassed the information out of him." Santana finished.

"And where does the other guy come into it?"

"Ah, Sebastian. Sebastian has a major crush on Blaine, and I'm talking about to the levels of disturbing. However, Mr Hobbit doesn't reciprocate, making Sebastian even more of a manipulative bitch, hell-bent on stealing Blaine away from Kurt. I walked into him on the way here, and took great pleasure in crushing his toes under my converse." Santana said, smiling wickedly in a way that made Camille give her a slightly nervous look. "So, as there is nothing to do in this place, I'm getting Klaine back together. For the uneducated, that's Kurt plus Blaine equals-"

"-Klaine, I get it." interrupted Camille. "So, what's the catch?"

"What do you mean, _what's the catch_?" the Latina retorted scathingly. "You're bringing a couple back together and leaving a creepy guy all on his own. There isn't a catch."

"So, how do I help then?" Camille folded her arms.

"Just open up this only half-occupied double room of yours to Kurt and-"

"WHAT?" the younger girl practically yelled, leaping to her feet, water pistol at the ready.

Santana rolled her eyes. "All I'm telling you is you need to get a roomie. Calm down."

"You _know_ how I feel about letting people in here, and you want me to just let a random guy in? He could have all sorts of diseases!" Camille protested.

"Camille. Shut up. You're worse than my high school guidance counsellor, and she _actually has_ OCD." Santana said bluntly. "He's not a football player or anything. Actually, Kurt's creepily clean for a teenage boy. And hey, look on the bright side! You never leave this room anyway, and he can be like a messenger to the outside world for you."

"It'd be nice not having to pay Jade and Jack to carry messages for me." Camille admitted. Santana had no idea who Jade and Jack were, and didn't really care enough to ask.

"So you'll let him room with you?" she asked hopefully. "If not, I'll tell about Serenity..." she threatened, meaning the cat, which was actually against hospital rules for Camille to keep, even if it did only have three and a half legs.

Camille scooped the cat up from the floor and hugged it close. "Ugh, fine! I'll let him stay. But if you say a _word_ about Seren, he's sleeping in the corridor."

Santana smirked. _Phase One of Santana's Master Plan: Complete._

**Author's Note:**

**I'm gonna try shorten these down now. My authors notes are getting stupidly long...**

_**Spoiler!**_** I have no idea how I'm going to finish this for Finchel, but I have two seperate ideas for reuntiting the awesomeness that is Klaine. I'll just give the titles:**

**Version One: **_**Karofsky**_

**Version Two: **_**The Pavarotti Effect**_

_**Karofsky **_**won't last more than a chapter or so even if I drag it out to stupid lengths, but **_**The Pavarotti Effect**_** is going to take at least four chapters of Klaine-filled hopefully-fantasticness and will Camille and her cat more that **_**Karofsky.**_** Make of the titles what you will...So, opinions, please?**

**~livyceegee**


	8. Distance

**Author's note:**

**I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but I DON'T OWN GLEE. At all. It wouldn't be nearly as awesome as it is if I did...Incidentally, does anyone know how to add those long grey lines in that stretch the width of the page and break up a story? 'Cause I don't, and it's getting on my nerves... So I'll settle with dashes and hope it has the same effect.**

-Mercedes-

Yet another person approached the table Mercedes was sat at and asked if one of the chairs was taken.

She barely glanced up from her magazine. "Nope. I'm not waiting for anyone, either." she confirmed before she was asked. The person thanked her, and took the chair to one of the already-full tables that were crammed with people.

Mercedes sighed. The small table she was sat at was slowly being emptied of chairs as people she didn't know came up and took them to other areas of the cafeteria.

_This is one thing that I never thought I'd think, ever..._ she thought as she glanced around the hall, searching for familiar faces. _...But hospitals are oddly cliquey._

She'd been sat on her own for most of the set dinner hours of four PM to six PM, long having finished her plate of hospital Christmas dinner. It wasn't Christmas yet - it was only the nineteenth, after all, but the whole week running up to Christmas seemed to be Festive Dinner Week at the hospital. Most people that stayed for dinner were either long-term patients, or friends and family of patients, so they all knew each other well. Mercedes, on the other hand, barely knew anyone. The few people she did know had already had lunch, or didn't leave their or their respective boyfriend's rooms (_cough_-Rachel-and-Blaine-_cough_).

Since she'd started attending RADA, she'd been eating lunch with a few friends that she'd made because they shared most of their classes. Seeing as she was back in America, though, she should be sitting with either Rachel or Kurt, most probably both, and possibly Blaine if Kurt was there.

But Rachel barely left Finn's room, and as far as Mercedes knew, Kurt wasn't allowed to get out of bed until the doctors fully checked him over and gave him the green light that he could actually get up.

There was a sound of a plastic tray meeting a metal tabletop, and the chair next to her was scraped backwards.

"Hey, Mercedes." Tina said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Seriously, does this place do _anything_ other than cold turkey? It's worse than constantly being served Asian stuff by Mike's grandmother."

Mercedes smiled slightly. "Hi Tina...So you finally got out of the hotel?"

Tina rolled her eyes. "Yes, thankfully. You know our little room issue? Well, I yelled...uh..._talked_ to the manager, and he's agreed to give us six seperate rooms between all of us at half-price."

"_What_?" Mercedes sat up a little straighter, interested now. "Do we actually get our own beds?" she asked a little wistfully. The ten of them - Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Mike, Blaine, Quinn, Beth, Sebastian, Jesse and Rachel - had been sharing two seperate rooms in the best hotel they could find that was within their price budget since the apartment fire, the girls in one and the boys in the other. Of course, Rachel and Blaine had been sleeping in the hospital, leaving the unfortunate Mike to share a room with Sebastian and Jesse, the latter of which had immediately made a line of pillows across a third of their room, instructing Mike and Sebastian to '_Stay on your own side, and keep your socks out of my sight. They're actually offensive._'

Tina nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! We have two triples and three doubles. The doubles have two single beds, the triples have a bunk and a single. So I'm staying in a double with Mike, then Britt and Santana are sharing, Jesse's bought himself a seperate room because he seems to be actually scared of sharing with Sebastian-"

"-Who I guess took advantage of the situation _and_ our money and snagged himself a double. Honestly, if the boy wasn't a friend of Blaine's, I'd have told him to get on the streets." Mercedes interrupted, then let Tina finish.

"-Apparently, a double wasn't good enough because I found all his stuff in one of the triples_._" Tina muttered darkly. "Then I guess Finn will have a double with Rachel. Do you mind sharing with Blaine and Kurt? You'll probably have the room to yourself until Kurt gets discharged, because I don't think Blaine'll leave until he does."

"I'm sharing with Blaine and Kurt?" Mercedes asked, brightening considerably. "I think I can live with that. But if they start talking about Vogue for more than an hour, I'm sleeping on the floor of yours and Mike's room."

Tina considered it briefly, then laughed. "Done deal."

"Is that seat taken?" a sleepy-sounding, Welsh-accented voice drifted across the table from behind the two girls, making Tina start and Mercedes turn around.

Just behind Mercedes stood a tired-looking boy who looked about her age, with a firey shade of messy red hair, making him look like he'd just woken up. He had the brownest eyes she'd ever seen on a boy, a sort of odd chocolatey colour that looked a little muddy and stood out in sharp contrast to his pale skin. However, although he looked like he'd just tumbled out of bed, he was also one of the more fashionable people that she'd seen around the hospital, dressed in a neatly ironed checkered shirt and black jeans.

"No, just take it." she said absentmindedly, turning back around. "Everyone else did."

"I meant can I sit there?" the boy questioned.

Tina glanced across at Mercedes briefly, seeming to wonder if she needed to ask the dark-skinned girl's permission before letting the boy sit down. A second or so later, Tina just shrugged and smiled at the boy. "Sure, why not? I'm Tina, and this is Mercedes."

Mercedes waved. "Yeah, we don't mind. Come join us."

The boy beamed, and sat in the only remaining chair, which was at the opposite side of the table to the two girls. "Hi Tina, hi Mercedes...I'm Miles Rees, nice to meet you. Miles as in the distance, not Myles as in Greek mythology. If I fall asleep, stab my hand with this fork." he said, speaking so quickly that he was hard to understand at first. He handed Mercedes a plastic fork, and she raised a confused eyebrow in return.

"You likely to fall asleep?" she asked suspiciously. " 'Cause this thing looks sharp."

Miles seemed to think about the question, then he nodded. "Most probably. I'm narcoleptic, you see. It makes staying awake tricky sometimes."

"Marco...what?" Mercedes asked, giving him an odd look.

"_Narcolepsy_." corrected Tina. "It's a sleeping disorder. Sufferers often get tired very, very easily, and can randomly fall asleep."

Miles nodded amiably. "That's about it." he confirmed. "So if I do fall asleep, poke me with the fork. Don't worry about hurting me, I'm pretty much immune to that thing now. If it doesn't work, just go ahead and try and shake me awake."

He sounded oddly cheerful about it, Mercedes noted. If she fell asleep randomly then she'd be pretty hacked off - she was always irritable for about ten minutes after she woke up, and couldn't imagine being dragged out of her dreams several times a day.

"Ri...ght." Mercedes said slowly. "Do you fall asleep a lot? Because then you must get stabbed a lot, too..."

"Oh, about five or six times a day on average. It's not dangerous though, and I wake up naturally after about ten minutes maximum." Miles stated, then frowned. "Sorry about this, by the way...I don't know many people - my little sister tends to drive them away, she's a little...forward - and I don't want to fall asleep and drown in my soup. So I have to find people to watch me. It can be a little embarrassing."

"Don't worry about it...Wait. There was _soup_ at the counter?" Tina asked, wide-eyed. "I've been having Christmas Dinner twice a day for the last three days. I'm sick of it."

"Like Tina said, don't worry about it." Mercedes assured a rather nervous-looking Miles, who relaxed a little. "Who's your sister?"

"Um...well, you probably won't have met her, because she barely ever leaves her room. She's got hair the same shade as mine, but really curly, and sort of caramelly-coloured eyes...And she's insane." he said valiantly, trying to defend his earlier statement to the girls, who were giving him highly skeptical looks. "She's got a low immune system - our family isn't so tough, when you think about it - and gets sick easily."

When neither girl seemed to recognise the description, Miles added "The water-pistol girl?"

Tina nodded. "Santana's little friend? From the mental ward?" she asked, looking surprised. "She's actually _related_ to you? You seem totally different!"

"I don't know who Santana is, but yes, that's my sister...And she's _nothing_ like me." Miles said defensively. "We have the same colour hair, but that's _it_, I swear! Her doorway's rigged with a water bucket - trust me, _always_ knock before you go in there, I know from experience - and she has _no_ taste in clothing _whatsoever_." he declared emphatically. "She interrupts people, which is something I'd _never_ do, she doesn't usually even _attempt_ to be nice to people unless she takes a shine to them, and she has a thing for insulting people in different languages."

Mercedes tried not to laugh. The last sentence had sounded so eerily like Santana as described by Kurt that it was almost funny. The thought _Which team does this guy actually play for?_ drifted across her mind, and she shook her head a little to get rid of it, annoyed at herself. She knew she hated it when people stereotyped her, so why try and stereotype Miles? Just because he seemed to have a good sense of and take interest in fashion as well as seem unusually innocent for a guy didn't mean that he was automatically gay.

"So why is she so unlike you if you're brother and sister?" Tina asked, confused.

"Our parents split up just after she was born. Mum moved to France to live with her side of the family, and I stayed in Wales with Dad." Miles said, shrugging.

Mercedes frowned sympathetically. "Must have been hard."

"No, not really." shrugged Miles. "I was only three at the time. I didn't know Mum all that well anyway, she was always out with her friends..."

Mercedes waited for him to finish his sentence for an unusual amount of time, and Tina nudged her. "Look." she whispered.

When Mercedes looked up, she saw Miles was asleep. He could have almost passed for awake if his eyes weren't shut, because he was still sat in the same position; one elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand. She leant over and prodded the back of the hand that was flat on the table with the plastic fork.

No response.

"Miles." she said loudly, and jabbed him a little harder this time. Tina reached over and shook his shoulder slightly.

"Um...what?" he muttered sleepily, then his eyes snapped open. "Ohmydays, I'm sorry! God, this is so embarrassing..." he said, going bright red faster than Mercedes had ever seen anyone go bright red in her life.

Tina laughed. "Classic. The expression on your face is classic, Miles."

Miles hid his face in his hands, mortified, and mumbled something inconprehensible.

"Speak up, we can't hear you." Mercedes grinned.

He looked up and shot her an evil look. "I _said_ 'stupid coffee doesn't work.'"

"Calm down, we're messing with you." Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Geez, boy, you're easier to annoy than Rachel Berry."

Miles stood up, still a faint pink colour. "Right...I'm going to run away as fast as I can now before I fall asleep again." he mumbled, taking his tray, complete with his untouched soup bown and bread roll, and hurried out of the cafeteria.

After a pause, Tina spoke up and voiced Mercedes' thoughts exactly. "Note to self: must resist finding sleep-related jokes to use around Miles Rees."

-Kurt-

Kurt sighed, and put the plate of now-cold stuffed turkey that Quinn had been kind enough to bring him on his bedside table. He wasn't hungry, and wasn't sure he ever would be. He sighed for the second time, crossing his legs, his elbows on the dark green tray Quinn had brought the turkey in on, and rested his head in his hands.

Brittany had left about three hours before, and all the cheerfullness in the room seemed to have gone with her, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that almost inevitably circled back to what he'd heard Blaine say before Santana had told Brittany to go talk to him. The Latina's 'master plan' sounded a little worrying, especially as _Blaine already had a boyfriend_.

A boyfriend who's name was Sebastian Smythe. He probably-, no, _definitely_- wouldn't appreciate Kurt unwittingly stealing his ex-boyfriend back. Especially while said ex-boyfriend was apparently currently dating Sebastian, who seemed rather... possessive.

Kurt couldn't honestly say that he trusted Sebastian - there was something about the blue-eyed boy that was just a little disconcerting - but his version of the Blaine story was the only one Kurt had to go by. He'd been amazingly confused when he'd found out he had amnesia, and Sebastian had been the only person to even _try_ to offer Kurt an explanation, even if the curly-haired boy had seemingly totally contradicted it.

_'...that's the way I feel about Kurt. I love him, and I still feel the same way even though I'm basically a stranger to him.'_

Kurt pressed his face into his hands in an attempt to block out all the confusing thoughts and feelings that were assailing him. Thoughts and feelings that tended to centre around two themes: Blaine, and the so-far undiscoverable difference between lies and truth.

He probably would have sat there for hours if someone hadn't walked in, their shoes clicking on the polished wooden floor. He didn't move from his original position, afraid that it was Sebastian, back to try and 'explain' more, or possibly even worse, the visitor would be Blaine.

"Hey, Porcelain." the someone said, and Kurt tried and failed not to groan. _Santana._ "Hey, I heard that!" she snapped, hands on her hips.

Kurt looked up at her between his fingers, trying to show her in one glance that he wasn't in the mood to have his life planned out for him.

Santana wasn't having it. "Look up, Hummel. You should be cheerful, I found you a friend..."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Santana. Take a hint. Can't a guy be confused out of his mind in _peace_?"

"No." she said curtly. "Get up. You're having a change of location."

"I'm not in a condition to move." he retorted as innocently as possible, even though the doctors had been in just after Brittany had left and assessed him physically healthy apart from the cast on his arm and the bandage on his head. He was only being kept at the hospital so they could monitor his 'mental state', which roughly meant that he couldn't leave until they figured out if he was crazy or not. Apparently a blow to the head did that to some people, and although Kurt was sure he was perfectly sane, he hadn't objected, he had felt so disorientated - and he still did - that he couldn't argue.

"Kurt, I'm not stupid. I heard those doctors. Your door's thin." Santana told him, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet.

"Wait - just a second..." he mumbled, the action of standing up so quickly after being laid/sat down for so long making him dizzy. "Okay, I'm good. Blood rush to the head, that's all. What if I don't want to move rooms? I like it here." he lied as convincingly as he could.

Santana all but snorted, passing him a large bag. "Please. Don't even _try_ that one on me, you're moving. Whether you like it or not."

Kurt's feet felt odd as Santana pulled him down the corridor. It was like they weren't a part of him. He knew that was because he hadn't actually _used_ them in almost a week, but that was hardly his fault.

"The _mental ward_?" he asked in a horrified voice when he saw the sign pointing in the direction they were headed.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, you're not rooming with a crazy. Camille has an unnaturally low immune system, and she's there because while the doctors need to keep an eye on her, being other places around the hospital would just make her ill. You know, catching the sick people's diseases and all that." she told him, and started counting the identical doors out loud. "...One..two...three...four...five..."

Kurt tried not to look worried, and stumbled along after her.

She stopped when she got to number nine, and called out "Camille? New friend for you!"

There was a moan from inside, followed by a voice. "Who is it?"

"Santana and a certain Kurt Hummel." Santana called. "Open up."

The door opened outwards. "Hey, Santana." the girl standing in the doorway said cheerfully, a large water pistol in her hands. "Hello, Kurt Hummel." she said, in a more icy tone, inconspicuously turning the pistol so it was aimed in his direction.

The first thing Kurt noticed about her was her hair. It was a vibrant red colour, and fell down to just past her shoulders in madly curly waves, framing a pale face that was dotted with freckles. She was dressed in a stripy longsleeved sweater that seemed to include every colour of the rainbow, and a pair of dark blue leggings. The whole ensemble had the overall effect of making Kurt immediately want to find her wardrobe and set fire to it because the colours clashed so badly. Her eyes were a caramel colour that for some reason reminded him of a lighter version of Blaine's-

_Stop right there. No thinking about...him._

"Hello...Camille?" he responded, and she barely looked at him when she answered.

"It's Camille, you were right." she said in '_leave my sight and never return'_ tone of voice. "I'm letting you in here because...it's a favour for Santana. I owed her." she said, sounding like she changed her answer at the last second. Kurt cast a suspicious glance in Santana's direction, but before he could say anything Camille continued. "So let's get straight to the point. You get sick, you sleep on the corridor. Or preferably on the other side of the hospital. Also, say a word about Serenity and you're out, okay?"

The diminutive redhead turned and walked quickly into her room, leaving Kurt staring blankly after her and wondering who on Earth Serenity was.

"I thought you said I wouldn't be rooming with a crazy person!" he hissed to Santana as the dark-haired girl practically dragged him out of the corridor and into the room.

Santana smiled a too-innocent smile at him. "Ah, Kurt. She's not _crazy_, she's just difficult! Have fun!" she chirped, sweeping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

An awkward silence followed as Kurt walked over to the empty-looking side of the room and sat on his bed. Camille glowered at him, not bothering to hide it.

"...Who's Serenity?" he asked almost timidly. Camille was obviously younger than him, but made up for it in the way she acted.

Camille stared at him coldly for a few seconds, then spoke. "My cat." she said simply.

"You have a _cat_ in a _hospital_, yet you freak out about disease?" Kurt asked, frowning. The whole idea seemed a little ludicrous to him. "Isn't it unhygenic to keep animals in hospitals?"

"Yes. I have a cat in a hospital, and you can't say a word because none of the doctors or nurses know." Camille told him, the icy tone back in her voice.

Kurt just nodded, and put the bag Santana had given him down on the bed, starting to unpack it. To his surprise, there were clothes in there - nice clothes, too. Designer. He wondered briefly if he'd bought them during the time that he couldn't remember, although he was sure he'd remember shopping in New York..._New York_, for crying out loud! How could he forget _that_?

He shook his head, and pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. _Stop worrying, Kurt.._. he told himself, laying the clothes out on his bed methodically, working from smaller items like socks all the way up to the single coat in the bag.

_So, this is me_. _This is all I own, unless I have things back in Lima. Everything I have fits into one bag._

The thought drifted numbly across his mind, and he paled at the other thoughts it brought along with it. Thoughts of having no place to go and losing whatever life he and Rachel had built for themselves in New York, even if he couldn't remember what that life was at all.

He doubted that he would leave _anything_ worthwhile back home, though, and even if he had, he couldn't remember. And that was just it, wasn't it? Almost everything seemed to come back to those words: '_I just can't remember.'_

He decided that he really, really hated amnesia.

There was a faint click from over the other side of the room, and Kurt looked up instantly, glad of anything to drag him out of the increasingly depressing mood he was in.

Camille glared back at him. "I'm adjusting my headphones, okay? Honestly, you would have thought I'd fired a gun." she commented, descending into muttering on the last sentence.

_Oh yes, add that to the list of things going wrong, too: Stuck in a room with a possibly crazy girl who hates you._

Kurt frowned, and went back to arranging the clothes. After a few minutes of watching it carefully and wondering what was missing, he realised that there was an odd number of socks - five of them. He picked up the bag and turned it upside down, shaking it out. The sound of rustling material earned him a Death Glower from Camille, who could obviously hear it through whatever music she was listening to.

Instead of the expected sock, however, what tumbled from the bag was a red-covered book. Pinned to it was a note, reading '_Remember_' in what looked like Rachel's handwriting. A hopeful smile started to spread across Kurt's face, and he removed the note, realising it was a scrapbook. He sat down on his new bed, studying it intently.

There was a photo on the front, one that he didn't remember being taken. The fact drained all the hope out of him, and his face fell as he recognised all the familiar faces, but no memories rushed back to him as he saw Blaine's figure stood beside his, an arm around his shoulder. That didn't prove anything, though; everyone in the photo - The New Directions - was connected together in the same way, creating a link of people.

With a sinking heart, Kurt opened the scrapbook. The first few pictures contained a mixture of Rachel, Mercedes and himself, smiling out at the camera. One picture had Rachel beaming at the photographer, green tribal-style stripes smudged on her face while Kurt, sat behind her, frowned at the improper use of the face mask that he remembered Mercedes bringing to that particular sleepover. Mercedes' finger covered a small portion of the top left corner of the picture, proving she had been there. It was a sweet photograph, but it was dated from _before_ the Rocky Horror week, meaning Kurt remembered it anyway.

After two or three pages of this sort of photo, and others he recognised, there was an image that startled him. It was a large group of boys wearing dark blue blazers with striking red piping, somehow crammed on one very small, expensive-looking couch and pulling various expressions for the camera. Boys were in a mixture of positions, balanced precariously on the couch arms, crushed together on the actual seating, and there was even a duo of a dark-skinned boy and a boy of Asian descent standing on the thin-looking back, looking like they were in the process of falling backwards, arms flailing. Kurt could see himself, also wearing one of the unfamiliar blazers, sat in front of the couch on the floor, the only one who was actually smiling at the camera. He was holding an old-fashioned metal birdcage, with a canary inside it. On second glance, he could see Blaine under one of the arms that was coated in blazer-clad boys, sat in a similar position to Kurt. He seemed to be signalling for whoever was behind the camera to take the picture while laughing at the two falling off the back of the couch.

Underneath the picture, set in the centre of the page, was a subheading, reading 'The Warblers 2011' in looping handwriting that he recognised as his own. There was a list of names, with brackets above the list telling the reader that the list corresponded to the figures in the picture from left to right. He read through the names desperately; _Blaine, Nick, Jeff, Thad, David, Wes, Kurt (me!), Pavarotti, Trent..._ The list of unrecognisable names (excluding his own and Blaine's, of course) went on, and he briefly wondered what sort of poor person had a name like Pavarotti.

Kurt stared at the picture, the names and the meaningless title for a long while, trying to remember something. Anything. _Come on...remember. Just something small. Just a flicker, please..._

After another few minutes, he shut his eyes and snapped the book shut, throwing it aside. There was a soft thud as it hit the pillow, and he leant back against the wall in despair.

"Hey, what _is _that?"

It took Kurt a moment to register that Camille was talking to him. He opened one eye and regarded her forlornly, not caring how dramatic he was being. "A scrapbook." he said simply. "Come have a look if you'd like. I don't remember half of the pictures anyway..."

There was a rustling sound as Camille stood up and headed over, sitting as far away as she could from Kurt, bearing in mind he was sat in the middle of the bed, then she grabbed the scrapbook.

"What're the smudges on the front?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know. Did Santana tell you I have amnesia?"

Camille nodded. "Yup. Who are the Warblers?"

Kurt sighed, and leant over to look at the picture again. "I don't know, really I don't...I don't know what a Warbler is, but I'm guessing it's the name of the group-"

"-_Wow_, no kidding! Santana brought me a _genius_!" Camille interrupted, brightly sarcastic.

"-_And_, if I would be allowed to _continue_ -"

"-Sorry!"

"-_Camille! _You're doing it again-"

"-Doing what?" Camille's tone was so innocent that it made Kurt laugh. "What's so funny?" she demanded, folding her arms, making Kurt just laugh harder. He waved dismissively, and continued.

"_Anyway_, where was I, before I was so rudely-" he began, and cut in again.

"-Interrupted?" she suggested sweetly, swinging her feet above the bed. "Oh, you were talking about how you thought that The Warblers was the name of the group of blazer boys in the picture, yourself included."

"_CAMILLE!_"

"What?"

"Shut up. Let me finish my sentence!" Kurt took a breath, and saw Camille's mouth moving to interrupt again, so he hastily continued. "I don't know who all the people are, so don't ask. Well, apart from myself, obviously, and Blaine. He's the guy with the product in his hair under the sofa arm."

Camille nodded, all her previous coldness seeming to have melted away. Kurt was starting to wonder if she was bi-polar as well as probably crazy - her attitude toward him had changed so quickly it was unnerving.

Suddenly, a white streak shot out from under the bed at the opposite side of the room, across the floor, and under the bed they were sat on.

Kurt skittered back against the wall, eyes wide. "What the _Oz_ was that?" he practically shrieked, taking his feet off the floor as fast as he could.

"That was Serenity." Camille said loftily, looking like she was trying not to laugh as Kurt leant forward to look under the bed while trying to avoid touching the floor. "If you're going to swear, swear _properly_. Because that was just sort of pathetic."

He peered into the darkness under the bed, wondering what could possibly move that quickly.

A single eye blinked back at him from the far corner, and Kurt sat up again quickly. "That thing's a _cat_? It only has one eye!" he protested, hands raised as Camille's Death Glower was once again fixed on him.

"She also only has three and a half legs. Car crash." the girl explained simply, and returned her attention to the scrapbook, not seeming to care about Kurt's worries over the cat.

There was a few minutes of silence as Camille flipped through the scrapbook, Kurt trying to catch a glimpse of the photos as she turned the pages, hoping to remember something; however small.

After half an hour of the redhead asking who people were, and Kurt responding with different variations of 'I don't know', he snapped the book shut and took it back.

"Ow! You caught my fingers!" Camille complained, reaching for the scrapbook as Kurt pushed it under the bed. It slid easily across the wooden floor that seemed to be the standard for all the hospital rooms and he heard it connect with the wall, creating a quiet _clang_. Serenity hobbled out from under the bed with a yowl, and Camille reached down to pick the cat up, setting her on Kurt's bed beside her."I was looking at that!"

Kurt stood up quickly. "I give up! I can't stand looking at all these pictures and not recognising people!" he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice lowered as he started to leave the room. At the last second, he turned to face the girl and the cat, who stared back at him, slightly stunned. "I'm going to see if there's any sandwiches or anything left in the cafetira." he mumbled, then left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He felt like there was an unmeasureable distance between him and his old life, a vast gap that seperated him from how things _used_ to be. And although his life consisted of him living in a dead-end, homophobic town, getting bullied at school while nobody seemed to care, and the only place he felt accepted other than home was becoming the Rachel Berry show, it was the only life he knew. And he missed it.

But distance seemed to be stretching more and more with every hour that passed.

Camille stared after him for a second, then laughed. "Should be fun, don't you think, 'Rens?" she asked the cat, sliding off the bed and retrieving the scrapbook. She opened it on the page that she'd left off on, flipped the page over, and scowled at the paper. "So close..."

The picture on this particular page had the curly-haired boy, who she guessed was Blaine, as well as her new roomate, both of them in the odd-looking blazers, holding hands and smiling out at the camera.

**Author's Note:**

**Yeah, it's just a short chapter compared to the last couple, I know... But hey, it'll do :D It has been Christmas, of course...Which reminds me, MERRY CHRISTMAS! **

**~livyceegee**


End file.

Glee