She smells like honey, wrapped up in his sheets. She's putty in his hands, only he knows how to touch her, hold her and make her laugh. She puts a clammy palm on his chest, enticing him. She asks him to get up, in that singsong voice, it's too hot in here, it's too dark.

The sunlight seared through the window, piercing his eyes and forcing Will into reality, alone, he swung his legs to the floor and silently cursed the dreams that continually taunted him.

The clock blinked 7.50. Damn it! He'd sworn to Shannon he'd meet her for a run at 7.30. But then, he'd promised her a lot of things over this past year. Last July he promised not to spend all summer moping in his apartment. In September he said he'd start dating again and in January he swore to her he'd stop leaving the room anytime someone mentioned her name.

"Schuester, I know you're in there", she boomed from behind the door. He looked at the floor feeling guilty. Shannon was a dependable rock he didn't deserve.

Shuffling to the door, he didn't bother to check his appearance; she'd already seen the worst of him.

"Sorry, I had a late night. Just let me get changed", he said unenthusiastically, inviting his friend inside.

"Actually, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute". She was always so concerned; with kind eyes and a warm voice that made him feel even more like a jerk.

"Beiste, I'm fine really. I just-"

"I got a call for Emma this morning. She's back."

Will stared back at her dumbly, feeling the color drain from his face.

"…How did she sound?" he croaked.

"She asked about you. Frankly, I didn't know what to tell her, I mean God Will, when was the last time you took a shower?" Shannon said dryly.

"It doesn't matter," he decided, as he was speaking, "tell her whatever you want I doubt she'll care". Will was defeated.

"I say it does matter. You two are going to be working together, starting next week, and unless you want to lose your job because you can't keep yourself together, you're going to have to at least have a civil conversation with her."

"She's coming back to McKinley?" his eyes widened. His friend nodded.

"Can I be completely honest with you Schue?" she asked, as if she hadn't spent the last 12 months telling him exactly what she thought. "I've never seen anyone look the way Emma did when she looked at you. Remember that blizzard a few years back?" he nodded and grimaced, knowing where the conversation was going and already playing out the memory in his head. "You slipped on the black ice and bashed your knee and we couldn't drive you to the hospital for all the snow".

"I remember, Emma patched me up with all those disinfectants and emergency patches she kept in her office…."

"Yeah, but did you know that she almost fainted because of all the blood and once she had to excuse herself because she was physically sick seeing all the dirt and slush you had all over you. She was crazy about you, and I know how you feel about her… don't try and deny it Schuester, it's written all over your sorry face".

"…I miss her so much" his voice was gravely in a moment of weakness. He'd done his best to forget her, never uttering her name out loud, never smiling at her photo that hung in the auditorium along with all the other smiling McKinley staff. But now she was back in his life it was going to take a whole new level of denial and avoidance and just the thought left him overwhelmed with exhaustion.

"I know" Shannon soothed, patting him firmly on the back twice. "Listen, there's a faculty meeting this afternoon that I'm sure you've forgotten about. Get cleaned up and I'll pick you up around 2" she smiled gently, "and call me if you need anything".

Then he was alone again. In the hallway where she would stand waiting for him when Glee Club ran late, with an apron on in bare feet, ready to hear about his day. She'd feed him clumsy spoonfuls of cookie dough until she laughed and kissed him and said that was enough, they had to save some for baking.

She'd let her hair grow a little longer in the six months they'd been dating, at last being more at ease with things that are messy and disordered. Late at night Will would twist his fingers through the soft curls and ask her endless questions about nothing and everything. Did she ever have an imaginary friend? Does she like rain or snow? Does she ever think about growing old and grey?

It started with a kick, just over a year ago. Her foot into his shin in the throws of sleep. She thrashed, fighting invisible daemons and when he grabbed her wrist to still her she opened her eyes, letting tears fall.

"Hey, it's just a dream" he whispered feeling drowsy and alert at the same time as she gasped for more air still. "…. Just a bad dream…" he kissed the top of her head.

"I couldn't breathe, I kept trying to call for you…"

"I'm here, it's okay".

It happened again, and this time she groaned and sobbed in her unconscious state. After the fourth time, she booked an appointment with Dr Shane, finding it hard to keep her eyes open. She was too nervous about starting therapy again to eat that day, moving the carrots on the table out of her sight.

"It's just one session, Em. You have to relax", he had said naively.

It was five sessions, and after each see would get in the car where he waited with red, puffy eyes.

"She thinks it might be a good idea if you make an appointment too" she said shyly, holding his hand while he drove.

"If she thinks it will help" he smiled back, not knowing he was about to enter a war zone.

She was a very calm woman, Dr Shane, she smiled and Will relaxed a little in the chair, thinking that under different circumstances they would be good friends.

"Thank you for coming today Will" she said evenly, placing a notebook in her lap.

"No problem, Emma and I are willing to do whatever we can to beat this". He saw the psychiatrist wince, but chose stupidly to ignore it.

"This is a very delicate situation, and I want you to know that I've taken a lot of time to think over what I'm about to say. I've spoken to several colleagues and we all agree on a particular course of action for Emma"

Will gulped, hearing his heartbeat in his ears.

"As you know, Emma is experiencing some night terrors which are a manifestation of anxiety she's unable to express other ways. And, as you also know, you, being a key figure in her life, feature heavily in these nightmares"

He was following her so far, but felt his own anxiety rising as she stumbled to find words.

"Emma is too dependent on you Will. It's not your fault of course, but your romantic relationship coincided too closely with her treatment-"

"But she's getting better… with the OCD and…"

"Yes, but it also means that she's so terrified of losing you, at least subconsciously, that she can't continue making progress until she can separate therapy and her romantic relationship with you".

"So, what does that mean?"

"You need to lessen your impact on Emma's life, in a drastic way. At least until she can learn to manage her anxiety disorder without your help."

"You're saying we can't live together?... Or be intimate?"

"Ideally it would be best if you kept your contact with her at a minimum until she's made substantially more progress".

Will sat, in his head he was blustering for an argument or a loophole around this ludicrous idea that was frighten beginning to make sense.

"What if it doesn't work? What if we can't stay apart?"

"I can't say for sure, but Will, Emma's anxiety episodes are increasing rapidly and if it were to continue at this rate, I wouldn't be beyond recommending Emma go into a fulltime care facility".

"She's not going into an asylum! She's not crazy!" he spat defensively and then immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, this is a lot to take in".

"I know, and I'm very sorry. If I can offer you some advice? Your discussions with Emma are going to have to be quite firm, and her dependence means that you're going to have to instigate the change in the relationship".

He went straight home. He considered stopping to pick up dumplings from her favourite take out place, but kept driving. He wanted to stop off and buy a bottle of wine, sip it with her on the sofa and spend one final night holding her through the midnight battle with her mind that he had caused. Still, he pulled into the parking space and headed up the stairs. If it was done quick, then maybe it would be painless, for her at least.

Her feet were tucked under her body when she looked up from the local news bulletin, smiling, moving her hair behind her ear and breaking his heart all at the same time.

"We need to talk", he said, shifting his eyes away and switching off the TV.

"Sit down Will, you're making me nervous", but not nervous enough to make the content smile fade from her lips. He sat down next to her, granting her one last wish.

"I don't think we… should be together anymore"

She watched him soberly, waiting for more. "I can't be with you anymore".

She didn't say anything, she just pursed her lips and Will watched as his words, slowly but surely, waved over her.

"If you want me to move out, I will-"

At last, a reaction.

"Will, what are you saying? Did something happen?" he shook his head, remember Doctor Shane's advice.

"You need to talk to me, if there is a problem, if I did something-"

"I don't want to be with you anymore" he said loudly because it hurt sitting in his throat.

"So the last six months, what was that? Was that you not wanting to be with me too?" she stood, ready for battle.

"Em, I really don't want to fight about this-"

"Well that's too bad!"

"What do you want me to say Emma? That I don't love you anymore? Fine. I'll say it. I'll say whatever you want, but we're over!"

Oh God! She was crying, he couldn't look, but he couldn't not. She was so hurt and confused and her hands were trembling. He needed a reason, a lie to make it all easier for her to swallow, anything to push her away faster.

"I can't handle all the OCD and the… panic, I didn't sign up for all this. I can't do it anymore, so unless you can magically fix yourself, I think it's best for both of us if we…. See other people."

Will played that night out in his mind until it got muddled in frustration and regret. He can't remember Emma leaving, or coming back the next day with a moving van to collect her things.

He did remember, quite vividly, seeing the stranger sitting behind her desk on Monday and hearing the gossip mill swirl. He could still feel Shannon's hand on his shoulder, telling him she'd taken a job in a youth centre in London, one of those yearlong teacher exchange programs. He remembered the way his mouth went dry.

Shannon beeped the horn as he straightened his tie and run gel through his hair for the first time in months, wishing it was all just a dream.